From Eurorail to Sarson Ke Khet: An Ethnography of DDLJ’s Everlasting Romance with India by Yashika Begwani, explores why thirty years on, Indians still dream of love in the Alps, still visit Maratha Mandir, and still quote “Jaa Simran Jaa.”

Thirty years after its release, Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (DDLJ) remains a cinematic and cultural phenomenon that continues to define Indian romance across generations. This ethnographic exploration revisits the film’s enduring legacy — from its dreamy Swiss landscapes to the rooted warmth of Punjab’s sarson ke khet — decoding why audiences still connect with its ideals of love, family, and faith. Through voices of critics, scholars, and lifelong fans, the piece traces how DDLJ became a bridge between tradition and modernity, a reflection of liberalised India’s global aspirations, and a love story that still makes hearts race every time someone runs to catch the train.

A Trip That Starts in Switzerland

When Urja, the owner of Travelpedia, a customised international itinerary company, was asked to plan a honeymoon in Switzerland, she already knew what was coming.

Most would.

For Switzerland isn’t Switzerland without a mandolin-playing hero — let’s call him Raj.

And a trip to Switzerland isn’t complete without ticking off the iconic spots where Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (DDLJ) was filmed.

1566 weeks at Maratha Mandir and still counting, DDLJ remains one of the longest-running films in Indian cinema. But beyond numbers and nostalgia, why does this film continue to endure?

This had to be decoded, and so I spoke with film enthusiasts, scholars, critics, and audience members to understand what made it a cultural cornerstone, and why it continues to live not just on screen, but in memory — and just as much in cinema history.

This is an ethnographic take, stitched together through references, reflections, and recollections of those who grew up, fell in love alongside, and travelled with DDLJ, or just witnessed the frenzy surrounding it — then and now.

Love in the Time of Liberalisation

“I would largely credit that success to the socio-cultural milieu and environment in India at that time,” shares Tapan Pattani, film critic and assistant director. “Around the 80s,” he continues, “Indian society had largely witnessed cinema through the angry young man, high-adrenaline action, or social dramas (except perhaps Silsila by Yash Chopra).”

A charming NRI boy, deeply rooted in his culture, falling in love with an Indian girl in London, returning home to win her family’s approval, and earning the respect of her father — was a breath of fresh air. It worked for its time, and beyond. “It always blows my mind that we got DDLJ in 1995 — just two years after Jurassic Park (1993). Two monster films, one literally, and the other, in its monumental box-office success and cultural longevity,” adds Chaitanya Deshpande, Communications Designer (Boston, USA).

The early 1990s marked India’s economic liberalisation — a shift in aspiration and identity. Against this backdrop, DDLJ unfolded across London, Switzerland, and Punjab, reflecting the dreams of a newly global yet deeply rooted India. The boy didn’t defy social norms; he embraced them. He never eloped; he won trust (and hearts).

Europe as the Indian Dreamscape

“The film opened Europe to less-travelled Indians as never before,” says Gouraj, patent attorney by day and film critic by night. “It reassured us that love marriages could work in a slowly changing, conservative India.”

In its two halves, DDLJ journeys both outward and inward — from the Eurorail’s carefree wanderlust to the familial warmth of sarson ke khet. And who can forget the reassurance of mitti ki taaqat in healing wounds and maa ki parchaai among other things? It’s as if the film mirrored India’s dual identity: cosmopolitan ambition and emotional rootedness.

This global dreamscape set against the quintessential Indian cultural identity was also deeply personal for many. As Aanchal Mehra, co-owner of a family jewellery business in Delhi, recalls, “My family has celebrated Karwa Chauth for generations. To see it come alive on screen, and travel across the world, made me feel seen. It was a beautiful way to share our rituals with global audiences.”
Her words remind us that cinema can be a cultural bridge — carrying rituals, aspirations, and emotional codes across continents, and perhaps even across generations.

Patriarchy, Progress, and the Modern Lover

The Karwa Chauth sequence stands out not only for its ritualism but for its quiet subversion. While largely rooted in patriarchy, the scene opens up a conversation about the modern Indian lover boy — silently yet solidly looking in the eye of gendered rituals. The scene subtly reframed masculinity for its time (possibly the first time on screen). Raj doesn’t challenge tradition; he modernises it.

Ahwaan Padhee, a techie by day and film critic by night, points to the film’s layered portrayal of family. “There were facets in the film which rightfully depicted the history of those times. The conservative upbringing of Simran and the authoritarian patriarchy in her family resonated with the times of Indian culture. Which is why I still root for Amrish Puriji’s character — a well-etched, realistic one.”

Baldev Singh’s dilemma — torn between tradition and tenderness — culminates in the iconic, “Jaa Simran, jaa, jee le apni zindagi.” It’s not just a line; it’s the sound of a generational shift. “The bonding between Raj and Baldev Singh in the crop fields scores as my favourite moment showcasing both camaraderie and respect between them; closely followed by Lajjo (Farida Jalal) and Simran’s heart-to-heart talk,” Ahwaan adds.

