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Jeevanave Naataka – A Zero Budget Kannada Short Film By Rumi

  • p39189
  • Feb 15
  • 3 min read

Updated: Mar 1

Three months ago, I released my book, Beyond the Mud Walls, an exploration of the hidden realities of rural India. It was a book built on stories, on lived experiences, on voices that development narratives often overlook. But there was one story—one world—I could not fully capture in words alone. A world that breathes not through policy reports, but through performance. A world that does not exist in archives, but in the flicker of a stage light, in the rhythm of a drumbeat, in the trembling voice of an actor standing before an audience. And so, instead of writing about it, I made a film.

This is Jeevanave Naataka—Life Itself is a Play. A short film about the life of a theater artist, the struggle for relevance, the quiet erosion of a world where storytelling once meant more than spectacle. It is a film about those who still live for the stage, even as the world turns its attention to screens.


Why This Film, Not a Documentary?

Initially, I had set out to make a documentary. I wanted to capture the vanishing world of live theater, to sit with artists who had devoted their lives to the craft, to understand what it meant to hold onto something that the world has moved on from. I traveled through towns and villages, searching for the remnants of this world.

And then, something changed.

In a small town in North Karnataka, I found what I thought no longer existed—a place where live theater was still thriving. The town square still echoed with monologues. The drumbeats of Yakshagana performances still carried through the night. Audiences still gathered, not for nostalgia, not out of obligation, but because theater was still alive here.

I sat with the artists, spoke with them about their work, their dreams, their struggles. I told them I wanted to document their world, to tell their story to a wider audience. They listened, thoughtful, and then one of them said something that I will never forget:


"A documentary will tell them who we are. But a film—" he paused, his eyes bright, "a film will let us dream. A film will let us see ourselves on screen, acting, not just speaking about what we do."


It struck me then—the people who have spent their whole lives bringing stories to life on stage have rarely, if ever, seen themselves as the protagonists of a film. Their craft is about disappearing into roles, about embodying kings and warriors and gods and rebels, about being seen but not recognized. A documentary would capture their struggles, yes. But a short film would honor their art.


And so, Jeevanave Naataka was born—not as a factual record, but as a theatrical experience in itself.


Why I Chose Rumi as My Screen Name

Every filmmaker chooses their signature, something that defines their work, their philosophy. For me, that signature is "Rumi." Rumi—the poet, the mystic, the wanderer—believed in stories that transcend time, in art that reaches beyond the tangible, in words that echo long after they are spoken. He believed that life itself is a play, and that every person is both actor and audience in their own existence.


And so, in choosing this name, I chose to see filmmaking as something beyond documentation, beyond entertainment. I chose to see it as an extension of my storytelling—a bridge between the real and the imagined, between the voices that are heard and the ones that remain in the shadows.


The Film Itself

The film follows Shiva, a struggling theatre director, trying to keep his drama company alive in a world that no longer cares about the stage. His team is losing faith, funding is drying up, and even he starts questioning if theatre has a future in today’s world. But instead of giving up, he takes a bold step—he writes an ambitious new-age romantic play that he believes can prove that live theatre still has a place.


But the realities of art and survival don’t change overnight. The pressure mounts. His lead actor threatens to leave. His finances collapse. As opening night approaches, Shiva must ask himself—is theatre truly still alive, or is he just clinging to a past that no longer exists?


This film is not just about theatre. It is about every artist who has ever fought to keep their craft alive when the world is ready to move on.



What Comes Next?


First, a book. Now, a film. And yet, I know that the journey is not over. Because the story of Jeevanave Naataka is not just about theater. It is about every form of art, every tradition, every way of life that is at risk of vanishing in the name of modernity. It is about what we choose to hold onto—and what we allow to slip away.


This is just the beginning!

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