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Indian Express
09-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
Sinners and Khauf, two atmospheric works of the genre, reveal that true horror is never otherworldly; it lives in the grammar of everyday oppression
The most potent horror is born from the everyday. It dwells in the mundane, resists the mundane, and seeks to reclaim what the mundane has long denied. True horror isn't found in the jump scare but in the silence that paralyses you, in the stillness that keeps you from leaping forward in life. It isn't the invisible terror that hides in shadows, but the one that stands plainly in the light: unavoidable, yet unnavigable. It is not the fresh wound, but the trauma that runs deep, that is ancestral, generational, neck-deep in history. It is always, without exception, sociological, psychological, political. It always, in every instance, wrests power from the marginalised. And soothes the ego of the privileged. It's rare to witness even one horror tale in a year that truly embodies the ethos I just described. Rarer still is the appearance of two. Yet, that's precisely what happened last month, on April 18th. Two vastly different stories: distinct in language, form, format, and narrative style — emerged, stunned, and swept audiences in equal measure. One was Ryan Coogler's global juggernaut Sinners, the other a quiet, simmering Hindi web series titled Khauf, penned by Smita Singh. Both were horror at its most unflinching, cinema at its finest, and society at its most exposed. Watching them in succession is more than just a genre experience; it's a reckoning. A reminder that the most terrifying monsters aren't conjured; they're inherited. They live beneath our skin, waiting, always waiting, for the smallest crack to break through. Both centre on the vulnerable, those reaching for what was never freely given. Both unfold in spaces they hope to reclaim, to remake as havens. And in both, the powerful intrude, unwilling to let them possess even the barest trace of what should have always been theirs. Each story holds within it characters who try to narrow the divide between the real and the uncanny, and others who sneer at the aspirations of the less privileged. They both begin in flight, from pasts soaked in grief, towards futures imagined in light. To new cities, new homes, chasing the promise of liberation. Only to find that what little they once held is stripped away, piece by piece. They end not with resolution, but with a glimpse of the desperate, devouring battle among the dispossessed, as the privileged stand untouched, spewing contempt, writing the story of violence while never having to live it. Shared post on Time What's equally compelling is how, on the surface, both works appear to be conventional genre pieces: familiar in structure, obedient to the rules of the form. For the most part, they play the game as expected. But it is the lived, intimate experience of their creators, Coogler in Sinners, Singh in Khauf — that infuses these narratives with a resonant subtext: one heavy with the ache to survive, to belong, in a world that speaks only in the language of power and listens only to the voices of the privileged. Whether it's the historical struggle of Black and Brown communities in the Deep South, or the daily terror that haunts women in Delhi, both reveal a deeper truth. A realisation that the fears which grip us most are not those caused by the supernatural, but those woven into the fabric of the real. What's even more unsettling and profoundly revealing is how both works suggest that for the marginalised to claim power, they must first inhabit the very skin of their oppressors. It is only through possession, by becoming like them, speaking like them, behaving like them, that they are finally seen. But in that transformation, we do not transcend them. We become them. Shared post on Time Also Read | Khauf review: Psychological horror show digs deep, builds dread There is a deeper, more tragic realisation at play here: when we take up the weapons of the oppressor, we often mistake it for empowerment. We believe we're integrating, rising. But what we're truly doing is allowing their venom to seep into us, their violence to become our reflex, their agenda to dictate our path. We turn on one another. We silence our own. And in that struggle, we begin to lose not just our community, but the clarity of who we were to begin with. So whether it's Stack (Michael B. Jordan) in Sinners or Madhu (Monika Panwar) in Khauf, both are possessed, reshaped into monstrous reflections of those they once feared. And while they do, in time, gain the very power they once longed for, it comes at a steep cost: the loss of love, of tenderness, of self. The horror lies not just in what they become, but in how recognisable that becoming is. It reminds us that our oppressors are, in some way, versions of ourselves we never chose but were forced to emulate. In the end, they do fight back, not to win more power, but to reclaim what was lost in the pursuit of it. Because the wounds we carry are not just reminders of pain. They are, perhaps, the only parts of us that remain uncorrupted. The only parts that still know how to survive. It feels almost poetic that much of this subtextual reckoning is not just written into the narrative, but embedded within the very fabric of craft. In Sinners, it is the sound design that ascends beyond the frame. Ludwig Göransson's score becomes a form of baptism, not in water but in rhythm. In Khauf, Pankaj Kumar's camera moves with an effortless precision, as if mirroring the city itself — restless, yet suffocatingly still when it needs to be. What binds both works is a world-building that feels lived-in, not constructed. In Sinners, it's a town haunted by the ghosts of centuries-old racism — still breathing, still burning — where cultural appropriation wears the mask of reverence. In Khauf, it's a post-Nirbhaya Delhi where nothing has changed except the illusion that something has. A city where every woman's breath teeters between fear and anxiety. In this sense, these are not just stories; they are mirrors held up to a world that, regardless of era, form, or language, has always spoken in the dialect of domination. A world quick to pit the powerless against one another, where women's bodies are never their own, but battlegrounds — claimed, guarded, or destroyed in someone else's name.
