From A Gen Z Girl’s Lens: Does Salman Khan’s Maine Pyaar Kiya Still Hold Magic?

"Friendship mein no sorry, no thank you." - if you know, you know. For those who grew up watching Bollywood love stories from the late ’80s and ’90s, these dialogues still live rent-free in our heads. They belong to a simpler time when romance was painted with innocence, longing, and purity. And few films captured that better than Sooraj Barjatya’s Maine Pyaar Kiya (1989), the debut of Salman Khan as the quintessential chocolate-boy hero and Bhagyashree as the delicate yet strong-willed heroine.I’ve always been a little too fond of love stories. I don’t even remember when the obsession began, but I do know that I love watching them. Doesn’t matter the language or the decade - romance is romance, and the pull of it has always fascinated me. For me,

Hindi cinema of the ’90s (and its late ’80s predecessor) holds a special place. Stories like Maine Pyaar Kiya shaped an entire generation’s understanding of love. But the real question I find myself asking today is: can Maine Pyaar Kiya still create the same magic in 2025? Would it resonate with audiences the way it did then?

Revisiting a timeless film through my Gen Z lens

To answer that, I decided to revisit the film. Watching it at 15 was one thing - starstruck eyes, giggling at the innocence of Salman Khan’s Prem and blushing through Bhagyashree’s Suman moments. But watching it in 2025? That’s an entirely different exercise. My thoughts, maturity, perspective on relationships, and even definition of love have changed.This time, I saw the film not just as a love-struck teenager, but as a young woman in today’s world - a world where dating apps exist, situationships are common, and relationships don’t follow a neatly defined “poor girl-rich boy” track anymore. Which again made me wonder: how does

Maine Pyaar Kiya hold up today?At its heart, the film is about innocence. It’s a love story built on purity and junoon (passion). It thrives on simple moments like coy glances, emotional confessions, cute arguments. It’s cinema stripped of cynicism, portraying romance as both escapist and aspirational.The dialogues - sometimes cheesy, sometimes poetic carry the weight of that era. When Alok Nath’s character asks Prem to earn Rs 2000 to prove his worth, it does not really ring a bell today. And yet, in 1989, this symbolised dignity, self-respect, and the idea of love being worth a struggle. That’s the innocence the film celebrated.As Gen Z, do we still buy into that innocence? Honestly, yes and no. We live in a time where Dakota Johnson can casually state in

Materialists that “marriage has always been a business deal,” and we nod because we’ve seen the commodification of relationships around us. But that doesn’t erase the craving for stories like Maine Pyaar Kiya. Sometimes we need love portrayed with purity, even if it feels outdated, because it gives us an escape from our hyper-practical times.Another key element of the film is the rich-poor clash. On one side, you have the wealthy business families; on the other, the humble, middle-class background. Love had to cross this divide, and the conflict gave the story its spine. In the late ’80s, this was a portrayal of societal realities - class difference was a major barrier to love and marriage.Fast forward to today, and this trope feels worn out. We’ve watched countless iterations of “rich boy-poor girl” or “poor boy-rich girl” stories. The idea doesn’t excite us anymore. Love stories in 2025 are grappling with different conflicts such as career aspirations, long-distance struggles, identity battles, or even the inability to define the relationship in a modern context.So while the rich-poor conflict was a powerful dramatic tool then, today it risks coming across as tired. Yet, it also reminds us of the roots of Hindi cinema, when romance was tied not only to emotions but also to societal norms.Another thing I kept asking myself was: what makes a story relatable? For my generation, relatability comes from honesty in characters and situations. We look for films that kind of shows our dating culture, our messy friendships, our desire for both independence and connection. A lot of us see ourselves in characters who are figuring things out, not ones trapped in rigid structures of family honour. Relatability and cinema go hand-in-hand. But relatability doesn’t always mean “mirror my life.” Sometimes it means reminding us of what we’re missing. Maine Pyaar Kiya offers that kind of nostalgia-driven relatability. It doesn’t depict our world, but it makes us long for a kind of simplicity we never experienced. That longing itself is a connection.Adding to that, cinema is also about escapism. Films are allowed to take us to imaginary lands, fairy-tale romances, and utopian ideals where love conquers all. That’s what Maine Pyaar Kiya did so beautifully. It created a world where love was pure, family conflict was dramatic yet resolvable, and friendship was the gateway to romance.Even in 2025, when we are bombarded with gritty realism in web series, or hyper-glam romantic comedies, there’s a place for stories that are about dreamy escapism. A place where you forget the chaos of the world and surrender to love songs and dialogues filled with innocence.

So, would Maine Pyaar Kiya work today?

Here’s my take: Maine Pyaar Kiya is timeless, but not ageless. It still tugs at the heart because of its sincerity, innocence, and charm. But if it released fresh in 2025, without the legacy and without the nostalgia, I am not sure it would be the massive blockbuster it once was. Our world has shifted too much; our stories demand different conflicts.Yet, as a cultural artifact, it remains powerful. It is a reminder of what Bollywood once stood for, a proof to the era of grand romances, and a film that gave us Salman Khan as a star and Bhagyashree as a strong heroine. It shaped the definition of romance for an entire generation.For Gen Z, it may not mirror our experiences, but it offers something equally valuable - a chance to escape, to romanticise, and to believe that if only for three hours that love can still be that pure.