Part 1: Why the propaganda charge matters

Aditya Dhar’s Dhurandhar places its dramatic imagination inside Pakistan’s security establishment, criminal networks, and ideological underworld. That setting matters because it moves the Hindi spy thriller away from familiar formulas in which India is often asked to share moral blame for violence directed against it. The film instead frames Pakistan’s proxy war, cross-border terrorism, and ideological hostility as central facts of the story. For many viewers, this directness carries the emotional force of long-delayed recognition: a mainstream Hindi film finally speaks in the language of Indian national security rather than in the sentimental vocabulary of permanent conciliation.

The sharp criticism directed at Dhurandhar therefore cannot be understood only as a response to its craft or politics. The film was accused by sections of Bollywood, media commentary, and ideological critics of being Islamophobic, Hindu-nationalistic, jingoistic, and propagandist. Yet the controversy reveals a deeper question: when a film depicts Pakistan’s use of terrorism and Islamic fundamentalism as an instrument of state strategy, why is that depiction treated as inherently communal or extremist? The answer lies less in the film itself than in the narrative conventions it violates.

Propaganda, counterpropaganda, and competing values

Dhurandhar rests on several claims: Pakistan has used terrorism against India; elements of the Pakistani establishment have weaponized Islamic fundamentalism; the Two-Nation Theory continues to shape strategic hostility; slogans such as ‘Ghazwa-e-Hind’ remain part of extremist imagination; ethnic and religious minorities in Pakistan have faced deep insecurity; underworld networks have intersected with terrorism; and peace overtures from India have often been exploited by Pakistan to buy time, influence opinion, and expand proxy networks. These claims are not marginal claims in Indian security discourse. They are part of a long record discussed by diplomats, intelligence veterans, military analysts, journalists, and scholars of South Asian geopolitics.

The central analytical question is therefore not whether Pakistan would call such a film propaganda. It predictably would. The more important question is why Indian cultural gatekeepers should find this framing objectionable. A distinction must be made between hostility toward Indian Muslims, which should have no place in responsible public discourse, and criticism of Pakistan’s security establishment or Islamist extremism, which is a legitimate subject of geopolitical analysis. Dhurandhar is significant because it refuses to collapse these categories.

Any narrative that advances values can be described as propaganda in a broad sense. By that standard, the criticism of Dhurandhar is also value-laden and therefore propagandistic. The real dispute is not whether the film has a point of view; it openly does. The dispute is that its point of view contradicts Bollywood’s long-dominant moral grammar, especially on Pakistan, secularism, nationalism, and Hindu civilizational identity.

Bollywood’s inherited ideological template

Post-Independence Bollywood developed within the political atmosphere of India’s governing elite. That elite combined Nehruvian statecraft, socialism, selective secularism, and Congress-Left realpolitik into a public culture that was presented as liberal and modern. In cinema, this produced a recognizable pattern: Hindu society was frequently shown as needing reform, Western ideological vocabulary was treated as the language of progress, and minorities were often depicted in morally idealized terms. The stated purpose was social reform; the effect was often a lopsided cultural pedagogy that made Hindu traditions appear regressive while leaving other forms of communal conservatism underexamined.

This template may be called the ‘reform agenda.’ Its first element is Hindu or Hindu-majority defensiveness: Indian society must confess its own failings before it may speak about external threats. Its second element is ideological dependence on Western or Left-liberal categories of legitimacy. Its third element is a reluctance to scrutinize minority fundamentalism, even when such scrutiny is necessary for social honesty and national security. Over time, this framework became so normalized that it began to pass for neutrality.

Dhurandhar disrupts all three elements. It does not ask Hindu society or India to perform self-condemnation before addressing terrorism. It does not seek Western ideological approval for India’s security choices. It depicts Islamic fundamentalism as a political weapon without treating Indian Muslims as suspect. This distinction is crucial for a civilizationally confident and socially responsible discourse. A nation can defend itself against terrorism while preserving respect for its own Muslim citizens and for the cultural richness of Islamic traditions.

Pakistan-sensitivity and cinematic sentimentality

A recurring weakness in mainstream Hindi cinema has been the tendency to extend the ‘good minority’ convention beyond India’s social context and apply it to Pakistan itself. This has produced films in which the Pakistani establishment is softened, the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) is separated from anti-India operations through convenient plot devices, and Indians and Pakistanis are portrayed as one people trapped equally by cynical states. Such stories can be emotionally appealing, but they can also blur strategic realities.