This moment marks a defining point in the film for audiences of the early ’90s. Women then were often bound by expectations of what was proper or possible. Farida Jalal’s character captures this — a woman not “allowed” to dream, work, or choose her own partner. But when she sees Simran and Raj sharing a tender moment on the balcony, something shifts. The shock turns into quiet resolve as she urges her daughter to seek the freedom she herself never had. In that transformation, Farida Jalal’s character becomes a gentle rebellion — a once-submissive woman turning into her daughter’s silent ally in love and choice.
DDLJ, in that sense, was not radical but softly and entertainingly progressive. It suggested that love need not overthrow tradition to triumph; it could coexist with it. Yet, neither Raj-Simran nor the prowess of Aditya Chopra as a first-time director would be complete without the picturesque views that audiences were — and continue to be — swept by.

Swooning Over Switzerland: A Romance in Landscape

What’s DDLJ without Switzerland — snow-capped peaks, lush valleys, and Ashaji’s voice serenading thandi thandi pawan.

For many, the country itself became a symbol of cinematic romance. “Every Valentine’s Day, I rewatch DDLJ,” says Shivani Thakur, an HR professional. “Even today, it makes me believe in love. And whenever I’m in Mumbai, I visit Maratha Mandir; it feels like revisiting childhood.”

Antara Basu, an HR consultant who didn’t blink an eyelid before sharing some wonderful photos of what she recreated, says, “Over the years, even though my thoughts, opinions, and worldviews have evolved, the love for DDLJ is perhaps irrational. It always reminds me of that impressionable five-year-old girl who watched it for the first time — being charmed.”

Richi Parasrampuria, a clinical psychologist, echoes this sentiment: “I actually planned my Switzerland trip around DDLJ. Maybe it was my ode to a film that defined my idea of romance.”

Unsurprisingly, Switzerland eventually acknowledged its debt. Remo Käser, Director of Sales at Jungfrau Railways, shared in The Romantics (Netflix) that Yash Chopra presented the beauty of Switzerland through his cinema, romanticising Jungfrau and Interlaken for the world. And Urja’s client statements from the beginning of this article almost confirm that!

Music, Memory, and the Cinematic Dream

It would be impossible to talk about DDLJ without mentioning the songs composed by Jatin-Lalit, which gave it its emotional pulse and the cult status they continue to hold across generations.

For many (myself included), it’s impossible to separate the saxophone prelude of Mere Khwabon Mein Jo Aaye from SRK’s entry, or the dreamlike grace of Tujhe Dekha Toh Yeh Jaana Sanam.

Designer, stylist, and owner of Tamarind Fashions, Pooja Jain, reflects, “The black tuxedo and gown in Tujhe Dekha Toh felt like a statement, merging London’s sophistication with the Indian fantasy. Even today, they remain dream outfits for couples.”

Trains, Timelessness, and the Hope That Endures

If Switzerland gave the film its romance, the train gave it its heartbeat.
Pulkit Kochar, creator and film fanatic, points out, “The train sequence has been reimagined in so many films — from Jab We Met to Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, to Chennai Express and even Son of Sardaar. It’s become a visual shorthand for love that arrives just in time.”

Basundhara, research scholar and cinephile who runs the Instagram page GangsofCinepur, decodes its symbolism beautifully: “The person running to catch the train carries both stress and hope; and the outstretched hand holds trust. And also the feeling of hope comes from trust — trust in the other person who might eventually grab their hand. That whole sequence is symbolic of reassurance in a relationship,” she says. “That they won’t leave us when we need them.”

Perhaps that’s the secret of DDLJ’s immortality — the reassurance it offers (like he echoes, carrying that bell — “Main aa raha hoon, Simran”). That even in a rapidly changing world, love still waits, faith still matters, and someone will still run to catch the train.

A Love That Keeps Running

Ruchi Kher Jaggi, media scholar, professor, and Dean at a leading Indian media college, sums it up best: “For middle-class India, torn between the liberal and the conservative, DDLJ offered a glimpse of independence and romance within family boundaries. From travelling with friends and exploring romance to turning to the family fold while making tradition and modernity seem compatible. Seen today, it’s undeniably patriarchal with limited space for communication or equality in relationships. But for its time, DDLJ captured a dream — that one could embrace modern love while staying rooted to family.”
And maybe that’s the magic, like Pulkit echoes. “Every generation needs its own DDLJ; its own moment of reassurance, of love that doesn’t rebel but redefines. And that’s the best part — the fact that DDLJ was the benchmark for so many films that followed.”

Thirty years later, DDLJ is not just a film. It’s a feeling, a memory, a mirror to who we were and who we still long to be.

Perhaps that’s why we keep returning to Maratha Mandir, to the Alps, to the train that never really stopped running.