When it releases it hails. Or it fails. In recent memory ‘hundred’ seems to have become the new ‘ten’ in multiple of crores with Pushpa, Jawan, KGF Chapter 2, RRR, Kalki, Stree 2, Chhaava crossing the `700-crore mark in gross domestic collections. But then great expectations like Housefull 5, Metro In Dino, Sikandar whimpered out at the box office, while Sitaare Zameen Par returned a middling performance. Is it that sequels or ‘spirit sequels’ don’t work anymore? Or that the suffix ‘5’ suggests that the franchise has been beaten to death (and hence keeps the audience away)? Or that millennials are embarrassed to watch the heroes their parents did in the 1980s? Maybe a bit of all. Box office predictions are a bit like Gabbar Singh’s revolver. No one knows which bullet will fire.
Amidst all this, tiptoes in a “moving star” called Saiyaara, unsupported by any promos. Neither the lead cast of Ahaan Panday and Aneet Padda, nor the supporting cast ring any bell. There was nothing new about the story either. The beginning, with the girl’s marriage being called off at the last minute, made you feel Saiyaara was going to go the Queen (2013) way. A struggling musician’s itch for a fast-track career on a loosely gravelled road could be Gully Boy (2019), while the impetuous, loud and angry Krish Kapoor (Panday) was, in many ways, Jordan (Ranbir Kapoor) of Rockstar (2011).
So why did a rehash—albeit an intelligent one—take off like a rocket and cross the `400-crore orbit? The reasons are surprisingly obvious. The characterisation of the protagonist Vaani, for one. Characterisation is the sum of all observable characters of a person. Her girl-next door look—jeans, an ordinary kurta, an economy-range shoulder bag, minimal makeup—combined with the tentativeness in her body language and light intonation, completed the portrait. Vaani was an educated, sincere young urbanite trying to fight her way back after a shocking rejection. Her confidence was understandably underplayed. Flamboyance was out. Her good looks turned no heads, but her writing talent mesmerised all. She looked beautiful fighting her battle-a-day, and her audience empathised with her because she was like one of them.
Director Mohit Suri also blended a time-tested trope of losing someone young with something that is a matter of global concern—Alzheimer’s. From Anand (1971) to Kal Ho Na Ho (2003), it has usually worked for Bollywood. The loss needn’t be only to death. Why this worked in Saiyaara—the shocking revelation about Vaani’s condition brought a flood of sympathy for Vaani. Geared for the worst, the audience sit back and enjoy those painfully sweet moments of music-making and love-making.
“Show, don’t tell” is another golden advice for scenarists. Vaani’s father and Krish hardly exchange a word, but in Krish’s small caring act of returning Vaani’s bag, the older man saw how much the turbulent young musician loved his daughter. Their silent chemistry was magical. Saiyaara is a constellation of many such small moments of unspoken care, separation and re-bonding.
In the finale, Suri draws from the Tamil superhit Moondram Pirai (1982). Krish’s attempt in the snow-clad Manali to re-activate Vaani’s memory of their love by re-enacting his ‘six hitting’ cricket act was a replay of the last scene at the railway station in Moondram Pirai. Cheenu (Kamal Haasan) mimics to his Viji (Sridevi) the same clowning acts that he did when she was a retrograde amnesiac. But she has no recollection of him or his care and protection when she had become a ‘six-year-old child’. But in Saiyaara, Krish’s ‘last-ball-six’ connects. Vaani remembers. Everything. And the audience ‘wins’ because they had been cheering for her all along.
The success of Saiyaara suggests that emotionally grounded, character-driven stories—especially those with relatable protagonists, subtle storytelling, and themes like illness and quiet resilience—still resonate deeply with audiences, even amid a market dominated by big-budget sequels and star-heavy spectacles. The film’s triumph shows that viewers crave authenticity, nuanced emotions, and smaller, heartfelt moments over formulaic plots and franchise fatigue. As long as filmmakers continue to craft intelligent, emotionally rich narratives, this thematic approach will likely continue to work for Bollywood, offering a refreshing contrast to loud, overdone sequels that increasingly feel out of touch.