Shekhar Home: Kay Kay Menon's High-Wire Act Singlehandedly Elevates This Indian Sherlock Holmes Adaptation

What rescues Shekhar Home from drab, uninteresting cases, and unremarkable supporting actors in plainclothes, is the conviction of the performances of Kay Kay Menon and Ranvir Shorey.

Still from Shekhar Home. Image via Jio Cinema

“JAISE logon ke andar pacemaker hota hai, mere andar lie detector hai”, Shekhar Home, the protagonist, declares repeatedly in Jio Cinema’s adaptation of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. Home is, in the truest spirit of the character, finicky, uncommon and of course a bit of an unverified genius. In this version, he asserts that last part a fair bit. The Indian-isation of the prodigious global phenomenon is often murky and sensitive territory. We simply don’t view cerebral genius and their attendant individuality, the way the West does. It makes Holmes both tantalising and daunting. A character so fascinating yet so removed from our shared sense of social economics, he’d be considered a bigger freak than the ones he is tasked with chasing. But where there is Kay Kay Menon, there may never be utter disappointment.

Menon plays Shekhar Home, the Holmes of this particular adaptation. He is aided by Ranvir Shorey’s Saini, a capable ex-military man who becomes his ‘slow’ sidekick. Part of the fun has always been the one-sided dynamic between the duo. We see Holmes through Watson’s eyes and here the grudging admiration continues. “Pagal hai kya” a person screams at the sight of Home sniffing random objects on the street. “Nahi genius hai,” Saini interjects. Both Saini and Home, hit it off, open their own private agency and dally their way into local folklore by unlocking a bunch of sticky mysteries. A lot of the tropes of the original BBC series have been imported – a begrudging brother, a catabolic love interest, a sworn nemesis.

Set in the fictional town of Lonpur, Bengal the climate of the show anticipates the incoming wave of globalisation. There is a dreamy restaurant in town, colonial marvels, and the hint of sophistication that the British might have left behind. As to why this period, specifically, there could be theories. Maybe it makes the drama look intense, if the world itself is chaperoned by a stillness of sorts. When everything feels unhurried, rustic and nostalgic, injecting it with the quick-fire mouth of a self-proclaimed mastermind lifts it towards colour, conflict and dramatic tension. It makes the well-read, literate genius stand out. But this rural setting is then urged to consider the existence of psychotropic drugs, complex chemicals and people trained enough to weaponise them. It’s a bit of a time-warped mess.

Created by Aniruddha Guha and directed by Rohan Sippy, Shekhar Home rarely shifts its feet. It feels like a landmark-by-landmark map of a world that never fully comes into being. We rarely get that sense of immersion. There are of course, localising tropes. A case, for example, deals with a sex tape with political ramifications. It’s one of those truly 90s things, this emergence of sexuality as a political firearm. But beyond this cached list of memories, few of the show’s physical traits transport you to the era. Even Home’s clothes, a bizarre mix of what looks like beach shirts and denim, feels a tad askew. Again, the effort applied to make him visibly stand out undermines the earthiness that an Indian version might have demanded.

But what rescues Shekhar Home from drab, uninteresting cases, and unremarkable supporting actors in plainclothes, is the conviction of the performances. Both Shorey and Menon seem to be having fun, sleuthing their way through the sludge of myths and mystery. To both, this feels like a theatrical routine. This sense of creating drama when the scale doesn’t quite comply with the promise. You can tell that the adaptation couldn’t exactly furnish lavish sets and expansive budgets. But it is precisely the thing that allows the two to thrive. Not a lot of wit is provided on paper, but both Menon and Shorey make it look un-engineered, almost impulsive. It’s that unique ability to make the staleness of something smell like the uncooked freshness of something else. Add to that convincing turns by Rasika Dugal and Kirti Kulhari. At least in the casting of these totemic characters, Shekhar Home pulls off a decent feat.

With 40-minute episodes, the show is breezy, heightened by Menon’s high-wire act of singlehandedly elevating the show. But what the show delivers in terms of rolling cases, it loses in while trying to exact a sort of bible for similar adaptations. Conan Doyle’s works can never not be watchable, but the success of the BBC adaptation lay in the extent of its humanisation; pitting Holmes squarely against sexual, social and political anxieties. It allowed that transition from whimsical fiction to relatable fact. Moments that ground a titular literary fantasy, a superhuman of sorts into our midst. Shekhar Home might have established that geographical setting but it can’t quite establish the relationships, the histories, and the nuances of the humanity within. Accidents happen, secrets unload, mysteries present themselves and even though they hark back to a sense of experience, there is precious little to suggest it’s the one we are watching. And not the one we wish it was. Both, however, deserve the same Menon.

Shekhar Home is now streaming on Jio Cinema

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