For all its recently-acquired taste for gritty realism—usually expletive-laden jousts set in the dirt and grime of a dun-coloured north Indian town, amidst the loud chorus of love expressed for ‘strong scripts’, the beating heat of Hindi films rests in the simple cults, and occult, of the past. Those of us old enough to remember Sridevi’s wide-eyed, menacing mien from the film posters of Nagina, the twisting, simple tune of a snake charmer’s pipe and young enough at the time to be scared at Amrish Puri’s creepy villain, must rejoice. The shape-shifting Naagin, announces Shraddha Kapoor proudly, is making a comeback as a film trilogy. One needs to inhabit all kinds of roles, hints Shraddha through the delicious asymmetry of this velveteen gown. We reluctantly agree.