Akhil Pillai

Moothon in Lokah: Myth, Aliens, or Something More?

When Lokah: Chapter 1 dropped, we met Neeli, Chathan, and Odiyan. But behind all of them, one name kept surfacing — Who is Moothon (With Mammootty voice over). A mysterious power controlling immortals, never shown, only hinted at. So, who is Moothon?

The Epic of Gilgamesh (an epic from ancient Mesopotamia)

To answer that, we need to look beyond Kerala’s Aithihyamala. From the film’s title card itself, there’s a hint pointing towards ancient Mesopotamian myths, where gods, aliens, and immortals often overlap.

While explaining the flashback, we see child Neeli looking at a cuneiform text — the wedge-shaped script of ancient Mesopotamia — carved inside the cave.

This links the beheaded idol that Neeli sees to Ishtar, the Mesopotamian goddess.

So, this mesopotamian connection makes sense.

But let me tell you, I’m doubtful whether the makers used actual Mesopotamian scripts here or not, because it looks more like the Zonai script from the video game The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom.

TL;DR – The Moothon–Enki Theory

The people of ancient Mesopotamia, living between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, imagined the world as shaped by a vast family of gods and goddesses (much like the Greeks or Hindus). This pantheon was not just a group of divine figures, but a complex society — with rules, rivalries, leaders, and conflicts.

Understanding this divine family is the first step to understanding the Mesopotamian world — and, perhaps, Moothon’s place within it in Lokah.

Our theory connects Moothon to the Mesopotamian deity Enki, as reinterpreted by Zecharia Sitchin’s “ancient astronaut” theory.

In this view, Moothon is a powerful Anunnaki leader who created and protected humanity, standing against destructive gods like Ishtar. This article breaks down the myths and fringe theories that support this connection — and explains how Lokah might be reworking them.

The Beginning of Creation in Mesopotamian Myth

Before the world existed, myths say there was only water in chaos. From that endless ocean came two mighty forces:

Apsu – the spirit of fresh water flowing under the earth.
Tiamat – the spirit of the wild, salty sea.

When their waters met, life began. The first gods were born — younger, restless, and full of energy. But their noise disturbed their parents. This tension set the stage for a cosmic conflict, one that shaped the heavens, the earth, and the world humans live in today.

Anu, the Sky Father

At the very top stood An (called Anu by the Akkadians). He was the god of the sky, the highest authority, and known as the “Father of the Gods.”

Human kings claimed their right to rule came from him.
His authority was called anûtu (“Anu-power”).

Yet despite his supreme title, Anu was distant. He lived in the highest heaven, he rarely came down to interfere with gods or humans.

The day-to-day world was instead shaped by more active gods like Enlil. This mirrored Mesopotamian politics: a high king ruling over many city-states, while local governors held real influence.

Who is Enlil?

The Anunnaki: The Great Gods Who Gave Orders

The most important gods in mesopotamian myths were the Anunnaki (“those of royal blood”). They were the children and grand children of An (Anu) and Ki (Antu).

Their main role: deciding the fate of humans.

The most famous group was the “seven gods who decide”:

An (Anu) – god of the sky
Enlil – god of air and storms
Enki (Ea) – god of water and wisdom
Ninhursag (Antu) – goddess of earth
Nanna (Sin) – god of the moon
Utu (Shamash) – god of the sun and justice
Inanna (Ishtar) – goddess of love and war

In early stories, the Anunnaki ruled as high gods in heaven. Later, they became judges of the underworld, showing how beliefs about death evolved.

The Ruling Triad: A Model for Lokah’s Power Struggles?

Even though Anu was the high king of the gods, he did not rule alone. He shared his power with two other great deities, forming what myths describe as a ruling triad.

Enlil – God of air, wind, and storms. The son of Anu and Ki, he was often the most powerful god in action. While Anu stayed distant, Enlil carried out the decisions of the gods and eventually became the active head of the pantheon.
Enki (Ea) – God of water, wisdom, and creation. Known for his cleverness, Enki was seen as a friend to humans. He often warned them about the harsh plans of the other gods, like in the story of the Great Flood.

Together, Anu (sky), Enlil (air), and Enki (water) ruled over the three great domains of the universe.

Family Tree of Mesopotamian dieties Enki & Enlil

In Lokah, this triad can be seen as a model for hidden cosmic power struggles, where Moothon (like Enki) is the quiet protector, and Ishtar plays the enforcer.

Ningal, the Great Lady, and Nanna, the Moon God

In Mesopotamian myths, one of the most important divine couples was Ningal and Nanna. They ruled over the night sky and the fertile lands, and together their family explained much of how the world worked.

Ningal, the Great Queen

The name Ningal means “Great Lady” or “Great Queen.” She was the daughter of Enki, the god of water and wisdom, and Ningikuga, the goddess of reeds and marshlands. Because of this, Ningal was strongly connected to the wetlands of southern Mesopotamia — the very place where Sumerian civilisation grew. She was the protector goddess of the great city of Ur.

Nanna, the Moon God

Ningal’s husband was Nanna, called Sin by the Akkadians, the god of the moon. He ruled the cycles of the night sky and was linked to the measurement of time, since the months were counted by the phases of the moon.

Like Ningal, Nanna’s main temple was in Ur, and their marriage was celebrated in myth. Stories about their union were told to teach the value of family and marriage in Mesopotamian society.

Their Divine Family

Together, Ningal and Nanna created a family that reflected the natural order:

Utu (Shamash), the sun god of justice
Inanna (Ishtar), the goddess of love and war, is linked to the planet Venus. Ishtar was also known as the “Queen of Heaven”.

This family gave people a complete picture of the world. Ningal, born of water and reeds, represented the fertile earth. Nanna, as the moon, ruled the rhythm of the night sky.

From Myth to Sci-Fi: The Zecharia Sitchin Theory

In Mesopotamian myth, the sky god Anu ruled as the “Father of the Gods.” From his bloodline came powerful deities, and they are the Anunnaki.

Later, Zecharia Sitchin’s book The 12th Planet (1976) spun a radical theory: the Anunnaki were not gods, but aliens from Planet X (Nibiru).

The Anunnaki were aliens from a hidden planet called Nibiru.
They came to mine gold to repair their atmosphere.
When the work became too much, they created humans (mixing their DNA with Homo erectus).

According to Sitchin, humans were not born to worship, but born to work.

Zecharia Sitchin was not a historian, but a writer with a very bold idea. He believed they were just advanced humans from space with technology that looked like magic to ancient people.

Why This Theory Resonates with Lokah

This idea matches Lokah’s tagline: They Live Among Us.

Moothon as Enki → the one who gave knowledge, always protecting humanity.
Ishtar as antagonist → bitter and destructive, still hunting.

Lokah reimagines these conflicts through its immortal characters.

Want to know more? It’s too long to read, but worth if you are really interested.

The 12th Planet – Nibiru

According to Sitchin, their home was a hidden planet called Nibiru, which moves around the sun in a very long orbit, taking 3,600 years to come close to Earth. He called it the “12th Planet” if we count the Sun, Moon, and Pluto as planets.

Why They Came to Earth

He claimed the Anunnaki came here 450,000 years ago for a practical reason — to mine gold. They needed it to repair their own atmosphere, by turning the gold into fine dust to protect their planet. This was not about spirituality, but pure survival.

The Creation of Humans

But the work was hard. The Anunnaki workers themselves got tired of digging. To solve this, their leaders created a new species. Sitchin says they mixed their own DNA with that of Homo erectus, an early human. The result was Homo sapiens — us. Not born to worship, but born to work. In his telling, humanity was created as a slave race.

Why It’s Controversial

Sitchin’s story is exciting, but historians do not accept it. His translations of Sumerian texts are disputed, and mainstream archaeology sees the Anunnaki as mythical gods, not aliens. Still, his theory became popular because it mixes myth, science fiction, and conspiracy in one package.

The Gift of Civilization

After creating humans, the Anunnaki did not stop at making miners. They also gave humans knowledge and skills. According to Sitchin, this is why Sumerian civilization appeared so suddenly, with advanced ideas in astronomy, farming, and city life.

The Anunnaki even set up cities and declared themselves as gods. To control people better, they introduced “kingship” — where humans ruled on their behalf, acting as a link between the masses and their alien overlords.

The Great Flood: A Planned Extinction

As humans grew in number, their noise and rebellions irritated Enlil, one of the Anunnaki leaders. Around the same time, a disaster was coming: Sitchin says the orbit of their planet Nibiru would pull on Earth, breaking the Antarctic ice sheet and causing a global flood.

Enlil wanted to use this flood as a chance to wipe out humanity. The council agreed not to warn humans. But Enki, who had helped create mankind, disagreed. He secretly told a loyal human (known as Utnapishtim in Mesopotamian myth, or Noah in the Bible or Matsya Purana from hinduism) to build a huge boat. In it, he saved his family and the seeds of all living things.

As the waters rose, the Anunnaki watched from orbit in their ships.

A New Beginning and the Wars of the Gods

When the waters went down, Earth was empty. The Anunnaki realised they had made a mistake — they still needed humans. So, they helped the survivors rebuild civilisation.

