Name: Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam
Genre: Biography, Drama
Released: 2026-10-16
Duration: 2 h 21 min
Rating: 6.8
Cast: Rajkummar Rao, Wamiqa Gabbi, Jaideep Ahlawat, Sikander Kher, Ashish Vidyarthi

Distance: Near to Far

12 AM To 8 AM

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8 AM To 12 PM

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4 PM To 7 PM

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7 PM To 12 AM

Night

5 PM To 12 AM

After 5 PM

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This courtroom drama revisits the landmark criminal trials that followed the 1993 Bombay Blasts and the 2008 Mumbai terror attacks, as public prosecutor Ujjwal Nikam fights to deliver justice against extraordinary odds.

Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam

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Taran Adarsh

Ujjwal Nikam's words after watching Rao gain 10 kg and mirror his courtroom mannerisms

He picked up my body language

Avinash Arun directed & shot Prahaar, a National Award winner behind the camera

All eyes here please

Lalit Prabhakar studied Kasab's psychology, voice and body language for this role

You will hate him, that's the point

The trailer was unveiled at CSMT where 26/11 happened with Ujjwal Nikam present 

The venue said what words couldn't

Trailer reviews are calling Rao vs Ahlawat courtroom scenes the reason to show up

Prosecution vs Defence

Tasked with securing justice by proving Kasab’s guilt beyond reasonable doubt, Nikam faces unprecedented challenges and makes immense personal sacrifices to build an airtight case in a trial that holds the nation’s attention. He handled the Kasab case from December 2008 until Kasab’s execution in November 2012, spanning nearly four years.
The 26/11 terror attacks didn’t just shake the nation and the world; they drove a dagger into the beating heart of Mumbai, a city whose indomitable spirit and resilience have always defied its darkest hours. It remains one of the most painful chapters in the city’s history, one that continues to haunt and unsettle every Mumbaikar.
Nearly 18 years later, questions about the trial remain compelling. Why was a terrorist caught red-handed, with overwhelming photographic evidence against him, entitled to a trial? Why did it take nearly four years to secure his conviction when his involvement in the killings seemed beyond doubt? Could a fair trial truly be possible when the accused was seen as the enemy of an entire nation? And why would an Indian lawyer genuinely defend someone responsible for such unimaginable brutality? Was the trial merely a formality, an exercise in paying lip service to the world to demonstrate that India could uphold the rule of law even in the depths of grief? Prahaar – The Ujjwal Nikam Story answers these crucial questions and more.
Director Avinash Arun, known for Killa and Three of Us, achieves something both remarkable and rarely attempted in Hindi cinema. Prahaar separates the man from his crime without letting him off the hook. It is a powerful exploration of how to humanise a criminal without exonerating him. The film extends empathy without compromising accountability. Remorse may matter, but justice is non-negotiable; one must answer for one’s actions. It takes considerable sensitivity to walk this tightrope, and Arun does so with conviction. He applies the same understanding to Nikam, allowing us glimpses of the man behind the formidable prosecutor. You see Nikam lower his guard while discussing the demanding nature of their profession with his Pakistani counterpart, played by a terrific Jaideep Ahlawat. Arun also pays heartfelt tribute to the victims and the brave policemen who were martyred in the line of duty, their courage standing firm against the onslaught of AK-47s and other deadly weaponry.
Dramatised but never excessively dramatic, the film remains grounded in facts, resisting the temptation to exploit artistic liberties for heightened impact. Mature and thoughtful, its dialogue packs a punch without playing to the gallery, while retaining the sensibility of a mainstream commercial film. “Kattarwad kisi bhi desh ke bhavishya ko phoonk sakta hai” (Extremism can reduce any nation’s future to ashes) feels particularly relevant today. “Ours is a democracy. Isliye humara Samvidhaan ek aatankwadi ko bhi fair trial deta hai. Our principles are our strength, not our weakness,” Nikam asserts proudly. It is a powerful reminder that the strength of a democracy lies in its commitment to the rule of law, even when confronted with the most heinous crimes. The line also resonates in a climate where ordinary citizens can be treated as criminals for raising their voices against injustice.
Powerful performances lie at the heart of Prahaar. Rajkummar Rao delivers yet another deeply layered and poignant act, inhabiting Nikam without resorting to mere imitation. From his vocal pitch and physicality to the exhaustion of carrying an immense national responsibility, Rao captures the man’s quiet confidence and steely resolve with remarkable precision. His walk, his Khandeshi-influenced Marathi accent while speaking Hindi, and the weight he conveys through his eyes all feel meticulously observed. His climactic monologue is particularly stirring and gives you goosebumps. This is the year’s finest performance so far.
His FTII classmate Jaideep Ahlawat holds his own in a brief but significant role, elevating the film even in a cameo. Sikandar Kher remains criminally underrated, despite consistently proving his mettle, and is terrific as the defence lawyer. Marathi actor Lalit Prabhakar is the film’s biggest revelation as Ajmal Kasab. He makes the most of a complex and unsettling role, delivering a performance that hints at considerable promise. Wamiqa Gabbi, as Nikam’s wife, is pleasant but leaves less of an impression than the rest of the cast. The actors portraying the policemen, including veteran Ajinkya Deo, lend sincerity and conviction to their roles.
“Justice delayed is justice denied, but justice hurried is justice buried.” Revisiting 26/11 inevitably reopens old wounds, and the film can be triggering in parts. Yet, handled with considerable sensitivity, Prahaar neither sensationalises the tragedy nor reduces it to a spectacle. Instead, it offers a thoughtful account of a landmark legal battle that reaffirms the importance of due process, justice and humanity, irrespective of borders or religion. It is a powerful reminder that justice must prevail even when emotions run high and the wounds of tragedy refuse to heal.

