Karan Johar’s
rendering of ‘unrequited love’ in Ae Dil Hai Mushkil speaks of anything but
love. Systematic stalking and emotional abuse are not love. Trying to kiss your
platonic friend when she’s clearly uncomfortable, and then resorting to
domestic violence, is not love. Yes, breaking vases is also domestic violence.
The characters stumble in and out of toxic relationships, and the audience is
supposed to feel sorry for them and root for a happy ending.
Let’s take a look at all the characters
without their glossy Bollywood faces. Alizeh is portrayed as a modern woman who
makes split second judgement, assessing (even before meeting her) that Ayan’s
girlfriend would only be with him for money. Feeding the golddigger stereotype
is not doing us any good as a nation that consumes Punjabi rap about girls ‘selling
their affections’- so to speak- on a daily basis. Also, in an era of strong
women who want to stand up against not just physical but emotional abuse,
Alizeh’s initial choices are hardly a beacon of hope for women suffering
silently in their homes. But we have to give her due credit for extricating
herself from one toxic relationship at least, which was her marriage. No such
luck with ridding herself of Ayan though, whose re-entry is juxtaposed with the
entry of cancer.
When it comes to Ayan, his caustic
behaviour toward the people in his life has been excused by various write-ups
and reviews by calling him a ‘Man-child’, but this just sounds like another
version of “boys will be boys”. This excuse-culture needs to be stopped. People
must be held accountable for their deeds and bear the consequences. To give
Ayan a happy reconciliation with his ‘friend’, is an assurance that no matter
how badly you behave you will be rewarded for persistence that borders on
stalking and harassment. The lowest point of the movie occurred in the
thankfully deleted ‘Evening in Paris’ song, when Ayan grabs a random stranger’s
hand. Instead of calling out his groping and sexual assault, she playfully
caresses his cheek. What does this convey? That it is okay to be sexually
harassed when a ‘hero’ is doing it? The second problem in this blink-and-miss
moment is the stereotyping of ‘firang’ females as ‘loose’ women who would not
mind being groped.
Saba, played by the ethereal
Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, breaks through the cacophony as a sole voice of reason
when she dumps Ayan, on being used as shiny trophy to show off to his true lady
love, Alizeh. Saba’s ex-husband played by Shahrukh Khan is very eloquent, and
yet invades his ex wife’s personal space time and again. Do any women, even the
happily divorced ones, want their exes to breathe down their necks in public?
What are Bollywood movies subliminally planting in the consciousness of the
populace? It is high time mainstream filmmakers woke up to the subtle hints in
their movies that help develop a culture of abuse.
This review is by Ishmeet Nagpal who is a programme co-ordinator for Laadli -A Population First Initiative
