Aanand L. Rai’s new study of destructive devotion, Tere Ishk Mein, frames an intense, corrosive romance inside the familiar machinery of Hindi commercial cinema. The film places Dhanush and Kriti Sanon in a dual-setting story that feels like a conscious return to the director’s long-standing interest in flawed love. The narrative engages with a campus romance staged within a Bollywood frame and then steers it toward obsession, functioning as a spiritual successor to Rai’s earlier Raanjhanaa and picking up its focus on heartbreak.
The premise builds itself around a high-risk situation. Shankar, played by Dhanush, serves as an Indian Air Force pilot who has been grounded for insubordination after a tense incident across the border in Ladakh. His psychological evaluation falls to Mukti, played by Sanon, a professional within the defense establishment. Their professional meeting instantly reopens an old wound.
Shankar and Mukti carry a bitter, intimate past that goes back to their days at Delhi University. The film shapes itself as an adult love story fractured by class hierarchy, clashing ambition and deep emotional damage, and these forces feed the characters’ most extreme choices in ways that sit comfortably inside global trends of romance built on self-destruction.
The Strained Framework of Memory and Pacing
Writers Himanshu Sharma and Neeraj Yadav construct a non-linear screenplay that tries to map the distance between the leads. The story keeps cutting between the high-pressure present in Ladakh, where Shankar faces military discipline, and flashbacks to his volatile student romance with Mukti. This structure aims to trace the personality shifts and emotional wounds that define them in the present tense.
Their separation springs from familiar melodramatic devices: an unbridgeable class divide, a damaging misunderstanding and Mukti’s drive for professional success, which Shankar reads as a personal betrayal. These choices propel both into sharply different adult lives. Shankar’s rage fuels his transformation into a volatile but decorated fighter pilot, while Mukti slips into private turmoil, including a struggle with alcoholism. The script’s treatment of this arc feels tangled and uneven.
The brisk leap from Shankar’s life as a student activist to his position as an elite Air Force officer does not carry enough narrative layering, which weakens the film’s sense of grounding and puts pressure on audience belief. The first half, rooted in the politically charged campus space, maintains a kinetic energy that suits both Indian student-politics dramas and a wider international tradition of youth protest cinema.
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The post-interval stretch often feels extended, which drains the story of force and replaces emotional involvement with fatigue. The dialogue reaches for the sharp, street-level wit that marked Rai’s earlier successes, yet these lines land with less bite and hint at a project that struggles to match the narrative authenticity of its own creative lineage.
The Flawed Heart of the Drama
Tere Ishk Mein leans heavily on the intensity of its central performances. Shankar appears first as a fiery student activist from a disadvantaged background, marked by a constant undercurrent of anger that shapes his actions. That volatility later sits inside his adult identity as what the film describes as an “outrageous” Air Force officer.
The character remains deeply damaged. His drive springs from fury and unreturned love, and the script takes a clear gamble by seeming to glorify his toxic behaviour and destructive impulses. Dhanush delivers a performance built on rawness and exposure. His capacity to project inner pain and anguish gives the film its strongest element and draws the viewer into the character’s tragic emotional course. Mukti, played by Kriti Sanon, arrives as an ambitious psychology academic from South Delhi.
She first enters Shankar’s life through an academic project, using him as a subject for a doctoral thesis on social violence. The writing initially presents her as calculating and self-focused. After the breakup she reappears as a shaken, disillusioned figure wrestling with severe personal problems. Sanon offers an intense, credible turn and finds sharpness in the scenes that ask her to play buried tension and damage.
The screenplay does not fully support this work. It stages Mukti’s steep decline as a dramatic arc but fails to supply the psychological detail that might make that collapse feel earned. Supporting performers, including Prakash Raj and Vineet Kumar Singh, help sketch the film’s social and military pecking orders, yet their roles feel limited beside their abilities.
Direction, Aesthetics, and The Overwrought Canvas
With Tere Ishk Mein, Aanand L. Rai returns to star-crossed romance but delivers a film that struggles to hold a steady tone. His direction leans into excess, giving priority to heightened melodrama and shock moments, while the quieter character observation associated with his earlier small town stories recedes. The relentless emotional pitch often strains audience patience and obstructs the connection the material seeks.
On a technical level, the production looks carefully assembled. A.R. Rahman’s score carries the film with a charged musical design. His work includes standout pieces such as “Araaro” and relies once again on his signature vocal “hmmmm” motif to charge tense passages with unease. The music has strength yet does not reach the ecstatic peak of his best-known international work, and the soundtrack does not always sit within the narrative with maximum precision.
Cinematographers Tushar Kanti Ray and Vishal Sinha favour a bright, sunlit palette. Their images highlight locations that move from dusty Delhi college streets to the stark hills of Ladakh, linking student politics and military space in one visual field that speaks to both local specificity and global romance-war cinema.
The glossy finish of these frames often clashes with the story’s harsh, destructive emotions. Rai’s staging leans heavily on sensory spectacle in an effort to cover structural weaknesses in the script, which leaves Tere Ishk Mein as a visually confident yet dramatically uneven entry in the current wave of Indian romantic melodrama.
Tere Ishk Mein is a Hindi-language musical romantic action-drama film, often described as a spiritual sequel to the director’s 2013 hit, Raanjhanaa. Directed by Aanand L. Rai and starring Dhanush and Kriti Sanon, the story explores an intense, complicated romance set against the backdrop of both political tension in Ladakh and the class dynamics of Delhi University. The film, which features music by Academy Award winner A. R. Rahman, premiered in theaters on 28 November 2025. It was also screened at the Gala Premiere section of the 56th International Film Festival of India (IFFI) in Goa upon its release date.
Full Credits
- Title: Tere Ishk Mein
- Distributor: AA Films, Antenna Entertainments
- Release date: 28 November 2025
- Rating: U/A
- Running time: 2 hours 49 minutes (169 minutes)
- Director: Aanand L. Rai
- Writers: Himanshu Sharma, Neeraj Yadav
- Producers and Executive Producers: Aanand L. Rai, Himanshu Sharma, Bhushan Kumar, Krishan Kumar
- Cast: Dhanush, Kriti Sanon, Prakash Raj, Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub, Tota Roy Chowdhury, Priyanshu Painyuli, Vineet Kumar Singh, Paramvir Singh Cheema
- Director of Photography (Cinematographer): Tushar Kanti Ray, Vishal Sinha
- Editors: Hemal Kothari, Prakash Chandra Sahoo
- Composer: A. R. Rahman
The Review
Tere Ishk Mein
Tere Ishk Mein is a visually glossy, technically proficient film, but it is ultimately hindered by its chaotic and overwrought script. Aanand L. Rai's direction leans too heavily on intense melodrama, sacrificing narrative logic for dramatic intensity. While the story struggles with convoluted pacing and lacks authentic emotional foundation, Dhanush delivers a powerhouse, soul-baring performance that anchors the experience. The film remains a dramatically uneven watch that fails to meet the high standards set by its spiritual predecessor.
PROS
- A powerhouse, soul-baring performance that commits fully to the character's rage and pain.
- A credible and intense portrayal, especially in moments requiring vulnerability.
- A professional, foot-tapping score featuring the iconic motif, effectively creating atmosphere.
CONS
- The script is convoluted and often lacks the logical layering needed for major character transformations.
- Rai prioritizes unhinged melodrama over psychological depth and narrative authenticity.
- The second half of the film feels stretched, leading to emotional fatigue.
- The story risks glorifying the protagonist's toxic, destructive behavior.
