There are movies that entertain, movies that inform, and then there are those that seem to arrive at a particular moment for reasons that go beyond cinema.
Hanuman Ansh, the biographical devotional film inspired by the life and spiritual journey of Neeb Karori Baba (better known as Neem Karoli Baba), belongs to that unusual category.
A miracle has followed the box office journey of Hanuman Ansh made by Dr Vishal Chaturvedi. Made on just ₹2 crore without a star cast and hardly any promotional campaign, it initially was written off as a failure. Then, slowly and steadily, it found its audience. Audiences multiplied with word of mouth and the film eventually expanded to over 1,500 screens in India, and is now showing in the US. It is likely to end up doing raking in 100 times the investment.
A film born in surrender
But, for me, the more fascinating story is not the box office. It is the bhav (sentiments) with which this film has been made.
The director, actors and producers have repeatedly spoken of the success of Hanuman Ansh not as something they achieved through brilliance, but as something they attribute to divine intervention and the grace of Neem Karoli Maharaj.
The seeds of this film project were sown when Anupriya Nagar, an economics student in the UK researching for a university assignment came across the fascinating story of Apple founder Steve Jobs seeking out Neem Karoli Baba in India. What began as curiosity eventually became a deep personal investigation into the saint’s life, eventually leading her to co-produce the film. That a 21-year-old devotee would put her own resources behind such a project is, in itself, a story of faith.
Perhaps faith is what gives the film its particular texture. The filmmakers have shared that the recitation of Hanuman Chalisa continued through 43 consecutive days of shooting for the film amid a pious atmosphere. The film therefore feels less like a conventional commercial enterprise and more like a seva undertaken with devotion.
Beyond the miracle
At first glance, Hanuman Ansh appears to be a film about miracles.
And there are plenty of them.
The young Lakshmi Narayan Sharma – the birth name of Neem Karoli Baba – is shown as a deeply sensitive child carrying the grief of losing his mother. He eventually walks away from the familiar world, travelling, meeting saints and searching for something beyond the visible.
The film takes us through his extraordinary experiences: meditation, bhajan, Ram naam, encounters with nature and animals, moments of clairvoyance and what devotees understand as siddhis arising from intense tapasya, one-pointed devotion and spiritual discipline.
There are moments of foreseeing, of knowing what seems unknowable, of consciousness appearing to operate beyond ordinary human limitations.
For the common viewer, the miracles create wonder and an attraction to watch the movie. But for me, the miracles are simultaneously the film’s attraction and its greatest distraction.
Because the deeper Neem Karoli Baba story is surely not simply about what a spiritually evolved human being could do.
It is about who he became.
From the outer miracle to the inner journey
The film repeatedly touches upon the idea of the the inner self and the extraordinary hidden potential of human consciousness.
It presents a world in which riddhis and siddhis (supernatural powers) are possibilities born through intense spiritual practice. But behind that fascinating idea lies an even more important question: What happens when a human being turns completely inward?
The young seeker we see on screen is not merely chasing supernatural powers.
He is chasing God.
He is trying to understand loss. He is trying to transcend attachment. He is searching for Lord Ram like Hanuman, his deity.
His journey begins with the pain of losing his mother, but slowly becomes a journey away from the external world and towards the divine.
This is where the film becomes particularly interesting.
The boy who leaves home is not simply abandoning society. He is attempting to discover something that cannot be found through the ordinary senses.
He walks, wanders, meets saints, meditates, serves and surrenders.
And gradually, the distinction between the saint and the human being becomes fascinating.
We see the extraordinary alongside the deeply human.
A boy disturbed by visions of his departed mother.
A seeker struggling with attachment.
A young man trying to understand the world while simultaneously wanting to transcend it.
And eventually, a saint whose consciousness seems to operate from an altogether different centre.
There is something beautiful in that juxtaposition – the sainthood in the little human, and the humanness in the little saint.
What are we really looking for in a miracle?
Perhaps this is where Hanuman Ansh speaks most directly to contemporary India.
We are a civilisation deeply drawn towards saints, gurus, miracles and stories of divine intervention.
When life becomes difficult, many of us instinctively look outward for someone who can rescue us.
Someone who can remove an obstacle.
Predict what will happen.
Heal what hurts.
Change our circumstances.
And Hanuman Ansh certainly understands the power of that fascination.
But beneath its succession of miraculous episodes lies a subtler invitation – to look within.
Because if consciousness truly has such immense potential, then perhaps the real miracle is not knowing the future.
Perhaps it is knowing oneself.
Not acquiring supernatural powers, but becoming free of one’s smaller impulses.
Not demonstrating what one can do, but dissolving the ego that wants to demonstrate it.
Not asking, “What can God do for me?” but beginning to ask, “What must I transform within myself to move towards God?”
That, to me, is the spiritual heart of the story.
The ‘Hanuman Ansh’ scene that gave me goosebumps
One scene in Hanuman Ansh has stayed with me long after I returned home after watching the film for a second time.
Lakshman Das Maharaj, as known then, is shown meditating uninterruptedly in a cave for 15 days. When one of his closest devotees finally goes to check on him, what he witnesses is surreal: more than 20 snakes coiled around the saint who is sitting absolutely still in a posture that evokes the profound samadhis of Lord Shiva.
