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Anusha Kaul Datta

@kauldatta

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4415

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Filmmaker | Mumbai, India
MFA PostGrad, Tel Aviv University
Lead Organizer, Mumbai Local Hub @videoconsortium
Producer @allareypictures

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World premiere of 'The Sailor and the Chef' directed and produced by Ashish Sawhny, edited by Aniruddha Mokashi. I joined somewhere towards the finish line as an Associate Editor - a little contribution to a very big love story...may we all find this kind of love in our friends, partners and families.

A big thanks to you both for being such a humble inspiration to the young generation @cap_piyush @sushilnkharade 💕 taken in Liberty Cinema by @kauldatta

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4 months ago

Interplay 2025

#independentcinema #documentyourdays by @kauldatta

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a year ago

Still processing the five days at #docsconnect by @kauldatta

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2 years ago

DOCUMENTARY FILMMAKING WORKSHOP

Learn the art and craft of documentary filmmaking with filmmaker Anusha Datta.

From finding a compelling story to developing your visual language, explore the indie approach to documentary filmmaking—practical, hands-on and rooted in real stories.

🎥 Mentor: Anusha Datta
🎞️ Workshop: Documentary Filmmaking — Indie Style
💻 Platform: Online
💰 Fees: ₹2,999/-
📍 By: Mumbai Indiefilm Society

🎟️ Limited seats available. Register now!
@kauldatta @penetration_room
#workshopalert #mumbaiindiefilmsociety #documentaryfilmmaking #limitedseats #anushadatta by @kauldatta

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4 days ago

🎬 DOCUMENTARY FILMMAKING WORKSHOP

Learn the art and craft of documentary filmmaking with filmmaker Anusha Datta.

From finding a story to developing your visual language, explore the indie approach to documentary filmmaking—hands-on, practical and rooted in real stories.

🎥 Mentor: Anusha Datta
🎞️ Workshop: Documentary Filmmaking — Indie Style
📍 Mumbai Indiefilm Society

Limited seats available. Register now.

#DocumentaryFilmmaking #AnushaDatta #IndieFilmmaking #MumbaiIndiefilmSociety by @kauldatta

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6 days ago

🎬 DOCUMENTARY FILMMAKING WORKSHOP

Another learning opportunity by Mumbai Indiefilm Society.

🎥 Mentor: Anusha Datta
📅 4-Day Workshop
🗓️ Starts: 10 October
🎟️ Limited Seats Available

Learn the craft of documentary filmmaking through an intensive, practical workshop designed for aspiring filmmakers and storytellers.

Seats are limited — Register Now!
@kauldatta @penetration_room
#MumbaiIndiefilmSociety #DocumentaryFilmmaking #AnushaDatta by @kauldatta

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13 days ago

9th October, 2023 | It's been three years.

For a long time, I never found the language to write about those few nights. Perhaps because my experience always felt impossibly small beside the grief that would continue to unfold after October 7th 2023. Mine was the privilege of leaving. For millions of others, there was no departure, no certainty, no return.

For weeks after I flew out of Tel Aviv on 11 October 2023, I found myself hooked to the news. Every notification carried the possibility of recognising a familiar face. Every unanswered message stretched time into something unmeasurable.

There is a friend I still think about often. For almost four days, I believed I had lost him. Today that fear feels irrational because I know he survived, yet my body seems to remember it differently. It returns in tightened shoulders, restless sleep, and in moments that blur without warning. Memory has a peculiar way of preserving uncertainty. It softens details, but never quite releases the feeling.

I still struggle to explain those days to friends and family back home. Words often fall short. Yet every time I've spoken to someone who was in Tel Aviv then, there has never been much to explain. We recognise something in one another that exists before language.

This reel is perhaps my first attempt to gather those fragments—photographs, screenshots, fleeting moments that have remained suspended somewhere between memory and forgetting.

Three years later, I don't wish to remember fear as much as I wish to remember resilience. The quiet gestures of checking in on one another. The messages that simply read, "Are you safe?" The ordinary acts of care that become extraordinary when everything else feels uncertain.