Prahaar follows Ujjwal Nikam's courtroom battle to prosecute Ajmal Kasab after the 26/11 attacks. The drama champions constitutional due process but loses emotional force through repeated narrative detours.We have watched 26/11 unfold on television, revisited it through news reports, TV shows and films, and seen the horror through the eyes of terrorists and victims. But what about the courtroom battle that followed? Why did India have to spend years proving Ajmal Kasab guilty when photographs, eyewitnesses and the horrors of that night were staring us in the face? And why was keeping a terrorist alive more important than delivering instant justice?
Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam takes us into the courtroom to answer these questions, offering a different perspective on one of India’s most devastating terror attacks. At its heart is a powerful line attributed to the prosecutor himself: "Justice delayed is justice denied, but justice hurried is justice buried." Because even when the accused is Ajmal Kasab, the Constitution cannot take a backseat to public anger.

The film opens with Nikam celebrating his victory in the 1993 Bombay blasts case. Years later, as he prepares for his daughter's wedding, 26/11 happens, pulling him into a battle that would define his career. Enter Rajkummar Rao as the fiery prosecutor, known for his temper and his insistence that only 'samvidhaan' matters.

One of the film’s most important arguments is about why Kasab had to be captured alive. He was 'evidence', a living link to the terror machinery across the border, and a witness to how young men were radicalised, trained and sent to India to kill innocent people.
Prahaar also attempts to humanise the terrorist without excusing his crimes. Kasab, played by Lalit Prabhakar, hears the azaan (Islamic call to prayer) and is told that it is Eid. His bewildered question, "India mein Eid manane ki ijazat hai (Is it allowed to celebrate Eid in India)?" reveals just how deeply his worldview has been distorted. It is a chilling moment that shows how radicalisation can turn human beings into obedient killing machines, incapable of questioning the hatred they have been taught.

