Let me set the scene straight. The last time I watched this movie, I was probably more interested in Shah Rukh Khan’s dimples than thinking about social dilemma and moral commentary. I mean, come on — I was a kid! My biggest life decision back then was choosing between Maggi and Top Ramen.
Fast forward to now, and here I am, knee-deep in my first year of MBA, drowning in case studies about MNCs and global organizations, while my friends casually drop bombshells about their plans to move abroad for “better opportunities.” A lot of them have already moved abroad, trying to create an ideal life for themselves.
And then Mohan Bhargava walks back into my life.
The Moment That Changed Everything
Honestly, watching Swades as an adult is so different — suddenly everything makes sense, but also, the realization that I missed ALL of this the first time? Those subtle character development moments I completely ignored as a kid? They struck me like lightning this time.
Take that water glass scene, for instance. You know the one — where Mohan initially refuses Kaveri Amma’s water because of an assumed “hygiene concern” thing, but later he drinks from the earthen pot sold by a kid at the railway station without hesitation. I cannot even begin to explain the goosebumps I got this time. The silence in my room was deafening for a few seconds. It’s such a simple moment, but it’s basically Mohan’s entire transformation arc condensed into two completely different reactions to the same gesture of hospitality.
As someone who’s currently navigating “what do I want to do with my life,” Mohan’s internal conflict felt way too real this time. Like, uncomfortably real. Here’s this person living his best life at NASA (respect), but something’s missing, right?
And the more I watched, the more I realized we’re all kind of living in our own versions of Mohan’s NASA bubble.
How We’re All Just Mohan, Pre-Character Development?
Here’s where it gets a little too close to home.
We create these comfort zones — our social media feeds, our friend circles, our career aspirations — and we call it “being connected.” But are we really? Or are we just disconnected in a more sophisticated way?
I mean, look at my current reality. I’m surrounded by brilliant people who dream of working for global consulting firms, investment banks, and multinational corporations. Nothing wrong with that — ambition is extremely important.
But here’s the thing that keeps me up at night (apart from my assignments): while we’re all busy planning our journey to shinier jobs in big cities, who’s thinking about the smaller towns we come from?
The urban-rural divide that Swades talks about?
It’s not just still relevant — but I believe that it’s gotten worse.
We’ve got movies like Article 15 and The Great Indian Kitchen that are still attempting to addressing the same social issues that should have been solved decades ago. It’s like we’re stuck in this loop where progress happens in small pockets, but the bigger picture remains frustratingly unchanged.
That Village Memory Lane, with Soil Under My Feet
The movie had to go and get all emotional about our roots and our belonging, and suddenly I’m missing my grandparents so much that it hurts. You know what I’m talking about? Summer visits where you’d run barefoot on scorching and cracked pavements, feeling the soil (not dust, mind you) stick to your feet in a soothing way that’s impossible to explain in words, and impossible to forget.
The brownness of the village. The way brick houses stood separated by temporary kuccha settlements, an invisible economic line within the same village community. The temporary settlements that somehow felt more permanent than the fancy apartments we live in now. The raw authenticity of it all settling into your eyes.
Watching Mohan rediscover his connection to the land made me realize how much I’ve romanticized my own village memories while simultaneously taking them for granted. It’s this weird moment where we treasure these experiences in hindsight but rarely consider them as viable options for our future.
The Privilege Check I Didn’t Know I Needed
Let’s talk about privilege for a quick minute. The movie’s themes about privilege and responsibility feel almost urgent now, especially when you’re surrounded by people who’ve emerged from privilege but seem to carry lesser responsibility towards society, their homes, or even toward their own selves.
Here’s what we need to note: we’re all walking around with this incredible human capital, this education, these opportunities, and what are we doing with it? Are we building something meaningful, or are we just climbing ladders that lead to more ladders?
Mohan’s journey from being a NASA scientist to brining electricity to the village isn’t a career pivot — it’s about recognising that your skills have value beyond your personal success. And that’s the kind of career counseling they don’t teach you in B-school, lol.
The “Dunki” Parallel
Speaking of soil and belonging, I couldn’t help but think about that scene in Dunki where people fill little lockets with “desh ki mitti” before leaving the country. There’s something so achingly beautiful about that gesture — acknowledging that no matter where you go, there’s something irreplaceably authentic about home.
The whole debate that Swades explores about westernized identity? Still relevant, no cap. It’s not about rejecting progress or blindly following traditions. It’s about finding that sweet spot between abolishing rigid mindsets that hold people back and maintaining the cultural rootedness that defines who you are as a person.
We’re still trying to figure out this balance while we embrace global opportunities and yet make a failed attempt at staying connected to local realities, wanting to grow beyond our restrivtive traditions while not losing the essence of what makes us uniquely us.
The Social Media Reality Check
Watching Swades made me think about how social media has turned us all into pre-transformation Mohan. We’re more connected than ever, yet somehow more disconnected from actual reality. We’d rather live in the delusion of progress than inspect it for truth — and honestly? That’s scary.
We scroll through highlight reels of other people’s lives, we double-tap our way through social causes, and call it engagement. But when was the last time any of us actually stepped out of our digital comfort zones to do something tangible for our communities?
Storytelling Without Being Preachy at its Peak
What I absolutely love about this movie is how it manages to deliver such a strong social message without making you feel like you’re being lectured by somebody. The storytelling happens through actions, through subtle character moments, through emotions that feel earned rather than manipulated.
Kudos to the actors for conveying so much through expressions and gestures rather than lengthy dialogues about social responsibility. It’s the difference between showing and telling, and honestly? That’s why it lingers. Swades nudges you to think, but leaves space for your own conclusions.
So, What Did I Learn This Time?
Rewatching Swades reminded me that “success” is not a fixed template. It made me question whether my ambitions are bridges — or just walls I’m building around my comfort zone.
It also reminded me that it’s okay to not have neat answers. Growth sometimes looks like sitting with uncomfortable questions and letting them change you slowly.
So maybe the real takeaway isn’t to abandon the shiny opportunities or to pack your bags for your village tomorrow. Maybe it’s just this: remember the soil that shaped you, and ask how your skills can give back — even if in small ways.