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The dilemma of cinema, especially independent cinema is too important to ignore, because in an era where someone else decides what we get to watch, films that feel too real often face cuts, censorship, or are silenced!
Every few weeks, a new controversy seems to swirl around the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), India’s official censoring body. Whether it’s chopping off a kissing scene in a global superhero blockbuster or demanding the alteration of an emoji in a Formula 1-themed film, the board’s decisions are increasingly raising eyebrows. While one might momentarily brush aside the edits to international films in the name of “cultural sensitivity,” it’s the interference with Indian films especially those that address caste, gender, or institutional critique that has triggered deeper concerns. The CBFC isn’t just editing films anymore; it appears to be shaping what narratives the country is allowed to see.
Phule, a film about the 19th-century social reformers Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule, reportedly faced demands to remove several key terms. Dhadak 2, despite being a remake of a romantic drama, has undergone a string of reported suggested cuts. The concern isn’t about trimming content for clarity or audience suitability but what is being asked to be cut. When terms like “caste” are replaced with “varna,” and films are flagged for simply portraying uncomfortable truths about society, the censor board’s role starts to look less like that of a certifier and more like a gatekeeper of history and ideology. But at least these films with enough backing and support find a chance to reach the audience. What comes under fire are films that don’t have the strength to go beyond the cut. Nothing encapsulates this more than the fate of Punjab 95, a film based on the life of human rights activist Jaswant Singh Khalra. The CBFC reportedly asked for as many as 120 cuts including the removal of the words “Punjab,” names of the Punjab Police, Sikh hymns, and even the name of the man the film is based on. If the board believes a story is controversial, why not let it release and allow the audience to decide for themselves? After all, even Chhaava sparked strong reactions so why allow one film while sidelining others? The role of art isn’t just to comfort; it’s also to confront, no matter which side it challenges. And this isn’t a one-off incident anymore; it’s starting to look like a pattern worth paying attention to.
Also Read: #BingeRecommends: Varun Grover's KISS offers an insightful dive into the CBFC's controversial decision-making!
CBFC’s selective censorship highlights when the scissors cut too deep!
Acclaimed filmmaker Sandhya Suri’s Santosh, a searing drama that was selected as the UK’s entry for the Oscars, still hasn’t been released in India. The CBFC’s extensive demands for cuts led Suri to withhold the release, saying the film would lose its essence. Actor Shahana Goswami, who stars in the film, expressed her dismay.
“I don't think that just because the film is selected for the Academy’s from another country, it should necessarily come here. But yes, a film that is about India and about the society and the culture and the happenings of a community that is Indian in general, I feel like there shouldn't be a reason for films not to come out. CBFC is meant to be a board that certifies films under A/PG-13 or U/UA/S category but it shouldn't be coming in the way of a film’s release or anybody's artistic expression. It’s sad that a film about India and set in India can’t be seen by people here. That just feels bizarre and unreasonable.”
The sentiment is echoed by many independent filmmakers who find themselves repeatedly hitting the wall of censorship. Harshad Nalawade, whose debut feature Follower premiered at the International Film Festival of Rotterdam in 2023, is clear-eyed about the environment as he states it’s very unfortunate, of course. But it’s not surprising.
"The country right now only wants to see films that show an enemy that’s an outsider like Pakistan or the British. But we don’t want to see films that talk about villains on the inside like gender discrimination, caste, or patriarchy.”
Nalawade, who also co-created the Netflix original 'Killer Soup', highlights a critical blind spot in which narratives are allowed to thrive. It’s a frustration shared by Mumbai-based filmmaker Parth Saurabh, whose debut Pokhar Ke Dunu Paar earned acclaim for its nuanced storytelling.
“The censor board needs to be more accepting and inclusive about opinions presented through films. I'm not just talking about Santosh here, but all kinds of films. If there is space to create a majoritarian narrative through films like The Kashmir Files and The Kerala Story, there should be space for the counter-narrative. This selective censoring is problematic. All art should be allowed to exist and it’s up to the audience what they take away from it.”
