Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan: Turning point in mainstreaming LGBTQ romance

With Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan, mainstream Hindi cinema has finally embraced queer romance. But can it push beyond the lovers-vs-family template?

Published: 08th March 2020 05:00 AM  |   Last Updated: 08th March 2020 01:35 PM   |  A+A-

'Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan' is a light-hearted comedy that can be seen as a progressive attempt towards the acceptance of same-sex couples.

'Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan' is a light-hearted comedy that can be seen as a progressive attempt towards the acceptance of same-sex couples. (Photo | Ayushmann Khurrana Instagram)

There are two kissing scenes in Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (SMZS). The first unfolds on a train, the second at a wedding between Kartik (Ayushmann Khurrana) and Aman (Jitendra Kumar). If Hitesh Kewalya’s film has made a mark, as many agree it has, it is because of these two scenes. Taken together, they constitute a turning point in the mainstreaming of LGBTQ romance.

Indian cinema has always grappled awkwardly with the cultural positioning of a kiss. To family audiences, it has always indicated something radical, a gesture assertively sexual and immediate. For the censor board, the kiss has perennially spelled trouble: 82 years after Devika Rani lip-locked Himanshu Rai in Karma, the CBFC ran its scissors across Sam Mendes’ Spectre. By extending the urgency of the onscreen kiss to same-sex narratives, Kewalya has broken new ground. But his film—like many recent LGBTQ-themed efforts in Hindi cinema—represents a battle half-own. Individual freedom is linked to heteronormative family structures in India. As a cultural product, Hindi romances are incomplete if limited to a couple. They must include, clash with, convince and ultimately win over the family.

Predictably, SMZS does not dismiss its family audience. Rather, it uses humour and reliability to gently negotiate with them. When Kartik is beaten up by Aman’s father (Gajraj Rao), it’s a scene of criminal violence, but staged like a comedy. The upbeat music is an incentive to the audience to suspend their close-mindedness and reflect along. A similar approach was taken by Shelly Chopra Dhar’s Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga (2019). The film centred on a lesbian girl coming out to her conservative family. The casting of Anil Kapoor as Sonam Kapoor’s father was a winning gambit. And ended on a similar note: with the family patriarch accepting, if not entirely embracing, the fact of sexual orientation. “We are our families,” Kewalya says, “As genetic beings, there’s no way we can avoid the traits of our family. It’s the determining unit of any social evolution, going back hundreds of years. When you make a film with that awareness, it automatically becomes a story everyone can understand.”

Clockwise from right: Stills from Shubh Mangal Zyada Savdhan; Dear Dad; Sheer Qorma

This endless tug-of-war marks our entire LGBTQ canon. Deepa Mehta’s Fire (1998) traces the lesbian companionship that blooms inside a Delhi home. The film’s dismantling of androcentric marital norms was met with violent protests. In Mahesh Dattani’s Mango Soufflé  (2002), a gay fashion designer invites his friends for a private coming-out ceremony. A complicated sibling relationship also anchors Onir’s My Brother Nikhil (2005), the first Indian film to deal with homosexuality and HIV/AIDS.  In Shakun Batra’s Kapoor & Sons, a mother comes to terms with her son’s sexuality. Mothers are at the centre of Sanjoy Nag’s Memories in March (2010) and the 2018 Tamil film My Son Is Gay. In Dostana (2008), Kirron Kher responds with caricaturish disbelief at her son’s homosexuality. The sentiment is echoed by Neena Gupta in SMZS, though dimmed down and treated with self-reflection. A reversal of this dynamic is found in Dear Dad, where Arvind Swamy plays a gay father coming out to his son.

The year 2020 is looking up for LGBTQ stories. After SMZS, Faraz Arif Ansari’s Sheer Qorma is up for release. In the trailer, one of the characters identifies herself as ‘non-binary’—perhaps the first openly genderqueer character in Hindi cinema. Later in the year comes Dostana 2. The 2008 original has a tainted legacy for playing up gay stereotypes. Will the sequel be any better? Navjot Gulati, one of the co-writers on the film, says, “We are aware of the sensitivity of the subject and are approaching it with care,” Navjot says, “I can assure you no one will feel disappointed with our treatment.”

The bigger question, however, remains this: will mainstream Hindi cinema finally venture beyond the family template? Or will Kartik and Aman—just like Raj and Simran (DDLJ)—always depend on parental approval for love?


Disclaimer : We respect your thoughts and views! But we need to be judicious while moderating your comments. All the comments will be moderated by the editorial. Abstain from posting comments that are obscene, defamatory or inflammatory, and do not indulge in personal attacks. Try to avoid outside hyperlinks inside the comment. Help us delete comments that do not follow these guidelines.

The views expressed in comments published on are those of the comment writers alone. They do not represent the views or opinions of or its staff, nor do they represent the views or opinions of The New Indian Express Group, or any entity of, or affiliated with, The New Indian Express Group. reserves the right to take any or all comments down at any time.

flipboard facebook twitter whatsapp