“The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” – Audre Lorde.
Audre Lordes Words serve both as a warning and as an objective, which is particularly important when evaluating stories that claim to question power and at the same time to evaluate in its safe, familiar limits. Aap Jaisa Koi, directed by Vivek Soni, presents itself at first glance as a modern romance, which is characterized by feminist ideals: the film in terms of women in question, questions the tradition and seems to promote emotional honesty. But the question remains: Can a film really ask the patriarchy if he continues to speak his language, reflect his expectations and ultimately excuse his imbalances?
The film, which is framed as a delicate love story, offers moments of emotional sincerity, but after a closer examination, it seems to pass cunning subversion. Instead of reducing the structures that they criticize, it is carefully around them and refines the house instead of rebuilding it. And that is the central question with which you go away: Has Aap Jaisa Koi really challenged the patriarchy or has it repeated it in a softer voice?
Love, longing and gender -specific claim
The film with R. Madhavan and Fatima Sana Shaikh plays a tender topic: the inner world of longing and selection of women. In many ways, it is a welcome intervention in a cinematic landscape that still tries to imagine women as desired topics. And yet Aap Jaisa Koi leaves the viewer with continuing dissatisfaction; The provocations are too well solved and his questions were too careful. Why, you ask yourself, is needed for so long to get this modest representation of the female agency? And when we have finally arrived, why are we still afraid to continue to push? While the film says something new, he ultimately stops saying something fat.
A style from the film Aap Jaisa Koi
One of the central narrative tensions of the film is the return of Shrirenu (Madhavan) to Madhu (Shaikh), where he says: “Gussa Thanda Ho Gaya Hai, Maaf Kar Rahe Hain Hum aapko. And his belief that he can” forgive “and her back is never completely interrogated. This feeling of male claim is reflected in Bhanus dynamics with Kusum, when he says, “Yeh Jo Tumne Kiya Hai, Iski Maafi Maang Lo. Both relationships assume that the departure of a woman is a violation that requires male absolution.
The lack of rounded female voices, despite the thematic promise of the film, feels like a blatant omission. It is as if the film was carefully dismantled to make its politics more tasty for an audience, which is not quite willing to hear everything women have to say.
The metaphor of the Lakshman Rekha appears about Madhus decisions, but the film opposes when they question the deeper implications of this line. Whoever draws it, the limits of which it forces and why his holiness remains unchallenged. Instead of allowing the audience to sit with the discomfort of this dynamic, the film withdraws into the safe familiarity of emotional resolution. In this way there is its potential for a real subversion.
The policy of representation
The film makes some sensible interventions, especially through the character of Kusum Bhabhi, who exerts her agency by leaving her husband and finding camaraderie with pleasure, a divorced man. The story becomes aware of the double standards of age and desire; Shrirenu, at the age of forty, is seen for a lifetime, while Kusum, only a little older, is ashamed because she is looking for love outside the boundaries of marriage. Their history also serves as a calm charges against the way women endure emotionally stagnating marriages, where the lack of violence is confused with care, and public reduction as affection and humor. The film draws our attention when Kusum says: “Agar Teen Time Ki Dawai Aur Tiffin Bhej de Na Bhanu, Toh Aapko Pata Bhi Nahi Chalega Ki Hum Hain Nahin.” It also presents a budget structure conducted by women through Didima, the respected oldest, who seems to lead the Bengal family family, and offers an allusion to the strength and authority of generations in female characters.
Despite this gestures, the film stages when it comes to a deeper representation. It fails Bechdel testPresent A minimal standard for measuring the female presence in a story. There are practically no scenes in which two named female characters talk about anything other than a man. Even Madhus talks with her grandmother are about Shrirenu. Women exist in this film, yes, but only in terms of men. Her inner life, her solidarities and her contradictions are in favor of a romance that is not alienated in favor of a romance.
A style from the film Aap Jaisa Koi
This lack of rounded female voices despite the thematic promise of the film feels like a blatant omission. It is as if the film was carefully dismantled to make its politics more tasty for an audience, which is not quite willing to hear everything women have to say.
Asymmetry and aesthetic feminism
In addition, the film seems to be valoring asymmetry in gender expectations. Madhu is made almost incredibly ideal: charismatic, multilingual, artistically talented, financially independent, emotionally open. She dances, plays the piano, teaches French and offers to pull in Shrirenus hometown and at the same time support both. In contrast, Shrirenu is portrayed as a man of modest means, a Sanskrit teacher in the forties, whose remarkable quality is that he is an honest man who “tries”. We see this when Shrirenu says in his monologue towards the end: “Par Hum Koshish Karenge … Aur Galtiyan Hongi, par Hum Maafi Mangesgande.” And yet these efforts are sufficient to justify Madhus love for him. We also don’t have much insight into the personality or career of joy, the neighbors, for whom Kusum leaves her husband. Such a dynamic quietly confirms the firmly anchored conviction that a man only has to offer good intentions, while a woman has to be extraordinary to be considered worthy.
The film seems to be a troubling asymmetry in the gender expectations. Madhu is made almost incredibly ideal. In contrast, Shrirenu is portrayed as a man of modest means, a Sanskrit teacher in the forties, whose remarkable quality is that he is an honest man who “tries”. Such a dynamic quietly confirms the firmly anchored conviction that a man only has to offer good intentions, while a woman has to be extraordinary to be considered worthy.
This imbalance is neither subtle nor random. It becomes clear when Madhu on her first date: “Bas aapki honesty pe dil aa gaya mera.” While men continue to expect the extraordinary in the film, women are still encouraged to be satisfied with sincerity. It reflects a broader social expectation: that women constantly exceed, while men are only applauded for emotional availability. It is a paradigm that reflects real relationships, but the failure of the film is in its refusal to criticize this inequality. Instead, it romances.
The way the film explores the opportunity to research male vulnerability with any real complexity is even more frustrating. Shrirenus loneliness, his internal struggle with traditional masculinity, the detention, which he always makes uncertain in a society about gender roles, and the casual discharge of his patriarchal father figure Bhanu are presented, but never developed. The film applies to these psychological textures, but withdraws into the comfort of a conventional love story as if emotional research is too forgiving.
A style from the film Aap Jaisa Koi
Interestingly, Shrirenu can be gentle and praised for it, but Madhus strength is only validated in combination with traditional femininity. Their intelligence must be alleviated by grace, their independence was raised by promotion, their success never allows their emotional availability to be put in the shade. She may step outside the conventional gender roles, but only as long as it remains aesthetically and emotionally “female”. The film thus imposes a quiet state: women can be powerful as long as they are tasty.
A romance that refuses to rebel
As a romance, AAP Jaisa Koi delivers a charm and is undeniably pleasant. It offers aesthetically appealing frames, red-brick walls, green rail windows and the foggy nostalgia from Kolkata. But if you sit down for a watch and expect more than just a charming love story if you are looking for a film that wants to change the cultural needle, this can.
A reserved rebellion gives us women who want to choose who even go, but only within a framework that ultimately reaffirms male centrality and emotional modesty. It acknowledges that the patriarchy exists, but it stops reducing it. It makes it soft, makes it romantic, even desirable.
It is precisely this gentleness that makes Aap Jaisa Koi so observable and insufficient. When trying not to alienate, it also refuses to transform. In the end there is a question, perhaps the most important thing: did the film have managed to uncover the hypocrisy of a patriarchal society, or did he only reverse them in the language of sensitivity and love and asked for women to stay flawless while men simply support to try?
