Mughal-E-Spasm

Taj: Divided By Blood is a campy and confounding saga.

Dir: Ron Scalpello

Cast: Naseeruddin Shah

Stream on: ZEE5

THERE IS HARDLY another Hindi film actor who plays non-committal fathers on screen with as much conviction and continuity as Naseeruddin Shah. The veteran performer’s filmography is dotted with the reprisal of a similar kind of role — an absentee father (Masoom, Main Hoon Na, Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara) who leaves his offspring in perpetual need of paternal validation. The iteration has been so noticeable that Shakun Batra used this as a conceit in his 2022 film, Gehraiyaan. On the personal front, Shah has been a vocal liberal advocating religious tolerance in a climate of bigotry. An amalgamation of both holds terrific cinematic promise. The good news is it has sort of happened in the new Zee5 show, Taj: Divided by Blood. The bad news is, the series doesn’t deserve him.

The 10-episode outing (approximately 45 minutes each) is set in the 16th century and tracks the legacy of the third Mughal ruler, Akbar. The premise centres on the fight for the throne between his three sons: Salim, Murad and Daniyal Mirza. Shah essays the role of Akbar, the ruler known for secularism and, as legends suggest, brutality that did not leave even his children untouched. This narrative of succession, hinging on the approval of the patriarch suits the actor well. That he essays the character of a Muslim secular man, who holds the reins of choosing his successor while his sons are required to earn his approval feels like a sly extension of his personal and (acquired) professional leanings.

Having said that, casting Shah, with his impeccable Urdu diction, as Akbar is the one and only right thing the show does. Directed by Ron Scalpello, Taj is an exhaustive retelling of a particular period in the Mughal era. The sprawling ambition is undermined by the superficial effort of the makers, who are preoccupied in fuelling selective conjectures of Mughal history. This too would have made sense had they committed to it. In the absence of which, the 10 episodes feel unending and emotionally synthetic.

— ISHITA SENGUPTA

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