In recent years, Bollywood has seen a resurgence in reimagining epics like the Ramayana, but this trend is as much about navigating cultural sensitivities as it is about storytelling ambition. Nitesh Tiwari’s upcoming two-part Ramayana saga, set for a Diwali 2026 debut, is the latest addition to this canon, joining a wave of recent films that have sought to reinterpret the ancient text for contemporary audiences. From the spectacular grandeur of Adipurush to the subtle influences of RRR, filmmakers have grappled with balancing creative expression and audience expectations in a politically charged atmosphere.
Take, for instance, Om Raut’s Adipurush. Despite its massive global opening of millions, the film faced severe backlash for its visual effects and dialogues, which many deemed disrespectful. Lines like “you will die son” for Lord Hanuman and the portrayal of Ravana’s ten heads as floating projections were met with widespread criticism, leading to protests and a steep box-office decline. The film’s failure was a stark reminder that creative liberties with mythological epics are fraught with risks.

Bollywood hasn’t been the only industry to reinterpret this ancient tale. Mani Ratnam’s Raavan in 2010 offered a psychological take, focusing on Ravana’s perspective. While its Tamil version resonated with audiences, the Hindi version failed to connect. Yet, its nuanced portrayal of characters like Beera (Ravana) and Ragini (Sita) continues to be a reference point for modern adaptations. Yet every single time an adaptation graces the screen it has always been a hit or miss or a cesspool of controversy
Even the 1993 animated Indo-Japanese collaboration Ramayana: The Legend of Prince Rama remains an enduring favourite, despite its delayed release due to backlashes over fear of misrepresentation. Japanese director Yugo Sako, inspired by his work on the documentary; The Ramayana Relics, about excavations conducted by controversial archaeologist Dr. B.B. Lal, was captivated by the spiritual themes of the epic and reportedly studied ten versions of the Ramayana in Japanese. Sako believed that live-action could not adequately convey the mythological grandeur of the story, opting instead for animation in collaboration with legendary Indian animator Ram Mohan.

However, Sako’s vision was met with resistance. While animation is considered an elevated art form in Japan, it was then regarded as a children’s medium in India. The depiction of gods and goddesses as “cartoon figures” provoked protests from the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, and the movie had to be completed in Japan. Its release was further jeopardised by the politically charged climate of the Ram Janmabhoomi movement, culminating in the demolition of the Babri Masjid in 1992. As a result, the film was banned in India, despite its global acclaim and enduring appeal.
Hindutva forces have since become more accepting of animated representations of Hindu legends, leading to a proliferation of such works in Indian media. After 31 years, Ramayana: The Legend of Prince Rama has finally returned to Indian cinemas, releasing in Hindi, English, Tamil, and Telugu. Its revival celebrates the epic’s timeless resonance and introduces it to a broader audience, reaffirming the tale’s cultural and spiritual significance.
The narrative isn’t limited to mythological adaptations either. Rohit Shetty’s Singham Again, which incorporates thematic elements of the Ramayana, found itself under the scrutiny of the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). The film draws parallels between Ajay Devgn’s Bajirao Singham and Kareena Kapoor Khan’s Avni Kamat with Lord Rama and Sita, as they navigate a modern-day pursuit of justice. However, the CBFC mandated 7.12 minutes of cuts before granting the movie a U/A certificate. These modifications included removing Ramayana references, such as mentions of Lord Ram, Sita, and Hanuman, and censoring a scene where Arjun Kapoor’s character compares himself to Ravana. Additionally, a scene featuring Ranveer Singh’s Simmba in a flirtatious moment was also excised. The producers complied with these changes, reflecting the fine balance filmmakers must strike when weaving mythology into contemporary narratives.
Similarly, Ram Setu (2022) brought the epic into the realm of archaeology, blending mythology with science, though it struggled to find its footing at the box office.
So what really is the issue? What makes a Ramayana adaptation click and what makes it a controversial piece? Critics points to Adipurush as an example- as it stands in a string of recent films that aim at appealing to Hindu viewers. Critics argue that the success or controversy of these adaptations largely hinges on the delicate balance between cultural reverence and creative freedom. Filmmakers often face the challenge of navigating the strong emotional and cultural connections audiences have with the epic, which can lead to backlash if perceived misinterpretations or deviations from traditional portrayals occur.
In Adipurush, the depiction of Ravana has been a focal point of criticism. Critics, including writer Sowmya Rajendran, argue that Ravana’s character was reduced to a simplistic, stereotypical villain, with dark attire and kohl-rimmed eyes, drawing from Bollywood’s prevailing “Mughal villain” aesthetic. This portrayal contrasts sharply with the complex figure in the original epic—a learned devotee of Shiva and a prosperous king. Rajendran’s critique highlights how the film missed an opportunity to capture the nuance of Ravana’s character, opting instead for a more conventional representation of villainy.

Film critic Rahul Desai has noted that these criticisms are part of a larger trend where Hindu mythology, such as the Ramayana and Mahabharata, has become increasingly difficult to adapt. Desai suggested that the rejection of Adipurush was not just about the film’s quality, but also about the broader cultural and political climate. He explained, “We’ve reached a stage where Hindu mythology… cannot be touched. People look at it as an attack on their truth, unlike historicals, where facts are regularly altered to suit hate-spreading political narratives.” This growing sensitivity around adaptations of Hindu epics reflects a wider shift in how audiences engage with these stories, where even small deviations can be perceived as offensive.
As Desai pointed out, while a significant percentage of the Indian audience may embrace Hindutva narratives, they still expect films to provide quality entertainment. “They want their money’s worth,” he said, adding that they will not tolerate a film that feels lazy or insincere, no matter how faithful it is to religious doctrine. This underscores the challenge Bollywood faces in striking a balance between staying true to cultural and religious expectations while offering an engaging and thought-provoking adaptation of epic narratives like the Ramayana.
On the other hand, what makes the Ramayana so adaptable is its universal themes—duty, sacrifice, loyalty, and the eternal battle between good and evil. But adapting a text so deeply ingrained in cultural consciousness is no small task. Filmmakers walk a fine line between staying faithful to the source material and making it accessible to contemporary audiences.
As the industry prepares for upcoming adaptations, this tension between reverence and innovation is more pronounced than ever. One notable project in the works is the much-anticipated Ramayana by Nitesh Tiwari. Set for release in 2026
In a similar vein, another fresh take on the Ramayana is Anil Sharma’s Vanvaas, announced on Dussehra, set for a December release. Sharma, calls Vanvaas “Kalyug Ka Ramayana” (The Ramayana of the Kalyug, or the modern age), a reimagining of the exile theme in which it’s the children who force their parents into exile. The film stars Utkarsh Sharma and Nana Patekar, and as Sharma describes, Vanvaas offers a contemporary twist on the traditional narrative, where it is the “own people who banish their own. This shift to a modern-day scenario, while rooted in the timeless core of the Ramayana, raises important questions about how mythological narratives are reframed for today’s audience. As more adaptations of the Ramayana emerge, these interpretations highlight the challenges of balancing cultural respect with creative freedom, and how filmmakers address the evolving expectations of audiences. Will these new takes succeed in delivering meaningful, relevant adaptations, or will they, too, fall into the trap of losing the essence of the epic in the pursuit of modernity?