Shilpa Chalke | 24th July 2025
In a country where cinema is more than just entertainment — where it becomes a daily ritual, a cultural classroom, and a mirror of collective imagination — Hindi films have long held the power to shape dreams. For countless young women across India, especially those aspiring to join the police force, the big screen is often their first encounter with what a woman in uniform looks like. But is this image empowering or misleading? The answer lies somewhere in between.
Historically, Hindi cinema hasn’t been kind to women in positions of power. From the lens of the male gaze, women have often been portrayed as emotional, glamorous accessories to male leads. When they do step into professional roles — particularly in law enforcement — they are either oversexualized, hyper-aggressive, or portrayed as emotionally fragile. These representations may serve the cinematic thrill, but they fail to offer realistic or balanced narratives of what it means to be a woman in uniform.
However, things have started to shift. Films like Mardaani have presented characters like Shivani Roy — a fierce yet emotionally grounded officer played by Rani Mukerji — as both relatable and aspirational. These characters demonstrate that strength can coexist with empathy, and that authority doesn’t require the abandonment of femininity. For many young women watching such films, these portrayals act as a spark — a push to believe that they too can serve, lead, and protect with dignity.
But for every Mardaani, there are films that sensationalize the role. Women police officers are sometimes shown in impractical costumes, or portrayed in exaggerated dramatics — crying on duty, breaking down under pressure, or resorting to violence as the only tool of power. These images, while cinematic, risk becoming the public’s default perception of women in the police. This doesn’t just affect how society sees them — it affects how their families perceive their ambitions, and even how these young aspirants see themselves.
The problem is deeper than just costumes and camera angles. These portrayals are often rooted in a broader patriarchal narrative — one where a woman must either be overly masculine to be taken seriously, or overly emotional to stay ‘feminine.’ There is little room for nuance, for the everyday strength and strategic intelligence that real women officers bring to the force.
And this gap between reel and real is not just artistic — it has real-world consequences. When young women speak of their aspirations, they are often met with skepticism. Parents, neighbors, even peers, judge them not by real examples of women officers on the ground, but by what they have seen on screen. If films continue to portray women officers as unstable, unsafe, or constantly endangered, it undermines the confidence of both the aspirant and her community.
What we need, then, is a cinema that is not only entertaining, but also responsible. Filmmakers have a unique opportunity — and arguably a duty — to collaborate with real officers, gender experts, and storytellers who can portray the lives of women in uniform with authenticity. This doesn’t mean stripping away drama or heroism. It means redefining what heroism looks like — in calm leadership, in emotional intelligence, in ethical decision-making, and in silent resilience.
Cinema can do more than reflect society — it can shape it. And in the case of women in law enforcement, it has the power to break long-held stereotypes, inspire new ambitions, and make space for a future where a woman in uniform is not a novelty, but a norm.
Hindi cinema stands at a critical crossroads. It can either continue echoing outdated narratives or step forward into a new era — one that champions the real stories of women who serve with courage and commitment. The uniform is not just a costume; it is a symbol of trust, responsibility, and power. It’s time the big screen treated it with the respect it deserves.
Shilpa Chalke is a researcher and social commentator exploring the intersections of gender, media, and public service.
