Nabin Chauhan is a filmmaker, storyteller, and founder of Artmandu—a creative collective reshaping how Nepali stories are told on screen. Best known for directing ‘Oonko Sweater’, Chauhan is setting an example by telling emotionally rich, socially grounded, and relatable stories. But his filmmaking journey wasn’t planned—it unfolded through theatre, failed business ventures, and moments of honest self-reflection.

“I grew up in Nawamidanda in Panchthar district,” says Chauhan. The hills, the isolation, and the simplicity of village life shaped his childhood. “Not even the roads reached where I lived,” he adds.

Chauhan recalls being fascinated by radio from a young age. “Since childhood, I have listened to a great deal of radio,” he says. Although he didn’t plan a career in the arts then, his curiosity was evident. Coming from Panchthar, Kathmandu felt like a distant dream. “There was no direct way to reach the capital,” he remembers. “Reaching Jhapa or Dharan was more common, but Kathmandu was something else.”

After SEE, Chauhan moved to Ilam to study +2 in Management, which opened new doors. “That’s where my exposure increased,” he reflects. Adjusting to a new environment came with its challenges. “In the beginning, I had an identity crisis,” he shares. “But slowly, I gained my pace. I tried to stand on my own.” He volunteered and began hosting events alongside his studies.

Later, he enrolled at Pushpa Lal Memorial College for his bachelor’s studies. During his early days in Kathmandu, Chauhan embraced the city with curiosity and independence. “I explored all the places alone,” he recalls. Amused by his thorough knowledge of the town, his friends called him a “human GPS.” One such friend encouraged him to go to a play, suggesting he try something different. He followed that advice and found himself at Shilpee Theatre during his second year of Bachelor’s studies. That visit marked a turning point.

“After that, I found myself in the theatre,” he recounts. “Gradually, I also took up volunteering.” His first hands-on role was behind the scenes—working as a music operator in Shilpee.

After some time in the theatre, Chauhan ventured into business with a group of friends. Together, they established Koseli Nepal, a company that promoted and marketed local tea.

However, the timing proved unfortunate. “We had just started when the earthquake hit,” he shares, referring to the devastating 2015 earthquake. “The crisis affected everything. People were suffering, and the market collapsed.” As a result, the business came to a halt.

One day, he received a call from a friend—a small request that would soon steer his life in a new direction. “He asked if I could arrange some Chhurpi,” Chauhan recalls. His friend had ordered it to be sent to other friends in Mumbai.

Chauhan saw potential and began sourcing and selling the hard cheese. The business picked up, and he was earning well.

But one day, while everything appeared to be going right on the surface, he asked himself, “Is this something I love?” Despite the financial success, a deeper calling was stirring. “I realised that this might not be my path. My calling felt different.”

That moment of reflection led to research, introspection, and ultimately, the birth of Artmandu—a creative collective that would soon redefine his place in the world of storytelling.

Artmandu came into existence around 2016–2017, when Chauhan, fresh from his theatre days, shared an idea with his friend and fellow artist, singer Ankit Babu Adhikari. At the time, YouTube was gaining popularity as a platform for visibility and income. “We thought of uploading songs and making money from it,” he adds. With that goal in mind, Chauhan began looking for music video directors. However, not everyone was on board. “Some didn’t have the time, and others weren’t okay with the budget,” he notes. By then, he had shut down his Chhurpi business to commit to his creative vision.

After several failed attempts to find a director, Chauhan had a realisation. “People like me were making such videos,” he says. “Rather than feeling frustrated, I began making them myself.” That decision led to ‘Samjhanalai’. The response was mixed.

But the experience shifted something within him. He understood how art can influence people and even offend them.

With his second video, Chauhan decided to lean in more personally. “I decided to create something that reflects me,” he says. That thought gave rise to ‘Luki Chipi Kina Maya Ma’—a work he sees as a more honest, introspective expression of self.

Despite his self-doubt, ‘Luki Chipi Kina Mayama’ won Best Music Video of the Year and Best Music Video Director at the Image Awards. At the time, Chauhan had been questioning the effectiveness of his work. “I felt like I had failed,” he admits. “But the response made me think otherwise.”

