For the most part, Haq is not a story only about Muslim women. It is a story about women in general. Almost all of us know someone, married or unmarried, who has been cheated in love. We have seen that heartbreak up close, and we understand the emotional toll it takes.
When Shazia feels betrayed, we feel it too. When she wants the best for her children, that emotion feels familiar. When she fights for her rights, it resonates deeply. And when her father stands by her without hesitation, it reminds us of our own fathers and the quiet strength that support brings. These are emotions that are universal to women, cutting across religion, culture, and background.
The narrative becomes specifically about Muslim women only when the legal issues come into focus. That is where the real differences emerge, and the film clearly highlights how laws and systems can shape a woman’s fight for justice. It is to be noted that soon after the Triple Talaq ban was implemented in India, many Muslim women began approaching the courts to seek justice. While there was no open praise for the current government for such a ban, there was a quiet acceptance of the relief and protection the law offered them in real life. Many Muslim men, however, continue to view the ban as an insult to their faith rather than as a legal safeguard for women.
Getting back to the movie, Yami’s final monologue is powerful and leaves a strong impact. Emraan feels completely natural throughout and never once seems like he is performing. Sheeba Chaddha is equally convincing and brings depth to her role.
I especially want to credit Emraan for choosing to act in a film that openly talks about Muslim women’s rights. It takes conviction to support a story like this, especially as a Muslim, without dismissing it as Islamophobic. The film is clearly not that. Instead, it focuses on real issues and lived experiences, and his decision to back the narrative adds credibility and strength to the message being told.
Overall, I liked the film. The background music could have been better, and Yami is not fully convincing in a few scenes. Still, she more than makes up for it in the final act, which stays with you long after the film ends.
I started watching the Telugu film The Girlfriend with low expectations. I assumed it would be yet another romantic drama that glorifies toxic relationships and emotional manipulation in the name of love. To my surprise, the movie took a more thoughtful and layered route.
Minor spoilers ahead for context
The Girlfriend doesn’t just explore unhealthy love. It also dives into toxic parenting and how childhood conditioning shapes adult behaviour. The female lead is quiet, agreeable, and used to shrinking herself. The film makes it clear that her personality isn’t random. Her upbringing trained her to feel guilty for wanting space, choices, or independence. So when she picks a controlling partner, it feels strangely familiar to her. She’s not frightened of it at first, but she faces a tinge of uncertainty throughout. She tries to treat her partner’s behaviour towards her as normal because she has spent years adjusting to her father’s controlling behaviour. But deep down, there’s a quiet discomfort she can’t ignore. Something feels off, and her instincts begin to push back. This duality is what makes the character so different. This push and pull that many of us have experienced in our own relations with others who are not right for us.
The male lead, on the other hand, is aggressive, impulsive, and driven by ego. He worships Virat Kohli, maybe because he admires the cricketer’s aggressiveness and his devotion towards his wife, Anushka Sharma. He has a charming personality and enjoys a lot of attention. People around him like him, and he knows it. He’s used to getting what he wants, even in friendships. His behaviour reflects a narcissistic mindset where his needs come first, and empathy barely exists. Yet he remains popular, which feels very realistic. In real life, people like him often get the benefit of the doubt because their confidence and charm make them likable, even when behind closed doors, they’re not. This is why it’s often hard for someone with a narcissistic partner to justify leaving. People around them struggle to believe anything is wrong. The scene where he delivers that long, dramatic monologue in front of everyone when she ends the relationship is unforgettable and true to life. It’s an attempt to stage himself as the victim, even when he himself was the one in the relationship with the problematic dynamic.
When the movie shows the male lead’s mother, the pattern becomes clear. She mirrors the heroine’s personality. Anxious. Passive. Always accommodating. His father dominated the household, and his mother absorbed the behaviour without protest. In his partner, he doesn’t just see love. He sees a repetition of his family dynamic. In his own dysfunctional world, this is the definition of love.
This is what makes the film interesting. Many romantic movies in Indian cinema focus only on the lovers. But The Girlfriend highlights how family culture, parenting style, and generational trauma influence relationships. It reminds you that behaviour has context.
It made me think of my own past. My ex-husband had a similar attitude at home. I remember watching him take all his mother’s freshly washed clothes and throw them outside the house, onto the dirt-filled ground, just because she left them drying near the house’s entrance. She didn’t scold him. She didn’t even react. She simply smiled and picked them up to wash again. She later told me she was once abandoned on the roadside at night by her husband after an argument. She narrated it casually, as if it were normal. That’s when I understood why her son expected unquestioning loyalty and forgiveness from his own partner, me.
