'Saiyaara': A debut that doesn’t falter
In Mohit Suri’s melancholic tapestry of love and loss, two debutants create magic where memory fades but feeling lingers, one verse at a time

When a filmmaker like Mohit Suri returns to the genre he knows best - love, heartbreak and redemption - expectations are naturally high. Known for delivering emotional gut-punches wrapped in soulful music and tender chemistry, Suri’s latest, Saiyaara, doesn’t stray too far from the terrain he has mastered with films like Awarapan, Ek Villain and Aashiqui 2. But this time, there’s a twist: he places the film on the fragile shoulders of two newcomers - Ahaan Panday and Aneet Padda. While debut films often falter under the weight of inexperience, this film proves otherwise - both leads deliver impressively mature performances in a narrative that leans heavily on vulnerability and emotional depth.
Ahaan Panday steps into the role of Krish Kapoor, a brooding, rebellious musician haunted by his past. Estranged from his alcoholic father, Krish uses music as an escape and a form of resistance. His pain is palpable, yet never overdone. Ahaan avoids debutant jitters and brings a surprising amount of control to his performance, making Krish believable and endearing, even in his roughest moments.
Aneet Padda plays Vani Batra, a quiet, sensitive girl nursing a deep emotional wound after being abandoned at the altar. Her escape is writing poetry and personal notes that she religiously stores in a diary. When she joins a media firm focused on entertainment and influencers, she finds herself crossing paths with Krish. A seemingly small moment - a forgotten diary - becomes the spark for something larger.
What follows is a compelling series of moments, orchestrated in Suri’s signature style - poignant, slow-burning, and soaked in melancholy. Krish stumbles upon Vani’s half-torn poetry, unknowingly uses it in a performance, and the lyrics strike a chord with Prince, a social media sensation. As fate would have it, Krish and Vani are asked to collaborate on a song, and it is in this creative space that their story finds rhythm. The chemistry is quiet but assured, and neither of the leads looks out of place despite being debutants. Panday, in particular, plays the tormented artist with impressive restraint.
In a standout scene, Vani confronts Krish about the process of writing, telling him that to create something real, one must relive the emotions, not just recite words. It is here that the film truly blossoms into a meditation on memory, creativity and healing. As they fall for each other, we see Krish soften, and Vani find hope. But heartbreak, as always in Suri’s world, is never far.
Suri's direction provides space for small moments to breathe - a missed memory, a shoelace left untied, a diary unremembered - all trickling together to create the deeper narrative. Vani's character, layered with vulnerability, is much more than a love interest. As we find out, she has early onset Alzheimer's, a fact she conceals until it begins to affect her relations and her career. The subtle clues of her forgetfulness, reliance on the diary, and need to document all spontaneous occurrences unfurl at a steady pace, and never play for dramatic highs. It is unexpectedly tender towards this revelation, ultimately leading to an explosive climactic moment where she doesn't know who Krish is, and that her past is a part of her emotional present.
Vani worries that she is keeping Krish from his dreams, and disappears. However, she left behind lyrics - one last expression of her love. In true Mohit Suri-style, it is this song that gives Krish the ability to find her again. The film ends on a bittersweet note, with the two of them marrying and ultimately choosing to hold onto love even when memory begins to falter.
The music in Saiyaara, as usual in any Suri film, is a compelling narrative tool. Each song shifts the mood and advances the story without the discomfort of a commercial plug. The chemistry of Ahaan and Aneet, that is so important in a romance, particularly in the film, does not seem contrived. Indeed, it feels unexpectedly real, given this is their first film.
Although the film is reminiscent of Aashiqui 2 in its emotional beats and plot - a broken artist who finds love, heals, and is then faced with another kind of loss - Saiyaara is different because of the quiet way it deals with memory loss and emotional loss. Mohit Suri does not over-dramatise Alzheimer’s but rather allows it to simmer into the background as the narrative unfolds gently.
Verdict: Saiyaara is an affecting debut for both its lead actors and a reminder of Mohit Suri's secure ability to create a story interwoven with love and pain in a "hauntingly poetic" manner. Featuring passionate performances, evocative music, and an intelligent script that unifies emotion, the film gently pummels you in the soft spot. It doesn't innovate the genre; however, it does leave its mark.
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