There’s a line Shruti says in the movie:
“We have everything, except love. He has nothing, except love.”
A poem comes to mind—“Like a plague in the air, cries for living spread wide,
My heart burns in fever I cannot hide.”
In the exhaustion of the worldly race for achievement, the heart wants to escape, to run toward that familiar, gentle, peaceful happiness.
Barfi doesn’t have loads of money or grand luxury.
He has torn shoes, a shaky bicycle, a simple and free life, and a big, kind heart.
Shruti fell in love with this cheerful, warm-hearted man.
But like a sudden storm, the uncertainty of the future brought her to the doorstep of confusion.
Maybe she lost that love to time—or maybe, she found it again, but in a much quieter, faded form.
A special girl, Jhilmil, finds someone whom her heart accepts as her own.
Jhilmil proves that even a heart without calculations, without hate, even with limitations—but full of joy and trust—can hold great love.
At some point, she sees herself in this stranger.
How she begins to love him, how that love grows—this is the beautiful creation of the film.
People like Barfi are like flowers on this earth.
In their simplicity, the trees smile, nature smiles, and the whole world smiles with them.
Barfis prove that even with obstacles in life, their hearts survive holding on to one firm truth, one belief—called joy.
