Dupahiya Season 2 Review:
The quintessential imagery of a village often evokes a quietness, something that charms and soothes city folk. The narrow lanes are quieter, and people talk more softly, even while dealing with extreme chaos at times. Dupahiya has a similar energy in its second season, which premiered on Prime Video on October 1. However, while gently dealing with plenty of chaos and borderline-criminal developments, the world of Dupahiya fails to draw you in. It’s not quiet or slow — it’s just dull. Too dull to care for.
This time around, there is a lot of desperation in the air of Dhadakpur. Bhugol (Sparsh Shrivastava) is going through an identity crisis — he had became a ‘launda naach’ dancer without realising it will hamper his acting dreams and Mumbai plans. Now, on a priest’s advice, he must help a woman, to get rid of his own curse. Roshni (Shivani Raghvanshi) is desperate too, to pass an exam in order to prove something to her father, the villagers, and most importantly, her ex-fiance.
Cast: Gajraj Rao, Shivani Raghuvanshi, Sparsh Shrivastava, Bhuvan Aorora, Yashpal Sharma, Dinesh Lal Yadav, Komal Kushwaha, Renuka Shahane
Directed by: Sonam Nair
Streaming on: Prime Video
Meanwhile, Banwaari (Gajraj Rao), an ethical and respected teacher with love for his profession, reaches a point where he is compelled to cheat an entire village for his own selfish motives. However, nothing redeems him after he decidedly keeps someone like Sheetal (Suryansh Mishra) in the dark as well. In this genteel universe, which has space for very few bad people, Dupahiya S2 makers forget that Sheetal too is a protagonist in a sense. Now, who do we root for? The show doesn’t have enough ingenuity to be a satire, or heart to keep us on board with all of them. Banwari has no upper moral hand, and his desperation never feels strong enough to defy his moral righteousness. Roshni too never emerges as someone to root for.
That’s the biggest problem with Dupahiya S2 — it’s brimming with characters who are hard to empathise with, let alone cheer for. The show is always desperate in search of punchlines, jokey moments, a quirky figure of speech. There is an occasional jab at present state of affairs — an aspiring sarpanch talking about the need to abide by loktantra (democracy), someone reminding that “all news is rumours,” or that line about how a village is always too quick to believe in superstitions. However, under all the quirky details, the series hides the flaws and follies of its characters, trying to pitch itself as lovable slice-of-life without investing enough time in capturing the inner lives of these characters. It’s too busy trying to be a comedy.
Even when the stakes get higher, they never feel palpable and the tension never rise as we forget what’s on the line for Roshni — because the show forgets to remind us. At one point, Banwaari is described as ‘Jimmedaar Shikshak,’ but it’s hard to see him in that light. The makers spend all their energy on how to keep the energy light and playful, distracting us from the tension. Scenes are often staged like a parody, but performed with sincerity. It’s only inevitable that we remain confused about the tonality throughout. There are glimpses of drama early on, but the writing team remains stubborn to pitch this as a slice-of-life comedy, which explains the excess of punchlines and quirky dialogue. Not in the final episodes though — that’s where Dupahiya ventures into full-on preachy dramedy zone. After all the tricks are done, Roshni is reminded in an annoyingly preachy scene that a bright student almost died because of other cheating students, that ‘cheating is wrong.’ Sigh.
The stakes also feel smaller because while every character gets a track, a problem of their own, the stitching is too uneven. This needed to be a seamless tapestry, not a potpourri. It’s not surprising that Sheetal and Nirmal, and their somewhat cute romance slips in and out of the narrative at convenience.
The staging too is lacklustre. Despite being dialogue-driven, the show has no faith in its audience — the loyalty to standard over-the-shoulder shots just invites boredom into a universe already struggling with predictability. The passive viewing ambitions become more apparent, because the show has instinctively deemed itself as a product of a lesser artform — where tension and craft matter less than accessibility. There are many tricks up its sleeve, sure — the retro-eseque music nods never stop — but in its overall journey, Dupahiya S2 appears too cocky and cute for itself.
There is also this element of ‘small town acting’ that has plagued our OTT landscape, where every line is countered by a punchline, every character has a thick ‘rooted’ accent that must sound endearing, with everyone using the purest words from their vocabulary even if it sounds out of place. (Seriously, who says ‘Prem Tribhoj’ or ‘battery samaapt’? Or ‘James Bond-ai’?) Even cola is referred to as ‘kaala waala.’ It’s too much seasoning, just because the dish is bland. Most of the cast members sound too self-conscious about capturing the ‘rustic,’ and it shows in their performances, including Renuka Shahane who delivers a competent performance nonetheless.
If few moments work, they do solely because of how effective Sparsh Shrivastava remains as Bhugol. It needs conviction to sell a line like “Ye ladki hai ya naari?,” and Sparsh does it with gusto. Unfortunately, his arc is not written with equal attention — why would he expect not be stereotyped as an item dancer after branding himself as such is beyond me — and Bhugol is left hanging as the show arrives at its finale. Though we almost forget about Bhugol’s woes, the actor frequently reminds us that he is playing a character who deserves his own show.
Towards the end, Bhugol goes back to dancing for family, something he had decided to quit to maintain his dignity, because Dupahiya is now a sentimental drama. You got a problem with the genre-shift? Just pick up the broken pieces of this bike, and move on.