#BehindTheLens: “My approach is to tell human stories that happen to feature queer characters, rather than framing the narrative solely on their identity,” says Jaydeep Sarkar

In this interview, the Rainbow Rishta's director, Jaydeep Sarkar, discusses the series, the dilemma of not finding relatable youth representation onscreen, the BAFTA opportunity and much more! 

Although queer representation has significantly increased in recent years and found a more prominent place in mainstream content, the idea of “us vs. them” still lingers. Too often, queer characters are included because it’s a trending theme rather than being approached from a genuine, understanding perspective. Rainbow Rishta, in contrast, offers a refreshing, humanistic portrayal of the queer community, showing that their struggles—especially in finding love and navigating complex relationships—are not so different from anyone else’s. Jaydeep Sarkar shines a light on queer identities, making them more relatable and giving them a universal voice. He captures the real yet hopeful pursuit of love amidst personal struggles, presenting queer love stories with authenticity and warmth. But what drew him to this path of filmmaking, and how did he come to create this documentary series? More importantly, what legacy does he hope to leave behind through his films?

Jaydeep Sarkar opens up about it all, his journey, process, the obstacles he handled during the series, his take on why representation is something that largely the industry is unable to crack for the younger audience, and much more! This interview was in collaboration with the BAFTA Breakthrough India 2024, a programme initiated by the British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA). Here, Sarkar also elaborates on what the opportunity means to him and for India! 

Your filmography includes an exciting line-up of experimental projects; how did it all begin for you?

I’ve realized over time that, as artists, we spend so much effort trying to understand our creative journey, often without fully grasping how things are falling into place. When I look back, I see a progression that wasn’t entirely planned. I started out as a writer, working with influential filmmakers like Anurag Kashyap and Sudhir Mishra. But it wasn’t until I transitioned to advertising, particularly directing beauty commercials, that I began truly experimenting with gender roles. I started questioning the norms, like why mothers were always the active parents in ads for products like malt drinks. Why not fathers? These simple questions, disruptive to the corporate world, opened up new creative doors for me.

I found joy in challenging these established gender tropes. In the corporate conference rooms, my ideas were seen as bold or revolutionary, but to me, they were just common sense. It was in these moments that I began to understand the power of asking uncomfortable questions. For the first time, I discovered how disruptive my work can be and started enjoying it. Instead of trying to fit in, I learned that I could shake up the room and still bring honesty and innovation to my work. After all, I am a Delhi boy and like to take pangas! Once I started taking these pangas with my work, projects started coming in leading to the project like the “Times Out & Proud” campaign for the LGBTQIA+ community, which earned international recognition. 

I’m particularly proud that my journey of disrupting gender norms started within the heart and womb of corporate India through commercials for Lux, Harleys, and more. I remember doing a commercial for a very big jewellery brand where a woman buys herself a diamond necklace just because she likes and want it. It came at a time when jewellery commercials were about men buying women jewellery. So, whether through big brand ads or inclusive LGBTQIA+ campaigns, I’ve used advertising as a platform to ask important questions that reach into every home, phone, and screen. And if we ask those important questions there, somewhere it does have an impact. Slowly, I moved into my work with Rainbow Rishta, which is sort of more overt and I'm subverting things in very different ways. In hindsight, this path wasn’t planned, but I’ve found immense joy in going against the majority. It’s a tactic I hope continues to pay off, allowing me to keep pushing boundaries in my work.

Also Read: Rainbow Rishta review: A heartwarming docu feature about queer people and their quest for love

What do you want your films to leave behind?

Honestly, I try not to dwell on that too much, because it’s such a heavy question—it can create a lot of pressure. For me, my focus is on telling stories that haven’t been told, stories people often say shouldn’t be told. I want to share those narratives. Through my work, I want to express things and ask questions I might not be able to in real life. I like asking uncomfortable questions that can’t be asked outright in conversation, and if that resonates with others—if they see themselves or their experiences reflected in the stories I tell like this is how I see love, life, society, status quo—then that’s incredibly fulfilling. 

I remember when Rainbow Rishta was released, the reviews were great, but I wondered about its real impact. On TV, you have TRPs, and in film, you have box office numbers, but with OTT, it’s hard to gauge. A friend of mine told me something that stuck: “You might not see the impact now. Maybe ten years from now, someone at an airport will tell you that watching the show changed their life, helped them come out. Or maybe no one will ever come up to say it, but it did make a difference to someone.” This thought changes my view towards my work.

Hence, I try not to focus on the long-term impact too much. Instead, I find joy in the disruption I create now, in challenging the norm and enjoying the work that excites me in the present. If it shakes things up in the immediate, then I feel like I’m on the right path.

Can you walk us through your typical process of directing and editing a film? What are some misconceptions around it that you can think of?

The biggest misconception in filmmaking is that everything can be planned. In reality, nothing is ever fully planned, and that’s something I’ve embraced. I’ve learned that the more you deliberate, the more cerebral and less instinctive the process becomes. Personally, I thrive on instinctive choices, even though they come with risks. For instance, I love improvising on set and going off the beaten path. I’m not afraid to completely change the direction of a story during the edit. In fact, many of the stories in Rainbow Rishta didn’t end up as we originally intended—they evolved in unexpected ways, and I enjoy that uncertainty.

