Kumud Mishra: ‘There are no dream roles, it’s important to portray any character to perfection’

Madh is a very short boat ride across turgid waters. The island across from the Versova fishing village in Mumbai’s northern suburb of Andheri is where several Bollywood luminaries now live. The residents of Madh include Kumud Mishra, the 58-year-old acting powerhouse.

Mishra moved to the island around eight years ago, partly to accommodate the needs of a growing family (his wife is the actor, Ayesha Raza Mishra). The distance from Mumbai’s insistent hubbub is “physical as well as psychological”, Mishra told Scroll. Briefly sharing Mishra’s perch in Madh helps make some sense of his career choices since the late 2000s, which suggest thoughtful accretion at work.

Whether a film is good, bad or indifferent, Mishra leaves an indelible mark. His performance is sometimes concentrated in a face that can summon mobility as well as reserve. The effect can be sonic too, given the velvet texture of Mishra’s voice.

Mishra also has a sometimes unnerving talent for switching expression midway, breaking into a smile or a grimace when least expected. Unpredictability, and therefore unknowable interiority, is one of the National School of Drama alum’s trademarks.

Some of Mishra’s most noteworthy roles have been in Anubhav Sinha’s films, such as Mulk (2018), Article 15 (2019) and Thappad (2020). Mishra’s latest project Assi has a key role for Mishra.

In Assi, Mishra plays Kartik, an emotionally fraught widower who gets involved with the trial into the brutal gang rape of his colleague’s wife. The violence reminds Kartik of his own tragic past, and pushes him towards the edge of a moral abyss.

Assi stars Kani Kusruti as the rape survivor, Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub as her husband, Taapsee Pannu as the survivor’s lawyer, Revathy as the judge, and Satyajeet Sharma as the rapists’ defence lawyer. The provocative drama will be released on February 20 in cinemas.

Mishra spoke to Scroll about his association with Anubhav Sinha, his formative years, and his approach towards acting. Like some of his characters, Mishra comes across as philosophical, self-aware and slyly self-deprecating. He calls himself “lazy”, but there’s nothing slack about his commitment to his trade or the art of conversation.

Here are edited excerpts from the interview.

You have teamed up once again with Anubhav Sinha for Assi. How did your association begin?

We had met for a film called Abhi To Party Shuru Hui Hai, which was a brilliant script. There were three main characters, but I chose a minor character.

I can’t say why – perhaps I was scared to take on a bigger role, or I found the character challenging. Things always look different in hindsight. Romance gets attached to the perspective, or a kind of self-pity or even a sense of martyrdom.

Anubhav had completed Mulk in the interim. He wanted me to play a judge. I had watched Saurabh Shukla in Jolly LLB. I felt that I couldn’t play a judge after that performance.

When I finally read the script of Mulk, I was even more convinced not to do it. The character initially resembled a typical Hindi film judge. I felt that the judge’s ruling is a direct dialogue between him and the viewer. Viewers should feel that the judge isn’t making a general statement, but is talking to them.

Anubhav is a fantastic, open director. He wrote some lovely scenes in Mulk. After that, he kept casting me in his other films. He always gives me characters who are difficult, at least for me.

The only film of his I couldn’t be in was Bheed, since I was shooting for Aasman Bhardwaj’s Kuttey at the time. I told Anubhav that he should never hesitate to cast me even if the role is small. Sometime, you accept roles because you want to be with the team that is making the film.

Anubhav Sinha’s recent movies are polemical dramas, packed with debates about morality and justice. As an actor, how do you approach such material?

Every film is based in human emotions. Even science fiction films will have a character who, even when the world is ending, wants to save a dog.

Anubhav Sinha’s speciality is that while the debates are intellectual, their core lies in basic human realities, whether it is caste in Article 15 or normalised domestic violence in Thappad. It might seem like information on paper, but as actors, how do we approach this information and express it in our performances? The conflict lies within. How do you bring that out?

Actors need to be socially¸ politically and economically aware. As a famous cinematographer once said, a camera is only the apparatus. How you see the world depends on how aware you are. That’s the thing about Anubhav Sinha and his writers, as well as the people Anubhav casts. The actors are not fixed in their views, they are curious, at the very least.

If you are deeply disturbed by what is happening around you, when you get to play a character like Kartik, you channelise those feelings in your performance. Anubhav’s films create a debate, which is a necessary part of his art.

You have a reputation for versatility. How would you describe your journey?

