Killing time: In 2011’s Baishe Srabon, literal proof that a satisfying detective story is always about the poetry of pursuit

For several years, whenever an editor asked me to review a non-Tamil film, I’ve said no. I felt that to write about films of a certain language, it’s important to know the cinematic milieu it’s made in, like the back of my hand. This year, I’m breaking this belief I’d bound myself by. Partly because it’s tough to know any milieu like the back of my hand. Partly also because conversation about films is a way for me to make sense of the world around me — the world beyond the one I know intimately.

In this pursuit, I’ve started writing a fortnightly column for FirstPost about murder mysteries (and crime films) from around the world. I’ll stay away from Tamil as much as I can. I’ll make sure you can stream them legally. The first edition is about the Bengali film, Baishe Srabon, Srijith Mukherji’s 2011 serial killer investigation. Of all its pleasures, the one thing that makes the film linger in my mind is its almost naive-idealist approach to police procedure.