Editorial — AnOther 62

The script arrived on a Tuesday in a manila envelope with a single line of typescript on the cover: she has been waiting a long time to say this. Anya read it once, then read it a second time out loud to the wall, and then called her agent and asked to meet the director.

Three weeks later she was in Jaipur, in a courtyard full of ceramic tiles and film crew. What followed was a four-month shoot across three seasons, a practice in stillness and waiting — which, she will tell you, is most of acting anyway.