Opinion Dhadak 2: a ‘Dalit Shah Rukh Khan’ and the dream of casteless imagination

Dhadak 2 is almost a cheesy rom-com until it isn’t. As the film was interrupted by the “inconvenient” question of caste, we, two Savarna women, sitting in the dark theatre, were made to confront a deeply uncomfortable question:

What happens to a Dalit Shah Rukh Khan?

Who is allowed to be soft?

Neelesh, a young boy from the Dalit Ahirwaar community, always seeks “normalcy”: A quiet life, a polytechnic course, time with his dhol group, and his beloved dog Birju. But caste refuses to let him be. When Birju is killed by upper-caste men and police brutality follows, Neelesh is compelled to study law. From the moment he enters college, the surnames, seating arrangements, and the dominance of English quickly reveal the social hierarchy. Neelesh tries to survive hiding behind a “casteless” identity, calling himself “BA LLB” and avoiding mention of his surname and his father’s occupation. In contrast stands Shekhar, an Ambedkarite student leader who is everything Neelesh is afraid to become. While Neelesh initially clings to an apolitical identity, he is allowed this luxury as long as Shekhar’s politics shield him. The company of Shekhar and his two Savarna friends make Neelesh’s college life bearable.

However, as the movie progresses and Neelesh is confronted with unspeakable violence, we see his non-confrontational, tender self slowly disappearing. Yet, Neelesh continues to hold on to his tenderness and finally hits back when his life is at stake.

So, who is allowed to remain soft in this society?

Not a Neelesh or a Shekhar. Shekhar walks through the world cloaked in Ambedkarite blue, known for his fire and fearlessness. However, a quiet softness lingers, in pink bougainvillaea flowers tucked between the pages of his books — easily overlooked, pressed flat and preserved.

Neither the film nor Neelesh is allowed the luxuries of first love. The reality of caste lingers from the very beginning and eventually tears apart the rosy aesthetics of a Dharma film.

Rebel without a cause? Caste blindness and feminist women

At the other end of this equation stands Vidhi — a Savarna girl, raised by a “progressive father”. She was “allowed” to pursue a law degree. While she is an exception, the film sharply portrays the condition of women in upper caste households. Women are considered as embodying the “honour” of these families, but are rarely treated with honour within their own homes. While Vidhi continues to critique gender roles, she is often dismissed by her family as merely childish.

Vidhi openly acknowledges her privilege as an upper-caste woman and tries to use it in various forms, from helping Neelesh in improving his English to questioning the professor and signing petitions. In many ways, she is far more rebellious than Neelesh can ever afford to be. And yet, initially, she fails to see caste as the structural problem.

Like many privileged young women, Vidhi too longs for a “casteless” lover. A companion who will rise above all differences, simply for love. But in Indian society, “Ahirwar” Neelesh can only aspire to be such a companion, never allowed to become one. Instead, he shoulders the burden of opening Vidhi’s eyes to her caste blindness while also delivering a jarring wake-up call to the film’s largely Savarna audience

Where the worlds collide

Raj met Simran on the Euro Rail (Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge). Rahul met Anjali in a swanky Mumbai college (Kuch Kuch Hota Hai). But for Neelesh to meet Vidhi, a government law college with provisions of “quota” had to exist.

In a time when public institutions are being steadily dismantled in the name of “merit” and privatisation, Dhadak 2 quietly reminds us of what’s at stake. These spaces are not just avenues of social mobility for the marginalised. They also offer a rare chance to the privileged to step beyond their inherited worlds and return with something more lasting than a degree: A transformed perspective. Neelesh and Vidhi’s bond, shaped by various axes of marginalisation, can be shaky and fragile. But perhaps, this is the only hope for an anti-caste, non-patriarchal world. A world where a Dalit Shah Rukh Khan too gets to love, and a Simran doesn’t need Babuji’s permission before she can board the train.

The writers are research scholars at Centre for Development Studies