In the three decades since its inauguration, only one woman has ever opened the Toronto International Film Festival. Until this year, that is. Water, the final instalment in director Deepa Mehta’s elemental trilogy—which also includes Fire and Earth—kicked off the red carpet festivities in early September. Set in 1930s colonial India, it centres around an eight-year-old widow who is sent to an ashram. Violent protests erupted at the film shoot five years ago thanks to zealots who thought the script was anti-Hindu. They threw sets in the river, burned Mehta in effigy and issued death threats, effectively halting production. Five years later, Water was completed in Sri Lanka—the end of a long journey for the Indian-born, Toronto-based director.

Your father owned a couple of cinemas in India. What is your earliest memory of film?
I was six or seven, watching a black and white movie called Nagin in my father’s movie hall. I couldn’t understand why I was crying since I couldn’t touch the people or smell them. Afterwards, my dad took me to the projectionist and let me touch the machine. My dad said, “This is what happens, this is film.” Then he walked me back down the aisle to the screen. I put my tiny hand on the bottom of a frame where somebody wearing shoes was moving. And I thought, “This is magic.”

During the break in the filming of Water, you made Bollywood Hollywood, which is very different, both thematically and in mood.
After Water was shut down, I wanted to do something that was easy, accessible and lighthearted. It was the ideal medicine. I don’t go to spas, but that’s what it was like.

What was your reaction to having to stop everything so soon after starting the shoot?
It’s terrible. It’s your right to do something in a democracy, and when you are not allowed to do it…on a political level, it’s shocking and, on a personal level, it’s devastating.

After such a difficult beginning, what kept you from giving up on the film altogether?
It was important for me to finish the trilogy. Fire is about the politics of sexuality, and Earth is about the politics of nationalism, and Water is about the politics of religion, so until I finished the third part I didn’t feel complete. Some people have asked me, “Did you do it because you felt, ‘I’ll show them’?” and it wasn’t that at all. Because then it stops being about the film and starts becoming about yourself, and you can’t do that. It doesn’t seem fair to a film.

In your trilogy, there is a tension between upholding tradition and expressing one’s individual voice. Why do you feel so drawn to those ideas?
I think that when you come from cultures that are really ancient, you imbibe certain norms which you just take for granted. And one day, you realize that you are actually responding to stimulus from the outside in a way which is almost insidious. It comes from racial memory rather than something that you have formed. And I think when that awareness hit me, I started realizing that there were many traditional values that I had inherited without questioning. I think tradition is very important, but until you can question it, the tradition itself becomes stagnant and worthless.

After both Fire and Water, you had to travel with armed guards in India. Did you ever think you’d rather make another kind of film?
Cartoons?

Some people are happy making less difficult films.
You don’t set out to do things to upset people. I didn’t expect there were going to be problems with Water. If I had known, would I have still made it? Yes, I would have. That’s not because I am foolhardy but because I feel that if we do live in a democratic country, why can’t we do what we want to do? Especially because you cannot make films in India unless you give your script to the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting. They read it, and then they give you permission. They then make sure that there is a liaison officer from the Ministry with you day in and day out while you’re shooting so you actually shoot the script that was approved. So when you get all the approvals, you think it’s fine. You have the government’s sanction; you aren’t offending anybody, because you don’t want to do that, either. That’s not the point. People might get hurt or might be upset by what you have done, but you don’t set out to do that.

So this marks the end of your elemental trilogy. Do you feel sad?
No, my God, no. I was thrilled that it finally got done. I was really happy when it was over. It’s a feeling of relief.

There were rumours that either Atom Egoyan’s film or David Cronenberg’s film was to open the festival. Were you shocked when Water was picked?
Not shocked. I was slightly surprised, but I felt very happy. You can’t say who is going to be picked—it’s all up in the air.

How do you find Toronto movie-going audiences compared to those in other cities?
Torontonians are really film savvy and very generous. I have friends in the States and in Europe who love bringing their films here because they find audiences well informed and enthusiastic. I think it has something to do with Toronto being such a diverse cultural city. We are exposed to so much. It makes you open.

You’re working on a new script now. Taking a break didn’t appeal to you?
What is taking a break? You take a break and do what? You probably think about what you want to write about. No. Writing is taking a break, not working.

A lot of writers would disagree with you.
I can imagine. But writing a script for me is not working, because I know that it is not the end product. I have to think about the next step. I approach script writing as a director who is writing, not as a writer who is turning into a director.

So you find writing relaxing compared to directing?
Definitely. It’s just me and my kitchen table. I’ve never learned how to use a computer, so I still write longhand. It’s my Hilroy notebook and me at my kitchen table. It’s not a crew of 125 people. It’s really relaxing. You don’t have a schedule, you don’t have to think about getting up at five in the morning because you have to be on set at 5:30. It’s not regimented. I make my own timetables according to when I want to work.

You just work when you feel like it?
When I’m inspired to. Sometimes I see a good movie and I think it would be nice to make another film and start writing. But I don’t get up at five in the morning. I think that would probably be good, but then it would be work.

If you couldn’t be a filmmaker, what would you be?
My daughter says that I could be a really good cleaning lady. I’m serious. I’m a whiz at cleaning. I find it extremely relaxing. I also love gardening and could be a gardener. Or I could be a really good Indian cook. So, any of the three.