Lakshya — Of Triumph Over Turmoil

A few weeks ago, I watched Lakshya and was moved by the story yet again. There is something beautiful about that film that stirs up the emotions. Lakshya is the story of Karan Shergill, played marvelously by Hirthik Roshan, who is struggling to find a lakshya—a purpose—in his life. He belongs to a wealthy business family, so money does not concern him. He decides to join the Indian Army and then finds his aim of recapturing a peak from the intruders in Kargil, which he successfully achieves. The first half of the movie focuses on Karan's internal struggle, while the second half depicts his external struggle, though his inner struggle is the one that drives him even later. I really like the first half more than the second half. Karan is constantly being exhorted by his parents to do something worthwhile with his life. His parents compare him with his US-settled brother, and Karan hates this comparison. His friends have ambitious plans for their respective careers. His talented girlfriend, Romi (Preity Zinta), is an activist known for leading agitations against the establishment and is on her way to becoming a television journalist. And he does not even know how he will spend his day, forgetting his career aspirations. Everyone around him, except Romi, judges his idleness and lack of ambition, making him question himself. The song Main Aisa Kyun Hoon is a depiction of this internal struggle. He is on a stage, and many weird old people are sitting at a higher level in the audience. The stage and the surroundings are a metaphor for the thoughts in Karan's brain. The old people judge him for the lack of a purpose in life depicted by their higher level. However, Karan finds them to be weird in his head. He is trying to break free from the expectations of the people around him. He sees many versions of himself in the mirror, signifying his indecisiveness; sometimes, he wants to be someone, and sometimes, he wants to be someone else. He is surrounded by people who have found their aim in life, represented by the people dressed in black and having suitcases with them. On one side, these people are wearing sunglasses, and on the other side, they are wearing ties, representing some sort of duality of casualness and formality. Karan, however, dressed in white, cannot wear this mask. He is still struggling to find his calling, and having a mechanical robot-like job is something that he does not want.

Trying to break free of the stereotypes

Finding the real Karan

Ties at the back

In the movie's second half, the focus shifts towards the Kargil War. However, Karan's internal struggles continue to haunt him. He wants to resolve his complicated relationship with Romi and his parents. Though the setting in the mountains is quite apparent, I found it very interesting that the film chose the conquest of one unscalable mountain as the ultimate aim of Karan and his battalion. The mountain was a metaphor for Karan's internal struggle; otherwise, many other scenarios were possible in a war film. At one point near the interval, Karan stands by the river-side, throwing stones in the river and self-reflecting. So, he moved from Delhi in the first half to Kargil during the interval and finally reached the top. The outward journey and the places where Karan goes are a reflection of his inner journey and state of mind of Karan. In Delhi, he was aimless. In Kargil, he has taken some steps to find an aim. On Peak 5179, he finally found his inner and external aim. The fact that Karan scales the wall represents a triumph of his internal struggle. He has conquered the inner turmoil troubling him and proved to everyone that he, too, can be an achiever. Perhaps it is this triumph over turmoil that is so uplifting. I could not be bothered much about the external struggle, but a character's inner struggle is stimulating and moving. 

From aimlessness to finding an aim

From finding an aim to achieving it

I love Romi. She is an intelligent and mature person. At one point in the film, Karan asks her why she loves someone like him, who is totally not worthy of her. She replies, "Main ne aaj tak tum me koi chhoti baat nahi dekhi. Aur na hi tumhare muh se kabhi koi cheap baat suni. Main iske liye tumhari respect karti hun. I like that. Tum bahut acche insaan ho and that is why I love you."  How many people would love someone because the only quality in the other person is that he is nice? She is such an accomplished woman, and she loves Karan because he is a good person at heart and not like the pretentious feminist boyfriend she meets after breaking up with him. I understand the dynamics would be totally different if money was a factor in their lives, but there is something old school about Romi's choice of love. In our movies, the hero might be poor, but he is hard-working. Karan is lazy and does nothing; still, someone like Romi loves him, and I love him for that. 

Tum bahut acche insaan ho

There is another lovely scene in the film. Karan is about to leave for tomorrow's mission and sees Romi standing outside. He goes to her and says, "Ho sakta hai vapas nahi aaun," and she replies, "To main zindagi bhar intezaar karungi." And, then, he wants to say something else and hold her in his arms, but he cannot. There is so much to say and yet nothing to say. It is only the eyes that communicate because, sometimes, words fail. Earlier in the song, Kitni Baatein, we see that Karan and Romi are on two sides of a road, and the song talks about distances. The physical distance between them represents the emotional distance that has crept up between them.

Toh main zindagi bhar intezaar karungi

My favorite scene of the film is when Karan is sitting on the ground in a park and is crying. He was punished severely by the Army Officers. He has run away from the Army. His parents knew he would not survive there, and they are proven to be true. He is dejected that his parents think so little of him. Even Romi, who always supported him, is angry and has broken up with him. All he is left with is to cry on his own shoulders. A grown man cries alone and finally decides to move on alone. I find this scene to be gut-wrenching and motivating at the same time. Can there be any dry eye while watching it, then?

There is a lot to admire in Lakshya, and it is one of my favorite films. The film's poster also discusses this amalgamation of his inner and external struggles, where Karan's shadow is in his Army uniform. It says, "It took him 24 years and 18,000 feet to find himself." 

P.S. — I have started writing a long piece on Dil Chahta Hai. As of now, it is about 4,000 words in about three chapters. Don't know if I will be able to sustain it, given the upcoming peak season in office. I might reduce the frequency of blogging to focus on that, but I will continue to write about some films because writing takes a lot of time. But there is this feeling in me that people will stop reading it. If only I could reach my lakshya.

Dialogue of the day:

"Cheezein jab tak perfect na ho, theek nahi lagti."

— Sunil Damle, Lakshya