Fading Memory, Wandering Roads: Abhishek Shines Through

Title: Kaalidhar Laapata

Director: Madhumita Sundararaman

Cast: Abhishek Bachchan, Zeeshan Ayyub and Daivik Bhagela

Where: Streaming on ZEE 5

Rating: 3 Stars

There’s a curious kind of beauty in Kaalidhar Laapata, a remake of Madhumita Sundararaman’s tender Tamil gem Karuppu Durai, that peeks through the cracks of its uneven execution. This is a film that dares to ask big questions—about dignity, abandonment, and the silent rebellions we undertake to reclaim ourselves, only to sometimes fumble with its answers like a forgetful old man reaching for the light switch in the dark.

At the centre of it all is Kaalidhar (Abhishek Bachchan), an aging man diagnosed with Alzheimer’s who is unceremoniously dumped in Haridwar by his own family, because nothing says familial love like spiritual euthanasia. Instead of fading quietly into the background of holy chants and riverbank rituals, Kaalidhar decides to run away. Along the way, he meets Ballu (Daivik Baghela), an eight-year-old orphan with the sass of a stand-up comic and the survival instincts of a feral cat. What follows is a bittersweet, intermittently heartwarming road trip across a dusty emotional landscape, as the unlikely duo attempts to tick off the items on Kaalidhar’s long-forgotten bucket list.

This isn’t a film about grand revelations. It’s about learning to eat biryani again with childlike delight, or writing your name even when your mind is slipping away. And if you’re waiting for the cathartic Bollywood meltdown moment, it does arrive, but only after detouring through implausible plot twists and some suspiciously scenic soul-searching.

Abhishek Bachchan delivers a sincere, dignified performance as Kaalidhar, with trembling hands and hazy recollections, although the writing sometimes leans on sentiment over structure. Daivik Baghela’s Ballu is the livewire—raw, funny, and instinctively moving. Their chemistry swings from chaotic to tender, finally settling into something quietly beautiful. When Kaalidhar asks, “Kya lagte hain tumhare?” and Ballu replies, “Sab kuch,” it resonates—not for its profundity, but for the simple, unsentimental truth it carries.

Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub plays Subodh, a quietly resolute officer at the Haridwar bureau for missing persons, whose personal investment in Kaalidhar’s disappearance offers a sustained source of tension. His arc adds structure to a narrative that often prefers scenic detours over cohesive storytelling. Nimrat Kaur, as Meera - Kaalidhar’s love interest, however, is more decorative than disruptive—earnest, yes, but emotionally uninvested.

Visually, the film attempts rustic lyricism, bathing its heartland settings in warm, nostalgic hues. And the music, sparingly used, lends emotional lift to several scenes that might otherwise collapse under their contrivance. But the direction—though well-meaning—is haphazard. Scenes feel unfinished, motivations flicker without explanation, and one particularly dramatic homecoming sequence lands with all the grace of a missed cue at a school play.

There are lines—“Haar rishtey ki expiry date hoti hai”—that try to sting, but mostly hover in Hallmark-card territory. The lessons arrive pre-digested: Live life, Write your dreams down, Learn to write,- Noble advice, if not slightly Pinterest.

In the end, this is a film of moments: some stirring, some strained. It’s not quite the cathartic ride it sets out to be, but it offers glimpses of grace—enough to make you wish it had trusted its silences more than its speeches.