“I am not your beta, I am your beti. We, daughters, too deserve to get the same respect accorded to sons.”
This dialogue is from the film Mrs., which has been making headlines of late. The screenplay for this film was written by Anu Singh Choudhary, who is also known for her work on projects such as Arya, Grahan and Sajini Shinde Ka Viral Video, among others. In addition to her screenwriting, Choudhary has authored several books, including Neela Scarf, Mamma ki Diary and Bhali Ladkiyan-Buri Ladkiyan. Having begun her career in journalism, she has established herself as a prominent figure in the film industry.
Edited excerpts of her conversation with The Wire Hindi follow.
Mrs. is an adaptation of The Great Indian Kitchen [a Malayalam film]. While the plots of both films are the same, the approach to storytelling differs significantly. Could you elaborate on the challenges you experienced while writing the film, as well as your thought process?
When I saw The Great Indian Kitchen, I was profoundly moved by the narrative. However, it seemed to represent the experiences of a specific region and cultural context, suggesting that such circumstances are not universally applicable. Therefore, my primary objective while writing Mrs. was to create a narrative that resonates with a broader audience, featuring characters that are relatable and familiar, allowing for a genuine connection with the viewers.
Many things here [in the North] are different from the South, such as the prohibition against women visiting Sabarimala temple. Karva Chauth is a widely celebrated festival here, and while it can be a joyous occasion, it is important to recognise that many expectations are placed on women under the guise of tradition. Women are often instructed on their roles within marriage, the standards of perfection they must meet, and how to conform to societal norms.
The story of Mrs. resonates with each of us, as I hail from Bihar and have witnessed numerous such experiences in my surroundings. Every woman can identify with the protagonist of this tale, as her experiences are universal. I didn’t need to incorporate any external elements, as this adaptation was deeply personal. I merely needed to present the realities of my environment.
Even after the film concludes, scenes and dialogues linger with us, such as Richa leaving the house with soiled footprints, the notion that dance is not merely a profession but a hobby, or the idea of prime numbers. Was this truly the original script, or were alterations made subsequently?
It was not actually conceived this way. In fact, in North India, there exists a prominent tradition wherein daughters-in-law enter their in-laws’ home with a shagun alta. This practice was made into a metaphor associated with the challenges faced by women, symbolically representing what is left behind when they depart from their home. The imagery of soiled footprints left on the floor subtly conveys the entire narrative.
And it is a fact, that in our society, pursuits such as dance, singing or writing are often not regarded as legitimate professions. I have personally heard this common refrain: “You may be a writer, but what do you do for a living?” When one aspires to take up any art form as a career, such dismissive remarks are frequently encountered.
What are your thoughts on the comparison and trolling of the narratives of The Great Indian Kitchen and Mrs.?
Jeo Baby is a remarkable writer and filmmaker. The Great Indian Kitchen is an excellent film, yet it had a different gaze and narrative. The world depicted in that story is distinct. When I had the chance to contribute to Mrs., and work under Arati [Kadav], who is a female director, I found it particularly significant that many women were part of the crew. This allowed us to infuse our personal experiences into the film. We shared our lived moments, resulting in a narrative that feels authentic and resonates with everyone, making it a collective story.
We are glad that this narrative is reaching such a wide audience and has stirred discussions around this topic again. Those who draw comparisons to films such as Kabir Singh or Animal, or who are trolling it by saying that “Hey, this one can’t prepare a meal for two,” or that “They are always beating the drum for feminism,” are merely reflecting their own limited comprehension of the matter. One can’t really help it.
We have conveyed all that needed to be expressed through this film. The experiences we depict have been a shared reality for many years. We have borne the burden of discrimination. When one dares to confront patriarchy and speak truth to power, it is only natural for them to get miffed. Why fear it?
If the film compels individuals to express or contemplate certain ideas, then consider our task done. No matter where in the world they are, women are under no obligation to keep everyone happy.
Your books Neela Scarf, Bhali Ladkiyan-Buri Ladkiyan and Mamma Ki Diary narrate the stories of women and seek to challenge the patriarchal system. Did you initially consider writing for women, or did your personal experiences guide you in this direction?
