Latest news with #SharmilaTagore
Mint
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Mint
Sharmila Tagore, Raakhee draw Bengali viewers in with family films, defying local trends
West Bengal's theatrical business has received a boost lately after going back to doing what it does best: family films. This is while films in most other languages have put up a mixed box office show over the past few months, ranging from inconsistent (Tamil, Telugu) to disastrous (Hindi). Even though cinemas in the state were dominated by Bollywood over the past few years, the recent success of films featuring yesteryear stars such as Sharmila Tagore (Puratawn), Raakhee Gulzar (Aamar Boss) and Moushumi Chatterjee (Aarii) have helped the local industry reclaim some of its past glory. These movies emerged as hits when barely anything was working in theatres across languages, thanks to their appeal among family audiences. Aamar Boss grossed ₹4.15 crore in worldwide box office collections, while Puratawn and Aarii clocked in ₹1.52 crore and ₹33 lakh, respectively. While the figures aren't comparable to Hindi, Tamil or Telugu movies, they reflect significant demand for regional language cinema that is often limited to a single market. Also Read | The rise of small-town stories on OTT: Grassroots-themed shows are proving to be cost-effective, culturally rich 'There has been a trend of unconventional films resonating with Bengali audiences, often featuring veteran actors in fresh narratives such as Aamar Boss, which marked Raakhee Gulzar's return to a leading role in mainstream Bengali cinema," said Ashish Saksena, chief operating officer – cinemas, BookMyShow. 'Production houses have been instrumental in bringing culturally rooted stories to the forefront. Projects such as Bohurupi, Raktabeej and Haami have managed to successfully blend traditional themes with contemporary appeal, finding both critical and commercial appreciation." The Bengali box office is currently in a reflective phase, offering an opportunity for strategic recalibration, Saksena added. An area of improvement that could aid growth could be in optimising release schedules to avoid clustering major films around festive periods that only ends up competing for audience attention. With better planning and release strategies, films can be better positioned to shine individually and reach their full potential. Sure-shot bet Filmmaker Srijit Mukherji, known for hits such as Killbill Society and Shotyi Bole Shotyi Kichhu Nei, both released this year, agreed that one sure-shot, safe bet to box office success in Bengali cinema in the past 10 years is the family drama. 'Several filmmakers have shifted genres to ensure that the elderly come to theatres, in which case, multiple tickets are bought for the entire family. Economically, films starring elderly protagonists make sense," Mukherji added. Also Read | Regional content gains ground on OTTs even as Hindi dominates Experts pointed out the Bengali industry has long grappled with the dominance of Hindi films that continue to be hugely popular in the state. While a big Bollywood star vehicle can make ₹35-40 crore in box office collections, regional language films only clock up to ₹10-15 crore. That said, when the narrative is crafted to match the gravitas of senior actors, the cinematic experience not only evokes nostalgia but also speaks powerfully to contemporary audiences, resulting in impressive earnings. 'Bengali cinema has always had an emotional core and films that tap into that sentiment continue to thrive," said Ahana Kanjilal Dutta, group head, strategic communications, SVF (Shree Ventakesh Films) & hoichoi. 'Veteran actors bring a legacy and a familiarity that deeply resonates, especially with senior audiences who have cherished them for decades. There's a sense of cultural continuity and emotional relatability that these artists bring to the screen. When coupled with strong storytelling, their presence elevates the cinematic experience and generates a powerful pull at the box office." SVF has backed hits like Killbill Society and Shotyi Bole Shotyi Kichhu Nei this year. Also Read | Regional cinema's box office struggle: Why Marathi, Bengali, Punjabi films are losing out
Time of India
11-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Time of India
From ‘Aranyer Din Ratri' to ‘Raghu Dakat', Tollywood faces heat challenge
Kolkata: During the presentation of 'Aranyer Din Ratri' at Cannes, Sharmila Tagore remembered how difficult it was to shoot for the film in May, 1969. It was so hot that the unit could shoot only between 5:30 am till 9 am and then between 3 am to 6 am. Tagore stayed in a chowkidar's (guard) room, while Samit Bhanja, Subhendu Chatterjee, and Rabi Ghosh stayed in a room with a tin roof. Cut to 2025, and the temperature this summer has not been kind either. Though no unit member will now stay in a room with a tin roof during shooting, Tollywood is still facing the heat. Shooting in summer has always been tough, and production houses keep an adequate supply of water, ORS and coconut water. "In this unbearable heat, I did fight scenes. That was excruciating. I sustained injuries too. We literally turned warriors while shooting this summer," said actor, Om Sahani, who was shooting for 'Raghu Dakat' under extreme conditions. One of the biggest casualties for production designers this summer was when unannounced thunderstorms washed away huge sets. "Shooting in Bolpur and Purulia is about facing the dry heat. