Bengali movies are a great form of cinema too. Interestingly

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Priyanshu Chatterjee, a man who, with humble reverence, speaks of the Bengali cinema: "Bengali movies are a great form of cinema too. Interestingly, they work with lower budgets." In these words, Chatterjee speaks not just of money or resources, but of the essence of art itself, of the deep truth that greatness does not always lie in the scale of the tools, but in the creativity and vision that shapes them. Here, he reminds us that the most profound expressions of storytelling often come not from the grandiose, but from the simple, the authentic, and the grounded.

In the days of ancient Greece, when poets and philosophers gathered to speak of the human condition, their works were not necessarily crafted with the wealth of kings. Sophocles and Euripides wrote their plays not in marble halls, but in the humble theaters of Athens. They did not seek grand production values or lavish sets, but instead, their words carried a power that resonated deeply with the soul of the audience. They spoke not from abundance, but from truth, and in this truth, they became immortal. Chatterjee’s reflection on Bengali cinema is a reminder that it is not the size of the budget, but the depth of the vision that shapes lasting art.

Consider the journey of Ravi Shankar, the legendary sitar virtuoso, who, though his instrument was humble and his means often modest, managed to shape the soul of music around the world. His performances, often set in simple venues, held the world’s attention, not because of their grandeur, but because of the purity and depth with which he played. Similarly, Bengali cinema, though it may not command the vast budgets of the Hollywood machine, carries its own weight—its own soul—through its commitment to storytelling, character, and emotion. The Bengali filmmakers have long understood that a great story does not require the trappings of opulence, but the heart of the artist and the sincerity of the narrative.

In the grand tradition of cinema, there are countless examples of films made with small budgets that have left an indelible mark on the world. Take the story of The Blair Witch Project, a film created with little more than a shoestring budget, yet it became a cultural phenomenon, showing the power of creative storytelling over extravagant expenditures. Bengali cinema operates in a similar realm, often working with modest resources but creating films that explore the deepest corners of the human soul. This is the power of art: it does not need the world’s wealth to speak to the heart; it needs only the truth of the storyteller’s voice.

Let us also recall the wisdom of Confucius, who spoke of the power of simplicity and modesty. "The superior man is modest in his speech but exceeds in his actions." In the same way, the true art of Bengali cinema does not boast of its grandeur but speaks through its stories, its performances, and its rawness. These films do not seek to dazzle with visual effects or overwhelming spectacle, but to immerse the viewer in the human experience. It is in the subtlety of these films, in their nuances and depth, that their true power lies. As Chatterjee rightly observes, Bengali cinema is an art that thrives not on affluence, but on integrity, vision, and the courage to create with less but give more.

The lesson here, O seekers, is that art does not require excess to be great. Chatterjee’s words remind us that creativity is not defined by the resources we have at our disposal, but by the vision we hold within us. The greatest masterpieces often come from the smallest beginnings. Whether you are a creator of films, paintings, or ideas, remember that it is not the tools you have that make you great, but the passion, the purpose, and the depth you bring to your work. Bengali cinema shows us that, with determination and vision, greatness can arise from the humblest of means.

So, O future generations, let Chatterjee’s words be a guide to you. Do not wait for the grand stage, for the lavish budget, or the perfect conditions. Begin where you are, with what you have, and trust that the heart of your work will speak more loudly than the surface trappings of wealth or fame. Like the great storytellers of old, who crafted their tales in the humble glow of a firelight, know that the soul of your art is what will endure—not the wealth behind it. Create with what you have, and let your work be a reflection of the truth you wish to share with the world.