Beyond censorship, there’s also the question of survival for independent films even after certification. Anand Raaj, actor, writer, and founder of Open Theatre OTT, a platform for indie cinema underscores how deeply distribution issues are stacked against low-budget films.
“We don’t have a distribution system for movies made under ₹5 crore. Makers hopelessly try to stuff their movies into the current system which is designed for films above ₹10 crore. Any film under ₹5 crore without a major face will need a huge favor by someone powerful enough to fit it in. Do you think Laapataa Ladies would have reached anywhere without Aamir Khan?”
Raaj’s debut Andaman launched his mission to spotlight untold stories. But in today’s environment, it seems even getting those stories seen is a monumental task more so when the narrative challenges the status quo.
Who really decides what the country watches?
At the heart of the issue lies a question that goes beyond certification; it's about whether Indian audiences are truly trusted to think for themselves. If filmmakers are being stifled at the source, and certain truths are deemed too “sensitive” to be shown, what does that say about our democracy, our art, and our belief in free expression? The problem isn’t just about what’s being cut, it’s about what’s being silenced, and whether that silence is shaped by assumptions about how audiences will react. After all, films like Santosh have been appreciated internationally. Even stories made outside India that explore a country’s deeper issues often receive praise, but when the same lens is turned inward, they suddenly face resistance. And more than anything, if the film is “indie” it seems to face a different, often harsher treatment. That leaves the question wide open - is it the fault of the system alone, or does the audience bear some responsibility too? Goswami, who starred in various indie projects, films or series, believes the problem is complex and layered, tied deeply to India’s diversity and how cinema has been historically consumed.
“It's a very complex answer because it's a combination of things. India is a very big country with many cultures, languages, and industries. Many indie films are regional-language films, and it's only recently, thanks to OTT platforms, that subtitling has made such films accessible to a pan-Indian audience. Bollywood largely mainstream Hindi cinema has long been the default export across the country. Within this framework, audiences have developed a habit of viewing cinema primarily as an escape. At a mass level, people view cinema as an outing. You go with your family, you eat popcorn, it’s a break from the drudgery of daily life. So there has been a hesitation in watching films that are hard-hitting, that hit too close to home. People want something larger-than-life, removed from their own struggles.”
But she also believes this mindset is changing. “Today, good content, whether hard-hitting or not, gets appreciated. Even with Santosh, I’ve had people reach out who watched it illegally and told me how much they loved it. And it came from strata of society I didn’t expect would watch a film like this.” The trouble, she explains, lies not just in audience readiness, but in how such films are promoted or rather, how they’re not. “Independent films get the worst time slots in theatres, they barely run for a few days, and that poor box office becomes a stamp of failure. That then hurts their OTT deals. It’s a larger ecosystem issue. Producers and distributors don’t support these films well enough, and then audiences don’t even know they exist. Maybe we as audiences owe it to smaller films to make that effort to show up. And distributors need to meet us halfway.” Whereas independent filmmaker Nalawade see some truth in the perception that many indie films speak primarily to festival circuits. “A lot of these indie films are trying to communicate only to festival or international audiences. But there are also plenty trying to reach Indian audiences; they just don’t know how to. They don’t have the marketing budget. The amount big films spend on promotion, indie filmmakers could make two more films with that. We need cheaper ways to market these films.”
Another indie filmmaker, Saurabh elaboartes that the issue runs even deeper, touching on education and exposure. “We, as an audience, are used to a loud cinematic language. Most films that succeed at festivals don’t fit that mold. It’s not just about categorization, it's about how we understand cinema as an art form. Why is cinema not a part of school education when music, literature, and fine arts are? If we grew up learning about cinema, maybe we’d also be better equipped to receive it. And again, with such limited budgets, indie films simply can’t compete in terms of visibility.” Raaj extends on this as he believes the problem lies in the lack of a diverse cinematic culture.
