If Shagird had a tag-line, it would read: Cop eat cop, and then some. Director Tigmanshu Dhulia's Shagird is a sly ensemble drama of deadly, neurotic vipers who come in khaki, khadi and other varieties. Usual stuff. But the story that Dhulia lays out to establish this is complicated, at times intriguingly so, but sometimes needlessly twisted.

This is a world were orders are shouted on the phone and at the other end someone shoots to kill. There’s always money to be made and opponents to kill. There are few loyalties and fewer qualms. The film’s action is frenzied and its body-count impressive. But Shagird stops short of being a good film — it buckles before reaching the finish-line, under information overload and voltage fluctuation.
We get violent, episodic introductions to all the main characters. A goonda, Bunty Bhaiyya (Anurag Kashyap), is arrested and is thrown in jail. But he has a direct line to politician Rajmani Singh (Zakir Hussain) around whom there is much puffery. Rajmani, however, has little time for a goonda in jail.
Then there is senior inspector Hanumant Singh (Nana Patekar). A hit-man for Rajmani and sundry land mafia dons, he works with a compliant and trigger-happy team of three junior cops — they obey him because he makes money and shares with them.
Hanumant dangles some endearing baubles. One is his family, wife and son, whom he is trying to send off to New Zealand, and the other is his love for old Bollywood songs. During each encounter, at every meeting, Hanumant gets distracted by an old song, hums along, rattles off the film’s name, star cast, music composer and lyricist. This part of him we instantly connect with, and are happily tickled. But then there’s overkill.
One new recruit, Mohit (Mohit Alawat), joins Hanumant’s team. He seems different. He won’t take paap ka paisa, or orders that are out of line. Mohit has a friend, Varsha Mathur (Rimi Sen), a TV reporter we meet during Hanumant’s first shootout.
Three journalists, including Varsha, are kidnapped. The case is handed over to Hanumant. One journalist is bumped off and the kidnappers’ demands are met — Bunty Bhaiyya and two Lashkar operatives are released from Tihar jail.
Rajmani is worried about who is trying to get Bunty out and why, so he sends Hanumant to find out and kill Bunty. Hanumant, however, has another plan. But so does his shagird. Many more bullets are pumped into many more bodies as the film hurtles towards its climax that is both whimsical and silly.  
Shagird is a game of Bluff Tigmanshu Dhulia has decided to play with us. He encourages us to believe one thing, goads us in a particular direction, only to startle us with a different reality. His is a cunning narrative, and he doesn’t leave too many clues. We know we are dealing with Reservoir Dogs, but are clueless about what they are up to. 
This works in part, because Shagird’s cynical outlook is in synch with the current mood of sab saale chor hain. But then, too much happens and not all of it is relevant or interesting, like the cursory peep into Mohit’s personal life. And sometimes Dhulia takes on stuff he has no skill for — like the embarrassingly bad kidnapping episode.
Though the film’s two main twists were rather nice, for a large part of the film I felt like I was being towed around a world that was familiar but altogether foul.
The film has dramatic scenes, some very funny lines, and yet I felt disconnected. Partly because all the character are two-faced, and because by the end of it I had what I call thain-thain fatigue.
Shagird has a thing for Nana Patekar. His Hanumant Singh has traces of his own Sadhu Agashe from Ab Tak Chhappan and Delhi’s notorious (now late) ACP Rajbir Singh. Hanumant wheedles and bullies by turns, and has an amusing touch of the absurd. He even has witty dialogues that Nana delivers in his typical dead-pan style. But Nana overdoes it and starts looking like a caricature we’ve met before.
The film has a very able gang of supporting actors, including Anurag Kashyap, but excluding the sulky Mohit Ahlawat. If there’s one reason to watch Shagird, it is Zakir Hussain. He finally has a role that somewhat matches his calibre. His Rajmani is loathsome yet sparkling.