The Suvir Saran Show, where conversations never fade

New Delhi [India], March 7 : The night sky draped itself in velvet, the moon casting its silver glow on the restless city below. In the heart of this urban expanse, where the hum of neon signs meets the whisper of stories waiting to be told, I found myself in conversation with a man who has reshaped the way we see cinema. Soham Shah, the director, the actor, the storyteller from Kadhinagar, sat across from me, his voice steady, his gaze reflecting a thousand unwritten scripts. A couple of days before Crazy was released, we sat together, speaking of film, of craft, of the art that he so deeply believes in. Neither of us knew then what its fate at the box office would be, and we never spoke of failure. But I know this: whether Crazy soared or stumbled, Soham would remain unfazed. That is the man he is. He creates not for applause, not for validation, but because it fulfills him. He is an artist in the truest sense, a man who builds, invests, and dreams for the sake of cinema itself.
And so, Crazy--a film born out of his relentless pursuit of artistic expression--was released into the world. A film that dares to be different, that dares to challenge, that dares to rattle the familiar. He and I both hoped for its success, but regardless of the outcome, one truth remains: Soham is crazy. Crazy brilliant. Crazy good. A crazy phenomenon. A man who believes that cinema can be more than just entertainment--it can be an experience, an art form, a way of seeing the world anew. And that is what makes him extraordinary.
Tumbbad was that difference. A film whispered in the corridors of history, passed from cinephile to cinephile, a movie that some label horror but is anything but. Tumbbad is a lesson in restraint, a masterclass in storytelling, a film where every word, every movement, every breath is measured, necessary, and deeply woven into its very soul. I, a man who often finds solace in the darkness of a cinema hall, who sometimes seeks the gentle lull of a dull scene to drift into sleep, found myself wide-eyed, held captive by the sheer power of Soham's craft.
He speaks of films not as products, not as pieces of commerce, but as living, breathing entities. They speak to him before they are born, they whisper their desires, they tell him how they wish to be told. Crazy was no different. It carried its own madness, its own rhythm, its own heartbeat. My conversation with Soham on Crazy was one of deep reflection--on art, on commerce, on the delicate balance between dreams and reality. The episode is live now, and for those who believe that cinema can still be more than just entertainment, it is a conversation not to be missed.
And then, there was Palak Muchhal. Another voice, another story. She has been singing since the age of two, a child with a melody in her throat and a mission in her heart. Lata Mangeshkar is her muse, her guiding star, but Palak has made her own way, a voice not just for music but for change. Her mother, always by her side, her brother, her constant companion, their performances raising money to heal hearts, mend bodies, give second chances. A family bound by a purpose larger than themselves. She does not sing merely to perform; she sings to heal. Each note carries within it the promise of life, of renewal, of a future rewritten for those in need.
When she sings, it is not just music; it is a call, a whisper, a promise. The kind of promise that moves mountains, that stitches the world together one note at a time. Her story, an unfolding sonata of resilience and grace, is one that I had the privilege of capturing on my show. The conversation was an eye-opener, a journey into the soul of a woman who has dedicated her life to not just singing, but to giving. This coming Saturday, day after tomorrow, my conversation with Palak will be out. And I hope you'll join me in witnessing a voice that does more than just touch hearts--it mends them.
These are the stories I seek. Not the ones that chase headlines, not the ones that burn bright for a moment and then fade into oblivion. I seek the stories that linger, the ones that find a home in the heart and settle there, making you pause, making you think, making you see the world differently. The Suvir Saran Show is not about sensation; it is about sincerity. It is about peeling back the layers, finding the core, holding up a mirror not just to the people I interview but to those who listen, to those who watch, to those who find pieces of themselves in the journeys of others.
And now, as Screen by Indian Express revives its legacy, there could be no better home for The Suvir Saran Show. The revival of the Screen Awards marks a return to celebrating not just the biggest names in cinema, but the voices behind the screen--the creators, the storytellers, the visionaries. Screen has always been a space that champions art, that recognizes those who live and breathe cinema, those who give us imagery that connects us to our dreams, our aspirations, our hopes. To have my show under this banner is both an honor and an affirmation that the conversations we have--these deep, unfiltered, human conversations--belong to the fabric of cinema as much as the films themselves.
And so, through The Suvir Saran Show, I continue this pursuit. Conversations that don't shout but whisper, that don't shock but soothe, that don't merely inform but transform. I believe in stories that shape the soul, in dialogues that inspire action, in words that build bridges instead of walls. Whether it is Soham Shah and his fearless storytelling, or Palak Muchhal and her symphony of compassion, I bring you slices of life that are rich, real, resonant.
If you've missed it, watch my conversation with Aditya Thackeray, our first. Then, the one with Soham Shah, our second. And this Saturday, our third, with Palak Muchhal. What links them all together is not their profession, not their industry, but their humanity--their empathy, their mind, their voice, their thinking, their hunger, their creativity, their commitment. These are the people who excel and accelerate in a world filled with noise, yet they manage to carve a distinct voice, a voice that is felt and heard.
This is what I chase in The Suvir Saran Show.
Tune in. Not just to watch, not just to listen, but to feel. To be moved. To be reminded that the world is not just a cacophony of noise, but a symphony waiting to be heard. And perhaps, in these stories, you may find your own, waiting to be told. (ANI/Suvir Saran)
Disclaimer: Suvir Saran is a Masterchef, Author, Hospitality Consultant And Educator. The views expressed in this article are his own.