Advait Kottary is an award-winning writer and actor from Mumbai, India. Following his love for all things automotive, he spent two years designing combustion engines for export SUVs for one of India’s largest automotive giants. Eventually, he quit his job to pursue his love for the arts. Performing plays in school and college from the age of 15, he was chosen to play the lead character of Prince Jaanbaaz in Wizcraft’s musical Jaan-E-Jigar in Dubai, the world’s largest Bollywood musical. After 200 shows, he moved back home to Mumbai, where he continued to perform on stage and screen, with roles in shows like “Four More Shots Please” on Amazon Prime and made his international debut with Gurinder Chadha’s “Beecham House”. His work got him featured in Vogue Magazine’s list of young achievers in 2018.
He began assisting his multiple award-winning screenwriter mother, Gajra Kottary (of “Astitva” and “Balika Vadhu” fame) on her projects and joined the writing team of Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s mega project “Heeramandi”. He also co-conceptualized the acclaimed Indian television show, “Molkki”.
In 2023, Advait Kottary authored his debut novel “Siddhartha: The Boy Who Became The Buddha”, which recently won the Sahitya Akademi Yuva Puraskar in 2025. He currently spends his time between Mumbai and London, where he continues to perform on stage, and has appeared in pivotal roles in ITV’s period drama “A Cruel Love: The Ruth Ellis Story” and Amazon Prime’s “Picture This”. He’s currently working on his second novel in the field of fantasy fiction.
In an Exclusive Interview with Nitish Raj; Editor-in-Chief, The Literary Mirror the celebrated author talks about various aspects of historical novels along with insights on his award-winning masterpiece.
Q.1 “Siddhartha: The Boy Who Became The Buddha” has recently won the Sahitya Akademi Yuva Puraskar 2025. How does it feel to receive such significant recognition for your debut novel?
AK: Honestly, it’s still sinking in. I’m deeply grateful for the recognition, and it’s incredibly humbling to have Siddhartha: The Boy Who Became The Buddha acknowledged with the Sahitya Akademi Yuva Puraskar. It’s a tremendous honour to be placed alongside some of the finest contemporary writers in the country. I knew the book was in consideration for the award—my publishers had mentioned it a while ago—but when the news finally came through, it felt surreal. More than anything, I’m glad that the story seems to have resonated with readers and critics alike. I believed in it deeply while writing it, and this recognition reaffirms that instinct.
Q.2 The story of Siddhartha is well-known. What drew you to retell this particular narrative, and what perspective did you aim to bring to it?
AK: You’re right, the story of Siddhartha is familiar to most of us in a broad, academic sense. But for me, the idea for this book emerged from a very personal search for meaning, purpose, and an understanding of suffering. I’ve always been drawn to the human side of Siddhartha’s journey, and I think that’s closely tied to my background as an actor. Acting is essentially an act of radical empathy—you inhabit another life, another mind—and that trained me to ask not just what someone did, but how they felt while doing it, and eventually, why?
What fascinated me most was Siddhartha’s inner conviction in a truth no one around him could see or validate, even when everything was on the line. That quiet, almost defiant faith captivated me. I wanted to explore the emotional and psychological dimensions of that journey, not as a distant biographical account, but from his own perspective—told at a pivotal moment in his life, when the past and future were equally uncertain.”
Q.3 Your book is about Siddhartha’s early life, specifically his family’s efforts to shield him from suffering. What fascinated you most about this period, and how did you approach depicting the internal struggles of both Siddhartha and his family?
AK: One of the most fascinating discoveries for me, while researching Siddhartha’s life, was just how compelling the stories of those around him were. We’ve all heard about how his family tried to shield him from pain—but what struck me was why. What were the motivations, fears, and hopes behind those choices? The emotional complexity of his father, carrying the weight of prophecy and legacy… or the immense silence around the women in Siddhartha’s life, like his aunt—who raised him after his mother died at childbirth—and his wife, Yashodhara, who was deeply intelligent and spiritually evolved in her own right.
