In the powerful finale of Nishaanchi 2, director Anurag Kashyap operates at his melodramatic peak, delivering a twist that resonates with profound poetic justice. The film's final minutes see a calculated collapse, a necessary destruction that gives the entire narrative its ultimate meaning. What superficially appears as justice is, in reality, the slow and inevitable arithmetic of karma finally settling its accounts.
A Performance for the Ages
Monika Panwar has unquestionably delivered the performance of the year. Her portrayal of Manjari is the film's emotional and moral anchor. It is a common trait in an Anurag Kashyap film for the world to tear open in the last act, and Nishaanchi 2 is no exception. However, the collapse here is not a mere surprise or spectacle. It is a direct and weighty consequence, an event foretold by every prior choice and crime committed by the characters.
This breakdown is predictable, yet it is entirely part of the film's grand design. Melodrama has always been a craft for restoring order, and Kashyap uses it precisely for that purpose. With Nishaanchi, he makes a deliberate foray into the cinema of melodrama, merging the sensibilities of legends like Mehboob Khan and Yash Chopra against the gritty backdrop of Uttar Pradesh.
The Mechanics of Moral Inquiry
Kashyap treats melodrama not as an antiquated form but as a potent method of moral inquiry. It becomes a framework through which ethical clarity can be discerned in a world otherwise drowning in moral ambiguity. To achieve this, he invokes the tradition's oldest instrument: poetic justice.
The narrative's conclusion is not driven by a desire for revenge or vengeance. Instead, it is dictated by the unavoidable calculus of consequences. Retribution unfolds as an inevitability, not a passionate wish. This twist seeks to restore coherence to disorder and add a deeper, resonant meaning to the collapse.
The Heart of the Story: A Mother's Burden
The final act fittingly takes place within a house that has witnessed, endured, and carried the weight of the entire saga, and is now ready to relinquish its burdens. The heaviest presence within its walls is Manjari (Monika Panwar), who guides this final reckoning. It is as if destiny itself conspired to place the labour of closure squarely on her shoulders.
At the core of any melodrama lies the family unit. Across the two-part saga, we witness this unit fragment, splinter, and nearly vanish. Yet, in the end, it is held together, almost painfully, by Manjari. Her character echoes the iconic maternal figures of Indian cinema, like Nargis and Nirupa Roy, but she is ultimately the story incarnate.
The film has always been her story—one of sacrifice, endurance, and eventual redemption. It is about her carrying the punishment for a crime she never committed. In its essence, Nishaanchi is a poignant tale about a mother and her son, Babloo.
Their dynamic offers a haunting reflection. Both characters crave a connection with each other, moving at their own hesitant paces. Their fates are inextricably linked; one cannot act without the other paying a price. If one suffers, the other is punished. This interdependence mirrors the tragic relationship in Yash Chopra's Deewaar, but here, Kashyap explores what might have happened if the mother and son had truly seen and fought for one another.
Kashyap masterfully reinforces that the mother was the true nishaanchi (marksman) all along. And yet, in a cruel twist of fate, she was also the aim itself. The film's spiritual undertones are evident from the very first shot of Part 1, where the sound of the azaan is heard, a motif that returns powerfully in the climax, marking the unyielding rhythm of fate.
