In an era where the medical profession is viewed through a commercial lens, director Pavel’s Daktar Kaku arrives as a heartwarming, nuanced exploration of human connection, ethics, and generational dynamics. Bringing this layered story to life are two powerhouses of Bengali cinema: Superstar Prosenjit Chatterjee and the exceptionally talented Riddhi Sen. Playing father and son bound by shared blood but divided by contrasting ideologies, the duo delves deep into the complexities of their roles. In a candid chat, Prosenjit and Riddhi reflect on nostalgic bonds with family doctors, navigating healthy creative friction at home, and the fine art of portraying grey, deeply human characters without judgement. Excerpts:
What specifically about Daktar Kaku struck a chord with you both?
Prosenjit: For me, it was straightforward. I heard the script before the pandemic, and we had planned everything, but COVID hit. We finally shot it once things reopened. Actually, I go through a tough process before saying yes to a project now—there isn’t a lot left for me to experiment with or explore. I’ve simplified my criteria: I do two to three films a year. One is a high-profile project, like a Kakababu film, where we aim for a major box-office success. The other one or two are passion projects that resonate with me. Even if those don’t smash box-office records, I make sure the producer doesn’t lose money.
When this script came along, I realised I hadn’t played a character quite like this, yet the persona felt deeply familiar. He reminded me of our family physician—the doctor who treated my grandfather, my mother, and eventually us, and who remains our 'Partha Mama’ to this day. It’s the same dynamic as Dr Sil, my son Mishuk’s ‘Doctor Uncle’.
While Daktar Kaku is a commercial film, it carries a strong social message. I admire how Pavel writes—his storytelling is nuanced yet subtle. The character, the overall script, and the realistic father-son conflict really appealed to me.
Riddhi: I’ve always enjoyed Pavel’s work—Babar Naam Gandhiji is one of my personal favourites. What sets him apart is his ability to deliver important life lessons effortlessly within a mainstream film, without ever feeling preachy or heavy-handed. That is not easy to pull off.
The story also closely mirrors the environment I grew up in. It reminded me of our family doctor, Ranjan Jethu, who was our true ‘Daktar Kaku.’ I witnessed firsthand the bond he built with his patients—a connection that went far beyond a standard professional relationship. They embody the true essence of doctors and how their profession goes beyond being merely a livelihood.
At present, the line between medicine as a service to humanity and medicine as a business has become blurred. Would you agree?
Riddhi: I don’t see it that way. While the overall system has changed significantly over the years, you can’t blame individual doctors for those systemic shifts.
Prosenjit: I completely agree with Riddhi. The flaws and corruption lie within the broader system, not the doctors themselves. Look at the selfless service they provided during the pandemic—they could easily have stepped back, but they risked everything. They truly have been a blessing for us.
Riddhi, do you and your father, Kaushik Sen, ever disagree—especially since you both work in the same profession?
Riddhi: Disagreements? Absolutely—though they are always very healthy. We often clash over work, particularly regarding our plays, which has occasionally sparked a bit of a cold war between us (laughs). But give it two hours, and we’re back at the table discussing how to resolve it. I firmly believe healthy disagreements are essential in any family; without them, real growth can’t happen.
In the film, Dr Dilip Saha (Prosenjit) and Pushkin (Riddhi) embody two very different ideologies. As actors, how do you remain neutral without taking sides, allowing the audience to judge what is right or wrong?
Prosenjit: When I first read a script, my focus is entirely on how fully I can inhabit the role; I let the character guide me. After watching the film, if audiences leave the theatre talking about Daktar Kaku rather than Prosenjit the actor, that’s my ultimate win. It means I successfully dissolved into the character.
Riddhi: The screenwriter must make those contrasting perspectives feel justified, and then the director must communicate that vision to the cast. As actors, our job is to fill in the blanks—to build the character’s unwritten layers. In this film, my character is swimming against the tide. To him, his path isn’t wrong; it’s simply his reality. I have to embrace his perspective.
Prosenjit: Exactly. Because at the end of the day, no person is entirely black or white. We are all grey, layered, and real.
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