Dev’s film Khadaan has turned into a box-office success, drawing ecstatic audiences to packed theatres. At the heart of Khadaan is director Soojit Dutta, whose vision has brought this cinematic spectacle to life. But no film is complete without its music, and Khadaan boasts a soundtrack that has taken listeners by storm. The trio of Rathijit Bhattacharya, Savvy, and Nilayan Chatterjee have composed melodies that not only elevate the film but have also become chartbusters in their own right. Recently, we sat down for an exclusive chat with Soojit Dutta and the music team behind Khadaan.

As we settled into our seats at OG By The Lake, with the gentle ripples of the water in the background, I asked Soojit about his journey — from a boy who loved stories to the director of a blockbuster. He smiled, lost in thought for a moment, before speaking. “You know, I never really planned on making films. As a kid, I didn’t even know this was something I could do. But there was someone — Munnada. I’ve never been able to find him after growing up, but he changed my life.”

Soojit’s voice softened as he spoke about his childhood, a patchwork of places — Birbhum, Purulia, the border of Jharkhand. A boy constantly moving, shifting between towns, always the new kid. “I had just moved schools, and I was getting bullied. Munnada saved me. From that day on, we were inseparable. He introduced me to films. I didn’t realise it back then, but I loved telling stories — thinking of plots, creating characters in my head, and then narrating them to him. That’s where it all started.”

But cinema wasn’t the only love of his life back then. He was a sports kid— football was his world. He played for his school and college, often skipping class, staying over at friends’ houses for days, much to the exasperation of his father. “Dad always knew I was ‘baundule’— a bit of a drifter,” he chuckled.

Then, his smile faded slightly as he recalled a difficult moment.

“For my last film, I went to a cinema hall with 30-35 friends. When I got there, there was nothing — no standee, no poster, nothing. My heart sank. My wife knew how much it hurt me. I don’t cry, I don’t break down — I handle crises differently. So, the next day, we just left. We went on a trip to Puri. And that’s when I made up my mind. I was going to do Khadaan —but this time, I was going to make sure it was big. Bigger than anything I had ever done.”

Fate, however, had its own plans.

“I never imagined Devda would be in it. I had approached two other actors before him, but they didn’t align with the script. After Khadaan was released, one of them texted me. He told me it was a good thing he wasn’t cast — because the film wouldn’t have been as phenomenal as it turned out to be.” Then came the turning point (after Soojit finally approached Dev for Khadaan). “It was Holi. I was in Bankura when I got a text from Devda. He wanted to hear the script. Now, you have to understand — Devda doesn’t text you every day! That’s where Khadaan truly began.”

His voice quietened as he continued. “While Khadaan was in the works, I met people, made the rounds, but I didn’t tell anyone. Then, I came back from Bankura… and that was the last time I saw my father. He passed away. He never got to see the film.” For a moment, there were no words—just the weight of a dream fulfilled, but a presence forever missing.

Songs sung true

The music of Khadaan lingers long after you have left the cinema hall. Savvy said, “Devda called me one day and briefed me on a song. He said, ‘I want a song that I can dance to after several days have passed.’ That’s when the first draft of Khadaan was made. I was told about Choroker Mela, and Mahadev found his way into the song Raja r raja.”

Soojit turned to Rathijit with a knowing smile. “Rathi had to make the kirtan song. I had a visual in mind, but I couldn’t find any audio reference for it.” Rathijit nodded and said, “The song had to have the feel of someone singing kirtan, completely lost in devotion, refusing to let go of the khol. It had to be traditional, but also aggressive. That contrast was hard to capture — on one side, there was a murder, and on the other, a person closing their eyes, singing. I had zero references for it! The composition was traditional, but the sound treatment was very different. It was a rock song at heart, fused with Indian elements. Middle Eastern instruments were used. I wanted a world music vibe for Radha rani.”

Kishori’s success story was beyond anyone’s imagination. “I was looking for the right word to address a woman, and when I came up with ‘kishori’, Devda immediately loved it. But the song took almost one-and-a-half months to finalise. I remember getting a call during the shoot, someone from the crew telling me, ‘The entire team is humming the song, vibing to it!’ That’s when I realised how impactful it could be,” he said.

Nilayan, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke, his voice filled with emotion.”I remember sitting in the cinema hall and seeing Devda dance to my song. I had tears in my eyes. I had never worked on a film like this before. We always see this kind of reaction in Shah Rukh Khan movies, but I wasn’t sure if a Bengali film could have that effect. And then it happened. Even people who weren’t involved with the film wished me well. Then came Baap eseche. We all know Devda is Tollywood’s king, a larger-than-life personality, so the phrase came to me quite naturally. But convincing him took time! The song was finalised last, after many experiments. But when it played in the cinema halls, the reaction was like a stadium, with the crowd cheering — it was surreal,” he said.

For Haye re biye, Nilayan knew from the start that it was going to be a wedding song. “Devda had told us that Savvy, Rathi, and I would each create songs, and the best one would be chosen — it was a great practice! Baap eseche was a celebration of who Devda is, but he was very careful not to come across as arrogant. We had to convince him. I also added a very personal touch — my daughter’s voice is in one of the songs. It’s merged into the instrumental, so you can barely notice it, but it’s there, in Haye re biye.”

As our conversation wrapped up, one thing became clear — Khadaan was not just a film. It was a labour of love, of struggles and triumphs, of music that stirred emotions and visuals that left an impact. It was, above all, a story of passion.