AKHANDA 2: TANDEM OF FAITH AND FURY
Where Mythic Power Meets Modern Peril
Review By Vanam Jwala
Narasimha Rao
(December 12, 2025)
Cinema often strives to
balance spectacle and substance, but there are times when a film transcends
both and becomes an experience that invites reflection. I, my wife, encouraged
firmly by my film-critic daughter Prema, who reviews cinema with much acclaim
on digital media, watched Akhanda 2 (Tandavam) today (December 12, 2025), on
the very first day of its release, despite neither of us having watched Akhanda
Part One. What unfolded on screen was not merely a sequel but a world unto
itself, an embroidery of myth, politics, mysticism, and national anxiety woven
together with startling confidence.
The movie reminds us
that cinema is not just entertainment but a vessel through which culture,
memory, and philosophy travel across generations, offering meaning to those who
seek it and excitement to those who simply watch. The film opens with a bold
proclamation of intent, presenting itself as an amalgamation of political,
social, puranic, folk, artificial-intelligence-driven, theistic, and atheist
themes, all woven together with impressive coherence.
The continuity holds
strong throughout except for a few moments where the intensity of ideas
momentarily outpaces the script. Yet, these brief interruptions do not diminish
the film’s larger vision, which is both expansive and daring. What stands out
is how the narrative mirrors the fragmented world we inhabit, that is, one
where belief systems clash, ideologies collide, and technology increasingly
shapes warfare and human destiny.
Written and directed by
Boyapati Sreenu, known for his flair for crafting distinctive cinematic worlds,
the film remains a testament to his ability to blend mass appeal with
myth-infused storytelling. His direction carries the unmistakable signature of
grandeur, action, and emotional surge. The production by Ram Achanta, Gopi
Achanta, and Ishan Saksena ensures the film remains visually and technically
elevated, creating a universe that feels both ancient and startlingly current.
In many ways, Boyapati attempts to remind viewers that Indian storytelling,
with its deep mythic roots, can still converse fluently with global cinematic
vocabulary.
At the heart of the
narrative lies Nandamuri Balakrishna, portraying dual roles, one as Akhanda
Rudra Aghora and the other as Murali Krishna, the brothers separated by divine
intervention, as their mother believes, with the elder child taken away by Lord
Shiva himself. The duality is not merely dramatic but symbolic: one brother
embodying the grounded human response to conflict, the other representing
transcendental strength beyond mortal limits. Such dual portrayals speak to the
timeless Indian idea that human beings contain both the worldly and the divine,
the pragmatic and the spiritual, coexisting in delicate balance.
Among the cast,
Samyukta Menon, though appearing briefly, delivers a performance that resonates
deeply. She embodies her role with grace and conviction, whether in scenes
where she honestly credits her subordinate Harshaali Malhotra (as Janani) with
great research contributions, or when she offers Murali Krishna a military
alcoholic drink with polite assertiveness during a birthday visit. Her bravery
in the battlefield sequence, even while fatally wounded, where she orchestrates
Janani's escape with the life-saving vaccine, stands out as one of the film’s
emotionally charged moments. Her character becomes a reminder that courage
often reveals itself most clearly in fleeting but decisive instants.
Harshaali Malhotra,
portraying the 17-year-old prodigy Janani, adds remarkable depth to the story.
Her references to Valmiki Ramayana and the sacred hymns ‘Bala and Atibala’
during her scientific research form a bridge between ancient wisdom and modern
innovation. According to the epic, Sage Vishvamitra taught Rama these hymns to
grant him unmatched knowledge and resilience. In today’s world, that is overwhelmed
by burnout and rapid technological change, the symbolic relevance of ‘Bala and
Atibala’ becomes even more essential, reminding us that true strength lies in
balanced growth of intellect, spirit, and emotional endurance. Boyapati's
decision to include such a reference is indeed noteworthy.
The film begins with a
chilling sequence featuring a Military General-implied to be Chinese-relentlessly
killing Buddhist monks, likely Tibetans, even taunting their Guru to invoke
divine intervention. This unsettling brutality sets the stage for a global
conflict of ideologies. His subsequent meeting with another General, who
recites the Bhagavad Gita not out of devotion but as a tactical study to defeat
Indian forces, introduces a thought-provoking irony. The film quietly suggests
that sacred texts, when stripped of ethics, can be misused, echoing a pattern
seen throughout history.
The plot thickens when
these two generals ally with an ambitious political figure, Thakur, the ‘Prime
Minister in Waiting’ desperately, whose family has long thirsted for power. His
wealth and influence appear limitless, hinting at the murky entanglements of
politics and global conspiracies. Through Thakur, the film comments on the
modern prototype of the power-hungry leader who cloaks personal ambition under
the guise of national interest.
The narrative shifts
gear when a district collector visits the Prime Minister's Office to oppose the
selection of a certain village in Kadapa district for a Government of India Rural
Development Scheme. His objection stems from its long-standing status as a
mafia-controlled drug cultivation den. PMO Principal Secretary Padmavathi
(Poorna) contacts Murali Krishna (Nandamuri one Role) to tackle the issue. What
the entire district administration failed to handle, he accomplishes
single-handedly. Though dramatized, the sequence is exceptionally executed,
reflecting cinematic valor. It subtly conveys that individual responsibility,
when embraced with integrity, can often shake the foundations of systemic
negligence.
