A soldier’s journey often begins with a personal impulse—a need to find meaning, purpose, and heroism beyond the ordinary. Patriotism, while significant, usually comes later, solidifying the soldier’s resolve and making their commitment unshakable. In William Butler Yeats’s poem, “An Irish Airman Foresees His Death,” the airman reflects on his decision to fight: “Those I fight I do not hate, / Those I guard I do not love,” writes Yeats. Many reasons might drive someone to become a soldier. Some like the uniform, some the bravery that comes with the job, some the excitement to bear arms, and some the stability an army job provides. In a few soldiers, however, this pursuit of individual meaning becomes inextricably bound with love for the nation, which then underscores the unique, individual journeys they take.
Every nation unfailingly honors its soldiers who sacrifice their lives defending its boundaries. Thousands of army men and women sacrifice their lives each year on the borders or in defending freedom in remote corners of the globe—all equally deserving of our deep gratitude for their service and martyrdom. Among them, a few names bubble up and are recognized for their extraordinary valor and heroism in the face of grave challenges. A country bestows upon such soldiers its highest honors.
The value of a soldier’s duty is profoundly captured in the 1992 movie A Few Good Men. Colonel Nathan Jessup, played by Jack Nicholson, delivers a powerful defense of the soldier’s responsibility in a climactic response to a young lawyer’s accusations. Nicholson’s performance is unparalleled in cinema, especially when he roars: “You can’t handle the truth! Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who’s gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom… We use words like honor, code, loyalty. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. You use them as a punchline.” This monologue embodies a soldier’s credo—a willingness to defend their nation’s boundaries, even at the cost of their own lives. Such heroism ensures the peace and security of countless others.
Indian cinema has long celebrated soldiers. Recent years have brought a surge of films—biopics—that depict the lives and sacrifices of army personnel: Shershah in 2021, Major in 2022, Fauja in 2023, and 72 Hours: Martyr Who Never Died in 2019. Each film portrays young men driven by their love for their country and the uniform they proudly wear. The latest Tamil movie, Amaran, is a moving addition to this genre, tracing the life and martyrdom of Major Mukund Varadarajan, who rose as a commissioned officer to lead a unit of the anti-terror squad in Jammu and Kashmir. Major Mukund lost his life neutralizing a terrorist leader in a daring operation, exhibiting extraordinary courage, swift thinking, and steadfast purpose. For his bravery, the nation honored him with the Ashoka Chakra.
Amaran is a well-crafted film with a fast-paced story, taut screenplay, and coherent narrative structure that immerses viewers. The film’s narrative is anchored by the character of Indhu Rebecca Varghese, Major Mukund’s wife, whose poignant voice ties the story together with grace and emotion. Sai Pallavi’s performance as Indhu is simply extraordinary. Her magnetic screen presence and the sincerity she brings to every gesture, pause, and expression elevate the film to a rare emotional depth. I have often marveled at Pallavi’s talent; in this role, she seems to transcend the boundary between actor and character, delivering a performance so genuine that it is difficult to distinguish between the two. One of the reasons her performances ring so true is her selective choice of roles, each of which aligns perfectly with her ability to convey profound emotions. This quality, reminiscent of the mastery of Meryl Streep, underscores Pallavi’s status as one of the finest actors of the modern generation. Her emotional depth and natural charisma truly set her apart as a uniquely gifted artist.
This film also marks my first experience watching Siva Karthikeyan. I was impressed by his restrained and realistic portrayal of an army man. He looks trim and fit befitting an officer. Siva’s portrayal brings Major Mukund’s brief but impactful life to the screen without succumbing to over-the-top heroics. Unlike many films about army heroes, Amaran stays clear of excessive hero worship and sycophantism. Instead, it remains grounded and true to its subject, balancing the challenges of a soldier’s work with his personal life in a sensitive and heartfelt way.
The film’s narrative, however, has not been without controversy. This time, it centers on the decision to omit Major Mukund’s Brahmin identity, a significant aspect of his real-life background. If a film is touted as a biopic, it is only fair to expect factual accuracy. While it may be argued that a soldier’s identity should transcend religion and caste—their ultimate allegiance is to the nation—the deliberate sidelining of Mukund’s Brahmin identity feels less like an artistic choice and more like a concession to the prevailing political milieu in Tamil Nadu, which seems to have an aversion to anything Brahmanical. For instance, the film avoids showing Mukund wearing his sacred thread even once while prominently displaying his wife’s cross. This selective portrayal is glaring. However, these gaps in characterization fade when weighed against the film’s focus on Major Mukund’s courage and service. What ultimately resonates with the viewer is his extraordinary bravery, his deep love for the nation, and the void his death leaves in the lives of those he cherished.
The life of a soldier is filled with sacrifices, not just on the battlefield but also in personal relationships. Soldiers are rarely home; they miss out on family milestones and moments with their children. Yet, their relationships endure, proving that love can thrive even in the face of prolonged separation. Amaran beautifully portrays this dynamic, particularly the bond between Mukund and Indhu, as well as Mukund’s relationship with his parents. Major Mukund is depicted as a man who balanced his dedication to his country with his devotion to his family. His request for his wife to never grieve for him—a promise she keeps with stoic grace—adds a poignant layer to the narrative. Sai Pallavi’s performance shines in these moments, particularly in the climactic scene where Indhu sits beside Mukund’s body, her faint smile reflecting both sorrow and strength.
Amaran is a compelling and well-made film that stands out for its strong performances and thoughtful narrative. Of all the recent films about soldiers and martyrdom, this one excels in its portrayal of human relationships and the sacrifices made in service to the nation. Sai Pallavi’s performance alone deserves widespread acclaim and awards. This is a film that may stay with viewers for a long time.