There’s a fine line between storytelling and statecraft, and Indian cinema has long crossed it. What we’re witnessing since the past in present times is not just a reflection of national sentiment, but a deliberate cultivation of it. The Indian state and its entertainment industry have turned cinema into a megaphone for political narratives — especially when it comes to Pakistan. It’s no longer just ‘art imitating life’. This is propaganda wrapped in tri-color, served with a side of chest-thumping nationalism.
From news anchors to film directors, everyone seems to be reading off the same script: ‘Pakistan, the ISI, Balochistan, Kashmir.” They’ve become prime-time buzzwords. The irony? Every Indian knows about the ISI, but many would struggle to recall the name of their own intelligence agency and ask a common man in Pakistan about the Indian agencies, they’ll struggle. That’s the depth of narrative saturation. Meanwhile, any critique or discussion around Kashmir is instantly silenced under the guise of “internal matters”. But that doesn’t stop the Indian state from poking into Balochistan, does it? The double standards are clear — loud in cinema, soft in conscience.
Cinema as a Weapon
This isn’t about independent media or performing arts anymore. The Indian entertainment industry isn’t just complicit — it’s active. It runs on a charged fuel of curated nationalism. Every few months, a new film hits theatres, telling civilians who the enemy is. The enemy looks the same. Dresses the same. Prays the same. And almost always, he has a Pakistani passport.
The indoctrination isn’t new. Gadar: Ek Prem Katha — back in 2001 — painted a brutally one-sided picture of cross-border and religious animosity, where Pakistan was the clear aggressor and India the righteous avenger. The idea was reinstated in Gadar 2, to which Pakistani actor Babar Ali criticized the film for showing Pakistan in a negative light, saying it adds to a pattern in Bollywood where patriotic films are made by putting Pakistan down. LOC: Kargil followed the same route, glorifying Indian military operations with no space for nuance or introspection. The trend was set. Over time, it became normal.
Every Screen a Battlefield
Then came films like Vicky Kaushal’s Uri: The Surgical Strike, which took things to another level. Based on a real military operation, the movie doesn’t just dramatize — it deifies. The Pakistani side is vilified without question. “How’s the Josh?” wasn’t just a movie line, it became a national slogan, repeated in newsrooms, reality shows, award shows and school assemblies. It was everywhere. That’s the power of cinema. And that’s exactly what makes it dangerous when it stops telling stories and starts selling ideologies.
Phantom, banned in Pakistan, creates a fictional world where Indian agents are on a mission to wipe out those behind the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai (2008). It presents raw intelligence as if the director had access to ISI playbooks. The film doesn’t question, it executes. Similarly Agent Vinod follows suit, with an all-too-familiar setup: Pakistani agents, secret missions, and Islamic-sounding code names. It’s like the entire nation is at war onscreen, every single time.
Then came Fighter — a more recent and painfully loud example of how Bollywood is now in full-blown war-mode. Cloaked as a patriotic, high-octane aerial drama, Fighter doubles down on the enemy-making formula. It turns real geopolitical tensions (especially focusing on Pulwama and Balakot) into popcorn entertainment, all while reducing Pakistan (again) to a faceless, extremist “other.” Fighter jets, slo-mo salutes, and jingoistic dialogue don’t just entertain , they inflame. Once again, Pakistan is the problem. And once again, Indian cinema offers military heroism as the solution. Subtlety? Doesn’t exist. These films aren’t just cashing in on nationalism — they’re manufacturing it.
Even Haider, which tried to approach the Kashmir conflict with some depth, wasn’t spared. Banned in Pakistan, the film still operates in the larger Indian framework, one where state violence is secondary to “national unity.” Its depiction of the insurgency, disappearances, and the trauma of Kashmiris touches a nerve — and that alone made it controversial. That tells you how allergic the Indian state is to anything that deviates from its carefully constructed narrative.
We can’t ignore how Islamophobia has seeped into this narrative architecture either. Films like Kurbaan use Muslim identity, stereotype them and Pakistanis as shorthand for danger. Religious markers become cues for suspicion. The subliminal messaging is clear; patriotism has a religion, and it’s not yours. Also, film-makers, what is up with the over the top and completely unrealistic depiction of Pakistanis and Muslims.
The Price of Propaganda
The saddest part? The art is dying. Old Bollywood, despite its flaws, knew how to tell a story. Now, the script is pre-approved. Filmmakers are less concerned with nuance, and more with national pride. Cinema has become a recruiting tool — for ideology, not imagination. And maybe that’s why Bollywood is losing its shine. When films are built to provoke rather than provoke thought, when they repeat the same enemy with the same ending, people start to tune out. You can only watch so much glorified warfare before you realize you’re being programmed.
Let’s be honest. This isn’t entertainment anymore. It’s narrative warfare. And the frontline is no longer the border — it’s the cinema screen.
Where Pakistan Stands
Now compare this to Pakistan’s film industry. It may not be producing blockbusters on the scale of Bollywood, and it’s certainly nowhere near its financial or global reach — but here’s the difference: it isn’t in the business of creating enemies. Pakistani cinema doesn’t churn out a new film every few months reminding its citizens who to hate. There’s no state-approved villain. No obsessive need to showcase the other side as evil.
Instead, Pakistani filmmakers — within their limitations — are trying to tell stories that resonate with people, not states. Stories of family, of struggle, of love, of laughter. There’s no ministry breathing down their necks, dictating which flags to wave or which slogans to shout. That’s not to say there are no challenges or pressures — but the obsession with creating a perpetual enemy isn’t one of them.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the healthier path forward.
Sources: Reddit, GNN, Express Tribune
