Introduction

State-centered debates typically frame nuclear discourse as a unidirectional exercise of state authority, aligning the atom’s politico-cultural power with state interests while marginalizing public anxieties. By contrast, scholarship linking popular culture to the ‘atomic imagination’ broadens the discourse by shifting the vantage point from state-centric-security to public perceptions rooted in nuclear imaginaries. Despite India’s robust nuclear weapons program and the prevalence of ‘nation-in-peril-genre’ movies, few productions explicitly center on nuclear themes. Nevertheless, popular cinema routinely processes, reflects, and reproduces dominant sociopolitical and cultural understandings and frameworks prevalent in a society. They project what Stuart Hall (1986, p. 29) referred to as “mental frameworks—the languages, concepts, categories, imagery of thought, and the system of representation”. Existing studies on Indian nuclear discourses focus primarily on elite policy debates and media coverage, with limited attention to how popular cinema mediates between state narratives and public understanding. In this light, this study addresses two research questions: First, how do the nuclear-themed Bollywood films represent the cultural meanings and emotions associated with nuclear weapons as techno-political objects, and second, what patterns of continuity and rupture characterize cinematic portrayals of nuclear responsibility, particularly when comparing films released before and after the Bharatiya Janata Party’s return to power in 2014?

India’s nuclear policy choices have been widely researched. A significant body of literature (Cortright, 1998; Williams, 2011; Corbridge and Harris, 2000) goes beyond geostrategic-realist explanations to reflect upon the gendered, racial and ethnic dimensions of Hindu nationalism that provided the ideological underpinnings to the BJP-led nuclear tests in 1998. Using a critical constructivist lens, Das (2009) argues that India’s nuclear policy choices are shaped by the mutually constitutive relationship between India’s nationalist identity and its strategic environment, filtered through the ideological orientations of its political leaders. Further, deeply embedded in the ideology of Hindutva, the BJP’s nuclear (in) security discourse has culturally rearticulated Pakistan as an existential threat by drawing on history, religion, and constructions of Self and Other (Das, 2010). Since the BJP consolidated power at the center in 2014, India has experienced intense social churning, marked by heightened hyper-nationalism, intolerance and exclusion—well evident in day-to-day media reporting. The heightened sense of nuclear nationalism and assertion associated with the BJP’s drive to overcome perceived historical weaknesses and humiliation has reinforced the belief that the government prioritizes security affairs (Mishra and Desai, 2025). The BJP’s 2014 election manifesto even promised to revise—if necessary—India’s “No first use” nuclear doctrine. While no formal revision has been undertaken, some senior BJP leaders, including Rajnath SinghFootnote 1 and former Defense Minister Manohar Parrikar in 2016, expressed skepticism against the doctrine’s utility, sparking debates over its strategic value.

Ongoing geopolitical tensions—shaped by Pakistan–China bonhomie, repeated India–Pakistan conflicts (Pathankot and Uri in 2016; Pulwama and Balakot in 2019), and India–China border confrontations (including Doklam and Galwan military stand-offs)—have fostered a precarious security consciousness in which nuclear weapons increasingly feature in media discourses. Chest-thumping coverage of nuclear milestones—such as the induction of nuclear-capable Arihant-class submarines and Agni-V missiles—through fiery, attention-grabbing headlines has helped cultivate public support for muscular security postures. Most recently, the intense India-Pakistan military skirmish following the Pahalgam terror attacks of April 22, 2025, has amplified anxieties about the potential use of nuclear weapons.

As nuclear weapons and security discourse—shaped by political rhetoric, media coverage and propaganda—increasingly occupy the public imagination, films provide a potent sociocultural lens through which public aspirations, anxieties and mental frameworks are processed and reflected. Given Bollywood’s position as India’s highest-grossing film industry by volume and revenue, its economic and cultural reach is enormous. This study analyzes all five nuclear-themed commercial Bollywood films produced after the 1998 nuclear tests: 16 December (2002), Hero: Love Story of a Spy (2003) (henceforth Hero), Fanaa (2006), Parmanu (2018), and Mission Majnu (2023). These movies achieved varying levels of commercial success, as reported by Box Office India and Box Office Mojo: 16 December earned ~7–8 crore domestically; The Hero, ~41 crore (45–49 crore worldwide); Fanaa—despite a ban in Gujarat—~73 crore domestically (roughly 102–189 crore worldwide); and Parmanu, ~82 crore domestically (about 84–91 crore worldwide).Footnote 2 Comparable box-office data are unavailable for Mission Majnu due to its direct release on Netflix.

Literature review

Representations of nuclear weapons in Indian popular culture span news media (print and television), literature, cartoons, and cinema. These cultural forms reflect a collective consciousness characterized by complex emotions—national pride, technological prowess, and strategic strength alongside persistent anxieties about nuclear risks. Analyses of news coverage, particularly in the print media (Reddy, 2019; Mishra and Desai, 2025), converge on the view that mainstream media outlets have largely been supportive of India’s nuclear weapons program. This one-sided, nationalistic framing—with little critical scrutiny—suggests broad public consensus favoring nuclear weapons, a pattern corroborated by limited public opinion polls and studies (Ahmed et al. 1998; Malhotra, 2016).

