Tamil actor Vasundhara on ‘The Accused’, social media, truth, and storytelling

Best known for her roles in Tamil films like Thenmerku Paruvakaatru, Thalaikoothal and Kanguva, Vasundhara has turned author with her debut novel, The Accused (Westland), a gripping murder mystery set in a Chennai apartment complex. The story follows Inspector Rakesh, who’s trying to solve his first murder case, only to realise the victim’s wife is his first love. In another world, actress Pooja Reddy, caught in a paparazzi scandal, starts obsessively following the case and finds herself pulled into its twists. Packed with themes of greed, crime, corruption, and internet trolling, the book looks at the darker sides of our society.

In the latest episode of Culture Vibes, Vasundhara speaks to Nawaid Anjum about how reading has shaped her acting career, how the news cycle partly inspired the plot of The Accused, and why she wanted to write something serious and not commercial. She opens up about reading between shoots, her love for Nordic noir, especially Icelandic author Yrsa Sigurðardóttir, and Japanese thrillers, and how being a writer has changed how she chooses film scripts. She reflects on Malayalam cinema being “on another plane,” why OTT platforms don’t threaten cinema theatres, and how AI is far more dangerous to creative entrepreneurs than we realise.

In the interview, she opened up about the spark behind the story, the role of online narratives in shaping truth, and how her years in cinema influenced her writing process. At a time when social media trials often replace courtrooms, her novel provokes deep questions about guilt, perception, and justice.

What sparked the idea for The Accused? Was it a scene, a character, or a what-if moment?

It was a mix of things. Being an actor, I hate social media, but I had to be on it to promote a film. The trolling I faced made me reflect on how people online comment as if they know exactly what happened in real-life incidents. I once read comments on a trending crime story — people were confidently spinning narratives, often contradictory. One profile even changed gender and city across posts. I thought, what if people start believing such a person? An innocent life could be destroyed. That’s when the idea took root. The title came from this — someone being made “the accused” purely through manipulated public perception.

The novel touches on themes like guilt, memory, class, and media distortion. Were these layers pre-planned?

I usually start with a visual image. In this case, it was Meera — she thinks everything is fine and then switches on the TV to discover her life unravelling. That was the scene I started with. I wrote a whole version just from Meera’s point of view, but it felt too depressing. I later decided to shift perspectives and bring in other characters like Pooja, to lighten the narrative. Initially, I avoided using an actor as a protagonist to dodge the “is this based on your life” question, but ultimately it made sense. I didn’t have to research the industry — I’ve lived it since I was 17.

Your novel runs two parallel storylines. How did you manage the complexity of weaving them together?

Originally, Pooja was supposed to be a side character like the journalist James, who appears in just one chapter. But I felt the novel needed contrast to the heaviness. So I expanded her role. She became a voice for things I wanted to say but didn’t want to say overtly. I love novels that keep you guessing and then tie everything together. That’s the structure I enjoy, so I followed that instinct.

The pacing is fast and tight, much like a screenplay. Was that deliberate?

Yes, absolutely. Credit goes to my editor Sonia Madan — she’s brilliant. My film background and experience reading scripts definitely helped. I trimmed everything unnecessary. People have said it reads like a script turned into a novel. That wasn’t intentional, but maybe it’s subconscious. I’ve started and abandoned many books—this is the third one I wrote and the first I completed. I used beats like in films to structure the pace. Especially toward the end, I wanted a “to be continued” feel to keep the reader hooked.

The book evokes comparisons to Nordic Noir. Were you consciously influenced by that genre?

If it shows, it’s subconscious. I do read a lot of thrillers — Japanese, Nordic, you name it. I discovered Nordic Noir through a TV show based on a book and fell in love with that cold, haunting landscape. I tried to mirror that by incorporating Chennai’s oppressive heat. A reader also said it resembles Japanese thrillers, and maybe that’s true too. I think my reading influences seeped into the story without me realizing.

Your settings are vivid — nosy neighbors, tight-knit apartment complexes. Were these drawn from real life?

Definitely inspired by nostalgia. My current neighbours are lovely, but earlier I had the type who peeked through the peephole but never spoke. They somehow knew everything about everyone, even though no one saw them. Friends shared similar stories — neighbours gossiping about sleeveless dresses and who wore what. So I imagined, what if a real crime happened in such a place? What would they say? It was too rich not to explore.

There’s a strong moral centre in the novel. Did you plan it that way, especially around themes of justice?

Not really. I wanted to keep things grounded in realism. If you look at real life, how many criminals truly pay for their crimes? People forget headlines as quickly as they arrive. Something else becomes viral, and yesterday’s tragedy is forgotten. I didn’t want to tie the story up with a neat bow of justice. The climax is cinematic — very movie-like — but the resolution is realistic. The actual criminal’s ending isn’t dramatic because that’s how it often plays out in real life.

How has writing a book affected you as an actor?

I hope people don’t think I’ve quit acting! Let’s be honest — you can’t pay bills being an author unless you’re Chetan Bhagat or Jay Shetty. I always wanted to be a writer, even before I was allowed to watch movies. Writing has shaped how I approach acting. I dive deep into character backstories, which some directors appreciate and others find annoying. But writing helped me act, and acting helped me write — I was acting out each character as I wrote them.

Tell us about your upcoming projects — you’re playing an ACP in a Telugu film?

Yes! The film is directed by Sunil, who has years of experience in the Telugu industry. The hero is Priyadarshi — he’s a one-take wonder and absolutely hilarious. It’s a commercial role, very different from my usual indie work. I play a badass ACP, and I’ve loved shooting it. One schedule is left, and it should release later this year.

In the age of OTT, where do you see cinema heading?

Honestly, I’m more worried about AI than OTT. AI threatens creative livelihoods in a big way. OTT, on the other hand, has democratised cinema. Yes, it’s changed the experience of going to theatres, but it’s also elevated industries like Tamil and Malayalam cinema; the latter seems to be on another plane altogether. I wish these were considered our national cinema. Hindi cinema isn’t dead, but superstar-led blockbusters mostly are. The future is in stories like Laapataa Ladies — strong narratives, not big names. Everyone is trying to be “beige” to appeal to the global market. But if we focused on authentic voices, every industry could thrive.

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