Title: Panchayat – Season 4Director: Deepak Kumar Mishra, Akshat VijayvargiyaCast: Jitendra Kumar, Neena Gupta, Raghubir Yadav, Faisal Malik, Chandan Roy, Sanvikaa, Durgesh Kumar, Sunita Rajwar, Ashok PathakWhere: Prime VideoRating: 3 StarsIn this season, Phulera remains a charming relic — steadfast in its simplicity, yet showing signs of fatigue. Across eight episodes, the show continues to offer its trademark blend of dry wit, rustic warmth, and village satire. But the old spark, while still glowing, flickers a little less brightly.Jitendra Kumar’s Abhishek Tripathi, aka Sachiv Ji, returns with furrowed brows and deeper existential dread. This time, he’s anxious about the fallout from a court case filed against Bhushan (Durgesh Kumar), the local political mischief-monger. The first half of the season lingers on this thread, with Abhishek attempting a half-hearted rapprochement with Bhushan and his sharp-tongued wife Kranti Devi (Sunita Rajwar). These early episodes, it must be said, drag their feet. The narrative loiters like an over-familiar guest, neither bringing new stories nor deepening old ones.But just when you begin to wonder if Phulera has run out of puff, episode five arrives like a breeze through the lauki (bottle-gourd) fields. Enter Manju Devi’s father—Nanaji, played with memorable grace—who drops truth bombs wrapped in turmeric-laced one-liners. His stay is criminally short, but his departure leaves behind the show’s most poignant line: “Ashirwad ka jadoo toh nahi hai – jaise karni, waise bharni.” It’s a rare moment of lyrical wisdom in a season that otherwise opts for the mundane over the metaphorical.The latter half of the season finally sheds its lethargy, as the village heats up with grassroots politicking. Bhushan and Kranti Devi on one end, and the incumbent Pradhan Ji (Raghubir Yadav) and Manju Devi (Neena Gupta) on the other, lock horns in a pre-election slugfest. These episodes are Panchayat at its best: an honest, occasionally hilarious mirror to India’s electoral circus, complete with gimmicks, whisper campaigns, and the inevitable post-poll hangovers.Performance-wise, the cast remains the show’s indomitable pillar. Each actor underplays with masterful flair, embodying their roles with effortless authenticity, but it’s Ashok Pathak’s Vinod who quietly steals the show—raw, precise, and heartbreakingly real. Pathak’s ability to shift emotions in seconds is remarkable. Every performance enriches Phulera’s lived-in illusion. Not a single note feels false—a testament to the show’s enduring strength: its people.The humour is quietly devastating, almost Chaplinesque in its timing. Yet, something feels... recycled. We’ve walked these lanes before, dodged these cows, and heard these jokes. What was once a fresh bouquet of rural realism now feels like yesterday’s marigold garland—still fragrant, but no longer surprising. Phulera’s soul hasn’t aged poorly; it’s just grown too familiar. Comfort television, yes—but comfort can sometimes dull the senses.In the final moments, Season 4 hints at tectonic shifts ahead, promising a revitalised fifth chapter. Let’s hope the creators take the cue and choose reinvention over repetition. For now, Panchayat Season 4 is like an old friend’s visit: warm, nostalgic, occasionally profound—but you wish they’d brought something new for the journey.