Unfortunately, the film takes its time getting to the heart of the matter. The courtroom proceedings and legal arguments establish the stakes, but the emotional connection remains elusive until a 10-year-old victim (a brilliant Diorr Varghese) takes the stand and testifies against Kasab. This is the film at its most powerful, forcing us to confront the innocent lives destroyed by the attack. Just when you think the drama has finally found its emotional centre, however, the screenplay takes another detour.

The focus shifts to Nikam’s personal life, his strained family relationships and the sacrifices his profession has demanded. He lives in a hotel room, misses out on his children’s growing-up years and time with his wife. When he blesses his grandchild and tells the child to always love the family, his son responds with a snigger. It is a telling moment in a relationship shaped by years of absence and emotional distance.


These personal details are revealing, but the film leans on them so heavily that its central story loses momentum. There is a fascinating courtroom drama here, yet the screenplay repeatedly wanders away from it. The result is a frustrating stop-start narrative that rises just when you begin settling into the story, only to drop again.

The film's other interesting character is lawyer Kazmi (Sikandar Kher), who faces hostility for defending Kasab. When he questions police officers, photographers and witnesses, you feel enraged. Shunned by sections of his own community, he also points out that his Muslim surname has made his professional life more difficult. It is a crucial perspective in a film that understands, at least in these moments, that defending someone's legal rights does not mean defending their actions.

Jaideep Ahlawat makes a strong impression in a cameo as a Pakistani lawyer Chaudhary Zulfiqar. His courtroom exchanges with Rajkummar are fuelled by ego clashes, jibes and professional rivalry, but a lovely scene involving Bombil fish briefly softens their equation. The two discuss the personal lives they have sacrificed for their careers, while Jaideep’s character quotes poet Sahir Ludhianvi to reflect on the ultimate cost of conflict: human life. It is one of those rare moments when the film finds nuance without spelling everything out.
Rajkummar, meanwhile, is committed to the role, but his performance occasionally feels too manufactured. The actor, known for making characters seem effortlessly real, appears so intent on embodying Nikam’s mannerisms that the performance begins to look like an act. His climactic monologue about waging war against India will undoubtedly draw whistles and applause, but theatrical punch is not the same as emotional impact.

Wamiqa Gabbi struggles similarly, with stiff expressions and mannerisms that make her portrayal as Mrs Nikam feel more performed than lived-in. Sumit Roy’s dialogues, on the other hand, have their moments, and Kasab’s confession offers a disturbing glimpse into the making of a terrorist. The problem lies in the screenplay, which needed tighter editing and better flow.

For a film about 26/11, the biggest disappointment is how rarely it makes us feel the full impact of the attack. This can never be just an Ujjwal Nikam story. It is about the attack, the attacker and the attacked, more than the man in the black coat fighting the case. But somehow the focus remains so much on him that the film never creates the impact it had intended. The subject had enough emotional heft to knock the wind out of you. The film, unfortunately, keeps stopping short.


 
An honest film is not that difficult to spot, especially in an environment where filmmaker after filmmaker, actor after actor, makes use of historical facts and real-life events to spin propaganda film after propaganda film to please the ruling establishment.

But then, an honest film, in exactly these environments, becomes equally difficult to make.

That is where directors like Avinash Arun step in and leave their mark as filmmakers, who are loyal to their tradecraft.

When one attended the trailer release of Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam, which was launched by Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, one got the impression that this film was also going the way of The Kashmir Files and The Kerala Story.

Watching the film's trailer did scotch that belief.

For Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam could easily have been made into a propaganda film, given that even as it tries to bring out the multi-faceted character of India's most famous public prosecutor, Ujjwal Nikam, it also tells the story of a lone Pakistani terrorist, Mohammed Ajmal Amir Kasab, who was caught alive, prosecuted as per the legal norms and procedures, and sentenced to death on November 21, 2012.

Avoiding the Propaganda Trap
As the name suggests, Kasab was a Muslim from Pakistan who, along with nine other Muslim terrorists -- all of who were killed across various spots -- came to Mumbai by sea and killed more than 189 Indians in cold blood using automatic machine guns, hand grenades and RDX explosives.

