Maya review: A Bold and Deep Look at Love and Ownership
Rating: 3.5/5 Suyog Zore
Aditya Ingale’s Maya is a long, deeply emotional drama that stays in your mind like a song you can't forget. It is a movie of two sides: sometimes it feels too long and stretched out, but it is still very moving. It does not give easy answers. Instead, it asks the audience to sit with the characters in their quietest and most painful moments long after the film ends.
The story is about a woman named Maya (Mukta Barve). She has built a wall around her life to stay alone. After her husband betrayed her, she gave up on the "chaos" of love for a quiet, lonely life in London. She works as a physiotherapist, and her only real connection to her past is her aunt Amu (Rohini Hattangadi). Maya has decided that being alone is safer than being broken again—until she meets a patient Mahesh (Girish Oak) who is just as damaged as she is.
Mahesh is a retired Navy captain who is both rude and fragile. He has a broken leg and drinks too much to hide his long-standing sadness. He was also betrayed by someone he loved. His only friend is Anand (Vijay Kenkre). The person who brings Maya and Mahesh together is Mahesh’s son, Siddharth (Siddharth Chandekar). On the outside, Siddharth is the opposite of his father—he is charming and kind. However, his smile hides his own pain; he is a widower raising a young daughter Meera after his wife, Isha, died two years ago.
'Maya' beautifully captures the skepticism that creeps in after a heartbreak or once one becomes accustomed to solitude. It explores the profound hesitation and the internal conflict one feels toward the very concept of love—the fear of trusting again or letting someone new into a world that has finally become quiet and safe. What makes this movie truly remarkable is its fearless descent into bold, unconventional territory without ever losing its sense of grace or succumbing to nihilism. The film operates on the philosophical periphery of an age-old enigma: what is love? Instead of offering a Hallmark-card resolution, Aditya Ingale and co-writer’ Sameer Kulkarni's narrative suggests that love is not a universal constant, but a fluid, subjective experience that defies objective definition. The dialogue poignantly challenges our romantic delusions, suggesting that when we utter the words "I love you," we are often unknowingly attempting to claim ownership over another soul. The film reminds us that ignorance can be far crueler than physical violence. To be ignored or misunderstood by the people we love feels like our existence is being erased slowly.
If you approach 'Maya' expecting a conventional romantic drama, you might find it underwhelming. However, viewed as a drama about confronting your past, it is deeply rewarding. The film excels as a poignant exploration of healing from betrayal, navigating deep-seated trauma, and finding a way forward after losing someone you truly loved. Even though the film asks great questions, one notable drawback in the film is the very limited screen time given to the relationship between Maya and Siddharth. I feel the writer should have provided more space for their friendship and the gentle bond arising from it to truly blossom. The subtle attraction or emotional pull that could have developed through their conversations remained confined to only a few scenes, preventing the audience from fully experiencing the depth of their connection. Deepening this sub-plot would have added layers of complexity to the narrative, making the overall story significantly more engaging for the audience.
While the emotional part of the movie is strong, the physical world feels a bit disconnected. The story takes place in London, but the setting doesn't really help or hurt the story. It makes one wonder if the location was chosen just for looks rather than for the plot. Technically, the movie is "standard." The camera work and the set design are functional, but they don't do much to make the viewer feel like they are part of that world. In contrast to the slow visuals, the music is the heartbeat of the film. There are only three songs—at the start, the middle, and the end. These songs are very well-made and help guide the audience through the characters' feelings.
At 2 hours and 17 minutes, the film feels too long, especially in the middle act. The movie tries to do a lot, but sometimes it loses its grip. If the editing had been sharper and more "crispy," the emotional impact would have been much stronger. Also, the character of the mother, Amu, felt a bit underdeveloped.
The true anchor of Maya is Mukta Barve, who delivers a performance that is nothing short of masterly. She finds that rare, delicate thread where she reveals profound vulnerability without ever veering into melodrama. Girish Oak matches her intensity with a grounded, textured portrayal of a man weathered by his own bitterness, while Siddharth Chandekar does a commendable job with the time he is given, bringing a much-needed warmth to the screen. I only wish the writers had given Siddharth’s character more depth.
Ultimately, Maya says there is no single truth about love. Love is something each person must discover for themselves. By the final frame, the audience is left with the haunting realization that we are all searching for our own answers to a question that the universe refuses to solve for us.
Cast: Mukta Barve, Girish Oak, Siddharth Chandekar
Writers: Aditya Ingale, Sameer Kulkarni
Director: Aditya Ingale
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