A scene in Tanushree Das & Saumyananda Sahi’s Baksho Bondi (English title: Shadowbox) encapsulates its central thesis. Maya (Tillotama Shome) is trying to pronounce words from a Hindi poem, as Sundar (Chandan Bisht)—her ailing husband—is giving her a back rub, while pointing out the nuances in the pronunciation. It’s a role-reversal, given that Maya is the primary caregiver in the relationship, as Sundar grapples with a form of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) after being dishonourably discharged from the army. While she pedals around Barrackpore (a suburb of Kolkata), doing all kinds of work to keep the family unit solvent, he’s the subject of ridicule for Maya’s estranged family, neighbours and his son Debu’s classmates.
The world seems to be against Maya & Sundar’s love story in more ways than one. And yet, the couple seems to have somehow preserved their memories of affection towards each other. The scene showcases the grace of all-encompassing love that can prevail over anything. Everything.
Like most independent films that don’t fit into the mainstream purview of delivering opening weekend box office, Baksho Bondi has been in the works for close to a decade. As producer Naren Chandavarkar notes during our chat the journey might go on for longer till the film finds distribution back home in India, and across the globe. With 15 producers credited for the film—including established names like Shaunak Sen, Vikramaditya Motwane, Nikkhil Advani, Jim Sarbh, Anjali Patil, Sid Meer (apart from Sahi and Shome) —the film recently had its premiere at the Berlinale 2025 in the Perspectives section, among 14 other films by debutante filmmakers.
Right before the crew left for their premiere on Feb 16, Outlook’s Tatsam Mukherjee caught up with directors Tanushree Das and Saumyananda Sahi, producers Naren Chandavarkar and Shaunak Sen. Ranging from the dreams, images that first birthed the feeling behind the film, to grappling with the changing landscape for independent films, the team discussed most things with candour. Edited excerpts:
Tanushree – what was the genesis of the idea, and how long have you lived with it?
Tanushree: At first, it wasn’t a film at all. It was a dream I’d had—about my Maa at our old house—the ones which had a roof without a parapet. It was around Kalboishakhi—when it usually rains in Kolkata. It’s about to start raining, and🉐 Maa is running to take all the clothes down as fast as she can. She was afraid I’ll fall, so she’s also holding me simultaneously. Meanwhile, we’re also getting trapped among the flying clothes. From this hectic moment, it suddenly becomes this beautiful moment when the rain comes and down and we all embrace.
When I met Somo (Saumyananda Sahi) at FTII (Film & Television of Institute of India), we connected over the films we loved. I told him about this dream, which I’d written down. That was the beginning. We started off with the intent to explore how my Maa managed to do everything that she did and, as a result, explore how mothers in general are able to do so much. This resilience and love—how they keep families together iꦍrrespective of the challenges around them. &nb💞sp;
Somo: The script went through many iterations—there were many dreams that eventually didn’t make it to the final film. But as Tillotama (Shome) likes to say, the ghosts of the many dreams, drafts stayed on. The residue of these dreams and drafts have somewhat made it to her final performance. To go back to your question, there’s a wealth of experiences and observations that Tanushree brought to the film. It’s shot where she grew up (in Barrackpore, West Bengal); it’s in her locality. The film also had some of my experiences while growing up—I had a friend, whose father thought he was God. He would disrupt classes sometimes, but the son—who was about 8-9 years old at the time—was very protective if someone laughed at his father. Often, he played the role of a parent to his own father. At some point, the father got run over b꧙y a train after🍌 he tried to stop it on the tracks. It was a strong memory I had about the family, and I tried to explore the pride my friend had about his father, the marriage, and to imagine this family unit seen from inside, with love.
You’re describing feelings, dreams, images—as opposed to story—as the genesis of the film. When did you know that the idea was a feature film?
Tanushree: After we became parents ourselves. Somo and I started writing the film around then. There were a bunch of things we wanted to explore—the residue of violence, mental health, not from a clinical angle, but as something more personal and emotional.🐠 We were trying to understand as we wrote the film, and the short film format felt too little in time to explore these complicated ideas. We might have written thousands of drafts of the film. We were talking about how it is to be parents and how it can only be understood by actually becoming parents. Our child was born in 2016, and it transformed us as people. Suddenly, questions which were huge began to make sense from an emotional point-of-view. It’s what gave us that much more assurance about what we wanted to explore in terms of themes and subjects within the film. ജ
Somo: We didn’t have a story idea when we began. We had images, dreams as our inspiration—that image of a woman on a bicycle, which is a very common image if you go to Barrackpore. Most women who go to work use a bicycle. There’s no parking lot near the railway station—it’s a bicycle stand. When we were writing, we didn’t write dialogue, we didn’t write a story arc. Instead, we focused on scenes. We knew the plot points that would be the fulcrum of the film, but we were more interested in th🅰e moments in between the two plot points.
Naren & Shaunak - When you’re pouring money into an independent film in India in the current times, do you consider it a for-profit undertaking? Or is it an entirely creative decision?
