Dhurandhar climax scene explained: Aditya Dhar’s Dhurandhar doesn’t end quietly. It detonates, provokes, and then lingers long after the screen fades to a pumping pre-credit scene. Much of the noise around Aditya Dhar’s film has centred on its violent climax and the Sanskrit verse that plays over it.
While some have dismissed it, attributing shades of religious propaganda to it—a Hindu invocation at the death of a Muslim don—that reading barely scratches the surface.
Dhurandhar’s climax: SPOILER ALERT
The concluding chapter is pointedly titled Et Tu Brutus? And borrows from Shakespeare not for flourish but for meaning. Betrayal sits at the very core of Dhurandhar. Hamza Ali Mazari (played by Ranveer Singh) turning on Rehman Dakait (Akshaye Khanna) is presented as a moral wound that refuses to heal. When Hamza kills Rehman with SP Chaudhary Aslam’s (Sanjay Dutt) help, the act doesn’t crown him. It fractures him.
Aditya Dhar perfectly stages this betrayal with unsettling restraint. Hamza engineers a flawless performance for Uzair Baloch, emerging as the blood-soaked “hero” who tried to save his leader. Power follows. Blessings follow. Emotional intimacy of matrimony follows, yet peace does not. The film insists on showing the cost.
Lead me from death to immortality
In a hospital corridor, Hamza hallucinates Rehman staring back at him from a stretcher soaked in blood. This is where the Sanskrit verse enters, and where many readings turn shallow.
असतो मा सद्गमय । तमसो मा ज्योतिर्गमय । मृत्योर्माऽमृतं गमय ॥
Lead me from the unreal to the Real, lead me from darkness to light, lead me from death to immortality.
(Brihadaranyaka Upanishad: 1.3.28)
Placed over Hamza’s visions, the verse isn’t a chant of victory as we see it in black and white. It isn’t a neat declaration of Dharma triumphing over Adharma. It functions as a transition spell. In the pre-credit scene, Ajay Sanyal (R Madhavan) elucidates how India’s ‘Dhurandhars’ are chosen. The mortal convicts devoid of hope evolve into the immortal spies in the service of the nation.
To spell it out in daylight: Jaskirat Singh Rangi, the convicted nobody with no hope for any future, is mortal. Hamza Ali Mazari, the carefully constructed spy, is immortal (albeit in the shadows). The verse marks that transformation.
Dhurandhar isn’t questioning Rehman’s mortality; it ascertains Hamza’s immortality. The line from death to immortality points to the erasure of self. Rangi disappears so Hamza can exist. The hallucinations suggest the price of that erasure never truly gets paid.
Dhurandhar wants unease
By invoking both Shakespeare and the Upanishads, Aditya Dhar collapses the Western and the Indian peninsular morality into one uncomfortable truth. Espionage doesn’t produce heroes. It produces survivors who carry history on their backs. The Sanskrit verse isn’t propaganda stitched onto violence. It’s a requiem for a man who had to kill who he was to become who the nation needed.
That discomfort explains the polarisation. Dhurandhar wants unease. And in its final moments, it earns it.