Can Goopy, Bagha, Feluda give BJP currency in Bengal?
The strategy of AI videos, deploying some of Bengal's iconic characters, highlights the BJP's most-persistent problem in the state: cultural legitimacy
Another sleuth sharpened his questions. None of this felt new. And yet everything about it was unmistakably contemporary. What the Bengal BJP’s social media team has begun to do is not campaign for the upcoming state polls in the conventional sense. It has started to converse with memory.
The AI-driven videos, borrowing from the world of Satyajit Ray’s iconic films Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne and Hirak Rajar Deshe, are carefully constructed acts of cultural persuasion. Goopy and Bagha are no longer merely nave artistes blessed by ghosts and undone by kings. In these short clips, they appear as puzzled observers of present-day governance, speaking about prices, power, favouritism and authority in tones that feel moral rather than partisan.
Hirak Raja’s tyranny is not directly equated with any living ruler, yet the echo is deliberate. The familiarity does the political labour. The satire is gentle enough to disarm and sharp enough to provoke.
Alongside these, the detective universe enters with a different emotional charge. Byomkesh Bakshi returns as reason personified, quietly assembling clues about how institutions function and fail. Feluda appears less patient, almost irritated by the obviousness of unanswered questions.
The AI is restrained. The faces resemble without replicating. The voices evoke without impersonating. The intent is not deception but recognition. Bengalis have always trusted their detectives. In a political climate thick with accusation, the calm logic of investigation offers relief.
Yet, the most-pointed intervention comes from a different clip altogether. Here, the reference is not literary but political memory. A police officer bearing a striking resemblance to former director general of police Rajeev Kumar speaks with an authority that many Bengalis immediately associate with a specific era of governance.
Across him sits a woman whose posture, diction and gestures unmistakably resemble chief minister Mamata Banerjee. The scene relies on recall. When this character then phones someone identified as CPI(M) state secretary Md Salim and discusses launching a movement reminiscent of the ‘No Vote to BJP’ campaign of 2021, the suggestion lands without needing explanation.
That campaign remains a sensitive memory. It had symbolised an informal but effective tactical convergence among parties otherwise claiming ideological distance. By revisiting it through AI-assisted satire, the BJP is not levelling a fresh allegation. It is reminding voters of a pattern they already suspect.
“We are using AI to create campaign material which has both emotional and political recall value for our voters,” said Saptarshi Chowdhury, who heads the BJP Bengal’s social media team. “Since we, as a party, started from Bengal, it is only natural that we use characters such as Goopy Bagha and Feluda.”
This entire strategy speaks of the BJP’s most-persistent problem in Bengal. Electoral arithmetic has never been its only hurdle. Cultural legitimacy is. The party is still widely seen as an outsider, fluent in mobilisation but awkward in idiom. Its slogans often sound translated. Its symbols rarely feel native. By inhabiting worlds created by Satyajit Ray, the BJP’s digital team is attempting something subtler than ideological conversion. It is seeking cultural entry.
AI makes this possible. It allows the party to borrow tone without ownership, to enter memory without claiming authorship. The effect cuts across generations. Older Bengalis encounter the comfort of childhood narratives. Younger viewers meet these characters as memes, fragments, remix culture. The same clip can produce nostalgia and irony simultaneously, thriving inside the algorithmic logic of short video platforms.
There is also a notable restraint at work. These clips rarely place the BJP at the centre. The party does not speak through the characters. It watches. It lets others speak. Branding appears on the margins. This is intentional. In Bengal, overt propaganda invites resistance. Suggestion invites conversation.
The use of figures like Rajeev Kumar is particularly loaded. For many, he represents a moment when administration, policing and politics appeared deeply intertwined. Whether that memory evokes pride or unease, it remains emotionally potent. AI allows the BJP to reopen that chapter without reopening courtrooms or files. Memory fills in the narrative gaps.
Taken together, these videos suggest a coherent political imagination. The BJP is arguing that Bengal’s ruling ecosystem repeats itself, that alliances change names but not habits, that power continues to speak to itself behind closed doors. To make this argument believable, it must speak in Bengal’s own narrative language. Icons here are not decoration. They are credibility.
As assembly elections approach, this marks a shift in how politics is being conducted online. The battle is no longer just over promises or performance. It is over interpretation. Who gets to explain power. Who frames collusion. Who controls the moral story. By entering through humour, memory and recognition, the Bengal BJP is testing whether cultural familiarity can soften political resistance. Whether this experiment translates into votes remains uncertain. But in the restless scroll of digital Bengal, the party has found a way to be heard without raising its voice.
