The one thing Indian cinema has mostly shied away from is the unvarnished truth. The kind that doesn’t just nibble the surface but digs into the marrow of our society, exposing its fractures, contradictions, and complexities. Paatal Lok, in both its seasons, does just that. It’s not just a show; it’s a mirror to a nation as diverse as it is divided, as beautiful as it is brutal. With Season 2, the series takes this audacity to an entirely new level, weaving a tale of tribe, treachery, and tyranny, all while retaining its signature dark humour and unflinching realism.
I landed in Dimapur, Nagaland, about a decade ago to shoot a tribal reconciliation event for a journalist friend. It was my first deep dive into the region’s conflicts, and what struck me most was how the seven strongest tribes there called themselves the “seven nations of Nagaland.” The irony: they were constantly killing each other for supremacy while simultaneously battling the Indian state for either autonomy or development. The layers of complexity were so staggering I found myself thinking: “This would make for incredible cinema.” Cut to 2025, and Sudip Sharma’s Paatal Lok 2 does precisely that. It is 320 minutes of pure storytelling, set in a region often ignored by the rest of India—a place that might as well be the Paatal Lok (netherworld) of our collective imagination.
Growing up in Gujarat in the 1990s, I was often asked if the Northeast had gyms. My sarcastic reply? “No, we do our pull-ups on tree branches.” It was a flippant response to a query that revealed just how little the rest of India cared about the Northeast: out of sight became a licence to ignore the region. Paatal Lok doesn’t just fill a big chunk of this knowledge gap; it blows it wide open. If Season 1 was a searing exploration of caste, corruption, and crime, Season 2 shifts its gaze to tribe, treachery, and the tyranny of tribalism. It’s a theme whose relevance is only growing evident from the two-year-long ongoing conflict in Manipur. Paatal Lok immerses you in its stories, forcing you to confront the uncomfortable truths of a nation that is still–78 years after independence–grappling with its identity.
The Cop As A Human, Not Hero Or Villain: Hollywood has a rich tradition of gritty, realistic cop films—Serpico, Training Day, End of Watch, etc. Indian cops in cinema – when they have not been abjectly corrupt – have largely been either too honest to beat or too strong to get beaten. Think Deewar’s Vijay or Singham’s Bajirao. Exceptions, like Govind Nihalani’s cops, were too few amidst too much. Enter Hathi Ram Chaudhury, the bumbling, well-meaning, and perpetually out-of-his-depth cop as far from the Bollywood hero archetype as possible.
In Season 2, Hathi Ram remains the bechara cop we’ve come to love. He’s not corrupt, but he’s not a saint either. He’s just a man trying to do his job in a system, a nation rigged against people like him. In one of its telling moments, Hathi Ram tries to feed a Parle-G biscuit to a police dog, only to be told by its handler that the dog isn’t allowed that, underlining not just his but millions of Indians' statuses not just as underdogs, but lower than dogs. It’s a small moment in a series filled with such moments that speak volumes about the narrative’s ability to find both humour and humanity in the most mundane of situations.
A wicked, broody sense of humour runs amok through both seasons, a kind of tragi-comedy that doesn’t spoon-feed its audience. If you’re samajhdar and paying attention, you’ll catch the ishara.
Easter Eggs and Political Undertones: Speaking of ishara, Paatal Lok is littered with Easter eggs waiting to be discovered. Take the line: “Bas dosti bani rahe” on the back of a rickshaw in the last episode. For the samajhdar, it’s one of the most politically charged lines in the country. That this line proves crucial in discerning the fate of the aam aadmi, the Parle-G-eating common man whose search had begun the season, is no coincidence. It’s a metaphor for the price of progress that weaves a rip through the series.
But Paatal Lok doesn’t chest thump its metaphors. It’s subtle, layered, and trusts its audience to connect the dots. Take the local drug trade depicted in the series. It’s not just a plot device; take it westwards of the country, and it’s a commentary on the state of the nation and who runs it. As one character aptly puts it, “Hum galli cricket ke launde hai, aur yaha World Cup chal raha hai” (What will we who play locally, do anything about international intrigue). It’s a line that resonates deeply, especially in the context of what is happening in India and its politics today.
The State of Indian Cinema: A Narrowing Road: This brings me to the elephant in the room that even the sniper of the series will miss—the state of Indian cinema. Those of us in the industry are constantly reminded of what we can’t make, lest we hurt the Cinderella sentiments of one group or another. The result? A hard-to-shake sense of despondency. Indian cinema, once a broad highway of creativity (despite the misuses), now feels like a narrow, pothole-ridden road. The space to create freely has shrunk so drastically that references to Iranian cinema—where filmmakers subvert censorship with creativity—are becoming increasingly common in our discussions.
Paatal Lok is a shining example of how to navigate this minefield. It’s bold, brash, and unapologetically real without having plotlines or metaphors that could put it in big trouble with those who have small egos. Those who understand the nuances marvel at its brilliance; those who don’t still get the thrill of the chase. Either way, it never becomes preachy or contrived. It’s a masterclass in storytelling that proves you can tackle complex issues without losing sight of the human element.
A Nation in Hell, Yet Reborn: There’s a rule in screenwriting: create a character you love, and then put them through hell. Hathi Ram Chaudhury goes through absolute hell in both seasons, almost dying in the process. And that itself is a metaphor because it’s not just him. It’s this nation, this Bharat, that’s going through hell. It’s dying, yet being reborn, shapeshifting like Rorschach’s mask in Watchmen. The biggest metaphor of the series: India is paatal lok. And in that netherworld, everyone deserves whatever little grace possible; perhaps the reason why even the villains, in both seasons – are treated with a kind of kindness an acknowledgement that there can be no right way in hell, only the way of the powerful, that’s rarely seen in Indian cinema.
Paatal Lok doesn’t offer easy answers or happy endings. It is messy, chaotic, and often heartbreaking. But it’s also hopeful in its own twisted way. It reminds us that even in the darkest corners of the netherworld, there’s a glimmer of light. And sometimes, that’s enough.
EPILOGUE: A Glimmer of Hope and a Feast of Stories: For fans of longform content, a glimmer of hope is never enough. We crave stories that make us binge, cringe, and everything in between. Thankfully, 2024 delivered a buffet of delectable offerings and 2025 promises to keep the feast going. The paatal lok of content i.e. streaming, has seen some truly tantalizing treats—Vikramaditya Motwane’s Black Warrant, co-creator Shibani Akhtar’s Dabba Cartel, and the quirky ‘ruralcom’ Dupahiya have all generated buzz worthy of a watercooler debate. But let’s not overlook the hidden gems that haven’t. Shows like The Waking of a Nation delve into the aftermath of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, and Shonali Bose’s web series debut, Ziddi Girls, is set in a fictionalised Miranda House.
Now, you might have noticed something missing in this list. Where is the series from the South of India? Despite Netflix and other platforms launching a South-focused push a few years ago, the brilliant filmmakers from the region haven’t streamed into longform storytelling yet. This absence is a sacrilege given the delectable cinema we’ve seen from the four Southern film industries. When it is addressed, I’m sure they’ll enrich not just the Indian cinematic landscape but also the palates of audiences hungry for fresh, diverse narratives. Here’s hoping 2025 marks the beginning of that exciting trend. After all, if Paatal Lok has taught us anything, it is that the best stories often come from the most unexpected places.
