Dui Shaw: When the real horrors are the ones we committed along the way
A chilling sequel that trades jump scares for haunting reflections on societal horrors, Dui Shaw cements Nuhash Humayun’s mastery of Bangladeshi horror storytelling
Around 4:00 in the morning, beneath the thin protection of my mosquito net, I finally shut my laptop. The curtains were drawn, the door locked, and every crack meticulously sealed to block out the light. I had just completed Pet Kata Shaw, a series that redefined Bangladeshi horror storytelling.
Sleep was elusive. Every noise, every flicker of shadow sent chills down my spine. I couldn't shake the image of 'Nishi' emerging from the lake, silently creeping into my room to call me.
When the second season, Dui Shaw, began airing weekly, I did not wait till all four episodes were out. Instead, I embraced the slower pace, watching one episode at a time like in the old days. The anticipation between episodes made the experience richer, giving me something thrilling to look forward to each week.
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While the first season kept us up at night, haunted by unseen horrors that fed on our deepest fears; the second season, however, feels like a mirror held up to our world—a world broken beyond repair, forcing us to accept that this is just how things are.
"I didn't want to repeat the same storytelling style of Pet Kata Shaw in the second season. This time, the focus shifted from 'scary ghost stories' to 'living, breathing scary human stories' that reflect real-life horrors we face daily. The aim was to move beyond jump scares and go into psychological horrors and intellectually stimulating narratives," said the director Nuhash Humayun.
Episodes
"Who told you you are a good Muslim?"—a simple question from 'Waqt,' the first episode of the series, lands like a slap to the self-righteous preachers who cherry-pick parts of religion to serve their personal agendas, often twisting it further to fit their needs.
The episode moves quickly but stays controlled, demanding your full attention. It shows how easily people can be led to their downfall when their weakest points are skillfully exploited.
The series follows the theme of 'ghosts may be scary but it is humans who are petrifying.' The second episode 'Bhaggo Bhalo,' tells you a broken system can take away every bit of empathy left inside you as a person.
The season's standout episode was 'Antara,' a sequel to 'Mishti Kichu' from the previous season. In the earlier episode, Mahmud struggled to remember details of his daily life and wished for a brain that retained everything. The Jinn granted his wish, but the gift turned into a curse. The constant influx of memories overwhelmed him, leading to madness and eventually his death.
This season, the story takes a turn as it focuses on his wife, Antara. Unlike Mahmud, she seeks to forget the memories that weigh heavily on her mind, hoping to regain her peace and sanity. The contrast between Mahmud's desire to remember everything and Antara's wish to forget brings a new layer to the narrative.
"I didn't want to repeat the same storytelling style of Pet Kata Shaw in the second season. This time, the focus shifted from 'scary ghost stories' to 'living, breathing scary human stories' that reflect real-life horrors we face daily. The aim was to move beyond jump scares and go into psychological horrors and intellectually stimulating narratives."
The episode stood out for its compelling story and the performances of Quazi Nawshaba Ahmed and Azfan Hossain. They brought Antara and Mahmud's emotional struggles to life, leaving a lasting impression.
"Antara is not just about the devil leading you astray; it digs deeper. It's about being trapped in a toxic relationship you believe you can't escape, only to realise that the power to leave or stay was always within you. This does not only apply to romantic relationships but any other problematic family ties," said Nuhash.
This season's character reveal was the talk of pop culture, and the cameos made the show even more interesting to watch.
The final episode, 'Besura' which starred Jaya Ahsan started as an entertaining watch, but the twist served as a grim reminder that perfection from a distance often hides a different reality up close.
"Besura is a fictional musical folk tale which takes you on a weird journey but the inner message remains about how inhumanely minorities are treated in a society where in the end they just want acceptance," shared Nuhash.
In a land where everyone dons colourful clothes, paints their faces, and sings folk songs, a mother struggles to shield her daughter from evil lurking beneath the guise of a joyful community.
Before wrapping up our conversation, Nuhash remarked, "Despite everything, I believe Bangla literature holds a treasure trove of folk ghost stories, leaving plenty yet to explore in the years ahead."
While Dui Shaw may not have you sleepless and anxiously anticipating Nishi's Daak like its predecessor, it will certainly compel you to examine the core issues of our society and ponder if there's any escape from them.
