An extract from Radha Chadha’s The Maker of Filmmakers reveals how one man’s uncompromising vision transformed Indian film education — and ignited a cinematic renaissance whose impact continues to echo through generations.

In an era when Indian cinema was dominated by glamorous formulas, predictable melodrama, and unapologetic borrowings from Hollywood, Jagat emerged as a disruptor — a visionary who believed the country’s film industry deserved more. For him, filmmaking was not merely entertainment; it was a cultural responsibility, a social mirror, and an artistic pursuit demanding sincerity, depth, and courage.

His mission was clear: to nurture filmmakers who could elevate Indian cinema, make it original, relevant, and globally respected. But nurturing such filmmakers required more than teaching technique. It meant transforming minds.

How do you widen the imagination of a young filmmaker?
How do you cultivate social consciousness?
How do you introduce them to excellence so extraordinary that it shifts their entire understanding of the medium?

For Jagat, the answer lay in one powerful idea: exposure.
Exposure to world cinema. Exposure to voices, cultures, aesthetics, and philosophies far beyond the boundaries of what mainstream Indian films offered. This is why he passionately dedicated himself to building a world-class film library and a meticulous Archive—spaces that would become the intellectual heart of the Institute.

His conviction came from his own life-changing journey in America as a student. International cinema had opened his eyes, dismantled his assumptions, and expanded his cinematic vocabulary in ways no traditional classroom ever could. He wanted the same awakening for his students.
He knew that cinematic heritage—Indian and global—belonged to every aspiring filmmaker of India.

Thus began his revolution.

A Library That Became a Movement

Jagat refused to let his students float only within the narrow channels of Indian films. Instead, he took them to the confluence where Indian cinema met the mighty river of world cinema. Here, the currents were deeper, the emotions more layered, the techniques more audacious, and the questions more profound.

The impact was immediate. At first, students felt overwhelmed—almost shaken—by the breadth and intensity of what they watched. Jagat intended exactly that.
He believed creativity often begins with disruption.

Inside the Institute’s dimly lit vaults lay the seeds of the Indian New Wave—waiting patiently in cans of celluloid. These films, preserved on shelves running endlessly underground, were ready to explode into the consciousness of students the moment they flickered to life on the screen.

Suddenly, popular icons of Indian cinema had serious competition. Students found themselves comparing Geeta Bali’s charm with the emotive realism of Italian neorealism, the psychological depth of Russian masters, the political sharpness of German films, and the poetic minimalism of Japanese cinema.

Renowned actor Rehana Sultan—who would go on to become the first alumna to win the National Award for Acting—remembered the Institute as a khazana, a treasure trove. She learned characterization not from textbooks, but from observing legends like Sophia Loren, who portrayed lives she never lived with astounding authenticity.
“How do you imagine? How do you react? How do you feel?” Rehana said. “You see, you think, you do.”

For Naseeruddin Shah, watching Jean-Paul Belmondo and Jean-Louis Trintignant became a revelation—an introduction to new, liberating ways of approaching performance.

A Festival That Rewired Minds

Jagat ensured exposure wasn’t confined to the campus. When the Third International Film Festival took place in Delhi in January 1965, he gave students time off to attend. With Satyajit Ray heading the jury, the festival showcased not just American and European cinema, but films from Ceylon, Cuba, Hong Kong, Morocco, Nigeria, Syria, Turkey, and Egypt.

Out-of-competition screenings offered works by masters like Elia Kazan, Karel Reisz, Andrzej Wajda, Jacques Demy—and an extraordinary Japanese selection featuring Akira Kurosawa, Kenji Mizoguchi, Mikio Naruse, and Masaki Kobayashi.

Students devoured these films, then brought their excitement and arguments back to campus. Under the Wisdom Tree, in the canteen, in the long corridors—cinema dominated every conversation. As filmmaker Madhu Ambat later put it:
“Cinema was life, there was nothing else but cinema.”

This environment did more than sharpen technical skill—it broadened students’ worldview. They began to understand equality, politics, class, privilege, conflict, and compassion through the lens of global cinema. Rehana Sultan said it best:
“Your thinking changes… you want to make good films and give something to society.”

The Birth of a Cinematic Renaissance

Jagat didn’t just create filmmakers.
He created thinkers.
He created observers of life.
He inspired artists who questioned norms, challenged tradition, and sought to tell stories that mattered.

His students went on to transform Indian cinema—ushering in a movement that blended artistic integrity with global understanding. The revolution he sparked continues to influence filmmakers even today.

Jagat proved that cinema is not merely watched—it is absorbed, debated, lived, and ultimately created with conviction.

In those underground vaults, under that Wisdom Tree, and in the hearts of countless young dreamers, cinema truly became a revolution.