Batshorik

Mainak Bhaumik’s Batshorik delves into the fractured edges of human relationships – this time within a house steeped in ghosts, both real and imagined. While it delivers on jump scares, the film is just as much about the quiet horror of loss, resentment, and unresolved grief. These emotional undercurrents unfold slowly but deliberately.
Ritabhari Chakraborty plays Brishti, a young widow reeling from the sudden death of her husband, Neel. Enter Swapna (Satabdi Roy, in a graceful return), Neel’s elder sister and Brishti’s sister-in-law. When she moves in, an uneasy domesticity takes shape – defined by silences, shared memories, and unspoken tensions. Often, it feels like both women have more to say than they do – but Bhaumik asks the audience to wait, to watch, and to listen closely.
The film takes its time – sometimes a bit too much – but it builds a convincingly eerie world. Bhaumik’s horror thrives in the details: a flickering lamp, a lingering stare, a slamming door. The old Calcutta house becomes a character in itself, with its antiques and dim corners whispering of chaos beneath the calm. The atmospheric score subtly stitches the film together, especially when the pacing dips in the second half.
Ritabhari is quietly electrifying – especially in one moment where she stares into the camera, and the air itself seems to chill. Satabdi brings depth and quiet authority to Swapna, never tipping into melodrama, and balances Ritabhari’s volatility with calm resolve.
Though some dialogues falter and a few scenes could use sharper editing, Batshorik remains a strong addition to Bengali horror – rooted in relationships, richly atmospheric, and unafraid to let its women grieve, rage, and haunt in equal measure.