I came to Delhi against my family’s wishes. I thought that I would be forced to get married if I returned home, and the only way to evade this situation was to make a career. This prompted me to pursue a degree in journalism at the Indian Institute of Mass Communication (IIMC). In fact, I was already inclined towards this field.
I turned towards writing at an early age. My initial focus was on poetry, and I developed a keen interest in storytelling. During the holidays, I seized every opportunity to contribute to newspapers and tell stories on the radio. I had made up my mind about this career choice as I recognised the significant influence of the pen. I also leaned towards gender and child rights, leading to a series of opportunities that propelled me further along this path. In my journalistic career as well, I prioritised gender issues, which culminated in receiving the Ramnath Goenka Award for a report highlighting the experiences of girls in Jharkhand. These girls, studying at Kasturba Gandhi Vidyalaya in a Naxal-affected region, demonstrated remarkable determination to join the Indian cricket team despite the fact that they did not even have shoes to wear.
Anu Singh Choudhary’s books.
I have consistently believed in the importance of narrating the experiences of marginalised women. I was inclined to convey tales of bravery and transformation among the underprivileged, which is why my literary works feature female protagonists. These characters often embark on a journey toward change, confronting the constraints imposed by society, patriarchy and feudalism, while advocating for progress.
I have also composed stories from a male perspective, as seen in my works Sahyatri and Mukti. While the principal characters in these stories are male, women serve as pivotal catalysts, reflecting the dynamics that frequently occur in our surroundings. My writing draws significant inspiration from the people around me.
Most importantly, if we constitute half of the population yet fail to share our narratives, then who will undertake this responsibility? From Satyajit Ray to Gulzar, numerous people have created compelling female characters. We need not only to connect with it but also to take the legacy forward.
Which form of writing did you find most enjoyable and which one is the closest to your heart: news articles, books or screenplays?
I enjoy all genres and have gained insights from each, which has contributed to my growth. Frequently, I switch from one genre to another to avoid boredom. When I get tired of writing screenplays, I turn to newspaper articles. If I get bored with it, I turn to writing stories for books. So, I keep switching between different genres.
My last reporting assignment was in 2015. As a journalist, I understand the critical importance of fact-checking and thorough research. To this day, I incorporate the principles of the five Ws and one H into my writing. Even while writing a screenplay, I consistently consider whether I can adequately address these essential questions. It is vital to maintain a passion for continuous learning and to remain actively involved in the process.
You received your first salary from Akashvani. How would you describe your experience working in radio, particularly with All India Radio?
At the age of ten, I had the opportunity to recite something on the radio for which I got paid Rs 60 or Rs 70. This was when I got my bank account opened, which I find amazing. My time at Akashvani was thoroughly enjoyable, as the staff were exceptionally kind. On Sundays, there was a children’s programme called ‘Phulwari,’ where children would recite poems, share stories or express their opinions. It was a delightful experience to hear my family listening to the broadcast at home.
Later, I had the opportunity to work with Doordarshan. However, the realm of radio is distinct and unique, as one’s voice becomes one’s identity. I also had the chance to compose stories for radio, writing approximately 50 of them. I joined the programme ‘Yaadon Ka Idiot Box with Neelesh Mishra’, and my experience there was particularly significant, as our stories resonated with the audience and garnered their appreciation.
People often recognise the names and contributions of actors, directors and producers; however, the writer, who performs a fundamental and essential role, often fails to receive the acknowledgment they deserve.
It makes me sad as screenwriters meticulously craft the plot, which serves as the essential foundation for a cinematic project – just like a building. However, it is disheartening to observe that others often seek to share the credit. Producers and directors often claim a share in the credit, which is a different kind of struggle altogether. Everyone wants to be acknowledged as the writer because they believe they are one.
Here, a different struggle is going on regarding credit and minimum basic contract. You may write for a cast of 500 individuals, yet upon the film’s completion, you will find yourself thrown out like the fly in the milk. The actors are unaware of who has composed the lines they are delivering. At times, there is a complete lack of communication between the actor and the writer, and the writer is stripped of all the credit. Many times the writer’s name may not be acknowledged in the film credits at all, unless one makes a fuss about it.
