Tahir Raj Bhasin on ‘Yeh Kaali Kaali Ankhein’: ‘If I had to draw an analogy, Vikrant is like a stray dog’

What does it take to slip into the shoes of a villain? How does an actor come to terms with a character's twisted actions? How does one subvert the typical macho man persona and embrace vulnerability instead? Are we all chasing illusions?

These are the big questions that had me tossing and turning at night. So, I sat down with Tahir Raj Bhasin to figure out what makes his character Vikrant, in the Netflix thriller series Yeh Kaali Kaali Aankhein, tick. We ended up having a chat that felt more like a therapy session, and then some.

Edited excerpts from the conversation.

Congratulations, first of all, on the second season of Yeh Kaali Kaali Ankhein. A good first season often becomes a tough act to follow. When it came to you initially— what attracted you to the character of Vikrant and how did you approach him?

Thank you! You’re absolutely right; season two always comes with the pressure to live up to the first. Leading up to its release, there was definitely some stress about whether we could meet those expectations. Every post I made over the last two years, whether personal or for another project, was met with one question, "When is season 2 coming?" So, to live up to that hype was intense. But now, I’m just relieved and excited. A lot of people are saying they prefer season two, or that it’s just as strong as the first, which means we’ve broken the dreaded "second season curse."

As for Vikrant, I loved the dramatic, pulp-inspired writing—it’s an ode to ‘90s Bollywood. The mix of international influences and the setting in India’s heartland was compelling. It’s a relatable story about one-sided love gone wrong, with a gender subversion. In Indian cinema, we typically see the hero falling for the heroine, which may turn romantic or dark depending on the genre. But this show subverts that, as I’m romancing not one, but two actresses, with a twist. For season one, I wanted to keep Vikrant earnest, showing his vulnerabilities, with his main goal being to live a simple, ideal life. He wants a small house, a garden — a peaceful existence. But life doesn’t go that way. His problems are far from ordinary. At his core, he's just an everyday guy caught in extraordinary circumstances, and that made him fascinating to play and watch.

Speaking of influences, the show has some clear nods to Shah Rukh Khan’s work, especially from the ‘90s. His romance and his psychosis, like the Baazigar reference and the twist on the famous 'Palat' moment. How did Shah Rukh’s style influence your preparation for the role, if at all?

I think I have to start by acknowledging the profound influence Shah Rukh Khan has had on me, even before I got into acting. I’m from Delhi, went to the Barry John Acting School, and grew up watching his films. There was always this dreamer-turned-superstar aura about him that motivated me. He wasn’t just the charming romantic hero; he also played anti-heroes and evolved with time. This show pays tribute to that genre, but grounds it in today’s reality.

One of Vikrant’s first scenes is very Romeo-and-Juliet — he proposes to his love with a ring, despite not having a job. It’s universal; any Shah Rukh Khan fan would get the reference. There’s also the 'Palat' moment, but here, it’s subverted — if she’s obsessed, she’ll look back. That twist on a classic moment is a fascinating mix of homage and innovation. Similarly, the title Yeh Kaali Kaali Ankhein, originally a love song, takes on a darker meaning — of surveillance and voyeurism, reflecting the power structures that constantly watch Vikrant, especially in season two, where he’s being tracked and monitored in ways that go far beyond his initial struggles.

Tahir Raj Bhasin as VikrantNetflix

The show also plays with gender expectations. Vikrant, in contrast to the typical macho hero, is vulnerable and fumbling. How do you navigate masculinity in this context, particularly as the portrayal of masculinity has shifted in recent years?

That’s a really insightful question. The show resonates with such a wide audience because it tackles masculinity and vulnerability in a modern way. We’ve seen an influx of macho characters in cinema lately, but Vikrant is far from that. He’s flawed and figuring it all out as he goes. What I try to bring to the role is the message that it’s okay to be imperfect. Whether you’re a man or woman, from any social class, we all can relate to vulnerability. Vikrant wants to be James Bond, but doesn’t quite know how to get there, which is both funny and relatable. His impulsive decisions in season one lead to the consequences explored in season two, where he takes charge but remains haunted by uncertainty and guilt. It’s a fine balance — he’s a violent hero, but there’s always a part of him that’s questioning his actions. That human complexity is what makes him compelling.

