From Glamour to Legacy: Shriya Saran's evolving cinematic journey

Indian actress Shriya Saran speaks to Krita Coelho about motherhood, meaning, and the kind of cinema she wants to create now, one shaped by empathy, intention, and characters that endure

There is a quiet shift in the way Shriya Saran speaks about cinema today. After more than two decades on screen across languages and industries, the actor who once embodied glamour and mass appeal now talks about stories, meaning, and legacy with striking clarity. The choices she makes today are guided by a deeply personal measure of success.

“I want to be part of stories that my daughter will one day watch and feel proud of,” says Saran. “That is the most precious thing in my life right now. I want to know that whenever she sees my work, she can say, ‘I’m proud of you.’ That sense of satisfaction means more to me than anything else.”

It is a philosophy that shapes a career phase she describes as deeply fulfilling. The recent years have seen Saran explore roles across ambitious projects such as Space Gen: Chandrayaan, alongside films like Mirai and upcoming work including Drishyam 3.

The excitement, she explains, lies in the opportunity to portray stories that elevate everyday human resilience. “What excites me most is telling stories about ordinary people who discover that they are extraordinary,” she says. “We often live our lives believing we are just normal, that we are nobody special. But somewhere within us there is something powerful, something unique.”

Her fascination with that idea runs deeper than narrative appeal. Saran sees it as a reflection of life itself. People navigate responsibilities, mistakes, triumphs and uncertainties without applause or recognition. In those quiet acts of perseverance, she believes, lies something profoundly heroic.

“A common person does extraordinary things every day, seamlessly and quietly,” she says. “Somewhere in that journey you realise that maybe you are chosen to do what you do in your own beautiful way.”

For Saran, the meaning of that realisation has become personal over time. The actor speaks openly about the importance of self-acceptance, something she believes many people struggle to embrace.

“Many of our mistakes begin when we fail to appreciate ourselves and fall in love with who we are,” she says. “I say this proudly today because I have truly understood the meaning of loving and valuing myself. Only when you love yourself fully can you love your family and give your 100 per cent to the people around you.”

The stories she chooses now reflect that evolving philosophy. Playing Yamini in Space Gen: Chandrayaan remains one of the most significant experiences of her recent career. The role required her to step into the life of a scientist involved in India’s historic lunar mission, a journey defined by persistence in the face of setbacks. For Saran, portraying Yamini meant understanding not only scientific ambition but also the deeply human determination that fuels such achievements.

“Playing Yamini and understanding scientists, their struggles and their humanity while they attempt what seems humanly impossible was inspiring,” she says. India’s Chandrayaan mission, she adds, represents a powerful narrative of resilience. “After setbacks and failures, the country returned, rediscovered itself and succeeded. And portraying a woman leading such a monumental project felt incredibly empowering to me. It was not just a role. It was a statement.”

The character lingered with her long after filming ended. Saran describes Yamini as more than a fictional figure; she became a mindset that reshaped her own outlook.

“She stayed with me in a very profound way,” she says. “The resilience, the quiet determination, the ability to keep going despite setbacks. What stayed with me most was her belief system. The idea that failure is not the end, it is part of discovery.”

That perspective, she explains, gradually influenced her personal life as well. She found herself becoming more patient and more trusting of the process of growth and change. Another role that left a similar imprint was Nandini, a character whose emotional complexity revealed layers of strength that resonated deeply with her.

“Sometimes when you play such roles you don’t leave them behind,” she says. “They become part of you. They reveal corners of your own personality you hadn’t fully explored.”

This introspection also reflects a broader evolution in how Saran approaches acting. When she began her career, her choices were guided primarily by performance challenges and the excitement of the opportunity. Over time, the questions she asks before accepting a role have become far more deliberate.

“Today I’m far more conscious about the kind of stories I choose and how those stories project women,” she explains. “I ask myself how the woman in this story is being portrayed. Does she have a voice? Does she stand for something? Am I able to say something meaningful through this character?”

The shift represents a deeper engagement with the responsibility of representation.

Saran wants characters that challenge her understanding of herself and push beyond the boundaries actors often create for their own comfort.

“Every actor somewhere creates invisible limits,” she says. “Sometimes a role comes along and makes you question those limits. It makes you ask why you are deciding what you can or cannot do. Those are the roles that excite me now.”

That search for authenticity also shapes her view of how storytelling itself is evolving in cinema. Saran believes the industry has begun to embrace more layered portrayals of women, although she sees the transformation as an ongoing journey rather than a completed shift.

“Earlier women were present in stories but they weren’t always given the depth or importance they deserved,” she says.

One reason she sees for the gradual change is the increasing number of women involved in shaping narratives behind the camera. Writers, directors and producers bring new perspectives that expand how female characters are imagined and realised on screen.

“When women are part of the storytelling process at a leadership level, the perspective naturally shifts,” she says. “They are not just performing the story. They are shaping it.”

For Saran, the future of cinema lies in embracing the full complexity of human experience. She hopes to see women portrayed with the same range of contradictions that define real life.

“I would like to see more complexity in how women are written,” she says. “Not just strong in a conventional sense but human. Flawed, ambitious, vulnerable, powerful, confused, resilient. Women, like men, are multi-dimensional.”

Away from the camera, another profound transformation has shaped her perspective in recent years. Motherhood, she says, changed the way she understands emotion, vulnerability and strength. The experience introduced a depth of feeling she had never encountered before.

“Becoming a mother introduced a kind of vulnerability I had never experienced,” she says. She describes moments when a child is unwell or undergoing medical treatment as experiences that strip away any illusion of control. “It is the only time in life when you truly feel powerless,” she says. “You stand outside and you pray and you trust. You realise that despite all your strength there are situations where you simply have to let go.”

Those emotions have become part of the emotional palette she brings to her performances.

Where once she approached characters through intellectual understanding, Saran now draws from lived experience.

“Earlier I could understand emotions intellectually,” she says. “Today I feel them viscerally.”

Motherhood has also reshaped her understanding of strength itself. For Saran, the idea no longer revolves around dramatic displays of power. It lies instead in the quiet resilience that sustains families and relationships through uncertainty.

“When I portray strength now, it is not about being loud or powerful,” she says. “It is about quiet resilience, the kind that holds a family together even when you are trembling inside.”

Balancing that emotional world with a demanding career often requires constant negotiation. Saran recalls moments when she finished shooting and rushed directly to attend her daughter’s sports day, determined to show up for the milestones that matter.

“Those moments matter deeply to me,” she says. “I want her to know that I’m there, that I’m present.”

Reality sometimes intervenes. Film schedules can make it impossible to attend every school event or family moment. During those times, she relies on the community around her. Friends from school and her husband help ensure she stays connected to her daughter’s world even when work takes her elsewhere.

“It truly is teamwork,” she says.

That support system, she believes, is essential for any woman pursuing ambition in both personal and professional life.

“Any woman who is successful is rarely doing it alone,” she says. “There is always a silent team behind her, supporting her and holding things together when she is stretched thin.”

Through it all, Saran has learned to approach life with a sense of balance that values both presence and purpose. The pull between work and family never disappears, she admits, yet it becomes manageable when intention guides every decision.

“When you are giving your hundred percent wherever you are in that moment, things eventually find their balance,” she says.

Ultimately the measure of success, in her eyes, returns to the same guiding thought that defines this stage of her career. Years from now, when her daughter watches the films she chooses today, Saran hopes the stories will carry meaning beyond entertainment. They will reflect courage, self-discovery and the quiet heroism that lives within ordinary lives.

That hope, she says simply, is what drives every choice she makes now.

“What matters most is that your child feels loved, secure, and proud of you.”