Ajay Nag, the director, and Sinjith Yerramilli, the music composer of Aarambham, are two promising young talents making their mark with their debut film. As the film gains attention on Amazon Prime, TNIE caught up with the duo at Hyderabad Dialogues to discuss their creative journey, how they collaborated on their first project, and what lies ahead.
Excerpts
How did the idea for Aarambham come about?
Ajay: To be honest, I’ve never really been into sci-fi films. I haven’t even watched any of Christopher Nolan’s work. For me, cinema has always been about disconnecting from reality and connecting with something more personal and emotional. While Aarambham is being seen as a sci-fi film, I never approached it that way. It’s more of a narrative tool I used to convey something deeply relatable. The idea stems from a novel that we adapted into a screenplay. At the core of it, it’s about love, loss, and longing. I lost my father when I was in 9th grade, and while reading that book, I found myself thinking ‘What would I give up just to spend one day with him?’ Just one day, to take him to my film set, show him that I’ve become a filmmaker, maybe something he once dreamt of too. Of course, that can’t happen in real life, but fiction gives us that power. And I realised, while I couldn’t do that for my dad, I still had the chance to do it for my mom. That thought became the emotional spine of the story, this idea that we’re often caught in the past or chasing the future, forgetting to live in the present. That’s what I wanted to explore.
The music and cinematography really elevated the storytelling. Tell us more about the process.
Sinjith: Honestly, it all felt like destiny. Aarambham is my first film as a composer, and seeing the kind of response it has received, especially for the music, is overwhelming. A lot of the background score came from brainstorming sessions with Ajay. He had a clear emotional vision, and we worked together almost like a band jamming — experimenting, tweaking, and discovering sounds that felt right. The process was entirely collaborative, and I think that’s what made it special. It wasn’t just about creating music to match the scenes, it was about enhancing the soul of the story.
How did you both meet?
Ajay: We actually had a well-known composer on board for the film initially, but things didn’t work out, there were delays, and we eventually had to come out of that agreement. Around that time, through a bunch of mutual friends, I came across Sinjith’s name and sent him an email. But… he blocked me! (laughs) Honestly, I didn’t know how to write a formal email. I just wrote something like, ‘Hi bro, I’m Ajay. I made a film and want you to compose music for it.’ He probably thought it was spam. But I didn’t give up. I managed to get his personal contact from someone, went to his house, knocked on the door and said, ‘Hey, I’m the guy who emailed you’. That’s where it all began. I showed him some promos and behind-the-scenes footage from the film. His Instagram already had a lot of great music samples, so I felt he’d be perfect for this film. Eventually, I convinced (or maybe forced!) him into joining the project. He became what I call the ‘forced child labour’ of this film. (laughs)
Sinjith: (Laughs) Yeah, that email was super fishy, with no structure, no context — so I just blocked it. At that point, I was mainly doing Hindi and Telugu music independently, and I was also working in cinematography. I had taken a step back from the camera because I wanted to focus on making my own music. But I wasn’t confident about doing an entire score for a feature film. Up until then, I’d only done ads and short snippets. But something changed during the final stages of mixing. That’s when I felt this strong sense of purpose, like this is what I’m supposed to be doing. And from there on, I knew I wanted to pursue music for films seriously.
How did you manage to complete the film in such a short time?
Ajay: We shot the entire film in 22 days — pure survival instinct. Funds were running out, and we had to be incredibly efficient. Usually, small films avoid outdoor shoots because they’re expensive. You have to arrange for accommodation, food, logistics and a large part of the budget goes into that. But I knew this location in the Western Ghats because that’s where I did my diploma in theatre. It’s an offbeat theatre school, deep in the forest, with no mobile network. When you go there, you leave everything behind and just study the craft. While I was there, I had noticed some stunning locations. So for the film, we just went back, knocked on doors, and asked locals if we could shoot there. It was totally grassroots filmmaking. We were clear we had only about 16 to 20 days to finish the shoot, and any delay could mean we’d run out of money. We worked day and night, and added about four extra days just for the songs. In the end, we wrapped everything including 25 call sheets in about 22–23 days.
