It was a mellow weekday afternoon on Park Street — the kind where winter’s last breath still lingered in the breeze and Trincas shimmered with its signature old-school warmth. Just behind it, Tavern sat tucked away like a well-kept secret — a moody, amber-lit den that comes alive with live music and Thursday karaoke nights. But today, it played host to something quieter: a slow lunch, the soft clink of cutlery, the scent of sweetcorn crab soup in the air, and a table shared by two old friends.

Across our table, stacked with chilli pork, wontons, and nostalgia, sat Srijit Mukherji and Parambrata Chattopadhyay — chatting like friends, finishing each other’s stories, and pausing only to keep themselves fuelled with the delicacies.

Somewhere between the first kebab and a spoonful of sweetcorn crab soup, we asked a question that had long been simmering in many minds: “So… can we expect a prequel to Hemlock Society? Maybe an origin story of sorts? Where did Ananda Kar even come from?”

Srijit leaned back, smiling with that familiar twinkle in his eye. “I’ve had so many people asking me about the sequel. I did not see this coming! You know, at the very beginning of Hemlock Society, there’s a card — ‘Dedicated to SD’. She was Ananda Kar’s real-life inspiration. That’s where it all began.”

He continued, now stirring memories like the soup before him. “At the same time, I was researching poisons for this English play called Checkmate. During that research, I stumbled upon a website that listed various suicide methods, poison being one. Strange place, strange timing— but those two threads wove themselves into Hemlock Society.”

And as with all good writing, the character took on a life of his own.

“Ananda Kar became flesh and blood. He outgrew the script, the film, even the actor. And now, every time we try something new, someone inevitably asks on X (previously Twitter), ‘When is Ananda Kar coming back?’ And this is the same case with every single project both Param and I have worked on and announced in the last 13 years!” Param added with a grin, “Yeah, there’s a proper fanbase. A cult figure in Bengali cinema.”

The conversation soon turned personal, delving into a bond that has lasted over three decades. “We’ve known each other since school — late 1980s. I was about six or seven. He’s four years older. Back then, that age gap meant we weren’t close in school, but in 2008, things changed,” said Parambrata. That year, Srijit called Parambrata from Bangalore, inviting him to rehearse for a noncanonical play. Parambrata agreed.

“I went to Bangalore, worked with the local actors, rehearsed for three weeks, and did the play. That was the start of something new.” They reminisced about those early years — TV projects, scrapped roles (Parambrata was originally meant to play Shuvobroto in Autograph), and missed chances. But what about the bumps? “There have been plenty,” Parambrata admitted. “We’ve fallen out, blocked each other on WhatsApp....” “That’s true,” Srijit laughed. “I behaved like a jilted lover at one point, too.”

Parambrata shared the story of Ek Je Chhilo Raja, a project he had to back out of due to a date clash. Srijit took it personally. Silence followed for months until Srijit saw the teaser for Sonar Pahar, and sent Parambrata a long message. “I loved it,” said Srijit. Their quarrels are cyclical, like fever. They come and go. But through it all, the bond has endured. “We’ve grown up reading the same books, and singing the same songs. There’s too much shared history,” said Srijit. “He’s one of the few with the capacity to dare,” said Parambrata. A t2 chat...

Parambrata, when will we see you cast Srijit in one of your films?

Parambrata: Technically, his acting debut was under my direction (a telefilm). Srijit is a very decent actor.Srijit: Yeah, and I exploded on television! Now that horror is in fashion, you know, I don’t need prosthetics. Just a torch under my chin (laughs).Parambrata: I think Srijit is one of the few mainstream directors with the guts to tackle political and historical themes on a large canvas.

Do you have any favourite Park Street memories beyond Christmas?

Srijit: The graduation from a teenager to a young man happened here. My exposure to live music started on Park Street, like many others in Calcutta. Two places come to mind — Oasis and Olypub. Those were the spots my dad used to frequent, and I tagged along. Oasis was more mellow; Olypub was for the louder evenings. My father loved eating out, so this stretch holds a lot of emotional weight for me. In fact, the day I lost him, I sat at Olypub to feel him. Park Street isn’t just a location, it’s arterial. Not just in the metaphorical sense — but biologically, like part of your very system.Parambrata: For me too, it was the place. Someplace Else, to be specific. I think we belonged to that generation which witnessed the golden phase of Someplace Else. There weren’t many other options back then for live music. We didn’t have much money, maybe just enough for one beer. So we made the most of it. Later, when I was working and earning, I’d go to Moulin Rouge or Bar-B-Q for dinner.

Let’s talk about the look of the characters. We’ve seen Ananda Kar in a certain way, and now it’s very different.

Srijit: Yeah, if you remember Hemlock, in the last scene, he was already sporting a slightly cropped look. Now it’s fully shaved — because of his illness, which has progressed. Thirteen years later, I told Param straight up, ‘You’ll have to shave it all off.’

And Koushani?

Srijit: With Koushani, I had to break her ‘mainstream glam’ image. She plays someone more grounded here, so no make-up. She has a more girl-next-door vibe. She’s shown guts in her role choices and performances recently.

How was it getting into Mritunjoy Kar’s character?

Parambrata: We did a bit of prep, but it was mostly for Koushani. We barely knew each other before this. I mean, we’d met in passing, that’s it. And people coming from mainstream commercial backgrounds sometimes carry a preconceived notion about me... like an image of a Mathematics teacher. That needed breaking. So we did workshops. It wasn’t so much about rediscovering Ananda Kar for me — I realised he was already there. Just tucked away. When we started shooting, I could summon him instantly. It was surprising, even to me. He’s one of those very few characters that have become embedded in me.

On a lighter note, do you guys ever get influenced by each other’s fitness goals?

Parambrata: Not really. That’s one area where we don’t influence each other at all.Srijit: My relationship with fitness? Very tumultuous. I had a breakup with fitness in 2015 after a leg injury. I used to play cricket regularly. That was my cardio, my gym. But post-injury, I can’t run. So, the weight gain happened. Let’s see... maybe this stage thing (he has taken to theatre again and will soon be seen in a play directed by Koushik Sen) will push me to get back in shape.Parambrata: I doubt that! (laughs)What’s the surprise takeaway from Killbill Society?

Srijit: It’s a love story for the ages. Very intense. And what’s more pro-life than love?Parambrata: I still think Hemlock Society and Jaatishwar are Srijit’s most organic films. Hemlock, especially, has attained cult status over time. Ananda Kar has lived on in people’s hearts. I truly hope he continues to do so. He deserves to.

The sun had dipped lower outside Trincas, and our plates were nearly wiped clean. But the warmth lingered. Not just from the hot garlic chicken, but from the affection, candour, and decades of camaraderie that unfolded over lunch. In an industry often defined by fleeting equations, Srijit and Param remain a rare constant — still laughing, still arguing, still unlocking new characters and unblocking each other. Two old friends. Stirring stories, silences and soup — still serving it hot.