The Divine Hustle: When 'Gods' Fight For Survival
The Divine Hustle follows individuals who are performers of faith. It talks as much about the economy of belief as about struggles for survival.
By Minal Rudra
Published : September 16, 2025 at 3:53 PM IST
|Updated : September 16, 2025 at 5:27 PM IST
At religious places and pilgrimage sites in India, it is common to see children running to apply tilak on visitors' foreheads. Equally common are kids and grown-ups donning the avatars of gods and goddesses. These sights are so ordinary that most of us barely spare them a second thought. Some may give alms, others simply ignore them as if they do not exist. For Sonali Rajkumar Devnani, a journalist-turned-filmmaker, however, these everyday images became the focus of her documentary feature, The Divine Hustle.
Now based in Hong Kong, Sonali is gearing up for the world premiere of The Divine Hustle at the Chicago South Asian Film Festival 2025 on September 21 Ahead of the screening, she spoke to ETV Bharat about the journey of making the film and the questions it raises.
“When you leave your country, you begin to see it very differently,” she says, reflecting on her move out of India 23 years ago. “I am more in love with India than ever before, but I also see systems that are just not right. Religion is one of them.”
The feature documentary follows children and families who survive by dressing up as gods in India’s religious towns. They are performers of faith who reveal as much about the economy of belief as about their own struggles for survival.
As a professional photographer, Devnani says she had long been a regular at cultural and religious fairs. One day, she noticed a group of children in divine costumes. “They intrigued me. It looked like faith and poverty were two sides of the same coin,” she recalls. “These children are almost glorified beggars. But in the name of God, anything can work in our country.”
Her search for protagonists stretched over five years. Eventually, three emerged:
Gopal, forced to pose as Bal Gopal while struggling with a congenital limb deficiency;
Khushi, a young girl who becomes Shiva to raise money for her mother’s surgery;
Abhishek, a young father who transforms into Goddess Kali to support his family.
“I followed their lives for over two and a half years, interviewing, spending time, simply observing,” she says. “I was never sure how many characters I would get. One after the other, they came into the film almost magically.”
For Devnani, the challenge was to step back from judgement. “I did not want this to be an opinion piece. I wanted religion to be seen through the eyes of these characters,” she explains. “The protagonists never speak about faith or religion. They only speak about survival. That, to me, is the great irony… they don’t believe in God, but they are ‘God’ themselves, fighting for their most primal needs.”
The film also weaves in voices of devotees and locals from these holy cities. “I must have interviewed hundreds of people. Some spoke with immense devotion, others tried to expose the scams. It felt wrong to highlight only one facet, because faith, belief, survival, and exploitation were all falling together like a jigsaw.”
The documentary travels through Varanasi, Mathura, Pushkar and Vrindavan. “These are iconic landmarks of religion in India. Varanasi for Shiva, Mathura for Krishna, Pushkar for Brahma,” Devnani says. “I was lucky my characters belonged to these places. It helped show not just their lives, but how the public perceives them.”
The film opens at the Kumbh Mela, the world’s largest gathering of faith, and the sequence could not be more grand or expansive. “I felt it was the perfect entry point into the film,” she says. “The colours, the devotion, the sheer scale of it... it’s faith in its most dramatic form. This year was also iconic because of the planetary alignments after a hundred years. And I wanted to include the transgender community, who have finally found space and respect there.”
Filming vulnerable children brought its share of ethical dilemmas. “You will notice in the film that the interviews become more emotional as time passes,” she says. “It took a long time for them to trust me." As a journalist, you are taught never to pay your subjects, but I run an NGO too. So I felt responsible to help. For instance, after Gopal stopped begging, I raised funds for an electronic vehicle so that he could survive with dignity.”
She adds softly, “They’ve become family to me. Even today, I speak to them every few days.”
One of the most painful stories is that of Khushi, a bright young girl who continues to perform as Shiva under her mother’s watch. The contrasting experiences of her protagonists were a delicate balance. "Gopal is aware of his exploitation, while Khushi appears oblivious to it. As filmmakers, while we are ethically responsible for our protagonists, we refrain from meddling in their personal lives until they seek help. I did step back."
Instead, she is trying to intervene differently. “I’ve started fundraising to send Khushi to school. Her mother will receive rations only if Khushi attends. It’s a barter, but it might break the cycle.”
Despite its hard truths, The Divine Hustle ends on a note of resilience. “While Abhishek struggles to break free for his family, Khushi continues out of love for her mother. Gopal has already stopped begging and dares to dream bigger,” Devnani says. “Hats off to their resilience. I want the audience to respect them for their effort, not pity them.”
Asked about the conversations she hopes the film sparks, Sonali says, the documentary is also a mirror to India’s spiritual economy. “Religion is the biggest industry in our country,” she remarks. “One temple can feed thousands. But at the same time, belief is exploited every day. I want people to be open-minded, to question, to see faith not blindly but logically.”
For Devnani, reception of such films abroad feels bittersweet, for it reminds her of indifference at home. “It’s heartbreaking,” Devnani confesses. “These films are appreciated abroad, but in India they don’t touch a chord. Maybe we are desensitised because we see this every day. But I hope more Indian audiences get to watch it.”
The Divine Hustle is her debut feature documentary. Earlier, she made Addicted Innocence, a film on drug addiction among children aged eight to sixteen. This is her third documentary overall. She has also worked on cultural subjects like the Ramnami tribe in Chhattisgarh and Masan Ki Holi in Varanasi. For her, these projects are what she calls “back to the roots.” These films, she says, “are my way of showing the world India’s faith, its contradictions, and its resilience.”
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