While it completely unfolds in an idyllic Bhopal and a picturesque Mussoorie, Musafir Cafe also has a third city that thematically looms large over its universe — Mumbai. Bhopal is a perfectly fine place to live, but Mumbai remains a place to aspire for, at least for some. And while there is nothing wrong with the crowded Mumbai, a city that fuels your ambition, the show and its protagonist eventually finds peace in Mussoorie, even if it comes with its share of losses and regrets. These places, each distinct from the other, perfectly symbolise the conflict that drives the series.
At a time when the OTT space appears overwhelmingly crowded with crime-dramas and violent thrillers, Musafir Cafe flows like a fresh breeze. Created and adapted by Sharanya Rajgopal, (and adapted from Divya Prakash Dubey's book of the same title), the show tells the story of three young dreamers — Sudha, Chandar, and Preeti. The story unravels in two timelines; in one of them, while navigating the pool of arranged marriage meet-up phase, Chandar (Vikrant Massey) meets Sudha (Vedika Pinto), a feisty, ambitious young woman who is going through similar battles but has more clarity on her life goals. In another, years later, we see Chandar and Preeti (Mahima Makwana) as proud and successful managers of a dreamy little cafe in Mussoorie, being partners in every meaningful way.
Cast: Vikrant Massey, Vedika Pinto, Mahima Makwana, Sadiya Siddiqui, Adil Hussain, Loveleen Mishra
Directed by: Ruchir Arun
Written by: Sharanya Rajgopal, Divya Prakash Dubey
Despite its laidback vibe, the show manages to be gripping in a strangely unique way. Even as we see Chandar and Preeti together (and lovingly so), we continue to ask — Why did Sudha and Chandar fall apart in first place? We continue to yearn for that closure. The story might have begun with Preeti’s perspective, but we follow Sudha and Chander's relationship for large chunks of the narrative. The slowly-blossoming romance between the two feels organic and grounded. Chandar and Preeti’s relationship feels more platonic in nature and, relatively, a tad unconvincing. (In a show a bit more inclined to push the envelope, I would have loved to see the journey of Chandar and Preeti’s relationship as well.)
The series establishes its hook point rather early, and refuses to resolve it well until the last leg of the narrative. Nothing too dramatic happens for the first six episodes, and yet you stay for one reason — not the conflict, but everything that happens around it — the conversations, the minor rifts bubbling within, the little nuggets of insight on life and relationships, the warm aesthetics. There is a conscious gentleness to the proceedings which feels earned. The lack of histrionics is not an ornament — it sets the mood for how the writers want the story to unravel. It makes sense because the show itself is built around the innate conflict faced by the current generation — the tricky choice to make between ambition and content, between chaos and quiet, between the bustling life of cities or the calmness of the hills.
Among these relatable ruminations, Musafir Cafe also springs upon us a new idea — is it alright to reshape your ambitions for your love? Does it compromise your sense of self, or make it stronger? Can love be your ambition in itself? This is where the show truly strikes a chord. The characters often speak with a self-aware profundity, some of which can come across as schmaltzy, but the questions and the reflections ring true nonetheless. Vikrant Massey brings great unpredictability to the role — there is a searing vulnerability to Chandar as he happily redefines his life around Sudha. The same can be said for Mahima Makwana who makes Preeti an equally empathetic figure. The presence of stalwarts like Loveleen Mishra, Adil Hussain and Sadiya Siddiqui only adds gravitas to the proceedings.
The writers come dangerously close to projecting Sudha as a Manic Pixie Dream Girl prototype. Chandar keeps saying, “Kya ho yaar tum?,” followed by a mysterious smile from Sudha. At another time, Sudha is described as someone who doesn’t stay around for long, like an outlying traveller in the world of settlers. But then again, over eight languidly paced yet well written episodes, Sudha has no choice but to emerge as a complete woman — complex, flawed and lovable in all the relatable ways. Vedika Pinto has the toughest challenge among the lead cast — that of ensuring that Sudha remains someone to root for, despite the tough choices she makes — and the actor comes up trumps.
The last two episodes are particularly difficult to watch because of the emotional vulnerability navigated in these portions. This is where the show arrives at its underlying philosophy — that perhapos there is no right or wrong when it comes to love. And suitably so, there are no bad people in this universe of Musafir Cafe. There is warmth exuding from everyone who enters this space, be it Chandar’s mother (An adorabler Anubha Fatehpuria), Mark (Adil Hussain), or the househelp at Chandar’s bachelor pad. As these likeable people exchange stories, what we get in return is some heartfelt insights about relationships of all kinds, be it between two lovers or a parent and their children.
And most importantly, Musafir Cafe works because it compels us to reflect on our ideas of love, and everything around it.