For me, the process starts with a structured pre-production phase, but once I’m on set, I prefer to break the rules and explore new possibilities. And when it comes to the editing process, I like working with editors who don’t fall in love with the footage. If an editor praises the visuals I shot too much, I’m immediately cautious because they’re already attached to what’s on the screen. But if an editor looks at the footage as a challenge, I know they’ll be pushed to innovate. It’s that sense of problem-solving that brings out the best in the final product.

I take inspiration from Bertolt Brecht, the great playwright who constantly disrupted norms and asked uncomfortable questions. Like him, I enjoy asking “Why not?” at every stage of the filmmaking process. Why can’t I completely rework something in the edit, even if it was shot a certain way? That mindset always leads me to unconventional answers, and I find immense joy in that unpredictability.

Rainbow Risha is a documentary that offers a unique perspective to look at queer communities vs how it's usually done. How was the experience in making this film? Did it come with its own set of challenges?

I don’t approach it from that perspective. When I’m with my partner, I don’t see him as just a “gay guy.” I see him as a person. Similarly, when I introduce myself, I don’t immediately lead with “I’m gay.” I’ll say, “I’m Jaydeep, I live in Bombay, I’m a filmmaker.” Much like how someone wouldn’t lead with their introduction and focus on identity labels right away though of course, pronouns are important to mention in today’s world. But I was getting that for me, it’s always been about the human stories, about not reducing people to look from the lens of their queerness or othering them from the outset. Take, for instance, the Herman-Suresh story in Rainbow Rishta, which explores a long-term marriage. The central question in that story is about navigating “happily ever after.” And this is a universal theme, whether you’re a cishet couple or a queer couple.

So, all the conflicts at the heart of these stories aren’t just queer problems—they’re human problems. Like in another story, Anis and Sanam, a lesbian couple from Guwahati, are simply trying to find a house together. After the first screening at MAMI, a journalist walked up and said they connected with their story—not because the couple were queer, but because they had pets and struggled to find housing in Bombay. It was a connection based on a human issue, not solely on the queer lens. This is also something that I aim for always—stories that resonate beyond queerness. I want to universalize queer stories. My approach in making this show was the same to tell human stories that happen to involve queer characters, rather than framing them solely around their identity.

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Since you've dabbled with a lot of youth and romance centric projects, what's the best way to represent modern day relationships? Why is the industry unable to crack the code in representing this present day youth?

Has the youth really cracked themselves yet? I’m not sure. We’re living in a time that’s very nuanced, but I feel like people aren’t asking uncomfortable questions. A lot of the time, we’re still stuck in the same old formula of boy-meets-girl love stories that end with “happily ever after.” But life isn’t that simple. For example, look at films like Ijazat by Gulzar, where ex-lovers meet at a railway station, and while they’ve moved on, there’s still love between them. Or other films that delve into the complexities of relationships. We’re not making enough of these nuanced love stories anymore. Instead, there’s this tendency to simplify everything, especially in India, to cater to the lowest common denominator.

That said, there are still some filmmakers who are breaking through. One film which I watched recently and thought was truly progressive was Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3. Without giving away spoilers, what Kartik Aaryan and Anees Bazmee managed to bring in terms of gender and desire in a mainstream film was remarkable. Similarly, Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahani did a great job addressing issues of gender and expression. Some people are getting it right, but overall, most aren’t brave enough to explore these complex themes. They are trying to simplify things, but we don't live in simple times. So when we try to simplify nuanced complex times, we end up with things that don't have any impact.

I don’t agree with the idea that we need to simplify stories for the masses. It’s arrogant to think that the masses are only interested in simple stories. Look at something like Fleabag in the West or even Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3 here—these are examples of mass entertainment that are also complex. This idea that “massy” means dumbed down is elitist and dangerous. Where does this arrogance come from? Why do we assume that people without our privileges—those who didn’t go to the same schools or move in the same social circles—aren’t as smart or capable of understanding complexity?

This mindset is not only condescending, but it’s also harmful. We’re seeing the rise of right-wing governments around the world, partly because those of us who consider ourselves progressive are often looking down on the working class or on people we consider “the masses.” Instead of underestimating them, we need to recognize that their world is often far more complex than ours. We’re the ones who need to simplify things, not them. I acknowledge my own privilege and complicity in this dynamic, and I think it’s important for all of us to do the same. It might sound political, but it’s something we need to think about.

Out of everything you've worked on, which one has been your favorite and most memorable project and why? 

It’s like asking a mother to choose her favorite child! But if I had to pick, Rainbow Rishta would be my most personal project. I know it might seem like an obvious answer, but that one really means a lot to me. That said, I’ve worked on other projects that were equally special in different ways. For example, I made a film called Water Vibes, which had this beautifully magical quality to it. Then there’s Nayantara’s Necklace, which I did with some very dear friends, and it was a dream collaboration to create something meaningful with people I care about. So honestly, every film and every piece of work I’ve been a part of has been special in its own way and a privilege to create. But yes, Rainbow Rishta stands out as my most personal project.

What does this opportunity by BAFTA mean to you? Do you think that it will bring about a change in your career or in the industry in general?

I genuinely believe that art thrives when it receives patronage, support, and encouragement. Artists, by nature, are often filled with self-doubt and existential angst on most days. So when you receive recognition from an esteemed body like BAFTA, it reassures you that you’re on the right track. This acknowledgment gives me the courage to explore projects, thoughts, and ideas that I perhaps didn’t have the confidence to pursue before. It’s made me braver and more courageous. I feel like now, I have someone walking alongside me, holding my hand, helping me to dream bigger and take those crucial steps forward.

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