In recent years, a new debate has emerged around Indian cinema. Can films shape how people understand the state, power, and even foreign policy? The discussion intensified after films like Dhurandhar drew strong reactions from audiences and critics. Many viewers began to read such films as reflections of real political thinking. But this raises a deeper question: are films explaining policy, or are they revealing something more subtle about how a country sees itself?
Cinema does not function like a government document. It does not present official strategies or diplomatic positions. Yet, it cannot be dismissed as mere entertainment either. Films often capture the mood of a society in ways that formal texts cannot. They show how people imagine their place in the world, how they view others, and how they respond to change. This makes cinema an indirect but powerful lens to understand national identity.
If we look closely at Indian cinema over the decades, a pattern begins to appear. From Purab Aur Pachhim to Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge to Dangal, the shift is not random. These films do not talk about foreign policy directly, but they reflect how India’s global outlook has evolved. The change is visible in characters, settings, and emotional themes. It suggests a journey from caution to connection and then to confidence.
Understanding this evolution requires careful reading. Films are not facts, but they are signals. They tell us how a society feels, not just what it does. And in that feeling lies a deeper truth about India’s changing position in the world.
Was Early Indian Cinema Driven by Fear of Cultural Loss?
To understand the present, it is important to return to the past. The India shown in Purab Aur Pachhim reflects a time when the country was still finding its footing after independence. Economically fragile and politically cautious, India followed a path of non-alignment in global affairs. It tried to stay independent of major power blocs, while protecting its own identity.
This cautious approach is visible in the film’s narrative. The protagonist travels to the West, but not to adapt or learn. Instead, he acts as a cultural guardian. The West is shown as morally weak, while India is presented as stable and disciplined. This contrast is not accidental. It mirrors a deeper anxiety within the country at the time.
During this period, the Indian diaspora was often viewed with suspicion. Leaving the country was sometimes seen as a loss of talent and loyalty. The idea of “brain drain” shaped public thinking. As a result, cinema also reflected this discomfort. Characters who went abroad were often portrayed as disconnected from their roots, needing correction or guidance.
This cultural framing aligns with the broader political mood. India was protective of its identity and wary of external influence. Soft power, in this phase, was not about spreading influence. It was about preserving values. Cinema acted as a shield, reinforcing a sense of cultural superiority while expressing fear of erosion.
At the same time, it is important to note that films simplified reality. Not all Indians shared this view, and not all diaspora experiences were negative. But cinema captured a dominant sentiment. It showed a nation that was cautious, inward-looking, and unsure of its global role.
This early phase is important because it sets the foundation. It shows how cultural insecurity can shape storytelling. And it raises a key question: what changed in the years that followed?
When Did the Diaspora Become an Asset Instead of a Concern?
The shift becomes visible in the 1990s, especially with Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. By this time, India had undergone major economic reforms. The liberalisation policies of 1991 opened the economy to global markets. But the impact was not limited to trade and investment. It also changed how India viewed its people abroad.
In this new context, the diaspora was no longer seen as a loss. Instead, it became a bridge. Overseas Indians were now viewed as partners in growth, capable of contributing through investment, knowledge, and global networks. This shift in thinking is reflected clearly in the film.
The character of Raj represents a new kind of Indian identity. He is comfortable in the West but remains connected to his roots. He does not reject foreign culture, nor does he abandon Indian values. Instead, he balances both. This balance becomes his strength and moral center.
This portrayal is significant because it mirrors a broader policy change. The Indian state began to actively engage with its diaspora. Programs and initiatives were introduced to strengthen these ties. The message was clear: you do not have to return to belong.
Cinema played a key role in reinforcing this idea. Films reassured audiences that identity could travel across borders. They created an emotional link between India and its global community. This was not direct policy messaging, but it supported the same goal.
In this phase, soft power became more outward-looking. It was no longer defensive. Instead, it was about connection and influence. India began to see itself as part of a global network rather than an isolated entity.
This transformation raises another question. If the 1990s were about connection, what defines the current phase of Indian cinema?
Has Indian Cinema Moved From Connection to Global Assertion?
The answer becomes clearer with films like Dangal. Unlike earlier films, Dangal does not focus on the diaspora or cultural conflict. Instead, it tells a story rooted in local reality but with universal appeal. Themes like discipline, ambition, and family struggle resonate across borders.
The global success of Dangal, especially in Asian markets, marked a turning point. It showed that Indian cinema could reach international audiences without relying on nostalgia or cultural explanation. The story spoke for itself.
This shift reflects a broader change in India’s global position. The country is no longer just engaging with the world; it is asserting itself. Cultural exports, including films, are now part of this presence. They carry narratives that align with how India wants to be seen globally.
In this phase, soft power becomes more confident. It does not seek approval. It assumes relevance. Indian stories are presented as globally meaningful, not just locally significant. This is a major departure from earlier decades.
At the same time, this confidence comes with new challenges. Global audiences are diverse, and expectations are higher. Films must balance authenticity with accessibility. They must remain rooted while being understandable across cultures.
This evolution also changes how audiences interpret cinema. Viewers are more likely to connect films with real-world issues. This is where debates around films like Dhurandhar become important. People begin to ask whether cinema is shaping political understanding.
But this leads to a critical point. Are we expecting too much from films?
Can Cinema Really Explain Policy or Just Reflect Public Thinking?
It is important to draw a clear line between reflection and explanation. Cinema does not provide factual accounts of foreign policy. It simplifies complex realities and focuses on emotional narratives. Treating films as direct representations of policy can lead to misunderstanding.
However, this does not mean films lack value. They offer insight into the public imagination. They show how people feel about their country’s role in the world. This emotional context is often missing from formal analysis.
For example, the journey from Purab Aur Pachhim to Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge to Dangal reflects a broader shift in mindset. It shows how India moved from caution to connection to confidence. This progression is not exact or linear, but it captures an underlying trend.
Films also reveal contradictions. They show tensions between tradition and modernity, between local identity and global ambition. These tensions are part of any evolving society. By observing them in cinema, we gain a deeper understanding of change.
The current debate around films like Dhurandhar highlights this complexity. Some viewers see such films as political statements. Others view them as entertainment. The truth lies somewhere in between.
Cinema should not be treated as a policy guide. But it should not be ignored either. It acts as a cultural mirror, reflecting how a nation sees itself and how it wants to be seen.
In the end, films do not tell us what a country does. They tell us how it feels about what it does. And that feeling often shapes the choices that follow.
The evolution of Indian cinema over the decades shows a clear pattern of change. From protection to connection to assertion, the journey reflects a nation growing more confident in its global role. Films may not provide answers, but they ask important questions.
And in those questions lies a deeper understanding of India’s place in the world today.
