In the modern geopolitical arena, wars are no longer fought solely with ballistics and border skirmishes; they are fought in the collective imagination of the global audience.
The weapon of choice is “soft power”—the ability to shape preferences and perceptions through attraction rather than coercion. For decades, India has masterfully wielded Bollywood as its most potent division in this theatre, and the recent release of “Dhurandhar” is a sharp reminder of just how aggressive this strategy has become.
The film, a high-octane spy thriller featuring Ranveer Singh as an Indian operative infiltrating the streets of Lyari, is not merely entertainment. It is a carefully curated narrative. By depicting one of Karachi’s oldest and most culturally rich neighbourhoods as little more than a brooding hive of cross-border terrorism, “Dhurandhar” reinforces a specific, damaging caricature of Pakistan for global consumption. It is a classic exercise in soft power: using the glamour of cinema to delegitimise a rival state’s social fabric.
For too long, Pakistan’s response to such cultural offensives has been silence or sporadic outrage. However, the Sindh Government’s recent manoeuvres suggest a welcome awakening. The announcement of “Mera Lyari”, a film sponsored by the provincial government, marks a strategic pivot. By aiming to showcase the “true face” of Lyari—its football-crazed youth, its boxing legends, its vibrant Balochi rhythms, and its political resilience—the administration is attempting to reclaim the narrative. If “Dhurandhar” is the attack, Mera Lyari is the shield.
But a single reactive project is not a strategy; it is merely a counter-punch. This is where Chief Minister Murad Ali Shah’s recent approval of a Rs 1 billion fund for films, dramas, and documentaries becomes critical. This allocation, if utilised correctly, could be the seed capital for a indigenous cultural renaissance.
The challenge, however, lies in the execution. State-sponsored art often risks becoming clumsy propaganda—stiff, preachy, and devoid of the nuance that makes cinema compelling. If the Rs 1 billion fund is used solely to churn out patriotic pamphlets in video form, it will fail to capture the imagination of the youth, let alone an international audience. The reason Bollywood works as a soft power tool is that it wraps its nationalistic messages in high production values, star power, and genuine storytelling.
To effectively counter the Dhurandhar effect, the Sindh Government must trust its artists. The funds should not just flow to bureaucratic projects but to independent filmmakers, musicians, and writers who understand the chaotic, beautiful reality of Karachi. We need stories that humanise us, not just sanctify us. We need to see Lyari not just as a “peaceful” rebuttal to India, but as a living, breathing community with complex struggles and immense talent.
The “Mera Lyari” initiative is a step in the right direction, but it must be the beginning, not the end. Soft power is a marathon, not a sprint. India has spent decades building its cinematic infrastructure. Pakistan cannot expect to overturn that hegemony overnight. The federal government led by Shehbaz Sharif should not only support but also magnify the use of soft power. By investing in our own stories and empowering our creative industries—as the Rs 1 billion pledge promises—we can ensure that the next time the world looks at a screen, they see a version of Pakistan that is defined by us, not by our adversaries.
The battle for the narrative is on. We have finally entered the ring; now we must learn to box.
Would you like me to brainstorm some specific plot points or themes for “Mera Lyari” that could effectively counter the narrative in “Dhurandhar”?
Copyright Business Recorder, 2025
The writer is the Spokesperson for the Government of Sindh and hails from Lyari. The views expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the newspaper