But peace didn’t last. Two factions of the Anunnaki fell into conflict:

Enlil’s side – strict rulers, focused on order and punishment.
Enki’s side – scientists and creators, closer to humanity.

These clashes were fought not just with words but with wars over resources and cities. Sitchin even reinterprets old stories like the Tower of Babel as battles between alien factions, with humans used as soldiers in their fights.

Nuclear Calamity and Departure

The conflict reached its worst point around 2024 B.C. One faction used nuclear weapons to destroy the Sinai spaceport and nearby cities like Sodom and Gomorrah, so they would not fall to the enemy.

The Fall of the Anunnaki and the Rise of Moothon

In Sitchin’s story, the nuclear blast of 2024 B.C. changed everything for the Anunnaki.

Enlil: The End of a Reign

Enlil, the commander, was the one who pushed for the nuclear strike, along with his son Ninurta and the council of gods. The plan was simple: stop Enki’s son Marduk from taking over the Sinai spaceport and becoming supreme.

But it backfired. The nuclear cloud — remembered in ancient texts as the “evil wind” — drifted east into Sumer, Enlil’s own land. People died, rivers turned toxic, fields went barren. Sumer collapsed almost overnight, and with it, Enlil’s authority.

The great age of Enlil was over. He and his family had no choice but to leave their ruined cities and scatter.

Enki: The Long Game Pays Off

Enki had opposed the use of nuclear weapons, and though he too saw the destruction as a tragedy, it cleared the path for his side.

His firstborn son Marduk (Ra in Egypt) rose out of the chaos as the strongest.

With Enlil’s cities destroyed and the spaceport gone, there was no one left to block Marduk. The council was forced to recognize his supremacy.

For the first time, the “Enlilship” — the status of chief god — passed to Enki’s line. The long rivalry between the brothers was decided.

Ishtar: The Fallen Queen

Ishtar (Inanna) was tied to Enlil’s clan. She had fought bitterly against Marduk, trying to restore her city Uruk as the center of power. But when Sumer fell, so did her temples, her cult, and her influence.

Her rivalry with Marduk ended in defeat. While Sitchin’s texts don’t give her much detail after the disaster, she was left weakened, just another displaced power in the aftermath.

The Departure of the Gods

Sitchin’s final claim comes in his book The End of Days: after centuries of trying to recover, the Anunnaki eventually left Earth around 556 B.C.

The last temples closed, the myths hardened into religion, and humans were left to run history alone. But the gods promised they would return.

How Lokah Might Use This

Now let’s bring this back to Lokah. The film begins with Ishtar sending assassins to capture Neeli, who is hiding in a burning building, holding something secret. At the same time, we hear Moothon calling Neeli back.

This connects perfectly with Sitchin’s framework:

Moothon could be Enki, the one who always protected humanity, the giver of knowledge, the voice that calls Neeli home.
Ishtar, bitter after her defeat, still acts as an antagonist, hunting Neeli just as she once hunted Marduk’s followers.

Final Thoughts – What Do You Think?

Is Moothon really Enki, the protector of humanity? Or is he another hidden figure from Mesopotamian lore?

Share your own Lokah theories in the comments below!

Lokah Detailed Explanation

Lokah Chapter 1 (2025) Explained

So, you just finished watching Lokah: Chapter 1, and you might have questions. Who exactly are these immortals? Who is Dulquer, and what is he doing as a Ninja? And what’s with that surprise ARM–Maniyan connection at the end? This blog will walk you through the climax, explain the roles of Neeli, Chathan, and Odiyan, and highlight all the unanswered questions that set the stage for Chapter 2.

Lokah vs Minnal Murali: A Different Superhero Blueprint

We have Minnal Murali, our first superhero film from Mollywood. While Minnal Murali was a complete story about one hero’s origin, Lokah is designed as the first part of a larger film series. It introduces a new world and many characters to build a foundation for future stories.

Lokah: A Full Plot Summary (Spoilers)

Nasleen as Sunny & Kalyani Priyadarshan as Chandrah (Neeli)

The story of Lokah Chapter 1: Chandra is an origin story that introduces the main character and her world.

The film is set in modern-day Bengaluru.
The central character is Chandra (Kalyani Priyadarshan), mysterious with a difficult past. She works night shifts at a café.
Living across from her are three unemployed men—Sunny (Naslen), Nijil (Arun Kurian), and Venu (Chandu Salimkumar). They notice her strange behaviour. Sunny develops a crush and curiosity about her.
Chandra is revealed as a Yakshi called Kalliyankattu Neeli, inspired by Kerala folklore. In the myths, Neeli terrorised Panchavankadu and was impaled by Kadamattathu Kathanar.
In Lokah, Kathanar (Sunny Wayne) once impaled Neeli, but later he liberated her after realising she was a good spirit who was fighting against evil men. In modern times, his descendants run a secret hotel in Bengaluru where immortals gather. They are controlled by a supreme power called Moothon, whose identity remains unrevealed.
The conflict begins when Chandra’s co-worker is threatened by an organ trafficking gang. She steps in, revealing her superhuman powers.

Later, the director reveals glimpses of many other immortals—like Chathans, Tovino in the form of a magician in Bengaluru, and Dulquer Salmaan is playing the character of Odiyan (Ninja fighter).

Analysis of the Screenplay

The screenplay for Lokah was written by the director, Dominic Arun, with additional screenplay and dramaturgy by actress and writer Santhy Balachandran.

In 2017, when Tharangam came out, I thoroughly enjoyed it because of its narrative style and black humour. Even his short film Mrithyumjayam (a noir short film) worked for me.

Dominic Arun’s First Short Film

What went wrong with Tharangam was its racy screenplay and intricate plot that used non-linear sequences, animation, and split screens to create a dynamic viewing experience. But many felt it was too overwhelming and complex.

In Lokah, the film’s main plot is very simple. I felt the story did not have enough complexity. The script focuses more on introducing the world of Lokah and its many characters than on telling a complicated, self-contained story. This focus on world-building is a key part of its design as the first chapter of a franchise.

Santhy Balachandran’s contribution to the screenplay is significant. Her work on dramaturgy suggests she helped shape the story’s structure and its mythological themes, ensuring the folklore elements were woven into the modern superhero narrative in a meaningful way. Her views on a patriarchal society are also layered in Lokah.

How Lokah Uses the Superhero Formula

Superhero films typically follow the hero’s journey. Let me explain that with my favourite superhero Batman:

Origin and Backstory – Bruce Wayne witnesses his parents’ murder.
Call to Action – He decides Gotham needs a protector.
Training or Preparation – Learns combat and stealth from the League of Shadows.
Initial Confrontation (Setback) – Faces Joker but suffers losses like Rachel’s death.
Low Point / Dark Moment – Bane breaks him and Gotham falls.
Final Battle and Transformation – Returns, defeats Bane, and finds a life beyond Batman.

Lokah follows a similar structure, but with non-linear narration.

Is Chandrah a Vampire? Why is she Immortal?

Chandra, as a child, was infected with a mysterious virus. She became a Yakshi, called Neeli. This is inspired by Aithihyamala, where Kalliyankattu Neeli was a Yakshi eventually liberated by a priest called Kadamattathu Kathanar.

But Santhy gives an alternate ending here: Neeli was not evil. Kathanar gave her freedom to do good, and she continued fighting evils across centuries, living on as an immortal.

Now in Bengaluru, she keeps a low profile and works night shifts. This is clearly inspired by vampire stories (Even chandra’s super speed is inspired from MCU Quick silver effect)—where someone bitten also becomes a vampire, avoiding sunlight as they age.

If you notice, during the Kiliye Kiliye song, Chandra enters Sunny’s house only after he invites her inside. This is just like the scenes in Sinners, where vampires can enter a home only if they’re given permission. That’s another hint that Chandra is actually a vampire.

People might ask: Why doesn’t Kalyani look old even after hundreds of years? The same reason—Santhy and Dominic Arun are portraying Kalyani’s character, Chandra, as a vampire-like immortal who was infected by a virus. Vampires reach maturity faster and then stop ageing.

She confronts an organ trafficking gang. The editing by Chaman Chacko is brilliant here, along with the narrative style. A grandfather (played by Vijayaraghavan) tells the story of how a little girl became a Yakshi and fought against mercenaries of an evil king, while in parallel, the director shows us modern-day Neeli, aka Chandra, fighting against organ traffickers.

So the rise of Chandrah in the modern day and past is presented in parallel. It answers, how she became a vampire.

Who is the Goddess in the Cave

While explaining the flashback, we see child Neeli looking at a cuneiform text — the wedge-shaped script of ancient Mesopotamia — carved inside the cave.

This links the beheaded idol that Neeli sees to Ishtar, the Mesopotamian goddess.

14 Immortals & They Live Among Us Book

Vijayaraghavan’s character Daniel is revealed to be the author of the book They Live Among Us. He is researching 14 immortals who live among us. These include Maadan, Marutha (likely played by Santhy Balachandran or Ahana Krishna, since Marutha is a female spirit), Chathan (Tovino), Yakshi (Kalyani), Odiyan (Dulquer), and possibly Bhootham/Jinn (Soubin). This is my assumption, based on Aithihyamala.

