It has been seven years since your last Assamese film. What brought you back now?

The gap wasn’t entirely intentional—life has its way of slowing you down. A combination of the pandemic and my disappointment with how audience sensibilities were evolving created a temporary disconnect.

Looking back, this hiatus was a blessing—a period of forced reflection. I spent time observing how technology encroaches upon our personal spaces and how we’re losing touch with our inner selves. This observation made me realise my responsibility as an artist: to bring out these unspoken rhythms. That understanding shaped the soul of Herowa Chanda.

What is the core philosophy behind the film?

“Rhythm” for me is a metaphor for life itself. The most powerful asset humanity has developed through evolution is the concept of family, our core strength for survival. But today, we are witnessing a tragic disconnect from our roots.

Herowa Chanda looks at this lost connection. When life deviates from its natural course due to external pressures or our own mistakes, we lose that essential rhythm. The film gently reminds us that we must revisit our past to find what we have lost and bring that harmony back.

Production still from Herowa Chanda. After a seven-year hiatus, the multi-National Award winner Jahnu Baruah returns with his latest Assamese feature: a philosophical treatise on the fraying fabric of the family unit and growing disconnect within the Gen Z generation. | Photo Credit: By Special Arrangement

This film marks your son Ozu’s Assamese debut. What was it like directing him?

It happened naturally. When I saw his work, I realised I had a role perfect for him. He was overwhelmed by the offer, and because he is a very good actor, he delivered wonderfully.

Ozu represents the younger generation, and his insights were valuable. He understands that today’s youth face many options and distractions. He helped highlight how important it is to remain part of a family, that being rooted provides necessary comfort amid modern confrontations and technology. He performed with genuine understanding.

Your primary focus is the Gen Z generation. What’s your message to them?

I have immense faith in their brilliance, but I also observe deep confusion about identity. Today’s youth are caught in “ultra-technological adventures".

My message is simple: in this excitement, don’t forget the human being within you. Behind every AI and gadget lies a human mind, a product of the same family values that have sustained us. Technology should be a tool for humanity, not a replacement for human connection.

You’ve advocated for a director-centric approach. Why should audiences prioritise the director over the star?

This is something I feel very strongly about. Cinema is a visual medium of ideology. The projection of a vision and philosophy. If you chase the star, you follow a manufactured image. But if you follow the director, you follow a soul, a unique perspective.

Think of it this way: when you read a great book, you follow the author, not the publisher. The publisher is merely the medium, but the author gives you wisdom. In cinema, the director is the true author. When audiences connect with that vision, they gain something that enriches their mind. My goal is to create work that enriches audiences in the line of humanity.

How did your formative years at FTII [Film and Television Institute of India], Pune, shape this humanist approach?

FTII was transformative. Before joining, I was confused about my future. The institute provided clarity. I discovered the depth of art and culture and realised filmmaking was what would truly make me happy.

This foundation also shaped how I view recognition. While I appreciate awards like the Padma Shri and recognise they help Assamese cinema gain visibility, a filmmaker must not hanker after them. If you become too focused on awards, you risk losing your creative instincts. The true reward is staying true to the storytelling process and creative instincts.

Production still from Herowa Chanda [Lost Rhythm]. Jahnu Baruah says that “rhythm” is not just a musical term, but a metaphor for the rhythm of life itself. | Photo Credit: By Special Arrangement

Your films focus deeply on humanity. Where does this come from?

I’m a humanist by nature, rooted in my childhood experiences. In everything I create, my goal is to enrich audiences through the lens of humanity. We’re blessed with divine gifts—a brain, mind, and the capacity to think and imagine.

But my understanding extends beyond humans alone. We exist as part of a larger world and have responsibility toward our entire environment. True humanity is about living in harmony with each other and the world we inhabit. My films are issue-based, addressing the psychological dynamics of society. I dream of a world where humanity exists on all occasions.

In today’s complex climate, how do you define a filmmaker’s role and freedom?

A filmmaker is a citizen first, artist second. We don’t exist in a vacuum; we belong to this society and cannot remain indifferent to its pulse. If something is going wrong, it’s our duty to give it a voice.

However, I believe in a limited perimeter of freedom. Freedom of expression shouldn’t be exercised recklessly. It must prioritise the nation’s integrity and harmony. The challenge today is finding balance: being a critic when necessary, yet remaining a patriot who seeks to heal rather than incite chaos. We must know the limit of our freedom and use it to protect the social fabric.

In the battle between technology and human emotions, where do you stand?

Technology is brilliant, but an overdose can destroy creative sense. You must control technology, not the other way around. In the battle between machine and human heart, humanity must always be the winner.

For Jahnu Baruah, the real danger of hyper-technology is not the machine itself, but the slow loss of family connection. | Photo Credit: By Special Arrangement

What message would you give to aspiring filmmakers from northeast India?

The entire northeast is a reservoir of talent. My advice: have faith in yourself and always remain rooted.

The northeast is full of rich history—almost all our states share a history of migrants who assimilated into society, unlike invaders who impose identity. This history has made our society strong and cordial. We have countless stories yet untold to the outside world. If we don’t tell them, these beautiful narratives will never emerge. Be proud of where you come from and use that strength to tell your unique stories.