Cinema has told us many a story of celestial bodies in the sky. The moon often symbolizes beauty, the stars success, and the shooting star—tootata tara—hope. Mohit Suri’s Saiyaara draws on this cosmic imagery, telling the story of saiyaara, a star that is constantly in motion yet never loses its light. Khud to akela hai, lekin apni chamak se sabki zindagiyaan roshan karta hai. Here, the star is both literal and metaphorical: Krish (Ahaan Panday), a musician yearning for fame, and Vaani (Aneet Padda), a writer seeking her voice, become each other's saiyaara—their guiding star. But beneath its love story, Saiyaara is a meditation on time, memory, and the fleeting beauty of the moment.
Vaani first notices Krish while staring at an ad for the dating app Soulmates, launched by her ex-fiancé Mahesh (Shaan Grover). Find your forever, the tagline reads. Just then, Krish speeds past on his bike, blocking her view of the ad, a fleeting moment that hints at the role he will come to play in her life, the soulmate she never expected. Moments later, their paths cross again at the office of an entertainment company, where Vaani has come for an interview. Krish is there too, furious over an article that fails to credit him for his band’s success. On his way out, he pauses to tell Vaani, having glimpsed her poetry, "Achha likhti ho tum". She, dressed in white, and he, in black, embody the contrast between them: the quiet, introspective writer and the fiery, impulsive musician. Neither knows yet how much they will shape each other’s lives. He will help her heal, reigniting her passion for writing, "Shabd behne lage, dard bhi beh gaya," she tells him. She, in turn, will help him chase his dream of stardom, giving words to his music, becoming his voice—his vaani.
At its core, Saiyaara is a film about moments and how profoundly they shape us. The moments we live through become memories that define our past, guide our present, and echo into our future. Throughout the film, the word moment—or pal, as it's called in Hindi—returns again and again. Early on, we see Vaani struggling to write a song in the stifling air of a recording studio. Songs can be recorded there, but they are never born there. When we hear our favorite songs, we don't just listen to melodies; we time-travel to the moments they carry within them. In a stunning monologue, Vaani explains to Krish, "Woh moment, woh pal yaad aata hai, khushi ka, dosti ka, dard ka, ya phir koi, pyaar. Hit gaane aate hain, chale jate hain. Do chaar mahine unko sunoge, tum bhool jaoge. Lekin woh gaane, jo dil ko chhoote hain, jo dil ke paas rehte hain, woh aise nahi banaye jaate, woh thore kam hi bante hai, aisa kyun hota hai, socha hai kabhi. Unke peeche ek moment hota hai, ek special moment hota hai, us moment me jo feel hota hai, uske shabd bante hain, phir woh jo shabd hote hain woh safed pannon par utarte hai, phir music banta hai. Woh music humein time travel karvata hai. Bachpan ke paas, pehle pyaar ke paas, barsaat ke paas. Yeh jo hamari memories hoti hai na, yeh hamari dil ke kisi kone me rehti hai, dil ke andar hi rehti hain. Aur woh gaana hota hai, woh humein in memories ke beech me laake khada kar deta hai, unko vaapas leke aata hai, kyunki dimaag bhool jaata hai, dil nahi bhoolta hai naa." Like all of us, Krish is left speechless by her words. The mind forgets, but the heart remembers.
Krish then takes Vaani out to a wide, open field and tells her about his moment, the one etched in his memory forever. The India–Pakistan final. Virat Kohli hitting a six. The roar of the crowd. The dreamlike feeling of watching history being made. He shares with her the moments that shaped him, the dream moments where he imagined himself a star. And that memory, that passion, sparks something in Vaani. It inspires her to Humsafar write for him. Agar saath mere, tu hai humsafar. Later that evening, he drops her off at home just before her strict 8:30 p.m. deadline. Glancing at her watch, he says, "Abhi kuch pal baaki hai mere paas," before speeding off. Days later, when they finally finish writing the song together, he repeats the same gesture, looking at her watch once more. "Abhi kuch pal baaki hai mere paas. Aakhri pal. Ab yeh pal bhi guzar gaya."
