(The following article has been republished in light of the communal clashes in Nagpur, following which Maharashtra CM Devendra Fadnavis blamed the Vicky Kaushal-starrer 'Chhaava' for igniting anger in people against Aurangzeb.)
In India, history is constantly mythologised, myth is conflated with historic fact, and cinema often steps in as the grand preserver of momentous sentiments. In this landscape, Rama and Ravana cannot remain fiction, despite archaeological evidence pointing otherwise. Here, monarchs are divine incarnations sent to protect people from evil — and the ‘other’ is always the demonic intruder.
This constant fusion of the political and the spiritual has shaped a powerful legacy of storytelling in India, where human conflicts are not earthly but interlaced with divine influences.
This binary perspective oversimplifies complex histories, reducing them to dichotomies of good versus evil. And Bollywood biopics like Chhaava (2025), Padmaavat (2018), and Kesari (2019) have regularly participated in building, reinforcing, and capitalising on this distorted memory of the past that feeds into communal tensions.
The Business of Mythmaking
Chhaava chronicles the steadfast resistance of Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj (portrayed by Vicky Kaushal) to Mughal rule as he carries forward the legacy of his father, Maratha empire founder Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, of safeguarding Maratha independence and dominance in western India.
The film’s success owes largely to divine mythmaking and covert marketing tactics that perhaps Sambhaji — often praised for his strategic mind, ruthless spirit, and mastery of guerilla warfare — would also have been impressed with.
An adaptation of Shivaji Sawant’s Marathi novel of the same name, Laxman Utekar’s Chhaava is doing phenomenally well at the box office despite a tepid response in its pre-release days. Chhaava has garnered immense fanfare and hysteria. It has grossed Rs 293.41 crore domestically and Rs 65.83 crore worldwide (at the time of writing this article) and is expected to fly past the Rs 500 crore mark before wrapping up its theatre run.
From people shredding up screens at the sight of Akshaye Khanna’s diabolic Aurangzeb to youngsters chanting and crying with frenzied fervour in praise of Sambhaji’s bravery, social media is flooded with videos of zealous fan reactions in and outside movie halls. Even the Prime Minister has taken to social media to praise the film.
The formula has been tragically simple with Chhaava: hyper-emotional storytelling with a dash of Islamophobia stirred in with modern ideas of Swaraj in lieu of nuance and historical accuracy.
Before British rule, Swaraj, or self-governance, and the concept of an “Akhand Bharat” (unfractured India) was not explicitly articulated in the same way it is today. Despite a sense of cultural unity, India was a patchwork of different kingdoms, empires, and regional powers before being colonised.
But it comes as no surprise that a massy Bollywood biopic has no inclination to retell facts — no matter how much more thrilling than any fiction it could ever be — but fall back on reductive narrative motifs. Utekar has had to apologise to the descendants of Ganoji and Kanhoji Shirke for their portrayal as traitors that led to Sambhaji’s capture.
Reportedly, the director issued a statement clarifying his deliberate omission of Ganoji and Kanhoji’s surnames and village in order to avoid “hurting sentiments”. This is an admission of historic erasure and misrepresentation.
While it is not unexpected from Bollywood, it matters — not just to the living descendants of the people being vilified but to larger sections of people — when studied in the context of the current political zeitgeist.
Access to information has increased but media literacy is at an all-time low due to the rise of misinformation, echo chambers, and the complexity of modern media where propaganda and fake news notoriously keep flying under the radar.
The advent of artificial intelligence (AI) is increasingly complicating matters while many struggle to critically evaluate sources. In this scenario, it becomes essential to scrutinise biopics that portray historical figures who are very much relevant to the current political mood of the nation and serve to further politicise cultural identities in contemporary society.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Indian films that portray Hindus as unidimensionally righteous and Muslims as purely evil reinforce dangerous stereotypes. It’s crucial to question why figures like Aurangzeb are viewed as religious fanatics, while others who sought (and continue to seek) a Hindu rashtra are celebrated without the same scrutiny.
How Chhaava Gains from the Hypodermic Effect
The ‘Hypodermic Needle Theory’, which suggests and studies how media directly influences audiences, gained popularity in the 1930s during the rise of radio and film as mass media platforms in the shadows of the World Wars. This theory gained widespread attention after the controversial broadcast of Orson Welles' War of the Worlds in 1938, where many listeners apparently panicked.
Researchers like Harold Lasswell and others in the field of communication studies believed that audiences were passive recipients of media messages who could be easily manipulated with propaganda.
