Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan: How gender politics helped India’s first ‘mainstream gay film’ (2025)

Over the course of two hours, Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan seeks to make homosexuality receptive by unfolding as a love story in a language we are most acquainted with, embodying tropes we keenly recognise.

In one of the interviews prior to the release of the film, Khurrana had disclosed its intent: to make people receptive to the idea of homosexuality. The usage of the word “receptive” as opposed to “accepting” is both interesting and telling. It not only hinted that the film was intending to fight a smaller battle but also a different one. Over the course of two hours, Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan seeks to make homosexuality receptive by unfolding as a love story in a language we are most acquainted with, embodying tropes we keenly recognise. And it does so by cutting itself in the shape of one of the most successful romantic films of our times: Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. There is a recurring train metaphor, an unrelenting patriarch, two protagonists seeking acceptance of their love through familial approval. Kartik and Raj’s (Shah Rukh Khan) unwavering faith is similar, so is Aman and Simran’s (Kajol) indignation on being asked to marry someone else. By refraining from showcasing any self-conflict and centering the narrative on the classic Us Vs Them, the point of contention in Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan becomes less about choosing who to love and more about the choice to love. It does not normalise same-sex love as much as it makes it seem ‘normal’. We have rooted for that before, we root for the same now.

Kewalya uses this accessible grammar not by downplaying the gender politics of its protagonists but by using the advantages which come with it. He roots his story in a trajectory hitherto occupied by heterosexual narratives because he can. Owing to their gender, these men have been provided with an education, allowed to leave home and go to a big city to earn bread. Although Kartik’s family or background are never revealed, the disparity at Aman’s household contextualises why and how a boy from Allahabad gathers enough courage to hold hands with his partner in Delhi even though he is hesitant to come out to his parents. His economic mobility might not be enough to send money home (Aman’s mother tells him the same in one scene) but it provides him with the freedom to explore and accept his sexual orientation, it enables him to not just fall in love with another man but to be with him without being accountable for it.

Hitesh Kewalya’s film, touted as the first to bring homosexuality within the purview of the mainstream, does not revolve around a character’s discomfiting — freeing — realisation that they do not fit in nor concludes with them mustering the courage to come out.

His cousin sister, Goggles (Maanvi Gagroo) provides an excellent alternative narrative to this. With her sole preoccupation in the film being getting married, quickly and desperately — in an earlier scene, she was about to wed a much older man and her family expressed no qualms about it — she could have been reduced to a one-dimensional character, a disservice to the current roles written for women. But she acts as a foil, showing what growing up as a woman in the same household meant. She highlights the privileges Aman enjoyed by just being a man. Had Goggles been a lesbian, the hilarity of her coming-out would have been replaced by self loathing, her sexuality repressed or reliant on the crutch of a compassionate man to be ‘revealed’ and not expressed. The Us Vs Them conflict would have been preceded by a Me Vs Myself struggle. Shelly Chopra Dhar’s Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga (co-written by Gazal Dhaliwal), traces that story and shows us just how it would unfold. Sweety has a better economic standing than Aman, her father dotes on her and yet her powerlessness is acute, her personal shame severe. If she is accused of bringing doom to her family, the resistance faced by Aman is dressed as requests, emotional manipulation and a staged suicidal attempt by his father.They do not threaten to abandon him because they cannot. Their refusal stems from love but also from a sense of dependence on him, from a realisation that Aman is (also) the male earning member of the family.

Both films, released after Article 377 was scraped (Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan ends with the pronouncement of the historic judgement) choose battles they can afford to fight. It is not the theme but gender of the protagonists which informs their chosen genre.

Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan concludes with Aman’s father relenting. He holds his son’s hands and says, “Jaa beta, jee le apni zindagi”. It is another nod to Aditya Chopra’s film but his declaration lacks conviction. The scientist, with all his objective understanding of things, still fails to wrap his head around his son’s sexuality. Yet, he accedes. It could be read as grudging acceptance. It also could be a case of a father not understanding but identifying his son’s disobedience as rebellion. He still allows it for he knows men are entitled to rebel.