Watching the movie felt personal because it portrayed something many Indian families silently live with. Not abuse in the usual cinematic sense, but the subtle cycle of fear, guilt, silence, and acceptance.
I liked The Girlfriend mainly because of how honestly it handled the parenting angle. The performances were solid, especially from Rashmika Mandanna and Dheekshith Shetty. Their chemistry felt natural, and the relationship dynamics never felt exaggerated or forced. The emotional tension, confusion, fear, and hope all felt real. It’s rare to see an Indian movie explore love, trauma, and family influence with this level of subtlety. If you enjoy character-driven cinema with emotionally complex and layered characters, this one is worth watching.
The Girlfriend is streaming on Netflix and runs for 2 hours and 18 minutes.
It is by chance that I stumbled on the Co-Ed series on Amazon MX Player. The algorithm showed the trailer to me and I thought I would give it a try. I wasn’t expecting much but I was in for a surprise.
Co-Ed looks like a simple school drama at first, but it quickly turns into a lively mix of humour, friendship, and small twists that keep you curious. The writing feels fresh, and the young cast brings an energy that makes every episode, lasting around 20-30 minutes, easy to watch. I found myself hitting the next episode button without even thinking.
What’s It About?
Two twins step into a new chapter when their all-boys and all-girls schools merge to form a co-ed campus. The boy is nervous about sharing space with girls for the first time, while his sister walks in with full confidence. As they try to adjust to this sudden shift, their parents are also dealing with their own set of challenges at home. The mix of teenage chaos and family moments gives the series a relatable, everyday charm that keeps you curious about what happens next.
Thoughts
Co-Ed Season 1 took me by surprise. I didn’t expect to enjoy it this much.
Every actor in the series delivers a heartfelt performance. Honestly, they outshone many big names I watched this year. That says a lot. You slip into the world of the characters so easily that their joys and troubles feel like your own. You laugh with them and you end up tearing up with them too.
The parents in the story add another layer of emotion. Their struggles feel raw and real. I could sense the mother’s pain as she tries to hold everything together while staying proud of her small business. The question is, does her family see the same value in it? On the outside, the parents look like the perfect couple who split chores and support each other. But life is rarely that simple. It is often the quiet moments, the unsaid thoughts and the tiny frustrations that shape a home. Co-Ed captures all of this with surprising depth.
Rajeshwari Sachdev, Varun Badola, Adrija Sinha, Vedant Sinha, and Stuti Sahijwani are impressive in their respective roles. They complemented each other perfectly.
Shows like Co-Ed deserve a lot more attention. Viewers who enjoy warm, slice-of-life stories often find these gems by luck, not because they are promoted by popular reviewers.
For me, this one is a must-watch. You can stream it for free with ads on Amazon MX Player.
I recently watched Nobody Wants This Season 2. If you haven’t seen Season 1 of this Netflix series, I really think you should. It deals with a topic that most interfaith love stories never touch — conversion. It’s a sensitive issue, especially among Abrahamic religions. So it felt quite bold that the makers decided to go into it at all.
Season 1 had already touched on the idea of conversion. But Season 2 takes it a little further. This time, you see the boyfriend, who is a Jewish rabbi, and his family, constantly pushing his Christian girlfriend, who seems more atheist or maybe agnostic, to convert. It adds a new layer to their story and makes the whole situation feel even more complicated.
However, this post is not a detailed review of the series, but the many thoughts that came to my mind while watching it, mainly concerning conversion and how it is seen in India.
There are many abroad who have a distorted idea of religious freedom in India, no thanks to misleading, half-baked news articles, often written by left-leaning Hindus or non-Hindus, and I wish to debunk those notions as well and present them from the perspective of a centre-right Hindu who was, till two years ago, a leftist.
Be prepared for a long post, because this is a topic I feel strongly about. If you’re short on time, you may want to save or bookmark it and read it when you’re free.
A Hindu’s View on Conversion
Before I begin, I want to make my religious beliefs clear. I’m not a religious Hindu in the traditional sense, but I’m still a staunch Hindu. If that sounds confusing, it’s only because Hinduism allows this kind of pluralism. You can be spiritual, non-religious, or even an atheist, and still remain Hindu.
The faith makes space for many ways of thinking, which is why someone like me fits comfortably within it. I’m not ostracized for eating beef, nor am I ostracized for not following religious beliefs properly. I can question and I can push back against religious rules I don’t believe in without repercussions.