While news media analyses illuminate public framings of nuclear issues, cinema provides complementary access to the affective and cultural dimensions of nuclear discourse. Through audio-visual techniques, films enable multilayered storytelling that engages the audience politically, culturally and ethically, often transcending barriers of language or specialized knowledge. As Homan, Shaban, and Rane (2023) show in an open-source internet searches case study on India, English overwhelmingly structures elite-led nuclear discourse on nuclear safety and security, with vernacular outputs being comparatively sparse and uneven. This asymmetry constrains public understanding of nuclear risk and leaves room for Bollywood and regional media to shape perceptions through dramatized, mythic, or nationalistic narratives rather than informed debate. Pate’s (2023) analysis of editorials on nuclear issues published in the popular News daily, The Hindu (2011–2020) similarly underscores the elite construction and popularization of India’s nuclear identity around the themes of responsibility, restraint and technological advancement—normalizing the country’s nuclear status and public support. These media studies reveal a pattern of elite-driven nuclear discourse, but they raise questions about how popular culture translates these framings into accessible narratives.

Broadening to perceptions of nuclear power (beyond nuclear weapons) in South Asia, Abraham (2009, p. 3) highlights a complex fabric of reactions that includes not only support and pride but also subtler forms of consent and indifference that sustain nuclear projects, complicating any simple polarization for or against nuclear power. Roy (2009) observes a notable absence of apocalyptic imagery in Indian cinema, attributing it to limited public imagination; the cultural processing of nuclear annihilation in India, she argues, remains imperceptible and distant. Kaur (2013, p. 539), analyzing nuclear imagery in popular cinema, identifies a paradox: ‘films present nuclear weapons as dangerous nation-destroyers’—at odds with official statist veneration and even fetishization—yet these representations are entangled with themes of familial sacrifice, communal tensionsFootnote 3, and separatism that ultimately reaffirms the state as the guardian of national security. Taken together, these works reveal a complex interplay of themes and narratives that shape the social imaginary around nuclear weapons, but these predate the significant political and cultural shifts after 2014.

Given the limited scholarship on nuclear representation in Indian popular cinema, this article addresses two key gaps. First, it systematically explores how popular films represent nuclear weapons as scientific-technological objects—sites where elite discourses are vernacularized, amplified or unsettled. Second, it critically examines the idea of responsibility in nuclear India—a concept central to the politico-strategic formulation of India’s nuclear policy and its popular reception. These themes guide an analysis of continuity and change in cinematic representation, comparing a) nuclear terrorism narratives (16 December, The Hero, Fanaa) and b) nuclear-test narratives (Parmanu, Mission Majnu), and revisiting Kaur’s (2013) claims considering post-2014-films.

Methodology

This study employs comprehensive qualitative discourse analysis to examine nuclear representation in Indian cinema. The methodology combines textual, visual, and contextual analysis to understand how nuclear narratives intersect with broader social, political, and cultural themes across five films released after the 1998 nuclear tests. The research design incorporates both chronological examination and comparative analysis of pre- and post-2014 narratives.

Data collection involves detailed film transcript analysis, visual symbolism documentation, and historical context research. The analytical framework operates at three levels. First, textual analysis examines detailed and multiple readings of film transcripts to identify dialog patterns, nuclear terminology usage, and narrative structures through manual, systematic coding of keywords. Second, visual analysis focuses on nuclear imagery, technical representations, and symbolic elements within the films. Third, contextual analysis situates these films within their historical and political frameworks while examining their contemporary relevance. Implementation involves multiple viewings of each film, detailed scene-by-scene analysis, and systematic documentation of key themes. Cross-film comparison identifies patterns, continuities and disruptions in narrative representation and ideological framing. This analysis is supplemented by examining contemporary media coverage, political discourse, and academic literature to ensure a comprehensive contextual understanding.

This article is structured in three sections. The first presents analytical summaries of the individual movies under study. The second reflects on the two themes identified in the literature review: nuclear weapons as scientific-technological objects and the concept of responsibility in nuclear India. The conclusion section offers overall reflections on the research questions.

Individual film summary and reflections

16 December-

The fictional centers on the threat of nuclear terrorism, in which the global terrorist organization Kala Khanjar steals a Cold War-era Russian nuclear bomb and sells it to a former Pakistani military officer Dost Khan, seeks to avenge Pakistan’s defeat and surrender in the 1971 Indo-Pakistan war. The protagonists, members of India’s revenue intelligence services, trace suspicious financial transactions revealing money transfer from secret Swiss accounts of corrupt politicians to Dost Khan. The bomb is transported to Delhi, and in a tense standoff, the brave agents foil the sinister plan at the very last moment. Released on March 22, 2002, this was the first film to feature a nuclear plot after the 1998 tests. Director Mani Shankar, an engineer by training, showcased cutting-edge surveillance technology, voice recognition software, and digital visual imagery to convey the sense of doom and urgency surrounding the nuclear threatFootnote 4.

The film resonates with post-9/11 “war on terror” imaginaries of networked militancy, proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, and religiously coded violenceFootnote 5. It presents nuclear weapons as catastrophic threats to national security, deployed as instruments of retribution by rogue entities. The gendered metaphor of a ‘bride’ for the nuclear device, coupled with the technical specifications, uniquely juxtaposes traditional cultural imagery with modern technological warfare. Priced at Rs. 5000 crores, the nuclear bomb—rather than remaining an exclusive instrument of state power—is reimagined as a commodity that can, in principle, be bought, sold or stolen. This shifts discourse from traditional state-led nuclear deterrence to contemporary concerns about proliferation and nuclear terrorism by non-state actors. The visual semiotics locate solutions in deception and science, showcasing advanced surveillance systems, computer technology, and satellite imagery, signaling the evolution of national security measures in response to changing nuclear threats. Terms such as ‘surrender’, ‘khanjar (knife)’, ‘revenge’, and ‘holy war’ place the nuclear object within political and religious-cultural contexts, making the abstract concept of nuclear threat more accessible to audiences. While overt religious coding of threats is not a novelty in Indian cinema, such framings gained greater intensity and sharper edges in the post-9/11war-on-terror era.

