The sun hangs low and strange over the fictional heartland of India, casting shadows that don’t quite behave. This is the world of Indrajaal, a film that asks a deceptively simple question: what happens when a colonial-era myth refuses to stay buried? Opening in theatres on July 24, the 136-minute feature is a curious beast - a comedic fantasy mystery that plays like a fever dream cooked up by a village storyteller with a PhD in conspiracy theories.
At its centre is Surya (Mahesh Nikam), a man whose name means "sun" but whose fortunes have been decidedly overcast. When a solar eclipse looms - the kind that arrives once every twelve years, like clockwork or cosmic spite - Surya finds himself dragged into a race for a legendary treasure hidden by the British. But this is no straightforward heist. The film’s director, Jageshwar Ratnakar Dhoble, has crafted a world where the map is barely legible, the clues are cryptic, and the prophecy attached to the loot is less a warning and more a countdown to chaos.
The ensemble is a motley crew of archetypes pushed to their delightful extremes. Shanaya Tripathi’s Kirti isn’t just the token brain; she’s the pragmatic anchor in a sea of lunacy, the kind of character who rolls her eyes at the supernatural while simultaneously decoding an ancient Sanskrit inscription. Then there’s Yashraj Dimbale as Jettaswami, a self-proclaimed mystic whose powers seem to work only when nobody’s watching. Namdeo Murkute’s Ranger brings the muscle - or at least the illusion of it - while Darshan Raval’s Jogan and Dheeraj Sharma’s Prajakt round out a supporting cast that feels less like actors and more like a repertory troupe having the time of their lives.
But the film’s true wildcard is Kira Dane as Yaksh. The name, drawn from mythic nature spirits, hints at something otherworldly, yet Dane plays the role with a twinkle that keeps the audience guessing. Is Yaksh a guide, a trickster, or the prophecy’s enforcer? The ambiguity is the point. Kalpana Sarang’s Dharmini, meanwhile, serves as the film’s moral compass - though even her needle spins wildly by the third act.
What makes Indrajaal work is its tonal juggling act. The comedy is broad but never desperate; there’s a scene involving a map that only becomes visible under the exact light of the eclipse, and the group’s attempts to angle a mirror to catch that light is pure, physical slapstick. Yet Dhoble doesn’t let the laughs undercut the stakes. When the prophecy starts to close in - when ambition curdles into obsession and greed turns friends into rivals - the film shifts into a quieter, more unnerving register. The treasure, we begin to realise, is not merely gold. It’s a test.
The mystery unfolds with the satisfying logic of a puzzle box, even as the fantasy elements blur the lines of reality. One moment, the characters are bickering over a faulty compass; the next, a shadow moves against the wind, and the genre shifts underneath you. The cinematography leans into golden-hour haze and deep, unnatural greens, giving the landscape a mythic weight. It’s a film that understands the power of place - that a forgotten fort or a gnarled banyan tree can hold more dread than any monster ever could.
There’s also a sly commentary buried beneath the spectacle. The treasure was hidden by colonisers, and the prophecy speaks of a reckoning. Without ever hammering the point, Indrajaal asks who truly owns a land’s history and whether the ghosts of the past can ever be outrun. It’s a theme that resonates beyond the screen, but Dhoble wisely never lets the message bog down the momentum. The film is too busy being entertaining to moralise.
If there’s a flaw, it’s that the final act rushes to tie up loose ends in a manner that feels slightly too neat. The prophecy, so elegantly vague for 110 minutes, gets over-explained in the last stretch, robbing it of some mystique. But by then, you’re likely to be won over by the sheer confidence of the filmmaking and the undeniable charm of the cast.
As of this writing, Indrajaal holds a 0/10 rating on TMBd - a placeholder, perhaps, for a film that’s still finding its audience. Early buzz suggests it will be a cult favourite in waiting, the kind of movie people discover on streaming years from now and wonder why they hadn’t heard of it. In a landscape dominated by sequels and spectacle, there’s something refreshingly odd about a film that wants to be funny, scary, and thoughtful all at once, and mostly succeeds.
The treasure will wait another twelve years for the next eclipse. The prophecy, meanwhile, suggests that some stories refuse to stay buried. Indrajaal is one of them. It’s a reminder that the best mysteries aren’t always about what you find - they’re about what finds you.
