Interview | “Delhi Is My Muse”: Dibakar Das Roy On His Debut Feature Dilli Dark

Absolutely, I think it's a mandate for independent films to have an OTT release as default instead of a theatrical one. Although, we didn't want a token theatrical release and wanted to go all out. If the message goes out, people will discover the joy of how an indie film like ours can be equally entertaining as the masala ones. The divide that exists between so-called parallel or art cinema and commercial cinema—we want to really help bridge that gap. The problem obviously is distribution and visibility. I think, post-pandemic, a lot of behavioural changes started happening, which made people visit movie halls only for the loud and punchy blockbusters, yet they have forgotten that before COVID, many superb indie comedies reigned on the big screens.

It takes a lot out of us to put ourselves out there. There are people who are writing in every day and I make sure that I'm replying to each comment and review. It's hard because not a lot of the cinema chains are patient with us. We've been doing an intense social media campaign. But, the press has been very kind in the last couple of days because journalists and film reviewers have really shown up and written about it and that's heartwarming. But it's hard getting people in and spreading the word. We are kind of hoping word of mouth gets out today and tomorrow, so we can make a difference.

A lot of incidents in my life and those I’ve witnessed around me, have inspired this film. But there were also certain internal triggers that made me start questioning what it really means to be a dark-skinned person.

There’s one particular incident I remember when I was in San Francisco. Two Black men were sitting behind me and laughing. I was quite young then and still struggling with deep insecurities about my dark skin. I often felt uncomfortable in public spaces. At one point, they asked me where I’m from and I replied, “I’m from India”. They burst out laughing and blurted out, “Damn, my Indian brother—you’re blacker than we are!” That moment really made me reflect. What does it mean to be dark-skinned? And what does it mean to be able to laugh at that?

Especially in a place where people are so careful about being politically correct or incorrect, that whole exchange triggered a lot within me. Of course, stories like these take time to fully form. There were many layers to it. For example, there was an African student I met in Delhi who had come to study film. When he arrived, he realised the medium of instruction at the college was Hindi. He couldn’t understand it, so he would come and sit in our studio instead. He said, “I’ve paid to be here, but I don’t know what to do.” So really, it’s a collection of many such moments and encounters that have shaped the story.

I think Delhi is the perfect encapsulation of a flawed individual who's still allowed to be beautiful. Delhi is extremely vibrant—whether it is its cultural, colonial or political history or its food, spirituality, architecture or music. I identify as a Delhiite, even though I've had this toxic on and off relationship with the city, but I truly love this place. Despite having lived in so many cities and even outside India, I believe Delhi is my muse. I've written a lot about it and I am going to write more about it. There are references to Delhi’s history in my film, where it isn’t just quintessentially “Indian” but always inherently cosmopolitan. People from all over the world are living here, as they did, hundreds of years ago. I think it has always been a city of immigrants and it welcomes people from various walks of life with an open heart. Though its complexities too, persist.

There is a lot of literature, songs and movies about Delhi that are part of an ingrained subconscious. In Delhi 6 (2009), an element that I particularly like is the story of the monkey man, who was this urban legend floating around Delhi at that point of time. And I love magic realism and urban legends, which I attempted to bring forth in my film. The whole “Africans eating human meat” is another urban legend that goes around. Even in Bombay, I've heard people saying the exact same thing. The idea is that there’s an entire world of inspiration around Delhi—from books, urban legends, films and everyday stories. But ultimately, you have to create your own. You have to walk through its lanes and observe the city as it naturally sparks something within you. I’m just really grateful to be one of the few who’ve had the chance to put something out there as my own homage to the city.

Indeed! My nickname is Debu. We wanted a character who’s had similar experiences—like struggling to find accommodation or dealing with landlords who have issues with non-vegetarian food. Debu is thus Michael’s anchor in the city, who is not only of a similar skin tone but understands where he comes from. I don’t know if you’ve seen photos of me and Shantanu Anam who plays Debu in the film, but when we’re placed side by side, we actually look quite similar! So yeah, it felt right.

This was always the intended vision. We wanted to leave things open-ended. At the same time, we wanted to highlight the diversity of India— recognising and respecting the fact that there are communities across the country made up of people from all over the world. So, in one sense, it’s an homage to that diversity. And in another, it’s a statement about identity: like I mentioned earlier, if you spend even a year in the city, you become a Delhiwala. Michael’s final line is also a kind of tribute to Delhi. When the Siddi tribesmen ask him where he’s from—Africa, perhaps—he replies, “No, I’m from Delhi.” So in that moment, it’s clear: he belongs here.

I think at this point, it’s just a matter of having courage. I don’t have advice or tips for anyone, but I can share the things that have always motivated me and kept me from being jeopardised creatively. There are challenges, of course. We’re constantly bound by formulas. And people on both sides of the debate are aspiring to either conform or break away from those same formats. But for me, the key is to be unafraid to experiment. I’ve experienced pushback too. At film festivals, especially some in India, I’ve been told that my film isn’t a “festival film.” Because to them, a festival film means pretty visuals, slow pacing, long takes, and serious, brooding characters. On the other hand, I’ve also had production house executives say, during a screening, that my film won’t work because it isn’t commercial.

But I believe there’s space for authenticity—and that space doesn’t need to be labeled commercial or non-commercial. If something is authentic, it can be entertaining in its own way and it will resonate. The most important thing is to experiment and to understand why you’re creating what you’re creating. You’re allowed to make mistakes. This is my debut feature, and I know it’s not perfect. But what I do know is that it came entirely from the heart—it’s honest and real. And to me, being flawed is okay; being authentic matters more. It’s great to have idols, but at some point, you have to put your own soul into the work and offer that to the world.

Thank you very much!  We’re actually working on getting it out to Nigeria—we’re currently in discussions with studios and platforms there. A lot of people have reached out to us. There’s a guy who is the head of a Bollywood fan club in Lagos and he keeps asking, “When is it coming? We’re dying to watch it!” We’re really trying to make it happen. In fact, just last week at Cannes, there was an Indo-Nigerian film summit. Someone reached out to us asking if they could talk about our film there. Nigerian film producers are discussing collaborations with Bollywood. I think there’s a lot of potential there—so much we can do together.