Antarmahal 2005

Bhubaneswar Chaudhury [Jackie Shroff] is a zamindar of Bakuldanga in late 19th-century Bengal who plots to win the prestigious Raibahadur title by pleasing the British. To stand out amid a crowd of contenders, he engineers a provocative royal tribute: placing Queen Victoria’s face on the body of the goddess Durga, a clay idol crafted anew each year for the Durga Puja festival, a bold display that unsettles tradition and power alike.

In his relentless bid for an heir, he blames his elder wife for the family’s misfortunes and takes a much younger wife, Jashomati [Soha Ali Khan], who becomes embroiled in a tense ego contest with Mahamaya. The feud between the two women plays out under the shadow of Bhubaneswar’s obsession with succession, as he coaxes conception through a blend of ritual hymns administered by a priest and coercive control.

The troubling marriage routines unfold with brutal insistence: Bhubaneswar rapes Jashomati each night, while a priest recites hymns to aid conception, and Mahamaya—drugged—appears compelled to satisfy the carnal desires of five Brahmin priests. The brutality of these acts underscores the harsh grip of power and domination that threads through the household, even as the household’s public facade seeks prestige and alliance with imperial authority.

Although Jashomati narrowly escapes the worst fate, the trauma of these events lingers, leaving her isolated and vulnerable. In this vulnerable space, she is drawn toward a young sculptor, the figure played by Abhishek Bachchan, whose presence becomes central to the evolving drama. He channels the turmoil into his art, turning the moment into a potent, silent tribute that resonates beyond personal grievance.

As the sculptor’s masterpiece takes shape, it embodies the complex mix of desire, power, guilt, and memory that defines the narrative, casting a long shadow over Jashomati’s fate and the family’s standing. The story draws from Protima, Tarashankar Bandopadhyay’s esteemed work, weaving a dense tapestry of love, ambition, and the costs of colonial-era ambition on intimate lives. The result is a work that remains faithful to its historical milieu while offering a sobering meditation on power, artistry, and the human price of political ambition.