#TheAfterHour: "The film stands today because of Vijay Sethupathi and A.R. Rahman." - Director Kishor Pandurang Belekar on Gandhi Talks

The writer and director of Gandhi Talks, Kishor Pandurang Belekar, speaks to us about everything - from the struggle of getting the film made to what compelled him to choose the medium of silent cinema in this era!

In a maximalist world, minimalism is not only appreciated, it is, in fact, needed. Similarly, in times of hyperactive cinema, where everything from masculinity to nationalism seems to run on an adrenaline rush, sometimes the most comforting and thoughtful thing a filmmaker can do is offer us silence. A cinema that speaks through its frames rather than words. Because constantly reading between the lines of loud, screeching dialogues can become exhausting, even overwhelming. If social media is any proof, calm today is often found in aesthetic visual metaphors, something that the recently released silent film Gandhi Talks serves with quiet confidence.

Yet, as much as the film, with its experiment and message, feels like the need of the hour, it is also undeniably a risky move. Making a silent film in today’s noise-driven landscape is an act of courage. Which is why we sat down with director Kishor Pandurang Belekar to understand what it took to bring this film to life, what motivated him to choose silence as his language, how he got A. R. Rahman on board to compose the music that turns the film into a musical experience, and how the casting came together like a rare meeting of the best of Indian cinema - Vijay Sethupathi, Aditi Rao Hydari,Arvind Swamy and Siddharth Jadhav, and how through many such deliberate and thoughtful decisions made the film what it is today.

Also Read: Gandhi Talks review: A visual delight that delivers a much-needed conversation without words!

Here’s what he has to say!

In 2026, when words are spoken loudly and often treated as truth, what made you choose to tell this story as a silent film, where no one speaks at all?

I didn’t set out with the intention of making a silent film. A story came to me first. I began writing it as scenes, around 15 to 20 of them. When I went back and read what I had written, I realised something surprising that not a single dialogue was actually needed. The entire screenplay made sense without words. Around that time, Cast Away was also on my mind - Tom Hanks alone on an island, creating images and speaking to them, finding connection in isolation. That idea stayed with me. I also grew up in a very noisy part of Mumbai - constant crowds, shouting, chaos. While sitting there and writing, I often felt that despite all that external noise, what happens inside a person can be very quiet, very peaceful and completely unknown to the outside world. That’s when I decided to commit fully to telling this story without dialogue. But more importantly, the silence had meaning. There is a lot of noise in violence, power, and dominance. People with money and authority always have a voice, they shout, they demand attention. But honesty and truth don’t behave that way. Truth is quiet. It doesn’t scream. That is why Gandhi Talks is silent.

Was there ever a moment when you felt tempted or even seduced to introduce dialogue into the film?

Not at all. It took me nearly 15 to 16 years to complete the screenplay, largely because of the way I write. I have a habit of enacting scenes while writing them, which makes the process very time-consuming. During this long journey, music became my biggest support. Whenever I hit mental blocks, I turned to music, it helped me think, feel, and move forward. That’s why I often say Gandhi Talks is a musical in spirit, even though it has no dialogue. And that’s precisely why A R Rahman was the perfect fit for this film.

Bringing A. R. Rahman on board after nearly 15 years must have been a major milestone. How did that collaboration come together? And when you work with a maestro like him, is it a collaboration or more of him guiding the vision?

It was very much a collaboration but the journey to get there wasn’t easy. After finishing the screenplay, I approached several well-known music directors in Mumbai. I didn’t go to Mr. Rahman first, honestly because I was scared of how to even reach him. What hurt was that no one was willing to listen. The moment they heard it was a silent film, with no producer or financing, they dismissed it. I don’t blame anyone, everyone has the right to say no but no one even gave the story a chance. That was painful. Eventually, through a friend, I sent Mr. Rahman the synopsis of Gandhi Talks. The very next day, I received an email from him asking for a Zoom meeting. Within two days, he gave me an hour, listened to the story frame by frame, heard my music references, and truly engaged with it. At the end of that meeting, he said he liked the screenplay, liked my passion, and wanted to do the film. Just like that. The boldest and scariest thing I told him next was that I didn’t have a producer or financier. I asked if I could use his name to approach studios. He agreed without hesitation. Once that happened, everything else became easier. 

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You’ve spoken about how difficult it was to get this film made. Did you face similar resistance while casting the film?

It was the same story. I met several A-list actors in Mumbai, and most of them dismissed the project, saying, “Who will watch a silent film?” This took years, decades, really of persistence. With Vijay Sethupathi, it was different. During COVID-19, I narrated the story to him over the phone. He immediately said yes. He told me that once COVID-19 ended, we’d sit and talk, but he was committed to doing the film. When I approached financiers and studios, they asked for formal letters or agreements. Vijay simply said, “Whenever you’re in a meeting, video call me. I’ll tell them myself that I’m doing this film.” That kind of faith is rare. And the film stands today because of Vijay Sethupathi and A.R. Rahman. Without their belief, it simply wouldn’t exist.

