Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies

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Asserting nationalism in a cosmopolitan world:

globalized Indian cultures in Yash Raj Films

Peter C. Pugsley & Sukhmani Khorana

To cite this article: Peter C. Pugsley & Sukhmani Khorana (2011) Asserting nationalism in a
cosmopolitan world: globalized Indian cultures in Yash Raj Films, Continuum: Journal of Media
& Cultural Studies, 25:03, 359-373, DOI: 10.1080/10304312.2011.562963

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/10304312.2011.562963

Published online: 08 Jun 2011.

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Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies
Vol. 25, No. 3, June 2011, 359–373

Asserting nationalism in a cosmopolitan world: globalized Indian

cultures in Yash Raj Films
Peter C. Pugsley* and Sukhmani Khorana

Discipline of Media, University of Adelaide, Adelaide, Australia

Yash Raj Films is one of India’s most successful film production studios with a massive
global market. The influence of a powerful Indian diaspora provides film directors from
the Bollywood stable of Yash Chopra (Yash Raj Films) with a wealth of international
settings. These settings in turn provide a site for an assertive Indian nationalism
based upon the adoption of cosmopolitan lifestyles. This paper examines three recent
films, Khabi Kushi Khabhie Gham, Khabie Alvida Naa Kehna, and Salaam Namaste!,
to see how London, New York, and Melbourne are reconfigured as cities in which
Indian émigrés make their mark – they are successful in their careers (mostly) and
comfortable in their new surroundings. Such films are suggestive of a new ‘global
cinema’ in which the geographical confines of national cinema are being stretched.
Drawing on a tripartite thematic framework, we explore the visual geographies, the
heightened consumption patterns, and the sense of global cosmopolitanism presented
in these films. And while the underlying sentiment is that one always sees ‘home’ (i.e.,
India) as an idealized paradise, the new cosmopolitanism adopted by Indian émigrés in
these films serves to highlight the ease with which Indian nationals can find success in
global environments.

Introduction
‘We’re going to kill England!’ declares Nandini (played by Bollywood matriarch, Jaya
Bachchan), the Mummaji in the blockbuster movie of 2001, Khabi Kushi Khabhie Gham.
That she is speaking of a televised cricket match that her sons are watching gives the
outburst some context, but later in the film when the action shifts to contemporary London,
other anti-British sentiments are uttered by various characters. The influence of
globalization and a powerful Indian diaspora provides Indian film directors from the
Bollywood stable of Yash Chopra (Yash Raj Films) with a wealth of international settings.
These settings in turn provide a site for an assertive Indian nationalism within a broader
framework in which protagonists effortlessly adopt cosmopolitan lifestyles. Looking at
three recent films, Khabi Kushi Khabhie Gham (Dir. Karan Johar 2001), its stablemate
Khabie Alvida Naa Kehna (Dir. Karan Johar 2006), and Salaam Namaste! (Dir. Siddharth
Raj Anand 2005) we can see how London, New York, and Melbourne, respectively, are
reconfigured as cities in which Indian émigrés make their mark – they are successful in
their careers (mostly) and comfortable in their new surroundings. While there are arguably
other films under the Yash Raj banner that are shot overseas, or even directed by Yash
Chopra himself, the film texts examined in this paper have been selected for their coverage
of the above mentioned cosmopolitan locations that are also major sites of the growing
Indian diaspora. Such films perhaps suggest that the concept of ‘global cinema’ both in

*Corresponding author. Email: peter.pugsley@adelaide.edu.au

ISSN 1030-4312 print/ISSN 1469-3666 online

q 2011 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/10304312.2011.562963
http://www.informaworld.com
360 P.C. Pugsley and S. Khorana

terms of content and reception/distribution is being enacted – the geographical confines of

