This is a protest outside the CBFC office in Thiruvananthapuram.
Filmmakers, actors, and technicians from the Malayalam film industry standing together, calling out what they see as growing censorship in Indian cinema.
At the centre is Janaki vs State of Kerala, a film about a woman who survives assault.
The CBFC halted its release, insisting the character’s name be changed. Why? Because Janaki is another name for the Hindu goddess Sita — and according to the board, a survivor shouldn’t carry a divine name.
Ironically, union minister Suresh Gopi is part of the film’s cast, but even that didn’t help the movie’s case
And Janaki isn’t alone.
Punjab 95, starring Diljit Dosanjh, has been in limbo for over two and a half years
Tamil movie Nasir, Hindi movie Santhosh have not released
The CBFC may call itself a certification board. But in reality, it plays the role of censor.
Films are trimmed, tweaked, or stalled until they neatly fit within political, cultural, and moral lines.
Stories about caste, religion, state violence, you know the uncomfortable truths, are being quietly delayed, sliced up, or buried altogether.
In this episode we look at how chilling the atmosphere has become that other than censorship there is also self censorship
Let Me Explain.
Before we dive into this episode, a big thank you to all our viewers and subscribers who supported our ground report from Keeladi. Your support keeps us going.
This week, as we turn the lens on censorship, let’s not forget: it’s not just films that are under the knife. Journalism, too, is increasingly being censored or forced into self-censorship. Those in power use every tool at their disposal to silence, distract, and deflect, all so the truth doesn’t reach you, and they remain unaccountable.
At The News Minute, we’ve been pushing back–fiercely and fearlessly. But doing that comes at a cost. That’s why we run on your support alone. No corporate ads. No government funding.
And we know we can count on you. So if you haven’t already, become a subscriber to The News Minute and Newslaundry today.
Let’s look at what’s happening with this film now.
Janaki vs State of Kerala had already been cleared by the CBFC’s Kerala office. It was when it reached Mumbai that things changed.
Not only was the title flagged, but the filmmakers were told that if the name had to be changed, every dialogue that mentions it would need to be changed too.
The film was scheduled to release on June 20. Now, it’s in limbo.
Industry bodies like A.M.M.A., FEFKA, and the Producers Association are calling this a blatant overreach of censorship powers. And they’re not wrong.
During their protest outside the CBFC office, FEFKA president B Unnikrishnan put this bluntly. He said Suresh Gopi should learn from this experience. That his own government is using CBFC to tighten its grip on cinema, poetry, and all forms of creative expression.
And like I said, this isn’t an isolated incident.
Punjab ’95, a film based on the life of Jaswant Singh Khalra, is also stuck.
Khalra was a human rights activist who exposed mass disappearances during the militancy years in Punjab.
The CBFC demanded 127 cuts to the film. One of the main issues was a scene where Khalra states that 25,000 unidentified bodies were cremated by the police. The board wanted that number reduced.
Director Honey Trehan spoke to us on our South Central podcast, and listen to what he has to say:
Even award-winning films aren’t spared.
Take Santosh. Directed by Sandhya Suri, it’s about a woman police officer confronting casteism and sexism in the force.
It premiered at a prestigious international film festival, made it to the Oscar longlist, and was praised globally. But the CBFC refused to clear it for release in India.
Sandhya was handed a long list of cuts — so long that the film would no longer make sense. She tried to compromise, but ultimately gave up.
The CBFC’s problem with the film, it would seem, wasn’t just the subject. It was the tone. The film offers no hero, no redemption, no easy ending. Just the uncomfortable truth.
So what exactly is the CBFC looking for?
The board operates under the Cinematograph Act, guided by vague principles about “values” and “societal standards.”
But in reality, it’s a small group — the Examining Committee — that makes the calls.
Often, they aren’t filmmakers. Sometimes, they aren’t even familiar with cinema. The main question that they often pose is just, “Can this be watched with family?”
Filmmakers used to appeal to a separate tribunal if they disagreed. But that body — the FCAT — was scrapped in 2021. Now, the only option is to go to court. Most don’t.
So the question is no longer just what can be said in Indian cinema.
It’s who gets to say it.
And truth, it seems, is the first casualty.
Even when a film does make it to theatres, it doesn’t mean it got there unscathed.
Take Phule. It’s a biopic on Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule — pioneers of anti-caste reform and women’s education in 19th-century Maharashtra.