This theory imagined the media “injecting” an uncritical audience with its messages effectively and rapidly akin to a hypodermic needle pouring its contents directly into our bloodstream.
Paul Lazarsfeld and Herta Herzog debunked this theory in the 1940s, stating that opinion leaders had a far more effective way of influencing masses, proposing the two-step flow model of media manipulation.
The hypodermic effect is increasingly relevant in the digital age. With algorithms curating content, people are more exposed to targeted messages that shape beliefs and opinions. In an era of misinformation, the theory underscores the power of media, including Bollywood which is the largest film industry in the world in terms of output, in influencing public perception and behaviour.
While many critics noted the technical and narrative failings of Chhaava as a film (at the cost of receiving death threats from anonymous sources as well as disapproval from higher-ups), some sections of the audience have praised it solely because of its emotional impact. Shivaji and Sambhaji are crucial historical figures in India. They are intrinsically interconnected with Maratha pride and its people who have grown up hearing stories of their valour. However, this resistance did not exist in binaries.
There was more than religious ideology at stake, unlike what Chhaava portrays; empire-building and wealth accumulation were also key concerns of the Maratha kings.
Bargis (or Borgis), a light cavalry mercenary group of the Maratha empire, existed for this purpose alone — expansion of territory. They find space in the cultural memory of Bengal; in lullabies like "Khoka Ghumalo, Para Juralo" (Child sleeps, Neighbourhood sleeps) invoking Borgi as the bpheyman to frighten children, and singer Hemanta Mukherjee’s call to nation building in “Dhitang Dhitang Bole”.
Of course, the Maratha expansion into Bengal and Bihar, and the Bargi raids that terrorised its natives, happened long after Sambhaji’s rule. Shivaji and Sambhaji mostly focused on liberation rather than expansion or dominance. Nonetheless, Chhaava has already had a real-life impact on historic accounts.
In the aftermath of Chhaava’s release, the Maharashtra Cyber Cell has filed a case against at least four Wikipedia editors for writing "objectionable content" on Sambhaji.
The notice has cited potential a law-and-order situation in the state. Wikipedia is a free, online encyclopedia that allows users to collaboratively create and edit articles. It is a diligently curated space, generally reliable due to its use of citation sourcing and the information backed by verifiable references and links to credible sources.
This presumptuous call for censorship is not only dangerous but threatens the integrity of peaceful public discourse.
Can Contemporary Bollywood Do Biopics Better?
In recent years, Bollywood has strategically used biopics that align with a hypermasculine and hypernationalist agenda of Hindutva fascism. This kind of propaganda in films has worked because it appeals to confirmation bias and exploits emotional urgency in its people. Simplified, one-sided narratives in addition to repetition of words, sentiments, and striking visuals create the perfect formula for generating mass hysteria.
In the past few years, Bollywood has seen a rise in films that present highly selective and skewed portrayals of historical events. Films like PM Narendra Modi (2019) paints an imperfect portrait of our current Prime Minister, The Tashkent Files (2019) casts doubt on the official narrative surrounding the death of Lal Bahadur Shastri, and The Kashmir Files (2022) takes a complex historical event and frames the issue in stark, polarising terms. Sardar Udham (2021) highlights the heroism of a revolutionary figure but focuses on specific elements that resonate with contemporary political sentiment.
Counter-terrorism is another growing sub-genre of biopic films that has been a favourite of Bollywood. While Meghna Gulzar’s Raazi (2018) earned praise for not being overtly jingoistic, it also tapped into the ‘good Muslim-bad Muslim’ narrative and mainstream consciousness of viewing Pakistan as the enemy. Aditya Dhar’s Uri: The Surgical Strike (2019) glorified a “naya” (new) India that doled out warnings like “ghar me ghus ke marenge” (we will enter your home and beat/kill you).
This hypermasculine, hypernationalist bravado not only encourages unprovoked aggression but celebrates violence in the name of patriotism. Chhaava also rides on the coattails of this flagrant rhetoric that ultimately fuels hate and normalises divisional politics sans nuance.
This, in turn, leads to an erosion of the core values of a democracy. We can continue to look towards Bollywood to do better, but if it is too afraid to overstep its boundaries or finds solace in profits over ethics, then the mantle of responsibility will ultimately lie solely on culture critics, journalists, historians, and activists.
The last bastions of democracy will have to keep speaking up, even if it comes at great personal cost.
(The author is an independent film, TV and pop culture journalist who has been feeding into the great sucking maw of the internet since 2010. This is an opinion piece. The views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)