How did you get into films?
Sinjith: It wasn’t easy. My parents, especially my father who’s an architect, pushed me toward engineering, so I ended up doing civil engineering. They gave me two to three years to prove myself. But I dropped out of college… and then COVID hit. Two years went by, and I had no clue what I was doing with my life. Eventually, I began composing my own songs. Slowly, that creative pursuit led me to Aarambham, and now my parents believe in what I do. At first, I was into acting and even tried journalism. I used to run around asking strangers for stories when I worked with Humans of Hyderabad. We had tight deadlines, and once I literally got slapped by someone I approached. (laughs) Then I moved to acting, then cinematography… but it never fully clicked. Music was always around me — my great-grandfather, grandmother, and mother are all Carnatic musicians. I was forced to learn classical music growing up: violin, tabla, vocals. My great-grandfather was a veena player, and now I’ve started learning veena myself. Being surrounded by music shaped me. I’ve always looked up to composers like Vivek Sagar; his kind of music speaks to me. And now, I’ve found that what I love most is background scoring. It’s become my true space.
Ajay: I actually got selected for TCS after college and everyone in my family was thrilled. But what happened next sounds like it’s straight out of a film. I had an issue with one of my lecturers during the final semester. I was short by just three marks, and he detained me. I begged, but he refused. I was devastated. I told my mother, expecting disappointment, but she was incredibly supportive. She asked me to take a break and find my way. During those eight months, unsure of what to do, I took a trip, no clear direction, not even enough money for fuel. On the way, I stumbled upon a theatre school in the Western Ghats. They were conducting interviews, so my friend and I took applications, I was number 400 or so. Randomly, they called my number in the first round. I gave the interview, got selected, and joined a diploma course in theatre that lasted 11 months. Until then, no one in my family ever considered theatre as a career. But once I joined, everything changed. I travelled across India doing plays, and in 2016, I even performed at Ravindra Bharathi. After that, I went back to complete my pending exam just to keep a backup. Then I decided to pursue acting seriously. A friend told me about Nani, how he started as an assistant director and became an actor. That inspired me to join Annapurna College of Film and Media. There, I studied acting, cinematography, and eventually found my true calling — direction. My mom has always believed that I could survive anywhere. Even when relatives pressured her about my marriage after Annapurna, she stood by me. When I first came to Mehdipatnam, I couldn’t even read Telugu. Now, I read and write it fluently. That’s the journey.
How challenging was it to adapt the Kannada novel Neenu Ninnolage Khaidi into a Telugu film?
Ajay: It definitely came with its own challenges. I think and process ideas in Kannada, but I communicate in Telugu, so there’s always some gap in translation. But writing has always come naturally to me. Thankfully, the team I worked with consisted of my theatre classmates; they understand me and how I function. If I had brought in people from outside, it might’ve been difficult. But since it was a close-knit group, we could figure things out easily. Adapting the story, understanding it in Kannada, rewriting it in Telugu, and then shaping it for different characters — that was both challenging and fascinating. We had actors from different language backgrounds too — Ravindra Vijay sir is from Bengaluru, and a few others were from various states, but we made it work.
The film doesn’t dwell much on the science behind the time travel. Why did you choose that approach?
Ajay: Honestly, I’ve never been into quantum mechanics or hard science fiction — I still don’t fully understand it! (laughs) What I took from the novel was the emotional idea: What if you got one day back in time? What would you do with it? That was the core of the story for me, not the science. The film’s soul lies in that one simple, human desire. In my case, it was: If I got a day back, I’d take my mother out, because I never really have. That simplicity is what I held on to. One of the best responses I got was from someone who said the film made her rethink how she treated her own mother. She called her up after watching it and said ‘I love you’. That was the moment I felt we had achieved something meaningful. Aarambham may not have been a commercial hit, but when it got picked up by Amazon Prime, that felt like a big milestone. After that, people started discovering it and the recognition followed. For me, that’s success.
