All her films have originated spontaneously; Lipika Singh Derai never intended to be a filmmaker. Unlike many who dream of making films, her journey evolved slowly, guided by life's experiences and artistic experimentation. Three of her documentary shorts are letters to her late grand aunt—who had a great influence on her life. B and S, the third letter in the series, is a trans-centric documentary short that is having its world premiere at the International Film Festival Rotterdam.
After Lipika’s grandfather left his family to start another one, her grand aunt took charge of his house and children, and became a lifelong friend to his wife. Lipika spent the best time with her during her childhood. Lipika looked up to her and credited her with introducing them to a world rooted deeply in their Adivasi community. ‘She opened my eyes to a rich culture that emphasized the profound relationship with nature—trees, animals, rivers, ponds, birds, the sky, and the earth. This connection fostered a strong affinity for trees, leading me to feel a unique ability to communicate with them. While not everyone understands this perspective, I strive to help others see the depth of this connection. My ability to sense and interact with both living and non-living entities was inspired by her teachings,’ she explains. This strong sense of communication allows Lipika to talk about unique things around, whether it be about a non-living friend or other aspects of life.
An FTII alumna and recipient of four National Awards, Lipika Singh Darai has received four National Awards to date, including the Silver Lotus Award for Best Debut Film of a Director for A Tree a Man a Sea (2013) and the Best Director Award for The Waterfall. She was also recognized as a BAFTA Breakthrough India talent in 2023.
Lipika Singh Darai
Unwitting Beginnings
My filmmaking journey has been slow and complex. Growing up, I was passionate about writing, singing, dancing, and painting, but films weren't part of my childhood since we weren't allowed to watch them much—only a TV for limited viewing. The first movie I saw in a theatre was much later, and before attending the Film and Television Institute (FTI), I had only watched one English film, Titanic.
I spent my school years in small towns in Odisha, where there were few opportunities for filmmaking or film viewing. I trained in Hindustani classical music for about seven or eight years. Still, my parents insisted that pursuing music full-time was impractical, so I reluctantly shifted gears toward commerce and was nudged toward an MBA, which I ultimately didn’t pursue. Realizing my desire to re-engage with music, I sought a path to connect me to the creative field. I decided to learn about music recording to be close to musicians, leading me to discover FTII, where I applied for audiography. This opened my eyes to the world of filmmaking. Unknowingly, I had also been drawn to quality films throughout my life, watching National Award-winning and parallel cinema on Doordarshan. I was never interested in mainstream films, preferring those deeper stories that resonated with me, even as people remarked on my serious taste in cinema.
Giving Emotions a Place
Initially, I didn’t label my work as a series. The concept developed over time, starting with an art project in 2013 where I was immersed in the sounds and images of Bombay, the city I lived in. This experience sparked an imaginary conversation with my grandaunt, revealing a new form of expression that excited me. Post-pandemic, I felt compelled to explore this further. For the first letter, Dragonfly and Snake, I repurposed footage created for a different project. Similarly, Night and Fear, the second letter, emerged during a challenging period when I was severely unwell, feeling as though I had been granted a second chance at life. During that challenging time, I reflected on my future in filmmaking. I had hurt my tailbone, experienced paralysis, and wondered if I would ever return to creating films.
As a documentary filmmaker, I had accumulated various experiences and stories, stored away in my hard disk—footage, interviews, and images that didn't fit into my main films. I felt compelled to share these untold narratives, particularly some insights I did not include in works commissioned by Film Fusion or PSPK. I found it essential to have a conversation with my late grand-aunt, a safe and personal space for me to express my thoughts.
B and S
I reflected on my close friend Biraja and her journey towards strength and independence, particularly her tender friendship with Saisha—a bond that highlights the often-overlooked beauty of friendship and the concept of home. Therefore, I decided to capture this tenderness in a series of letters to my grand-aunt, expressing the significance of such friendships. I feel that I will need to do this repeatedly, and perhaps the letters will continue.
Longing and Belonging
Growing up, I had a passion for writing letters. Every New Year, I would compose emotional letters or cards for friends, teachers, or anyone I felt close to, often adding poems to express my feelings. This love for letter writing was a significant part of my personal expression. I remember writing the third letter, which originally revolved around the idea of home. However, as I started writing about my childhood home, I realised that my thoughts about a particular incident had shifted the focus. I grew up in a traditional mud house in a village, surrounded by a big compound filled with trees, a pond, and various animals. This setting made the concept of home deeply meaningful to me. Unfortunately, that house eventually fell into disrepair, and years later, during a visit with my niece, I found it in ruins. I brought a film camera to capture memories, but I was too devastated to take any pictures. While we were there, we came across a small sparrow that seemed injured and weak. My niece cradled the bird in her hands, and within moments, it became calm and comfortable. In that moment of beauty and resilience, I finally felt compelled to take a few photos. Later, when I developed the prints, I realized that the image of the sparrow resting in my niece’s hands encapsulated the essence of home—comfort and belonging. That photo signifies my journey, illustrating the longing for a sense of belonging in an ever-changing world.
Words Hansika Lohani
Date 29.01.2025