Mardaani 2 deepened this legacy, its villain was not simply a caricature but a presence that felt uncomfortably real and to be feared. The strength of Mardaani was built on the fact that the monster it dealt with was not fictional and was indeed, very familiar. 

Now Mardaani 3 has been added to the legacy, it hit the cinemas on 30 January 2026 and definitely carries more than the weight of the sequel. The question was no longer whether Shivani would fight back, the question was whether the narrative still knows how to cut.

Revisiting the Franchise: What Made Mardaani Baddie 

The Mardaani films have never been casual thrillers. They have always operated as social confrontations dressed in the grammar of crime cinema. The first film tackled trafficking with an anger that felt real and literally sent shivers down spines. The second explored violence with psychological precision, refusing to soften its discomfort for easy catharsis. 

The Plot of Mardaani 3: A Familiar Horror in New Packaging

Mardaani 3 opens with a disappearance that quickly becomes two. In Bulandshahr, two young girls vanish almost simultaneously. Ruhani is the daughter of an Indian diplomat. Jhimli belongs to the household staff, a child from a marginalised, low-income family whose absence is destined to be treated as less urgent, less politically combustible and obviously, less visible.

Shivani Shivaji Roy is brought into the case, but the hierarchy of concern reveals itself immediately. Her superiors make it clear, in the language institutions often use, that one child matters more than the other. The diplomat’s daughter is a crisis and the caretaker’s daughter is more like a tragedy. In simple words, the latter is unfortunate, but forgettable. As you know, whether or not you have seen the film, Shivani refuses this arithmetic of privilege. 

As the investigation deepens along with the plot of the film, it is revealed that the kidnappings are not isolated occurrences, they are a part of something bigger and more complicated. Over the last three months, dozens of girls, many of them from vulnerable backgrounds have disappeared, very mysteriously. Her next stop on this search trail is Amma, played by Mallika Prasad. Now she is a figure who presides over a bigger-mafia network with unsettling danger hanging. 

The story remains socially relevant and undeniably urgent. Yet its framework feels familiar enough that one can often predict its turns before they arrive.

Box Office Performance and Audience Response

Mardaani 3 opened to modest numbers, collecting roughly ₹4–5 crore domestically on its first day. By the end of its opening weekend, the film crossed approximately ₹17 crore net in India. Its first-week total hovered around ₹25–26 crore.

These are respectable figures, but not the kind that signal a cultural storm. The earlier films carried an urgency and moral positioning that translated into conversation. 

What the Film Still Does Well

There is still something valuable, even defiant, about the existence of Mardaani in contemporary Hindi cinema. While many mainstream films chase escapism, this franchise insists on staring at violence that society routinely sidelines. Rani Mukerji remains the film’s axis. The film’s ambition is also evident. It wants to widen the franchise’s scope, to suggest that these crimes are not isolated but systemic, not local but networked. 

Four Aspects That Might Not Fully Slap

1. A Narrative That Feels Overly Familiar

By its third chapter, Mardaani begins to risk repeated conflicts and dilemmas. The structure remains unchanged with a fearless protagonist, an apathetic system and a moral confrontation that ends with Shivani standing taller than the machinery around her.

The themes are important, the Mardaani universe literally revolves around them. But this one may sometimes feel like the franchise is tracing its own legacy of moral fulfilment, instead of redrawing it in a different, more interesting way. 

2. The Sudden “Alpha-phication”

One of the film’s most noticeable shifts is its tilt towards exaggerated action.

In Mardaani 2, Shivani struggled. The violence felt physical, exhausting and real. She struggled in the emotionally charged physical duel with Vishal Jethwa. And YRF audiences have not forgotten that, yes, they are smarter than that. 

Here, she is suddenly staged as an invincible force, taking down groups of men with an ease that belongs more to spy universes than police thrillers. It is a strange evolution, and probably that’s why, it didn’t sit too well. 

3. A Villain Arc that didn’t hit hard enough

The Mardaani films have historically been strengthened by their antagonists. Vishal Jethwa’s performance in the second instalment was terrifying because it felt psychologically complete.

In comparison, Amma’s character feels sort of lazily handled and unexplored. This villain arc definitely lacks depth. And till the villain is not worthy to be plotting and fighting against, the hero cannot truly dominate, can it? 

4. Spy-versification that felt awkward 

YRF has been in its spy era for some time, and there’s no hiding it. And it could be clearly seen in Mardaani 3. The film’s legacy is built on rawness and the gritty intimacy, and if that is taken away from it, it loses its main thing. Mardaani universe is best when it feels local and somewhat, claustrophobic. 

Conclusion: A Necessary Film, Even When It Isn’t a Sharp One

 Mardaani 3 is a socially relevant and poignant moment in the mainstream Hindi cinema. Its habit of spotlighting crimes that deserve rage and cinematic confrontation is commendable. Rani Mukherji, once again, is formidable and more than convincing in her role. And still, the film reveals the risk of franchising the moral urgency it created for itself. 

Mardaani 1 and Mardaani 2 lingered with fear, anxieties and confusion because they hit home and they were uncomfortable and unsettling, whether the audience was ready for it or not. And the 3rd addition feels bigger, but not necessarily deeper. Still, even a less-than-perfect Mardaani is good, because it brings questions the Hindi cinema cannot afford to stop asking.