SCAM 1992: A Time-Capsule of Crooked Ambition
The true rags-to-riches tale of a stockbroker, Scam 1992: The Harshad Mehta Story is a gripping chronicle of the corrupting power of ambition, as well as an astute commentary on an archaic financial system that both boosted and crippled India’s economy.
When we first meet Harshad Mehta, he is part of a lower middle-class Gujarati family in Bombay—as it was called back then—in the late 1970s, struggling to make a name for himself in the Bombay Stock Exchange. Nobody apart from his brother Ashwin takes him seriously. On the market floor of Dalal Street, he is confronted as a ‘jobber’ with a dismissive tone, spurring his ambitions.
Played by Pratik Gandhi, Mehta’s mannerisms and body language clue you into the show’s concern even before he utters the lines that serve as his mantra: “Risk hai to ishq hai” (If there’s risk, there’s love”).
The true rags-to-riches tale of a stockbroker, Scam 1992: The Harshad Mehta Story, now playing on SONYLIV, is a gripping chronicle of the corrupting power of ambition, as well as an astute commentary on an archaic financial system that both boosted and crippled India’s economy. The screenplay wounds tightly around the tense plot. And as the lead man, Gandhi is exceptional in his breakout role, while surrounded by a roster of superb performers.
Starting in 1979 and ending in 2001, Scam 1992 explores the life and crimes of an ambitious and smooth-talking Gujarati stockbroker who allegedly committed a fraud of Rs 1,000 to 4,000 crore on the banking system to buy stocks on the BSE, resulting in a market crash.
Gandhi infuses the role with belief. Watch his eyes during the multiple raids on Mehta’s swanky south Bombay high-rise, and he watches his empire crumble. As far as career-changing roles go, Scam 1992 should be for Gandhi what Satya (1998) was for Manoj Bajpayee.
The series, adapted from journalist duo Sucheta Dalal and Debashish Basu’s 1993 book The Scam: Who Won, Who Lost, Who Got Away, has very fine credentials. Directed by Hansal Mehta (director of critically-acclaimed films such as Shahid, Omerta, Aligarh and City Lights) and Jai Mehta, written by Sumit Purohit, Vaibhav Vishal, Karan Vyas and Saurav Dey, and featuring Kunal Walve as editor, it is an engaging re-telling of Harshad Mehta’s rise and fall and the massive scandal he orchestrated with the help of public sector banks and private financial institutions.
Most importantly, Scam 1992 has a well-crafted, well-balanced and subtly-structured narrative. The writing deserves credit for making this pivotal chapter in Indian history feel pertinent and fresh. Harshad Mehta’s chalice, we are told upfront, is poisoned, and his ambition and ability to rig the system is depicted without moralising. Those who support and loathe Mehta are not sentimental caricatures, but a blend of loyal and flawed human beings.
For a show about an economic scam that took place 30 years ago, the series refreshingly doesn’t infantilise its audience. Directors Hansal Mehta and Jai Mehta keep the tension simmering as the walls close in on the show’s lead man and his business, with fellow stockbrokers, government officials and vindictive bankers leading the witch hunt on Harshad Mehta.
Hansal Mehta’s direction across ten episodes is underscored by his usual distinctions and astute judgement, even in scenes which could have easily become banal—such as when a lower middle-class family headed by a stereotypical aging father bickers amongst itself in its tiny chawl residence, or at a tony A/C restaurant, or when Harshad Mehta’s fellow stockbrokers make jibes at him.
Gandhi, a stage actor who has appeared in several Gujarati films (notably as the lead in 2016’s Wrong Side Raju and in the 2018 Jackie Bhagnani-starrer Mitron) commands the series with the deftness of a 20-year veteran. He’s a versatile actor who had proven himself even before signing on to this show, and nails the nuances of Scam 1992’s titular character; just see how a smirk can reveal so many emotions, deftly displaying greed, ambition, vulnerability and frustration with an assurance. Even when at times he seems to channel Gordon Gecko from Wall Street and Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jordan Belfort from The Wolf of Wall Street, Gandhi never lets you forget who he is playing.
Watch him as, arms akimbo, he spouts confidence-coated lines about his assessment of success such as “Lala, old school ho ya new school, sabke school mein ek common subject hota hai … profit … aur voh mera favorite subject hai”, and “Share market itna gehra kuaan hai jo poore desh ke paise ki pyaas bhuja sakta hai”. In a lesser actor’s hands, such scenes might have come as obnoxious. But Gandhi infuses the role with belief. Watch his eyes during the multiple raids on Mehta’s swanky south Bombay high-rise, and he watches his empire crumble. As far as career-changing roles go, Scam 1992 should be for Gandhi what Satya (1998) was for Manoj Bajpayee.
