Cast: Monika Panwar, Rajat Kapoor, Chum Darang, Abhishek Chauhan, Geetanjali Kulkarni, Priyanka Setia, Shalini Vatsa, Riya Shukla, Asheema Vardaan, Gagan Arora, Shilpa Shukla & others
Creator: Smita Singh
Directors: Pankaj Kumar & Surya Balakrishnan
Streaming : Prime Video
Runtime: 8 episodes, approx. 40 minutes each
 
In Khauf, fear wears many faces—and not all of them are supernatural. This unsettling, slow-burn Hindi web series from Smita Singh dares to step outside the well-worn clichés of Indian horror and instead delivers something far more disturbing: a tale that blurs the lines between spirits and society, exorcisms and everyday existence. Streaming now on Amazon Prime Video, Khauf doesn’t just aim to scare—it aims to confront.
 
Set in the shadowy corridors of a women’s hostel on the fringes of Delhi, the story begins with Madhuri (Monika Panwar), a trauma survivor trying to rebuild her life. Room 333, her new temporary refuge, quickly becomes a crucible of terror—both spectral and societal. As whispers of a former resident’s mysterious death circle the hostel, so do the very real dangers that come with being a woman alone in the capital. And when her fate entangles with a sinister hakim (Rajat Kapoor), a grief-ridden cop (Geetanjali Kulkarni), and four other women tethered to their past, Khauf reveals itself to be more than a horror story—it's a commentary.
 
This isn’t horror served with cheap thrills or excessive bloodletting. Instead, the scares creep in through moments that feel disturbingly familiar—a stalker’s footsteps, a lecherous stare, a door that doesn’t feel safe to close. The series leans heavily into atmosphere and emotional dread, using Delhi’s uneasy urban sprawl, eerie forest edges, and dimly lit hostels to craft an ambience that’s oppressive and intimate in equal measure.
 
What truly elevates Khauf is its deep empathy for its characters. The women here are not props in someone else’s nightmare—they are the heart of the story, layered with pain, resilience, and fury. Monika Panwar is excellent, navigating Madhuri’s trauma and transformation with heartbreaking clarity. Supporting performances—particularly from Kulkarni as a mother wrestling with guilt and rage, and Shalini Vatsa as a hardened but humane warden—add richness to a narrative that understands women not as victims, but as survivors navigating a world that itself is haunted.
 
While the series does stumble occasionally—its pacing may test your patience, and the climax veers into slightly uneven territory—it never loses sight of its core message. Khauf doesn’t just want to scare you with spirits; it wants you to question what truly haunts us. Is it the ghost in the hallway—or the memory of what a man once did and got away with? The terror here is not only in the shadows but in the everyday normalization of abuse, silence, and complicity.
 
The brilliance of Khauf lies in its ability to wrap complex social commentary in a horror narrative without ever preaching. It forces you to sit with discomfort, to see the parallels between spectral possession and emotional imprisonment. And in doing so, it redefines what Indian horror can look like.
 
This is not your average ghost story. It’s a reckoning.