Long before the applause rang throughout the hall and flashes of cameras covered the night during the 71st National Film Awards, Radhika Lavu had already won. Not the trophy, not the title, but something deeper and more personal. When the film Giddh (The Scavenger) was announced as a National Award winner, her mind had already left the auditorium.
It drifted back to a damp, grey afternoon in London, in a Film Studies classroom, when a 19-year-old girl, far from home, and filled with dreams made a tacit promise to herself: “I will not give up.”
In that dizzying private moment, as her country rejoiced, her voice clear and welcoming, she speaks to CE, “When I was in school, I had so much experience that surrounded me and I made a promise to myself I will never stop. I’m going to make films. I’m going to keep going on this journey.” The moment the award was announced, for Radhika, was not a highpoint. It was merely a moment when her life came into a full circle.
She reflects, “I was just being thankful to my parents and my wife, my family, my biggest support. I was just thinking about all the instruments, you know, for me to feel that award. More than excitement, it was calming. It was a really great feeling. I felt I was right to have followed my passion and my heart.”
The National Award wasn’t just a nod to Giddh (The Scavenger), it was a decade-and-a-half of persistence being seen. “It marks my persistence. Being there in that hall gave me confidence. More than anything, it told me I’m on the right path, in the place where I should be,” she shares.
While many filmmakers wear their style like a signature, she chooses not to. Her approach is deliberately fluid, shape-shifting from story to story. She says, “My style is still pending. I never box myself. I don’t say, ‘This is mine, this is my style.’ What matters is whether the story moves, whether it reaches people.”
That openness extends to her process: she thrives on collaboration and creative friction. Giddh is a quiet storm of emotion, a haunting short that tells the story of a grieving father trying to sell the clothes of his dead child. The concept is bold. Uncomfortable. Unshakable. And yet, deeply human.
She highlights, “The story came from the bond between a father and son — one on the verge of giving up on life, and the other unable to let go. From that came the question: is conscience more important than survival? I never had a doubt because it’s so deeply intimate. Language doesn’t matter here. I didn’t have a second thought.”
At the centre of the short film is an unforgettably moving performance by Sanjay Mishra, an actor who exists somewhere in the liminal spaces between despair and silence. It is, she says, wholly fate that he was cast.
She shares, “The character was already written strongly, but Sanjay ji brought a world of depth to it. He added a lot to the character. He is one of the finest actors in our country. I couldn’t have thought of anyone else for the role. Collaborating with him was a vision forward for the film.” One of the most striking aspects of Giddh is what isn’t said. The silences in the film feel louder than any monologue. That restraint wasn’t an accident, it was instinct. The Uppu Kappurambu filmmaker explains, “That comes from inside me. When I watched it for the first time, it was very beautiful. If you are able to express yourself without dialogues, you’ve done your job.” But it wasn’t easy. “It’s extremely difficult to express without words. But with strong writing and acting, it works. Both came together beautifully here,” she adds.
Her stories don’t offer clean answers. They dwell in shadows, in ambiguity, in the discomfort that makes us reflect. “I love stories that start conversations. Most of my films have certain layers that I’ve picked up, ones that I don’t want to get lost in boxes,” she notes.
Many filmmakers claim that short films are harder to make than features because of the time constraints. She doesn’t disagree but she never let that become an excuse. “I never compromised on anything,” she says with conviction adding, “Not once did the thought of compromise came to mind. Even with limitations, I was determined to make the best possible film.”
After the awards ceremony, she returned to her hometown, Hyderabad, not with fanfare, but with gratitude. She gushes, “I’m grateful to all my team members from the beginning, who supported me without asking much in return. This award is dedicated to them. It’s a wonderful feeling. More than anything, Hyderabad has always encouraged me. This recognition can be an encouragement for many here.”
Radhika isn’t chasing the next ‘big thing’. Instead, she’s quietly working on multiple short-format projects in different languages, letting the stories find her, rather than the other way around. “We’ll announce them at the right time. Right now, I want to focus on stories that challenge me and reach all kinds of audiences. I like respecting the medium, respecting the story, and letting the process guide me,” she concludes.