national cinema are being stretched. But there is much more to it than this. The underlying
sentiment of each of these films is that one that always sees ‘home’ (i.e., India) as an
idealized paradise, and its traditions as morally, ethically, and spiritually superior to that of
the West.
This article therefore explores the portrayal of an ideologically assertive nationalism
(not necessarily militant in nature) in the contemporary popular Hindi movies
(‘Bollywood’ cinema) created and distributed by Yash Raj films. From the outset we
acknowledge the problematic term of ‘Bollywood’, seen by Mishra (2009, 439) as a
‘floating signifier’, but taken here to denote popular Hindi cinema. Not wishing to become
bogged down in the ongoing debate of what constitutes a ‘Bollywood film’, our aim is to
illustrate the ways in which an idealized Indian nationalism is an overriding factor in each
of these popular Yash Raj films; films that have achieved box-office success not only in
India, but also in those English-speaking developed countries with a significant number of
Indian migrants. Significantly, all three of these films have higher foreign earnings than
domestic takings (Boxofficemojo 2009). This could be partly attributed to the higher ticket
prices overseas, but there is no denying that the featuring of Western locations and Indian
diasporic characters adds to their appeal outside the homeland. Concurrent with this
discursive, narrativized structure of a global Indian identity is a less than flattering
construction of the ‘native’ New Yorker, Brit, or Australian that resonates with both
overseas and domestic Indian audiences. We see this as a post-colonial response – a filmic
over-representation of the contemporary Indian as an independent, global citizen, a
concept defined by Ravinder Kaur (2002) as a ‘celluloid Occidentalism’ in which Indian
nationalism is played out through an ‘othering’ of the West. Inherent in this othering is a
nostalgic harking back to an idealized, Utopian, vision of an imagined ‘India’ and the
values and codes that are innately found in all its citizens.
We argue that there are three factors involved in creating this new conception of
Indian nationalism. Firstly, ongoing struggles with India’s post-colonial identity and its
relations with former colonizers and the West in general is played out in the visual
geographies of contemporary Hindi films. In many ways the location is paramount to the
story as the protagonists ‘conquer’ or take ‘possession’ of the new land. Secondly, this new
identity is invoked through visibly heightened consumption patterns and desires to present
India as part of a globally connected community. Finally, we see this new identity as part
of a global cosmopolitanism, and following Ulrich Beck (2004, 2) we concur that
cosmopolitanism (as a concept) has ‘left the realm of philosophical castles in the air’ and
emerged as ‘the defining feature of a new era, the era of reflexive modernity’. However,
while Beck’s notably Euro-centric work configures the ‘cosmopolitan outlook’ as charged
with the ‘latent potential to break out of the self-centred narcissism of the national outlook’
(Beck 2004, 2), we suggest that cosmopolitanism is indelibly marked by particular modes
of nationalism: neither can exist in isolation. And while entry into the cosmopolis is
undoubtedly restricted to those with the political and economic ‘means’, one cannot enter
free of the burden of history imposed by nationalism.
Yash Raj Films (YRF) are at the forefront of Hindi filmmaking; the company is
internationally savvy and has been quick to capitalize on the global promotional
possibilities of the web. Their films have regularly featured among the top five hit Indian
movies of each year since 2000 (Table 1). The Yash Raj brand is also crucial to the
changing cultural perception of the Non-Resident Indian (NRI) through the medium of
cinema, with the YRF production, Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995) marked as a
Table 1. Box Office India top five hits 2000– 2008
Top Hits
Year One Two Three Four Five
2008 Ghajini Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi Singh Is Kinng Jaane Tu . . . Ya Jaane Na Jannat
2007 Om Shanti Om Welcome Partner Chak De India Taare Zameen Par
2006 Dhoom 2 Lage Raho Munnabhai Krrish Vivah Fanaa
2005 No Entry Bunty Aur Babli Kyaa Kool Hain Hum Maine Pyaar Kyun Kiya Garam Masala
2004 Veer Zaara Murder Main Hoon Na Mujhse Shaadi Karogi Dhoom
2003 Koi Mil Gaya Kal Ho Na Ho Baghban Munnabhai MBBS Andaaz
2002 Raaz Devdas Hum Tumhare Hain Sanam Humraaz Awara Paagal Deewana
2001 Gadar Ek Prem Katha Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham Lagaan Mujhe Kuch Kehna Hai Indian
2000 Kaho Naa Pyaar Hai Mohabbatein Josh Badal Kya Kehna
Films produced by YRF
Films distributed by YRF
Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies
361
362 P.C. Pugsley and S. Khorana

