Watching Kalyani Priyadarshan as Chandra and Durga C. Vinod (as younger Chandra) brings an unfamiliar, almost electrifying recognition of what it means for a woman to be the most dangerous presence in the room—armed with her own ideals, strengths, flaws, and a striking ability to kick through everything in her way. Rarely do women in mainstream cinema get to look up to other women as superheroine figures, but Lokah: Chapter 1 edges close to that fantasy. For once, a woman can feel the thrill men describe when they watch a Captain America or Superman film. In an initial scene where a local goon (Sarath Sabha) threatens her friend, Chandra’s punches land with speed, precision, moral weight, and a kind of unshakable coolness that instantly defines her. The background score echoing “Queen of the night, no saviour in sight” frames her not as a softened presence but as magnetic, grand, and unapologetically in charge. She isn’t watered down; she isn’t hyper-sexualised; she isn’t waiting for a man to rescue her. For the first time, a woman’s punches on screen ignite the gut with a heady mix of butterflies and the raw exhilaration of female rage steered exactly where it belongs. In another scene, Chandra is told that “she is the one God has chosen to fight for the helpless and the hunted.” It makes one wonder if the screen needs a supernatural woman to reclaim justice because the real world rarely allows its women the same power. She is called a witch, a vampire, even a terrorist at one point—because the foreigner is always the trespasser, and the different is always marked, feared, and watched. Yet in those moments, Chandra is nothing less than a spectacle, a saviour, and an icon.