If you’re a man, would you judge Chander and Sudha’s life choices or celebrate them as the next-gen definition of love? Or it all depends, on which version of the ‘being a man diet’ you were brought up on? Stay with me as I unravel the characters who are, by all means, near perfect life-partners. Except when they’re not. But that’s the part I liked best. And now that I have you fairly intrigued, hopefully, read on!
Note: This article is for all those readers who have watched the series Musafir Cafe on Netflix, spoilers alert and some serious character breakdowns to dive into.
The Relationships in Musafir Cafe are Easy to Love, But Even easier to Judge!
Says the person who was watching Chander and Sudha with a smile on her face, but then, also calling out them out when they diverged from the expecations of love and relationships life handed down to me. It was about unlearning what I had learnt, and then, just as I was about to hit send, Preeti enters the equation.
And it all turns messy, once again.
As I sat watching Musafir Cafe on Netflix, a show that was highly recommended to me by women across the generational spectrum – specifically Gen Z and Gen X, and as I witnesssed the stories of Sudha, Chander and Preeti reveal themselves onscreen, I wondered – is the story mainly about Sudha or Chander, with maybe just a fledgling appearance from Preeti.
Or, is the story about men in the 21st century who are experiencing a cataclysmic event, and no one really knows how to press the pause button – wanting to partner with a woman like Sudha – the paperback definition of the young, independent, passionate yet emotionally secure woman who has dreams beyond a husband, family and motherhood – the woman who sees herself as a CEO, not just the wife of one. Or is this the story of all the Chanders who want to support this woman, yet fall back into a time machine, once they are confronted with the real life possibility of a wife who doesn’t want marriage, children, (the whole fairytale life sells us), but still loves you and wants you not to sacrfice your dreams for her – just like she wouldn’t sacrifice hers for you.
Will the offscreen world, the real one, allow us to live among the Sudha’s and Chander’s – one, viciously independent, and the other, surprisingly giving.
Because Chander, he’s our guy; willing to give up his job and move cities for his woman; willing to give up his dream for a mountainside cafe just to be with her; willing to go against his mother’s wisdom, and advice, that he’s giving in too much, denying himself in love – can Chander or merely the thought of a Chander, survive the times we live in? How many men will give up their careers to move cities for a woman? How many will take on their mothers in-law as a permanent live-in family member after marriage, and how many will continue to stay in love with the woman for whom they sacrficied all this?
How many will do exactly what women have done since eons?
Characters like Chander have to fight a legacy – of angry young men, the Alpha male who tends to his flock while the women bear children, now progressed into the evolved version of Alpha male who ‘allows’ his wife to work, even sets up a small business for her, empowers her, because she needs empowering from him, and takes a stand for her before his parents.
But Chander is gen-next. There is no Alpha version of him lurking in the shadows. We might have met him in our dreams. He has a sense of humour, brews coffee just right and even answers an SOS call from you in the middle of the night, travels halfway across the city to pick you up and then provide you shelter, even though you have no interest in marrying him, and even though he is already head-over-heels in love with you.
Chander understands consent. He could even be the very manifestation of it. But in sketching for us this perfect version of a man, what women want, he is still dropped off by his woman. What do women want, really? You ask?
In Sudha, Musafir Cafe shows us a version of a woman who doesn’t need a man to achieve her dreams. And not only does she stop there, she wants him to achieve his too.
In the end, (perhaps not the end, as the series seems to be slated for a sequel, even if the book was not), both Chander and Sudha have realized their dreams. She in the world of Corporate Law and he, in his cafe by the mountains. What we might have missed in Musafir Cafe, was the telling of a narrative where both our hero and heroine achieved their dreams – there was growth, personal growth, for both our protagonists, and contrary to a woman or a man-centric narrative, both Sudha and Chander transitioned from point A to point B, albeit in their own serparate worlds.
If you ask whether this is where society is going, perhaps yes. Or if you ask if this is a transition till both people learn how stay togther and still grow, perhaps that is the next chapter. If we can become the Chanders and Sudhas of our time, perhaps that too is win. But if we can learn to accept them, and allow them to live and love without judging them, that would be a great win too.
But then you ask. What of Preeti, the one who will let her Chander grow and realize his dream (and love) even if it means leaving her? Is she the purest form of love we have left behind? Is Preeti our heroine from the past, who seeks her happiness in his happiness, who is afraid to let him go, yet loves selflessly, wanting the best for him, even if it means allowing him a different love than hers.
Is Preeti the collateral damage of our times – the person who innocently embraced the old-fashioned values of selfless love, giving without expectation and letting the person you love, live his dream and his love – the mountainside cafe and Sudha – will she allow Chander to have it all?
Is Musafir cafe all about endorsing the generation who believes in being selfish in love, the generation who believes in having it all – celebrating the next-gen hero and heroine – a modern definition of love that does not ask for compromise.
Or is the story a nod to all the Preetis who need a reality check, who still hold on to the old-world version of love, of moving halfway across the world for your beloved and letting your dreams slide for his.
Preeti, you’re a misfit in 2026. Or maybe Devdas needs a rewrite. And that’s it, that’s what Musafir Cafe was all about. And if I’m wrong, prove it to me by giving me a Season 2. There’s no other way to make me start believing in love again.
A note to the creators: Don’t disillusion the Preeti’s among us. We are all that is pure, and beautiful and precious in this world – remind us once more why we love.
Although, a modern version of Devdas can always be on the cards. That one’s too dated, even for Preeti.
Psst: Did anyone say Rahil?
3 Pakistani Dramas That Were Ahead of Their Time
Musafir Cafe is based on a novel written by Divya Prakash Dubey stars Vediko Pinto, Vikrant Massey, Mahima Makwani, Rajeev Siddhartha, Sadia Siddiqui, Adil Hussain among others. The romantic drama series is directed by Ruchir Arun and produced by Anuj Gosalia and Vijay Subramanium alongside co-producer Vikrant Massey under Terribly Tiny Tales (TTT) and Homemade Stories.
