There's a strange kind of nostalgia in the air. Indian cinema, after years of looking outward for inspiration, from Marvel-sized action spectacles to Europe-shot romances, is now remembering something that was always right here.
The stories told by grandmothers. The keepsakes of whispered folklore. The gods, ghosts, and half-forgotten legends that were never written down, but lived in memory.
Films like Stree, Tumbbad, and Kantara cracked open that door. Thamma, the latest Diwali release starring Ayushmann Khurrana and Rashmika Mandanna, steps straight through it.
But what makes Thamma particularly fascinating is that its mythology does not come from a single existing text. Instead, it weaves together multiple strands of Indian folklore, from the fierce battle of Goddess Kali and the demon Raktabeej, to the spectral storytelling of Vikram and Betaal, to the immortal legacy of Ashwatthama. And then, it builds something entirely new out of them.
Here, we unpack every thread in this tapestry.
Mahakali And The Slayer Of Raktabeej
To understand the roots of Thamma, one must begin with Mahakali, the fiercest form of the Divine Feminine. Her story appears in the Markandeya Purana, specifically the Devi Mahatmya.
There was once a demon named Raktabeej - literally meaning "the seed of blood". He had a boon: every drop of his blood that touched the ground would create another demon like him. So, defeating him seemed impossible, each strike made him stronger.
During a fierce war between the gods and the demons, even Durga and her fiercest forms struggled, because the moment they wounded him, countless duplicates rose from every spilt drop of blood.
To stop the multiplying army, the goddesses combined their powers and manifested Mahakali, black-skinned, blood-soaked, roaring with divine rage.
She tore into battle, drinking the blood of Raktabeej before it could fall, swallowing it all, preventing his rebirth. But once the asura was destroyed, Kali's rage did not subside; she continued her destructive dance, threatening to annihilate the entire world.
To calm her, Lord Shiva, her husband, lay down on the battlefield in her path. When Kali stepped on him, she suddenly realised she was standing on her own consort. The shock and recognition jolted her out of her fury, and she bit her tongue in remorse, symbolising self-awareness returning after blind rage. This moment - Kali with her tongue out and foot on Shiva's chest - became one of the most iconic depictions of the divine balance between destruction and compassion, fury and love.
That is how destruction became protection. Violence became salvation. Chaos became cosmic order.
This is the philosophical seed from which Thamma grows.
In the film's lore, Kali creates the first Betaals, beings whose duty is to drink the blood of evil before it spreads. They are not vampires of Western imagination; they are divine agents of cosmic balance, born from necessity.
The First Thamma
Thamma introduces the figure of Yakshasan, the ancient king of these Betaals. Once noble, once devoted to Kali's purpose, he becomes disillusioned after witnessing the atrocities of Partition.
Horrified by humanity's capacity for cruelty, he turns his hunger from demons to humans themselves.
His transformation from protector to predator is the film's moral tragedy.
For his rebellion, he is imprisoned for centuries, sealed away so the world may heal. This is the myth that sets the stage for the film's present timeline.
Ayushmann As The New Thamma
Ayushmann Khurrana plays Alok Goyal, a journalist who stumbles into this ancient war between the old Thamma and the world he once sought to defend.
Alok is bitten. He transforms. Blood becomes memory. Breath becomes a weapon.
But unlike Yakshasan, Alok's heart remains human, literally. Resurrected by a goddess, he returns as a Betaal with a heartbeat, a bridge between mortal compassion and supernatural ferocity.
This is what makes him the new Thamma, a leader who carries both power and conscience.
The Ashwatthama Connection
The title Thamma takes inspiration from Ashwatthama, the immortal warrior from the Mahabharata, cursed to wander the earth forever.
Ashwatthama symbolises strength, immortality and eternal atonement.
The film does not retell Ashwatthama's story, but it borrows his spiritual texture, the idea of a being who is at once divine and wounded, powerful and punished.
Betaal, The Ghost Who Teaches Morality
The Betaal of Thamma also echoes another beloved Indian legend: Vikram Aur Betaal from Betaal Pachisi.
In the legend of Vikram and Betaal, King Vikramaditya, known for his courage and unwavering sense of duty, is tasked by a tantric to retrieve a corpse hanging from a banyan tree in a cremation ground.
The corpse, however, is inhabited by Betaal, a clever and mischievous spirit who refuses to make the task easy. Each time Vikram lifts Betaal onto his back to carry him out of the forest, the spirit begins narrating a story: usually a tale filled with moral conflict, tangled relationships, betrayal, loyalty or justice, and ends it with a riddle-like question.
Vikram, who is wise and knowledgeable, always knows the answer, and because remaining silent despite knowing the truth would be ethically wrong, he replies.
The moment he speaks, Betaal slips out of his grasp and flies right back to the tree, forcing Vikram to repeat the task.
This cycle continues through twenty-five such stories, which is why the collection is known as Betaal Pachchisi. Twenty-four of these Vikram answers correctly; the twenty-fifth turns out to be a strange riddle that he doesn't quite know how to answer. So, he stays quiet.
What Vikram does not know is that the tantric ultimately intends to sacrifice him to gain power. But by the end, Betaal reveals the truth and protects Vikram, as the king's consistent moral clarity and fairness prove that true leadership lies in choosing justice even when the situation is frustrating, repetitive, and exhausting.
Those stories taught that wisdom comes through struggle, that morality is rarely simple and that the supernatural can reveal human truth.
The Betaal in Thamma is not a storyteller, but the idea of the supernatural forcing humans to confront themselves remains deeply present.
Thamma's Release Date Was No Coincidence
The release of Thamma was no coincidence. In many parts of India, Diwali overlaps with Kali Puja, especially in West Bengal and Assam, where Mahakali is worshipped as the destroyer of evil and the protector of the forgotten.
A story rooted in Kali's divine wrath, rebirth, and power gains spiritual resonance during this time.
Firecrackers in the sky. Diyas in doorways. Blood-red sindoor on temple floors. The myth and the moment meet.
Why These Myths Feel New (Even When They Are Ancient)
Thamma does not simply reuse mythology. It does something far more interesting: it respects the past while reimagining it for a new cinematic language, without translating it into Western archetypes and without simplifying its moral contradictions. What emerges is a supernatural world that feels familiar, sacred, but at the same time, startlingly fresh.
The Final Word
Thamma is not just a film; it is part of a larger cultural shift. Indian cinema is returning to the stories that were always ours. Not to preserve them in glass, but to let them breathe again.
Because sometimes, the future is born from a memory whispered in the dark. And sometimes, a myth must be reborn to remind us who we are.
