'Dhurandhar' Dhamaal - A Hindi Movie Masterpiece!

I began this final blog of the year planning to write about Rahul Gandhi and his decision to skip parliament. Honestly, I felt uninspired by the topic. However, after watching the Hindi movie 'Dhurandhar' yesterday, my entire perspective shifted. 'Dhurandhar' is a gripping political thriller that explores the intricate ties between terrorism, politics, and intelligence operations in India. The film struck a deep chord with me, evoking a sense of urgency and concern about the political landscape. Its powerful storytelling and raw depiction of events left me both moved and alarmed. It made me reflect on the stark realities of political decisions and reinforced my resolve not to vote for Rahul Gandhi or the Congress Party. How did we even survive the Manmohan Singh era?

The Plotline:

The plotline was not easy to present. The time period spans over a decade, and the movie covers some of the most bloody and inhumane acts of barbarity against India, including events inspired by the actual Kandahar hijacking and the gruesome 26/11 Mumbai attacks. The film also imagines mafia violence happening in Karachi intertwined with these occurrences. These events are woven into the perspective of a fictional Indian undercover operative who has deeply embedded himself into the unholy nexus of ISI, the Karachi underworld, and corrupt Indian politicians (at least, one of those politicians' names rhymes with 'findambaram'). This complex task was masterfully handled by Aditya Dhar, who directed and co-wrote the movie. As Indian political will steels up, Indian intelligence devises a desperate plan to safeguard its innocent civilians. Agencies plant Indian undercover operatives and set a long-term plan in motion. The film’s second part is already much anticipated.

Why does it work?

Simply put, the movie is outstanding. It’s subtle at times, but it goes all out during some fight scenes. While it has all the elements of a typical Hindi masala film, the filmmakers respect the audience’s intelligence. The script is layered but always clear. The violence is graphic, but it feels necessary. The story is based on real events, and I believe the actual events were even more brutal. Some critics quickly labeled the film as propaganda. I hadn’t heard much about it before the first trailer, but after seeing the backlash from certain groups, I suspected it would be impressive. If showing the harsh reality is propaganda, then so be it. The film succeeds both as a movie and in its message. It entertains while also highlighting the ongoing threat of Islamic religious extremism and the lack of political will to protect innocent people at the time. Particularly, the events of the 26/11 Mumbai terror attack and the 2001 Parliament attack were skillfully shown. The usage of real-life footage, the humanization of innocents, as well as the security personnel who were killed, using real audio of a Pakistani handler directing terrorists in Mumbai after watching utterly shameful coverage of Indian media (ahem...the name that rhymes with ‘Darkha’!) cuts too deep. The jubilation shown by the perpetrators shows how the anti-India and anti-Hindu sentiment runs deeply within Pakistan. Kudos to Aditya Dhar for creating maximum impact on the audience.

The acting is excellent. Ranvir Sing combines star power with real talent. His presence is strong, and his expressions are powerful, especially in scenes where he regrets not being able to prevent the 26/11 Mumbai attacks. The supporting cast is also impressive. Akshay Khanna deserves all the praise he’s getting. I was especially struck by Rakesh Bedi’s performance as a corrupt politician—it was a standout. The slimness of a politician is succinctly portrayed. I hope Rakesh Bedi wins some awards for it.

The movie could have been at least half an hour shorter. The love angle, though critical to the plotline, could have been cut a bit. The violent last fight was a bit unbelievable, especially since the movie, till then, had shown the violence quite masterfully. Sanjay Dutt's entry and his overall presence is bit distracting. His character is important and Sanjay Dutt does fit the role but somehow the impact wasn't as much as it should have been. On the Indian side, the intelligence apparatus could have been shown beyond Ajit Doval’s presence. Ajit Doval was (and is) critical to Indian intelligence, but I am sure there were individuals who played their role. The audience would have loved to know about them. Perhaps that will come in the second part.

Political implications: 

The movie draws on real events, such as the Kandahar hijacking during the Vajpayee government era. Then the series of bomb blasts and ghastly 26/11 Mumbai attack under Manmohan Singh (i.e., Sonia) era. The lack of political will to stand up to Islamic terrorism of the Vajpayee era quickly descended into the utterly corrupt politics of the Manmohan Singh era, leading to multiple terrorist attacks in India going completely unanswered by the government. The Manmohan Singh era, especially, was utterly hopeless and spineless. Internal Muslim appeasement vote bank politics actively interfered with India’s need to stand up to the Pakistani Islamic terrorism state machinery. Hundreds of lives were lost to the politics of Sonias, Digvijay, and Chidambarams of the ruling junta. How many more lives of the Indian armed forces or of Indian intelligence were lost to these anti-national politicians? We may never know. I just hope India never elects that political party or ever entertains the dangerous buffoonery of Rahul Gandhi. I generally disliked them for their dynastic incompetence and a track record of family-first, India-second politics. The film shows the actual events that tell me that I never want to vote for Congress or I never want Congress to ever come to power because these people will not think twice before handing over the country to Pakistan or to China if the price is right. It’s remarkable that the country survived the Manmohan Singh era as well as it did.

