I started watching Chandigarh Kare Aashiqui (CKA) with zero expectations because:
1) Most Hindi movies about the LGBTQI+ community are either unwatchable art film drivel (with notable exceptions like Kapoor and Sons and Aligarh) or sexist tripe in which the degree of one’s flailing wrist decides where someone lies on the Kinsey Scale.
2) It was directed by Abhishek Kapoor who has made singularly unwatchable movies like Aryan: The Unbreakable and Fitoor and tried hard to convince us that Farhan Akhtar’s scratchy singing qualified as rock music.
In fact, I half-expected the entire plot to boil down to one simple question for cishet men: “Would you boink someone who was born a male if they look like Vaani Kapoor?”
I am glad to be proved wrong. CKA is one of those rare gems that pop up from Bollywood from time to time, usually starring Ayushman Khurana.
From surrogacy to gay relationships, Ayushman has become the go-to person for a sensitive male lead, a modern-day Shah Rukh Khan if you will. Of course, it’s a different matter that no one wants to pay to watch the original Shah Rukh Khan.
CKA follows Manu’s (Ayushmann Khurana) epic quest to go from Chandigarh bloke to woke in two hours as he falls in love with a transwoman. The movie is unique because it doesn’t preach to an audience. In fact, the audience grows along with the protagonist, which in India consists of watching at least one maudlin episode of Satyamev Jayate.
CKA keeps it breezy without ever getting preachy, which is where movies with messages usually fall short. The last thing an audience wants while watching a movie – while simmering over the popcorn prices – is to be told he is a bigot. Of course, sticklers will point out that even for transwoman, their main job becomes to cheer on a cis-hetero man from the side so he can fulfil his dreams, which here is winning the CrossFit competition called Gabru of all Time (GOAT).
In fact, CKA is the sort of movie that goes a long way in changing perceptions, in this case about the trans community, just like Amitabh Bachchan’s booming baritone in Pink explained the importance of consent.
Remember, we are talking about a society where a lot of people think LGBT is a new form of tax.
The best propaganda, as I wrote last week, is when you don’t know it’s propaganda. Here, I use the term propaganda without any judgement to it, but simply as a medium to spread a message, which in this case is that it’s perfectly normal to be trans.
You can’t red pill someone into understanding the plight of transpeople by either boring them with morose articles or painfully long Twitter threads. You won’t change a person’s mind by cancelling him for not knowing a zillion pronouns.
I mean, it’s hard to take a Pride March seriously if it comes with a side of Free Kashmir, because let’s face it, there isn’t going to be a Pride March in Srinagar any time soon. To quote a friend, why should the burden of sticking up for everyone fall to the most marginalised. No revolution will be intersectional and in general people of alternate sexualities are the first ones to be thrown under the bus (or from top of buildings).
The movie feels particularly important at a time when it feels like the most vocal fringe of the trans debate consists of erasing the legacy of one of the greatest female authors of all time because she prefers the term woman and pointing out that biological sex is not a spectrum.
The movie’s leitmotif can be summed up from one dialogue: “What did Shakespeare say? What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Labels can take a hike. Gay, bi uni, trance – what difference does it make? Kaanta laga to laga.”
PS – You might need subtitles if you have trouble following heavy Punjabi-style Hindi.
Chandigarh Kare Aashiqui is streaming on Netflix.
Nonsensical Nemo 