The Premise: A Mash-Up of Familiar Tropes
Somewhere inside Aanand L Rai’s office, one can imagine an overworked intern tripping over a pile of scripts — Fighter, Kabir Singh, Ae Dil Hai Mushkil, Dhadkan, and of course, Raanjhanaa. Piecing together fragments from each, someone decided, “This could be a film,” and thus Tere Ishq Mein was born. Unfortunately, the result feels less like a cohesive story and more like a patchwork of recycled Bollywood tropes.
Written by Himanshu Sharma and Neeraj Yadav, the film opens in the breathtaking landscapes of Ladakh, where Air Force officer Shankar (Dhanush) fights not only external threats but an internal battle. His anger, impulsiveness, and disdain for authority quickly land him in counselling, setting the stage for a long and, at times, bewildering flashback.
Enter Mukti: The Problematic Therapist
Kriti Sanon plays Mukti, a heavily pregnant, slightly inebriated psychologist whose clinical ethics appear questionable at best. Despite her messy demeanor, she is entrusted with helping the celebrated officer. This meeting triggers the narrative’s journey seven years into the past.
As a psychology student, Mukti presents a thesis arguing that violence, like appendicitis, serves no real purpose and can be addressed with love, empathy, and counselling. Fatefully, she encounters Shankar violently confronting college boys and, instead of fleeing, decides he is perfect material for her research. Shankar, of course, is instantly smitten.
The Bollywood “Fixer” Trope
Mukti embodies the classic “fixer” archetype: a woman determined to heal a broken man through love and optimism. Bollywood has romanticized this dynamic for decades, but the film fails to handle it with nuance. Themes such as childhood trauma, grief, class differences, and personal insecurities are superficially touched upon, undermining their emotional depth.
The love story between Mukti and Shankar is chaotic and illogical. Mukti sets him impossible tasks, then moves on when he succeeds, igniting a new wave of obsession and aggression. By the climax, viewers are left questioning the characters’ motivations and the film’s moral compass.
Toxic Love Amplified
Following in the footsteps of Raanjhanaa, Tere Ishq Mein elevates Bollywood’s fascination with toxic relationships. While both leads are portrayed as passionate and troubled, Mukti’s character is written more selfishly than tragically. An educated psychologist making ethically dubious decisions strains believability, leaving her unsympathetic and frustrating.
Logical inconsistencies further detract from the experience. A 26–27-year-old appearing for Air Force exams defies regulations, Mukti earns her doctorate in an unrealistically short time, and security personnel conveniently appear or vanish based on plot needs.
Entertainment or Overindulgence?
Setting aside ethics and logic, the film’s nearly three-hour runtime tests patience. Storylines, like the 12th Fail-inspired UPSC subplot, feel arbitrarily inserted, creating a narrative buffet where few elements satisfy. Even A.R. Rahman’s music disappoints, with only the title track and a Tamil song making a notable impact.
Performances: The Silver Lining
Dhanush and Kriti Sanon deliver commendable performances, elevating otherwise weak scenes. Dhanush brings raw emotional depth, while Kriti shines in quieter, reflective moments. Prakash Raj emerges as the film’s emotional anchor, eliciting genuine empathy. Zeeshan Ayyub provides nostalgic callbacks to Raanjhanaa, though supporting actors Tota Roy Chowdhury, Paramveer Singh Cheema, and Priyanshu Painyuli are underutilized.
Verdict: A Story That Misses Its Mark
Tere Ishq Mein is tailor-made for Tier-2 and Tier-3 audiences, offering loud emotions, drama, and the kind of obsessive romance Bollywood continues to glorify post-Kabir Singh and Animal. Yet, from a moral, thematic, and emotional perspective, the film falters. It leaves viewers triggered, frustrated, and questioning why such narratives still dominate mainstream cinema in 2025.
