On the season’s hottest day,
Priyanka Sarkar is a whiff of French lavender at a chic South Kolkata coffee shop. Radiant and disarmingly eloquent in her first long chat since the tragedy of March 29, the Nadharer Bhela actress navigated grief and reflected on her journey from a 12-year-old television debutante to a mother protecting her son’s right to the truth about his father, Rahul Arunoday Banerjee. Along the way, she spoke about friendship, resilience, public scrutiny, and learning to live with a loss for which, she admits, there may never be closure. Edited excerpts.
You started off as a child artiste almost and witnessed the industry evolve from television to OTT. What has that journey been like?I started working in television at 12, spending five years doing everything from telefilms to music videos, short films and weekly shows. Back then, there were no contracts; those fiction and non-fiction formats became a training ground for many of today’s filmmakers. When I moved to films with
Chirodini Tumi Je Amar, we shot on film stock, which taught me strict discipline and the vital importance of being prepared every time I faced the camera. You had to ensure the raw films did not go to waste.
Today, the industry is reinventing itself yet again. For instance, I’m currently working on a project shot entirely on an iPhone. OTT has opened doors for new voices, and it’s fascinating to watch the medium evolve.
Do you feel Tollywood could be doing better in terms of the kind of movies being made and characters written?There will always be room for better roles, but the variety and quality of work being made today
is encouraging. Viewers have become extremely discerning due to global exposure. I don’t think there’s any alternative to good work anymore. Kajta sei level-er
hotei hobe. With seamless access to global and South Indian cinema, audiences expect strong stories and quality execution. If the work is genuinely good, they embrace it
wholeheartedly.
How do you think you have grown as a performer and a person over the years? Growth comes from staying open. The moment you decide to do only the bare minimum, you stop evolving. When I left home at 17, my priorities were very different. Today, my parents live with me. I am both the adventurous teenager and this, a responsible caregiver. This awareness comes from living, observing, and engaging. Every role leaves something behind – jokhon je choritrota kori, setar kichhu na kichhu lesson theke jay. Even when a character doesn’t change me directly, an experience on set does. Doing jatra and live performances was a turning point; it taught me to embrace immediate audience feedback and realise filmmaking is truly collaborative.
See, I genuinely love working. I am curious and have an overactive mind, and creative work gives it direction. Whether it’s traveling 10 hours for a performance or working without basic comforts, none of it matters if the work is meaningful. Good work requires patience, resilience, and the willingness to start again when things don’t go
your way.
You would have also seen the best and worst of the industry having started off as a child performer to evolving as star... Stardom and performance don’t have to be opposites. There was a time we had no support system, forget your own makeup vans. But that did not come in the way of our commitment. Today I may get certain privileges for sure. But if I demand my own van or refuse to co-operate, that would be my ego speaking. Being someone of influence or being recognised as a star means something else for me. If I can positively influence people as a person, a mother, and a professional, that would mean something.
This is also the ambition to work on your craft, right? Ambition is important and neither does it remain the same all your life. Equally important for me is to keep challenging myself. Every now and then. Whenever I think things are going too easy, I get restless. I am driven by this – kichu ekta korte hobe – bug. I thrive in that kind of chaos. That is what fuels my creativity.
You spoke about embracing technology, but you also saw its darker side during the very difficult period in your life when we lost Rahul. How did you deal with public scrutiny during the worst phase of your life? Having faced criticism since I was very young, I’ve developed a thick skin. But I beg to differ on something you just said – it was not the worst phase of my life. Negativity on social media often appears louder than it actually is. Out of thousands of comments, only a handful were truly unpleasant. What stayed with me was the overwhelming number of people who spoke up for us. One of the greatest achievements of my life has been the relationships I’ve built over decades. Some of the colleagues who stood by me during this period have known me since I was 13. Rudrada (Rudranil), Bumbada, Ritudi. In fact, Rudrada was my go-to person when I had left home. Bumbada has been with me since I made my debut. During the most difficult moments, those affectionate relationships became my greatest strength. I realised I was not alone. I felt I was at my most powerful state.
When we started out, there was a certain aura around stardom. People like Bumbada and Ritudi belonged to that world. That exclusive space still exists, but social media has democratised influence, bringing both immense opportunities and unique challenges
People questioned your reaction during the tragedy. How have you processed the grief?A lot of people asked me,
Ami kandchhi na keno? Ami bhenge porchhi na keno?”At one point, I found myself asking the same question. Having shot numerous death scenes as an actor, I could probably cry on cue. But I asked myself: Kannata ki? Kanna kon jayga theke ashe? The truth is, the tears simply aren’t coming right now. I’m unable to cry, and I refuse to be dishonest about it. I am a transparent person; those who know me can read my face. I have a therapist whom I reach out to when needed, and I have a strong support system, people in front of whom I have completely broken down. But grief is deeply personal. Some break down publicly – oneke pare, seta ami respect kori.
