In the wake of the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–1878, Russia extended its reach into eastern Anatolia, seizing part of the Kars Oblast. To quickly populate the newly controlled lands, Russians offered incentives to Spiritual Christians from Russia to resettle in the region. These settlers, known in Turkish as Malakan, formed a broad umbrella of Russian newcomers in the Caucasus and beyond.
Among the resettled families is Mişka, who runs the village’s water-powered grain mill after burying his brother. Now aging, he presides over the mill as the last in a line of old, steady operations, yet his livelihood is threatened by the rise of new electric mills that flood the market and undercut his traditional trade. In a bid to stay afloat, he even tries to sell apples to keep the household solvent, clinging to familiarity as economic pressures mount.
Opposing Mişka is the cranky old woman of the village, Popuç. She owns the store where Mişka owes money, and her resentment toward him is fierce. Flashbacks reveal a tender past between Mişka and Popuç, a youthful love that was thwarted by religious divisions when his Christian parents forbade an interfaith marriage. The film even uses a meta touch, showing the young versions of Mişka and Popuç performed by the actual children of the actors who play the older generation, underscoring the weight of history on present-day choices.
Şemistan, Popuç’s son, lives with his wife Figan and their three grandchildren, forming a bustling household that adds texture to the village’s dynamics. Yet it is Alma, the smallest and most wayward granddaughter, who stands out for her musical talent. Alma is warmly drawn to Mişka, who takes her under his wing, teaching her on his old piano and funding her education at the Kars music academy. Her gift for music becomes a bridge between generations, linking the old man’s past with the younger generations’ hopes, and setting the stage for revelations about long-held secrets.
The younger versions of the key figures appear in the backstory: Genç Popuç and Genç Mişka hint at what their lives could have been under different circumstances, while Esme adds another layer to the village’s tapestry with her own memory-filled presence. Another figure tied to the community is Mişka'nın Annesi, whose relationship to Mişka’s legacy is teased through emotion and memory.
As the story unfolds, Alma’s education and her music illuminate buried histories, encouraging two elderly people to confront their pasts and uncover hidden truths that have shaped the village for decades. When Mişka dies, Popuç experiences a shift in perspective, realizing that she is the only Muslim who knows how to properly bury a Christian Malakan, prompting a crucial, humane intervention that reframes her long-standing enmity.
Throughout the film, the bonds between generations are tested and renewed, with the older characters carrying the weight of history while younger ones carry the promise of reconciliation. The narrative weaves together the harsh realities of displacement, economic hardship, and cultural tension with intimate moments of music, memory, and care, painting a compassionate portrait of resilience. Alongside Mişka’s steadfast resolve and Popuç’s evolving heart, the village—its mill, its stores, and its schools—becomes a living archive where personal choices ripple outward, revealing how one community navigates a difficult past toward a more understanding future.