The process of writing for film can be agonising, both physically and mentally. Therefore, it is crucial to acknowledge and celebrate the act of writing and the contributions of writers. Establishing a writers’ organisation, a women’s collective, or an association is essential for it. Without it, meaningful change is unlikely to occur. If we aspire to bring about change, it is imperative that we come together and organise ourselves.
Films Anu Singh Choudhary has worked on.
The topic of cinema often brings to light issues of harassment, such as the issue of casting couch, particularly highlighted by the distressing findings of the Hema Committee report within the Malayalam film industry. Given your affiliation with the association, do women encounter similar challenges in the field of screenplay writing?
Women around the globe face challenges across various fields. However, the fact is that when you come across to others as someone who does not take injustice, you are less likely to encounter such a thing. Nonetheless, this does not negate the reality that women continue to experience exploitation and harassment. The crucial aspect lies in how one responds to these situations. Therefore, it is essential for everyone to remain united and to report any inappropriate behaviour they encounter, so that others may learn.
I consistently advise the women writers and junior writers collaborating with me to openly communicate with one another. It is essential to discuss their challenges and share their experiences regarding difficulties encountered while working with various directors. Only then can these issues be effectively addressed.
Women encounter challenges both personally and professionally regarding equal pay, equal opportunities and equal respect, revealing a significant gender gap. What measures do you believe should be implemented to address and bridge this gap?
Each day, we must struggle towards this transformation and fight for our rights. Although it may be a modest start, every individual must take the initiative. This path of struggle is perpetual. There must be equal pay for women, and they should not be taken for granted. We ought to be recognised not merely as ‘women’ writers, but as writers in our own right.
I envision a society in which individuals are not required to repeatedly assert their identity in the pursuit of equality; rather, everyone should get equal opportunities. Jobs should be awarded based on talent, which ought to be recognised and valued. As women, we do not seek sympathy in our homes or workplaces; our demand is solely for equality. It is unjust that we must fight for what should be inherently ours.
Anu Singh Choudhary at the Emmy awards.
Having been born in Bihar and raised in Jharkhand, you moved to Delhi, and now reside in Mumbai. Which city holds a special place in your heart and remains unforgettable?
I have a distinct relationship with each of the cities. My birthplace is Siwan towards which I have a deep affection. However, there is a sense of frustration regarding the lack of progress in the area. I often get into fights over it. Similarly, my connection with Purnia, where my in-laws reside, is sweet and sour. The same can be said for Patna; each visit leaves me feeling let down, which adds to my complex feelings of love and frustration regarding the stagnation I perceive. Like many, I cherish my roots and cultural heritage.
I was raised in Ranchi, which holds a special place in my heart, as I have been unable to return ever since I departed from this city. It is a city filled with cherished memories. My connection with Delhi is different; it feels as though I have never truly belonged here, despite having spent a significant amount of time in this city. I have experienced much warmth and kindness during my stay. Each time I visit Delhi, it is reminiscent of a beloved returning to the city, only to embrace it briefly before departing once more.
Mumbai is my karmabhoomi, a place of relentless labour. I have never had the impression that I would spend my entire life here. So, I believe home is where the heart is.
Even today, I believe storytellers often find themselves without a true sense of belonging. It is in the spaces where one feels disconnected from others that they are most authentically themselves.
How much support did your family provide during your journey through challenges and achievements?
I consider myself fortunate regarding my family support. When I was frequently changing careers in 2015, my father inquired about what I wanted to do. I expressed my desire to write a film, to which he responded by asking why I was hesitating. I explained that pursuing this career would not provide me with a salary, requiring me to write continuously without getting paid. In a generous gesture, he offered to support me financially for six months, encouraging me to pursue my film writing. This is particularly significant given that he was raised in the patriarchal culture of Bihar, yet he continuously sought to understand my ambitions.
When I was working abroad, a similar situation arose when a death took place in my in-laws’ family. My father reached out to me and advised me to focus on my work, assuring me that they would manage everything in my absence.
My brother and my children have been my greatest support. I have received significant assistance from my in-laws as well, and everyone has shown me a great deal of love.
