Kohrra Review: A riveting tale of love and violence

Kohrra opens--in accordance with its title--with a thick haze over an expanse of green fields in rural Punjab. A young couple is bumping uglies in the bushes. A pesky dog is barking tirelessly. Riled, the boy runs out, ahead of his girlfriend and picks up a brick. He reaches the spot but something makes him throw the brick aside. A body is lying on the grass. The girl runs away, shrieking. The scream and the bark dissolve in the mist.

The demised is Paul Dhillon (Vishal Handa), an NRI munda who was slated to marry the next day. His best man and best friend Liam Murphy (Ivantiy Novak) is also missing. Assigned to the case are the contemplative cop Balbir Singh (Suvinder Vicky) and his ball-bursting subordinate Garundi (Barun Sobti). Every lead, leads to a box of worms. Paul’s fiancée Veera (Aanand Priya) met him on the night of the killing and was seen by her jilted ex-lover and rapper Saakar (Saurav Khurana). The same night later, Paul and Liam were drunk, looking for cocaine and had a tiff with a dealer. A dent was found on Paul’s car, from an earlier accident, a possible murder attempt. His father Satwinder aka Steve Dhillon (Manish Chaudhari) has a land dispute with his brother Maninder (Varun Badola). A truck driver is on-the-run, another bus driver is pestering Maninder’s son Happy (Amaninder Pal Singh) for blood money. The fog clears, the plot thickens.

Created by: Gunjit Chopra, Diggi Sisodia and Sudip Sharma

Directed by: Randeep Jha

Starring: Suvinder Vicky, Barun Sobti, Harleen Sethi, Manish Chaudhari, Varun Badola

Streaming on: Netflix

Kohrra is co-created by Sudip Sharma (Paatal Lok, Udta Punjab) along with Gunjit Chopra and Diggi Sisodia. Although the direction is by Randeep Jha (Halahal), Sharma’s signature grittiness and grim humour is sprawled over the narrative. The mystery in question is a mere tool to unspool the lives of each character. Suvinder’s Balbir shares a tumultuous relationship with his daughter Nimrat (Harleen Sethi) because she left her husband. Parallelly, a flashback displays Steve’s toxic masculinity, as he beats up a young Paul because he cut his hair and shaved his beard (“We are a warrior clan!”). Another shows Happy spitting in the glass as he makes a drink for his father, Maninder. A lot of Kohrra explores the trickle-down effects of patriarchy, how it rots relationships and stifles individuality. Sins of fathers, purged by sons.

Lately, Punjab has been a frequent setting for many OTT shows (Tabbar, CAT, Masoom). Kohrra sees the state beyond the mustard fields and the drug cartels. The investigation takes us inside the lanes of Punjab’s transport business, in the offices of its real estate barons and into the desperations of its sportspersons which make them either police informers or recovery agents. The series doesn’t entirely shut its eyes towards the state’s drug chaos. It’s just seen through the eyes of the victims rather than the perpetrators. A using suspect pulls at the prison bars when the jeebies kick in, another dealer angrily chases its customers after they refuse to buy from him. Kohrra also subtly takes jibes at Punjab’s foreign fixation. The characters frequently meet at an American-style diner, cheekily titled Amreeka Return Café. After he comes to know of Veera’s engagement with Paul, Saakar pens a rap song, the lyrics of which are, “First they took Kohinoor (diamond) and now my face’s noor (beauty).”

Kohrra deals with the repercussions of physical and emotional violence. But everything in the series emanates from love. The lack of it, the consequences of it, the motivations of it. Each character does what they do in its pursuit. Balbir waits in his police car, outside the house of his informer’s widow, as she looks at him from the window. Garundi’s sister-in-law blows up a cylinder after he cuts off a fling with her. Liam’s mother hides a secret. Maninder orders a kill to save his son. What people won’t do for love. And love is a dog from hell.