Pakistan’s official strategy has often relied on precisely this ambiguity. Terror attacks are attributed to non-state actors; talks are demanded regardless of attacks; civilian governments seek concessions by invoking their own weakness before the military; restraint during dialogue is used to consolidate networks; and shared language, food, music, and memory are invoked to weaken India’s strategic resolve. Former Foreign Secretary Shyam Saran has warned that cultural affinity is real and valuable, but it must not determine the calculus of interstate relations. That distinction is the heart of mature diplomacy.

Bollywood’s sentimental Pakistan narratives have therefore often run closer to Pakistan’s strategic preference than to India’s security requirements. The issue is not that cinema should become an arm of the state. The issue is that popular cinema should not mistake emotional softness for moral seriousness. In family conversations, college debates, and ordinary viewing experiences, many Indians have recognized this dissonance: the pleasure of music, language, and shared culture sits uneasily beside the memory of terror attacks, wars, and diplomatic betrayals.

The geopolitical history behind Dhurandhar

The film’s emotional power comes from its connection to India’s national-security memory. The 1971 war, the Shimla Agreement, the release of Pakistani prisoners of war, the hope that civilian politics in Pakistan could be strengthened through Indian restraint, the later setbacks in Bangladesh, and the weakening of Indian intelligence capabilities under unilateral peace gestures all form part of a contested strategic history. This history is not merely archival. It continues to shape how Indian audiences interpret stories of terrorism, negotiation, and retaliation.

The IC 814 hijacking in 1999 remains one of the most painful symbols of this history. It followed Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s Lahore outreach and the Kargil conflict, and it ended with India releasing terrorists to save hostages. The 26/11 Mumbai attacks in 2008 deepened the perception that Pakistan-backed violence could impose unbearable costs while still being followed by diplomatic restraint. The 2009 joint statement at Sharm el-Sheikh, which mentioned Balochistan and appeared to delink composite dialogue from action on terrorism, further intensified public unease about the old peace process.

Narendra Modi’s rise marked a visible shift in this strategic language. After initial outreach to Pakistan, the government responded to major terror attacks through cross-border military action and a more assertive diplomatic posture. Alongside official actions, public debate also absorbed reports, allegations, denials, and speculation about covert measures against terror and underworld networks. The phrase ‘unknown gunmen’ became part of a wider popular mythology around counterterrorism, even where facts, conjecture, and fiction were difficult to separate.

Dhurandhar draws from this world: intelligence analysis, public anger, diplomatic memory, covert-war speculation, and the accumulated frustration of citizens who believe India’s sacrifices were often diluted by elite sentimentality. Its world is not documentary history, but it is built upon a recognizable strategic imagination. That is why the film feels larger than a conventional espionage thriller. It is cinematic fiction in conversation with national-security history.

Part 2: Dhurandhar as counterpropaganda

The significance of Dhurandhar lies not only in its narrative but in its act of cultural defiance. It challenges the assumption that Bollywood’s inherited framework is neutral while any nationalist alternative is propaganda. The film’s success suggests that a large audience was willing to embrace a story that treats Indian security concerns as legitimate, Pakistani state hostility as real, and cultural confidence as compatible with pluralism.

The first major transgression is the refusal of compulsory Indian self-flagellation. In the older template, a film about terrorism often had to balance external aggression with internal Indian bigotry. Dhurandhar does not take that route. It says plainly that Pakistan has weaponized terrorism and Islamic fundamentalism against India. The protagonist’s Sikh identity adds another dimension: the film’s patriotic framework is not narrowly sectarian but civilizational and national. It allows Sikh valour, Hindu memory, and Indian statecraft to coexist within a broader dharmic and national imagination.

The second transgression is its rejection of ideological dependence. The Indian in Dhurandhar is patient, strategic, and self-assured. This is not the Indian who waits for Western validation before acting in defence of national interest. Indian public opinion has historically admired such self-confidence, whether in Indira Gandhi’s defiance during the 1971 war, India’s nuclear tests in 1974 and 1998, or contemporary responses to cross-border terrorism. The gap between elite discomfort and public approval is one of the film’s unspoken subjects.

The third transgression is conceptual clarity. The film does not conflate Islam, Indian Muslims, and Pakistan. This matters greatly. Responsible criticism of Pakistan’s military-jihadi complex should never become suspicion of Indian Muslims. At the same time, respect for Indian pluralism should not require silence about Islamist extremism or Pakistan’s strategic use of religious radicalism. Dhurandhar attempts to occupy that difficult but necessary space.

