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Hindustan Times
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Review: Muslim Identity in Hindi Cinema by Mohammad Asim Siddiqui
The pervasive influence of new information and communication technology has transformed culture, literature, the fine arts, and other forms of entertainment into powerful transnational productions. Now, cinema serves as a reflective mirror to our rapidly evolving social landscape, illuminating and informing us about significant societal shifts. Ranveer Singh as Khilji in Padmavat. 'An unprecedented surge in structuring films on themes related to Muslim rulers reveals a sense of naivety on the part of the directors, who seem to believe that retelling the past or the imagined past settles the question of cultural identity.' (Film still) Films with their vivid characterisation, intriguing visuals, and gripping storylines transcend fantasies of desire and reveal what lies beneath the vicissitudes of life. Cinema appears to be the site of every twist in collective life, upending our settled understanding of lived experience. The postmodern era has given rise to transformational cinema, queer cinema, and politically charged films that lend a voice to subcultures, fostering a sense of empathy and inclusivity. 185pp, ₹3145; Routledge The widely admired portrayal of fervent nationalism has given rise to a new notion, 'cine patriotism,' which is essentially a stagnant concept. It resonates with Bollywood, which often constructs identity within a particular national and religious context. Identity is a slippery and multilayered concept, and when it pertains to those people who, in Franz Fanon's vivid phrase, are without any anchor, without horizon, and colourless, it becomes more complex. For Indian cinema, national identity can only be constructed if it is contrasted with a less-than-desirable, if not loathsome, other. It is the other's ghostly presence that goes well with the gullible audience. In cinematographic projection, the other is the Muslim, who is fictionalised and plays the assumed role. The narrative and visuals fix him in violence, hostility, and aggression. His story is constructed through fantasy, myth and falsification, which leaves him experiencing himself as the other. The portrayal is done through two vectors – cultural difference and social rupture. Negotiation of identity among Muslims remains a shifting motif, serving as a potential tool for othering by contemporary Hindi cinema. Right now, this is how our film industry treats the second-largest Muslim population in the world. How does the expropriation of cultural and religious identity hinder the understanding of a community? Indian cinema addresses this by focusing on a simplified and often distorted representation that fails to capture the complexity of identity. An unprecedented surge in structuring films on themes related to Muslim rulers reveals a sense of naivety on the part of the directors, who believe that retelling the past or the imagined past settles the question of cultural identity. Pran and Amitabh Bachchan in Zanjeer. 'The issue of the Muslim gangster is explored in the fourth chapter, which provides a close reading of Zanjeer (1973), Angaar (1992), and numerous other films.' (Film still) The diacritics of cinematic aporia call for an objective delineation and insightful analysis, and it is what Asim Siddiqui's recently published book, Muslim Identity in Hindi Cinema does with academic rigour. The author rightly considers cinema a site of hybridity, diversity, and splitting, where relations, assimilations, and syncretizations are negotiated and renegotiated. Hindi films also did this in the portrayal of Muslim identity over the last eight decades. Now, however, the situation has changed. This book attempts to analyse 'how the inclusive vision presented in films like Mughal-e Azam (1960) has been replaced by a Hindutva vision in many films using history as a backdrop where Muslims appear in the image of the other.' Comprising six terse and incisive chapters, the book provides a panoramic yet invigorating view of the representation of Muslims in new social settings and idioms. Siddiqui discovers, excavates and discusses the changing perception of Muslim identity from the historical films of the 1940s down to the recent movies that perpetuate stereotypical notions of Muslim identity. With critical acuity and social and cultural sensitivity, he unravels the representation of global Muslim identity in a post–9/11 world and emphasises the need for a more nuanced understanding. The first chapter, From History to Circus: Politics of Genre and Muslims' Representation in Hindi Films enumerates historical, political, social and cultural aspects of Muslim identity, and discusses issues relating to Partition, to Muslims into a secular nation, interreligious marriages, ever growing communalism, militancy in Kashmir, and the subjugation of Muslim women. The second chapter goes well beyond the paraphrasing of themes and cursory interpretation of visuals, costumes, lyrics, music, and sound effects. The author sensitively reads the films of Raja Kumar Hirani and Zoya Akhtar, where the predictable markers of identity hardly work. A dispassionate analysis is presented in the third chapter, which examines the portrayal of Hindu-Muslim hostility and violence in films. Author Mohammad Asim Siddiqui (Courtesy the subject) The issue of the Muslim gangster is explored in the fourth chapter, which provides a close reading of Zanjeer (1973), Angaar (1992), and numerous other films. The figure of the gangster has now been replaced with that of a terrorist and has produced the terrorist genre of Hindi films. The author takes pains in chewing over the globalisation of terror and the setting of terrorist films in Afghanistan, Turkey and London. The last chapter provides a panoramic view of the representation of Muslim women characters in Hindi cinema. 'Muslim women also appear in many interreligious romances where the man usually happens to be a Hindu and the girl a Muslim,' Siddiqui correctly points out, adding that the pattern 'guided by the demands of political correctness and market forces, reveals deep-rooted sexual anxiety about protecting and preserving women from defilement.' In sum, the book presents an insightful and multilayered analysis of the representational aspects of Hindi cinema. Shafey Kidwai, a bilingual critic, is the director of Sir Syed Academy, Aligarh Muslim University.
