The bar isn’t particularly high for historicals in Hindi cinema over the last two decades, after Lagaan (2001). Ashutosh Gowariker’s film might have been among the last few mainstream efforts to depict British imperialism beyond a two-dimensional lens. In recent years, Shoojit Sircar’s Sardar Udham comes to mind as a rare exception, offering a considered portrait of even the most brutish servants of the Crown, exploring their individual convictions.Nikkhil Advani’s Freedom at Midnight is vast in its scope, based on the 1975 book of the same name by Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins. Yet, it needs only basic diligence to ensure a fairly compelling series. The events in the year leading up to Independence in 1947, and its immediate aftermath in 1948, are riveting in themselves, featuring sensational characters all colliding with one another. And yet, there are other challenges staring Advani in the face. There is no way to tell the story of India’s independence without dwelling on the Partition, the sectarian violence it triggered, and the assassination of Gandhi—all of which is equivalent to kicking a hornet’s nest in today’s times.In its first season, after showcasing the infighting within the Indian freedom struggle — primarily between the Congress and the Muslim League — the second season begins with Partition becoming a reality. A bureaucratic nightmare in its own right, the series picks up steam as both sides haggle over cities based on demography and industrial prosperity. On one side are Nehru (Sidhant Gupta) and Sardar Patel (Rajendra Chawla), with Jinnah (Arif Zakaria) on the other. Though not playing an administrative role, Gandhi (Chirag Vohra) remains a crucial force outside the government, acting as the conscience of Nehru, Sardar Patel, and society at large.Season two of Freedom at Midnight is an example of stodgy prestige television, featuring humongous sets, heavy-duty prosthetic make-up, and impersonations of people we’ve read about extensively. Peter Morgan’s The Crown comes to mind as a show in a similar bracket — telling the story of British monarchy, Queen Elizabeth, after her ascendancy to the throne, and how it affects the relationships around her. Advani’s show doesn’t quite have the insight on its subjects like Morgan does, allowing him to mine the gaps between their indoor and outdoor personalities. However, there are plotlines in the second season, which do a great job of reflecting India’s more recent skirmishes. I was particularly moved by the backstory of Madan Pahwa (a scene-stealing Anurag Thakur) – disowned by his own father after partition, projecting his hate against another father (of the nation), for Gandhi’s dogged empathy for Muslims. Madan becomes a weapon in the hands of Hindu fundamentalists – making an attempt on Gandhi’s life. Thakur, who broke out as an actor in last year’s Black Warrant, hijacks our senses as both a victim and a perpetrator. I enjoyed how gracefully Advani depicts the clash of egos – between Nehru and Patel, considering both were ferociously principled, ethical; but Nehru was too much of an idealist, to continue making way for Patel’s pragmatism. Both Gupta and Chawla enact Nehru and Patel as bickering family members – too familiar with each other’s blindspots, while also fiercely protective of each other against an outsider’s badmouthing. I was touched by how Advani reclaims Gandhi’s non-violence, which has been mocked for its obsolescence in recent times. Freedom at Midnight depicts two instances of Gandhi’s fast-unto-death; the first to stop Hindu-Muslim riots taking place in Calcutta and Punjab after the partition, and the second one to protest the polarisation in the refugee camps. Showcasing how Gandhi shrewdly used what has been described by Arundhati Roy as ‘political theatre’ to make even the sternest ones among us to introspect about our choices, is a radical way to fight social biases. I wondered how citizens of today would respond to Gandhi’s fast-unto-deaths with our smartphones to distract us. It does a great job of foregrounding Gandhi’s tactics to get his way — bringing back values of trust and empathy for our ‘enemies’, which appear medicinal for our present discourse. The sore point here remains the characterisation of Pakistani politicians – Jinnah has all the personality of an angry poster, while Liaquat Ali Khan (Rajesh Kumar) has all the depth of an obedient cardboard cut-out. Most scenes of the riots tend to show faceless Muslim perpetrators and Hindus/Sikhs as the victims, while the one to put away one’s weapons to convince Gandhi to end his fast is a Hindu character (played by Abhishek Banerjee). These might seem like minor creative decisions, which hint at something more cynical. It also shies away from mentioning the RSS – instead choosing to characterise it as a ‘Bapu ke khilaaf bolne waale sanstha (an organisation which speaks against Bapu)’, or naming Nathuram Godse (Gandhi’s assassin) – again instead only hinting at him through his initials (NVK or Nathuram Vinayak Godse) on a recovered white vest by law enforcement officials. These might be the occasional manoeuvres showrunners have to employ to not alienate a part of the audience, but it goes against the grain of Advani’s otherwise well-intentioned, and largely sincere series. This season makes a compelling case for India’s secular values, and the circular nature of communal tensions and its sheer inanity. However, by walking on eggshells for facts that are clearly stated in our history books, Advani’s show briefly betrays itself. If things come to a point where history books are rewritten, Advani’s show won’t do a good job of identifying Gandhi’s assailant – or the ideology fuelling his act. Season two of Freedom at Midnight reminds us how fragile India was in 1947 – but also how fragile our comfort with historical truth remains today.*All episodes of Freedom at Midnight S02 are streaming on SonyLIV