Bhog – a haunting descent into devotion, madness, the supernatural, written by Shanku Sharma

//Shanku Sharma//

Let me begin by asking a simple yet unsettling question: Would you ever bring home an idol of an unknown deity and begin worshipping it without knowing its origin or significance? Even if your heart says yes, perhaps you shouldn’t. That’s the chilling cautionary note at the heart of Bhog, a deeply unsettling supernatural thriller series that premiered on May 1 (2025) on Hoichoi. Directed by the superb Parambrata Chattopadhyay and adapted from a celebrated story by Avik Sarkar, Bhog is not just a horror tale—it is a piercing psychological study of obsession, blind faith, and the dark undercurrents of the human mind.

The series opens with Atin, played by the brilliance by Anirban Bhattacharya, a logical, rational bachelor who leads a modest life governed by reason. Atin is not someone you would associate with mysticism or irrational beliefs. But fate has a different path laid out for him. When he brings home a curious brass idol from his friend’s curio shop—an idol with no name or known backstory—he unknowingly invites into his life a presence that will consume him entirely. That idol becomes the first offering in what would become his fatal bhog.

The series takes a slow-burn approach as Atin begins to experience inexplicable changes in mood, behaviour, and perception. The brass idol, it turns out, represents the goddess Matangi—a Tantric form of Maa Saraswati, rooted in Buddhist and Vamachari traditions. This deity, far from the benign image of the conventional Saraswati, is associated with forbidden knowledge, outcasts, and rituals often shunned by mainstream Hinduism. As the line between devotion and fanaticism blurs, Atin becomes ensnared in the deity’s invisible grip.

Just when you think Atin’s life couldn’t spiral further, enters Damri, a mysterious widow played with seductive menace and haunting fragility by the magnificent Parno Mittra. Her arrival is abrupt, forceful, and deeply unsettling. Damri’s presence brings neither peace nor love, but rather intensifies Atin’s downward spiral into delusion and detachment. Whether she is a figment of Atin’s mind or a conduit of the goddess’s will remains part of the show’s eerie ambiguity.

Despite Atin’s crumbling world, he is not without company. His bond with Puspo di (Sudipa Basu in a superb performance) offers glimpses of warmth and normalcy. Bhavesh Bhattacharjee (Rajatava Dutta, in one of his finest roles in recent memory) is another steadying presence in Atin’s life, a friend and confidant. But even their concern and interventions fail to save Atin from the spiralling pull of the unknown.

Adding another intriguing layer is the appearance of Krishnananda Agamavagisha, a mystic scholar of Tantric scriptures portrayed with gravitas by the veteran Subhasish Mukherjee. His role, though limited in screen time, is pivotal in shedding light on the esoteric lore that underpins the entire narrative.

Bhog succeeds not just because of its compelling story but also due to the synergy between a razor-sharp screenplay by Shantanu Mitra Neogi and the brooding, intelligent direction by Parambrata Chattopadhyay. The visuals, marked by dimly lit rooms, shadowy corridors, and a lingering sense of dread, evoke a spiritual claustrophobia that enhances the psychological tension. The cinematography is brilliant.

The collaboration of Anirban and Parambrata is a magic. It is a creative alliance that sizzles with intensity. Anirban once again proves why he is in a league of his own. He brings to Atin a layered vulnerability—a man torn between rationality and a growing sense of spiritual unease. His transformation from a skeptic to a zealot is nuanced, disturbing, and deeply believable.

The story of Bhog had previously been adapted into an audiobook and later inspired the feature film Purba Paschim Dakshin Uttar Asbei directed by Raajhorshee De.

What makes Bhog stand out among the current slate of thrillers is its rootedness in Bengal’s spiritual subcultures—particularly its exploration of Tantric traditions often left out of mainstream narratives. It doesn’t offer jump scares or predictable horror tropes. Instead, it forces you to confront the psychological terror of losing control—of the self, of logic, and of reality.

In the end, Bhog is more than just a thriller. It’s a meditation on the costs of blind devotion, the consequences of meddling with forces you don’t understand, and the invisible, insidious ways obsession can devour reason.

Watch it—but be warned: once you open the door, some things may never leave.