POV: Why Mukti in Tere Ishq Mein takes a step backward for female agency in Bollywood!

When a woman's hard-earned freedom is constantly undermined for cinematic convenience, and her self sabotaging behaviour over a toxic man is glorified, it stings extra hard!

Even in 2025, a regular Indian household that boasts of being modern, educated and progressive, female agency is still a concept that people remain largely unaware or consciously avoidant of. Yes, our degrees are celebrated, our promotions are cheered on, we see our men sharing feminist messages on WhatsApp groups but when it comes to letting you make your own decisions as an independent adult - you're "asking for too much" and the narrative flips back to how they get to decide in the name of care, protection and honour.

Aanand L. Rai’s Tere Ishq Mein, starring Dhanush and Kriti Sanon, is being celebrated as a grand, tragic, all-consuming love story which is enjoying an impressive run at the box office, but for me and millions alike who have paved the way to a little bit of freedom, it feels like a beautifully shot reminder that no matter a woman’s achievement, she has to sacrifice her autonomy, her logic, and professional identity for male (a deeply problematic one) affection to find cinematic validation!

Also Read: Tere Ishq Mein review: Anand L. Rai's romance drama leaves you cold, confused and unconvinced

Mukti is a PhD psychology student in Delhi University who spends four years on her thesis before landing a job as high-profile and important as a military counselor. But just like a high-achieving woman is deemed 'unfulfilled’ without a ring on her figure by our society, Mukti, in order to be taken seriously in this film, had to sacrifice herself to an obsessive romance with the violent Shankar (Dhanush). On the surface, she is portrayed as an empowered figure who is ambitious, intellectually driven and professionally capable of reforming behaviours, however on a layer beneath this is a plot that regresses her agency and reduces her to a reactive object in a problematic man’s world rather than an independent force of her own story. Mukti starts off as a high-achieving scholar, who descends into alcoholism, pill dependency, and a complete life of disarray amid Shankar's obsession and violence, making you feel unsettled as an audience. Not only that, she is constantly shown ignoring red flags, making you question her credibility as a psychology scholar. While her name stands for salvation, the film uses it and her act of ‘sacrifice’ as the true meaning of ‘Mukti’ in love. Which yet again echoes Bollywood's long history of undermining women and villainising their intellect by using it as a device to amplify male turmoil or even worse, glamourising her irrational surrender to a man as devine and unconditional love. 

So when I watch a Mukti on screen lose her mind, career, and self-respect for a toxic man and the film and the audiences celebrate by terming it as true love, it infuriates me. Because in reality, women are fighting these small and silent battles every day. We spend hours curating our arguments, crafting them in the most effective manner possible, just to defend choices that concern our basic autonomy - the way we dress, our academic pursuits, the desire to move in or out of the parental home, or muster the courage to ask for what we truly deserve at a work place. And mind you, our exhaustion comes not from the fight itself, but from the simple fact that we have to justify our existence and worth every time. 

It's high time our filmmakers stop revering love stories that tell us that a woman’s hard-won freedom is actually a burden and offer us tales that celebrate a woman who chooses herself in a society as regressive as ours.

Tere Ishq Mein is playing in theatres near you!

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