This freedom that my belief generously allows me is exactly why I strongly stand by the community and call myself a “staunch Hindu.” I advocate for the rights of my community, which a religious Hindu in India may not always do, as they wish to appear secular and tolerant of even the injustices against us.
Now that my beliefs are out of the way, I want to say that even as a non-traditional, progressive Hindu feminist, I don’t support conversion. I don’t understand why anyone has to give up their identity for love, marriage, or even politics, no matter how much anyone would try to justify it.
Most Hindus in India feel the same way, which is why you rarely see the community protesting against anti-conversion laws in some states. Among ourselves, we often say the same thing quietly: “What’s the need to convert?” Of course, many reasons are given. I address them later in this post.
Then we see Indian-origin Hindu politicians in America converting to Christianity to stay relevant and gain acceptance, and it makes us pause. It makes us wonder, “Is America really the land of the free?” And on what basis do they judge India on religious matters when they themselves have not reached full religious secularism yet?
However, in Abrahamic religions, conversion is considered a matter of freedom of faith. This is acknowledged. But this is also a major reason for communal tensions in a Hindu-majority country like India. Most Hindus do not believe in conversion or proselytization, while Abrahamic faiths consider it a part of their practice.
Hindus are of the belief that everyone should be free to practice their faith without disturbing others or disrespecting anyone else’s faith. Proselytization goes against that idea. It feels disrespectful because it implies someone’s existing faith is not good enough. It involves putting down those beliefs, so they are convinced enough to join the new one. So, this “freedom of faith” often comes at the expense of disrespecting others, which was tolerated for the longest period of time, till the Hindu community got the strength to say “enough is enough.”
This pushback is the part that’s often presented to the world as a “lack of religious freedom” in India. Or, to put it more frankly, the lack of freedom to convert Hindus. This clash of beliefs has no solution, and I see it continuing even after a change of government. It’s a label the country has to live with, because there can be no middle ground when people feel their identity is being erased.
A thought I often hear is, “There are so many Christian-majority and Muslim-majority countries in the world. Why can’t they just leave us alone?” It reflects the frustration many Hindus feel when they see constant pressure to convert despite already being a global minority.
Pressure to Convert in Interfaith Marriages
The topic of conversion in marriages is prevalent in Indian Reddit circles. Almost every other day, you see someone saying, “My partner’s parents want me to convert. What should I do?”
From what I’ve seen, it’s usually the Hindu who is expected to convert. And often, the Hindu partner is unaware of what that really means. They hear lines like, “You just need to get baptized. After that, you can follow your own culture,” and they assume there’s no conversion involved. Many agree because they don’t realize the deeper implications. We walk into these situations thinking others are as pluralistic and flexible as we are, and that’s where the misunderstanding begins.
Conversion is also very normalized. When I ask my Christian friends if someone needs to convert to marry into their community, they casually say “yes,” as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.
We recently saw this when JD Vance openly and coolly said he hopes his wife, Usha Vance, a Hindu, converts someday. Ironically, the same line appears in Nobody Wants This Season 2 as well, where the Jewish rabbi says he hopes his Christian girlfriend converts one day.
For us Hindus, it’s a culture shock, almost regressive, because we never expect something like this from others. At the same time, Abrahamics and international news channels are confused when they report that there’s outrage in India over Vance’s statement. They have no idea why Hindus are angry. So they brand it as “far-right Hindutva.”
Why Do Hindus Dislike Conversion?
Most Hindus find the idea of conversion strange, because the religion itself accepts that God can appear in many forms. It is naturally pluralistic. So someone like me, who is not religious, or even someone who is an atheist, is still seen as a Hindu, because schools like Carvaka already accept that. We also tend to readily accept other gods because of this pluralism. We don’t consider them as fake. We don’t believe that ours is the “only true god” either.
This pluralistic mindset of Hindus is both a boon and a bane. A boon because we naturally accept all faiths, and a bane because we expect the same openness from others, and we don’t always receive it.
On top of that, many Hindus today focus more on careers and less on having children. So there is a natural tendency to protect the current Hindu population from inducements. The Chattisgarh High Court reiterated the same thing recently:
Chhattisgarh High Court Condemning Induced Conversions
With all this in mind, it’s natural that the majority of Hindus don’t look at conversion in a positive way. Our faith is already mocked by many Abrahamics around the world, who use words like “demon-worshipping pagans.” This makes it even more important to push back against that narrative and simply exist as we are.
