Kajol’s myth-horror comeback in ‘Maa’ taps into India’s deep maternal folklore roots

Vishal Furia’s Maa has positioned itself as an emotionally rich, culturally rooted horror film that reframes the genre through the lens of Indian mythology and maternal strength. Starring Kajol in one of her most transformative roles to date, the film discards traditional jump scares and visceral violence in favor of atmospheric tension, spiritual reckoning, and ancestral dread. While the film opened to modest box office returns, it has ignited social and critical discourse around the evolving scope of horror cinema in India, particularly for stories led by women navigating personal and cosmic trauma.

How does the plot of ‘Maa’ mix mythological terror with psychological grief and maternal strength?

Set in the fog-wrapped village of Chandrapur, Maa follows Ambika, a widow mourning the sudden death of her husband. Kajol’s character soon discovers that her personal tragedy is not an isolated incident but the beginning of a spiritual unraveling tied to the legend of Raktabeej—a shape-shifting mythological demon who replicates with every drop of spilled blood. As the village becomes increasingly eerie and rituals resurface, Ambika is forced to confront not only the supernatural threat but her own suppressed past and familial guilt.

The narrative unfolds with spiritual urgency as Ambika grapples with loss and begins transforming into an instrument of divine retribution. As she steps deeper into the mythos surrounding Raktabeej, the lines between grief, devotion, and divine fury blur. This duality—between mourning and vengeance—serves as the emotional anchor for the film, drawing on archetypes deeply embedded in Indian spiritual storytelling.

Why is Kajol’s role in ‘Maa’ being called one of the most emotionally intense performances of her career?

Kajol’s portrayal of Ambika in Maa has garnered significant attention for its emotional range and psychological authenticity. Far removed from her earlier mainstream roles, this performance demonstrates a rawness and spiritual intensity that has resonated with both critics and audiences. She embodies a mother not just mourning, but awakening—a transformation that drives the film’s symbolic undercurrent.

Kherin Sharma, as Ambika’s daughter, delivers a restrained yet impactful performance that supports Kajol’s character arc. Ronit Roy and Indraneil Sengupta contribute with gravitas, grounding the film’s mystical energy in domestic realism. The chemistry among the cast adds nuance to the horror, reinforcing that the emotional stakes in Maa are just as crucial as the mythological ones.

What cinematography and design choices make ‘Maa’ different from typical horror films in India?

The cinematographic language of Maa heightens its atmospheric storytelling. The visuals are moody and symbol-laden, using the rural expanse of Chandrapur as both a scenic backdrop and a spiritual character in itself. Slow tracking shots and shadowed interiors evoke isolation, while ritualistic set designs integrate cultural motifs that reinforce the film’s folkloric themes.

Director Vishal Furia collaborates effectively with his design and lighting teams to create a haunting visual tone that does not rely on cheap scares or gore. The production design avoids overindulgence and instead focuses on meaningful details—old shrines, ancestral artifacts, and sacrificial symbolism that serve narrative rather than decoration.

The soundscape of Maa has sparked debate. While its moody score supports the film’s emotional pacing, its South Indian influences have been noted as stylistically incongruent with the North Indian setting. Still, the music largely succeeds in immersing viewers into a space where dread is ambient and myth feels lived.

How does ‘Maa’ redefine horror storytelling in Indian cinema by leaning into myth and emotion over spectacle?

In an Indian cinematic landscape increasingly saturated with high-stakes thrillers and formulaic supernatural stories, Maa offers a slower, more introspective take on the horror genre. It prioritizes narrative integrity, cultural symbolism, and psychological layering over spectacle. Unlike films such as Shaitaan that deliver rapid adrenaline and visual pyrotechnics, Maa trusts in its stillness and emotional gravity.

The horror in Maa stems from the erosion of reality under the weight of loss and ancestral memory. Raktabeej is not a villain in the modern cinematic sense, but a mythic force that reflects back the protagonist’s internal war. This positioning makes Maa a deeply spiritual horror film—less about monsters and more about inherited pain, silenced grief, and sacred rage.

Audiences familiar with mythological narratives may find Maa uniquely resonant. It draws strength from oral storytelling traditions, rural superstition, and feminine mysticism, making it less accessible to fans of Western horror templates but far more rewarding for those seeking cultural specificity and emotional resonance.

How does director Vishal Furia continue his genre experimentation through ‘Maa’ and expand his horror vision?

Vishal Furia, best known for his work on Chhorii, continues his pattern of reimagining Indian horror with Maa. Instead of amplifying fear through visual excess, he employs patience, metaphor, and historical context to build dread. His camera lingers not to shock but to let the horror of implication take root. With Maa, he positions the mother figure not merely as a protector but as a mythic agent of justice, a shift that lends the film psychological weight.

Furia’s intent appears to be to reconstruct horror as a genre of consequence—where supernatural forces are not arbitrary but morally charged. In Maa, the daitya Raktabeej is less an antagonist than a spiritual test. Furia’s direction channels the thematic echoes of ancient texts, allowing modern characters to traverse metaphysical dilemmas with social and emotional stakes.

His use of myth not as background but as a moral engine is a bold step for Indian genre cinema. Maa is not a genre piece trying to emulate Hollywood horror aesthetics—it’s an authentically Indian vision shaped by culture, trauma, and redemption.

What has been the critical reception and box office performance of ‘Maa’ since its release?

Maa released in theaters on June 27, 2025, to a mixed yet intrigued reception. Critics praised the film’s ambition, Kajol’s performance, and the emotionally haunting tone. Social media users echoed these sentiments, with trending hashtags like #KajolInMaa and #MythologicalHorrorIndia framing the conversation. Early Twitter reactions positioned the film as “unsettling in a spiritual way” and “a breakthrough for Indian horror’s emotional landscape.”

However, commercially, the film opened below expectations. With major titles like Sitaare Zameen Par and Kannappa occupying prime box office slots, Maa struggled to break past ₹5 crore on day one. Despite that, word-of-mouth traction and its thematic uniqueness have positioned it as a potential sleeper hit in the weeks ahead. Streaming rights acquisitions may further extend the film’s lifespan, especially for a niche audience that favors symbolism over spectacle.

The film’s 2.5/5 rating from some critics stems mainly from its limited appeal to thrill-seekers. But within cinephile circles and among those following India’s evolving horror genre, Maa is already being discussed as a milestone in slow-burn myth-horror storytelling.

Why is ‘Maa’ seen as a culturally significant film for horror fans interested in India’s spiritual narratives?

Maa occupies a unique space within India’s cinematic evolution. It draws from the vast mythological fabric that defines much of the country’s cultural consciousness and retools it for modern screen language. The result is a film that doesn’t merely use Indian mythology as aesthetic garnish but as spiritual framework. The legend of Raktabeej, used here as the narrative spine, reinforces the idea that horror in India is not imported, but indigenous.

This is especially important in a geopolitical era where cultural authenticity in cinema is being reclaimed across Asia. In an international film landscape increasingly seeking ‘local over global,’ Maa demonstrates how Indian horror can retain its philosophical and cultural roots without diluting meaning for commercial viability.

Kajol’s Ambika is not a scream queen or an action heroine—she is a mother whose transformation mirrors the journey from grief to divinity. In doing so, Maa speaks to generations of Indian women whose lives have been defined by silent strength, spiritual duty, and emotional labor. For them, this is not just horror—it’s recognition.