The red carpet for Abhhiman struck a distinctly monochrome note, with black emerging as the unofficial dress code of the evening. Leading the premiere were cast members Prosenjit Chatterjee, Jisshu Sengupta and Subhashree Ganguly, who walked in dressed head-to-toe in black. While Prosenjit kept it effortlessly casual, Jisshu opted for a sharp all-black ensemble, and Subhashree turned heads in a striking backless black gown that balanced understated glamour with old-school elegance.
The premiere also marked an important milestone for Jisshu. Abhhiman is the first film produced under Why So Serious? Films, the production house he has launched with actor Saurav Das, making the evening as much a celebration of a new creative venture as of the film itself. Prosenjit urged audiences to support the film, saying, “This is a very special film. At its heart, it is a story of love, loss, memory and so much more. I hope you all enjoy the film, spread the word, and give it your love. Everyone has done a fantastic job.”
(From left) Shruti Das, Subhashree Ganguly, Abir Chatterjee and Bonny Sengupta
Subhashree said, “I can’t even imagine how much I have taken back from this film. Working with Bumbada, Jisshu, and ID (Indraadip Dasgupta) has been a wonderful experience. I hope people embrace Shree with the same warmth that we felt while making this film because she carries the emotional heart of the story.”
Directed by Indraadip Dasgupta, Abhhiman explores memory, fractured relationships and the emotional residue left by years of silence. At its centre is Akash Chatterjee (Prosenjit Chatterjee), once a celebrated rockstar whose life has been overtaken by Alzheimer’s. His estranged son Rishi (Jisshu Sengupta), burdened by years of abandonment, returns hoping for answers and perhaps reconciliation, only to discover that memory itself has become the greatest obstacle. Standing between them is Shree (Subhashree Ganguly), whose bond with Akash extends beyond admiration, gradually becoming the emotional bridge that keeps the fractured family from falling apart completely.
Rather than relying on dramatic twists, the film unfolds as a meditation on love, regret and forgiveness. Music plays an integral role throughout, with songs woven into the narrative. Given Dasgupta’s background as a composer, the soundtrack often carries emotional transitions as effectively as the dialogue itself. A pleasant surprise comes in the form of Srijit Mukherji’s Ador. The filmmaker makes an effective appearance as the composer and lyricist behind one of the film’s songs, lending the narrative an added layer of warmth.
(From left) Lagnajita Chakraborty and Anirban Chakrabarti, Sauraseni Maitra and Darshana Banik
The performances remain the film’s strongest asset. Prosenjit delivers a restrained portrayal of a man slowly losing his grip on memory without losing his emotional core, while Jisshu brings vulnerability to a son caught between resentment and compassion. Subhashree, meanwhile, lends warmth and quiet resilience to Shree, ensuring the story never becomes emotionally one-dimensional.
The film takes its time to arrive at its emotional destination, lingering on moments of silence, reflection and music. That measured pace occasionally stretches the narrative, particularly in the middle portions, but it also allows the emotional conflicts to breathe. Some of the film’s most beautifully realised moments are its quietest. Dasgupta’s signature visual style shines through in a poignant sequence where Shree lights candles in memory of her late mother. On the terrace of the same house, where Akash has lived in isolation for over a decade, Rishi joins her, mourning the mother he, too, has lost. It is a scene that speaks more through silence than dialogue. The sequence unfolds with the plot gathering emotional momentum, each lingering frame adding another layer of grief, vulnerability and quiet reconciliation to the narrative.
The recurring ghat becomes one of Abhhiman’s most potent visual anchors, reappearing across memories and the present alike. It cradles the quiet intimacy between Shree and Rishi, bears witness to the symbolic burning of Akash Chatterjee’s cherished cassette tapes, and frames one of the film’s most emotionally exposed conversations between Akash and Rishi. As the narrative moves fluidly between recollection and reality, the river remains the one constant — its ceaseless ebb and flow reflecting the shifting tides of grief, love, regret and reconciliation.
For viewers willing to settle into its rhythm, Abhhiman offers a contemplative exploration of relationships shaped as much by what is remembered as by what has long been forgotten.
