The Quest To Tell Stories Still Drives Neeraj Ghaywan
Neeraj Ghaywan came to filmmaking to tell stories from the margins and the responsibility of doing so still shapes this Regal’s work today
THE SUCCESS OF HIS DEBUT FILM Masaan (2015) at the Cannes Film Festival established Neeraj Ghaywan as a director of unusual sensitivity—one willing to tackle subjects like caste. With the world taking notice, he could have rushed towards bigger spectacles. Instead, he chose to stay committed to emotional and social honesty—a path that led him to the critically-acclaimed Homebound (2025).
Even as his canvas expands, Ghaywan remains drawn to stories from the margins—about aspiration, exclusion and resilience. His journey, from an MBA graduate working in corporate India to an internationally recognised director, has been shaped by risk, self-doubt and personal reflection on identity, responsibility and representation.
In this conversation, he reflects on the discipline behind his craft, the weight of visibility and the choices that shaped both the artist and the man.
Looking back, when was the first time you felt like you had earned authority in your field—and what did it cost you to get there?
I wouldn’t call it authority—more a series of milestones. During my corporate life, I used to read the film blog, Passion for Cinema, where I met Anurag Kashyap who later became my mentor. Later I ended up writing world cinema reviews for the blog. When I was disillusioned with my film marketing job, he invited me to assist him on Gangs of Wasseypur (GOW). At the time, I was an MBA graduate with one of the highest pay package in my class—my parents were proud. I misconstrued a good pay package as happiness for years.
When I finally quit my job to assist Anurag, my parents were deeply disappointed. We didn’t speak for six or seven months; I almost felt orphaned. Working on GOW, I came into my own. I felt liberated. Later, I directed a guerrilla-style short, Shor. After watching it, Anurag told me I had an original voice and the depth to pursue filmmaking. When the film travelled to festivals and received appreciation, I felt validated for the first time.
I have masqueraded as an upper-caste member all my life and while working on Masaan I was ridden with fear of being found. I kept my identity hidden. When the film was selected at Cannes and won two awards, that was the moment the world gave me authority.
Your career isn’t built on lineage or privilege. What did you have to build from scratch to claim your place?
I was already 29 when I decided to pursue filmmaking without any knowledge. I had to build cultural capital from the ground up.
Anurag was a generous mentor, he offered me space but I had to develop my own cinematic consciousness. I watched two or three films every day—sometimes again on mute to study further.
Most of my film-assisting days went into learning—like learning editing via YouTube tutorials. It took a lot for me to quit a big career to get here and it was entirely on to me to make it count. So I didn’t socialise or party, I stayed home educating myself. I come from academia and I missed not having gone to film school so I built my own learning through observation and reading up on films.
Talent gets attention; discipline sustains power. What does discipline look like in your daily life?
To be honest, writing Homebound was way harder than directing it. I used to procrastinate because of the fear of failure. I’d stare at a blank screen for hours. So I used my corporate muscle memory to offset my procrastination. I would wake up at 4 am to research and write, reach the Dharma office by 7 am. I’d write until 1 pm. I treated it like a corporate job—this helped me instil a sense of discipline. For me, discipline comes from consistency, the drive to be authentic and the pursuit to bring meaning to the lives I base my work on.
Every trailblazer has a moment where the risk outweighed the safety. What was the decision that changed the scale of your life and how close were you to walking away?
After GOW, my parents expected me to return to a corporate career. Instead, when Anurag asked me to assist on Bombay Velvet, I initially agreed—but quit within a week to make my own film. That became Masaan.
Another turning point was publicly acknowledging my Dalit identity. I claimed myself out of the fear and shame that I harboured all my life. I set myself free.
In the face of doubt or rejection, what belief kept you moving forward?
My films focus on people living on the margins and that responsibility is bigger than my own quest as a filmmaker. This feeling keeps me committed to work against any external or internal fear.
Today, how do you decide when to push, when to pause and when to walk away?
There are countless stories in this country that remain to be told. I push until their emotional truth emerges. These stories are bigger than me. I am a driven by purpose and ambition but cannot compromise on dignity. That is when I walk away.
How do you keep things real today?
I’m quite self-critical and surround myself with friends who offer honest feedback. At the same time I have learned to trust my own instincts. For me the pursuit, the toil and the thrill of the journey matters more than the outcome.
If regality is earned, not inherited, what responsibility comes with it? How do you want to be remembered?
With recognition comes the responsibility to remain authentic. Art demands sincerity, persistence and honesty. I would like to be remembered as someone who pursued art with integrity and tried to find meaning in everything he did.