Indian cinema rarely attempts political biopics that demand honesty over hero-worship, grit over gloss, and ideological conviction over convenient neutrality. Director Ravindra Gautam’s latest film, inspired by Shantanu Gupta’s book The Monk Who Became Chief Minister, does precisely that. It steps into a territory that Bollywood usually tiptoes around—the making of a leader shaped not by dynasty, PR machinery, or elite institutions, but by discipline, struggle, and purpose.
The story follows Ajey (played with restrained intensity by Anant Joshi), a young man from a small town who drives a bus to keep his household afloat. The opening act is an India we all recognise: local power lords, simmering social tensions, the crushing weight of family expectations, and the silent frustration of youth suffocated by circumstance. When local conflicts erupt, Ajey’s father – tired of watching his son get pulled into the vortex – pushes him toward higher education. It’s a familiar Indian middle-class dream: “Study hard, escape the chaos.”
But the film smartly subverts this expectation. College, instead of giving Ajey clarity, becomes the crucible that breaks his faith in mainstream politics. Campus elections are portrayed not as ideological battlegrounds but as rehearsals for the same cynical politics that plague the nation. Ajey realises he is not disillusioned with leadership – he is disillusioned with the leaders on display.
This is where the film takes a sharp tonal shift. Ajey’s refuge becomes the ashram of Mahant Avaidyanath, portrayed brilliantly by Paresh Rawal, whose gravitas fills the screen like a seasoned monk who’s seen India’s chaos and chosen calm over complaint. Avaidyanath is not a caricatured guru. He is a man who understands the power of discipline, the strength of cultural rootedness, and the political responsibility that comes with spiritual authority.
For viewers expecting Bollywood’s typical saffron-tinted stereotypes – superficial, simplistic, or sensationalised – the film will be a revelation. It chooses maturity. The interactions between Ajey and Avaidyanath are the spine of the narrative. These scenes are not preachy dialogues; they are quiet exchanges that show how mentorship shapes destiny. Avaidyanath doesn’t turn Ajey into a monk. He simply introduces him to clarity, purpose, and an identity anchored in service.
And from that transformation is born Yogi Adityanath – not as the fiery political symbol the media loves to flatten into one-dimensional noise, but as a product of years of introspection, struggle, and spiritual evolution.
Ravindra Gautam deserves credit for not falling into the trap of making a propaganda film. Instead, he delivers something more powerful: a story of a man who finds himself through adversity and ascetic discipline, and then channels both into public service.
Anant Joshi plays Yogi with a calm, simmering intensity. He avoids overacting and lets silence speak – an approach that works beautifully because the real Yogi Adityanath is not a man of frivolous expression. Paresh Rawal is a powerhouse, carrying the moral weight of the narrative without slipping into sermonising. The cinematography reinforces the mood: earthy tones for Ajey’s early life, muted academia for the disillusionment phase, and serene spiritual spaces that reflect his transformation.
But what sets this film apart is its unapologetic truthfulness. It does not hide the social tensions of Uttar Pradesh, the ideological shifts, or the firestorm of political challenges. Instead, it contextualises them, showing how a young man’s personal conflicts mirrored the larger dysfunctions of society.
The final act – Ajey rising as Yogi Adityanath, the Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh – is not portrayed as a victory lap, but as the beginning of a tougher road. Leadership is not glamorised. It is shown as a responsibility that demands sacrifice, steel, and an unwavering sense of purpose.
The film’s courage lies in its clarity: India’s leadership vacuum has never been about lack of talent – it has been about lack of conviction. And conviction is precisely what this story celebrates.
In an era when political narratives are either whitewashed or villainised, this film offers something radical – perspective. Ravindra Gautam’s direction ensures that the journey from Ajey to Yogi is not a transformation driven by politics, but by awakening.
Whether you agree or disagree with Yogi Adityanath’s politics is irrelevant. Cinema’s job is not to make you agree – it is to make you understand. And on that front, this film succeeds spectacularly. It is straightforward, fearless, and unwilling to apologise for celebrating a leader who rose not through privilege, but through fire. A political biopic worth watching – not because it flatters power, but because it honours truth.