The Hero--

The protagonist, Arun Kumar, is a dedicated Indian intelligence officer tasked with foiling a perilous plot orchestrated by Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), which supports terrorist groups seeking to acquire nuclear weapons to destabilize India and assert control over Kashmir. Arun’s mission involves not only safeguarding the nation but also exposing the criminal activities of so-called freedom fighters in Kashmir. His path to duty is built on the personal sacrifice—losing his fiancé Reshma, who became a spy out of patriotic spirit and love for Arun. When the ISI’s initial plan to obtain the bomb fails, its chief, Ishaq Khan, collaborates with Zahir Miyan, a Canada-based Pakistani businessman whose daughter, Shaheen, is romantically involved with the charismatic scientist Wahid Khan (undercover agent Arun), to construct a nuclear device. Although the hero prevents this sinister plan, the situation escalates when Khan and his group threaten to use radioactive vials, hijack a train and take hostages. In an action-heavy, chaotic climax, Arun kills the enemies and reunites with his love, while Shaheen dies—but not without outlining the distinction between good and bad Muslims.

This spy thriller film, directed by Anil Sharma and produced by Time Magnetics, was among the most expensive films of its time and received a positive reception. It represents nuclear materials through both scientific and dangerous frames—as medical tools for cancer treatment and as potential weapons of mass destruction, with a clear spotlight on the latter. It employs technical terminology (plutonium, radioactive cells, blueprints, triggers) and laboratory settings, along with descriptions of nuclear weapons construction processes. While unsettling, this information reflected growing concerns around nuclear terrorism in the post-9/11 era, as technology control efforts appeared to be faltering amid reports of illicit proliferation networks involving Pakistan and North Korea. The film’s use of international locations and collaboration with foreign intelligence (Canada, London) expands the scope of nuclear threat beyond South Asia. Villains are depicted in traditional attire, linking religious fundamentalism with a perversion of traditions, aggravating the nuclear threat. The use of cultural codes and multiple languages (Urdu, English) showing cultural crossovers, poetry as authentication of cultural identity, and the juxtaposition of religious terminology with scientific language offer a projection of modern threats built upon traditional cleavages.

Fanaa-

Produced by Kunal Kohli, this 2006 Yash Raj production is a gripping romantic drama exploring the intersection of love, duty, sacrifice, and the nuclear threat. The star-studded film begins with Zooni (Kajol), a visually impaired Kashmiri woman who travels to Delhi for a Republic Day performance and falls in love with charming tour guide Rehan (Aamir Khan). She undergoes eye surgery to restore her sight and marry Rehan, who suddenly disappears, leaving Zooni heartbroken. Unknown to her, Rehan is a key operative of the independent Kashmir front (IKF), a militant organization seeking Kashmir’s independence. His mission is to secure the trigger for a nuclear bomb, which the IKF intends to use as a bargaining chip against both India and Pakistan to bring about Kashmiri independence. In pursuit of this mission, a wounded Rehan, presumed dead in a bomb blast, unknowingly ends up at Zooni’s home years later, where, to his shock, she is raising their son, Rehan Junior. Torn between his mission as a Kashmiri separatist and his love for Zooni and their son, Rehan reveals his identity to Zooni while concealing the details of his mission. The movie concludes with Zooni contemplating the difficult choice between right and wrong. Finally, submitting to the greater good, she shoots Rehan and chooses her country over her personal love.

Among all films under study, this was the only nuclear-themed movie produced during the non-BJP era, and it stands out for its unique portrayal of Pakistan, departing from the typical antagonistic representation found in other films of this genre. It mirrors the actual political climate of that era, particularly during the Composite Dialog peace process (2003–07) between India and Pakistan, when internal extremist elements in Pakistan actively opposed diplomatic reconciliation with India. The representation of the IKF avoids oversimplified stereotypical characterization. Portrayed through a sophisticated, educated, and charming character who believes in his cause, it offers a complex and multifaceted portrayal that engages with a more nuanced understanding of political ideology and perceived freedom fighting. The father‒son relationship between Rehan and young Rehan adds another layer of emotional complexity, challenging the traditional terrorist narrative with human elements of paternal love. Poetry, music, and traditional customs then become powerful cultural codes to establish authenticity while exploring the themes of sacrifice, duty, and betrayal. Zooni’s blindness serves as a powerful metaphor: her inability to see represents both innocent love and blindness to truth, while her regained sight corresponds to her awakening to harsh realities.

The contrast between Kashmir’s beautiful landscapes and the violence they contain, and the transformation of domestic spaces into sites of conflict, offer compelling visual semiotics common to this genre. These elements combine to create a narrative where personal love and national loyalty become increasingly intertwined and ultimately incompatible. This multilayered approach creates rich text that speaks to both personal and political dimensions of conflict in contemporary South Asia, where love stories are inevitably entangled with national narratives. The growing perceived concerns about cases of ‘Love Jihad’ in India exemplify this dynamic. The nuclear object was more peripheral in Fanaa’s storyline relative to other films under study, given its overwhelming emotional narrative.

