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  • Writer's pictureShiven Jain

Gehraiyaan: Shakun Batra's Misunderstood Masterpiece, Pioneered by an Exquisite Deepika Padukone

Disclaimer: Minor spoilers ahead.


"It's a Shakun Batra film," a Twitter mutual told me when I had asked him about his expectations from Gehraiyaan about two years ago, during the time of its release. It's a phrase I often saw on social media, and as basic as it sounded, it was an important one because it not only explained who the director of the film is but also suggested what the film was going to be like. Ever since, There has been a lot of conjecture about Batra's style of filmmaking and storytelling, and despite being just three films old, the director has carved an interesting niche for himself over the two movies he's directed — Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu and Kapoor & Sons. In more ways than one, Shakun is the anti-image of Sooraj Barjatya. His portrayals of families are raw and stark but also deeply relatable. However, comparing him to another filmmaker would be limiting the vision and expanse of his filmography. An unofficial graduate from the Woody Allen-meets-Wes Anderson school of filmmaking, Batra has an astute ability to, as he says, "choreograph chaos."


With Gehraiyaan, he paints a masterful, seamless portrait of a woman operating on the seams of life. Alisha Khanna (Deepika Padukone), 30, is stuck in a relationship that has all the spark of a wet firecracker. She's the sole breadwinner of her house, and her ambitions are always a few steps away from her reality. Her boyfriend Karan (Dhairya Karwa) is struggling to finish a novel he's been working on for years, and she's developing a Yoga app for which she needs investors. While Gehraiyaan is a relationship drama on the forefront, it's also an examination of privilege (more on this later). Alisha and her cousin Tia (Ananya Panday) live very different lives. The former is stuck. She's stuck in her house, she's stuck in her relationship, she's stuck in her professional life. The latter is an enigma, at least in the first hour. As Alisha finds her liberation in Zain (Tia's fiancé), it is Tia around whom the walls begin to close. With every step Zain takes towards Alisha, he moves a step away from Tia. This dynamic is intricately carved out by Batra and his co-writers Ayesha Devitre, Sumit Roy, and Yash Sahai.



Much of the first half is dedicated to Zain and Alisha's torrid affair, but it wouldn't have been half as effective without Siddhant Chaturvedi and Deepika Padukone's crackling, immensely attractive chemistry. However, unlike most other love stories, romances which involve infidelity often come with the gnawing burden of guilt. In this case, the guilt isn't heavily expressed, but its underlying current makes Zain and Alisha's relationship all the more intriguing. Coming back to my previous point, Gehraiyaan is a rare Hindi film that acknowledges that no two kinds of privilege are the same. Zain, despite making multi-crore deals and having a swanky yacht on lease, is still an outsider among his friends because he hasn't grown up with them (there's a scene in which he tells Tia that she makes him feel like a "fucking outsider." It's a campy and clever but accessible pop-culture allusion that made me laugh out loud). Similarly, Alisha feels like an intruder in Tia and Karan's duo. They've had the privilege to study abroad, and she hasn't, and a gnawing inferiority complex eats her when she's in their company. Which is perhaps why Zain becomes the seemingly perfect foil to her. As unlikeable as they are, I kept wanting for these people to find a semblance of happiness in their lives.


The waves play an important role in Batra's world-building. They're a reflection of the people in the film, stunning to look at but also choppy and wild. DoP Kaushal Shah — whose exquisite handheld shots elevated the recently released Mumbai Diaries — does an excellent job of aiding Shakun's vision. He doesn't just capture images; he has the ability to capture moods. Throughout the film, the makers skillfully build a simmering sense of tension that bursts out of every frame. Even during Alisha and Zain's romantic exchanges, when at least momentarily you see a glint of hope, you know this isn't going to end well. The film's handling of mental health issues too is commendable. The makers never skirt around Alisha's struggles with anxiety. The exploration isn't particularly deep, but neither is it exploitative or insensitive, and that's pretty admirable considering the last portrayal of mental health issues in Hindi cinema was the ill-conceived and misguided Atrangi Re. The music by Kabir Kathpalia and Savera Mehta is terrific. The lyrics intentionally create an impression of being meaningful and deep until you realize that they aren't, much like Zain and Alisha's relationship. But a lot of the world-building and technical finesse would've been insufficient without the sublime performances.



Dhairya Karwa does a good job as Alisha's perennially procrastinating partner who's unaware of the privilege being a man provides him with. Karan is both a byproduct of patriarchy as well as a dismantler of it. He is not the conventional breadwinner of his house, and yet he asserts his dominance on Alisha without realizing it. Rajat Kapoor is solid as Jitesh, Zain's business partner. He's sly and callous, an embodiment of corporate greed but also a result of the pressure that comes with it. Ananya Panday is perfectly cast as an extension of a public personality. Tia wants to solve everyone's problems; she's eager to please the people around her. With empathy and understanding, the actor locates the anguish of being continuously manipulated and gaslit. There's also a wonderful specificity to her problems. At one point, she complains about how despite asking for Burrata, she was given Goat Cheese. Hindi cinema has often been guilty of invalidating first-world problems, but the makers choose not to do so here. It's these little details that elevate the screenplay. Tia forms the film's emotional core, gifting it with a voice of reason and resonance that makes you want to walk into the frame and hug her. Siddhant Chaturvedi has a tricky part to play, but he imbues Zain with layers that unravel as the film proceeds. The actor brings a manicured charm to his character that's magnetic but misleading. Equally riveting is Naseeruddin Shah, who despite appearing in just a handful of scenes, improves the film with every dialogue he speaks, or rather doesn't speak. As his truth untangles, the actor made me feel a myriad of emotions. It's a performance that teaches you to look beyond our conventional notions of good and bad; black and white. This brings me to the film's axis, Deepika Padukone.


As I said, Alisha is a woman operating on the seams of life. She's struggling to stay afloat. Padukone is astonishingly good as a woman permanently in transition but with nowhere to go. As the film proceeds, Padukone breathes both life and lifelessness into the frame. Alisha's fragility and exhaustion are impeccably fleshed out. The phrase "career-best performance" is thrown around loosely, but the actor proves why she's not just one of the best but also one of the bravest mainstream movie stars working in Hindi cinema today.



The only problem I had with the film was with the yoga in it. Considering that Alisha is a yoga instructor, we don't see enough of the skill on-screen. In one scene, she demonstrates a yoga pose to her friends. It's not a very challenging one, but it's the kind that non-practitioners would see and be awed by. It's a little moment but provides an essential gateway into understanding the character.


Ultimately, Gehraiyaan is an engaging, immersive, and reflective drama that swept me away as it progressed. It's an audacious attempt that introduces domestic noir to Hindi cinema without trying to make a statement out of it. It's also a pleasant reminder that not all films need to huff and puff to blow you away. Sometimes, a gentle but lingering breeze is more than enough.


You can watch Gehraiyaan on Amazon Prime Video.


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