Exploring the Cinematic landscape of Imtiaz Ali - Themes of Love, Identity and Self-discovery in his films

Research Paper (postgraduate) , 2024 , 54 Pages , Grade: A

Communications - Mass Media

This paper wasn’t just written—it was lived. It began with a feeling I couldn’t shake after watching Tamasha, Rockstar, and Highway—a quiet ache, a sense of being seen in ways I hadn’t fully admitted to myself. Imtiaz Ali’s films didn’t just entertain me—they unsettled me, comforted me, broke me open, and stitched something back together. I wanted to understand why.
So this research is part film analysis, part emotional excavation. It looks at how Ali’s characters—lost, raw, rebellious—mirror the parts of us that are still figuring it out. It dives into how he uses silence, music, messy narratives, and breathtaking landscapes to tell stories that go beyond the screen. And most importantly, it includes the voices of others who saw themselves in Ved, Jordan, or Veera and walked away a little differently.
This isn’t a typical academic paper. It’s a love letter to the films that held up a mirror and asked, “Is this really you?” And maybe, for those of us still searching, that question is the beginning of everything.

Contents

1. INTRODUCTION
1.1. Background of the study
1.2. Operational definitions
1.3. Research Problem
1.4. Research Objectives
1.5. Scope and Limitations
1.6. Theoretical Framework
1.7. Conceptual framework

2. REVIEW OF LITERATURE
2.1. A Literature Review That Feels Like Life
2.2. Cinema Shapes Us (More Than We Think)
2.3. Films Help Us Remember Who We Are (Even When We Forget)
2.4. Love That Doesn’t Save You (But Wakes You Up)
2.5. The Places We Go Change Us
2.6. Love That Breaks You Open
2.7. Sometimes You Have to Get Lost to Be Found
2.8. Identity in Films: Not Just Stories, but Reflections
2.9. From Revolution to Self: How Iranian Cinema Mirrors Our Inner Worlds
2.10. The Changing Face of Romance (Readomania)
2.11. Themes in Indian Cinema (Indian Communities)
2.12. How Love Stories Have Evolved (Times of India)
2.13. Life, Love, and Movies in India (The Atlantic)
2.14. Imtiaz Ali’s Characters Are Literally All of Us (MensXP)
2.15. When Bollywood Shapes Who We Think We Are
2.16. Love That Makes You Look in the Mirror
2.17. The Open Road and the Open Heart (Highway)
2.18. National Identity and the Weight We Carry
2.19. Two Key Words That Capture Everything We’re Talking About
2.20. A Research Gap That’s Been Hiding in Plain Sight
2.21. Where’s the Research on Us?
2.22. What We’re Missing
2.23. Why This Matters (In Life, Not Just Academia)

3. RESEARCH METHODOLOGY: THE PLAN, THE PROCESS, AND THE PEOPLE
3.1. Step One: A Close Reading (Basically Me, Overthinking... in a Good Way)
3.2. Step Two: A Small Film Screening (And Some Honest Conversations)
3.3. Step Three: The Survey: 15 Questions, Straight from the Heart

4. DATA ANALYSIS AND INTERPRETATION
4.1. Observation:
4.2. Analysis: What the Responses Revealed
4.3. Interpretation: What It All Meant to Me
4.4. Comparative Analysis

5. FINDINGS, DISCUSSIONS, RECOMMENDATIONS AND CONCLUSIONS
5.1. Findings: Little Truths That Found Their Way to the Surface
5.2. Discussion: Where Stories Meet Us in the Middle
5.3. Recommendations: If Stories Can Heal, Let’s Share Them Better
5.4. Conclusion: Maybe We Were All Just Trying to Breathe

REFERENCES

Annexure-A: Survey Questions

ABSTRACT

This paper wasn’t just written—it was lived. It began with a feeling I couldn’t shake after watching Tamasha, Rockstar, and Highway—a quiet ache, a sense of being seen in ways I hadn’t fully admitted to myself. Imtiaz Ali’s films didn’t just entertain me—they unsettled me, comforted me, broke me open, and stitched something back together. I wanted to understand why.

So this research is part film analysis, part emotional excavation. It looks at how Ali’s characters—lost, raw, rebellious—mirror the parts of us that are still figuring it out. It dives into how he uses silence, music, messy narratives, and breathtaking landscapes to tell stories that go beyond the screen. And most importantly, it includes the voices of others who saw themselves in Ved, Jordan, or Veera and walked away a little differently.

This isn’t a typical academic paper. It’s a love letter to the films that held up a mirror and asked, “Is this really you?” And maybe, for those of us still searching, that question is the beginning of everything.

Keywords: Imtiaz Ali, Cinematic landscape, Love, Identity, Self-discovery

1. INTRODUCTION

1.1. Background of the study

They say cinema is the most powerful form of storytelling—and honestly, I’ve always believed that. It has this magical way of crossing boundaries, whether it is language, culture, or time. A good story? It speaks to something universal in all of us. And when it comes to Indian cinema, I don’t think anyone tells those kinds of stories quite like Imtiaz Ali.

For me, his films haven’t just been movies I’ve watched on a quiet Sunday afternoon—they’ve been experiences. Little journeys that stayed with me long after the credits rolled. And that is why this research isn’t just academic. It is personal. It is about understanding why these films move me the way they do—and why I’m certain I’m not alone in feeling that way.

Over the years, Ali’s films have become my emotional bookmarks. Tamasha came to me when I was at a crossroads in my career, feeling like I was playing a role in someone else’s story. Ved’s internal tug-of-war—between what society expects and what he knows deep down he is meant for—felt uncomfortably familiar. I still remember the scene where Ved breaks down in front of Tara, finally confronting the masks he is been wearing. That hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d been there.

Then there’s Rockstar. Jordan’s journey wasn’t just about love or music—it was about the raw, painful process of self-discovery. I watched that film during a time in my life when everything felt chaotic. Love, ambition, heartbreak—it all worked so well together. And there was Jordan, angry and lost, but also finding his voice through the very thing that was breaking him. It made me think: Maybe the mess is where we find ourselves.

And Highway? Veera’s escape from her controlled, suffocating life spoke to a quieter rebellion in me. Her journey through wild, open spaces—finally breathing free air—was something I craved in ways I hadn’t fully realized until I saw her story unfold.

That is what this research is about. Not just analyzing Ali’s films from a distance but stepping into them, asking why they resonate so deeply. What makes his stories feel so intimate, even as they tell these vast, sweeping tales of love and identity? Why do his characters—these messy, searching, beautifully flawed people—feel like they’re reflecting our own secret struggles?

I want to explore how Imtiaz Ali uses his tools—storytelling, music, dialogue, and even the landscapes his characters move through—to invite us into their inner worlds. Because when I watch his films, I don’t feel like an outsider. I feel like I’m sitting across from someone who’s lived through these same questions of self, freedom, and love.

At its heart, this study is as much about me as it is about Ali’s films. It’s an exercise in reflection—on how stories shape us, how they help us understand ourselves, and how they give voice to things we often struggle to say.

And I’m curious. Curious about how many others had watched Ved pacing in front of a mirror and thought, That’s me. Or how many have seen Veera on that open highway and felt a lump in their throat because they’ve dreamed of running toward freedom too?

This isn’t just an analysis of cinema. It’s about human connection. About the universal restlessness that Ali’s characters carry, and how that restlessness lives in so many of us.

By diving into these stories—looking at their recurring themes of love, identity, and self-exploration—I hope to understand more than just the mechanics of Ali’s craft. I want to explore how his work fits into the larger conversation about what it means to be human today. How his films contribute to the evolving ideas of personal freedom, self-actualization, and the bittersweet nature of our relationships with ourselves and others.

Why do his stories feel like they were written for us?

Why do they linger?

And how do they help us see ourselves a little more clearly?

This research is an invitation. To myself. To anyone who’s ever seen their reflection in an Imtiaz Ali character. To those who believe cinema can be more than just a story—it can be a mirror, a guide, maybe even a gentle nudge toward self-discovery.

I’m not just writing about Imtiaz Ali’s films. I’m writing about how they’ve shaped me—and maybe how they’ve shaped you, too.

1.2. Operational definitions

When I first watched Tamasha, Rockstar, and Highway, I didn’t just see characters going through life—I saw parts of myself in them. Imtiaz Ali’s films hit differently because they don’t just tell love stories; they explore identity, self-doubt, freedom, and the messiness of being human. But how does he do it? What makes his films feel so personal? To break this down, I need to define a few key ideas that will help shape my research. These aren’t just academic terms—they’re the building blocks of Ali’s storytelling; the very things that make his films linger in our minds long after they end.

