Mental Health as a Gag: How South Asian Comedy Movies Get It Wrong When It Comes to Women’s Emotional Well-Being
Introduction
Mental health is no laughing matter—except, it seems, in many South Asian comedy films where women’s emotional struggles are used as comic relief. Instead of empathy, we often see mockery. Instead of complexity, we’re served caricature. The “crazy girlfriend,” the “overly emotional wife,” the “drama queen”—these aren’t just lazy writing choices. They reflect and reinforce the real-world stigma that keeps South Asian women from seeking help, speaking out, or even acknowledging their pain.
Using women’s mental health as a gag may get a few laughs, but it sends a dangerous message: that their emotional well-being is exaggerated, irrelevant, or absurd. In a region where mental health stigma already silences many, this kind of portrayal doesn’t just misrepresent—it harms.
1. The “Pagal Ladki” Trope: Comedy Built on Misunderstanding
In countless South Asian films, women who express strong emotions are labelled as “pagal” (crazy). This label is often used to diminish their credibility, reduce their complexity, or even justify the hero’s eventual rejection of them.
Take Pyaar Ka Punchnama (2011) and its sequel. These films feature long monologues mocking girlfriends as “toxic” or “emotionally unstable.” Instead of exploring why a woman might be expressing frustration or anxiety in a relationship, the narrative ridicules her for comedic effect. Audiences are invited to laugh at her, not with her.
The problem isn’t just the jokes—it’s the message they send: if a woman is upset, it must be her fault. If she cries, she’s hysterical. If she speaks up, she’s “too much.” It trivializes real emotions and discourages emotional vulnerability.
2. Laughing at Therapy: The Mockery of Mental Health Support
In many South Asian comedies, therapy is either absent or ridiculed. If a female character does visit a psychiatrist, it’s often framed as a quirky, laughable experience. The 2019 film Good Newwz offers a brief glimpse of a woman seeking therapy, but it’s quickly brushed aside as a minor quirk rather than a legitimate coping mechanism.
In Bollywood’s Tanu Weds Manu Returns (2015), Tanu (Kangana Ranaut) is shown visiting a psychiatric facility—yet the tone isn’t serious. It’s exaggerated, theatrical, and used to add drama and humor, not insight. Her emotional instability is played for laughs, and no meaningful exploration of her mental state follows. The implication? Seeking help is strange, funny, and something to hide.
3. The Comedy of Catfights and Meltdowns
Women experiencing emotional distress are often reduced to comic spectacles. Their arguments are exaggerated into catfights. Their emotional meltdowns are framed as entertainment. Films like Housefull, Welcome, or Masti regularly show women as overly dramatic, insecure, or irrational, particularly when they’re anxious or jealous.
This kind of humor is deeply gendered. Male characters expressing anger or sadness are often met with understanding—or at least gravity. But when women break down, they’re turned into punchlines. The audience laughs, and the character is dismissed as unstable or needy.
4. Reinforcing Stigma: The Real-World Impact
These portrayals don’t exist in a vacuum. In South Asian societies where mental health is already taboo, media plays a massive role in shaping perception. When women see characters like themselves being mocked for expressing distress or seeking help, it discourages them from speaking out in real life.
Many South Asian women are already navigating expectations of emotional strength, silence, and sacrifice. They’re taught to endure, not express. So when films mock their vulnerability, it deepens the shame and isolation that often surrounds their mental health.
5. Breaking the Pattern: What Better Representation Could Look Like
Some recent efforts have tried to move the needle. In the Pakistani series Dobara (2021), Mehru (played by Hadiqa Kiani) is a widow navigating grief and societal pressure—not as comic relief, but as a fully human character deserving of support and agency.
In Bollywood, Dear Zindagi (2016) gave us Kaira (Alia Bhatt), a young woman grappling with anxiety and attachment issues. The film portrayed therapy not as a joke, but as a path to healing, handled with empathy and dignity. It’s rare, but refreshing—and proves that mental health can be addressed with sensitivity, even in mainstream cinema.
Conclusion
South Asian comedy has long used women’s mental health as an easy laugh—but it’s time to retire the punchline. Emotional distress isn’t a joke. Therapy isn’t funny. Women aren’t “crazy” for feeling overwhelmed in a world that demands perfection from them.
It’s time we stop laughing at pain and start listening instead. Women in South Asia deserve to see their emotional journeys represented not as comic relief, but as real, valid, and worthy of care and compassion.