Syed Ahmed Shawki opens up about the power of stories, the emotional core of the series Gulmohor, and why filmmakers need to stop underestimating their audience.
From Taqdeer to Karagar and now Gulmohor, director Syed Ahmed Shawki has made a name for himself as one of the most thoughtful voices in Bangladesh’s evolving screen landscape. When we catch him for a conversation, we find him in a contemplative frame of mind.
Was there a moment when you realised that storytelling was your calling?
There was no eureka moment. I always wanted to watch films – it felt like a luxury. But at some point, I wanted to understand how films were made. So, I made a short film, just to see the process. And then slowly, I began discovering whether I had this artistic expression within me, or whether I could discover it along the way.
Your projects feel emotionally precise, yet they also carry social weight. How do you balance personal expression with cultural commentary?
It takes time. You start with a plot that engages, that entertains. But for a story to resonate deeply, it needs meaning beneath the surface. Sometimes it becomes political, sometimes sociopolitical. The world around us bleeds into work. Art, in any part of the world, speaks of ideas of justice. I think it’s an expression of our wounds, communicated through something entertaining.
Do you feel you’ve changed as a director over the years? What did work on Gulmohor teach you?
Absolutely. From Taqdeer to Gulmohor, I’ve changed a lot – as a craftsman, especially. I didn’t go to film school. My cousin and I built a film production firm from scratch. We made short films to teach ourselves. Every new project became a learning opportunity. We took on risky subjects, shot in tough locations. Gulmohor was different – it felt like our graduation project. We allowed ourselves to enjoy the process this time.
What’s the heart of Gulmohor for you? What story were you trying to tell beneath the surface?
Each of my OTT projects – Taqdeer, Karagar, and Gulmohor – has a different plot and style. But all of them share a core theme: the lives of marginalised people. Karagar is about a war child. Gulmohor, in its own way, is also about a kind of homecoming. That theme has been central to me from the beginning.
Was there a moment during the making of Gulmohor that felt especially personal or powerful?
Yes, especially compared to my previous projects. With Taqdeer, we didn’t even know what OTT really meant at the time. Karagar was on a much larger scale. Both were exhausting. We never really got to enjoy the process of filmmaking. But with Gulmohor, we decided to have fun. We had no scheduling chaos. Everyone on set was relaxed. It was the first time I truly enjoyed creating something.
How do you work with actors to bring honesty to the screen? Do you stick to a strict script, or leave room to breathe?
Funny thing, I don’t consciously plan this. But my actors have told me that I create an environment where they can shut out the outside world’s chaos and focus fully. Apparently, I make them feel at home on set. I guess I just try to give them that space in front of the camera. They are the ones the audience will see, and the 70 to 80 people behind the camera have to ensure they get that space to express themselves.
What excites you about the Bangladeshi film scene right now – and what concerns you?
There’s a lot to be hopeful about. For too long, we underestimated our audience. We assumed they wouldn’t understand nuance. That led to underwhelming films. But the moment we saw them as equals and gave them stories they could relate to, they responded. Look at Hawa, Utshab. The audience is ready. The danger now is that we don’t lose this momentum. Investors want quick returns, which sometimes leads to safe, formulaic projects. We need to protect our originality.
What kind of challenges do new filmmakers still face in this space?
First, you need a strong knowledge of film itself. But beyond that, Bangladesh is a hard place to shoot. It’s crowded, chaotic. Sometimes, that chaos enters the story itself. You also face studios that want to play it safely. It’s hard to get funding for something new unless you’ve proven yourself. After the OTT boom in 2019, a lot of money came in, but with strings attached. There’s more content now, but fewer true originals. Some studios will want to tick the boxes that will give them a return on investment. Therefore, sometimes it is a challenge to fund original stories the way the director or the filmmaker wants.
When audiences watch Gulmohor, what’s the one feeling or question you want them to walk away with?
Nothing too general. Just… a little slice of happiness in the chaos of life.