Lokah Ending Explained: The Final Battle & Post-Credit Scenes

In the end, Neeli, aka Chandra, kills the villain. Like in old myths, immortals have a weak point—the heart. This mirrors how Kathanar once tied Neeli in the past, piercing a holy knife into her heart.

After that, we see Odiyan (Dulquer) killing a few gangsters at the hotel. Chronologically, this happens before Kalyani’s fight at the same hotel. Then we get Tovino’s character, Chathan, asking someone how he managed to find him. The reply is about a viral video, where Tovino—as a magician—performed the trick of tying a shoelace in Bengaluru.

Now if we look back, in the very beginning, Naslen’s character talks about this: “I am trying to tie my shoelace the way that magician did.” That line connects directly to Chathan’s reveal.

Then, the Guest (played by Vijay Menon) asks Chathan about a picture he received from some architects who explored a cave. The picture looks exactly like Tovino. Chathan explains that there might be nearly 389 Chathans in the world who look exactly the same as him.

And here comes the real connection in the second post credit scene: we are shown Maniyan’s picture (from the film ARM, where Tovino played a mysterious character named Maniyan).

Now it all ties together — Maniyan mostly lived in caves, and his death was mysterious. Maniyan moves fast, and we can see his magical powers, so it’s fair to assume he might be a form of Karimkutty Chathan or Theekkutti Chathan.

That’s where the movie ends, leaving us with the hint that Maniyan could also be one of these Chathans.

How Maniyan( ARM) Can Be A Chathan

As per mythology and folklore, when Lord Shiva and Parvati disguised themselves as Valluvan and Valluvathi, they had two children named Karuval(Goddess) and Kuttichathan. Another story says Lord Shiva’s encounter with a beautiful forest woman named Koolivaka led to the birth of Vishnumaya Kuttichathan.

So, in all popular stories, Kuttichathan is essentially a form of Shiva. Now, if you look at the Bhairava song in ARM, the entire song is about dualism. In Hindu mythology, Bhairava is Shiva’s most wrathful form.

That connection makes the logic correct: the makers can absolutely bring Maniyan into the world of Lokah. And if they do, it would be a powerful addition to the universe.

But the real question is this: if Maniyan is indeed a Chathan, will Listin Stephen (the producer of ARM) agree to make Maniyan part of the Lokah universe?

Cultural Innovation: Kerala’s Myths in a Superhero Template

This shows that the film relies heavily on the conventional superhero template for its plot progression, choosing not to innovate structurally.

But Lokah’s innovation is not structural or deconstructive—it is cultural. The film does not parody the superhero genre or fundamentally question the morality of its hero. Instead, its main contribution is cultural transposition.

It takes the largely American superhero template, adds vampire-like features, and grounds it in a specific non-Western mythological framework: the folklore of Kerala.

The central premise of the film—that immortal beings from these legends exist in today’s world—is summed up in one idea: They live among us.

And I’m happy this is not another poor imitation of a Hollywood superhero or vampire movie sprinkled with Sanskrit verses (which is mostly what Tollywood does).

The Immortals Explained: Who Are They?

Chandra = Kalliyankattu Neeli.

Chathan = Tovino’s Kuttichathan is a mischievous but powerful spirit. Some myths say that when Kuttichathan was killed and his body torn apart, every piece became a new Chathan. This explains why there are hundreds of Chathans. Karim Kuttichathan, Vishnumaya Kuttichathan, Pulakkutti Chathan, Neerkkutti Chathan and Theekkutti Chathan are the prominet ones.

Odiyan = Dulquer’s shape-shifting assassin. Odiyans were fighters. Their primary method was assassination through fear. The source of an Odiyan’s power came from a secret and gruesome ritual that created a magical oil called Pilla Thailam (literally, “child oil”).

Possibly others: Maadan, Marutha, Bhootham/Jinn.

Together, they form a clandestine immortal society that has lived among us for centuries.

Daniel’s Secret Motive (Fan Theory)

Vijayaraghavan’s Daniel is introduced as the author of They Live Among Us, writing under the pen name Joseph Dominic. At first, he looks like a researcher documenting immortals, but his actions raise bigger questions. Why does he meet Nachiappa, the infected police officer? He collect his blood, why? Why he is doing this research?

One possible theory is that Daniel’s obsession is personal, not academic. We see hints that his granddaughter suffers from a chronic illness. If true, Daniel’s entire research may not be about revealing immortals to the world — it’s about finding a cure.

If Lokah explores this, Daniel could become one of the most morally complex characters in the universe. A grandfather trying to save his family at any cost, even if it means reviving antagonists, experimenting with immortal blood, or breaking the balance between good and evil.

And if Moothon’s control is already pulling strings, maybe Daniel isn’t just researching — maybe he’s unknowingly working for the antagonists. That twist would make him less of a mentor figure and more of a tragic player caught between love for his granddaughter and manipulation by a greater power.

Too many Questions For Lokah Chapter 2

The ending leaves us with more questions than answers. If Maniyan is really one of the 300 Chathans, what does that mean for the larger Lokah universe?

Who is Moothon? How many more immortals are hiding in plain sight? What was the mission Kalyani was trying to accomplish in the opening scene? Who is Ishthar?

Read About Moothon and his Link between Mesopotamian Dieties Here.

Is the organ trafficking gang leader Gajendran a reincarnation of the old evil king, since they look the same?

Nishanth Sagar’s character Prakash says, “Even you are a daughter to Moothon!!”—what does that mean? Why did Neeli have to come to Bengaluru in the first place, and what was her motive?

Did she already know about Gajendran’s organ trafficking and plan to kill him? And why is Dulquer’s Odiyan killing so many gangsters at the hotel?

These are questions that Lokah Chapter 1 doesn’t answer—but maybe it doesn’t need to. For now, it has given us Neeli, Chathan, and Odiyan. The rest of the story waits in the shadows.

For More Reviews and Analysis: click here

Constable Kanakam: Season 1 Review & Explained

Constable Kanakam streaming on ETV Win, directed by Prasanth Kumar Dimmala starts with a promising idea — a rural village near a mysterious forest, a series of missing girls, and a constable (Varsha Bollamma) trying to connect the dots. The story thread is genuinely gripping, with the right mix of folklore, temple traditions, and a murder mystery that builds well towards a solid ending. Here is my detailed review of Constable Kanakam starring Varsha Bollamma.

Overused Templates & Poor Execution

“A serial killer with a childhood trauma” – oh, not again!!!! Unfortunately, that’s what waiting for you in Constable Kanakam.

The making is below average, with poor CGI & cliched lazy writing that breaks the immersion. Character establishments feel cliched, and the psycho backstory with childhood trauma is something we’ve seen too many times before. The attempts at showing women empowerment are there, but instead of feeling natural, they look force-fitted and artificial.

Technicals & Performances

Cinematography (Sriram Mukkapati)
The camera work is neat, especially in capturing the rural landscapes, temple shots, and forest sequences. The visuals create the right mood for a village mystery, even when the making elsewhere feels average.

Editing (Madhav Kumar Gullapalli)
One of the strongest aspects of the series. The pacing is sharp, transitions are smooth, and even the reveal sequences are stitched well. Without this editing, the show could have felt much slower.

Music (Suresh Bobbili)
The background score feels familiar, often reminding us of Saripodhaa Sanivaaram OST. Instead of bringing originality, the music leans heavily on cinematic tropes. It supports the scenes but no freshness.

Performances

Varsha Bollamma is impressive, balancing innocence and determination in her role as Kanakamahalakshmi.

varsha bollamma & Rajiv Kanakal in a scene constable kanakam

Srinivas Avasarala plays the president with controlled menace, good presentations at the climax portions.

Rajeev Kanakala once again slips into the zone of a helpless man, but his overused expressions make it feel repetitive.

The supporting cast — Ramana Bhargava, Megha Lekha, Sunny Naveen — are serviceable but don’t leave a lasting mark.

Constable Kanakam Explained (Spoilers Ahead)

For those who want the full breakdown — here’s the story in detail:

Adavigutta, Constable Kanakam and Missing Cases

Kanakamahalakshmi (Varsha Bollamma) works as a constable in a small village that sits on the edge of the dense Adavigutta forest.

The place is steeped in old beliefs and is watched over by a centuries-old temple, where the respected village president also holds authority. But beneath the quiet rural life — young girls keep going missing, villagers believe there is something wrong with Adavigutta.

When Kanakam’s best friend Chandrika disappears, Kanakam realises this is no ordinary case. She decides to dig deeper, uncovering secrets buried in both the forest and the faith that governs the village.

What do crows and Sanjeevani sticks have to do with it?

On her night duty at the Adavigutta checkpost, Kanakam notices an unusual number of crows circling the area. She learns that their nests hide Sanjeevani sticks, rare items linked to old rituals. Someone has been cutting down these nests, collecting the sticks, and using them for tantrik practices.

The deeper she looks, the clearer the pattern becomes. Every time a girl disappears from the village, it’s a full moon day. The time when such tantrik is believed to be most powerful.