It is not then surprising that the biggest twist of the film is also related to moments and memories. Vaani is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. What first seemed like harmless forgetfulness reveals itself as something far more devastating. She will soon begin to lose not just her memories but the very moments that made her who she is. "Woh pal jo humne saath bitaaye the, woh pal jinhone mujhe jeena sikhaya, koi memory mere saath nahi rehne waali," she says. "Mujhe bas aaj dikh raha hai, yeh pal, aur is pal me tum mere saath ho. I love you right now," replies Krish. If she forgets, he says, they will simply create new memories. Because what matters is not the past or the future, but the moment they are living in now. And so, they go to Goa singing, "Tum ho toh iss lamhe mein sadaa hai." With you, this moment is eternity.
The day of Krish’s big concert finally arrives. Just before stepping on stage, he admits to Vaani that he has waited his whole life for this moment, but now, he feels afraid. She reassures him softly, he has nothing to fear, because she loves him. She will be there, watching, rooting for him, as it is also her moment of success. But even as his dream nears fulfillment, Vaani's world begins to unravel. Her mind starts slipping, her moments with Krish blur with memories of Mahesh, past and present colliding like overlapping orbs in Inside Out. She realizes she's hurting the very people who love her. So she decides to leave. Before disappearing, she turns to Krish and says, "Abhi bhi kuch pal baaki hai mere paas, aur is pal mein, aaj, kal, forever and ever and ever, I love you, Mahesh." The words Krish once said to her now return like an echo, but heartbreakingly, she calls him by the wrong name. And, she leaves behind is a song, Saiyaara. "Hoton pe lamha lamha, hai naam tera, hai, tujhko hee gaaun main, tujhko pukaaron." Every moment on my lips carries your name. I sing for you. I call out to you.
Krish searches for her everywhere, but she seems to have vanished. So he turns to the only thing that still connects them—the song Saiyaara. He sings it across concerts, hoping its echoes will somehow reach her, awaken her memories, bring her back to him. Ironically, in the process of trying to find her, Krish becomes the star he always dreamed of being. Fame arrives, but it feels hollow without her. And then, one day, he finds her, away in Manali, at the same hostel where Aditya once found Geet in Jab We Met. Waiting for him is a letter. In it, she explains why she left, "Mujhe bahut kuch yaad nahi rehta ab, Krish, par jab koi tumhara gaana sunata hai, main us pal mein wapas chali jaati hoon. Woh pal jo humne saath bitaaye the, woh mere andar abhi bhi hain. Dimaag bhool jaaye, par dil nahi bhoolta. Yeh pal hamesha mere saath rahenge, forever and ever and ever."
And finally, Krish finds Vaani. She is sitting alone, struggling to write a song, just as she had been when they first met. Only this time, she doesn’t recognize him. Life has come full circle. Krish gently repeats the very words Vaani once told him, that songs are born from the moments that shape our lives. Then, to stir her memory, he recreates the Virat Kohli moment from long ago, the one that had first inspired her to write for him. And slowly, she remembers, and they get back together to make more memories.
This moment reminded me of Sadma.
It is also worth mentioning Krish's father, Ashok (Varun Badola), whose fraught relationship with his son adds a poignant layer to the story. After losing his wife, Ashok turned to alcohol, slowly unraveling his own life while clinging to memories of the past. The photograph of his late wife remains his most treasured possession, far more valuable to him than any wealth he might have. Because it reminds him of the moments he spent with his wife. Later, as Krish grapples with Vaani’s illness, Ashok urges him not to repeat his own mistakes, not to destroy his life as he did, not to remain stuck in the past like he did. It becomes a quiet coming-of-age moment for father and son, as they recognize the symmetry in their journeys. Around them, others reflect on the past and present, too. In a tender scene, Vaani’s mother Geeta (Geeta Agrawal) advises her daughter not to dwell on the past events, telling her to save her tears not for someone who left but for the fiery heat of spicy parathas.
Saiyaara is produced by Yashraj Films, but it feels like an out-and-out Mohit Suri film. He is one of the filmmakers who is still making love stories. His entire filmography is focused on love stories. Some have worked; some have not. But I have a special place in my heart for Awarapan, Aasiqhui 2, and Humari Adhuri Kahani. In Suri’s world, love doesn't just bring people together; it heals, redeems, and transforms them. In Awarapan, for instance, Shivam (Emraan Hashmi) begins as an atheist, telling Aliyah (Shriya Saran) that she is his only bhagwaan. Her love changes him so profoundly that he begins to believe in God, in grace, in something beyond himself. Saiyaara carries a similar spiritual layer. When Vaani is finally found, her image fills an enormous Jumbotron screen. Krish rushes toward it and drops to his knees, as though in prayer. It is a moment of pure devotion, as if, to him, Vaani has become divine.
