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Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna was about two marriages that failed, long before anyone cheated
Twenty years later, Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna looks less like a defence of infidelity and more like an honest look at marriages that had already failed.
A still from Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna.
Released on August 11, 2006, Karan Johar’s film Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna, gave two unhappy marriages to two unhappy people and let them find each other. The film was accused, almost from the first weekend, of one thing: glamourising extramarital affairs. That reception was always reading the film for the wrong argument. KANK was never asking audiences to approve of an affair. It was asking them to look past one, at two marriages that had failed long before anybody strayed.
Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna divided audiences with a section criticising the film for its portrayal of infidelity while another called it a mature look at modern marriages. As the film turns 20, the debate refuses to die. We bring you two contrarian pieces on the Karan Johar film. Navya Kharbanda disagrees with Shruti Kapoor’s point of view, writing that KANK is a glamorous, romanticised apology for infidelity. Read her piece here .
The love was never there to begin with
The film says this out loud, early, if you’re watching for it. Before the accident, before any of it, Dev (Shah Rukh Khan) describes Riya (Preity Zinta) as his best friend, the person he built a life with, not the person he fell in love with. Maya (Rani Mukerji) walks into her own marriage never having been in love with Rishi (Abhishek Bachchan) at all — he was her friend, close enough to be family, but never the man she loved. Neither of these is buried subtext. The film puts both on the table in the first act.
Dev, for his part, was never a warm man, even before the injury that ended his football career, he needles Rhea with backhanded comments. After the accident, that resentment curdles into something crueller. Years later, at Rishi’s wedding, when Maya finally apologises to Riya, Riya tells her that living with Dev was punishment enough on its own — and going by everything he’d put her through, she wasn’t wrong.
Maya’s unhappiness runs quieter than Dev’s cruelty. She isn’t drifting away from Rishi so much as drowning next to him. By the time Dev and Maya meet again, years later, both marriages are already ending.
A still from Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna.
What the outrage got wrong about marriage itself
The affair, when it finally arrives, isn’t the collapse of either marriage. It’s a symptom, showing up late, to two marriages that had already ended without anyone filing the paperwork. This is what the 2006 outrage had no room for. Dev and Maya were watched through a black-and-white lens, because that was the only lens Hindi cinema had trained its audience to use for infidelity. But that isn’t how marriage works, and it certainly isn’t how love works.
A still from Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna.
People marry too young, too fast, for the wrong reasons, under the wrong pressures, and wake up years in not recognising the person across the breakfast table — or worse, not recognising themselves. When you’re young, it’s easy to believe love should always stay simple, and that anyone who cheats or leaves is just weak. The years teach you it’s rarely that clean, that people can genuinely love someone and still end up somewhere painful and complicated anyway.
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A choice, not a crime
Call it a choice. It was one. Dev and Maya chose each other over the people they’d married, knowing it was wrong for the people on the other end of that choice. But staying in a marriage is also a choice, made fresh every single day, through the disagreements, the thick and the thin. When a marriage is quietly coming apart, that daily choice gets heavier with each morning, until it stops feeling like a choice at all. In that moment, it isn’t unnatural for a person to reach for whatever offers them relief. Not everyone has the strength, or the certainty, of the people watching from outside and passing judgment. A choice is not automatically a crime, and cinema isn’t obligated to punish every choice it depicts.
Nobody, least of all the film, is saying the affair was right
None of this is an argument that affairs are harmless. The film doesn’t make that argument either. Amitabh Bachchan’s Sam, dying, tells his daughter-in-law to leave Rishi so that she can be happy — and so that Rishi, in turn, can find the love he actually deserves elsewhere. But even Sam’s blessing doesn’t let Dev and Maya off easily. They first go back and confess to their spouses, trying to give their marriages one more real chance. Riya and Rishi refuse to forgive them, they lose their families. They live apart, alone, for three years before the train-platform reunion — and even that isn’t triumphant, it’s exhausted. The people they left behind aren’t reduced to a footnote either. Rishi’s frustration and Riya’s anger both play out in the open through the film and are never treated as less real than what Dev and Maya are feeling. That cost was real, and it landed hardest on the two spouses who’d done the least to deserve it.
A still from Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna.
The couple who actually had something to lose
Watching the film now, it’s hard not to think this: going purely by conduct, it’s Riya and Rishi who had the stronger case for straying, not Dev and Maya. They’re the ones who kept showing up — patient with a spouse who was, at best, checked out, and at worst, actively unkind. But they never did, because they were never actually out of love. Rishi is wounded by Maya’s distance precisely because he wants her there; his frustration through the film is with her absence, not with her existence. Riya absorbs years of Dev’s bitterness because some part of her is still fighting for a marriage he’d already left in every way but paperwork. Dev and Maya, by contrast, were never fighting for anything, because neither of them had loved their spouse to begin with.
The real difference between the two couples was never who cheated. It was simply this: who still had love left to lose, and who didn’t have any left to begin with.
Riya and Rishi deserved better, and the film gives it to them
The film is honest enough to follow that through to the end. Rishi eventually finds a love he actually deserved, from someone who wanted him for himself. Riya gets a life away from a marriage where her husband did little but nurse his own bitterness.
Maya, perhaps because of how she and Dev found each other, is the one person who understands his anger and his bitterness in a way Riya never should have had to. Three years on, Rishi and Riya are happier too. Nobody in this story stays broken to make a moral point, and nobody who deserved better is left without it.
A still from Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna.
The film’s flaws don’t erase its argument
At 192 minutes, KANK is a genuinely long sit, it’s still more in love with its own visual excess than it needs to be. But it was arguing for something Hindi cinema still mostly won’t say out loud: that a marriage can be a mistake honestly entered into, and leaving one doesn’t automatically make you its villain.
Judgement is easy at twenty. It gets harder to sustain once you’ve watched enough lives up close to know how rarely they follow the script. The people who called this film a celebration of infidelity were, in their own way, asking cinema to do something reality never does: keep things simple. Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna was never a defence of affairs. It was an argument against the idea that marriage is always the safe, correct, uncomplicated choice, and everything outside it a moral failure.
The title translates to “never say goodbye.” In the end, that’s exactly what its two lead pairs finally do, say goodbye to the wrong marriages.