With her fingertips delicately tracing the bruises that were bursting on her cheekbone, Mira stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Even though they were not natural on her otherwise delicate face, the purple and yellow markings had grown accustomed to them. In an attempt to reduce the swelling, she washed her skin with cold water. Her kids couldn’t see her like this, so she realized she needed to hide it before classes started.
With shaky hands, she applied makeup on her cheek, but it was difficult to cover up the underlying pain. The words, the allegations, and the loneliness caused more misery than the actual physical suffering. Mira had mastered the art of concealing everything over the years. She was a dedicated wife of a charming man, and a perfect teacher to her colleagues and a good human being to her neighbors. The fact that the same man who publicly praised her and brought her flowers was also in charge of her every action behind closed doors was never suspected.
This was not always the case. Kiran was charming, attentive, and full of promises when Mira first met him. His smile and the way he made her feel like the center of his universe won her over. However, the subtly critical remarks started shortly after they were married. Initially, it was about her appearance, then about the people she spoke to, and finally, it descended into aggression, anger, and envy. Every time, he apologized, claiming that he loved her too much and that she was to blame for pushing him and making him feel uneasy. And she took him at his word.
But tonight had been different. Tonight, when Kiran raised his hand to strike her, something inside her broke. It wasn’t fear or despair—it was clarity. Mira realized she was tired of being afraid. She was tired of living in a prison of her own home, of being reduced to a shadow of who she once was. Her thoughts raced as the memories of countless nights of tears and silent pleas for help came crashing over her. The weight of it all was suffocating.The school bell rang, snapping her out of her thoughts. Mira put on her usual warm smile, the kind that made her students feel safe and welcome. But today, the smile was different—it was the smile of someone who had made a decision.
After her last class, she found herself sitting in the principal’s office, her heart pounding. “Is everything alright, Mira?” Mrs. Patel asked, concern in her eyes.
Mira hesitated. For years, she’d hidden her truth. But something in the principal’s gentle tone gave her the courage she’d been seeking. She drew a deep breath and whispered, “I need help.”
It was the first time she had said it out loud, and it felt like a dam breaking inside her. She told Mrs. Patel everything—about Kiran’s abuse, the fear that had consumed her life, and how she had been too ashamed to ask for help.
By the time Mira finished, her hands were trembling, but a sense of relief washed over her. Mrs. Patel didn’t judge her. Instead, she held her hand, offering quiet support as Mira cried, letting go of years of pain.
Later that evening, as Mira packed a small bag, she knew there was no turning back. She had already called a women’s shelter, and they were expecting her. She knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy—leaving an abusive relationship rarely was. But for the first time in years, she felt something she thought she had lost forever: hope.
Mira glanced at the mirror one last time before stepping out the door. The bruises were still there, but they no longer defined her. She was more than the violence she had endured. She was a survivor, reclaiming her life one step at a time. As she walked into the night, the weight on her chest lightened. Tomorrow, she would begin again.
‘Do Patti’ emphasises the similar plot of domestic violence. The narrative focuses on twin sisters Saumya and Shailee, astonishingly portrayed by Kriti Sanon. In the film, the twins ultimately do not show mercy to the abuser, who is left her half-dead, nor the tormentor, Dhruv, Saumya’s husband, whom she endured simply to maintain her marriage; despite the strong desire to avoid losing the cold-war that the twins have engaged in since their youth.
The sensitive issue of domestic violence, although central to the film, is overshadowed by the more intriguing conflict between the identical twins. After their mother’s premature death, duo have largely lived their lives vying for love and attention; a dynamic that continues into adulthood as they find themselves in a struggle for the affection of the charming Dhruv Sood (Shaheer Sheikh).
Dhruv initially finds himself attracted to Saumya, then to Shailee, before returning his attention to Saumya, and again to Shailee. However, this tangled love triangle pales in comparison to the real issues everyone is facing. Dhruv exhibits abusive behaviour, and Saumya, whom he weds for being the more pliable sister, endures the majority of his violence.
The pattern of events in the courtroom is stale by itself. After months of being persuaded by the former, Saumya has finally filed an official complaint against her abusive husband—but only with the added charge of “attempt to murder.” Vidya Joshi, played by evergreen Kajol, who, to be honest, seems to be portraying an angry version of herself, plays the roles of both police officer and the lawyer. Because the crime was public, Dhruv, the spoiled son of a powerful and corrupt minister, is found guilty after he tells a flagrant falsehood on the witness stand and is given a 13-year prison sentence. The case is over.
The dramatic climax that redeems a film from its shortfalls. The former observes a delicate interaction between the two sisters as Vidya and her team celebrate Saumya’s win. A look of sincere thanks and a slight knowing smile. That’s enough to set off the danger bells in Vidya’s head. Her story, which she told aloud, encapsulates what we’re all thinking right now: wasn’t this a little too simple?
Vidya, a stickler for the law, reopens the case. However, before she can make a statement, Shailee — who up until this point has been shown as the untamed, vindictive sibling with a (forced) devil-may-care persona — takes to the stand… for her sister. Without disclosing the specifics of their plan, she explains the reasoning behind it. Saumya and Shailee’s mother had also been a victim of domestic violence, and one day, her husband’s violence saw no bounds, and he ended up killing her. The crime had been witnessed by Saumya, but she was silenced by her uncle (her father’s younger brother) and Shailee, who for her part, didn’t know better (by virtue of being a little girl). The psychological impact of withholding the truth weighed heavily on Saumya, who suffered from anxiety and depression as a result.
History repeats itself, and Saumya becomes the victim of abuse, getting stuck in the same impenetrable loop as her mother… until her breakdown is witnessed by Shailee, who finally realises her role in her sibling’s tragedy. The sisters make amends, an important moment glossed over in the movie, and hatch a foolproof plan to secure Saumya’s safety. The only impediment? Vidya and her unwavering loyalty to the word of law.
However, Vidya abandons her father’s approach — staying true to the ‘word of law’ — in favour of her mother’s more pragmatic dedication to the ‘spirit of law’. She recuses herself, Dhruv gets the penalty he deserves, and the world is taught yet again — and rightfully so — that it should always listen to its women.
Nearly one-third of women between the ages of 15 and 49 who have been in a relationship have experienced some kind of physical or sexual abuse; most cases of domestic violence go unreported. While we talk about the gender equality, women empowerment, this delicate yet important societal issue has been overlooked vindictively.
Both sides of the argument are covered and justified in Do Patti, which was skilfully written by Kanika Dhillon, directed by Shashanka Chaturvedi and produced by my favourite, the brilliant Kriti Sanon.