On a bright, weekday afternoon at Cremabonn Café & Bakery — all whitewashed brick walls, leafy pothos trailing the walls and cane lights casting warm shadows — Subhashree Ganguly cuts a picture of soft grace. She’s dressed in a beige handloom sari, her make-up pared down to a tint of mascara and a neutral lip enhanced with blushed cheeks, sipping slowly on black coffee. We’re seated by the tall glass window that looks out onto a sleepy bylane, the sun casting patterns through sheer curtains.
The actress is calm, focused, and keen to talk about Grihapravesh, her upcoming film directed by Indraadip Dasgupta, releasing June 13. She’s not just playing a character — she’s becoming Titli, the young woman at the heart of the film whose emotional unraveling quietly powers the story.
In Grihapravesh, Titli is newly married when her husband Shaon abruptly leaves her, leaving her behind with his parents in his ancestral rajbari and severing any sense of newlywed intimacy. The sprawling old house becomes a haunting metaphor for abandonment. Rooms are left untouched, voices echo off antique furniture, and time seems to suspend itself in sepia.
Yet, solitude doesn’t stay still for long. The arrival of a guest — Meghdoot, played by Jeetu Kamal — alters the tempo of the film. “He disrupts her rhythm,” Subhashree says. “Not just in a romantic way, but emotionally. Titli begins to question what she deserves, what she desires.” As her connection with Meghdoot deepens, Titli wrestles with guilt, attraction, and the quiet desperation of feeling invisible in her own life. The trailer builds its tension not through action, but anticipation — a hand knocking at the door, a close-up of Titli’s unreadable expression, a wall lined with Rituparno Ghosh’s portraits. “Those portraits weren’t just set design. Rituda’s spirit was there. This kind of film — female interiority, longing, silence — it’s in that tradition,” she says.
At its heart, Grihapravesh is a quiet, intimate tale of a woman learning to see herself again. The trailer hints at a story where grandeur and emotional fragility collide, weaving together themes of love, abandonment, and self-discovery within a hauntingly beautiful setting.
Let’s begin with Grihapravesh. What made you say ‘yes’ to the film?
The role had been written for me, and that meant a lot. When ID (Indraadip Dasgupta) first narrated it, I had goosebumps. Some characters speak to something deep inside you, and this was one of those. Even when the film was delayed — once because I became pregnant, another time due to production hurdles — I couldn’t walk away from it. The story stayed with me. I just had to see it through.
This is your first time working with Jeetu Kamal for a film. What was that experience like?
Yes, first time with Jeetu, and it was a really good experience. We’re all very serious actors, very focused. There was a kind of quiet intensity on set, which helped. And of course, working with Kaushikda (Ganguly)— he’s a legend. His presence in a film always elevates it. I learnt a lot just by observing.
You’ve often spoken about your method of getting into character. What was your process like for this film?
It always begins with the directors. I try to understand their psychology first — how they’ve envisioned the character, what they’re trying to say through her. Once I have that, I can begin to understand the character herself. I read the script multiple times, not just to memorise but to absorb. I need to know why I’m saying each line. Once that becomes clear, improvisation becomes easier. The character starts to live within me. I stop ‘acting’.
That depth really showed in Indubala Bhater Hotel too. Was the approach similar?
Yes, very similar. In Indubala Bhater Hotel, sometimes scenes were written the night before because that is how the director works. But because I had lived in her skin for so long, I wasn’t thrown off. I just flowed with it. In fact, that’s a character that really affected me too. When you know the soul of a character, you can adapt on instinct. You become the water that takes the shape of the vessel.
You’ve had quite the journey, starting work from such a young age. Looking back, how has it shaped you?
Hugely. I’ve been earning and making decisions since I was very young. I learnt to manage not just my career but also my public image and emotional space early on. Hard times are important — they build you. You can’t become mentally strong without overcoming obstacles. That fighting spirit is very necessary, especially for women in this field.
You’ve had this remarkable transition — from commercial hits to intense, layered performances in films like Parineeta and Dharmayudh. What sparked this shift into what many are calling ‘Subhashree 2.0’?
You know, I never looked at it like ‘then’ and ‘now’, but I do see how the audience has started seeing me differently — and that means a lot. Earlier, I think I was exploring the industry, understanding my space. The big commercial films gave me reach and visibility, and I’m grateful for that. But after a point, I wanted to challenge myself. I go by my gut. Even if it’s a big film with the best team, if the story doesn’t speak to me, I say no. I’ve never chased the easier route. I’m drawn to characters that feel real, layered, flawed — something I can bite into. If it doesn’t move me, I don’t take it.
I didn’t go to acting school, but I come from a cultural family. My sister used to teach me dance, and I’ve always loved to dance — movement has always been a form of expression for me. But acting is something I feel, and understand, and then channelise. That’s my method, if you can call it that. Roles like Mehul or Indubala didn’t come to me just like that — I had to unlearn and re-learn, and that was the real shift. It’s not about proving anything anymore. It’s about feeling completely immersed in what I do. That’s Subhashree 2.0, maybe — someone who enjoys the silence as much as the applause.
You’re a mother of two now. How do you find a rhythm between being a mum and an actor?
I don’t look for perfect balance — I look for rhythm. Some days are fast, some slow, and I take it day by day. Being a mother is incredibly grounding, but it doesn’t mean giving up your own identity. Raj (Chakraborty) and I both have hectic schedules, but we keep it simple. There are no strict rules like “we must talk at this time” or “date night has to happen”. We just stay in touch, keep talking, no pressure. That ease helps.
What would you say still excites you about acting, after all these years?
That first moment when I walk onto a set in full costume, as someone else. It’s still electric. The transformation, the world-building — it all still thrills me. That’s how I know I’m still in love with the job. I’m not someone who opts to spend time in their vanity van in between shoots; I prefer being on set, interacting with the crew, the light guy, observing and soaking it all in. It helps me absorb the vibes, feel the story and embody my character completely. During schedules, even in real life, I am the character I play. That’s what makes it possible for people to see no trace of Subhashree in Mehul, Titli, Babli — or whoever I become next.