Dahaad review: Something is rotten in the state of Rajasthan
Live MintDahaad’s opening credits unfold as an unsettling montage of haunted Rajasthan. It’s another example of Rajasthan Noir, a sub-subgenre that includes the sublime Manorama Six Feet Under, the cop western Thar, maybe a bit of Gulaal. A made-up case of ‘love jihad’ in the small town of Mandawa—the first episode really is an echo of Afwaah—points Bhaati and SHO Devilal Singh to another disappearance: a woman who’s eloped with a man named Vijay. The initial focus on religious xenophobia—it's worrying when lynch mobs assume a depressing familiarity—gives way to the show’s twin targets: patriarchy and the caste system. It’s another reason the crime spree has stayed under the radar; as Bhaati tells the sceptical Parghi, “If there was an upper-caste girl in the list, someone would’ve raised hell by now.“ Bhaati, someone who’s trying to leave caste behind, is more intriguing in theory than in practice, mostly because of the performer.
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