Paatal Lok Season 2: Of locations and characters who are wounded, neglected and yet hopeful

It would be safe to say that those of us who have watched Paatal Lok Season 2 are still reeling from the effect it had on us. While Season 1 took viewers across India, tracing the backstories of its characters from Chitrakoot to Punjab, in Season 2, creator Sudip Sharma, director Avinash Arun Dhaware, and the team of writers, keep the focus on Delhi, Nagaland and the wide chasm that years of disinterest and distance has created between the state and the rest of India. How many of us, as a character rightly says, can even point out Nagaland on an unmarked map of India?

Sharma has always created stories where location is integral to plot and characterisation. Whether it’s NH 10, Sonchiriya or the web series Kohrra, his stories are inextricably linked to the physical setting. But what is interesting about Paatal Lok Season 2, is how the central characters of the show mirror Nagaland’s reality as an outsider on the inside. Hathi Ram Chaudhary (Jaideep Ahlawat) has spent almost 20 years as a cop but never felt appreciated by the police force.

Also read | Jaideep Ahlawat on why Paatal Lok 2 was delayed, getting validation after playing Hathi Ram: ‘Logon ko lagne laga main kaam kar leta hoon’
An inspector at the Outer Jamuna Par station, Hathi Ram’s dogged pursuit of the truth and unwavering integrity, have always put him at odds with the police system’s conveniently shifting morality. Imran Ansari (Ishwak Singh) has become an ACP and is on track to create a successful career, but his personal life and choice of partner, which he is forced to keep a secret, distance him emotionally from his colleagues. Meghna Barua (Tillotama Shome) is a senior police officer in Dimapur. But her gender, and the routine insubordination and disrespect she faces from her team and a male-dominated police force, have turned her cynical and wary.

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Perhaps these human connections that the writing creates, draws us to Nagaland when the story physically transports us there. The state becomes an integral character of the show, a living breathing entity that shows the repercussions of neglect, physical and psychological wounds of conflict, and simmering anger; all of which coexist in a fragile balance with hope for a better future. Interestingly, at no point does Sharma turn Nagaland into a victim or force us to gaze at it with pity. He isn’s trying to present the state as a misunderstood paradise. Instead, he adopts empathy, realism and dignity, creating a multi-faceted character that is equal parts darkness and light.

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The various dimensions of the state’s personality are personified by characters who both emerge from its history and hope to steer it into the future. Daniel (Prashant Tamang) has survived unimaginable loss, but his loyalty to the man who mentors him distorts his perception of reality. The bloodshed which stained Daniel’s past becomes his destiny as an adult. Reuben Thom (LC Sekhose) is misunderstood and disgruntled like Nagaland itself. Unfortunately, his disagreements with his corrupt father undermine his loyalty towards the state. Uncle Ken (Jahnu Barua) represents the state’s conflict-ridden past and hopeful future. But his seeming dedication to Nagaland’s progress masks a personal agenda for immortality. While the men pursue political power, wealth and fame, the women of Nagaland are the face of its suppressed pain and attempts to keep up fronts of normalcy. The strained relationship between Nagaland and the rest of India finds a parallel in the troubled relationships between mothers and their children in the show. Rose (Merenla Imsong) is estranged from her mother and daughter after being exploited and abused by powerful men all her life. Asenla Thom (Rozelle Mero) struggles to make sure her son’s hatred for his father does not cause him to self-destruct. Both she and Grace Reddy (Theyie Keditsu) are bound by privilege and pain. They helplessly brush their husbands’ deeds under the carpet and struggle to deal with the guilt and helplessness they feel.

In addition, Sharma and his team of writers, draw parallels between the characters from Nagaland and those who don’t belong to the state. Hathi Ram and Reuben have both had fathers who failed to be good parents. They are also both looking to make a mark and be recognised for their potential. Reuben and Ansari both have secrets they are keeping to save face and maintain respectability. Like Daniel, Ansari too grew up in a land defined by conflict, but fate places them on opposite sides of the law in Nagaland. Meghna and Hathi Ram are both police officers who are misunderstood and underestimated. Our biases are such that we assume Meghna is lazy, corrupt or inefficient, until in one brilliant scene, she tells Hathi Ram to stop acting like a martyr.

By connecting people and their pain, Sharma erases geographical distances and elevates the show to a story about the human condition. He shows us how trauma and wounds bind us as a species, as does our longing for acceptance and affection. This is why the moment between Hathi Ram and Ansari in episode four, when the lines between senior and subordinate are erased and the two men connect as human beings, is so heartfelt. Ansari gets what he least expected, acceptance, and Hathi Ram gives him what he never received, acceptance. Perhaps that is Sudip Sharma’s larger aim, for us to be invested in our fellow human beings, to replace ignorance with curiosity and to forge connections through kindness and humanity.