Given that the film relies entirely on non-verbal expression and body language, how crucial was this ensemble of casting with actors like Vijay Sethupathi, Aditi Rao Hydari, Arvind Swamy, Siddharth Jadhav, and Usha Nadkarni?

Casting was everything. When there is no miscasting in a film, you’ve already won half the battle. In a silent film, faces and bodies do all the talking. I’m extremely happy that people are discussing the performances. Some might question why a beautiful woman like Gayatri would choose someone like Mahadev, who is sawanla, unemployed and struggling. But that’s precisely the point. She doesn’t fall in love with his looks, money, or status, she falls in love with the goodness in him. I don’t need to spell out Mahadev’s virtues through dialogue. His inner qualities are felt, and that’s enough to justify why Gayatri chooses him. She sees beyond colour, beauty, or wealth. In a film without words, these emotional truths have to be instantly believable and that’s where the right casting becomes absolutely essential. There’s a scene between Vijay Sethupathi and Aditi Rao Hydari that still moves me deeply. It is the moment she comes to apologise and explain to him while his mother is unwell. There are no dialogues, the space is extremely small, the mother is sleeping right there, and yet the emotional weight is immense. We finished that scene in just two takes. If these two actors didn’t exist, that scene wouldn’t have had the same impact. It’s one of my favourite moments in the film as the lighting, the restrained background score, the way silence speaks louder than words.

As far as Siddharth Jadhav is concerned, he comes from theatre, and I have closely observed his work over the years. Usha Nadkarni had already worked with me on two films, and Rohini ma’am has also collaborated with me before, so there was a deep sense of trust with all of them. Siddharth, in particular, gave an incredible amount of time to this film. His energy is naturally very high, he’s a powerhouse on screen but from day one, he told me to guide him, to tell him exactly how much to underplay. Through constant discussion, we consciously restrained the performance, and that control is what makes him feel like the cherry on the cake. 

There’s a distinct choreography in the film, where frames seem to flow seamlessly into one another. How did you construct this visual rhythm?

While writing the film, it slowly became a larger intention rather than just a narrative. I was very conscious of the fact that Indian cinema was nearing its 100-year milestone, and I felt that celebrating a century of cinema with a silent film would be both unique and meaningful. That thought stayed with me throughout the process, it was my way of paying tribute. People often ask why a silent film has so much music. The answer is simple - Indian cinema has always been rooted in music. From the very first frame, you hear Indian classical music - Pandit Bhimsen Joshi, as a salute to our cultural foundation. From there, the film moves through R.D. Burman, and then into Marathi, Telugu, Tamil, and Bengali songs. It becomes a musical journey across languages and traditions, and in that sense, Gandhi Talks is a tribute to the entire Indian music industry, shaped beautifully by A. R. Rahman. When it came to transitions and visual rhythm, my priority was clarity and ease. Since there is no dialogue, I didn’t want the film to feel heavy or difficult to follow. The movement from one scene to another had to be smooth and instinctive. That’s why the editing is restrained—there’s no fast cutting, just a gentle flow. The idea was to let the audience slip into the film without effort. I’m very happy that people are noticing the cinematography by Karan Rawat and the performances of the actors, but ultimately, what carries the film emotionally is Rahman sir’s music. Every character and emotion has its own musical identity. There was always a risk of monotony in a silent film, but thankfully, that never happened. I feel extremely fortunate that Mr. Rahman chose to be part of this film and gave it the emotional voice it needed.

I’ve also used several small visual metaphors throughout the film. For instance, there’s a shot of a street dog eating, followed by schoolchildren carrying a flag in a free country, a dog gets food, but a child doesn’t. Or the moment where it’s written that he needs to pay ₹50,000 for a job, while a thief casually flashes the same amount in an air-conditioned cab. These details reflect how education loses value in a system where survival often depends on shortcuts. All these elements come together to quietly underline the realities of class, hunger, and inequality without spelling them out.

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Was there any reference from old school films as especially the second half, which feels contained within one house and is almost reminiscent of the black and white Chaplin era? Was that a conscious influence?