It is one of those cinematic moments that leaves you stunned.
And then comes American devotional singer Krishna Das’s voice. As the hauntingly powerful strains of “Om Namah Shivaya” rise in the background, his deep, hypnotic voice seems to reverberate through the cave itself. The music, the stillness of the saint, the snakes and the unmistakable Shaivite imagery converge into one electrifying, spine-tingling moment.
For a few seconds, the scene feels less like cinema and more like a vision.
Absolutely hair-raising.
The forgotten purpose of human life
The film gently opens the door to questions that modern life often makes us forget.
Why are we here?
What is the purpose of a human birth?
Are we merely bodies moving through an increasingly demanding material world – or are we spiritual beings having a human experience?
What happens when we begin to cleanse the inner world of greed, deceit, anger, attachment and ego?
What happens when the longing to meet the Divine becomes greater than the longing to accumulate the world?
These questions are far more transformative than any miracle.
And perhaps this is why the film has connected so powerfully with audiences.
The miracles may have brought people into theatres.
But perhaps something else made them stay.
The music carries its own devotion
The film’s spiritual atmosphere is strengthened considerably by its music.
Krishna Das’s powerful, trance-like voice brings an unmistakable devotional energy to the soundtrack, while Sadhu Tiwari’s voice in the song Parvati has an almost haunting freshness – the kind of song that can remain in the mind long after the film has ended.
And then there is Sitaram, sung by the director himself, whose simplicity carries the tenderness of a lullaby. Or Maine tere hi bharose – a song about the sweet surrender.
The music does something important: it allows the film to breathe beyond its narrative.
For moments, it stops being a biography and becomes a bhajan in cinematic form.
A beginning, not an ending
I found the miracles fascinating, but I also felt that they sometimes overshadowed what, to me, is the far more profound essence of a guru.
A guru is not merely someone who performs what appears impossible.
A guru is someone who points us towards Truth.
Towards God.
Towards freedom from the mind’s compulsions.
Towards meditation, surrender, seva and the dissolution of ego.
Towards the courage to confront our own inner demons.
If miracles are the doorway through which the masses enter, maybe they have their place.
A person who comes to the theatre out of curiosity about chamatkar may leave with a question about consciousness.
That is Step One.
And perhaps spiritual cinema today has an important role to play in creating exactly that first opening.
Because not everyone will immediately sit down to meditate.
Not everyone will read scripture.
Not everyone will understand tapasya, bhakti or the subtleties of consciousness.
But many will watch a miracle.
And if that miracle makes them curious about the person behind it, and the person makes them curious about the path behind him, the journey has already begun.
Hanuman Ansh does not feel like a complete biography. Indeed, the makers of the film have promised a second part.
Hanuman Ansh takes us into the formative years of Maharaj Ji’s journey and leaves us wanting to know what came next.
And that is fitting.
A spiritual journey, after all, cannot really be completed in a two-and-a-half-hour film.
The story of a saint cannot be contained merely in the incidents of his life.
It lives in the consciousness he awakened in others.
Most importantly, it lives in what happens inside us after we encounter his story.
That is where Hanuman Ansh ultimately becomes more than a film about Neem Karoli Baba.
It becomes an invitation.
Look beyond the miracle.
Look beyond the guru.
Look beyond the story.
And, finally, look within.
A powerful takeaway
What makes the making of Hanuman Ansh even more intriguing are the many unexpected incidents the team experienced along the way. Filmmaking is notoriously difficult, with hundreds of moving parts and problems constantly emerging. Yet the team recalls how difficulties seemed to disintegrate one after another, particularly around their collective recitation of the Hanuman Chalisa, a 40-verse hymn to Lord Hanuman. Shobhinaw Satyaa, who portrays the title role with perfect natural; simplicity, had originally worked behind the scenes as an assistant director on the film. He stepped into the lead role after the original actor fell ill. To capture the spiritual essence of the saint, he stayed near a temple, lived a strict vegetarian lifestyle, and immersed himself completely in the local atmosphere.
Whether one calls these coincidences, synchronicities or grace, they became memorable chapters in the making of the film.
Another powerful takeaway for me was a shooting location: the forest near Chitrakoot in Madhya Pradesh. It evoked for me the sheer spiritual richness of India that we rarely see. “There are thousands of saints and tapasvis inhabiting its sacred landscape, quietly engaged in their practices,” says the director Vishal Chaturvedi in an interview.
It makes us wonder with him how many such seekers remain unseen across India – in forests, caves, temples and secluded ashrams – living lives of tapasya, prayer and seva. We may never know who these tapasvi saints are, where they live, or what quiet spiritual work they are engaged in. Perhaps, unseen and unknown to the world, they are holding a sacred space for the country – raising its collective energy, spreading goodness, guiding people and families towards the right path, and quietly contributing to the well-being of countless lives. Perhaps this invisible spiritual force is one of the many things that continues to hold India together.
‘Hanuman Ansh’ is a powerful reminder of the eternal India that coexists with the march towards ‘Developed India’ as promised by its rulers and embraced by its populace.
More on Neem Karoli Baba: https://alotusinthemud.com/spiritual-journey-with-neem-karoli-baba/
Here is a review by Rekha Dhar, complimenting Navni Chawla’s:
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