Aisha: Exhilarating

Aisha is that kind of movie which you would like to watch with your girlfriend/boyfriend, spouse, parents, friends, kids—with anybody. And at anytime—after getting a good increment or a yelling from the boss, in good mood or after a depressive phase. A blithe spirit pervades the movie, which is both exhilarating and elevating.
My only regret was that I had not read Jane Austen’s Emma on which it was based. Watching a good film made on a good novel is a great joy; I experienced this while watching Gone With The Wind and The Godfather.
Director Rajshree Ojha did an excellent job by telling a tale with great aplomb. It reminded me of the delightful romantic comedies that TCM often shows. I doubt if Sonam Kapoor would have won the accolades she has without the slick direction of Ojha. Sonam is perfectly suited for the role of a rich, somewhat spoilt, girl who overrates her own match-making skills. Ira Dubey, as a less glamorous and more caustic buddy, also does a good job.
Amrita Puri, the country lass who is a stranger in the cool and chic South Delhi, is simply charming. She fumbles and bumbles, calls polo “horse-waali hockey”; she is putty in the hands of the protagonist Aisha (Sonam), but finally rebels to the indiscretions of her new ‘maker.’ This was a high point of Sonam’s histrionic skills: she was brilliant in her portrayal of a rich girl whose belief in her skills has just been shattered; she genuinely appears nonplussed, baffled, and crestfallen.
Lisa Haydon looks gorgeous every inch. As a foreign-returned corporate executive, she appears quite authentic. The accent, the demeanor, the entire persona—everything about her is authentic and fascinating. This is a departure from the portrayal of NRIs in Hindi movies; usually, they are shown as vain, comical, or both. And she sings—well, not a Western number, some popular Hindi film song, or even a ghazal—but a traditional song. Not in Hindi, but in one of the dialects which I could not make out. The blend of the Westernized and the native was delectable; unfortunately, it did not last long.
Abhay Deol looked natural as a corporate executive. He was a typical Jane Austen hero—handsome, rich, intelligent, full of character. And brave; he doesn’t bat an eyelid before punching a heavily-muscled Dhruv (Arunoday Singh) for his dirty remark about Aisha. Singh tried to portray himself as a hunk as well as a Casanova; he does well, but it could have been better.
And then there is the inimitable Cyrus Sahukar; he is always a treat to watch. M.K. Raina, as Sonam’s father, looks exactly what he portrays: a rich businessman who dotes on her daughter despite her spendthrift ways, talks to her as a friend rather than an overbearing guardian, and surreptitiously eats halwa at night!
Much has been written, not without reason, about the brilliant production design, styling, costume designing, cinematography, etc. However, the theme of the movie has not been commented upon; it seems that the impressive gloss of craft mesmerized the reviewers who just overlooked the soul of the body of work.
Very subtly, as if believing in the adage that art lies in concealing art, Ojha tells the failure of a girl who tries to control the lives of others. Aisha is a well-meaning girl; her intentions are noble; she wants the people around her to be happy, and happily married. Only her understanding of happiness is flawed, or shallow as Arjun (Deol) tells her. Her concepts about many things, including happiness, do not exactly match with the objective reality. She thinks that the best thing for the Bahadurgarh girl would be to become a South Delhi snob; her problem is that she imposed her own concepts on the reality, and gets frustrated when the reality does not behave as per her concepts or diktats.
But she is a decent girl, willing to correct herself. And, happily, there is Arjun to help her—and help himself by taking their friendship to a greater level. He also rescues her from shallowness, the shallowness which prods our elites to take up fancy causes like animal welfare and mouth politically correct homilies.
In the end, of course, all major characters of the movie are happily married. Aisha matures and apparently reforms.
In real life, too, we have many kinds of people who want to impose their concepts on others. Some of them want women to dress ‘appropriately,’ lest they fall prey to the depredations of molesters. There are Muslim fundamentalists imposing burqa. Saffron fanatics tell youngsters not to celebrate Valentine’s Day. There are politicians and activists who want to ban smoking in movies and on television. And long goes the list of moral cops. These self-appointed guardians of society and nation want to impose their rigidities and idiocies on us. While Aisha is open to introspection and course-correction, the myriad big brothers believe that they are always right.
Normally, efforts to control people’s lives with prescription and proscription fail; in the process, however, many of us have to go through hell. For in India life is not a romantic comedy.