Hindus, in short, want the freedom to be seen and respected in their own identity. But this way of thinking is often dismissed by, ironically, the very same people who speak loudly about secularism and freedom of religion. If others believe Hindus can be freely converted, then Hindus also have the right to openly object to it.
Ghar Wapsi
Now, some may argue that even Hindus encourage conversion in the form of Ghar Wapsi (reverting to Hinduism). However, Ghar wapsi is not a core part of Hinduism. It is more of a reaction to the aggressive conversions that have been happening in the country.
Most people I know converted to Abrahamic religions because of perks, not out of faith. They were poor and needed money. They were promised financial benefits if they converted. The fact that they are openly admitting this is nothing any faith should feel proud of. The only reason to convert to another faith should be faith itself. You should feel that the new faith and its principles are right for you, not be influenced by inducements or pressure.
If you ask why the Hindu side can’t match these perks, the answer is simple: we don’t have multiple Hindu-majority nations funding such activities. India is the only major Hindu-majority country, so the playing field is not equal.
Ghar Wapsi is simply an attempt, based on faith alone, to help those who genuinely want to return to Hinduism.
Arguments Used to Justify Conversions in India
1. Charity
There’s this belief that the money given during conversions is out of pure kindness. But I know many Christians who are struggling, working extra hours just to manage their basic needs. If the intention is genuine help, why not support them first?
And, most importantly, why should any help come with the condition of conversion?
Real help doesn’t demand a change of faith. If it does, you have to wonder whether it’s truly help or part of an agenda.
2. Caste Discrimination in Hinduism
It’s also misleading to say that converted Christians escape discrimination to enter a better way of life after they leave Hinduism. Many are treated as “lower-level” Christians, and some have even gone back to Hinduism because of this.
Source: New Indian Express (July 2025)
Additionally, consider the points made below (took help from Google Search AI):
One person told me about a convert in her family who wants to return but cannot, because they signed a financial help agreement that now holds them back.
The good thing is that the caste system within Hindu society is slowly being dealt with. Families are becoming more open to inter-caste marriages, including in my own family. This change is happening faster in the South than in the North. It’s not perfect yet, but progress is real. In this situation, constantly blaming a community that is actively trying to fix the problem does not help.
Yes, many Hindus still support caste, and as long as they exist, the issue will continue. But this divide is also kept alive by leaders, both political and religious, because it benefits them. If caste truly disappears, many of these leaders lose their power to divide or convert Hindus, and that is why the system hasn’t faded away completely.
Instead of building bridges, the “narrative builders” choose to burn them by feeding divisive stories, which only pushes people of different castes further apart. Missionaries often highlight caste discrimination so aggressively because it helps them drive conversions. So you have to ask — are they really helping, or are they using the problem to serve their own goals?
4. Freedom of Faith
The tricky side of conversion in India is that Hindus openly say they are against it. But in Kerala, I often see Christian groups shift their stand based on who is converting and to which religion. They welcome anyone who joins their faith, but they loudly object when someone chooses to leave it.
Churches often use the term “love jihad” when a Christian woman converts to Islam for love. Yet the same groups talk about “freedom of faith” when a Hindu woman converts to Christianity for love.
Since both Abrahamic religions support proselytization as part of their belief system, you would expect them to be supportive of conversions into each other’s religion. But that rarely happens.
Complications of Conversion in Interfaith Relationships
Spoiler Ahead for Nobody Wants This Season 2
Click to reveal spoiler
Considering the many unwanted complications related to conversion, I was really hoping the female character in Nobody Wants This would take a stand. I wanted both partners to accept that two religions can live side by side without one needing to disappear. The ending didn’t go the way I hoped, but since there’s a Season 3 coming, I’m hoping they fix things and take the story in a better direction.
*Spoiler Ends*
In many interfaith relationships, I notice that the Hindu partner often gives in to the Abrahamic faith — if not through marriage, then through the children.
Take Usha Vance, for example. All three of her children were baptized because her husband couldn’t accept the kids growing up Hindu. That feels like a loss of her own identity. It shows that even an educated woman like her is not fully protected from this pressure.
If it were up to me, ideally, I would want the kids to grow up with both religions. But if we had to choose one religion for my “imaginary” children, I would fight hard to raise them in my own. Purely because Hinduism is naturally pluralistic, and it doesn’t invalidate any other faith. It would also matter to me because Hindus are a global minority, while the other religions face no existential crisis. It’s like the global majority religion being generous enough to make space for the growth of the minority.
