The identity of a ‘Muslim’ in India is shaped and interpreted across diverse discursive contexts, with Hindi cinema performing a central role in this process of signification. Mohammad Asim Siddiqui’s Muslim Identity in Hindi Cinema: Poetics and Politics of Genre and Representation undertakes a comprehensive exploration of how Muslim identity has been shaped, negotiated, and contested across different cinematic forms. In the post-Independence period, mainstream Hindi cinema was mobilized for nation-building, that is, creating national and proto-nationalist identities in order to bind viewers and citizens cutting across class, caste, ethnic, and regional borders into shared national visions and projects. Yet, as Siddiqui demonstrates, this project unfolded within a cinematic field that functioned as a dense semiotic system, one continually shaped and mediated by broader cultural discourses and ideological codes, and deeply inflected by religious identity (pp. 44-45). Within this aesthetico-political paradigm of Bollywood, as Siddiqui points out, Muslims are constructed as a homogeneous category, subordinated to an overarching north Indian, majoritarian Hindu imagination (pp. 88-89). This homogenization is central to how Hindi films generate and reinforce stereotypes, collapsing internal diversities of class, region, language, and culture into a singular, monolithic image of ‘the Muslim’. Within this hegemonic construction, the Muslim emerges as the quintessentially deviant figure—representing several centuries of political domination, symbolizing the traumatic vivisection of the Indian subcontinent, and serving as a perpetual reminder of Pakistan as the enemy across the border. This ideological framework, as Siddiqui argues, is most evident in the reductive depiction of Muslims as a synecdoche for the Pakistan loyalist, anti-Hindu figure, dreaded gangster, religious extremist, or national traitor in Hindi cinema (pp. 99-116). While such representational tropes are deeply rooted in the historical imagination of Hindi cinema, Siddiqui notes that since the 1990s, representations of Muslims have become increasingly aligned with global discourses of terrorism and communal conflict, confining their identity to narrow, rigid, and often fraught exclusionary frames (p. 66).
Over the past two decades, scholarship on Muslim identity in Hindi cinema has expanded considerably, and Mohammad Asim Siddiqui’s book marks a distinctive intervention within this growing body of work. Foundational contributions in this field include Ira Bhaskar and Richard Allen’s Islamicate Cultures of Bombay Cinema (2009), which traced the aesthetic traditions and genres associated with the Islamicate, followed by their more recent volume, Bombay Cinema’s Islamicate Histories (2022), which extended the inquiry through broader historical and archival explorations. Maidul Islam’s Indian Muslim(s) After Liberalization (2019), presents Bollywood as an ideological state apparatus that constructs images of Muslims with far-reaching implications for shaping dominant discourses on Muslim identity, circulating not only among Indian audiences but also across diasporic communities and global viewership. Roshni Sengupta’s Reading the Muslim on Celluloid: Bollywood, Representation and Politics (2020) has majorly focused on Muslim representation in the films produced between 1991-2012. Adding to these debates, Nadira Khatun’s Postcolonial Bollywood and Muslim Identity: Production, Representation, and Reception (2024), examines Muslim representation in Bollywood through the analytical frameworks of cultural studies. Within this evolving scholarly landscape and competing titles, Siddiqui’s book underscores the shifts in cinematic portrayals of Muslims from the 1990s onwards: while earlier films often drew upon secular liberal values to depict the ‘good Muslim’ assimilated into a pluralistic polity, later representational strategies increasingly cast Muslims as ‘the other’. He ascribes this transformation to the growing marginalization of Muslims, linked to the radicalization of Hindutva’s linguistic and ideological lexicon. Positioned within this genealogy, Siddiqui’s book commendably maps the operation of such stereotypes across multiple genres—ranging from the Muslim social and action thriller to gangster films and biopics—while situating Muslim identity within the complex intersections of national politics and global cultural discourses.
