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By:

Bharati Dubey

17 May 2026 at 7:08:10 am

Why Sunny Deol’s ‘Batwara 1947’ failed to impress

Mumbai: The failure of ‘Batwara 1947’ has emerged as one of those box-office mysteries that is difficult to explain purely through the usual parameters of filmmaking. The film brought back the celebrated combination of Sunny Deol and director Rajkumar Santoshi after nearly three decades, carried a powerful Partition backdrop and featured acclaimed performers. Yet, despite the pedigree, the film struggled to attract audiences to theatres. For trade analyst Taran Adarsh, the failure was...

Why Sunny Deol’s ‘Batwara 1947’ failed to impress

Mumbai: The failure of ‘Batwara 1947’ has emerged as one of those box-office mysteries that is difficult to explain purely through the usual parameters of filmmaking. The film brought back the celebrated combination of Sunny Deol and director Rajkumar Santoshi after nearly three decades, carried a powerful Partition backdrop and featured acclaimed performers. Yet, despite the pedigree, the film struggled to attract audiences to theatres. For trade analyst Taran Adarsh, the failure was particularly difficult to understand. He felt Batwara 1947 was a well-made film, praised Santoshi’s direction, appreciated the performances and singled out the emotional scenes between Shabana Azmi and Sunny Deol. “What has really surprised me is why this film has not worked. In my opinion, it was a well-made film,” Adarsh observed. He particularly praised the emotions captured between Azmi and Deol, calling the performances of a very high order and Santoshi’s direction top-notch. He also felt the finale was gripping. Yet the question remained: if the film worked on these creative levels, why did audiences stay away? One explanation that surfaced repeatedly in trade circles was Sunny Deol’s image. Sunny’s Image For more than two decades, Sunny Deol has become almost synonymous with a particular kind of India-Pakistan narrative. His most iconic performances have often placed him in situations involving patriotism, national identity, Pakistan, borders and confrontation. Gadar: Ek Prem Katha transformed that association into a phenomenon. More than two decades later, Gadar 2 revived the same persona and became a massive theatrical success. Even Jaat continued to reinforce the image of Sunny Deol as the larger-than-life action hero who speaks loudly, fights harder and takes on overwhelming odds. That image is undoubtedly one of Sunny’s biggest strengths. But with Batwara, it may also have become a liability. The problem was not necessarily Sunny’s performance. In fact, Adarsh specifically rejected the argument that Deol was completely mellow in the film. According to him, the actor was restrained only up to a point and did eventually deliver the kind of action audiences associate with him. “I don’t feel that Sunny was mellow over here,” Adarsh explained. “He was mellow only up to a point, and later, he did indulge in action.” His larger point was that the film itself deserved a better response. “I just fail to understand... Somewhere down the line, people had decided not to watch the film for reasons known best to them.” That observation may actually hold the key to the film’s failure. Audience’s Rejection A theatrical film is judged long before the audience reaches the climax. The poster, trailer, casting, subject, star image and promotional material collectively create an expectation. With Batwara, the audience saw Sunny Deol and a Partition-related story and may have immediately associated it with Gadar and Gadar 2. But Batwara was not simply another Sunny Deol action vehicle. That distinction may have been difficult to communicate. The Sunny Deol of Gadar is a fantasy figure—an ordinary man transformed into an unstoppable force by love, patriotism and rage. His physicality, dialogue delivery and explosive action are central to the experience. A Partition drama built around human suffering, relationships and emotional conflict demands a different response from the audience. Consequently, the film faced an unusual problem: the actor’s strongest established image may have overshadowed what the film was actually trying to say. Wrong Casting Exhibitor Sanjay Ghai offered an even more blunt assessment of the problem. According to him, the issue was not necessarily the quality of the film but the casting. “Everyone knew beforehand about Batwara that the casting has gone wrong,” he said, adding that a different hero was needed. That is an important distinction. Ghai was effectively arguing that Sunny Deol may not have been the ideal commercial casting choice for this particular story, regardless of how well he performed in it. From an exhibitor’s perspective, this matters enormously. A film can be well made and still fail if the casting does not generate sufficient curiosity. And Batwara faced another problem: the Partition subject itself was no longer fresh. Tired Audience There is an undeniable familiarity surrounding Hindi cinema’s treatment of Partition and India-Pakistan relations. For years, filmmakers have returned to the same historical wound from different perspectives. Some films have focused on families separated by the border, some on communal violence, some on patriotism and others on the continuing emotional relationship between India and Pakistan. Then came the enormous success of Gadar and Gadar 2, which further cemented Sunny Deol’s association with the subject. Sanjay Ghai’s comparison with Border is therefore significant. He pointed out that Border had worked despite dealing with a similar broad territory. The difference, from a trade perspective, is that Border offered a particular combination of scale, patriotism, ensemble casting, music, spectacle and war drama that created a clear theatrical identity. Batwara may not have had an equally irresistible proposition. The audience had already seen Partition stories. They had already seen Sunny Deol in India-Pakistan conflicts. They had already seen the actor deliver high-octane patriotic drama.

Pahalgam’s response is Unity in Diversity

A terrorist strike meant to divide has only united India and put Pakistan further on the back foot.

When terrorists struck pristine Pahalgam in Kashmir on April 22, they sought to fracture a diverse society and provoke discord in a country long tested by its pluralism. But what followed has confounded their cynical calculus. Rather than splintering, India has rallied strongly across regions, religions and political divides. The attack, widely attributed to Pakistan-sponsored militants, has not only stirred grief but also galvanised resolve. For once, even India’s fractious politics seems to have found its common voice.


