Raja Shivaji sparks a new era for Marathi cinema

Mumbai: As Raja Shivaji marches steadily towards the Rs 100 crore mark, the film has reignited debate around the future of the Marathi film industry. Having already crossed Rs 80 crore at the Indian box office, the historical drama is now only the second Marathi film after Sairat to achieve the milestone. Its success has raised a larger question within the trade: can a major blockbuster finally attract sustained investment into Marathi cinema, an industry often marked by cycles of growth and...

min read

Raja Shivaji sparks a new era for Marathi cinema

Mumbai: As Raja Shivaji marches steadily towards the Rs 100 crore mark, the film has reignited debate around the future of the Marathi film industry. Having already crossed Rs 80 crore at the Indian box office, the historical drama is now only the second Marathi film after Sairat to achieve the milestone. Its success has raised a larger question within the trade: can a major blockbuster finally attract sustained investment into Marathi cinema, an industry often marked by cycles of growth and slowdown? Much of the buzz surrounding the film stems from the support it received from prominent Hindi film stars, several of whom reportedly came on board to back the project and the industry. Trade analyst Girish Wankhede believes the film’s biggest achievement lies in the scale of collaboration it represents. “The real strength of Raja Shivaji lies in its creative ensemble star cast, which Riteish Deshmukh successfully brought together. By roping in heavyweight Hindi stars like Abhishek Bachchan, Sanjay Dutt, and Salman Khan, the film showcases the immense combined value of cross-industry collaboration. This strong gesture of Hindi cinema’s biggest names extending full support to a Marathi project has created a powerful impression, generating tremendous curiosity and respect for Marathi cinema among audiences, investors, and other industries. It underscores how Marathi films can now command pan-Indian attention and star power,” he says. At the same time, Wankhede feels it may still be premature to call the film a runaway commercial success given its production scale and costs. “What is heartening is the visible new energy and creative fuel that Riteish Deshmukh has infused into Marathi cinema. With him at the helm of affairs, the film looks strong and polished, and this momentum, further amplified by the star support, is already drawing serious attention from investors who were earlier hesitant about the regional space,” he adds. Producer Suniel Wadhwa, Co-Founder and Director of Karmic Films, says the film’s performance could play an important role in rebuilding investor confidence in theatrical cinema. “The success of Raja Shivaji could significantly improve investor confidence in theatrical cinema, especially at a time when many non-film investors have become cautious about the sector. If the film succeeds as a large-scale theatrical event rather than just an opening weekend phenomenon, it will reinforce the belief that culturally rooted Indian stories still possess massive commercial potential across regions and demographics,” he says. However, Wadhwa points out that the industry continues to face deep structural challenges. “One of the biggest is the shortage of true theatrical stars who can create urgency for audiences to step into cinemas. Streaming has created visibility, but not necessarily ticket-selling mythology. At the same time, India remains heavily under-screened, and even strong films often struggle with inadequate show slots, limited showcasing windows, and overcrowded release calendars. Many films today are judged within the first 48–72 hours, leaving little room for organic word-of-mouth growth,” he says. According to him, the theatrical business is evolving rather than disappearing. “Audiences are now reserving cinema outings for event-driven experiences — spectacle, emotion, mythology, action, horror-comedy, and culturally resonant storytelling. Films that can create that collective viewing urgency will continue to attract both audiences and serious investment capital,” he adds. The Marathi film industry has witnessed a mixed year so far. More than two dozen films have released, but only a handful — including Raja Shivaji, Kranti Vidyalay Marathi Madhyam, Aga Aga Sunbai Mahnatay Sasubai, and Super Duper — have performed strongly at the box office. Veteran journalist Dilip Thakur believes Marathi cinema has already begun regaining momentum after the slowdown caused by the pandemic. “New Marathi films are getting launched regularly. The upcoming film Bapya had its screening at Sunny Super Sound, which was attended by non-Marathi journalists in big numbers. The story of Bapya is complex and difficult to make. The point here is that a producer agreed to put his money into the film. Sabar Bonda was another difficult subject which won an award at Sundance. So, producers willing to invest money in such subjects is one positive sign,” he says. Thakur also points to the continued appetite for mainstream Marathi entertainers. “The boom after Sairat still exists in Marathi cinema. There was a setback for four years because of Covid, but the industry has gained momentum. Ravi Jadhav’s new film Fulawara, based on tamasha folk art, will soon go on floors in Pune,” he says. He further notes that Marathi cinema is increasingly attracting investors from outside the industry. “Most Marathi films have non-Marathi investors. They are putting in money because there is business in Marathi cinema. But not every film becomes a hit. Subhash Ghai also produced a few Marathi films. If the subject is good, people are willing to invest,” he adds. Not everyone, however, is convinced that one major hit can alter the industry’s fortunes overnight. Nitin Datar, president of the Cinema Owners Association, remains cautious about reading too much into the film’s success. “Only one film success is not going to bring investors. In the last five years, out of nearly 500 films produced, the success rate has not been encouraging,” he says. Datar acknowledges that the presence of Hindi stars has helped boost the film’s commercial appeal but stresses that Marathi cinema still lacks enough bankable stars capable of consistently drawing audiences to theatres. “The production houses and directors have attracted audiences. Unfortunately, producers haven’t been successful in attracting financial assistance, which has resulted in low production and advertising budgets. But if films succeed in pulling audiences over the weekend, exhibitors automatically increase shows and reduce screenings of underperforming films from other languages. The audience is always there, waiting to visit theatres in large numbers for a good film,” he says. For now, Raja Shivaji has undeniably given Marathi cinema a strong moment in the spotlight. Whether that momentum translates into long-term financial confidence and sustained industry growth remains the larger question.

