12 years ago, Kavya Ganeshan (played by Vidya Balan), a dentist by profession, made the radical decision to abscond with Anirudh (portrayed by Pratik Gandhi), her Bengali musician lover, abandoning her home in Ooty for a life together. Fast forward to the present, their marriage has bedded into a comfortable yet tediously monotonous existence in the bustling city of Mumbai. Within the confines of their home, communication has become sparse and awkward. Anirudh, puzzled by Kavya’s new dietary choice, serves her baingan posto – a traditional Bengali eggplant dish – while questioning Kavya about anti-allergens or fiddling with the air conditioner settings. It’s a marriage where laughter, arguments, physical affection, and even conflict have been absent for half a decade.
One might wonder, then, what keeps such a union intact. Kavya, in a moment of introspection shared with a colleague, ponders why women do not express their desires more openly and abandon marriages that are devoid of love, intimacy, and meaning. Her colleague’s response is cryptic yet telling: “Sometimes silence spells success.”
Yet, it appears that both Kavya and Anirudh have sought and found love and thrill away from each other’s embrace. Kavya’s secret liaison with Vikram (Sendhil Ramamurthy), a New York-based photographer, brings to her life a different perspective. Vikram speaks of love with a metaphor – comparing it to toothpaste, suggesting that supreme intimacy is aligned with sharing daily routines, but also highlighting the effort required to maintain a relationship.
While the couple house hunts, Vikram contemplates aloud why Kavya won’t relocate to New York with him. Her hesitation comes with a cascade of reasons why Mumbai is home, but looming large is the fact that she is yet to confess her affair to Anirudh. The question arises: What is holding her back? Is there a vestige of the relationship still present that prevents her from severing ties completely?
Parallel to Kavya’s secret romance is Anirudh’s affair with Nora (Illeana D’Cruz), an aspiring actress. This two-year-long affair has been kept in the shadows, making Nora feel anxious and pushing her to seek a greater commitment.
In a tragic turn of events, Kavya’s grandfather passes away. In an uncharacteristic show of solidarity, Anirudh decides to be by her side, though he has never been acknowledged by her family, having not met them since their nuptial day. Amidst the family drama and the solemn observations, the couple discovers an unexpected comfort in each other’s company. They find themselves rekindling old feelings when they dance drunkenly to a nostalgic 90’s tune “bin tere sanam” at one of their former haunts. Laughter returns to Kavya’s lips at Anirudh’s once bland jokes as he embraces his wife’s spontaneous nature.
This rediscovered connection follows them back to Mumbai, reigniting passion, intimacy, and somehow, Chicken 65 on Kavya’s menu. But looming on the horizon is the revelation of their infidelities. What will the consequences be? Could their straying be a detour on the road back to each other, or is it the end of the path they once traveled together?
“Do Aur Do Do Pyaar”, directed by Shrisha Guha Thakruta, is a comedic yet sober reflection on modern love through the lens of a married couple that feels in perfect harmony, yet conversely out of step. It raises poignant questions about the necessity to preserve marital institutions against individual happiness and whether silence within a marriage is a sign of strength or a screaming void where voices should be heard.
The dynamic Vidya Balan and Pratik Gandhi carry the film with impeccable chemistry, their performances resonating with every quirk and complexity of their characters. Gandhi brings an infectious comedic flair, matching the vivaciousness Balan channels into Kavya, as she effortlessly embodies the spirit of her character.
A bittersweet romantic comedy, “Do Aur Do Do Pyaar” is as playful as it is reflective, driven predominantly by the pristine performances of both Balan and Gandhi, earning a solid 3 out of 5 stars.