Also, if I had to pick, I would choose a court marriage. But if the partner insists on a religious ceremony, then it would have to be a temple wedding. You don’t need to convert for that. You only need to respect the rituals. It’s simple, fair, and inclusive.
This is probably why I feel an interfaith marriage may not work for me. I believe in equality between religions, while an Abrahamic partner may not always see it the same way. There would be constant tension, and I am not the kind of Hindu who would compromise on my identity.
When I was younger, I probably would not have thought this way. Back then, love felt like everything. But growing older makes you see the bigger picture.
Pushback Against Conversions in India
More Hindus today realize that they don’t need to give up their beliefs for anything, which is why you see fewer people willing to convert.
Hindu Villagers in India Fighting Back Against Conversion
This awareness is slowly growing. I recently saw a post on Reddit where an Indian Christian said they felt sad that many Hindus in India are no longer open to conversion or to “the way of the Lord.” To me, this is actually a positive sign for the Hindu community. It shows that more people are choosing to stay firm in their identity.
And honestly, this should be true for every religion, because love and true secularism do not require anyone to change who they really are.
I’m a divorcee. I have been for many years now. I’ve never hidden this fact. But I also never imagined my marriage would end the way it did. Then again, who does?
We all grow up believing our marriages will last forever. I also used to think of myself as a tolerant person, so the idea of my marriage failing felt impossible. In my mind, this is something that others might have to go through, the ones with anger issues, those who couldn’t compromise. Not me.
I followed every piece of advice perfectly. The kind you might have seen relationship gurus meting out on social media nowadays, i.e., communicate respectfully, try to understand the other person’s perspective, etc. But over time, I realized communication isn’t a one-way effort; it takes two people to make it work. If only one partner keeps trying while the other sits back, believing they have nothing to change, it slowly chips away at your happiness.
With time, after observing other marriages around me, I understood that maybe I wasn’t as tolerant as I thought — at least not by Indian standards.
Different Levels of Tolerance in Relationships
My regrets in relationships are less about the ex and more about how I handled things. “Why did I let others influence my decisions? Why did I tolerate and compromise more than required?“
Of course, every relationship requires compromises. But each partner also has their own tolerance limits. For me, physical or emotional abuse is unacceptable. Yet, even I, someone who might appear intolerant of everything, tolerated it for a while before deciding I’d had enough. Many women, however, make peace with such situations in their marriages (and relationships in general) for their own reasons (dependency, fear, children, financial pressures, and more).
To cite an example of varying levels of tolerance: When I kept hearing cries of domestic violence in my building, I complained to the building association, even though people advised me not to. “It’s their family, their rules.” But I couldn’t just sit there doing nothing while hearing those cries. It was traumatizing. I took this step because there were times, even in my own relationship, that I wished my neighbors had intervened. Probably, ring the doorbell or knock on the door. It would have provided that much-needed relief.
After my complaint, it hasn’t happened since. But who’s to say the guy didn’t just find quieter ways to hurt his wife? I would’ve run away if such things had happened to me repeatedly, even if it meant begging on the streets for the rest of my life. But his wife might be thinking, “It’s okay. He’s doing it all out of love.” Who’s to know? You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Different levels of tolerance.
People also need to understand that no one files for divorce after just one instance of mistreatment. It happens when the same behavior repeats, even after requests, pleas, and calm conversations. Some choose to walk away, while others make peace with the idea that this is how their life will be. So the common advice of “give it one more chance” is mostly useless, and a bit insensitive, because the ones involved might have already given it multiple chances before deciding to let go.
Power of Faith During Tough Times
Even though I’m not a religious Hindu, having faith in some form has always helped me through tough times. It’s the one thing to hold onto when it feels like your world is falling apart. Even now, I rarely visit temples or follow rituals properly, but in moments of extreme heaviness, I still pray. Not to any specific god. I believe we’re all praying to the same divine force, just using different names and stories. What else could explain miracles happening in every community?
I remember, when I was married, our home had a lone idol of Goddess Kali, a deity I had rarely prayed to before. My parents usually had Lord Krishna at home. I still remember looking at the deity and crying. I asked if this was how it would be for the rest of my life – painful and broken on the inside, faking happiness on the outside (especially for social media).
