Jai mahendran: saiju kurup’s malayalam web series is a pretty enjoyable entertainer

It should be a familiar picture to one who has lived in Kerala long enough – the image of a man in white khadar, hopping from his job at a government office to gatherings of a political

party, ‘promising’ solutions to every conceivable problem around him. There will be a smile plastered on his face unless it is marked by creases of tension, and a knack to calm down all

aggrieved parties around him. Saiju Kurup, an actor who has proven his range with varied roles, takes the place of this commonplace figure, making _Jai Mahendran_, the new Malayalam web

series on SonyLIV, a pretty enjoyable entertainer. Web series is still a young format in Malayalam, and writers are still learning to weave stories that can be comfortably stretched into

limited episodes, without the drag of mega serials. Rahul Riji Nair, a filmmaker who had dabbled in offbeat, experimental themes in his films like _Dakini_, the journey of four elderly women

and _Ottamuri Velicham_ based on the issue of marital rape, has written _Jai Mahendran_. He also plays a major role in the series –as Saiju’s sidekick and an all too plain opportunist in

the six-episode comedy, directed by Srikanth Mohan. The crux of the story takes place in an office of the revenue department, where officials and members of the public are scattered across

desks laden with files, mayhem is the norm and petty rivalry rules. Saiju, the Mahedran in _Jai Mahendran_, is the Deputy Tahsildar and an influential member of a political party in frequent

touch with the Revenue Minister (Manianpillai Raju). The series opens with Mahendran entering a scene of chaos created by an order of the revenue department to demolish an illegally run

shop. The elderly woman running the shop (an imitable Pauly Valsan) threatens the officials with a big slotted spoon until Mahendran takes her away and calms her down with fake promises.  It

is meant to be a telling intro to establish the crooked methods of a tricky official, drawing a balance between helping people and getting things done. He is not your rule-abiding hero or a

fighter for justice, and thankfully, does not spew monologues against all that’s wrong in the bureaucratic world. He appears to get along with most people, barring rival party members, has

a cosy relationship with his wife (Miya George), and scampers everywhere on a skyblue scooter. Landmarks of Thiruvananthapuram serve as the backdrop of Mahendran’s journeys to and fro

between an inexplicably spatial house, the office, the Secretariat, the Museum, and the unbusy roads of the capital. It is to this ‘peaceful’ world that a new Tahsildar arrives, bending no

rules, strict like a schoolteacher in matters varying from timely attendance to following process. Suhasini Mani Ratnam is almost a replica of her character in the 2002 movie _Nammal_, in

which she played a college principal. In _Jai Mahendran_, she comes off graceful with her flickering expressions, dubbed for by the familiar voice of Maala Parvathy. Expectedly, she and

Mahendran start on the wrong foot, with Mahendran losing half a day’s leave or having to take a pledge in her office.  The comedy is sometimes forced and unfunny in long sequences but

shorter comebacks and one-liners bring a few laughs. After a few initial hiccups – marked by some exaggerated expressions and music to set Mahi’s character – the show takes off pretty

smoothly, adding new characters and storylines that touch your curiosity. The plot twist comes midway, when unexpectedly the comforting world that Mahi had built around him falls crumbling

down like a pack of cards.  Characters, though plenty for a limited series, are not wasted. Sidhartha Siva playing the rival in office is meant for comic relief, drenched in the dust and

webs of the records room. Then there is Vishnu Govindan giving a memorable performance as a man desperately seeking the land allotted to him, and Jeo Baby, playing all too convincingly a

“social” worker looking for some quick fame. Smaller characters – a newbie turncoat, a lamentful village officer, a retired Tahsildar guilty of past misdeeds – leave their marks. Miya’s

character too as the wife separated from all the hullabaloo of the bureaucratic mess her husband is in is not left behind. Lots of potshots are taken not just at the red tape of bureaucracy

but the media channels that would rejoice at the chance of ‘exclusives’ and broadcast without basic fact checks. Corruption is not limited to members of a certain political party and pockets

open wider at the sight of currency. Mahendran, in one scene, gives the gist of it in two lines: “Every grain of sand in Kerala is under the revenue department. If every official decides

that they will only act according to law then those who are now sleeping inside their homes will end up sleeping on the streets.” By focussing on the life and troubles of one public servant,

the show appears to take a larger look at the way the system is run, without whitewashing and without turning preachy.  Rahul and Srikanth have chosen a mainstream route, with some smart

editing, and a plot closing all the loose ends. Sidhartha Pradeep’s title song is catchy, beginning with the mocking ‘any service is available’ line, played over visuals spanning empty desks

and chairs in a strangely deserted office. _DISCLAIMER: THIS REVIEW WAS NOT PAID FOR OR COMMISSIONED BY ANYONE ASSOCIATED WITH THE FILM. NEITHER TNM NOR ANY OF ITS REVIEWERS HAVE ANY SORT

OF BUSINESS RELATIONSHIP WITH THE FILM’S PRODUCERS OR ANY OTHER MEMBERS OF ITS CAST AND CREW._ _WATCH THE TRAILER FOR JAI MAHENDRAN:_