The emphasis on 'Muslim' is to pointedly underline the current political narrative that has been unleashed across India for more than a decade, which conflates Islam with terrorism to win political power.

Director Arun's helmsmanship and Producer Dinesh Vijan's vision sidesteps falling into this very propaganda trap. Barring one scene, it is difficult to find even a single frame in the film where Islam is conflated with terrorism. That in itself is a mightily commendable thing to do for a filmmaker in 2026.

During the heat of the moment in courtroom proceedings, Nikam calls Kasab's lawyer Abbas Kazmi (played with absolute sincerity by Sikandar Kher) a 'terrorist lawyer' instead of 'terrorist's lawyer'. But then, that is what Ujjwal Nikam would often do during heated arguments to ruffle the defence lawyer's composure.

Remember Nikam's made-up story about Kasab demanding mutton biryani in jail, which he later clarified was never true.

The Kasab Trial
Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam begins with a court scene where Nikam -- played brilliantly and effortlessly by the talented Rajkummar Rao -- expresses his dissatisfaction at not having brought the masterminds behind the March 12, 1993, bomb blasts to justice: Dawood Ibrahim, Tiger Memon and Pakistan's ISI. This happens even as the court announces punishments for the foot soldiers who carried out the attacks in Mumbai on the ground.

It then quickly moves to November 26, 2008, the day when 10 Pakistani terrorists landed in Mumbai and killed 189 people across iconic landmarks in the heart of Mumbai.

From the title of the film, one gets the impression that it would follow Ujjwal Nikam's rise to prominence as a public prosecutor and then focus on the prosecution of Kasab. But without getting into the web of the legal cases that made Ujjwal Nikam who he is, the film jumps head-on to Kasab's trial, Nikam's role in exposing Kasab's lies, Pakistan's role in sponsoring terrorism, the role played by the Lashkar-e-Tayiba in training the 10 terrorists, how Nikam sacrificed the comforts of family life, and his misunderstandings with his son (what an accomplished actor Ritvik Sahore is!).

Through this family subplot, Arun does try to bring out the 'untold story of' Ujjwal Nikam. But given the way the film's storyline has shaped up, he ends up portraying Nikam as the most upright, righteous, no-nonsense public prosecutor who will go to any extent to deliver justice to the perpetrators of terror.

This may feel a little odd for those who covered the Kasab trial at Mumbai's Arthur Road jail and saw the public prosecutor from close quarters. He even lectures the then Union home minister P Chidambaram (who was appointed to the post after Shivraj Patil resigned, taking moral responsibility for the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks), then Maharashtra deputy chief minister and home minister R R Patil, and Pakistani diplomats and ministers in Pakistan.

This somewhat disturbs the balance of neutrality that Arun has so deftly maintained while ensuring that the terrorists' religion does not become fodder for propaganda as the central point of the film.

Rao, Ahlawat and Sahore Stand Out
Rajkummar Rao has played a lawyer before in Shahid, the eponymous character of human rights lawyer Shahid Azmi, who defended those falsely implicated in cases of terrorism and was murdered in his office in 2010. Directed by Hansal Mehta, Shahid went on to win the National Award for Best Direction.

Prahaar's most memorable scenes are those in which Rao and Jaideep Ahlawat (one doesn't need adjectives to explain this man's acting skills and screen presence) share legal as well as friendly banter. Ahlawat, who plays Chaudhary Zulfikar, a public prosecutor with Pakistan's Federal Investigation Agency, lights up the screen during his scenes with Rao.

Sahore, who plays Nikam's anguished son, is another actor who lights up the screen during his fights with his father or when he pleads with him to appoint him as his junior for Kasab's trial.

Lalit Prabhakar, who has had the guts to essay a terrorist's role, ensures that he evokes hate, anger, disgust and even sympathy for Kasab.

