In the new series Poacher, Richie Mehta’s commitment to keeping things grounded gets tested around halfway into the show. Based on a real-life case in 2015, which resulted in India’s most successful ivory raid ever, Mehta’s show builds up to the character of ‘Poonam Verma’ – a Delhi-based art dealer.
Given the number of times we hear her name in the initial episodes, no one would’ve blamed Mehta for casting a more recognisable face. Instead, Mehta (and casting director Mukesh Chhabra) opt for Sapna Sand – who only recently appeared in Rajkumar Hirani’s Dunki (2023) in a less-significant role and known for blending into the background.
Sand’s casting is a masterstroke for someone who operates from the shadows, hiding in plain sight, and looking unmistakably ordinary. But she’s more than capable at what she does; she plays Verma with the right amount of entitlement, hubris and stickiness, a popular combination among the affluent folks of South Delhi.
As one of the main antagonists of the show, Sand’s character alternates between victim, negotiator, bully and gangster. She’s convincing when she says she doesn’t know anything, but the facade breaks as soon as it becomes clear that her daughter might be involved in the case.
Verma is excellent at playing chess with her interrogators, trying to cut a deal with them, intimidating them and finally confessing to (some of) her sins. Tiny bits of information trickle out when she realises that cops won’t back off.
It’s in the final two episodes, when Poacher gains maximum momentum – especially when it enters (and then exits) a dingy East Delhi suburb. Mehta, who earlier made the dense Delhi Crime (2019) – set in the aftermath of the 2012 Delhi gangrape – seems to have developed a liking for exacting procedurals. After chronicling the efforts of the Delhi Police, Mehta turns his gaze towards Kerala’s forest department and cases of elephant poaching and ivory smuggling.
Compared to terrorism, narcotics, child-trafficking – one might not take wildlife conservation as seriously, or look at poaching as something as sinister. However, Mehta insists (more than once) ivory smugglers are as dangerous and violent as any other criminal, especially given the involvement of the Yakuza (Japanese mafia) and Triads (Chinese organised crime syndicate).
Poacher begins with a close-up of an elephant (it’s computer-generated, but to the credit of the VFX team it’s not immediately apparent). We’re allowed to witness the majesty of the creature, shortly after which they’re shot dead – bringing us front and centre to the beastliness of the act.
A forest watcher shows up at the doorstep of the forest department, and claims that he helped poach 18 elephants. Officially, no poaching has happened in more than two decades, and yet only after a whistleblower alerts them does the department swing into action.
Mala (Nimisha Sajayan) and Alan (Roshan Mathew) are reassigned by the field director Neel Banerjee (Dibyendu Bhattacharya, finally given a role worth his busy presence), to investigate the case of poaching and to track down the ivory smugglers.
Delhi Crime was criticised for how it painted Delhi Police in a sympathetic light, something Mehta seems to have taken into consideration while writing Poacher because the show seems extremely distrusting of the officials.
Banerjee keeps emphasising on how the operation needs to be tight, and people should be told about the developments on a ‘need to know’ basis. There’s a fascinating sequence in episode two, when Alan explains the “storytelling” behind call data records, and how it helps them triangulate the position of a main suspect.
Like in Delhi Crime, even here Mehta gets down and dirty into the bureaucracy and the broken system of India’s law enforcement system. Shown to be operating from deep-seated corruption, Mehta makes sure to convey that such breakthroughs are the exception rather than the norm.
Just as Vartika Chaturvedi in Delhi Crime, Mehta finds his protagonist in a woman in a man’s world. Mala – an animal lover, tirelessly works for mother nature around her. The first scene sees her rebuking a subordinate for slacking at his watch tower and missing an important bit of information.
As soon as she’s recruited by Banerjee, Mala works fiercely, showing up at home only for a few hours, having her meals and bit-conversations with her mother about personal obligations, only to leave again. Sajayan, acclaimed for her work in Malayalam and Tamil films, brings intensity to her part. However, there’s little individuality to her, which never quite lets the character breathe outside the genre conventions.
Mala’s character is saddled with a ‘past’, where her father used to be a poacher, which is supposed to neatly tie the threads with why she’s so personally invested in the well-being of the animals. It feels like a narrative shortcut, like abetting a male cop with a drinking problem and marital discord, only to show his brilliance in the workplace.
Comparatively, Roshan Mathew’s Alan gets the more balanced, comprehensive domestic dynamic. Working as a computer programmer with a wildlife NGO, Alan also moonlights as a wildlife crime fighter.
Based in Delhi, Alan shows up to his hometown only to head to his workplace even before telling his wife and son about his trip home. Time is of the essence, and Alan needs to balance his responsibility as a wildlife crime fighter, as much as a husband/father.
Mathew is excellent in most parts of the show – as someone more comfortable in his office surroundings, but someone who shows nerves and is on his toes as a husband/father during social occasions.
There’s a thrilling sequence, when he takes off from a wedding celebration for an hour to attend a work meeting, without his wife noticing. It tells us what an all-consuming job this really is, everything else has to take a backseat each and every time. How does anyone keep a sense of ‘normalcy’ in such an orbit?
The best part of Poacher is Bhattacharya – whose Neel Banerjee is meticulous, watchful, passionate, foul-mouthed, eager, and funny all at once. There’s a running gag about him calling his highly-placed bureaucrat friends for favours, starting with “I’ve never asked anything of you till date, but….”
Bhattacharya, who has rarely been afforded such a primary character, is relaxed, busy, efficient one after the other, making his movements seem almost instinctive. His character Banerjee is seen battling with a health condition – which feels like an affectation on an already solid character – but Bhattacharya brings an underlying pathos to the character. “Go, work on your marriage,” he tells Alan at one point, “My wife has even stopped asking me. That’s the worst.”
Poacher joins a small niche in Hindi cinema that seem to explore ecological issues within the confines of a mainstream thriller, including Amit Masurkar’s Sherni (2021) and Sameer Saxena’s Kaala Paani (2023). However, what remains encouraging about the show is how effortlessly it switches between Malayalam, Hindi, Bengali and English, almost like it was second nature.
Mehta’s cynicism with the state of the nation shows up in the series’ staggering finale, including the horrors of mobs and a thrilling chase sequence where law enforcement officials become the prey of TV vultures. The creator doesn’t indulge his characters’ victory lap for too long, instead cutting to a closed-door meeting in Banerjee’s office – taking place around the same time as the press conference to announce their haul from the East Delhi safe house. Over here, Banerjee hands a list of all potential buyers, the roots of this barbaric industry, to the CBI.
Most people here are politicians, power brokers, billionaire industrialists. The CBI official sighs, takes the list off their hands and gives them assurances. Banerjee, Mala and Alan know exactly what it means deflating their lifelong zeal. “We’ll look into it”, he says. How often have we heard this lie?
Poacher is now streaming on Amazon Prime.
