Bishnu, a woman in her early 30s, returns to her home in the Himalayas after quitting a job in Delhi, and begins to live with her mother, her sister, and her grandmother. Returns to old places are also returns to our once-familiar selves. Amid the familiarity of the hills, her childhood home, and her family, Bishnu grapples with understanding who she was and who she is. Winner of two awards at the Busan International Film Festival 2025 and now running in theatres across India, this charming and deeply moving Sikkimese film is a rare, beautiful take on the homecoming genre.
How did the seed for the film get planted?
The seed actually was for another film. I studied at SRFTI (Kolkata) and then moved back to Sikkim. I was planning to work on a script where the protagonist is a female sub-inspector in Sikkim – in smaller places, they hold a lot of power, and I wanted to see women in positions of power. And while I was writing that, I was also going through the experience of being this modern woman who is used to a certain city life, with a certain kind of agency, coming back to her village, thinking she will change the world.
So that is how I actually started writing. It took me quite some time to figure out how I was going to fund it. Indie films take a lot of your energy – financial, emotional. And I don’t think I was prepared back then, I was just 25. I tried doing other work – I made a series for Doordarshan in between – just trying to make money, which I could then put back into the project.
I was also going through this experience, so much so that sometimes I would write something in the script and it would actually play out in front of my eyes. That was a bit intimidating. But that is how I was able to write. I also had a co-writer, Kislay. He really helped me streamline my thoughts and experiences.
So the earlier film you were going to make would also have been a woman-centric film.
Yes. I grew up in a house full of women, and that is all I know, you know. And for debut filmmakers, I think most of our films usually come from our own experiences because you’re more confident about the subject, about the environment of the film.
So that way, it had to do with a mother-daughter relationship where the daughter was the cop and the mother was a gambler or something of that sort.
How did you get into filmmaking? How did you end up in SRFTI?
I think it had to do with the kind of pressure one faces in society, where you’re constantly compared to the opposite gender, always having to prove that you are as good as them. And when you are constantly made to feel like you are a second-class citizen, you want to do something in life.
So, I thought writing would be my medium. I studied mass communication and thought I was going to be a journalist and do stories that would bring about changes in society. And then, one of my professors introduced me to films, and I saw a huge possibility with writing and visuals coming together. I felt like it was one of the most powerful media that could exist in the world. So then I went to film school, and I specialized in direction and screenplay writing.
And having your first feature set in Sikkim – was that something you always knew?
Yes. When I went to film school, I saw films from all over the country – especially from Kerala, Manipur, and West Bengal. They have such a rich film history. And there were not many Nepali films. No Nepali films were ever screened during our screening days.
So I felt this need – that someone has to tell stories in our language. And I had access to film school. If I don’t tell my stories, who else will? I felt it was important to represent your people, your culture, and tell your own stories.
That is one of the reasons I didn’t join other industries, like the Bengali film industry or the Bombay film industry, where the rest of my friends went. It became really, really essential for me to come back and tell my stories. And I feel that most of the stories I will tell in the future shall again be in Sikkim. Because we need it. It is mostly people from outside who come and tell our stories, and we have problems with their narrative, or the way they portray us. If one has the means, one must take charge of one’s own narrative.
So yes, I always knew I would make films in Sikkim, and I think I will keep doing so.
That’s a very strong statement. In the film, the sort of homecoming that you show is a very different kind of homecoming, right? It’s not like you come back and fall in love with your home again. And Bishnu is slightly difficult to love, like all of us are. Which is perhaps why a lot of people connected with the film in their very own ways. There were little things that really stayed with you. So when and how, in the writing process, did you establish that there’s not going to be any melodrama, there’s not going to be anything big happening, but this gentle sense of uneasiness, and simply coming to terms with life, is what’s going to flow throughout the film?
I’ve seen a lot of films where people from smaller towns go to big cities, come back, and change their villages. Swades is one of those films I really like. But in places like Sikkim, change is very gentle and slow. You will not see it. I always knew that we had to be very truthful to the place.
And growing up, you see a lot of perfect female characters – even if they are feminists, they are perfect in their own versions. Bishnu, to a large extent, is like us because she’s selfish. She does something, the guilt overcomes her, and she tries to overcompensate for things. I think we are all like that.
Especially for women, when you put forward a very ideal hero in front of you, that pressure really suffocates you. I felt that too. So it became very important to bring forward a woman who’s just like any of us, very complex. And in a way, give that dignity back to the women – in cinema, as well as in my region. Because, as you said, when people think about this homecoming in the hills, it’s as if the mountains are waiting to embrace you. But life is the same everywhere, it is as complex.
I’m not talking about the festival runs, but when it got released in theatres across the country, were you concerned about a certain gaze that the Indian audience might have for a film from Sikkim? Certain expectations that people will go with, or a certain way the film will be watched? Did you have any such concerns in mind?
Not really. Firstly, because of the festival journey, the indie circle and cinephiles were aware of what the film is about. So that way, the gap was stitched. But also having people like Zoya, Reema, Payal, and Rana distribute this film really helped, because we did a couple of press tours together. And we sort of told people what to expect.
And it is such a universal film, though it comes from a very personal space. So I was really not worried about how people would take it. My only concern was people expecting it to be a film about food. Momos ke baare mein hoga!
You were talking about how you consciously chose not to join any industry, be it Bengal or Bombay. But that’s a very, very tough choice, right? How did you get that courage? I’m sure there would be a few people out there struggling to make that decision. How does one make such choices in life?
(Thinks) Perseverance really is the key, you know? For a Nepali film – a language which is a minority in the entertainment industry – to be released at this scale across the country is unheard of. People say I’m so lucky, I’ve made it. But only I know what I’ve been through, all these years. As an artist, I knew what I was capable of. I knew I was going to tell the story, and that people would connect because it comes from a place of honesty.
If people have that conviction and perseverance, I think a lot of Shape of Momos will come out of this country. We don’t even have an industry in Sikkim – to make a film in a place that does not have an industry can be a story for all other independent filmmakers in the country. You have to believe in what you do, and be ready to spend a lot of years just working hard – not be seen, not be heard of.
Congratulations, once again. Lastly, through this journey of funding, going to festivals, then having a few presenters on board, and then a theatrical release – would you have any learnings for the next time as an independent filmmaker? Would you do anything different?
I don’t think I would do anything differently, because the film is here exactly because of the things we did. But to other aspiring filmmakers, I’d say we don’t usually explore film markets or labs, which are really important. With a film coming from Sikkim, if I were to go to Bombay and look for funding, I wouldn’t get it, because it is in Nepali, and so culture-specific. But labs gave us a lot of visibility. When you send your film to festivals, there are thousands of films being sent at the same time. But when you go to labs, it is already curated, you are one of the handful of projects that have been selected from India.
Programmers from all over the world come looking for fresh voices, and that is the place to be. As independent filmmakers, when you don’t have the strength of the industry, you should really use such platforms which help you explore relationships with festivals, programmers, funders, sales agents – because they are looking for you. With Shape of Momo, we were at Film Bazaar, which took us to Hong Kong, then we went to the Cannes market, that’s where we found our sales agents and programmers.
And sometimes, going to one lab does not suffice. A lot of programmers were following our project as we travelled from one place to another. For independent filmmakers, that gives you a lot of credibility and visibility, which then helps in launching your film at festivals, and eventually coming back to theaters in the country.
In conversation with Aryama Sen (Founder, Ind.igenous)
