Dupahiya review: A well-meaning comedy that gets lost in its own chaos

Dupahiya, a family comedy show cut from the same cloth as Panchayat, starts off brimming with potential but loses its way before delivering its powerful message.

We live in a time where reinventing ourselves daily is possible but it takes immense strength and effort to stay true to who we are. This is the ultimate tragedy of modern living. And who better to understand this than a Bihari? Ask me—I’m a Bihari who has lived away from Bihar for so long that where I come from feels foreign. For years, the image of Bihar has been such that many, like me, hesitate to claim our identity. So, when a show puts this state front and center, offering commentary on issues deeply affecting its people while serving as a clean comedy, without the usual violent crime associations, it feels like the breath of fresh air Bihar has always needed. Yet, while Dupahiya is well-meaning and tries its best, it doesn’t quite rise to the challenge it sets for itself.

The show's plot is as simple as the lives it aims to portray. A bullet bike, meant to be given as dowry, is stolen just eight days before the wedding, creating a whirlwind of unexpected chaos for the Jha family: Banwari Jha (Gajraj Rao), a respected local teacher dreaming of becoming a permanent principal; his wife; and two children—Roshni (Shivani Raghuvanshi), a village belle of marriageable age who longs for city life, and Bhugol (Sparsh Shrivastava), an aspiring Bollywood hero engrossed in making Reels. The main suspect is Amavas (Bhuvan Arora), Roshni’s kleptomaniac ex-lover, who was ousted from the village ages ago. The intrigue lies in Dhadakpur, a small fictional village in Bihar that has prided itself on being crime-free for 25 years. But when the mysterious bike theft occurs, rival village chiefs, nosy journalists, and the lazy district police officer (Yashpal Yadav) see an opportunity to stir things up. Meanwhile, the village, led by its sarpanch Pushplata (Renuka Sahane), is more concerned with covering up the crime than solving it. 

It’s no stretch to say that after Panchayat succeeded with its urban gaze on rural life, it paved the way for an entire genre to flourish. Much like the public service social message films starring Rajkumar Rao or Ayushmann Khurrana that use small-town stories to highlight more significant national issues. Dupahiya seeks to join this trend by following the course of Laapataa Ladies where light-hearted, family-friendly comedy masquerades a potent message. But it falls short in blending its episodic rural storytelling into a cohesive narrative where Bihar itself becomes a central character, with the stolen bike its metaphor. Instead, this nine-episode series feels about 10 minutes too long per episode and three episodes too many to truly highlight the deep-rooted issues plaguing the state—and, by extension, the country.

Don’t get me wrong—the show makes good use of its setting. It effectively portrays the self-confidence issues that stem from dark skin, broken English, and the desire to escape rural life for the city. It turns the TikTok Reel-making, rejected lover, or spoiled brat aesthetic into its own kind of language - one that's often dismissed as “cringe” from an urban perspective. Yet, the show’s derivative and chaotic storyline, that sometimes goes into an investigation of the theft while other times managing to get a new bike, stretches itself too thin, transforming what could have been a powerful commentary into something resembling a series of cheap gags. For instance, puns like confusing "boycott" with "baal cut" may provide laughable moments, but they come across as low-hanging fruit, diluting the impact of the show’s humor. And the episodes riddled with such puns occasionally makes it's old-school comedy of errors works but most often it falls flat.

Also Read: Nadaaniyan review: A poor cousin of Student of the Year

It’s undeniably charming to give a rural setting a Bollywood spin, where launda naach subtly becomes a viral movement worthy of trans visibility without taking a moral high ground or Bhugol’s grand aspirations culminate in a dreamy hero moment. But it goes on for so long that its charm doesn’t last. The show, with flashbacks and song sequences, tries hard to turn rural India's mundane, everyday life into cinematic moments but it struggles to ground itself in reality fully. Hence, the irony of Dhadakpur—a village proud of its crime-free reputation yet riddled with gender discrimination, colorism, dowry, and patriarchy—feels like a tokenistic plug-in that deserves more exploration than is currently given. However, it is sidelined with the show’s ambition to juggle too many quirky characters and push the story forward, which blurs its focus. It leaves you feeling that if the show had pushed itself just a little further, it could have been the first of its own kind rather than tussling between being the next Panchayat or not.

The well-intentioned concept, opportunistic genre, and the ensemble cast, filled with actors whose screen presence is so strong that they are capable of elevating any script effortlessly, should have been enough to make Dupahiya soar. But, even with their near-perfect accents, the cast can only carry the show for so long. Under Sonam Nair’s direction, the potential to stand out in this burgeoning genre is tantalizingly close but it never quite materializes. And this is where the genuine disappointment lies: how a show with so much promise fails to reach its own meaningful potential, reminding us that simply bringing an idea to the screen isn’t enough. We must ensure that the execution matches the innovation and heart behind a project because while representation matters, its impact is far greater when done right!

Dupahiya is currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video!  

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