Parmanu

The movie Parmanu, by its own admission a dramatized account of India’s nuclear tests in 1998, begins by outlining the disturbing shift in the geo-political scenario where India had lost a powerful ally with the Soviet Union’s break-up and Pakistan–China–America alignment was rising. In response to the Chinese nuclear tests in 1995, protagonist Ashwat Raina proposes that India should conduct its own nuclear test to assert strength and power in the international system, as done by the USA and China, the leading world powers. The covert plan in 1996 had to be abandoned when American satellites uncovered India’s intentions and pressured it not to conduct nuclear tests. Ashwat becomes the scapegoat for this failure and is fired. His suspension symbolizes not only personal loss but also national loss, jeopardizing India’s nuclear ambitions. This changed with the swearing-in of the Vajpayee government in 1998, which provided much-needed stability and a resolve to conduct nuclear tests. The government seeks Ashwat’s expertise, recognizing the need to learn from past mistakes. He leads the mission with a team of experts, each with a specific role, operating under code names inspired by the Mahabharata. While the names of the wells used for nuclear testing were correctly mentioned in the movie (the House, Taj Mahal and Kumbhakarn) (ET Online, 2025), the characters’ code names were fictitious. They face a tight 10-day deadline, constant fear of American satellite surveillance, and potential security breaches due to interference from American and Pakistani spies. Familial conflicts surface when Raina’s wife discovers his fake job profile and questions his commitment to family. Despite mounting pressure, the hero remains dedicated to the mission, convinced that its success outweighs personal sacrifices. The plot thickens with the last-minute addition of an American satellite, forcing them to adapt quickly and work within limited blind spots. In a tense climax, the team races against time, culminating in a triumphant moment as India successfully conducts nuclear tests in Pokhran, shaking the ground and signaling a shift in global power dynamics. The film’s narrative arc transforms initial anxiety. Into celebratory triumph, concluding with assertions of India’s newfound strength and determination to defend its interests globally, despite international sanctions.

This cinematic framing aligns with the BJP’s broader political strategy: by defying international norms and sanction threats in conducting the 1998 nuclear tests, the government asserted its credentials as the most committed nationalist party, willing to make courageous decisions for national security (Hansen, 2001; Cortright, 1998; Juergensmeyer, 2003). The film reinforces this narrative through archival footage of Prime Minister Vajpayee’s parliamentary address, emphasizing the 1998 decision as a triumph of national interest over political expediency.

The diverse composition of the team creates a microcosm of India united in its mission, emphasizing national integration through scientific achievement. However, a closer examination of the names reveals a limited social perspective, featuring upper-caste surnames associated with experts and lacking meaningful representation across religious and caste lines. The movie employs careful attention to technical details—from seismic readings to satellite surveillance—to create a narrative that legitimizes India’s nuclear program through scientific discourse. These semiotic resources enable representation of nuclear capability not only as a weapon of mass destruction but also as a deterrent and a fleeting achievement of scientific progress. The film makes a semiotic effort to contrast sophisticated surveillance technology with simple deception techniques (such as using onions to detect radiation), transforming a remote desert site into a place of national security importance. The use of scientific terminology, patriotic dialogs, and code words (such as ‘stores’ for bombs) creates a narrative where technical expertise and national pride become inseparable.

Mission Majnu-

The plot revolves around Amandeep Singh, an Indian Research & Analysis Wing agent who carries the emotional scar of his father’s defection to Pakistan. Despite being exceptionally intelligent and dutiful, he faces constant stigmatization and suspicion from his superior officer. To overcome this burden, he undertakes the onerous task of operating undercover in Pakistan as a humble tailor, Tariq, whose mission is to locate Pakistan’s secret nuclear facility. He falls in love with a Pakistani blind woman and marries her, despite being frowned upon at the agency. Through careful observations and deduction—ranging from uniform orders to hair samples of military officers—he pieced together the correct location of Pakistan’s nuclear facility in Kahuta and, with help from fellow agents, communicated the information to India in a timely manner. This intelligence proves instrumental in preventing an Israeli attack targeting Pakistan’s nuclear program at the wrong location (Quetta). Eventually, his cover is blown, and in a final confrontation at the airport, he sacrifices his life to ensure the safety of his wife and unborn child. The film reveals that Pakistan’s nuclear ambitions were delayed by twenty years because of this mission. The story keeps the protagonist’s constant emotional struggle along multiple axes at the center of the story.

The film represents Pakistan’s covert nuclear program not only as a technological threat but also as a dangerous secret that must be exposed. This representation is reinforced through careful attention to visual and verbal signs, from technical blueprints and uranium enrichment processes to the transformation of everyday spaces such as tailoring shops into sites of espionage. The film positions India as a capable and responsible nuclear state seeking to prevent proliferation, while Pakistan is shown developing nuclear weapons through clandestine means. The character of A.Q. Khan becomes a powerful symbol of nuclear ambition, with his presence signifying both scientific achievements and potential threats. The film moves beyond presenting simple antagonistic bilateral relations to explore themes of shared sociocultural heritage, particularly through Tariq’s ability to seamlessly integrate into Pakistani society and connect with well-meaning elderly women. The use of religious references, code words, period-specific details, and cultural markers creates a narrative where cultural authenticity and national security become intertwined.

Personal relationships and emotional elements form a crucial part of the film’s semiotic fabric, particularly through Tariq’s marriage to the blind Nasreen and his efforts at fulfilling his familial and national duty. Nasreen’s blindness serves as a powerful metaphor, representing both innocent trust and unknowing participation in larger political events. The pregnancy subplot adds another layer of emotional complexity to impending fatherhood. The temporal setting in the 1970s is significant, placing the story within the historical context of South Asia’s nuclear development.