1. Cinematic Landscape – When Locations Speak Louder Than Words
Ali doesn’t just pick locations because they look pretty—he makes them part of the story. Think about Highway: the open roads and towering mountains aren’t just scenery; they reflect Veera’s growing sense of freedom. At the start, she’s trapped in a mansion, suffocated by the expectations of her “perfect” life. But once she’s out on the road, even though she’s technically been kidnapped, she feels freer than ever. In Tamasha, Corsica is wild and colorful—just like the unfiltered version of Ved. But back home, his world is dull, grey, and routine. The places these characters exist in mirror what’s happening inside them, and that’s what makes the landscapes in Ali’s films so powerful.
2. Narrative Structure – Because Life Isn’t Linear
Ali’s stories don’t follow a straight line. They jump back and forth, making us piece together emotions just like his characters do. In Tamasha, we move between Ved’s childhood, his time in Corsica, and his present-day struggles. This isn’t just for artistic flair—it’s how memory works. The past and present constantly clash in his mind, just as they do in real life when we try to figure out who we are. Rockstar does the same. We don’t see Jordan’s story in a neat sequence. Instead, we experience his journey through fragments—flashes of pain, rebellion, love, and loss. It’s chaotic, just like his life.
3. Escapism – Running Away, But From What?
Ali’s characters are always escaping, but they never really outrun their problems. Ved escapes to Corsica, thinking he can be someone else for a while—but when he returns home, reality slaps him hard. Jordan escapes into music, hoping it will heal his heartbreak, but instead, it becomes his greatest source of pain. Veera escapes in Highway, but not because she wants to—she’s kidnapped. Yet, ironically, it’s in that forced escape that she finds her truest self. These stories show us that escape isn’t the answer—it’s just a detour on the road to self-discovery.
4. Self-Discovery – Who Are We, Really?
None of Ali’s protagonists end their stories the way they started. Ved has to break down completely before he understands himself. Jordan realizes that fame and success mean nothing if he’s lost inside. Veera, by the end of Highway, is completely transformed—not by a romantic love story, but by finally feeling free in her own skin. Self-discovery in Ali’s films is never easy. It’s painful, messy, and sometimes even tragic. But it’s always real.
5. Dual Identity – The Person We Show vs. The Person We Are
We all have two sides—the one the world sees and the one we truly are. Ali’s characters live this conflict in the most heartbreaking ways. Ved is stuck between being the obedient corporate worker and the wild storyteller inside him. Jordan starts as Janardhan, a regular college guy, but once he steps into the world of music, he becomes someone else—someone he doesn’t fully understand. Veera realizes that the rich girl she thought she was isn’t her true self at all. Ali’s films show us that real happiness comes when we stop fighting our own identity.
6. Love as a Catalyst – More Than Just Romance
Love in Ali’s films isn’t just about two people coming together—it’s about transformation. Tara doesn’t “fix” Ved, but her presence forces him to confront himself. Heer is Jordan’s great love, but she also pushes him into the very pain that fuels his music. Veera’s love isn’t for a person—it’s for the wild, open road, and the freedom it brings her. Love in Ali’s films isn’t the end goal—it’s what pushes the characters toward discovering who they truly are.
7. Symbolism of Music – When Words Aren’t Enough
Music in Ali’s films isn’t just a soundtrack—it’s storytelling in its purest form. In Rockstar, Jordan’s songs aren’t just performances; they are his emotions. “Sadda Haq” is his rebellion. “Tum Ho” is his heartbreak. The way the music shifts from raw, angry rock to soft, aching melodies mirrors his emotional journey. In Tamasha, “Agar Tum Saath Ho” isn’t just a song—it’s Ved breaking down in front of Tara, unable to put his pain into words. Even Highway uses silence as powerfully as music. The quiet of the mountains speaks just as loudly as any song, reflecting Veera’s newfound peace.
8. Psychological Conflict – The Battles We Fight Inside
Ali’s characters aren’t just fighting the world—they’re fighting themselves. Ved’s biggest enemy isn’t his family or his boss—it’s his own fear of being himself. Jordan’s pain isn’t just about Heer—it’s about his constant push-and-pull between wanting to feel something deeply and fearing that it will break him. Veera struggles with understanding why she feels happier in the wilderness than she ever did in her own home. These aren’t external conflicts—they’re the kind that exists inside all of us.
9. Physical Journey as Metaphor – More Than Just Travel
Ali’s characters don’t just move from place to place—they change along the way. Veera’s road trip in Highway isn’t just about travel—it’s about shedding the layers of who she was told to be. Ved’s return to Corsica isn’t about reliving a memory—it’s his desperate attempt to find himself again. Jordan’s journey across cities and countries isn’t about fame—it’s about losing himself, bit by bit. Movement in these films isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, psychological, and deeply personal.
10. Societal Conditioning – The Unseen Cage
Why does Ved feel like he has to hide his true self? Why does Veera only realize what she wants after she’s taken away from her privileged life? Why does Jordan think he needs suffering to create great music? Because society conditions us to believe in certain rules—who we should be, how we should behave, and what should make us happy. Ali’s films challenge these ideas, showing characters breaking free from invisible chains they didn’t even realize were there.
11. Emotional Liberation – The Moment of Truth
Each of Ali’s protagonists has a moment where they finally let go. Ved stops pretending. Jordan stops fighting his emotions. Veera stops fearing the unknown. These moments aren’t always loud or dramatic, but they change everything.
12. Unconventional Endings – Because Life Isn’t Neat
Ali doesn’t believe in tying everything up with a bow. Tamasha doesn’t tell us if Ved and Tara end up together—it just tells us that Ved found himself, which is what truly matters. Rockstar leaves us wondering if Jordan ever finds peace. Highway ends with Veera alone, but free.

And maybe that’s why his stories feel real—because in life, we don’t always get clear-cut endings.

1.3. Research Problem

Some movies cheer us; others bring on tears, and then there are the deep-seated personal ones that feel like they have been made for or about you. For me, Imtiaz Ali falls in this last category. His films do not show love as a romantic affair between two people; they project love as much beyond that more as a power that leaves you uprooted, makes you question your identity, and more often than not, challenges you. That is what makes him such a tall story artist, and that's why I would love to see how he brings these themes into execution through his storytelling as well as visualization.

Ali's narratives do not adopt a tried-and-true structure. Instead of a neat beginning, middle, and end, his narratives often sound like disjointed thoughts - jumping between the past and the present, reality and imagination. Tamasha is an ideal example of this. Ved's story is not told in a direct line but rather unfolds in pieces like memories that have been coming back in flashes. This film constantly juxtaposes the instances from the present where he struggles and flashes back to the instances in the past with joy and freedom. And this is not just an artistic choice-It feels like the way real self-discovery happens. Major life changes do not arrange our thoughts in an orderly fashion. There are recalls, looping, trying to make sense of one's own story. This is so vividly captured by Ali that it almost feels, that we are within Ved's mind, fighting the battle alongside him.

Then there is Rockstar who tells us about Jordan but actually makes us feel his rise and fall. The film moves back and forth between his fame, heartbreak, and pains. It corresponds to his emotional chaos which is desperate. Nothing about this journey is easy or predictable, and that is exactly what renders it raw. Even music plays a part in narration. Every song is not just another addition to the scoreboard; it contains a piece of Jordan's soul that words alone never can.

Then there's Ali's take on visuals. His movies do not simply reveal feelings; they let us sense them through place, color, and framing. In Highway, Veera's physical journey across India parallels her emotional journey. The more she breaks free from the past, the wider and more open the landscapes around her become. On the contrary, the closed, choking spaces of home could make comparison much easier says it all about what she feels. In Tamasha, the colors of Corsica-vibrant and full of life represent the version of Ved that is free and uninhibited, while the dull colorless offices back home reflect the person he has been forced into becoming.

However, nowhere in Ali's movies does he carry emotional depth in a way most people love for the movies. No studies really examine how Ali manages to achieve such a depth of feeling. His films do not just make one feel something because it happens in a story; they make one feel because of how this story is told, and how experiences are shaped by the presentation of visuals. That is what I want to explore.

So my research will ask a very big question: How do Imtiaz Ali's films use the narrative method and visual symbolism to explore the play between love, identity, and self-discovery? Through a close reading of Highway, Tamasha, and Rockstar, I hope to unravel the subtlety with which he has skillfully placed his characters and audience on a journey toward personal and collective self-discovery.

1.4. Research Objectives

When I first watched an Imtiaz Ali film, I didn’t just see a story unfold—I felt it. His films don’t just rely on dialogue to tell us what a character is going through. Instead, they use visuals, music, and even silence to speak volumes. His characters are always searching for something—freedom, love, identity—and their journeys feel personal, almost as if they mirror our own struggles.

That’s what makes Ali’s storytelling so special, and that’s why I want to dig deeper into how he brings these themes to life.

Here’s what I hope to explore in this research:

