Ghosh's cinematographer Soumik Haldar shoots the interior of Radhika's home as a manifestation of her innermost turmoil. She paces the bedroom, speaks to her dead husband, scolds and accuses him, as the family's silently-observant maid tries to come to terms with the enormity of Radhika's self-recrimination and loss.

The film is a work suffused with longing for a world that has slipped out of the protagonist's fingers while she was counting the money in her purse. It's the illuminating story of a woman's voyage into the dimmed light of a yesterday that she thought was wretched.

But it was just life.

Finally, the impact of the marital tale depends completely on the central performance. As the working wife who feels her husband has let down their marriage, Bipasha pulls out all stops to deliver her career's best performance. Her moments of anguish before and after her husband's deaths are expressed in tones of cathartic conviction that we never knew existed within Bipasha.

In the scene where she shouts against her imaginary husband on his favourite chair, Bipasha furnishes the proceedings with the anguished portrayal of bereavement that perhaps only a Shabana Azmi can equal.

This despite the fact that Bipasha's voice has been dubbed by a woman who doesn't really have a say in the character's portrayal.

But then in an ironic way, isn't that what the character is all about? The disembodied voice is a reminder of Radhika's dissociation from her own identity.

Somewhere in finding the centre to her marriage, Radhika lost it. And loss, as we all know, is one helluva upper for art.

Savour the delicacy of Ghosh's poetic work. And never mind the spoken language. In a true work of art, the sound is the least important component. Listen carefully. You can hear the muffled sound of a broken heart in this film.