Nidradevi Next Door Movie Review:

Not every film that arrives at our theatres asks us to listen rather than cheer, and to feel rather than gasp. Sometimes, a story creeps in quietly, from a corner we don’t usually watch, and refuses to leave until it has unsettled our nights. Debutant director Suraag Sagar and actor Praveer Shetty, both trained in good cinema schools, have made such a film; one that doesn’t chase box-office formulas but insists on being experienced.

Cast: Praveer Shetty, Shine S Shetty, Rishika Naik, Shruthi Hariharan Sudharani, Anup Davann, Srivatsa Shyam, and K S Sridhar

Director: Suraag Sagar

Nidradevi Baa Mellage, Taarenda Ee Bhoomige…” is a line from the old classic lullaby Jo Jo Laali, which also has its own version in this film. It forms the very base of the story, invoking the goddess of sleep. A mother sings this lullaby to her son, telling him that Nidradevi is coming to guard him. The words shine brighter because they are her last gift. For young Dhruva, who loses his mother early, these bedtime words become both solace and curse. What if he never sleeps again?

From there, Nidradevi Next Door builds itself on this primal fear. Dhruva grows up into a cricketer, energetic in the day, but forever chasing the one thing he cannot conquer: sleep. He tries every trick — Google remedies (leading to a 'Sleepless Anthem'), advice from friends, even oddball therapies. But nothing works. His nights are haunted by Amma, his mother (Sudharani), his childhood friend Adya’s loss, and the deep-seated belief that anyone he loves will die.

The film’s structure is deliberately restless, mirroring its protagonist. Dhruva’s journey takes him to counsellors, to Shruthi, the psychiatrist who insists and guides him, and then arrives Riddhima (Rishika Naik) “next door.” She works at a suicide helpline, and she does come to Dhruva’s rescue. Her presence brings Dhruva his first yawn of peace. The film portrays her less as a conventional love interest, and more as a possible replacement for the mother he lost. Her conversations — about why she chose counselling, about her controlling brother Shyam, about finding simplicity in love and sleep — are among the film’s most grounded stretches. For Dhruva, she becomes that one person from whom he can get love and a warm hug, as rest is possible only when comforted.

And then there is Vikram (Shine Shetty), a shadow figure who preaches the dark side of sleep. His world is chillingly staged: no tablets, no tongue, just guts and “sleep cycle repair.” His philosophy, dangerous yet magnetic, becomes a mirror to Dhruva’s own battered soul.

But Dhruva is never free. He fears that everyone he loves leaves him, right from his mother to Adya, and even Riddhima, whom he hesitates to fully embrace. A backstory adds another wound, his childhood bully, Vishwas. The film makes a sharp point about how controlling parents can, sometimes, lead to children turning into bullies. The repercussions are one side of the story; the other side, the film suggests, is forgiveness. But even forgiveness, we see, is no easy balm.

Suraag Sagar stages the conflict between Dhruva and Vikram like a duel of philosophies. One seeks peace in healing, the other feeds on anger. Somewhere between them lies the film’s central question: can love survive without sleep, or does sleeplessness corrode love itself?

In Indian cinema, few have dared to make sleep and insomnia the narrative engine of a film. Lucia (2013) explored dreams and reality in a tightly wound thriller, turning sleep into a portal for identity and desire. Trapped (2016) depicted psychological extremities where normal routines, including sleep, are fractured, showing the mind’s fragility. In its own way, Nidradevi Next Door belongs to this lineage of risk-taking films: it treats sleep as both metaphor and story, creating a world where inner fears take centre stage.

Suraag knows he has taken a risk with such a subject, which is abstract, uncommercial, and layered. Yet he explains, probes, and insists. He is joined by Nakul Abhayankar, whose music bends and breathes with the characters, and the cinematographer, Ajay Kulkarni, who captures nuances of every performance. Praveer Shetty as Dhruva is raw, sometimes awkward, but the awkwardness feels honest as though he is still trying to find his purpose in life, just like his character. He is not a conventional hero, and that’s exactly the point. Shine Shetty is a revelation, giving Vikram menace without theatrics. And Riddhima, played by Rishika Naik, who is noted for her unique roles, brings the tenderness the film needs and stands as a steady anchor for a restless soul.

The writing occasionally sprawls, with too many diversions and too many philosophical tangents. But when it works, it touches something unusual. A lullaby becomes the film’s spine. A yawn becomes redemption. A film about sleep turns into a meditation on love, loss, and the shadows that haunt us long after the lights are switched off.

Nidradevi Next Door may not be a film for everyone. Its rhythms are uneven, its tone sometimes didactic. But it dares to linger in the corners of our nights that we usually ignore, to remind us that the battle for rest is also the battle for love, memory, and forgiveness. And in that quiet courage, it finds a rare kind of beauty.