“In fact, any niche in India is larger than the population of most countries. We have incredible opportunities to create all kinds of cinema, but we haven’t built a culture that values it. Even those who begin with indie films eventually move to the mainstream. In the West, where even the biggest stars regularly take on independent projects. Here, an indie film without a big name isn’t even considered a real film. It’s treated like a filmmaker’s bio-data. With no revenue platforms, filmmakers chase festivals and in doing so, forget the core Indian audience. How many indie filmmakers have even tried making a comedy film?”
This critique highlights a truth many acknowledge but rarely say aloud that India’s independent cinema doesn’t just need protection from censorship, it needs a shift in perception, both within the industry and among audiences. And until those shifts happen on screen, behind it, and in front of it, the divide will only widen.
Bridging the gap and finding a path for films!
It's essenial that we find a way to bridge this gap and improve the situation of getting more visibility to such vital films so that newer films like Homebound, Sabor Bonda and others don’t suffer the same fate. Goswami suggests that the solution lies in addressing multiple gaps in the system beginning with the way these films are marketed. “The way to bridge the gap, let's say there are multiple ways of doing it. We need marketing teams that are willing to work at a lower cost. Right now, visibility is tied to how much money you have. That’s a very skewed way of being in this industry.” She believes that if the government or independent bodies could help subsidize the marketing costs for smaller films, it would give these stories a fairer chance to reach audiences and generate curiosity. She also emphasizes the need for alternative exhibition spaces like venues where independent films aren’t just squeezed into odd time slots but are given a real chance to thrive.
“Maybe we need new kinds of theatre spaces where the entire programming is focused on indie cinema. This would allow people to actually go and watch these films at convenient timings and over longer periods. Audience behavior is just as crucial. We’re all guilty of saying, ‘It’ll come on OTT, we’ll watch it then.’ But if you really care about a filmmaker or actor, you should make the effort to go see the film in theatres.”
She also urges OTT platforms to take more responsibility when they do acquire such films.“They need to promote these smaller films more than the big ones. Everyone knows where to find the big films, but indie ones need that extra push.” And firmly believes film festivals, too, can serve as strong support systems. “They offer a great opportunity to watch these films with full-house audiences who care. Even if it's not a full theatrical release, regular festivals and screenings give the film a life beyond one show and let audiences engage with it collectively.” Filmmakers like Nalawade echoe the point and adds another layer to this as accessibility. “Ticket prices should be lower in theatres for indie films so that people are more willing to take the risk. And at a very early age, we should find ways to make children fall in love with good cinema. They are our future audience." Saurabh expresses his doubts bluntly saying that he seriously doesn't know what can be done to create more visibility.
“It’s important for cinema journalists and influencers to take this up. Indie filmmakers must explore new ways to be seen, but these films should not be competing with mainstream releases for slots in PVR. It’s ridiculously expensive and meaningless.”
For him, just like Goswami and Nalawade point out, the future lies in separate spaces dedicated to indie cinema. Raaj feels the issue lies in the fundamental disconnect between distribution and audience. “We need a distribution platform that can actually generate revenue for indie films. Right now, filmmakers are making films for festivals, not for the people here. The day we have a platform and an audience that meet each other halfway, even one film like Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro will be enough to change the scene.”
At the heart of it, everyone from actors to filmmakers to audiences wants the same thing - for good stories to be seen and heard. But right now, films, especially independent ones, are stuck in a system that doesn’t support them. Censorship blocks their voices, theatres don’t give them space, and low budgets make it hard to reach the mass audiences. And while there are small wins and changing mindsets, it’s not enough. What’s needed is a better system, one that gives independent or otherwise unconventional films a real chance at visibility, respect, and a fair shot. Because until that happens, we’ll keep losing powerful stories not because they aren’t good, but because they weren’t even allowed to be seen, or worse, they were only seen in a sanitised, watered-down form.
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