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Top 5 Dividend Stocks for May 2025 Seeking Alpha Read Now Undo But shooting outdoors in Kolkata means battling heat and humidity. Earlier on, we knew that the thunderstorms would be part of the calendar between the end of April and May with few aberrations. Now, cyclones have become part of our lives. That has a severe impact while shooting outdoors, especially on sets," said 'Raghu Dakat' director Dhrubo Banerjee. Director Raja Chanda has been shooting in a jungle in Ilambazar for some time now, where the temperature was bordering on 40°C. "We are shooting for 14 hours at a stretch with mashals (fire torches) without setting a single leaf on fire. It is difficult for artistes to not let their energy levels sag.," Chanda said. The cameras are heavy, and transporting them is a massive task for the unit. Though high-end cameras now have great sensors, the current weather conditions are still challenging. "These cameras have in-built fans. Yet, I prefer to keep them under shade once a shot is taken and the next one is being prepared. We turn on a pedestal fan," said cinematographer Soumik Halder, adding that cameras can't be kept in air-conditioned facilities due to lens fog issues. Unlike the times of 'Aranyer Din Ratri', when the cast and crew would have to stay in rooms with tin shades, the production houses are now more vigilant about choosing an outdoor location. "During recce, no location is chosen that is more than 45 minutes away from where the unit stays," Halder added.
Mint
09-06-2025
- Sport
- Mint
Tiger to Tendulkar? Sharmila Tagore, Sunil Gavaskar slam Pataudi Trophy renaming to honour Anderson, Tendulkar
Tiger Pataudi can arguably be the best thing that happened to Indian cricket. A name that became synonymous with the instilling of national pride and unity in the sport, which until the Tiger's entrance, was dominated by India's colonisers, England. But the very name that scripted history is now at the centre of controversy, with Sharmila Tagore, cricketing icons Sunil Gavaskar, and Harsha Bhogle weighing in. Earlier this month, the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) and the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) jointly announced that the Pataudi Trophy would now be called the Tendulkar-Anderson Trophy. The ECB and BCCI have cited the achievements of Tendulkar and Anderson as modern legends of the game, aiming to make the rivalry more relatable to younger fans and to reflect the trend of naming series after contemporary icons. The names — Anderson, who retired in July 2024 after a record 188 Tests and 704 wickets, and Tendulkar, who bowed out in 2013 after 200 Tests and 15,921 runs — are both widely regarded as legends of the modern game. The Pataudi Trophy was established in 2007 to mark the 75th anniversary of India's maiden Test series in England. It honoured the remarkable legacy of the Pataudi family—particularly Iftikhar Ali Khan Pataudi, the only cricketer to represent both England and India in Test matches, and his son, Mansoor Ali Khan "Tiger" Pataudi. The 'Pataudi Trophy' was never just about silverware—it was a tribute to cricket's complex colonial inheritance. Named after Iftikhar Ali Khan Pataudi, the only man to play Tests for both England and India, it honoured a legacy of defiance and dignity. Seasoned cricket broadcaster Harsha Bhogle took to X to reflect that although Tendulkar and Anderson are legends, the Pataudi name 'misses the deep connect that Pataudi had with our countries'. He added: "Both father and son played for Sussex, Sr played for both England and India, Jr set schoolboy batting records in England. There was a very nice ring to the Pataudi Trophy.' The same trophy, which now has a new name, was traditionally awarded to the winner of India's Test tours of England, while in India, the corresponding series has long been played for the Anthony de Mello Trophy, named after one of the BCCI's founding architects. More than mere tokenism, the nomenclature honoured a man whose legacy ran deeper than the scoreboard. During the notorious Bodyline series of 1932-33, he defied his captain, Douglas Jardine, by refusing to field on the leg-side—a stance of integrity that cost him his place in the team. In him, the complex, post-colonial cricketing bond between the two nations found a fitting emblem. The renaming drew sharp backlash, from the late Tiger Pataudi's wife Sharmila Tagore to his daughter Soha Ali Khan and cricket veteran Sunil Gavaskar. Sharmila Tagore called it insensitive and said the family wasn't consulted. 'Whether the BCCI wants to preserve Tiger's legacy is for them to decide," she said in an interview with Hindustan Times. In his column in Sportstar, Sunil Gavaskar said the move was 'disturbing indeed', and argued that 'this is the first time one has heard of a trophy named after individual players being retired, though the decision is entirely the ECB's, and the BCCI may well have been informed.' The newly named trophy is set to be unveiled at Lord's during the World Test Championship final, which begins on June 11.