Archetypes, memory, and the power of recognition

Dhar’s storytelling works through archetypes. The fictional figure of ‘Ajay Sanyal’ evokes the public memory of Ajit Doval: intelligence work, counterterror doctrine, strategic boldness, and the image of a state willing to pursue its enemies. Political figures, terrorists, gangsters, and historic incidents similarly operate as charged symbols. Asif Ali Zardari, Nawaz Sharif, Dawood Ibrahim, Ilyas Kashmiri, Rehman Dakait, 26/11, IC 814, and Demonetization are not merely references; they are cultural triggers that carry accumulated emotional and political meaning.

This archetypal method explains why the film resonated beyond ordinary plot mechanics. Viewers brought their own memories to the narrative: news images of Mumbai under attack, the humiliation of hostage exchanges, debates over surgical strikes, and years of watching Hindi films that treated Pakistan with excessive delicacy. Dhurandhar does not need to explain every detail because the audience already possesses the emotional archive.

The film also provides catharsis by imagining justice against long-protected enemies. Some of this is factual, some fictional, some speculative, and some counterfactual. That blend is common in political cinema. What is unusual in the Hindi mainstream is the direction of its emotional sympathy. Instead of glamorizing criminals or sentimentalizing Pakistan, the film allows Indian anger to be morally intelligible.

Humanization without false redemption

One of the more sophisticated features of Dhurandhar is that it does not make every Pakistani character a cartoon. It permits cultural refinement, emotional complexity, family attachment, and personal charm. Yet it does not treat these traits as automatic redemption. This is consistent with a classical understanding of villainy found in Indian narrative traditions: a figure may possess courage, intelligence, aesthetic taste, or loyalty, and still be morally accountable for destructive actions.

This moral clarity is important. Modern melodrama often confuses humanization with absolution. Dhurandhar separates the two. A character can be human without being innocent. A society can possess music, poetry, dress, humour, and refinement while its state institutions sponsor violence. This distinction allows the film to respect culture without romanticizing power.

Culture, secularism, and national confidence

The film’s use of Pakistani and Middle Eastern music, regional dress, and Islamic cultural motifs complicates the accusation that anti-Pakistan storytelling is inherently Islamophobic. It demonstrates that affection for cultural forms can coexist with criticism of state policy and extremist ideology. This is a healthier model of secularism than one that demands denial of security realities. It is also closer to India’s civilizational instinct: dharmic traditions have historically engaged with difference through debate, adaptation, hospitality, and resilience, not through national self-erasure.

For a blog committed to unity among Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism, this point is essential. National security discourse should not become a vehicle for sectarian hostility. The dharmic view of society demands truthfulness, restraint, justice, and protection of the innocent. A critique of Pakistan-sponsored terrorism is strongest when it remains disciplined, factual, and morally precise. Dhurandhar is most valuable when read in that spirit: not as a rejection of pluralism, but as a rejection of sentimental weakness masquerading as pluralism.

Why the counterpropaganda label fits

Dhurandhar may be called propaganda only if the term is applied equally to all cinema that advances a worldview. Bollywood has long advanced worldviews on caste, religion, modernity, nationalism, gender, class, and Pakistan. The difference is that older ideological patterns were often disguised as reform, humanism, or secular common sense. Dhurandhar does not hide its commitments. It places them openly before the audience.

That openness is why the film functions as counterpropaganda. It counters a decades-old cinematic tendency to soften Pakistan, pathologize Hindu confidence, outsource moral approval to Western categories, and treat Indian strategic assertiveness as dangerous. It also reveals the machinery of the older template by violating it. Once the violation succeeds commercially, the template becomes visible as a template rather than as neutrality.

The larger lesson is not that every film should imitate Dhurandhar. The lesson is that Indian cinema has room for a wider range of national-security storytelling. Serious art can be patriotic. A film can be critical of Pakistan’s establishment without insulting Indian Muslims. It can honour Sikh courage, Hindu civilizational memory, and Indian sovereignty without diminishing Buddhism, Jainism, or other dharmic paths. It can respect culture while condemning terror. It can be emotionally intense and still analytically meaningful.

Ultimately, Dhurandhar exposes the cynicism of a film ecosystem that often presented its own ideological preferences as moral universals. Its importance lies in making the ‘reform agenda’ visible and contestable. Whether one agrees with every narrative choice or not, the film has forced a necessary debate about Bollywood, propaganda, Pakistan-India relations, national security, Hinduphobia, secularism, and the politics of cultural representation. In that sense, Dhurandhar is best understood not as simple propaganda, but as a forceful act of cinematic counterpropaganda.

---

Inspired by this post on Pragyata.

---