Identity, encounters, and representation of the masala
hero-cops of New Bollywood 

by Ajay Pateer and Soumik Hazra

Numerous scholars have written in the last few years on the representation of Dalit and other marginalized identities in mainstream Hindi cinema. Coming from varied disciplines such as political science and sociology, this first wave of anti-caste scholarship on Hindi cinema, if it may be addressed as such, has largely approached issues of representation; notable in this vein are works by Harish Wankhede, Amit Kumar, Vishal Chauhan and Vidushi (Wankhede 17-31, 76) (Kumar) (Chauhan 327-336) (Vidushi 123-135). 

Promotional materials for Masala cop films: Policegiri (2013) and Dabangg (2010).

Apart from these, many other scholarly works and PhDs have followed similar lines of thought and have had an important impact on academia in at least two ways. First, media scholars have pointed to, and called out, casteism in Hindi cinematic representation both on and off screen, demanding more inclusive films and industry. Second, this kind of interpretation has created an analytic lens or perspective along with a strong lexicon to study and theorize not only Hindi cinema but moving images in general from an anti-caste perspective. In this kind of work, scholarly attention has been directed predominantly towards representations of marginalized communities, particularly the Dalits. 

However, the pivotal role of the dominant caste identities has not been challenged or addressed. That is, there is a layered and complex tapestry of caste dynamics in Indian cinema that has yet to be dealt with in a nuanced and analytical way. Several terms commonly appear in anti-caste scholarship to address such caste groups i.e. Upper Castes, Caste Hindus, Savarna, Parjivi (parasites) and so on—these emerged out of unique social and political contexts. Here we use the term ‘Oppressor Caste’ to denote those castes that are dominant, hegemonic and beneficiaries of the caste system within the narrative-world of the film because caste dominance is also subject to local socio-political configuration. The category of ‘Oppressor Caste’ is flexible enough to encompass caste collectives locally or regionally involved in acts of oppression and injustice regardless of their ranks in the varna system. 

Oppressor castes are not discriminated against. Instead, they can use the caste system to their benefit or be agnostic about it. Caste, in essence, as an issue is an issue of oppression, is not just a Dalit issue. To incorporate such a more nuanced perspective within film scholarship, a comprehensive understanding of caste in Hindi cinema demands a paradigm shift in scholarly focus from the oppressed to the oppressors. Taking a step in this direction, for example, Tanya Singh analyzes Rajpoot identity in Padmaavat (2018). As Singh explains it, 

“The nomenclature of caste has come to acquire a synonymity with the Dalits whereas the oppressor castes continue to define the more acceptable, generic identity of ‘Indian,’ [so] it is necessary to probe into the cultural monolith of upper castes.” (Singh 340).

By delving into the overrepresented ‘Upper Castes,’ a study of identity can attain a more nuanced understanding of caste, Indian cinema, and the hegemon’s narrative-building by extension (ibid). An exemplary case study focusing on oppressor classes in Hindi cinema would be masala cop films of late 2010’s, given their extreme popularity and stylized violence. For one thing, these films prominently invoke Brahmanical myths. Also, in this genre, the script relies on the performativity of the cop figure through a spectacle of oppression. In a way, the cop figure gets deified through public mobilization and celebration of valiant police violence.

For instance, in Singham (2011), Dabangg (2010) and Policegiri (2013), the protagonists are delineated as having an absurd moral authority to commit violence as well as a legal obligation to curb crime. Thus, in a fight sequence outside a cinema hall in Singham, the villain refuses to engage with the policeman and challenges cop to fight personally as an ordinary citizen. The cop, Bajirao Singham, removes his uniform shirt and weapon without any second thought to accept the challenge, going against standard police protocol. Tellingly, in several close-ups, he is wearing many rings in the fingers and threads on the right hand wrist, tell-tale signs of a Hindu believer.

Performance of violence and public mobilisation in Singham( 2011). The first image of the sequence focuses on the close up of Bajirao Singham’s Hands,which is full of Hindu symbols of threads and rings. The third image frames the masala cop hero from a lower angle with a halo over the head: a staple camera technique in other ‘masala’ films as well which deifies the star hero. In the 5th shot in the sequence the Hindu temple in the background further creates a ritualistic performance of violence.