During a public event, subsequently,
the Prime Minister learns of unrest in Manipur, leading to a tense
confrontation with Opposition Leader Thakur. The scene where with a
misbehavior, Thakur sits in front of PM, mirrors the character building of
contemporary political heavyweights who often wield influence with intimidating
assertiveness. The subtext seems to caution against the dangers of unchecked
political ambition, particularly in a nation as diverse and sensitive as India.
The narrative then
enters its core arc: powerful forces, spiritual, political, and technological,
all conspire to destabilize India through biological warfare. A deadly
bioweapon attack on the Maha Kumbh Mela triggers national panic. Scientists
race against time to develop an antidote, with Janani leading the
groundbreaking research and successfully producing a vaccine. Her triumph,
however, attracts dangerous attention from malicious groups seeking to exploit
her discovery.
As Janani’s life comes
under threat, Akhanda Rudra Sikandar Aghora reappears, embodying divine fury
and sacred purpose. His presence shifts the film’s tone from political thriller
to metaphysical action. Meanwhile, Murali Krishna becomes entangled in the
escalating chaos, and the brothers’ paths converge as they confront adversaries
who blend occult power with scientific terror. Their combined journey embodies
the Indian philosophical idea that dharma must sometimes express itself both
through earthly action and spiritual force.
The unfolding sequences
move across borders, battlefields, ritual arenas, and clandestine laboratories.
Akhanda’s combat, steeped in ritualistic choreography, becomes a visual blend
of ancient symbolism and contemporary urgency. At a time when nations grapple
with rapid militarization and the ethical dilemmas of biotechnology, these
scenes feel uncannily relevant, reflecting global fears hidden beneath the
surface of everyday life.
In the climactic
confrontation, Akhanda faces the masterminds engineering the nation's chaos. He
safeguards Janani and her vaccine, restoring a fragile yet vital calm. His
victory symbolizes spiritual resilience triumphing over technological
malevolence, reaffirming the inseparable bond between physical survival and
metaphysical faith. Jagapathi Babu as Aghora Baba delivers a compelling
supporting performance, enhancing the mystical dimension of the narrative.
Yet, certain scenes
provoke contemplation. Some elements appear logical, others illogical, or
deliberately Ill-Logical, especially the interweaving of theistic power,
tantric concepts, atheist perspectives, and even robotics entering the
battlefield. These creative liberties reflect the film’s attempt to merge many
worlds into one. While Janani’s journey might have benefited from showing her
final arrival with the vaccine, the narrative remains engaging.
The soundtrack, featuring
Akhanda Thandavam, Gangadhara Shankara, Shiva-Shiva, Shambho, Akhanda
Haindhavam’ etc. though dominated by instrumental grandeur, enhances the film’s
devotional intensity. Balakrishna’s dialogues on Sanatana Haindava Dharma are
powerful, well-scripted, and likely to resonate deeply with the audience.
Ultimately, the film asserts a clear message: that spiritual strength, particularly
rooted in Vedic Hindu tradition, can transcend worldly power struggles.
Sanatana Dharma, a
living, breathing continuum where morality, duty, and cosmic purpose interact
with extraordinary subtlety is implicit in the film. What the Maharshis and
Brahmarshis, revealed its essence across the Vedas, Upanishads, Itihasas,
Puranas, the Mahabharata, the Bhagavata, and the Ramayana that emphasized again
and again about Dharma, is also implicit in the film. As the Yugas shift, so
too must the moral calibrations appropriate to them. It is in this context
that, the film has a lasting value.
In a society often
divided between belief and skepticism, the film suggests that faith, when
aligned with righteousness, remains an unparalleled force. Akhanda 2 ultimately
stands as a film that must be experienced for its multifarious approaches, such
as, its sweeping mythological overtones, its sharp political observations, its
spiritual depth, and its contemporary relevance spanning biotechnology,
warfare, and national integrity. The outdoor settings are strikingly composed
A scene in the movie
that deserves special mention is the portrayal of the mother of Balakrishna’s
dual roles. Her final wish that, only her long-lost son Akhanda should perform
her last rites so she may attain heaven, carries profound emotional and
spiritual weight. When Janani conveys the news of her death, Akhanda, deep in
penance, shows no external reaction, absorbed in his austere spiritual state.
Lord Shiva Himself, assuming Akhanda’s form, performs the rites, while the real
Akhanda continues his meditation. The dialogues in this sequence are deeply
moving, affirming the bond between divine grace and filial duty.
Later, Akhanda
completes his share of the obsequies along the riverbank with Janani by his
side. This episode evokes, though not identically, the moment in Adi
Shankaracharya’s life when he performed the last rites of his mother Aryamba,
despite strict Nambudiri customs forbidding a sannyasi from doing so. Shankara
carried her body, arranged a pyre of plantain stalks in their backyard, and lit
it through yogic force, an act of supreme compassion and dharma that
transcended rigid social codes.
Above all, Nandamuri
Balakrishna’s performance, histrionic in the most positive and powerful sense
of the word, carries the film with extraordinary intensity, dignity, and
command. His dual portrayal becomes not just an artistic achievement but the
very anchor of the film’s thematic universe. In harmonizing devotion with drama
and philosophy with force, the movie succeeds magnificently in giving audiences
both a thrilling spectacle and a resonant reminder of India’s enduring
spiritual ethos.







