Women, War, And The Nation: Gendered Patriotism In Hindi Cinema

From uniforms to flags fluttering in slow motion, coupled with swelling background scores, Indian patriotism revolves around a heroic man willing to sacrifice everything for the nation. This figure of the patriotic hero is almost always a cisgender-heterosexual man, emotionally restrained and or stable, physically capable, and morally certain. Women appear not as participants in the state but as its emotional backdrop: wives waiting at home, mothers praying for their sons, girlfriends providing motivation, or bodies that must be protected, rescued, or mourned.

This “natural” reflection of war and nationalism is deeply gendered. The absence or marginalisation of women in patriotic films is not accidental.

It reveals how the nation is imagined, who is allowed to act for it, and whose role is limited to suffering for it. 

Rang De Basanti (2006)

At first glance, Rang De Basanti appears to conform to the masculine model of patriotic action. Its climax is driven by male protagonists who choose violence and martyrdom in response to systemic corruption. However, the film complicates this reading through its female characters, who, while not combatants, are far from passive.

Sue, the British filmmaker, initiates the entire narrative by resurrecting the stories of Indian revolutionaries. Her project bridges the past and the present.

The change in the behaviour of the other characters in the film, from reluctance to act in Sue’s film to being disillusioned and caring deeply about the state of their country, suggests that nationalism is not inherited but consciously constructed.

Sonia, Ajay’s fiancée, undergoes a crucial transformation after his death due to institutional negligence. Her grief is not limited to silently suffering, but rather it’s political. By confronting the state’s indifference and demanding accountability, Sonia catalyses the moral awakening of the group.

What makes Rang De Basanti significant is that it allows women agency without forcing them into traditionally masculine roles. They are not holding guns, but they shape ideology, conscience, and memory.

The film acknowledges emotional labour, ethical clarity, and political consciousness as legitimate forms of patriotic action. In doing so, it subtly resists the idea that nationalism must always be loud, violent, and male.

Raazi (2018)

If Rang De Basanti stretches the margins of women’s roles in patriotic cinema, Raazi decisively places a woman at its centre. Sehmat Khan is not a symbol of the nation; she is an operative of it.

As a spy married into a Pakistani military family, Sehmat’s patriotism is defined not by spectacle but by secrecy, restraint, and moral conflict.

Crucially, Raazi refuses to glamorise either espionage or nationalism. Sehmat’s agency exists within coercive structures. She is recruited by her father and the state, her consent shaped by duty and circumstance.

Yet within these constraints, she makes active choices, gathers intelligence, and takes responsibility for her actions. When she kills, the film emphasises trauma, not victory.

Her patriotism costs her innocence, family, and any uncomplicated sense of self. The film expands the definition of patriotism to include vulnerability, ethical doubt, and emotional endurance. The nation is no longer saved through brute force alone, but through the invisible labour of a woman. 

Border (1997)

In contrast, Border presents a vision of the nation as an almost exclusively male space. Set during the Battle of Longewala, the film is technically accomplished, emotionally stirring, and sincere in its tribute to soldiers. However, its gender politics are striking in their absence.

Women in Border exist only on the periphery, appearing briefly in songs, memories, or scenes of farewell and mourning.

They do not influence strategy, narrative direction, or ideological stakes. Their primary function is to humanise male sacrifice, reinforcing the idea that women’s relationship to the nation is non-existent or mediated through men.

The Indian armed forces have high-ranking female officers. Patriotism goes beyond literally fighting a war. Instead, by presenting war and patriotism as inherently male domains, Border reinforces the idea that the nation is something men defend and women merely endure.

Airlift (2016)

Airlift, based on the real-life evacuation of Indians from Kuwait during the Gulf War, had the potential to foreground collective survival and vulnerability. Instead, it frames the crisis almost entirely through the lens of a single male saviour figure.

Female characters, including the protagonist’s wife, are present but narratively inconsequential. They only carry the emotional burden of the family. They do not shape decisions or outcomes; their fear and resilience do not drive the plot forward. 

The evacuation of thousands is reduced to a story of individual masculine leadership, flattening the gendered realities of displacement.

In doing so, Airlift reinforces a familiar trope of patriotic cinema: the nation survives because one exceptional man steps up, while women remain emotional spectators to history.

Holiday (2014)

Holiday presents an especially revealing contradiction. Its female lead is introduced as modern, physically strong, and independent. She’s a boxer with agency and ambition.

Yet this promise is quickly undermined by the narrative. Despite her strength, she exists solely as the hero’s girlfriend, with no meaningful impact on the plot. Her independence is aesthetic rather than structural; it does not alter power dynamics or decision-making.

Worse, the film falls back on one of the most regressive tropes in patriotic action cinema: the kidnapping of women, family members of soldiers.

These women are framed as liabilities whose endangerment raises emotional stakes for male protagonists, rather than as individuals capable of resistance or agency.

Even when women are shown as physically capable, the script refuses to imagine them as narratively capable. Their purpose is not to act for the nation, but to be used against it.

Reimagining the Nation on Screen

Films like Rang De Basanti and Raazi demonstrate that patriotic cinema does not have to rely on exclusionary, hypermasculine ideals. They show that nationalism can be conflicted, emotionally complex, and inclusive of women’s experiences and labour. Indian patriotic cinema will remain politically incomplete as long as it fails to imagine a nation that belongs to women as well as it does to men.

Views expressed by the author are their own.