We so often view Siddhartha’s journey in isolation, but his transformation was shaped and sometimes in conflict with the people who loved him. I wanted to tell their stories from within their perspectives, to humanize every voice in that palace. For me, that’s what brings this well-known narrative to life in a new way.
Q.4 The synopsis mentions “raw human emotion and conflict tempered with the boundless compassion of the Buddha.” Could you elaborate on how you balanced these elements in your narrative, especially in the context of Siddhartha’s journey of questioning his “oppressively perfect life”?
AK: At the heart of Siddhartha’s awakening is a deep confrontation with life’s most brutal truths—but also with its most transcendent love. He began to question everything he had been told was ‘perfect,’ because that perfection came at the cost of blindness to suffering. And when he saw it—suffering, impermanence, death—he didn’t recoil. He allowed those truths to shape him.
That said, this isn’t a story of nihilism. It’s a story of profound compassion. Siddhartha saw that even in a world where everything is fleeting, where attachment inevitably leads to loss, there is still room for boundless love – love that asks nothing in return.
One of the challenges for me as a writer was to portray this without reducing it to simplistic good vs. bad. There are no villains in Siddhartha’s story; just people doing their best within their understanding. I tried to ensure that every character, no matter how conflicted, was written with empathy and nuanced complexity.
Q.5 What kind of research did you undertake to portray the world of ancient Kapilavastu and the historical context of Siddhartha’s life, while also allowing for your creative interpretation?
AK: My research involved a deep dive into Pali scriptures, translated texts, and especially Thich Nhat Hanh’s Old Path White Clouds, which had a profound impact on me. I wanted to root the story in authenticity—details about traditions, rituals, social structures—but I also didn’t want it to read like a history textbook.
The aim was to remain faithful to the spirit of time, while also breathing imaginative life into it. If readers can feel that the world comes alive on the page, if they can walk through the palace, or feel the weight of Siddhartha’s questions, then I think I’ve succeeded in balancing fact with storytelling.
Q.6 Are there any specific characters in the book, besides Siddhartha himself, whose journeys or struggles resonated most with you during the writing process?
AK: It’s very hard to choose just one. I feel like I see parts of myself in all of them. Take Devdutt, Siddhartha’s cousin—brilliant, ambitious, constantly striving for the very things Siddhartha walked away from. There’s something tragic and very human in his arc.
Then there’s Yashodhara—her love for Siddhartha wasn’t passive. She understood him, challenged him, even encouraged him to go in search of answers that may never return him to her. That kind of strength and love left a deep impression on me.
What moved me most was that every character—major or minor—was wrestling with their own truth, often quietly. Their struggles made the story feel rich, layered, and alive.
Q.7 Given your background in theatre and screen, did you envision Siddhartha as a visual narrative while writing it? Are there any plans or hopes for adapting it to the screen?
AK: Absolutely. I’m a visual thinker by nature, and when I write, I see entire scenes unfold—lighting, movement, rhythm. It was quite a joy to imagine and construct the world of Kapilavastu visually while writing.
Some readers have commented on the book’s cinematic quality—though one review did cheekily call it Bollywood Buddha! I took that as a compliment, honestly.
There’s been some wonderful encouragement from people I deeply admire—Vishal Bhardwaj sir, Anupam Kher sir, and the late Pritish Nandy sir, all of whom have supported the book. I would love to see it adapted to screen if the right vision and collaborators come along. I think it’s a story that’s very much meant to be seen as well as read, because it’s a very important part of our history.
Q.8 What does literary success mean to you beyond awards, and what are your long-term aspirations as a writer?
AK: To me, success is when a story truly connects—when a reader sees a piece of themselves in a character, or when they close the book and feel changed, even in a small way.
Of course, awards and recognition mean a lot—I won’t pretend they don’t. This one, especially, means the world to me. But at the end of the day, my deepest aspiration is to tell honest stories that move people, that ask questions.
If readers can love and hate the characters, if they feel torn, surprised, or stirred—that’s success. I want to take people on a journey through my thoughts and questions and hopefully leave them with some of their own.
