It wasn’t a surprise when the Netflix production Delhi crime, season one, was chosen as the best International mini-series in the Emmy awards of 2020. It was the unanimous opinion of all those who saw the first season that nothing in Indian television over the last four decades can be compared, even remotely, to the breathtaking intensity of the first season. Everything about the first series was flawless: the tautness of its script, the attention to detail, the sensitive portrayal of the viscerally revolting crime, the character sketches of those juvenile perpetrators from India’s underbelly, the controlled narrative that neither sensationalized nor diluted the horror of the act, the meticulous and well-directed research about the reality of the Indian police system, the sympathetic portrayal of the personal lives of the policemen and women who battle crime without adequate protection, resources or security, and, the near flawless performances of everyone in the crew, especially Shefali shah, who breathed life into the character of DCP Vartika Chaturvedi. Her performance will go down in television history as one of the finest ever in a police procedural. In all, the first season of Delhi crime was an extraordinary achievement. It changed the perception of Indian television forever.
To emulate the dramatic and technical perfection achieved in Season one was going to be a tough ask for anyone. But Richie Mehta, the Canadian-born filmmaker, nevertheless, decided to take the plunge. The first few minutes of season two sets the tone for the entire series: a palatial home in Delhi, two elderly couples relaxing after a meal, and all of a sudden, a sliver of a shadow whizzes past the latticed windows of the living room. It catches our attention. There is an intruder at home. What follows next is a CC TV footage of a violent bloodbath, that left me stunned (my hand literally froze midway between the cup of cashews on my lap to the mouth). In the next five episodes of the series, the pattern of brutal killings continues, and DCP Vartika’s team is again on the hunt for the killers who seem to follow the modus operandi of a murderous group that had terrorized Delhi in the early nineties with their unique signature of bludgeoning wealthy and elderly citizens to death and robbing their belongings. Clad in half-pants and Banians, and bodies smeared with oil to prevent anyone from gripping them., this group mercilessly killed for money and jewelry, and their victims were only wealthy and elderly people who happened to be alone and vulnerable in their multi-storied posh homes.
The police team from Season one continues into season two as well. Excellent performances by Rasika Dugal as inspector Neeti, the demure, soft-spoken IPS officer, still trying to balance the demands of family life with the professional imperatives of her police work; Rajesh Tailang ( director Richie’s Mehta’s muse) in the role of Inspector Bhupender remains the dedicated police officer, whose calm demeanor, off-hand observations and understated insights often open fresh doors to a fledging line of inquiry, and Adil Hussain sizzles as inspector Vijay, the resourceful and down-to-earth policeman, who does the legwork necessary to keep the investigation moving. Apart from this stellar cast and well-chiseled characters from Season one, season two introduces a corrupt policeman in the mix ( a type missing in the first season). Indian audiences can readily relate to this prototype – a police officer who aggrandizes wealth and tries to secure his future by using the inherent prejudices and loopholes in the system.
The underlying theme of Season two is an exploration of the motives of why people take to crime. Is it inherited or part of somebody’s intrinsic nature? Is it the result of a certain kind of nurturing or localized to specific communities and conditions of living? Or is crime, an inevitable consequence in a social system that is deliberately engineered to be economically unequal with a yawning gap between those who have and those who do not? We don’t know for sure. It could be a combination of these causes. Season two poses this question to us: Can even the most heinous of crimes have a justification that holds true in the eyes of the perpetrator? When the killer is finally apprehended, DCP Vartika listens to the story the killer confesses to. It is a tale of thwarted dreams and strangled ambitions. What could not be achieved legitimately is sought through violent means. Is that right or wrong? The pensive look in DCP Vartika’s eyes as she listens to the killer raises a thousand questions in the viewer’s mind. Shefali Shah is one of those very few gifted actors, who can convey myriad emotions through her eyes. She can express the essence of the character through her black and expressive pupils dancing in those expansive, widely set, lotus-shaped eyes. You can’t look at anything else on the screen, but her eyes, and that is usually enough to convey the emotional intensity and the meaning of the moment.
