From Doctor to Box-Office Disruptor

Vishal Chaturvedi has turned a deeply personal spiritual story into one of 2026’s biggest box-office surprises. In an industry where films routinely arrive with star salaries running into crores, lavish sets and multi-crore marketing campaigns, Hanuman Ansh is a striking anomaly. Made on a shoestring budget reportedly in the region of Rs. 2 crore, the ‘spiritual’ film opened last month to a modest box-office collection. Within weeks, however, audiences began taking a shine to the film with...

min read

Vishal Chaturvedi has turned a deeply personal spiritual story into one of 2026’s biggest box-office surprises. In an industry where films routinely arrive with star salaries running into crores, lavish sets and multi-crore marketing campaigns, Hanuman Ansh is a striking anomaly. Made on a shoestring budget reportedly in the region of Rs. 2 crore, the ‘spiritual’ film opened last month to a modest box-office collection. Within weeks, however, audiences began taking a shine to the film with the phenomenal result that its domestic collections had surged past the Rs. 150 crore mark. Whatever the final tally, the fact that a film made for a fraction of the budgets of mainstream Bollywood productions has emerged as a major commercial success has raised eyebrows. The man responsible for this is Vishal Chaturvedi, a doctor-turned-filmmaker, writer and producer whose route to cinema has been anything but conventional. Chaturvedi was born and brought up in Lucknow and completed his MBBS from Gorakhpur in 2006. While posted in Haldwani that year, he visited Kainchi Dham. It was there that he encountered the teachings of Neem Karoli Baba, the spiritual figure whose life and philosophy would eventually become the foundation of his first feature film. For almost two decades, the thought of making a film around Neem Karoli Baba remained with Chaturvedi. His journey towards Hanuman Ansh itself reportedly took nearly 14 years. Along the way, he left medicine and even gave up music before committing himself fully to filmmaking. What might appear in retrospect as an overnight success was therefore anything but overnight. Hanuman Ansh tells the story of Lakshminarayan, who would later become Neem Karoli Baba. Following his mother’s death, the young Lakshman leaves home in search of God. His journey through forests, temples and villages becomes a gradual renunciation of worldly life and a movement towards spirituality. The film also incorporates episodes associated with Neem Karoli Baba, including the famous account of a British train being stopped after he was forced off it. But perhaps the most revealing part of Chaturvedi’s story is not what he put into the film, but what he deliberately kept out while writing it. He removed digital devices from his room and wrote the story entirely by hand. His assistants subsequently photographed the handwritten pages and converted them into digital form. He spent nearly 45 days writing the first scene alone. For Chaturvedi, however, the first scene was the foundation of the entire film. Once he had found it, the rest of the screenplay came together rapidly, taking another 15 to 20 days. Hanuman Ansh was the culmination of a personal conviction that had survived for nearly 20 years. Its success also raises a larger question about the changing economics of Indian cinema. The film is unlikely to signal the death of stars, spectacle or big budgets. Nor does every low-budget film with a strong idea automatically become a blockbuster. But Hanuman Ansh, alongside other recent successes such as Dhurandhar, points towards something increasingly important: content can create its own market when audiences feel they have discovered something worth talking about. The old model depended heavily on pre-release visibility. The new one increasingly depends on post-release conversation. A film need not necessarily dominate advertising if audiences themselves become its marketing department. That is particularly significant for films operating outside the traditional Bollywood template. Hanuman Ansh does not have the conventional ingredients of a commercial blockbuster. Its subject is spiritual, its central character is not a contemporary superstar and its budget was tiny by industry standards. Yet its audience appears to have expanded precisely because it offered something different. Today, audiences are becoming less willing to accept that the size of a film’s budget determines its value. They can reject an expensive production and embrace a modest one if the latter connects emotionally, culturally or spiritually. For Chaturvedi, the irony is striking. A man who walked away from medicine to pursue filmmaking spent years chasing a story that the mainstream industry apparently did not rush to embrace. That makes Hanuman Ansh’s success more than a box-office curiosity. It is a reminder that while budgets and big-name stars may buy scale and draw attention, the belief among audiences that a particular film is telling a solid story and hence must be seen is priceless. Chaturvedi appears to have spent years building his belief around one story. Judging by the box office receipts, the audience, too, seems to have bought into it.