‘Luki Chipi Kina Mayama’ was Chauhan’s second project as a director. To shoot it, he travelled back to Panchthar. This song holds a special place in his journey, creatively and emotionally.

“I have so many feelings tied to that soil,” he says. Determined to honour those emotions, Chauhan sought to transform them into a visual story. But he soon realised the limitations of the medium. “How can a three-minute song possibly hold all those stories?” he reflects.

The experience revealed the tension between storytelling ambition and format constraints. “A lot of footage was shot for a 12 to 15 minute story, which was impossible to put in a single music video,” he notes. “The rest of the footage was unused.” Still, that early project was a foundational lesson in pacing, sacrifice, and emotional economy.

During the Covid-19 lockdown, while confined to his home with ample time on his hands, he returned to that unused 10 to 12 minutes of footage from ‘Luki Chipi Kina Mayama’. “I utilised the clips and made ‘K Maya Lagchha Ra’, he says. The song was reviewed and eventually released—and it became his first hit. It was a breakthrough moment that helped establish Artmandu’s name. “Everyone started appreciating it. I felt like maybe I could also work on movies.”

That optimism was soon met with a reality check. “I realised film is something very different,” he reflects. “It needs a big crew, equipment—and I didn’t have technical knowledge.” To bridge that gap, he planned a trial project. “I thought of making something related to Chhurpi, and that’s how ‘Teenpatey’ was born,” he says.

Around the same time, he met singer Sujan Chapagain, who expressed interest in doing his first project with Chauhan. “I liked the unique texture in his songs,” he adds. The two collaborated on ‘Teenpatey’, but its release was delayed due to another lockdown. It finally came out after ‘K Maya Lagchha Ra’ and, once again, struck a chord with audiences. “It was a superhit,” Chauhan recalls. “And it made me realise that maybe I was born for this.”

Chauhan admits that he hadn’t formally explored film in the beginning. “I didn’t go to a film college,” he says. “But I studied film by watching movies, reading about them, and learning through experience.” Over time, he worked on several projects, applying what he had absorbed across different dimensions of storytelling. “Whatever I was learning from films, I was experimenting with it,” he adds.

By 2021–2022, he was eager to transition into full-length cinema. But it wasn’t until 2024 that the opportunity fully materialised—with the arrival of ‘Oonko Sweater’.

He disagrees when asked whether music added a new emotional layer to the film. “No, it’s the same,” he responds. “Every project of Artmandu had depth. We were always trying to make something impactful for society and the people. We were telling stories through songs long before the film.”

“Nepalis are very connected to their roots,” he says. That sentiment shaped the vision for the film—a narrative that cultivated contemporary social issues within a recognisably Nepali context. “While hearing our own stories, our roots—I wanted to choose something truly Nepali,” he notes. For instance, one of the film’s symbolic choices was featuring an auto—a diary that, in his words, “represents a generation and a journey.”

Chauhan admires both local and international names when asked about his artistic influences. “Among Nepali filmmakers, I love Nabin Subba. I’ve watched ‘Numafung’ many times because it reflects things I’ve experienced in my life too,” he shares. On the international front, Chinese director Zhang Yimou holds a special place in his creative journey.

Chauhan resonates with Yimou’s ability to craft raw, naturalistic cinema. “His films made me realise that even the most basic films could be powerful,” he says. “At first, I felt I couldn’t make films—it felt like something too big. But then I realised films are, after all, a reflection of society.”

Chauhan’s message to aspiring filmmakers is grounded in self-belief and integrity. “Believe in your capacity and be honest,” he advises. “Honesty is the best policy—and I feel like it’s my honesty that has brought me this far.”

For Chauhan, the audience has played a defining role. “They’ve been the key supporters in my journey,” he notes. Looking ahead, he’s driven by a commitment to telling stories that remain authentic and rooted in Nepali experience. “I’m looking forward to making more films—ones that are organic, grounded, and relatable. Stories that are ours.”