Aruna Raje Patil Speaks: Horror, Vision, and More – An Interview by Heidi Honeycutt

[This is an abridged version of a section from the book I SPIT ON YOUR CELLULOID: THE HISTORY OF WOMEN MAKING HORROR MOVIES, 2024 Headpress Publishing, by Heidi Honeycutt, followed by a new, original interview with Aruna Raje Patil]

Women filmmakers from India don’t get that much attention in mainstream film news discussions. Women horror film directors from India get even less attention for several reasons: the first is that Indian horror is seen as very male-centric for a male audience, and the second is that India has only fostered women’s filmmaking careers since the 1970s, meaning that there are far fewer than in Western nations. Fatma Begum made the fantasy film Bulbul-e-Paristan in 1926, but the first authentic Indian horror film directed by a woman was Gehrayee, AKA Depth in 1980, co-directed by one of India’s most prolific women directors, Arunaraje Patil.

Arunaraje Patil was born in 1946 in Pune, India, into a very sheltered childhood.

She was obsessed with movies as a child. Originally enrolled in medical school, she

switched to a film school in 1967 to learn to edit and direct. In film school, she met

Vikas Desai, another film student, and together they made their thesis films. They

were married and ended up having a long filmmaking partnership as co-directors, beginning in 1969 until their divorce in the late 1980s. The second film they directed together was a horror film: Gehrayee (1980).  

While working on their first film together, Shaque (1976), Raje shared this idea of a horror movie about the supernatural with Desai. He was excited, but their business partner/producer, Mr. Kamat, did not believe it was commercial enough to gain an audience when formulaic Bollywood films were the mainstream popular style. When The Exorcist (1973) was released in India in 1977, investors changed their minds and wanted to make an Indian horror film to take advantage of the buzz. Raje wanted Gehrayee to use common Indian folklore and mythology as a basis for its storyline, which would resonate deeply with Indian audiences.

Raje and Desai set Gehrayee, which means “depth” in English, in the south of India,

in Bangalore, which they felt would be more believable. After a few months of research,

they gave the story to playwright Vijay Tendulkar who wrote the script. They immediately

started casting their ghost story at this point. Padmini Kolhapure plays Umakka, the

an adolescent girl who becomes possessed. Dr. Sriram Lagoo was cast as her father,

Chennabasappa, Indrani Mukherjee as her religious mother, Saroja, Anant Nag was

Umakka’s older brother Nandu, Sudhir Dalvi as the good priest, Amrish Puri as the evil

sorcerer, Suhas Bhalekar as the disloyal servant Basava, and Rita Bhaduri as Chenni,

Basava’s daughter. The city of Bangalore was perfect for what Raje wanted: they filmed

in green Cubbon Park with hundred-year-old trees, providing the perfect spooky, rural

forest setting.  

Gehrayee focuses on the adolescent Umakka’s demonic possession and her family’s attempts to treat her medically and spiritually with exorcists. Chennabasappa and Saroja take Umakka to the doctor, but they can’t find anything wrong with her. The family calls upon several different Hindu holy men to help them. The first is ineffective, while the second ends up being an evil priest using Umakka’s body to invite the dark goddess Kali into the world.  Gehrayee is about accepting the supernatural and religious

despite scientific evidence to the contrary; it’s about losing traditions and values, and

beliefs as we move away from our ancestral homes and into big cities and forget the

prayers, rituals, and superstitions that plague us in the countryside and small villages.

Despite their skepticism, Nandu and even Chennabasappa both believe in ghosts and

demons at the film’s end.

Gehrayee premiered in Eros at Churchgate in Bombay, India, and the event was attended by celebrities. It did well at the box office; people found it scary and spellbinding. 

Raje was warned by many people not to make a movie about witchcraft and religion because she’d be cursed for doing so. Perhaps the normal misfortunes of life can be perceived because of the curse of horror movies; perhaps not. What follows is an exclusive interview with Arunaraje conducted in 2025 about her life, legacy, and enjoyment of horror films.

Heidi Honeycutt: In the 1960s, the first generation of women were graduating from film schools around the world, including the USA and India. This was the first time in film history that men and women were peers with the same experience in the film industry, working on each other's projects and learning together. What was your experience as a woman film student in the 1960s regarding your relationships with other students and the study of film in general? In addition, what made you switch from medical school to film school in the first place? 