Khanwa 1527: The Clash That Could Have Stopped the Mughals

Shoumojit Banerjee

Mar 29, 2025

5 min read

The Battle of Khanwa was a defining moment in Indian history. Had the Rajputs under Rana Sanga triumphed, the Mughal empire might never have been born.

The Ides of March have come, but not yet gone. The Mughals are yet again in the raging centre of political controversies. While Maharashtra boils over Aurangzeb, up north, Samajwadi Party (SP) MP Ramji Lal Suman triggered a firestorm by bizarrely calling Rajput ruler Rana Sanga a “traitor.”

Speaking in Parliament, Suman asserted that Indian Muslims did not revere Babur, but that it was Rana Sanga who had invited the Mughal ruler to defeat Ibrahim Lodi. “If Muslims are called Babur’s descendants, then Hindus must be the descendants of the traitor Rana Sanga,” he declared. His remarks swiftly drew backlash from Rajput groups.

Suman’s grossly misleading remarks came just days after the 498th anniversary of the Battle of Khanwa, fought March 16, 1527, between Sanga and Babur. Often overshadowed by the First Battle of Panipat in 1526 (where Babur defeated Ibrahim Lodi), it was Khanwa that truly established Mughal rule in India while shattering the last great Rajput challenge to foreign domination.

Khanwa, on the dry plains near Agra, was a true turning point in Indian history where the Rajputs under Maharana Sanga of Mewar made their last great bid to reclaim India from foreign rule. To paraphrase A.J.P. Taylor on the Revolutions of 1848: 1527 was the year when India’s history reached a turning point – and failed to turn.

Maharana Sangram Singh, son of Chittor’s Rana Raimal and grandson of the great Rana Kumbha, has been justly called the ‘Hindupat’ (Chief of the Hindus) by Indian academic and judge Har Bilas Sarda. The one-eyed, one-armed Sanga had already defeated Ibrahim Lodi, the last ruler of the Delhi Sultanate at decisive battles of Khatoli and Gagron. He had triumphed against the sultans of Gujarat and Malwa, asserting Rajput dominance across Rajasthan and northern India.

The fall of Prithviraj Chauhan and the sack of Ajmer by the Ghurids in the late 12th century saw the Rajput rulers of North India lose their paramountcy to Afghan and Turkish conquerors. But by the early 16th century, the balance of power had shifted. Mewar reached its apogee under Rana Sanga and the rapid expansion of the Rathors in western Rajputana signalled a Rajput resurgence as never before. Sanga was the last great Rajput monarch who could rally the disparate clans to the restoration of Hindu rule. He seemed destined to reclaim North India.

A warrior of unmatched valour and high-minded chivalry, Sanga commanded unparalleled respect among his peers including Babur. As Sarda observes in his 1918 monograph:

“Sanga was a greater hero and a more chivalrous leader of men; Babur was a greater politician and a more wary and skilful general…[and] had artfulness, desperation and religious fervour to support him.”

Sanga and Babur are the two outstanding personalities of that period. Both were about the same age. Sanga was born in 1482 A.D. and Babur in 1483. Both were men of valour and had received their training in the school of adversity. Descended from Timur and Genghis Khan, Babur’s early life was a litany of disappointments and defeats, especially his futile quest to take Samarkand and ceaseless conflict with the Uzbek, Shaibani Khan. But despite life’s vicissitudes, Babur never lost courage, displaying unflagging energy, great personal bravery and confidence.

In his Memoirs, Babur recognizes Sanga as a foe in a very different league from Ibrahim Lodi. “He [Sanga] was a very powerful king and the high eminence he then held, he had attained by his valour and his sword.”

Babur therefore made overtures for peace through Raja Shiladitya Tomar of Raisen, a feudatory of the Maharana. But the Maharana rejected the overtures, and advanced and took Bayana with the intent of expelling Babur from India.

