It is a simple question. Almost uncomfortable in its simplicity: If you like something, why stop at liking it? Why not show up for it? Why not pay for it? Why does your support end at a social media post and not at the ticket counter?
The question is not about taste but about intent. And it applies directly to Hindi cinema, especially the films being led by women.
We say we want strong women on screen. Women who speak clearly, who question systems, do not exist merely as love interests. We praise layered writing. We applaud nuance. We share trailers and write long captions about how cinema is changing.
But when the Friday test arrives, what do we do?
Take Haq. A film that centred a woman fighting a religious structure that denied her dignity as a wife, mother and individual. It sparked debate. It was appreciated more once it arrived on streaming. The performances were dissected. Think-pieces were written. Yet at the box office, the response was muted. Why does validation arrive only after its streaming debut?
Look at Mardaani 3. We celebrate it as one of the rare woman-led franchises in Hindi cinema. We praise its intent, its grit, its refusal to soften reality. But why does that admiration not translate into footfall? Can appreciation alone sustain cinema?
Now comes Assi. Taapsee Pannu has been blunt about it. She asked viewers not to hide behind the excuse that Hindi cinema does not tell real stories. Because when such stories are told, we hesitate. The Anubhav Sinha directorial deals with crimes against women – as data, as reality. It forces us to confront the normalisation of sexual violence. It unsettles.
So what is the resistance?
Is it discomfort with women occupying the centre without apology? Is it easier to cheer for a male hero avenging injustice than to sit through a woman dissecting it? Are we more comfortable when empowerment is not confrontational, when women are not the ones asking questions?
There is nothing wrong with lining up for large-scale entertainers like Border 2 or Dhurandhar. When audiences show up for big-ticket action dramas, they are putting their money where their mouth is. That is honest.
But why does that honesty not extend to films headlined solely by women? Why is support selective?
These films are not lectures. They are not moral instruction manuals. They are simply stories where women exist fully – as thinking, deciding, confronting individuals. If that feels uncomfortable, it is worth asking why.
If we genuinely believe in better representation, in equality on screen, in layered female characters, then the test is not in our praise. It is in our presence.
Cinema does not survive on appreciation. It survives on tickets. And no matter how many times we argue the quality vs numbers debate, the truth is that numbers imply validation, acceptance and appreciation. If we continue to wait for streaming platforms to validate what theatres reject, then the problem is not the filmmaker or cinema. It is us.
If you are still asking whether Hindi cinema is making women-led stories, stop. The question you should be asking is: are we ready to stand behind them when it counts?
