Let's start with the good stuff: Shiva Kumar Kasaram is genuinely compelling as Sanju. He handles the transition from wide-eyed kid to world-weary adult without it feeling jarring, and he's got that rare quality where you actually want to see things work out for him. Swetha Lakshman matches him beat for beat as Sahaa - she's got a warmth to her performance that makes it easy to understand why Sanju gets so tangled up in his own head around her.
Director Nishanth Doti clearly has an affection for his characters, and that affection translates to the screen. The childhood sequences have a lived-in quality that avoids the saccharine trap a lot of films fall into. Shekar Chandra's music does a lot of heavy lifting here, especially in the emotional montages, where it swells at exactly the right moments without feeling manipulative.
That said, 165 minutes is a long time to spend with anyone, and Sahaa feels every bit of its runtime. There's a good 20 to 25 minutes that could've been trimmed without losing anything essential. The pacing drags considerably in the second half, particularly in the stretch leading up to the climax. Some of the comedy subplots feel like padding, and there are moments where the film seems to forget whether it wants to be a lighthearted romance or a more serious drama. Tonally, it wobbles.
The chemistry between the leads is good but not electric - which is a problem when the entire premise hinges on their connection. You believe they care about each other, but you don't quite believe they'd upend their lives for each other. For a film about nostalgia and reawakened feelings, it could've used a few more sparks.
Still, there's something admirable about a movie that wears its heart on its sleeve. It's not trying to be clever or subversive. It just wants to tell a story about a guy, a girl, and the memories that bind them. And on that modest level, it succeeds more often than it fails.