I sometimes think I might have continued living that way if I hadn’t been pushed by some greater power to take a stand for myself. Probably it was Her. Must have been fed up with me always looking at Her, crying and whining. Even goddesses have their tolerance limits. Also, gods only help those who help themselves, right? Or as we Malayalees say, “Thaan paathi, dhaivam paathi” (you must put in your half of the effort, and God will take care of the rest). Maa Kali might have gone, “Bitch, why don’t you just leave the marriage, instead of troubling me all the bloody time?“
The day I walked out of my marriage was also the day I told my parents, “If you don’t help me, I’ll do it on my own.” Thankfully, they stood by me when I made that decision. I also had the confidence to stand on my own feet. I wasn’t employed then, but my freelance work brought in some income. I knew that if I left the marriage, I wouldn’t be a burden on anyone. That same freelance experience later helped me secure a job. It formed the bulk of my resume, and it convinced my employers that I could handle responsibilities independently, even while working from home, at a time when WFH wasn’t even common.
When I look back, I feel the universe was guiding me in small but meaningful ways toward a life that may be inadequate for someone else, but is absolutely correct for a homebody, introverted feminist like me.
Taking Marriage Advice from Society
But the point is, society will tell you not to take advice from a woman like me. Because I’m a divorcee. What would I know about marriage and relationships, right?
Yet it will encourage you to listen to the woman who keeps enduring it all, at the cost of her well-being, because that’s what a “good wife” does.
Society doesn’t really care about what a woman thinks or feels. It just wants you to stick to the rules.
I think it’s safe to say I’m seriously craving a good comedy film. The genre seems to be fading in Indian cinema. I’m not enjoying that shift one bit. Remember the Andaz Apna Apna era? Pure classic. Even Malayalam cinema had its fair share of timeless comedies that still hold up today. That comedy void is exactly what led me to subscribe to Zee5, just to watch the Malayalam film Prince and Family.
To be honest, I’ve become quite disconnected from new movie releases. Life in your 40s tends to be more news-oriented and less in touch with the entertainment world. And to make it worse, the kind of feel-good content I enjoy seems to be rare these days. I was brought up in the era of Yash Chopra and Karan Johar movies. So it’s natural that I miss the soft aesthetics of good ol’ Bollywood romance and the comedy movies of Malayalee actors like Mohanlal and Sreenivasan.
Considering my disconnect, I actually discovered Prince and Family through Instagram Reels. It was the viral dance entry of Chinju Rani that caught my eye and motivated me to subscribe to Zee5.
What’s It About?
Prince and Family tells the story of Prince Chakkalakkal, a well-known fashion designer in his 40s working in Kerala. He carries the weight of his entire family, including his two unemployed brothers and their families, on his shoulders. Despite his success, Prince remains unmarried, struggling to find the right partner.
Enter Chinju Rani. A hyper-energetic woman in her 20s and a popular social media influencer. Their match is arranged through an online matrimonial site.
Chinju Rani lives for the ‘likes.’ Every decision she makes is filtered through the lens of her followers. So much so that on her wedding night, she’s busy editing and posting her wedding video, while her husband waits and eventually falls asleep.
Can two people from such different worlds build a happy marriage? That’s the heart of Prince and Family.
Thoughts
I enjoyed Prince and Family overall. It had a promising comic tone at the start. I only wish they had stuck with that all the way through. While I understand the film’s intention, that is to highlight the dangers of living through social media at the cost of real-life connections, the shift to a more serious tone felt a bit abrupt. Honestly, the world of influencers offers plenty of material for comedy, and the film could have explored that further in a subtle manner without losing its message.
Some of the emotional scenes felt exaggerated. But not to the point of losing interest. The film kept its entertainment quotient intact throughout.
Dileep’s character is particularly interesting. He’s choosy about marriage proposals, with one preference that seems to be clearly dominant over all others even though it’s not explicitly stated: he wants a young, unmarried, attractive woman. Despite being in his 40s, this mindset makes him dismiss proposals from women his own age with a certain disdain. It’s old-school thinking, but it mirrors real-life attitudes in India that still persist. This is why we see 50-year-old Indian male actors romancing 20-year-olds on-screen, while actresses of the same age group play their mothers.
The real star of the movie, though, is Raniya Raanaa. Some might say she’s overacting, but I think she nails the hyper energy of a social media influencer who lives for the camera. Her performance is full of life, and she handles emotional scenes with ease. Siddique and Bindu Panicker are excellent in their supporting roles as well.
All in all, Prince and Family is worth a watch. Just don’t expect too much logic or nuance. It’s streaming now on Zee5.
The Monkey Dilemma 
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