Dr. Manju Antil | Counseling Psychologist | Psychotherapist | Educator| Founder- Wellnessnetic Care

“Saiyaara” – A Psychologist’s Reflection on Modern Love, Emotional Wounds, and Healing

By Dr. Manju Antil, Psychologist & Director, Wellnessnetic Care

There are some films that don’t just tell a story—they sit with you. Quietly. Softly. Like a memory you didn’t know you needed to revisit.

That’s what Saiyaara did to me.

With heartfelt performances by Ahaan Panday and Aneet Padda, Saiyaara is more than a coming-of-age romance. It’s a window into the kind of emotional journeys I see every day in therapy rooms—messy, real, unfinished. The film doesn’t give us polished closure or grand gestures. Instead, it walks us through love’s quiet unraveling, the ache of losing ourselves in someone else, and the slow, painful work of becoming whole again.

As a psychologist, I found Saiyaara to be deeply honest. And in a world full of love stories that are either too perfect or too broken, this one felt refreshingly human.

When Love Feels Like Home and Then Doesn't

From the start, there’s something tender and genuine about how Ahaan and Aneet’s characters fall in love. They don’t rush it. It grows in shared moments, in glances, in vulnerability. It reminds me of how we’re all wired for connection—how love, especially young love, can feel like finding home in another person.

But what happens when that home stops feeling safe? Or when we start fearing it could disappear?

That’s where Saiyaara really becomes a psychological mirror. We watch as the relationship begins to crack—not because of betrayal or drama, but because of emotional undercurrents neither of them really knows how to name. He pulls away. She leans in harder. He shuts down. She questions herself.

This dance is heartbreakingly familiar. In therapy, we often see it rooted in attachment styles—the invisible patterns we develop based on how safe and loved we felt growing up. And Saiyaara captures that dance beautifully.

Why He Can’t Talk About It (And Why That Hurts So Much)

One of the most subtle yet powerful portrayals in the film is Ahaan’s character’s silence. He feels, deeply. But he doesn't say much. You can see the pain in his eyes, the weight in his posture—but the words just don’t come.

This isn’t uncommon. Especially in men. Especially in cultures where boys are taught to “man up” rather than open up.

What we’re really seeing is emotional suppression—a defense mechanism that says, “If I don’t feel it, it can’t hurt me.” But of course, the body remembers. The heart remembers. And in trying to protect themselves, many people end up emotionally unavailable, even when they don’t want to be.

Watching him try and fail to express his emotions isn’t just frustrating—it’s deeply sad. Because behind that emotional distance is usually a history of unspoken pain.

Her Grief Is a Mirror Too

Aneet’s character is no less complex. She loves deeply. She fights for connection. But when things fall apart, we watch her spiral into grief, confusion, and self-doubt—something so many women silently go through.

She begins questioning her worth. Was she not enough? Too much? Too emotional? This inner voice is so common in heartbreak. Women, especially, are often conditioned to internalize relationship failures. They blame themselves. They shrink. Or, eventually, they rise.

And in Saiyaara, we get to see both.

She breaks. And then, slowly, she rebuilds. Not to prove anything. Not to win him back. But because she starts to remember who she was before the heartbreak—and who she could still become.

That’s not just a character arc. That’s healing.

Healing Isn’t Loud. It’s Personal. It’s Messy. It’s Real.

One of the reasons Saiyaara feels so emotionally authentic is because it doesn’t offer easy answers. There’s no overnight transformation. No epiphany in the rain. Just small, human choices—choosing to get up, to try again, to let go.

In psychological terms, this is the slow path of post-traumatic growth—when pain, over time, becomes a catalyst for clarity. We often think healing looks like moving on. But it really looks like moving inward.

And that’s what this film shows us: that growth doesn’t mean forgetting. It means integrating. Learning to carry the love, the loss, the lessons—all together—with gentleness.

If You’ve Ever Loved and Lost, You’ll See Yourself Here

Saiyaara doesn’t glamorize pain. But it doesn’t run from it either. It holds it. And in doing so, it gives us permission to hold our own.

It’s a reminder that:

• Love is not a guarantee—but a risk we take when we’re brave.
• Not everyone knows how to love in the way we need—and that’s not always our fault.
• The end of a relationship doesn’t mean the end of us.

In therapy, I often say: sometimes the heartbreak was the breakthrough. Sometimes the “goodbye” was the beginning. And sometimes, losing someone else helps you find yourself again.

That’s the heart of Saiyaara.

Final Thoughts: For the Lovers, the Feelers, and the Healing Hearts

If you’ve ever felt too much, loved too hard, or wondered if you’ll ever feel whole again—watch Saiyaara. But more than that, feel it.

Let it be a soft space where your emotions are allowed to exist. Let it remind you that love is not about fixing each other—it’s about seeing each other. And sometimes, the most important person to finally see… is yourself.

About the Author:
Dr. Manju Antil is a psychologist, writer, and founder of Wellnessnetic Care. She works with individuals navigating love, loss, identity, and emotional healing. She believes in the power of stories to reflect and restore the human spirit.