This realisation shifts the case completely. It’s no longer just about missing girls — Kanakam is staring at a connection between black magic, missing case of Chandrika, and Adavigutta’s secrets.

Who is the man with the Trishul tattoo?

A witness says he saw a man doing black magic in Adavigutta forest, and on his back was a Trishul tattoo. Kanakam starts chasing this lead. First, she meets the old tattoo artist Bakthuraalamma, asking if she ever drew such a tattoo. The old woman denies it straight away.

Next, Kanakam checks a villager covered in tattoos from head to toe — but he doesn’t have the Trishul either. Still restless, she goes to the jatra festival, because that’s when most men walk shirtless. She scans the crowd, but again finds nothing.

Just when it feels like a dead end, something catches her eye — a snake coiled around a Trishul. The image rings a bell. She remembers seeing the exact same picture once in a doctor’s file back in the village.

Who Is Vikram Singh? Is he the Killer?

The file belongs to Dr.Hanumanth Rao, who redirects her to Vikram Singh, an ex-military man in Delhi.

Vikram explains that after surviving a terrorist attack at Kedarnath, his 25-member unit all got Trishul tattoos as a tribute to Lord Siva.

But in the group photos, one man is missing — the cook. He was from the South and known for making Mandasa Kova sweets. That one missing soldier’s description connects back to Mallibabu, a village chef who also practices tantrik rituals.

The Final Act: Adavigutta Mystery

Kanakam goes back to Adavigutta, following her trail of clues. She doesn’t expect to meet the president there, but suddenly he appears in front of her. For a moment she is shocked — because a temple priest had once said the sweets Mandasa Kova for rituals came from the president himself. That link makes everything fall into place.

Before she can even react, the president attacks her. Kanakam is caught off guard and struggles to defend herself. Just then, Constable Sathi Babu jumps in, fighting to protect her. The fight turns rough inside the forest — Kanakam, still hurt, somehow gathers strength, grabs her belt, and lashes out at the president.

The strike throws him off balance. Memories of his abusive father beating him with a belt come rushing back, and he begins to hallucinate, seeing Kanakam as his father. In that moment of weakness, Kanakam pins him down. With Sathi Babu’s help, she finally arrests the president.

Why did the president kidnap girls? What’s the motive?

Under interrogation, the president’s childhood trauma spills out:

He had killed his own mother when he was young.
His uncle Mallibabu raised him, teaching him both sweet-making and black magic.
He later served as a military cook, learning more occult practices.
After becoming president and temple head, he exploited temple records to track girls born under his mother’s birth star, Bharani Nakshatra.
On full moon nights, he kidnapped them for rituals to bring his mother’s soul back. But the mantras only made the girls faint, never succeeding. To cover his tracks, he murdered and buried them in a farm.

Ending & Season 2 Hook

The final shock comes when the president reveals that Kanakam’s birth star is Bharani Nakshatra — making her his true target. On the night Chandrika went missing, his plan had been to kidnap Kanakam. But a villager named Babji interfered, saving her unknowingly. Since Chandrika didn’t share the birth star, she was never meant to be a victim.

The president is arrested, but the bigger mystery remains unsolved — if Chandrika wasn’t kidnapped by him, then where is she? This unanswered question sets the stage for Season 2. So season 1 is not giving clues about Chandrika; for that, we need to wait till season 2.

Final Thoughts

Overall, Constable Kanakam Season 1 is an average series. The core story is strong, the mystery holds till the end, and the village backdrop works.

But the poor production values, forced messaging, and predictable character arcs stop it from being memorable. Worth a watch if you’re curious about small-town thrillers, but don’t expect high standards.

Coolie Review: Big Cast, Bigger Budget, But No Magic

There’s a saying: “Don’t rest on your laurels.” That’s exactly what I was thinking after watching Coolie. This is not my review for the Coolie movie, but rather an opinion or sharing the disappointment of a fan.

I like Lokesh Kanagaraj as a director, he has brought several innovative tactics in narration over the years. For example:

In Kaithi, we saw a fight sequence with an old vibing song.
In Vikram, Agent Tina’s reveal and the way he kept such surprises for action sequences.
Leo’s most celebrated title card.
He studies his heroes and takes the best gestures or mannerisms from their past films.
He popularised the now-famous machine gun sequence.
His signature of introducing a big figure as a villain in the climax and keeping the ending open for a sequel.

All of these were fresh and entertaining when they were new. But what happens if everything repeats? Then it becomes cliche, not surprise. That’s the major problem with Lokesh Kanagaraj’s Coolie.

Rajinikanth and the Risk of Repeating Himself

The same point applies to Rajinikanth as well. In Jailer, he brought in stars from different industries and each entry surprised us. There were adrenaline-pumping moments. But if the same tactic is repeated, the surprise is gone and it becomes predictable.

When Shivraj Kumar entered in Jailer, we clapped and whistled — credit to Nelson’s brilliance in narration for keeping such a high moment as a surprise. But in Coolie, when Upendra entered, Anirudh’s music did the magic, yet viewers had already predicted it: ‘Oh, it’s Upendra’s entry now.

A movie is a manipulative art, like magic. If you can’t manipulate the viewer, you won’t entertain the viewer.

Plot Summary: Coolie

Rajashekhar (Sathyaraj) is murdered. He was working with Simon (Nagarjuna) and Dayal (Soubin Shahir). But Simon didn’t kill Rajashekhar — in fact, he wanted him alive. Deva (Rajinikanth), Rajashekhar’s old friend, starts digging into the murder, accompanied by Rajashekhar’s daughter Preethi (Shruti Haasan).

Who killed Rajashekhar? Why does Deva care so much about him? How is Simon related to Deva? Who is Deva really? The rest of the film answers these questions.

A Big Test for Lokesh Kanagaraj, Not Rajinikanth

I genuinely believed this was a big test — and not for Rajinikanth (who tried and passed almost everything as a superstar) — but for Lokesh as a filmmaker.

After Leo, which faced more backlash than praise even from his own fans, Coolie seemed like the film where he needed to prove what he had learned and improved.

Not just in creating big ‘moments,’ but in handling a full story with emotional depth while still giving the high-energy action. Sadly, that didn’t happen.

Missteps in Execution

Maybe he was under pressure. But was the “Monica” song required? No. Was it rightly placed? No. I felt a friction during that song. Once the viewer gets into the world of a movie, they shouldn’t be disconnected.

The best example is Kaithi — from beginning to end, we are in its world. No unwanted songs or melo-scenes. We don’t think about logic; we’re hypnotised by the maker. That’s the magic of a good film.

In Coolie, things appear abruptly or are predictable. Either we disconnect and think, “How’s that possible?” or we predict what’s going to happen next.

Then why? The commercial aspect. The ‘Monica’ song and Pooja Hegde were for promotion, the star cast was there for the hype — everything was pivoted towards the ₹1000 crore mark.

The director forgot the art; it became a business. In business, we scale up what worked best, but that doesn’t work in art. In art, it’s boring.

Casting Choices

Nagarjuna shouldn’t have signed for this film — nowhere did I feel it did justice to his potential. Aamir Khan tried to be a Rolex-like presence and somewhat excelled, but instead of enjoying his mass dialogues or charisma, you may find yourself thinking, “Wait! What? How’s that possible?”

Honestly, I felt Shruti Haasan was miscast, and even that role was not required at all. Many scenes turned cringey or overly melodramatic, which spoiled the momentum of a high-voltage action thriller.

Shruti’s performance and dialogues made it worse. I feel her accent and dialogue delivery could have been better, and her Tamil needs more fine-tuning. Her expressions have also felt repetitive, we saw a similar ‘Preethi’ in Salaar, and I think that’s where we disconnected with Coolie’s Preethi.

Soubin Shahir, Nagarjuna, Rachita Ram, and Upendra were top-notch. Rajinikanth’s aura, as usual, shone through. But Rajini should step away from the predictable superstar pattern.

In Jailer, he surprised the audience by playing a grandpa role with minimal action and emotional weight in the end. That shade of Rajini was refreshing. Now, he’s repeating the same mode in Coolie. Maybe the commercial aspect outweighed the creative risks. They’re minimising risk by underestimating the audience’s taste.

Technical Strengths, Highs and Lows

Girish Gangadharan’s cinematography and Anirudh Ravichander’s music are the best aspects of Coolie. These two elements keep you excited even when the writing falls flat.

Yes, Coolie has the “mass” elements.

The interval block is great.
Upendra’s screen presence and entry were good.
Aamir’s entry created some hype.
Soubin Shahir had whistle-worthy moments.

But show us something beyond high-beat music, blood, and slo-mo swag. Make the audience feel something they didn’t expect walking in. Subvert a little. Surprise a lot.

If you’ve taken two years (and Lokesh reiterates how much of his life he’s given to this film) and asked us to expect less, then you’d better be sitting on something worth way more.

**Will Coolie Hit ₹1000 Crore?**

I don’t think so. The one-line idea of Coolie is excellent — a decent thriller scope was there:

An old friend investigating the murder of his friend, revealing secrets piece by piece, with the audience gradually understanding who Deva really is.

