Director - Nagesh Kukunoor 
Cast - Amit Sial, Sahil Vaid, Bagavathi Perumal, Girish Sharma
Episode – 7 
 
In the ocean of India’s OTT crime thrillers, The Hunt: The Rajiv Gandhi Assassination Case is not just another true-crime adaptation—it’s a surgical dive into one of the most defining political crimes in Indian history. Based on Ninety Days: The True Story of the Hunt for Rajiv Gandhi's Assassins by journalist Anirudhya Mitra, this seven-episode Netflix series is a taut, nerve-fraying investigation that doesn’t blink—even when you do.
 
Created by Nagesh Kukunoor, who co-writes with Rohit G. Banawlikar and Sriram Rajan, The Hunt sets aside melodrama for methodology. It begins not with a build-up, but with the blast—an explosion at an election rally in Tamil Nadu that ripped through the nation, literally and emotionally. What follows is a gripping countdown: a 90-day Special Investigation Team operation to track down the assassins, led by a hauntingly controlled Amit Sial as D.R. Karthikeyan.
 
This isn't a political biography of Rajiv Gandhi. Instead, it’s a boots-on-the-ground police procedural. The cold, bruising type. Think Mindhunter, but swap serial killers for international terrorists, and replace modern surveillance with grainy photographs, landlines, and gut instinct. And yet, the tension never lets up.
 
Let’s talk casting—because it’s near-flawless. Amit Sial, Danish Iqbal, Sahil Vaid, and Bucks take on their roles as investigators like they were born in trench coats. The realism in their performances is so immersive that at times you forget you’re watching a dramatized series. Tamil, Hindi, Sinhalese—all flow naturally. Not as subtitles, but as living, breathing choices in a world where language is identity and loyalty.
 
But the real ghost of the series is Shafeeq Mustafa’s Sivarasan, the one-eyed LTTE mastermind. He plays calm and charisma with equal menace. His ideological fervor is chilling, not because it’s monstrous, but because it’s disturbingly rational—at least to him. The cyanide-wearing LTTE squad turns suicide into strategy, and that adds a sickening urgency to every close-up.
 
What makes The Hunt truly tick is its commitment to forensic realism. Every frame feels researched. Every interrogation echoes lived truth. Kukunoor doesn’t rush through plot points—he relives them. When photos become clues and notepads become lifelines, the show reminds us that this wasn’t just a murder—it was a mission, pulled off with terrifying precision. And the counter-mission to catch them was equally precise.
 
The language use alone deserves applause. The SIT speaks in Hindi, the locals in Tamil, LTTE members in Sinhalese—each phrase placing you in the real geography of the event. Sahil Vaid, in particular, delivers lines in Tamil so fluently it borders on wizardry. It’s this attention to authenticity that keeps The Hunt from slipping into soap or sentiment.
 
Of course, it’s not without flaws. The finale drags. The build-up is so well-executed that the slow unraveling of the final episode feels like a tyre deflating after a marathon sprint. And there’s a faint discomfort in how the show depicts police violence—sometimes too casually. But perhaps that’s the point. It’s a messy, morally grey world.
 
In some scenes, you find yourself unexpectedly sympathizing with both sides. That’s a testament to the writing, which avoids painting black-and-white villains. Even the LTTE is given just enough backstory and ideology to avoid caricature, though never enough to absolve.
 
In its haunting final shots, as cyanide takes center stage and the clock winds down, the show doesn't try to manufacture drama. It simply documents it. That’s what makes The Hunt stand out. It doesn’t scream. It watches. And forces you to do the same.
 
The Hunt – The Rajiv Gandhi Assassination Case is a harrowing watch. Not because it’s full of twists and turns—but because it’s full of truth, precision, and pain. It doesn’t glorify heroism. It doesn't glamorize terror. It just shows what happened—one lead, one lie, one cyanide vial at a time.