Arunaraje Patil: As a film student, I was quite pampered at the Film School being the only girl in all the disciplines except in the acting department in which there were about three to five girls. I had a free run and could attend almost any class as I was most welcome everywhere. There were many male students too who had never been in a school or class with girls and for them it was a discovery to meet a girl on equal terms in a co-ed situation. The boys found ways to be with me over a cup of tea in the canteen or walking with me on my way home etc. and working with them in the different units was not a problem at all. I was finally where I wanted to be as I was obsessed with Cinema and absorbed everything I could like a sponge, learning and growing. 

The switch from medical school was not simple. Even before I chose Medicine, I had been crazy about films right from my childhood. But since girls from 'good' families did not go into films I had to choose something else. I was a topper in my studies so I could get into the Medical College on merit. There were 2 subjects in my 1st M.B.B.S. year which was of 18 months duration and we had two subjects, Anatomy and Physiology. Every morning going to Anatomy class was a nightmare. We walked into a large hall where there were many tables laid out and on each table was a dead body - a corpse that we were to dissect. I had a hard time dealing with that, for on the one hand was the smell from the bodies that were getting cut up and on the other hand my thoughts ran into the terrible undignified deaths these bodies had faced because they were unclaimed bodies with no hope of a decent burial or cremation. I did very well in my physiology exam but failed in Anatomy. I re-appeared and cleared it but was miserable. My mother, who was a very dynamic woman, took me out of the medical school and put me into the Film Institute. People were aghast that she had done such a thing. They ranted "Mrs. Patil, you are ruining your daughter's brilliant career as she would have made a good doctor!"  My mother had replied to all of them calmly, "My daughter is not frivolous. I want her to be happy." I made good when I passed out of the film school with not only my diploma in cinema, but a gold medal as well topping the class.

H: In the 1960s and 1970s, there was a worldwide exchange of ideas about feminism, political freedom, artistic freedom, racism, and religion in numerous artistic communities. As a member of the artistic community in India at this time, how did these phenomena influence Indian films? Or were they? Did they influence you personally in any way as a young woman filmmaker?

A: Of course, we were very 'in' on these conversations. We were idealistic and freedom - both artistic and political, meant a lot to us. The student community in those days never had problems with diversity in religion or caste.  We were quite a homogenous group. When we came out into the film industry, we came aware of the differences regarding caste, religion and gender. Even so I would say the film industry had less issues regarding caste and religion focusing on talent. Many of the films of the 1960s and 70s had themes that reflected on these issues except those concerning women. Women-centric films were a rarity, and women's issues not considered important.  However, the gender discrimination fueled by patriarchy and male domination took a toll on the women working in whatever small capacity. As the first woman technician in the industry, I had a hard time; if one challenge was to be accepted as a knowledgeable, talented equal the other was fending off unwanted attention and propositions, trying not to fall prey to the sexual predators. 

There were basically two kinds of people in the film industry at that time. People who made films, mostly as storytellers and made a living out of it who touched upon some of these themes. The other group was fascinated by another perspective and interpretation of the world with more radical ideas of feminism, political freedom, artistic freedom, racism, religion and more artistic cinema. I was also one of them not willing to compromise on the causes I believed in, looking for ways to tell plausible human stories without the familiar popular cinema tropes and yet find a way to have the film get to the theatres. The people who were more radical created films that very few people watched but began to get a small niche audience. That was the time when what we call Parallel Cinema was born. These films did not have much of a plot, were dark and underlit in comparison to the commercial films, slow-paced and often had underplayed performances in stark contrast to the melodrama meted out in the popular cinema. 

H: When you made Gehrayee, The Exorcist was a popular film release from the United States. But you'd wanted to make a horror film before The Exorcist came out. What were your initial ideas for horror films?

A: I was exposed to stories of black magic etc. growing up in Bangalore. Regarding the making of horror stories, I felt there needed to be a 'scare' element: things needed to be in a real space, but incomprehensible and intangible with a hint of danger; the events in the film needed to be unexpected and unpredictable, catching the audience unawares; the danger or threat needed to be escalated heading towards the climax: the danger, physical or mental, with something very important at stake, and last but not the least, the characters needed to be credible as they walked through the film taking you along with them, experiencing the highs and lows, feeling the dread, the fear and the momentary relief from time to time, before the next attack could come.

H: Like most industries, the film industry is motivated by profit and money. When The Exorcist came out in India, horror was suddenly seen as a viable path to a profitable film. What changes in the investors' and audiences' attitudes do you recall? What other horror movies were popular in India at the time that helped you on the path to making Gehrayee?

