There is something almost admirable about Naagin. Not because it is good television -- far from it -- but because it has survived seven seasons while strictly refusing to introspect, or even mildly improve. On our Indian television, which thrives on witches, shape-shifters, supernatural mothers-in-law and time-travelling curses, Naagin remains its own genre: a fever dream that keeps insisting it is part mythology, part fantasy and entirely entertaining.
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Naagin 7, which premiered last weekend, arrives with the confidence of a legacy brand that knows it doesn't need to make sense any more.
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