In an interview, the director dishes out on modern romance, masculinity, and ghosting
Dubai: Mohit Suri isn’t just Bollywood’s go-to guy for stormy, emotional love sagas—he’s practically built a cinematic empire on heartbreak, betrayal, and the messy middle between I love you and I can’t stand you.
But ask him what he's feeling ahead of his latest film release Saiyaara starring Panday and Aneet Padda, the answer is surprisingly vulnerable: “Anxious, excited, nervous—a mixed bag,” he tells me. “You’d think after 13 films, I’d know how to handle it, but no… it still feels like my first.”
If you’ve ever watched a Mohit Suri film (Aashiqui 2, Ek Villain, and Half Girlfriend anyone?), you know his cinematic universe is built on lovers who would rather jump off a cliff than ghost each other.
But in real life, Suri is disarmingly warm, quick to laugh, and a bit philosophical about his now-famous “style.”
“When I made my first film Zeher, my wife—who acted in it—asked me if I had a style,” he recalls. “I was 23, and I said, ‘What does that even mean?’ She said, ‘You know, like Pradeep Sarkar has a style.’ Now, 20 years later, if you say I have a signature, I’m going to go home and tell her, ‘Baby, I’ve arrived!’”
For those unfamiliar with Pradeep or Mohit's films, the latter was known for his poetic, visually rich films with strong female leads and a lyrical, old-world charm. In contrast, Suri's style is darker, more emotionally raw, often centered on flawed lovers navigating intense, turbulent relationships.
On Love, Marriage & DJ Wives
Interestingly, unlike his tortured onscreen couples, Suri’s own love story is refreshingly functional.
“Marriage overrated? Not for me,” he says.
“I grew up with a single parent—my father—and he raised me more like a roommate than a son. So for me, the concept of family was always important.”
Today, he juggles filmmaking with dad duties and life with a DJ wife. “I’ve got a time limit to get home. And she DJs now!” he laughs. “Marriage is ideal for me—I’m living the best part of my life right now.”
And if there’s one thing that’s clear, it’s how deeply proud he is of his wife, actress-turned-DJ Udita Goswami. Whether it’s co-parenting or creative careers, Suri beams while talking about the life they’ve built together.
And yet, Mohit’s films never reach the boring domestic bliss stage. Why? “Because I believe love stories end when marriage begins,” he quips. “My movies stop before that rolling title of marriage begins.”
Ghosting, benching and Gen Z feels
So how does a man who made a career out of intense, all-consuming romance write about love in the age of Tinder and Bumble? Quite intuitively, it seems.
“We keep underestimating Gen Z,” says Suri. “People think they don’t have depth or emotions, but in India, we’ve had people writing poetry at 21! The only thing that’s changed is the medium—letters became landlines, then texts, and now it’s swipes. But heartbreak? That still hurts in the same part of your chest.”
Yes, ghosting and benching do make appearances in his new film. “We’ve always had that one uncle who was engaged to someone and married someone else,” he points out. “We just didn’t have words like ‘benching’ back then!”
On age-appropriate casting—and the nepotism debate
Suri is fiercely committed to casting young actors to play young characters, a detail that’s not lost on viewers weary of 40-somethings playing college kids.
“If your character is chasing dreams, falling in love, and having career crises, it usually happens between 18 and 25,” he says.
“If you're doing all that at 40, there’s something genuinely wrong. Either change your job or your relationship!”
So when he cast Ahaan Panday—yes, from the famed Panday family—he was prepared for the inevitable nepotism chatter.
“I liked his audition, but it wasn’t just that,” he explains. “I was supposed to tell him he wasn’t doing the film. We went out to dinner, and by the end of the night, I saw him turn into the character. The performance anxiety dropped—and Kash, the character, came alive.”
“Love should empower you—Not break you
While his films flirt with toxicity, Suri is clear about his stance on love.
“Love is what makes me the man I am. It lets me make the movies I do,” he says. “My wife dated a filmmaker, married a filmmaker, and lives with someone who’s obsessively in love with his craft. That’s not easy. Only someone who truly loves you lets you be who you are.”
He’s equally clear on the debate around romanticising possessiveness in men.
“There’s a scene where the hero doesn’t let the girl smoke. He throws his cigarette away too. That’s not chauvinism—that’s care. Why is it suddenly wrong for a man to care like a man? Why do we frown upon being pampered, being protective?”
On Mentoring newcomers
As a director, Suri knows the weight of working with fresh talent. “This is the fourth generation of newcomers I’ve worked with,” he says. “Imran Hashmi, Kangana, Kunal Khemu, Aditya Roy Kapur—and now Ahaan and Aleya. These two are like clay—malleable, raw, but emotionally potent.”
He describes directing them as “sculpting, not building.” “You can’t just place bricks and cement. You have to mould them, move with them, see love from their eyes.”
And what’s next?
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “I have to get Saiyaara”—his film—“out of my system first. Break up with her before she moves on and I find someone else.”
That’s Mohit Suri for you: a man who talks about films like they’re living, breathing lovers. Unapologetically romantic, a little damaged, and entirely unforgettable.
Saiyaara is out in UAE cinemas on July 18
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