Raam Reddy's Jugnuma - The Fable opens with an elegant one-take sequence that soon ascends to breathtaking heights, literally and figuratively, when Dev (Manoj Bajpayee) spreads his wings and takes flight. I am happy to report that the movie never crashes throughout its runtime — it remains elevated, sophisticated, divine. Reddy, along with cinematographer Sunil Borkar, has crafted an aesthetic built around images that feel both nostalgic and slightly soggy. Bathed in a yellow filter, each frame takes on the texture of a vintage photograph blended with a watercolor painting, softening the outlines of objects and figures on the screen. The characters drift into their surroundings, and the surroundings breathe them in. This isn't beauty for beauty's sake; it's a visual philosophy that mirrors how the film itself blurs the line between dream and logic. Fantasy and reality entwine so fluidly, so tenderly, that the movie becomes a kind of visual magic. This is one of those fantastical experiences where lovers communicate telepathically. When these young characters sneak into a barn, share an intimate meditative connection, and the lamp dims, a firefly (jugnu) lands on it, softly lighting up the surroundings. It sounds like a simple scene, but the surfeit of astonishment and wonder it conjures is precisely what's missing from many bombastic, CGI-heavy "fantasies."
This sorcery of visuals is matched by the sorcery of dialogue. A mother (Tillotama Shome) assures her son that when dead bodies are burned, the corpses feel as if they are getting a hot shower. After Vanya (Hiral Sidhu), Dev's daughter, and a horse nomad (Jeewan Adhikary) have a spiritual communication, she tells her friend that she melted. There is also great pleasure in simply listening to the characters. Reddy allows each character to speak in a distinct tone, thereby distinguishing them from one another. Dev's family has that upper-middle-class accent that tells us they are well-educated (they even watch Hollywood movies together). Toot Singh (Rampal Kishore Agarwal), a police officer, talks in broken English, which signifies he's trying to impress Dev sir. When a colonel asks Toot Singh how far a character's house is, he says, "Thodi dur hai, par dur hai," or something like that. I chuckled. This colonel, Colonel Bopanna (Viking), speaks calmly, using words that sound polite and measured. His voice convinces us that he is a man of discipline and order.
Jugnuma enraptures you, trapping you in its magnificent realm of visual and vocal wonders to such an extent that you could end up forgetting crucial information. For instance, I forgot that for Dev, the colonial mansion is an inheritance from a forefather who tasted success while working under the Britishers. This is why I'm glad I spoke to a girl after the screening — someone who turned out to be both perceptive and intelligent. She not only reminded me of the detail I had forgotten but also shared her thoughts on that stunning climax. She explained that the workers reclaimed not only their land, but also the wing — the one Dev uses, which rightfully belongs to them. She even drew a parallel between Jugnuma and Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, noting that both deal with pesticides and their harmful effects on the environment. Jugnuma is essentially a story of reclaiming what has been lost; it's a story of freedom. The workers get their land, while Dev and his family find their home in the end. That "finding the home" bit gives rise to a surreal, mythical touch, and it alerts you to the names of the characters. Dev means god, Nandini (she is Dev's wife and is played by Priyanka Bose) is a name for Goddess Parvati, Vanya can mean "gracious gift of God" or simply "gift of God," and Juju (he is Dev's younger son and is played by Awan Pookot), in West African culture, refers to magic or spiritual practices.
It would have been easy to paint Dev and his family members as downright villains, considering there is a subtle tension between them and the maids as well as other workers (some people see Dev and say that "a rich man" is going down the hill). Nandini feels a little uneasy when Vanya reveals that only their driver knew she was arriving at the estate a day early for summer vacation. One can almost read Nandini's thoughts; she could be thinking, "What if the driver had done something to Vanya?" When a maid tries to warn Nandini about Toot Singh, she gives her a sharp look and tells her to mind her own business instead of spreading gossip. While heading toward the site of the fire and disaster, Dev first politely asks a few workers to get into the car. Then, in a low, monotonous but stern voice, he calls them "idiots" and rebukes them for drinking alcohol. But the biggest clash, an emotional one at that, occurs between Dev and his manager, Mohan (Deepak Dobriyal). Dev has already begun to suspect, distrust, and distance himself from the housemaids and orchard workers. However, when he projects the same suspicion onto Mohan, the bitterness in Dev's eyes and the heartbreak in Mohan's are so intense it feels like the screen itself might shatter.
Strapped to his wings, Dev flies so high up in the sky that he has no idea what's happening on the ground. He doesn't know who is responsible for burning the trees, and he has no idea that Vanya has developed a crush on a nomad. Dev isn't even available when Colonel Bopanna tries to connect with him through the walkie-talkie because he gets busy working on the wing. This disconnect from "ground reality" is also reflected in a more poetic scene, where Dev, his wife, and their children gaze at the stars twinkling in the sky. So mesmerized are they by the shining dots above that they fail to notice the shimmering fireflies glowing nearby. Since no one really knows who's the culprit behind the fires, the seeds of distrust are sown between the characters. Dev loses trust in the workers, and the workers blame nomads for all the trouble. Ultimately, the police arrive to exert control over the people and the fire. The images that, near the beginning, were filled with children joyously running and playing now shift to scenes of guns, confinement, oppression, and police cruelty. In that sense, Jugnuma becomes a visual tale of childhood innocence growing up and confronting adult realities.
What truly works in the movie's favor is that it features a mix of professional and non-professional actors. You might recognize names like Bajpayee, Shome, Bose, and Dobriyal, but none of them stand out as "professionals" or "famous faces." The people on screen blend seamlessly with one another, and they seem perfectly suited to the world they inhabit. They also lend the film a strong sense of authenticity, a lived-in feeling. The emotions hit hard and cut straight through you, because it often feels like you're watching real people, not actors playing characters. What Reddy has achieved here can — and should — only be described as miraculous. While walking out of the theater and talking to that girl, I felt a twinge of guilt for not managing to catch Thithi before seeing Jugnuma (believe me, I tried, but the past few weeks have been hectic). Then again, the most wonderful thing about cinema is its long history, full of overlooked gems just waiting to be discovered, celebrated, and recognized. I plan to fix my mistake as soon as possible — by watching Thithi.
Final Score- [9/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times