Naren: It always starts with a certain degree of faith. There’s optimism, and a pragmatic way of looking at the system where such a film can be a profitable enterprise. That’s why we tried to find a newer model of production, where people—based on the script, and the body of work that both Tansushree and Somo represent—were eager to come 🍸on board. I think all of us were optimistic that this film had something at its 𒆙core that was extremely strong.
We have 15 producers on board, which speaks to the difficulty of mounting an independent project. Having all these people allowed us to spread the risk because filmmaking is an expensive undertaking. Distributing the risk makes it that much more feasible, but also having these many producers on board also allows the film to draw that much more from the varied expertise of individuals—whether actors, directors, colorists—they all bring their w𒐪ealth of experience.🧜 It all helps in taking a finished film and finding the best way to distribute it and finding its audience. One does see value in it and the people you’re collaborating with, because it’s a long journey. It’s taken us 8 years to get here, and it might still not be over yet.
Shaunak: It’s a misnomer to assume that they’re mu🌜tually exclusive categories: where it’s either a cinephilic passion project, or a pragmatic decision. What some of us are finding is that if you’re able to mount a ‘good’ film, it’s also strangely pragmatic. In the mainstrea🤪m market, where everything is apparently blown to smithereens, I don't think there are ‘safe’ bets anymore. So, one might as well place their bets on a film that one likes.
As happened with my last film, the festival route is the fastest way to find global distribution. At a time when most of our mains🉐tream friends are bemoaning the lack of certitude about what works and what doesn’t, so even if one didn’t have a Berlinale in one’s kitty, the horizon of the market feels stable enough if the film itself is good. And like in this case, since the molten core of the film was the script and the directors, we had faith in them as consummate professionals. So, there were none of the staple doubts that one has when it comes to first timers (usually craft-based), given their immense craft muscle. Also, it’s Naren’s tremendous acumen as a producer that allowed us to reach this point with 15 producers. In fact, having a legion of producers for this film means that our risk exposure was mitigated. And now, contributions have been expanded in not just monetary form. Therefore, it was never quite as scary as one would imagine because we had skin in the game—spiritually and creatively.
Naren: If you look at the last couple of years, films like Girls Will Be Girls (2024), All We Imagine As Light (2024), they’re good films. And they’ve found distribution at a global level, and also back home. They’re profitable films. Speaking to Shaunak’s point about the larger uncertainty at the commercial end of the aisle, there might be less uncertainty on this side of the aisle—if you have faith, you can make a good film, it will fi🐼nd an audience and it will make money.
Somo- Was it almost too obvious to cast Tillotama? Did you ever second-guess yourself?
Somo: We’d seen Monsoon Wedding (2001), Qissa (2013)—the usual ones for Tillotama. We’d seen Fire in the Mountains (2021) [for Chandan Bisht], but I saw it after we finished writing. My first acquaintance with Chandan was on Trial by Fire, where he’d played a very small role. I’d shot him before seeing his work. Ther𒁏e was something magnetic and mysterious about him, almost giving me the feeling I didn’t know much about this person. It was because of this mystery that I spoke to him, and he told me that he’d already worked on a film. I watched it, and we discovered there were other parallels too—he was from Uttarakhand. His relatives had been in the army, which was a very fortuitous detail—especially the dishonourable discharge of a veteran. There’s this line by Bresson, where he says that the key to good casting is people who will take you where you want to go. I think many things aligned with respect to Chandan stepping into the shoes of Sundar. Especially, if they bring their own memories into it, then all the better for it. Tillotama is someone who we thought of while writing the part…
Tanushree: We didn’t think we could ask her to st𓂃ar in the film.
Somo: When we were filming Anamika (Haksar)’s film [Ghode ko Jalebi Khilane Le Jaa Riya Hoon (2019)], the body of a person who works was interesting. Someone who has a very frail frame, but they lift a heavy piece of iron. Tillotama, with her puny frame, is so much larger tha𝔍n she is in real life.
Naren was friends with her, a🃏nd when we finished the script, he sent it to her for feedback. When he nudged her to share feedback, it was when we gathered the courage to tell her it was actually written for her. She’d played the character of a domestic help, but it was just one characteristic here. There’s much more interiority to Maya, which she brings. Tillotama also found a lot of parallels in her own life, given that she was a caregiver around th
Was Sundar always a pahadi character, or did that happen when Chandan accepted the role?
Tanushree: Yes. I wanted to bring that difference of who they were. She not only fell in love with someone, but she also fell in love with someone who looks like an outsider. A lot of Nepali, Pahadi people are in the armies. So, we were exploring tha🦂t he could possibly be from Nagaland—someone who looks distinctly different from a Bengali, something that wouldn’t be as noticeable if the character was from Assam. Then, while doing our research, we found that a lot of the ꩵarmy veterans come from Uttarakhand.