1. Understanding Visual Symbolism: How Do Landscapes, Mirrors, and Motifs Reflect Inner Struggles?
Ali has a way of making the world around his characters feel like an extension of their emotions. In Highway, the vast open roads and endless mountains reflect Veera’s growing sense of freedom. But at the start of the film, she’s surrounded by walls—literal ones in her family’s home and metaphorical ones built by societal expectations. As her journey unfolds, those walls disappear, and the world opens up, just like her own mind.
Then there’s the use of mirrors. In Tamasha, Ved constantly looks at his reflection, almost as if searching for the version of himself he lost. It’s subtle, but every time he stares into a mirror, it’s a reminder of the internal battle between the person he wants to be and the person society expects him to become. Even the theater stage in Tamasha acts as a symbol—it’s the only place where Ved allows himself to be his true self, yet even there, he struggles to let go completely.
These are the kinds of details that often go unnoticed but add so much depth to the storytelling. Through this research, I want to examine how Ali uses these recurring symbols to visually represent his characters’ emotional struggles.
2. The Role of Music and Sound Design: How Do They Deepen Emotional Impact?
One thing I’ve always loved about Ali’s films is that the music isn’t just there for entertainment—it’s part of the storytelling. Rockstar is the best example of this. Every song in the film is like a chapter of Jordan’s life, marking his emotional highs and lows. “Sadda Haq” is pure rebellion, while “Tum Ho” is raw heartbreak. Even the way the music is woven into the film—sometimes blasting through scenes, sometimes fading into silence—adds to the emotional weight.
Sound design plays a crucial role, too. In Highway, the silence of the mountains is just as important as the music. When Veera is alone in nature, the absence of noise lets us feel the weight of her thoughts. Similarly, in Tamasha, the chaotic sounds of traffic and office life feel suffocating, mirroring Ved’s inner turmoil. By analyzing these elements, I want to understand how Ali uses sound not just to enhance a scene but to pull the audience deeper into a character’s emotions.
3. Escapism: How Do His Characters Try to Run Away From Themselves?
Ali’s characters are always escaping—sometimes physically, sometimes emotionally, sometimes both. And honestly, who hasn’t wanted to just run away when life gets too much? In Tamasha, Ved escapes to Corsica, where he finally feels free to be himself. In Rockstar, Jordan escapes into music, using it as both a shield and an outlet for his emotions. In Highway, Veera’s escape starts as a kidnapping but slowly turns into a journey of self-liberation.
But what’s interesting is that their escapes never really solve anything—at least, not in the way they expect. Ved returns from Corsica, only to find himself even more trapped in his daily life. Jordan chases pain, believing it will fuel his music, but he ends up broken. Veera finds peace in the mountains, but she still has to confront her past. This research will explore how Ali portrays escapism—not as a solution, but as a necessary part of self-discovery.
4. The Connection Between Physical and Emotional Journeys
What makes Ali’s characters so compelling is that their physical journeys always mirror their emotional ones. In Highway, Veera’s road trip across India isn’t just about traveling—it’s about her breaking free from her past trauma and rediscovering herself. In Tamasha, Ved’s literal return to Corsica is symbolic; he’s trying to reclaim the person he was before society crushed his spirit. In Rockstar, Jordan’s travels—from college to fame to self-imposed exile—represent his transformation from a naive dreamer to a man consumed by his emotions.
But what really fascinates me is how these journeys change them. Veera doesn’t just enjoy the road trip; she becomes a completely different person by the end of it. Ved doesn’t just revisit Corsica; he confronts everything he’s been avoiding. Jordan doesn’t just travel the world; he loses himself in the process. This research will look at how Ali connects physical movement with emotional evolution, showing that real transformation doesn’t happen in one place—it happens along the way.
5. Love vs. Society: How Do Ali’s Characters Navigate Personal Desires vs. External Expectations?
At the core of all of Ali’s films is a tension between what the heart wants and what society expects. And let’s be real—we’ve all felt this struggle in some way. Maybe it’s choosing a career that feels safe instead of one that excites us, or staying in a situation because it’s expected rather than because it feels right.
Ved’s entire life in Tamasha is shaped by what his family and society expect from him. When he tries to break free, the world pushes back hard, making him question if he even has the right to be himself. In Rockstar, Jordan believes he needs heartbreak to become a great musician, but is that belief shaped by his own desires, or by the world’s romanticized idea of pain and artistry? In Highway, Veera’s struggle isn’t just about her personal trauma—it’s about the way women are expected to stay silent, to fit into a life designed for them rather than the life they want.

Ali’s films constantly challenge the idea that we should follow a set path. Through this research, I want to explore how his characters navigate this conflict—how they push against expectations, how they sometimes break, and how they ultimately find (or fail to find) themselves in the process.

1.5. Scope and Limitations

Scope: What I’ll Be Exploring

This paper isn’t just a breakdown of what happens in these films—it’s a deep dive into how Ali tells these stories and why they resonate so deeply. Here’s what I’ll focus on:

1. When Places Speak Louder Than Words
Ali’s films make you feel the locations. In Tamasha, Corsica is carefree, wild, and full of color—the perfect space for Ved to be himself. But back home, his world is stiff, gray, and suffocating. In Highway, Veera’s journey through open landscapes mirrors the freedom she discovers along the way. And Rockstar? The shift from the raw simplicity of Jordan’s early life to the cold, overwhelming world of fame is heartbreaking. These places aren’t just backgrounds; they reflect the emotions of the characters. I’ll explore how Ali uses landscapes to mirror internal struggles.
2. The Battle Between Who We Are and Who We Pretend to Be
Ved hides behind a corporate job, Jordan hides behind his music, and Veera hides behind the life she thought she wanted. But as their stories unfold, they can’t keep pretending. They break down, they lash out, they get lost—until they finally face themselves. I’ll explore how Ali’s characters struggle with identity and how their journeys force them to confront their true selves.
3. The Hidden Messages in What We See
Ali has a way of using small details to say so much more. Mirrors, masks, roads—these aren’t just props, they’re messages. Ved constantly sees his reflection, questioning who he is. Jordan’s world is filled with flashing lights and shadows as if he’s disappearing into the fame he once craved. Veera doesn’t just travel—her journey is a transformation. I’ll analyze how Ali uses visual storytelling to add deeper meaning to his films.
4. When Words Fail, Music Speaks
There are moments in these films where dialogue isn’t enough—so the music takes over. Jordan’s songs aren’t just tracks on an album; they’re his pain, his rebellion, his love story. In Tamasha, “Agar Tum Saath Ho” isn’t background music—it’s the entire emotional weight of Ved’s breakdown in melody form. I’ll explore how music in Ali’s films becomes a storytelling tool, expressing what the characters can’t say out loud.
5. Running Away to Find Yourself
Escaping doesn’t solve anything—but sometimes, it’s the only way to see clearly. Ved runs away to Corsica, only to return even more lost. Jordan escapes into his music but finds himself consumed by it. Veera’s escape isn’t even her choice—but it’s the only thing that sets her free. I’ll examine why Ali’s characters are always running, and why their real transformation begins when they stop.
6. Love That Changes You (But Doesn’t "Fix" You)
Ali’s love stories don’t end with a neat bow. Tara doesn’t “save” Ved—she just holds up a mirror until he finally sees himself. Heer doesn’t complete Jordan—if anything, their love destroys him further. And Veera? Her journey isn’t about romantic love at all—it’s about learning to love herself. I’ll explore how love in Ali’s films isn’t about perfection or completion, but about self-realization.

Limitations: What I Won’t Be Covering

Since Ali’s work is rich and complex, I have to set some boundaries to keep my research focused. Here’s what I won’t be diving into:

1. Other Imtiaz Ali Films
I love Jab We Met and Love Aaj Kal, but this paper will only focus on Tamasha, Rockstar, and Highway—the films that best capture themes of love, identity, and self-discovery.
2. Cinematography and Technical Film Analysis
While I’ll discuss visual symbolism, I won’t be breaking down camera angles, lighting techniques, or shot composition. This study is about storytelling, not film production.
3. Box Office Success and Public Reception
I won’t be discussing how well these films performed commercially or what critics thought of them. My focus is on the emotional and artistic depth of Ali’s storytelling.
4. A Deep Dive into Music Theory

Yes, I’ll talk about the impact of music, but I won’t analyze Rahman’s compositions in terms of musical structures, scales, or technicalities.

1.6. Theoretical Framework

Some movies entertain us, some make us cry, and then some movies make us pause—like really pause—to look at our own lives. Imtiaz Ali’s films do exactly that. They aren’t just stories unfolding on screen; they feel like mirrors, showing us our deepest fears, desires, and struggles. Whether it’s Ved in Tamasha, Jordan in Rockstar, or Veera in Highway, Ali’s characters don’t feel like fictional people—they feel like us.

I still remember watching Tamasha for the first time. Ved’s breakdown in front of Tara wasn’t just a dramatic scene—it was raw, messy, and painfully real. It reminded me of every moment in my life where I felt trapped in a version of myself that wasn’t me. That’s what sparked my curiosity: Why do Ali’s films feel so personal? How do they communicate such deep emotions?

That’s where communication theories come in. They help us understand why these stories affect us so deeply—why Jordan’s pain lingers long after Rockstar ends, why Veera’s journey in Highway makes us crave escape, and why Ved’s crisis in Tamasha feels like something we’ve lived through ourselves. Let’s explore how Ali’s films speak to us on a level beyond words.

1. Symbolic Interactionism – The Struggle Between Who We Are and Who We Pretend to Be

Have you ever felt like you were living a version of yourself that wasn’t truly you? Like you were playing a role that the world expected from you, rather than being who you really are? That’s what Symbolic Interactionism is all about—it suggests that our identity isn’t something fixed, but rather something shaped by how others see us and the roles we’re assigned.

Ved in Tamasha: He was never meant to be a corporate worker. But from a young age, he was told that stories and dreams don’t pay the bills. So, he followed the “right” path—until it crushed him.

Jordan in Rockstar: He was a carefree, naive boy who just wanted to make music. But when he was told that suffering makes artists great, he embraced heartbreak and chaos, turning himself into someone he barely recognized.

Veera in Highway: She thought she belonged in her upper-class world, where everything was perfect. But the moment she stepped outside that world, she felt alive for the first time.

Ali’s films show us that identity isn’t something we are born with—it’s something we constantly wrestle with. And sometimes, it takes breaking free from expectations to truly find ourselves.

2. Narrative Paradigm – Why These Stories Feel Like Our Own

There’s a reason why we connect with stories more than facts. Stories make us feel things in a way that logic never can. That’s the core idea behind Narrative Paradigm—it suggests that we understand life through stories, not just through information.

Ali plays with storytelling in a way that makes his films feel more than just entertainment:

Tamasha is structured like a play, constantly shifting between Ved’s childhood storytelling, his masked adult life, and his eventual self-realization. It forces us to question: Are we living a story that we actually want to tell?

Rockstar unfolds like a tragic ballad, following Jordan’s rise and fall with an almost poetic inevitability. His story isn’t told in a straight line—it’s messy, raw, and cyclical, much like real-life emotions.

Highway feels like a fable, where each location represents a different stage in Veera’s emotional journey—her gradual detachment from her old life and embrace of freedom.

These films stick with us because they don’t just tell us a story—we see ourselves in them.

3. Uses and Gratifications Theory – Why We Keep Rewatching These Films

We don’t always watch movies just for fun. Sometimes, we seek out certain films because we need them. That’s what Uses and Gratifications Theory explains—it looks at why people turn to specific media depending on what they’re feeling or going through.

When we feel stuck in life, we watch Tamasha—because Ved’s struggle to break free from his routine reminds us that we’re not alone.

When we’re heartbroken, we turn to Rockstar—because Jordan’s pain feels so visceral, it validates what we’re feeling.

