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By:

Bharati Dubey

17 May 2026 at 1:38:10 am

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...

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.

Malaysia’s Festival of Freedom

At Kuala Lumpur’s Rain Water Festival, music, tourism and urban order blend into a portrait of a modernising nation.

After landing at Kuala Lumpur airport, the very first thing that catches your eye is its grandeur, neatness, and discipline. Despite the flow of people, there was no chaos. There was ease and spaciousness. Most importantly, there was no sign of the rush to overtake or get ahead of one another.


The purpose of visiting Malaysia was to cover a unique and extraordinary festival. In Malaysia, from May 1 to 3, a spectacular event was organised under the name “Rain Water Festival” or “Rave Rain.” This was the first time such an event had been organised, with the aim of attracting tourists from around the world. The event was held with equal enthusiasm at seven other locations in addition to Kuala Lumpur.


The Rain Water Festival was held at Bukit Bintang, known as the most buzzing area in Kuala Lumpur.


The distance from the airport to Bukit Bintang is approximately 55 kilometres. Our driver, arranged by Tourism Malaysia, picked us up from the airport. That highly skilled driver was travelling at a speed of around 130 kilometres per hour, yet we did not feel even the slightest discomfort. The reason was the wide and smooth roads, an excellent signal system, and an equally efficient toll network. As a result, there was no travel fatigue at all — rather, it was a demonstration that with good infrastructure, one can travel at breathtaking speed even on city roads.

The Malaysian government chose this period for the Rain Water Festival because May 1 — International Labour Day — was a public holiday, followed by the weekend, making it an ideal combination.


At a grand stage set up near Pavilion Mall in Bukit Bintang, a DJ was playing popular songs. To the beat of the music, around 70,000 young people danced in a frenzy while the organisers showered them with water guns — that was the scene. Forgetting their age and profession, these youngsters, enjoying the music and drenching themselves in water, seemed to symbolise a changing Malaysia.


The opposition parties there had taken the stance that the Rain Water Festival would corrupt Malaysia’s culture, create obstacles on traffic routes, and make it difficult to control frenzied youth — and that such a fad should therefore not be encouraged. However, the Malaysian government, especially the country’s Tourism Minister, stood firm against all of this. Overcoming every obstacle, they successfully pulled off the festival.


For those living in India’s metros, the number 70,000 may not seem very large. However, in a city in Malaysia — a country with a population of barely 3.75 crore — when 70,000 people gather in one place to dance under showers of water, and not a single untoward incident occurs, it is a significant achievement for a country not accustomed to such festivals.


What impressed me the most was Malaysia’s Tourism Minister. Describing him as a waterfall of enthusiasm would be entirely fitting. Not only did he brush aside all opposition to the Rain Water Festival, but by personally spraying water on the gathered youth with a water gun, he sent out the message that he was one of them. Seeing the minister himself participate with such enthusiasm filled both officials and the audience with energy and excitement.

During those three days, all roads in Kuala Lumpur seemed to flow towards Bukit Bintang. This area is primarily known for its nightlife. People singing and dancing carefree on the streets until late at night, and enormous food lanes — that is the identity of this place. With the Rain Water Festival layered on top of that, the entire area was packed with crowds for three consecutive nights.


One sight, however, was common across the food lanes here. Amid the aroma of food and beverages all around, an IPL match was playing live on the televisions there. Malaysia is a country primarily known for hockey and football, so the question arose — how is cricket being watched everywhere here? It later became clear that this was a special arrangement made for tourists from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, and Sri Lanka. The dominance of Indian tourists became evident.


Malaysia was not spared from the global economic slowdown that followed the COVID pandemic. Since tourism is the primary industry here, there were concerns that the economy might be at risk. To draw tourists back to Malaysia, the government has launched a somewhat aggressive and fairly imaginative campaign. Under the “Visit Malaysia 2026” initiative, the government is making efforts to boost tourism. With clean and beautiful beaches, grand Hindu temples like Batu Caves, the Green Mosque that attracts Muslim tourists, and, alongside all this, Malaysia’s warm and heartfelt hospitality, the country is trying to carve out its own distinct place on the global tourism map.


Although about 70 percent of the population is Muslim, I did not see a single woman in a burqa in Kuala Lumpur. Muslim women were seen in hijabs, however. There are large mosques here, but not a single azaan was heard over loudspeakers. Every government event begins with a prayer by a Muslim clergyman, yet there was no harshness or stridency in it at all.


It seems that harshness is simply absent from social life here. Traffic jams were visible on the roads, but the blaring of vehicle horns was nowhere to be heard. Pedestrians were seen jumping signals, but there were no drivers cursing or honking at them.


