On a sticky Delhi afternoon in the late 1980s, a group of architecture students loiters, argues, and dreams their way through a city seeming to be perpetually unfinished.
They are idealistic and impatient, fluent in slogans and sarcasm, and aware that the system they are preparing to enter may largely overlook them.
This is the world of In Which Annie Gives It Those Ones, the 1989 television film crafted by Booker Prize-winning author Arundhati Roy and directed by Pradip Krishen.
After nearly forty years since its airing on India's state broadcaster Doordarshan, a freshly restored version is making its debut in the Berlinale Classics section of the 2026 Berlin International Film Festival.
The Film Heritage Foundation, responsible for the film's restoration, also intends to screen it in select theaters across India in March, with affordable ticket prices to attract younger viewers.
“We wanted it to be accessible,” says Shivendra Singh Dungarpur, a filmmaker and director at the Film Heritage Foundation. “It’s a significant film with its dialogue, its portrayal of college life, and the kinds of characters it highlighted – it achieved something unusual.”
Often hailed as India’s first English-language feature, Annie occupies a singular place in the country's cinematic narrative: local in its texture yet cosmopolitan in voice; modest in scale, yet precise in its storytelling.
Budgeted conservatively, the film follows a makeshift group of final-year students at Delhi's School of Planning and Architecture as they meander toward graduation. Its title, a nod to Delhi University slang, suggests a routine act filled with blunders.
At its heart is Anand “Annie” Grover, a charming fifth-year student caught between idealism and relentless distraction.
He harbors adventurous dreams, such as initiating tree plantations along railway tracks, fertilized by waste from passing trains. His past is dotted with mischievous acts, including a crude joke scrawled about the dean in a hostel bathroom, and an astounding track record of failed exams.
The film circles around a vibrant cast of classmates - sharp, reflective, and restless - engaged in discussions about architecture, philosophy, and even the price of cigarettes with equal gravity.
Roy herself features as Radha, a character embodying strength and self-awareness. The film's ensemble cast includes a young Shah Rukh Khan, marking the Bollywood star’s screen debut.
What sets Annie apart is its unfiltered depiction of student life: the chaos of hostel rooms, leisurely chats with friends on charpoys, and open defiance toward authority. Institutional rituals are treated as mere farce, with students mockingly dubbing their principal as Yamdoot, the Hindu god of death.
Radha, portrayed by Roy, exemplifies a carefree rebellion. Her vibrant ensemble speaks of a rich youth culture infused with challenging conventions.
In her memoir, Mother Mary Comes to Me, Roy elaborates that the script emerged from the “wacky anarchy of that campus, the stoned, bombed-out students, and the unique blend of English and Hindi we spoke together.”
The film's inaugural screening elicited a thunderous response, with packed audiences laughing, cheering, and recognizing themselves in its characters.
Beyond its campus setting, Annie emerged during a pivotal era of Indian cinema and television, when youth culture and social critique were given more leeway. The late 1980s broadcast did herald a shift, but subsequent years would see films questioning social norms face increasing censorship resistance.
Despite winning two National Awards for best screenplay and best English-language feature, Annie largely receded into obscurity after its initial airing.
However, a legacy grew quietly, as bootleg recordings circulated among architecture students and film enthusiasts, who regarded it as one of the few credible English-language Indian films during that time.
“No one had really made a film about English-speaking students in India,” says Dungarpur. “Audiences weren’t accustomed (to hearing English spoken) casually. But that's how students communicate. Annie captured that effortlessly.”
Additionally, audiences began to recognize the sentiments of a country perched on the brink of economic liberalization; a government job represented both security and suffocation as depicted in the film's discussions about hierarchy, bureaucracy, and institutional authority, themes that resonate even today.
“The concerns raised in the film remain prevalent,” Dungarpur adds. “That’s why it resonates – it seems ageless.”
The film's restoration journey began unexpectedly when, while relocating, Krishen found trunks filled with forgotten scripts. A friend highlighted their potential, leading to Dungarpur’s intervention.
The restoration process required painstaking effort, addressing issues of faded colors and soundtrack challenges. “In one scene, Roy wears a red sari; the color had almost vanished, and we had to determine what shade it originally was,” he explains.
Looking back, Annie feels almost like a precursor to Roy’s later success as a celebrated novelist and one of India's most polarizing figures. Yet the film carries a spirited lightness, filled with humor and warmth as it allows its characters to be their true selves.
As mentioned by Roy in a recent interview, the film’s dissent manifests in its “tone, rather than in slogans.”
“Students were rebelling with joy and celebration, not anger. The film captures the essence of young people embracing their individuality and rejecting conformity,” Krishen reflects.
Today, as it returns to the screen, younger audiences may witness an era of flared trousers, drafting tables, and the nostalgic haze of cigarette smoke under fluorescent lights.
More importantly, they would encounter enduring truths about the societal frameworks the movie gently critiques. “They’ll see how cool that time was,” Dungarpur concludes. “But they’ll also identify how familiar so much of it feels.”