Thematic analysis

Nuclear weapons as scientific-technological objects

Cinematic representation in the first decade after the 1998 nuclear tests (2002–2006) centered primarily on fear of the nuclear bomb’s destructive power and deep-seated cultural anxiety over national security. In the context of the global anxieties surrounding September 11, 2001, attacks on the World Trade Centre, these films projected suspense and tangible fear of non-state actors acquiring nuclear weapons to exact revenge for perceived injustices, highlighting their allure as symbols of power and the dangerous ambitions they can fuel. This period was characterized by what can be termed an “audio-linguistic” approach to nuclear representation.

The first three films relied heavily on auditory cues and dialog rather than visual imagery to convey nuclear threats. Instead of mushroom clouds, they used sanitized symbols such as missiles or biohazard-marked containers. The gravity of nuclear threats was primarily conveyed through dialog, such as in Fanaa, where characters explicitly state “5 million people can die…the city can also be our capital”, or in 16 December, where a character declares “this nuclear bomb has been purchased to destroy India.” This audio-linguistic approach reflected the Indian public’s conceptual rather than visual understanding of nuclear threats, given their primary exposure to nuclear threats through news debates rather than historical imagery such as Hiroshima and Nagasaki blasts.

A significant shift occurred in the post-2014 films. Made against the backdrop of heightened India-Pakistan tensions following the Pathankot and Uri attacks (2016), these films explicitly showcased visual spectacles of nuclear testing and technological prowess. Parmanu’s use of freeze-frame images symbolizes time collapsing around the transformational moment of nuclear testing, employing visual effects to sensationalize and glorify the event in popular nationalistic imagination. This shift from concealment to celebration reflects broader changes in India’s nuclear discourse under the post-2014 NDA government, where nuclear capability increasingly became a source of public pride rather than strategic ambiguity. The 1998 tests marked a decisive turn: India openly claimed nuclear-weapon status and articulated “credible minimum deterrence” with a stated No-First-Use policy. This stance coexisted with a recessed capability developed after the 1974 Pokhran test, kept muted in official rhetoric. In this light, the earlier pacifist approach advocating “self-restraint” and focusing on regional aspirations and Non-alignment (Kapur 2006), gave way to a ‘New India’ asserting status through the hard currency of nuclear power after Pokhran-II tests. Post-1998 films also register this shift, employing subtle satire directed at declarations of purely peaceful intent while celebrating scientific ingenuity and strategic realism.

The representation of nuclear weapons as scientific-technological objects is deeply embedded in India’s postcolonial quest for modernity. The linkage between India’s postcolonial identity and its pursuit of modernity through both embrace and rejection of Western modernity (Krishna, 2009, p. 84) is well established in the literature and clearly manifested in films as well. The Indian popular conscience has normatively embraced technoscience to challenge Western hegemony and dispel perceptions of ‘backwardness’ associated with Asian societies (Prakash, 1999; Chatterjee, 1998a, 1998b; Khilnani, 1998).

The postcolonial techno-science, as Anderson (2010) notes, is not merely derivative or imitative but serves as a site of contestation and creativity, shaping both national identity and modernity. Parmanu exemplifies this dynamic: the nuclear scientist’s warning about the destructive potential of the bomb (“If these shafts are not sealed properly, not just Pokhran, but the entire Rajasthan will be reduced to rubble”) is immediately followed by pride in its indigenous creation—“made-in-India”.

The film’s celebration of National Technology Day (11 May) furthers a narrative of scientific nationalism, claiming that authentic modernity is rooted in indigeneity rather than imitation. This techno-nationalist discourse has intensified in the post-2014 political landscape, marked by the NDA government’s emphasis on “Atmanirbhar Bharat” (self-reliant India) and global power aspirations. Contemporary films such as Mission Mangal (2019) and Shakuntala Devi (2020) depict this broader cinematic shift toward celebrating indigenous technological achievement, positioning scientific self-reliance as both a marker of national competence and a challenge to Western technological hegemony.

A distinctive characteristic of Indian cinema is its unwavering focus on human agency over technological determinism. Unlike Hollywood productions such as ‘Transformers,’ ‘Avengers,’ and ‘Her’, which often feature technology challenging or surpassing human control, Bollywood’s nuclear narratives notably eschew such apocalyptic scenarios where technology becomes autonomous. The nuclear bomb is portrayed not as an uncontrollable force—it is dangerous but manageable through extraordinary but ultimately human measures. Across these films, the nuclear bomb’s extraordinary destructive capacity necessitates extraordinary responses—high-tech surveillance, personal sacrifice, strategic deception—but the solutions remain fundamentally human. Instrumental to this projection is not just the unnerving threat of the nuclear bomb but also its malleability and curtailment through the symbolism of ‘trigger’, which can be captured and safely stored (Fanaa), or the ‘missile’, which can be prevented from being launched at the last moment (16 December). Fanaa especially contrasts the seemingly insignificant size and inconspicuous presence of a nuclear trigger with its single activation, capturing both its immense destructive power and taming potential. On 16 December, a character notes, “We are so much below that we are safe from nuclear explosions also”. The devastating impacts can be contained with advanced measures, taking away the edge of fear created by the nuclear weapon itself.

Notably absent from Indian nuclear cinema are radiation-empowered creatures or environmental mutations common in Hollywood’s atomic imagination (Hulk, Godzilla).