I travelled on the monorail in Kuala Lumpur — went to two stations and came back. The service was excellent, with a train every ten minutes, and there was absolutely no rush, chaos, pushing, or shoving anywhere. Near the monorail station at Bukit Bintang, even a beggar was spotted. However, he was not holding out his hand to anyone or running after passersby. If someone felt like giving, they would give.


Tall skyscrapers exist in Mumbai and Delhi too, but in Kuala Lumpur, the height of the buildings was accompanied by artistry. Every building seemed to have been constructed in an attractive and distinct architectural style.


Due to the smaller population, a sense of spaciousness and ease was palpable here. Most importantly, despite religious constraints, there was a feeling of openness and freedom.


A Visa-Free Welcome

At the immigration counter of Mumbai’s Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport, the officer looked at me very carefully. “Where are you going?” he asked. I said, “Kuala Lumpur.” “Where is your visa?” I smiled at him and said, “You don’t need a visa to go to Malaysia.” The officer checked something on his computer and said, “Okay. You may go.”


Indians can stay in Malaysia for 30 days without a visa. However, not many tourists — or even officials — are aware of this.


The Malaysian government is making efforts to show that Malaysia can excellently host large cultural events. They have drawn up various plans to attract tourists from around the world. As a result, the number of tourists visiting Malaysia recorded a 5.4 percent increase in March.


Since Indian tourists have a strong inclination towards Malaysia, a visa concession has been given to Indians. “Indian tourists are very important to us. We always ensure that they face no difficulty while moving freely in Malaysia,” said Malaysia's Tourism Minister YB Dato Sri Tiong King Sing while speaking to The Perfect Voice.


The sensitivity of Malaysian citizens towards tourists was experienced at every step. One could see citizens stopping their vehicles to let pedestrians cross the road, giving proper directions, and not getting frustrated while making their way through crowds.


Before going to Malaysia, one needs to obtain a Digital Arrival Card. This card can be easily obtained from the Malaysian government's website by providing the flight number, passport number, and email address. On arrival at Kuala Lumpur, the immigration officers there did not ask many questions. On seeing the Indian passport, the officer asked only for the Digital Arrival Card, the return flight ticket, and the details of where I would be staying in Kuala Lumpur — and then showed me the way to the baggage counter.

 

From Palm Groves to Power Corridors

Putrajaya, the administrative capital of Malaysia, is an excellent example of urban planning and beautification. The city was developed in the 1990s and later emerged as Malaysia’s administrative capital. It was named after the country’s first Prime Minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra Al-Haj. The name “Putrajaya” is derived from Sanskrit — “Putra” meaning son or prince, and “Jaya” meaning victory. Thus, the name broadly translates to “Victorious Prince.”


Malaysia is famous for its palm trees, and India is among the major importers of Malaysian palm oil.


Where Putrajaya stands today, there were once vast stretches of palm plantations. It takes approximately three years for a palm tree to fully mature. Once grown, the tree bears fruit for nearly thirty years, from which oil is extracted.


The Malaysian government strongly encouraged the cultivation of palm trees, but several problems emerged. The most significant was the infestation of rats. Before the palm trees could fully grow, rats would destroy them, causing heavy losses to farmers.


To tackle this problem, the government decided to introduce pythons. The pythons fed on the rats, and the rat population declined rapidly. However, after some time, an even bigger problem arose. Having consumed so many rats, the pythons grew so large and powerful that they reportedly began attacking farmers as well. Thus, in the effort to eliminate rats, the farmers themselves came under threat. This created widespread concern.


Eventually, the government reduced the number of pythons and introduced owls instead. Owls also prey on rats but pose no danger to humans. As a result, the rat population was controlled, the palm trees flourished, and the farmers prospered.


That prosperity is visible everywhere in Putrajaya. About 90 percent of its residents are government employees. They are provided housing of varying sizes by the government according to their rank. Looking at the residential complexes, one would hardly guess they are government colonies — the buildings are so neat and aesthetically designed.


Being an administrative capital, Putrajaya is dominated by government buildings. Yet these structures possess a distinct artistic quality. The Pink Mosque, one of the city’s major tourist attractions, is located here. The mosque was built first, and an artificial lake was later created around it. Not far from the mosque stands the office of the Prime Minister of Malaysia. Opposite it is a grand convention centre where conferences and seminars are regularly held. Facilities comparable to those at Bharat Mandapam in New Delhi are available here as well.


The greatest advantage of keeping the political capital and administrative capital separate is that government work does not require travelling to multiple locations. The creation of Putrajaya led to the rise of an entirely new city while also reducing some of the pressure on Kuala Lumpur.


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