Many years ago, two women on-screen showed me how to dream without hesitation and love without desperation
No, not the 1972 Hema Malini film.
This column is about Sita from Sekhar Kammula’s 2006 Telugu film Godavari and Gita from Ashutosh Gowariker’s 2004 Hindi movie Swades. The two belong to different cinematic worlds—different languages, states, directors and stories—but they have a lot in common. They are both ambitious, self-assured and principled. If they ever met, I’m sure they would be friends.
Sita Mahalakshmi, or simply Sita, played by the lovely Kamalinee Mukherjee, is a fashion designer. She has a boutique and wants to make something of herself. Her family is a lot like mine: a Telugu-speaking and middle-class one with an earning father, a homemaker mother and a younger sister in school. Her parents are playful and accepting of her aspirations.
Her relationship with her father is adorably similar to mine—stubborn yet tender. They clash, they bicker and yes, when they argue, volumes flair up. But they always find a way to understand each other. They’re just too similar not to. After a fight, she doesn’t give in easily. She demands that he apologise first. Very endearingly, her father, just like mine, does. There is equality in their disagreement, not ego.
Gita, played by Gayatri Joshi, is a teacher. She is determined, independent and self-sufficient. She takes care of her own childhood caregiver, Kaveri Amma. She is ambitious too. But her aspiration lies at home, with her people. After her education, she decides to stay in Charanpur, her village and work at the local school. Her dream is for all the children nearby to attend it.
Growing up, everyone around me believed that an English education was the key to a templated success story—study hard, get a good job and, if you were lucky, settle abroad. But then there was Gita in her beautiful cotton sarees and unshaken conviction, who wanted to stay. She wasn’t interested in simply discussing problems; she wanted to be part of the solution. As a young girl still figuring out her worldview, I found her mellow confidence incredibly inspiring.
I’ve been thinking about Sita and Gita a lot lately. Their tales feel especially relevant to the phase I’m in right now. Like them, I am surrounded by love—Sita’s parents and Gita’s Kaveri Amma are unwavering in their support and are genuinely proud of the women they have raised. Yet, what they really want is for them to marry and “settle down.” Sita and Gita are not opposed to marriage. What they resist is the loss of their agency in the process.
The opening shot of Godavari sets the tone of the film with a jarring nightmare: Sita, newly married, tries to have a conversation with her husband about her family and her life. He barely listens and appears to be uninterested in anything but sex. That scene makes it clear that this is her story and her search for something more.
Admittedly, Mohan’s journey steals the spotlight in Swades, but to me, Gita shines just as brightly. In one scene, Kaveri Amma arranges an alliance for her. The prospective family says they aren’t comfortable with her working after marriage. Gita’s response is striking not because it is loud, but because it isn’t. She disagrees but doesn’t lose her temper. She just makes it clear that her work is not up for negotiation. It is her passion, her right and she has no intention of surrendering it for someone else’s comfort.
There’s also something reassuring about the men who enter their lives and make a place in their hearts. Sita has Ram, played by Sumanth, in what I think is his finest performance. Gita’s Mohan is played by the ever-reliable Shah Rukh Khan. Both men are talented, charming and driven. They also have a lot in common. Both are US-educated and return to India on a mission. Ram returns to join a political party and “serve his people.” Mohan returns for Kaveri Amma initially but eventually discovers what it means to love and belong—to a woman, to his country and his people.
Ram and Sita meet on a week-long trip from Rajahmundry to Bhadrachalam. They fall in love on a boat passing through the Godavari River. Mohan and Gita, who are childhood friends, fall in love in Charanpur. Both couples also have similar “haters-to-lovers” arc.
The slow burn from irritation to admiration is a familiar trope. We’ve seen it in countless films. However, Sita and Gita’s journeys hold a special place in my heart because unlike mine, their love isn’t desperate. It happens gradually only after one interaction after another has assured them of mutual support and respect.
In one scene in Godavari, Ram’s uncle tries to convince Sita to give up business because it is too tough for a woman. Sita remains politely quiet. But Ram, who is usually non-confrontational, does not. He cannot stand by and listen to someone dismiss her ambition. “She is trying to do something in life, don’t kill it,” he snaps.
In Swades, when Mohan is about to return to the US, he does not ask Gita to come along or even expect it because he knows her heart belongs in India. In another scene, when they argue about the state of affairs in the country, he holds his ground without being dismissive of hers.
Yes, Ram and Mohan are both handsome and charming. But they stand out to me because they understand and respect the women in their lives. They are not threatened by Sita and Gita’s confidence. If anything, they anchor it. Their relationships have mutual agency and selflessness. In fact, there is no love until then.
Sita and Gita love their partners. But they are also deeply committed to their own truths. When Sita thinks Ram may have been untruthful to her, she leaves, refusing to talk to him. When Mohan is about to leave India, as much as she wants him to stay, Gita lets go. She understands that a sense of belonging cannot be forced; it has to be realised.
What resonates with me the most about both these women is not just their defiance, but the grace with which they carry it. Both women think with their hearts and love abundantly. They are eager to share the beautiful worlds they have built. They do not fight for the sake of rebellion; they fight because their lives are their own. Watching them has made me vicariously experience the quiet strength it takes to hold onto one’s dreams, even in the face of love.
If I met Sita and Gita, I’m sure we would become good friends. I love how they can be firm without hardening and kind without softening. When I was younger, I wanted to be like them. Now, in quiet moments, when I catch glimpses of them in me, I smile.
To my girlfriends—my real-life role models. Maybe, one day, I’ll find the Ram to my Sita and the Mohan to my Gita. But I doubt I will love him as unconditionally as I love you guys.
Spandana is the writer of the column Frames and Flashes, a space that explores films through personal experiences and unfulfilled fantasies.