"Discover Kumud Chaudhary's pathbreaking journey from television to film, her passion for storytelling, and how she balances creativity with leadership at Golden Ratio Films while navigating the evolving entertainment industry." Vinta Nanda has a freewheeling conversation with her.

Photography: Vinta Nanda

In this exclusive interview, Kumud Chaudhary, director and screenwriter, shares her pathbreaking journey from television to film. As the Head of Writers' Room at Golden Ratio Films, Kumud discusses her passion for storytelling, the challenges of transitioning between mediums, and her work on indie and international projects. With insights into her creative process, experiences in the entertainment industry, and upcoming film releases, this conversation offers a unique look into the world of cinema.

Kumud Chaudhary is a seasoned professional in the Film and OTT Entertainment industry, with an impressive career that spans a variety of roles, from Director and Screenwriter to Head of the Writers' Room at Golden Ratio Films. Her expertise in screenwriting, script development, and script doctoring, along with her previous experience as a VP-level Creative Executive in the General Entertainment Broadcast Industry, highlights her deep understanding of the media landscape. With her extensive knowledge of storytelling, Kumud has not only mastered the art of crafting narratives but also contributes as a Project Consultant across the digital, VOD, and feature film domains.

In a conversation with Kumud, what emerges strongly is her unyielding love for storytelling, rooted in her lifelong passion for reading. As she fondly recalls, “I’ve been a voracious reader since childhood. I always had a book in hand, even while watching TV. I remember my friends reading Mills & Boon, but I was drawn to Russian and Hindi classics.” One of her earliest reads was Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, a book she devoured during her school days. This passion for literature, nurtured by her school teachers and parents, shaped her perspective on storytelling. Her transition to bestsellers didn’t diminish her love for the classics, and to this day, she balances her creative work with reading, often picking up books that aid her profession.

She credits her family for maintaining a rich culture of reading at home, from her husband, Ashwini Chaudhary, a filmmaker with a notable body of work (Laado (2000), Dhoop (2003), Siskiyaan (2005), Good Boy, Bad Boy (2007), Jodi Breakers (2012), Setters (2019), Illegal (2020)), who shares her love for books, to her children, who have also embraced the habit.

Kumud’s favourite books include Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell and Roots by Alex Haley, both of which resonate with her due to their deep, multidimensional characters. As she puts it, “I keep going back to these books after a gap of a few years.” More recently, she was captivated by The Bridges of Madison County by Robert Waller.

The day I met her last week was one of those rare, balmy afternoons when the sun, lazily shining through the clouds, painted the room in a gentle glow, setting the perfect scene for two women—seasoned veterans of the entertainment industry, who had travelled different paths within the same world—to sit across from each other, coffee mugs in hand, with the weight of years of shared and separate experiences between them.

Sitting across from Kumud Chaudhary, I couldn’t help but reflect on how far we’d both come. We had walked similar streets, lived in the same North Indian cities—Chandigarh, Jalandhar—yet never crossed paths until our careers finally collided while she was leading programming at Star Network. It felt as though we had been part of the same narrative but in different chapters, and now, as we sat down to talk, our chapters converged.

Kumud began with a sense of nostalgia. "I started freelancing after a while, after stints at various networks," she said. "I took on some projects, consulted here and there. It wasn’t until the year 2000 that I really began writing again. And once I started," she continued, "there was no stopping. I worked on a few of Ashwini’s films, wrote for some TV shows, and eventually, that led to me directing my own film."

I’ve always been curious about how projects happen for creative people—they take shape in different ways, as the processes are unique to each one. I could see from Kumud’s expression that this film had a special story behind it. I asked, "How did Chote Nawab, your debut as a director of a feature film, happen?"

She smiled, clearly savouring the memory. I found myself smiling too, picturing her hurriedly scribbling down those first ideas, like a flash of inspiration that couldn’t wait to be captured.

"I spoke to a friend who connected me with some people, and soon they were asking for the script. I told them it was like Monsoon Wedding, but set in a Muslim family. That got their attention right away."

"Of course it did!" I said. A story like that was bound to get noticed.

"But you know," she said, "every project has its own destiny. In this business, you can give everything to something and still have it not work out. Then there are those effortless moments when things fall into place."

I nodded, understanding perfectly.

