O Dear Bollywood!

LAHORE: There was a time when Bollywood meant magic. A time when you could slip into a cinema hall or log onto Netflix and expect a film that made your heart smile. Remember those warm-hearted rom-coms, the goofy best friends, the dramatic rain scenes, and the kind of love stories that didn’t come with a side of exhaustion or a crash course in geopolitics? That version of Bollywood, the one we grew up with, is vanishing. And no one seems to be asking why.

Today, when I open a streaming platform, I feel lost. Not because there’s nothing to watch, but because nothing feels like Bollywood anymore. It’s either agenda-laden, or over-sexualized, or worse; both.

Let’s talk about the first kind. The agenda movies. You know the ones. Either there’s a painfully obvious political undertone, or the entire plot revolves around demonizing a country, often Pakistan, as the convenient villain. It’s not storytelling anymore, it’s strategic messaging. And sure, cinema is a powerful tool for awareness and commentary. But must every film now serve as a manifesto? Where’s the escape? Where’s the joy? When did going to the movies start feeling like going into battle?

On the other end of the spectrum are the hyper-sexualized, shallow offerings that mistake vulgarity for freedom. Remember when an “item number” used to be one song, maybe two? Now it feels like the whole film is an item number. Tracks like Oui Amma and Aaj ki Raatt have normalized objectification culture and glorified the item girl trope to the point where it’s the brand identity of the film itself. And let’s not even get started on the ripple effect it has on younger audiences.

We now have 10-year-olds lip-syncing to lyrics they don’t understand but are absorbing all too quickly. The glamorization of overly sexualized “vibes” on Instagram and TikTok has blurred the lines between what’s age-appropriate and what’s exploitative.

So, where did it go wrong? Bollywood used to strike a beautiful balance. Think Jab We Met, a movie that was funny, dramatic, emotional, and totally filmi which proved you didn’t need vulgarity to make people fall in love with the story. These films were entertaining without trying too hard. They didn’t have to carry political baggage or masquerade as “woke” to be relevant. They were simple, sincere, and full of heart.

Now, simplicity is considered lazy. A film that isn’t politically loud or socially “revolutionary” is considered irrelevant. If it’s not dark, hyper-masculine, or trying to “educate” you, it’s dismissed as fluff. But here’s the thing, there’s nothing wrong with fluff. In fact, we need fluff. We need lightheartedness in an age where our feeds are flooded with trauma, conflict, and over-analysis.

Not everything has to be a cinematic thesis. Sometimes, a girl just wants to see a boy chasing her train while the music swells in the background. Sometimes, we want to watch a movie and not feel morally drained or intellectually challenged by five subtexts and three plot twists. Sometimes, we just want to breathe.

And here’s where we exercise our “right to kick.” To kick back against the noise, against the formula, against the assumption that the audience doesn’t crave innocence or joy anymore. To reject the idea that entertainment must now come with a caveat or a campaign.

We don’t want a storyline that feels like a headline. We don’t want romance that’s drowned in raunchy choreography. And we certainly don’t want every heroine to be either an object or an activist. Can’t she just be a person?

Bollywood was once the world’s go-to fantasy. It gave us weddings we dreamt of, friendships that felt real, and music that lived in our bones. Now, it’s slowly morphing into a machine that’s either trying too hard to be relevant or too desperate to be “viral.”

We miss the nuance. We miss the magic. We miss Bollywood before it was hijacked by hashtags. So yes, we have a right to kick. To call out what no longer serves us, and to demand better. Because we deserve films that don’t make us cringe, or cry out of frustration. We deserve movies that let us laugh without guilt, love without confusion, and escape without compromise.

Dear Bollywood, if you’re listening, can we please have our fairy tales back?