In May, Lehren TV, a channel with a robust archive of old entertainment newsclips, posted a reel on its Instagram page. The half-minute clip has a young Rasika Dugal — bright-eyed, enthusiastic, in her final year at the Film and Television Institute of India — giving a short piece-to-camera.
“Jab Beena Tripathi (Mirzapur) FTII Ki Vidyarthi Thi,” the clip is titled, “When Beena Tripathi from Mirzapur was an FTII student.” The video dates back to 2006, following the premiere of the student film Woh Subah Kidhar Nikal Gayi? and an accompanying play. In it, Dugal speaks confidently about wading into an ‘uncertain’ and ‘insecure’ profession, and the immense training, leverage and professional credibility that the FTII acting course can grant.
"I did not know I had so much clarity back then," Dugal reflects twenty years after the fact. She says she was pleasantly surprised and moved when the video appeared on her feed. “My first thought was, oh my god, I look so young!” One of those quietly steadfast actors of Hindi cinema, Dugal has charted an remarkable path — from acclaimed indies and theatrical films to big-ticket streaming shows like Delhi Crime and Mirzapur — with a dignified, unshowy filmography clearly built to last. Unlike film institute graduates who tend to lose touch with their roots, she has pursued a balance in her work, alternating the standard bread-and-butter roles with outre outings like 2024's Fairy Folk. How does she assess her journey in light of her early convictions?
"I feel like there's still so much that I have to do as a performer. I want to do a biopic. I want to do a sports film. I want to do a comedy. But if I look at it as an overview, I feel like, 'not bad, yaa’. Things did work out.'
Dugal's most recent turn was in the Netflix film Kartavya, playing the housebound wife of Saif Ali Khan's angry, idealistic cop. It was a limited role (in a starkly male and feudalistic world) that Dugal gently elevated with her performance, like in a scene where husband and wife exchange notes at night on the rooftop.
In a conversation with THR India, she spoke about her craft of doing more with less, the state of Indian streaming, the forthcoming Mirzapur film and sticking on with indies…
Let's talk about the rooftop scene in Kartavya. It was brief but quite touching.
Well, shooting in Punjab in the winters, in an old fort with an aangan (courtyard) and a terrace, is like a list of my favourite things. Anil Mehta (cinematographer) lit it beautifully. The playfulness between the characters in that scene is lovely. Varsha takes Pawan's cigarette and says, "Dekhti hoon agar peene se pareshani kam hoti hai ki nahi” (I’ll see if smoking alleviates the problem or not). I thought it was a very charming moment in an otherwise traditional-looking marriage. I also found it very easy to be in the scene with Saif. He was respectful of the work that I had done, which was encouraging. He is very giving as a co-actor. He is present with you, listening to you and attentive to you.
Varsha says something that cuts to the heart of the film: ‘When it was happening in other homes, we looked away, but when it's happening in our home, we understand it now'
It is something all of us grapple with every day. We hear so much about what's happening in the nation and the wider world. There's a kind of guilt of not doing anything about it or not experiencing it in a way the people who have been through injustice are.
Did you talk to the makers about perhaps having more scenes in Kartavya?
I never like to ask a director to add scenes. I believe that as a performer, my job is to embellish what has been imagined by a screenwriter or a director. If it were an entirely insignificant role, I wouldn't have said yes. There was something interesting in it, and I thought the quieter moments gave the film an emotional spine.
It’s tricky to tell a story about a particular world in which the role of women is very defined. Having said that, there should be stories which are author-backed for women, even if the reality of it doesn't permit it. History doesn't write women as important people, and that is tragic. There are times men have taken credit for major decisions made by a woman. I hope that there will be more author-backed roles for women, and I hope to get an opportunity to be a part of that.
You were memorable in Manto (2018), although the film was essentially about the man.
It's important to focus on the space that women occupy. In Manto, if the film had not been directed by Nandita Das, nobody would have thought of giving Safia the attention that I felt she needed. People would have taken her role as a caregiver for granted, and that’s not done. Her role as a caregiver was examined very humanly, with a lot of sensitivity, care and attention.
I’m interested in telling the stories of women whose roles are taken for granted, because I feel like I did that to the women in my family for a long time. I took for granted whatever they did for me. Everything the men did was always celebrated while what the women in the family did was considered their duty. It's only later in life that I realised that I did what other people do to the women around me. And that wasn't fair. I guess this is my way of giving them that attention.
There's excitement building up for the Mirzapur film. How has your character, Beena, been integrated into the story? Do we see a different side of her?
It’s public knowledge that they've brought back some characters that the audience has missed. So it's obviously not set after the events of Season 3. Puneet Krishna, who's the writer of Season 1 and 2, and who's also written the film, really knows and understands this world. And he understands the female characters well. So you can expect more of that.
I've totally enjoyed being Beena over the multiple editions of Mirzapur. One of the reasons I’ve been compelled by her is that I have always admired women who are sensual, and who have no qualms about wearing their sexuality on their sleeves. That's often looked down upon by a patriarchal society. They feel that women shouldn't be aware of their sexuality or enjoy it. It’s not something I agree with or subscribe to at all.
People generally just absolutely ignore female desire. And this role didn't do that. As a performer, I also found it compelling that this was something I didn't naturally know how to do. This kind of body language is not my default. I'm petite and borderline shy about the way I carry my body. So I thought it was an interesting way for me to overcome a personal hurdle.
Can you give us a feeler of what the movie will be like?
The film has scale. It has the gritty details that are present in the series, but it also has the scale of big-screen cinema.
There is a general sentiment that post-pandemic, the level of writing on Indian streaming has fallen, with shows becoming highly algorithm-driven. What are your thoughts on this?
We certainly had a few golden years. There are business angles which have to be accommodated in the streaming space. The entire world has changed and become more data-driven, and we’re trying to adapt to that. Having been in this business for 20 years, I've realised that it’s cyclical. There will be good times and bad times. Earlier, there was more good than bad, because the quantity of work was less. Today, there’s a mix, and sometimes you have months where you only see mediocre stuff. And then there are one or two brilliant shows. It’s difficult as a working actor to sift through that. It's a bit of a nervous time for me in terms of whether I’m able to get quality projects and still work regularly. I cannot keep saying no.
Is there an indie project that you have read and might be working on?
I've read six independent film scripts in the last three months, and I have said yes to two or three. I wish I could do more but I also have to survive in Mumbai (laughs). Fairy Folk, for instance, took five years to come out. But I'm always curious about new artistic voices. People are usually wary of first-time directors, but I get very excited by it.