When we crave escape, we watch Highway—because Veera’s journey reminds us that there’s a world beyond the one we’re stuck in.

These films become more than just movies. They become companions—stories we return to when we need guidance, comfort, or just a reminder that what we’re feeling is real.

4. Nonverbal Communication – When Silence Says More Than Words

Some of the most powerful moments in Ali’s films aren’t in the dialogues—they’re in the quiet, unspoken emotions that linger in between.

Ved’s trembling, forced smile before he finally breaks down in front of Tara—that small hesitation says more about his pain than any monologue ever could.

Jordan’s clenched fists and distant, unfocused eyes—long before he puts his pain into words, we see how lost he is.

Veera’s transformation is seen in the way she carries herself—in the beginning, she’s tense and awkward. By the end, she’s relaxed, free, and completely at peace.

Ali understands that real emotions aren’t always loud. Sometimes, they’re in the smallest of gestures, the subtlest of expressions. And that’s what makes them so deeply relatable.

5. Cultivation Theory – How These Films Change the Way We See Ourselves

Ever walked out of a movie feeling like something inside you shifted? That’s what Cultivation Theory is all about—it explains how the stories we consume shape our worldview.

Tamasha makes us wonder: Am I truly living the life I want, or am I just following what’s expected of me?

Rockstar forces us to ask: Is suffering necessary for greatness, or is that just a myth we tell ourselves?

Highway challenges our definition of safety and freedom. It makes us rethink whether the life we thought was "secure" is actually the thing holding us back.

Ali’s films don’t just tell a story—they stay with us. They change the way we look at love, identity, and self-discovery, long after we’ve left the theater.

1.7. Conceptual framework

Illustrations are not included in the reading sample

2. REVIEW OF LITERATURE

2.1. A Literature Review That Feels Like Life

Have you ever watched a film and felt like someone just opened a door inside you that you didn’t even know was there? That’s what Imtiaz Ali’s movies did for me. Rockstar, Tamasha, Highway—they aren’t just stories about people falling in love or finding themselves on a road trip. They’re about us. About those quiet moments when you ask, Who am I, really? And What am I doing with my life?

When I started digging into what film scholars say about cinema, identity, and love, it was like realizing that Ali isn’t alone in telling these stories. There’s this whole world of people—filmmakers, critics, writers—trying to make sense of who we are, how we change, and why stories move us the way they do. And suddenly, Ali’s films weren’t just movies I watched on a Sunday night—they were part of a much bigger conversation.

2.2. Cinema Shapes Us (More Than We Think)

Bruce Elder, a Canadian film theorist, says cinema should be more than just entertainment—it should wake us up. He talks about how Canadian films are often stuck between the shiny, practical vibe of America and the deep, reflective energy of Europe. According to him, films should help us understand our culture, our people, and ourselves.

And honestly? That feels pretty close to what’s happening with Indian cinema too. Bollywood gives us the big, loud, song-and-dance escapes we all grew up with. But then there’s a quiet corner of Indian film where directors like Imtiaz Ali tell stories that aren’t about escaping—they’re about turning inward.

Take Tamasha. Ved is living the perfect life on paper. A good job, and good manners, fit in just fine. But you watch him and you feel it—he’s suffocating. His trip to Corsica is the first time he breathes freely. I’ve had my Corsica too. Mine wasn’t on an island, but it was a trip where I left everything familiar behind and realized how much of myself I’d buried to fit into someone else’s idea of who I should be.

Elder wanted Canadian cinema to reflect its people’s struggles with identity. Ali’s films do the same for us. They remind us that it’s okay to question the roles we’ve been handed.

2.3. Films Help Us Remember Who We Are (Even When We Forget)

Amir Cohen-Shalev writes about films that deal with memory and selfhood, about how we are constantly re-making ourselves through our experiences. He talks about an elderly woman revisiting her past and slowly piecing herself back together.

And that idea—that identity isn’t one fixed thing but something we’re always re-shaping—feels so true when I think about Rockstar and Tamasha. These movies aren’t told in a straight line. They jump back and forth, like how memory works. I mean, don’t we all go back to moments in our heads, trying to understand who we were and how we got here?

Jordan in Rockstar starts as Janardhan, this wide-eyed guy who just wants to be famous. He thinks heartbreak is the magic formula for great music. But when he falls in love and loses Heer, he’s wrecked—and from that wreckage, his music finally has something real to say. It’s messy. It’s painful. And it’s honest.

I remember watching Rockstar when I was going through my own heartbreak. That ache Jordan carries, it’s something I felt deep in my bones. Cohen-Shalev is right: we’re never static. Pain reshapes us. Love reshapes us. We’re always in the process of becoming.

And Highway? Veera’s journey is one I didn’t expect. She’s kidnapped—and yet, it’s the first time in her life she’s free. That kind of twist hits hard. Sometimes it takes being thrown completely off course to finally see things clearly.

2.4. Love That Doesn’t Save You (But Wakes You Up)

Megan Feeney wrote about how love was portrayed in post-war Hollywood films—how it was this steady, grounding force after so much chaos. Love made the world make sense again.

But in Imtiaz Ali’s stories, love doesn’t make things easier. It complicates everything. It makes you confront parts of yourself you’ve ignored for years. Love isn’t an answer; it’s a question that refuses to let you stay the same.

Rockstar is the perfect example. Jordan’s love for Heer doesn’t complete him—it shatters him. But through that heartbreak, he finds his voice. I’ve felt that before—the way loving someone can undo you, but also show you who you really are beneath the layers you didn’t even realize were there.

In Tamasha, Tara loves Ved, but she doesn’t fix him. She reflects him to himself. That scene where she tells him, “This isn’t you,” it’s brutal and beautiful. I’ve had someone say that to me once, and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy to hear. But it was necessary. That’s what real love does—it calls you out when you’ve lost your way.

And Highway isn’t about romantic love at all. Veera and Mahabir’s bond is raw and complicated. It’s about trust, survival, and two broken people finding a strange sort of peace with each other. It’s not neat or simple, but it’s real.

2.5. The Places We Go Change Us

There’s something about the way Imtiaz Ali uses locations in his films that’s always stayed with me. Chris Lukinbeal talks about how landscapes in cinema aren’t just pretty places—they shape the story, and the people in them. I get that. I still remember the first time I left my hometown and realized the world was so much bigger than I thought. Places do something to you. They shift your perspective. They give you space to breathe.

In Highway, the open roads and mountains aren’t just scenery—they’re freedom. Every mile Veera travels takes her further away from the cage she grew up in. I’ve felt that kind of freedom, driving down an empty highway with no destination, just knowing I was moving toward something new.

Tamasha gives us Corsica—this magical, carefree place where Ved finally lets go of who he’s supposed to be. I had my own Corsica once—a place where I laughed louder, stayed up later, and didn’t worry about who was watching. Coming back to “real life” after that was harder than I expected. That contrast, between freedom and responsibility, between self-expression and self-restraint—that’s what Ali captures so well.

And Rockstar? Prague becomes the place where Jordan loses himself completely. It’s haunting, beautiful, and heavy. Sometimes a place holds onto your memories, whether you’re ready for it or not. Lukinbeal was right—places aren’t passive. They shape us, just like the people we meet do.

2.6. Love That Breaks You Open

I was reading this old essay by Thomas O’Brien—he was writing about American films from decades ago—and he kept coming back to this idea that love, in the movies at least, often comes with loss. To love deeply is to risk everything. And weirdly, I thought of Rockstar. I thought of Jordan, this angry, reckless boy who doesn’t really become himself until he loves Heer. But loving her destroys him too. And somehow, in that wreckage, he finds his art, his voice. His truth.

I’ve been in love that cracked me open. The kind that makes you question who you are when it’s gone. It’s messy, and it hurts like hell. But afterward, you’re never the same. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe love isn’t supposed to leave you untouched.

Who Are You When You Stop Pretending?

Aysha Mendes wrote about Still Alice, about how people living with dementia start to disappear from those around them, even though they’re still there, still them. That’s what broke me, reading her words. Because I realized—that’s Ved in Tamasha. Everyone around him sees the version they want to see: the obedient son, the efficient employee. But the real Ved? He’s drowning.

There’s this scene—maybe you remember it—where Ved is pacing, talking to himself in the mirror, switching voices like he doesn’t know which one is his anymore. I’ve had those moments. Haven’t you? When you’re exhausted from performing, from holding yourself together just so the world doesn’t see you falling apart?

Tara sees him. She calls him out. She tells him the truth, even when he doesn’t want to hear it. And slowly, he remembers who he really is. We all need someone like that, don’t we?

2.7. Sometimes You Have to Get Lost to Be Found

Trevor Mowchun talks about this in his essay on Dream of Light. He writes about how important it is to wander sometimes, to lose the plot. And that’s exactly what Highway is about. Veera starts out kidnapped—trapped by someone, but more than that, trapped by her whole life. But as the film meanders, so does she. And somewhere in those quiet moments—sleeping under the stars, dancing in an abandoned house—she finds a freedom she’s never known.

There’s this scene where she just stands there, arms wide open, breathing. It’s simple. But I remember watching that and thinking, “I want to feel that free.”

And here’s the thing—sometimes you don’t find yourself by following the map. Sometimes you have to get lost. I’ve taken walks late at night when I didn’t know where I was going. I’ve quit jobs with no backup plan. It’s scary as hell. But it’s also the only time I’ve ever felt like I was moving toward something real.

2.8. Identity in Films: Not Just Stories, but Reflections

Daniel Herbert writes about how the films of the 1990s—especially in America—were constantly trying to figure out who they were. He talks about identity, about belonging, about the weight of being told who you’re supposed to be. And honestly? I read that, and all I could think about was Ved from Tamasha. That scene where he’s in his office, robotically shaking hands, giving presentations, but his soul looks like it’s screaming. Been there. Done that.