The Hindu
18-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
What is it about Delhi's contradictions that makes it unforgettable in fiction?
The city of Delhi evokes unease. Its skies are noxious; its politics, vile. Its breath is putrid. Uncouth people run the bureaucracy, sit behind shop counters, and drive their SUVs with mindless, brutal speed, using language that is filthy and whiskey-slurred. Everything about the city evokes a frantic need to escape it. Stereotypes proliferate, like the amaltas bursting forth in vulgar yellow in summer. But even the trees, of which there are many — neem, fig, jamun, gulmohar — are unable to redeem Delhi. It remains, in memory, in conversation, and in comparison to that city by the sea, Mumbai, unloved. Minarets and memories To me, Delhi is home. I grew up in a neighbourhood flecked with the tattered minarets of the Khilji dynasty. I was fascinated by the one closest to my house – Chor Minar, a cylindrical minaret riddled with holes that once held the decapitated heads of thieves, or of the Mongols who raided the Delhi Sultanate in the 13th century. Alauddin Khilji, ruler of the Sultanate, was an insatiable collector of heads. As a child, I played with my friends in the circular park around the minaret, and even climbed its spiral stairway to reach its uneven roof. Years later, across continents, my wistful adult gaze caught the delightful incongruity of a Frisbee or shuttlecock severing the air around the once-terrifying minaret, reducing it to a picturesque backdrop. In both my novels, Stillborn Season (2018) and Of Mothers and Other Perishables (2024), I depict these incongruities in a bid to capture moments of my childhood. The minarets I once knew as mute props now emerge as protagonists in the Delhi I reclaim through fiction. Other beloved landmarks — coffee shops, my convent school in Chanakyapuri, the pillared corridors of Connaught Place — materialise with imprecise details in my narratives. In Of Mothers and Other Perishables, a dead mother, one of the novel's narrators, resurrects her time in the world. She recalls sipping Cona coffee with her future husband at United Coffee House. It is 1974; she has only just met him at a play, Sultan Razia, performed for the first time at Purana Qila. A smidgen of local history seeps into my storytelling, shaping its contours, warming its blood, birthing its characters. Scams, slogans and sitars Recent novels set in Delhi portray a corrupt, polluted metropolis teeming with caricatures. I'd rather not name these works that attempt damning indictments, only to create cardboard fictions. For you have to know a place well enough to damn it with eloquence. A novelist who does immediately spring to mind, though, is Arundhati Roy. To mention her in a piece about Delhi, about writing Delhi, is inevitable, and necessary. In her novel The Ministry of Utmost Happiness (2017), Roy, builder of irrepressible cities, throws open the Delhi of the hijras who live on its fringes. Shahjahanabad, or Old Delhi, appears as a cacophonous ghetto, its air rippling with prayers emanating from its dargahs, its streets crowded with vendors, cripples, and obese goats destined for slaughter on Eid. New Delhi, the capital, less flamboyant than the older parts, is where 'Grey flyovers snaked out of her Medusa skull, tangling and untangling under the yellow sodium haze.' Roy's Delhi, where the amaltas '…reached up and whispered to the hot brown sky, Fuck You,' is a hectic city, an ancient city, a dispossessed city, a city of scams, a city of slogans and sloganeers. A new anthology, Basti & Durbar: Delhi-New Delhi: A City in Stories (2025), is a soulful exposition of the many Delhis that exist, simultaneously, or piled upon the ruins of erstwhile Delhis. In the introduction, writer and editor Rakhshanda Jalil poses a few questions: 'Is the city central, or peripheral, to the writer's concerns? Can the 'spirit' of Delhi, the sum total of its disparate and disarming parts, ever really be captured in words?' The 32 narratives that follow demonstrate that the elusive 'spirit' of Delhi can, indeed, be conveyed in words. The selection includes a translated excerpt from Mohan Rakesh's Hindi novel, Andhere Band Kamre (1961). Titled 'Ibadat Ali's Haveli in Qassabpura: Two Episodes, Many Years Apart', the excerpt tells of a dilapidated house in the Muslim neighbourhood of Qassabpura, where the narrator, living as a tenant in a rat-infested room, hears the sound of a sitar playing at night. Old Ibadat Ali, owner of the house, which has been taken over by Hindu tenants, sometimes plays his sitar, briefly reinstating the dignity and grandeur of the quarters. From love to literature The stories that, to me, truly represent Delhi are the ones that linger on ephemeral moments of beauty or heroism or love. Preti Taneja's novel We That Are Young (2017) reimagines William Shakespeare's King Lear through the lives of a dynastic business family that lives and conspires in the Farm, in New Delhi. The family also runs the Company, a conglomerate of coffee shops, luxury hotels, and pashmina shawl businesses. Even as the sky swoons and grand tragedies unfold, the narrative offers the unexpected tenderness of a poetry launch at a bookstore in Hauz Khas Village. It is here that Jeet, one of the novel's characters, meets his homosexual lover Vik. Delhi is a place of amorous encounters — romance in public parks, sex for a fee on G.B. Road. Sujit Saraf's 2008 novel, The Peacock Throne, excerpted in Basti & Durbar as 'An Election Meeting in Chandni Chowk', is a subversive account of a Women's Day function organised by the prostitutes of G.B. Road. It is a sensual city, this Delhi; a resilient city, a city of whores, eunuchs, and coiffed rummy players at the Gymkhana Club. And because it is unloved by those who live in its neighbourhoods and study at its universities, it becomes the stuff of literature. The writer is the author of two critically-acclaimed novels.
