Facing Fears, Finding Freedom; Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara

First and foremost, I want to relay the overwhelming amount of happiness that is washing over me as I write my first movie review related to my Indian roots and background. Oftentimes, the cinematic brilliance of Bollywood movies is overlooked due to some stereotypical “corny” scenes you see circulating social media about the dramaticness of Indian soap operas; that audiences seem to extrapolate to the nations more sophisticated entertainment medium. 

More importantly, It has become increasingly more obvious to me that my love and passion for movies has derived from my families tradition to sit down together on any given night with unlimited refills of obnoxiously buttered popcorn, sprinkled with an loving amount of paprika and chat masala. Perhaps the most memorable Kanungo family movie night similar was when  Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara was played. It is almost routine that my family and I watch this film  annually, and somehow manage to laugh everytime at the “mantally Sick my buoy” or the Diamond biscuit song scenes. However, as I rewatched this movie in the previous week with my friends who have never seen an Bollywood movie, I viewed the movie through a different lense— as an 20 year old trying to navigate the complexities of friendship while trying to succeed in life. The parallels to my own life, and my own best friends became very clear to me. If you know me more than just through my blog, you know that I do not shut up about my best friends, the three that have stuck with me for the longest are Max, Mark, and Andrew—all of them being an catalyst for any positive development I have made as an individual. Similar to the movie, we often refer to ourself as the 3 amigos, contrasting to the movies 3 musketeers. Perhaps it was this subconscious comparison I made while rewatching this movie that spurred the insights and points I dive into in this review, or perhaps it is merely the brilliant directorial trope this movie posses, either way, it is impossible to deny the symbolic importance, cultural contribution, and genius dialogue of this movie. 

Directed by the extremely talented brother-sister duo of Zoya Akhtar (director) and Farhan Akhtar (dialogue), the film encompasses not only great casting with Hrithik Roshan as Arjun, Abhay Deol as Kabir, and Farhan Akhtar as Imran but a killer soundtrack and dance scenes that you just cant stop rewatching—combined with the ethereal views of countryside Spain, this film creates an expedient ambiance for any perfect bachelor party, at least for me. The casting helps create what I describe as male characters written by women. As someone who is often reminded that my own characteristics—like painted nails and earrings—don’t fit the mold of stereotypical masculinity— I believe it is this particular niche in entertainment and writing that the mass audience and I cherish, these 3 men are sensitive, understanding and defy the stereotypical norms of masculinity.

Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara is a story about 3 friends, Kabir (Abhay Deol), Imraan Khan (Farhan Akhtar) and Arjun (Hrithik Roshan), who have been best friends since school. They have grown up together, under vastly different circumstances and conditions. They go on a bachelor trip to Spain, to celebrate the recent engagement announcement of Kabir to Natasha (Kalki Koechlin) shown in the opening scene. In this transformative trip, they end up conquering their fears, growing as people, and combatting their flaws. Zoya Akhtars insightful feminine gaze on this bromance helps elevate the film to do what few others have, truly capture the essence of life. She infuses these 3 characters with such detailed characteristics and traits so fascinatingly that one could conduct a thorough analysis of the 3 characters both individually, and collectively—Oh wait! That is exactly what I will attempt to do.

Arjun 

One of the main ways Zoya depicts the character is through their living standard and situation. The best way to describe Kabir is to paint an image of his apartment in downtown London, so imagine this: All black interiors, clean cut lines, black furniture, paintings and frames of high rise buildings. His wardrobe is well organized; folded clothes, neatly arranged ties, ironed trousers, etc. However, he had a tough life, his father passed away at an early age leaving him and his family in an financial ditch, this helped him realize the value of money, or perhaps the effect of a lack of money at an very early age. Most of his life and conversations revolve around numbers, even on flights he buys business magazines, he is married to not only his phone, but to his career. He shows off his wealth any chance he gets (bagwati). His mantra is—retirement after 40. 

Arjuns character represents fear of losing control over his life. This fear manifests in the need to control every detail of his future, postponing happiness for “retirement after 40.” This reflects the struggle of many in the modern world, trading personal joy for material security. For Arjun, money isn't just currency—it's the armor he wears to keep the world and uncertainty at bay. Yet, this very armor isolates him emotionally. His journey throughout the film, particularly his diving experience, strips away his calculated control, leaving him vulnerable but alive in the present. In essence, Arjun’s fear is that without his career, without money, he’s nothing. His confrontation with this fear opens him to the possibility that true wealth lies in the present moment, not in a bank account.

