Love, it seems, can raise the dead

Love cures all, including erectile dysfunction! Just give it some space to deep-breathe, relax, do some dhyaan over its performance anxiety and soon you’ll find that life is shava-shava mahiya…

Cynics like me will probably say LOLZ and then do some ROFLing while kicking our legs in the air.

But choo-chweet Shubh Mangal Saavdhan believes so firmly and earnestly in the therapeutic and curative powers of love that it’s just mean to keep sniggering.

Though, much like its theme, there’s a lot of charm and joy in this film, followed by terrible drooping and slumping, Shubha Mangal Saavdhan, by director R.S. Prasanna, is cocksure in its belief. And so we go along, hoping that it will rise to the occasion, literally, of course. It tries, but doesn’t quite.

Shubha Mangal Saavdhan, SMS for short, tells the story of two Delhi Brahmins — Sugandha Joshi (Bhumi Pednekar) and Mudit Sharma (Ayushmann Khurrana) — who work in Nehru Place and often check each other out. While Sugandha, Sugu, talks only in filmy dialogue, dreaming of a filmy romance, complete with angry parents and evil men, Mudit is the normal kind and tries to talk to her one day. But just as he’s walking towards Sugu, a performing bhalu drops his act and attaches itself to Mudit’s leg and proceeds to, well, make out.

It’s cutely pathetic and fast-talking Sugu can’t stop laughing. So Mudit, embarrassed but smitten, takes the dotcom route, and sends the Joshis a virtual proposal for Sugu.

Soon they are both sure that they have found a soulmate and proceed to go through the rituals of that lovely oxymoron called arranged-cum-love marriage. But on the one occasion when they are all alone and dying to do it, he can’t.

Though Mudit loves Sugu dearly, he thinks he should not marry her. Sugu, upset but in love, says love is important, sex is not.

Awwww, sweet idiot, you think. And so does her dad. But Sugu wants Mudit to talk, to discuss, and celebrate their celibate union. Mudit, however, is too morose. And once her father and then his get to know about this Sharma shame-shame situation, there’s too much cacophony all around for anyone to say or do anything sensible.

There’s some talk of mard log and their mardangi, and an attempt to marry off the girl to a kele ka ped, but shirtless Mudit and dupatta-less Sugu declare their love to their families and friends who are still looking askance.

Indian films, especially those out of Mumbai, have for more than a century devoted themselves to creating and then haranguing “baanjh aurats” and “manhoos bahus”, but have hardly ever questioned the hero’s so-called “mardangi” because that’ll just, you know, bring the whole penile edifice of patriarchy crumbling down.

Writer-director Prasanna takes up this uncomfortable issue, makes it the focus of all proceedings and then pooh-poohs it as a nonissue, treating it like a brief rukawat-ke-liyekhed-hai moment in a life-long romance. To tell his tale he has put together some members of the troupe that had, in 2015, gathered around a motu bahu in Haridwar (Dum Laga Ke Haisha).

His film is short and fun, and the MIG family life that he creates around the Joshi parivaar is fun and heartwarming.