- Date of Release: 02 October 2026
- Genre: Drama, Mystery, Romance, Thriller
- Language: Hindi
- Watch On: Zee5
Pooja Meri Jaan
Introduction
The cold open of the new Hindi film Pooja Meri Jaan gives an impression of a Shakespearean tragedy. In an early scene, you are introduced to the two protagonists Aniket (Vikram Singh Chauhan) and Pooja (Mrunal Thakur) as Romeo and Juliet as a part of a play – an immediate impressionable meta-reference to their real-life personalities, almost ending with a metaphorical take on a tragic note. Curtains drop, the play ends, and Aniket proposes to a shocked Pooja in front of a packed auditorium. The twist in the tale? The love is perennially one-sided, even as Pooja brutally rejects his proposal backstage, thereby leaving him heartbroken. The latter emotion remains an important one for the protagonist who has been brought up on cinema and pop-culture – the ultra-romanticism of the power of one-sided love, or the raging alpha-male who just cannot take a no for an answer, instead spewing vengeance along the way. The subtext may seem similar to the English film Obsession (2026) but in reality, this subtext is universal – probably peaking in a country from the Indian sub-continent, where privilege remains a birthright. And so vengeance it is for the protagonist – in the form of a suicide that would go onto jilt the life of Pooja; a classic witch-hunt that we may have already witnessed in reality.
Story & Screenplay
Written by Navjot Gulati, Kanishka Deo, and Niren Bhatt, it is interesting on how the seed of the idea for Pooja Meri Jaan is extensively borrowed from the real-life aftermath of the SSR-Rhea Chakraborty case, wherein the latter was trapped in a sea of legality and witch hunting by the media after the former’s death. But if I were to drill in a little deeper, the common theme of the film is the unfortunate reality of most women in this country. And at some point, all of us males have been guilty of this phenomena – regretfully so! In a way, the writing chooses to uphold a mirror – tracking the toppled life of Pooja in the aftermath of the tragedy, wherein the only fault of hers remained to exercize the power of rejection against a man who just couldn’t take no for an answer.
It is interesting on how the writing isolates the characters into binary beings, almost immediately painting Pooja as the antagonist, while glorifying the deceased – as viewed through the immediate people around them. For instance, Ani is painted as a victim of love having being ‘played on’ by Pooja, even whilst his persona radiates of a person born on Hindi films – the one involving ‘Pyaar Dosti Hai’ (Love Is Friendship), or ‘Uske Na Mein Hi Haa Hai’ (When She Rejects You, She Secretly Likes You), or even a popular song from Haseena Maan Jayegi (1999) that had literally flung ‘consent’ out of the window. He is perceived as a noble-being just because he works at an NGO, or has loaned a huge some of money to his love – who in-turn has ‘back-stabbed’ him virtually (straight out of a Shakespearean play).
On the other hand, Pooja is heavily villified through social media trolls, and an unending media trial, or even by the immediate people around her including the deceased’s mother, or his brother, or even her own partner – each of them amplifying the messy outlook of the character. In a sequence, it is also showcased on how Pooja and Aniket were indeed in a relationship, after the former had given in, in a moment of weakness. Or even the detail of the protagonist having multiple boyfriends over the years, invariably making her a person who has exhausted her cards of rejection in the eyes of the people around her. It is a very specific detail of vilification, and a rather unfortunate one.
Some of the characters remain slightly undercooked here – like the female-cop interrogating the protagonist, or the scattered characters including friends of the protagonist, or her partner, or even her ex – all of whom are written as catalysts or contributors to the drama. But I couldn’t shrug off the fact that the perception intended here was to create a blur for the protagonist, silently having to bear the brunt of a character assassination in an open court – for the only deed of rejecting her jilted lover. It remained similar to Meenu (Aneet Padda) from Hunkkaar (2026) being victimized despite being at the receiving end of a crime. In the same mould, I liked the face-off between Sana (Huma Qureshi), the defence lawyer and Jatin (Vijay Raaz), the public prosecutor – forming a loose subtext of the larger gender-dynamic in question.
The writing at one point also utilizes the Rashomon effect – with a single incident being reconstructed in two distinct ways, one involving the charming personality of the deceased male and a flirtatious response of the girl, and the other flipping the narrative. While the variables remained a tad too wide to cause an overlap – it did enough to highlight the ‘grey matter’ in the drama, a point of contention involving males who exercize their bravado in narrating an incident to their pals. It was a very specific observation that unfortunately continues to transpire in real-life.
My only gripe with the narrative was with respect to the final act that did get way too preachy for my liking. This phase also coincided with the writing that chose to abandon the ‘grey’, and shift its focus to the binary elements of the case. It trades its early suspense for a heavy-handed moral lecture, quickly changing into a rigid, black-and-white courtroom drama by the end of things. Instead of letting the audience sit with the uncomfortable realities of the situation, the writing turns the characters into simple mouthpieces for a social cause. By choosing to spell out its message through preachy speeches, the film forces a neat, artificial ending that ruins the tension and turns a sharp thriller into a preachy lecture.