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Another sleuth sharpened his questions. None of this felt new. And yet everything about it was unmistakably contemporary. What the Bengal BJP’s social media team has begun to do is not campaign for the upcoming state polls in the conventional sense. It has started to converse with memory.
The AI-driven videos, borrowing from the world of Satyajit Ray’s iconic films Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne and Hirak Rajar Deshe, are carefully constructed acts of cultural persuasion. Goopy and Bagha are no longer merely nave artistes blessed by ghosts and undone by kings. In these short clips, they appear as puzzled observers of present-day governance, speaking about prices, power, favouritism and authority in tones that feel moral rather than partisan.
Hirak Raja’s tyranny is not directly equated with any living ruler, yet the echo is deliberate. The familiarity does the political labour. The satire is gentle enough to disarm and sharp enough to provoke.
Alongside these, the detective universe enters with a different emotional charge. Byomkesh Bakshi returns as reason personified, quietly assembling clues about how institutions function and fail. Feluda appears less patient, almost irritated by the obviousness of unanswered questions.
The AI is restrained. The faces resemble without replicating. The voices evoke without impersonating. The intent is not deception but recognition. Bengalis have always trusted their detectives. In a political climate thick with accusation, the calm logic of investigation offers relief.
Yet, the most-pointed intervention comes from a different clip altogether. Here, the reference is not literary but political memory. A police officer bearing a striking resemblance to former director general of police Rajeev Kumar speaks with an authority that many Bengalis immediately associate with a specific era of governance.
Across him sits a woman whose posture, diction and gestures unmistakably resemble chief minister Mamata Banerjee. The scene relies on recall. When this character then phones someone identified as CPI(M) state secretary Md Salim and discusses launching a movement reminiscent of the ‘No Vote to BJP’ campaign of 2021, the suggestion lands without needing explanation.
That campaign remains a sensitive memory. It had symbolised an informal but effective tactical convergence among parties otherwise claiming ideological distance. By revisiting it through AI-assisted satire, the BJP is not levelling a fresh allegation. It is reminding voters of a pattern they already suspect.
“We are using AI to create campaign material which has both emotional and political recall value for our voters,” said Saptarshi Chowdhury, who heads the BJP Bengal’s social media team. “Since we, as a party, started from Bengal, it is only natural that we use characters such as Goopy Bagha and Feluda.”
This entire strategy speaks of the BJP’s most-persistent problem in Bengal. Electoral arithmetic has never been its only hurdle. Cultural legitimacy is. The party is still widely seen as an outsider, fluent in mobilisation but awkward in idiom. Its slogans often sound translated. Its symbols rarely feel native. By inhabiting worlds created by Satyajit Ray, the BJP’s digital team is attempting something subtler than ideological conversion. It is seeking cultural entry.
AI makes this possible. It allows the party to borrow tone without ownership, to enter memory without claiming authorship. The effect cuts across generations. Older Bengalis encounter the comfort of childhood narratives. Younger viewers meet these characters as memes, fragments, remix culture. The same clip can produce nostalgia and irony simultaneously, thriving inside the algorithmic logic of short video platforms.
There is also a notable restraint at work. These clips rarely place the BJP at the centre. The party does not speak through the characters. It watches. It lets others speak. Branding appears on the margins. This is intentional. In Bengal, overt propaganda invites resistance. Suggestion invites conversation.
The use of figures like Rajeev Kumar is particularly loaded. For many, he represents a moment when administration, policing and politics appeared deeply intertwined. Whether that memory evokes pride or unease, it remains emotionally potent. AI allows the BJP to reopen that chapter without reopening courtrooms or files. Memory fills in the narrative gaps.
Taken together, these videos suggest a coherent political imagination. The BJP is arguing that Bengal’s ruling ecosystem repeats itself, that alliances change names but not habits, that power continues to speak to itself behind closed doors. To make this argument believable, it must speak in Bengal’s own narrative language. Icons here are not decoration. They are credibility.
As assembly elections approach, this marks a shift in how politics is being conducted online. The battle is no longer just over promises or performance. It is over interpretation. Who gets to explain power. Who frames collusion. Who controls the moral story. By entering through humour, memory and recognition, the Bengal BJP is testing whether cultural familiarity can soften political resistance. Whether this experiment translates into votes remains uncertain. But in the restless scroll of digital Bengal, the party has found a way to be heard without raising its voice.
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