Aashayein is about the solemn subject of death, and it chooses to tell its story with unabashed melodrama — sad, sentimental and often silly. And yet, Nagesh Kukunoor’s Aashayein works because it is basically good-hearted and well-mannered. While making us cry, it has the decency, and balls, to crack a joke and make us laugh.

We first meet Rahul (John Abraham) in a grotty courtyard where men are gathered around TV sets, taking bets on cellphones. Rahul has put in all his and his girlfriend Nafisa’s (Sonal Sehgal) savings on an India-Zimbabwe match. It’s all or nothing. Smoking, fidgeting, watching, he finally wins. It’s a lot of money. So Rahul quits his job, plans to chase his dream of owning a resort, throws a party and proposes to Nafisa. But before the ring is on Nafisa’s finger, Rahul collapses. It’s lung cancer and he has three months to live.

Distraught, Rahul goes through the emotional circle of denial, anger and grief. After chiding God during a midnight jog, he returns home, rolls up his Raiders of the Lost Ark poster, packs some money and clothes in his red rucksack and leaves for a hospice somewhere in south India, by the beach. Nafisa wakes up to find a suitcase full of cash, but no message or contact number.

At the hospice, Rahul meets its genial staff in cream-and-maroon uniform and other patients: There’s Sister Grace (Prateeksha Lonkar), Partha (Girish Karnad) who speaks through an electrolarynx, AIDS patient Madhu (Farida Jalal), little bald Govinda (Master Ashwin Chitale) and the resident witch-in-a-wheelchair, Padma (Anaitha Nair). From his world in Mumbai where kismet was often invoked, Rahul is now amidst people who talk of karma and sigh. Stories are exchanged and bonds form. As the patients and their ticks and regrets come to life, the stench of death and Dettol begins to fade.

Rahul settles in, smokes, orders tandoori chicken and butter-naan and continues to live his life as a challenge to providence and his doctor’s prognosis. “Bring it on”, he seems to say, with every puff, every morning jog. And when it strikes, as excruciating pain every night, he doubles up, crawls, cries. But when it passes, he smiles.

Precocious Padma and Rahul become friends. They chat, joke, watch Anand, and while Aashayein is busy serving up socially-pertinent messages on AIDS, prostitution, conservative parents and smoking, something magical happens — Rahul goes to meet little Govinda, shares his mangoes, and begins to feel the boy’s divine touch. One day Govinda tells Rahul a story, about an Indiana Jones-type character who must venture out and save some trapped ghosts. Rahul is puzzled. Did Govinda see his poster? Rahul is not sure but decides to team up with Padma to throw a beach party for all staff and patients. They serve drinks, hire a band to sing a hum-along-and-sway gospel song, and collect everyone’s last wish.

The Bucket List is long — water-bike ride, family reunion, toffee-showers... but the Wish Fairy Club makes all dreams come true. Because Rahul and Padma are special, they share their wishes only with each other, but these are to be read only when the end is near. Padma’s wish is straight-forward, but Rahul’s entails an adventure in a fancy dress...

Director Nagesh Kukunoor, who makes a brief but sweet appearance in his film, has very cleverly put a bright yellow smiley on his glum story. Aashayein, which is essentially a DIY handbook on how to live life when put on a short notice, is predictable, fantastical, even mental at times. But Kukunoor’s cordial style of telling his story makes it warm and moving. The divinity bit, for example, is jarring but you carry along because it offers hope — and because “miracle boy” himself is a non-believer and an avid comic reader.

The film’s story, though borrowed from tragic yet inspiring Hollywood cancer wards with bald kids and dying wishes, has desi characters with desi problems. Despite the fact that most of Kukunoor’s characters are clichéd, they all have a high emotional quotient and are inhabited by high-calibre actors. The complex character of Padma and the lost and baffled Rahul are both endearing.

Though Aashayein’s story is sad and depressing, it is packed with laughter, humour and joy of life. All syrupy stuff. But I left the hall smiling, throwing an imaginary high-five to Nagesh Kukunoor and John Abraham.

Before Aashayein I would have winced and died if someone said that John Abraham plays Anand (yes, of lymphosarcoma of the intestine fame). But post-Aashayein, I’m game. I liked John in Water and really like him here. He’s no thespian but he makes his character and emotions work. And rather well at times. A cheer here for the SRK school of emoting.

Anaitha Nair as Padma, the self-loathing and self-lacerating creature, is fabulous. She is the perfect loopy and rough foil to the gentle and saccharine John. Sonal Sehgal is efficient and it was a pleasure to meet Girish Karnad again.

Aashayein is set in an appropriately dreamy place. Shot almost entirely in Puducherry, it is beautiful to look at. The film’s music is nice too.