It gave me a lot of pleasure and pride that 90 percent of the

Hear the words of Mira Nair, whose vision has carried stories across the earth, who declared with pride and conviction: “It gave me a lot of pleasure and pride that 90 percent of the crew for Monsoon Wedding, and most of my film, are women. We get the work done, you know, much lesser play of ego… And I really believe in harmony, I believe in working in a spirit of egolessness and that the film is bigger than all of us.” These words are not merely about cinema, but about the eternal truth of collaboration, humility, and the triumph of shared purpose over individual pride.

When Nair rejoices that her crew was women, she celebrates not only representation but a deeper harmony in labor. For too long, the voices and hands of women were silenced in fields of art, power, and leadership. Yet when given space, their work proves not lesser, but often greater—marked by diligence, empathy, and unity. Her joy is not only in the making of a film, but in the restoration of balance, the weaving of voices long denied into the tapestry of creation.

She contrasts this with the play of ego, that poison which has toppled both empires and endeavors. Ego seeks to elevate the self above the work, to demand recognition above service. History is filled with its ruin: mighty kings who placed their pride above their people, generals who sought glory above victory, and artists who sought fame above truth. The result is always the same—conflict, fracture, collapse. In contrast, Nair proclaims the power of humility, the strength of egolessness, where the work itself becomes the highest aim.

Consider the building of the Gothic cathedrals of Europe. The names of their architects and masons are mostly lost, swallowed by time. Yet their work endures, soaring towers of stone and light that still draw awe centuries later. These builders labored not for their own glory but for something larger than themselves. Their anonymity is proof that the cathedral was greater than the ego of the builder. So too with cinema, so too with all art, so too with life—the enduring works are born when the collective purpose rises above individual pride.

Nair affirms this truth when she declares, “the film is bigger than all of us.” Here lies wisdom for all who create, lead, or build: the project, the vision, the shared dream must outweigh the ego of its parts. Just as a symphony cannot be played if every musician insists on being soloist, so no great work can flourish if each participant demands the crown. Harmony—whether in art, family, or community—requires humility, requires each to play their part faithfully, and to rejoice that the whole shines brighter than the sum.

Her words are also a call to courage. For to work in harmony and humility in a world drunk on pride is no small act. It is a defiance of a culture that often rewards ego more than effort. Yet Nair’s triumph shows that choosing humility does not weaken the work—it strengthens it. To gather voices without ego is to unleash creativity without fear, to open doors where pride would build walls, to complete the task with joy rather than contention.

The lesson, then, is clear: if you would build something enduring, whether it be art, community, or legacy, cast aside ego and embrace harmony. Honor the contributions of all, especially those overlooked. Place the vision above yourself, and you will find both fulfillment and greatness. In practice, this means listening before speaking, valuing the work of others as equal to your own, and seeking joy not in personal glory, but in the success of the whole.

So let Mira Nair’s words be remembered not only in the halls of cinema but in every place where people labor together: that the true strength of creation is not in ego, but in egolessness; not in domination, but in harmony; not in the single hand, but in the many working as one. For only when the work is greater than ourselves can it endure beyond us, carrying its light into generations yet unborn.