RAAKH : Not for the faint-hearted.

RAAKH: Not for the faint-hearted. Not for the binge-happy. (Amazon Prime)

It’s dark. It’s depressing. It’s dreadful.

And that’s precisely why Raakh finds a place among the finest crime dramas I have watched so far.

It comfortably sits in the same league as Asur, Delhi Crime, Kohrra, Undekhi, Paatal Lok, Suzhal: The Vortex and Tabbar.

When the creative force behind Paatal Lok is holding the baton, one expects quality. Raakh doesn’t disappoint.

Though inspired by the infamous Ranga-Billa case, calling Raakh merely a crime thriller would be doing it a disservice. This is a psychological crime thriller. It goes beyond the investigation and ventures into a far more disturbing territory: the anatomy of a criminal mind. It attempts to answer a deeply uncomfortable question: How does a human being become capable of such unspeakable cruelty?

The answers it offers are neither pleasant nor reassuring.

The casting director deserves a standing ovation for assembling such a formidable ensemble. Sonali Bendre is simply brilliant. She conveys pain, resilience and vulnerability with remarkable restraint. Rakesh Bedi leaves a lasting impact despite his brief appearance.

But the cake, the bakery, and perhaps the entire confectionery industry are taken away by Aakash Makhija.

This is the first time I have watched him perform, and what a terrifying introduction it is. He doesn’t merely portray cruelty; he becomes cruelty personified. His performance is so chilling that he may soon top the “Most Hated Character” charts despite doing absolutely nothing wrong except acting brilliantly. His sidekick is equally effective, creating a duo that could make your nightmares seek therapy.

The makers deserve immense credit for recreating the 1970s with such authenticity. The sepia-toned visual treatment lends a documentary-like realism to the narrative. The cinematographer deserves a bow. The production designers deserve applause. The editor too has done an admirable job.

Having said that, the frequent toggling between timelines occasionally feels like being trapped inside a time machine with a faulty gearbox. Just when you settle into one era, you’re catapulted into another. Effective at first, but mildly unnerving when overused.

Among the many creative liberties taken by the writers, one choice puzzled me. I struggled to understand why a caste/religion angle was inserted into the screenplay. The story is already powerful, disturbing and gripping enough to stand firmly on its own. It hardly required an additional layer of social commentary to keep the audience invested.

What surprised me most was that I couldn’t binge-watch it.

Not because it wasn’t good.

Because it was.

The atmosphere is relentlessly bleak. Every episode leaves behind an emotional residue that demands a pause before proceeding further. Unlike many OTT thrillers that entice you to hit “Next Episode,” Raakh occasionally compels you to hit “Pause” and stare silently at the ceiling.

So here’s my recommendation:

If your idea of entertainment involves gravity-defying heroes, machine-gun action, and villains patiently waiting for the hero to finish his speech before attacking, this may not be your cup of tea.

But if your gut can withstand the wrenching reality of meaningless, mindless and macabre violence, and if you are willing to confront the darkest corners of the human psyche, then Raakh is a hauntingly rewarding watch.

Perhaps that’s why it’s called Raakh.

The fire of the crime may have been extinguished decades ago, but its ashes still float in our collective memory. The series ends, yet it refuses to end inside your head.

Like embers, it keeps smouldering.

And sometimes, embers burn longer than flames.