Rating- *** (3/5)
Cast: Shabana Azmi, Jyotika, Lilette Dubey, Jisshu Sengupta, Anjali Anand, Sai Tamhankar, Gajraj Rao, Shalini Pandey, Nimisha Sajayan , Bhupendra Jadawat & more
Directed by: Hitesh Bhatia
Produced by: Farhan Akhtar, Shibani Dandekar Akhtar, Ritesh Sidhwani
Created by: Shibani Dandekar Akhtar, Gaurav Kapur
Written by: Vishnu Menon and Akanksha Seda
Streaming on Netflix
Badass women running a tiffin service as a front for a booming drug empire? That’s an instant sell. Dabba Cartel is a refreshing departure from the worn-out trope of women engaging in criminal activities only when their backs are against the wall.
Instead, it delivers a narrative where flawed, layered, and deeply ambitious women thrive in the underbelly of society—not because they have no choice, but because they are good at it. Shabana Azmi’s character encapsulates this ethos perfectly, paraphrasing Walter White from Breaking Bad: she does it because she enjoys it, and because she excels at it.
The show’s biggest triumph is how it fleshes out these women beyond their criminal pursuits, making them people first and outlaws second.
Attempting to encapsulate Dabba Cartel in a few lines would be a disservice. There’s an intricate web of intertwining storylines, each contributing to the larger picture while carving out its own distinct space. The writing team is tasked with an uphill battle—balancing multiple parallel narratives, ensuring their arcs are justified, and tying them into a cohesive thread.
Naturally, some elements shine, some fade into the background, and some brim with potential but fail to reach a satisfying conclusion. Yet, despite these inherent challenges, Dabba Cartel rises above its shortcomings, propelled primarily by its exceptional human stories and a powerhouse ensemble cast.
Large ensemble casts often lead to standout performances, and Dabba Cartel is no exception. As expected, stalwarts like Shabana Azmi and Jyotika deliver effortlessly compelling performances, but the real surprise lies in the brilliance of Shalini Pandey, Nimisha Sajayan, and Anjali Anand.
Their characters, more than any others, leave a lasting impact—not necessarily because they are given more screen time, but because of the raw quirks, vulnerabilities, and motivations that make them feel real. The show’s biggest triumph is how it fleshes out these women beyond their criminal pursuits, making them people first and outlaws second.
However, Dabba Cartel struggles with the classic pitfall of overstuffed narratives—too many moving parts threaten to dilute its core conflict. The inclusion of a pharma scam, a disgruntled whistleblower, and a shadowy corporate conspiracy adds layers of intrigue but doesn’t always seamlessly integrate into the central cartel storyline.
Instead of complementing the primary arc, these elements sometimes feel like detours, intriguing yet not wholly necessary. A well-crafted mishmash can be exhilarating when every component justifies its place, but here, the transitions occasionally feel disjointed, leaving certain plot threads undercooked.
The economic divide is starkly portrayed through the juxtaposition of Jyotika and Jisshu Sengupta’s privileged Varuna and Shankar against Nimisha Sajayan’s resilient yet struggling Mala.
The pacing is another double-edged sword. The plot stretches itself thin in places, its many strands fraying at the edges, yet within the madness lies a kind of chaotic charm that keeps you engaged. Gajraj Rao and Sai Tamhankar turn in earnest performances, yet their characters remain on the periphery of the larger scheme, realizing crucial details almost too late and through bewildering turns of events.
To its credit, Dabba Cartel holds its ground despite its occasional missteps. A sizzling cameo, an explosive final act, and a cliffhanger that demands resolution make its seven-episode run feel just shy of complete—not just because of audience investment, but because the sheer scale of its final twist demands an eighth episode.
Beyond the crime and the action, the show subtly yet powerfully explores deeper themes. The economic divide is starkly portrayed through the juxtaposition of Jyotika and Jisshu Sengupta’s privileged Varuna and Shankar against Nimisha Sajayan’s resilient yet struggling Mala. Casual sexism weaves through the narrative as well—depicted in varying degrees, from the everyday indignities women endure to the more systemic inequalities ingrained in society.
These themes, sometimes subtly infused and other times starkly pronounced, leave a stronger impact than some of the more overt twists and turns.
Yet, Dabba Cartel is not without its misfires. Some narrative angles feel shoehorned in—introduced with promise but left underexplored. A few arcs build momentum only to fizzle out, leaving dangling threads that don’t quite justify their inclusion.
In the end, Dabba Cartel never fully realizes its immense potential but still manages to intrigue, engage, and thrill. While it doesn’t deliver a perfectly balanced meal, it certainly serves up enough spice and substance to keep you coming back for more—if not for the plot, then for the electrifying performances and the tangled human connections it so compellingly portrays.
