Dhurandhar Exposes Enemies Within

I just returned from watching #Dhurandhar on December 5, and I must say, I am both exhilarated and exhausted. Three hours and thirty-four minutes of sheer cinematic assault, and yet, I would watch it again tomorrow. Bollywood—or as I cheekily call it, “Karachiwood”—rarely dares to be this honest, this brutal, this unflinching. For decades, our film industry has been a master of illusions, polishing Pakistan’s image while sugar-coating the horrors it exports, presenting the ISI as some misunderstood humanitarian organization. Karachiwood, my friends, perfected this art of moral slippage.

But Dhurandhar changes the rules. Aditya Dhar—writer, director, producer, and clearly a man with no fear of Bollywood censors—pulls no punches. He exposes the ISI for what it is: merciless, calculating, and terrifyingly real. Terrorist attacks, intelligence failures, political interference—all are shown with painstaking accuracy, sometimes using actual footage from incidents like the Parliament attack and 26/11. The details are obsessive: auto-rickshaw posters, newspaper clippings, street vehicles—every frame screams authenticity.

Let me warn you: if you go to a film expecting hero slow-motion entries or glossy romance, leave now. This is a film of substance. It asks hard questions: who is the real enemy—the fool running amok, or the one quietly orchestrating chaos inside your home? R. Madhavan, playing Ajit Doval, bluntly tells us: India’s biggest enemy is within; Pakistan comes second. A statement so true, yet so rarely acknowledged on screen.

The casting is impeccable. Ranveer Singh as Hamza is terrifyingly convincing. Dangerous. Formidable. Akshay Khanna steals every scene he touches. The man doesn’t just act; he devours the screen. Arjun Rampal, Sanjay Dutt—they all fit perfectly into this world of calculated menace. The action sequences are brutal, realistic, and choreographed with intelligence, not the fantasy flair of films like Animal. Music, cinematography, and set design are meticulous; nothing feels wasted.

The film’s narrative is layered and relentless. Multiple storylines: Pakistan’s internal chaos, tribal and political rivalries, fake currency operations, intelligence operations, Ranveer Singh’s past, R. Madhavan’s missions, even a love story that somehow feels natural. Every element serves the story, every scene ratchets tension. And unlike Karachiwood productions, there is no romanticization of the enemy. The ISI is shown in all its cruelty; Pakistan is not a victim. It is a machine of menace—and this film holds it accountable.

Violence? Yes. Mature themes? Absolutely. But the film is intelligent, not sensationalist. It demands attention. I give it 9.5 out of 10 stars. The half-star is for a fleeting desire: one scene so electrifying it would have made me leap from my seat. Otherwise, it is a masterclass.

What makes this film extraordinary is the courage behind it. For years, Bollywood hid behind Karachiwood-style narratives, showing fantasy versions of espionage and terror. Here, Dhar doesn’t flinch. Footage from real attacks, live satellite guidance, handlers directing terrorists—reality, not imagination. The inner threats in India are exposed: the politicians, the moles, the citizens who betray their country. 

And yet, despite the harshness, the film is entertaining. Ranveer Singh is a revelation; Akshay Khanna is a screen devourer; Arjun Rampal and Sanjay Dutt provide gravitas. Action is clever, not just loud; strategy and tension run through every frame. Minor distractions—songs, brief melodrama—disappear under the sheer weight of narrative and realism.

My verdict? Watch Dhurandhar. Watch it carefully. Learn from it. Understand that India’s greatest enemies live inside, and Pakistan, while dangerous, comes second. Bollywood rarely shows truth. For once, it has, and it is magnificent.

Jai Hind. Vande Mataram.