Param Sundari (2025) - Tushar Jalota’s Romantic Drama
Photo: TMDb
The air in Kerala’s backwaters is thick with humidity and the smell of fried fish, but on the sets of Param Sundari, the atmosphere is charged with something far more volatile: culture clash, served with a side of slapstick. It is August 2026, a full year after the film’s release, and yet the chatter around this ambitious rom-com hasn’t fully settled. The film, which dropped on August 29, 2025, was never meant to be a quiet, meditative affair. It is loud, messy, and unapologetically chaotic - much like the union it depicts.
The premise is deceptively simple. Param (Sidharth Malhotra), a North Indian boy with a penchant for order and a mild intolerance for fish scales on his clothes, finds himself marooned - professionally and emotionally - in the lush, serpentine waterways of Kerala. There, he collides with Sundari (Janhvi Kapoor), a local whirlwind of tradition, temper, and unshakeable family loyalty. She runs a small boat repair business with her imposing father, Bhargavan Nair (Renji Panicker), and an extended clan that views any outsider with the same suspicion reserved for monsoon floods. The result is a 136-minute ride that lurches between romantic longing and comedic catastrophe, often within the same scene.
Director Tushar Jalota, known for his meticulous handling of emotional material in Mimi, takes a sharp detour here. He’s less interested in quiet glances than in explosive arguments over coconut chutney recipes. The film’s central thesis is that love is not a meeting of souls but a negotiation of egos. Malhotra’s Param is a fish out of water in the most literal sense - he can’t swim, he mistakes tapioca for a root vegetable, and his attempts at speaking Malayalam sound like a Bollywood villain’s parody. Kapoor’s Sundari, meanwhile, is no demure damsel. She is stubborn, quick with a retort, and wears her cultural pride like armor. Their first meeting is a slapstick disaster involving a capsized canoe and a very angry duck.
The supporting cast elevates the chaos. Manjot Singh’s Jaggi, Param’s loyal but hapless sidekick, steals scenes with his perpetual bewilderment. Sanjay Kapoor’s Parmeet Sachdev, the wealthy North Indian patriarch, adds a layer of corporate greed to the proceedings, while young Inayat Verma’s Ammu - Sundari’s precocious niece - serves as the film’s conscience, cutting through the adult foolishness with sharp observations. But the real scene-stealer is the late-stage appearance of Anand Manmadhan as Garage Kennedy, a local mechanic with a philosophical bent and a grease-stained copy of the Bhagavad Gita. His monologue about how “a carburetor and a heart both need the right fuel” is delivered with such deadpan sincerity that it momentarily silences the laughter.
Yet, for all its zest, Param Sundari has not been a critical darling. Its TMDb rating sits at a lukewarm 5.522/10, a score that hints at a divide in audience perception. Some have praised the film’s unabashed silliness and the genuine chemistry between the leads. Others have criticized its tonal whiplash - one minute a slapstick chase involving a runaway boat, the next a tearful scene about familial duty that feels imported from a different movie. The romance, too, occasionally gets lost in the noise. Jalota’s attempt to balance comedy and drama is admirable but uneven; the dramatic beats land with less force because the comedy is so relentlessly loud.
A source close to the production, speaking on condition of anonymity, offered a candid assessment: “The intention was to make a film that felt like a wedding - big, colorful, exhausting, and full of relatives you don’t understand. But sometimes a wedding runs too long and the food gets cold.” That metaphor rings true. The film’s pacing sags in the second act, where Param’s attempts to win over Sundari’s father become repetitive. Renji Panicker’s Bhargavan Nair is a formidable presence, but his disapproval starts to feel like a loop rather than a progression.
Still, there is something charming about its refusal to be subtle. In an era of glossy, sanitized romances, Param Sundari dares to be messy. It revels in the awkwardness of mispronounced names, the absurdity of a Punjabi trying to wear a mundu, and the universal comedy of families who cannot understand each other’s love language. The film’s best moments are its quietest ones - a shared glance across a crowded temple festival, a hesitant touch during a boat ride at dusk - and these are enough to remind you why Malhotra and Kapoor were cast. They sell the fantasy of a shared future despite all evidence to the contrary.
The film also works as a travelogue, showcasing Kerala’s tranquil beauty with a cinematographer’s affection. The backwaters are not just a backdrop; they are a character, a watery maze that traps and then liberates the lovers. It is a clever metaphor, albeit one that the script wields with a heavy hand.
As the anniversary of its release passes, Param Sundari remains a curiosity - a film that tried to squeeze an entire wedding feast into a single thali, and occasionally spilled the curry. It is not a masterpiece, but it is rarely boring. For those willing to embrace the chaos, there is genuine heart beneath the slapstick. For critics, it remains a noble misfire. Either way, it’s a conversation starter, and in the world of Hindi cinema, that is no small achievement.
