A man in a brown suit stands in the middle of Srinagar’s Lal Chowk town square with a radio tied to his back and a rope tied like a noose around his neck.
“Hum hain ki nahi?” he asks, his eyes glinting with instability. “Do we exist or do we not? If we do … then who are we? If we don’t … then where are we?”
If this scene sounds very Hamlet-esque, it is because it comes from a Bollywood adaptation of Hamlet, called “Haider.” Ten years after its release, the film continues to garner praise from critics and audiences alike. There’s an obvious reason for the adulation. Haider is an unflinching, poetic portrayal of the ongoing conflict in Kashmir, highlighting the perspective of the oppressed Kashmiri locals who feel alienated from Indian society at large — something few films have had the guts to do.
It is one of the few politically-charged movies in India that doesn’t toe the party line or mince its words. Despite 41 cuts from the Censor Board, the film successfully presents an alternate narrative to nationalists, politicians, the Indian Army, and the Indian public, pushing them to reconsider their picture of the crisis in Kashmir.
The History
Kashmir has been at the heart of a territorial dispute between India and Pakistan since both nations gained independence from Britain in 1947. After India and Pakistan were partitioned, the princely ruler of Jammu and Kashmir, Maharaja Hari Singh, was given the choice to join either country.
Singh initially sought independence. He felt the Muslim majority population of the state would not be comfortable if Jammu and Kashmir acceded to India alongside the fear that Hindu and Sikh minorities would be left vulnerable if the state acceded to Pakistan.
Various parties violently expressed their discontent at this decision. Rebels who wanted to join Pakistan clashed with Singh’s troops in the Poonch and Mirpur districts. The most significant violent episode came when the Pakistani army, in a last-ditch effort to pressure Singh to join them, armed Pashtun tribesmen who attempted to take the capital city of Srinagar. The tribesmen plundered towns near the city of Baramulla, but were pushed back by the Indian Army, who Singh called in a desperate plea for help. India would only assist if Singh signed an Instrument of Accession to India, to which he agreed.
Extensive battles broke out across Kashmir as the Pakistani Army attempted to reclaim some portion of Kashmir for themselves in what is now known as the first Kashmir War. The conflict ended in 1948 with a United Nations-brokered ceasefire, which dictated that India would get two-thirds of Kashmir and Pakistan would get the remaining third, with a “Line of Control” drawn between both countries’ “parcels” of Kashmir.
For years after the war, Muslim-majority, Indian-administered Kashmir saw minor episodes of unrest when Pakistani militants invaded as well as during protests by Muslim Kashmiris to resist the discrimination they faced by the government.
The violence entered a new and brutal phase with the Kashmir insurgency — the name given to the separatist militant conflict driven by nationalist forces in the region. The impetus for this period was the 1987 Kashmir Assembly election. The losing party, the Muslim United Front, stated the election was “rigged” by the Indian government and formed militant groups in response. The Kashmiri people sorted into pro-India, pro-Pakistan, and pro-independence factions. Economic grievances and discrimination by the Indian government led to more clashes between the Hindu and Muslim populations — bombings taking place across the Kashmir Valley.
The Kashmir insurgency was at one of its most violent phases in 1995, the year “Haider” takes place. The Indian Army was highly active in the region; human rights transgressions were rampant, including allegations that the Indian Army was conducting extrajudicial killings while imprisoning and torturing locals.
The Story
“Haider” begins with Dr. Hilal Meer, played by Narendra Jha, treating insurgent leader Ikhlaq Latif for appendicitis at home. Soon after, the Indian Army arrests Hilal for “sympathizing with militants,” and his hospital is destroyed. Hilal’s son, Haider (actor Shahid Kapoor) returns from college to find his father missing and his mother, Ghazala, romantically involved with his uncle, Khurram. With his girlfriend Arshia, whose father Pervez is a police officer, Haider searches for answers in Kashmir’s police stations and detention camps.
Arshia eventually discovers Roohdaar, a pro-separatist who was in the same detention camp as Hilal, who reveals that Hilal was executed. Roohdaar delivers Hilal’s last message: Haider must avenge his death by killing Khurram. Growing increasingly unstable after this revelation, Haider shaves his head and protests the Armed Forces Special Powers Act, the law that mandates the presence of the Indian Army in “disturbed areas” like Kashmir.