"So many actors, so much to manage. It was overwhelming." After a long pause, she trailed off, “Life is so unpredictable. Look at us here—you and me, just two women chatting in this room filled with sunshine, looking back after years of having known each other, but never meeting like this to just talk."

I smiled. "A lovely chat, indeed. But that time must have been exhausting, especially with your boys away at university," I said, bringing her back to the time she was making Chote Nawab.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, that wasn’t the hard part. They were used to not having me around. My younger one was at Ashoka University, and the elder one was at Symbiosis. If anything, I’m a thorn in their side when I’m home—too much of a control freak!"

I laughed along with her, but I knew what she meant. The real challenge had always been balancing the demands of the industry with personal life.

Kumud’s face grew more serious as she continued, "The difficult part was coming from a television background, where collaboration was the norm. Here, the team took me for granted and assumed I was pliable—that I’d do whatever they wanted."

"We’ve all been through that when making the transition from television to film," I said.

"The industry is like that," I agreed. "It never lets you go."

Kumud chuckled. "Yes, I shot that film in 2018, and now, five or six years later, it’s still coming back to me. The moment I decided to let go, the universe handed it right back."

"It’s a lifelong journey," I said, thinking about my own path. "Things evolve, and so do you."

"If you don’t grow, you’re creatively dead," she said. "But you know, I’ve never really liked any of my earlier work. I look back at the documentary I made when I was younger and feel embarrassed. I think, ‘Oh, I could have done that so much better.’"

"I understand," I said. "We’re our own worst critics, that’s the problem."

Kumud’s expression softened. "Yes, but the good thing is, the universe has always given me new opportunities. Even now, I’m working with young people, learning from them. It’s a gift."

"So, what’s going on with Golden Ratio Films now?" I asked, curious about the production house she’s working with, helmed by her husband, the renowned writer and filmmaker Ashwini Chaudhary.

"Golden Ratio was already up and running when I joined," she explained. "They were making indie films, short films—some award-winning ones too. I’ve been here for three years now. I head the writers' room, and we get pitched all sorts of projects—films, shows. I’m reading scripts all the time."

"And what are you producing?" I asked.

"Films, mostly," she replied. "We haven’t produced an OTT show yet, but we’ve got some lined up. Next year, I have three films set for London. One of them was pitched to us, another I picked up from Story Inc. as an unpublished beat sheet, and the third I developed from scratch with a team in London."

"That’s intense!" I said.

"It is," she admitted, "and casting is a huge challenge. We shot two films last year—one in 2023 and two in 2022—but we haven’t shot anything this year because of casting delays."

"Always the issue," I said, nodding.

"Yes," she sighed, "but we’re moving forward. We’ve been acquiring rights to books, real-life stories… We’ve got a lot stored away for future development."

I glanced at the bookshelves behind her. "You’ve always been a reader?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "Some of our projects are even connected to Hollywood. We’re hoping to get them off the ground either next year or the year after."

"International projects?" I asked.

"Well, not entirely. They’re Hindi films, but one of them has a crossover feel. I’m excited about that one—I developed it from scratch."

"So, you’ve been leading the writing process for all these films. What about directing your next?" I remarked.

"Yes, I am working toward that. But I don’t just pick up any script. It has to speak to me. I’m past the stage where I can just direct anything. It needs to ignite fire in me." Kumud’s eyes gleamed. "There was one project Ashwini suggested I direct, but I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. I’ve learned—I won’t make the same mistake twice. There’s always room for new mistakes," she said, chuckling. "But at least they’re new ones. At the end of the day, I need to be able to say ‘no’ and take ownership."

We paused for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts, and then I asked, "So, where are your kids now?"

"Shubhankar is in the film industry," Kumud explained. "He worked on PS1 and PS2 with Mani Ratnam. We’re waiting for him to say yes to a script—it’s time for him to make his debut."

I laughed. "You’re glad you made your debut before him, aren’t you?"

She grinned. "Yes, absolutely! My younger one, though, he’s in the UK, he’s a banker."

"No interest in films?" I asked, surprised.

"None," she said, shaking her head. "He’s seen the ups and downs of this industry and decided not to be a part of it."

"Well, three powerful creative forces in the universe of cinema from a family of four makes it a ‘Golden Ratio,’ doesn’t it?"

Kumud laughed out loud and took me over to Ashwini’s workspace, and we chatted more about the industry and other things before parting ways…