One of the shows that slipped quietly beneath the undertow of the pandemic, only to claim a firm hold on the streaming landscape, was Undekhi, from Applause Entertainment, on SonyLIV. Led by a formidable ensemble, the series opened a window into a harsh criminal underbelly set against the hills: unflinching, pulpy, and propelled by its appetite for shock and narrative turns. Six years on, with its fourth season on the horizon, Undekhi has outgrown the charge of mere cheap thrills. Beyond its surface of violence lies a deeper inquiry, into cycles that refuse to break, inheritances of trauma that outlive those who bear them, and the uneasy question of whether the past is ever truly escapable, or simply deferred.In an exclusive conversation with SCREEN, the principal cast: Surya Sharma, Harsh Chhaya, Varun Badola, and Gautam Rode, reflect on these tensions. They consider, too, the uneasy line between portrayal and glorification: when the screen fills with men who wield violence with impunity, does it simply illuminate, or does it risk seduction?Excerpts edited for clarity and brevity Gautam, as a new entrant into the world of Undekhi and the Atwals, what drew you to this narrative, and what distinct energy do you bring to it?It’s a gangster saga where every character exists in shades of grey. There are no purely “good” or “white-collar” people here. Everyone is flawed in their own way, which is what makes the world so compelling. That’s what really excited me when I was first approached for the project. Coming to my character, I can’t reveal too much right now, but what I can say is that he’s indirectly connected to the Atwals. He’s essentially a businessman who finds himself cornered in a difficult situation, primarily because he needs financial backing. That’s where things get complicated. He ends up caught between two powerful groups and the crux of his journey lies in whether he can navigate this situation, play along with their games, or find a way to break free from it.Season 3 closed on a note that felt both poetic and conclusive. Did that give you any concern that continuing the story might risk exhausting its narrative force?Harsh: While we were making the series, the intent from the production team was never to conclude the story with the third season. It might have felt that way to some viewers, that this was the end, but that was never the plan. At a certain point, though, you have to look at how the story is being perceived. In the first season, things are unfolding; in the second, the momentum continues. But over time, it can start to feel like this world of gangsters, violence, the stylised shots, the “dishum-dishum” is being glorified simply because it’s entertaining. And that’s where responsibility in storytelling comes in. You can’t let it seem like this lifestyle is consequence-free or acceptable. Characters like these need to face repercussions. They need to be stopped, to learn, to confront the outcomes of their choices. So, what you’re seeing in that phase of the story is essentially consequence, what you might call poetic justice. It’s a reminder that no matter how clever someone thinks they are, or how often they believe they can outrun the law, but not life.Surya: To add to that, it was quite shocking for me to see how things unfold in Season 4. For three seasons, I was aligned with Papa Ji (Harsh), but now we find ourselves on opposing sides. That shift in dynamic was exciting to explore. Moreover, the relationship between Papa Ji and my character, Rinku, has always been at the heart of Undekhi.Story continues below this ad Harsh Chhaya spoke about whether Undekhi glorifies gangsters.Also Read | Raj & DK reveal dark alternate ending of Shor in the City, how they almost cast Ethan Hawke: ‘He might have been dead’Picking up on something Harsh said, gangster stories often draw us into empathising with those we might otherwise condemn. Do you think that empathy is dangerous, or is it necessary to understand how violence and power truly operate?Varun: I don’t think empathy is essential. It’s really about drama, if you get the emotional pitch right, everything else follows. I’m not sure whether the audience needs to empathise with these gangsters, sometimes yes, sometimes no. But a compelling narrative is enough. Take, for instance, a story that begins with a man shooting a girl in the head, and yet you continue watching every episode. Why? Not because you empathise with him, but because you want to see whether he is brought to justice.Harsh: At the end of the day, they are all human beings making choices of various kinds, and those choices carry consequences. The gangster world is merely a backdrop, they could just as easily have been a family of industrialists, or anyone else. What we are really portraying are human relationships, not necessarily glorifying these individuals. And, as you yourself rightly pointed out, by the end of Season 3, they all begin to pay their dues.Story continues below this adBut do you think our screens have lately been crowded with vengeful men, where empathy and accountability seem to recede from the narrative?Gautam: A lot of it depends on what audiences want to watch, and also on what is currently working in the market. It’s not as if only one kind of content is being made, these stories move forward because people are engaging with them and enjoying them in a certain way. Naturally, when something becomes popular, that’s when you see second, third, or fourth seasons being commissioned, or films expanding into part one, part two, and part three. At the end of the day, it all comes down to audience response, what people are watching, what is being talked about.Harsh: That said, there are also widely loved stories on OTT platforms that move in entirely different directions. Shows like Panchayat, Aspirants, and Kota Factory demonstrate that audiences are receptive to a range of tones and genres. Ultimately, it is a matter of a production choosing to tell a particular story at a particular moment.Varun: See, when it comes to films, though, everything tends to follow what you might call the “flavour of the month.” A film like Saiyaara succeeds, and suddenly there’s a rush to write romance. Before those scripts are even finished, something like Dhurandhar arrives and shifts the current again. The industry, in that sense, is often reactive, one success sets a pattern, and several others follow. But the impulse ought to be simpler: tell a good story. Instead of pursuing trends or formulas, the focus should return to storytelling itself. Only then can we begin to understand what audiences truly want.Story continues below this ad Varun Badola said that in the industry, people often chase formulaic storytelling.Also Read | ‘Assi has the least cheese’: Anubhav Sinha defends his ‘uncompromising’ film, says 1.2 mn viewers braved its ‘disturbing’ realitySpeaking specifically of OTT, do you think it is drifting towards exhaustion, perhaps a certain safety in storytelling?Surya: Yes, for sure. Audiences are craving authenticity. A show like Undekhi works because it remains true to its world, say, much like Jamtara. But what we’re also seeing is a surge of thrillers, and many of them begin to resemble one another. You wouldn’t believe it, shows have started to look and feel similar. They may be on different platforms, but the storylines are often the same. I would call this a kind of creative corruption.Harsh: At the same time, it isn’t easy to build original worlds one after another. Writers need time, time to observe, to reflect, and to write. Story continues below this adSurya: And we’re not always giving that pace to voices outside the usual circles. There are writers from places like Kanpur, and countless other regions, who have stories to tell, but they’re not always given the opportunity.Varun: It’s quite clear that we’ve, in some ways, moved away from our own narrative roots. Since perhaps the ’60s, we haven’t consistently drawn from the richness of Indian writing. Many people today aren’t even familiar with our literary voices. You end up making something like a film on Manto only when the budget is small, because larger productions rarely want to take that risk.