The preference for male children continues to haunt the social fabric of many Indian households, often veiled behind rituals, family expectations, and silent suffering. ‘Chhorii 2’, starring Nushrratt Bharuccha, dares to confront this entrenched patriarchy through the lens of horror, making the familiar terrifying by exposing the societal evils that lurk behind closed doors. At its core, the film is not merely about spirits and haunted spaces—it’s about the ghosts of a mindset that still celebrates sons while mourning the birth of daughters.
Picking up from where the first installment left off, Sakshi (played with heartbreaking intensity by Bharuccha) is no longer just a woman fleeing danger—she’s a mother fiercely protecting her child from both supernatural threats and very real, everyday horrors. Her journey back into the heart of darkness isn’t just physical—it’s symbolic of every woman forced to relive trauma in a society that refuses to change. The sequel deepens the narrative, not by adding more monsters, but by showing how monstrous patriarchy can be when disguised as tradition.
Where the first film emphasized escape and survival, Chhorii 2 is about resistance and confrontation. Sakshi is no longer just reacting—she’s actively fighting back, not just for herself but for every voiceless girl child whose fate was sealed before birth. The film draws a chilling parallel between ancient evils and ongoing societal practices—female foeticide, gender-based neglect, and the internalized belief that a woman’s worth is tied solely to her ability to bear a son.
Director Vishal Furia paints a terrifyingly authentic portrait of this gendered violence. From eerily quiet village scenes filled with symbolic imagery to suffocating silences that speak volumes, the film is layered with subtle details that highlight how gender bias is both a personal and collective curse. A particularly haunting scene, where curious boys sneak a look at a “chhorii” as if she were an exotic creature, delivers a gut-punching commentary on how misogyny and toxic masculinity are bred from a young age.
There are moments when the film heavily leans into emotional tropes, particularly maternal instincts, making some plot turns feel overly familiar. However, these moments are still grounded in truth, and they reflect how women have long been expected to shoulder the burden of love, protection, and endurance in a world that offers them neither safety nor respect.
What makes Chhorii 2 powerful is not just its horror, but its brutal honesty. It strips away the glorified façade of Indian rural life to reveal a system that, under the guise of tradition, devalues girls and punishes women. The pressure to conform—to remain silent, to obey, to reproduce sons—is presented as a literal curse, one that haunts generation after generation.
The film subtly yet strongly critiques the institutionalisation of patriarchy, how it seeps into the minds of both men and women, making oppressors out of victims and keeping cycles of abuse alive. Through Sakshi’s relentless fight, it echoes a larger cry for change—a cry that demands society stop equating womanhood with weakness and motherhood with submission.
In a country still struggling with skewed sex ratios, dowry deaths, and honour killings, Chhorii 2 transcends its genre. It becomes a mirror, a warning, and a voice for the silenced. It does not offer easy solutions but asks the right questions—uncomfortable, urgent, and long overdue.
If horror films are meant to disturb and awaken, Chhorii 2 succeeds not because it frightens you with ghosts, but because it forces you to reckon with the real ones: bias, silence, and complicity.
