Anybody would expect the usual hoichoi content while coming across Karma Korma. You know the drill. Familiar beats, familiar tricks, a twist you see coming from the interval itself. That didn’t happen, instead, Pratim D. Gupta quietly slid the chair out from under us.
Let’s start with the obvious win. Ritwick Chakraborty is terrific as Bhupen Bhaduri. Again. At this point, it’s less “he was good” and more “he simply knows how to exist inside morally messy spaces.” He doesn’t perform authority, he inhabits it. His silences do more work than most monologues on this platform. There’s a calm intelligence to his presence that keeps the show grounded even when things begin to spiral.
Ritabhari Chakraborty is the surprise here. Refreshingly good as morally grey Shahana, in fact. This is her shedding the safety of familiar territory and leaning into discomfort. There’s control, there’s menace, there’s restraint. She understands that this story doesn’t need loud acting. It needs precision. And she delivers that with an edge that lingers.
Sohini Sarkar is decent as Jhinuk. She holds the narrative together, does what’s required, but never quite unsettles you the way the role perhaps demands. It’s competent, sometimes engaging, but doesn’t fully haunt. She plays a woman tortured and tormented by her drunkard husband and in a show built on psychological aftertaste, that matters.
The story moves like a slow simmer. Two women, a cooking workshop, polite conversations that gradually turn loaded. You sense danger early, but you can’t quite place where it will land. That discomfort — the feeling that something is slightly off — is the show’s biggest strength. The tension doesn’t come from plot twists every ten minutes; it comes from watching people lie gently.
What truly sets Karma Korma apart is structure. The writing doesn’t rush to impress. It lets scenes breathe, lets discomfort ferment. While watching you would guess multiple endings, trade theories, and confidently predict outcomes. But you will be wrong every time. The final turn isn’t flashy or gimmicky. It’s smarter than that. It trusts the audience enough to pull the rug gently, not theatrically.
Credit where it’s due: The music and sound design deserve applause. Not background noise, not mood wallpaper. The soundscape actively participates in the storytelling, nudging tension, tightening nerves, occasionally misleading you on purpose. Most importantly, Karma Korma doesn’t look or feel like standard hoichoi content. That’s its biggest compliment. It’s restrained, uncomfortable, and quietly confident. Not perfect, but undeniably ambitious.
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