In the high-stakes world of Indian entertainment, where connections can often open doors faster than craft, Sandeep Jain stands out as an outsider who made his way in through storytelling. An IIT Delhi graduate from the 2011 batch, Jain left a Rs 22-lakh annual package in 2013 to pursue the uncertain dream of filmmaking. What began as an acting stint soon evolved into screenwriting—an accidental calling that has since brought him critical acclaim, a Filmfare Award and, most recently, Netflix’s war series Operation Safed Sagar.
“Writing chose me,” Jain has reflected on his journey. He comes from a middle-class family in Shivpuri, Madhya Pradesh, where his father once delivered milk door to door. With little early exposure to the glamour of cinema, the security of an IIT degree and corporate job seemed necessary before he took the plunge. More than a decade later, the tables have turned: the son of a man who once delivered milk now creates stories and emotions that resonate with audiences across the country.
His breakthrough came with Kota Factory, the TVF series that captured the pressure-cooker world of IIT coaching and later found a home on Netflix. The success opened new doors. Co-writing Tabbar earned him the Filmfare Award for Best Story (Series)—a moment he likens to “clearing IIT in this industry.” Walking the red carpet as a boy from Shivpuri, he dedicated the honour to his father. His subsequent credits include Criminal Justice Season 4, the gangster music drama Kanneda on JioHotstar, and Kan Khajura on SonyLIV.
Most recently, Jain led the writers’ room on Netflix’s Operation Safed Sagar, centred on the Indian Air Force’s role in the 1999 Kargil War. The research was exhaustive, involving multiple interviews with pilots and layers of pre-war and wartime anecdotes. The challenge was to maintain a balance between factual authenticity and dramatic necessity.
“What audiences see is only about 20 per cent of the material we gathered,” he notes.
The task was to capture the essence of real voices without turning the series into either dry documentation or excessive fiction. The result sought to present a grounded, human war drama rather than a jingoistic spectacle.
Jain does not romanticise screenwriting. In India, it remains a long and often thankless profession. A writer may spend more than a year on a series, only to see it pass through multiple hands before reaching the screen. Royalties, standard in many Western markets, remain rare in India, with only a handful of production houses offering them. Payment delays and outright non-payment are common enough that even writers behind successful shows can struggle to make ends meet in Mumbai.
Jain has experienced these challenges himself but credits his entrepreneurial streak with helping him weather setbacks. He urges newcomers to insist on clear contracts rather than relying on verbal assurances, noting that writers can be particularly vulnerable during negotiations.
The Screenwriters Association continues to push for better terms, yet the old mindset of exploitation lingers. Jain believes this is one reason talented writers eventually move towards direction or other roles in search of greater creative control, respect and financial security. While television operates under different dynamics, he says the wider film and streaming ecosystem still undervalues the blank-page labour that begins every project.
That blank page remains the toughest part. Every new assignment demands reinvention in a cutthroat industry that quickly forgets yesterday’s success. Jain attributes his ability to balance emotion and logic—without sacrificing one for the other—to a personal quirk: a simian line on his palm. He does not believe in palmistry, yet sees an interesting parallel between the trait and his approach to characters and plots.
Looking ahead, Jain has formed Kahaani Adda, a company dedicated to developing stories rather than merely marketable products. Too many pitches, he observes, arrive as marketing vehicles without a genuine narrative core. His focus remains on exploring genres and allowing audiences to experience the full spectrum of the navarasa—the nine aesthetic emotions rooted in the Natyashastra. Two theatrical films with major studios are lined up, while an eight-episode series he directed is in post-production.
Ambition runs deep. Like Farhan Akhtar, Jain wants to explore acting, directing and producing, but without rushing the process. As an outsider, he understands that establishing oneself in the industry can take a generation.
For now, he remains grateful for the opportunity to tell stories that matter—stories that, he hopes, deliver emotions as reliably as his father once delivered milk. In an industry still learning to value its writers, his journey from the classrooms of IIT Delhi to the writers’ rooms of Netflix is a reminder that content, not contacts, can still clear the hardest exams.