Set against the backdrop of 1992 Delhi, The Married Woman is one of the most emotionally layered and visually poetic lesbian dramas ever made in India. It is not just about forbidden love between two women — it’s about silence, duty, emotional repression, and the quiet fire that starts when a woman dares to look at herself honestly for the first time.
This is a story of awakening, of crossing social boundaries, and of learning that desire is not selfish — it’s human. In a country still learning to accept queer identities, this series stands out as a rare and brave exploration of womanhood, love, and liberation.
The Married Woman Official Trailer
The Married Woman Summary |
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| Title: | The Married Woman |
| Series Info: | India (2021) |
| Length: | 35 minutes |
| Total Episodes: | 11 episodes |
| Genre: | Romance, Girl's love |
Plot
In 1992 Delhi, Astha, a conventional middle-class wife and mother, meets Peeplika, a free-spirited artist. What begins as a fleeting attraction slowly turns into an emotional awakening for Astha, who has spent her life performing the roles expected of her — a dutiful wife, a caring mother, and a silent woman.
But in Peeplika, she sees a mirror, a challenge, and a door to a world she has long suppressed within herself. Torn between societal expectations and personal desire, Astha must confront her fears, her needs, and the true meaning of freedom.
The Married Woman Cast
Charactor
A married woman caught in a cycle of routine, Astha’s journey is one of quiet rebellion, desire, and self-reclamation.
Riddhi Dogra
Riddhi Dogra delivers one of her finest performances to date, capturing the inner conflict of a woman torn between comfort and courage. She is especially powerful in moments of silence and restraint, giving Astha the depth she deserves.
A passionate artist with a painful past, Peeplika is Astha’s opposite — but also her mirror.
Monica Dogra
Monica Dogra, known for her indie music and outspoken persona, is magnetic as Peeplika. Her presence commands attention, and her portrayal balances charisma with vulnerability, making the character unforgettable.
The Married Woman Review
Review
The Married Woman is not just a love story between two women — it is a layered, delicate, and poignant tale of a woman awakening to her own desires and selfhood in a society that thrives on conformity. The series explores the invisible boundaries that define a woman’s life in marriage, motherhood, and morality — and what happens when she dares to cross them.
Astha, who lives a scripted life filled with domestic responsibilities and a husband who neither abuses nor loves her deeply, finds herself unraveling upon meeting Peeplika. The contrast between them is striking: Astha is restrained, cautious, and conditioned; Peeplika is bold, unapologetic, and fluid. Their chemistry is magnetic from the start, with conversations that slip into poetry, glances that scream louder than dialogue, and intimacy that feels earned rather than forced.
But the brilliance of the series lies in how it navigates emotional messiness — the guilt, the shame, the temptation to stay in your cocoon. Peeplika is not a savior figure. She is messy herself, stubborn and manipulative at times, but so deeply human. The way she forces Astha to reckon with her own desires — not just for love, but for freedom — is both brutal and necessary.
The ending might be bittersweet, but it is deeply realistic. It’s not about getting the girl, it’s about getting yourself back. For Astha, who spends most of her life being someone for others, choosing herself — even if it means staying — is a radical act. This is a rare South Asian series that doesn’t glamorize queerness, but roots it in cultural specificity, female agency, and emotional maturity.
Best Scenes of The Married Woman
One of the most unforgettable scenes in The Married Woman occurs during Astha and Peeplika’s anniversary kiss on the rooftop — bold, defiant, and deliberate. Peeplika, dressed in a striking red saree, leans in and kisses Astha in full view of her sister-in-law. It’s not just an act of love; it’s an act of resistance. The camera lingers not only on the kiss but on Astha’s stunned expression — caught between fear and thrill, between tradition and truth. It is a visual mic drop, a scene that changes everything.