NDTV
01-05-2025
- Business
- NDTV
"100% Fruit Juice" Claim By Dabur Misleading: Food Regulator To High Court
New Delhi: The claim made by FMCG giant Dabur that its range of fruit beverages is made "100 per cent" from fruits violates rules and regulations and is also misleading for the consumers, the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI) has informed the Delhi High Court. The writ petition filed by Smita Singh, Assistant Director with the FSSAI dated April 22 (a copy of which is with IANS), challenged Dabur against the "100 per cent" claim stating that the juices contain water and fruit concentrates. In addition, the term "100 per cent" is also not a recognised for food products. "It is respectfully submitted that any Food Business Operator (FBO) who seeks to label, advertise, or market fruit juice products using the expression '100 per cent' does so in the absence of any statutory authorisation and in clear violation of the regulatory framework prescribed under the Food Safety and Standards Act, 2006 and the rules and regulations made thereunder," the petition said. "The expression 100 per cent constitutes a numerical quantification rather than a qualitative descriptor," it added. The food regulator, had, in June 2024 issued a notification directing FBOs to remove claims such as "100 per cent fruit juices" from the label and advertisement of fruit juices. At the time, Dabur argued that the FSSAI's directive was legally unsound and stems from a misunderstanding of the existing regulations, according to reports. In the petition, the FSSAI also cited the views of the scientific panel on Labelling and Claims/Advertisements (SP-08) during its 47th and 49th meetings, on its three products under Real's range of fruit beverages -- Mixed Fruit Juice, Apple Juice, and Grape Juice. "The 100 per cent claim is misleading since the ingredient list clearly indicates addition of water and the mixed fruit juice concentrate is 6.8 per cent along with the addition of natural flavouring substances," as per the meeting inputs. "The term 100 per cent is not defined in the FSS Act 2006, Rules and regulations," it added. The matter is reportedly pending before the Delhi HC, and the next date of hearing is July 7.
Time of India
01-05-2025
- Business
- Time of India
'100% fruit juice' claim by Dabur violates law, misleading: FSSAI to Delhi HC
New Delhi: The claim made by FMCG giant Dabur that its range of fruit beverages is made "100 per cent" from fruits violates rules and regulations and is also misleading for the consumers, the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI) has informed the Delhi High Court. The writ petition filed by Smita Singh, Assistant Director with the FSSAI dated April 22 (a copy of which is with IANS), challenged Dabur against the "100 per cent" claim stating that the juices contain water and fruit concentrates. In addition, the term "100 per cent" is also not a recognised for food products. "It is respectfully submitted that any Food Business Operator (FBO) who seeks to label, advertise, or market fruit juice products using the expression '100 per cent' does so in the absence of any statutory authorisation and in clear violation of the regulatory framework prescribed under the Food Safety and Standards Act, 2006 and the rules and regulations made thereunder," the petition said. "The expression 100 per cent constitutes a numerical quantification rather than a qualitative descriptor," it added. The food regulator, had, in June 2024 issued a notification directing FBOs to remove claims such as "100 per cent fruit juices" from the label and advertisement of fruit juices. At the time, Dabur argued that the FSSAI's directive was legally unsound and stems from a misunderstanding of the existing regulations, according to reports. In the petition, the FSSAI also cited the views of the scientific panel on Labelling and Claims/Advertisements (SP-08) during its 47th and 49th meetings, on its three products under Real's range of fruit beverages -- Mixed Fruit Juice, Apple Juice, and Grape Juice. "The 100 per cent claim is misleading since the ingredient list clearly indicates addition of water and the mixed fruit juice concentrate is 6.8 per cent along with the addition of natural flavouring substances," as per the meeting inputs. "The term 100 per cent is not defined in the FSS Act 2006, Rules and regulations," it added. The matter is reportedly pending before the Delhi HC, and the next date of hearing is July 7.
