It’s a bold move for Bollywood’s Hrithik Roshan, the star of Siddharth Anand’s Fighter—a 2024 blockbuster fueled by jingoism and centered on the 2019 Pulwama attack—to casually remark that he ‘may disagree’ with the politics of Dhurandhar, Hindi cinema’s latest high-octane release. But here’s where it gets controversial: Roshan’s vague critique of Dhurandhar’s portrayal of Karachi’s Lyari gang wars raises more questions than answers. Is this a genuine moment of reflection, or a calculated attempt to straddle the fence?
Taking to Instagram, Roshan lavished praise on Dhurandhar’s cinematic craftsmanship. ‘I love cinema,’ he wrote, applauding the film’s storytelling and its ability to immerse audiences. But then came the qualifier: ‘I may disagree with the politics of it… and argue about the responsibilities we filmmakers should bear as citizens of the world.’ Yet, he stopped short of specifying which politics he disagrees with—a silence that speaks volumes. And this is the part most people miss: Without clarity, it’s impossible to know if Roshan recognizes Bollywood’s troubling habit of painting Pakistan as a monolithic terrorist state, a trope that’s both commercially lucrative and politically convenient in Modi’s India.
Dhurandhar arrives at a particularly volatile moment. India-Pakistan relations, already strained, nearly escalated into crisis earlier this year after the April 22 attack in India-occupied Kashmir’s Pahalgam. India blamed Pakistan, a claim Pakistan vehemently denied. Against this backdrop, a film that reinforces stereotypes of Pakistani violence isn’t just ‘creative expression’—it’s fuel for a fire that’s been smoldering for years.
Roshan’s failure to elaborate on the ‘responsibilities’ of filmmakers is equally telling. Cinema isn’t created in a vacuum, especially not in India, where films reach across continents and shape public sentiment. They can build bridges or deepen divides. When the stakes involve real-world hostility, human lives, and two nations with a shared, painful history, the consequences of dehumanizing narratives are all too real.
Let’s not forget: When Fighter was released, even in less tense times, Roshan and the filmmakers faced criticism for peddling hate-mongering and watered-down nationalism. This pattern isn’t new. Bollywood has increasingly leaned into anti-Pakistan and anti-Muslim tropes, as seen in films like The Kashmir Files, Mission Majnu, and The Kerala Story. These projects have garnered applause from right-wing circles and condemnation from those weary of the industry’s propaganda pivot.
Many stars, writers, and producers haven’t just participated in these narratives—they’ve endorsed them. Anupam Kher’s cheerleading of The Kashmir Files, Siddharth Malhotra’s role in Mission Majnu, and Roshan’s own involvement in Fighter blur the line between creative choices and political alignments. Is Bollywood’s storytelling genuinely artistic, or is it becoming a tool for political agendas?
So, what do Roshan’s musings on Dhurandhar really mean? Did the backlash to Fighter prompt introspection? Has he developed a critical eye toward his industry’s politics, or is this a diplomatic dance—praising the craft while distancing from the content? Without a clearer stance, we’re left guessing. But one thing is certain: If Roshan believes filmmakers have a responsibility ‘as citizens of the world,’ that responsibility can’t end with Instagram stories. It must extend to the roles he chooses, the narratives he endorses, and the cinema he shapes—especially in a country where stories don’t just reflect reality, they create it.
What do you think? Is Roshan’s critique genuine, or is he playing it safe? And more importantly, does Bollywood owe its audience—and the world—a more responsible approach to storytelling? Let’s discuss in the comments.