A John Wick–style narration, where the fear and elevation come from how others react to the hero rather than the hero elevating himself, that was possible. Unfortunately, it doesn’t happen here. Instead, we get appa sentiment, paasam, a dance number, an unwanted love track or son track, and a cliched climax entry and twist.

Final Verdict

Is this the worst Lokesh Kanagraj film? No, but he didn’t learnt from his mistakes. Why Anurag Kashyap, why Sanjay Dutt, why Madonna and those rushed flashback sequences? This is what I was thinking while watching Leo, and similar thoughts here as well.

Overall, Coolie is a spoiled opportunity. Its core theme is overweighed by the burden of its high budget, superstar castings, and ends up as a mediocre high-budget film.

However, Thalaivar’s signature swag with Anirudh’s BGM — especially in the de-aged flashback scenes — and the last 15 minutes with Upendra’s entry will impress. It might make you feel it was partially worth it, but not a total win.

Go for it to celebrate Rajinikanth’s 171st film and 50 years in the film industry. But don’t expect a Kaithi or Vikram kind of experience — just Thalaivar swag and the celebration of Thalaivar’s 50 years.

Salakaar HotStar Web Series Explained

Some spy thrillers dig deep into intelligence networks, geopolitics, and human psychology. I expected Salakaar, as an Indian version of Spy Game where a veteran spy saving a prodigy. But Salakaar looks like a ultra-pro max “tribute to NSA Ajit Doval.” and tastes more like a rushed, below-average drama trying to look serious. Here is my review and story explanation for Salakaar.

The only thing that saves this from being a complete disaster? Its runtime. 5 episodes of ~30 minutes. Let’s break it down episode by episode. Heavy spoilers ahead, and let me tell you, reading this will help you save almost 3 hours.

Episode 1: Cemeteries, Tuition Teachers, and Top Secrets

Series start in Abbottabad, Pakistan, 2025. Colonel Ashfaq, who seems to have walked straight out of a shampoo ad, meets a foreigner in a graveyard. “Death can be a beautiful reminder of how precious life is,” he says. The foreigner hands over “Project Kahuta” files and gets killed immediately. Welcome to the world of Salakaar.

Next scene: Physics tuition teacher Mariam (Mouni Roy) is teaching Ashfaq’s son. But guess what? She’s actually Shrishti Chaturvedi, an Indian agent, romancing her way into classified documents. She scans the Kahuta project files after a cosy moment with the Colonel.

R&AW chief Paresh Parulkar gets this data and wants to dig deeper—but he doesn’t have access to the 1978 case file linked to this. Why? Because only two people outrank the R&AW chief: the PM and the National Security Advisor (NSA). And guess what? NSA wrote the file. Ufff..romanchification goosebump moment!!!

Now we have Naveen Kasturia as Adhir Dayal — the man, the myth, the Salakaar.

Episode 2: Flashback to 1978 – Pakistan, Kids, and a Dinner with Zia

Adhir Dayal (NSA Chief) takes us back to 1978. R&AW had sent him to Pakistan to stop their nuclear ambitions. To build trust, he orchestrates a kidnapping attempt on Zia-ul-Haq’s grandson and then saves him heroically — classic self-created crisis marketing. His son Bharat and Zia’s grandson are classmates.

Zia is impressed and invites Adhir to dinner. Slowly, Adhir wins his way in. Meanwhile, we learn that:

Ashfaq (the 2025 Colonel) is Zia’s grandson.
Mariam is the granddaughter of Jyoti Chaturvedi, Adhir’s old colleague at the Indian Embassy.

Adhir steals data from nuclear scientist Rahmat Agha and learns about Pakistan’s enrichment efforts at Kahuta. The episode ends with Colonel Ashfaq taking Mariam to Kahuta, hinting at a “surprise.”

Surprise indeed.

Episode 3: Déjà Vu Drives the Plot

Adhir, now the NSA, is tracking Mariam’s journey through the same route he once took 40 years ago. Past and present timelines run in parallel.

Ashfaq tells Mariam: “An Indian spy ruined my grandfather’s Kahuta dream. I will revive it.”
Yes, the revenge plot is now personal.

Meanwhile, in 1978, Adhir infiltrates Kahuta disguised as a Pakistani officer and takes photos.

In the present, Mariam is unknowingly following the same path. This setup could have been exciting—but it’s ruined by predictable writing and cartoonish execution.

At this point, the show is trying to be serious but slips into Power Rangers territory with the emotional depth of a soap ad.

Episode 4: China Scared, Zia Triggered, NSA Unstoppable

Now it gets hilarious.

NSA Adhir threatens Chinese officials. Yes, the National Security Advisor of India walks into a room and scares off Chinese bureaucrats like a school principal scolding kids. They silently walk out.

Then he says, “Activate three best agents. I’m going to Pakistan myself.”

The drama returns to 1978. We see Jyoti Chaturvedi (Mariam’s grandmother) being tortured by Zia’s team. Why? Because Zia’s men honey-trapped the Indian embassy head and found leaks. Jyoti refuses to give in.

Adhir had promised to protect her family. But Jyoti dies in a very filmy, slow-motion shot. I miss that bgm like kanave kanave (composed by Anirudh)

NSA Adhir remembers it all. Grief? Not really. Instead, our action-hero NSA breaks into the house of Zia’s right-hand man Mohsin and kills him in cold blood. Alone. No backup. Just pure Bollywood vengeance. An Indian spy entering a military personnel home and killing everyone and escaping without leaving any trace.

Episode 5: Acid Water, Master Plans, and the Flight Captain Reveal

We now meet a Dr Kalam-like character who guides Adhir in sabotaging the Kahuta nuclear plant. Plan? Pump acidic green water into the cooling system.

Adhir puts on a Pakistani officer’s uniform, walks in casually, and pulls off the sabotage. He escapes, obviously.

Back in the present, Mariam is in trouble. Colonel Ashfaq finds out she’s a spy. She runs to the airport. Colonel blocks the runway at gunpoint. “Abort take-off!” he screams.

But plot twist — the flight captain is none other than NSA Adhir himself.
He says: “We’re ready to depart. We won’t abort.” ufffff romanchification again.

Mic drop. Plane takes off. Mission accomplished.
Salakaar keeps his promise to protect Jyoti’s bloodline.

Final Thoughts: Salute or Spoof?

Salakaar wanted to be a tribute to NSA Ajit Doval, I believe. It ended up as a fan-fiction fantasy. It sacrifices realism for pace, throws subtlety out the window, and treats complex geopolitics like a college drama script.

Watch it for:

Naveen Kasturia brings conviction to a ridiculous role.
Cinematography is brilliant — Hotstar never cuts corners on visual quality.
Short runtime — 2.5 hours across 5 episodes is digestible.

Skip it for:

Webseries is not grounded, not even on sky, it’s on another planet, made by an Ajit Doval fanboy.
Mukesh Rishi as General Zia is cartoonishly menacing but fun to watch.
Writing is lazy, predictable, and full of gaping holes.

This could’ve been India’s Argo. Instead, it’s a PowerPoint tribute to a living legend, turned into a spy parody.

Watch it if you like spy stories with no logic but lots of style and ultra pro max heroism.
Skip it if you want realism, depth, or originality.

Read Maayasabha (SonyLiv from July 7, 2025) Review Here.

Mayasabha Web Series Review: Great Performances, Weak Writing

Created by Deva Katta, known for Prasthanam and Vennela, Mayasabha from SonyLiv follows the rise of two fictional leaders — Krishnama Naidu (played by Aadhi Pinisetty) and Rami Reddy (played by Chaitanya Rao Madadi) — and how they grow from students to state leaders. The show also stars Sai Kumar as RCR, Divya Dutta as Prime Minister Iravathi Basu, Ravindra Vijay as Pothineni Ramesh, and Tanya Ravichandran as actress Anu Harika. Here is my detailed Mayasabha Review.

But let’s not kid ourselves. This isn’t fiction.

Based on True Political Events in Andhra Pradesh

Who are the real characters in Mayasabha? If you know Andhra Pradesh politics, you’ll spot the references instantly:

RCR (Sai Kumar) is clearly inspired by NTR.
Krishnama Naidu mirrors Chandrababu Naidu.
Rami Reddy is the show’s take on YS Rajasekhar Reddy.
Iravathi Basu and her son Sandeep Basu resemble Indira Gandhi and Sanjay Gandhi.
Anu Harika’s arc feels like a nod to actress Jayaprada, including her early dance career and political ties. When she was a teenager, she performed a dance at her school’s annual function. A film director in the audience offered her a three-minute dance number in the Telugu film Bhoomi Kosam (1974).

The series ends with an event which exactly resembles the Viceroy Hotel episode , where slippers were thrown at Lakshmi Parvathi and NTR was ousted from his own party, are recreated almost frame by frame — though names are changed.

Mayasabha Plot: The Rise of Naidu and Rami Reddy

The story begins with Krishnama Naidu, a PhD student from Narsipalli, helping farmers in his hometown by threatening middlemen — in a diplomatic way, of course. Meanwhile, Rami Reddy, the son of faction leader Shiva Reddy, is disgusted by his father’s violent politics and leaves Pulicherla to study in Bellary.