Arshia’s father, Pervez, learns of Haider’s plan to kill Pervez and has him captured, revealing that it was he in fact who ordered Hilal’s execution. Haider escapes, planning to train as a militant in a Pakistani camp. Before he leaves, Ghazala takes Haider aside to confess that she unintentionally betrayed Hilal to Khurram, unaware of Khurram’s connection to Pervez. In a final confrontation, Haider kills Pervez. When Khurram shows up to square off against Haider, Ghazala interrupts, urging Haider to end the cycle of revenge. She then detonates a suicide vest, mortally wounding Khurram. As Haider approaches to kill Khurram, he remembers his mother’s plea and walks away, unwilling to perpetuate the cycle of revenge or to give Khurram the happiness of death.
Cinematic Commentary
“Haider” might be one of the only Bollywood films of its time to do justice to Kashmir.
Haider treats the region with the complexity and respect it deserves. Part of why “Haider” is praised is due to the thoughtful scriptwriting, produced by an actual Kashmiri — acclaimed journalist Basharat Peer — who uses his own experiences to inform Haider’s emotions.
Vishal Bharadwaj’s direction and the cold, gray cinematography also contribute to the gritty, real feel of the film. Hamlet, as a tragedy that revolves around identity, is perhaps one of the best plays Bharadwaj could have pulled from for a story about Kashmir. Shakespeare’s soliloquies adapt beautifully to Indian cinema, melding well with a genre that is already prone to lengthy dialogues.
One of my favorite soliloquies of Haider’s is after Khurram nefariously tries to convince him that Roohdaar is the one who killed Hilal, and Haider doesn’t know who to believe. He can’t be 100% sure that either party is telling the truth because his uncle, despite being his blood relative, has betrayed him and people close to him before … and Roohdaar could very well be a counter-insurgent in disguise.
“Shaq pe aata hai yakeen mujhe, yakeen pe aata hai shaq,” he says. “I believe in doubt and doubt what I believe.”
The line skillfully illustrates the breakdown of trust in Kashmir. Kashmiris are often sidelined by the Indian government and aided by Pakistanis — but on the other hand, it is often Indian forces that protect cities like Srinagar from Pakistani threats. No one knows who to believe, who to trust. In a crisis like this one, trust collapses and faith dies.
Within the constraints of a hyperactive censor board and a newly-elected Prime Minister with a distinctly different picture of Kashmir, the film’s message to the Indian public on Kashmir is still incredibly powerful.
The great “to be or not to be” dilemma of Hamlet is here rendered as “Hum hai ki nahi,” or “are we or are we not?” Is a population who live afraid of the next bomb blast, whose fathers “disappear” after being taken by the army, and whose brothers are rapidly radicalized because they are disillusioned by their oppressive reality, really living?
It’s here that Hamlet and Haider intersect — both face an existential crisis. For Hamlet, it’s an individual crisis. For Haider, it is the fear of the Kashmiri people being erased from society.
Controversy and Conclusion
As expected, Haider received criticism in political forums and on X from nationalist groups who accused the film of being anti-Indian, for its sympathetic portrayal of Kashmiri civilians and its criticisms of the Indian military. Some said the film was only representing the experiences of Kashmiri Muslims, as there was no mention of the exodus of the Kashmiri Hindu community — the Pandits — who left due to threats from militants. Matters were heated in Pakistan, too; the government banned “Haider” because they didn’t want to show the scenes of people “disappearing” because this happens in Pakistan-administered Kashmir as well.
Ironically in their outrage, both Pakistanis and Indians subconsciously acknowledged the complexity of the Kashmir issue. In India, it is not just one religious group that suffers from religious and nationalist tensions but everyone in the state. Despite the Pakistani government’s stance that it seeks to liberate Kashmir, military repression is as significant of a problem as it is in Indian-administered Kashmir.The very existence of “Haider” speaks volumes about the evolution of Indian cinema and the ability of the Indian audience to consume media that goes against their preconceived notions. “Haider” dared to challenge the mainstream narrative on one of the nation’s most fraught issues. Despite the loud nationalist outcry and censorship it faced, it successfully acts as a mirror to India and Pakistan — reflecting the uneasy truths that both countries would rather avoid. And it is precisely in this discomfort that “Haider” makes its mark and captures audiences’ hearts. In a landscape where art can be silenced or co-opted by a party or ideology, Haider offers a powerful reminder that art can and should be free to speak truth to power.
