The other day I was recalling a particular scene from the Bollywood movie Lipstick Under My Burkha (2016), where Leela, a young woman working in a beauty parlour, is emotionally manipulated into marrying a wealthy man to “save” her mother from poverty.
The insights I’m going to share today may resonate with many women who’ve been unconsciously recruited into patriarchal family dynamics as emotional caretakers and saviours for their parents’ failed dreams.
I see this pattern often in trauma-influenced, narcissistic households, even if the exact circumstances could be quite different from Leela’s but the context of being a saviour, emotional caretaker and silent servitude remains the same.
That’s why what I’m sharing today feels universal—and deeply relevant for any woman breaking the chains of familial patriarchy and emotional bondage.
Now that Leela is an adult and earning a modest income through her beauty parlour job, her mother begins to project her exhaustion onto her daughter. She urges Leela to forget her unpredictable dreams and choose a safe, stable path—marrying a wealthy man who has promised her allowances and an apartment in exchange for marrying Leela.
Leela, although empathic toward her mother, doesn’t want to sacrifice her dreams. She also has a boyfriend, Arshad (Vikrant Massey), who isn’t financially stable and shows no signs of commitment. Eventually, under emotional pressure from her mother, Leela agrees to break up with Arshad and get engaged to the wealthy man. But when a sex tape of Leela and Arshad is leaked, the wealthy fiancé calls off the wedding.
Heartbroken and ashamed, Leela’s mother blames her daughter for the family’s continued poverty. She believes if Leela had only “behaved,” they would’ve been saved.
The movie ends with Leela, devastated and disillusioned, licking her wounds in the company of her female friends. Her dreams feel distant and almost criminal in the context of her background. The story closes on that note of heartbreak and quiet defeat of fate.
I watched Lipstick Under My Burkha in 2016, and Leela’s story stayed with me. I used to sympathize with her deeply and for years, I kept wondering—what should Leela have done?
Now, I finally have an answer.
And not just for Leela—but for every daughter who’s been unconsciously made to carry the emotional burden of her family, expected to be the redeemer of her parents’ pain through self-sacrifice.
It starts by calling the illusion for what it is.
Yes, parents like Leela’s mother have endured immense struggle. But when they reach a level of extreme emotional depletion, they unconsciously look to their children—not just for financial relief, but for emotional and existential salvation. The relationship becomes transactional, and subtle manipulation creeps in. The child is made to feel guilty and responsible for fixing the family’s suffering—often through self-sacrifice.
The power of these subtle manipulations doesn’t lie in their control but in reality it lies in making you believe that you’re being a good responsible daughter for redeeming your family through self-sacrifice. It makes you believe that you don’t have any other choice.
But once you see through the illusion, the spell breaks. Even if the shame, guilt, and noise continues which they most definitely will—you no longer take decisions from it.
Understand that no one can make you do anything against your will.
Once you see clearly, their power weakens. You can still love your parents, still care for them, but without guilt-ridden obligation. That shift alone is a generational cycle-breaker.
You’re not being cold-hearted. You’re reclaiming your self-worth.
You can say:
“I’m not saying no to supporting you. I’m saying no to supporting you in a way that destroys me.”
This is your way of caring for them as well as yourself. One does not have to come at the cost of another.
Yes it’s exhausting to keep boundaries in such dynamics.
It’s disheartening, confusing and messy to choose yourself and still love your family in such dynamics.
But it’s better than losing yourself.
You may be guilt-tripped again and again—but every time you say no to emotional manipulation, you reclaim a piece of your sovereignty. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard, if you keep choosing yourself with love, one day, you will be free. And your family will be too.
And here’s the tragic truth: no one in this story is truly the villain. Not the mother. Not even the father. These are ancestral patterns playing themselves out through wounded, exhausted people suppressed by broken systems of society, culture and lack of awareness. You’re just the one who has chosen at soul level to break the cycle.
So what would I have advised Leela with everything I know today?
- Give Arshad a firm ultimatum: either take steps to build financial stability or let her go. She would have seen his true character sooner.
- Tell her mother with love—but unwavering clarity—that she refuses to marry someone for money
- Tell the rich fiancé that although she respects him, this is not her path.
- And most importantly, feel all the guilt, fear, and grief—but keep walking and choosing her big scary dreams anyway.
I would advise her to remind herself daily:
“I am standing up for myself. And the Universe will reward me for this. I’m breaking the chains. And even if I don’t see the results now, one day I will.”
So now I ask you:
What do you think about Leela’s story? Do you relate in any way? And have you ever felt like a daughter who was expected to be the family’s redemption?
I’d love to hear your reflections.
