Five years after tribal villager Dasru Kerkatta (Manoj Bajpayee) and wife Vaano (Tannishtha Chaterjee) leave their lives behind in Jharkhand to earn their livelihoods in Mumbai's concrete jungle, a dark chapter from the past returns to haunt them.

Forced to flee back homewards with his three-month-old daughter tied to his chest, Dasru has the police baying for his blood. Appointed to nab Dasru -- dead or alive -- by his heartless superior, overworked junior cop Ratnakar (Mohammad Zeeshan Ayyub) just wants to go home and get some shut-eye.

Joram's sympathy lies with the marginalised, forced to leave home in search of a better life or join a movement. Farmer, rebel or sympathiser? This hapless lot have little choice or identity.

Makhija's intensely crafted drama looks at the consequences of callously planned progress that does little to protect the indigenous tribes displaced in its aftermath.

Building of dams, mines and roads have uprooted the residents while corrupt authorities and land grabbers continue to eat into a region's natural resources.

The ruthless hierarchy of this exploitative system in itself is so widespread that Makhija doesn't feel the need to give it a face. Its only known antagonist is born out of a personal grudge harboured by a daunting politician Phulo Karma (Smita Tambe) hellbent on taking Dasru down for a past mistake.

Despite her Adivasi roots, she is much too consumed by the feeling of vendetta to waste her energy on sentiment.

In Tambe's icy glares and calm menace, Phulo's eerie presence becomes Joram's most chilling attribute as does Makhija's decision to portray violence in a manner that is more implied than in your face.

Joram's furious visuals come alive in Cinematographer Piyush Puty's breathless and point-blank frames, whether running or pausing, to bring out a scene's claustrophobic, tense mood.

The overwhelming volatility with which the train sequence plays out and leaves its audience gasping is testament to Makhija's grasp of the cinematic medium.

What's even more impressive is his gaze towards the shocking state of law and order in the aggrieved areas comes from a place of pity not condescension. Lack of facilities abound as lockups transform into quarters and trees into mobile towers.

As pathetic their means of releasing their repression may be, these men too are, ultimately, victims of the ever growing gulf between dominance and subjugation.

Ratnakar's tiring journey involves witnessing things beyond his control. And Mohammad Zeeshan Ayyub plays out his infirmity with a mix of fatigue and frustration.

What's most haunting about Joram's authentic milieu and cynicism is Manoj Bajpayee's harrowing portrait of a harassed figure.

When an actor has worked for as long as Bajpayee, one tends to lose their sense of originality under the sheen of stardom.

But the actor's versatility sparkles in his willingness to start on a fresh note every single time.

In Joram, he brings out a father's desperation to the fore by submitting to Dasru's primal instincts in an unflinching show of panic and pathos.