Bandish Bandits Amazon Prime Web Series Review

Story is based on Indian classical singer Radhe and pop star Tamanna. Despite their contrasting personalities, the two "set out together on a journey of self-discovery to see if opposites, though they might attract, can also adapt and go the long haul.

The conversation around the need to revive interest in classical music, and the fact that there doesn’t need to be a rift between the classical and the popular, needs to be on-going. Despite its flaws, Bandish Bandits keeps up focus on this crucial theme.

The name of the show is fascinating—bandish means restriction in Urdu and bandits always brings to mind swashbuckling acts of daredevilry. However, as the wise person said, one should not judge a book by its cover or a show by its name.

Despite the presence of stalwarts such as Naseeruddin Shah and Atul Kulkarni, Bandish Bandits, is a grating mountain of clichés. The 10-episode series marks the digital debut of composing trio, Shankar-Ehsan-Loy: the music is catchy but would not bring down rain. Bandish Bandits tells the story of the love between Tamanna, a popstar, and Radhe, a classical music prodigy in Jodhpur.

Shot on location in Rajasthan and Mumbai, the series opens in Jodhpur, in the ‘aangan’ of a big haveli, where Sangeet Samrat Rathod (Shah) is holding a class. He’s the crusty custodian of his ‘gharana’, and one of those formidable teachers of Hindustani classical who demand, and receive, absolute discipline. Despite failing hearing, inevitable with ageing, his word is law: even his family, including his grandson Radhe Mohan (Bhowmik), also one of his most able ‘shishyas’, addresses him as Panditji.

Along comes Tamanna (Chaudhry), a comely creator-cum-performer of studio-music, and a dangler of several equally attractive baits. Radhe takes his time but is duly smitten, though his agreeing to Tamanna’s ‘chichore’ blandishments has more to do with rescuing his family from financial peril, than falling for ‘fusion’ music. There we have it– the clash between the old and new, modern and traditional, music that is handed as a ‘dharohar’ (heritage) from teacher to student, taught painstakingly over the years, to a more rapid form that emerges from synthesised sounds, ‘ragas’ that are lovingly rendered in increasingly shrinking ‘baithaks’ and ‘sabhas’, to market-driven sounds that can be amplified over a million gadgets.