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Censors and their ridiculous cutsFilms are often banned because of political discomfort and perceived affronts to cultural sensitivities, writes Karthik Venkatesh
Karthik Venkatesh
Last Updated IST
The kissing scene in the Hollywood movie ‘Superman’ was deleted by Indian censors. The decision invited wide criticism.
The kissing scene in the Hollywood movie ‘Superman’ was deleted by Indian censors. The decision invited wide criticism.

Credit: Special Arrangement

In 2010, the Indian government undid one of their more contentious decisions. They ‘unbanned’ the Satyajit Ray documentary, Sikkim. This film, commissioned in 1971 by the Chogyal (king) of Sikkim and then cast aside since he was not happy with its final cut (too much reality … err… poverty!) had been banned in 1975 by the Indian government in the light of Sikkim’s controversial accession to India that year. Over the years, the film had vanished from public view and only in 2010 was it screened in Kolkata to a rapturous response. By then, the context had changed, and it was deemed ‘safe’. 

As far as films were concerned, 1975 (the year of the infamous Emergency) was annus horribilis. That year also witnessed the government come down on Aandhi, directed by Gulzar. The lead character’s look and the plot were deemed much too close to Indira Gandhi and her life. And then there was the case of Kissa Kursi Ka (KKK), submitted to the Censor Board in 1975, blacklisted (without due process) owing to its spoofing of Indira and Sanjay Gandhi and their flunkies like Dhirendra Brahmachari and Rukhsana Sultana. Its prints were then secreted away and burnt on the express instructions of V C Shukla, the then I&B minister. This, despite the fact that the movie was directed by Amrit Nahata, who was a Congress MP. The movie was subsequently reshot and released in 1978.

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What was common to all of these films was their politics. Sikkim made the larger Indian state uncomfortable. Aandhi and KKK made political leaders calling the shots in the government uncomfortable. That state of affairs continues. 

If one were to list the films that have found themselves in the crosshairs of the Censor Board in recent times, the same terms and conditions apply. Panjab ’95 and Santosh question the role of the state and its enforcement wing, the police. L2: Empuraan with its depiction of the 2002 Gujarat riots was skating close to the PMO.

Which brings us to the case of ‘Janaki V v/s State of Kerala’.

State as ‘sanskari’

Janaki V v/s State of Kerala is about sexual assault. And that its eponymous victim-character bore the name of the goddess who was the epitome of Indian womanhood was what waylaid the film for a while. Why even a kissing scene from ‘Superman’ had the censor authorities’ knickers in a twist and was cut. 

This cultural dimension to censorship wasn’t always a thing. British-era censorship rules came down mostly on politics. Gandhi, the freedom movement, revolution — it was these that were on their proscribed list. 

But it didn’t always work. For all their attempts to curb political messaging, the British were daft enough to pass the song ‘Door hato, ye duniyawaalon’ in the 1943 movie, ‘Kismet’. Since it was World War II, they read it as a warning to the Germans and Japanese to stay away from India. All of India knew that the song was aimed at our then-rulers. And it is they who were being asked to leave. 

As for the ‘sanskari’ angle, movies of the 1920s and 30s were decidedly more uninhibited. Kissing was common with movies featuring both many, many kisses (1932’s ‘Zarina’ — 42!) and long, long ones (1933’s ‘Karma’ — allegedly four minutes). But somewhere along the line, the powers that be deemed it necessary to ‘save’ the Indian public from overtly sensual displays and began to come down hard on what they deemed was ‘vulgar’ and against ‘family values’. These categories, fuzzy as they were, gave the censor authorities a lot of leeway and power. We were then ushered into the era of negotiation as filmmakers and pen-pushers argued, often maddeningly, about art and the ‘national interest’ and struck deals. The public, who were both to be fed these films and ‘protected’, were mute spectators. 

Is all hope lost? 

Are we, the public, then condemned to be patronised and hoodwinked eternally? Are we going to be ‘protected’ from risqué content because of our ‘tender’ sensitivities on the one hand and denied political content and ushered into a state of blind obedience, on the other? 

Well… yes! If we continue to be so thin-skinned and demand ‘bans’ on all and sundry on the basis of the dodgy ‘hurt sentiments’ argument, this is how things are likely to be. In fact, it will probably get worse. A scenario where someone calls for a ban on the cooking or eating of non-vegetarian food on screen is not unimaginable. Equally, another might want to have a say in the ‘naming’ of characters. Villains cannot bear ‘good’ names may be the decree.

So it is time we healed ourselves. Committing to free expression and a willingness to tolerate contrary opinions (political, artistic, whatever) is de rigueur for good citizenship. That is the need of the hour. The state must be held accountable for livelihoods, health and education rather than focusing on censorship.

(The author is a well-known writer and editor) 

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(Published 26 July 2025, 07:30 IST)