When Kaya* heard that a Film Institute was opening in Arunachal Pradesh, she was ecstatic. After nearly a decade in the film industry, she hoped the institute would offer a space to sharpen her skills in a quiet, focused learning environment.
But by the second week of March, when she finally reached the campus—about 24 kilometres from Itanagar—her hopes were dashed.
The Film and Television Institute in Arunachal Pradesh, an academic institution under the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting and administered by the Satyajit Ray Film and Television Institute, Kolkata, is the third National film institute in the country. The announcement for the institute was first made in September 2015. On November 9, 2019, an EastMojo report said the construction for the third film institute in the country had finally started. In the same year in February, Prime Minister Narendra Modi laid the foundation stone of the 253-acre institute during his visit to the state.
The report quoted Hu Tatu from K K Construction, appealing to all the villagers to extend every possible support in the project’s smooth undertaking and assuring that the Rs 128-crore project would be completed in two years, provided full cooperation from the local communities.
Six years later, in March 2025, the institute opened its doors to its first batch of students; however, those who arrived with optimism now find themselves in despair.
The problems began at admission. Most students, including Kaya, had jobs when they received the first campus notification on November 15, 2024. “I had to quit my job and move home, thinking we’d be called soon. But we weren’t. For three months, I was left without work or clarity.” It wasn’t until late February that students were asked to report for classes in March.
The students wrote to the institution on three occasions, on December 17, 2024, January 9, 2025, and January 15, 2025, requesting clarity on the academic session.
Students have come from across the country—Kerala, Telangana, Rajasthan, Haryana, Bihar, West Bengal, and Uttar Pradesh—each having paid ₹1.16 lakh in semester fees and security deposits.
On May 18, 2025, the first batch of students issued a public statement: “National institution on paper, neglected reality in practice. We demand education with dignity, not promises with deadlines!”
Their statement outlined several critical issues: no clean drinking water, unreliable electricity, lack of power backup, no campus security, inadequate digital access, and unfinished classrooms. Core academic infrastructure—classroom theatre and post-production blocks—remains incomplete. Students frequently fall ill from contaminated water, suffer internet outages, and attend classes in unsafe spaces.
Adding to the frustration, they say the institute has no official logo, website, or full-time director. Students still do not have ID cards and feel unrecognized. The group called for a halt in academic activities for the second time, citing unfulfilled assurances made after the first suspension on March 25, 2025. In response to the initial protest, a meeting was held and a document of promises was shared. However, no substantial or visible progress followed. Deadlines—particularly for completing the CRT—were missed, and ongoing issues with water supply, electricity, WiFi, and administrative functioning remained unresolved. As a result, a second suspension was announced on May 15.
Kaya shared her personal experience with EastMojo, recounting how she suffered a stomach infection due to unsafe water. “One of my friends fell seriously ill the moment she arrived because of the food and water,” she said. Though students can access a hospital via car, there is no financial assistance, even when the cause of illness stems from the campus.
With the girls’ hostel incomplete, Kaya and four classmates have been placed in staff quarters where there is no WiFi—despite earlier assurances. “We rely on mobile data, which is expensive. We’re film students, but we can’t download films for research. There’s a TV, but it’s not functional,” she said. During power and network outages, she said they sometimes have to walk to the boys’ residence—late at night, through areas infested with insects and reptiles.
Even if the girls’ hostel is completed, Kaya said she was informed it may be used for male students, as the boys’ hostel remains unfinished. Food is another issue. Located in a remote area, the institute has no canteen and no access to outside food, leaving students with no alternatives when meals are unsatisfactory.
Ritesh*, another student, was equally excited when he received his admission confirmation in October 2024. But that excitement quickly faded.
“After admission, we were taken to the International Film Festival of India in Goa. The mail said campus classes would start soon. So many of us left jobs and projects expecting classes to begin,” he said. “From December to mid-February, we waited. We wrote letters asking for clarity. There was no reply.”
In February, they were finally told to report by March 10. They were assured that, while infrastructure was incomplete, academics would not be compromised.
But Ritesh’s arrival was sobering. “I was travelling from Delhi to Itanagar full of excitement. But when I arrived, I was so disappointed. We were told nine facilities were ready, but only two academic buildings were even partly functional.”
The remaining structures—including preview theatres, classroom theatres, working studios, shooting floors, digital labs, sound mixing rooms, dining halls, tutorial and admin blocks—were unfinished or unused. “There was no construction happening. Only the library block had some work going on,” he said. Classes were being held in a curtained-off section of the library, with limited resources and a small number of books.
The only complete academic building, Ritesh said, now accommodates editing, direction, and cinematography classes, and even houses the teaching and non-teaching staff. “All of it runs out of one room.”
Security and accessibility are also serious concerns. With no main gate, boundary walls, or proper approach roads, the campus is exposed. Landslides during rain make walking dangerous.
“It’s been 6–7 months, yet our ID cards are not ready,” Ritesh added.
Power outages are frequent, especially on weekends. “We had no power for 12–14 hours last weekend. We were cut off—no electricity, no internet. Our parents were worried.” Students said the administration began using generators only after pressure from students. Even then, excuses persisted, including a lack of diesel or unavailable operators.
Some students also raised concerns about the non-teaching staff. They claimed local villagers demanded hiring preferences. “We’re not against local employment, but eligibility matters. Many staff can’t even draft an email.”
Ritesh, who dreams of becoming an actor, now feels uncertain. “I wanted to learn all disciplines of filmmaking—not just acting. Institutes give you exposure and networks. I still have hope for the networking, but not for the learning. I am worried.”
All 45 students, including Kaya, feel the same.
Kaya reflected, “I took a break from my career, thinking I’d grow, and make my films. I expected a setup in the mountains, away from the city—a creative space. But that’s not happening. I’m questioning everything—my choices, my purpose here.”
Attempts to contact the institute’s leadership received no response. This story will be updated if one is provided.
*names changed to protect identity
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