Hindustan Times
16-06-2025
- Lifestyle
- Hindustan Times
How to choose your hairbrush for your hair type: Ranveer Singh's hair designer Darshan Yewalekar shares
Take a second—what brush did you use this morning? A paddle, round, boar bristle, maybe just your fingers? Believe it or not, that simple choice can make or break your hair's health. After all, managing your tresses is a lot more than just shampooing and conditioning them! 'It's all about choosing the right hairbrush to tame your tresses', says, Bollywood's popular hair designer Darshan Yewalekar. 'A good brush can help close your cuticles, style the hair, and maintain its healthy shaft," adds the man behind Ranveer Singh's 'Khilji' look. For over 20 years, Darshan has shaped hairstyles of famous superstars, like Salman Khan, Ranveer Singh, Jaideep Ahlawat, Vicky Kaushal, Ananya Pandey, and the list goes on. We asked him if a wrong hairbrush can damage your hair, he says, 'A wrong hairbrush can damage your hair and cause a lot of breakage, especially depending on how you brush it. It can also create a lot of frizz in your hair' Most importantly, it is also crucial to use the right hairbrush as per your hair type. Darshan reveals that your hairbrush must be chosen as per your hair type. Fine, thick, long, or thin hair: If you have any of these hair types, go for a paddle brush, either a big one or a small one. Based on the style of haircut you have, a hairstylist can recommend the correct size of a round brush to help you achieve the look you want. Curly hair: If you have curly hair type, you simply cannot use any hairbrush. Darshan shares an expert tip: 'Right after a shower, when the hair is fully wet, you should comb it using a wide-toothed comb, starting from the ends and moving up to the mid-lengths. If it is completely tangled, you can use a detangling brush to work through the mid-lengths and ends. After detangling, wet it again before styling.' Straight hair: Your hair's best friend should be a paddle brush. In case your hair breaks easily, it is a good idea to consult a doctor to see if there's an underlying issue. Any serious concerns should be checked by a dermatologist. That said, even breakable hair can often be managed with a paddle brush. Paddle brush is a winner all the way, says Darshan. However, he recommends not to remove the knots from dry hair. So, it's better to remove the knots when your hair is slightly damp. He insists on applying a leave-in conditioner, making detangling much easier. When talking about curly or coiled hair, he says that brushing this type of hair can be tricky, but the crux is, that after shower, such hair types must be brushed from the ends, and gently remove all the knots at the bottom first. Darshan reveals that one of the biggest mistakes people make is starting from the roots. If your hair is tangled in the middle and ends, you'll only make it harder to remove the knots. So always follow the right order and use a wide-tooth comb for brushing curly hair. While these tips might reduce hair fall and may give you a healthy-looking scalp, it's advisable to keep yourself well hydrated and eat nutrition-rich diet. So, next time you're ordering online, or strolling through the mall, buy your hairbrush considering your hair type. PAC cosmetics review: From compacts to foundations, is this makeup brand a real hidden gem? Find out Malaika Arora reveals her pre-makeup skincare ritual; Know 6 skin prep steps she swears by Top 8 anti pigmentation creams to fight pigmentation and dark spots for spotless, glowing skin Disclaimer: All the above-mentioned information is based on our interaction with Darshan Yewelekar.
