Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari

Can two ex-lovers rekindle an old flame, amicably, no less? Even if it involves impersonations, preposterous plans, and enough emotional confusion to make Freud reconsider his career path? Of course they can—especially if they’re in a 135-minute Bollywood rom-com, a genre that continues to churn like a butter factory run by hopeless romantics. Now, while global cinema gallops into bold territories—where genre-bending narratives and offbeat themes are embraced with open arthouse arms—our beloved Hindi films remain steadfast in their commitment to unearthing every last angle of the same timeless theme: love.

Love makes the world go round in confoundingly concentric circles in Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari. Given full on flippant treatment, the caprices and convolutions of the Varun Dhawan-Janhvi Kapoor starrer have a free run of the field. The film revolves around four young people who are surrounded by families at variance with their choices. The quartet finds itself on a wild merry-go-round of break-ups, hook-ups and matrimonies.

There’s a moment of great wisdom in Sunny Sanskari ki Tulsi Kumaari (SSKTK) as a father tells his daughter, a teacher no less, of the great significance of self-respect in relationships as well as in life. The father then disappears, never to be seen. The daughter hearing the pep talk intently is Ananya (Janhvi Kapoor) who is on her way to attend the wedding of her ex Vikram’s (Rohit Saraf) in Udaipur. The next 100 minutes or so she spends entirely negating what her dad spoke about as she pretends to be in love with Sunny (Varun Dhawan) who is there to break-up Vikram’s wedding with his own ex Ananya (Sanya Malhotra). The jilted lovers hope their amorous antics would make their exes jealous and eventually return to them.

In spite of what the popular perception might be, I can vouch for the fact that film critics still belong in the more forgiving section of the audience. It’s only when the film isn’t working that the mind wanders and inane details grate that much more. In Shashank Khaitan’s Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari, a character introduces someone, whose family business is valued at $1 billion. “How much money is that?” a friend asks, and the reply comes – “Rs 7,000 crore.” If Khaitan’s film was even slightly sincere and disarming, instead of the smug, gassy Hindi film I’ve come to abhor in the last few years, I would’ve overlooked the arithmetic error.