Phoolbaganer Lenin

Revolution rises from the ashes of youth.
In the rotting core of Kolkata, seven boys set out to make history - or die trying. Their songs scream with heartbreak and anguish, and sometimes whisper the first sensations of love. In the stages of collage fests, private concerts at rooftops and sold out halls, they perform their melodies. In leisure, they write gut wrenching lyrics and charged slogans. In the godforsaken alleyways they walk barefoot, stumbling through boyhood - chasing revolution, music, meaning, women, men, their fathers' ghosts, and their own crumbling ideas of masculinity. Their record rooms smell like dust and nostalgia. Their balconies like cigarette smoke and dying constellations. With sheer will, they dominate the music sphere of the City of Joy, whisking away the hearts of a generation in the process. As they each find love in their own quiet ways, Tilottoma stands as a witness, counting futile sighs and bleeding guitars - and dreams they refuse to die.