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Jeevan, Mohanlal is introduced as a man of contradictions: wealthy, influential, and infamously private about his personal life. In a tense courtroom moment that bookends the tale, he is taken to central jail, and the film briefly drifts into 1988, letting his own voice carry a melancholic confession: “My name is Jeevan. I feel so depressed to know that I can’t see this dew morning and the street lamps for years; but little would benefit in regretting now.” The line hints at a mind that calculates, survives, and perhaps enjoys playing a dangerous game. The opening scene plants a mood of restraint, surveillance, and a city that never fully reveals its secrets.

The narrative then rewinds to 1982 in Kovalam, a coastal town where Jeevan runs a bustling restaurant that also serves as a front for his colder, more clandestine ambitions. He is known to the locals as the enigmatic “Uncle,” a figure of affluence who seems to live by a code that excludes moral scrutiny from casual observers. He keeps people at arm’s length, guarding his private life as tightly as his finances, and the aura of mystery around him becomes a magnet for two young men with little to lose. Porinju, a restless soul, and Kanthi, who clings to a stubborn dream of a better tomorrow, drift in and out of the restaurant with a shared hunger for wealth and a private sense of loyalty to their families. Porinju and Kanthi, both unemployed and financially pressed, are drawn into the murky world of drugs and counterfeit currency, a path that offers quick money but also serious danger.

When a new opportunity arrives, it comes in the form of Fabien, a European tourist with a calculated hunger for risk. Fabien is looking to procure three kilos of heroin, and the lure of easy money pushes Porinju and Kanthi toward a deal that could sever the familiar bonds of poverty and push them into a different class of danger. Jeevan, ever the oblique savior, steps in with a pragmatic proposition: he will lend them ₹1.5 lakhs, but only if they promise to abandon the drug trade after the transaction is complete. The arrangement feels almost transactional, a test of trust rather than a confession of friendship, and the two youths—no longer merely hungry for wealth but hungry for status—agree to the terms despite the obvious risks.

The trio heads to Goa with the illicit cargo, returning to the restaurant in the dark of night to break the news to Jeevan. He offers cautious guidance, a fatherly concern that borders on manipulation, reminding them to stay vigilant. Fabien, once the course of their plan is set, imposes his own clock on the operation, signaling his intent to meet at the lighthouse in the fading hours of light. The scene at the lighthouse becomes a brutal turning point: Fabien turns the tables on Porinju with a sudden gunshot, laying waste to the young man’s ambitions in a single, chilling moment. The violence throws the participants into a storm of fear and confusion, and Merlin, Fabien’s partner in crime, breaches Jeevan’s home only to steal roughly four lakhs in cash and a cache of gold. The intrusion shakes Jeevan’s sense of safety, revealing that the true threat may lie not in the law’s reach but in the human capacity for betrayal.

Jeevan pieces together what happened and discovers that Porinju is dead, Kanthi is dead, and Merlin—Fabien’s associate—has been left devastated and impulsively self-destructive. Merlin, who had sought solace in wealth rather than in affection, is found to have taken sleeping pills and died; Kanthi’s body is recovered in Jeevan’s car, Porinju’s remains in the hut, and the scavenging web of suspicion tightens around Jeevan. The police treat him as the prime suspect, and the courtroom becomes a theater of speculation where the truth feels slippery, almost negotiable. The prosecution, lacking hard proof for Porinju and Kanthi’s murders, sentences Jeevan primarily for Merlin’s death, a conviction that keeps his prison term shorter than the dark calculus of his possible guilt would merit. The sentence—seven years for murder (which the authorities cannot prove) and five years for Merlin’s death—frames Jeevan as a survivor navigating a system that sometimes feels more like a stage for reputations than a temple of justice.

Weeks before his release, Fabien unexpectedly re-enters Jeevan’s life, stepping into the world of the incarcerated with a bargain that reflects the chessmaster’s mindset that has defined Jeevan’s career. Fabien proposes an escape plan in exchange for ₹5 lakhs, and Jeevan, ever the strategist, agrees. After a staged release on the basis of a separate misdeed, Jeevan secures his own freedom only to resume the same patterns of risk, now with a renewed purpose: to finish Fabien once and for all. The plot threads tighten with the sense that the older Jeevan has learned to weaponize timing and opportunity to his advantage, while the younger Jeevan’s past mistakes loom as silent, looming witnesses.

The film then cuts to the present, a day that coincides with Gandhi Jayanti, when the city’s guard against crime is momentarily distracted by celebratory bustle. In a coordinated, audacious move, Jeevan and Fabien escape from the confines of a high-security setup. Fabien hands Jeevan the promised ₹5 lakhs and then pays a far heavier price: Jeevan’s final transformation reveals itself as a calculated act of vengeance. A ferocious confrontation erupts, and Fabien falls to Jeevan’s hand in a confrontation as crisp as a knife’s edge. The escape ends in a brutal, almost clinical reversal of fortune: the man who sought to control every variable is left to confront the consequences of his own design. As the closing image settles, Jeevan returns to the prison’s iron doors, the same van that carried him to freedom now a symbol of his triumph—and his solitary loneliness.

The closing lines arrive in a voiceover that binds past and present with a quiet, chilling resolve. The renowned brightness of street lamps that once offered him a sense of direction now only underscores his detachment from the world he manipulates. The narration notes that the evidence against him is not circumstantial this time, but tangible and inescapable: “It’s on my shirt, on my face, on my hands… and everywhere.” The camera lingers on his calm, confident smile as he approaches the prison gates, the van’s door opening to reveal Fabien’s lifeless body, a stark testament to the price of his relentless calculation. In the end, the man who once seemed to command the city’s favors finds himself back behind bars, carrying with him a chilling victory that feels more like a possession than a resolution. The film closes on the image of policemen questioning the empty space where Fabien once stood, while Jeevan walks away with an aura of hard-won certainty that his street-lit world will continue to glow with a dangerous, irresistible clarity.

Last Updated: October 09, 2025 at 14:32