Herbert suggests that films back then weren’t just telling stories—they were working through their own identity crises. Trying to make sense of a world that was changing too fast. It’s what Ved goes through. He’s one person in Corsica—the storyteller, the free spirit—and another in India, boxed into what everyone expects of him. And the heartbreak is, he forgets which one is real.

I think that’s what makes Tamasha so relatable. How often do we slip into roles, wear masks, and tell ourselves we’re fine? Until one day, we’re not. Herbert might have been talking about American films, but he could have just as easily been talking about us.

2.9. From Revolution to Self: How Iranian Cinema Mirrors Our Inner Worlds

Rasoul Afzali’s study on Iranian films blew me away. He talks about how Iranian cinema went through this huge transformation—from films that echoed revolutionary ideas and collective struggle in the 1980s, to deeply personal stories in the 2000s. It’s like the cinema itself was learning to breathe again, slowly moving from the “we” to the “me.”

And I thought, Wow, isn’t that what happens in our own lives? We start off living the life others design for us—our families, society, tradition—and then, if we’re lucky, we start to figure out what we want.

Take Veera on the Highway. Her whole life is scripted by others—what to wear, where to go, who to marry. But it’s on that unexpected journey after she’s kidnapped (which is intense, I know), that she begins to taste freedom for the first time. She lets go of control and finds herself in the wildness of the mountains. Afzali talks about how Iranian films started giving space for women to have a voice, and to be more than just background characters. Veera’s story fits right in. She doesn’t need to be saved. She’s saving herself.

And I get it. I remember the first time I said no to something I was supposed to say yes to. It wasn’t as dramatic as Veera’s rebellion, but it was mine. And it changed everything.

Afzali points out how, over the decades, Iranian films started to tell love stories that weren’t neat. They were messy, complicated, and sometimes painful.

That feels very Imtiaz Ali. Love in his films doesn’t fix anything. It exposes everything.

In Rockstar, Jordan doesn’t find peace in loving Heer. He finds chaos, heartbreak, loss. But it’s that loss that unlocks his music—his real voice. I watched Rockstar after a brutal breakup once, and I remember thinking, This is it. This is what it feels like. Love doesn’t save him. It tears him apart. And through that, he becomes who he’s meant to be.

Same with Ved and Tara in Tamasha. Tara doesn’t rescue Ved. She just sees him for who he really is, and that’s what makes it hurt so much. Sometimes the people who love us the most are the ones who push us toward the scariest truths.

Even Highway has its own love story, but it’s not the kind we’re used to. Veera finds an unexpected connection with Mahabir, her captor. It’s raw, it’s complicated, and it’s not about romance. It’s about being seen. For the first time, she’s not invisible. And sometimes, that’s all we need to start healing.

2.10. The Changing Face of Romance (Readomania)

Reading about the evolution of romance in Bollywood felt like flipping through an old scrapbook. Remember when love was all shy glances? When two flowers brushing against each other meant more than a thousand words ever could? There was an innocence to it. But life isn’t like that anymore, and neither are our stories.

Imtiaz Ali’s Rockstar is the perfect example of how far we’ve come. Jordan and Heer aren’t a perfect couple. Their love is messy and painful, but it’s real. It’s the kind of love that leaves scars, and yet, it’s through that brokenness that Jordan finds his true self. Love doesn’t save him. It changes him.

And maybe that’s what love does in real life, too. Not every love story has a happy ending, but every love teaches us something about who we are.

2.11. Themes in Indian Cinema (Indian Communities)

There was a time when Indian cinema was all about grand, sweeping stories. Kings and queens, epic battles, freedom fighters. But somewhere along the way, we started telling smaller stories. Personal ones. And sometimes, those are the stories that hit the hardest.

Tamasha is one of those stories. Ved isn’t fighting a villain. He’s fighting himself. The version of himself that fits in, that smiles on cue, that checks all the boxes—but feels dead inside. I’ve felt like Ved before. Maybe you have too. Trying to be everything you’re supposed to be while slowly forgetting who you really are. And that’s why stories like this matter. They remind us to come back to ourselves.

2.12. How Love Stories Have Evolved (Times of India)

Bollywood’s love stories have grown up with us. They’re not about picture-perfect couples anymore. Now, they’re about people who love hard and hurt even harder. And they show us that love doesn’t always come with guarantees.

In Highway, no prince is charming. There’s no fairytale romance. There’s just Veera, a woman who finds herself in the most unlikely place, through pain and unexpected connection. It’s not a love story in the traditional sense. It’s about learning to trust yourself. To listen to your own voice, even if it’s shaking.

I remember watching Veera stand at the edge of a mountain, arms wide open, breathing in freedom for the first time—and I felt it in my chest. Sometimes, love isn’t about someone else. It’s about finally loving yourself enough to break free.

2.13. Life, Love, and Movies in India (The Atlantic)

Back in the day, love stories on screen were pure, idealized, almost like a fantasy. They gave people hope when real life felt heavy. But Imtiaz Ali doesn’t write fantasies. His love stories aren’t about perfect endings. They’re about beginnings. About what happens when love forces you to face yourself.

In Rockstar, love wrecks Jordan before it frees him. In Tamasha, love wakes Ved up, but he has to save himself. And in Highway, love doesn’t rescue Veera—it helps her find the strength to rescue herself.

These aren’t easy stories. But they’re honest.

2.14. Imtiaz Ali’s Characters Are Literally All of Us (MensXP)

If you’ve ever felt stuck in a life that doesn’t feel like your own, you’ve lived a little bit of Ved’s story. If you’ve ever wanted more—more passion, more meaning—you’ve been Jordan. And if you’ve ever wanted to run away just to breathe, you’re Veera.

Imtiaz Ali’s characters are messy. They’re confused. They’re searching. Just like all of us. And that’s what makes them so easy to love. They remind us it’s okay not to have it all figured out. Sometimes breaking down is the first step to breaking free.

2.15. When Bollywood Shapes Who We Think We Are

The book Bollywood Cinema and Indian Diaspora talks about how Bollywood gives people, especially Indian youth, something to hold onto. An identity. A story they can belong to. And when you think about it, that’s powerful. But it can also be suffocating.

In Rockstar, Jordan doesn’t just wake up one day and decide to be a musician. He’s chasing an idea—a story he’s been told his whole life. The tortured artist. The genius who suffers. It’s romantic in theory, but in reality, it tears him apart. I’ve seen people chase ideas like that. Sometimes, I’ve done it myself. Thought, if I just follow the script, maybe I’ll find happiness. But Jordan’s story reminds us that sometimes the script isn’t written for us—and we have to find the courage to write our own.

2.16. Love That Makes You Look in the Mirror

One thing I’ve learned (the hard way) is that love doesn’t always make life easier. Sometimes, love is what makes you face the things you’ve been hiding from. Imtiaz Ali gets that. His love stories aren’t there to wrap everything up neatly with a bow. They’re there to crack his characters open.

In Tamasha, Ved falls apart not because Tara leaves, but because she sees him. She holds up a mirror and shows him who he’s become—and it’s not who he wants to be. I’ve had moments like that. Moments when someone I loved pointed out that I wasn’t living my truth. And it hurt. But it also woke me up.

The stories within stories in Tamasha aren’t just clever. They’re real. We all tell ourselves stories about who we are. Sometimes to protect ourselves. Sometimes to survive. But if we’re lucky, we find someone—or something—that makes us ask if the story is still true.

2.17. The Open Road and the Open Heart (Highway)

The Highway is one of those films that stays with you. On paper, it’s about a kidnapping. But in your heart, it’s about freedom. Veera’s journey away from her home and into the wild is more than a physical escape. It’s an emotional release. She peels off the layers of who she was told to be and starts feeling the sun on her skin for the first time.

When Sumita Chakravarty talks about “deterritorialization” in Indian cinema—about leaving home to find yourself—I think of Veera. Of how sometimes you have to leave everything you know to find out what you don’t know. I think we’ve all dreamed about running away at some point. For Veera, it’s not a fantasy. It’s survival.

2.18. National Identity and the Weight We Carry

Chakravarty’s work also reminds us that Indian cinema has always been about negotiating identity. After independence, films tried to show us who we were as a nation. They created this idea of an Indian identity that was strong, moral, and traditional—but those same ideals can feel like a cage if you’re someone like Ved, Jordan, or Veera.

Imtiaz Ali’s characters live in that space between expectation and desire. Between duty and freedom. Whether it’s Ved performing the role of the perfect employee and son, Jordan sacrificing himself to an image he thinks he has to live up to, or Veera breaking out of a picture-perfect life, they’re all asking the same question: Who am I, really?

And if you’ve ever felt torn between who you are and who you’re supposed to be, you already know how heavy that question can be.

2.19. Two Key Words That Capture Everything We’re Talking About

You know how sometimes you’re sitting with a movie, a song, or even a conversation, and something just clicks? Like, you hear a word or a sentence, and suddenly it feels like you’ve been holding your breath your whole life without realizing it—and then you finally exhale.

That’s kind of what happened to me when I sat down and really thought about Imtiaz Ali’s films. Rockstar, Tamasha, Highway—they aren’t just movies I watched and moved on from. They stuck around. They whispered things I wasn’t ready to hear, but desperately needed to. And if I had to sum all of that up in two words, they’d be these:

1. Self-Discovery

Sounds simple, right? But it’s not.

For me, self-discovery has never looked like standing on a mountain and yelling “I found myself!” (Although, how cool would that be?) It’s been quiet. Sometimes painful. It’s been about asking uncomfortable questions and sitting with the fact that I didn’t have the answers yet.