NDTV
08-06-2025
- Entertainment
- NDTV
Rinku Singh-Priya Saroj Engagement: A Look At High-Profile Cricket Weddings
India and Kolkata Knight Riders (KKR) cricketer Rinku Singh will get engaged with Member of Parliament Priya Saroj on Sunday, June 8. The 27-year-old batter follows fellow India cricketer Kuldeep Yadav, in getting engaged in recent days. With cricketers being among the most popular personalities in India, their weddings are often highly-celebrated. On that note, let's take a look at some of the most high-profile cricketer weddings: Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi and Sharmila Tagore Mansoor Ali Khan 'Tiger' Pataudi, one of India's first recognized captains, was also one of the first cricketers to have a high-profile wedding. Pataudi tied the knot with Bollywood actress Sharmila Tagore on December 27, 1968. Mohammed Azharuddin and Sangeeta Bijlani Former India captain Mohammed Azharuddin's second wife is former actress and Miss India 1980 titleholder Sangeeta Bijlani. They married in 1996. Harbhajan Singh and Geeta Basra Former actress Geeta Basra was a long-time girlfriend of charismatic Indian off-spinner Harbhajan Singh. The two tied the knot on October 29, 2015. Yuvraj Singh and Hazel Keech India's 2011 World Cup Player of the Tournament Yuvraj Singh married British actress and singer Hazelkeech in November 2016, after a year of being engaged. Virat Kohli and Anushka Sharma This is arguably the most high-profile wedding, with both personalities being incredibly popular in their respective fields. Having met on the sets of an advertisement shoot, Virat and Anushka began dating in 2013. They married on December 11, 2017, in a ceremony in Florence, Italy. They have a daughter and a son. Zaheer Khan and Sagarika Ghatge Former India pacer Zaheer Khan, India's leading wicket-taker at the 2011 World Cup, married Indian actress and model Sagarika Ghatge in November 2017. Ghatge is a national-level field-hockey payer and starred in the 2007 hit sports film 'Chak De! India'. KL Rahul and Athiya Shetty Indian wicket-keeper batter KL Rahul married actress Athiya Shetty on January 23, 2023 after dating for more than three years. Shetty gave birth to their first child in March 2025, for which Rahul missed the first match of IPL 2025.
Indian Express
31-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
The lost character in Satyajit Ray's Aranyer Din Ratri — the Kechki Forest Rest House
Satyajit Ray's classic Aranyer Din Ratri (Days and Nights in the Forest) is back in the news. Fifty-five years after its release, a restored 4K version of the movie was released at the Cannes Festival 2025 by Sharmila Tagore, Simi Garewal (the only two lead cast members still among us), and Wes Anderson. While reams have been written dissecting Ray, this movie, and its characters, the one character that has been all but forgotten is one that doesn't figure in the cast line up. This character is 'the forest bungalow', more specifically the Kechki Forest Rest House (FRH). Kechki was not just another 'filming location', a background prop. The FRH, and its environs, are integral parts of the story, the cinematography, and the overall mood of the film, an essential element of the film's proverbial soul. But unfortunately, unlike the film that became eternal and has now been restored, the Kechki of Aranyer Din Ratri exists no more. This is the story of Ray's Kechki and its demise. ****** On the western frontiers of the Chota Nagpur plateau, in Jharkhand, lies the Palamau Tiger Reserve. The rivers Koel and Auranga — slow-moving, shallow, always flanked by sandy beaches with the Sal forests forming their daaman (hem) — snake through its lush forests. The two sister rivers meet at the northernmost tip of the tiger reserve, birthing a vast sandy expanse that almost feels like a sea beach during summers. Here, at the fork of the two rivers, lay a quaint forest bungalow, constructed by the British more than a century ago. This was the Kechki Forest Rest House, named so after the nearby little village of Kechki. The campus consisted of the bungalow, a well, an outhouse-cum-chowkidar quarter, and a small parking shed. Behind the bungalow were the lovely forests of Kechki, to its front the sangam (confluence). As you looked out from the bungalow's verandah, the wide beige sandbars of Koel greeted you to your left, the paler sands of Auranga to your right, and an immense sandy beach of their confluence lay to your front. There were no walls, no boundaries, nothing separating this forest bungalow from its surroundings except for a few wooden poles that marked out the campus boundary. Ray chose this bungalow as the setting for his film Aranyer Din Ratri, based on the eponymously named novel by Sunil Gangopadhyay. The