From there, we follow:

Student politics, where Krishnama plans to contest elections using strategic caste alliances — and a cabaret dance show (yes, really).
Rami Reddy’s fan wars in college, defending Telugu film stars, leading to cow dung being thrown on posters and eventual expulsion.
Emergency declared in India, vasectomy drives led by Sandeep Basu, and public resistance led by Rami Reddy.
The alliance between Krishnama and Rami Reddy, their entry into politics under Sandeep Basu’s mentorship.
Friendship turning into rivalry, when Rami Reddy feels sidelined for being a goon’s son.

The series ends with the rise of RCR as a mass leader, his friction with Iravathi Basu, the betrayal by Krishnama Naidu, and the political fallout. The final few episodes closely resemble TDP’s internal war, NTR’s downfall, and the power shift to Chandrababu Naidu.

Performances & Technical Aspects

Aadhi Pinisetty as Krishnama Naidu brings seriousness and political sharpness.
Chaitanya Rao delivers an emotional and intense Rami Reddy.
Divya Dutta shines as Iravathi Basu — probably the most believable character in the whole show. Her screen presence is 5/5
Sai Kumar as RCR fits the larger-than-life image but gets limited screen time.
The music by Shakthikanth Karthick is decent — helps set the mood without being intrusive.
The cinematography and period detailing (1975–1995) look polished.
Tanya Ravichandran did her part well with a song and some scenes here and there.

But Here’s the Problem: Everyone’s a Saint

The writing is where Mayasabha falls flat. For example, at one point, the hero tries to win a college election with a cabaret dance by heroine—because in Mayasabha, that’s peak political strategy. Democracy in Mayasabha runs on item numbers and glorifying scenes.

There’s a scene where the heroine says, “People value entertainment more than content. To sell content, the cover page is important.” I’m convinced Deva Katta believes in this too.

For a political series, it lacks grey characters. Krishnama Naidu is always clever and selfless. Rami Reddy is kind-hearted and community-driven. Every major character on the “hero” side acts like a noble soul who’s doing politics only for the people.

This kind of whitewashing feels awkward — especially in a show that clearly draws from real-life political betrayals, caste alignments, and power games.

Let’s be real: In politics, no one climbs the ladder without ambition. But Mayasabha shows its main men as idealists, while anyone who opposes them is either corrupt, emotional, or forgotten.

Final Verdict: Mayasabha(2025) Review

If you’re watching Mayasabha as a fictional drama, it may keep you engaged for a while. But if you know Telugu politics, you’ll likely find it one-sided, preachy, and borderline fan service. It looks like a fictional retelling, but walks and talks like a strategically polished biopic series.

Mayasabha Review Verdict: 2.5 out of 5

Watch it for the performances — but skip it if you’re expecting sharp, realistic political writing. At the end of the day, even great acting can’t save a story that refuses to show humans as humans — especially in politics, where no one’s a saint.

Su From So (2025) review: A 5-Star Film From Kannada

Su From So, directed by debutant J. P. Thuminad, is my favourite film of 2025 so far. Entertainment, art, aesthetics, writing, music, performances — I don’t even know which topic to start with. Every part of the film is top-notch.

I went to Sumathi Valavu expecting a clean horror-comedy but was disappointed by its cringe-fest. For Su From So, I walked in without even watching a trailer — and what a refreshing, fun ride it turned out to be!

A shot from Su From So - marriage scene — A shot from Su From So

The story takes place in a rural Karnataka village. Ravi Anna, a bachelor in his 40s, is the go-to person in the village, like our Lalettan in Balettan— even 50-year-olds respectfully call him Ravi Anna. Everyone looks up to him. Then there’s Ashoka, a painter who spends more time flirting and indulging in voyeurism. The film introduces a colourful range of characters surrounding these two.

The village believes that Ashoka is possessed by a ghost named Sulochana from Someshwara. What follows is a series of chaotic events, and the movie explores how the village reacts and tries to deal with it.

What stood out for me: The Writing

The most brilliant part of the film is its writing. It follows a cascading structure — chaos leading to more chaos — but everything is beautifully interconnected.

The director introduces all the characters through two village functions. The first function helps establish the cultural and spiritual beliefs of the village. A death is announced, the entire village community gathers for the rituals. That’s where the first spark flies — a subtle friction between Ravi Anna and Ashoka.

Shaneel Gautham as Ravi Anna — **Shaneel Gautham** as *Ravi Anna*

In the second function, more characters are introduced. Then comes the big moment — Ashoka gets possessed. Once again, the director cleverly plants another trigger between Ravi and Ashoka, further deepening the chaos around the ghost and the possession.

Each event naturally flows into the next. Nothing feels forced. Every scene, every character matters. For example, there’s a dream sequence involving Ashoka’s sister. At first, it seemed like a typical horror filler, but later, it became crucial to another chain of events. That kind of thoughtful storytelling is rare. That’s what I like the most: everything & everyone is there for a reason.

Character Consistency & Detailing

One thing every screenwriter should learn from this film is how to write side characters with depth. Most films use them as fillers, but in Su From So, each character has a clear signature, a pattern of behaviour.

Take Prakash Thuminad’s character, Chandra, for example. He’s someone who enjoys the little things in life. He’s excited by experiences. In one scene, he carefully unties a chip packet because he doesn’t want to break it, he wants to enjoy it as it is. In another, he insists on having his glass filled to the brim, so he can sip it properly. He chooses orange soda over regular ones. These moments are funny, but they also make you feel like you’re watching a real person, not a character in the film. This is how films make you believe that you are seeing Auto Driver Chandra from a rural village in Karnataka, not an actor Prakash Thuminad.

Whether it’s Deepak Rai Panaje as Sathisha, Pushparaj Bolar as Bhaava, or especially Shaneel Gautham as Ravi Anna, each actor fully owns their character. Writing of Su From So helped them to leave a signature with his crafting.

Emotional Core without Melodrama

With a horror-comedy like this, it’s easy to turn the film into a series of laughs or scares. But what makes Su From So special is the emotional thread running through it. Without this layer, it would’ve felt like just another horror-comedy skit. But J. P. Thuminad ties the chaos to a meaningful message at the end — and that’s what makes the story stay with you.

The film makes you laugh, it startles you, it makes you whistle — and yes, maybe even shed a tear.

Initially, I felt the women in the film were just filling space. But halfway through, Sandhya Arakere enters with a powerful character, and from that point, the film shifts its lens. Just like K. G. George explored the dark realities of village life in Kolangal (1981), Thuminad breaks the myth of “village innocence” and sheds light on domestic violence, abuses and privacy violations. That layer of social commentary is handled with subtlety and class.

Music & Sound: Elevations at its Peak

The music and sound mixing are another highlight. Whether it’s a celebration, a scare, or a fight — the score enhances every mood. Sumedh K and Sandeep Thulasidas (who composed the background score) deserve a standing ovation. Right from the opening frame, the audio experience pulls you into the world of Su From So.

Final Thoughts

I don’t even know how to describe the performances. Every actor, including Raj B. Shetty (who also co-produced the film), delivers with soul. Whatever J. P. Thuminad wrote, the actors brought to life with depth and honesty. The whole film feels fresh — a new kind of cinema that’s both intelligent and entertaining.

Even the poster design is beautiful and innovative. That sense of originality and detail continues till the final frame.

Su From So — 5/5.
Must-watch.

Kingdom Review – Great Visuals, But Emotionally Thin

Gowtam Tinnanuri’s Kingdom, starring Vijay Deverakonda, Bhagyashri Borse and Satyadev, arrives with the promise of a high-adrenaline action drama wrapped in stylish visuals. But overall, I felt it misses the one thing that holds it all together: emotional impact. Here’s my review of Kingdom (2025). Let’s break it down.

Plot Summary: A Spy Story Tied to Brotherhood

Soori (Vijay Deverakonda) is a rural police constable from Andhra, who finds himself caught in the middle of a high-stakes spy mission. As the mission unfolds, he learns it connects to his long-lost brother Siva (Satyadev). What starts as a spy mission is later becomes personal. And this brotherly bond — forms the core.

Sounds like it could be intense, right? It should’ve been.

First Half: Stylish, But Emotionally Hollow

The film opens with a visually striking British-era setup. Within minutes, you know this is going to be a well-shot movie. Cinematographers Jomon T. John and Girish Gangadharan make every frame look polished and premium.

Once the plot gets going—especially in the first hour—the narration starts to feel flat. The issue, I felt, is in how the emotional beats are handled. There are scenes meant to establish Deverakonda’s Soori as a determined character, and later the director introduces his emotional trigger—his pain and desperation to find Siva. But the way it unfolds feels either too predictable or underwhelming. It’s the kind of moment where you go, “Oh… that’s it?”

Take, for instance, the scene where the brothers smuggle gold from the Navy. The setup feels too convenient. You’re left wondering, “Wait, was it really that easy?” Instead of clever plotting or tension, it comes across like the writer just went with the first idea that popped up.

