Riding high after her Breakthrough Performance win at the Awards for the haunting Maharaj, the actor continues to sharpen her artistic pitch with roles that demand modulation rather than volume. Each project feels like a new note added to a carefully evolving raga, and with Bandwaale, Pandey finds her most lyrical movement yet. From the “silent hustler” grit she brought to Dabba Cartel to the unexpected comedic ease of Rahu Ketu, her choices signal an actor in pursuit of depth and showcasing her range. Bandwaale marks the point where that pursuit finds its home.
Directed by Akshat Verma and co-created by Swanand Kirkire and Ankur Tewari, the eight-episode series follows Mariam — a young poet attempting to escape the safest trap Indian society offers its daughters: an early, respectable marriage. Set against the quiet constraints of Ratlam, Bandwaale understands a crucial truth — in small towns, dreams don’t explode; they seep.
Pandey shoulders the series with remarkable restraint. As Mariam, she is not a firebrand rebel but an obedient daughter conditioned to apologise for ambition. Poetry becomes her private rebellion, anonymity her armour. Her longing for a different life is not loud, but persistent and that persistence gives the character its aching credibility.
With maximum screen time and a role rich in emotional texture, Pandey delivers a performance that never begs for attention yet commands it. She is entirely believable as a woman whose wings are clipped within the safety of home, and whose desperation to taste freedom makes her the most rooted, human presence in Bandwaale. There are no dramatic monologues, no grand gestures as she sheds mainstream tropes and embraces soulful emotiveness, emerging as the emotional anchor of the show.