Ironically, Sanga found allies in his erstwhile foes – the Afghan chieftains, who found themselves displaced in wake of Babur’s triumph at Panipat. Among them was Ibrahim’s brother, Mahmud Lodi, and Hasan Khan Mewati, leading the Western Afghan Confederacy. Sanga welcomed them, seeing an opportunity to forge an anti-Mughal alliance.

In the run-up to Khanwa, the Rajputs emphatically had the upper hand as they decimated Babur’s advance guard. Says Col. James Tod in Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan (1829), “Babur’s advance guard was entirely destroyed, the fugitives carrying to the main body the accounts of the disaster, which paralysed their energies, and made them entrench for security…”

These initial reverses severely demoralized the Mughals. Even a famed astrologer from Kabul declared that Babur was destined to lose, citing planetary alignments.

William Erskine, in his classic A History of India Under the Two First Sovereigns of the House of Taimur, Báber and Humáyun (1854), writes thus: “The dejection and alarm of Babur’s troops, had at this time reached their extreme point. The contagion had infected even his highest officers.”

Then came Babur’s famously dramatic gesture; he renounced alcohol and shattered his wine goblets, vowing never to drink again. This was followed by an appeal to religious unity, convincing his demoralized troops to swear an oath on the Quran to fight to the death.

However, the Chaghtai Turk, sceptical of such theatrics, bought precious time – one whole month - time by re-opening negotiations with Rana Sanga.

This ill-advised inactivity on part of the Rajputs after their initial success was to prove fatal. Had Sanga pressed the advantage, had he stormed Babur’s camp while morale was low, the Mughal empire might never have been born.

Mountstuart Elphinstone, in his History of India, says: “If the Raja had pressed on during the first panic, he would have obtained an easy victory.”

The battle of Khanwa itself, fought near Fatehpur Sikri, was fierce and chaotic. It began about half-past nine in the morning, with violent charges made by the Rajputs on Babur’s right and centre which began to waver. Babur’s well-entrenched artillery, led by Mustafa Rumi, unleashed relentless fire upon the Rajput cavalry. Still, Sanga’s forces fought on with unwavering determination.

Then, fate intervened. As per some accounts, Shiladitya Tomar defected to Babur’s side, betraying Sanga and the Rajput cause. However, R.C. Majumdar claims that the story of his treachery was a later concoction.

Either way, a decisive moment came when an arrow struck Sanga in the forehead, rendering him unconscious, and causing his chiefs to remove the Rana from the battlefield. Seeing their leader fall, the Rajput army lost cohesion and retreated, leaving the field to be claimed by the Mughals.

Even in defeat, the Rajputs remained a formidable force. Also, while the Western Afghan confederacy was crushed, the Eastern Afghan confederacy gathered strength. Babur, recognizing the Rajput resilience, decided to finish off the powerful chiefs who had fought alongside Sanga. The first blow fell on Medini Rai, Sanga’s able lieutenant in Malwa, who was killed during Babur’s bloody conquest of Chanderi in 1528.

Babur left the Eastern Afghan confederacy to itself, little suspecting that it would throw up someone like Sher Shah who, after Babur’s death, would overwhelm Humayun - his son and successor - and drive him out of India. Ironically, this Afghan confederacy would be finally crushed by Babur’s grandson, Akbar with the help of the Rajputs.

Meanwhile, Sanga, who retreated to Ranthambore in the aftermath of Khanwa, was making plans to take on Babur again. Unfortunately, Sanga’s nobles, fearing the warlike Maharana, poisoned him. Thus ended the last great hope of Hindu sovereignty in northern India.

Today, it is worth revisiting Khanwa as the Rajputs, riding high on victories, had a chance to crush Babur before the Mughals took root in Hindustan. For Khanwa was not just another battle - it was the moment when one future for India ended, and another began.

From Doctor to Box-Office Disruptor

Khanwa 1527: The Clash That Could Have Stopped the Mughals

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