The Unsung Architects of Bollywood: A Writer's Candid Confession

Ever wondered about the true unsung heroes of the silver screen? We often laud the actors, the directors, the cinematographers – and rightly so, their contributions are immense. But what about the person who first conjures the world, the characters, the very narrative that draws us in? Sumit Arora, the talented writer behind blockbusters like Jawan and the much-anticipated Border 2, recently pulled back the curtain on a rather disheartening reality within Bollywood: the crucial role of a writer is, more often than not, actively downplayed, almost intentionally.

It’s a peculiar situation, isn't it? Arora shared a truly candid perspective, suggesting that many filmmakers, perhaps unknowingly or perhaps quite deliberately, ensure writers don't quite grasp their own indispensable value. "It’s like they make sure you don’t realise how important you actually are," he put it, a sentiment that resonates with a quiet frustration. He painted a picture where writers are often relegated to the status of mere employees, rather than being seen as the fundamental creative partners they inherently are. The director, he notes, is frequently elevated to a near-mythical status on set – the ultimate "god," the one whose vision reigns supreme – while the writer often remains in the shadows, their initial spark somewhat dimmed.

This isn't just a personal grievance, mind you. Arora points to a systemic issue, one that perhaps even starts at the very grassroots, in film schools themselves. If directors are consistently taught to be the sole "leaders," the ultimate captains of the ship, then it logically follows that other vital roles might be viewed as secondary. And let’s be honest, this hierarchy often translates directly into compensation. Writers, more often than not, find themselves earning significantly less than their directorial counterparts, or even many actors and technical crew members. It’s a disparity that feels, well, a little unfair when you consider that without a compelling story, there’s simply no film to make.

Arora recounts an anecdote that perfectly encapsulates this struggle: a director, after collaborating on a script, later sought to take credit for the writing himself. It’s a frustrating scenario, highlighting the battle for ownership and recognition that many writers face. He wistfully compares this dynamic to Hollywood, where writers like Quentin Tarantino or the late, brilliant Nora Ephron are not just celebrated, but practically revered for their unique voices and storytelling prowess. Over there, a great script is often the first, most crucial stepping stone to greenlighting a project, its value undeniable.

Despite these very real frustrations, Arora remains remarkably optimistic, holding onto a quiet hope for change. He believes the industry is slowly, but surely, shifting. Perhaps, he muses, it will be when more writers transition into directing or even producing roles themselves, truly taking the reins, that their collective power will be fully realized. For now, he’s focused on his craft, feeling a genuine excitement about his involvement in Border 2 and the immense satisfaction derived from his work on Jawan. Ultimately, he emphasizes a simple, undeniable truth: the script isn't just a blueprint; it’s the very soul, the unwavering foundation upon which every great film is built. And that, he insists, is something worth fighting for.