My first reaction, too, was, “How is it possible?” when I came across a write-up on the internet. I thought it was a biological malfunction, then, learnt that Maharashtra’s richest industry, in its endeavour to pip Brazil to become the No 1 sugar exporter in the world, is forcing women to undergo hysterectomies with the connivance of contractors and unscrupulous surgeons, so they can work through the sugarcane cutting season without a break.

A cutting machine would cost around Rs 2.50 crore plus 30 per cent excise duty, and that’s not viable for these sugar barons who pay a couple an advance of Rs 80,000 to Rs 1.25 lakh to work for six months in their fields. October to February is the cutting season, but last year, because of unseasonal rains, work started only around November-December and that made things even more hectic for the labourers. Our hut was bang in the middle of their settlement, and we’d watch them stirring to life around 4.30-5 am. After a hurried breakfast, they’d pile into the bullock carts which had lined up, spend the day in the plantation, packed together, their bodies and heads covered so the leaves wouldn’t cut into their flesh, slashing and loading bundles of canes into the carts. The work is backbreaking; the trauma, emotionally and mentally killing. We saw it all first-hand, throwing the actors into these same fields.

I had discussed the idea of the real-life suffering, with Usha Jadhav and she’d loved it, but once the script was ready, I felt we needed the protagonist to be a girl in her twenties, who is forced to put her chosen career on hold because the family needs an extra hand in the fields. But after the narration, I was startled when Akshaya Gurav abruptly walked out of the room. She returned after 10 agonising minutes in tears. Wondering if I had inadvertently hurt her sensibilities, I apologised, telling her she didn’t have to do the film when she choked out between sobs, that she had no idea this was happening and wanted to do it. She reached the location four days early, because being left-handed, it was not easy for her to cut the canes and she needed practice. During this time, she spoke to some of the women there, which strengthened her empathy, and by the time we started shooting, she was living the role with a raw authenticity.

Yes, the combined might of the sugar barons and politicians is openly destroying an entire generation without them even looking at the faces of these women. If they oppose, they are told to return the advance which has already been spent in paying off loans. So, they have no choice but to submit to the present with no thought for the future. Sometimes a couple runs away, but, as a woman there told us, they were caught and her husband hacked to death. She returned to the fields to look after the family. And hysterectomy is not the only problem…

Yes, the danger of rape as the contractors eye the young girls, trying to lure them with promises of a better life outside the settlement, driving up on their bikes and waiting outside the straw enclosure when they are taking a bath. I didn’t make Bittersweet to exploit their suffering, but to make the world aware of it.

I make films for the theatres, not the iPhone or the iPad. I want people to feel the claustrophobia of these women as they stand between the stalks, seeing acres and acres of plantation they have come to dread. No film has ever brought on a revolution, but I’m sure many NGOs will get into action after seeing what’s happening. So, yes, we plan to release Bittersweet in the theatres towards the end of December.