film, about four friends from Calcutta taking an unplanned break in the forest, begins with the lead male characters — Ashim (Soumitra Chatterjee), Sanjoy (Subhendu Chatterjee), Hari (Samit Bhanja) and Shekhar (Rabi Ghosh) arriving at the FRH. A significant chunk of Aranyer Din Ratri is set in and around the Kechki FRH – from philosophical discussions between the leads to the quiet romance between Ashim and Aparna (Sharmila Tagore), from building up Hari's dalliance with Duli (Simi Garewal) to the hilarious scenes of Shekhar bathing at the well as well as their later amusing encounter with a Forest Range Officer. And then of course there was the iconic memory game – a scene Wes Anderson confessed to have 'stolen' from for his film Asteroid City – played by the lead characters sitting on the beach which, in my estimation, was shot somewhere on the dry sandy bed of the Koel to the left of the FRH. The film begins with the protagonists' white ambassador rolling into Kechki. 'Persons intending to use F.R.H. must have permission of D.F.O. Daltonganj', Ashim reads aloud the rickety signboard outside the campus gate. Decades after the film was shot, in 1991, my father would go on to become the Divisional Forest Officer (D.F.O.) Daltonganj under whose jurisdiction the bungalow fell. An old-world field officer who spent more days in the forests than at his residence, various forest bungalows spread across the tiger reserve were his usual abode. Sometimes, we would join him too. Occasionally, that was at Kechki. While I had no idea who Ray was, or anything about a movie being shot here, even as a kid I vividly remember standing at the verandah and being overawed by the humongous sandy stretch that lay in front of me as the two rivers embraced. I remember picnics on the beach under the shade of the planted eucalyptus trees (a staple plantation tree for almost all FRHs in this part of India), much like the game sequence shown in the film. In 1998, we moved out of Palamau and I would not go back for over a decade. Then, with my father again becoming the Field Director of the Tiger Reserve in 2011, I returned to Palamau. One of the first things I did was to finally watch Aranyer Din Ratri. I was riveted and fascinated seeing Kechki, and Palamau, through Ray's lens. With great excitement, I immediately drove down to Kechki. What I saw, however, made my heart sink and a surge of anger boil over. Some officer in the preceding decade had ordered the construction of a hideous, tall concrete wall around the FRH campus. The view of the river and the beach from the bungalow had now been blocked. I remember asking Abba if the wall could be pulled down. He sighed and said, 'Raza, in Indian bureaucracy, it is much easier to construct something, anything, no matter how useless, than have something pulled down. Unless the courts instruct, such an action will be immediately flagged, and unfortunately, aesthetics and historical legacy are not an explanation that an average auditor will accept.' I remember being rather miffed at him for this answer. Nonetheless, I took solace in the fact that, barring the wall, at least the bungalow, the campus and the sangam were still largely as I remembered, and largely as Ray had picturised. There were a few minor changes — couple of rear bathroom doors had been bricked up, the old hand-drawn fan shown in the film had been replaced by a regular fan, a heavy concrete lid covered the well where Rabi Ghosh's character would often bathe, the chowkidar's outhouse had collapsed — but nothing too drastic. That was 2012. ***** Abba was transferred out in 2014, and with that, my permanent stay at Palamau came to an end. Yet, I would keep returning to Palamau. Then, in early 2015, I was informed of something that absolutely gutted me. 'Kechki FRH has been 'renovated' by the tiger reserve management', I was told. I knew what 'renovation' meant as far as heritage FRHs go, even though I desperately hoped to be wrong. Unfortunately, as the photos of the 'renovated' FRH came through, I jostled between feelings of heartbreak, despair and extreme anger. The bungalow had been completely defaced and disfigured under the guise of 'modernising' and 'upgrading' it. The old facade had been entirely altered making the FRH unrecognisable. The charming old sloping clay-tiled roof had been done away with, the verandah pillars redesigned. The chuna textured walls had been painted over in the most gaudy colours imaginable, while a ghastly floor-to-ceiling iron mesh had been put around all the verandahs. Old windows and doors had been replaced or blocked. Tacky shiny tiles had been laid over the old graceful cement floor, while the alignment of rooms and passageways picturised in the film had been changed. The antique wooden furniture