watershed in Bollywood through its creative depiction of two overseas Indians as leading,
positive, cosmopolitan characters (Sharpe 2005, 65).
Using a range of directors, led by the patriarchal Yash Chopra, Yash Raj Films
repeatedly utilize the star power of Bollywood’s most renowned actors, including Amitabh
Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan. Each director is in tune with the ethos of YRF which, it
proudly claims:
has always been a step ahead to ride the wave of the dynamic changes that are taking place in
the Entertainment Industry, and has become the hub of frenzied activity in the Entertainment
firmament in Mumbai, India’s Entertainment Capital (Yash Raj Films 2009).
This article will draw from the abovementioned three films to illustrate the way that an
evolving Indian national identity is perpetuated for the viewing audience, firstly in terms
of location, then through indicators of consumption. Together, these two factors combine
to provide an entry point for each film’s central characters to emerge as globally
cosmopolitan citizens. First though, it is necessary to give a brief summary of these three
films.

Khabi Kushi Khabhie Gham (hereafter referred to by its commonly used

abbreviation, K3G)
In this film, enormously wealthy wayward son Rahul (played by Shah Rukh Khan) is
unable to get the approval of his parents to marry Anjali, the commoner girl he loves
(Kajol), so he ‘escapes’ to a new life in London. Cut to several years later, and Rahul’s
pudgy younger brother emerges as fully grown hunk Rohan (Hrithik Roshan), who tracks
Rahul down with the aim of reuniting the family, and, in true Bollywood style, bringing
him home to a joyfully tearful reconciliation with his forgiving parents Yash and Nandini
(Amitabh and Jaya Bachchan).

Khabie Alvida Naa Kehna (KANK)

Promising New York-based soccer-star Dev (Shah Rukh Khan) breaks his leg and is
forced to retire from the game. His marriage to rising magazine publisher Rhea (Preity
Zinta) is pushed to the limit when he becomes attracted to Maya (Rani Mukerjee).
Meanwhile, Rhea begins an affair with the ‘other woman’s’ (Maya’s) husband Rishi
(Abishek Bachchan) whose father, Sam (Amitabh Bachchan) is a wealthy widower trying
to ease his suffering through an onslaught of wine, women, and song.

Salaam Namaste! (SN)

Set and filmed entirely in Melbourne, Australia, each main character is introduced with a
flashback to their previous life in India. Preity Zinta’s character, Ambar, is studying
medicine, but works part-time as the breakfast host on (fictional) radio station ‘Salaam
Namaste’. When special guest, celebrity restaurateur Nikhil Arora (Saif Ali Khan) fails to
arrive for an interview, she berates him live on air, via phone. A hostile relationship is thus
formed, but when they meet accidentally at a wedding, the love interest is sparked.
Controversially, for a mainstream Bollywood film, they move in together, and then Ambar
falls pregnant. The film ends with the birth of (surprise!) twins – a scene played more for
its comic value rather than its sentimentality.
 Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies 363

