Harshavardhan Kulkarni’s Badhaai Do (Felicitations Due) brings the multifaceted reality of being queer in India to mainstream Bollywood by taking a formula and turning it on its head. Charted in another "small town" set-up, with more than one familiar face (Seema Pahwa, Sheeba Chaddha) occupying a predetermined space, Badhaai Do sets out to question the confines of heteronormativity in a land where regressive rules and laws often strangle freedom of choice and expression.

Currently streaming on Netflix, Badhaai Do is the spiritual successor of the 2018 Amit Ravindernath Sharma film Badhaai Ho (Congratulations), where a middle-aged couple gets pregnant only to face the wrath of a society that regularly writes off older people as sexual beings. The similarities between the two films stop at how society judges what it perceives as unconventional. Badhaai Do is about a couple in a lavender marriage, where two queer people – Shardul Thakur (Rajkumar Rao), a police officer with long-forgotten dreams of being a pro bodybuilder, and Suman Singh (Bhumi Pednekar), a physical education teacher – enter a marriage of convenience to escape social stigma.

The Mundane Struggles of Being Queer in India

Badhaai Do on Netflix
Netflix

In a subtle but pointed shift in tone, Badhaai Do moves its lens away from the grand to the daily. Here the mundane struggles of living as a queer person in India get centre stage, with exaggerated rhapsodies of love, flowery proposals, and big, fat wedding sequences – typical cliches in films about love and relationships in Bollywood. Worries over nosy neighbours and watchful relatives take precedence for Shardul and Suman, who also navigate their individual love lives in makeshift closets of their own kind.

The film grounds itself in reality in more ways than one and breezes through the romantic aspects that mainstream movies love to aggrandise with song and dance sequences. Instead of lingering upon sweet nothings, the film focuses on heartbreaks and disappointments that come with being in relationships. Falling in love is easy, but living in love with dignity is hard, especially when faced with the harsh realities of life.

Loneliness Even in Familiar Spaces

badhaai-do rajkumar
Netflix

In the urban spaces of India, it may not be strange to encounter queer folx living openly, but many still hide their true selves in order to appease conservative friends and family. The Supreme Court of India deemed the criminalisation of homosexuality unconstitutional as it infringed upon “the fundamental rights of autonomy, intimacy, and identity,” thereby legalising homosexuality, but the social narrative is quite different.

Badhaai Do celebrates love that rebels and thrives with courage and tenderness. But it also draws attention to the haunting loneliness that comes with going against norms. Not only is being non-heteronormative looked down upon, queer folx can neither get married legally nor adopt children in India. Living in the open can often come at the risk of alienation from even the nearest and dearest, underlined in the film multiple times. While Shardul and Suman hide their identities from their families for most of the film, Suman’s partner Rimjhim (Chum Darang) has been excommunicated by her family for choosing to live her truth.

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Even though Shardul finds a confidant in Suman, his tendency to project toxic hyper-masculinity gets in the way of them bonding more intimately. Towards the end of the film, Shardul puts on a mask at a Pride parade, and as Suman, Rimjhim, and Guru (Shardul’s partner played by Gulshan Devaiah) dance in joy. This act ends up symbolising Shardul’s final unmasking (in front of the world) and acceptance.

A person is more than their sexual and gender identity, and not everyone who belongs to a marginalised space relates to other similar intersectional struggles. This nuanced beat pulses through the entire story.

Inclusivity Without Tokenism

Badhaai Do on Netflix
Netflix

Incidentally, Darang’s casting is another achievement in a film that tries to be as organically inclusive as possible. Darang is Arunachali, and she hails from Arunachal Pradesh in Northeastern India, a demographic often missing from mainstream spaces in Bollywood, which tends to play favourites with known faces and families. Like most things touched upon in Badhaai Do, this too seamlessly blends in, primarily through humour and then some deft storytelling, thereby avoiding becoming another mere act of tokenism. A feat rarely done in Bollywood, especially as effortlessly as the 2007 Shimit Amin film Chak De! India. However, not casting a single queer actor to play any of the four main characters is definitely a missed opportunity here. Diversity shouldn't just be skin deep, even in a mainstream Bollywood film.

Happy Endings Without Catharsis

hum_rang_hai badhaai do
Netflix

India contains in itself multitudes of cultures and people. Like most parts of this world, we have bigots as well as believers. We have our Pride, and we have our prejudices, so as to say. In coming out, Shardul and Suman give some of their family members a redemption arc – some fanatics are just in need of some compassion and education.

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However, instead of manifesting a world where Indian laws change their ways, here, fiction follows the reality route. Shardul and Suman (along with their respective partners) find legal loopholes and adopt a child while staying in their sham marriage. The fairytale essence of this ending is less happy and more sitcom-ish. Imagine a mockumentary-style sequel, where three partners co-parent one kid while one partner reluctantly carries on with the joys of (almost) child-free living. It would be an entertaining watch but not a very cathartic one. Perhaps a few steps more, and we will be there.