The Print
29-04-2025
- Politics
- The Print
Beating Retreat post Pahalgam a lot quieter. Soldiers still march in sync, but not face-to-face
Following the terror attack in Pahalgam on 22 April in which at least 26 were killed, India announced a series of retaliatory measures against Pakistan last week. Among them was the closure of the Wagah gate during the daily flag-lowering ceremony, suspension of the traditional handshake between personnel of India's Border Security Force (BSF) and Pakistan Rangers, and the cancellation of all Pakistani visas. 'The ceremony was amazing, no doubt,' said Bharat, clutching a newly bought fridge magnet depicting the Indian Tricolour. 'But with the gates closed and our soldiers not marching directly in front of Pakistan's… that feeling is missing.' Amritsar: Two months after planning a dream visit to witness the grand Beating Retreat ceremony at the Attari-Wagah border, Smita Singh and Bharat Singh flew to Amritsar all the way from Bengaluru. But when they reached Attari this weekend, it felt incomplete. The gates that used to open symbolically every evening—sometimes even for the exchange of sweets on festivals—are now firmly shut. The parade continues, but Indian soldiers now march and perform drills without facing their counterparts from across the border. The Pakistani side also remains quieter, with fewer chants from the crowd. 'There was a time when you could hear slogans bouncing back and forth from both sides,' said a senior BSF officer posted at the border, requesting anonymity. 'Now, we raise our voices alone. It's more about inner pride than competition now.' The fierce—but subtly friendly—standoff between the soldiers of the two nations used to attract several spectators every evening. The tourists are still turning up in large numbers, but leaving with mixed emotions. 'We expected some action across the gate, too. It's a little strange to see it locked, but we also feel proud that India is standing strong,' said Ritu Yogi, who was visiting from Jaipur, as she waved a miniature Indian flag. 'The spirit is always high, but the emotion is heavier,' said a young soldier after finishing the evening drill. 'Earlier, there was a sense of informal sportsmanship, too. Now it's strictly about discipline, about reminding the world where we stand.' For local shopkeepers near Attari, the closure has had subtle ripple effects. But 'patriotism' runs deeper than profit here. Rajveer Gill, who runs a souvenir stall near the border, said, 'It is a very small cost for what happened in Pahalgam. If our government has taken a decision, we will follow it. We don't have any problem with it.' The government's other major steps, including holding Indus Waters Treaty in abeyance and halting cross-border transport, have sent a clear diplomatic signal, but on the ground, it is the daily rhythms of border life that have changed most visibly. Even as chants of 'Bharat Mata ki Jai' fill the air, there is a notable absence of competition from across the border. The crowds still cheer, the soldiers still march in perfect sync, and flags still lower at sunset with the same grandeur. But the Attari-Wagah border, which used to be enveloped by fiery pride and fleeting friendliness, now bears a heavier silence. (Edited by Mannat Chugh) Also Read: At Attari-Wagah, spate of forced goodbyes as Indians, Pakistanis scramble to return to home country
Hans India
27-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Hans India
When Trauma Haunts Louder Than Ghosts: Khauf Redefines Indian Horror
Smita Singh's Khauf doesn't just offer supernatural scares — it delivers a searing feminist horror story set against the oppressive backdrop of modern Delhi. In a genre long dominated by sleazy thrills and cheap jump scares, Khauf dares to say something deeper: for women, horror isn't confined to haunted rooms — it lurks on every street. Now streaming on Amazon Prime Video, Khauf follows Madhuri (Monika Panwar), a young woman fleeing trauma from her past, who moves into a women's hostel on the city's outskirts. Assigned Room 333, she is warned of its sinister history. Yet the ghostly dangers that seem to stalk her are only part of the threat. The real danger comes from the living — embodied by a ruthless hakim (Rajat Kapoor) preying on women's pain and a police officer (Geetanjali Kulkarni) who is both an enforcer and a victim of a broken system. Unlike typical Indian horror, Khauf does not separate its ghosts from its real-world villains. Here, supernatural hauntings and systemic misogyny bleed into each other. The ghosts aren't just metaphors; they are the consequences of a society that routinely silences, punishes, and preys on women. Set in Delhi — a city forever shadowed by its own gendered violence — Khauf uses the environment brilliantly. Crumbling hostel corridors, dark alleys, and dense woods combine with an eerie soundtrack to create a city that feels not just unsafe, but alive with threat. Horror is everywhere, and women, like Madhuri, must fight not only for survival but for agency. Monika Panwar brings both vulnerability and ferocity to Madhuri's journey. Her transformation — from haunted survivor to someone willing to confront her fears — reflects a broader struggle against societal erasure. Rajat Kapoor is chilling as the soft-spoken predator, while Geetanjali Kulkarni adds layers to a character torn between duty and guilt. Khauf falters slightly in its final act, falling back on the familiar trope where trauma is the price women must pay for empowerment. Yet its willingness to confront uncomfortable truths without turning preachy is a major victory for Indian horror storytelling. In Khauf, Smita Singh reimagines the horror genre — not just to scare, but to expose. And in doing so, she reminds us: in a world shaped by patriarchy, survival itself is a kind of rebellion.