I never had many choices. It’s not like I have choices now either. I take whatever role works for me. If my bank balance is low, I will do a film about which I am not convinced, unless it is a politically or socially wrong film.

Some projects fall into your lap, such as Nitin Kakkar’s Ram Singh Charlie, Anubhav Sinha’s films, Anurag Kashyap’s films.

I was disturbed by my performance in Anurag’s That Girl in Yellow Boots. I wasn’t unhappy with the silent moments. In the climax, I felt that something was wrong. Anurag didn’t seem to mind the performance.

When I watched the film later, I realised why I had been out of sync – I was auditioning for Anurag, I wanted to impress him.

Anurag is an actor’s director, he is among one of the very few directors who understands actors so thoroughly. When I did Nishaanchi, I was a bit concerned, but that shoot was incredibly smooth.

You have also been in outright comedies, such as Nitin Kakkar’s Jawaani Jaaneman (2020).

Nitin is another director whom I have known for years. I had done Filmistaan with him, that was fantastic. Then I did Ram Singh Charlie. I was huge, as I usually am. He asked me to lose weight in three months. But I didn’t end up losing the kilos.

I met Nitin again. He played music for me, an instrumental violin piece. I don’t really have an ear for music, but that piece gave me goose bumps. I told him, I am doing the part. I lost nearly 20 kilos for the part. It was one of the finest experiences in my life.

You have shed weight for Assi too, right?

I lost 17 kgs for the role of Kartik in Assi, by watching my diet and walking a lot for several kilometres.

What were your formative years like?

My family is from Rewa in Madhya Pradesh. My father was a havildar in the Indian Army. Because he was in a transferable job, I bounced between various schools, eventually landing up for seven years at a military school in Belgaum in Karnataka.

There were students from all states, so it wasn’t a culture shock. The school had very good extra-curricular activities, including theatre.

After school, I moved to Bhopal with my family. I studied political science, history and English literature. It was a bit of a fraud – we students were more involved with theatre.

My father used to perform in the Ramleela. We were from a lower middle class family. But he never said, pursue a job. Ironically, Bhopal was a culture shock for me. I had no friends. My father enrolled me in a theatre workshop at Bharat Bhavan in Bhopal. He was the one who filled out the form.

I also cleared the Combined Defence Services examination as a backup, but I enrolled in the National School of Drama instead. I was there from 1991 to 1994.

Apart from the intensive training in theatre at the National School of Drama in Delhi, were you also exposed to cinema?

Actually, my exposure to good cinema happened in school. For instance, I watched Paar, starring Naseeruddin Shah, in school. We watched mostly Indian New Wave films, whatever was available. We would also watch commercial films in cinemas at times.

At NSD, cultural activities were happening all around. There was so much to take in, if you were so inclined. It was a very rich milieu.

When did you move to Mumbai?

In December 1994. Pandit Satyadev Dubey met me at NSD, and he called me for an audition for the lead role in the film The Making of the Mahatma, directed by Shyam Benegal.

I didn’t get the role because my English wasn’t very good and I frankly wasn’t ready for the part. I later acted in Benegal’s Sardari Begum. I was lucky to do at least one film with him.

Most of my acting batch mates also moved to Mumbai – Ashutosh Rana, Mukesh Tiwari, Yashpal Sharma, Satyajeet Sharma, Gyan Prakash, Krishna Bhatt, Shreevardhan Trivedi. I landed in Jogeshwari East in Mumbai. I decided that I would never go back. I don’t know it was – the place felt like any township in any city in India. But I decided that this was it.

I also felt that Mumbai was where I could have the freedom to pursue theatre and also be in television shows. That’s what I did for a while.

What’s the difference between acting for theatre and acting for cinema?

I used to watch my seniors perform in films. Many of them came into films at a time when cinema still had the hangover of Parsi theatre. The acting was theatrical, and it didn’t feel out of place either.

When I started appearing on television, I was fresh out of drama school. I hadn’t yet formed a language of performance. So the changeover was easy.

The main idea is to be honest and truthful. There are times when I am moved to tears even by commercial films because of how the thought has been expressed.

Has any particular role been a game changer?

It has been more of a steady accumulation. After Rockstar, I was lucky to get supporting roles and small parts in hit films.

My own ambition is to do challenging roles. While I don’t like to repeat myself, I do try to play the same character differently, such as a policeman or a politician. You are ultimately playing a person. If the script is interesting, you can do something with the role.

