Kashmir has always been a land where beauty and brutality sit side by side, and very few films manage to capture that contradiction without reducing it to loud commentary. Baramulla, the latest OTT release, chooses a different path. Instead of aiming for spectacle, it digs into something far more unsettling: the silence that outlives every tragedy.
The film begins with the disappearance of a child during what should have been an evening of innocent entertainment. There is a magic show, a crowd that laughs at small illusions, and a moment later the air shifts. A vacancy opens up, both literal and emotional. This single incident sets off a chain of events that slowly unravels the fragile threads holding a family together.
At the centre of the story stands Manav Kaul, playing DSP Ridwaan Sayyed, a man who arrives in Baramulla hoping for a routine posting. Instead, he is caught in a terrain where the past refuses to stay buried. His performance is so grounded that at times it feels less like a character and more like a mirror held up to the region’s unspoken wounds.
A Story Built On Shadows, Not Jump Scares
Films set in Kashmir often lean toward loud politics or heavily dramatised conflict. Baramulla chooses subtlety. It uses atmosphere to reveal truth. Rooms feel colder than they should. Footsteps echo for a second too long. Characters hesitate before speaking certain words, as if afraid the valley itself is listening.
The missing child case becomes the surface layer of a much larger emotional excavation. The narrative places the camera close to the characters, letting viewers witness tremors rather than explosions. You sense grief trembling under every conversation. The town feels like it is holding its breath.
What makes the film stand out is its refusal to follow the structure of a typical thriller. Instead of racing from clue to clue, it slows down and examines the internal collapse of the people involved. For some, the loss is new. For others, it is a memory they tried to outrun. Baramulla tells you that pain never really leaves Kashmir. It simply changes its shape.
Manav Kaul Delivers One Of His Most Controlled Performances
Manav Kaul has always been an actor who communicates as much through silence as he does through dialogue. Baramulla gives him a landscape where silence becomes the main language. His portrayal of Ridwaan is equal parts vulnerability and fatigue. He carries the weight of a policeman who has seen too much but still hopes to protect what little remains untouched.
There is a particular sequence where Ridwaan walks through a half lit corridor in a local school where another child has gone missing. Nothing supernatural happens, yet your skin tingles because Kaul makes you feel the dread that lives inside the walls. It is the kind of craft that does not shout for attention but commands it.
Bhasha Sumbli, who plays his wife Gulnaar, adds emotional depth to the story. Her character carries her own memories of displacement. She speaks very little, but her expressions tell you the story of a woman who has learned to live with invisible fractures. Together, the couple represents two very different responses to the same landscape: fear and quiet endurance.
The Film’s Kashmir Is Beautiful But Bruised
One of the greatest strengths of Baramulla is its cinematography. The valley is captured in a way that feels intimate rather than postcard perfect. Snow gathers on rooftops like unspoken grief. Narrow lanes appear both inviting and threatening. Flashbacks are lightly tinted to show memories fading at their edges.
This visual treatment gives the film a melancholy rhythm. You do not just watch the characters move through Kashmir. You feel the valley pressing against them, shaping their choices, shaping their pain.
The music supports this mood without overwhelming the storytelling. Soft strings, distant calls, and long pauses create an audio landscape that feels like a heartbeat slowed by worry.
A Script That Balances Mystery With Humanity
The writing of Baramulla deserves praise for its ability to stay balanced. It does not preach. It does not choose sides. It simply places you inside a place where truth is complicated, and victims are often overlooked. The script examines the lingering fear that families carry, especially those who have lived through earlier waves of violence.
While the film does include supernatural hints, the real ghost haunting the narrative is the past. Characters fear what has been lost more than what may happen next. This gives Baramulla a rare emotional honesty. The thriller elements work, but the human story is what lingers long after the credits roll.
Final Verdict: A Powerful, Slow Burning Film That Leaves A Mark
Baramulla is not the kind of thriller that tries to shock you every ten minutes. Instead, it stays with you because of its emotional intelligence. It asks viewers to sit with discomfort, to understand the fragility of people who live with layered memories, and to witness a landscape where silence holds more stories than spoken words.
For viewers who want fast paced twists, this may feel heavy. But for those who appreciate cinema that blends mystery with meaning, Baramulla will feel like one of the most mature works set in Kashmir in recent years.
It is a reminder that some horrors are not created for the screen. They are inherited, carried and eventually told through films like this.