A Comeback Wrapped in Emotion
Every now and then a film comes along that isn’t just about the story on screen, but also about what’s happening behind the camera, in the real world. Aamar Boss is one of those rare ones. When crowds walked into theaters in May 2025, they watched more than another Bengali family drama. They witnessed Rakhee Gulzar return to cinema after 22 hard years gone. That alone was reason enough for people to line up.
And when she appeared as Shubhra, the retired nurse stepping into her son’s publishing empire, there was a collective hush. It wasn’t just a role. It was Rakhee reminding us that grace never fades, that presence doesn’t retire.
The Story at a Glance (But With a Heartbeat)
On paper, Aamar Boss is simple: a mother, post-retirement, joins her son’s corporate life. Cue boardrooms, generational clashes, suppressed affection, and of course—plenty of heartache. But the film doesn’t treat this like a gimmick. It lets the awkward silences speak.
Shubhra (Rakhee): more than a mom, a woman with her own mind, her own unfinished dreams burning.
Animesh (Shiboprosad Mukherjee): busy, successful, yet hearts cannot reach him. You’ve met people like him—always glued to work, forgetting the humans waiting at home.
The Publishing House: not just a backdrop, but a character of its own, a place where power and vulnerability clash.
It’s not about “will the business succeed?” It’s about “will this family finally talk?”
Why Rakhee’s Return Matters So Much
Let’s pause here. Rakhee Gulzar in 2025 onscreen is not the Rakhee who led hits in 70s or played strong mothers in 90s. Here she looks worn, quieter, yet sharper. Each glance carries weight. Even as she sits in silence, you feel stories press behind her eyes. Her return means more than nostalgia.
It’s a reminder: cinema often sidelines ageing women. Aamar Boss doesn’t. It builds itself around one. That’s revolutionary in its own gentle way.
The Son Who’s Too Busy for Hugs
Shiboprosad as Animesh feels painfully familiar. The career-driven son who wants to provide everything but doesn’t realise he’s emotionally absent. His banter with Rakhee isn’t sugarcoated. Sometimes it stings. Sometimes it makes you laugh because you’ve had that same “Ma, I’m busy” conversation at your own dining table.
And the film doesn’t villainise him. It shows him torn. Between ambition and affection. Between deadlines and dinner tables. That tug-of-war is where the drama finds its pulse.
The Supporting Cast Adds Texture
Srabanti Chatterjee and Sauraseni Maitra bring warmth and occasional spark—Gourab Chatterjee chips in with gravitas. And there’s even poet Joy Goswami adding unexpected lyrical weight. Nobody feels wasted here. Each character adds a thread to the big tapestry—sometimes comic relief, sometimes emotional depth.
Are all subplots necessary? Not really. A couple of the romantic diversions feel like extra garnish. But when the main dish is this hearty, you forgive the side plates.
Festivals and Awards Before Streaming
This wasn’t just a domestic drama confined to one release weekend. Aamar Boss travelled. Indian Panorama at IFFI, Chennai International Film Festival, and even a nomination for the UNESCO Gandhi Medal. That’s huge. Bengali cinema thrives on closeness, but this story spoke to all about aging, dignity, and the hard back-and-forth between parents and children. By August 2025, it reached ZEE5, and people spread the word to friends: this one feels special.
The Themes That Stay With You
If you strip away the corporate gloss, the film is about things every household understands.
Ageing Parents: What happens when your mother refuses to fade quietly into the background?
Work vs. Family: How many of us missed moments because we chased deadlines at work?
Respect: Children owe parents honour, and parents owe grown children full depth and respect in return.
Rediscovery: Shubhra helps her son, and she claims her own sense of purpose.
Quiet scenes strike with force: a half-finished meal on the table, a look of disappointment across a conference room, a whispered confession at a temple under lamps.
A Few Rough Edges (Because Nothing’s Perfect)
Yes, a couple of songs don’t land. And yes, a few stretches in the middle drag when the romantic subplot tries to elbow in. But when Rakhee and Shiboprosad share that fraught mother-son silence, you forget the hiccups. The heart of the film beats loud enough to drown them out.
Box Office and Streaming Buzz
Money isn’t everything, but it matters. Aamar Boss pulled in over ₹4.8 crore, making it the third-highest grossing Bengali film of 2025. Not bad for a family drama in an action-heavy year.
Then came streaming. Within one week on ZEE5, it crossed 100,000 views. Numbers like that prove it wasn’t just nostalgia fans—it was younger viewers discovering a Rakhee they’d only heard of from their parents.
Why This Film Resonates Beyond Bengal
It’s Bengali, yes. But you don’t need to know the language to feel the story. Subtitles carry the words, but the emotions need no translation. The tension between independence and dependence, between care and control—it’s universal. Watch it in Kolkata, Kerala, or California, and you’ll still nod along.
Final Thought: Why You Should Watch Aamar Boss
Some films roar. Others hum softly, and that hum stays in your ears long after. Aamar Boss belongs to the second category. It offers no action blasts or wild twist shocks. It stays by you, whispers truths on parents, children, time, and the spaces between us.
Rakhee’s comeback is reason enough to press play. But stay for the silences. The conversations half-spoken. The way love shows up—not in grand gestures, but in the quiet courage to work side by side.
When you’re done, you may just want to call your own mother. And maybe, that’s the real success of Aamar Boss.
Bio of Author: Gayatri Tiwari is an experienced digital strategist and entertainment writer, bringing 20+ years of content expertise to one of India’s largest OTT platforms. She blends industry insight with a passion for cinema to deliver engaging, trustworthy perspectives on movies, TV shows and web series.
