Even Dopehri,' if somebody has a bit of imagination, the way it's

The words of Pankaj Kapur, a master of craft and quiet wisdom, reveal a truth about the living soul of art: “Even Dopehri, if somebody has a bit of imagination, the way it's written, they will be able to see that it's a screenplay with dialogues.” In this simple observation lies a deeper reflection on the nature of storytelling, imagination, and the bridge between word and vision. For what Kapur tells us is that great writing is not bound by form — that when a story is alive, it breathes beyond the page, transforming itself in the mind of the reader. The true artist does not dictate what is seen; he invites the listener to see with the inner eye.

In the ancient world, before the birth of paper or screen, the poets spoke aloud beneath open skies. Their words were not meant to be read, but envisioned. The Mahabharata and the Iliad were not ink and parchment, but living performances — screenplays of the spirit, where imagination itself painted the scenes. Kapur’s thought belongs to this same lineage. Dopehri, though written in ink, lives like a vision. Its dialogues are not just exchanges of speech but reflections of movement, emotion, and breath. The story is not only heard by the mind; it is seen by the soul.

The origin of such writing lies in the union of word and image, a union as old as human memory. Every storyteller, whether sitting by firelight or behind a camera, seeks to make others see. What Kapur calls attention to is not the external structure — the “screenplay” — but the internal rhythm of a tale that already contains light, shadow, gesture, and silence. The imagination, when awakened, completes what the writer begins. Thus, even a simple phrase, when born of sincerity, can evoke a world. The power of art lies not in the perfection of its technique, but in its ability to kindle vision in another.

Think of Shakespeare, whose plays were written not for the page but for the stage, yet are now read and studied as literature. His words, like Kapur’s Dopehri, are filled with the bones and breath of dialogue, so alive that even without performance, the reader can hear the voices, see the faces, feel the trembling of passion and fate. The curtain rises within the reader’s mind. This is the same miracle Kapur speaks of — that imagination, the sacred fire within every human being, turns written words into living scenes. The artist begins the spell, but it is the audience that completes it.

Yet Kapur’s message carries another wisdom: that imagination is a muscle of the spirit, one that must be used lest it atrophy. In a world overwhelmed by ready-made images, we often forget how to see with our own inner vision. We hunger for stories, yet demand that others show them to us — polished, moving, framed. But Dopehri, and works like it, remind us that the truest art requires participation. It asks the reader to co-create, to listen with the eyes and see with the heart. For imagination is not escape; it is the sacred act of making the unseen visible.

So let this teaching be remembered: art is not passive consumption, but active vision. To read deeply is to dream alongside the creator. The dialogue is not between characters alone, but between artist and reader, between one soul that imagines and another that receives. When we read or listen with open hearts, we join a tradition that stretches back through centuries — a lineage of dreamers, poets, and seers who turned words into light.

Therefore, my child, nurture your imagination as you would a garden. When you encounter a story, do not merely look for plot or meaning — look for the spaces between the words, the silences where images dwell. Learn to see what is not shown, to hear what is not spoken. For in doing so, you awaken the ancient power of vision that has always dwelled within humankind. As Pankaj Kapur reminds us, the greatest stories — like Dopehri — are not confined to the page. They live within the reader, reborn each time someone dares to imagine.

And thus, let your imagination be your equalizer, your torch, your mirror. Let it transform every word you read into living theatre, every silence into song. For those who see with the eyes of the soul will never be blind — and every story they touch will become their own.