Rate It
2.5
out of 5

The Trial: Distinguishing the Faces from Facades

Inspired by the globally celebrated American series The Good Wife, The Trial on JioHotstar
steps into familiar territory but chooses to walk it with distinctly Indian weight. At its centre
is a powerful trio of performers, Kajol, Alyy Khan, and Jisshu Sengupta, whose collective
presence anchors the narrative in emotional gravity rather than courtroom spectacle. Yet,
this is not a story about law alone. It is a tale about reputation, survival, betrayal, and the
uneasy price of dignity.

Noyonika Sengupta, portrayed by Kajol, is introduced not as a crusader, but as a woman
whose life collapses overnight under the glare of scandal. Wife to a powerful man, mother to
confused children, and a lawyer reluctantly stepping back into the profession, she is pushed
into a space where choice ceases to be a privilege. Every decision becomes a negotiation
between self-respect and social scrutiny. Between motherhood and morality. Between silence
and survival.

The Crossroads of Love, Power, and Betrayal

The series places a woman at the centre of multiple trials, not just in courtrooms, but in
drawing rooms, newsrooms, and public memory. Noyonika is not battling a single
institution. She is contending with marriage as a system, power as inheritance, and society
as an unforgiving witness. Kajol’s performance carries restraint rather than rage, making her
portrayal more unsettling. The strength here is not loud. It is endured.

At the opposite end of this moral battlefield stands Rajiv Sengupta, played by Jisshu
Sengupta, a man who begins as an Additional Judge and gradually drifts into the murkier
waters of political ambition. His character arc is not rushed into villainy. It unfolds like quiet
corrosion. Jisshu lends Rajiv a disturbing normalcy, reminding the viewer that it is rarely
monsters who dismantle justice, but ordinary men who learn to look away from it. His shift
from robe to rhetoric reflects the porous boundary between law and politics, where
principles often become bargaining chips.

Hovering between these two is Vishal Choubey, portrayed by Alyy Khan. A former lover, a
trusted ally, and a man caught between friendship and feeling, Vishal is the emotional
conduit of the narrative. The mature love triangle between Vishal, Noyonika, and Rajiv is not
driven by impulsive desire but by unresolved pasts and emotional debts. The series treats
this triangle with calm maturity. Love here is not a solution. It is a complication.

When Justice Becomes a Negotiation

The Trial thrives in its exploration of grey areas. There are no spotless heroes and no
conveniently placed demons. The bureaucracy is presented as an ecosystem of compromise
where corruption is not always transactional. Sometimes it is ideological. Sometimes
emotional. The legal and political warfare depicted in both Season 1 and Season 2 reveals
how easily truth can be diluted through propaganda, defamation, and strategic humiliation.
Reputation becomes the most fragile form of currency.

Beyond the central narrative, the series weaves in smaller legal cases that mirror the moral
chaos of privilege and vulnerability. These episodic fables bring the audience face to face
with scandals of the elite and struggles of ordinary citizens. Each case unfolds not as a
twist-driven spectacle but as a slow moral exposure. What distinguishes the show is its effort
to provide logical, procedural, and emotional coherence to every conflict rather than relying
on sensationalism alone.

One of the most quietly powerful aspects of the series is how it portrays emotional refuge.
The moments where the mind surrenders to a trusted friend, where exhaustion seeks shelter
in a familiar presence, and where love appears not as passion but as reassurance, are handled
with sensitivity. These interludes reflect the emotional vocabulary of an Indian woman
navigating collapse with grace. Strength here is not performative. It is private.

Between Public Scrutiny and Private Collapse

Season 2 deepens the emotional landscape by amplifying the political stakes. The courtroom
ceases to be the sole battleground. Public perception, media narratives, and political
maneuvers become equally dangerous arenas. Noyonika’s evolution as a lawyer is mirrored
by her emotional fatigue as a woman. Every victory comes with consequences. Every survival
carries a shadow.

Ultimately, The Trial is not merely about justice served or denied. It is about the relentless
examination of a woman as a wife, a mother, a lawyer, and a citizen. It interrogates how
quickly society strips grace from women the moment power collapses around them. It asks
uncomfortable questions about loyalty, ambition, and public morality.

For viewers searching for a courtroom drama on JioHotstar, The Trial offers layered legal
conflicts. For those drawn to political drama, it provides calculated ambition and
bureaucratic decay. But for those attentive to emotional truth, it reveals something deeper.
The invisible cost of standing upright when everything around demands submission.

Final Word

The Trial is not built for casual viewing. It demands attentiveness, emotional patience, and
moral engagement. With each advancing episode, the grip tightens not through suspense
alone but through steady psychological pressure. It is a slow-burning interrogation rather
than a loud verdict.

And when the final credits roll, what lingers is not just the outcome of a case, but the
unsettling realization of how thin the line between face and facade truly is.

By: Anushka Singhal