Cooking Is a Job—Just Not When A Woman Does It, Says Arati Kadav As 'Mrs' Unpacks Gendered Labour

I grew up watching the women in my family move seamlessly between conversations and kitchen duties, their hands never idle, and their plates somehow always being the last to be filled. It was just how things were. No one called it labour. No one called it work. It was unspoken love, duty, tradition—everything except a job. But step into a professional kitchen, and the rules change.

Men cook, men get paid, and men become "chefs". Women? They are simply born to “belong” in the kitchen, expected to tend, fix, fetch—to carry the weight of it all without complaint. The callouses on their hands are seen as proof of care, not exhaustion, and even when their backs break under the burden, they are told it is love.

The result of all of this is a deeply nuanced exploration of gender roles, patriarchal conditioning, and the silent struggles many women face in marriage. Arati Kadav’s latest film, Mrs, unpacks this reality with unsettling precision. Through the lens of a young bride navigating her new life, Mrs exposes the ingrained expectations that shackle women to domestic roles, often without them even realising it—until fatigue settles into their bones, and they wonder if love should feel this much like labour.

ELLE sat down with the filmmaker to discuss her creative process, collaboration with Sanya Malhotra, and the subtlety of feminist storytelling.

Navigating Patriarchy In Storytelling

One of Mrs’ greatest achievements is its ability to portray systemic patriarchy without demonising its male characters. Kadav was careful in her direction, ensuring that her actors understood their characters’ actions not as intentional cruelty but as ingrained conditioning.

“It’s very easy to make them feel villainous, but I told my male actors, ‘The moment you start looking like a villain, you’ve lost the point. You’re not trying to trouble her; you just don’t know better because of your conditioning,’” she explains. “In a way, they should also see themselves as victims. For example, the father-in-law—he is so particular about food, which makes me think, in an alternate universe, maybe he was meant to be a great cook. But patriarchy prevented him from stepping into the kitchen.”

The male lead, too, was written to be self-righteous rather than outright antagonistic. “He truly believes he’s doing everything right. From his perspective, she’s the one acting strange,” Kadav notes.

Sanya Malhotra’s Prep For The Role 

At the heart of this narrative is Sanya Malhotra, who delivers a performance both nuanced and deeply empathetic. To prepare for the role, she immersed herself in conversations with women who had lived similar experiences. “She met women her age, women who seemed just like her, who had gone to the same schools and colleges but were now trapped in these roles. She made detailed notes, absorbed their stories, and channelled them into her character,” Kadav shares. Malhotra’s performance has also been widely praised, even earning her an award at the Melbourne Film Festival. Kadav credits this to Malhotra’s deep empathy and rigorous preparation.

From rehearsals to mapping out key emotional beats, the director and actor worked closely to ensure the protagonist’s transformation felt organic. “She starts out as a chirpy young bride,” Kadav says. “But over time, you see the light drain from her.”

The Unpaid Labour Of Women

The film powerfully examines the normalisation of unpaid labour in marriage, a theme that resonated deeply with audiences. Kadav recalls conversations with women after the film’s release. “Many told me, ‘We thought this was just how things were. We didn’t know any better.’”

One scene that particularly struck viewers was a moment between the protagonist and the aunt. “The aunt scolds her for nibbling on food while cooking, not because she’s eating, but because she’s doing it in what is, in her eyes, ‘someone else’s house.’ Even another women of the family doesn’t see the home as hers,” Kadav explains. “It’s like sending someone off to an unpaid job.”

The metaphor extends to professional kitchens. “Men dominate the chef industry and get paid for their labour, but women cook at home for free. That contradiction was something I wanted to highlight.”

Crafting Subtle Feminism

In India, feminist films often face backlash. Kadav chose a subtle approach, letting the visuals speak for themselves rather than resorting to overt messaging. “If we had to insert a line explicitly stating ‘women deserve better,’ then we would have already lost,” she says. “For anyone paying attention, the message is loud and clear. You see men sitting while women rush around serving food. You don’t need to spell it out.”

Additionally, she tweaked the protagonist’s journey. “I wanted to show her passion and eagerness for life more clearly at the beginning. She’s not just hesitant—she’s someone full of life, and we watch that get drained out of her. That was an important change.”

The Emotional Weight Of Certain Scenes

One of the film’s most harrowing moments is a marital intimacy scene that resonated deeply with many women. “Since the film’s release, so many women have reached out saying, ‘That scene, that night—it happened to us too.’ That was heartbreaking.”

A Personal Reflection On Marriage

Kadav’s understanding of patriarchal conditioning isn’t just theoretical—it’s personal. “I got married young, into a traditional UP family, and from the wedding ceremony itself, I was questioning norms. Even Kanyadaan places the boy above the girl,” she shares.

Despite her success, she grappled with self-doubt. “I was a filmmaker, but at times, I felt inadequate because I wasn’t financially contributing in a conventional way. Watching the film, my husband even admitted, ‘I may have said things like that to you.’”

Her takeaway? “Most men aren’t villains. They’re just raised to believe certain things are normal. And change starts with awareness.”

Final Thoughts

Kadav’s film is more than a critique of gender roles—it’s a mirror of society. By highlighting everyday injustices without sensationalism, she offers a poignant, deeply relatable portrait of womanhood in India today. And for those who relate too closely to the protagonist’s struggles, she offers this: “You deserve better. And it’s okay to want more.”

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