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We are not free from living the sensation of Bengali femininity, characterised by its sensual, hardy, and critical nature, as it is a tale of vivid representations of distinctive parts of life.
It is not a tale of power and boldness, but of charm and life's struggles portrayed through the softer nature of women working through life and meeting others' expectations. It is occasional for her to wrap herself in tacky, gaudy clothes.
Although cinema focuses on the core Bengali woman, presenting her as a canvas painting of variegated effects, it is not always relatable.
Life has undergone significant changes over time, and so has the approach of a woman carrying her cultural upbringing with her societal and personal values.
It is through a new sensation that we seek solace in a two- or three-hour running shot, immersing ourselves in characters, places, and events. It is the job of cinema to make us feel relatable; however, in the charm and shine of things, and the eternal sense of perception, the glam is not quite suited to the diverse, vast, and dispositions of the Bengali proclivity.
It is always more like a welcome distraction from the regular activities of life. However, it is charming to see actresses from diverse cultural backgrounds trying to portray the Bengali woman sensation.
It is human nature to adapt to the wide angle, and it is common to forget details, as not everyone can be Sherlock Holmes and make acute observation of minute things.
He is a character reference that we can relate to, embodying the characteristics we expect from people who make a difference, like those in the cinema. However, the fictional character reference is a debate demanding storytelling that generates emotions, such as thought-provoking ones.
We are disposing of ourselves to the light and breathable garms of the silver screen, yet losing ourselves in the immersion of allure and fading away from the essence of the true purpose of cinema.
In this surrender, we mistake spectacle for substance, grandeur for genuineness. The Bengali woman becomes a caricature wrapped in a saree or shirt, her complexities reduced to visual shorthand that satisfies the filmmaker's vision but betrays her lived reality.
Under the demure, shy and nonchalant homely quietness of a woman speaking Bangla as her mother tongue, there is a sense of dare.
Daring one needs to become to face the world today as it is now, it is to meet with the challenges yet carry the retiring femininity. We are to give cinemas a difficult challenge, to structure all of the disposition in a way that leaves the viewer in a state.
This quiet rebellion doesn't announce itself with fanfare but whispers through the choices made in shadows, in the spaces between what is expected and what is desired. She carries revolutions in her silence, protests in her patience, and cinema must learn to capture these subtle upheavals that reshape worlds without ever raising a voice.
The cultural elements, such as eating and dressing habits, of Bangla-speaking women have undergone significant changes and continue to evolve in response to external factors, regional context, market conditions, and socialisation. Yet beneath these shifting surfaces lies an unchanging core, a thread of continuity that connects.
Bangladesh shares cultural similarities with its neighbouring India and Pakistan. Here is the reality, the cinematic portrayals of a modern-day Bengali woman facing life in a big city are a statement that denotes struggle.
They are often misunderstood for keeping to themselves and for their choices, questioned, and expected to behave and adapt to the standards of others.
Life with a culturally different partner is inevitably a mysterious expedition that comes with an unknown level of challenges. On the big screen, are we trying to establish a confined representation of the Bong Babe fetish where bindi, bala (bangles) and sharee define it all?
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