Acclaimed screenwriter Sooni Taraporevala opens up on the challenges of independent filmmaking, finding one’s path with patience, and how she pens strong, diverse characters.
Sooni was one of the panelists at the recently concluded It’s A Girl Thing (IAGT) showcase at Mumbai Comic Con 2025. the screenwriter, whose credits include Mississippi Masala, The Namesake, the Oscar-nominated Salaam Bombay!, and more, fielded a range of questions about discovering her calling, taking long career, gaps, strong women in her films, and whether she feels pressure to fit into the star-obsessed culture in our country.
For many young people, navigating life can often feel like being caught in a storm without a compass. Sooni Taraporevala, acclaimed screenwriter, photographer, and filmmaker, knows that feeling intimately. The difference is, she remained unfazed by the uncertainty and chose to follow her heart.
“Not everybody knows what they want to do or what they are good at,” reflects the 68-year-old, candid and calm, as if speaking directly to the younger version of herself. “Some people know very early, others take time. I took time. I was 30 when I wrote Salaam Bombay! That’s when my life changed. Until then, I was also just wondering, what am I good at? What should I be doing?” Her advice is simple yet powerful: “Sometimes it takes time. Don’t give up. Keep at it.”
It’s this keen attention to community and complexity that makes her work feel personal, sometimes achingly so, even when the characters and contexts are far removed from her own life. From the immigrant heartbreak in The Namesake to the youthfulness of Waack Girls, the stories are always alive, intimate, resonant. And yet, she doesn’t believe intimate stories are any harder to make universal. “I’ve always been a reader,” she says. “I binge-read books like people binge-watch shows now. And maybe it’s all those years of reading and literature that made me want to write characters who are full-blooded, who have depth. That’s what novels do. They go deep.”
If patience is part of her journey, so is passion. Taraporevala’s films often burst with an ensemble of vivid, multi-dimensional women, not simply one character at center stage, but a world of characters each with their own weight and voice. “I’ve never really written films that are just about two people in one room,” the Padma Shri awardee shares. “For me, each character has to have their own story, their own arc. Maybe it's because we live in India and we’re never alone here. We’re surrounded by family, by friends, by community. I joke that all my scripts are like a circus... so many characters, so many stories.”
That depth comes with time. And sometimes, long pauses. Taraporevala’s body of work is critically acclaimed, but there are years, even decades between projects. “It’s never intentional,” she says. “It took me 12 to 13 years between Little Zizou and Yeh Ballet. In between, I tried to get a big futuristic sci-fi script off the ground, but I couldn’t. When I finally let go of that, Yeh Ballet happened. It’s just life. It’s always a struggle. In our industry, you can’t even start until you raise the money. It’s not like other professions.”
Navigating this industry, where stars often call the shots, isn’t easy, especially for someone as committed to authenticity as Taraporevala. “I’ve never really gone after stars,” she says. “With Yeh Ballet, I didn’t want known Bollywood actors. I didn’t want to teach them to dance or use body doubles. I wanted real dancers who could act. Same with Waack Girls. I was looking for girls who already had the dance in them. So yes, it’s a struggle. Because it’s an industry, and there’s always a business side. But I’ve tried to stay true to the stories.”
That authenticity extends to the people she puts on screen. With Waack Girls, she created a world of young women from all walks of life, different ages, different body types, different energies. “We are not a monolith,” she says. “We’re not just one way of being. I wanted to reflect that.”
Despite not living the exact lives of her characters, there’s always a part of Taraporevala in every script. “A little bit of you is always in the characters you write,” she admits. “No, I haven’t lived the life of a street kid. I’ve been an immigrant in America, but I’m not Bengali. I’m not a waacker. But that shouldn’t limit what you write about. Meera (Nair) and I we’re both fans of research. We go out. We enquire. We’re curious. And that’s how we try to reflect these worlds truthfully.”
That collaboration with people is what keeps her returning to the director’s chair. “The most rewarding part is working with cast and crew. Everyone brings their A-game. But at the same time, I have to hold the story in my hands. That’s the challenge too. Filmmaking is expensive. It’s a train that never stops. You have to stay on track, keep it moving.”
Sooni took time to don director's hat. What is it about the process that finally drew her in? “When I was a student, I was learning filmmaking, but I didn’t think I had the personality for it,” she says. “I thought, ‘You have to be an extrovert to raise money, to lead a crew.’ And photography, at the time, was perfect...just me and a camera.” But time changed that too. “At 50, I directed my first film, Little Zizou. And I loved it. I was in awe of everyone working so hard to bring my vision to life. That joy of collaboration hooked me. I love it now.”
Still, she dreams. She writes. And she waits for the right moment, the right support. “Independent cinema needs more space in India,” she says. “Right now, there’s just not enough infrastructure. If your film doesn’t have stars or fit into the mainstream, there’s very little funding. Most of us have to look outside.”
That’s why spaces like It’s A Girl Thing matter. “I think it’s wonderful. It’s important for girls and women to have their own spaces,” she says. “There were beautiful performances by the girls, the dance...and everyone had a great time. I’m grateful for the experience.”
Through her career, Sooni Taraporevala has challenged stereotypes and given voice to stories we didn’t even know we needed to hear. Whether it's street kids or dancers, immigrants or misfits, she shows us what lies beneath: a quiet power, a search for belonging, a deep desire to be seen. And perhaps most importantly, a reminder to keep going, even when you’re not quite sure where you’re headed yet.
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