HAHK – which can also be read as a smug “Hah, K!” – was the beginning of a long chain of increasingly deformed mythmaking. To begin with, the 1994 family-friendly, friendly-family musical romantic drama by Sooraj Barjatya was an aggressive reaction to an India caught in the throes of post-liberalization. The film was designed as a reclamation of traditionalist values (read: sanskaar) from the clutches of a culture that thrived on violent portrayals of villainous elders and rebellious youngsters. So the ideological reset arrived in the form of a virginal 199-minute story with 14 songs; a big fat Indian wedding featuring perfectly-fried vegetarian snacks, Pomeranian propaganda, zero action sequences (“not even a slap” became a tagline) and a cloyingly sweet family that made even sadness look happy. Like that self-righteous uncle who considers Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak (QSQT, 1988) an attack on community heritage and parental consent, HAHK single-handedly turned the suffocating autocracy of the Indian family setup into an aspirational life trope.
“No lovers can unite without the permission of their well-meaning families” soon morphed into Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (DDLJ, 1995), then the Karan Johar oeuvre of NRI togetherness, then the Subhash Ghai trilogy (Pardes, 1997; Taal, 1999; Yaadein, 2001). Over the years, the principle of cultural restoration remained the same. Only the language and lens changed: Family values slowly whispered themselves into the shape of hardline Hindu values. In my opinion, the roaring success of HAHK – and its acceptance by masses who were subconsciously looking to be reminded of an idealised India – created the template we see today. You prey on a young country’s insecurities about identity and roots, and voila, you get the Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! syndrome. Almost three decades on, the aftershocks of the film are still filtering through every iteration of commercial Hindi storytelling. All the more so during a pandemic that has visibly diluted the moral core of the movie business. Toxic nostalgia and ‘timely’ reminders define the socio-political aesthetic of the new landscape.