The supporting cast is outstanding as well. Shreya Dhanwanthary as former The Times of India journalist Sucheta Dalal brings an earnestness to her character that was required, but not so easy to pull off. Whether confronting her superiors or chasing leads from sources or meeting Mehta face to face, Dhanwanthary’s protagonist does not waver from her intent which is the hallmark of dedicated journalists. She never softens on her stance towards Mehta, even when the narrative slowly drowns her out and the lens closes in on Gandhi’s theatrics.
Hemant Khar as Ashwin Mehta, Harshad’s brother, is the fleeting moral compass in the Mehta business and family who cannot rise above his sibling’s greed. He ends up playing second fiddle to Gandhi’s Harshad; and yet, Kher’s strong acting does not let you feel sympathetic to the character. Anjali Barot as Harshad Mehta’s wife emerges from the male-centric terrain as a spark of welcome positivity, and her faithfulness to her husband comes forth through her expressions.
Chirag Vohra, a familiar but under-used face in mainstream Hindi films, gets ample screen time and sinks his teeth into the character of Bhushan Bhatt. Watch his reaction when Harshad Mehta, to his face, dismisses his credentials as a business partner despite working for him for several years, or when he is interrogated by CBI officials. This is a fine but neglected actor reminding the industry what he can do on screen.
Faisal Rashid as Debashish Basu gets some of the show’s lighter dialogues and lends the narrative a perkiness which fits in very well amid the dark layers, while Jay Upadhay’s Pranav Sheth is a hoot, whether cracking one-liners on the stock market floor or dancing at an alcohol-less house party. Nikhil Dwivedi gets a chance to step out of the hero-aspirant cupboard and plays AS Thiagarajan, chief of Citibank’s investment banking in India, as a mix of cocky and controlling and looks the part. Despite being saddled with arguably the most caricaturist role of the show, Jaimini Pathak grabs your attention as Sitaraman and lets his eyes do a lot of talking.
It is also good to see Shadaab Khan, the late great Amjad Khan’s son, return to screen in a substantial role. And special mention for Rajat Kapoor, whose eye-catching cameo as hard-talking CBI official K Madhavan leaves you wishing he was around for more.
Whether intentional or not, the casting of several character actors who were very visible on television and in movies at the time the scam broke—the early 90s—adds an authentic, lived-in feel to the show: Ananth Mahadevan as Reserve Bank of India governor S Venkitaramanan, Viveck Vaswani as State Bank of India chairman MN Gorporia, KK Raina as Manohar Pherwani, Mamik Singh as a high-ranking Citibank suit and Kenny Desai as one of the investment bankers.
Crucial to any visual medium’s success is the cinematography, set design and background music and here too, the show aces it. The aerial shots of Bombay, the authentic locations and the smart placement of popular Hindi film songs of that era give to Scam 1992 the correct mood of the setting. Credit is due to the writers, cinematographer Pratham Mehta and editors Sumit Purohit for constructing a taut and engaging re-telling of a true story.
The constant references to the market and banking terms gets repetitive and the overload of idioms and metaphors is jarring at times, as are the references to Harshad Mehta being the Amitabh Bachchan of India’s stock market. While the vagaries of the BSE and the share and money market are at times tricky to understand—there are moments where one feels this is intentional, designed to confuse the layman viewer—the script and deft direction make the nitty-gritty bits of the stock market easier to digest. Underneath the intelligent storytelling there is also a surprisingly sharp and inclusive humor too, which is very welcome.
Does Scam 1992 take glamourise a man who was, by all accounts, a criminal? Yes, but it leaves the interpretation of the character to the viewer and does not take sides, which is another hallmark of this gripping series. While exposing the deep flaws in Indian banking in the late 80s and early 90s, which Harshad Mehta was able to maneuver in collusion with big players, the series shows its titular character as a highly ambitious man who used a faulty, outdated system to his advantage.
On the whole, Scam 1992 is an extremely well-written, acted, directed and picturised example of how to make a slice of modern India—read: post economic liberalization—feel relevant and fresh. The series allows the Indian OTT-consuming audience to mature, and that, in years to come, may end up being its very legacy.
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Jamie Alter is a sports writer and journalist in the digital world, having covered cricket around the world including three World Cups. After nearly five years working for ESPNcricinfo, Jamie served as Sports Editor of the Times of India Digital, Cricbuzz, Cricketnext and most recently as Group Sports Editor (Digital) at Zee Media. He also also authored two cricket-related books and dabbled in acting. You can find him on Twitter: @alter_jamie.