Nation
India’s arrival as a fully independent nation at midnight on 15 August 1947 was a turning
point for a nation long governed by a geographically distant and culturally foreign power.
There was, as Jyotika Virdi (2003, 26) points out, symmetry in which India’s birth as a
nation was a ‘political formation that arrived in India at about the same time as film
technology’, and the two have since been entwined in the public imagination. The rapid
rise of Hindi and Tamil cinemas and the nationwide cult of watching cinematic
performances en masse provided the nation’s citizens with an outlet for the growing tide of
patriotism. Indeed, the esteem with which film is held is summed up in Virdi’s (2003)
iteration of it as a complex space in which ‘Hindi cinema imagines and popularizes’ a
particular conception of the Indian national (i.e., as Hindi-dominant) (26). This iteration of
India as a (mostly) Hindi state can be seen as a result of the ‘unprecedented source of
creative energy’ (Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin 1989, 12) brought about by increasingly
being subjected to a marginal position on the world stage. And while nationhood certainly
brings with it the desire to achieve and put one’s stamp on the world, India’s nationhood
has always been a tenuous construction where unity within that ‘marginal’ space becomes
a dramatic concern. The portrayal of the multiethnic, multilingual, and precariously
secular India as a single harmonious entity is important for the creation, or at the very least,
the appearance, of a cohesive state. Virdi states that the ‘tensions that threaten to fracture
the nation are obsessively manifested in film as moral conflicts or ethical dilemmas.
Resolution of these dilemmas is the central goal of the “national fiction”, the Hindi film’
(32). In the creation of films produced with a strong sense of the diasporic audience in
mind, this is a crucial point requiring a delicate balance in the portrayal of the nation’s
many identities (although some would argue that Yash Raj films are anything but delicate
in their marginalizing representations of non-Hindi cultures). Of course the genealogy of
Indian migration and its strong links to the colonial experience play an important role here
in forging the myriad identities that are recognized as ‘Indian’.
The success of Hindi cinema since the 1990s has occurred through the construction of
a recognizable identity, but also, as Kaur points out (2002, 200– 1) because these films are
deliberately:
designed for the NRI community; specifically family values, moral superiority, true
(unpolluted) love, the sacrifice of individual desires for the greater good of the
family/community, and the struggle and victory of the Indian Diaspora in preserving their
cultural universe through Indian rites of passages in an alien environment.
But Kaur (2002) cautions against a strict adherence to Western film theories, as
these offer a reductive view, impeded by an unwavering belief that films ‘stem from
the hegemonic alliance between advanced capitalism and the cinematic institutions in the
Euro-American cultures’ (203). She argues that while Indian cinema emerged in the
confines of the colonial era, ‘it soon became a swadeshi (homegrown) project’ (203), both
mimetic of, yet different from, other forms of ‘national’ cinema. Parallels can be drawn
with contemporary India, battling with the rising tide of Hindu fundamentalism since the
decline of the Congress Party in the 1980s. However, in the 2000s, political stability has
returned, and with that a new-found confidence has emerged in the ‘difference’ of its
national cinema; a firm example of India’s attempts to become globally visible through the
use of soft power. Additionally, the confluence of newly emerging photographic
technologies, a strong historical base of Parsi theatre (drawing heavily on melodramatic
tales and song-and-dance performances) and other infrastructure developments in
Bombay, meant that the rise of cinema in India was co-terminus with Western filmmaking
364 P.C. Pugsley and S. Khorana

(Ganti 2004, 6– 10). In other words, it appears that regardless of genre and language of
production, Indian cinema has possessed distinctive localized cultural and political
conventions since its inception. It was important that India’s filmmakers were able to
capture the ‘socio-political transformations in society’ and, in Kaur’s words, create ‘a
“reciprocal-influence” where the society present[ed] the raw stock to be woven into film
narratives’ (2002, 202). Thus, the cinema reproduces truths in the name of the nation. The
problem with this of course is whose ‘truth’ is being represented?

Identity
Defining one’s identity has long been seen as an exercise fraught with complexities. In a
much-cited paper, Stuart Hall (1996,17) notes that:
Precisely because identities are constructed within, not outside, discourse, we need to
understand them as produced in specific historical and institutional sites within specific
discursive formations and practices, by specific enunciative strategies.
In other words, to Hall, discursive contexts are a primary indicator of identity. It is this
‘home’ identity that initially defines the characters in Yash Raj films, yet these various
possibilities – the chance that change can, could, or will take place – are central to the
lives of the characters. In a Descartian sense, it is the ‘I’ that subjectively determines one’s
identity, with corresponding concepts of nationality, race, or ethnicity rendered malleable.
Thus, for some it is not just the identity itself, but the ‘performance of identity’ that is
crucial (Dudrah 2006; Goffman 1959). Zygmunt Bauman (2001) takes the discursive
argument one step further by suggesting that identity has become ‘a prism through which
other topical aspects of contemporary life are spotted, grasped and examined’ (121).
Bauman conceptualizes twenty-first century identities as no longer focused on how to
obtain a particular identity, but ‘which identity to choose, and how best to keep alert and
vigilant so that another choice can be made in case the previously chosen identity is
withdrawn from the market or stripped of its seductive powers’ (2001, 126, original
italics). In Hindi cinema Bollywood superstar Shah Rukh Khan (aka SRK) is an actor

