The first time we see Ali Fazal as Sub-Inspector Jayprakash Jatav in Prosit Roy’s Raakh, he is answering a question on the committee that drafted the Constitution. “BR Ambedkar...,” he begins. This scene neatly captures the larger politics of the crime drama, where Fazal plays a Dalit cop. The exploration of caste does not emerge only from the outside world; it is equally shaped by his relationship with his father, Ghanshyam (Rakesh Bedi), a retired constable who remains wary of Jayprakash’s aspirations. In this sense, Raakh belongs to the same category as Kathal and Dahaad, where Dalit characters occupy positions of authority while navigating their own journeys and solving crimes that lay bare the brutal realities of the country.
At its core, Raakh is a procedural drama inspired by the infamous Ranga-Billa case that shook Delhi in 1978. Running across two parallel timelines, the series offers no major plot twists. Instead, within the story of the brutal murder of Army officer Ashok Arora’s (Aamir Bashir) two children, Suman Arora (Divya Sharma) and Sahil Arora (Vivaan Sharma), by Rajjo (Ramandeep Yadav) and Babu (Akash Makhija), the series examines how violence takes shape within specific social realities. The backstory of Rajjo and Babu, revealed in one timeline, traces how two marginalised petty thieves become ruthless killers. Rajjo is the reluctant criminal, while Babu is the strategist who drives the crimes forward.
The Delhi of 1978 is serene yet brutal. The atmosphere throughout the series is eerily ghostly, with memories of the Emergency surfacing every now and then. A poster at the bus station where the Arora children are kidnapped reads Hum Do, Hamare Do, a smart reference to Sanjay Gandhi’s mass vasectomy campaign, which also anchors the series’ exploration of masculinity. Rajjo is a victim of forced vasectomy and is constantly mocked by Babu, eventually resigning himself to brutal crimes in an attempt to prove his masculinity.
Even though the series was headlined by Sonali Bendre, who plays Mona Arora, the children’s mother, and Fazal, Bendre is given little to do, leaving her potential underutilised. Fazal, meanwhile, is phenomenal. Sporting the thick moustache often associated with policemen, he inhabits the role with a body language that suggests years of practiced effort. The true standout, however, is Aamir Bashir as a troubled father. Despite limited screen time, his scenes anchor much of the emotional world of parents who have lost their children.
In the end, Raakh is less a whodunit than a study of what makes violence possible. The murders at its centre cast a long shadow, but the series is ultimately concerned with the people left in their wake. In tracing their journeys, it offers a portrait of 1970s Delhi that feels both historically specific and unsettlingly familiar.