What were the creative challenges during Aarambham?
Ajay: Two moments really stand out. On day one of the shoot, we had limited lighting. When we switched everything on, the generator failed and we had no power across the set. We were shooting in the middle of the Western Ghats, and even getting a bottle of water required travelling 5 km. So, we improvised. We used large mirrors and even white lungis to reflect light and simulate overcast conditions. It worked! The second big challenge was a scene where we had to burn down a house. A real one would’ve cost `25 lakh and was clearly out of budget. So, we used a combination of plywood walls and CGI — about 50% real fire, 50% VFX. That scene still cost us `1-2 lakh.
You wanted to become an actor. What changed?
Sinjith: It’s kind of a heartbreaking story. I was cast in a big film while working at an MNC. I quit my job thinking this would be my big break. With my final paycheck, I booked two rows in a theatre, just to surprise my parents and friends. The movie started. I told everyone to pay close attention to the second half. My scene was coming. My dialogue was there…but I wasn’t. I appeared for just 60 seconds. They had cut my entire role. It crushed me. I had left my job and couldn’t go back to it. I started picking up small roles, trying to hold on, but deep down I knew that acting wasn’t for me. It’s been six years since that film released. A week before it hit theatres, I’d even done the dubbing. I was sure I’d made it. But the final cut said otherwise. That’s when I truly realised that music, not acting, was where I belonged.
Are you planning to explore mass/commercial music?
Sinjith: Yes, we’re working on another film together, this time, a proper commercial one. For the first time, I’m composing full-fledged commercial songs. A lot of people think I’m only into melody or Carnatic-based music, but I want to break that perception. There are so many legends who inspire me: AR Rahman, Ilaiyaraaja — I still listen to old vinyl records, and they’re my greatest t
What’s your creative process when composing music?
Sinjith: It used to begin with Niloufer’s chai (laughs), but I’ve cut down on sugar, now it’s just plain chai. I have a little ritual where I light dhoop and camphor before I sit down to compose. It puts me in the right space. Another important thing: the director has to be present while I’m making music. I just can’t work in a long-distance setup. It has to be collaborative in real-time.
Is it difficult for independent filmmakers to reach the audience?
Ajay: Yes, it definitely is. Earlier, OTT platforms were a good space for indie filmmakers, but things have changed. Now even OTT releases often require backing from a major production house. You need someone to produce the film, otherwise, it’s hard to reach a wider audience. We’ve learned that the hard way and are working on aligning ourselves with the industry’s evolving demands.
What’s your take on the mainstream film industry?
Ajay: It all comes down to the mindset of the audience and honestly, you can never fully understand it. While making Aarambham, we tried to anticipate a lot of things. But when it comes to distribution and release, there are so many layers and complications I still don’t fully understand. As filmmakers, we often think only till the final cut, after that, it’s all about crossing fingers and hoping it finds the right audience.
Tell us about your upcoming film.
Ajay: I can’t reveal too much just yet since we’re working with a big production house. But I can say this, it’s being made by the same team that worked on Aarambham. That in itself is a huge success for me. Continuing as an indie team while getting bigger opportunities, that’s the dream. We’re working with Satyadev sir this time. Interestingly, his film and Aarambham released on the same day. He happened to watch our film, recognised me later, and reached out. Now, we’re collaborating. The shoot is already 60% complete, and we’ll be announcing the production house and title soon. This film explores human-wildlife conflict; a genre that’s not been widely explored. It’s set in a village caught between development and environmental degradation. The story is different, but the presentation will be more commercial. Thanks to Satya anna’s involvement, we’ve got a slightly bigger budget too. We’re aiming for a release either by the end of this year or early next year.
TNIE team: Kalyan Tholeti, Shreya Veronica, Vennapusala Ramya, Darshita Jain and Nitika Krishna