Baramulla Review: A Haunting Reflection on Memory, Loss, and Kashmir’s Shadows

The story follows DSP Ridwaan Sayyed (Kaul), a police officer posted in Baramulla, who moves into an old mansion with his wife, Gulnaar (Bhasha Sumbli), and their children, hoping for calm. But the valley, wrapped in snow and silence, holds sinister secrets. A wave of child disappearances grips the region, and as Ridwaan investigates, his own family begins to experience eerie, almost supernatural events. The trauma of exile and the ghosts of the past resurface, blurring the lines between the political, the personal, and the paranormal.

Visually, Baramulla is breathtaking. Cinematographer Saurabh Goswami captures the valley’s haunting beauty with muted tones and snow-clad landscapes that mirror its loneliness. The sound design adds to the mood — every creak and whisper feels alive, as if the land itself mourns.

Manav Kaul shines as a man torn between duty and despair, delivering a quiet, deeply human performance. Bhasha Sumbli complements him beautifully, especially in moments where fear meets tenderness. The child actors lend authenticity and vulnerability to the film’s emotional core.

What sets Baramulla apart is its ambition. Jambhale doesn’t settle for conventional scares; instead, he uses the supernatural as a metaphor for unresolved memories. The ghosts here represent the wounds that refuse to heal — the echoes of a collective pain that transcends time.

The film isn’t flawless — the first half moves a little slowly, and some plot threads remain unresolved. Yet, its atmosphere, emotion, and visual poetry keep the viewer immersed.

By its haunting finale, Baramulla proves it’s not about horror but about being haunted — by silence, snow, and stories that refuse to fade. It’s a brave, visually poetic film that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll.

This article is authored by Sakshi, an intern from ST Joseph's Degree and PG College.