I felt the film missed a major opportunity. If they had brought in a more impactful star or given Satyadev’s character (Siva) a stronger arc—maybe even played it like a subtle Godfather-style rise—the story could’ve had more gravity. It had the core ingredients, but it needed a little more time to simmer.

Even the villain angle, with a gang operating out of Sri Lanka, feels like a recycled subplot from a dozen action films. Some tension is there. But no freshness. You stay watching because the visuals are neat and the actors are giving it their all — but the writing doesn’t support them with the best.

Second Half: Better, But Still Familiar

The second half picks up a little, especially once Satyadev’s character gets more screen time. There’s one Gory scene that works better than expected. And the moment Satyadev got elevation in that scene. Pure Goosebumps guaranteed from then on. For a moment, it feels like the film’s about to enter beast mode.

And if you haven’t seen international cult films like City of God (The idea of “escaping the system” but still being trapped by it), Incendies, or Nolan’s Batman series — Kingdom might surprise you more. Some sequences, especially the prison fight and emotional twists, carry strong inspiration. For casual viewers, these moments land hard. For filmiholics, though, they’ll feel familiar — maybe too familiar.

The climax, though, sticks the landing. Neatly designed and emotionally tighter than the rest of the film. You finally feel that rush the genre promised.

Final Thoughts

Kingdom is a massy action flick, but not with the emotional depth or innovative thoughts that the story demands. It’s held together by two strong performances, first-rate visuals, Anirudh music and occasional goosebump moments.

Gowtam Tinnanuri keeps the core story focused, but the emotional payoffs don’t really hit like his previous film Jersey did.

Still, the sincerity shows. There’s no overstuffing; I can see that they trimmed down Bhagyashri’s scenes, love track, etc. Just a stylish attempt at telling a cliched story sprinkled with Myth, Crime & Guilt. You won’t feel bored, I believe.

Kingdom (2025) Review Rating: 3/5
Watch if you enjoy stylish dramas with moments that echo bigger films — even if they don’t go as deep.

Hari Hara Veera Mallu Review

Mandala Murders Review

Mandala Murders 2025 Explained

If your brain feels fried after finishing Mandala Murders, you’re not alone. But what makes us interested in this series is the Myth and Crime. The core concept is brilliant, unfortunately not the execution. So here I will explain what happened in Mandala Murders (2025).

We remember unfinished tasks more than completed ones. When shows leave questions dangling — “Who is Yasth?”, “What’s the real motive?” — our brain loops it until we find closure.

So here’s the explanation, what happened in Charandaspur? Who are Ayasthis? Are they real or fiction?

Read No Spoiler Review: Mandala Murders (Click here)

The World of Mandala Murders – Ayasthis, Energy, and the Cult of Yasth

Let’s start from the very beginning.

There’s a small, eerie town called Charandaspur — the kind of place where people still whisper about curses and disappearances. Somewhere deep in the Varuna forest nearby, a secretive group of women called the Ayasthis live in hiding. Locals see them as witches. But they see themselves as something else — the chosen ones of a mysterious energy god named Yasth.

Now here’s where it gets mad interesting.

The Ayasthis believe that energy can’t be created or destroyed, only redirected. So if someone dies… maybe their life energy can be pulled back. Revived. Rechanneled. They’ve built a strange machine that can supposedly do that — bring the dead back to life. Why they built it? Who Built that? We need to wait till Episode 7.

The Thumb Theory

Throughout the show, we see people placing their thumb on this mystical machine to ask for miracles. But here’s the catch:

Giving your thumb = asking Yasth for help.
But Yasth doesn’t just help out of kindness. He takes something in return.
Not from you directly — but someone close to you. A life. A body part. A price.

So if you asked for your son to return… maybe he ends up dead later.
You asked for political power… someone loses their legs.
You can’t track it logically — but someone, somewhere, pays.

Now imagine this happening for years. Quietly. One person at a time.
Until suddenly — a pattern emerges.

That’s where the show begins.

In the Past: Ayasthis & Their End

75 years before the murders began, a woman named Nandini (a scientist) arrived in Charandaspur with her husband, Anant, a corporate man trying to set up a nuclear plant in the forest area. Locals were uneasy — the forest wasn’t just green land, it was sacred to the hidden group known as the Ayasthis. The place is Ayasthal, which Rukmini and her cult believe Yasth made it himself years ago.

Ayasthis believe, if something happen to Ayasthal, they should revive Yasth.

One night, Rukmini went to Nandini’s home and warned her about the consequences of destroying their place.

Why Nandini Built The Device

Rukmini wasn’t an ordinary cult head. She was calm, sharp, and spoke in riddles that made dangerous sense.

Rukmini told Nandini about Yasth, a powerful evil power. She showed her the Book of Prediction, and it was written by yasth during his first incarnation in the earth.

Then she dropped a chilling line:

“Book mentioned about Nandini”

If charandaspur seeks to destroy Ayast shrine, Yasth will be reincarnated, and Yast will be created by the very same woman who took part in destruction” of Ayast

Then came the real shocker.

Rukmini said Yasth also written, that woman has three traits, the traits are:

She will be an Engineer or a Scientist.
She will be pregnant.
She will be a widow.

Nandini laughed. “I’m not a widow.”

Moments later, someone rushed in — Anant had died in an accident.

Now rattled, Nandini turned to the Ayasthi ideology for answers. She agreed to build the device Rukmini described. She thought she was creating something for humanity — a scientific invention to bring people back from death.

But she didn’t know Rukmini had a hidden agenda.

Rukmini never wanted the device for people. She wanted to use it to bring back Yasth — and unleash destruction across the world.

By the time Nandini realised the truth, it was too late. The body — stitched from various parts — was almost complete. The device was working.

Nandini made one last move.
She destroyed the body they had built. Burned it. Damaged the ritual. Then the villagers arrived, already stirred by fear and whispers of black magic. They torched the place, hoping to end it all.

But Rukmini escaped — and took the device with her.

The ritual failed. Yasth didn’t rise. But the blueprint survived.

Back to the Present – The Murders Begin

Now in the present day, ritualistic murders begin again in Charandaspur.

Bodies are turning up stitched, deformed, missing parts. First it’s Abhishek, a journalist. Then others — teachers, politicians, cult members. Each body seems to be missing something:

Torso
Hands
Legs
Head

CBI officer Rea Thomas is assigned to investigate. She’s sharp, emotionless on the outside, haunted by past trauma. But she has no idea she’s directly linked to everything.

Meanwhile, ex-cop Vikram Singh finds that his mother (Vasudha) and aunt (Urmila) disappeared years ago on the same night his brother Pawan died. All clues point back to Varuna Forest.

The Thumb Was Not The Price

As Rea and Vikram investigate, they uncover the miracle logic:

People used to visit Ayasthis and place their thumb on the machine, asking for miracles.
In return, someone close to them or themselves would suffer — die, disappear, lose something.
The thumb wasn’t the price. Life was.

For example:

Abhishek used the device to kill his mistress’s husband.
Birju asked for his lost son Awadesh to return.
Leela asked to save his sons — in return, a death followed.

Over time, a pattern forms. All current victims are linked to someone who made a wish in the past.

Sujay, Vijay, and Ananya’s Politics

Two gangsters, Sujay and Vijay, were suspected of killing Abhishek. But they’re being framed by their political rival Ananya Bhardwaj — Vikram’s sister-in-law, wife of the bedridden leader Jayaraj.

Turns out, Ananya is slowly clearing her path to power:

She frames Sujay and Vijay.
Hires a nurse to act as his mistress and gets Jayaraj paralysed with poison.
Removes all political threats in her way.

But behind her ambition is something much older and darker.

Kalindi, Jimmy Khan, and the Ritual Puzzle

Rea and Vikram uncover the truth about Kalindi, the murdered teacher — she was once close to the Ayasthi cult.

Kalindi wasn’t just the wife of a teacher — she had deep ties with the Ayasthi cult. Long ago, she was connected to Rukmini and the original belief system. She wasn’t a believer exactly, but she knew how the system worked. She knew the rituals, the symbols, the sacrifices.

Kalinidi and her assistant, Maithili, trapped all these people in Aysthi’s sacrifice. Ananya’s PA Vyankat, is Maithili’s adopted son, and Maithili helped him to survive.

Vyankat escaped from Killer by sacrificing Awadesh, Birju’s son.

In the end, Kalindi herself sacrificed her head for Yasth.

And before she died, Kalindi left behind clues.

A set of eight metal circles — each representing a different part of the Mandala.

These weren’t just decoration. They were keys.

Hidden inside her wardrobe, each piece would later be used to unlock the Yasthal, the sanctum where Yasth could be resurrected.

Along with Jimmy Khan, a folklore researcher, they begin decoding the Mandala symbols found at every murder site.

Each murder Ayasthi cult is doing for a body part:

Head of a teacher (Kalindi)
Hands of sinners (Vijay – Sujay)
Legs of Servant’s Child (Awadesh – Son of Birju)
Face of a princess (Kavitha , wife of Vikram)
Torso of a voyeur (Abhishek, Cosuin of Vikram)
Blood of someone who escaped death (Vikram)

One by one, these pieces are being collected to recreate Yasth, just like before.