Cricket Loses, Politics Wins

C.S. Krishnamurthy
Oct 2, 2025
4 min read

The Asia Cup 2025 final between India and Pakistan proved that when politics engulfs sport, both lose.

Cricket has always thrived as more than just a contest of bat and ball. For South Asia, it carries the weight of identity, memory, and rivalry. No fixture captures this better than India versus Pakistan. For these two teams, it is an arena where national pride collides with professional sport. Yet the Asia Cup 2025 final in Dubai reminded us how fragile that balance can be. India may have defeated Pakistan thrice in the tournament, including the finals, but the real drama unfolded not on the pitch but on the podium -where the champions did not lift the trophy.

What unfolded was bizarre even by the melodramatic standards of India-Pakistan cricket. After a tense chase, India clawed back from 20 for 3 to secure a five-wicket win. Mohsin Naqvi, Pakistan’s Interior Minister and also chairman of the Asian Cricket Council, waited awkwardly with the trophy in his hands. For over an hour, the Indian team stayed away, refusing to accept the medal. Finally, Naqvi walked off, trophy in hand, leaving fans and commentators stunned. Victory had been reduced to political theatre.

To understand the boycott, one must trace the political undercurrents. BCCI secretary DevajitSaikia was firm that the team would not receive honours from a minister representing a hostile neighbour implicated in terror attacks and inflammatory rhetoric. On the surface, the decision reflects national conviction. After all, how can sport be insulated from bloodshed and hostility?

But contradictions abound. India had already played Pakistan thrice in the tournament, under Naqvi’s very supervision. The BCCI attended meetings he chaired. The players shared the same stage in photo-ops. If principle was truly the compass, the honourable step would have been non-participation from the start. Instead, India competed, dominated and then drew a line at a handshake and a trophy. The gesture was less about conviction than a political stance staged at the wrong moment.

History offers similar precedents. Sporting boycotts, from apartheid-era South Africa to Cold War Olympics, have been absolute and unambiguous. While they certainly carried costs, they at least carried clarity. India’s partial protest – playing with intensity only to reject the ceremonial handshake - emerges as muddled symbolism.

Spirit betrayed

The deeper worry lies in sportsmanship. Cricket has long prided itself on being a gentleman’s game, where rivalries, however fierce, end in gestures of mutual respect. That handshake at the end is no triviality -it is a ritual that elevates competition into camaraderie.

By refusing to engage off the field, India blurred the line between legitimate political protest and professional decorum. It was not Pakistan’s players who authored terror attacks. To snub them at the presentation was to reduce athletes to proxies of their governments. This violates the very spirit of cricket.

Legends have often reminded us of this distinction. Sachin Tendulkar once said that respect for opponents is as vital as runs on the scoreboard. Ian Chappell, never one to mince words, has long argued that mixing sport with politics creates a “recipe for hypocrisy.” The Asia Cup final proved both men right. Fans may cheer Bumrah’s clever imitation of Haris Rauf’s jet-plane celebration, but few would admire a refusal to shake hands.

Former England captain Michael Vaughan once quipped that India-Pakistan matches have more subplots than a Bollywood movie. He was right, but even Bollywood would reject this script for being too twisted.

India had cleaner choices. A complete boycott of the tournament would have been a massive statement, and cost them dearly in terms of preparation for future events, and sent a distinct message. Instead, they chose a middle path that satisfied no one and confused everyone -play the matches, win the tournament, but perform a protest ritual at every opportunity.

The irony thickened when BCCI officials criticised Naqvi for “walking away” with the trophy. To reject a gift and then complain of its removal is akin to declining a wedding invitation and lamenting the absence of dinner. In diplomacy as in sport, consistency matters.

Even more worrying is how easily cricket was militarised during this tournament. Pakistani players imitated fighter jets after wickets; Indians responded in kind. Press conferences dissolved into whataboutery. Even media boxes echoed with war metaphors. When heads of government and administrators dub innings as ‘Operation Tilak’ or ‘Operation Sindoor,’ they stretch the metaphor past breaking point. Cricket is reduced to a proxy battlefield, stripped of its joyous spontaneity. Every time political posturing eclipses athletic brilliance, the game’s spirit dims.

Larger lessons

The Asia Cup 2025 must serve as a cautionary tale. Sport can never be fully insulated from politics, but when politics consumes sport, both lose. The cricketing moments of the tournament -Bumrah’s precision, Samson’s composure, Varma’s poise - were overshadowed by petulance and misplaced symbolism.

India’s players may have felt genuine anger. The Pahalgam terror attacks were fresh wounds. Yet walking away from a trophy did not avenge them; it only diminished the dignity of champions. Once committed, however, professionalism demanded grace.

In the end, cricket is resilient. It has survived wars, corruption, and shifting formats. It will survive this episode too. But the question remains: when did lifting a cup become heavier than lifting the spirit of the game?

Tilak Varma’s controlled 69 not out should have dominated headlines. Instead, newspapers carried images of an unclaimed trophy and a minister leaving with it. For now, the enduring memory of Asia Cup 2025 is not India’s cricketing dominance over Pakistan, but beyond the boundary. And perhaps, that is the saddest scorecard of all.

(The writer is a Bengaluru-basedfreelancer. Views personal.)

1 Comment

QFC Fitzwalter

Nov 03, 2025

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