Ami parini. Setao respect kotra uchit. Sometimes grief is rage; sometimes it’s an absolute emptiness –
kichhu ekta shunyota.Even if there are a hundred voices around me, there are perhaps four whose feedback truly matters. They have earned that place in my life. The rest, I hear, but I don’t necessarily absorb
Priyanka Sarkar
I have realised one thing, jhor asbei. And there’s nothing you can do about it. But the hardest thing I have ever had to do was break the news to his mother and then to our son. I was in the middle of a shoot when it happened, and everything followed in a blur. I went first to his mother and then to Shohoj. And that’s when I relaised I am much stronger than I thought.Not strong in the heroic sense, but strong because you have to absorb the shock instantly to calibrate your response for his mother and your child while surrounded by the media all the time. I was for a while obsessed with each and every comment on social media and despite people telling me to switch off, I could not. I remember each and every comment, report and also the lies.... But like I said, I also drew strength from those who were there, quietly. Poeple who loved and adored Rahul and have been a part of our journey.
I don’t want anyone to walk away from an interaction with me carrying a bad experience. I genuinely aspire to be an inspiring senior, a positive presence on set, and a good colleague. Eigulo amar kachhe khub important
Priyanka Sarkar
There will be no closure, and I am not ready for it yet. There are still four movies Rahul recommended on my phone that I cannot bring myself to watch yet. There is still a lot to do, and I want to stay positive. Whether that positivity fuels a constructive influence or provides the rage required for the legal fight currently underway, I don’t know.
The truth is, we still don’t have all the answers. More than anyone else, Shohoj deserves to know. He has the right to know. Because there are complex technical and legal aspects involved, I don’t want to say too much right now.
If you met your 12-year-old self right now, what would you say to her?I am proud of you.
Even if there are a hundred voices around me, there are perhaps four whose feedback truly matters. They have earned that place in my life.The rest, I hear, but I don’t necessarily absorb
Priyanka Sarkar
Priyanka, Ritwick Chakraborty & Satakshi Nandy in the film
Nadharer Bhela, an independent film by Pradipta Bhattacharya, has brought me a level of appreciation I haven’t received in a long time. What made the experience special was our collaborative spirit – protyekta department alada noy, amrai. If I needed help fixing a costume, a co-actor would step in. We all wore multiple hats.
The film has had a very unconventional journey, traveling to international festivals purely by invitation. What’s equally interesting is the screening model. Because of the lack of single-screen theatres, alternative spaces that usually host plays or community events are being converted into cinema halls with a screen and projector. I’ve attended these screenings in Barasat, North Bengal, and Kolkata. Perhaps this sense of exclusivity has created immense demand. The character itself was incredibly taxing – bhenge nijeke notunbhabe toiri korte hobe – the kind of role that completely breaks you down to rebuild you.
Rahul was not only my favourite co-actor & writer but also my best friend Rahul’s feedback mattered the most to me. I still have some important work ahead, but for whatever I do from now on, there is one honest response I will never hear again. Beyond love, companionship, and professional collaboration—where he constantly pushed me to read, watch cinema, and learn—there was friendship. Or moton bondhu hoy na. He had an extraordinary, innate talent to make people feel connected, valued, and loved. If I can learn even a fraction of that from him, I will be fortunate.
Even during our separation, the friendship and mutual respect remained intact. We never refused to work together. He was one of my favourite co-actors and an immense writer, but beyond all those identities, he was my friend, Arunoday da. The Arunodayda I will miss the most.
One thing I have learnt after losing someone so close is that you continue to feel their presence constantly. A song, a street, a random moment –suddenly something brings him back. Sometimes the memories are painful, some-times funny. I’ve consciously tried to hold on to humour, because it was incredibly important to Rahul
Priyanka Sarkar
Shohoj is a very sensitive, philosophical child. Lately, our chats have become much more profound. The other day, a song came on shuffle, and he quickly changed it. I knew it carried certain memories for him, but I didn’t push. I just told him, “You don’t have to talk about it right now, but whenever you want to, you can.”
He is becoming incredibly responsible, often worrying about me more than most children worry about their parents. He is also building his own creative world online, editing videos and creating music. As a parent, I want to keep the space for conversation entirely open. Whatever challenge he faces, I want him to know his parents are there. That trust is what matters most. We have our lighter moments too and going out on a food expeditions everymonth is something we have always cherished. He loves his pizzas and sushis.
Priyanka Sarkar with Prosenjit Chatterjee, Rituparna Sengupta and others during Rahul’s cremation
What touched me most was that Rahul’s death was never politicised. From the police station to the media, people across political lines spoke in one voice. The entireartistic community stood together, and that means a great deal to me
Priyanka Sarkar
Pic: Anindya Saha; makeup: Suman Ganguly; hair: Sandip Ghosh; stylist: Sampurna Dey; location: COLAB Coffee Calcutta
