Dupahiya Review: Gajraj Rao, Renuka Shahane Deliver Stellar Performances In Hilarious Village Dramedy

Last Updated:March 07, 2025, 01:37 IST

Directed by Sonam Nair and led by a stellar cast, Dupahiya masterfully blends comedy, romance and social satire.

Dupahiya Review: Dupahiya is a rare alchemy of humour, satire and poignant social commentary, a tale that revels in the sheer absurdity of life in small-town India while never losing sight of its emotional core. Sonam Nair directs this charming chaos with a deft hand, crafting a story where whimsy meets wisdom, where laughter is born not out of slapstick but from the idiosyncrasies of everyday existence. It is a series where the extraordinary is spun from the ordinary, where a stolen motorcycle catalyzes an entire village’s descent into pandemonium, and where a crime-free town finds itself in an existential crisis when confronted with its first real crime in twenty-five years. Led by an ensemble cast of remarkable actors, including Gajraj Rao, Renuka Shahane, Sparsh Srivastava, Bhuvan Arora, Shivani Raghuvanshi, Yashpal Sharma, Godaan Kumar, Aaloak Kumar, Samarth Mahor, Komal Kushwaha, Chandan Kumar, Avinash Dwivedi, Yogendra Tikku, and Anjuman Saxena, Dupahiya is a joyride that oscillates between hilarity and heartfelt introspection.

Dhadakpur, an idyllic hamlet somewhere in the heart of Bihar, is on the cusp of a momentous occasion—celebrating twenty-five glorious years without a single recorded crime. It is an achievement of such grand proportions that its prize is nothing less than a borewell, a tangible reward that promises to emancipate the villagers from the tyranny of stagnant, muddy water. The person ensuring this triumph is the shrewd and spirited ward member, Pushplata Yadav, played with impeccable grace by Renuka Shahane. But in another corner of this seemingly utopian village, Banwari Jha, the affable school principal played by Gajraj Rao, is embroiled in an entirely different challenge—his daughter Roshni’s impending marriage. What begins as a straightforward marital arrangement takes an unexpected turn when Roshni refuses to wed her intended groom, Durlabh Tripathi. Her heart and her ambitions lie elsewhere. She has set her sights on his younger brother, Kuber. The reason is as amusing as it is revealing—Kuber, unlike his elder sibling, has secured a government job in Mumbai. For Roshni, the city is a dream, a shimmering beacon of escape from the monotony of village life, and she is prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure her future lies beyond the dusty lanes of Dhadakpur.

Bhugol, her brother, a social media-obsessed “reeler” with delusions of grandeur, is equally invested in this matrimonial realignment. In his mind, his sister’s marriage to a Mumbai-based groom is his own gateway to stardom, a chance to break free from obscurity and into the limelight of digital fame. Sparsh Srivastava embodies Bhugol with such infectious energy that he becomes both exasperating and endearing, a character so deeply flawed yet so profoundly entertaining that one cannot help but root for him. But Kuber, ever the astute opportunist, understands his value in this exchange. His condition for accepting Roshni’s hand is both simple and extravagant—he demands a dupahiya, a three-lakh-rupee Royal Enfield Bullet. For him, the motorcycle is more than just a vehicle; it is a proclamation of power, masculinity, and prestige.

The demand sends shockwaves through the Jha household, but Roshni remains unyielding. To her, this is not just about a dowry but about autonomy, about securing an avenue for escape. After much debate and sacrifice, a cow is sold, and the funds are miraculously gathered. The Bullet arrives in Dhadakpur with all the reverence of a deity, its chrome glistening under the sun, its presence a symbol of aspirations fulfilled. The villagers gawk in awe, envious whispers ripple through the air, and for a fleeting moment, everything appears to be in place. But fate, mischievous as ever, has other plans.

The motorcycle disappears. Not misplaced, not borrowed—stolen. And in the most absurd fashion imaginable. Bhugol, ever the content creator, stages a reel featuring a fake robbery—one in which he emerges victorious, heroically thwarting a nonexistent thief. But just as the camera rolls, irony intervenes, and a real thief materializes, spiriting away the dupahiya under the cover of night. Panic sets in. To report the crime would be to stain the village’s pristine record, an outcome simply too mortifying to bear. In an act of desperation, Bhugol concocts an alibi so audacious that it borders on genius—he blames Amavas, a former resident of the village, a man once exiled for his compulsive thieving. Conveniently, Amavas also happens to be Roshni’s former lover, a fact that dredges up emotions Roshni thought she had long buried.

Banwari and Roshni set out to confront Amavas, their meeting thick with nostalgia and unresolved longing. Chandan Kumar plays Amavas with a rugged charm, a man who has been wronged by the village yet remains tethered to its memory. He vehemently denies the accusation, but the accusation is merely a spark to a fire already smoldering. The missing Bullet, the looming wedding, and the re-emergence of an old love create a volatile concoction of chaos and comedy. Meanwhile, Inspector Mithilesh Kushwaha (Yashpal Sharma), a man who has long harbored a vendetta against Banwari Jha, waits in the wings, eager to see him crumble under the weight of the scandal. His single-minded determination to force an FIR out of the family is both a source of conflict and a masterstroke of dark comedy.

Beyond the primary plot of the missing Bullet, Dupahiya is enriched by a multitude of subplots, each as compelling as the next. Nirmal, Roshni’s best friend, played with quiet brilliance by Komal Kushwaha, is a woman of intellect and capability, yet she wrestles with deep-seated insecurities about her dark complexion. In a society where fairness is equated with desirability, she considers undergoing surgery to alter her appearance, a tragic yet deeply resonant commentary on the pervasive biases that shape self-worth. Then there is the Launda Naach sequence, a dazzling homage to Bihar’s folk traditions, where Bhugol and his best friend Teepu, played with effortless comedic timing by Bhuvan Arora, immerse themselves in a performance that is equal parts joyous and subversive, challenging rigid notions of masculinity while delivering one of the most visually enthralling moments of the series.

At its heart, Dupahiya thrives on its ability to balance humor with depth, its comedy never undercutting the weight of its social observations. The writing, helmed by Avinash Dwivedi, Chirag Garg, Salona Bains Joshi, and Shubh Shivdasani, is razor-sharp, laced with wit, and brimming with authenticity. Each scene is meticulously crafted, every exchange laced with either biting humor or quiet introspection. Sonam Nair directs with a keen sense of rhythm, ensuring the pace never falters, the stakes never feel forced, and the emotional beats always land with precision.

The performances are universally stellar. Gajraj Rao is, as expected, masterful, his comic timing so effortless that he can elevate even the simplest of moments into gold. Renuka Shahane commands the screen with an understated authority, while Sparsh Srivastava delivers a performance so uninhibited and charismatic that it cements his place as one of the brightest young actors of his generation. Shivani Raghuvanshi plays Roshni with a mix of determination and vulnerability, making her arc one of the most compelling in the show. Yashpal Sharma, as the meddling inspector, is both menacing and absurd, a character who oscillates between comedy and antagonism with deftness.

Ultimately, Dupahiya is a triumph of storytelling, a series that understands the art of balancing levity with gravity. It is a rare show that makes you laugh, think, and feel, all in the span of a single episode. While it shares tonal similarities with Panchayat, it possesses an irreverent energy entirely its own, reminiscent of Priyadarshan’s finest works. It is, quite simply, an unmissable gem—an uproarious, tender, and brilliantly executed ode to small-town life, where honor and absurdity go hand in hand, and where a stolen motorcycle can unravel an entire world with exhilarating hilarity.