How ‘Sabar Bonda’ Created A Rural Romance Story Without A Soundtrack

Rohan Parashuram Kanawade’s Sabar Bonda, co-produced with Neeraj Churi, created history, becoming the first Indian film in the fiction feature category to win a Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival. The Marathi language drama unravels a tender, romantic saga through the eyes of its lead pair, Anand (Bhushan Manoj) and Balya (Suraaj Suman). Distributed by Rana Daggubati’s Spirit Media, it is currently on a wider theatrical release across India. 

Set against the liminal pastoral plains of rural Maharashtra, this love story interestingly unfolds amidst a ten-day mourning period. The protagonist, Anand, returns to his ancestral village, a place infused with the stillness of time. What follows is a slow yet endearing rekindling between him and his childhood friend, Balya, as they navigate love, loss, and companionship in its tenderest form. It also offers a rare positive lens on queer familial support, a refreshing take that also serves an imminent need of the hour. 

From the very beginning, the intent was to color inside the lines. No background soundscape, static camerawork, and a not-so-glamorous location. Yet, the strategy paid off. 

Kanawade’s tryst with storytelling can be traced back to his parents. His father first introduced him to the magic of cinema, and even as a child, he was always more fascinated by technical aspects like projectors and speakers. Later, a well-written chapter in a school textbook sparked his appetite for writing. But it wouldn’t be until years later, while working as an interior designer, that he took his first foray into the world of filmmaking after a colleague prodded him to make a short film. 

“We did not know how to use software or even edit,” he remarked. However, on a run-down 1.2 megapixel camera, Kanawade commenced his DIY directorial era, that too with horror films. Slowly, he fell in love with the process of creating: “After coming from the office, I used to either invest my time in writing a screenplay or gather some friends to scout potential shoot locations in the neighborhood,” he stated. Recognizing the spark, his late father encouraged him to take the plunge and dive headfirst into the world of cinema. 

Sabar Bonda, his fourth cinematic feature, was born out of semi-autobiographical experiences. Like Anand, Kanawade also lost his dad. Visiting his ancestral roots as a queer man, he’d always wondered what love would look or sound like against a rural backdrop.

Unfailingly immersive, the film invites you, as the viewer, to step into the story. From distant shots and an ambient natural soundscape, one gets the most authentic point of view of the emotional pulse. Describing the camera as “observing rather than intervening,” like a neighbor overhearing a quarrel through walls, Kanawade emphasized the use of sound over dialogue to build anticipation.

Instead of an instrumental backing, there’s the rustling of leaves amidst the gentle afternoon breeze, the clashing of utensils amidst fights, and the bleating of goats—a gentle rural pianissimo that serves as the sonic backbone. “I took that decision even before I started writing the script. There is the silence of nature, the wind; those things are more interesting than any other background music, you will not find in those libraries of sound.” The sound team, consisting of Anirban Borthakur, Naren Chandavarkar (Sound Design), Mandar Kamalapurkar (Location Sound), Boloy Kumar Doloi and Rahul Karpe (Sound Mixing), worked tirelessly along with Kanawade to bring this sonic vision into reality.

From Michael Haneke’s off-screen violence to hearing people fight while growing up in the slums of Mumbai, Kanawade’s surroundings always had an unintentional sonic influence. “I wanted to ground the film in the real world, to let the audience’s imagination do the rest,” he explains. Anand is not alone in this house; there is life happening around him.” His sound designers, Naren Chandavarkar and Anirban Borthakur, later traveled back to the village to record authentic sounds, layering them into the film. 

Likewise, the sexuality of the characters is never used as a major catalyst. It almost comes across as second nature. For instance, Balya’s character, who is very comfortable with his queerness, is able to escape heteronormative standards under normal circumstances. “My mom had mentioned how farmers in her village were not getting brides due to skewed sex ratios. I found this to be an interesting layer to add to Balya’s character. He is a simple farmer and happily unmarried. That way, he did not need a reason to come out to his parents either.”

Symbolism, too, found its way in through personal roots. The cactus pear, central to a moment of intimacy in the film, was derived from Kanawade’s childhood memories of his mother’s stories. “I remembered my mom telling me about cactus pears when I was a very small kid, and whenever I used to go to my uncle’s village”, he explained. Though he never saw the fruit as a child, he was acquainted with it through descriptions — dulcet, fleshy, and helmed by a thorny exterior. “What kind of fruit will Balya bring for Anand? I did not want regular fruits. Rediscovering it years later while writing Sabar Bonda, he realized it mirrored his characters. “Anand is around his relatives; he’s stiff and harsh, like a cactus plant. But when Balya brings him the fruit, with the thorns plucked out, he enjoys it fully,” he said. Just like how cactuses endure harsh terrains and bear tender fruits, these characters were also going through hardships and pressure while navigating grief and love. A paradox within itself, the fruit became a powerful metaphor, enough to lend the film its title.

Grounded in realism, grief, and simplicity, the film captures what Kanawade describes as a love story between two men at its core. “Everyone could understand what’s going on without us actually using the term ‘gay,’” he remarked. A filmmaker first and foremost, he resists the categorization of “queer” cinema.  “There was never an intent to make a ‘queer‘ film. I feel that when people make films with LGBTQIA+ themes, sexuality and acceptance take center stage. But if you see queer people in real life, they, like other people, have their own lives, work, and problems to solve; they are human beings too, right?  I wanted to show these characters as human beings first.” He also emphasized carving a diverse filmography for himself: “When Rahi Anil Barve made Tumbaad, did people start calling him a horror filmmaker? No. When you make a film where there’s sexuality involved, people quickly put you in a box; it’s a very sad reality.” 

When asked about his upcoming projects, Kanawade stated, “People also start feeling, my next film will also have a happy ending, no background music or the kind of camera work that you saw. But it won’t.” On the future of independent cinema, he highlighted the critical need for commercial support. “We had so many Indian films premiering at international film festivals this year. If only producers gather the courage to come ahead and support us, that’s when we will have such diverse voices in storytelling.” Passionate about the magic of the big screen, he expressed his hopes for films like Sabar Bonda to find theatrical homes within movie halls packed with an audience. “The theatre is the ultimate home for any film, right?” he stated.