Bhavani Iyer is an Indian screenwriter known for crafting emotionally rich narratives. She made her screenwriting debut with Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s ‘Black’ (2005), followed by ‘Guzaarish’ (2010).

Over the years, she has written screenplays for acclaimed films like ‘Lootera’ (2013), ‘Raazi’ (2018), and ‘Sam Bahadur’ (2023). Beyond cinema, she has also contributed to Indian television, writing for series like ‘24’ (2013). In 2018, she published ‘Anon’, a novel depicting the Calcutta of the sixties and the seventies.

Iyer is in Kathmandu to lead ‘Go Tell It On The Mountain’, a screenwriting workshop organised by Shikshya Foundation Nepal in collaboration with KathaSatha.

In this conversation with the Post’s Anish Ghimire, Iyer discusses balancing poetic storytelling with commercial viability and working with directors like Sanjay Leela Bhansali.

You often work on emotionally heavy stories. How do you balance poetic storytelling with commercial viability in Bollywood?

I don’t think any writer considers commercial viability while crafting a story. After my first film, the projects that came my way followed a particular style of storytelling—one that seemed to resonate with audiences. I never actively sought alternative storytelling methods; instead, I naturally focused on the emotional core that resonated with me. It wasn’t a deliberate choice but an organic evolution.

Mainstream cinema often follows a storytelling approach that feels inauthentic to me. In contrast, my films tend to lean left of centre, reflecting the distinct style I’ve developed over time.

Many films you have worked on, like ‘Lootera’ and ‘Raazi’, rely on visual storytelling as much as dialogue. How do you approach writing scenes that convey more through silence than words?

I am not a native Hindi speaker—I come from southern India and am a Tamilian. While I write in English, my films are made in Hindi. To bridge this gap, I rely on the language of cinema, letting visuals drive the storytelling rather than fixating on dialogue.

Everyone plays to their strengths, and for me, that means embracing visual storytelling over linguistic precision. I’ve often been told that my writing has a strong visual quality, painting vivid imagery even on paper. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but it resonated with people and ultimately shaped my style. I believe silences in storytelling are just as powerful as words.

Though I never attended film school, one of the fundamental lessons taught there is to embrace the medium—show, don’t tell. This principle is at the core of my writing, and over time, it has become my language.

As a writer, how do you deal with creative compromises in filmmaking, where multiple voices (directors and producers) shape the final script?

It’s heartbreaking when your writing doesn’t fully translate to the final film. I learned early on the importance of detachment during my first project. Coming from a non-film background, I had little knowledge about filmmaking—I only knew how to write. When I met Bhansali, he appreciated my writing style and storytelling approach. This intrigued me because he had just finished ‘Devdas’ (2002), a conventional Bollywood spectacle filled with songs and dances, while my script did not require the typical elements Bollywood was accustomed to.

After submitting the script, I went to Bhansali’s house. The entire team—DOP, assistants, associates, sound technicians, and the costume designer—was gathered around, pens in hand, making notes on my script. My heart sank. I couldn’t hold back my tears.

Bhansali noticed and asked why I was crying when a film I had written was finally being made—wasn’t this supposed to be a moment of joy? I told him it was because they were changing my script. He then explained that this was part of the process—every department would contribute to shaping the film. My role was to lay the foundation, but from there, others would build upon it. That was the moment I truly understood the importance of detachment—a lesson every screenwriter must learn. No matter how aligned a team seems, perspectives will always differ, leading to inevitable changes.

That being said, I love the films I’ve worked on and the stories I’ve written. Thankfully, there haven’t been too many drastic departures from my original vision. The ones that changed significantly either never made it to theatres or were halted midway due to creative differences. Looking back, I’d say about 80 percent of the films I’ve worked on reflect the stories I wanted to tell.

A great example is ‘Lootera’. The film turned out almost exactly as I had imagined it. I wasn’t involved in the set design, yet when I walked onto the set, I saw the windows and the bookshelf just as I had envisioned them. Sometimes, happy coincidences like that remind me why I love this process.

How does it feel to work with big-name directors and contribute to acclaimed movies?

To me, they are just directors. When I first met Bhansali, I saw him simply as a filmmaker, regardless of his success. It was the same with Motwane while working on ‘Lootera’—our connection goes way back, even before I wrote the film. I see everyone I collaborate with as co-creators, not ‘big names.’

You co-wrote ‘Black’. Looking back, what part of that script are you most proud of, and what would you change if you rewrote it today?

I don’t think I would change anything. Every film I have worked on is the purest representation of how I see any subject, but ‘Black’ was the purest I was as a writer. Because I was untouched. At the time, I had no cinematic grammar to follow.

This film tells the tale of a man and a woman, but it’s not a love story. It also doesn’t simply focus on a teacher-student dynamic. Instead, it transcends those definitions. I believe that even today, it stands out as one of the few films where the significance of the characters’ relationships forms the core of the story, highlighting what they discover in each other. That is something I am very proud of.

Many films you’ve worked on have strong female protagonists. Do you consciously seek out stories centred around women?

Yes, at times, I consciously choose to portray women with more nuance than they are typically given in Hindi cinema. I offer a perspective that frames characters and stories through a feminine lens—something often missing in films dominated by the male gaze.

I recall watching a film years ago where a female character, after a breakup, visits a strip club. But that’s not something most women would do. Even today, despite the presence of many female writers in the industry, true representation remains scarce. The female gaze is still largely absent, especially in mainstream cinema.

A female character shouldn’t exist merely as a prop or window dressing in a film. She has her own journey—her own identity that shapes the story.

That said, I don’t see my films as female-centric. They are balanced narratives where both genders play equally significant roles.

If you could adapt any book into a film, which one would it be and why?

There are two books I would love to adapt into films. ‘Anna Karenina’ by Leo Tolstoy and ‘Crime and Punishment’ by Fyodor Dostoevsky. The former book has one of the greatest love stories I have ever read. And ‘Crime and Punishment’ because it is a crime thriller crafted with a philosophical understanding of both crime and redemption.

Maybe you would want to make them in an Indian setting?

Yes, absolutely.

Do you believe Indian cinema is moving towards stronger storytelling, or do commercial constraints still hold back original narratives?

Mainstream cinema is not moving towards better storytelling, unfortunately. Everybody wants to cater to a hit formula, not knowing what a hit formula is. Consequently, there is little focus on the true essence of cinema, as everyone is attempting to discover a formula that is commercially viable.

What would you say to aspiring writers?

There are so many things I would say to them. However, the most important advice I would give is to stay authentic and share the story that resonates with you.