Mismatched Season 2: Hits, Misses and Life Lessons for Gen Z

At one point in the second season of Mismatched, Zeenat — older and wiser than the other lead characters and played by Vidya Malvade — says, “Gaur se dekho toh yeh sab bachhe doob rahe hai. Yeh chahte toh hai ke koi inhe bacha le, par kehte nahi hai. Inhe kehna aata hi nahi (If you look closely, you’ll see that all these kids are drowning. They want to be saved but they remain silent. They don’t know how to ask for help.)” A generation’s desire to press ‘reset’ at minor inconveniences; to wish for the ability to uninstall and reinstall life instead of resolving conflicts; to be told what to do rather than shoulder responsibility and ask for guidance — writers Gazal Dhaliwal, Aarsh Vora, Nandini Gupta, Sunayana Kumari and Akshay Jhunjhunwala, and director Akarsh Khurana may not belong to the Gen Z, but they get it. Folding insight into a breezy romance about teenagers worked well for the first season of Mismatched, which made stars out of Rohit Saraf and Prajakta Koli. Follow-ups are always harder and with the second season, we get more of the same. Is it as satisfying? Not entirely.

The first season of Mismatched ended with Dimple (Koli) back to square one, with no friends and no app to her credit, seeking solace from the porn-obsessed, foreign-returned Harsh (Vihaan Samat) after she accused her boyfriend Rishi (Saraf) of leaking the app she’d developed. Season 2 opens on an equally dramatic note: When Rishi and Dimple see each other, he spills coffee on her (as she had when they first met in season 1). A new beginning? A clean slate? Not exactly, since her t-shirt was white. While Dimple and Rishi are back to the business of finding love (again), this time there are fewer strings attached and more resentment. No one should be surprised that in the midst of classes, tech fests and weddings, Dimple and Rishi are drawn to each other (again). However, along the way there’s the discovery of a friendship and a whole lot of learning.

As the characters navigate anger, angst and predictability in the early episodes, Mismatched poignantly captures their coming of age in the second half of the season. For instance, at Rishi’s mother’s second wedding, his father expresses regret at letting her go without a fight. Meanwhile, Dimple’s father tells her it’s always the mind that’s confused and seldom the heart as he dotingly watches his wife. Dimple’s response is to look into the camera and smile, as though bringing the audience into this little circle of intimacy. That one expression does more for Mismatched than the persistent voiceovers (essentially inner monologues) which explain every action and leave little room for subtext. The wisdom to walk away, as Harsh does at Rishi’s mother’s wedding (reminiscent of Bunny’s exit from Aditi’s wedding in Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani (2013)); letting someone go while cushioning one’s own dignity, as Sanskriti (Sanjana Sarathy) does when she cuts ties with Rishi rather than letting him leave her — moments like these show the characters have grown into people who are light years away from the caricatures of youth that they once were.

Unfortunately, there’s a lot about Mismatched that feels like the show is trying too hard. Perhaps when one is past a phase in life, it is tricky to recall the intricacies of it, the phases within the phase. It would certainly explain why writers in their thirties wrote 18-year-old characters (portrayed by actors in their 20s) who talk like 14-year-olds. In the age of Instagram and Twitter, when social awareness arrives before puberty, the Rupi Kaur-esque dialogues sound far from convincing.

There’s a strained quality to this season of Mismatched, which relies heavily on voiceovers that tend to trap the audience in the character's mind. Infantilising the audience inevitably leads to spoon-feeding them. This doesn’t help the storytelling, particularly in the romantic scenes. For instance, while the love triangle is doing its thing, you may find yourself occasionally rooting for the ‘wrong’ guy, but there’s never really any mystery about who Dimple is drawn to more. However, despite their overt self-awareness, the voiceovers do help communicate the experience of young adulthood. Less effective is the soundtrack that strives to make underwhelming situations stirring by piling songs that are determined to be meaningful, on to the plot. The ‘Love is Love’ sequence, for example, with members of the queer community dancing against the backdrop of the Bandra-Worli Sea Link, comes across as more performative than inclusive. These moments are gimmicky, but then so are the characters, each of whom is deeply rooted in a stereotype. In Rishi, we have the goody-two-shoes who is terrified of becoming his father. Dimple is the selfish and ambitious, bespectacled woman (can a STEM woman ever have good eyesight? Apparently not). Krish (Abhinav Sharma) and Simran (Kritika Bharadwaj) are the quintessential high school couple, with the former being a “balding, cheating, fucking boyfriend”, and the latter, an Instagram influencer with body image issues. Anmol (Taaruk Raina) is an angry guy confined to a wheelchair, and Sanskriti (Sanjana Sarathy) is the manic pixie dream girl reminiscent of Laila from Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (2011).

Fortunately, the actors embody these roles adequately and shine in moments where they can explore beyond the broad strokes of the writing. Malvade as Zeenat — a naive, widowed older woman who is trying to fit in — is delightful, especially in the scenes she has with Siddharth (a professor played by Rannvijay Singha) where they share a hesitant fondness. The central love story is Saraf and Koli’s, who seem to have better chemistry with their new partners. There’s so much baggage between these two, so much that’s left unsaid, that it overwhelms the playfulness and sexual tension that made the coupling fun to watch in the first season. A flashback of a memory reveals that Dimple and Rishi met as children and that she’s the one who suggested he take up animation. Serendipity has been thrust into a story that was bound to end happily. Wasn’t it enough for them to circle back to each other in the end? Raina as Anmol and Muskkaan Jaferi as Celina feel relatable as they loiter in their character arcs, struggling to put pride aside and repent. It is in the moments before they let their guard down, when they’re contemplating, that they’re the most charming. As much as it is about Dimple and Rishi, the season’s most memorable characters may be those that got the shorter end of the stick, like Harsh who sang ‘Jab Koyi Baat Bigad Jaaye’ for Dimple, helping her with her crippling bouts of panic.

Ultimately, Mismatched makes you question how many times one needs to grow up and if anyone ever notices. It may not feel quite as rewarding as the first season, but being grown-up rarely does.