Freedom at Midnight Season 2 Review: Why Every Indian Needs to Put Nikkhil Advani's Partition Drama in Their Watchlist

I had liked the first season of Freedom at Midnight, created by Nikkhil Advani and based on the celebrated book by Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins. Yet, going into the second season, I carried a degree of apprehension. In the polarised times we live in, one can never be sure how controversy-seeking extremist elements would respond to a show that refuses to soften the religiously charged Direct Action Day violence, or that offers sharp, unsparing portraits of figures like Jawaharlal Nehru, Mahatma Gandhi, Vallabhbhai Patel, and Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

What emerges, however, is another remarkably bold season - one that offers a clear-eyed, critical look at the political machinations that culminated in the Partition. The previous season ended with Nehru announcing the momentous and devastating decision to split the country into India and Pakistan. Season two picks up from that rupture, as leaders now scramble for territorial control while the remaining British administrators, led by Lord Mountbatten, attempt - often futilely - to broker a workable middle path.

Lines are drawn, tempers flare, and ideologies clash. Nehru (played by Sidhant Gupta) and Patel (Rajendra Chawla) spar with each other and then with Jinnah (Arif Zakaria) over borders and principles. Meanwhile, ordinary citizens are left bewildered, uncertain of where they belong, their confusion cynically exploited by extremist forces that plunge the subcontinent into violence. Over it all looms Mountbatten’s deadline: August 15.

The frenetic political negotiations are staged with impressive clarity. Editor Shweta Venkat cuts these boardroom battles with razor-sharp precision, allowing the frustration, ego, and desperation of the players to seep through. In contrast, when the show turns to the psychological dread of impending violence, cinematographer Malay Prakash favours long takes and measured tracking shots, creating an almost suffocating tension. The period production design - particularly in its recreation of Punjab, Lahore, and Calcutta - deserves special mention for its textured authenticity.

Interestingly, the mechanics of Partition itself do not dominate the season for long; its consequences, however, linger until the very end. Nehru’s “Tryst with Destiny” speech arrives as early as the second episode, and the staging - from Nehru’s controlled stoicism to the reactions within the Assembly - turns a familiar historical moment into something genuinely stirring. Ashutosh Phatak’s music further elevates the series. The opening theme is particularly striking, and his restrained score subtly enhances several pivotal scenes.

At its core, the series remains anchored to the four central figures of the Partition drama - Nehru, Patel, Jinnah, and Gandhi - and finds its richest drama in the collision of their vastly different temperaments. Jinnah’s ego-driven shrewdness offers an unsettling glimpse into why Pakistan was, perhaps, structurally fragile from its inception. Nehru’s centrist idealism and insistence on moral high ground - especially tested during the Kashmir question - repeatedly clash with Patel’s more hardline pragmatism. Overseeing them both is Gandhi, whose uncompromising idealism questions and unsettles everyone around him. Crucially, the series resists the temptation to declare any of them definitively right or wrong; perspectives shift, and moral certainties dissolve as circumstances change.

A powerful illustration of this balance arrives in the ninth episode, “The Last Fast.” Patel’s refusal to release the ₹55 crore promised to Pakistan - fearing it would be used against India - is set against Gandhi’s decision to go on a hunger strike to force its release. Gandhi’s choice may initially seem naïve or reckless, but by the episode’s end, his larger moral vision becomes devastatingly clear. The show presents Gandhi’s ideals with all their expected stubbornness, yet also makes us understand why millions chose to follow him despite - or because of - that inflexibility.

Jinnah’s arc is equally revealing, particularly in how petty arrogance ultimately undermines him. His irritation at Nehru and Patel insisting on the name “India” instead of “Hindustan” is telling, as is the bitter irony of his realisation that, in carving out Pakistan, he himself became a displaced man, forced to abandon his Bombay home.

Gandhi’s Calcutta fast, culminating in a deeply moving confrontation with a Hindu extremist - played with restraint and vulnerability by Abhishek Banerjee - stands out as one of the season’s emotional high points. There are moments when the political power play is so engrossing that the narrative detours - to British Indian Army soldiers being divided by Partition, or civilians witnessing violence firsthand - feel briefly distracting. Yet these threads eventually find resolution, reinforcing the catastrophic human cost of the decisions being debated in closed rooms.

The British perspective, particularly through the Mountbattens (played by Luke McGibney and Cordelia Bugeja), is handled with notable restraint. They are neither vilified nor absolved, but portrayed as administrators struggling to control an imploding empire.

Ultimately, Freedom at Midnight is as much about the strained friendship between Nehru and Patel as it is about the birth of a nation. Rajendra Chawla delivers one of the finest on-screen portrayals of Patel - commanding, principled, and emotionally grounded. Sidhant Gupta, though still carrying a youthful air and an accent that takes time to adjust to, convincingly captures Nehru’s inner turmoil as India’s first Prime Minister. Chirag Vohra is quietly exceptional as Gandhi, particularly in scenes emphasising the leader’s physical frailty, while Arif Zakaria brings an unsettling naturalism to Jinnah’s rigid resolve. The supporting cast - including Rajesh Sharma, Ira Dubey, KC Shankar, and Pawan Chopra - is uniformly strong.

If there is a significant reservation, it lies in the show’s handling of the forces that led to Gandhi’s assassination. Perhaps wary of contemporary political backlash, the series soft-pedals the right-wing conspiracy detailed more explicitly in the source material. While it does not entirely avoid the subject, it limits responsibility to a few figures and stops short of even naming Nathuram Godse. Given that the show otherwise does not shy away from depicting violence and culpability on both sides of the border, this restraint feels conspicuous and politically motivated.

Despite this hesitation, Freedom at Midnight remains an ambitious, intellectually honest, and emotionally resonant historical drama. It understands that the tragedy of Partition was not born from a single villain or a single mistake, but from the collision of ideals, egos, fears, and impossible timelines. By refusing to simplify history into comforting binaries, the series challenges viewers to sit with discomfort, contradiction, and moral ambiguity. In doing so, it not only revisits the past with rare seriousness, but also holds up a mirror to the present - reminding us why these stories, and the courage to tell them truthfully, still matter.

Freedom at Midnight is streaming on Sony LIV.