Figure 1. Anjali (Kajol) lords it over Sprightly in Kabhi Kushi Khabie Gham (Johar, 2001).
 Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies 365

perhaps burdened with the responsibility of performing the identity for (urban) India on a
global scale (Dudrah 2006, 87). SRK’s various film roles, including the successful
businessman in K3G and the international sportsman in KANK suggest the global range of
possibilities for Indian citizens in the twenty-first century. However, in order to maintain a
strong sense of a shared ‘Indian’ identity, these characters are often presented as overly
assertive or superior to those non-Indian characters, reiterating a particular type of Indian
nationalism that has been ‘commodified and globalized into a “feel good” version of “our
culture”’ (Rajadhyaksha 2003, 37).
This adherence to the extremely complex notion of ‘our’ culture is apparent in K3G
which hosts a number of conflicting moments in the process of diasporic identity-making.
In one scene (Figure 1) the decidedly ‘English’ Mrs Sprightly (Tamzin Griffin) drops her
daughter off to go to school with Krish (Jibraan Khan), the hapless son of Rahul (SRK) and
Anjali (Kajol). Anjali pulls the girl to her, all the while berating an unsuspecting Sprightly
in Hindi, with the words ‘Jhoothi!, Jhoothi!, Jhoothi!’ (‘Liar, liar, liar’). That this occurs
while Anjali is enjoying the trappings of English life is no mere coincidence. By excluding
Sprightly from the dialogue (and making her look foolish in the process), Anjali asserts her
evidently superior role (even if only to herself, and thus, the audience) as the hegemon.
This politics of exclusion renders Sprightly as the Other in her own country, no doubt
discomforting for Anglo-Celtic British viewers. Sprightly herself speaks in a patronizing,
upper-class tone, adding to the dislike of the character, and her role is reprised some
moments later when, in the comfort of their kitchen, Anjali and Sayeeda (Farida Jalal)
mimic Sprightly’s shrill tone.
Interestingly, the Hindi characters in Yash Raj films seem devoid of any class-based
discrimination in their new setting – while their surroundings suggest considerable
wealth, their (mostly) egalitarian nature neutralizes class-based hierarchies amongst the
NRIs. While this may seem at odds with post-colonial theories that suggest independence
brought a new tier of dominant indigenous elites who utilized ‘the colonial legacy and
continually renewed its identity to establish legitimacy’ (Virdi 2003, 33), in Yash Raj films
this does not surface as a problem between characters. In K3G, the now wealthy Anjali
(Kajol) shows few traces of her previously disadvantaged existence back in India. This
theme is also reflected in KANK where all the NRIs are wealthy; there is no point of
comparison with other struggling NRIs unlike those presented in diasporic media texts
such as Bend it Like Beckham (Chadha 2002), The Mistress of Spices (Berges 2005), or
other British representations of the South Asian migrant experience like East is East
(O’Donnell 1999) or White Teeth (Jarrold 2002). This can be explained because the idea of
failure is antithetical to the nationalist project of Hindi cinema, and because the characters
presented are in the position financially, and in terms of their careers, to enact a global
mobility.

Location
For several decades the Kashmir region was the favoured location for Bollywood shoots,
but ongoing political unrest in the late 1980s effectively put an end to filming there.
However there is much to suggest that by this time Bollywood filmmakers were ready to
move beyond local borders to capture the global rise of the Indian diaspora. Early
examples of the use of overseas locations and the migrant experience (even if through
Mumbai studio-based overseas settings) do exist, for example the 1970 film Purab aur
Paschim (East and West, dir. Kumar) which is partly set in England (Virdi 2003), and the
increasing number of films including Pardes (1997) and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (1998) that
366 P.C. Pugsley and S. Khorana