This absence reflects a deeply embedded cultural paradigm where catastrophic outcomes are attributed to human actions, maintaining human agency and avoiding deeper engagement with unpredictable consequences of environmental and humanitarian risks.

The selective portrayal of nuclear weapons is further evident in how the dangers of radioactivity are addressed—or rather overlooked—on screen. Films portray limited effects of radioactivity, keeping the fear confined to more familiar spectacles of explosions, rarely ever depicting more insidious effects such as burns, cancer or intergenerational deformities. This narrow focus can be partially attributed to the esoteric and securitized nature of nuclear knowledge in India. While concerns of nuclear safety and disposal of radioactive waste in the context of nuclear energy projects are paralyzing in the public imagination, the bomb, even when projected as an object to be secured against enemy threats, has an empowering connotation. Indian cinema avoids confronting the grim realities of nuclear war, choosing instead to focus on politically less contentious and emotionally more perceptible issues of terrorism. The full wrath of nuclear weapons remains an inconceivable horror hidden from public view. This selective approach reveals a contradiction between the purpose and presentation of nuclear power, shaped by the state’s dominant discourse on securitization.

The emotional resonance of nuclear cinema reflects traditional cultural sensitivities seamlessly interwoven with technological narratives. The theme of sacrifice emerges as a central motif: protagonists invariably face profound personal losses, often through the death of loved ones or the renunciation of family bonds. This framing reveals how deeply the concept of family is embedded in India’s nuclear imaginary, where the threat of nuclear weapons extends beyond physical destruction to encompass emotional devastation. In Fanaa’s climactic scene sequence, Malini (a character) says, “If he leaves with that trigger….. use a nuclear bomb over our country, millions of Indians will die. One of them can be my daughter. Another can be your son”. This framing reveals how deeply familial concepts are embedded in India’s nuclear imaginary, where nuclear threats extend beyond physical destruction to encompass emotional devastation. Furthermore, in the earlier trilogy, aligning with Indian cinema’s traditional emphasis on emotional storytelling, this motif was conveyed through heightened melodrama that turned human affect and experience into spectacle and relegated the nuclear threat to the background, whereas later movies placed the nuclear bomb more centrally within the narrative.

Significantly, these sacrificial scripts are often genderedFootnote 6, with male protagonists typically forsaking family for national protection. However, Fanaa complicates this pattern through Zooni’s ultimate sacrifice to kill her husband for the greater good, suggesting a more complex interplay of gender, duty and sacrifice. These films thus reflect and reinforce a paradoxical societal attitude toward family: revering it as fundamental to the social fabric while simultaneously presenting it as a potential impediment to national duty. In this framing, personal sacrifice functions both as the cost of and the proof of authentic patriotism. Such narratives normalize and even glorify the severing or sidelining of family and private ties in the service of the public good, resonating strongly within contemporary Indian political discourse. Public and media portrayals frequently present PM Narendra Modi and Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath as exemplars who subordinate conventional family commitments to national duty. This discursive framing is routinely mobilized in BJP-aligned messaging to contrast a leadership image of self‑sacrifice with critiques of dynastic politics (Dias, 2024; PMO, nd; Chandrababu, 2024).

Understanding of ‘responsibility’ in the cinematic nuclear state

Gusterson’s (1999) concept of “nuclear orientalism” illuminates how Western public discourse portrays nuclear weapons as inherently unsafe in the hands of Third World Countries, particularly Islamic nations. This orientalist framework operates along three main axes: the belief that third-world countries should prioritize socioeconomic development over nuclear weapon programs; the assumption that they lack the requisite degree of technological prowess and political maturity to responsibly handle nuclear weapons; and the conviction that their regional rivalries and susceptibility to religious fanaticism make deterrence unstable. These narratives reinforce a global nuclear hierarchy where responsibility is presumed for the Western powers, while the Global South remains under perpetual suspicion. The hierarchical discourse profoundly impacts how nuclear responsibility is defined and contested. Rather than being an objective measure of safety protocols and institutional capability, ‘responsibility’ becomes a culturally coded concept that reflects and reinforces existing geopolitical hierarchy.

India’s response to nuclear orientalism operates through what Chacko and Davis (2018) conceptualize as ‘civilizational exceptionalism’—a strategic resignification (Butler, 1993)Footnote 7 of nuclear responsibility—from adherence to the western nonproliferation regime and global nuclear hierarchy toward broader goals of nuclear disarmament, equality among nations, and self-perception of ethical and moral restraint rooted in unique civilizational strategic thought. This reframing allows India to justify its nuclear weapons program while maintaining claims to responsible stewardship. Civilizational exceptionalism leverages India’s historical advocacy for global nuclear disarmament and its critique of the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) and the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty as instituting “nuclear apartheid”. By articulating nuclear doctrines in terms of “No First Use” and “credible minimum deterrence”, India claims greater authenticity as a guardian of global nuclear stability than established powers with excessive nuclear arsenals.

Indian cinema plays a significant role in articulating and reinforcing this counternarrative. consistently asserting India’s national competence while challenging Western stereotypes by portraying India as a responsible nuclear power equipped with robust intelligence networks and patriotic vigilance. Parmanu employs satirical dialog to highlight the CIA’s failure to detect India’s nuclear test preparations, while Mission Majnu celebrates Indian intelligence capabilities, suggesting that R&AW surpassed even Mossad in thwarting Pakistani nuclear ambitions. These representations function as cultural diplomacy, projecting Indian competence to both domestic and international audiences.

