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In the world’s largest democracy, where the freedom of speech and expression is constitutionally guaranteed, the Indian film industry continues to find itself in a constant battle with the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). As cinema grows more daring, diverse, and politically aware, the tightening grip of censorship has left filmmakers navigating a complex and often frustrating maze of restrictions. Recent examples such as Punjab 95 and the unreleased Santosh raise critical questions about the limits of creative freedom in India.
The Role of CBFC: Certifier or Censor?
The Central Board of Film Certification, often dubbed the “Censor Board,” is officially mandated to certify films for public exhibition under the Cinematograph Act of 1952. However, in practice, it has frequently overstepped its certifying role to enforce cuts, alterations, or outright bans based on moral, religious, or political grounds. The line between certification and censorship remains dangerously blurred.
The CBFC’s decision-making is often justified as being in the interest of public order or “national sentiments,” but critics argue that this approach prioritizes the appeasement of political or religious groups over the protection of artistic freedom.
Case Study 1: Punjab 95—Political Truths Under the Knife
Punjab 95, a biographical drama based on the life of human rights activist Jaswant Singh Khalra and the source material for the film, primarily the court documents, CBI documents, press documents and Human Rights Commission findings, and has been stuck in limbo for years. Khalra exposed thousands of illegal killings and disappearances in Punjab during the 1990s. The film, which was expected to premiere at film festivals and had notable names attached, faced severe objections from the CBFC.
Reportedly, the board demanded over 21 cuts initially, then 85 and now a whopping demand of 120 cuts, citing concerns that the film could incite unrest or hurt national integrity. Critics of the decision argue that the CBFC’s intervention is less about public safety and more about avoiding discomfort to political institutions implicated in past injustices. Despite international attention and interest, Punjab 95 has still not been given a green signal for release.
The excessive scrutiny of Punjab 95 reveals a disturbing pattern—historical and political narratives that challenge state actions often face censorship hurdles.
Case Study 2: Santosh—A Film That Disappeared Before It Appeared
Even more mysteriously, Santosh, a film that had generated anticipation among cinephiles, never made it to Indian screens. Little is known publicly about the film’s fate, but what has emerged suggests troubling censorship pressure. The film, reportedly dealing with caste and systemic injustice in rural India, faced pushback for its political sensitivity.
Despite international interest and a quiet festival buzz, Santosh was never released or certified for public exhibition in India. This kind of silent suppression — where a film is neither banned officially nor allowed to screen — is becoming increasingly common, creating a chilling effect on socially conscious storytelling.
A Pattern of Silencing Dissent
Punjab 95 and Santosh are not isolated cases. Films like Udta Punjab, Lipstick Under My Burkha, India’s Daughter, and Ka Bodyscapes have also been delayed, censored, or blocked due to their “controversial” content. The CBFC, often echoing political or cultural sentiments, ends up gatekeeping narratives that challenge dominant power structures.
These interventions signal an underlying discomfort with films that portray caste discrimination, gender inequality, political corruption, or state violence — especially when these portrayals threaten the curated image of national harmony or development.
The Way Forward: Reform or Repeal?
There have been repeated calls to reform the CBFC and redefine its role as a certifying body rather than a censoring authority. In 2021, the Cinematograph (Amendment) Bill proposed controversial changes allowing the government to override CBFC decisions — a move seen by many as further endangering creative autonomy.
In a country as diverse and complex as India, cinema plays a crucial role in raising awareness, promoting empathy, and critiquing power. Suppressing difficult stories doesn’t erase the issues — it only delays the reckoning.
Conclusion:
Audiences are smart; they have an idea of what they are watching. We are in the times of the internet, where the audience can fact-check, critisise and even confront the makers of the film or a series if they distort facts. Art has always been a mirror to society — sometimes comforting, sometimes confronting. When regulatory bodies stifle that mirror, they don’t just silence filmmakers; they deny audiences the right to engage with diverse perspectives. Punjab 95 and Santosh represent more than just films delayed — they symbolize the shrinking space for truth-telling in Indian cinema. As audiences grow more conscious and filmmakers more fearless, it remains to be seen whether India will embrace its cinematic truth-tellers — or continue cutting their stories short.
