Hindi
Ghanchakkar: A complete waste of talent
MUMBAI: One may steal a theme from a foreign film but when one fails to give the film even a sensible, logical title, you know you are party to a lost cause. To copy a foreign film, understanding it is mandatory. Ghanchakkar is inspired from a 2007 Hollywood film titled The Lookout, which was about a bank robbery and a character with anterograde amnesia, which means short-term memory loss. But the film‘s Hindi title suggests a comedy and means an idiot/stupid person. The last film based on memory loss was the Aamir Khan blockbuster Ghajini but that is where the comparison ends.
Ghanchakkar is a ‘twist in the tale‘ story which, at best, can be a limited-duration TV episode. However, the maker stretches it to almost 138 minutes. According to the original film, not only does the protagonist keep losing his memory, he also keeps getting these bouts of anger whichGhanchakkar follows religiously.
Emraan Hashmi is a safebreaker on a sabbatical. He thinks he has made enough to take life easy and enjoy with his wife, Vidya Balan, who plays a Punjabi character for some unexplained reason. That is when an unidentified voice on the phone invites Hashmi to a huge bank heist; the bank, it seems, has a vault which only Hashmi can break open. The sum is expected to be huge, about Rs 35 crore and Hashmi‘s share would be Rs 10 crore.
Balan subscribes to Vogue and such fashion magazines but gives her wardrobe her own version of fashion, usually loud and garish outfits being her thing. Her attempts at Punjabi slang or sounding like a loud Punjaban are as real as her dressing sense. Hashmi on his part has only one dream, to own the biggest television set available in the market. For the sake of this TV set, he agrees to meet the voice on the telephone. The rendezvous is set for 12.30 at night at Andheri station.
The voice on the phone turns out to be Rajesh Sharma aka Pandit and a gun-toting Namit Das. They try to look mean and threatening but manage to look like two comics out of a C-grade farce. For Hashmi to be threatened by Das, half his size, and fat Sharma, does not convince the viewer and this is only the forewarning of what is to follow. The bank is robbed as easily as a deserted house with the three wearing masks of Dharmendra, Amitabh Bachchan and Utpal Dutt; the only scare to the robbers coming from a beat cop coming into bank at 2 am to take a leak. That is an idea; bank loos can double as Sulabh Sauchalayas during off hours and continue to make money!
The bank is robbed, the three part ways with Hashmi given the responsibility to keep the money for three months till the heat settles after which they can take their own share. Three months are over and Sharma and Das demand their share. But Hashmi has had an accident in this duration and now suffers from anteograde amnesia due to which he has selective memory losses. He can‘t remember who these two are or which money they are referring to. The two kidnap Balan giving Hashmi a week to recollect where the money is hidden. Later they shift into Hashmi‘s house to finish that mandatory seven-day period. These seven days seem never-ending; they are supposed to be funny but are torturous for the viewer.
The hero also follows the anterograde amnesia to the T as now his memory loss is becoming severe and he now suspects everybody including Balan and vents his anger on people around him. That is when an angel drops in from the blue, literally. He is the real villain who drops in without a warning and ends the painful saga by killing his two stooges, Sharma and Das, as well as Balan and Hashmi and finally his own self.
With a cast of four out of which two are poorly etched, to carry through 138 minutes of pathetically scripted and directed fare, Ghanchakkar fails on all counts. Music is of the chalu kind. Dialogue is in poor taste.
Ghanchakkar is boring and doomed to failure.
In a music industry that often rewards speed, spectacle, and instant recall, Navjot Ahuja’s journey feels refreshingly different. His story is not built on noise. It is built on patience, discipline, emotional honesty, and a quiet commitment to becoming better with every passing year. After 14 years of struggle, learning, performing, and writing, Navjot stands today as an artist whose success has not changed his centre. If anything, it has only made his purpose clearer.
For Navjot, music has never been about chasing fame alone. It has always been about expression. It is about writing more truthfully, singing more skillfully, understanding himself more deeply, and becoming a kinder human being in the process. That rare clarity is what gives his journey its beauty.
