There are many methods to the craft of acting, and I’ve been fortunate to find those that allow me to inhabit a role without losing myself in it. I don’t believe acting requires me to bleed for my art. You can separate the craft from your own personality. Your lived experiences, your emotions don’t have to be the fuel for every performance. Acting, for me, is closer to manipulating a puppet. You move it, you shape it, but you are not it.

Early on, I worked with directors who wanted me to internalise — to become the character. And this wrecked me. It affected my mental health. I would walk away from sets feeling drained, thinking I hate acting. But then I discovered other methods — ones that didn’t demand immersion yet upheld the integrity of performance.

Studying under teachers like Jacques Lecoq, my guru in Koodiyattam, Gopalan Nair Venu or Venuji, Kapila Venu’s father — I learnt something invaluable: how to step into a role, embody it and then step out, without carrying its wounds with me.

I refuse to indulge in suffering for the sake of authenticity. If a scene demands an extreme emotional state, I may make a calculated choice to go there — for that moment, for that shot. But it’s my choice. And the moment the director calls cut, I walk away. It’s a method that keeps me healthy, that protects my boundaries. And as a woman, in an industry that is all too eager to blur those boundaries — to romanticise suffering as part of the craft — I insist on drawing that line.

Ashes to Light: Stories of Hope Towards Gender Justice, edited by Priyadarshini Bhattacharya. Penguin Random House.

I will emote, I will perform, but I will not surrender myself. My art does not require my self-destruction. For me, acting is about making choices consciously. My approach shifts with each story, the character, the style of the film and the director’s vision. In ‘All We Imagine as Light’ or ‘Girls Will Be Girls’, my process was different for each. If I know a certain method will strain my mental well-being, I step back. I choose to be vulnerable for a role only when it is the only method left, the only way to serve the story. And even then, I make a promise to myself — to take care of my mind afterwards. That awareness, that negotiation, is crucial.

Perhaps my clarity comes from the way I was raised. My parents were deeply reflective and introspective, and they encouraged me to be the same. We had open, honest conversations about everything — what was happening inside my body and mind, what was happening in the world around me. That kind of upbringing makes you attuned to yourself, to your own boundaries. And in a field like acting — where the lines between self and performance, between control and surrender, can so easily blur — that awareness is a gift.

WINDS OF CHANGE

One of the most significant, yet often overlooked, shifts in the film industry is the quiet but powerful restructuring of its workforce. When I was starting out, I could have never imagined seeing female cinematographers or women working in the light unit. These were spaces that belonged, unquestioned, to men. But now, things are changing. On the set of ‘Girls Will Be Girls’, the crew was predominantly female. I have worked with women directors of photography (DoPs), with women handling lights — tasks that were once considered beyond them, not because of ability, but because of an entrenched hierarchy that dictated who belonged where.

This isn’t just about representation. It’s about power. The structure of a film set, much like any workplace, is a reflection of deeper social hierarchies. And when those hierarchies start shifting — when more women and marginalised voices enter spaces where they were previously invisible — the power dynamic inevitably begins to change. It’s slow, but it’s happening. And that, I believe, is where the real transformation lies. Not just in the stories we tell on screen, but in who gets to hold the camera, who gets to shape the narrative, and who gets to decide what is seen and what remains in the shadows.

— Excerpted from ‘Ashes to Light’, edited by Priyadarshini Bhattacharya, with permission from Penguin Random House