There are movies, and then there are moments. Awarapan was one such moment for me — I was in 6th grade when it released. A time when I didn’t really get love stories, but something about Emraan Hashmi’s haunting portrayal and the soul-stirring tracks “Toh Phir Aao” and “Tera Mera Rishta” shook something inside me. I balled by eyes off- (Alia Bhat moment from ‘Love you Zindagi‘ of feeling emotions for the first time moment.
It was way ahead of its time. Themes of redemption, faith, and sacrifice stitched through silence and scenery, not melodrama.
Tera yakeen kyun
Maine kiya nahi
Tujhse raha kyun judaa
Mujhpe yeh zindagi
Karti rahi sitam
Tune hi di hai panaah
Tera mera rishta purana…
Cut to today.
It’s summer break. A Sunday. And I decided to do something different from my usual behavioral science/EdTech deep dives. I asked ChatGPT — my TA (Tera Mera Rishta Purana) — to imagine what Awarapan 2 could be like.
And here’s what it gave me.
🎞️ Title: Awarapan 2: Raakh se Udaan (From Ashes, Rise)
Logline:
A brooding ex-soldier haunted by war and guilt is pulled into the dark underworld of child trafficking in Nepal-India border towns — until he discovers a young girl who reminds him of his daughter. His redemption lies not in survival, but in saving her.
“Hai kya tadap
Hai yeh kaisi saza
Tu kyun mujhe aaj yaad aagaya
Bechain din mere
Bechain raat hai
Kya mein karu kuch bataa…”
Plot Summary:
- Years after Shivam’s supposed death, a former soldier Aryan (maybe Vicky Kaushal or Vijay Varma) is a gun-for-hire near the Nepal border.
- He’s tasked with guarding a trafficked girl, Meera, who reminds him of a life he lost.
- Turns out, she’s not rescued — just bought.
- In a Shivam-like twist, Aryan chooses humanity over survival and goes rogue to protect her.
Callbacks:
- Meera hums a melody that echoes Reema’s prayer.
- A locket with “Reema” engraved is found in Aryan’s coat — a haunting callback to Shivam.
- And whispered in the shadows: “There was another man… years ago… who died saving a girl.”
“Hai mere paau hi
Khud meri bediyaan
Mujhse mujhe tu chudaa
Tera mera rishta purana…”
✨ A Parallel Timeline (If Shivam Lives…)
If you want to bring Emraan back, there’s another poetic version:
Shivam was rescued by monks and now lives in Himachal, quietly doing seva in a Buddhist monastery. But when trafficking creeps into his village, the warrior in him cannot remain still.
And Reema? She runs a shelter in Pakistan now — for displaced and abandoned girls. Their paths cross again. But this time, there’s no romantic tension. Just purpose. Closure. Soul.
“Jo mujh mein hai
Shaks woh keh raha
Aaa ab mein tu
Karz tera chukaa…”
💔 Why This Resonates Now
In a world where Harvard shuts doors on international students, and political rifts grow louder (like India blocking Pakistani creators post-Pahalgam attack), a movie like Awarapan feels like a bridge across divides — built on pain, love, and sacrifice.
“Aankhen hai num meri
Saasein chubhan meri
Zakhm hua phir hara
Dil ke viraane mein
Mere phasaane mein
Tuhi to har dum raha…”
But it raises a painful question too — can Awarapan 2 carry the same ache without Mustafa Zahid’s music?
Can it sting without “Toh Phir Aao”?
Can it heal without “Tera Mera Rishta”?
Only time will tell.
“Tera Mera Rishta Purana…
Tera Mera Rishta Purana…
Ooohoho… Aaaahahaha…
Oh Tera Mera… ah ah ah… purana…”
Post Credit Reflections
I find myself wondering…
Can a film like Awarapan 2 still pierce our hearts the way its predecessor did?
Back in 2007, the movie dared to cross borders — not just geographically, but spiritually. Pakistani artist Mustafa Zahid’s voice wasn’t just music — it was the soul of Shivam. The sound of loss, love, and longing.
“Aankhen hai num meri
Saasein chubhan meri
Zakhm hua phir hara…”
And that brings me to the question I can’t stop thinking about:
Can Awarapan still hit that raw nerve — that aching, universal pain — without the voice that once held its heart?
Will we ever again hear:
“Tera Mera Rishta Purana…”
and not feel the invisible thread that bound us all?
Because Awarapan wasn’t just a movie.
It was a bridge. Between faiths, between countries, between broken people learning to love again.
For me, this experiment — mixing AI, nostalgia, and raw emotion — is a tribute.
Because even researchers need to break their genre sometimes.
Even hearts wrapped in data need to bleed a little story.
🎬 Awarapan 2 hits screens on April 3, 2026. I’ll be there. Waiting. Crying. Healing.
Watch the film announcement here