The fight scene is a chaotic and spectacular display of police violence. It has background music from a Maharashtrian Ganesh Utsav festival—i.e. a predominantly regional Hindu festival which asserts the dominance of a specific cultural identity i.e. Marathi caste identity. In the end of the fight scene, the hero cop unbuckles his uniform belt and uses it as a weapon to beat the criminal before a crowd. Similarly, in Gangajal (2003), the policemen stab criminals in their eyes with a spoke and pour acid into them as a grotesque display of custodial violence and call it gangajal (holy water). 

Custodial violence in Gangaajal (2003). Based on the infamous blinding case in Bhagalpur district of Bihar in 1980, the sequence depicts Police violence in all its brutality with spoke and acid. The latter is christened as ‘Gangajaal’ or the Holy water. The sequence in a way symbolises the fact that the jurisdiction can only be purified through violence and mutilation.

These cinematic incidents draw on increasing disregard for legal procedure and they legitimate and celebrate extrajudicial police violence in both Hindi cinema and society. In the paper to follow, we will look at masala cop films and how their almost ritualistic performance of extrajudicial violence, embodied by the figure of a supercop, garners justification through the incorporation of predominantly Brahminical myths and icons. By taking this approach, we hope to demystify such narrative authority and entitlement to violence and to deconstruct the myth of the oppressor-caste, supercop-saviour figure as popularized by mainstream Hindi cinema.  

Myth and the masala films: an overview

Masala, as a quintessential Indian form, exemplifies the basic skeleton of how a Hindi film is put together.  In this section, we argue, via the example of masala cop films, that the Masala form in Indian cinema and its narrative tropes are significantly influenced by Brahmanical myths, especially the narrative of Ramayana. To begin a conversation on Oppressor Caste identities and representation in Indian (specifically Hindi) cinema, we need to address that larger narrative formation. Masala films are a distinct cinematic form where different moods and tones co-exist, the Aristotelian unities are never given much significance, and exaggeration is regarded as a virtue (Singh). The films do not adhere to any single western genre structure, rather have semblance to multiple genres.

The earliest examples of masala in Hindi cinema can be traced to films like Yaadon ki Baraat (1973) and Sholay (1975) among others, which gets solidified through Manmohan Desai’s successful films like Amar Akbar Anthony (1977), Parvarish ( 1977), Suhaag (1979), Naseeb (1981) etc. and gets carried forward in the ‘80s and the ‘90s through films like Himmatwala (1983), Phool aur Kaante (1991), Mohra (1994), Main Khiladi Tu Anari (1994). There are some obvious affinities between the masala films and Hollywood genres such as musicals and westerns. However, every element that can be traced back to Hollywood cinema is reimagined in the masala form according to local Indian sensibilities. As noted by Jyotika Virdi regarding the national features of Hindi cinema, 

“Though Hindi films embrace Hollywood-style elements of linear narrative, …  they are adapted to a local sensibility, are topical, and, most importantly, are connected with an indigenous star system and genre expectations from the Indian audience that will always exclude Hollywood” (Virdi 19). 

In this regard, masala cinema comes into play as an all-encompassing genre. The masala films therefore operate with a sense of plurality that conjoins seemingly disparate elements to provide an exhilaratingly escapist and affective experience for the audience. In addition, this kind of experience projects an aspirational wish-fulfilment. Formulae of masala films are drawn from various facets of Indian performance cultures such as Parsi theatre and Ramlila and are then inculcated into a cohesive whole (Joughin 129).[1][open endnotes in new window] For example, as Chidananda Dasgupta points out about folk and Parsi theatre, melodrama dominates the situation instead of minute instances of logicality. Often a resultant ‘suspension of disbelief’ occurs in the terms of symbol and myths instead of factual basis.  The fullness of ‘pre-determined stimuli’ drawn from mythic culture depends on the fidelity of the performance enacting generic conventions (Dasgupta 16). 

Elements from Hindu culture and mythology were incorporated into the visual language of Hindi cinema early on to further cultural nationalism at a time of anti-colonial movements. Although Hindi cinema has produced fewer direct adaptations of myths in the post-independence milieu, their influence, visual icons, and narrative tropes can be observed throughout Indian film’s hundred years of history. 