He does so when Kasab indiscriminately sprays bullets and rips apart the lives and limbs of innocent bystanders, tries to hoodwink the cops by pretending to be a Bollywood and Amitabh Bachchan fan, acts diabolically by claiming that he did not kill anybody but merely fired in the air because of his indoctrination in Pakistani terrorist camps, and cries in repentance inside his anda cell while remembering his mother.

What the Film Misses
The portrayal of the CST massacre does bring out the gore and monstrosity of what Kasab and Abu Ismail were capable of and had been trained to do.

But Avinash Arun fails to incorporate how Kasab was caught, unarmed, through the bravery of ASI Tukaram Omble. A two-minute sequence immortalising Omble's act of selflessness would not have added much to the film's overall length.

What the director does succeed in is bringing out an honest film about a tragic episode in a country's living memory, without casting aspersions or making allusions that are now seen as inimical to national integrity and communal harmony.

The tagline suffixed to the title - it reads "The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam" - reveals would have us believe that Prahaar, produced by Dinesh Vijan of Maddock Films, written by Sumit Roy and helmed by director-cinematographer Avinash Arun, is out to narrate a tale that simply had to be told.  

That supposition might be open to debate but consider this: while dramatised depictions of the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks and its immediate aftermath have often found their way to the screen, the legal process that led to the conviction and execution of the sole surviving terrorist, Ajmal Kasab, has not.

The director and the screenwriter of Prahaar, moving in lockstep, do their best to whip up urgency around the trial and the resolve of one lawyer to bring Kasab to justice without trampling upon the latter's right to a hearing.

A certain degree of grandstanding is inevitable in a narrative such as this. To the credit of the makers of Prahaar, they do not get carried away.


The film does not stray too much from the real-life tale of a public prosecutor who shot to national fame with his single-minded pursuit of the power granted to him by the law of the land to avenge the dastardly acts of terrorists from across the border.  

Rajkummar Rao makes more than a fair fist of fleshing out Ujjwal Nikam who, when the film opens is seen celebrating his win in the 1993 Mumbai blasts case.
The lead actor probably does not disappear as completely into the character as he did when he played another real-life lawyer in Shahid, but he comes pretty close. He stays remarkably true to the real-life inspiration.

On the other hand, the multiple lawyers who defended Ajmal Kasab at different points of the 26/11 trial are condensed into one fictionalized figure, a Muslim lawyer (Sikandar Kher) aware that he is fighting a battle that has already been lost because all the recorded and widely publicized evidence point towards his client's culpability.

The defence lawyer faces the ire of the people. Prahaar does not lose sight of the fact this advocate, too, is only doing a job that is well within the provisions of the legal system.

That he belongs to India's principal minority community only makes his position that much trickier - a fact that the film acknowledges without shying away from the complexities inherent in the situation.  

Nikam, played with the requisite restraint by Rajkummar Rao, is inevitably projected as a patriotic and untiring advocate committed to his mission, but the overall tone of Prahaar is marked by equanimity.  

The protagonist is far more committed to upholding the law than pandering to the understandable wave of public anger against the sole surviving perpetrator of the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks. "Justice delayed is justice denied but justice hurried is justice buried," says Nikam.

Indeed, more than lionizing an individual for simply doing his duty as Hindi films often do, Prahaar showcases the efficacy of India's judicial system that ensures that even an accused with no real escape route isn't sent to the gallows without due process.  

It helps that Rao is now a past master at playing real-life personages with complex undertones. He never attempts to get ahead of the script and scream "I'm larger than life".  

This despite the fact Nikam is a man on a short fuse. When the going gets tough, he plays tough. That aspect of the character fuels almost everything that is written for him in the script by way of actions and words.  

Nikam has to deliver lines that border on the declamatory, but the script makes it a point not to let the 'emotions' of the trial of a terrorist overwhelm the logic of a lawyer's considered submissions and arguments in court.

