The final act: Director Shonali Bose on her latest docu-film A Fly On The Wall

When Shonali Bose speaks about death, there’s no hushed tone or fearful pause. The National Award-winning director was recently in the city for the screening of her docu-film A Fly on the Wall at Bangalore International Centre, and she leans into the subject with a candour that is both startling and comforting. In the film, she becomes a ‘fly on the wall’, capturing her friend Chika Kapadia’s final moments, who despite cancer was full of life as a standup comic. In 2022, he chose to end his life through assisted death at Dignitas in Switzerland, a decision that became the emotional heart of the documentary.

Bose has lived through the loss of her mother at 21 and later her son Ishan, whose death she believes gifted her a radical acceptance of mortality. “For me, death became just another moment. It became something wonderful,” she says. Reflecting further, she adds, “It doesn’t matter the years. It’s like running a marathon. Whether you finish in 50 minutes or five hours, you’ve still crossed the finishing line.”

While Bose’s previous films, Amu (2005), Margarita with a Straw (2015) and The Sky is Pink (2019), also grappled with loss, A Fly on the Wall was different. This time, a real person was dying and Bose was present throughout, witnessing vulnerability and courage that cannot be staged.

A Silent Ode

Shooting with Kapadia was raw and at times deeply moving. Bose made sure to leave out intimate moments from Kapadia’s life, a promise made to her dear friend before his death. “His thank-you speeches weren’t included. I’d also made this commitment that the camera will be cut the moment he slips into coma,” she says as she remembers how silence and tears took them over shortly. “For a moment, there was nobody in the room and I hugged him tightly, huddling him in a last goodbye.”

Documenting Kapadia’s final days transformed Bose’s understanding of dignity. She reflects, “Watching Chika take his last breath was so peaceful; I wish I could give this experience to everyone.” She underscores that in India, where many people lack the right to live with dignity, access to a dignified death should be universal. “Even the poorest shouldn’t be forced to endure prolonged pain,” she says. The process was also a lesson in empathy and patience. “Chika would shout at me, calling me a fly on the wall. He exposed himself in ways I had never seen: laughing, crying, frustrated, vulnerable. Being there in those moments was terrifying and beautiful at the same time,” Bose recalls.

Nilesh Maniyar, her co-creator and Kapadia’s mutual friend, pushed her to capture moments honestly, reminding her why this story matters. Another key collaborator was sound designer Resul Pookutty, providing lapel mics and sound equipment, ensuring the film retained its clarity and intimacy.

Beyond the screen

Yet the journey to audiences was fraught with obstacles with the film facing repeated rejection at major western international festivals, including the Toronto International Film Festival, despite getting positive response from all corners, including questions about why the film was not going to the Oscars. Bose remembers the frustration vividly, as she says, “Filmmakers don’t talk about these feelings. I’ve cried, thinking how no one is taking this, even the festivals I attended in the past. The only conclusion is that it is not good enough. But then that’s not the experience of anybody watching.”

But when audiences finally saw it, the response was transformative. At Busan International Film Festival, the screening was house full, the audience young and the standing ovation unforgettable. In the lobby afterwards, many shared their own stories in tears. Bose recounts, “People tell you things they’ve never spoken about. A young girl at the Dharamshala International Film Festival told me she was suicidal, but watching the film gave her hope. It’s not about death, it’s about life.”

Bose deliberately avoids OTT platforms, fearing the film could be buried without festival recognition or marketing. Instead, she focuses on community screenings where conversations are intimate and meaningful. “The reach is smaller, but the conversations are rewarding. People speak about death, cry, laugh, and comfort one another. This is the work I want to do.”

She reflects on her own transformation as well: “If not a filmmaker, I would want to be a death healer. I want to work with people facing death, or who have lost someone and help them find a space to process it.”

This article is written by Sruthi Hemachandran