Long before zombie prosthetics, national reality shows and multilingual film sets, Prantika Das was simply a girl drawn to performance — instinctively, quietly, almost unknowingly. As a child, she trained in theatre under the late Saoli Mitra with Pancham Baidik. Five to six years of rehearsals, stage discipline and emotional immersion shaped her early understanding of craft. Performance was natural to her — but it wasn’t yet a career plan. Her parents insisted on academics first. Art could wait. It didn’t wait long.

In 2019, Prantika began modelling. Within a year, she won three beauty contests. Brand shoots followed. Television commercials came in. Momentum gathered quickly. At home, however, the transition wasn’t seamless. Her father, protective and cautious, worried. Modelling felt unpredictable. So she hid parts of her journey then. When she was placed in the Top 10 of a beauty pageant and received gifts, she told her father they had come from a visiting relative. She softened truths, concealed opportunities — not out of rebellion, but out of fear of worrying him. Today, he laughs about it.

A Message That Changed Everything

Her entry into cinema came through an Instagram message. A Telugu production house had seen her modelling clips online. The film was Sadaa Nee Premalo. Seven days of workshop followed, and the first two days on set felt less like acting and more like survival. When the film released in 2022 and found its audience, she realised something important. Courage isn’t the absence of fear — it is walking onto set despite it.

From walking alone onto a Telugu set to standing under national scrutiny on reality television, she had learned one thing — fear does not stop her. It sharpens her. And in Zorr, that sharpened edge finally found a canvas big enough to hold it. If her journey until now had been about survival, adaptability and quiet assertion, Zorr felt like confrontation — with fear, with image, with expectation.

In the horror-comedy, Prantika plays Saraswati, fondly called Suru — a girl who looks delicate but is anything but. Glamorous, strategic, self-aware, Suru understands the room before the room understands her. She smiles sweetly, speaks softly, and calculates silently.

The girl in the mirror

Set against a zombie apocalypse, Zorr allowed her to step into chaos — blood, prosthetics, madness — and still remain composed at its centre. The climax, where her character transforms, demanded surrender: to make-up, to discomfort, to vulnerability. The first time she saw herself in full zombie prosthetics, she couldn’t recognise the girl in the mirror.

Suru is charming and far sharper than she lets on. The horror-comedy gives her character both comic timing and narrative weight. “Suru is that girl we secretly envied in college,” Prantika says. “She looks perfect, speaks great English, keeps everyone hooked — but she knows exactly what she’s doing.” Prantika, however, insists she’s nothing like Suru. “Completely different. Maybe I relate to the love for make-up — that’s it.” Why Zorr? The zombie genre sealed the deal. “I’ve always been drawn to fiction and sci-fi. Stories that don’t exist in real life excite me. What I loved most was that my character drives the journey. It starts with her and ends with her. It’s part of my growth. I just want to be known as an Indian actor.”

A follower of the Eric Morris method, Prantika says Suru slowly took over her off-screen too. “I started talking like her even during lunch breaks. My co-actors made endless fun of me — especially the Bengali rosogolla jokes.” The shoot was intense — little sleep, tight schedules, prosthetics. “When they showed me my zombie look, I was terrified. I couldn’t recognise myself. It was grotesque — in the best way.”

Breaking the Myth

Prantika acknowledges being stereotyped into glamorous roles. “There’s this mindset and that needs to change.” She’s keen on de-glam roles, rom-coms, female action, and layered characters that allow performance beyond appearance. “I don’t want to compromise on craft just to be visible. But visibility is important too. Zorr is fresh. A new take on zombies but made for everyone. Sometimes you just need to laugh, feel the thrill, and forget your stress. Zorr gives you that.”

The Industry Reality

Her schedule now moves between Hyderabad, Mumbai and Calcutta, depending on work. But she refuses to uproot herself entirely. “When I say I’m Bengali outside Bengal, people immediately assume culture, training, depth. That makes me proud.” Home, for her, is not negotiable. Back in Bengali cinema, she worked in films like Daroga Mamur Kirti. She also made a brief appearance in Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3, which was a turning point in her career. Yet she speaks without illusion about the ecosystem. “In Mumbai or the South, you audition. You earn it. In Bengal, sometimes the structure isn’t as clear.”

Visibility becomes survival. Newcomers often take projects to remain present, to avoid disappearing in the gaps. “You do some work just to stay seen,” she says. “Because if you disappear, you’re forgotten.”

Adaptability as Identity

If one word defines her journey, it is adaptability. “I don’t want boundaries,” she says. “I want to extend my wings.” For her, language is not limitation — it is expansion. She speaks about filmmaking technology with curiosity — AI integration, virtual production, evolving cinematic techniques. She wants to grow with the industry, not trail behind it.
“One day,” she says softly, “I want to direct. If I direct, it’ll be something mythological or spiritual. Something different.” It isn’t a dramatic proclamation. It’s a quiet promise. From theatre stages to South Indian sets, from modelling victories to national television, Prantika’s journey has been steady, determined and expanding.