appeared in the 1990s (Gopolan 2006, 322). But the idealization of the foreign locale –
London in K3G, Melbourne in SN, New York in KANK – is always a heavily negotiated
position and often dependent on the transitory nature of the characters. In K3G, SRK’s
character is there not so much by choice, but as a sign of defiance to the overbearing
patriarch (Amitabh) who remains firmly anchored at home in India. The role of younger
brother (Hrithik) is to seek out his wayward sibling and (eventually) bring him home. In
SN, Preity’s Ambar is, like Saif Ali Khan’s Nik, in Australia to pursue a ‘better’ life in
terms of her career and academic studies, and to escape the traditional arranged marriage
back home in India. Similar narrative structures appear in many Bollywood films, a simple
and effective way to place characters in particular situations and locales. And although SN
departs from the yearning-for-home structure of other films such as Pyaar Ishq aur
Mohabbat (dir. Rajiv Rai 2001) in which the lead character has the ‘stated aim’ to return to
India and use their knowledge to ‘benefit the nation’ (Martin-Jones 2006, 55), such
ambitions clearly drive the plot of other very successful films such as Swades (dir.
Ashutosh Gowarikar 2004), in which SRK’s Mohan is inevitably drawn back to India
despite a successful career at the NASA space centre.
Interestingly, Kao and Do Rozario (2008, 313) see the location in Bollywood films as
part of a ‘phoney space’ long inhabited by the tradition of musicals (both Bollywood and
Hollywood); spaces that exist ‘outside the parameters of realism’. There are problems with
this notion of a kind of banal setting in that the location is, in most cases, a crucial player in
the film. Another view suggests that foreign locations are favoured by Bollywood
filmmakers because they are primarily ‘rendered specifically as a tourist destination’
(Martin-Jones 2006, 49). In the case of Scotland, Martin-Jones maintains that there are
three financial benefits to localizing Bollywood production: location spend; box office
takings; and tourism. Certainly the locating of theme songs in these new settings
‘promotes the locations in question, underscores the international nature of the production,
and emphasises the ability of Indian capital (here, film production) to interact with other
fully modernised parts of the globe’ (Martin-Jones 2006, 55). A concerted push by global
film promoters to raise the profile of Indian cinema was also underway in the early 2000s,
with ‘Bollywood’ festivals creating a stir in both the UK and Australia (Athique 2008) and
broadening audiences from diasporic Indians to arthouse and (some) mainstream non-
Indian audiences. And the use of ‘locations familiar to diasporic audiences’ transforms
into dollars at the box office (K3G ranked third in the top ten grossing films in the UK in
2001) and to tourist dollars (Martin-Jones 2006, 51). But we suggest that there is more to it
than mere tourist dollars: it is a somewhat reductive view that ignores the power that can
be created in using foreign locations. The Indians are not generally represented as
‘tourists’ nor are they necessarily shown interacting with their environment as tourists –
they are often depicted as citizens (however temporary this notion may be in the storyline)
of their chosen destination, and every bit the equal (or superior to) the ‘local’ citizens, and
with ‘no hint of cultural otherness’ (Mishra 2009, 440).
For those émigrés who have settled into their foreign homes there is often what Martin-
Jones refers to as a ‘postcolonial reversal’ in which the Indian characters ‘are the wealthy
lords who are courted by the governments of these western countries’ (2006, 56), as
exemplified by Rahul and Anjali in K3G. Certainly in KANK Amitabh’s ‘Sam’ character is
‘lord’ of his manor, shamelessly flaunting his wealth. But Sam is obviously headed for a
downfall; like Icarus, he ventures too closely to the sun, perhaps mimicking the changes
that occurred in India in the 1990s where ‘conspicuous consumption patterns revealed a
highly materialistic and uninhibited urban middle class, constantly fuelled by growing
capitalist ambitions and the new challenges of global economic order’ (Kaur 2002, 205).
 Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies 367

