When do you love your family the most? If Karan Johar is to be believed, then it's every day. You worship them daily and sing songs with them, and move to London overnight because you married out. If Ajitpal Singh is to be believed, you love them the most in the face of adversity or ten.

Despite growing up on Karan Johar's brand of cinema, I agree with Ajitpal Singhs’ version of “all about loving your family”. It comes from a personal spot. When I was deathly sick at the hospital with Covid and on life support, I’d call my parents and cry to them that I love them and will never fight with them and I just wanted to come home. That level of fright and the freak episode of knowing I’m one step away from losing it all drove me to the brink of insanity. Singh’s world in Tabbar (2021) is made of the same insanity. To protect the ones you love, and to fight for your family, what can you do and how far can you go?

If we have to blame anyone for the delay, it is Sony Liv’s UI/UX and their inability to design a good product. It took all the patience for me to be able to do justice this and finally write about one of the most deserving Indian web series from last Fall. For one, there is no better time to tell you about a series than now when most of us are home-bound and looking for things to do (in sickness and in health), and for the other, the test of time has proved that Tabbar is worth the watch, even if you’re struggling to comprehend Punjabi (subtitles help). I don’t see anything in the Indian web television sphere that can match the level of dark and gritty like this did. Nothing can help you feel closer to your loved ones than this. Especially now, when we are back with the shitshow of Covid.

I digress, but Tabbar is perhaps just as dark as the Covid timeline and the fight to survive through this. Omkar Singh (Pavan Malhotra) and his wife Sargun (Supriya Pathak) have their hopes pinned on their son Happy (Gagan Arora) to make it big as an IPS officer. Between Happy and their other son Tegi (Sahil Mehta), the family makes a conscious choice in picking to aid the former with resources to help him settle in Delhi so he can pursue the coaching to crack the exam.

All hell breaks loose when Happy visits home for a short while and picks his co-passenger’s bag from the train to his parent's. Tegi finds this bag and assumes the packed box is his “gift” a cell phone, which happens to be a pack of expensive smuggled drugs. This ensures a heated confrontation between the co-passenger who shows up and blames the family for stealing his package and it culminates into an accidental murder, only for the rest of the screenplay to follow and avoid the secret of the murder from spilling out.

Dirty politics meets bureaucracy meets a family’s love in Tabbar, set across the contemporary socio-political landscape of present-day Punjab. The gap between the haves and the have nots has widened more than ever and everyone is seeking out a better life, through whatever means necessary, along with an underlying drug problem that is known, yet best ignored. The passenger who misplaces his bag happens to be an aspiring politician’s brother and thus, a series of a power struggle begins between those who are trying to locate him and others who are trying to escape the situation.

One of the reasons why the series stayed with me, and the recommendation comes in strong is for the way the screenplay has been handled. There are a lot of layers and complexities within the show, to highlight the timeline and the roles of the characters. Very little is done with actual utterances and dialogues to depict the back and forth timelines. Instead, the director and the cast works on playing the series out with their expressions; Supriya Pathak’s eyes as Sargun narrates the journey of a tired mother who has lived through several breakdowns over the course of the series, in each episode, all finally tying with the climax of her closing her eyes and resting her head down. The subtle nudge about her youth and her hopeful eyes do more talking than any dialogue could have shown. Similarly, Ranvir Shorey’s deadpan expression as a grieving sibling, a ruthless businessman, and a cunning politician in making is carried forward without any memorable lines but that face haunts you when you think about the show. Pavan Malhotra’s Omkar Singh ages with every accidental crime and misdoing, only for him to look devoted and dedicated to his family with sheer determination on his mind. This was perhaps a role of a lifetime, and surely he did justice with the character he brought to life.

I am a big fan of Indian media representation of Punjab and Punjabis when characters don’t break into broken Punjabi of convenience with “assi” and “tussi” and don’t jive around doing “balle balle” and “shava shava” outside of mandatory first Lohri celebration. Tabbar, thankfully, graces us with a sober portrayal of Punjabis in India, one where grief looks like grief and trauma doesn’t include doing the bhangra to the latest number. The background score by Sneha Khanwalkar evokes a sense of doom and pathos, matched perfectly well with the editing and the colour palette of the series. At 35-45 minutes, the episodes are crisp; never too long and not extending more than necessary.

There’s little to criticize in the series. At 8 episodes, it runs long enough to be a worthy weekend binge without any guilt. If only, Sony Liv decided to straighten their act and help improve their UI/UX, one wouldn’t find streaming and writing on their works a whole chore.

The series is available for streaming on Sony Liv in India.

(If you like this piece, please consider supporting my work. It doesn't cost to hit the like and the follow button. Feel free to DM me your comments and suggestions for the next write-up.)