Awarapan
Suri’s other familiar tropes make their way into this film as well. Like many of his earlier works, there is the loyal, sympathetic friend—here, it is KV (Alam Khan), ever ready to do anything for Krish. Surprisingly, though, none of the songs (another Suri trademark) stayed with me except for the utterly charming title track. Much like Aashiqui 2, where Shreya Ghoshal's female version of Sun Raha Hai Na Tu outshone the original, it is once again Shreya's rendition of the title song that lingers long. I have been playing it on repeat. The way she sings, "Haaye main mar hi jaaun, jo tujhko na paun," carries a profound ache, followed by "Tujhko hee gaaun main, tujhko pukaaroon" and then she slips into that long, haunting "oooon", it's magic. The song also subtly weaves in a theme of them being equals; she declares that half of her life is in him, and half of him is in her. She also uses 'tootna' and then describes themselves as 'sapna' and 'vaada'. These two words are connected to 'tootna.' Dreams break. Promises break. And finally, there’s the quiet acceptance that sometimes, it isn't we who have changed, it's the mausam, the circumstances that no longer favor us.
Tu honsla hai, tu hai iraada, aadhi main tujhme, mujh me tu aadha.
Tootoon na main bhi, toote na tu bhi, main tera sapna, tu mera vaada.
Haaye, main mar hee jaaun, jo tujhko na paaun, baaton mein teri main raatein bitaun.
Hothon pe lamha-lamha hai naam tera, haaye, tujhko hee gaaun main, tujhko pukaarun.
Saiyaara to toh badla nahi, mausam zara sa rooth hua hai.
Another element that really stood out to me was the film's recurring use of animation. There are countless scenes where animated visuals dominate the background. When Vaani visits the Buzzlist office, strange animations flicker outside. When Krish performs at the bar, animated patterns fill the screens around him. The night Vaani and Krish spend together in his room, the walls behind are filled with moving images. Later, after her diagnosis, red-toned animations pulse in the background as she sits in his room. Even when they move to Goa, the villa walls carry these shifting visuals. It feels deliberate, as if the animations are tied to memories, though the film never fully spells it out.
The film has also beautifully choreographed the tears. Toward the end, when Krish reads Vaani's letter, we see Vaani herself shedding a single tear. In the next moment, Krish sheds the same kind of tear, creating a quietly mirrored emotional beat. The sequence is poignantly shot. Even in the title song Saiyaara, when Vaani leaves for Krish, her teardrop smudges the page she has written on. I only wish the film had more moments as emotionally rich and tender as these.
Ahaan Panday and Aneet Padda make a stellar debut, proving they can both act. Ahaan has the look of a young Sanjay Dutt blended with Anshuman Jha, and a voice reminiscent of Ranbir Kapoor. His small gestures, like tying his sweater to Vaani on his bike, are so charming that I am sure they will start a new trend. And then there’s Aneet Padda, what a delightful screen presence. Her performance radiates a childlike innocence, lighting up the screen. The supporting cast is generally likable, though a few notes felt jarring. Vaani's mother's repeated 'Puttar' and 'Chheti' felt overdone, and Prince’s character was an obvious spoof on Baadshah.
The film that kept coming to mind while watching Saiyaara was Peter Segal’s 50 First Dates. In that Adam Sandler-starrer, Henry falls for Lucy, who suffers from short-term memory loss and cannot remember anything from the previous day, forcing Henry to woo her anew every morning. I half-expected Saiyaara to venture into similar territory, with Krish having to make Vaani fall in love with him every single day. But it doesn't because Vaani's Saiyaara another way. The film opens with a wedding—Vaani left at the altar by her fiancé—and closes with another, this time with Vaani and Krish finally tying the knot. Beyond the ceremony, Krish creates a collage of their shared moments, a tapestry of their life together. Even if her mind falters, these reminders ensure her heart always finds its way back to him. Because, as she said, dimaag bhool jaata hai, dil nahi bhoolta hai naa.
Other Reading:
1. On Awarapan—Link
2. On Aashiqui 2—Link
Dialogue of the Day:
"Dimaag bhool jata hai, lekin dil nahi bhoolta."
—Vaani, Saiyaara
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