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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.

‘Operation Sindoor’ and the end of Pakistan’s Strategic Impunity

India’s post-Pahalgam strike into Pakistani’s Jihadi heartland marks a turning point in the country’s counterterror doctrine.

In the pre-dawn hush of May 7, India abandoned its old strategic playbook. With swift, calibrated precision, it launched ‘Operation Sindoor’ - a volley of missile strikes on nine terror hubs inside Pakistan and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir (PoK), targeting infrastructure belonging to the Jaish-e-Muhammad, Lashkar-e-Taiba and their proxies. India’s message, in its long-awaited retaliation to the Pahalgam barbarity, was clinical: cross the line again, and the retaliation will be harsher still. More than 70 militants are said to have been eliminated in the strikes while their logistical networks decimated.


It is widely believed the strikes are a mere trailer of something bigger to follow. The symbolism of ‘Sindoor’ (the red powder worn by Hindu married women) was not accidental. It was mournful, defiant and politically pointed; the strikes were a ‘tribute’ to the 25 Hindu women widowed in the April 22 Pahalgam massacre, when the terrorists had lined up tourists at Baisaran, separated them by religion, and gunned down the men in front of their families.


Coming back to the operation, this was the first time India publicly struck targets inside Pakistan proper, including in Bahawalpur and Muridke, long regarded as the ideological and operational wombs of Pakistan’s jihadist enterprise. For decades, these facilities thrived under the protective shadow of Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI).


Muridke, just 40 km from Lahore, houses the headquarters of the Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) and its front organisation Jamaat-ud-Dawa (JuD). Spread over roughly 200 acres, the Muridke terror complex includes training camps, logistical facilities, propaganda units and religious schools.


This is where Hafiz Saeed, a UN-designated global terrorist and mastermind of the 2008 Mumbai attacks, is said to have built his empire. What ‘Operation Sindoor’ has laid bare is the brazen fiction behind Pakistan’s denials, long cloaked in diplomatic sophistry and half-truths. The fiction that these are charitable organisations, or that they operate autonomously, has been incinerated in the early hours of May 7.


The choice of Bahawalpur was equally significant. The dusty city in southern Punjab has long been home to the Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM), another ISI-backed outfit, whose leader Masood Azhar masterminded not just 26/11 but a slew of attacks from Pulwama to Pathankot. For decades, Bahawalpur has functioned as a de facto jihadi garrison town, complete with training camps and weapons stockpiles. It was among the options considered even in the aftermath of Pulwama in 2019, when India struck Balakot instead.


For decades, Pakistan maintained a doctrine of ‘plausible deniability’ by supporting jihadists while denying their control. With ‘Operation Sindoor,’ India has now publicly called that bluff.


Strikes were also carried out in Kotli and Muzaffarabad in Pakistan-occupied Kashmir. India’s Ministry of Defence said the operation was a precise and restrained response to the barbaric Pahalgam massacre. Though the attacks were deep and deliberate, no Pakistani military, far less civilian, facilities were hit. India’s unequivocal message to the world was that the strikes were a just retribution with limits.


Significantly, for the first time since the 1971 war, all three branches of the Indian Armed Forces - the Army, Air Force and Navy - were involved in the precision strikes, thus sending forth a clear message of deterrence. Islamabad, as expected, is responding with bluster and denial. But few across the world are buying it. The ISI’s symbiotic relationship with these groups has long been known to global intelligence agencies.


Yet, the message of ‘Operation Sindoor’ is far deeper. Today, Pakistan’s internal cohesion is at its most vulnerable. Economically battered, diplomatically isolated and politically unstable, Pakistan is under acute strain. Nowhere are these tensions more visible than in Balochistan and Sindh, the country’s two most restive provinces. Against this backdrop of potential Balkanization, could ‘Operation Sindoor’ be the start of a doctrine that leverages Pakistan’s own internal contradictions?


The Baloch insurgency has simmered since 1948, when Pakistan forcibly annexed the princely state of Kalat. Since then, successive waves of rebellions in 1958, 1963, 1973 and post-2005 have challenged the legitimacy of Pakistani rule. The Baloch grievances are manifold: rampant military suppression, economic exploitation, enforced disappearances and political marginalisation on part of Pakistan’s Punjabi elite. Though rich in gas, gold and rare earth minerals, Balochistan remains desperately poor. Its people see the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) as a resource grab by Punjabi elites and the Chinese state. The Baloch Liberation Army (BLA), the most active insurgent group, has recently expanded its targets to include Chinese nationals and infrastructure.


Then there is Sindh. The Sindhi nationalist movement, long overshadowed by Baloch and Pashtun resistance, is rooted in deep historical grievance. The Sindhudesh movement, founded by G. M. Syed, had argued for a secular, independent Sindh separate from Pakistan’s Islamic identity. Periodic protests, enforced disappearances of Sindhi activists, and crackdowns by the ISI have kept the ember glowing. The Punjabi-centric structure of the Pakistani military has fuelled a sense of alienation.


Thus, India can now play a long game in which ‘Operation Sindoor’ is merely the opening gambit.


At the end of ‘Tora! Tora! Tora!’ (1970), which scrupulously dramatizes Japan’s surprise attack on Pearl Harbour during World War II, a famous apocryphal quote attributed to Admiral Yamamoto reads: ‘I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.’ With Pahalgam, Pakistan has done just that to India.


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