Every once in a while, life gives you a test. Some people climb mountains. Others run marathons. I watched Jat.
After a long day of grown-up things—emails, calls, and pretending I knew what I was doing in a spreadsheet—I craved something brainless. Something loud, silly, disposable. So I hit play on Jat. This was a catastrophic mistake.
Believe you me it is a plate of Idli that launched a thousand punches. The film begins innocently. Sunny Deol, now a Brigadier, is sitting in a small Andhra town in Prakasam District, peacefully eating an idli.
Enter a random thug. He bumps into Sunny. The idli falls. Sunny stares. Calmly says:
“Apologise.”
The thug laughs and says the most dangerous words in cinema: “Do you know who I am?”
From there, things escalate with military precision:
- Goon ➝ gets punched
- Goon’s boss, Suba Reddy ➝ refuses to say sorry ➝ gets punched
- Suba’s boss, Somulu ➝ also refuses ➝ punched
- Finally, the problem is escalated to… Ranatunga
Yes. Over a fallen idli. I will never look at South Indian breakfast the same way again.
With this Sunny ka “2.5 Kilo Ka Haath” has entered the building. The Brigadier is in full roar mode. At one point, he bellows—louder than a jet engine—
“Yeh dhai kilo ka haath North nein ne dekha hain… ab South dekhega!
Jab yeh haath uthta hai, desh jhoomta hai!”
Sir, please we are in the south! We want some simple breakfast, not seismic events.
Now, meet Ranatunga - the Villain, a narcissist and most importantly a meteorological authority. Ranatunga appears in all his glory—moustache, sunglasses, and a voice like barbed wire. He delivers the single most unhinged line of the decade:
“Jahaan tu khadaa hai, zameen meri hai. Aasmaan mera hai.
Sooraj mujhse poochh ke ugta hai.
Tu kaun hai?
Main? MAIN HOON JAT!!”
At this point, I wanted to open my window just to check the sun was still rising independently. It was night time!!! So, cannot confirm that yet. I would like to hope that the sun perhaps barely survived. I also believe that the censor board wanted to cut short the film and hence there were some deleted Ranatunga quotes:
- “Mausam mujhse NOC leke badalta hai.”
- “Main hi satellite hoon. Baaki sab antenna hai.”
- “Main sochta hoon… aur earth rotate karta hai.”
- “Google mujhe confirm karke answer deta hai.”
If he’d claimed to own the ozone layer, I wouldn’t have blinked.
Meanwhile, a Thorium conspiracy is also happening. Just when you think the idli-fueled brawls are enough, the film zooms out. We learn that Davos-level global terrorists have their eyes on Prakasam District… because it’s secretly rich in thorium. Naturally! Clearly, when you want to destabilize global power, you skip Geneva and go straight to semi-rural Andhra Pradesh.
The villagers – That’s a different story. I started wondering if were in 2025 or 1962? The villagers in this film are noble, shawled, and permanently confused. They appear to be:
- Time travelers from a Doordarshan drama
- Bewildered by electricity
- Waiting for a miracle or a memo from Nehru
Do they have WhatsApp? Do they vote? Has Jio reached them?
Honestly, the whole film feels like it’s set in the Neanderthal Era, with Sunny Deol as the first man to discover fire (and yell at it).
“Watching Jat. Lol.”
The responses were swift and unforgiving:
- “Are you drunk?”
- “Do you need medical help?”
- “This is self-inflicted pain, Radhe.”
- “Even Race 3 is a more coherent choice.”
- “Delete this message before future generations find it.”
Friends disowned me. Cousin started sending voice notes ridiculing my choice. As if words weren't enough, I had to listen to them too. One person sent me a photo of a coffin with “Your taste in cinema” written on it. The final twist was me being nominated for a bravery award. Yes! This morning I woke up to a message that I’m being nominated for a National Bravery Award.
Apparently, I’ll be receiving it on January 26, 2026, from none other than the President of India. It all tracks.
After all, the movie opens with a little village girl writing a letter to the President, asking for help. Sunny Deol is deployed. The nation is jhoomed into motion.
And now, I, the woman who sat through this cinematic thunderstorm, am being honoured too. The President is the common thread—between her story and mine.
Jat Is Not a Film. It’s a Weapon.
Let’s be clear: Jat is not entertainment. It’s a national endurance test.
There are: No songs, No heroine and No peace
Just Sunny Deol yelling into the wind, and a villain who thinks the atmosphere belongs to him.
And yes, all of it starts with an idli. So if you ever find yourself holding a soft, innocent South Indian breakfast, please show respect. Apologise pre-emptively. Don’t challenge the chain of command. You never know when Sunny Deol might rise… and make the desh jhoom again.
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