Kabir

He is the most secretive out of the lot, his whole character is wrapped in mystery. Many of his scenes are shot where his reflection is visible, suggesting his conflict and dual personality. His house interiors, unlike Arjuns are all white and gold—filled with curves visible in the pottery and artifacts. Even the sofa designs have curved edges, almost suggesting that he is something but wants to be something else (don't we all). Hence, just like his choice of extreme sport—deep sea diving, one needs to dive deep into his character to really know him.

After doing so, I realized that his fear is quite contradictory to his character. His fear is much more of an immediate matter: The fear of commitment. Engaged to Natasha, Kabir’s inner turmoil stems from his uncertainty about the future he’s stepping into. His engagement is not necessarily based on love but societal expectations, a role that he feels he should fill. Kabir’s fear is subtle, often hidden behind humor and deflection, but it becomes more evident as Natasha’s controlling tendencies emerge. His fear is of being trapped in a life that isn’t truly his. The question for Kabir isn’t just “Am I ready to marry Natasha?” but “Am I ready to compromise myself?” His arc explores the tension between societal norms and personal freedom, an prevalent issue in Indian society I have highlighted in my Parasite review. Ultimately, breaking off the engagement isn’t just an act of courage; it’s an act of self-preservation. Kabir teaches us that living authentically, even if it means facing difficult truths, is far better than living a life of compromise.

Imraan 

He might be my favorite character, the most humorous of the 3, he hides his real self and his emotions by constantly cracking jokes. When asked how his flight was, he replies, “It flew”. He is not organized, all his clothes piled up on his wardrobes, he does not even pack his suitcase, just stuffs his bag with unfolded clothes. However, he balances this chaotic personality with an beautiful skill of poetry—this skill adds layers to his character, revealing a depth of emotion he’s hesitant to express outright. He learns before the trip that his real father is still alive and in Spain, having never seen his father, he plans on seeing him on this trip.

Imraan’s fear, on the other hand, is deeply existential. His journey to confront the father who abandoned him is a journey to confront himself. Throughout the film, Imraan uses humor and wit as his shield, much like many of us use distractions to avoid confronting our deepest wounds. His search for his father is symbolic of his search for identity, as he grapples with the fear of not knowing who he truly is or where he came from. It’s not just about finding his father but understanding whether his past defines him. Imraan’s arc beautifully ties together the film’s themes of fear and freedom. Meeting his father allows him to release the burden of resentment, allowing him to move forward, freer than before.

Collective Fear and Friendship 

Each character operates individually, yet collectively, their fears intertwine to create a cohesive narrative about facing one's internal demons. The trio represents different facets of the human experience: fear of failure, fear of commitment, and fear of the unknown. What makes Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara so compelling is that these fears are universal; we’ve all experienced versions of them in our own lives. As the three friends go through their individual journeys, they learn not only from their own experiences but also from each other. Arjun’s journey helps Kabir realize that life isn’t about checking off boxes, while Imraan’s emotional vulnerability gives Arjun the space to open up about his own fears. Their dynamic reflects the beauty of true friendship—it’s not about facing life alone, but about growing through the presence and support of those who know you best.Like the characters in the film, my 3 amigos have been my anchors, helping me navigate my own fears and uncertainties. Max’s ability to move past mistakes and Mark’s energy in embracing every moment have taught me invaluable lessons. And I hope, in some way, I’ve helped them grow too. 

Conclusion: What is the essence of life?

In my introduction, I spoke about how this film captures the essence of life, and I’m sure those of you who have read this far (thanks for sticking with me, love you!)  are thinking— Debanshu, what is the essence of life that this movie captures?

For me, it captures the essence of fear.

Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara isn’t just about the exhilarating thrills or picturesque scenery; it's about the quiet, personal fears that shape who we are, the fears we don’t even realize are controlling us. It’s the fear of your past haunting you (like Arjun and his failed relationships), the fear of your present not being enough (like Kabir and his complicated engagement), or the fear of an unknown future (like Imraan and his quest to meet his father). These fears are subtle, lingering in the background of their lives, and it’s through their journey that each of them confronts what’s been holding them back.

