“Laughing Through the Pain: The Problem with Making Women’s Mental Health a Comic Relief in South Asian Cinema”
Introduction
Mental health is not a punchline—but for far too long, South Asian cinema has treated it like one. Whether it’s a woman shown “going mad” over a breakup, being labeled as “pagli” (crazy) for expressing pain, or reduced to erratic behavior played for laughs, mental health issues—especially among women—have often been reduced to comic relief in Indian and Pakistani films. This isn’t just bad storytelling. It’s harmful.
In a region where talking about mental health is already heavily stigmatized, media plays a crucial role in shaping public perception. By using women’s emotional and psychological struggles as comedic fodder, South Asian cinema not only disrespects the lived experiences of countless women but also reinforces a toxic culture of silence and shame around seeking help.
1. The Stereotype of the “Crazy Woman”
In many South Asian films, particularly Bollywood comedies and family dramas, the emotionally expressive or mentally unwell woman is often played for laughs. She might be a jilted lover throwing a tantrum, a wife dealing with anxiety being mocked by her in-laws, or a girl crying in a washroom while others roll their eyes. What should be a moment of empathy becomes a gag.
A classic example is Main Prem Ki Diwani Hoon (2003), where Kareena Kapoor’s character is portrayed with exaggerated emotional outbursts that are framed as funny rather than signs of emotional turmoil. Audiences laugh not with her, but at her.
These portrayals often imply that women are inherently too emotional, overdramatic, or irrational—undermining the seriousness of mental health conditions such as depression, anxiety, or PTSD.
2. Comedy or Cop-Out? When Films Avoid Responsibility
South Asian cinema has often relied on humor to handle difficult topics, but there’s a difference between dark comedy done right and humor used to dodge accountability.
Take Indian films like Housefull (2009) or Bhool Bhulaiyaa (2007). While the latter does address dissociative identity disorder, it mixes genuine mental health issues with horror and slapstick comedy in a way that leaves audiences confused about what’s real and what’s just for laughs. Women are often shown as “possessed,” “moody,” or “mentally unstable,” which fuels stereotypes instead of breaking them.
Pakistani dramas, though more conservative in style, aren’t immune either. Characters like Mehreen in Hum Kahan Ke Sachay Thay or Zoya in Dil Ruba are written with depth, but some scenes veer dangerously close to melodrama that undermines their mental health struggles, especially when these emotional breakdowns are juxtaposed with dramatic music or reactions that are meant to entertain rather than create space for empathy.
3. Why This Is Especially Harmful for South Asian Women
Women in South Asia already face immense pressure to “keep it together”—to be the emotional anchors in families, to remain composed in adversity, and to never burden others with their feelings. When their real mental health issues are ridiculed on screen, it reinforces the idea that seeking help is weak or laughable.
Imagine a young girl watching a film where a woman’s breakdown is treated as overacting. That girl may grow up thinking her anxiety isn’t real. That her depression is a joke. That therapy is shameful. That she should just “get over it.”
And let’s not forget: Many women are already laughed at in real life when they voice mental distress. When films mimic this exact dynamic, they don’t just mirror society—they perpetuate the abuse.
4. There Are Better Ways: What Good Representation Looks Like
Not all hope is lost. There are emerging examples from both Bollywood and Pakistani cinema where mental health is handled with more care and realism.
- Bollywood’s Dear Zindagi (2016): Alia Bhatt’s character undergoes therapy after suffering from anxiety and unresolved childhood trauma. The film takes therapy seriously—normalizing it—and portrays her sessions with Shah Rukh Khan’s character respectfully, without mockery.
- Pakistani series Churails (2020): This bold, feminist web series includes women dealing with trauma, depression, and societal oppression—not as jokes, but as central, powerful plotlines.
- Indian Netflix series Little Things (2016–2019): Kavya and Dhruv’s relationship includes honest conversations about burnout, emotional exhaustion, and therapy. No melodrama. No laughter at pain—just raw, real, quiet moments that reflect what many couples actually go through.
These stories show that it’s entirely possible to tackle mental health—especially women’s struggles—with nuance, honesty, and respect, without compromising on entertainment value.
5. What Needs to Change
For South Asian media to evolve, creators must ask themselves: Is this character’s breakdown a plot device or a person’s reality? If the answer is the former, then it’s time to rewrite.
- Stop trivializing therapy or making it the “quirky” choice.
- Avoid using mental illness as a twist, joke, or horror element.
- Hire mental health consultants when writing scripts involving trauma, depression, or disorders.
- Empower female characters to seek help, talk about their pain, and not be punished or humiliated for it.
Audiences are smarter now. They’re tired of the tropes. They want representation that reflects them, not mocks them.
Conclusion
Mental health is not entertainment. And women’s suffering is not a punchline. As South Asian cinema grows on global platforms, there’s both a responsibility and an opportunity to tell stories that heal, not hurt. Let’s laugh with women, not at them. Let’s stop laughing through their pain—and start listening.