Pratip Mukherjee

Pratip Mukherjee’s filmography is a wild little ride, honestly. You look at Bhotbhoti (2022), and bam—there’s this offbeat, dreamy vibe. The story follows a young man who’s kinda obsessed with the idea of mermaids, which, come on, isn’t exactly your everyday chat over coffee. He’s living near the river, and his life just drifts by, haunted by his own fantasies and a bunch of quirky characters. There’s this blurred line between what’s real and what’s just his imagination running away with him, and it gets you questioning what he’s chasing—love, freedom, or just a weird daydream. Jump to Aranyar Prachin Probad (2024), and things get way more intense. The film messes with folk tales and old proverbs, tossing you straight into the deep end of the forest. You’ve got these characters tangled up in age-old legends, dealing with stuff like fate, superstition, and the absolute madness of rural life. It’s layered, messy, and pretty gutsy—definitely not afraid to poke at the darker corners of tradition. Now, Abar Bochhor Koori Pore (2022) is a different flavor altogether. It’s about a group of friends reuniting after twenty years. You know that feeling—nostalgia, awkward laughs, everyone pretending they’ve got it all together. The film digs into those old wounds and half-baked dreams, balancing nostalgia with regret. You get the sense that growing up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Mukherjee’s style? Unpredictable, a little raw, and never boring.