'Kankhajura' Review: Mohit Raina & Roshan Mathew sink their teeth into a gripping tale of flawed humans

Kankhajura

Streaming on: Sony LIV

Rating- **** (4/5)

Cast: Mohit Raina, Roshan Mathew, Sarah Jane Dias, Trinetra Haldar, Ninad Kamat, Mahesh Shetty & more

Directed by: Chandan Arora & Parikshhit Jha

To personify animalistic traits in humans began as a creative device born out of extremity, a lens to emphasise the depths a select few individuals descend to, shedding the last remnants of their humanity in the process. What once was a metaphor now feels almost redundant. The demons we imagined in folklore and horror now look like passive bystanders when placed beside what human beings are capable of doing to one another. In a world increasingly difficult to make sense of, there arrive shows that force you to re-examine just how much humanity you still retain and how much you have lost to the more parasitic instincts of survival and manipulation. One such show is Sony LIV’s Kankhajura.

The metaphor is obvious, almost cheeky. The kankhajura, or centipede, is a parasitic insect known for its ability to crawl into ears and stay lodged deep inside. In Kankhajura, it isn’t the insect that is terrifying but the human beings who start to resemble the parasite in far more insidious and devastating ways. The funny thing, though, is that once you peel away the layers of this twisted saga, the kankhajura’s reputation feels almost like a joke compared to the moral decay the show’s characters engage in.

Of Brothers, Betrayals and the Hunger for Approval

At the heart of Kankhajura lies the story of two brothers. Ashu, played by the consistently impressive Roshan Mathew, is fresh out of prison after serving a 14-year sentence for a crime he was, in some roundabout way, forced to commit. The natural instinct is to find refuge in family, and so he turns to his elder brother Max, played with striking restraint by Mohit Raina. Max welcomes him back into the fold, but only just. The warmth is performative, the acceptance conditional, and the affection almost always absent.

Ashu is a complex cocktail of contradictions. He stammers, is visibly under-confident and seems perpetually eager for validation, yet behind that timid façade is a deeply manipulative, calculating mind that knows how to play the long game. Max tolerates him at best and is constantly wary of his intentions. Also in the orbit of these two are childhood friends Shardul and Pedro, essayed by Mahesh Shetty and Ninad Kamat, who never really outgrew their schoolboy penchant for bullying Ashu.

Max, meanwhile, is consumed by a larger-than-life dream project. He wants to transform a seemingly inconsequential village into a developmental mega-hub. It is a grand vision with shadowy motives. Ashu, on the other hand, wants something even bigger — his brother’s love and approval. And for that, he is willing to dig into the darkest parts of himself. Of course, no good story can exist without the moral counterweights. Enter Nisha, Max’s wife, played by Sarah Jane Dias with gravitas and grace, and Amy, Ashu’s childhood friend and now girlfriend, portrayed by the luminous Trinetra Haldar. Both women bring a semblance of empathy and perspective to a world otherwise dominated by ambition, betrayal and corrosive masculinity.

Crafted with Clarity, Performed with Fire

The elusive holy trinity of streaming content: strong writing, efficient direction and stellar performances is rarely achieved. Here, it is not only achieved but also maintained. The direction by Chandan Arora and Parikshhit Jha (who helms one episode) is not focused on increasing the scale or the volume, but instead tightens the narrative screws in a more psychological, almost Hitchcockian way. The tension creeps up quietly. It grows in your head and not just on your screen.

And yet, Kankhajura wouldn’t be half the show it is without the calibre of the ensemble cast. Sarah Jane Dias brings a certain elegance to the proceedings, Trinetra Haldar is both tender and tenacious, while veterans like Ninad Kamat, Mahesh Shetty and the ever-dependable Usha Nadkarni offer invaluable support. But the centre of gravity, without a doubt, lies in the two male leads.

Roshan Mathew is pitch-perfect. The character of Ashu is a landmine of extremes at any point, it could have tipped into overacting or lost its path in the layers. But Mathew navigates it like a master. He knows when to underplay and when to swing for the fences. His eyes tell stories even when his lips stammer.

And then there's Mohit Raina, whose Max might just be his best performance yet. The tightrope he walks between dominance and self-doubt, between power and paranoia is not just difficult but nearly impossible to convey with the minimalism he manages. His performance is so delicately powerful that it lingers. It needs to be said again — this man is painfully underrated and deserves far more complex roles that challenge him the way Kankhajura does.

A Few Missteps in a Largely Gripping Ride

No show is perfect and Kankhajura is not immune to stumbles. There are moments that test the boundaries of logic. Some character choices feel jarring, if not entirely implausible. Occasionally, the script throws in a development that leaves you scratching your head more than it fuels anticipation. But then, something more interesting happens and you forget the detour.

These bumps, however, are rare and never derail the overall experience. The series maintains a level of tension and intrigue that remains mostly uninterrupted. And importantly, the show understands pacing. It respects the audience’s attention span and offers enough payoff in every episode to keep you invested.

The Year of Streaming Rebirths

The year 2025, in more ways than one, feels like a quiet but significant comeback for streaming content. Not that streaming ever truly disappeared — in fact, it smothered us with so many shows and films across a never-ending list of platforms that we stopped discerning the good from the clutter. And yet, this year feels different. Perhaps it's the sharpness of content or perhaps it's just sheer relief to watch shows that don’t treat the viewer as an algorithm. Think Black Warrant, Khauf, and now, Kankhajura.

Adapted from the Israeli series Magpie, Kankhajura is yet another example of how adaptations need not feel like borrowed creativity. In fact, this one doesn't stay an adaptation for long. It carves its own path with such originality that for most of its run, you forget there even was a source material. The writing from Chandan Arora (who also directs), Sandeep Jain and Upendra Sidhaye is smart, self-aware and surprisingly uncluttered. It doesn’t get greedy with twists. The turns, when they arrive, belong to the story and not to the writer’s need for gimmickry. It helps that Magpie is not an overexposed property, which gives the makers a little more room to experiment without being subjected to the hawk-eyed nitpicking of die-hard fans.

A Cliffhanger that Earns Itself

One of the most difficult things in any series is sticking the landing. Ending a show on a note that makes you want to come back and yet doesn’t feel like manipulation is a delicate balance. Kankhajura ends on a cliffhanger that does just that. It doesn’t feel like the writers wrote themselves into a wall. Instead, it feels organic and genuinely arresting. You don’t feel exhausted by the end of eight episodes — you feel restless, not from fatigue but from the need to know what happens next.

And that, at the end of the day, is what a good series should do. It should not demand your time. It should earn it. And Kankhajura, with all its slow-creeping horror, psychological tension and brutally human performances, earns every second.