Rao's steady performance is the backbone of Prahaar, but there is little in the film that is more dazzling than the transformation of Lalit Prabhakar (who audiences saw earlier this year in the stormy relationship drama Toh Ti Ani Fuji) into Ajmal Kasab. He does a first-rate, stunningly convincing impersonation.

What the screenplay does is humanize Kasab to a considerable extent without in any way trying to condone the diabolic quality of the act he and his accomplices committed on one Mumbai's darkest ever nights. The film recognizes that the man in the dock has been fed on a staple of venom - he is an indoctrinated, misguided lad ready to go on a killing spree.     

Avinash Arun's approach to the story of Ujjwal Nikam benefits from the eye for framing and blocking precision that he possesses as a cinematographer. He does not use the camera to influence how we view the courtroom drama and the individuals involved in it.

He uses it to achieve a combination of objective distance and studied intimacy. That, more than anything else, sets Prahaar apart from any 26/11 film that Bollywood has made.

The latter attribute is brought in via the portrayal of Nikam's domestic life, which might seem to some like avoidable digression. But it isn't. It only helps the audience understand Nikam the man.

Wamiqa Gabbi plays his wife, Jyoti, a woman he spends little time with, and Ritvik Sahore is cast as his son, Aniket, who, too, is deprived of his father's presence during his growing up years.

The 26/11 terror attack takes place when Nikam is preparing for his daughter's marriage. His life as a lawyer instantly takes precedence over everything else, which explains why he has drifted apart from his family.

The family dynamics manifest themselves at times in the protagonist's professional moves, necessitated by circumstances that serve to emphasise that no great deed is ever attained without navigating little slippery stepping stones.

Prahaar - a celebration of the power of the proverbial long arm of the law - retains its balance almost all through. It isn't reduced to a series of flashy hammer blows. The blows do find their mark but that isn't all there is to the film.

Jaideep Ahlawat makes an impact in a brief role of a Pakistani lawyer who crosses swords with Nikam. The character is compelled to yield ground but is also permitted occasionally to have his say.

Prahaar does not harp on the horrors of 26/11 but funnels its anger and outrage into one courtroom sequence involving a 10-year-old victim of terrorism. It drives home the toll it took on innocents.  

There’s a tendency to mistake the importance of a real-life story for the quality of its cinematic retelling. With Prahaar – The Ujjwal Nikam Story, the weight of the subject and the significance of the man at its centre may invite a certain reverence, making any criticism of the filmmaking seem misplaced and almost blasphemous.

This is a man who has prosecuted cases such as the 2003 Gateway of India blast, the 2010 German Bakery blast in Pune, the 1993 Bombay blasts, Gulshan Kumar’s murder, Shakti Mills gang rape and, of course, the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks. But the importance of his story doesn’t automatically translate into compelling cinema. The film has intent but heavily suffers due to a bumpy screenplay.


Prahaar is all over the place, struggling to decide what it wants to focus on. Is it the terror attacks and the subsequent trials, Nikam’s family life, his complicated equation with his son or Ajmal Kasab’s background and life in Arthur Road Jail? By attempting to juggle all these threads, the film loses sight of its central narrative.

What emerges is a muddled mishmash of storylines that leaves you wondering what you’re supposed to invest in. That’s not to say the film is devoid of moments that move you to tears, fill you with rage or make you appreciate the sheer brilliance of its actors. But are a handful of powerful moments enough to make a good film? Seems unlikely.

Prahaar opens on the day of the 1993 Bombay blasts verdict. Having won the TADA case, Nikam remains remarkably equanimous even as those around him celebrate. “Kaam adhura reh gaya hai," he says, refusing to rejoice before the entire terrorist network is exposed. Years later, as he attends his daughter’s wedding, a phone call shatters the celebrations. Mumbai is under attack.

