Director Karan Tejpal On The Genesis Of His  Stunning Debut ‘Stolen’: ‘It Is About A Man Forced Out Of His Bubble’

Where did you get the idea for Stolen?

The idea for Stolen began with a video I saw of the 2018 Karbi Anglong lynching in Assam. It left a knot of fear in my stomach—a visceral, physical reaction I couldn’t shake. I felt stuck, disturbed, and the only way I knew to process that feeling was to write. The story of the Bansal brothers grew from that moment, where two young men were brutally killed by a mob that mistakenly believed they were child kidnappers—driven by panic, misinformation, and manipulated videos circulating rapidly on WhatsApp. That tragedy became the seed for the film’s narrative and emotional terrain.

How much back-research did you do on mob lynchings?

As I began researching what came to be known as the “WhatsApp lynchings,” I uncovered the broader, more unsettling social crisis behind the incident. On one side, there is the collective fear within disempowered communities desperate to protect their children. On the other, the unimaginable grief of parents whose children become victims of that fear. It exposed a chilling cycle of mistrust, desperation, and systemic failure. Each element of the story—child trafficking, vigilante justice, the breakdown of law enforcement, the manipulation of truth—is a reflection of a different facet of the larger phenomenon that led to that lynching.

For me, Stolen is about the perils of privileged do-gooding?

At its core, Stolen is about a man forced out of his bubble—confronted with a brutal, unfamiliar reality, and compelled to see the world through new eyes. But more broadly, the film is a mirror held up to a fragmented society.

Was this inspired by any specific incident?

Stolen is not a reconstruction of a single event, but a fictionalised emotional truth born from a very real one. It attempts to understand how fear travels, how empathy erodes, and how quickly a society can unravel when trust in its institutions collapses.

The casting features relatively unknown actors except Abhishek Banerjee?

The casting was driven purely by the strength of each actor’s craft, and I truly couldn’t have asked for a better ensemble. With only five primary characters, every role had to carry weight—and each actor brought something unique and powerful to the table. Abhishek is undoubtedly one of the finest actors working today. His style is honest, instinctive, and deeply rooted in spontaneity. Casting him as Gautam Bansal was an easy decision. A consummate professional, he read the script within days and came on board without hesitation—it was a very straightforward process.

The chemistry between characters was crucial, especially for the dynamic between the Bansal brothers. I was keen to cast actors with a real-life connection, and Abhishek suggested his friend Shubham Vardhan. From our first meeting, I knew I wanted to work with him. He’s a meticulous, highly trained actor who can inhabit any character.

And the actress who plays the tribal?

Mia Maelzer was recommended to us by the incredible casting director – Dilip Shanker. I saw Mia’s short film – The Field, which left no doubt in my mind that she was perfect for Jhumpa. She’s an exceptional collaborator—deeply committed, emotionally present, and willing to give everything to the work.

The chase sequences in the village have a feel of guerrilla filmmaking, were they shot with a secret camera?

No, there were no secret cameras or candid improvisations. The chase sequences were actually highly planned and meticulously designed to look as real and immersive as possible—to give the audience the feeling of being right in the middle of the action. We were fortunate to have an incredible crew, each of whom brought exceptional skill and focus to the shoot—from the cinematographer to the action team, from sound to costume. Everyone was aligned with the same vision, and it’s truly a testament to their craft that it felt so raw and spontaneous. The goal was always to create a visceral, lived-in experience—and I’m glad that came through.

Abhishek’s mob lynching sequence is severely traumatic to watch, how traumatic was it to shoot?

Yes, it was an incredibly emotional and difficult scene to shoot, especially for Abhishek. On that day, the boundaries between performance and reality blurred in a profound way. He fully inhabited the pain and fear of those who have suffered such violence, and after the scene, he broke down and wept. It wasn’t just acting. It was a deep, visceral connection to the truth of the character and the boys whose stories inspired the film.

How did you shoot Abhishek’s lynching? I’ve never seen anything so chillingly real?

We shot the sequence as a long, continuous four-minute take, and we only did three takes. The rest of the crew was on the razor’s edge in terms of preparation and precision. For most of us, the focus was technical—hitting marks, timing movements—but for Abhishek, it was an emotional freefall. His response after the take reminded all of us of the weight and reality behind the fiction we were creating.

It must have been traumatizing for the entire crew?

The entire shoot paused after that. There was a heaviness on set—a shared recognition of the horror we were portraying. It was a sombre and sobering moment for everyone involved.

Your film questions the relationship between the empowered and the disempowered, are you saying that the empowered can afford the luxury of a conscience at their own peril?

With Stolen, I wasn’t trying to question or make a definitive statement—I was more interested in placing characters from different ends of the power spectrum in situations where their lives intersect and collide, and then dramatizing how those encounters unfold. In my view, it’s the empowered who are most in need of a conscience. They hold the influence, the reach, and the ability to effect change. Saying it comes “at their own peril” is, perhaps, a narrative device used for dramatic tension in cinema. In reality, we’ve seen many examples of the empowered using their position to do remarkable, transformative work—without it costing them everything.

More than anything, Stolen is a mirror to myself. A call out to my own conscience—a reminder to act, not just observe.

So which of the two brothers, the conscientious Raman or the escapist Gautam, is more you?

If I’m being honest, I don’t know if I would be a Raman or a Gautam. Most likely, a Gautam. But having made this film, I hope I now have the courage to be a Raman. Because the real danger is not in having a conscience, but in choosing not to act on it.

You had to struggle for three years for a release, until Amazon intervened, would you say the future of Indie cinema is bleak?

I’d say it’s quite the opposite of bleak. In recent years, every major A-list festival has featured at least one Indian film in official selection—many of them going on to win top awards. Films like Girls Will Be Girls, The Match, Shadowbox, Sabar Bonda, Homebound, and others are part of a growing wave of bold, diverse storytelling.

The crowning moment, of course, is All We Imagine As Light winning the Grand Prix at Cannes— an extraordinary achievement. Indian cinema is clearly on the rise, and it feels like we’re on the cusp of a new chapter, one where we’ll be exporting more cinematic gems to the world than ever before.

What are you working on next?

Over the past year, I’ve been working on two major projects as a screenwriter. One is a feature film for Mira Nair, based on an original story by her. Collaborating with one of my professional heroes has been an incredibly enriching experience—both exciting and humbling. It’s challenged me in the best possible ways and helped me grow immensely as a writer. The second is Dahaad Season 2, a highly successful Amazon Prime Video series created by Reema Kagti and Zoya Akhtar. I’m leading the writers’ room for this season, which comes with a much larger set of responsibilities. It’s a thrilling challenge to shape a story that lives up to the high expectations set by the first season, and I’m fully invested in delivering a compelling, edge-of-your-seat narrative.

Alongside these, I’m also developing two feature films that are very close to me. Nisaar (Sacrifice) is a romantic thriller and a deeply personal project. It’s being produced by Dheer Momaya and Jonathan Charbit. The other is Ummeed, a horror film written by Abhishek Banerjee (writer) and produced by Dimpy Agarwal. It’s an exciting opportunity that allows me to delve into a genre that has fascinated me for years.