Prahaar review: A case worth fighting, a film worth questioning

Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam review: Prahaar follows Ujjwal Nikam's courtroom battle to prosecute Ajmal Kasab after the 26/11 attacks. The drama champions constitutional due process but loses emotional force through repeated narrative detours.

In Short

• Kasab’s capture establishes him as living evidence of cross-border terror machinery
• Young victim’s testimony provides the film’s strongest emotional moment in court
• Nikam’s strained family relationships repeatedly interrupt the central legal narrative

We have watched 26/11 unfold on television, revisited it through news reports, TV shows and films, and seen the horror through the eyes of terrorists and victims. But what about the courtroom battle that followed? Why did India have to spend years proving Ajmal Kasab guilty when photographs, eyewitnesses and the horrors of that night were staring us in the face? And why was keeping a terrorist alive more important than delivering instant justice?

Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam takes us into the courtroom to answer these questions, offering a different perspective on one of India’s most devastating terror attacks. At its heart is a powerful line attributed to the prosecutor himself: "Justice delayed is justice denied, but justice hurried is justice buried." Because even when the accused is Ajmal Kasab, the Constitution cannot take a backseat to public anger.

The film opens with Nikam celebrating his victory in the 1993 Bombay blasts case. Years later, as he prepares for his daughter's wedding, 26/11 happens, pulling him into a battle that would define his career. Enter Rajkummar Rao as the fiery prosecutor, known for his temper and his insistence that only 'samvidhaan' matters.

One of the film’s most important arguments is about why Kasab had to be captured alive. He was 'evidence', a living link to the terror machinery across the border, and a witness to how young men were radicalised, trained and sent to India to kill innocent people.

Prahaar also attempts to humanise the terrorist without excusing his crimes. Kasab, played by Lalit Prabhakar, hears the azaan (Islamic call to prayer) and is told that it is Eid. His bewildered question, "India mein Eid manane ki ijazat hai (Is it allowed to celebrate Eid in India)?" reveals just how deeply his worldview has been distorted. It is a chilling moment that shows how radicalisation can turn human beings into obedient killing machines, incapable of questioning the hatred they have been taught.

Unfortunately, the film takes its time getting to the heart of the matter. The courtroom proceedings and legal arguments establish the stakes, but the emotional connection remains elusive until a 10-year-old victim (a brilliant Diorr Varghese) takes the stand and testifies against Kasab. This is the film at its most powerful, forcing us to confront the innocent lives destroyed by the attack. Just when you think the drama has finally found its emotional centre, however, the screenplay takes another detour.

The focus shifts to Nikam’s personal life, his strained family relationships and the sacrifices his profession has demanded. He lives in a hotel room, misses out on his children’s growing-up years and time with his wife. When he blesses his grandchild and tells the child to always love the family, his son responds with a snigger. It is a telling moment in a relationship shaped by years of absence and emotional distance.

These personal details are revealing, but the film leans on them so heavily that its central story loses momentum. There is a fascinating courtroom drama here, yet the screenplay repeatedly wanders away from it. The result is a frustrating stop-start narrative that rises just when you begin settling into the story, only to drop again.

The film's other interesting character is lawyer Kazmi (Sikandar Kher), who faces hostility for defending Kasab. When he questions police officers, photographers and witnesses, you feel enraged. Shunned by sections of his own community, he also points out that his Muslim surname has made his professional life more difficult. It is a crucial perspective in a film that understands, at least in these moments, that defending someone's legal rights does not mean defending their actions.

Jaideep Ahlawat makes a strong impression in a cameo as a Pakistani lawyer Chaudhary Zulfiqar. His courtroom exchanges with Rajkummar are fuelled by ego clashes, jibes and professional rivalry, but a lovely scene involving Bombil fish briefly softens their equation. The two discuss the personal lives they have sacrificed for their careers, while Jaideep’s character quotes poet Sahir Ludhianvi to reflect on the ultimate cost of conflict: human life. It is one of those rare moments when the film finds nuance without spelling everything out.

Rajkummar, meanwhile, is committed to the role, but his performance occasionally feels too manufactured. The actor, known for making characters seem effortlessly real, appears so intent on embodying Nikam’s mannerisms that the performance begins to look like an act. His climactic monologue about waging war against India will undoubtedly draw whistles and applause, but theatrical punch is not the same as emotional impact.

Wamiqa Gabbi struggles similarly, with stiff expressions and mannerisms that make her portrayal as Mrs Nikam feel more performed than lived-in. Sumit Roy’s dialogues, on the other hand, have their moments, and Kasab’s confession offers a disturbing glimpse into the making of a terrorist. The problem lies in the screenplay, which needed tighter editing and better flow.

For a film about 26/11, the biggest disappointment is how rarely it makes us feel the full impact of the attack. This can never be just an Ujjwal Nikam story. It is about the attack, the attacker and the attacked, more than the man in the black coat fighting the case. But somehow the focus remains so much on him that the film never creates the impact it had intended. The subject had enough emotional heft to knock the wind out of you. The film, unfortunately, keeps stopping short.

- Ends