Kushi - Each Other's Child
Thoughts On: Kushi (2023)
A boy and a girl with diametrically opposed religious principles in their families attempt to make their marriage work.
It's been a while since I sat down with some South Asian cinema; this was a bright, warm welcome back, and a sweet reminder of the cinematic mode. Kushi presents a modern vision of romance deliberately reminiscent of the likes of Dil Se. The narrative opens paying homage to the bemouth classic that is perhaps Shah Rukh Khan's most iconic movie, and of course one of my all time favourites. We see this most in the early musical sequences with their distinct and overt use of colour, but unfortunately here is the only aspect of Kushi I feel worth criticising; all of the music is pretty lacklustre. And such is a shame with the early references to Dil Se, which has one of the best musical sequences ever committed to the cinema screen with Chaiya Chaiya. That said, with the references to Dil Se established, Kushi goes on to subvert the narrative interests of the classic, focusing not on wider geopolitical themes of conflicting principles and religious beliefs between nations, and instead honing in on a more localised conflict present between liberal and traditional ways of life in modern Hyderbad.
This refocus of perspective says much of what is to come, and so as the narrative develops, Kushi matures in its thematics to echo the statement of the first act. This sees the characters turn their worldly gaze inward under the wider guise of romance, escaping not themselves and their city in search of a new person to be, instead eventually confronting the task of accepting themselves and the locality of their personal catastrophes. In such, Kushi uses the familiar trope of conflicting family principles to create a discourse on faith and love. What is indeed refreshing about this, and such is another subversion of other classics this is related to such as Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, is the deintensification of the familial conflict. Kushi therefore doesn't see families scream and fight, parents and children irrevocably torn apart with mountains required to be moved as to bring them back together. In place of Shah Rukh Khan nearly being beaten to death with sticks by his in-laws as in DDLJ, we have a far more human conflict of principles presented between the in-laws of Kushi. But as refreshing as it is to have a more calm and realistic presentation of family conflict, there remains an intensity in the drama and its meaningful statements. That is not to say that Kushi does not feature melodramatic fight scenes though; the expected action sequences find their place in the run time.
Dealing with difficult themes in the challenge of approaching parenthood as a married couple, Kushi uses the mentioned exploration of religious differences to present a romantic and touching notion of faith as love or humanity. In sum, we are motivated to see our characters as children. We are made to see that, though they call each other baby, bearing complete adoration and care for the other as if they were a child, it is their tendency to forget their immaturity as they come upon trouble in their relationship. Our characters grow when they allow their principles to dissolve into their hearts, accepting what is and who they are above what they wish to be and how they see the world. Such is shown to be love, and a form of faith itself that overpowers the initial religious conflict driving the narrative. This is what endears me most to Kushi: its assertion that a husband and wife should allow themselves to be one another's children, to care and nurture one another as such. After all, how else could a young relationship grow and develop beyond the mere joy - or could we say kushi - of romance?
