Khauf review: A haunting that cuts too close to reality but fumbles in its own voice!

Khauf is a horror show that neither fully commits to delivering real scares nor effectively weaves its social commentary into the narrative.

If you haven’t heard the horrifying news - recently in Varanasi, a young girl was raped by 23 men over the course of six days. Twenty-three! That’s the cost of being a woman in this country where stepping out of your house to visit a friend can become a nightmare you don’t return from for six days - if at all. In comparison, fighting a ghost doesn’t feel quite as terrifying anymore, does it? That’s the brutal truth Khauf attempts to channel! A horror thriller murder mystery, this one uses ghosts and gore as metaphors for the everyday dread women carry like second skin. But while it sets out to tell a story about the psychological and physical costs of womanhood in a broken society, it ultimately stumbles slightly under the weight of its own ambition.

The show oscillates between two arcs - one follows a literal haunting inside a girls’ hostel, where four girls - a pregnant Rima (Priyanka Setia), Komal (Riya Shukla), a naga migrant Svetlana (Chum Darang), and a rich kid Nicki (Rashmi Mann) are trapped, both physically and mentally, after their friend Anu (Asheema Vardaan) dies in a mysterious road accident. The other follows Madhu (Monica Pawar), a young woman from Gwalior, arriving in Delhi hoping to escape a traumatic past. She inherits Anu’s room in a hostel on the outskirts of Delhi, and as she navigates the strange behavior of these girls as her neighbors and the spectral force lurking within her space, she also contends with the very real horror of being a woman in a city like Delhi confronting her traumatic past. 

I appreciate how India’s horror scene is beginning to recognize the genre’s potential to tell real horror stories, especially in the wake of what Stree achieved. Khauf attempts to follow in its footsteps, dialing down the scares to instead weaponize horror as a mirror to society where patriarchy impacts every decision a woman makes strategizing every move for survival. Taking a bustling road instead of a dingey subway, walking in the dread alone at night dodging catcalls, or finding a living space safe enough for single women. Simply existing in a world is an art that every women has to learn because she is woman! 

Written and created by Smita Singh, the show shines most when it turns this constant male gaze, this eerie feeling of someone always watching not just into a crawly creepy supernatural presence but soecity's gaze itself. When Madhu faces unsolicited advances in a bus or dark empty subway, it’s not just triggering, it’s familiar. The fear isn’t just ghostly, it’s systemic. The brilliance lies in moments like a female constable’s blind spot to her son’s violent misogyny, a psychiatrist's attempt to curing young girls traumas or Madhu’s wrestling with her own identity as a woman post gang-rape. The horror genre here serves not as mere spectacle, but as a metaphor, blurring the lines between literal, societal, and traumatic ghosts, echoing the haunting weight women’s mind bodies, and souls bear every day that shapes them.

Also Read: CBFC’s tryst with caste-based films raises bigger questions: Storytelling or sanitisation?

But unfortunately, that initial promise gets somewhere buried. As the show progresses, the plot becomes muddled, failing to sustain the emotional gravity it so sensitively builds. For instance, the backstory of the four hostel girls are reduced to more token traumas of being objectified and vilified, and the supernatural arcs turn increasingly absurd, grossly hard to buy into and bordering on clichés. What starts as a powerful social commentary devolves into a series trying to be everything. At one time, it wants to be The Haunting of Hill House/ Bly Manor - a meditation of trauma, loss and loneliness of women. While at another, it wants to be Gone Girl - a rape revenge thriller. But largely it ends up saying a lot without well-seasoned clarity. For instance, the intriguing subplot surrounding Roohani Dawakhana—a sinister clinic in Old Delhi run by a predator posing as a healer—is reduced to a convenient plot device. Though it echoes the eerie aura of Nosferatu (a vampire sucking souls), it never fully materializes into a compelling horror ballad about men preying on young girls for their own gain.

Having said that the show is technically sound and engaging. The production design is eerie, especially the isolated hostel beside a jungle, the score by Alokananda Dasgupta is unsettling in a good way, and the camera does attempt to build an aesthetic nuance. Even the solid ensemble of actors including reliable names like Rajat Kapoor, Geetanjali Kulkarni, Shilpa Shukla, Abhishek Chauhan, Gagan Arora, and more, add in weightage to their characters. Nonetheless it is Monica Pawar, an underrated talent who steals the limelight with her raw vulnerability. Yet it isn’t enough—and that wasted potential stings, especially from a well-intentioned series! Directed by Pankaj Kumar and Surya Balakrishnan this show in trying to do too much becomes a poignant reflection but falls short of becoming a resounding resonance!

The choice to set the show in Delhi is not just apt, it’s poignant. This city, bleeding from women horror stories, always feels one horrific headline away from the next Nirbhaya. I’ve lived in Delhi for four years - I know what it means to dread a place not because of its landscape but because of the horror story it demands you grow up through. That’s why the final image of Madhu fighting off a man in a swamp-like dal-dal, emerging rather than drowning, hits hard. It’s one of those moment that reminds us that survival is not necessarily the same as healing, and justice, when it comes, leaves mental scars to deal with.

Which is why, despite its flaws, I applaud Khauf for its brave take and social commentary. It wants to say something profound about women's isolation, trauma, fear, and resistance, wrapping it up in a supernatural mystery. Because in a country where 23 men couldn't chose humanity and walk with impunity, where rape threats are publicly given and no one flinches, perhaps only a ghost can help. I just wished if the show screamed a little louder, a little clearer. Because if demons wear human faces, then probably the last resort is summoning "O Stree, raksha karna," indeed!

Khauf is currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video!

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