This Kannada animation mythological film came quietly, and like its protagonist, conquered the world in no time at all. It is not only the quiet achiever of the year, but also a work that we need to celebrate for its enterprising spirit and the propensity to reclaim our mythological roots without topping over with heightened self-importance.

I recommend this big-little film, featuring one of the cutest, most righteous heroes Prahlad in living cinematic history, not for its technical finesse (which, though commendable, often leaves much to be desired), not for its unconditional reverence to the spirit of Lord Vishnu… but because of its utter sincerity of purpose, almost as if guided by the hands of God itself. So hurry Om.

At a time when successful cinema in this country is ripped from foreign sources, Mahavatar Narasimha digs into our mythology for succour and sustenance to emerge with a thunderous story of a 5-year-old boy Prahlad who spreads righteousness and wisdom like an anti-toxin for all the ugliness Indian cinema passes off as “entertainment”.

Prahlad, and not Krish Kapoor, is the cinematic hero of our times. He is high on nothing except the principles of his idol Lord Vishnu, much to the chagrin and fury of his demonic father Hiranyakashyap who seeks revenge from Vishnu for killing his twin brother.

The film begins with an unintentionally amusing, decently draped allusion to the procreative act wherein a woman with an exacerbated libido insists on intimacy with her sage husband. He warns her of undesirable consequences of intimacy at that hour of the day. Blinded by lust, she wouldn’t listen.

“Ah, the stubbornness of the female sex!” the sage sighs (as we nod) and proceeds to satisfy his 14th wife (she mentions her thirteen sisters whom he has duly satiated and impregnated).

Hence, the birth of twin demons.

Well played! Well woven into a pastiche of mythology and religiosity, Mahavatar Narasimha combines entertainment with a pauranic potboiler that had me watching with a smile till the end.

Sure, it is not a polished product. It doesn’t have high-decibel songs about getting high on heartbreak. Dammit, it doesn’t even boast of big superstars in the cast. What Mahavatar Narasimha has is a sense of propriety and decorum while projecting a story suffused with thunder, lightening and theatrics. And Prahlad, with his tone of soft-spoken persuasive righteousness—no need to shout to be heard when you have something valid to say—will bring out the adoptive instinct in every member of the audience.