In a scene from Amazon Prime Video’s Mast Mein Rehne Ka, an old man who has been urged to socialise, to map his existence, approaches an older man to try and string a new friendship. To break the ice, however, all he can talk about are morbid things like illness, ageing and mortality. “Iss umar mein koi dead body ki baat karta hai kya?” the angry, unwelcoming recipient of a conversation that quickly goes downhill, says. It’s a sequence that captures the irony at the heart of this poignant little film. The fact that despite overflowing with people, our cities are embarrassingly depthless for people seeking empathy and comfort. Though everyone is caught up in the storm, the old and the disadvantaged, especially, are maybe cursed to do wade through it on their own. Notwithstanding a tepid first half, Mast Mein Rehne Ka is a touching, if inconsistent exploration of urban loneliness.
Jackie Shroff plays Kamath, a septuagenarian Kannadiga living by himself in his Mumbai home. He is fairly regimental about his health and bursts of recklessness. He does the usual old guy shtick – get up early, partake in laughter clubs and gawk at strangers in the park. He also eats out and drinks his fair share once in a while. All by himself. On the other side of this world full of entitled strife there is Nanhe (Abhishek Chauhan), a ladies’ tailor stuck at the clogged end of the pike. After he is thrown out of a shop for accidentally offending a woman, he is forced to take up odd-jobs. In the desperation to get ahead of the curb, he seeks help from an extroverted Bilkis (Rakhi Sawant), a fishy dance instructor. The two worlds meet when Nanhe chooses to burgle old men and women because they make for easy victims.
On paper, this dichotomy of urban existence feels familiar in its exploration of economic woe. Except it slowly becomes a ruse to pull you into a world of silent, unsaid anguish. Kamath finds a friend in the outspoken Mrs Handa, another loner who compensates for the vacuum in her life by loudly declaring what makes her unhappy. Nanhe too finds a possible companion in Rawas (Monika Panwar), a street urchin on the brink of collapsing into questionable life choices. The two relationships contrast the urgency at different ends of a lifecycle; the desperation for purpose and support old age represents and the dire language of survival, young lives in the city talk through. Both worlds co-exist, almost as a humbling rejoinder to the other. Entitlement doesn’t guarantee happiness, nor does youth guarantee agency. The city, its drowning noise, swallows all equally.
Directed and co-written by Vijay Maurya, Mast Mein Rehne Ka doesn’t exactly champion vice, as much as it focuses on the joy of camaraderie. Squeezed by circumstance, scrunched by obligations, deserted by dignity, sometimes it takes a stranger to actually spot you in the crowd. A stranger you might instantly connect with for various reasons. “Mujhe bhi same problem hai. Loneliness,” Kamath admits, rather comically to Handa, the first time he meets her. It’s an exquisite sequence, lifted by the fact that an old man’s frank admission of his state of despair doesn’t immediately register with someone he expects will relate to it. These cities train us to put up a front so volubly loud and self-confident, it’s practically impossible to admit to being awed and dehumanised by the dutifulness of it all.
Though packed with decent performances, including an intriguing Rakhi Sawant cameo, this film belongs to Shroff. As a worn, warped figure, Shroff moseys around the frame of the film looking nervy and indecisive. He adequately captures the fragility of ageing, and the insecurity of doing it alone. Even though he still looks peculiarly handsome for his age, here he is the delicate heart of a film that demands him to forego that rough-edged Mumbaikar aura he has effortlessly carried for decades. To become the lone, brittle victim of the city he embodies so well as a matter of cultural pride, this detour feels refreshing.
Mast Mein Rehne Ka takes its time to get going. Gupta and Shroff don’t exactly scream chemistry, but they are as a two-pronged assault of charm and amiable exteriors, able accomplices to each other’s missions. The film is populated by interesting characters, but never quite fleshes them out to justify their existence. There is also this tonal mismatch between the film’s breezy first half and the self-serious, bleak exploration of class and impoverishment the second turns into. The story uncomfortably switches tracks, without convincing us of the linkage between the two. So much so they might have worked better on their own, as little capsules of urban plight. That said there is enough here to chew on, not least of all a startlingly uncharacteristic Jackie Shroff performance.
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