Musafir Cafe review: Vikrant Massey’s Netflix show on love & relationships fails to touch the heart
Adapted from Divya Prakash Dubey's novel of the same name, it sets out to explore the tangled complexities of modern-day relationships shaped by societal expectations and personal choices. But the screenplay reduces the characters to stereotypes rather than letting them evolve organically.
Directed by Ruchir Arun, Musafir Cafe, the narrative of which moves between the past and the present, feels surprisingly uneven and amateurish, with none of its characters giving the audience much reason to root for them.
Modern relationship dramas work only when they make us invest in their characters before asking us questions about love, commitment and companionship. Netflix's latest series, Musafir Cafe, sets out to do exactly that but with little success.
Adapted from Divya Prakash Dubey's novel of the same name, it sets out to explore the tangled complexities of modern-day relationships shaped by societal expectations and personal choices. Unfortunately, despite what could have made for an engaging premise, it neither engrosses nor impresses, faltering in its story, characters and execution.
Living in the moment
The story begins in Bhopal, where software engineer Chander (played by Vikrant Massey) is constantly pressured by his mother to settle down, even as he feels increasingly dissatisfied with the career he has chosen. He meets Sudha (Vedika Pinto), a fiercely independent divorce lawyer, at a cafe after she has just dismissed yet another prospective suitor — she has no interest in marriage, but has no qualms about meeting matches arranged for her and rejecting them soon after a cup of tea.
Sudha and Chander's relationship develops into a live-in arrangement with one clear understanding: there are no promises of permanence.
Chander, a coffee enthusiast who carries his own filter and mug wherever he goes, is drawn to her honesty and uninhibited spirit; she, in turn, appreciates his simplicity and easy-going nature. As they meet over time, they develop an easy-going friendship which borders on something more intense. Sudha is the one who takes the lead in the relationship; calling him in the middle of the night, moving into his bachelor pad and having candid confessions over whisky, while Chander is only happy to follow her.
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Their relationship develops into a live-in arrangement with one clear understanding: there are no promises of permanence. Sudha is on the threshold of an exciting career opportunity, while Chander dreams of one day opening his own cafe and leading a life far away from the one that has been envisioned for him. They respect each other's choices, yet cannot resist the attraction between them. All seems well, until things get too intense and Sudha leaves.
Years later, Chander is the owner of Musafir Cafe, nestled in the hills of Mussoorie, where he lives with his current partner, Preeti (Mahima Makwana). The emphasis is on the word ‘partner; as neither feels the need to define their relationship through marriage — a refreshing premise. Yet even this relationship has its own tensions. While Chander and Preeti appear content with their unconventional arrangement, those around them question its validity: has Preeti compromised her own aspirations? Has Chander truly moved on from Sudha?
Uneven and amateurish
For someone who loves relationship dramas and the emotional push and pull between characters, Musafir Cafe should have been an engaging watch. Streaming platforms have consistently delivered nuanced stories about modern love and adulthood — from homegrown titles like Little Things and Eternally Confused and Eager for Love to Nobody Wants This, One Day, and Korean dramas such as Be Melodramatic, Because This Is My First Life and Love Scout — where romance is intertwined with careers, ambition, identity and emotional growth and viewers become deeply invested in the characters and their choices. Unfortunately, Musafir Cafe does none of that.
Years later, Chander, the owner of Musafir Cafe, nestled in the hills of Mussoorie, lives with his current partner, Preeti, with neither feeling the need to define their relationship through marriage.
Directed by Ruchir Arun, the series, which moves between the past and the present, feels surprisingly uneven and amateurish, with none of its characters giving the audience much reason to root for them.
Dubey's novel reimagines the iconic characters from Dharamvir Bharati's Gunahon Ka Devta in a contemporary setting, but the adaptation lacks the emotional audacity of its inspiration. The novel itself had received mixed reviews — some praised its conversational, slice-of-life tone, others criticised its attempts at sounding philosophical and poignant — and those same shortcomings have carried over to the screen; it neither tugs at the heart or lingers in the mind.
The screenplay reduces its characters to stereotypes rather than letting them evolve organically. Sudha, introduced as bold and fiercely independent, soon becomes shorthand for the "modern woman" who drinks, avoids commitment and drifts through relationships, with little exploration of what actually shapes those choices. Preeti, meanwhile, exists largely as her counterpoint, with a scant sense of ambition or individuality beyond her relationship with Chander.
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Even Vikrant Massey, who co-produced the show and is usually so adept at emotionally layered roles, appears constrained by a screenplay that never lets Chander become a fully realised person — his emotional journey after separating from Sudha never acquires the depth it demands, leaving the character feeling passive and difficult to invest in. For an actor who has delivered memorable work in projects like Broken But Beautiful, this is a surprisingly underwhelming outing.
The background score leaves little impression and despite its picturesque setting and comforting premise, Musafir Cafe never finds the emotional warmth or narrative depth to linger in the mind. Like the cafe at its centre, it hopes to serve comfort, conversation and quiet introspection — but ends up offering well-worn ideas about love and companionship without the emotional insight needed to make them memorable.
