I’ve been watching The Family Man since it first came out, so I was really curious but also a little cautious going into the third season, especially as to how the show would handle family dynamics this time around. Previous seasons dealt with the tension between Srikant’s job and his personal life with a mix of humor and chaos. This season takes a sharper turn.
Instead of keeping the family on the sidelines, they are drawn directly into the middle of a terrorist attack in the Northeast. What unfolds is not just another chase-filled spy story, but a season in which you spend a lot of time sitting uncomfortably at home. Women are truly given weight here, generational differences are no longer brushed aside, and even the villains can’t be pigeonholed into easy categories. The execution isn’t always rigorous, but the honesty of what the series is trying to achieve stands out.
Manoj Bajpayee plays Srikant Tiwari as the same jaded, headstrong man we know, someone who believes that caring and protecting automatically excuses everything else. The show finally disproves that belief. His marriage to Suchitra feels lived-in and strained, built on months of unresolved resentments. Suchitra’s work on her therapy app ShrinkMe becomes an important counterpoint to Srikant’s worldview.
If the app collapses due to the nationwide ban on Chinese platforms, it will be dealt with objectively, but the impact will remain. Their professional identity disappears overnight and there is no safety net waiting for them. She is not written as fragile or dramatic, but rather tired, angry and tired of conforming to Srikant’s half-truths. When they are forced to move in together while on the run, the problems in their relationship become clear. Some of the strongest moments are the subtle ones, when Suchitra directly expresses his excuses and emotional absence.
When it comes to Dhriti, her daughter, the gap between the generations becomes obvious. She is played by Ashlesha Thakur. She is outspoken, fearful, politically aware and not at all interested in making herself easier for others. She uses the pronouns “they/them,” participates in protests for LGBTQ+ rights, and is open about taking anxiety medication.
Ashlesha Thakur as Dhriti in The Family Man
The show doesn’t try to soften its edges. Her interactions with Srikant, particularly his confused attempts to understand her language and beliefs, are awkward but also funny. What’s special about these scenes is that the humor never completely undermines the discomfort. Srikant’s inability to keep up isn’t just about slang or “wokeness.” It shows how quickly parents dismiss what they don’t understand. When Dhriti was suspended from school, the show doesn’t overly dramatize it, but the message is clear. Speaking up has consequences, and girls are often punished for refusing to keep their mouths shut. At the same time, Dhriti is not idealized. She’s still finding herself, still vulnerable, still learning to exist in systems that leave no room for her.
The antagonists add another interesting layer. Meera, the mediator behind much of this season’s conspiracies and conflicts, was originally written as a male character, and that choice shows. She acts with precision, control and complete emotional distance. There is no attempt to temper it through sexuality or emotions or to express its power. She lives comfortably in a world of arms deals and intelligence without justification. Unlike the way female villains are often portrayed, Meera’s authority comes entirely from her head. Alongside Rukma, whose grief gives it a quieter depth, the series avoids reducing cruelty or ambition to gender. This also carries over to characters like Zoya, who continues to act as a capable professional without the need for explanation.
Nimrat Kaur as Meera in Season 3 of The Family Man
The season also implicitly challenges notions of masculinity through Srikant’s son Atharv. His decision to pursue ballet and the harassment he faces as a result show how narrowly masculinity is still defined. It’s a small thread in the larger narrative, but one that packs surprisingly emotional weight.
However, the season is not without problems. The scope of the plot sometimes works against it. Certain threads, like the app ban, feel rushed, and the family’s involvement in the action sometimes feels quite contrived. There is also a fine line between Dhriti’s characterization and the series. Her adoption of a visibly “woke” identity, including dyed blue hair, seems intentional, but the series does not explain what this choice is intended to convey.
Vedant Sinha as Atharv in The Family Man
Ultimately, Season 3 feels more grounded than most entries in the genre. It’s interested in the slow, unpleasant changes within families, not just external threats. Characters like Suchitra and Dhriti push forward in small, stubborn ways as Srikant is forced to confront parts of himself he has avoided for years. The show doesn’t pretend to resolve these tensions easily. It simply allows them to exist, and that restraint works in its favor. Despite the frustration of the cliffhanger at the end, this season leaves an impression because it feels honest. It reflects a reality that many people can relate to. For this reason alone it is an appealing watch and easily earns a solid 8/10.
Mahi Agrawal is a BA LL.B. (Hons.) Student at Hidayatullah National Law University, Raipur.