That’s exactly what Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara captures so beautifully—the complexity of fear and how it creeps into our lives in ways we often don’t expect. It’s not just about the big, flashy fears like jumping out of planes or facing death head-on; it’s the quieter, more insidious fears that catch us off-guard. For Arjun, Kabir, and Imraan, their journeys weren’t just about conquering external challenges, but about facing the fears that live inside them, the ones that slowly erode their happiness and sense of self. And isn’t that what we all do, too? We go about our lives, achieving, striving, and pushing ourselves—until one day, we realize we’re so consumed by the need to “win” that we’ve stopped feeling. Stopped being.

Recently, I’ve felt that shift in myself, I used to think I didn’t have many fears. Sure, the typical ones—heights, spiders, snakes—the one you name for an ice breaker on the first day of class. But recently, I’ve been feeling a shift in myself. Lately, I’ve found myself grappling with new fears, fears that feel heavier and more complicated. The fear of failure. The fear of disappointing the people who believe in me. And, most painfully, the fear of unfulfilled potential.

I’ve always been driven by this mindset of winning. I don’t approach things just to give my best—I do them to win. Anything less than that feels like failure to me. And sure, this mentality has led to accomplishments in academics and professional life, but at what cost? When you’re constantly chasing wins, you start losing sight of what really makes you who you are.

I’ve noticed that in myself. I’m my own biggest supporter, but also my harshest critic, and that creates this intense pressure to always keep moving, always keep achieving. In this pursuit of perfection, I’ve started to lose touch with the emotions that make me, well, me. For example, I recently went through one of those classic situations where there’s a natural disparity between what two people want in a dynamic. In the past, that kind of situation would have torn me up inside—I'd be spiraling, trying to distract myself from every sad thought. But this time, I was shocked by the lack of emotion I felt. I remember sitting on my bed, cuddling my pregnancy pillow (shoutout to my comfort buddy), trying to conjure up the feelings I thought I should be having. I wanted to feel the emotional impact, to let it wash over me. But nothing came. Instead, my mind immediately started racing through a mental checklist—what do I need to accomplish tomorrow, this week, this month? What’s my next win? And honestly, it disgusted me. Here I was, wanting to feel something, and all I could focus on was what I needed to achieve next.

Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara isn’t just a film about conquering fear; it’s about rediscovering the parts of yourself you’ve forgotten along the way. It’s about facing the parts of yourself that you’ve hidden, ignored, or neglected in the pursuit of success, stability, or security. And that’s where the movie hit me hardest. It reminded me that we all need to take a moment to look inward, to confront those fears that are quietly shaping our lives and slowly chipping away at our authenticity.

In some ways, this movie is a wake-up call—a reminder that my life isn’t just about ticking off achievements, collecting accolades, or even overcoming the obvious fears we face. It’s about reconnecting with who we are at our core. It’s about learning to feel again, to let ourselves be vulnerable and imperfect. It’s about allowing ourselves to fear less about failing and more about losing the parts of us that make us human—our ability to feel, to create, to love, and to hurt.

I say all of this not as someone who has it figured out, but as someone who’s in the thick of it. Maybe that’s why this movie means so much to me right now. It speaks to something I’ve been wrestling with internally—this tension between who I am and who I’m becoming, and the fear of losing the best parts of myself in the process.

So, to answer the question: What is the essence of life that this movie captures? I’d say it’s not just fear—it’s the courage to face it. To confront the fears that keep us from living fully and authentically. It’s about taking those moments when you feel nothing, when you’re caught in the grind, and stepping back to ask yourself, “What am I really afraid of?” And maybe that’s where we find the real meaning of life—not in conquering our fears, but in learning to live with them, without letting them define us.

As Imraan put it beautifully at the end of the movie:

Dilon mein tum apni Betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho,  Toh zinda ho tum (If you carry impatience in your heart then you are alive)

Nazar mein khwabon ki Bijliyan leke chal rahe ho, Toh zinda ho tum (If you carry dreams in your eyes then you are alive)

Hawa ke jhokon ke jaise Aazad rehno sikho (Learn to live like the free waves of wind)

 Tum ek dariya ke jaise Lehron mein behna sikho (Learn to flow like the sea does as waves)

Har ek lamhe se tum milo Khole apni bhaayein (Receive every moment in life with open arms)

Har ek pal ek naya samha Dekhen yeh nigahaein (Every moment is a new beginning seeing with your eyes)

Jo apni aankhon mein Hairaniyan leke chal rahe ho, Toh zinda ho tum (If you carry surprise in your eyes then you are alive)

Dilon mein tum apni Betaabiyan leke chal rahe ho, Toh zinda ho tum (If you carry impatience in your heart then you are alive)

Thank you for reading all the way through. Love you for that, truly.