had been discarded to be replaced by cheap plastic and plywood. Shimmering faux wood panelling had been installed haphazardly. If this was not enough, the walls around the FRH had been raised even higher, akin to prison walls. It was as if the planners had decided that under no circumstances should the river or the beaches be visible from the FRH. The old chowkidar quarter was gone, a random concrete shed had been built next to the old well. A horrendously massive concrete 'watch tower', resembling a prison guard-post, constructed just beyond the wall, towered over the bungalow. The separation of the bungalow from its surroundings was absolute. Kechki had become unrecognisable. Over the next decade, even as I returned to Palamau every year, I deliberately gave Kechki a miss. Then, in 2023, having made my peace with the mindless destruction of heritage and aesthetics, I decided to go back to Kechki one more time. As I drove down the same road that forms the opening sequence of the film, eventually opening up to the FRH campus, I sighed in disbelief! Just as I thought things couldn't get worse, there it was — even more mindless construction inside and around the FRH campus. Disused generator rooms, abandoned canteen, dilapidated toilets units — more defacing, more concretisation. I stepped inside the bungalow. It was crumbling and decaying, despite all the 'renovation' in the past, since no officer visited it anymore. Here I saw screengrabs from Aranyer Din Ratri hung up in one of the passageways. Looking at them, I chuckled in disgust. We had defaced and destroyed Ray's Kechki, and now had the audacity to promote this grotesque monstrosity created over its corpse as a celebration of his legacy. I walked out to the beach. More concretisation — gazebos, cement benches, random sheds. I wondered what drives this 'saundariyakaran' (beautification) mania that has gripped all government agencies across India, this mindless urge to 'beautify' what is already beautiful – from old heritage buildings to waterfalls, lakes to river banks. Why does the idea of 'beautification' or 'development' of a site or building always mean stripping away its simplicity – the very simplicity that made that place or building beautiful – and swarming it with thoughtless concretisation with utter disregard for history and heritage, legacy and aesthetics? Neither Ray's film nor the innate heritage value of the old Kechki FRH could save it from its doom. As my spirits dipped pondering over these thoughts, the sun began dipping too. I walked out to the riverbank through the unsightly iron gate. The last fading slivers of light shimmered over the waters of the two rivers. I gazed out towards a particular face of the beach, almost precisely the spot picturised being gazed upon by Ray's protagonists from the bungalow. The banal 'I Love New York' rip-off logo — an eyesore from Kashmir to Kanyakumari, plastered everywhere from waterfalls to petrol pumps to dusty town squares – read '# Kechki Sangam' with a heart emoticon. I sighed just as the combined waters of Koel and Auranga quenched the sun. ****** At the beginning of this year, a friend sent me a video of the newly inaugurated 'Kechki Sangam Eco Retreat'. The Forest Department had built some more at Kechki — a row of villa-style double-storied cottages, along with a new restaurant, more gazebos, concrete sit-outs, numerous lamp posts, bonfire pits, a manicured tiled nature trail, and so on. And of course, more fencing and new walls. Pushed behind this new tourist facility, the old forest bungalow now lay relegated to the margins, dated, decrepit, forlorn, forgotten. Scrolling through the videos and photos, I wondered if my thought process and views were as dated and decrepit as the bungalow itself. Will those tourists visiting this place care what existed before, anyway? Those visiting Kechki for the first time, or even those who perhaps come here on a casual visit after watching Ray's film, will, in all likelihood, go back perfectly content and happy. Only those who knew what Kechki once was might, perhaps, just perhaps, mourn its loss. And who am I to pass judgments anyway, on what is simple and quaint and what is concretised and monstrous, on what is beautiful and what is ugly? And what is the point of mourning a place, a memory, all over again when it was lost a long time ago anyway? Nonetheless, even as these doubts swirled around in my head, I was sure of one thing — neither Ray, nor any of those associated with Aranyer Din Ratri would recognise Kechki anymore. Ray's Kechki, the Kechki of my childhood, was dead. And in that moment, I knew that I would never go back to Kechki again. The writer is a conservationist, wildlife historian and works with Wildlife Conservation Trust, Mumbai
