The end of the world forces two sisters together, inside a mosquito net, just to survive—but first they must survive each other.
Moshari are traditional South Asian mosquito nets, made for protection against vermin at night.
When the world is overrun with bloodthirsty creatures, the last of mankind persevere in Dhaka, Bangladesh by spending their nights inside the moshari—the only known shelter from the unknown threat.
Two sisters, Apu and Ayra, must navigate this strange new world to survive. However, their strained relationship is becoming as much of a threat as the dangers outside.
One night, when Ayra’s curiosity lures her outside the safety of the moshari, Apu must rise to the occasion—as they face their demons, together.
If you grew up in a South-Asian household, you remember falling asleep underneath a moshari.
As the semi-transparent mosquito net would tower over your bed at night, carefully tucked in—you’d feel safe.
The moshari made us all feel safe... and not just from mosquitos, but anything else lurking out in the dark.
It was always my mother or my sisters tucking the moshari in for me. As safe as I remember feeling, there was also a sense of being trapped inside this net.
I wanted to capture our strange relationship with the moshari—a metaphor for both safety and suffocation.
The specific mix of fear, wonder and mystery of being a Bangladeshi kid restlessly poking the moshari wondering what’s on the other side. These emotions have existed for generations as folk tales and primal fears, but not in a cinematic space—not yet.
It took over ten years for the initial seed of the idea to grow into our film, a family drama in the guise of Bengali horror.
The pandemic made the film's production painstakingly lengthy. And yet, the pandemic has also turned this strange post-apocalyptic film into something hauntingly relatable in today’s world.