It's a jerky ride, with a convenient story that allows the protagonist to enter unknown people's houses and stay on as a guest. In Rajasthan, she enters into a home of some royal descendant. In Turkey she ventures, without so much as knocking on the door, into a diplomat's home. In Goa, she lands up in the Presidential suite of a five-star hotel. And she's not alone; along with her is her boyfriend and their friend.
To elaborate further: Esha Deol is Tanya. She is a successful author. One day she finds out that she is not the daughter of the parents she is living with. She learns that she was adopted. She cries herself silly. She now wants to find out who her real parents are. She learns that she was rescued from a fire and adopted by the officer who saved her. She lands up at Bombay Hospital, where Johnny Lever offers her a name from the records that are available. This guy happens to live in Rajasthan. She lands up there and tells him she is her daughter. It later transpires that she is not. Back in Mumbai, Johnny Lever gives her another name and this time she is off to Turkey. Here too she fails to find her dad. Finally, she ventures to Goa. So will she find her real father?
The basic premise of learning about one's adoption and wanting to know who your biological parents are is perfect. But the immature way in which Hema Malini deals with this complex subject is what is absolutely shocking. It's a joke. And a terrible one at that. Also, there is no flow to the story and every attempt to find her real father turns into something of a farce
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