Jimmy’s grandfather, decades ago, had figured this out and led the mob attack on Ayasthis. That’s what we saw in Episode 1.

The Jimmy Khan Connection

Enter Jimmy Khan — a history researcher, symbol decoder, and grandson of the man who led the mob attack on Ayasthis 75 years ago.

Jimmy steps in to help Rea and Vikram understand what these symbols actually mean. He figures out:

The symbols aren’t random — they form a Mandala of Sacrifice.
Each murder is connected to a specific body part — and a specific sin or sacrifice tied to the Ayasthi machine.
His grandfather tried to stop this ritual decades ago, but it was never fully destroyed.

Rea’s True Identity

Rea begins having dreams — a mysterious woman, always repeating, “Save my son’s life.”

She later learns:
That woman isn’t her imagination.
It’s her grandmother.
Nandini.

Yes — Rea is Nandini’s granddaughter, she born after Nandini decided to help Rukmini.

Suddenly, everything makes sense.

The murders, the device, her connection to Charandaspur — this isn’t just a case. This is her family’s unfinished business.

Who is the Killer? Who is the New Rukmini?

In the final twist, it’s revealed that the new mastermind behind everything…
is Ananya Bhardwaj.

Yes — the politician.
She’s Rukmini’s granddaughter.

Ananya is not chasing power for elections.
She’s finishing what Rukmini started:
Resurrecting Yasth.

The killer — the one collecting the body parts — is Aaditi Pohankar, selected as the “ultimate warrior” of the Ayasthi legacy.

She passed Kalindi’s test and is now fulfilling the prophecy.

Final Showdown: Rea vs Killer

Ananya brings Vikram to Yasthal — the ancient sanctum — to complete the ritual. Vikram’s blood is the final ingredient: someone who escaped death.

But Rea arrives, guided by Nandini’s visions.

She fights the ultimate warrior. Destroys the ritual.

The Real Miracle: Vikram’s Mother and Her Missing Case

In the middle of all the murder boards, occult symbols, political plotting, and scientific devices, there’s one quiet voice that never left the forest:

“Save my son’s life…”

That voice was Vasudha — Vikram’s mother.
A woman who once carried her dead son Pawan’s body into Varuna Forest, hoping for a miracle.

Let’s rewind.

The Night That Broke Her

20 years ago, Vikram’s younger brother Pawan died in a tragic accident. That same night, Vasudha, heartbroken and desperate, disappeared from home. She was last seen going into the forest with Pawan’s body.

And that was it.
She was gone, along with Urmila (Vikram’s aunt)— no one knew where, or why.

But now, through Birju and Urmila’s memories, we learn the truth.

Vasudha reached the Ayasthi machine. She placed her thumb, asked to Yasth “Save my son” And the Ayasthi logic kicked in — a desire was registered.

But Yasth couldn’t bring back Pawan — because, according to Rukmini, once a soul leaves the body fully, it cannot return. The request was technically impossible.

But they couldn’t reject the wish either.

So instead… they kept Vasudha alive under custody.

She became a “frozen prayer” — a living vessel of an unfulfilled desire.

Her constant chant — “save my son’s life” — echoed inside the forest for two decades, like a glitch in the Ayasthi system.

Why the Ritual Couldn’t Be Completed in the End: Climax Explained

Now here’s the most important bit.

Rukmini’s ritual to bring back Yasth needed:

The correct body parts.
The correct blood.
And clean karmic pathways — meaning all past sacrifices and desires had to be fully processed.

But Vasudha’s wish was still hanging.

She asked for Pawan’s life, and Yasth didn’t deliver.
So the cycle was incomplete.
That one loose end — that unfulfilled request — became the error in the code.

And when Rea arrived, she unintentionally fulfilled Vasudha’s wish — not by reviving Pawan, but by saving Vikram’s life in the final battle.

Suddenly, the wish was no longer unfulfilled.
The loop closed. The chant stopped.
Yasth no longer had the justification to rise.

Nandini was killed by Rukmini. Now, Nandini’s granddaughter, Rea, killed Ananya (Rukmini’s granddaughter) and took revenge.

No more miracles. No more deaths.
Just closure would have been better, they made a tailend showing Aditi Pohankar, that this might continue with a season 2.

So who is the killer in Mandala Murders?

It is Moksha (Ultimate Warrior from Ayasthi Community) played by Aditi Pohankar.

Who is that surprise Villain ?

That is Ananya Bharadwaj played Surveen Chawla

Is Varuna forest real? or Ayasthis real?

No, everything is fiction, and unfortunately couldn’t even build a great on screen world as well.

5 Must Watch Series If You Like the Mandala Murders Theme

The story of Mandala Murders — with its secret societies, mystical devices, body-part rituals, and hidden ancestry — may sound uniquely Indian. But this kind of genre-bending, brain-twisting, cult-infused mystery has global roots.

Series	Country	Core Themes
Dark	Germany	Time loops, generational trauma, secret cult
The OA	USA	Alternate dimensions, experiments, prophecy
1899	USA/Germany	Symbolism, death, simulation, trauma
Sacred Games	India	Myth meets crime, religious cults, politics
Asur	India	Mythological symbolism, serial killings

Webseries List

Mandala Murders follows the same global formula — but gives it an Indian spine, layered with energy theory, cult worship, thumb sacrifices, and generational guilt.

Mandala Murders Review: Myth, Madness, and Murder

After Asur, Paatal Lok, and a dozen dark-toned “let’s-explain-symbolism-in-flashbacks” series, Mandala Murders created by Gopi Puthran is the new entry. Set in the fictional town of Charandaspur, we follow detectives Rea Thomas (Vaani Kapoor) and Vikram Singh (Vaibhav Raj Gupta) as they peel back layers of ritualistic killings, ancient secret societies, and Vikram’s mother’s 20 years old missing case.

Mandala Murders Review Poster — Mandala Murders Poster

On paper, it sounds spicy: a mix of mythology, crime, and occult. But the real question is — does it land, or does it just pretend to be deep?

Direction, Tone, and Storytelling

Gopi Puthran (Mardaani 2) co-directs with Manan Rawat, and The concept is BRILLIANT.
Ayasthis, Mandala sacrifices, energy-as-currency, and ancient tech to revive a god? That’s like Dan Brown meets Asur meets Sacred Games — with a female-led cult.

At first glance, Mandala Murders promises a unique blend: a serial killer thriller wrapped inside a mythological conspiracy. The idea is bold, no doubt. But when it comes to execution—direction, scripting, and pacing—it often struggles to hold the weight of its own ambition.

You’ll keep waiting for that one twist that justifies the build-up — whether it arrives, we’ll see. In my opinion, there are many twists, but everything is predictable for someone who watches thrillers.

The tone sometimes gel with Asur’s vibe, but doesn’t fully commit. — technically correct, emotionally meh. What should feel like high-stakes investigation often ends up looking like disconnected scenes stitched together.

Performances Review: Mandala Murders

The cast does its job partially. Vaani Kapoor as Rea brings sincerity to a layered character, but the writing doesn’t offer enough depth. Eventually, her screen presence falls flat. At no point did I feel convinced she was a brilliant investigative officer.

Vaibhav Raj Gupta (Vikram)’s arc starts strong but ends up confused and falls flat.

Surveen Chawla as a cunning Lady Macbeth looks good on screen, but she couldn’t make an impact in the end.

Too many characters are introduced without space to breathe.

Shriya Pilgaonkar, dressed in a red sari and walking through flames, gets more emotion across in one still frame than some leads do in the whole episode.

Mandala Murders Performances Review — Scene from Mandala Murders

The myth angle — Mandala, rituals, prophecies — is interesting if you like symbolic stories. But if you’re expecting a fast-paced crime thriller with sharp writing and clever twists, you might be disappointed. This isn’t that kind of show. It leans more on mystery and mood than tight investigation or smart reveals.

✅ What Works in Mandala Murders

The core idea of Ayasthis, rituals, and body-part-based resurrection is genuinely original.
There are occasional moments of brilliance—especially when the show reflects on grief, belief, and sacrifice.
The female-driven power structure in the cult is a refreshing take, rarely seen in Indian thrillers.

❌ What Doesn’t

World-building falls flat.
The Ayasthi lore is interesting, but it’s not built with enough clarity. We’re told a lot, but shown very little.
For example, how Jimmy decodes the Mandala symbols is never explained properly—it feels like magic, not intelligence.
No real investigative hook.
This is supposed to be a murder mystery, but there’s no standout moment of detective brilliance. The CBI investigation moves more like a background commentary than the central driver.
Pacing is thin and stretched.
Instead of unfolding gradually with suspense, the plot throws twist after twist—making it hard to stay emotionally connected. It often feels like a series of “what’s next” moments, not “why did this happen?”

Manndala Murders: Full Story Explained

Final Verdict

Mandala Murders had the potential to be a genre-defining series—blending Indian myth with modern crime. But in trying to do too much, it ends up delivering less than it could. It’s not a bad show—it just needed sharper writing, better world-building, and a stronger spine to hold its wild ideas together.

Mandala Murders is streaming now on Netflix.

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