For nearly thirty years, Shishir Sharma has quietly commanded Indian screens—cinema, television, and now streaming. Born in 1955, he entered the industry in the mid-1990s and has since appeared in more than 40 films and numerous television shows, from Swabhimaan and Ghar Ki Lakshmi Betiyann to Talvar, Raazi, Dangal, Uri, and Mission Raniganj. Today, he is recognized as one of Hindi cinema’s most dependable character actors, whose presence can lend weight even to brief scenes.
As Indian cinema and streaming platforms continue to grow, Sharma observes a surprising sameness in the stories being told. After three decades on screen, his relationship with storytelling is complex.
“Storytelling has not improved at all,” he says. “Even now, it’s largely the same. Television follows a set formula, and that formula hasn’t evolved for Indian audiences.”
He remembers the optimism of the early years — but also its limits.
“It’s coming way back from when I started doing television in the year 1994-95. And then from 2000 onwards, when the advent of television started with the new satellite channels, it hasn’t stopped.”
But what hasn’t changed, he says, is the formula.
“There was just the same storytelling that was happening then, it’s happening even now.”
For a while, it seemed OTT would be the answer.
“But the advent of web series as compared to television… well, it almost, it’s a mirror image of what television was then and what web series turned out to be now.”
Yes, there is more work — directors, actors, technicians — but the sameness persists.
“Again, it’s the same formula that is being repeated by everyone. There is nothing new that is being, you know, dished out. A couple of shows, yes, a couple of films, yes. But other than that, there’s just the same thing that is being dished out every now and then, maybe in a different package altogether.”
He pauses, then offers an image.
“It’s like an old wine bottle, something new in that. But there’s nothing really exciting that is happening. And that is the sad affairs of storytelling in India.”
He remembers the hope that came with the first wave of homegrown OTT work.
“When I started the web series, there was a show called Permanent Roommates. That was the very first show that was produced and directed in India by an Indian. And that was very fresh in everybody’s mind. So we thought that once it starts, there will probably be something worth our while. But it didn’t really turn out.”
Instead, he says, everything began to look the same — just renamed, repackaged, reshot.
“Everybody’s just dishing out the same thing over and over again in a different garb altogether. You know, they give it a name. But when you get into the storytelling, when you get into the entire structure of the film or of the episodes or of the web series, it just turns out to be the same.”
The actor and the story
For Sharma, what makes him take a role hasn’t changed either.
“Well, I think, again, it’s all linked to how you tell a story and what kind of a character you’re playing to tell a story.”
It’s simple — but demanding.
“It has to be interesting enough for me to take on something that is worth my while as an actor, which I feel motivated about. To come on screen, to come in front of the camera, to enthral the audiences with my acting abilities… to the best of my ability, to the best of my knowledge.”
The character must be alive. It must mean something.
“The character has to be driven. The actor needs to be motivated by the character that has been written for him.”
His first film was Ram Gopal Varma’s Satya — a short part, but a breakthrough.
“It was a very short, small role. Although I don’t know whether people still remember it or not. But anyway, for me, it was a breakthrough… because Ram Gopal Varma asked me to do that role. Manoj Bajpai was in the film. I worked with Manoj in television. So for me, it was twofold.”
Then came the roles audiences now recognise — in Raazi, Talwar, Mary Kom, Dangal, Chhichhore, Uri.
“What attracted me to most of the other films that I did… is the character-driven parts that were given to me to portray them to the best of my ability. And I think I have done justice to most of them as far as I’m concerned… I was asked to do Raazi. I was asked to do Talwar again. I was asked to do Mary Kom, Dangal, Chhichhore, Uri. All those roles have been a part of my acting career. So for me, I can’t ask for anything more.”
The craft — and the discipline
But tools matter. Training matters. And theatre, he says, remains the true foundation.
“I have always mentioned that whenever you want to become an actor, first you have to do at least 5 to 7 years of theatre acting on stage. That is very, very important because that is where you learn the basics.”
He lists them — not casually, but as essentials:
“That is where you learn how to actually stand, work, speak, take light, your hand gestures, body movement. All that comes into the picture only when you learn the basics. And craft comes much later on.”
Screen acting, he reminds, is a different language.
“Because on stage, you are a 70mm actor. In a film or in front of a camera, you are a very close medium actor. So you need to understand those aspects of acting as well.”
Young actors, he stresses, must understand that the work is real — not instant.
“Well, young actors have to understand that acting has never been easy. It will never be easy.”
He quotes his teacher, “We used to say in Hindi, when Dubeyji used to teach us acting, that acting is not easy.”
It requires effort — not fantasy.
“You cannot just say that I will sleep at night and wake up in the morning and start acting. No, that doesn’t happen.”
Training is physical. Mental. Repetitive. Quiet.
“You have to work on your speech. You have to work on your skills of learning lines. You have to work on your memory. You have to work on a lot of things. You have to work on your body movement, your hand gestures, your eyes, your lips, everything.”
Switching off
Sharma is not a method actor. He believes in leaving the role behind.
“You have to switch on and switch off,” he says. “You can’t carry something back from the set to your home.”
He gives an example.
“In Mary Kom, I was a coach, a boxing ringside coach. I can’t be a ringside coach when I come back home. I need to shed that particular image there at the shoot, leave it in the green room and come back home as myself.”
A clear-eyed veteran
Shishir Sharma does not complain — but he refuses to pretend.
Storytelling may not have evolved. The formulas may be stuck. The platforms may be louder, faster, more crowded.
But the actor, he believes, must keep growing.
And in that, he’s still working — still learning — still motivated by the same thing that brought him to camera in the first place:
A role worth doing. A story worth telling.