And I would like to add I hadn’t seen Fire in the Mountains then. We did a Whatsapp call with Chandan bhai, and there was this world inside of him. He would suddenly become like a kid, sometimes he would be all proper. I was fascinated by his depth, and I believe a lot in muscle memory—because I’ve been a theatre actor—and I believe 🐈what’s there inside you will reflect on screen. The camera sees it. All these nuances of culture, caste—I think we get it as Indians.
Was the film always Bengali? At any point, did you consider making it in Hindi to make it accessible to a larger audience?
Tanushree: No. It was always in Bengali. A lot of the exploration in the film is very personal. I’m a very proud daughter of a father who we lost early. It was very late that we understood he had been battling depression all his life. We always wondered why life was so hard, even though m♑y parents had had a love marriage. And it was only towards the end that we understood why things were so hard for my mother, and what my father must have gone through. I regret not realising it earlier, but I’ll always be proud of all he could’ve become if we’d understood him sooner. I wanted to give something back to my parents, Somo was my ally; he’s also the son-in-law. Naren never asked us to make it accessible, he truly gave us all the freedom we could’ve wanted.
Somo: Many full circles with this film.
Naren, why turn producer for independent films? There are other ways to lose money… (laughs)
Naren: (laughs) The first film I was an Executive Producer on (Balekampa), it was out of curiosity of putting a project together. Then Somo approached me—given that we’d collaborated earlier and knew each other—and asked me if I would be interested. At that point, I said with a lot of trepidation, “Yes, why not!” He said he needed a name on a form, and if I would be interested. It’s snowballed since and what I realised is that I’d been a part of the industry for long. I've worked on dozens of independent films, and I come from a certain amount of privilege, which I think lent itself to a certain amount of responsibility. There’s such a mycelium network that you start to tap into as a creative professional, because it’s already such a tight-knit community, and has its own silos. I thought if there was a way to br𓃲ing it all together, there might be a more efficient way ☂of making films we believe in.
Fundamentally, with the influx of streaming, I thought there was a way to work on a different kind of a project. And it felt like you’d have to actively play a part in bringing them to fruition. That’s why we started Moonweave, where we primarily work with new filmmakers. We’re trying to support diverse voices. After a point it became a kind of a no-b🥃rainer that if you connect these dots, you’ll get a project off the ground. If you have the opportunity, then why not do it?
Shaunak, was there anything that surprised you about your producing stint?
Shaunak: Firstly, referring to your earlier question to Naren, are there better ways to lose money? Can you think of more pleasurable ways to lose money than it being poured into a film? I can’t. Aman (Mann) and I started producing documentaries—which is a hyper specific way of raising money i.e. grants, co-production markets, or private equity. It’s such a tiny group of people with the know-how that it only felt natural that we should expand to production. Also, by the end of All That Breathes (🦩2022), I’d had enough of the real world, so I wanted to move to fiction. Since I had a few emotional eggs in the documentary basket, we came on board in different capacities.
In terms of surprises, you usually have a vague hunch about the thin💃gs you might be involved with. But we had a sturdy captain of the ship in Naren, and very little trickled down to the rest of us. We’ve been very fortunate that way. It’s a very different kind of skin in the game—when you’re a director, most times it feels like your life depends on it. Which it also feels like when you’re a producer: but it’s different because you’re also thinking about the longer arc of the filmℱ—where will it land, where will it premiere etc. So, it’s a different neuron cluster that gets fired. I found out that I really enjoy it—it’s not bureaucratic or pedantic.
Tanushree/Somo – What was one thing that you were bracing yourself for, which fell into your lap? And what was the strangest curveball?
Somo: Considering we’d been a part of many crews—as cinematographer♓s, gaffers, editors—we had a very detailed roadmap for the film till its final-cut stage. What we knew conceptually, but something we weren’t quite prepared for, was the journey after it’s made. But it’s like Shaunak says, you start using different neuron clusters in your brain, and you begin to enjoy that. It’s new to us, for me personally.
Tanushree: This is truly a surprise to me—the kind of support we’ve got from our producers. A lot of pe🐻ople are telling me how it’s unprecedented, but I’ve been surprised by just how different our prod🔜ucers are. Naren has brought them together, and the generosity they’ve offered to the film is something I’m grateful for.
Somo: One last thing, we spent a lot of time preparing for is a scene where Tillotama is surrounded by street dogs. Naren had told us to take that scene out of the film, saying how will we do this scene? We don’t have money for VFX, Till𝓰otama’s safety, do we need to get dog trainers? We thought of doing it through sound alone. We budgeted for all of it on our Excel sheet. Then on the shoot, when it came to shooting the scene, we were following her character on the bicycle all night. We took 15-minute takes of whichever way Maya wanted to go on her bicycle (in search of her husband), and at someꦆ point, I got tired, and I stopped chasing her. But the camera was still rolling, and she got surrounded by some barking dogs. I love shooting documentaries because you’re receptive to such gifts, meanwhile fiction is usually riddled with disappointments because you go in with set expectations, and something usually goes wrong.
Baksho Bondi (Shadowbox) premiered at the Berlinale 2025 in the Perspectives Section
