Akshay Sharma Paatal | Lok

His murders are ritualistic. He makes his victims kneel (a reversal of caste hierarchy where Dalits are forced to bow) and slits their throats. This paper interprets this as a form of “upside-down justice”—a literal beheading of the patriarchal, upper-caste head of the family. However, the paper also acknowledges the tragedy: In killing the rapists, Akshay also kills the men’s innocent family members (mother, sister). This moral ambiguity is deliberate. Paatal Lok refuses to sanitize Dalit rage; it shows that oppression, when internalized, can produce a monster indistinguishable from the oppressor. By the end of Season 1, Akshay Sharma is dead, killed in a police encounter. His death is swift, unceremonious, and erased from official records. The paper concludes that Akshay’s narrative arc offers no catharsis. He is not a hero, nor is he a pure villain. He is a mirror held up to Indian society—a reflection of what happens when a man asks for justice and is given a grave instead.

When Akshay files a complaint, the system collapses. The same hierarchy that allowed the rape also blocks justice. The paper argues that the show highlights a legal paradox: the state is both the violator and the adjudicator. Denied justice, Akshay is forced into a corner where the only language left is retributive violence. His killing of the rapists is framed not as a spontaneous act of rage, but as a cold, calculated execution of a broken system. Akshay’s transformation mirrors the mythological descent into Paatal Lok (the underworld). He sheds his uniform—the symbol of failed statehood—and adopts the identity of a masked vigilante. Significantly, he uses a khukri (a curved knife), a weapon associated with the Gurkhas, not the police. This weapon choice signifies a rejection of modern law in favour of pre-colonial, primal justice. akshay sharma paatal lok

[Your Name/Institution] Course: [e.g., Media Studies / Caste and Popular Culture] Date: April 14, 2026 1. Introduction In the landscape of Indian streaming originals, Paatal Lok (2020), created by Sudip Sharma, stands out for its unflinching portrayal of the country’s “netherworld”—a realm of the disenfranchised, the angry, and the forgotten. While much critical discourse has focused on the protagonist, Hathi Ram Chaudhary, and the antagonist, Hathoda Tyagi, the character of Akshay Sharma (played by Rohit Pathak) serves as the series’ most devastating case study. This paper argues that Akshay is not merely a villain but a tragic product of structural violence. His journey from an aspiring sub-inspector to a murderer illustrates how the Indian state’s caste hierarchy and institutional corruption transform victims into perpetrators. 2. The Promise of Annihilation: Aspiration and the Police State Akshay Sharma is introduced as a Dalit police constable. Unlike his upper-caste colleagues, Akshay does not join the force out of a sense of power, but out of a desperate need for dignity. Historically, under the colonial-era “criminal tribes” acts and post-colonial policing structures, Dalits were either excluded from police forces or relegated to menial roles. Akshay breaks this glass ceiling—yet he finds no solidarity. His murders are ritualistic

The Silent Scream of the Dalit: Deconstructing Akshay Sharma’s Trajectory in Paatal Lok However, the paper also acknowledges the tragedy: In

His aspiration to become a Sub-Inspector (SI) is met with humiliation by his superior, Inspector Ghanshyam Singh (a Thakur). The famous dialogue, “Tu SI banega? Jhaadu utha, saaf kar apna career” (“You’ll become an SI? Pick up a broom and clean your career”), is a direct invocation of manual scavenging—a practice rooted in Dalit subjugation. Here, the paper posits that the police uniform fails to act as an armour of the state; instead, it becomes a second skin of caste. The catalyst for Akshay’s violence is not personal greed but the gang rape of his wife, Geeta. Critically, the rapists are not random criminals; they are his own colleagues—upper-caste police officers led by Inspector Ghanshyam. This narrative choice is essential. It demonstrates that the most dangerous space for a Dalit woman is not the street, but the state apparatus itself.