A great choice for an important role ( Latha Solanki/Karishma) in the drama is Tillotama Shome, the young and talented Bengali actor. I loved her work in the films “A death in the Gunj ” and the more recent “Sir”. Both these films got her Filmfare awards for her respective roles. The casting of Tillotama as the pivotal character in the second season is an ingenious move. The role she essays needed someone frail enough to appear harmless, and at the same time, one who possesses a streak of madness that knows no boundaries. I only wish Tillotama had more screen time than what she got in the series. However, she slowly takes center stage towards the later half of the season, but by that time we know how the story is going to play out.
Another remarkable aspect of both the Delhi crime seasons is the background music by Andrew Lockington, the Canadian music composer. Each frame is thoughtfully embellished with the right quality and quantity of music. Not a bar more or a bar less. And importantly, the music is non-intrusive and blends seamlessly with the screenplay. In a few scenes, the background score heightens the drama that would have otherwise passed off as mundane. Equally important is the work of Ohan Heurlin Aidt, the cinematographer of the series. His dimly lit photography adds to the mystery of the drama, though, in some scenes, the lighting could have been a little brighter. There is a gloomy feel to some of the episodes, which suits the story, but can be a trifle tiring to the eye, if you are binge-watching.
Overall, the second season does not disappoint. It may not be of the same quality as season one, but I don’t think that is a fair comparison to make, either. Season one touched a raw nerve in the Indian hearts and minds. The tragedy of Nirbhaya had to be told well and objectively, and the first season did just that. In Season two, the crime depicted is of a different order, but equally heart-breaking and relevant. A few months ago, we read about an elderly couple in Chennai who were hacked to death by their housekeepers as soon as they returned from their daughter’s home in the USA. The reason was money. With the rise in affluence in India and the breakdown of joint families, elderly parents often find themselves living alone, or with paid help. They are easy targets for theft and/or murder. It is also important to remember that in India, there is still a clear distinction in classes of people, the type of work they do, and the respect and dignity they get. In almost all middle-class, upper-middle class homes, servant maids or man servants are inevitably employed. Though their treatment, for all outward purposes, will seem fair and equal; dig a little deep, and you will find there are clear and marked distinctions – ‘I am the master, you are a worker, and as a worker, you are entitled to dream and possess only so much.’ Such conditions exist all over the globe in myriad shades and forms, not just in India. However, what is different in India is that it is still extremely difficult for those in the lower rungs of the economic order to move up the chain towards financial freedom and opportunities unless there is heavy state intervention, a stroke of luck, or propitious circumstances. The crime portrayed in the second season is triggered by vaulting ambition, the need to get out of the stranglehold of the current social status, and the craving to possess and enjoy the world as others with money and means do.
What was a little unsettling and disconcerting in the second season is the excessive use of English in a normal conversation between the principal characters. Nearly seventy-five percent of DCP Vartika’s dialogues are in English – not just the Indian colloquial variety, but rich, cultivated English. Many viewers in India may have to turn on the subtitles for an English-to- Hindi translation, otherwise, they run the risk of missing out on most of the dialogues and the plot. This is unfortunate, but I assume, the creators of the series were aiming to attract a global audience and therefore didn’t quite mind the bias towards English.
I switched on the series on Netflix today afternoon and watched all the episodes in about five hours. It was riveting enough to keep me moving from one episode to another. Never a dull moment. And watching Shefali shah at the peak of her abilities is a master class in acting. In the last few years, she has taken center stage and evolved into one of India’s finest actors. Her range, her poise, and her ability to bring to bear a certain gravitas to any role given to her reminds me of Katerine Hepburn during the seventies. Please do find time to watch Season 2 of Delhi crime.
I hope there is a third season in the works. I can’t wait for that to stream.
Piqued my interest and there goes a night of the long weekend. Now the series season 2 only has to compete with your brilliant write up about it.
Thanks, Anuttam, I am sure you will like the series.