Despite ostensibly challenging nuclear orientalism, Indian cinema frequently reproduces the very hierarchical logic it seeks to contest. This paradox reflects what Davis (2014) identifies as India’s nuclear identity politics within the Anglosphere—an aspiration for inclusion that frames India as a democracy, a modernizing economy, and a “responsible nuclear state” deserving of Western recognition and partnership. While many Indian experts—barring a few like Bidwai and Vanaik (1999)—and the media have criticized nuclear apartheid and justified India’s non-accession to the NPT, their discourse on Pakistan’s nuclear program frequently reverberates the same suspicions and stereotypes, once directed at India before the Indo-US nuclear deal. The cinematic narrative reinforces this binary: India is depicted as a secular, responsible state, whereas Pakistan is shown pursuing nuclear weapons for the sinister purpose of harming India, often ignoring socioeconomic development priorities. The films emphasize meticulous planning, technological prowess and moral restraint, as seen in Parmanu’s depiction of delaying the test due to the wind direction toward Pakistan and the use of onions to absorb radiation at the test site—subtle markers of responsibility and care. Contrary to this is the projection of Pakistan. Mission Majnu entrenches this state binary by depicting Indian intelligence as a force for the global good while linking the Pakistani nuclear program with Libyan leader Gaddafi and illegal proliferation. Furthermore, Indian films construct nuclear responsibility through representations of institutional cohesion and democratic governance. Indian military and intelligence agencies are depicted as unified and purposeful, contrasting sharply with Pakistan’s fragmented governance and political instability, further exacerbated by its association with politically charged non-state actors and terrorist groups. Mission Majnu strategically emphasizes Pakistan’s history of military interventions in civilian governance to underscore this institutional discord, transforming institutional stability into a metric of nuclear responsibility, thereby reinforcing existing geopolitical hierarchies in South Asian nuclear politics. This reproduction of orientalist logic reveals the seductive power of hierarchical thinking even among those who have experienced its exclusionary effects.

This narrative framework intersects with academic conceptualizations of state power structures, particularly Tunander’s (2009) notion of the ‘Security State’—where formal security institutions operate with exceptional power alongside democratic structures—and the “deep state” (Ahmar, 2023), referring to parallel covert networks exercising influence beyond democratic oversight to further hidden agendas. These concepts find cinematic representation, for instance, in The Hero, where extra-constitutional actors in the politically volatile state of Pakistani politics pursue anti-India objectives with dangerous autonomy.

Recent films, Parmanu and Mission Majnu, offer a more nuanced portrayal of state machinery, moving beyond the traditional unitary actor model in international relations and offer measured criticism of political and bureaucratic inefficiencies. Parmanu, satirizes symbolic and weak governmental responses to Chinese nuclear tests and protagonists’ struggle with bureaucracy before demonstrating decisive leadership. Similarly, Mission Majnu shows internal resistance within intelligence agencies. This incorporation of bureaucratic politics analysis, long present in academic discourse since

Allison’s (1969) seminal work but largely absent from Indian cinema—reveals growing sophistication in cinematic representation of nuclear decision-making.

The evolution of nuclear narratives aligns with broader shifts in India’s political discourse, particularly the rise of assertive nationalism under the post-2014 NDA government. Reflecting on the wider conversations shaped by digital platforms in recent times, Udupa (2016) and Kaur (2021) contend that internet-enabled social media acts as a ‘steroid’ for the middle class, intensifying their anxieties, aspirations, and emotional investments in issues like nationalism and technological progress. In Parmanu, the protagonist says that India faces an ‘existential crisis’ without nuclear deterrence and that the nation should not “chant peace and cower in fear” but instead “take action and profess peace”. This formulation privileges assertive nationalism that resonates with the aspirations of India’s ascendant middle and elite classes in the wake of economic achievements and growth projections in the 2010s (coupled with growing closeness between India and the USA). Furthermore, it also presents restraint as anachronistic and emasculating. These movies subtly critique past defensive foreign policies, advocating proactive stances in national security.

Religious identity constitutes another axis through which nuclear responsibility is constructed, remaining consistent across all the examined movies. Indian characters are portrayed as seculars, while Pakistani characters are depicted as either orthodox or ambivalent Muslims. Films such as Fanaa and Mission Majnu employ ‘good Muslim’ characters by depicting them as loyal to the nation, reinforcing the idea that Muslim identity must be reconciled with national allegiance to achieve legitimacy. This dichotomy between ‘misguided’ and ‘enlightened’ Muslims, as Kaur (2013) and Abraham (2009) note, often results in the ‘othering’ of Muslim identity through displacement and stereotypical representation within nationalist and nuclear discourses. Public resistance to alternative portrayals, such as Fanaa’s attempt to humanize Pakistan by presenting it as a victim of terrorism, unlike India, sparked significant audience backlash, leading to the suspension of screenings across some Indian regions (Kaur, 2013, p. 551). This reaction reveals how cinematic representations both shape and reflect entrenched geopolitical anxieties rooted in collective consciousness through repetitive storytelling patterns. As Fairclough (1995) and Chantal Mouffe (2005) argue, such narratives consolidate collective identities and legitimize dominant viewpoints, reducing the complex historical realities and strategic nuances of Indo-Pakistani nuclear relations to a simple binary of responsible versus irresponsible state.

