I recently watched Aap Jaisa Koi on Netflix. I skipped a few scenes, but overall it was fun and, more importantly, deeply thought-provoking.
The film revolves around Shri — a 32-year-old North Indian man, single, a virgin, with no past relationships. He is a nerd, a Sanskrit teacher, highly educated (PhD), and raised in what he believes is a “normal” North Indian family. Shri genuinely thinks he respects women and believes in equality.
That belief begins to break when he falls in love with Madhu, a Bengali woman brought up in an educated and egalitarian family.
Things fall apart when Shri discovers that his fiancée is on a dating app. His male ego gets triggered, and he ends the relationship. Later, his niece makes him realise that Madhu loved him for who he was — she wanted to laugh with him, not at him.
When Shri goes back to apologise, he says he will “allow” her to do everything — but within limits. That’s when Madhu delivers the most powerful line:
Love does not require permission or approval. “Jitna humara hai, utna tumhara.”
She tells him he still doesn’t understand what love truly means and walks away, believing he can’t give her the kind of love she seeks.
A parallel incident shifts Shri’s worldview further. His bhabhi is caught in a relationship with someone else. When confronted, she explains that for years she never knew who she was — she was always someone’s bhabhi or chachi, never herself. With this new person, she finally felt seen.
His brother, Bhanu, emotionally declares that his heart is big enough to forgive her — if she just says sorry.
At that moment, Shri realises something uncomfortable: he is no different from Bhanu. He believed he supported equality, but his idea of equality was shaped by patriarchy. For him, equality meant allowing women to work or study. And “allowing” still implies permission — power still remains with the man.
That realisation changes him.
He goes back to Madhu and explains how his beliefs shifted after experiencing this perspective so closely. This time, he doesn’t speak from ego — but from understanding. Eventually, Madhu agrees, and they get engaged.
My Reflection
I don’t think it was Shri’s fault, nor Madhu’s. They were both products of different upbringings and different worlds. Shri’s belief system was deeply conditioned; he simply never realised he was part of the patriarchy until life forced him to see it. Madhu, on the other hand, grew up in an environment where equality felt like common sense. But “common sense” itself depends on upbringing and lived reality.
It’s interesting how two people can both be right from their own conditioning — and still clash.
Overall, a very interesting story. Fun to watch, but more importantly, it leaves you with something to think about.