The Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) has blocked the release of Santosh, a critically acclaimed Hindi film that was the UK’s official entry for the Oscars, citing concerns over its portrayal of misogyny, Islamophobia, and police violence. The film, jointly produced by British and French production houses, was shot in India with an all-Indian cast and filmed in Hindi. Despite receiving global praise, it has been deemed too sensitive for Indian audiences. The decision has once again underscored the growing censorship in India’s cultural landscape, where films that challenge uncomfortable truths are silenced while those that align with dominant narratives are celebrated.
A film that holds up a mirror
Director Sandhya Suri, speaking to The Guardian, expressed her deep disappointment and frustration with the CBFC’s decision, calling it both “surprising and heart-breaking.” She pointed out that Santosh does not introduce new or unheard-of themes in Indian cinema—misogyny, caste-based violence, and police brutality have been explored before. However, the film’s raw and unflinching approach to these issues, particularly the intersection of caste and gender violence, appears to have made it a target.
The CBFC demanded extensive and widespread cuts that would have rendered the film incomprehensible. Suri explained that she had attempted to navigate the censorship process to ensure the film’s Indian release but found the demands too severe. “It was just too difficult to make those cuts and have a film that still made sense, let alone stayed true to its vision,” she said while speaking to The Guardian. This reflects a troubling trend where artistic expression is curbed when it critiques systemic issues, particularly those involving state institutions and caste oppression.
Santosh follows a young widow who joins the police force and investigates the murder of a Dalit girl, confronting the deep-seated biases within the police system. The film does not glorify violence or sensationalise its themes; instead, it holds up a mirror to the harsh realities of policing in India. This realistic depiction, however, seems to be what makes it “too dangerous” for Indian audiences in the eyes of the CBFC.
The selective policing of cinema
The timing of the CBFC’s decision is particularly alarming. India’s cultural sphere is increasingly policed, with politically sensitive films often facing severe pushback. Filmmakers have been subjected to hate campaigns, police cases, and even pre-emptive censorship by streaming platforms. The suppression of Santosh is part of this larger trend, where narratives that expose systemic issues—particularly caste and gender-based oppression—are stifled under the pretext of maintaining public harmony.
Meanwhile, films that align with ultra nationalist narratives receive not just clearance but state-backed promotions. On the same day Santosh faced rejection, the Parliament is set to host a special screening of Chhaava, a film that delves into the life of Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, Home Minister Amit Shah, and other key ministers will attend the screening, demonstrating the state’s endorsement of historical narratives that serve its ideological positioning.
This brazen double standard is not new. The Kashmir Files, a film widely criticised for its Islamophobic propaganda, was not only approved but personally endorsed by the Prime Minister and made tax-free in multiple BJP-ruled states. At government-organised screenings, officials and ministers publicly praised its narrative, weaponising cinema to push a divisive political agenda. Similarly, The Kerala Story, which fabricated and exaggerated figures on religious conversions to stoke anti-Muslim paranoia, received aggressive state backing, with leaders openly promoting it as “eye-opening” despite fact-checkers exposing its falsehoods.
Beyond mere approval, the state has actively turned these films into ideological instruments, using public resources and platforms to amplify their reach. Theatres were pressured to increase screenings, school and college students were urged to watch. Meanwhile, independent and critical films face endless scrutiny, unreasonable censorship demands, and outright bans, ensuring that only narratives serving the ruling dispensation’s interests dominate public discourse.
This isn’t just about film censorship—it’s about manufacturing consent. While Santosh and other politically inconvenient films are silenced, those that reinforce majoritarian victimhood, vilify minorities, and sanitise state violence are rewarded.
Notably, Chhaava has already been referenced in recent political discourse, particularly by Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, who linked the film to the recent Nagpur violence. The said communal clash erupted on March 17 after right-wing groups, including the VHP and Bajrang Dal, called for the removal of Aurangzeb’s tomb—a demand seemingly re-fuelled by the film’s narrative. The state’s willingness to amplify such sentiments while silencing a film that critiques police violence and caste oppression exposes the glaring hypocrisy in India’s censorship policies.
The real threat to public discourse
The CBFC’s actions reveal an unsettling reality: films that challenge power structures and expose systemic failures are deemed threats, while those that reinforce dominant historical and ideological narratives are promoted. If Santosh had glorified police violence rather than critiquing it, or if it had focused on a sanitised version of reality, it would likely have faced no resistance. Instead, it’s honest and necessary portrayal of caste-based and gender violence has led to its suppression.
Suri, while acknowledging that she had anticipated challenges in securing an Indian release, remains committed to making the film accessible to Indian audiences. “It was vitally important for me that the very people affected by these issues were able to see it,” she said, reflecting on how the 2012 Nirbhaya case had initially inspired the film. However, with no appeals process available within the CBFC, the only recourse is legal action—a costly and time-consuming battle.
Santosh represents everything that the ruling party fears; that’s why they banned this film. https://t.co/9l5mUzmq6F pic.twitter.com/FqfjMfgJpC
— Nakshatra (@ghalibkakhayal) March 27, 2025
A disturbing pattern
The double standard is glaring. While Santosh is barred from Indian screens, Chhaava receives a state-endorsed platform. The former critiques state institutions and highlights marginalised voices; the latter reinforces a narrative that conveniently aligns with contemporary right-wing politics. The choice of which stories are allowed to be told—and which are deemed too “controversial”—reflects the increasingly constrained space for critical discourse in Indian cinema.
This is not just about one film. The suppression of Santosh signals a larger, more disturbing pattern: the systematic silencing of voices that challenge power while elevating narratives that serve ideological interests. If Indian cinema is to remain a space for artistic expression and social critique, these barriers to free expression must be challenged. Otherwise, India’s cultural landscape will continue to be shaped not by its artists, but by censors who fear the truth.
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