The way you documented the domestic violence scenes was through the children’s perspective without depicting it graphically…

The moment I committed to the project, I decided firmly as a filmmaker that I wouldn’t visually represent the violence in those assault scenes. Instead, they are communicated through sounds alone from the children’s vantage point. Beyond making the film family-friendly, it would have been redundant to shoot such scenes after establishing the characters of Ajith ettan and Dhanya.

There have been readings that Nadanna Sambhavam is a fresh spin on the 1992 film Ayalathe Adheham with progressive gender politics…

To be honest, we never considered Ayalathe Adheham as a reference point, and any perceived similarities are purely coincidental.

We believe the settings and characterisations in Nadanna Sambhavam are distinct from those in Ayalathe Adheham. As for whether it offers a fresh perspective or not, I believe cinema has been evolving and adapting to the times we live in.

In light of your previous stance that heroism does not involve beating up opponents, how do you respond to criticisms that Nadanna Sambhavam contradicts its commentary on toxic masculinity towards the end?

I still firmly believe in what I said earlier. Rather than portraying Unni ettan’s actions towards the end as heroism, we intended to depict it as a situation where he was left with no alternative but to react to Ajith ettan’s violence. Also, what I intended to illustrate as Unni ettan’s heroism was his compassionate understanding, particularly when he decides to intervene and help Dhanya during her ordeal at the police station.

Given that the two films you’ve directed were scripted by others, do you aspire to delve into screenwriting yourself?

I have already written some scripts, but I have never been satisfied. Even when someone else is writing, I’m involved in the scripting process to continually exchange ideas and engage in discussions.