That said, I have been in bad scripts for money. In between, there have been challenging roles like Ramsingh Charlie or Nazar Andaz.

Did you ever think of becoming a writer or a director?

No. Some years ago, I thought I would maintain a diary, but I never went beyond the first page. I even prefer sending voices notes instead of typing out messages.

That is one of two regrets I have – not writing, and not being trained in music.

Any dream roles you would like to have performed?

There are no dream roles. I say this in all humility – it’s important to portray any character that comes your way to perfection, whether it’s a single scene or many scenes.

The problem with actors is that we think we can succeed only when we are playing author-backed roles. Even if you have just two scenes, you can bring out a character fully and truthfully.

Take Thappad. I was struggling to play a good, concerned father. After I performed my first scene with Ratna Pathak Shah, I got a handle on the role. I also rate my work in Airlift [2016] highly – I was very secure in that role, and the director Raja Menon was fantastic. There were also good scenes in Jolly LLB 2 [2017].

When I watch Ram Singh Charlie today, I find so many flaws in my performance. But there is one particular scene, the one in which I paint my face.

We had worked long and hard on the scene. I saw the face paint and said, let’s try this out. That wasn’t just me – that was all the preparation that gone into the moment.

If you ask me to do it again, I won’t be able to. But what I achieved there will be reflected many years down the line in some other scene. This is the continuity of acting – your achievement is in the moment, but it also pays off later.

For whom do you perform – the filmmaker, the audience, a cherished teacher in drama school, perhaps?

I am acting for myself, primarily, trying to figure out things. Subconsciously, there is always the director, whose approval I seek. I don’t ask for extra takes if the director is okay with the performance.

There are people whose opinion you value. I am still open to people telling me to my face, you were bad. There are people who can do that, and I am fine with it.

Sometimes, you know you haven’t been good. There is a silence all around. You should be open to the silence, just as you bask in praise. If someone disagrees with you, your first reaction can’t be, what does this person know?

Actors are always defensive about their performances. If you are a genuine actor, you know in your heart where you have gone wrong, and you should accept it. It’s important be open to the opinion of others.

Humans are full of egotism. That is what one has to get rid of. What is most important is to enjoy the process, whatever the quality of the film.

You are married to the actor Ayesha Raza Mishra. Do you discuss your work with each other?

When we were dating, Ayesha came to watch one of my plays. It was a very bad play. She left during the interval. I noticed it. I didn’t feel bad – she had the courage.

I remember I wanted to be in an English play. I was rehearsing my lines. She is very good at languages – Hindi, English, Urdu. She asked me, why do you want to do this play in English? Half your effort is going into speaking the language, your performance will suffer. And she was right.

I don’t advise her on her roles. She is a brilliant actor – I am not saying this because she is my wife. She has only scratched the surface in terms of her potential. People remember her even in small roles, such as in Dil Dhadakne Do.

Have you scratched the surface in terms of your own potential?

I don’t even know what my full potential is. Every part comes with its own challenges. I have failed miserably at times. But there is great scope for sure.

We tend to judge potential by the length of a role. For me, potential is flexible. I am not the same person I was many years ago. My reaction to the text changes with age. Society changes too.

An actor’s potential can never be fully realised. If you are not aware of your body and mind, how your surroundings are changing, then your potential was frozen many years ago.

A character depends on the interpretation, whether in a 10-minute scene or a 30-minute scene. Having more lines or more screen time is meaningless. It’s about being competent and truthful.

The greatness of cinema is even if a single reaction comes in the correct place, it is magical. So it’s about bringing out that reaction from within.

Being an actor in Hindi cinema comes with intense pressure – to do more, be popular, be successful. It’s hard to hold on to your fundamental values. How do you cope?

You can’t live your life according to the yardstick of others. I am lucky to own my apartment, but if I aspire for a seven-room bungalow, that’s going to be a problem. If I start feeling competitive about the roles I have missed or get envious, that’s going to be a problem.

A good performance by another actor makes me jealous in a good way, but I also feel happy. I was never in a race to be successful. I am not that ambitious. I am responsible towards my family, it’s important to give them a good life. I was unhappy for some time when I was doing films I didn’t want to do. Then I realised, am I so arrogant that I have understood cinema completely?

Just be as competent as you can be. The most important thing is not to borrow someone else’s context. I need to happy within myself. It’s important for me to focus on my own life and my journey, and face my challenges. There’s a lot of happiness in that.