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Armed with a fantastic ensemble cast, the second season of the Amazon Prime Video drama does a glorious job of mining the world of music for human drama, and rooting a beautiful tale of art and artists in love and connection
Writers: Amritpal Singh Bindra, Amritpal Singh Bindra, Lara Chandni, Anand Tiwari, Digant Patil, Sejal Pachisia
Director: Anand Tiwari
Cast: Ritwik Bhowmik, Shreya Chaudhry, Naseeruddin Shah, Atul Kulkarni, Sheeba Chaddha
Music: Shankar–Ehsaan–Loy
Language: Hindi
The second season of Amazon Prime Video’s Bandish Bandits quietly swooping in and making me feel love — like few shows and movies in 2024 — was an end-of-the-year twist I didn’t see coming, but one I’m deeply grateful for.
In the first season, it was the unlikely composition of concepts and remix of ideas that I was so taken by, more than the vanilla storytelling; a sincere celebration of Hindustani classical music, brought to life through a curious jugalbandi of love story-meets-family drama-meets-rise of an artist story.
Bandish Bandits is a clash of generations story, a preserving culture story, and a fable of art and artists and how they engage with the world, and how the world sees them. Musicians with an almost mythological devotion to their craft, forced to navigate conflicts of compromise and integrity; of finding their audience and honing their voice, stubbornly clinging to the old vs. embracing the new, selling out vs. staying true to yourself, traditional vs. modern, purist vs. populist, and mainstream vs. indie. The unfindable balance. Like the musicians it follows, Bandish Bandits has come into its own with the second season.
This well-plotted second chapter — from writer-director Anand Tiwari and his fellow writers Atmika Didwania, Karan Singh Tyagi, Sejal Pachisia and Digant Patil — does a glorious job of mining the world of music for human drama, and rooting a deeply-felt tale of art and artists in love and connection.
Pandit Radhemohan Rathod (Naseeruddin Shah), the imperious, stern patriarch of the Rathod family has passed away, leaving a void in the directionless family that must now find its way forward under the weight of his immense legacy. Panditji may have passed on, but his presence still looms large over the season and, in particular, through his grandson and successor Radhe (an impressive Ritwik Bhowmik). To preserve and promote his family’s Gharana, artistry and way of life, and help bring his grandfather’s rich classical compositions to the world, Radhe is convinced by his manager Arghya (a crackling Kunal Roy Kapoor) to sign up and participate in the prestigious India Band Championship. Also looking to take part in the very same televised music competition is pop sensation (and Radhe’s ex), Tamanah played by a stunning Shreya Chaudhry. After realising her shortcomings as an auto-tune-friendly singer by working with Radhe last season, Tamanah enrols herself into a prestigious music school to rediscover her voice and rekindle the artist in her.
This season beautifully contrasts Radhe and Tamanah’s interconnecting, overlapping journeys. Radhe is the buzzy new singer and undeniable talent in search of stardom to further the classical music legacy of his family, while Tamanah is the popular star deciding to step away from it all to rediscover her talent. He’s a rebel with a cause; she’s still in search of hers. While Radhe must navigate stages, managers and bands that would have him compromise and dilute his artistry, Tamannah sets out to discover hers for the first time.

Above all, this season of Bandish Bandits is about love. Radhe and Tamanah are, for me, one of the most thoughtful, interesting and deeply-felt romances I’ve come across on-screen this year; the scattered, soul-searching big city starlet and the stiff, devoted singer with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Led by two sparkling performances, you feel every beat of their push-and-pull romance — the power struggle, the insecurity, the painful silences. I loved how the series explores their delicate, inextinguishable connection. You can feel why they belong and why they could perhaps never be. It’s not easy to craft a show-defining romance that’s rarely heavy-handed and silly, without dipping into shallow, irritating will-they-won’t-they territory. Instead, the makers marvellously keep you on that heart-tugging line between hopeful and tragic, between what if and if only.
Elsewhere too, it’s about love. Such as the tender silences between Radhe’s mother Mohini (played by a delightful Sheeba Chaddha) and Digvijay (played by Atul Kulkarni) as lovers torn apart before they could happen, and now partially reunited by a common cause. Similarly, Tamanah’s music teacher Nandini, played by a well-cast Divya Dutta, is the musician who can’t untangle her art from the artist she fell for. A love need not last for it to define us.
Or even the bonds within the Rathod family, who are gradually healing and learning to grow together, bound by their love of the patriarch they could never understand. The storytelling and the performances, along with the lofty ideas — of the messy overlap between romantic connection and the devotion to your art form — never feel gimmicky or melodramatic. Equally remarkable is that the big twists, character pivots, redemptions and betrayals this season never feel random or forced, but organic to the characters. Plot and character come together beautifully as a single voice.
Season 2 of Bandish Bandits also offers one of my favourite ensemble casts in recent memory. Every time a performance charms you, there’s another one right around the corner waiting to do the same. Not to mention the joys of seeing actors of Rajesh Tailang and Sheebha Chadha’s stature, as Radhe’s parents, getting meaningful arcs. But no character brought me as much joy as Kunal Roy Kapoor as the foul-mouthed band manager Arghya. No one does the lovable buffoon quite like Kunal, and he has an absolute blast with the role doing what he does best, as the provider of the best punchlines who is equally unafraid to become one himself. How I wish we could see him on screen more often.
Equally memorable is the scene-stealing Paresh Pahuja as Mahi, the band leader of a fusion group. It’s a treat to watch him oscillate between deceptively laid-back stillness and rhythmic, vibrating intensity. Mahi is a character who could have easily been painted as a “villain” but the show, and Paresh’s performance, insist on having us empathise with and understand him as he calls out the hypocrisy and snooty gatekeeping often associated with classical music.
Speaking of the music, while it isn’t Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy behind the album this time, music supervisor Akashdeep Sengupta and his armada of talented composers step up to the plate admirably and deliver another foot-tapping, soulful soundtrack. The fusion tracks of the India Band Championship, in particular, are a delight. As is the way the on-stage performances are framed, which are nothing short of electric set pieces. At their finest, these sequences see character, story, emotion and music jam together gloriously. Watch how a certain rock-inspired performance serves as a deeply affecting character moment for Rajesh Tailang’s Rajendra Rathod. Not to mention the emotionally charged semi-final of the competition, which sees two characters go head-to-head.
I stepped away from the second season of Bandish Bandits feeling hopeful and possible. Somewhere along the way, the show took me back and reminded me why I fell for the movies in the first place. What can be more pure and primal on screen than watching a boy standing in front of a girl, and telling her he doesn’t know how to stop loving her?
The second season of Bandish Bandits is streaming on Amazon Prime Video.