Hunkkaar: The Roar

A young woman and her parents are at a police station. They’re trying to file a complaint, but the officer they’re speaking to is distracted. Another cop comes by with a box of sweets, says they’re from Saburi, that Baapji makes them with his own hands. The family are offered these as well; the daughter is uncomfortable but is told it’s aashirvaad. She tells the officer again that she wants to report a crime done to her. Badsaluki, she says first, then corrects that to zabardasti. The perpetrator is Baapji. There’s a temple bell, a cry of ‘Baapji ki jai’, and we go into the opening credits.

The rampage of dhongi babas, spellbound bhakts and shell-shocked victims continues apace. The fresh spate began in 2020 with Bobby Deol spreading his beatific smile and vile ways through the multi-season ‘Ashram’ . In 2023, we saw Manoj Bajpayee fighting a lone battle against a powerful self-styled godman, based on the real-life Asaram, in ‘Sirf Ek Banda Kaafi Hai’. That was followed by Jaideep Ahlawat jumping into the role of the rapacious ‘Maharaj’ in a film of the same name in 2024. Now comes ‘Hunkkaar’, in which the excellent Raghubir Yadav plays Baapji, the all-seeing seer who preys upon young girls. While the casting seems, at first glance, to be inspired – I mean, the always likeable Yadav turning into a monster, can you imagine – not being able to overcome the utter familiarity of the subject never allows Hunkkaar to become its own beast.

A week after Daayra probed into India’s rampant rape crisis through the purview of a police procedural comes Hunkkaar: The Roar. In this six-part series created by the husband and wife duo of Karan Darius Kapadia and Nitya Mehra, a 17-year-old victim of sexual assault takes an influential godman to court in hopes of justice, only to encounter endless persecution and judgement at the hands of the law, society and media. You can find different takes on this theme across fare like Sirf Ek Bandaa Kaafi Hai, Sia, Ashram and Maharaj. Hunkkaar’s generic treatment of a widespread problem doesn’t provide any fresh insights but engages in fits and starts on the strength of the talent on board.

A 17-year-old girl walks into a police station. Her name is Meenu Rawat, but anonymity is going to be her shield. Her anxious parents try to lodge her complaint. But the first hurdle is a sign of things to come. A devout officer going around distributing prasad to his colleagues puts a sticky ladoo in her hand. The girl is paralysed with fear. The sacred sweet not only reveals the permeation of blind faith in a law enforcement space; it also reminds her of a trust betrayed. By her elders, who admitted her into a god-fearing school run by a spiritual organisation. By the teachers and parents, who were too brainwashed to question their holy ways. By a middle-class culture that forces its citizens to seek refuge in the flowery proverbs of dodgy orators. And by the beloved godman, who preyed on her under the guise of a ‘purification ritual’. Meenu, a minor, breaks the gaze of the sweet, regains her numbness, and places herself in the sticky hands of a system that normalises poisoned apples. The family takes all night to file a sexual assault report against the cult leader, Sunil “Baapji” Chakosi. And it’s only the beginning.

The series opens with 17-year-old Meenu Rawat arriving at a police station with her parents to file a complaint against a powerful spiritual leader, Baapji, accusing him of sexual assault. Right from this opening sequence, the tension is palpable. The atmosphere inside the police station, the silences, the discomfort and the small details around Meenu’s complaint immediately tell you that this is not going to be an easy watch. This crime is not new in India; self-proclaimed Godmen like Asaram and Gurmit Ram Rahim have abused women in their ashram and they have been convicted by the court of law in India for crimes like rape.

‘बंद कमरे में गलत वो आदमी करे और पूरी दुनिया को जवाब मैं दूं, क्यों? दुपट्टा बांधकर मुझे घर से निकलना पड़ता है, क्यों? मैं क्यों बताऊं कि किसने कितनी बार हाथ लगाया, कितनी देर हाथ लगाया?’ यह दर्द शारीरिक शोषण या रेप की शिकार हुई हर उस लड़की के होते हैं, जो अपने साथ हुई ज्यादती के खिलाफ आवाज उठाती है, क्योंकि जमाना उसे सुनने के बजाय उसे ही कटघरे में खड़ा कर देता है। रात में बाहर क्यों निकली? ऐसे कपड़े क्यों पहने? ऐसे तमाम सोच और सवाल के बीच, अनीत पड्ढा और फातिमा सना शेख की दमदार परफॉर्मेंस वाली वेब सीरीज ‘हुंकार: द रोर’ आज के समय में महत्वपूर्ण बन जाती है। हालांकि, कमजोर लिखाई के कारण 6 एपिसोड की यह वेब सीरीज दहाड़ तो नहीं पाती, लेकिन बिहार के जमुई से लेकर राजधानी दिल्ली तक, आज लड़कियों के साथ जो हो रहा है, उसको लेकर कुछ जरूरी सवाल जरूर खड़े करती है।

Villainous godmen are becoming an OTT staple. The acclaim of Aashram (2020), which catapulted Bobby Deol’s dangling career, was followed by the rockstar act of Manoj Bajpayee in Sirf Ek Bandaa Kaafi Hai (2023) where he played a lawyer, going against a godman to ensure justice to a rape victim. There was also Netflix’s Maharaj (2024), which again revolved around a baba brainwashing and sexually assaulting his female disciples. Godmen make for great antagonists as they provide filmmakers with a controversy-free proxy to comment on the banes of blind-faith, callousness of power systems and the perils of patriarchal societies, while also championing the need for female liberty and free thinking.