The CBFC asked the makers not to name specific castes like Mang or Mahar, and instead use generic terms like pichhdi hui jaatiyan or ‘backward castes’. Because caste, like religion and politics, is on the censor’s hit list.
The film was supposed to release on April 11 — Jyotirao’s birth anniversary.
But just days before, a few Maharashtrian Brahmin groups objected to their portrayal in the trailer.
Even in the final cut, you can sense what’s missing.
The caste names are gone. Director Ananth Mahadevan says these changes didn’t damage the film — but they did leave “scars.”
Then there’s Sitaare Zameen Par, the new Aamir Khan film. It was released, but not before the CBFC demanded a rather unusual addition — a quote by Prime Minister Narendra Modi.
This is part of the quote that now appears before the opening credits:
“In 2047, when we celebrate the 100th anniversary of Independence, our divyang friends will be seen as an inspiration to the whole world.”
Disability rights activists have opposed the term divyang for years, calling it dehumanising. But the CBFC insisted — and the quote stayed, along with other edits such as cutting the word kamal or lotus, BJP’s party symbol, changing business woman to business person.
Now here’s the thing most people don’t realise. The CBFC is supposed to certify films, not censor them.
That’s literally what it says on the tin — Central Board of Film Certification.
Their job is to assign an age rating: U for all ages, U/A for parental guidance, A for adults. They are not meant to decide what can or cannot be shown to the public.
But in practice, the CBFC acts like a censorship board.
Instead of saying, “This film is suitable for adults,” they say, “Cut this scene if you want your film cleared.”
Instead of trusting audiences to decide for themselves, they edit, mute, blur, and sometimes even rewrite the story.
They force filmmakers to water down facts, avoid “sensitive” subjects, and guess what might offend whom.
And if you refuse to make those cuts, your film isn’t just “uncertified.” It’s effectively banned. No certificate means no release — in theatres, on TV, sometimes even on streaming platforms.
Take the case of Nasir, a Tamil indie film by Arun Karthick.
A quietly political story about a Muslim salesman in Coimbatore, Nasir premiered at the International Film Festival Rotterdam and won Best Asian Feature.
In 2022, SonyLiv announced it would stream the film.
But just before the release, Nasir disappeared.
As Anna Vetticad points out in her piece for Article 14, the platform effectively went silent on the film. They took down the trailer, scrubbed all posts, and refused to comment.
A source involved in the film told Anna that SonyLiv panicked, and voluntarily submitted Nasir to the CBFC.
Streaming platforms in India are not legally required to seek CBFC certification. But SonyLiv did it anyway, just to avoid controversy.
All this isn’t just about one film board. It’s about how a democracy like India chooses to handle creative expression.
In the US, for instance, there is no government censorship or mandatory certification.
The Motion Picture Association assigns voluntary ratings. But under the First Amendment, which offers freedom of expression, filmmakers are free to release films with or without them.
In the UK, the British Board of Film Classification is technically independent. Local authorities have the final say — but interference is rare. In the last 10 years, not a single film has been declared unsuitable.
France also uses an age-rating system. Most films are classified as -12, -16, or -18. Outright bans are extremely rare — the last major one was Ken Park, over two decades ago.
South Korea meanwhile still practices morality-based censorship, but its process is relatively streamlined and transparent.
China is known for strict, state-driven content control. Even the children’s film Winnie the Pooh is banned.
Pakistan also has a fragmented, decentralised censorship regime with separate boards in different cities. Films are regularly banned for blasphemy, nudity, or political blasphemy.
But Pakistan and China are not constitutional democracies with robust free speech protections. India is.
And that’s the point. India is not China. India is not Pakistan. We should be held to a higher standard.
Our Constitution promises free expression, yet when it comes to cinema, we often behave like a surveillance state — censoring uncomfortable truths, punishing dissent, and shrinking the space for honest storytelling.
The CBFC was never meant to be a guardian of sentiments. It was meant to be a facilitator of choice.
But right now, all it’s facilitating is state-approved storytelling. And that has a runtime limit.
Like Pooja’s LME ? Support the show: https://rzp.io/rzp/support-lme
If you are watching from abroad, click this link: https://buy.stripe.com/28o01q9md0OPdtm8wR
Or Become a TNM subscriber- https://www.thenewsminute.com/subscription
Producer: Megha Mukundan
Editor: Nikhil Sekhar ET
Research: Aarav Gupta, Lakshmi Priya
Script: Lakshmi Priya