In season one, Vikrant is more of a victim, and in season two, he shifts toward being an aggressor. Yet, despite his manipulation and constant facade, you still manage to make him empathetic. How do you strike that balance in your performance?

It’s all about staying true to the character's core. I’m not consciously thinking, "I need the audience to empathise." Instead, I focus on Vikrant’s original intentions, which were earnest—he never wanted to be in this situation. Take the scene in which he talks to Saurabh Shukla’s character about not wanting to marry his daughter because he has bigger dreams. Social media often floods me with advice on how Vikrant should have handled things differently, which I take as a huge compliment. It shows the audience is invested and engaged with the plot. But coming back to empathy, it’s about playing Vikrant’s core need: freedom. He wants to be with the love of his life, and that drive, despite his flaws, is what keeps the empathy intact. As Vikrant navigates his increasingly complex world, his vulnerability, even as he makes manipulative choices, helps the audience connect with him.

If I had to draw an analogy, Vikrant is like a stray dog. When he's a puppy, he's friendly and trusting, but if he's raised in an environment where people throw stones at him, he becomes a much different animal. Vikrant's reactions are shaped by how others treat him. In season two, he’s backed into a corner, and it becomes a kill-or-be-killed situation. That’s why you see him constantly masking his true feelings. The only people who get to see his true self are his family. He’s a dhobi ka kutta—neither here nor there (laughs).

What is your favourite scene from this season?

I’d have to say the bathroom scene is one of my favourites. It was incredibly challenging to play. Vikrant doesn’t approach it like a hitman or gangster— he’s just an ordinary guy who stumbles into an extraordinary situation. He’s dealing with a problem he doesn’t know how to fix, and you can see his second-guessing and guilt. The dark humour in the scene — intercut with a happy wedding — adds a layer of subversion. It’s not about rage; it's a knee-jerk defence reaction. If things had gone differently, Vikrant might have tried to talk it out.

Another favourite is the interrogation scene with Gurmeet Choudhary and Saurabh Shukla. That scene was particularly challenging because it was the first thing we shot after two years. It made me realise the different dynamics Vikrant has with each character, wearing different masks with all of them. It was a great exercise in showing guilt and uncertainty, but also maintaining the facade he’s built.

You mentioned the knee-jerk reaction, and I want to touch upon that in relation to Vikrant's actions. You often see him with this "buffering" expression, as though he's thinking about what to do next, what lie he just told, and what he's going to say again. Was that something you brought to the character, or was it written in the script?

What you call the “buffering” expressions — those silences of doubt — were a collaborative effort. While it wasn’t directly written, Sidharth Sengupta, our director, wanted to keep those moments. In a world where everything is constantly moving, those pauses show Vikrant’s vulnerability and flaws. It’s crucial to maintain that tension between who he wants to be and who he’s becoming. He’s not a gangster, yet.

It’s interesting you say that, because from season one to season two, we have seen Vikrant make more questionable decisions. What was off-chance is now off-choice. I want to ask you — because he talks about the “small house” dream — do you think he would be content with the small life? He's not a gangster yet, but I think he has all the makings of one.

Wow. I feel like we're in therapy. These are really deep questions. I think his idea of utopia is a mirage. His idea of utopia is always slipping further from his grasp. Season 2 sees him fumbling as he goes darker, but with the help of others, he starts getting better at it. He once wanted a simple life, but now that he’s tasted power, it’s unclear whether he would still be satisfied with his old dreams. What hasn’t changed is his moral compass. He may cross the line, but his sense of right and wrong remains strong, even as he becomes more entangled in the system he despises.

Is Tahir rooting for Vikrant?

Absolutely. It’s essential to empathise with him, even though his actions become increasingly morally ambiguous. It's that complexity that makes him so compelling.

What was the one reaction that will always stay with you?

Sidharth Sengupta’s direction to me was that your eyes need to communicate more than the dialogue because in those silences, they're going to want to know what's going on.

I met someone at the airport soon after season two was released. And they said, you know, we love the style and we love your dialogue delivery, but what we enjoy the most are the silences. And that is, to me, the biggest compliment I've gotten so far.