When Women Rule, and When They Turn Against You

I recently watched Akka on Netflix, and I must admit, I quite liked it. Notwithstanding a few shortcomings, it is an interesting premise, particularly because it dares to imagine a world where women aren’t merely participants in society but are the ones who run it, govern it, protect it and decide its future.

Set in the fictional kingdom of Pernuru, the series builds a society where women have inherited power across generations. They control the businesses, the land, the family and, more importantly, the rules by which everyone lives. What I found particularly interesting was the narrative around how villages and communities flourished under their leadership. Women weren’t waiting for someone to give them an opportunity or permission to participate. They were creating livelihoods, managing resources, protecting their people and ensuring that the next generation inherited something meaningful.

There is something rather fascinating about watching a fictional world turn centuries of conventional gender expectations on their head.

Keerthy Suresh is particularly impressive as Bhavani. She brings a certain composure, authority and restraint to the character. She doesn’t need to constantly announce her power; it is evident in the way people respond to her. She owns the character, and frankly, carries much of the series on her shoulders.

I wasn’t equally convinced by Radhika Apte. I’ve seen her deliver some very good performances, but I felt she was somewhat below par here. The character demanded a certain menace, unpredictability and emotional intensity, and I thought the performance didn’t consistently deliver what the role required. The contrast between the two leading women could have been considerably more compelling.

The writing, too, has its moments of brilliance and its share of loose ends. Particularly when it comes to the men in the family. Their motivations, relationships and place within this unusual social structure deserved considerably more exploration. When you construct a society that reverses the traditional power equation, you cannot leave half the population insufficiently developed and expect the social dynamics to make complete sense.

But there is a much bigger conversation here.

We have spent generations discussing what happens when women are denied opportunities, when their choices are restricted, when their ambitions are dismissed and when their contributions are reduced to their roles within a household. Akka offers an interesting counterfactual. What happens when women have the authority, resources and freedom to make those decisions themselves?

And interestingly, the series doesn’t suggest that women are inherently better human beings simply because they are women. That would have been an equally simplistic narrative.

Because power, irrespective of who holds it, has the ability to corrupt. Women can be compassionate, nurturing, progressive and fiercely protective. They can also be calculating, possessive, vindictive and ruthless. The same emotions and contradictions that define men define women too. Changing who sits on the throne doesn’t necessarily change human nature.

And perhaps that is where Akka makes its most interesting observation.

There is a particular danger in earning a woman’s scorn. Not because women are somehow naturally more vindictive than men, but because when affection, trust and loyalty are deeply invested, their betrayal can produce consequences that are equally deep. The series explores how personal grievances, wounded pride, jealousy and the desire for revenge can dismantle relationships, families and even an established order.

The women who built and protected Pernuru are also capable of threatening everything it stands for. The very sisterhood that became the foundation of their strength can become the source of their undoing.

There is a lesson in that, and it extends well beyond gender.

We often celebrate women in positions of power, and rightly so. But perhaps we should also acknowledge that equality isn’t about replacing one unquestioned authority with another. It is about creating a society where competence, fairness, compassion and accountability matter more than gender.

I also think the series could have done considerably more with its men. Their place in a matriarchal society, their relationships with the women who govern them, their ambitions and their insecurities could have offered another fascinating dimension. A society doesn’t become interesting merely because its power structure is different; it becomes interesting when we understand how everyone living within it adapts to that difference.

Despite these shortcomings, Akka is worth watching. It has an unusual premise, a convincing world and a central performance by Keerthy Suresh that makes you stay invested.

And perhaps the biggest takeaway for me is this: women don’t need to become men to demonstrate that they can lead, govern or build successful societies. Nor does putting women in charge automatically make a society just or progressive.

Power is an interesting thing. It reveals who we are, often more honestly than anything else.

And if there is one thing Pernuru teaches us, it is that you might survive challenging the authority of a woman. But you would be rather foolish to underestimate what happens when you earn the scorn of one.