A: Our producer, who was also a distributor was impressed by the success of The Exorcist and considered our project as viable.  It was very Indian in every which way and that appealed to all. It was not an imported cut-paste job but authentic to the core. The only horror films that existed at that time were scary films with ghosts and weird looking monsters - nothing real. They did not help us in our path at all except it was clear to us that that was what we wanted to avoid: cliche-ridden, fake monsters in haunted houses that creeped in on you or jumped at you unexpectedly. Both my ex-husband and I were inspired by Rosemary's Baby which we had seen many years earlier as students. What had got us hooked was everything seemed to happen on a real plane and the fear kept increasing. The protagonist began to feel alienated and helpless as one by one, the people she trusted were not who she thought they were. Eventually she was forced to accept the reality of another world which co-existed with the normal one. 

H: In Gehrayee, the idea of demonic possession is juxtaposed with Indian folk beliefs and religion rather than the Catholic beliefs of the West, as it is in The Exorcist. What special characteristics does Gehrayee display as a horror film regarding the visual, narrative, and artistic choices that result purely from it being made in India by Indian filmmakers?

A: The special characteristics were a world of spirits parallel to the world of human beings. The spirits in that domain were unhappy, disgruntled souls who could not find their release or freedom and were condemned to roam the earth, incomplete. Many of them according to folklore could be made captive by black magicians to bring misery to people for some material gains or revenge or to accomplish something almost impossible with their black magic mantras and invocations using those spirits. In some cases the spirits themselves looked for ways to attain freedom to go back to the Divine Creator until they could take birth again in human form: the inexplicable happenings in a normal everyday setup that could not be explained away with logic or reality; the communication between the two worlds through possession and manipulation, and the very real fear that was created in an everyday normal situation - like it could happen to you, because the characters with whom such things happened were real and resonated with people. The result was that people were petrified in many scenes and were actually scared in the theatre.

H: Let's talk about the shocking scenes of the film that were controversial: the (obscured) nudity of the girl during the ritual, the demonic ritual by the evil shaman itself, the shocking things the child says to her family when she is possessed - how were these elements received by the film financiers, the press, and the audience? 

A: To begin with the girl, a normal middle-class schoolgirl speaking abusive, disrespectful language and bitching was very shocking for Indian audiences. Her body language as the farm laborer just made it worse because it was not the girl any longer but someone occupying her body. In another scene, the girl tries to seduce her brother and says vile things to her father - completely unimaginable in Indian society. And yet she is not like that all the time. She is unable to study, gets bad grades, her head hurts, she experiences being strangled, is helpless and vulnerable and what makes it worse is time after time no help seems to be coming her way. The attitude of the modern scientific-minded father clashes with the religious wife's traditional beliefs. The son tows the mother's line and puts them at crossroads in finding an effective cure for the girl. The dangerous black magician who pretends to help the girl but instead draws her out of the house with a spell was scary and worrisome because it could happen to anyone with the magnetic control of the mind. Again, in a conservative society where sex is a forbidden word, here you have the black magician about to have sex with the Almighty Goddess through the body of the girl. How much more horrific could it get? Lastly the spirits in the burial ground screaming had the audience spellbound. I would go to the theatre to watch the audience reaction towards the end and there would be pin-drop silence in the cinema hall and a deadly eerie space as if people were even afraid to breathe. The use of two voices for the character in whom the spirit enters at the very end and the protagonist’s brother losing it made people wonder what if such a thing would befall them. 

H: To me, being shocked by a horror film is a success. But did you, as a filmmaker, also feel this way? What was your goal in including these elements that you knew would rattle conservative audience members and people in general in Indian society?

A: Absolutely! Whatever kind of film one makes, if the intention of the director is fulfilled, I would term it a success. If a comedy makes you laugh, and a tragedy makes you cry, a horror film had better scare the daylights out of you. Yes, I did. It took a lot of skill in writing where there were three of us involved and after the shoot, the editing which I handled completely. I believe that films are made on the editing table, and a good film reflects that. Over time, one felt better because the younger generations were also watching the film and reacting to it. It is satisfying if a film is considered worth watching after many decades. We began our careers as storytellers.  At least I did. As a kid, I would make up the most fanciful tales and tell my friends, family, siblings, anyone who could lend a ear. Later, I started writing and that made a big difference. The important thing in a story is you justify the premise and be true to the genre. So, we did a lot of research, found the stories and anecdotes we could use, not from any written work but from first person testimonials. Black magic as does white magic practice exists in India even today. People hesitate to talk about it openly because it would cause them to be alienated from the other members of society. We met the victims, the black and white magicians, and we created a story based on some real incidents.  It is common, like an open secret that nobody talks about. Superstition too is rampant in India. It's just that we brought it all together and had them confront the existence of that world. The ones who were unaware of course, were shocked and the others reassured that they were not weird and the things that were happening to them were not some hallucination or make-believe. After the film's release we got hundreds of calls with people sharing their stories and seeking help and advice and addresses of some good magicians who could take the evil curse off. 