For me, it wasn’t about imitation, it was about using a limited setting to explore something deeper. The second half functions almost like a cat-and-mouse game, but I was very careful not to lose sight of human emotions in the process. Even in moments of tension or play, the film pays attention to small, intimate actions - eating food, opening a cupboard, moments of helplessness, or the quiet pain of remembering one’s mother. These seemingly ordinary gestures carry emotional weight. Mohan, in particular, carries a sense of emptiness that fills the large bungalow he inhabits. There’s a loneliness embedded in that space. Similarly, Mahadev's moments like seeing himself in the mirror and feeling shame or guilt or eating from the fridge are deeply human. Even within the chase-like structure of the narrative, emotions are never sidelined. That balance between movement and feeling is something I was very conscious of.

The film runs on two parallel narratives - one of a life already lived and lost in Mohan, and another of a life struggling to begin in Mahadev and both deeply tied to money, class, and inequality. Why was building this contrast so important to you?

That’s a very sharp observation and rightly so. The character of Mahadev comes directly from my own lived experiences. I’ve grown up in ten-by-ten houses in areas like Lalbaug and Parel, where five people shared one tiny space, two sleeping on a mattress, two in the kitchen. Everything you see in Mahadev’s world is deeply personal to me. Even the statues you see near the temple in the film are from my own home. I didn’t want the authenticity to fade at any point. The character of Mohan and others are equally real to me because I’ve seen people like them around me all my life. This isn’t about judging the rich or the poor, it’s about observing reality. Mohan, for instance, represents someone who once had power, money and a voice. In the opening scene, you see him shouting in court because he has authority. But when that power disappears, so does his voice. Silence, in his case, comes from powerlessness. I’ve seen many such businessmen, once celebrated, now forgotten simply because they’ve lost money and influence. I didn’t paint him as evil; I only showed what I’ve witnessed, adding humanity and vulnerability to make him a character people can empathise with.

Did it also influence your decision to set the film in Mumbai, a city where slums exist right next to posh neighbourhoods or that has more to do with a personal connection?

The geography of Mumbai is largely like this. But it was actually a combination of both. You never really write a story consciously, the story comes to you, and it comes in a certain form. If you follow that flow honestly, the geography almost chooses itself. I could have set this story in Chennai or Delhi and it wouldn’t have changed the core narrative, but the culture and atmosphere I grew up in allowed me to portray it with much greater authenticity in Mumbai. It was comfortable, and it felt justified. Mumbai’s geography could be seen as added advantage as it reflects the film’s emotional and social contrasts as slums existing right next to affluent neighbourhoods, lives colliding within the same frame. That’s why people notice the houses, the detailing in Vijay Sethupathi’s space, the silence and emptiness of Arvind Swamy’s home, the traffic, the everyday chaos, you can feel Mumbai’s pulse in the film. It doesn’t look staged or artificial; it looks like a real lane, a real home, a lived-in city. And we shot entirely in real locations - Marine Drive, Flora Fountain, Worli Seaface, the Worli Sea Link and the Mumbai Police were incredibly supportive throughout. Nothing is manufactured. Cars passing by, people moving, the city breathing in the background that’s what makes it feel honest. I simply pursued the story the way it came to me, and Mumbai allowed that truth to exist on screen without pretending to be anything else.

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The film was released on Gandhi’s death anniversary. Was that a deliberate choice, especially since Gandhi functions as an allegory for silence and forgotten values in the film, or did it happen organically?

It was absolutely a conscious decision. The film is titled Gandhi Talks and it carries an undercurrent rooted deeply in Gandhi’s thoughts and philosophy. I always felt that a film like this could only be released on either October 2 or January 30. When releasing it on Gandhi Jayanti wasn’t possible, the choice became very clear to me. I thought when Gandhi was silenced, when he died, what if that was the day he finally spoke? That idea felt powerful, and so we decided to release the film on his death anniversary.

In a way, the timing also feels strangely apt, given how much we’ve collectively forgotten Gandhi and his values. Do you feel the release resonated differently because of that?

Very much so. The title is Gandhi Talks, but the question is whichGandhi talks today? Gandhi printed on a ₹500 note because that’s the Gandhi people are chasing now. Not his thoughts, not his values; it’s heartbreaking. Gandhiji is respected, even revered, but in his own country, where he gave his life, we’ve forgotten what he stood for. We’ve forgotten his values. That’s why, at the end of the film, we say it clearly: Gandhi is not just a remedy, he is a solution.

But largelyI’m overwhelmed and grateful for the reception of the film. Of course, the box office matters but what matters just as much is the kind of love and attention the film is receiving. People are writing about the smallest details, noticing things we poured our hearts into, and that means everything to me. I never imagined the audience would respond this way. Anyone who has watched the film and supported it has been incredibly generous, because that support truly makes a difference. When people show up in theatres, it gives the film a life, it’s the reason distributors continue to keep it on screens. That kind of backing is invaluable, and I’m deeply thankful for it! 

Gandhi Talks is currently running in theatres near you!

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