The tragedy has left Pakistan more isolated than ever in the court of global opinion. While its leadership has predictably denied involvement, few serious observers are buying the denials. The world, already weary of violent extremism, now sees more clearly than ever that the real threat to peace lies not within India’s borders but beyond them. No act of terror, regardless of whether or not it is cloaked in the garb of religion, can justify the murder of innocents.


And the idea that a nation could be divided on religious lines has proven spectacularly flawed for India’s unity is rooted not in uniformity, but in pluralism. And that has emerged ever more vividly through this tragic episode.


This was certainly not the outcome Pakistan had hoped for. Its long-standing policy of proxy war of supporting extremist outfits while denying culpability, was meant to sow chaos. Instead, it has only reminded the world of India’s steadfastness. At home, political adversaries have closed ranks. Abroad, all-party Indian delegations have traversed continents, delivering a single, consistent message: India will not tolerate terrorism, and nor should the world.


Perhaps most striking is the emergence of unexpected voices carrying that message. Asaduddin Owaisi, the articulate and often combative leader of the All India Majlis-e-Ittehad-ul-Muslimeen (AIMIM), is not typically counted among the central government’s allies.


A vocal critic of the ruling party’s policies, he is often the target of online vitriol from supporters of the government. But in the wake of Pahalgam, even those who disagree with him on domestic politics are rallying to his side. When he stood firm against Pakistani propaganda and quoted from the Quran - “to kill one innocent is to kill all humanity” - his words resonated beyond Parliament. His image as a devout Muslim, condemning terrorism not just in India but globally, has undercut Islamabad’s tired narrative that Pakistan alone speaks for the subcontinent’s Muslims.


The irony is rich. India, home to more Muslims than Pakistan itself and more than many Muslim-majority nations, has shown that the fight against terrorism is not a war against Islam but a defence of it. Owaisi’s credibility in the Muslim world, once viewed with ambivalence, now serves as a powerful antidote to the disinformation campaigns waged from across the border. The message is clear: religion cannot be hijacked to justify violence, and Indian Muslims, no less than their compatriots of other faiths, stand against such perversion.


Other opposition figures have also risen above party lines. Shashi Tharoor, Congress MP and former diplomat, has been forthright in his condemnation of Pakistan and unambiguous in his support for the government’s response. Speaking from the United States, he described himself as part of a unified Indian front even as some in his own party squirmed at such overt alignment. Tharoor’s stance, uncharacteristically bipartisan, did not go unnoticed. In an era where domestic politics is often an exercise in acrimony, his statesmanship was refreshing.


It has not stopped there. Across embassies, consulates and international forums, India’s diplomatic corps has delivered a coordinated rebuttal to Pakistan’s misadventures. Indian emissaries have drawn attention to the fact that the Indian retaliatory strikes, carried out with precision to minimize casualties, were aimed exclusively at terrorist infrastructure. Civilian and military targets in Pakistan were pointedly avoided. But when Pakistan responded by targeting Indian civilian and military areas, it crossed a red line. India’s response was swift, strategic and unmistakable.


What followed was not a descent into all-out war, as Pakistan might have hoped, but a lesson in deterrence. India’s air defence systems intercepted threats with remarkable efficiency. In turn, targeted strikes demonstrated New Delhi’s capacity to hit back, hard and smart. Operation Sindoor, as it was dubbed, was both symbolic and surgical: a reminder that India has the will and the means to retaliate, but also the discipline not to escalate recklessly.


Now, even Pakistan’s leadership is talking peace. Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif, until recently blustering about nuclear weapons and deterrence, has softened his tone. Nuclear blackmail, India has made clear, is a tool it will no longer allow to be used unchecked. Pakistan’s position is increasingly tenuous, be it diplomatically, militarily or morally. Indeed, the shadow of Osama bin Laden, who was found and eliminated by the US navy SEALS in Pakistan’s garrison town of Abbottabad, still looms large.


The world has not forgotten where he hid in plain sight. And while ISIS and other extremist organisations continue to metastasise in the digital realm, many of their ideological seeds were sown in the same Pakistani soil that nurtured earlier terror groups. India, by contrast, has sought not only to secure its own borders but to serve as a bulwark against the global menace of violent extremism.


This struggle, however, is not fought only with guns and drones. It is also fought with images and ideals. And in that arena, too, India has made history. Among the most arresting moments post-Operation Sindoor was the image of two Indian women officers - Colonel Sofia Qureshi and Wing Commander Vyomika Singh - briefing the press. It was a moment of clarity: the face of Indian defence is not just male, not just Hindu, not just one thing but it is many. Their presence has stirred aspirations far beyond the barracks. Girls from small towns and big cities alike now dream of following in their footsteps.


This momentum was carried forward when 17 women cadets graduated from the National Defence Academy in Pune - the first co-educational batch in the institution’s history. The reviewing officer, former Army Chief and current Mizoram Governor General V.K. Singh, oversaw a scene few could have imagined even a decade ago. If Pakistan hoped to destabilise India, what it has inadvertently done is accelerate its modernisation.


In the end, the Pahalgam attack has become a moment of national inflection. It has reminded Indians that while political disagreements are inevitable - and even healthy - there are moments when unity must transcend party, creed and class. Pakistan may have bet on division; what it got instead was resolve.


It would be naive to think that one attack, or one operation, will end terrorism. But a message has been sent. India’s fight is not against a people or a religion, but against an ideology of hate. And in waging that fight, India stands not alone, but as a model for the world. Others would do well to heed its example. Jai Hind.


(The author is an academician, columnist, historian and a strong voice on Gender and Human Rights.)

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