Kohrra Season 2 Review: When ‘Kohrra’ first arrived on Netflix in 2023, it did not scream for attention. It quietly slipped into the streaming crowd looking like just another crime thriller set in Punjab.
And then something interesting happened. People watched it. People talked about it.
Slowly, steadily, the fog spread.
The show became popular not because it trended on day one, but because it lingered in conversations. It was one of those series that grew through whispers, not noise. That slow rise now feels perfectly aligned with its theme. ‘Kohrra’ has always been about what hides beneath the surface.
Season 2 understands this. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t try to reinvent itself loudly.
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A transfer, a marriage, a fresh start?
Barun Sobti returns as Assistant Sub-Inspector Amarpal Garundi. Only this time, his life has changed. He is married now. He has transferred to Dalerpura. Now he wants peace.
After the emotional mess of his affair with his sister-in-law in Season 1, Garundi seems determined to start fresh with his wife, Silky. He moves towns hoping distance will erase complications. But ‘Kohrra’ does not believe in easy escapes.
In Dalerpura, he meets his new boss; the no-nonsense Dhanwant Kaur, played by Mona Singh. If Garundi is quietly complicated, Dhanwant is quietly powerful. Their pairing becomes the emotional spine of this season.
The murder that begins it all
The story begins with a brutal image.
Preet (Pooja Bhamrrah) is found murdered inside a stable at her brother Baljinder’s house. She has been impaled. The shock is immediate.
Preet was living separately from her husband, Tarsem (Rannvijay Singha), who is settled in the US with their two children. She had a strained relationship with her family. Rumours of an affair float around. Her personal life becomes public gossip overnight.
As Garundi and Dhanwant begin investigating, secrets surface. Slowly. Carefully. Like fog thinning in the morning.
But here’s the catch. The mystery is not just about who killed Preet. It’s about why her life was already suffocating long before her death.
Fog denser fog than before
Season 1 dealt with homophobia and patriarchy. Season 2 goes further.
This time, the show places a stronger focus on police procedure. The interrogations are sharper. The leads are more systematic. The storytelling is tighter. The second season leans into suspense and structure.
Yet, beneath the investigation, social commentary runs quietly but powerfully.
The fog here represents moral confusion, social denial, caste privilege, patriarchal violence.
The show suggests that injustice survives not because it is hidden, but because society chooses not to look clearly.
Victims don’t have to be perfect
One of the boldest moves of Season 2 is how it portrays Preet.
She is not painted as a saint. She had conflicts, secrets, may have had an affair. And she belonged to an upper caste and upper class background.
But none of this makes her death less tragic.
Through flashbacks, we see how often she was controlled and mistreated by the men in her life. Her privilege in caste and class could not protect her from gender-based violence.
The series gently dismantles a dangerous idea that only “good” women deserve justice.
Preet’s character becomes an example of how patriarchy works quietly. It strips women of power even when they seem socially protected.
Parallel pain: The story of Arun
We follow Arun (Prayrak Mehta), young boy searching for his long-lost father.
His journey exposes caste violence in its most ordinary form. He suffers humiliation and cruelty because of his “lower” status.
The show makes an uncomfortable point that violence is not always dramatic. Sometimes it is routine. Sometimes it is normalised.
Preet and Arun come from different social locations. Yet both become victims of systems built on hierarchy. Their stories intersect thematically showing how caste and gender oppression function together.
The women of Kohrra 2
This season offers a wide range of female characters.
Some are loud. Some are rebellious. And some are reckless. Others survive quietly by adjusting within the system.
This is what sociologists call “patriarchal bargaining.” Women learn to survive within structures they cannot fully dismantle.
Dhanwant Kaur is the strongest example of this.
She is a senior officer. She commands respect. Yet her personal life is in turmoil. Her husband struggles with alcoholism. She carries emotional exhaustion on her face from the very first scene.
Mona Singh plays her with restraint. She does not overact. She does not scream to show strength. Her pain is visible in silence.
And that silence speaks loudly.
Masculinity in transition
The partnership between Garundi and Dhanwant is subtle but significant.
There is a quiet scene where they discuss feminism and masculinity. It’s not preachy or dramatic. It captures something real, a ‘changing’ India where gender roles are being questioned.
Garundi is not the loud, hyper-masculine cop stereotype. He is serious but also unexpectedly funny.
In one scene, during an interrogation, he hears the word “situationship” for the first time. His confused reaction provides comic relief in an otherwise heavy episode.
These small moments humanise him.
The cat-and-mouse chase set to the song “Taare Gin Gin” is another highlight. Tension blends with emotional nostalgia showing how the show balances thriller elements with mood.
Garundi is trying to be better. He wants to fix his personal life. He wants to be a responsible husband. But growth is slow. The show suggests masculinity can evolve but only if it confronts itself honestly. (Sadly, this doesn’t happen in real life!)
Performances that anchor the series
Barun Sobti delivers a strong performance again. His deep voice and body language add weight to Garundi’s quiet personality. He doesn’t perform loudly, and that works in the show’s favour.
Mona Singh is the real surprise. Her performance is layered. Controlled. Real.
Rannvijay Singha leaves an impact. As Tarsem, the NRI husband living in America, he represents another recurring theme of the show: Punjab’s complicated relationship with migration.
Punjab and the NRI dream
Season 1 began with death of a London-returned Punjabi. Season 2 continues to explore how Punjab remains unstable for people chasing love, money or stability abroad.
NRI dream often looks glamorous from outside. But ‘Kohrra’ shows emotional fractures it creates. Broken marriages, abandoned responsibilities, social resentment.
Tarsem’s distance from Preet is not just geographical. It’s emotional. Migration becomes another layer of fog.
Police procedural as social autopsy
Season 2 is more procedural. Investigation feels methodical and eventful.
But each clue feels like cutting into society itself.
The murder investigation becomes a social autopsy. It exposes family honour politics, alcoholism, gendered control, caste arrogance, diaspora disconnection.
The series may sacrifice some of Season 1’s poetic heaviness, but in return it offers sharper tension and clearer critique.
Direction and storytelling
Sudip Sharma, who co-created the series, also steps into the director’s chair along with Faisal Rahman. Across six episodes, the pacing remains slow but engaging.
The storytelling remains unhurried and that is its biggest strength.
It asks some uncomfortable questions. Why do women lose protection within their own privilege? Why is caste violence normalised? And why does society judge victims before demanding justice? Can masculinity change without losing power?
The show does not shout answers. It lets the mist hang. But if you look carefully, you will see the outlines.