The job of any movie is to entertain first. If a filmmaker wants to send a message to society or highlight something critical to it, they have to do so only through the lens of entertainment. Balancing a message with entertainment is not easy. Dhurandhar is a rare Hindi movie that pulls this off successfully, and for that, the entire crew deserves great appreciation. It's worthwhile to consider how other Hindi films like 'Sarfarosh' and 'Border' have similarly managed this balance, delivering strong social messages while engaging the audience. Dhurandhar is certainly a worthy successor to such movies. 

The New Yorker at 100 - Falling in love all over again!

The documentary celebrating The New Yorker’s 100 years recently dropped on Netflix. Had I known it was in the making, I would have counted the days. Fortunately, I didn’t, so the joy of stumbling upon it in the listings was pure and indescribable.

I have been reading The New Yorker for the better part of two decades. I treasure its unique, diverse, and deeply informative articles, but my special love is reserved for the cartoons—the single-panel gags scattered throughout each issue. They are often razor-sharp on current politics, yet for me it’s the dark humor that lands hardest. In an age of heightened sensitivity, where insults are detected at warp speed, much that needs saying goes unsaid, and what is said too often feels banal. We don’t laugh enough at our social ills and idiosyncrasies. Laughter, after all, doesn’t have to degrade; sometimes it’s the only way to lighten the psychological weight of events that defy logic and years!

I remember my first encounter vividly. Back in New Jersey, I’d left my car with a mechanic and was trying to kill time in his waiting area. The mechanic, it turned out, was a kindred spirit: his office held stacks of old and new New Yorkers. I picked one up, flipped through, and landed on David Grann’s “The Lost City of Z.” I’d never read the magazine before, but I couldn’t stop. Between the long-form archaeology and history of El Dorado, the cartoon captions offered bursts of relief and delight. My plan had been to drop off the car and head home; instead, I stayed until I’d finished the entire piece. That article didn’t just introduce me to forgotten histories—it opened the door to an experience where, like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’ll get next.

I usually skip “Shouts & Murmurs”—its satire doesn’t quite resonate with me. “Goings On About Town” was essential when I lived in the area. “The Talk of the Town” remains a must-read for its topical variety and crisp briefing on key issues, especially in the American political landscape. I rarely miss “Briefly Noted” in the book reviews, or the longer pieces that weave a deep dive into a subject through reviews of two or three related books. Some are dense enough to feel like a weekly PhD thesis. The magazine executes this format masterfully, aiming not just to inform but to equip readers with the perspective to think independently—a noble mission, especially as we enter an era where AI-generated content threatens that very ability. (Though a recent piece musing that AI might soon achieve consciousness was, I thought, rather wide of the mark.)

Every long-form essay lands differently depending on how one connects with it. For me, the foreign-affairs pieces stand out. The in-depth reporting from Iraq and Afghanistan should be required reading in universities. Beyond on-the-ground journalism, the magazine excels at weaving history into current events—reminding us that today’s shadows are cast by the past. Amitav Ghosh’s piece on Subhas Chandra Bose’s Indian National Army and the Bengali communists in Burma astonished me, as these articles so often do. Age brings a certain jadedness, the sense that nothing can surprise anymore, but The New Yorker regularly proves otherwise. It catches you off-guard, rekindling curiosity. One never knows what the next issue holds—perhaps an essay on frogs, or V.S. Naipaul reflecting on his craft (or Paul Theroux reflecting on Naipaul) or the essay called 'Emotional Baggage' musings on troubles of packing, the different types of baggage and philosophical musing on the entire exercise experience. Such pieces remind us how fascinating the life can be and, humbling the world remains.

The documentary lives up to its billing—to an extent. Placing The New Yorker as the subject rather than the observer is a tricky proposition; it’s an ocean of individual reader experiences. The documentary attempts to distill this essence and largely succeeds, chronicling the run-up to the centenary issue while touching on the magazine’s history, eliteness, occasional snobbery, and endearing eccentricities. It does an admirable job, yet I wished for deeper exploration of the editorial process: how topics and writers are chosen, and the worldview that shapes what appears on the page. Not just celebration (of which there is plenty to celebrate), but a spotlight on the magazine’s soul—including its persistent warnings about the erosion of democratic values. The bias the magazine editors sometimes blithely display is as surprising as it is bewildering. Fundamentalism of opposite spectrum always meet like a circle. Bush administration frothed at mouth talking about 'planting' democracy in Iraq. Though the magazine has been a constant critic of that administration, The New Yorker, one can argue, is guilty of looking at political events of non-western (i.e. non-white world!) through 'American democracy' lenses. Of course, no publication is obliged to be right or mature on every front. Not all chocolates in the box are well prepared!

I doubt the founders ever imagined their upstart weekly would endure a full century, evolving with the times yet fiercely guarding its witty, curious soul—a cornerstone of beautiful writing, independent thinking, and just the right hint of humor. I am sure they will be pleased if they are to magically appear today.

Watching the film felt like stumbling upon another unexpected treasure in a mechanic’s stack of back issues. Here’s to The New Yorker: may the next hundred years surprise, challenge, and delight us just as unpredictably.