When I watched Tamasha, and Ved was spiraling—acting like the perfect employee, the perfect son, but feeling like a stranger in his own life—I saw myself. I’ve been there. Doing everything “right” on paper, but feeling completely wrong inside. And I remember the first time someone I loved told me, “This isn’t you.” Just like Tara told Ved. It hurt, but it was the push I needed. That moment where you realize you’ve forgotten parts of yourself… and the slow, scary work of finding them again? That’s self-discovery. And it’s messy. But it’s real.

2. Liberation

No freedom in the “quit your job and move to Bali” way (although I’m not knocking it). I’m talking about those tiny moments where you feel like you’ve taken your life back.

The highway is this quiet storm of a movie. Veera is kidnapped, sure—but as the story unfolds, you realize she’s never been more free than when she’s out on those roads, away from everything that told her who she should be. I felt that in my bones. I remember driving down a highway late one night, with no destination, just music playing, windows down. And I thought, This is what breathing feels like. That’s liberation.

And it doesn’t have to be big. Sometimes it’s saying “no” when you’ve always said “yes.” Sometimes it’s admitting you’re tired of pretending. It’s scary, and you’ll probably cry in your car (I know I have), but then you’ll smile. Because you chose yourself.

Why These Two Words Matter (To Me, And Maybe To You)

Self-discovery and liberation. They aren’t just themes in Imtiaz Ali’s films. They’re something we’re all chasing in one way or another. Sometimes we don’t even realize it until we’re knee-deep in a movie scene and it hits too close to home.

What I love about Ali’s characters—Ved, Jordan, Veera—is that they don’t have it all figured out. And maybe that’s the point. They’re searching. They’re stumbling. And honestly? So am I.

And maybe you are too. And that’s okay. Because sometimes the search is the story.

You know, after sitting with all these films, essays, and thoughts, it really hits me: stories aren’t just something we watch or read. They’re something we live through.

Imtiaz Ali’s films—Rockstar, Tamasha, Highway—they don’t give us easy answers or picture-perfect endings. And maybe that’s why they stay with us. Because life isn’t neat either. Love isn’t always a fairytale. And figuring out who you are? That’s messy. Sometimes it breaks you open before you can piece yourself back together.

What I’ve come to realize, especially after reading voices like Bruce Elder and Rasoul Afzali, is that cinema—good cinema—asks you to stop pretending. It holds up a mirror and whispers, Look closer. Are you living the story you want to tell? Or are you still reciting lines someone else wrote for you?

Ved, Jordan, Veera—they could be any one of us. They could be me. I’ve worn the mask, I’ve chased the dream that didn’t fit, I’ve stood at the edge of change, scared out of my mind but knowing I had to jump. Maybe you have too.

And here’s the thing: the journey doesn’t always make sense while you’re on it. Sometimes you only understand once you’ve wandered a while. Once you’ve gotten lost enough to finally find yourself.

That’s the heart of it, I think. We’re not just watching their stories unfold. We’re living our own. And if we’re lucky, somewhere along the way, we’ll stop running from who we are and start running toward it.

Maybe that’s the real love story Imtiaz Ali’s been telling all along. The one where we finally come home—to ourselves.

2.20. A Research Gap That’s Been Hiding in Plain Sight

You know when you watch a movie and it hits you right in the gut? Like, it’s not just a story anymore—it’s your story? That’s how I felt the first time I watched Imtiaz Ali’s Tamasha. Ved’s struggle wasn’t just on screen. It was me, sitting at a job I didn’t love, smiling because I thought I was supposed to, and quietly wondering, “Who am I even doing this for?”

And it got me thinking: why do films like Tamasha, Rockstar, and Highway feel so personal to so many of us? Why do these characters—broken, searching, restless—feel like they’re holding up a mirror to our lives?

I started digging into what people have written about Ali’s films. Don’t get me wrong—there’s a lot. Scholars talk about his narrative style, the way he flips Bollywood’s usual love stories on their heads, and how he explores identity, freedom, and modern relationships. But here’s the thing I couldn’t find: how we, the audience, feel after watching his movies.

I mean, there’s barely anything out there that talks about how these films impact us on a personal level. What do we carry with us after the credits roll? Do these stories actually help us make sense of our own messy identities? Do they change the way we think about love, freedom, or the roles we play in our lives?

2.21. Where’s the Research on Us?

Most of the academic stuff out there looks at the films themselves—what they mean, what they say about society, and where they fit in Bollywood’s evolution. But there’s this big, gaping hole when it comes to the audience experience. No one’s really asking:

How do people personally connect with characters like Ved, Jordan, or Veera?

Why do these stories resonate so much with young people (especially those feeling trapped by expectations)?

Do these films offer emotional catharsis? A kind of release? Or maybe even healing?

How do different audiences—urban, rural, diaspora—experience these stories differently?

I think about my cousin, who lives in the US and watched Rockstar for the first time last year. He called me after and said, “I didn’t know a Bollywood movie could make me feel like this.” And he wasn’t just talking about the music or the visuals. It was that feeling—of being torn between who you are and who you’re supposed to be. It hit him hard. And I know he’s not alone.

2.22. What We’re Missing

What we’re missing is a deeper understanding of how Imtiaz Ali’s films interact with our identities, not just his characters. We need to ask how they’re shaping the ways we see ourselves in a world that’s constantly telling us who to be. Especially in India, where collective identity often overshadows the individual, these stories about self-discovery and freedom are radical in quiet, personal ways.

And yet, no one’s really sat down to explore that. There’s a research gap here that’s begging to be filled:

How do Imtiaz Ali’s films influence the personal identity journeys of their audiences?

We’re told Bollywood is “escapism.” But Ali’s films don’t let you escape. They hold you in place. They make you feel. They make you question. And that’s powerful.

2.23. Why This Matters (In Life, Not Just Academia)

I think this gap matters because stories aren’t just stories. They’re how we make sense of our lives. I still remember the first time I saw Ved stand in front of a mirror, switching voices, losing track of who he was. And I thought, “I’ve done that.” Not literally, but emotionally. And it made me feel seen. Sometimes that’s the first step toward change.

And I’m sure there are so many people out there who’ve felt that same flicker of recognition watching these films. We just haven’t asked them about it yet. We haven’t listened.

3. RESEARCH METHODOLOGY: THE PLAN, THE PROCESS, AND THE PEOPLE

When I first thought about doing this research, it wasn’t just about writing a paper. It was about exploring why Imtiaz Ali’s films, especially Highway, leave such a mark on people like me—and maybe you too. I wanted to dig into how these stories about love, identity, and self-discovery speak to us in ways we don’t always have words for. So, I came up with a method that combines two things I love: watching films closely and listening to people’s stories.

Here’s how I’m going about it.

3.1. Step One: A Close Reading (Basically Me, Overthinking... in a Good Way)

First, I’m doing a deep dive into Highway. Not just watching it for the 10th time (which I’ve already done, let’s be honest), but really paying attention to the details—Veera’s expressions when she’s breathing freely for the first time, the way the landscapes change as she changes, the silences that speak louder than dialogue.

I’ll be analyzing the film through the lens of the big themes:

Love, but not the romantic, Bollywood kind—more about connection, trust, and being seen.

Identity, which in Veera’s case is about peeling back all the expectations to find out who she actually is.

Self-discovery is that messy, freeing, and sometimes painful journey we’re all on.

I’ll take notes, probably too many, and let that guide how I shape the next part of my study.

3.2. Step Two: A Small Film Screening (And Some Honest Conversations)

After my deep dive, I want to know how other people experience this film. So I’m planning to host a small, cozy screening of Highway. Maybe 15 to 20 people—friends, classmates, maybe a few people I haven’t met yet, but who are interested in stories like this.

We’ll watch the film together (yes, snacks included—because who doesn’t think better with popcorn in hand?). After we’ve all sat with Veera’s story for a bit, I’ll ask them to fill out a short survey I’ve put together on Google Forms. No pressure. Just honest reflections.

3.3. Step Three: The Survey: 15 Questions, Straight from the Heart

I’m crafting about 15 questions that dig into how people felt watching Highway.

3.3.1. Questions like

Did you see yourself in Veera at any point in the film?

How did the film make you think about freedom, love, or your own identity?

Have you ever felt trapped by expectations like Veera does?

What moment in the film stayed with you the most, and why?

Some will be multiple choice, some on a scale (like, “How strongly did you relate to Veera’s feeling of suffocation at the beginning of the film?”), and some will be open-ended for anyone who wants to go deep. It’s less about ticking boxes and more about hearing real, personal experiences.

3.3.2. Who’s Going to Be Part of This? (The Audience)

I’m inviting a small group. Mostly people who are in that stage of figuring out their lives (which, honestly, is most of us). Most of us will be students.

The goal isn’t to have a massive group, but a thoughtful one—people who are willing to open up about how stories like Highway make them feel.

3.3.3. How I’ll Make Sense of the Responses

Once the surveys are in, I’ll take a step back and look for patterns.

Are people talking about similar struggles with identity?

Do they mention love as something freeing or something complicated?

How does Veera’s journey mirror their own?

I’ll read every answer carefully, not rushing through, and see what themes come up. It’s less about numbers and stats, and more about feelings, reflections, and shared experiences.

3.3.4. Keeping It Ethical (And Safe)

Everyone will know exactly what they’re signing up for. No names will be shared, and everything will stay anonymous. I want people to feel comfortable being honest—even if what they share is vulnerable.

3.3.5. Why I’m Doing It This Way

Because Imtiaz Ali’s films aren’t just about the characters on screen. They’re about us.

I’m curious about what happens when we watch a story like Highway and see a little bit of ourselves in Veera—whether it’s the version of us that’s stuck or the one that’s breaking free.

And I want to know how these stories help us feel less alone in figuring out who we are.

This research is about listening. To the film. To ourselves. And to each other.

It’s a simple process: watch, feel, share. But sometimes, those simple things lead to the biggest discoveries.

