Bollywood has done it again. And by ‘done it again’, one means that familiar, well-rehearsed trick of creative courage that only ever seems to kick in when Hindu symbols are involved.
This time the provocation comes neatly packaged as Ghooskhor Pandit -helpfully subtitled Corrupt Priest, lest anyone miss the point.
The teaser has barely finished buffering on mobile screens before protests erupted, Brahmin organisations took to the streets, and a Public Interest Litigation made its way to the Delhi High Court.
The pandit, as imagined by Bollywood
Manoj Bajpayee, in response, has washed his hands of the matter with the efficiency of a Pontius Pilate cameo. The producers, meanwhile, have chosen the time-honoured Bollywood response to controversy – silence, preferably broken only by the sound of advance bookings.
At this point, outrage is almost beside the point. The real question is how predictably this outrage was provoked. Hindi cinema does not ‘target’ Hindu priests accidentally. It does so with the consistency of a well-funded research project.
The Hindu pandit, as imagined by Bollywood, is a versatile creature. In one scene, he wears a tilak, rings a bell, and waves an Aarati plate. In the very next, the bell disappears, the Aarati morphs into a sword, and the tilak is replaced by the fresh blood of someone he has just beheaded. It is a remarkable cinematic transformation – equal parts spiritual and homicidal.
Selective secularism on the silver screen
Contrast this with the treatment reserved for other religious figures. One struggles to recall a mainstream Hindi film titled Rapist Mullah or Perverted Priest. Even fictional ones. Even metaphorical ones. Even in passing. When they do appear, they are usually wise counsellors, gentle do-gooders, or victims of misunderstanding. Evil, when it must exist, is carefully de-religionised.
This is not about the Brahmin community alone, though that is where the protests have understandably erupted. It is about a larger, older habit – using Hindu symbols as shorthand for hypocrisy, violence, or moral rot, because they are safe targets. They do not explode theatres. They do not trigger global outrage. They merely grumble, file PILs, and continue buying tickets.
From Deewar to today, the pattern holds
Hindi cinema has trained its audience well. In Deewar, Amitabh Bachchan’s iconic rebel refuses to enter a temple – faith, after all, is for suckers – but clutches his 786 badge like a bulletproof talisman. The message is subtle only if one is determined not to notice it. Hindu religiosity is regressive; Islamic symbolism is reassuring. The hero knows which side of the superstition divide he is on.
And this pattern is not limited to Bollywood. Vernacular cinema has matched it scene for scene, stereotype for stereotype. The formula is simple: Hindu faith equals menace or mockery; other faiths equal moral insulation.
The defence, when challenged, is always the same. ‘Creative freedom. ‘Art holds up a mirror.’ ‘Why are you so sensitive?’ These arguments would sound more convincing if the mirror were angled occasionally in other directions. Creative freedom, like courage, loses some of its shine when it is exercised only against those least likely to retaliate.
Why silence is mistaken for consent
Hindus, it must be said, have been extraordinarily patient consumers of this imagination. They have tolerated, debated, critiqued – and ultimately patronised – the very industry that repeatedly caricatures them. Ticket sales have rarely dipped. Stars have rarely been boycotted. The silence has been mistaken for consent.
Perhaps Ghooskhor Pandit will also pass, after a few weeks of noise and a few columns of indignation. The film may or may not change its title. The courts may or may not intervene. But Bollywood will have learnt nothing new – except that the safest villain, as always, wears a tilak.
And somewhere, already, a writer is drafting the next script. The priest will be corrupt. The symbolism will be obvious. The outrage will be predictable. And the industry will once again congratulate itself for being ‘bold’.