Despite extensive focus on nuclear responsibility, Indian cinema largely neglects the themes of nuclear safety and the radioactive impact of nuclear power, mirroring constrained public consciousness shaped by the state’s heavy securitization practicesFootnote 8 (Buzan et al. 1998, p. 23). Tensions between statist technocratic elites and local communities—particularly regarding universal claims of scientific development versus claims of community rights (Chatterjee, 1998b)—have erupted in protests on nuclear sites such as Kudankulam and Jaitapur, yet these conflicts remain absent from cinematic representation.

The state’s responses, ranging from indifference to crackdowns, exemplify what Beck (1992) terms “truncated scientization”Footnote 9-the selective use of scientific expertise to legitimize decisions while dismissing dissenting voices from scientists, activists and the local community in the vicinity of power plants (Mishra, 2012; Visvanathan, 1997). Government’s approaches often undermine public anxieties by framing public skepticism as misplaced or seditious (Mishra, 2012; Chandrababu, 2022). The state’s assumed epistemic superiority in nuclear knowledge, as Abraham (2009) argues, effectively discourages public debate through deliberate separation of nuclear issues from socio-cultural analysis, perpetuating gaps in public understanding. As a result, critical examination of the state’s dual role—as both source of nuclear risk and guardian of safety—remains absent, underscoring the need for comprehensive public discourse on nuclear issues.

Conclusions

This analysis of five nuclear-themed Bollywood films produced after India’s 1998 nuclear tests reveals how popular cinema acts as a crucial site for negotiating the cultural meanings of nuclear weapons, mediating between elite policy discourse and public understanding. It shows that Hindi-language nuclear cinema often reproduces elite framings—national pride, responsible power, and credible deterrence—into affect-laden narratives of sacrifice, security, and threat. Furthermore, it argues that Indian nuclear cinema reveals a fundamental paradox: while challenging Western “nuclear orientalism” by asserting Indian competence, films apply similar orientalist logic to Pakistan. This reproduction of hierarchical thinking suggests that genuine decolonization requires questioning the “responsibility” framework itself, revealing both possibilities and limitations of popular culture constrained by nationalist imperatives.

A significant finding concerns the notable shift in nuclear representation between pre-2014 and post-2014 films. Earlier films centered on nuclear vulnerability and threat prevention, employing audio-linguistic techniques to convey fear of nuclear terrorism while maintaining strategic ambiguity about India’s nuclear capabilities. These narratives focused on protecting India from nuclear threats rather than celebrating nuclear possession. Post-2014 films (Parmanu, Mission Majnu) celebrate nuclear capability as a marker of national progress and global status. Coupled with the depiction of strong intelligence, they reflect India’s growing confidence and assertive nationalism in the current political climate. The representation of nuclear fear itself undergoes inversion: whereas earlier films portrayed nuclear bombs as sources of danger through potential terrorist acquisition, later films portray the bomb enabling the bearer state to draw fear and respect from the enemy states and the world at large. The shift extends to cinematic techniques as well. Furthermore, while earlier films relied heavily on cultural codes such as traditional symbols, poetry and music, later films subvert these elements to technical and mission-oriented storytelling, focusing on scientific processes and intelligence operations. By weaving reenactment with archival footage and period details, the latter films perform authenticity by anchoring them in national memory and aligning spectatorship with statecraft. The documentary style effectively legitimizes the narrative, even as the disclaimer withholds complete historical veracity. This transition mirrors a broader shift in popular culture from the melodramatic, entertainment value of nuclear weapons to an emphasis on achievement, responsibility and statecraft.

Despite temporal shifts, crucial continuities characterize Indian nuclear cinema. Bollywood films rarely treat nuclear weapons as autonomous threats, and nuclear anxieties are almost always embedded within the persistent geopolitical tensions between India and Pakistan. A related continuity involves the portrayal of nuclear weapons as dangerous only in ‘wrong hands’—a framework that distinctly separates the bomb as a scientific product from its potential misuse, effectively shielding the nuclear enterprise from scrutiny. Once secured from antagonistic forces, nuclear devices cease to exist as independent objects of concern or critical examination.

The intertwining of personal and political narratives constitutes another significant pattern in continuity. Protagonists repeatedly sacrifice romantic and familial relationships for national security, dramatizing how national security imperatives permeate and disrupt the intimate experiences of human life while normalizing the subordination of private affect to public obligations.

Most fundamentally, these films consistently privilege human agency over technological determinism, portraying nuclear weapons as manageable through extraordinary but ultimately human measures. Nuclear anxieties are invariably resolved through protagonists’ courage and moral choices, humanizing otherwise abstract nuclear technology.

Notably, these films reveal the boundaries of permissible nuclear discourse through systematic exclusions. Nuclear cinema systematically avoids environmental impacts, radiation effects, and fundamental questions about weapons’ strategic utility. Critical examinations of deterrence credibility, disarmament alternatives, or nuclear weapon-free zones remain absent, likely reflecting fears of anti-national labelingFootnote 10. These omissions reflect securitized nuclear knowledge in India, where state practices effectively constrain popular engagement with nuclear issues along democratic accountability, despite protests at sites like the Kudankulam nuclear power plant.

Through simplification and dramatization, nuclear-themed Bollywood cinema reinforces dominant ideologies while revealing the cultural work required to legitimize nuclear weapons within democratic societies. These films actively participate in constructing ‘nuclear common sense’, naturalizing atomic weapons as essential components of national identity and cultural consciousness. Rather than simply reflecting official narratives, these films actively popularize and naturalize nuclear weapons as essential to national pride and global status. Future research could investigate how this cultural legitimization operates across different national contexts and audiences, while intersecting with other cultural forms in sustaining nuclear consensus.