The date is November 26, 2008. A series of coordinated shootings and bombings across the city leaves it reeling. Ajmal Kasab, the lone terrorist captured alive, becomes the face of the trial that follows, with Nikam entrusted with the responsibility of prosecuting him. Standing on the other side is Kazmi, who agrees to represent Kasab after the Mumbai Bar Association refuses to take up his defence.
What follows is a courtroom battle. Nikam insists on filing a single chargesheet, as it could lead him to Lashkar-e-Taiba and the entire network behind 26/11 and dismantle Kasab’s claim of being a juvenile. A press photographer, a senior nurse working at Cama Hospital and multiple cops appear as witnesses. But the most chilling and emotional testimony is from a ten-year-old survivor.

Prahaar also explores the personal cost of Nikam and Kazmi taking up opposing sides of the trial. While Nikam is dismissed by sections of the public as an ‘attention seeker’, Kazmi is branded a traitor for defending Kasab. In one particularly uncomfortable scene, Kazmi is insulted by another Muslim at a restaurant during Eid, in front of his own family and accused of bringing shame to their community.

Director Avinash Arun and writer Sumit Roy further capture the public outrage surrounding the trial, with people demanding Kasab’s immediate execution and growing impatient with what they perceive as the law’s slow pace in delivering justice. These are telling moments that capture the price of standing by one’s professional duty when public sentiment demands otherwise.
Importantly, Prahaar ensures that the narrative doesn’t devolve into mere bashing and targeting a religion or a country. In one of its most powerful and significant scenes, Nikam strikes up an unexpected conversation with Zulfiqar, a member of an official delegation from Islamabad. It’s food they bond over – bombil fry in Mumbai and haleem and galouti kebab in Islamabad.

Their exchange on politics, religion and the hatred fuelled by extremism makes a poignant, nuanced and humanist point – the fire you set in your neighbour’s home can eventually engulf your own. What follows is an unlikely friendship that transcends the animosity between the two countries. “Terrorists are not born but manufactured," they say. The film largely holds on to its objectivity.

Despite these highlights, Prahaar struggles to stay afloat over its 2-hour and 21-minute runtime. The narrative is uneven and rarely gripping, often losing momentum at crucial junctures. The decision to explore Nikam’s personal and family life isn’t inherently problematic. The issue is how these portions are inserted between important scenes, disrupting the narrative flow.

Needless to say, they draw attention away from the central conflict. A mere acknowledgement of how his demanding career keeps him from spending time with his equally supportive family would have sufficed. Instead, the makers delve deep into his domestic life and a messy father-son equation marked by ego, leaving the screenplay unnecessarily bloated.

For instance, following a heart-wrenching sequence in which the ten-year-old girl testifies that Kasab shot her pregnant mother at CST, the film abruptly cuts to a sequence featuring Nikam and his wife in a hospital room and then to a flashback chronicling their love story. The tonal shift is jarring, diluting the emotional impact of an otherwise devastating moment.

The weak links are too many to ignore. As for the performances, Rajkummar Rao delivers a decent turn as Nikam. But it also raises a question – does an actor need to replicate every body-language cue and mannerism of the person he’s portraying? While he captures Nikam’s mannerisms well, the performance eventually feels too mechanical, making it difficult to connect with the man behind the persona.

The act also suffers from the way Nikam is written on paper, as a man with barely any visible vulnerabilities. The character feels too one-dimensional, leaving little room for the actor to bring out the complexities that might have made him more compelling. This is certainly not one of Rao’s more memorable performances.

Wamiqa Gabbi, as Nikam’s wife Jyoti, has little to do beyond trying to replicate the real person’s mannerisms. It’s a peripheral role that adds little to the narrative and does little to showcase her abilities as an actor. She almost feels like a narrative device to offer some relief from an otherwise tense film, rather than a character with any real depth or purpose of her own.

