The Silent Expectations of Marriage – A Reflection on Mrs.
Since the release of Mrs., the world seems to have split into two camps. On one side, there are those who deeply empathise with the protagonist’s struggles, feeling the weight of the unspoken expectations placed upon her. On the other, there are those who argue that such responsibilities are simply part and parcel of marriage something women have always adapted to. I find myself somewhere in the middle of this debate, questioning whether marriage should demand such profound personal sacrifices from one person alone.
Marriage is often described as a union of two souls, a shared journey where both partners navigate life together. But what happens when that journey begins with one person leaving behind everything they’ve ever known, while the other carries on as if nothing has changed? Mrs., a film that delicately yet powerfully explores the realities of marital expectations, challenges us to rethink the very foundations of this partnership.
The story follows Richa, a woman who enters married life with hope and optimism, unaware that she is also stepping into a mould she didn’t create. It’s not just about cooking, cleaning, or managing a household tasks many are willing to take on when love and respect are present. The real burden lies in being expected to do these things not out of love, but out of obligation, with little regard for her own dreams and aspirations.
One of the most striking aspects of Mrs. is how the lives of the men in the household remain largely unchanged after marriage. Diwakar, her husband, continues his routine as a doctor without interruption. Her father-in-law carries on with his daily habits effortlessly. The rhythm of the household stays the same except for Richa. Her life, however, undergoes a complete transformation. The things she once loved, the freedom she once enjoyed, are now governed by rules she never agreed to. The weight of expectation isn’t just about responsibilities; it’s about the silent understanding that she must conform, that her identity must bend to fit into her new family.
Sacrifice is often seen as a necessary part of marriage, but there’s a difference between sacrifice and complete self-erasure. Compromise is when both partners give a little to meet in the middle. But what Mrs. reveals is a more unsettling truth some sacrifices are expected without question, and they are rarely mutual. This isn’t just about adapting to a new home; it’s about a woman reshaping her entire life in ways she may never have imagined, while those around her carry on as before.
What makes the film so compelling is how it captures these nuances without resorting to exaggeration. It doesn’t outright villainise any character, but instead shows the system that allows such expectations to persist. The silence at the dinner table, the unspoken rules, the resistance she faces when she steps beyond the kitchen these aren’t just moments in a film; they’re realities many women live with every day.
Perhaps the most important question Mrs. leaves us with is this: why is change in marriage so often one-sided? Why must a woman’s life transform entirely while a man’s remains largely untouched? And, most importantly, can we imagine a marriage where adjustments aren’t dictated by gender, but by love, respect, and mutual understanding?
In a world that’s constantly evolving, Mrs. reminds us that relationships must evolve too. Marriage shouldn’t be about fitting into a predefined role, but about creating a space where both individuals can grow together. Because, in the end, love shouldn’t ask someone to become a version of themselves they don’t recognise it should allow them to be everything they were meant to be.