As noted by Vijay Mishra in his work Bollywood Cinema: Temples of Desire (2001), at any particular historical moment in the nation, on the command of a particular (Brahmanical) class, the myth of Rama has been taken up by a majoritarian collective to achieve certain political goals. In his work, Mishra enquires into the historical conditions when there is a return to the particular mythical past of Ramayana; for example, it is seen now in the neoliberal landscape of the nation. Bombay cinema or ‘masala cinema’ by extension is a form homologous to a narrative form already established by ancient Sanskrit epic texts, specifically Ramayana and Mahabharata. Stylistically, this form was adapted to cinema primarily through repeating individual moments in the narrative; such repetition is a tactic which validates a ‘pre-existent totality, a confirmation’, so to speak (Mishra 33). Through this style, every form of Hindi cinema becomes affected by the ‘absolutist norms of Hindu Culture’ which are the norms of the law and also of individual action; this constitutes the realm of a higher moral order (Mishra 583). 

For a critical understanding of policing, the topic at hand, and to avoid a vague or superficial understanding of Hindu culture and its norms of law and individual action, it is essential to look at B.R. Ambedkar’s critique of Hindu society:

“Hindu society as such does not exist. It is only a collection of castes. Each caste is conscious of its existence (Ambedkar 50).” 

This postulate implies that in any rendition of the Hindu society, be it in myths or films, the order postulated in caste must find its way. The order of caste, developed from the order of four varna, is in fact the ordering of Hindu society. It is omnipresent in all Indian narrative forms yet tacit in cinema. Therefore, an inquiry into a narrative's mythological elements should lead us to the embedded caste order that gets adapted to cinema along with other narrative elements. In other words, the caste and gender dynamics of Ramayana and other Brahmanical myths are reiterated in film's masala form precisely because cultural products are heavily influenced by the said myths. 

Tracing the cop figures in Hindi cinema

Before delving into the supercop figure, we offer a brief overview of the cop figure in Hindi masala films to trace this character in Hindi cinema since the post-independence period. As the filmmakers, actors and their cop characters largely come from particular caste groups, it can be argued that the films represent the consciousness of that particular caste group (Kumar, Wankhede). In that context, the cop figure quintessentially embodies relations between oppressor-caste consciousness and the Indian welfare state along with its legal system, especially the symbolic order of law. 

In this light, certain traits of the cop figures emerge. First, the cop figures of earlier Hindi cinema, from post-independence until the 1960s, are merely extensions of the state apparatus, as seen in films like Awara (1951) and Shree 420 (1955). These films’ narratives trust in the legal system to resolve the issues facing the protagonists, where an officer usually comes from the Kayastha caste. Later, in the 1970s, if a policeman is a protagonist, he would be confronted with a moral dilemma between the symbolic order of the law and that of the family (Rankawat 165-180). As law cannot always deliver him justice, the protagonist has to contemplate extralegal means. This is shown most prominently in a film like Zanjeer (1973).  

Such films rely on the figure of the angry young man. Distrust and a conflict of interest develop between the state and the policeman. For example, in Deewar (1975) Sub-Inspector Ravi Verma has to shoot his brother Vijay in the climax to keep the order of law; and in Sholay (1975) ex-Inspector Thakur Baldev Singh has to hire two outlaws, Jai and Veeru, to secure justice (read revenge) against a Daku named Gabbar Singh, whom the state fails to capture. In both films’ climax, the order of law prevails. In terms of historical context, these plots coincide with erstwhile political developments in the country. This was a time when Indira Gandhi caused a split in the Congress Party, which also saw a diminishing influence of the wealthiest Zamindars’ ‘syndicate’ (Jaffrelot 115-143). Later, the angry young man of the 80s, played by the likes of Dharmendra and Mithun, is oppressed by dominant Thakurs, Zamindars and local politicians. Significantly, one of the very few anti-caste films that Hindi cinema has produced was made in this political backdrop; in Ghulami (1985) the thakur policeman and his influential family members are villains, perhaps for the first time so boldly in Hindi Cinema.