Organized in six incisive chapters, the book draws on concepts and methods from new critical close reading, deconstruction, and semiotic as well as discourse analysis to generate important insights into Hindi cinema. The opening chapter titled ‘From “History” to Circus: Politics of Genre and Muslims’ Representation in Hindi Films’, examines the representation of Muslims in historical films, war narratives, and biopics of Urdu literary figures. It contrasts the inclusive vision once embodied in films such as Mughal-e-Azam (1960), with more recent works that employ history to promote a Hindutva-oriented perspective wherein Muslims are depicted as ‘the other’. The chapter contends that even in an age of wide access to information, ideas of identity are constructed through multiple sign systems, as illustrated in a detailed reading of Aamir Khan’s Dhoom 3 (2013), where genre, language, and cinematic codes mediate identity by transforming a figure easily branded a terrorist into a sympathetic thief or a rebel with a cause. Building on this, ‘Shades of Diversity or a Case of Tokenism: Muslim Characters in Hindi Films’, analyses the depiction of Muslim characters across different genres of films, tracing the ways filmmakers have highlighted national integration and Hindu-Muslim unity, while also exposing the frequent reliance on tokenism. It critiques films ranging from the representation of Muslim historical figures and fictional characters within the context of the freedom struggle to films where Muslim identity is not realized through predictable markers, especially in the works of Raj Kumar Hirani and Zoya Akhtar. ‘Rage, Religions, and Riots: Portrayal of Communal Violence in Hindi Films’ shifts focus to the depiction of Hindu-Muslim violence as an expression of the legacies of Partition and its traumatic afterlives, manifesting in violence and the climate of fear after the Babri Masjid demolition in 1992 and the Gujarat riots of 2002. Offering a close reading of Hindi films such as Zanjeer (1973) and Angaar (1992), among others, in ‘“Nayak Nahin Khal Nayak Hoon Main”: Muslim Gangsters, Dons, and Sidekicks of Hindi Cinema’, the author turns to the figure of the Muslim gangster. The chapter explores this cinematic trope while tracing the relocation of gangster films from Mumbai to the Hindi heartland, a shift particularly visible in the works of Tigmanshu Dhulia, Vishal Bhardwaj, and Anurag Kashyap. ‘Courting Terror, Constructing the Terrorist: Terrorism and Muslim Identity in Hindi Cinema’ analyses the portrayal of Muslim identity within the ‘terrorist genre’ through Aamir (2008) and A Wednesday (2008)—films that depict the responses of ordinary Indians to terrorism, while also situating terrorism within the global context after 9/11. It examines films set in locations such as Afghanistan, Turkey, London and New York, alongside Kashmir-centred ‘terrorist films’. The final chapter titled ‘Muslim Genres to Brand Bollywood: Begums, Bais, and the New Muslim Women of Hindi Films’ offers a panoramic account of Muslim women’s representation in Hindi cinema. It considers the reinvention of ‘Muslim socials’ in contemporary idioms and discusses the depictions of interfaith marriages, typically between Hindu men and Muslim women, as a recurring concern.
While Siddiqui’s Muslim Identity in Hindi Cinema is notable for its exceptional critique of Bollywood’s portrayal of Muslim identity in its historical, cultural, and linguistic aspects, it is not without certain shortcomings—yet these gaps do not undermine the overall significance of the work. In light of the technological boom and widespread commercialization of the film industry, the book’s over-emphasis on close reading ignores questions of audience reception and industry practice—areas of inquiry which might have enriched the study, rendering it more nuanced and wide ranging. Also, while cinema is predominantly a visual medium, there is a near total absence of any discussion of camera work—camera angle, camera movement, and lighting—and other cinematic techniques which utilize elements of mise-en-scène such as character positioning, prominence/foregrounding, and facial expressions, all of which mirror and construct particular viewpoints for audiences. While it is well-nigh impossible to cover the entire expansive terrain of Hindi cinema, there is a conspicuous absence of significant films on the topic such as Bhai Bhai (1997), Maa Tujhhe Salaam (2002), Sheen (2004), Chand Bujh Gaya (2005), Sikandar (2009), Well Done Abba (2009), Yeh Mera India (2009), Mausam (2011), Dozakh in Search of Heaven (2013), 19th January (2014), International Hero (2015), Lipstick Under My Burkha (2016) and Mera Fauji Calling (2021). Equally glaring is the absence of a concluding chapter or a coda or an epilogue which could have enabled Siddiqui to reiterate and augment his key findings, discuss the significance and implications of these findings, and suggest directions for future research. Lastly, the book’s inattention to the booming over-the-top (OTT) streaming platforms—Netflix, Amazon Prime, ZEE5, among many others—misses a significant shift in the media environment and storytelling.
On the whole, the book marks a valuable addition to the proliferating literature on Bollywood, acknowledging the vast remit of diversity and difference which are central to questions of ‘identity’. It offers fresh insights and debates on the politics of representation of Muslim identity in Hindi cinema, while drawing connections to existing knowledge on the systematic and deeply embedded nature of communalism. Through its engagement with cinematic, historical, political, and global discourses and contexts, the book firmly positions itself as an indispensable resource for students, researchers and academicians of film studies.
Nishat Haider is Professor, Department of English, Jamia Millia Islamia (Central) University, New Delhi.