You show the effects of violence more often than the violence itself. Why did you choose that approach?

The narrative is conveyed predominantly through the perspective of the Boy, the protagonist. As he encounters violence, the audience encounters it with him. He usually witnesses it peripherally, arriving either before or after it occurs; the only exception is his own torture, of which only the aftermath is shown. This was intentional, meant to reflect the events of the novel and to deepen the film’s authenticity. Contemporary cinema portrays violence as a routine part of daily life. In reality, most people rarely witness violence or take part in it—if at all, perhaps once or twice in a lifetime. By omitting explicit depictions, its impact is heightened, made even more disturbing when violence is finally shown.

Some viewers may feel that keeping violence offscreen softens the reality of what happened in Kashmir in the 1990s. Did that concern you?

The decision not to depict violence on screen was not meant to shield viewers or diminish the historical realities of Kashmir. The film is adapted from a work of fiction with a focused narrative. It does not aim to represent any individual’s experience in Kashmir during that period; its purpose is to raise global awareness of the conflict. The intention is to encourage audiences to further their own understanding and engage with the subject as they see fit.

At the end of the film, the name on the Boy’s ID card is Mirza Waheed. How did that idea come about?

Nikhil Singh Rai, who played the Boy, knew his character had no name in the novel or the film. During filming, he told me he had chosen a secret name and kept it to himself until the last scene—shot on the final day—when he asked our set designer to make an ID card bearing that name. Seeing the name revealed the novel’s deep impact on him and his respect for its themes and for those affected by the conflict.

Nikhil’s idea carries a deeper meaning than he may have anticipated. The Boy is believed to have taken the ID card from a corpse in the valley, using it as an assumed identity rather than his own. This borrowed identity lets him leave Kashmir and pursue his dream of becoming a writer, one who tells the world about Kashmir—he becomes a voice for those who have none, the dead. As viewers identify with the characters, they too are encouraged to carry Kashmir’s story after watching the film.

Asma’s death pushes the Boy towards action. Why was her role so important to his journey?

Asma’s death was only one factor in the Boy’s decision to act. He had been struggling with it long before, as shown when he threatens the Captain and when he imagines a conversation with his dead friends. His choice was not a political awakening but an attempt to prove himself to those who doubted him. In the end, he abandons his plan after a song on the radio reminds him of his best friend’s wish to escape and pursue their dreams, which he chooses over committing an act of violence.

You are right that the relationship between the Boy and Asma can be described as a love story that was never allowed to exist. The film centres on unfulfilled ambitions and stagnation, shaped by the characters’ circumstances. Hussain’s aspiration to become a singer goes unrealised, Gul does not marry or start a family, and the Boy cannot pursue a relationship with Asma. Together these contribute to the film’s overarching sense of tragedy.

A still from Line of Control. The film, according to Travis, depends on the viewer’s imagination, showing the consequences of violence rather than the act. | Photo Credit: IMDB

Many characters in the film keep going despite loss, fear, and disappointment. Was that something you found in Waheed’s novel, or something that developed during filmmaking?

It was something I found in Waheed’s novel, and it was the main reason I agreed to do this project. Without the novel, I never would have taken it on.

The Boy seems isolated from everyone around him. He is used by Kadian, distrusted by militants and distant from his own village. Was that sense of isolation central to the story for you?

The feeling of exclusion or loneliness, even when surrounded by people we care about, is a central theme carried over from the novel and one of the main reasons I wanted to make the film. This sense is familiar to many people around the world—including me—and often arises from misreading others’ intentions. Usually those close to us, like the Boy’s parents and friends, are trying to help or protect us, but we mistake their actions, which can lead to errors, sometimes tragic ones.

You are an American director making a film set in Kashmir, shot in Georgia with a largely non-Kashmiri crew. How did you approach that responsibility?

My approach was to ensure Waheed’s novel was accurately adapted into a screenplay, focussing on scenes that embody its core themes of friendship, loss, and loneliness—childhood bonds shattered by conflict, moments of isolation during wartime.

While the narrative unfolds in Kashmir, members of the international team had personal connections to the material. Several Georgian participants spoke of a strong resonance with the themes of divided families and contested borders, reflecting their experiences during the Abkhazia conflict. Two film festivals focussed on Palestine chose to feature the film for its portrayal of family in conflict zones, which they found relatable. These examples point to the universal nature of Waheed’s storytelling and its emotional reach across cultural boundaries.

A still from the Line of Control. Travis Hodgkins says the feeling of exclusion or loneliness, even when surrounded by people we care about, is a central theme carried over from the novel and one of the main reasons I wanted to make the film. | Photo Credit: IMDB

The film suggests that people in different parts of the world can connect with Kashmir’s story. Do you worry that this can blur the specific history and politics of Kashmir?

On the contrary, it opens a path for people to learn about Kashmir and relate to its challenges.

In the novel, the Boy writes love letters to Asma and sometimes copies poems into them. In the film, he reads Kahlil Gibran to her. Was that your addition or Waheed’s?

The idea of using a Gibran poem came from the novel, where Waheed writes that the Boy occasionally copied poems by Kahlil Gibran or John Keats into his letters to Asma. I imagined the Boy did this to show his familiarity with foreign authors, hoping to impress her. That led me to picture him reciting a Gibran poem when meeting Asma, trying to win her admiration.

What films or filmmakers influenced your approach to this story? Was Kashmir being filtered through that sensibility, and was that a problem for you?

Are my sensibilities a problem for me? Not at all—I am happy with how I make films. People from diverse backgrounds make films all the time about experiences different from their own. Take Ang Lee: although he grew up in Taiwan, he directed Brokeback Mountain, a film about two white gay cowboys in 1960s Wyoming. He may not have had first-hand knowledge of being white and gay in middle America in that era, yet he made a remarkable film. How is that possible? Because its themes are universal, resonating with everyone in some way.

Some people have compared your film to Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest because both avoid showing violence directly. Do you see any connection between the two films?

Rashaana Shah mentioned during the online press conference that The Zone of Interest is comparable to our film; I have never made that comparison, as I believe Glazer’s intention differs significantly from ours. His approach was not to obscure the violence of the concentration camps but to show that the Germans living nearby were complicit in the suffering, since the realities of the camps were evident even when the atrocities themselves were not directly witnessed.

Our film, by contrast, depends on the viewer’s imagination, showing the consequences of violence rather than the act. This does not conceal the event; it forces the audience to identify with the protagonist, sharing the bewilderment and frustration he feels as he tries to make sense of what is happening around him.

When making a film about Kashmir, what mattered most to you in creating a sense of authenticity?

Our aim was to represent Kashmir authentically as it appeared in the early 1990s. During pre-production, our production designer, Madhura Gokarn, and costume designer, Rajvi Shah, researched the era extensively and then travelled to Kashmir to source materials. All costumes were sourced from Kashmir, and the sets were built to reflect the local architecture Madhura observed during her visit.

We also worked with our associate producer, Brigadier Rajiv Williams, YSM (Retd), who served as an Indian Army officer in Kashmir in the early 1990s. His expertise informed everything to do with military protocol and uniforms; he reviewed the script for accuracy and worked closely with the actor Rudi Dharmalingam to ensure an authentic portrayal of a captain operating in such circumstances.