Indian spy thrillers have long been synonymous with rousing background scores and triumphant musical themes that amplify action and national pride. Director Aditya Dhar's latest film, 'Dhurandhar', boldly discards this familiar playbook. Instead, it employs sound not as an emotional crutch but as a sophisticated narrative tool. The film meticulously orchestrates music, dialogue, and deliberate silence to mirror the inner turmoil of its protagonist and the heavy moral price of covert operations.
Retro Tracks and Sonic Dissonance
One of the most talked-about scenes in Dhurandhar features a brutal confrontation between the protagonist Hamza and members of Arshad Pappu's gang. The sequence is scored not with tense orchestration, but with Bappi Lahiri's classic 1980s disco track, 'Rambha Ho'. This choice is intentionally jarring. The clash of vintage Bollywood glamour against modern, tactical violence creates a grotesque dissonance.
The purpose is not to stylize the fight but to highlight its absurdity. For Hamza, a man caught between conflicting identities, this collision of retro-pop and present-day brutality perfectly echoes his own fractured existence. The sound design sharpens its focus in scenes with R. Madhavan's character, Ajay Sanyal. Hamza never verbally responds to him. Their "conversations" are entirely one-sided, with Ajay issuing commands into a void.
This deliberate absence of dialogue strips Hamza of his agency, reducing him to an instrument. Often, ambient noises overpower these exchanges, reinforcing that his role is purely functional, not human. He exists to follow orders, not to engage or be heard.
Cultural Memory and Fractured Identities
Music in Dhurandhar also acts as a vessel for cultural memory. The folk-inspired track 'Jogi', used for the title song, is not confined to a single scene. Its instrumental motifs are scattered throughout the narrative, appearing in fragments during escapes, transitions, and moments of internal conflict. This repetition gives the melody a haunting, shadow-like quality, persistently tying Hamza's covert present to a past he was forced to abandon.
The film pushes into a different sonic zone with the chase sequence scored by 'Run Down the City (Monica)'. The track blends electronic urgency with a restless urban pulse, propelling the action without drowning it in typical heroism. The music underscores pursuit and paranoia, where every beat feels like a step closer to exposure.
Dhurandhar makes an inventive move by reworking familiar old songs through the incorporation of modern rap. Tracks like 'Ye Ishq Ishq Hai', 'Jogi', and 'Monica! O My Darling!' are reimagined with rap verses woven into their structure. The rap doesn't replace the original melodies; it interrupts and disrupts them. This sonic fracture reflects the film's world where identities are unstable and loyalties are perpetually tested. The nostalgia of the old tunes is shattered by the rap, dragging them into a harsher contemporary reality.
The Oppressive Power of Silence
Perhaps the film's most powerful sonic choice is its use of silence. In a prolonged sequence set on the roads and highways of Karachi, the background score vanishes completely. No music guides the audience's emotions or promises a thrilling escape. Only the sounds of breathing, distant static, and the environment remain.
This silence is oppressive. It serves as a stark reminder of the film's central truth: if Hamza dies, there will be no heroic anthem, no ceremony, and no official acknowledgment. His life, officially, never existed. The film strongly suggests Hamza is a "death-row recruit"—a detail inferred from the final moments though never explicitly stated. For such a character, this silence represents ultimate isolation. There is no swelling patriotic score to make him feel like a hero. In the shadows, he is merely an expendable asset.
Through its calculated use of retro tracks, folk motifs, intrusive rap, and profound silence, Dhurandhar reshapes the sonic language of Indian spy cinema. The film refuses to use sound to reassure or glorify. Instead, it uses audio to unsettle the viewer, question the nature of espionage, and reveal the profound human cost of a life lived in the shadows.