Where It All Began: A Writer Before a Singer
Indian singer and songwriter Navjot Ahuja’s musical journey began in the most familiar of places: school assemblies. But even then, what was growing inside him was not only the desire to sing. It was the need to write.
Long before he saw himself as a performer, he had already discovered the emotional release that writing offered him. For Navjot, words became the first true channel for feeling. Songwriting came before singing because writing was the only way he could let emotions flow through him fully. That inner pull shaped his artistic identity early on.
Like many young musicians, he sharpened his craft by creating renditions of popular songs.
Those experiments became his training ground. But the turning point came in 2012, when he wrote his first original song. That moment did not just mark the beginning of songwriting. It marked the beginning of self-definition.
A Calling He Did Not Chase, But Accepted
What makes the latest Indian singer-songwriter Navjot’s story especially compelling is the way he describes his relationship with music. He does not frame it as a career he aggressively pursued. In his own understanding, music was not something he chose. It was something that chose him.
There was a time when he imagined a very different future for himself. He wanted to become a successful engineer, like many young people shaped by ambition and conventional expectations. But life had a different script waiting for him. During his college years, around 2021, music entered his life professionally and began taking a firmer shape.
That shift was not driven by image-building or industry ambition. It came from acceptance. Navjot embraced the fact that music had claimed him in a way no other path could. That sense of surrender continues to define the artist he is today.
An Artist Guided by Instinct, Not Influence
Unlike many singers who speak openly about idols, icons, and musical role models, Navjot’s creative world is built differently. He does not believe his music comes from imitation or inherited influence. He listens inward.
He has never considered himself shaped by ideals in the traditional sense. In fact, he admits that he does not particularly enjoy listening to songs, especially his own. His decisions as a songwriter and singer come from instinct. He writes what feels right. He trusts what his inner voice tells him. He positions his music according to what he honestly believes in, not what trends demand.
That creative independence gives his work a distinct emotional sincerity. His songs do not feel calculated. They feel alive.
The Long Years of Invisible Struggle
Every artist carries a chapter of struggle, and Navjot’s was long, demanding, and deeply formative. One of the biggest challenges he faced was building continuity as the best new indian singer songwriter in an era where musical collaboration is increasingly fluid.
For emerging singers, especially those trying to build with a band, consistency can be difficult. Instrumentalists today have more opportunities than ever to freelance and perform with multiple artists. While that growth is positive and well deserved, it can make things harder for singers who are still trying to establish a steady team and sound around their work.
For Navjot, one of the most difficult phases came during 2021 and 2022, when he was doing club shows almost every day. It was a period of relentless performance, but not always personal fulfillment. He was largely singing covers because clubs were not open to original songs that audiences did not yet know.
For a new Indian singer and songwriter, that can be a painful compromise. To perform constantly and still not have the freedom to share your own voice requires not just resilience, but restraint.
“Khat” and the Grace of Staying Unchanged
After 14 years of effort, Navjot’s new love song Khat became a defining milestone. Professionally, he acknowledges that the song changed how society viewed him as a musician. It strengthened his place in the public eye and altered his standing in meaningful ways.
Yet personally, he remains unchanged.
That is perhaps the most striking part of his story. Navjot says his routine is still the same. His calm is still the same. His writing process is still the same. He does not want success or failure to interfere with the purity of his art. For him, emotional detachment from public outcomes is essential because the moment an artist becomes too attached to validation, the writing begins to shift.
His joy comes not from numbers, but from the attempt. If he has tried to improve his skill today, if he has written his heart out more honestly than before, then he is at peace.
Growth, Not Glory, Remains the Real Goal
Even now, Navjot is not consumed by labels such as singles artist, performer, or digital success story. His focus remains deeply personal. He wants to sing better. He wants to play instruments better. He wants to understand himself more. And he wants to become a kinder person.
That is what makes Navjot Ahuja’s journey so moving. It is not simply the story of a musician finding recognition. It is the story of an artist who continues to grow inward, even as the world begins to look outward at him. In an age obsessed with applause, Navjot reminds us that the most meaningful success often begins in silence, honesty, and the courage to remain true to oneself.