H: Horror is always a beautiful metaphor for something mundane and human. What is the possession of Umakka a metaphor for, in real life, regarding family and adolescence?

A: Possession of Umakka is a metaphor for the way society looks at a young virgin nymphet. In Indian society, a girl's virginity is protected and safeguarded by her parents until she is safely handed over to her new keeper, a husband. She is also a prize to be had, and men take great pride in being the first one to break her hymen. The black magician is looking for that very kind of girl to invoke the Goddess into, so he can have sex with the Goddess which would make him very powerful. So Umakka as an adolescent is a prize and a coveted one. In India, conversations for matrimonial alliances start when the girl hits puberty and comes of age so to say. In a more educated middle or upper class, consideration is shown to put off the matrimonial conversations until the girl at least finishes school. Even the spirit of Basava chooses Uma (Umakka) to possess and make himself heard and his presence felt, to wreak vengeance on her father, Channabasappa.  In that process, he almost destroys the family. In actuality he does, because the heir of the family ends up losing his mind, terminating the family lineage as well, prematurely. 

H: Soon after the film came out, your filmmaking partnership with your husband ended. What was the process of transitioning to a solo directing career like? What did it reveal to you about the film industry?

A: The partnership actually ended after the next film. After Gehrayee we made a film called Situm. At that time, my nine-year-old daughter was diagnosed with cancer. We moved heaven and earth to save her and brought her to Memorial Sloane-Kettering Hospital in New York. At the end of one year, she died. Meanwhile my husband and my friend had been having an affair. The very next morning after her death, my husband asked me for a divorce. I was devastated and felt that the ground beneath my feet was gone. I could not handle it and tried to end my life. I failed and reached out to a friend who was a psychiatrist. I realized that the only thing that could save me was my work, and I needed to be okay, to be there for my son. I had initially refused to give my husband a divorce but knowing that my son was unhappy in the situation we were in, I finally gave in. I started another film, Rihaee, in 1988 and got myself back on the map as writer, director, editor and producer. 

I had thought that I would not get much work because there were no women technicians and just a couple of women directors by the end of the 1980s. It was and is a male dominated industry where there is not only misogyny but complete bias due to a patriarchal mindset. Surprisingly, I got a lot of work coming to me as I was considered a good and reliable technician and artist. But with all that it was hard operating as a single woman in the film industry.  All kinds of propositions, attempts and advances would be made by the men. The result was that I opted out of many projects. If I were a man, I would have many more films to my credit in so many years, but I did not want to compromise on my integrity. It was quite common for men to prey on single women and exploit them - the women ending up as victims after what was mostly use, abuse and disposal. Many women faced a hard time including some top actresses. The MeToo# situation was rampant and still is despite the movement surfacing. it died an early death, and the industry was back to business as usual. I have a strong independent streak, and I managed to keep going doing what I loved doing, on my own terms, making films and teaching. I got into transformation for a few years as a Landmark Forum Leader and came back to pursue my film projects. What I learned about the industry is there are people who make films or become a part of the team because they love cinema and the opportunity to create and express oneself, people who only want to make money and love the glitz and glamour and don't care about the art or expression of cinema, and people who hang around just to get fringe benefits: exploiting newcomers, men and women who are vulnerable, surviving often by duplicity and fraud. The last group does not have any connection with cinema or creativity.

H: What horror movies have you seen in the last decade that you enjoyed or were impressed/inspired by? Are there any women film directors with recent debuts that you feel are exceptionally talented?

A: I saw a lot of horror movies in the last two years - everything that was on the must watch list as one of my screen writing students was writing a horror film. I needed to have a better understanding of the genre and be able to guide and mentor him well. But to my shock today, a year later, I can't remember the films. Surprisingly I still remember parts of Rosemary's Baby, The Exorcist, The Omen series and The Sixth Sense.

Interviewed by Heidi Honeycutt