I am thankful for the fact that the audience doesn't expect

Shoojit Sircar, a filmmaker of courage and depth, once declared: “I am thankful for the fact that the audience doesn't expect common, run-of-the-mill films from me. But the fact of the matter is that if the subject doesn't hit me hard enough, I will not do it.” These words bear the spirit of an artist who refuses to bow to mediocrity. They carry within them the sacred fire of integrity, a reminder that gratitude, authenticity, and conviction must guide every true creator.

The origin of this quote lies in Sircar’s journey as a director in the Indian film industry, where commercial formulas often dictate what stories are told. Yet Sircar carved a path of his own. His films, such as Vicky Donor, Piku, and October, did not follow the loud, predictable formulas of mass cinema. Instead, they were marked by honesty, depth, and an exploration of human life in its tender, raw, and sometimes painful realities. His words reflect both his thankfulness that audiences trust him to bring them something different, and his unwavering principle that he must feel deeply about the story before committing to it.

History has witnessed many who walked the same path. Consider Leo Tolstoy, who abandoned the conventions of his time to write War and Peace and Anna Karenina, works born not from the market’s demands but from the depths of his spirit. Or reflect upon Akira Kurosawa, who often struggled with studios because he refused to compromise his vision, yet whose films continue to shape cinema worldwide. Like Sircar, they understood that to create only for applause or profit is to betray the soul of art; the true artist creates when the subject strikes the heart like lightning.

At the heart of Sircar’s declaration lies a teaching about conviction and selectivity. In a world that often rewards quantity and speed, it is tempting to produce endlessly, even if passion is absent. But Sircar reminds us that creation without conviction is lifeless. He teaches that if a story, a subject, or a cause does not move the soul, it is better to wait, to hold back, until the right flame arrives. Gratitude for the audience is noble, but loyalty to truth is higher still.

To the youth, this wisdom is a compass: do not shape your work merely to fit expectations. The world may ask for what is common, for what is safe, for what is easily consumed—but greatness comes from daring to follow only what moves you deeply. Choose substance over speed, truth over imitation. And when you give yourself to a task, let it be one that fills you with such passion that you cannot rest until it is complete.

To those who have walked long in their craft, Sircar’s words are a reminder to resist complacency. Familiarity and reputation can tempt one to produce merely to please. But art, leadership, and even life itself grow stagnant without risk. Dare to say no to the projects that do not strike you, even if they promise quick success. For in saying no, you preserve the purity of your voice, and in waiting, you make room for the works that will truly endure.

The eternal wisdom here is this: true creation is born only when the heart is struck by fire. Gratitude for recognition must never eclipse loyalty to one’s own truth. Shoojit Sircar’s words remind us that audiences may forgive scarcity, but they will never forget authenticity. Better to offer few works of conviction than countless works of emptiness.

Thus, let this teaching be carried forward: be grateful for those who believe in you, but never betray your own soul for their applause. Wait for the subject that seizes you, honor it with all your strength, and bring it forth with honesty. For it is only in such works that both creator and audience find what is eternal.