When we reached actor Divyenndu’s hotel in the city—huffing and puffing—and asked the security personnels to lead us to the celebrity’s room for his interview, a group of men came running with a plastered smile on their faces, declaring, “Haan! Munna Bhaiya aa gaye hain.” Upon hearing this anecdote, a visibly proud and evidently flattered Mirzapur-star replies, “This character is not mine, it’s theirs. They have the ownership of this more than me.”

But this level of adulation should come as no surprise to anyone who has followed the actor’s career trajectory. His Pyaar Ka Punchnama character Liquid, for instance, is a classic example of that. Perhaps his sense of perspective that the audience immortalizes iconic charcaters on screen comes having spent years navigating an industry that has changed considerably since he first arrived in Mumbai. For Divyenndu, however, the journey began in Pune, at the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII), an experience he still carries with him.

“Pune will always have a special place in my heart because those two-and-a-half magical years at FTII changed a lot of things for me,” he says,” adding, “I learnt so much about cinema and spent my days watching films, learning, shooting and discussing cinema with students from different parts of the country. It was such a magical experience, and that's why Pune remains so special to me,” he recalls. 

The atmosphere was so immersive that students had a name for it - Planet FTII. Why? “Because the campus had everything. Once you entered, you didn't feel like going out,” says Divyenndu.

About 15 years into his career, Divyenndu doesn't see himself as someone who has finally figured out the industry.

“I don't think I understand the industry any better now,” he admits, adding, “I don't really have a sob story to tell because I got lucky that my first film was a hit, and my second film was a hit too.”

What followed, he feels, was partly ‘self-inflicted pain’. Despite receiving offers, there was always the keeda of not wanting to play certain kinds of roles, prompting him to turn down projects. Looking back, though, he sees an industry that has evolved alongside him.

“It’s more organized now, there are more opportunities for outsiders like me, and audiences have developed a much more varied taste. They are more accepting of flawed, layered characters and different kinds of stories. Writers have also come a long way. I'm just happy that I've been part of that movement and have witnessed this change,” says the Madgaon Express actor.

Divyenndu is uncomfortable with the increasing emphasis on box-office figures and the industry’s tendency to celebrate opening-day or opening-weekend numbers. “I find that quite embarrassing because filmmaking shouldn't be reduced to box-office numbers,” he says. He acknowledges that numbers matter to the business but doesn't believe they necessarily determine the quality of a film. More importantly, he doesn't think audiences should be made to feel responsible for supporting a particular film or filmmaker.

“Whatever they see in a trailer should engage them and they should decide for themselves whether they want to watch it in a theatre or later on OTT. The beauty of this field is that you never really know what audiences will connect with. I would never want to burden them with that choice,” he shares.

At a time when actors are expected to remain as visible as possible, be it on social media or at events, Divyenndu is comfortable with the idea of disappearing. “I'm not a publicity-hungry actor who's always out there,” he adds, “I believe there should be some mystique to an actor or an artist. Do your job, go back and do whatever you want. Go stare at a wall if you want to, but you don't have to tell people that you're sitting and staring at a wall.”

For him, there is an important distinction between being relevant and being constantly visible. He worries that constantly projecting a public persona can eventually make actors lose sight of who they really are. “You can eventually lose the real you in all of it. You start projecting a certain image of yourself, and that behaviour can reflect in your work,” he says, adding, “For me, life is much better when you're seen less. Sometimes I even feel like quitting social media altogether.”