Ahead of Brahmastra, decoding the enduring relevance of the women in Ayan Mukerji’s films

There is a scene early in _Wake Up Sid_ (2009) when Ayesha and Sid meet for the first time. After finding out that she’s relocated to Mumbai alone, away from everyone she knows and loves, to make a life for herself, our young protagonist asks Ayesha whether it does not scare her to be all by herself in a city as overwhelming and all-consuming as Mumbai. What Ayesha says to Sid then, sitting at Marine Drive past midnight on her first day in Mumbai, has influenced many a decision that I have taken in life. She admits to Sid that she is scared to bits, but quickly adds, “It was my dream to come to Bombay, Siddharth. And now that I am here, I cannot be afraid. I want to do so much here that there will be no place for fear.” I was in Class 12 when Wake Up Sid released. What Ayesha Banerjee wanted at 27, I wished to work towards from 18. When I watched her on the screen for the first time, it was as if someone had created her to show how I wanted to be after college. I was her—driven, willing to take seemingly mad chances to pursue writing and independence, and itching to make my own money and spend it. And I did all of it. For five years after I left home, I was the perpetual new girl in the city. First in Bangalore, then in Delhi, followed by Chandigarh, and finally, Mumbai. But my experiences were nowhere close to as ideal as Ayesha’s. I did not meet any cute boys on my first day in any of these cities. And the ones I did, turned out to be absolute heartburns. Also, it’s fun the first time you rent a flat but all the play goes out the window when you are forced to do it three times a year with no one to help. As for the myth of the dream job, well, no dream can survive the crude reality of 10 hours a day, six days a week. But every time the drudgery got too real or the loneliness too palpable, I would inevitably return to Ayesha to inject some optimism into my disillusionment that was quickly turning into cynicism. She was to me what Sid was to her—a solid companion who you could count on each time you needed a bailing out. Just when I thought I was too old to find any more of me in Ayesha, a new realization dawned on me. Much like her, I too found love in a person, who, to quote her, is totally the wrong profile for me, the kind I never thought I would ever date. But you can’t think these things through, can you? After all, you don’t get to choose who you love. It’s an accident that’s difficult to explain. A lot like birth. Or faith. But as much as Ayesha Banerjee is my all-time favorite woman on screen, she is not the only one from Ayan Mukerji ’s filmography that stands out. Albeit only two films old, he has a knack for creating women that stay with you irrespective of their screen time. Take Debbie from Wake Up Sid, for instance. She has only two scenes in the film and has dialogues in just one. And yet. She’s Sid’s classmate and Ayesha’s roommate who brings her to their farewell party where the boy meets the girl. We’re told then that Debby doesn’t like Sid. But it is in her second scene that we find out why. It’s because she is made to bear the brunt of his privilege without him even knowing about it. Their college chooses him—the spoilt son of a wealthy man—over Debbie for their last seat even when was more deserving. Or take Sid’s mother’s stubborn insistence to speak in English even if incorrect. She is trying hard to learn the language. But not to impress or flaunt. Instead, she believes it will make her son think that she’s as cool as his friends and maybe lead to him spending more time with her and respecting her. Then there’s Sid’s large friend Lakshmi. In a telling scene, she bares the struggles of every person trying to lose weight. It’s a short sequence and doesn’t contribute to the central plot but it’s done with great care and opens a tiny window into the world of everyone dealing with body image. Mukerji’s second directorial, _Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani_ (2013), also, through its key female characters, breaks several boxes that we often tend to cage women in. That sincere, studious girls cannot be fun. Or that girls who are brash, wild, and not overtly feminine, cannot fall in love the old school way, or are too abrasive to find a life partner in an arranged marriage. Or how a stepmother should or should not be. Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani may revolve around Kabir more than anyone else, but it is the coming-of-age story of both him and Naina. Kabir is pretty predictable until the last few minutes of the film. It is Naina who undergoes a real transformation from an introverted bookworm to a confident woman comfortable with her choices and place in the world. Both of these Ayan Mukerji films use every trick in the textbook in the service of the trope of the manic pixie dream girl only to break it in the most intriguing way. Sure, his women help his leading men find the true purpose of their lives. But that’s incidental. Ayesha doesn’t come to Mumbai to make a man out of the rich, entitled, unambitious Sid. Naina doesn’t join her former classmates on a trip to Manali or for Aditi’s wedding in Udaipur with the intention to make Kabir see the beauty in routine and stability. Both these women are out and about trying to find themselves, build a life, and have a good time while at it. For them, everything else—including men—is happenstance. With Brahmastra about to release, it is then only obvious to expect that Alia Bhatt’s Isha is a formidable addition to Mukerji’s movie verse that he has carefully crafted over the years. If Ranbir Kapoor is Shiva, I hope Isha turns out to be as powerful, indomitable, limitless and enduring as Parvati too, and not just the hero’s love interest as Wikipedia would have you believe. When not reading books or watching films, Sneha Bengani writes about them. She tweets at @benganiwrites. Read all the  Latest News ,  Trending News ,  Cricket News ,  Bollywood News ,  India News  and  Entertainment News  here. Follow us on  Facebook,  Twitter and  Instagram.