Set in the misty hills of the fictional Shottipur (located somewhere in the Kalimpong district of West Bengal), writer-director Ananyabrata Chakravorty바카라s debut feature Kaisi Ye Paheli is a slow-burning murder mystery you can tuck into with a cup of tea. Having its world premiere at the New York Indian Film Festival, the film is a thoroughly enjoyable story packed with tributes, clever writing, and stacked performances. Even the name of its fictional town, Shottipur, is a knock on the idea of objective truth that is not coloured with personal biases and shifting perspectives.
A spunky homage to cosy detective stories, Kaisi Ye Paheli harks back to every iconic fictional detective, from Agatha Christie바카라s Miss Marple to Satyajit Ray바카라s Feluda to Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay바카라s Byomkesh. The most striking quality of Kaisi Ye Paheli is its layers. On a second watch (yes, I watched it twice and enjoyed it more for noticing every tip-off I missed on my first go), it becomes clear how well-seeded the clues are. The shifty eyes during a press conference, the emotionally weighted pauses in casual conversations, the red herrings so cleverly placed바카라they all reward the attentive viewer.
At the centre of this puzzle stands Mrs. Ray (a compelling Sadhana Singh), a Feluda-obsessed police widow who will talk about anything바카라from Modi to movies바카라if it will get her son talking to her. She is a bundle of contradictions바카라an anxious and overly attached mother, who seemingly has the shrewd instincts of a born detective and the mortifying emotional meekness of a parent willing to tolerate every insult in the book. Her cynical and utterly disrespectful adult son, Uttam is portrayed by Sukant Goel. After an enjoyably loathsome performance in Kaala Paani (2023), Goel seems to be continuing with the legacy of playing characters with contentious familial ties that can be unpacked for days.
Things suddenly escalate in the sleepy town when a young debate champion, Ishita Chhetri, is found dead in her PG room. Local authorities are quick to contemplate if it was suicide. But Mrs. Ray sees otherwise. She smells foul play. When Uttam, an assistant sub-inspector, confides about this to his senior officer Tenzing Tamang (Chittaranjan Giri), he decides to let her consult on the case.
Uttam keeps telling his mother in the beginning of the film that unlike her detective novels, criminals in real life rarely come with neatly wrapped-up motives. And the film eventually delivers on this observation. The 바카라whodunit바카라 becomes just as intriguing as the 바카라whydunit,바카라 which is where Chakravorty plants the film바카라s most deranged emotional revelations.
The film proceeds with its engaging plotline, populated by a cast of the usual suspects with slippery motivations. The best friend/roommate Jhini, a drug addict, is an easy target. The bitter ex-boyfriend, and a terrible poet, Shamik, is one of the film바카라s most brilliant comic reliefs. And that leaves Ishita바카라s current flame, Moyur, and her combative mother, Sanjukta.
The film takes a tonal shift about halfway in, when a police officer goes missing and the flamboyant Detective Bondo (Rajit Kapur, who played Byomkesh in the 1993 series, delivers a cheekily meta performance) arrives from Kolkata to take over the case. A specialist in serial killers, Bondo is so married to his theories that he is willing to repeatedly clash with Tamang. With self-seriousness bordering on parody, Kapur바카라s Bondo is a satire of the great fictional detectives he channels, from Sherlock Holmes to Byomkesh. It바카라s a smart directorial move by Chakravorty, who subtly critiques the fetishisation of lone-genius detectives. Chittaranjan Giri바카라s comic timing and bumbling demeanor acts as a foil to Bondo바카라s manic shifts. Their clashes offer comedic relief while tightening the tension.
Much of the film focuses on Uttam, who is the very picture of unresolved resentment. He scoffs at his mother바카라s obsession with stories and solving crime. He blames her for his father바카라s death and harbours barely concealed pain over the childhood accident that claimed his two siblings. One moment, he hurls venom at his mother, in the next, he wistfully tells his lover, Rasika (played by Nishu Dikshit, who also serves as the producer on this crowdfunded indie) that his mother wasn바카라t to blame for the past after all.
Sadhana Singh plays Mrs. Ray with such measured restraint and disarming fragility that you never quite know what she바카라s thinking. And often, it is unnerving. There's a slight shiftiness in her resilience that keeps you guessing.
Kaisi Ye Paheli also deserves credit for grounding its narrative in today바카라s tech-savvy world. Unlike many contemporary mysteries that conveniently ignore technology, this film addresses everything from Google Maps and GPay to the ubiquitousness of CCTVs. Alibis are checked easily via digital footprints. This particular detail is a welcome departure and adds to the procedural elements of the story.
Cinematographer Leena Patoli brings the hilly town of Shottipur alive with a palette that evokes mystery in every frame. There's a sense of foggy warmth and lived-in history in every cup of pahadi chai.
Of course, it바카라s not without its flaws. Some dialogues feel convoluted. The editing, too, occasionally disrupts the rhythm. But these are forgivable in a debut that바카라s clearly made with heart and an encyclopedic love for detective stories we have all grown up watching, cherishing, and secretly yearning to inhabit.
The final reveal (which won바카라t be spoiled here) is both shocking and shockingly obvious at the same time. In hindsight, you will see the clues were always there, along with the dozen other conventional (and more salacious) red herrings your mind would have gone to right away. Kaisi Ye Paheli leaves you thinking not just about who committed the crime and how, but why so many people failed to see what was right in front of them.
Kaisi Ye Paheli has its World premiere at the New York Indian Film Festival.
Debiparna Chakraborty is a film, TV, and culture critic dissecting media at the intersection of gender, politics, and power.