History has an unsettling tendency to repeat itself, and it often leaves behind more grief than we know how to carry. My own memories are only a small fragment of a much larger human tragedy that continues to shape countless lives across every side of this conflict.

Perhaps remembering is not about holding on to pain. Perhaps it is about refusing to let compassion disappear with time. 🎗️ by @kauldatta

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5 hours ago

October 8, 2023 | It's been three years.

For a long time, I never found the language to write about those few nights. Perhaps because my experience always felt impossibly small beside the grief that would continue to unfold after October 7th 2023. Mine was the privilege of leaving. For millions of others, there was no departure, no certainty, no return.

For weeks after I flew out of Tel Aviv on 11 October 2023, I found myself hooked to the news. Every notification carried the possibility of recognising a familiar face. Every unanswered message stretched time into something unmeasurable.

There is a friend I still think about often. For almost four days, I believed I had lost him. Today that fear feels irrational because I know he survived, yet my body seems to remember it differently. It returns in tightened shoulders, restless sleep, and in moments that blur without warning. Memory has a peculiar way of preserving uncertainty. It softens details, but never quite releases the feeling.

I still struggle to explain those days to friends and family back home. Words often fall short. Yet every time I've spoken to someone who was in Tel Aviv then, there has never been much to explain. We recognise something in one another that exists before language.

This reel is perhaps my first attempt to gather those fragments—photographs, screenshots, fleeting moments that have remained suspended somewhere between memory and forgetting.

Three years later, I don't wish to remember fear as much as I wish to remember resilience. The quiet gestures of checking in on one another. The messages that simply read, "Are you safe?" The ordinary acts of care that become extraordinary when everything else feels uncertain.

History has an unsettling tendency to repeat itself, and it often leaves behind more grief than we know how to carry. My own memories are only a small fragment of a much larger human tragedy that continues to shape countless lives across every side of this conflict.

Perhaps remembering is not about holding on to pain. Perhaps it is about refusing to let compassion disappear with time. 🎗️ by @kauldatta

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2 days ago

It's been three years.

For a long time, I never found the language to write about those few nights. Perhaps because my experience always felt impossibly small beside the grief that would continue to unfold after October 7th 2023. Mine was the privilege of leaving. For millions of others, there was no departure, no certainty, no return.

For weeks after I flew out of Tel Aviv on 11 October 2023, I found myself hooked to the news. Every notification carried the possibility of recognising a familiar face. Every unanswered message stretched time into something unmeasurable.

There is a friend I still think about often. For almost four days, I believed I had lost him. Today that fear feels irrational because I know he survived, yet my body seems to remember it differently. It returns in tightened shoulders, restless sleep, and in moments that blur without warning. Memory has a peculiar way of preserving uncertainty. It softens details, but never quite releases the feeling.

I still struggle to explain those days to friends and family back home. Words often fall short. Yet every time I've spoken to someone who was in Tel Aviv then, there has never been much to explain. We recognise something in one another that exists before language.

This reel is perhaps my first attempt to gather those fragments—photographs, screenshots, fleeting moments that have remained suspended somewhere between memory and forgetting.

Three years later, I don't wish to remember fear as much as I wish to remember resilience. The quiet gestures of checking in on one another. The messages that simply read, "Are you safe?" The ordinary acts of care that become extraordinary when everything else feels uncertain.

History has an unsettling tendency to repeat itself, and it often leaves behind more grief than we know how to carry. My own memories are only a small fragment of a much larger human tragedy that continues to shape countless lives across every side of this conflict.

Perhaps remembering is not about holding on to pain. Perhaps it is about refusing to let compassion disappear with time. 🎗️ by @kauldatta

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2 days ago

Konkan | October 2026 by @kauldatta

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4 days ago

Konkan | October 2026 by @kauldatta

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5 days ago

Konkan | October 2026 by @kauldatta

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7 days ago