Bhubaneswar: Cinema has never been a neutral art form. From its earliest days, it has reflected power, politics, pain and patriotism. Dhurandhar, directed by Aditya Dhar, arrives firmly within this tradition — unapologetic, provocative and deeply polarising. The fierce debate it has ignited says as much about the times we live in as it does about the film itself.
At its core, Dhurandhar attempts to retell a history many Indians believe has been softened, diluted or selectively forgotten. By depicting multiple terror attacks, covert operations and the alleged role of a neighbouring country, the film positions itself not merely as entertainment but as a political statement. Its strength lies in its refusal to hedge its narrative. Dhar does not rely on metaphors; he names, shows and confronts.
The overwhelmingly positive response to Akshaye Khanna’s performance is telling. In an era dominated by spectacle, audiences have gravitated towards restraint, intensity and credibility. His portrayal reflects a hunger for characters that feel real, morally complex and burdened by history. That this performance has struck such a chord suggests viewers are looking beyond star power to substance.
Yet, the backlash against Dhurandhar cannot be dismissed outright. Critics argue that the film simplifies geopolitics and risks reinforcing binaries in an already polarised society. Some sections of the media and film fraternity see it as propaganda masquerading as patriotism. The ban in Gulf countries further underlines the discomfort such narratives create in a globalised world where cinema travels faster than diplomacy.
But the most unsettling question raised by the film’s reception is this: why does political cinema make us so uncomfortable only when it challenges certain narratives? Indian cinema has long celebrated romanticised violence, fictionalised wars and exaggerated nationalism without much scrutiny. Dhurandhar unsettles because it insists on realism — on consequences, accountability and memory.
The film also exposes a deeper fault line within Bollywood itself. A section of the industry appears uneasy with stories that foreground national security and terrorism without ambiguity. This discomfort reveals an ideological divide more than a cinematic one. Audiences, however, seem less conflicted. Packed theatres and relentless online discussion indicate that people are willing — even eager — to engage with uncomfortable truths.
Cinema alone cannot heal wounds or resolve conflicts. But it can force conversations that institutions often avoid. In that sense, Dhurandhar succeeds, regardless of where one stands on its politics. It reminds us that storytelling is power — and power will always invite resistance.
Whether Dhurandhar is remembered as a landmark film or a divisive one, it has already achieved something rare: it has made the nation talk, argue and introspect. And in a democracy, silence — not debate — is the greater danger.
-OdishaAge