It is Jaideep Ahlawat who truly leaves an impact as Zulfiqar, despite limited screen time. As India and Pakistan are caught in a cycle of hostility, he emerges as a voice of reason, advocating dialogue over hatred and reminding us of the human cost of extremism. His moments with Rao are pure gold. Sikandar Kher as Kazmi is equally impressive.

But the absolute show stealer is Lalit Prabhakar, who delivers a remarkable act as Kasab. From the chilling smirk on his face as he kills people to the distress he experiences on learning that his mother has fallen ill, he captures the many shades of a man who is both a perpetrator of horrific violence and a product of indoctrination.

His fear upon seeing the bodies of his fellow terrorists and realising that he has been brainwashed into killing in the name of attaining jannat is particularly striking. It’s a layered, unsettling performance. In a scene inside the cell, he begins hallucinating, offering a glimpse into his deteriorating mental state. Prabhakar sheds all inhibitions in the sequence, delivering a raw, uninhibited performance.

In all honesty, Prahaar is a film that deserved to be told. It has its heart in the right place. It’s great material on paper. It wants to unsettle us. But the problem is that much of it gets lost under the weight of its own aspirations. Ultimately, it’s a film of powerful moments that never quite comes together as a compelling whole.

Some stories MUST be told – this is one of those... Gripping, emotionally charged courtroom drama that shakes you to the core... Brilliant writing, powerhouse performances, razor-sharp courtroom sequences. #PrahaarReview

We have read the news reports... We have watched the news bulletins... We have followed the developments surrounding the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks... But what makes #Prahaar a compelling cinematic experience is its gripping portrayal of what unfolded *inside the courtroom*, how the prosecution pieced together the evidence, and above all, how #UjjwalNikam fought to bring the perpetrator to justice.

Director #AvinashArun deserves the highest praise... His command over the material, the performances, and the drama is remarkable... The tension, arguments and counter-arguments, along with the sensitive father-son relationship, are seamlessly woven into the narrative, making those 2 hours and 20 minutes thoroughly engaging... The taut screenwriting is one of the biggest strengths of #Prahaar.

The recreation of Kasab's barbaric attack at CST, where innocent people were killed and wounded, is chilling and evokes a range of emotions – anger, grief, helplessness, heartbreak, and profound sadness.

A few unforgettable moments in the narrative also deserve a special mention [without spoilers] –
⭐ The sequence where Ujjwal Nikam dismantles Kasab's claim of being a juvenile
⭐ The powerful pre-interval block
⭐ The post-interval sequence in which a young girl testifies against Kasab, reliving the horrors of that fateful night
⭐ The finale
Brilliant writing. Brilliant acting. Brilliant execution.

#RajkummarRao is exceptional as #UjjwalNikam... Powerful, commanding, and razor-sharp, he brings immense conviction and intensity to the role... Yet another remarkable performance from an actor who is, without doubt, among the finest talents in the business.

#LalitPrabhakar as Kasab is outstanding... Unsettling and controlled, he avoids unnecessary histrionics, delivering a portrayal that leaves a lasting impression.

#WamiqaGabbi makes her presence count in a narrative dominated by intense legal proceedings... #JaideepAhlawat is flawless, as always, lending weight and authority to the drama.

#SikandarKher is fantastic... His courtroom sequences, as well as the scene with his family in a restaurant, are splendid... #AshishVidyarthi is top notch, bringing immense credibility and authenticity to his part.

#RitwikSahore makes a strong impression despite sharing screen space with several stalwarts... #AjinkyaDeo leaves a mark.

A special word of appreciation for child actor #DiorRanjuVarghese, who delivers a stunning performance in a crucial courtroom sequence soon after the interval.

There's no scope for songs here, and one doesn't miss them either... The background score is what matters, and it is a major plus, enhancing the tension and emotional impact at crucial junctures.

Final word? A must-watch experience!

Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam | Official Trailer | Rajkummar R | Wamiqa Gabbi | 16th Oct

Prahaar: The Untold Story of Ujjwal Nikam(2026)