Furthermore, this simplistic approach ruins how the movie handles public opinion, showing a shallow media circus instead of looking deeply at how society actually judges women. It offers a clumsy, heavy-handed solution to a massive real-world problem: the fact that many men simply cannot take “no” for an answer. Instead of exploring the deep cultural roots of this toxic male entitlement, the story tries to fix everything with loud, easy victories even outside the court. By oversimplifying the issue, the film misses the chance to nail its ultimate messaging. But I could partially go softer on this point, given the relevancy of the subject matter – summing up a screenplay that definitely has its moments to shine.
Dialogues, Music & Direction
The dialogues comprise of powerful nuggets of subtexts that often form a resounding voice through the characters in the film, ably treading on the complex and noteworthy moments for most parts of the film. The music and BGM aide the psychological tensions brewing between the characters pretty well, without really being jarring in any way. The cinematography comprises of frames that capture the tense atmosphere of the courtroom scene in a commendable manner. This, even as the frames accurately split the perceptions of the two protagonists, being close enough to get a glimpse into their messy, individual psyche. And yet, the emotional beats aren’t compromised – even as the frames find a way to transition tense moments into palpable moments; like in a scene involving Pooja being witness to the rant of her brother who was also rejected by a girl, and instead advised by his friends to ‘keep trying’.
The editing pattern maintains the levels of tension brewing in the narrative, even while ably intercutting scenes from the past timeline – as a part of the reconstruction exercize in the courtroom. There is a definite rhythm to the edit, providing an uncompromised glimpse into the hassled psyche of the protagonist, minutely losing its grip in the preachy final act. But the editing pattern does well to hold the narrative together.
Director Navjot Gulati (co-directed by Vipasha Arvind) does a pretty good job in staging this drama like an unfortunate Shakespearean tragedy. In a way, it was a deconstruction of the pop-culture and standard tropes that we have previously witnessed on celluloid, while subverting a crucial social commentary of individuality and free-will. He does well in tapping into the ambiguity of the case in question, leaning on skewed representations of the protagonist from the POV of the people around them, only later to drill in the message of consent and the right to say no. Yes, the direction does stumble in its final act – it gets way too linear, simplistic, and preachy. But it still drives home an important point that needs immediate and urgent attention from the males of the society. In that regard, the direction is pretty commendable.
Performances
The performances are wonderful to witness by the members of the cast. Vijay Vikram Singh as the judge delivers another dignified act, while being restrained with his mannerisms. The likes of Latin Ghai as Rajan, Shant Manu as Jagdish, Priyanshu Jora as Vikram may appear to be sketchy characters, but each of them form an important cog of varied perceptions towards the protagonist, and each of them have their moments to shine. Rituraj Singh in probably his final outing as Asad is sincere and earnest. Manuj Sharma as Mukesh, Rajesh Jais as Gulshan, Suparna Marwah as Alka, and Chahat Tewani as Nitya are impressive with their individual characteristics – some being influenced by the social media trolling, and some holding a key to a vicious future. Sunita Rajwar as Sushila always delivers a hard-hitting performance, in a character that felt slightly underwritten with a subplot that threatens to explode but goes no where at the end.
Vijay Raaz delivers an excellent performance as Jatin Trivedi, the prosecutor who targets the protagonist. He brings a realistic mix of menace and ease to his character, which makes him stand out as a highlight of the film. His character represents the judgmental, public mindset that easily blames women first. He effectively uses his strong screen presence to give the courtroom scenes much-needed energy.
Huma Qureshi plays Sana, a corporate lawyer who is caught between her loyalty to a dead friend and defending the accused woman. She handles this challenging internal conflict well, showing genuine sensitivity and confidence, while bringing welcome steel and a sharp presence to the courtroom drama. Her portrayal successfully highlights how a person can gradually unlearn societal biases.
Vikram Singh Chauhan stands out in his role as Aniket, a jilted admirer whose feelings morph into a toxic obsession. He is excellent at handling a very uncomfortable character, showing a range that will evoke a sense of anger from the viewers. He portrays the character’s rejection and ultimate toxic vulnerability with absolute flair. His intense performance accurately represents the dangerous consequences of a fragile male ego.
Mrunal Thakur as Pooja anchors the film with an outstanding performance here. She perfectly captures her character’s heavy emotions, blending fear, anger, and deep confusion seamlessly. Her terrific expressions and body language keep the character fully convincing. Her nuanced portrayal makes Pooja the most engaging part of the entire narrative.
Conclusion
Featuring wonderful performances, Pooja Meri Jaan offers a pivotal commentary on how toxic obsession can subversively overwrite the power of rejection, packaging its message into a gripping social thriller that makes for a poignant impact. While the film stumbles in its final act – becoming somewhat linear and preachy rather than maintaining its initial nuance, its supreme urgency and relevance act as a mirror to society, pushing me to be softer to some of its writing flaws. Somewhere along the line, many of us males have been guilty of the very micro-behaviors this story exposes, making it not just a film, but a necessary introspection; one can only hope for a future where society evolves enough that stories like this finally lose their relevance. Available on Zee5.