Director: Raam Reddy
Cast: Manoj Bajpayee, Deepak Dobriyal, Priyanka Bose, Tillotama Shome, Hiral Sidhu, Awan Pookot
Stars : 3.5
In Jugnuma: The Fable, filmmaker Raam Reddy crafts a cinematic experience that doesn’t beg for attention, but earns it with slow, meditative storytelling and an unflinching gaze at power, privilege, and the forgotten roots of the land. Set in the Himalayan foothills in 1989, the film doesn't unfold — it breathes.
Much like its titular “fireflies,” the film glows quietly in moments of stillness and darkness. Shot in evocative 16mm by Sunil Borkar, every frame feels like a forgotten photograph pulled from a memory box—grainy, beautiful, and deeply intimate. This is not a film for impatient audiences; it is for those willing to slow down and listen to what the mountains are whispering.
At the center is Dev (a masterfully restrained Manoj Bajpayee), the seemingly benevolent owner of a vast orchard estate that he oversees like a self-proclaimed steward of legacy. Inherited from the colonial lineage, the land once belonged to British masters and, even before that, perhaps to people who never had the power to record ownership.
Dev believes he has crafted his life from scratch, symbolized quite literally by a pair of homemade wings he uses to fly over his estate — a dreamlike metaphor for his god-like surveillance and detachment. But this illusion begins to collapse when mysterious fires begin consuming his precious cherry blossom trees. What starts as suspicion of an accident quickly turns into paranoia, class tension, and a quiet reckoning.
Is the fire a message? A revolt? Or simply nature reclaiming what was always hers?
Reddy doesn’t handhold the audience with clear morals. Instead, he lets contradictions coexist: Dev is kind but complicit, fatherly yet arrogant, broken but clinging to control. The lines between the real and the magical are blurred, not to confuse, but to evoke — an effect that lingers longer than any spoon-fed climax ever could.
Through the perspective of Vanya (Hiral Sidhu), Dev’s daughter who becomes fascinated with a group of nomads and one enigmatic horseman, the film subtly gestures toward generational change, curiosity, and the desire to step outside one’s inheritance.
Meanwhile, the locals — especially characters like Dev’s manager Mohan (a quietly brilliant Deepak Dobriyal) and the folk-tale-spinning Keshav’s wife (Tillotama Shome) — anchor the film in oral traditions, myth, and unspoken truths. They’re not just side characters; they’re the soul of the land.
Manoj Bajpayee once again proves why he’s among the country’s finest. His performance isn’t showy; it’s slow-burning, internal, and at times painfully honest. As Dev, he captures a man who is more confused than cruel, more lost than villainous — the kind of man who doesn’t realize he’s part of the problem until the ground beneath him begins to smolder.
Deepak Dobriyal delivers one of his most nuanced performances as Mohan, the caretaker and storyteller whose voice, literally and metaphorically, threads the film’s folkish mood. Priyanka Bose is understated and lyrical as Nandini, Dev’s wife, whose devotional songs carry as much meaning as any line of dialogue.
Sunil Borkar’s cinematography does more than capture beauty — it captures decay, memory, and displacement. The hills aren’t just backdrops; they feel like characters, watching, reacting. The 16mm texture adds a tactile, almost nostalgic feel, while Nithin Lukose’s immersive sound design heightens the tension without overplaying it. The result is a world that feels real and fable-like at the same time — grounded yet ethereal.
Jugnuma doesn’t hand you a resolution. It leaves you with questions: Who truly owns the land? What does legacy mean when it is built on displacement? What happens when privilege mistakes itself for innocence?
Its ending, ambiguous and interpretive, is more powerful for its quietness. For some, it may feel unsatisfying. But for others, it will feel like the right kind of ache — the one that art is meant to leave you with.
Raam Reddy has created a film that resists classification. It’s not a thriller, not exactly a drama, and not quite fantasy — it is a mood, a metaphor, and a mirror. With Jugnuma: The Fable, he brings Indian cinema a mature voice that doesn’t preach, but whispers truths into the wind.
It is not loud. It is not fast. But it will stay with you — like the afterglow of fireflies you didn’t notice until the lights went out.The film is for those who believe cinema is not just entertainment, but introspection.