Director: Sriram Raghavan
Cast: Agastya Nanda, Dharmendra, Jaideep Ahlawat, Simar Bhatia
Writers: Sriram Raghavan, Arijit Biswas, Pooja Ladha Surti
Duration: 143 minutes
 
Sriram Raghavan’s Ikkis is a rare war film that resists spectacle in favour of silence, introspection, and emotional truth. Based on the life of Second Lieutenant Arun Khetarpal, India’s youngest Param Vir Chakra awardee, the film is less interested in glorifying battle and more concerned with what courage costs—during war, and long after it ends. The result is a film that feels thoughtful, humane, and quietly powerful.
 
Rather than unfolding as a conventional battlefield chronicle, Ikkis is structured across two timelines. The first is set during the Battle of Basantar in December 1971, where a 21-year-old Arun Khetarpal leads his tank troop through treacherous, mine-laden terrain under relentless enemy fire. These sequences are tense but deliberately grounded. Raghavan avoids operatic war imagery; instead, he focuses on confusion, fear, and split-second decisions that define combat. The emphasis remains firmly on the psychological burden of command rather than on patriotic spectacle.
 
Agastya Nanda steps into the role of Arun Khetarpal with sincerity and restraint. He portrays Arun as idealistic, driven, and deeply committed—sometimes almost recklessly so. Yet the performance never slips into exaggerated heroism. His courage unfolds through action rather than proclamation. Arun’s refusal to abandon his damaged tank, even when ordered to withdraw, feels tragically inevitable, rooted in character rather than cinematic flourish. Nanda’s performance brings an understated rawness that makes the eventual sacrifice deeply affecting.
 
The second timeline, set in 2001, becomes the film’s emotional anchor. Dharmendra plays Brigadier M. L. Khetarpal, Arun’s father, now an aging man carrying the quiet weight of pride and loss. His visit to meet Brigadier Khwaja Mohammad Nasir, a former Pakistani officer portrayed with remarkable composure by Jaideep Ahlawat, shifts the film into profoundly reflective territory. What follows is not a political statement, but a meditation on shared trauma, memory, and the strange fraternity forged by war.
Jaideep Ahlawat delivers one of his most nuanced performances to date. His Brigadier Nasir is thoughtful, restrained, and painfully aware of what history has taken from both sides. The scenes between Ahlawat and Dharmendra are among the film’s finest—unhurried, understated, and deeply moving. Their conversations, silences, and shared walks through memory-laden spaces say more than any dramatic monologue could.
 
Dharmendra, in what is reportedly his final screen appearance, brings immense emotional depth to the role. With minimal dialogue, he conveys grief, dignity, and unresolved longing through gestures and pauses. His presence lends the film a sense of lived experience that cannot be fabricated. The reconciliation-themed moments between the two brigadiers stand out as some of the most sensitive depictions of post-war reflection in recent Indian cinema.
 
Technically, Ikkis is marked by restraint. The visual effects serve realism rather than spectacle, especially in the tank combat sequences, which feel heavy, claustrophobic, and dangerous. The sound design plays a crucial role—metal grinding, distant explosions, and shouted commands often replace music, immersing the viewer in the chaos of war without overwhelming them.
 
The background score is subtle and sparingly used, allowing scenes to breathe. In the 1971 sequences, silence and ambient sound dominate; in the 2001 timeline, the music becomes introspective, gently underlining themes of memory and loss. Dialogue follows the same philosophy—measured, purposeful, and emotionally honest. The lines that linger do so because they feel earned, not because they demand attention.
 
Raghavan’s direction reflects immense confidence in both his material and his audience. Along with writers Arijit Biswas and Pooja Ladha Surti, he crafts a screenplay that balances its dual timelines with clarity and emotional coherence. Each scene either advances the narrative or deepens character, never feeling indulgent or ornamental.
 
Simar Bhatia, in her debut as Kiran, Arun’s love interest, leaves a quiet but meaningful impression. Her limited screen time is used effectively to suggest the life Arun might have lived, adding an emotional layer without diverting focus from the central narrative.
 
Backed by Maddock Films, Ikkis signals a continued commitment to content-driven cinema. The film’s attention to historical detail, emotional nuance, and ethical responsibility reflects a production approach rooted in care rather than commercial calculation.
 
Ultimately, Ikkis is not just a war film—it is a film about people shaped by war. It speaks of sacrifice without glorifying violence, and of patriotism without aggression. By choosing empathy over rhetoric and reflection over triumphalism, Ikkis achieves something rare: it honors history while remaining deeply human.