After a quiet phase in his career, actor and producer Krishna Ajai Rao is back with Yuddhakaanda Chapter 2, a film made in his production house, and also has him playing the lead in a story that discusses the brutal realities of abuse and injustice. For Krishna, this comeback deeply personal. In this candid chat ahead of the film's release, Ajai Rao opens up about choosing a bold subject, and the cost of putting everything on the line.

There was a phase where films weren’t working and you took a step back. Was the fight harder than people know?

Absolutely. It wasn’t the stories that went wrong—it was the way they were portrayed. When you hear a story, like we did in school—literature, poems, or history — each of us imagines it differently. As an actor, I had a vision. But when that story passes through multiple layers, somewhere the essence gets lost. It’s not just about picking a good story; it’s about telling it in the right way. Even great stories have failed because they weren’t executed properly. In my view, someone who’s seen failure closely is far more experienced than someone who hasn’t.

Do you see Yuddhakaanda as a turning point?

It has to be. That’s the intention. Like Arjuna in the Mahabharata — I’m focused only on the target. I’m done with “what ifs.” I want this film to win, not for the hype, but for what it stands for.

What drew you to such a hard-hitting subject?

This story didn’t come with hype—Yuddhakaanda as a story came to me as a blissful epiphany. From the first frame, it grips you. There’s no waiting, no fluff. I have a sister, a daughter, a wife—and I saw their faces in this story. It wasn’t just another film; it felt like a calling. Some films ask for your attention. This one demands it.

There’s been chatter about your debts than your role in the film, and your daughter's video that went viral. Do you want to address that?

People had pointed out that I have borrowed a lot of money for Yuddhakaanda but didn’t listen to the whole story. Yes, I took loans—and yes, they run into crores. But I can afford it. I’ve built enough credibility to be eligible for that kind of borrowing. Banks don’t give loans to just anyone—they look at your history and returns. Even within the industry, when land papers are asked as security, I have that to offer. My family’s security and standard of living haven’t been compromised—that’s my shield. This risk was part of my growth, just like any entrepreneur. Tell me one businessman who hasn’t taken loans.

About that video of my daughter crying beside a BMW—if people think I’d use my child for creating sympathy, they clearly don’t know my values. That kind of attention-seeking is not in my upbringing. I only ask, in case this video causes misunderstanding or shame for her future, please delete.

People aren't discussing your role as much as the production struggles. Does that bother you as a performer and storyteller?

Real cinema asks for real commitment. Stardom fades—stories live on. Instead of chasing paychecks, artists and producers should talk about sharing the responsibility. Content and performance matter more than ever. I hope more people join this mindset—invest in good stories and in the right talent.

One of the film’s core themes is child abuse and the silence around it. Why do you think society is still so silent? And how does Yuddhakaanda address that?

In most cases, silence becomes the crime. The victims carry the shame instead of the perpetrators. Society tends to isolate them, treat them like they did something wrong. That mindset needs to change. Yuddhakaanda gives voice to that silence. The plot is built around this—to make people see how unfair it is. What victims need is nurture, trust, and support and the criminals must be punished—not protected.

The teaser focuses strongly on a mother and child’s perspective. How crucial was that emotional lens in shaping the narrative?

Prakash Belawadi said something during our conversations—that in most real-life cases, victims stay silent or helpless. Rarely do they rise and fight back. Yuddhakaanda is for those silent fighters—the women who haven’t spoken, haven’t found strength yet. This film gives them courage, tells them they can resist, they can fight. It’s not just about protest with candles. It’s about persistent resistance until justice is served.

You play lawyer Bharath in the film. How did you emotionally connect to that character?

I live in a house full of women—my mother, sister, wife, and daughter. I’m the only man. Who better than me to understand the emotions that surround them? Bharath is a role, but the emotions he carries—that’s me. I didn’t have to fake the feelings. The prep was for the lawyer. The core of Bharath isn’t crafted—it’s me. His heart, his rage, his empathy… that’s who I am in real life.”

What was it like sharing screen space with Prakash Belawadi, especially on a subject like this?

Amazing! Prakash sir is a powerhouse of cinema knowledge—be it performance, direction, or understanding the craft. Every day on set with him was like a jugalbandi. I’d try to scale up my preparation, and he’d already be two steps ahead. We had a healthy competition, which elevated the scenes. He knew I wasn’t coming to play safe—I was coming to challenge. That spark between us has added so much layer to the film. It was a real clash of characters on screen, and it shows.

What can you say about the writing and casting, especially working with director Pavan Bhat?

Pavan brought this story to me. I have immense respect for him. There are very few writers who treat a hero as an actor, not just as a star. It was clear — this script needed sincerity, not ego. We had that understanding from the start.

We didn’t want big stars; we wanted real actors. That’s how Archana Jois and other actors came into the picture. They are the heart of the film. It was about assembling a team that believed in the story.

What kind of change do you hope Yuddhakaanda triggers in society?

We wear helmets and seat belts to protect ourselves. Why can’t society offer the same protection to its women and children? Prevention matters more than treatment. We need to raise the children with empathy, not entitlement. Women are not objects—they’re humans who deserve dignity. Change has to begin at home and films like these can be a small spark in that process.