Ayyana Mane Series Review: A brooding thriller with the familiarity of TV soaps

Ramesh Indira builds the mystery using an interesting blend of whodunnit and folk horror

A haunted house, a newlywed bride, and secrets that whisper through the walls—Ayyana Mane plays like a page straight out of a folklore that is stitched into a sleek six-episode mystery. Directed by Ramesh Indira and produced by Shruti Naidu, this brooding thriller walks a delicate tightrope between the familiar comforts of television and the creative liberties of streaming.

Set in the lush, rain-washed 90s of Chikkamagaluru, Ayyana Mane begins with a hopeful newly-married woman Jaaji (Kushee Ravi) who steps into her husband Dushyantha’s (Akshay Nayak) ancestral home—an almost too-quiet place shadowed by grief. Moments later, her father-in-law dies, and from that point on, the house seems to simmer with unease. Each creak in the floorboard and each sideways glance hints at something darker. It is at this point that another chilling discovery emerges—a trail of daughter-in-law deaths, stretching through generations.

Cast: Kushee Ravi, Manashi Sudhir, Hitha Chandrashekar, Anirudh Acharya, Akshay Nayak, and Ramesh Indira
Director: Ramesh Indira
Streaming on: Zee5

The story unfolds in approximately 20 minute episodes, designed to hook viewers and not linger—a structural win. Each episode leaves you hanging just enough to hit the next episode button, and it is here that the show quietly flexes its format—a web series that chooses restraint over indulgence, rarely straying into filler or loud melodrama.

Interestingly, Ayyana Mane also carries another label—it's Zee5’s first original Kannada web series. While that’s a notable move for regional content, it’s also begs to ask a bold question: Can this series break away from the traditional TV template that has long defined Kannada storytelling? Can it claim the freshness that the OTT space offers?

Ramesh Indira builds the mystery using an interesting blend of whodunnit and folk horror. The show taps into the cultural echoes of Daiva worship—a spiritual element that found wide popularity after Kantara. The mysterious Kondarayya, a spirit-like presence, becomes central to the narrative: is he a protector, or is his wrath behind the tragedy? The question lingers throughout, adding a folk-horror sheen to what is otherwise a grounded domestic thriller.

Performance-wise, Kushee Ravi does most of the heavy lifting. Her character Jaaji is innocent but observant, fearful but never passive. It is through her eyes that we read many silences in the house— from her mother-in-law Nagalambike (Manasi Sudhir), the disturbed Charulatha, an unsettling cameo by Archana Kottige, and the uneasy Dushyantha, who is an emotionally opaque husband trying to shield secrets under the guise of tradition. Even director Ramesh Indira plays a role in the series. The other cast members—including Hitha Chandrashekar as Pushpavathi, Anirudh Acharya, and Akshay Nayak—bring depth without overplaying it, though some characters could have benefited from more nuanced development.

Technically, the show is a quiet win. Rahul Roy’s cinematography wraps the story in low-lit tension. There's no overuse of flashy lighting or dramatic music—instead, the mood and atmosphere is lifted through meticulous restraint. Chikkamagaluru isn’t glorified either. It feels lived in, slightly cold, almost like the house is breathing along with the story.

And yet, for all its craft and effort, Ayyana Mane can’t completely shrug off its television roots. The storytelling dips into familiar zones—the overprotective mother, the emotionally distant husband, kitchen scenes loaded with tension, and red herrings that feel a bit too convenient. There’s also the case of themes that are touched but not explored— trauma, mental illness, grief, and gender politics—all are hinted at but left underdeveloped.

The plot’s biggest twists lean toward safety, and while they hold your attention, they don’t exactly shake you. What starts as a potentially rich psychological mystery, slowly settles into a more straightforward whodunnit.

However, what works in Ayyana Mane is its intention. It doesn’t want to be loud. It doesn’t want to stretch forever. And even when it plays safe, it’s trying to deliver a better product than what Kannada TV viewers have been fed for decades. That in itself deserves some credit.

If you’re someone used to Kannada television, this might feel like a much-needed upgrade—minus the over-the-top performances, and deafening music. If you're a regular OTT viewer, it’s a decent weekend watch — one that brings a whiff of homegrown storytelling, even if it’s not entirely pathbreaking.

Ayyana Mane is a modestly gripping, atmospherically told series. It doesn’t push boundaries, but it doesn’t embarrass either. It’s a welcome step into original Kannada storytelling. For viewers, it’s a reminder that sometimes, even a house full of ghosts can feel strangely familiar.