Time of India
02-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Time of India
Ranveer Singh and Sanjay Dutt's leaked 'Dhurandhar' video sparks massive fan frenzy: 'Aag lagne wali hai!'
and are deep into filming 's 'Dhurandhar'. A recently leaked video from the set has taken social media by storm, with fans buzzing in excitement. Ranveer's hairstyle in the footage is reminiscent of his fierce Khilji role from 'Padmaavat', adding to the anticipation for the film. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now Leaked Video Creates Buzz on Social Media Recently, a fan posted a leaked video from the set on social media platform X, captioning it "#Dhurandhar #RanveerSingh This time it's personal". In the clip, Ranveer sports long hair, evoking memories of his iconic Khilji look. Meanwhile, Sanjay is seen in a white kurta and pajama along with a shawl. Fans React to the Video After the lead video surfaced, fans of Ranveer and Sanjay took to social media in a frenzy. One excited fan tweeted, "Baba x 2 = Ranveer & Sanju will kill in Dhurandhar." Another added, "Powerhouse Ranveer baba & The Sanju Baba #Dhurandar Killer scene." A third fan exclaimed, "Aag lagne wali hai! #Dhurandan is 2X Fire with babas Ranveer and Sanju." Star-Studded Cast Although the official release date for 'Dhurandhar' remains unconfirmed, the film is expected to premiere by the end of this year. Alongside Ranveer Singh and Sanjay Dutt, the cast features R. Madhavan, , and Arjun Rampal. While the female lead opposite Ranveer has not been officially revealed, reports suggest that , formerly known for her work as a child artist, will make her debut as a leading lady in this project. Interestingly, there is an approximate 20-year age difference between Ranveer and Sara.
India Today
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- India Today
Kesari Veer review: Suniel Shetty is the only spark in this Chhaava knockoff
There are multiple moments in 'Kesari Veer' when you would expect Vicky Kaushal from 'Chhaava' to jump in with his 'Har Har Mahadev' cry. While 'Chhaava', the highest-grossing film of 2025, had its own flaws, the scale, direction, and performances kept viewers engaged. Unfortunately, Suniel Shetty and Sooraj Pancholi's latest release, Kesari Veer, fails in all departments, making it a painful all know there's currently a surge of historical films with religious undertones in cinema, and this Prince Dhiman-directed drama follows suit. The first 30 minutes of the film set the tone for the impending battle between the Tughlaqs and the Hindu rulers. Enter Hamirji Gohil (Pancholi), a rebel prince and saviour of the oppressed. During one of his espionage missions, he encounters Rajal (newcomer Akanksha Sharma), and after a few slow-motion romantic moments, the two fall in Shetty as Vegdaji, her adoptive father, is a Shiv Bhakt, and also gets to carry the Shiv Ling la Baahubali. We are soon introduced to Zafar Khan (Vivek Oberoi), the vicious and maniacal ruler of the Delhi Sultanate, who kills without a flinch. The character is half Khilji, half Aurangzeb, but the thick, unkempt beard just made Vivek look repulsive. But just like other rulers from the kingdom, he enjoys a lavish life, wines and dines with beautiful women, while loathing the The story of warriors who fought to protect the Somnath Temple hasn't been depicted on screen before. While the makers had a promising concept, they failed in execution. The plot gets diluted by forced subplots - romance, family drama, and religious devotion - all stuffed into one narrative. The CGI is shoddy, almost laughable, and the performances are dismissive. None of the songs leave an impression, and even the fight sequences, stylised it with high-speed movements, lack impact. The last few scenes absolutely look like a pirated, low-res version of 'Chhaava', without its impact. The editing department could have easily chopped half of the film, mostly in the first half, to have presentable content. As for the performances, the less said, the better. Suniel Shetty is the only one who brings some gravitas to the screen, while Vivek Oberoi is wasted in a poorly written role. Sooraj Pancholi channels Salman Khan from Veer, and Akanksha pouts and squints her way through the film. Kiran Kumar, however, is a pleasant surprise as a Delhi ruler, but it's heartbreaking to see how the makers insulted veteran Aruna Irani by casting her in a minuscule 'Kesari Veer' truly frustrates is in its inauthenticity. Sooraj almost mouths Shah Rukh Khan's dialogues — 'haar ke jeetne waale ko baazigar' and 'ek aadmi ka sar do jagah jhukta hai'. The dialogues are so wispy compared to other historical films, and the delivery is abominable. The way the actors move and speak seems so contemporary, mainly the younger ones, making them look like SoBo kids in a school the end of Kesari Veer, you ironically start feeling bad for the team, who went through such a strenuous time making this film. We wish they had a vision. And the only person you actually want to be angry with is yourself, for choosing to watch this film. (Well, we did it for you guys.) 2.5 out of 5 stars to Kesari Watch