4. DATA ANALYSIS AND INTERPRETATION

4.1. Observation: Reflecting on the Responses – A Conversation, Not Just a Survey

Okay, so here’s the thing. I knew Highway was powerful. I’ve watched it more times than I can count. But what I didn’t expect was how deeply it would resonate with other people—real people, just sitting together, watching a movie, and maybe, quietly, seeing a little of themselves in Veera.

When I got the responses back from the small group I screened the film for (around 7–10 folks), I didn’t feel like I was reading a bunch of survey answers. I felt like I was reading journal entries. Personal, honest, and kind of vulnerable in the best way. And to be very honest with you, I started crying reading the responses.

Most people said they felt thoughtful, emotional, or calm. Not surprised—The highway doesn’t hit you like a fast car crash; it slowly seeps into you. Like it sits with your thoughts and gently whispers, are you really okay?

Someone said they felt “emotional and thoughtful,” and honestly, the same. That’s exactly how I felt the first time I watched it too—like something inside me had been stirred up and I wasn’t sure how to put it back the way it was. And maybe I didn’t want to.

4.1.1. Relating to the character’s feeling

Illustrations are not included in the reading sample

Almost everyone related to Veera’s feeling of being trapped at the start of the film—even if just a little. Whether it was about feeling stuck in their job, in family roles, or just the invisible weight of expectations, it clearly hit home.

The responses about freedom were especially moving:

“Freedom is love.”

“Calmness and stillness.”

“When you don’t do something to meet others’ expectations.”

“There is no freedom outside, it’s an idea—a mindset.”

4.1.2. Music and songs

I snuck in a question about music because let’s be real—you can’t talk about Highway and skip Maahi Ve. One person simply said, “Maahi Ve is ong” (no typo, just raw emotion), and I felt that.

Illustrations are not included in the reading sample

And then there was Mahabir. The transformation in people’s perception of him was incredible:

“He’s also felt like a lost soul.”

“He brought freedom to a hopeless person.”

“At first, I was skeptical... but I ended up feeling for him.”

4.1.3. A controversial question

I also asked them the controversial question about Veera and Mahabir’s relationship:

Illustrations are not included in the reading sample

For which I got responses like –

“In my opinion, their relationship was rooted in love, but it was also a product of the unresolved childhood traumas they both experienced, having had no one to care for them. They found solace in each other, and although it's not explicitly shown, their bond is evident in the depth and core of their connection. It's as if they've finally found a safe space to heal and grow together.”

“Although initially, Mahabir was a kidnapper and Veera was a sheltered rich girl and was terrified after being kidnapped it evolved into something like a mutual liberation, there is no big romantic playoff, Mahabir was able to confront his pain and vice versa”

4.1.4. Take-aways

When I asked what people would take away from the film, I got things like:

“Fight for your freedom, no matter what.”

“Liberation. The way Veera finds freedom in the chaos.”

“The idea of showing love and depth of feelings.”

4.1.4.1. What’s one thing you’ll take away from Highway?

“Liberation. The way Veera finds freedom in the journey, away from societal constraints.. and even in general from how her life has been”

“There are so many unseen beautiful places and art to explore and experience it’s when a person is let to live the way they want to that they can see how magnificent the world is. This is my learning from the movie”

“Fight for your freedom no matter what and Don let your" family " dictate how your life goes”

“There is no freedom outside, it's an idea a mindset, a feeling which is inside. It's something that we want to let go of something which is keeping us down.”

“The idea of showing love and depth of feelings”

4.1.5. Moments of freedom

The other questions I asked, a few on a personal note :

What’s one moment when you felt Veera was truly free?

(A scene that made you think, “She’s finally herself.”)

“After she spoke up to Mahabir about what she has been facing since her childhood”

“The entire sequence from when she confronts about her abuse till the ending near the factory in front of those mountains”

“When she hid from the police or when she found her home”

Illustrations are not included in the reading sample

4.1.6. Identification of the character

Illustrations are not included in the reading sample

4.1.7. The surroundings that added to Veera’s story

Illustrations are not included in the reading sample

4.1.8. A trip that changed your way

Illustrations are not included in the reading sample

4.1.9. One thing that you would ask

Finally, if you could ask Veera one question, what would it be?

“Were her realizations a result of her inner self or the circumstances she faced, and would she have had the same epiphanies if she had simply gone on a trip instead of being kidnapped?”

“Why couldn’t they have tried to flee from the country somehow.”

“What's Next?”

“I think I'll ask her if she regrets not doing this earlier. Or if she knew the outcome sooner what's the one thing, she would change except for his death of course”

“Did you find freedom? What is it?”

“Why can't she keep herself strong and encounter her fears?”

General response: These weren’t surface-level reactions. These were reflections—and that said a lot about the impact this film had.

4.2. Analysis: What the Responses Revealed

Reading through everyone’s answers felt like piecing together a mosaic of shared emotions. While each person had their own way of expressing things, there were clear patterns in what moved them.

Freedom was a big theme. But it wasn’t about grand escapes or physical distance. It was inward. Quiet. Emotional. For many, freedom meant letting go of pressure, judgment, and the internal voices telling them they had to be something they weren’t.

What struck me was that almost everyone saw themselves in Veera. Her story, though extreme on the surface, became a kind of metaphor for their own quiet battles—whether it was navigating family dynamics, societal pressure, or personal trauma.

Mahabir sparked a lot of emotional complexity. He started as someone the audience didn’t trust—maybe even feared—but slowly, as his story came to light, so did people’s judgments. They saw the man behind the aggression. A broken soul. A survivor. Someone who, in his own strange, flawed way, made space for Veera’s healing.

And then there’s the music. The way people responded to it—especially Maahi Ve—told me that sound wasn’t just an accessory. /It’s part of the journey. It fills the gaps where the characters don’t have the words, and that’s so, so powerful.

Overall, people weren’t just responding to characters or plot—they were responding to the feeling of the film. That’s what made it so special.

4.3. Interpretation: What It All Meant to Me

This whole experience reminded me of why I fell in love with stories in the first place. They open doors. They make you feel less alone. And sometimes, they even help you understand yourself better. Reading everyone’s thoughts felt intimate. And honestly, it made me reflect on my own story. I’ve had moments where I felt like Veera—caught in roles I didn’t choose, quietly wondering if I was allowed to want something more. Seeing others feel the same made me feel seen too.

I realized that Highway isn’t just a film about a road trip or a kidnapping gone strange. It’s a story about liberation, connection, and the weird, messy, beautiful ways we discover who we are.

The responses showed me that this wasn’t just a “research project.” It was an invitation—to pause, reflect, and be real. To see each other as human, complex, and in progress.

And that’s the part I’ll carry with me the most. Sometimes, research doesn’t look like charts or big numbers. Sometimes, it looks like 10 people sitting in a room, sharing a film, and quietly finding freedom together.

4.4. Comparative Analysis

Finding Ourselves on the Road: A Reflective Comparison of Highway’s Audience Responses and My Research Themes

4.4.1. When the Road Outside Reflects the Road Within

There’s something so hauntingly beautiful about the way Highway uses landscapes. The more I dove into this research, the more I realized—that it’s not just the scenery that changes, it’s Veera that’s changing. And maybe, in a strange way, we are too.

The wide-open roads, the snow-covered mountains, the abandoned factories… they’re not just backdrops. They feel like emotional landmarks. Like every turn on the road maps some part of her inner shift—from suffocation to breath, from silence to voice.

One of the survey responses hit me in the gut:

“The entire sequence from when she confronts her abuse till the ending near the factory in front of the mountains... with Maahi Ve playing…”

I remember that scene too—how it felt like something cracked open. Not just in her, but in me.

Another person said:

“It’s when a person is let to live the way they want that they can see how magnificent the world is.”

That line stayed with me. Because don’t we all crave that? Not just to exist, but to really live—on our own terms, without fear?

4.4.2. The Way Music Holds You

I don’t think I’ve ever listened to Maahi Ve without feeling something stir in my chest. It’s like the soundtrack doesn’t just play with the story—it plays through you. I still remember sitting in a cab after my first watch of the film, earphones in, Patakha Guddi on loop, staring out the window like I was Veera herself.

Turns out, I wasn’t alone.

So many people in the survey talked about how the music deepened their connection to the film. One said it made everything feel more “real.” Another said it helped them feel the story instead of just watching it.

And that’s the thing about music—it sneaks past the logic and hits the heart. In Highway, it doesn’t just accompany the plot. It translates the soul of the film into sound.

4.4.3. Escaping to Return to Yourself

If I’m being honest, I’ve fantasized about running away more than once. Not forever—but just enough to remember who I am, beneath the noise.

That’s what Veera’s journey felt like to me. And it’s something I’ve been trying to untangle in this research: is she running away, or is she finally coming home to herself?

The responses were deeply honest. Some admitted they’d longed for escape. Others hadn’t—but could still understand it.

And one person wrote something that I haven’t stopped thinking about:

“There is no freedom outside; it's an idea, a mindset.”

That… feels true. Veera didn’t find freedom in the mountains. She found it the moment she stopped hiding—from her pain, from her truth, from herself.

4.4.4. Love Without Labels

The relationship between Veera and Mahabir—it’s not easy to explain, is it? I struggled with it at first. It didn’t feel like romantic love, not in the way we’re used to seeing it. But it wasn’t just friendship either. It was something else—something raw and unpolished.

One person said:

“They found solace in each other.”

Another said:

“No big romantic payoff… but mutual liberation.”

That’s what it is, I think. A kind of quiet recognition. Two broken people find comfort in each other’s wounds. Not trying to fix each other—just being there. Sometimes, that’s more powerful than any love story.

And it made me realize: that love doesn’t always have to look like what we expect. Sometimes it’s not hearts and roses. Sometimes it’s just sitting in silence with someone who understands your pain.

