The history of the Indian television detective can be traced through his tools. Karamchand had a carrot and an assistant named Kitty; the crime procedurals of the satellite era brought forensic laboratories, mobile vans and officers who could extract a confession before the next commercial break. Today, CCTV footage and phone locations do much of the sleuthing.

Between these eras sits CID, which began in 1998, survived the saas-bahu boom and remained on air until 2018. Its return in December 2024 after a six-year absence proved that reruns, memes and YouTube clips can keep a television institution alive long after its original audience has grown up.

For Dayanand Shetty, 56, stepping back into Inspector Daya’s familiar jacket felt less like a comeback than reporting for duty. Plans for a feature film had taken shape during the pandemic before the channel opted for a new television season. “Ultimately, it’s the fans’ prayers, love and affection that made the show come back,” he says. “For me, it was nostalgia, but I felt I never left. We were continuously working on the show, the story and trying to do something in a film format.”

The programme’s great trick was allowing its officers to become larger than the cases. ACP Pradyuman’s raised finger, Abhijeet’s suspicions and Inspector Daya’s approach to locked doors became more memorable than most murderers.

The series could also be technically ambitious. In 2004, 22 actors and a 175-member production unit filmed a 111-minute episode in one continuous shot, earning a Guinness World Record. Yet the line that travelled furthest required only four words: “Daya, darwaza tod do.”

“I won’t say it’s a national meme, but people love it,” Shetty says. “Wherever I go, news anchors use ‘Daya, darwaza tod do.’ It’s used in cricket commentary, interviews and across platforms, along with ‘Kuch toh gadbad hai, Daya’.”

Memes can flatten an actor into a punchline. In Shetty’s case, they became free syndication, carrying the character to viewers born after the original episodes were broadcast. “Gen Z is discovering it. Forget Gen Z, even Gen Alpha is!” he says. He has encountered children as young as three who refuse meals until an episode is switched on.

The role’s physical authority preceded Shetty’s acting career. He was a competitive shot-putter and discus thrower until a knee injury led him towards theatre, advertising and television.

“I was never a bodybuilder or a model. The career just happened,” he says. “I used to go to the gym regularly because I was an athlete. When I quit athletics, I joined a gym just to stay active.” He stopped heavy weight training more than a decade ago and now relies on stretching, occasional cycling and home-cooked food. Television’s most famous battering ram has evidently required less maintenance than the doors.

Shetty’s move into vlogging now lets viewers meet the men behind the severe expressions. Friends and colleagues had repeatedly reminded him that “the entire world is doing something on YouTube”. He and Aditya Srivastava began Safar Khane Ka, retracing filming locations and visiting the restaurants that fed them between shoots.

“People saw where we ate after shoots and where we ordered food from. The audience loved it,” Shetty says. His channel now carries behind-the-scenes footage and updates about forthcoming projects. “It’s just my first step as a vlogger.”

The appeal lies in surrendering some of the control required by acting. “Vlogging is much more convenient because it’s extempore. You live in the moment and speak your mind without worrying about scripts, lighting or sweating. As an actor, everything is calculated: how Daya stands, looks and speaks.”

He and his long-time colleagues are now developing the Udupi Series, too, another crime programme for the internet. “Crime shows are our forte, but I also love emotional, family-based dramas focused on relationships,” he says.

But the online audience is a different beast. Viewers want to enjoy their shows with takeaways, while planning holidays; creator culture also feeds on access. It’s a whole different world he’s entered. And after decades spent breaking into rooms, Shetty appears to have understood that the contemporary performer is less about breaking down doors, but more about opening them to let viewers in.