Actor Nyrraa M Banerji on resisting typecasting, reality television and choosing reinvention over visibility

For nearly two decades, Nyrraa M Banerji has moved across film industries including Telugu, Tamil, Malayalam, Kannada and Hindi, before extending her career to television, reality shows and streaming platforms. Beneath the shifts in format and geography, however, lies a career defined less by momentum than by conscious choices and periodic reinvention.

Long before OTT platforms became a proving ground for actors, Banerji had already built a sizeable filmography. “Before starting in OTT, I had done 15 films down south and three in Hindi,” she says. “That gave me enough experience in front of the camera.”

Films, she points out, also come with limits. “Movies usually have a very short shelf life. Unless it’s a big blockbuster, it’s difficult to create a lasting impact.” Television and web series, she felt, offered something films often could not, sustained visibility. “Web series and modern television shows helped me balance my film actor status and also kept me in the limelight. They made me a household name.”

Breaking the ‘glamorous negative’ mould

While OTT widened her audience, Khakee: The Bengal Chapter marked a clear shift in how Banerji approached her work. Known largely for glamorous and positive roles, she began receiving a steady stream of negative characters after playing the titular role in Pishachini.

“I’ve always done positive roles,” she says. “After Pishachini, I kept getting negative leads, maybe because I look glamorous and hot, I don’t know. There’s this strange perception that good-looking women can’t be positive.”

Rather than settle into that mould, she chose Khakee with intent. “It was a very conscious choice, to go completely bold, no make-up, play pregnant, and do something contradictory to my image.”

Working with established Bengali actors and under the direction of Neeraj Pandey demanded a different kind of engagement. “You’re not just saying your lines and leaving. You have to find deeper meaning between two lines and create layers.”

That discipline, she says, sharpened her understanding of the craft. “The director prepares for the entire film, every character’s backstory, every emotion. When you understand that vision, it becomes easier to align your performance with it.”

The southern challenge

Looking back, Banerji describes her years in South Indian cinema as the most demanding and the most formative.

“You don’t know the language. You have to learn your lines, feel the character, imbibe the flavour of that region,” she explains. “You have to do even better than the existing local actors.”

The challenge, she adds, is part of the appeal. “Their stories are genuine. Their emotions are precious. It’s fun to play something you’re not, to completely transform.”

Reality television and its risks

Banerji’s appearances on Khatron Ke Khiladi 13 and Bigg Boss 18 exposed audiences to a more unfiltered version of her. While Khatron Ke Khiladi did not affect her career trajectory, she acknowledges that work slowed down after Bigg Boss.

“Many people advised me that Bigg Boss is not exactly for actors. If you’re too overexposed, the public might find it difficult to accept you in a role,” she says. “I was working more before Bigg Boss.”

Even so, she does not frame the decision as a misstep. “I was hardly there for three weeks. I just made my choice. In some way, it always works in your favour.”

The experience, she says, was emotionally revealing. “If you don’t speak up in that house, you’re thrown out. It teaches you to understand what you’re feeling inside and express it. For introverts, it can be a lesson in survival.”

Selective, not desperate

Now nearly 20 years into the industry, Banerji says ambition has given way to selectivity. Over the past two years, she has turned down television projects that did not meet her expectations, whether in terms of role, location or pay.

“Positive leads on TV are paid very less because they work almost 30 days a month. Production houses drop the price,” she says. “Negative leads are paid more. That set-up doesn’t work for me.”

She is equally cautious about repetition. “If I play a negative role on TV, they keep offering me only that. I’ve always been the alpha. Why should there be another alpha beating me up on screen?” she asks, recalling a fantasy series she declined. “If the show is called Naagin, why would I be the Dragon?”

For her, the choice is strategic rather than emotional. “I could continue doing whatever comes just to make money. But I’m selective.”

A stint as an assistant director on Azhar gave Banerji a broader view of filmmaking. “As actors, we prepare only for our roles. But the director prepares for the entire film. Seeing that process changed the way I perform,” she says. “The director is the storyteller. We are the instrument.”

That awareness, she believes, has made her more disciplined and more empathetic on set.

A Delhi childhood

Though born and raised in Mumbai, Banerji retains a quieter connection to Delhi. As a child, she lived in Timarpur when her father, who worked with DRDO, was posted there. She spent two years at Kendriya Vidyalaya and remembers family visits to Chattarpur temple.

“After that, I never really came back except for promotions,” she says. “But I remember Timarpur and my school clearly.”

Reinvention as a constant

From Telugu cinema to Hindi films, from television popularity in Divya Drishti and Pishachini to the grounded realism of Khakee, Banerji’s career has resisted easy categorisation.

“I enjoy doing strong roles,” she says. “But I also want roles that match who I am and what I represent.”

In an industry quick to label, Nyrraa M Banerji continues to redraw her own frame, sometimes glamorous, sometimes raw, sometimes contentious, but always intentional.