4.4.5. A Mirror to Ourselves

More than anything, I wanted to know how people felt after watching Highway. And the responses weren’t academic or clinical—they were deeply personal.

People talked about feeling emotional, thoughtful, and calm. Not because the story was dramatic, but because it felt real in that quiet, aching way life sometimes does.

One wrote:

“Freedom is calmness and stillness.”

Another said:

“It’s about the inner journey of self-discovery, rather than the physical road trip.”

5. FINDINGS, DISCUSSIONS, RECOMMENDATIONS AND CONCLUSIONS

5.1. Findings: Little Truths That Found Their Way to the Surface

What I discovered through this research wasn’t just insight—it was something deeply personal, something quietly transformative.

Reading the survey responses after the Highway screening felt less like analyzing data and more like reading little pieces of people’s journals. The emotions were raw, thoughtful, and honest. Nearly every person who watched the film with me found themselves somewhere in Veera’s journey. That in itself said so much.

Most participants described feeling calm, reflective, and emotional. Highway didn’t provoke a dramatic reaction—it wasn’t shock value—it was more like a slow, steady pull inward. It made people pause. It made them think.

5.1.1. A few things stood out

Almost everyone related to the feeling of being trapped—whether that was in family roles, professional expectations, or just the silent pressure to be someone they weren’t. Veera’s early suffocation hit close to home.

Freedom emerged as a recurring theme, but not in the literal sense. People didn’t define it as running away or being alone—it was about emotional clarity. One person wrote, “There is no freedom outside. It’s a mindset.” That line stayed with me.

The music resonated deeply. Especially Maahi Ve. It wasn’t just a song—it was a feeling. A memory. A kind of quiet exhale.

Mahabir’s character arc turned into unexpected empathy. He started as someone they feared, but by the end, he felt like someone carrying his heavy past. Their connection wasn’t described as romantic, but as something softer—“mutual liberation,” as one participant put it.

These weren’t just surface-level observations. They were reflections. People weren’t just watching a film. They were seeing themselves through it.

5.2. Discussion: Where Stories Meet Us in the Middle

So what does this all really mean?

Well, for one, it confirmed what I’ve always believed—Highway is more than a story about a woman on the run. It’s about peeling back the layers. About confronting the roles we’ve been told to play and asking, “But who am I underneath it all?”

The themes I explored at the beginning—cinematic landscapes, emotional liberation, dual identity, symbolic storytelling—weren’t just academic ideas. They showed up in people’s emotional responses.

The landscapes in Highway weren’t just beautiful—they felt free. As Veera journeyed further from her old life, the scenery opened up. And that openness? It mirrored her inner transformation. People noticed it. They felt it.

Identity and internal conflict were at the core of the responses. Many shared their own stories of struggling to balance expectations with authenticity. Veera’s journey became a metaphor for theirs.

Music became an emotional translation. Words weren’t always enough. The soundtrack gave shape to feelings participants didn’t know how to name.

Love, in this film, wasn’t a grand gesture. It was quiet. Unspoken. Sometimes painful. But it gave space—for healing, for honesty, for change.

It also connected beautifully with the communication theories I referenced:

Uses and Gratifications Theory played out in real-time—people turned to this film for comfort, reflection, and a sense of connection.

Symbolic Interactionism echoed in how people described Veera’s identity crisis as their own. They, too, had been performing.

Narrative Paradigm showed up in the way everyone related to the story—not as fiction, but as a reflection of real emotional experiences.

And most touchingly, Cultivation Theory reminded me that these films don’t just entertain us. They shape us. They shift how we see love, selfhood, and freedom.

5.3. Recommendations: If Stories Can Heal, Let’s Share Them Better

If a film can move people this deeply, then maybe we need to start treating cinema as more than just content. Maybe it’s a kind of conversation. A mirror. Even a soft kind of therapy.

Here’s what I believe could come next:

5.3.1. More Audience-Driven Film Research

We talk a lot about what films do—but not enough about what they leave behind. Future research should listen to viewers, not just critique the art.

5.3.2. Incorporating Films Like These Into Education

Imagine a classroom where a discussion around Highway isn’t just about plot or cinematography, but about identity, trauma, and healing. These films can open doors that traditional discussions sometimes can’t.

5.3.3. Diverse Audience Studies

I’d love to see how these themes resonate beyond my circle. With different age groups, rural and urban viewers, or across cultural contexts—especially diaspora communities.

5.3.4. Facilitated Film Circles

Host community screenings, but not just to watch—create space to talk. To share. To ask, “What did that scene stir in you?” Because honestly, these stories deserve more than applause—they deserve reflection.

5.4. Conclusion: Maybe We Were All Just Trying to Breathe

If I’m honest, when I began this research, I thought I was writing about films. About the way Imtiaz Ali uses music and landscapes, non-linear narratives, and symbolism, to tell stories that linger long after the credits roll. And yes, technically, that’s what this paper is about. But somewhere between watching Highway again and again, re-reading the same lines in Tamasha, and listening to Sadda Haq on repeat, I realized something quieter, deeper.

I wasn’t just studying cinema.

I was trying to understand myself. And the people around me. And maybe, in some small way, all of us.

There’s something about Ali’s characters—Ved, Jordan, Veera—that doesn’t feel like fiction. They feel like people you’ve known. People you’ve been. People you still are, on days when you're tired of pretending. The way Ved looks into the mirror and doesn’t recognize himself? Been there. The way Jordan confuses pain with purpose? I’ve felt that. The way Veera quietly breaks free, one breath at a time? God, how many of us are still chasing that?

And when I shared Highway with people—not as an assignment, but as fellow humans—their responses weren’t academic. They were honest. Soft. Raw. Some described emotional stillness. Some found clarity in Veera’s silence. Some saw themselves in her need to escape, not to run away from life, but to finally feel free inside it.

It made me realize that this paper isn’t about one film, or even three.

It’s about how stories hold up mirrors. How they let us feel things we’ve buried. How they say, without saying it directly, “You’re not alone.”

Through the theories I explored—Symbolic Interactionism, Narrative Paradigm, and Cultivation Theory—I found language for what I already felt in my bones: that stories shape us. They teach us how to love, how to grieve, and how to listen to that quiet voice inside that says, “I want more.”

Ali’s stories don’t give us perfect endings. They give us questions. Space. Stillness. And maybe that’s the gift. Life doesn’t resolve itself neatly. So why should stories?

If there’s one thing I’ve taken away from this research, it’s this:

We’re all just trying to be seen. To feel something real. Stop pretending and start breathing.

And sometimes, it takes a film to remind us of who we really are beneath all the noise.

I started this paper thinking I’d be analyzing storytelling. But somewhere along the way, I found myself in the story. And maybe, if this work has done anything at all, I hope it’s helped someone else feel seen too.

Not with answers. But with a quiet truth:

You’re not the only one still figuring it out.

And that’s okay.

REFERENCES

Afzali, R. (2012). “From Collective Revolution to Personal Expression: A Study of Iranian Cinema.” Journal of World Cinema, 19(4), 132–146.

Chakravarty, S. (1993). National Identity in Indian Cinema. University of California Press.

Cohen-Shalev, A. (2009). Film and the Recollection of Memory. Routledge.

Elder, B. (2014). Film and Identity: Reflections from Canadian Cinema. Toronto University Press.

Feeney, M. (2003). Love in the Post-War Cinema. Cambridge Film Studies.

Mendes, A. (2016). “Dementia and Identity in Still Alice: A Nonlinear Narrative Approach.” Film and Psychology Journal, 5(2), 44–57.

Readomania. (2022). Contemporary Romance in Indian Films: More Real Than Ideal.

Times of India. (2021). How Love Stories in Bollywood Have Evolved.

Annexure-A: Survey Questions

Name

1. How did you feel after watching Highway?

(Calm, emotional, thoughtful, confused… anything goes!)

2. Did you enjoy the film?
- Yes
- No
- Not sure (but I'm thinking about it!)

3. Did you relate to Veera’s feeling of being trapped at the start of the film?
- Yes
- No
- A little bit

4. What’s one moment when you felt Veera was truly free?

(A scene that made you think, “She’s finally herself.”)

5. Have you ever wanted to run away from something in your life, like Veera did?
- Yes
- No
- Not really, but I understand the feeling (tell me more if you'd like!)

6. What does freedom mean to you?

(One word, a sentence, or a short story—up to you!)

7. After watching the film, do you think Veera found her true self?
- Yes
- No
- She's still searching (why do you think that?)

8. How would you describe Veera and Mahabir’s relationship?
- Trust
- Friendship
- Love
- Something else (tell me!)

9. Do you think love always has to be romantic?
- Yes
- No
- Why or why not (tell me!)

10. Did the places in the film (the mountains, the highways) add to Veera’s story?
- Yes, a lot
- Not really
- I didn't notice

11. Have you ever taken a trip that changed the way you see yourself?
- Yes
- No
- Optional: Where did you go?

12. How did the music and songs in the film make you feel?
- They added to the emotion.
- They made the journey feel real.
- I didn't notice them much.
- Favorite song? (optional)

13. What did you think of Mahabir’s character? Did your feelings about him change as the film progressed? If so, how?

14. What’s one thing you’ll take away from Highway?

(A thought, a feeling, an idea…)

15. If you could ask Veera one question, what would it be?

(Big or small—whatever comes to mind!)

16. Anything else you want to share? I’d love to hear it

[...]

• Course: Mass Communication
• Grade: A
• Author: A. Prabhu (Author)
• Publication Year: 2024
• Pages: 54
• Catalog Number: V1581470
• ISBN (PDF): 9783389141199
• ISBN (Book): 9783389141205
• Language: English
• Tags: exploring, cinematic, imtiaz, themes, love, identity, self-discovery