Unlike Icarus, though, Sam’s (moral) downfall is short-lived as he achieves redemption

through his ultimate return to the moral high ground of ‘traditional’ Indian values. He is, in
Kaur’s terms, ‘the bad NRI’ (2002, 206): corrupted by his new surroundings, but not
beyond salvation. In SN, Jaaved Jaffrey’s shonky ‘New Australian’ landlord character may
hold the wealth, but he is a contemptible, exploitative character devoid of ethical or moral
fortitude, precisely because he has given up on India and its limited possibilities for
economic fortune (Figure 2). His new location affords him the opportunity to be recreated;
to forge a new identity.
New locations also allow for a reassessment of gender roles, although these are
tempered somewhat by the need to create films that still firmly resonate with Indian
audiences. Moorti (2005, 56) notes that other forms of popular culture such as magazines
‘realign the feminine ideal blending indigenous and Western characteristics to produce the
“new Indian woman”, someone who can inhabit Western spaces easily, but holds on to
“Indian” values’, such as Ambar in SN. For Fernandes, the ‘territorial anxieties of the post-
colonial nation-state produce a link between the protection of the borders of the nation and
the preservation of gendered social codes’ (2000, 612). And while in K3G it first appears
that Kapoor’s ‘Poo’ has lost these values, she eventually achieves salvation through
espousing her decadent Western ways and (re-)embracing traditional Indian attire, and is
thus integrated back into the patriarchal family. Similarly, Anjali (Kajol) is played as
Rahul’s (SRK) traditionally-sound wife. However, the tension between traditional ways
and the push for modernity that emerges as a common theme in these films is not new, as
the ‘modernizing objectives’ found in earlier films from Bombay threatened to ‘open out
an unchartered terrain of social flux’ and allow women to move (or remain) beyond their
traditionally determined domestic spaces (Vasudevan 1995, 99). Therefore the depiction
of successful career-oriented women such as Rani and Ambar is a direct link back to these
earlier films in which the Indian woman’s ‘global presence, unlike that of the Indian male,
is repeatedly anchored in the golden tradition of India’ (Moorti 2005, 56).

Figure 2. Jaggu (Jaaved Jaffrey) renounces his Indianness in Salaam Namaste (Anand, 2005).
368 P.C. Pugsley and S. Khorana

Consumption
In terms of the global Indian, K3G places Hrithik Roshan’s character in London,
surrounded by signs of mass consumption – he strides past Starbucks, Dolce & Gabbana
and dances in front of myriad other deliberately placed transnational brands, all within a
two-minute montage at the beginning of the song ‘Vande Mataram’. As the national song
(as opposed to the national anthem) of the independent Indian nation, ‘Vande Mataram’
has recently resurfaced in popular culture remixed in music video form by composer A.R.
Rahman. In its contemporary guise, this song is seen to exhibit a mythology of patriotism
that embodies a ‘dubious cosmopolitanism to interpellate the middleclass/uppercaste
subjects’, creating a ‘diasporic imaginary that pulls Indian immigrants from North
America, Europe, and elsewhere into its fold’ (Asthana 2003, 350).
This is, again, overtly reminiscent of the claim by Leela Fernandes (2000, 612) that
‘Media images produce a vision of the Indian nation based on an idealized depiction of the
urban middle classes and new patterns of commodity consumption’. In dissecting this
same K3G scene (Figure 3), Kao and Do Rozario (2008) find that it allows the film to
‘assert Rohan’s Indianness over diasporic space’ before fading into a ‘montage of Rahul’s
affluent diasporic home life’ (317). The visible consumption of Western goods and the
ease with which Rahul and family surround themselves with such (luxury) items lends
itself to the idea that ‘the imagined form of the “global” is itself produced through cultural
signs and symbols that rest on the deployment of nationalist narratives’ (Fernandes 2000,
612). As Indian citizens firmly ensconced in London they are living proof of the ability of
migrants to enter the global consumption market.
More importantly, this reinforces changes that occurred in the 1990s bringing ‘the
production of a national cultural standard associated with the urban middle and upper
classes’ towards a more flagrant showing of one’s wealth in line with the growth of the
‘new symbols of national progress in India’ (Fernandes 2000, 614). This merging of the
corporate and the national has long been a point worthy of exploitation by both
commercial interests and governments alike. As Fernandes (2000, 616) explains, ‘this
depiction of the local and the national does not attempt to mask or disguise the
transnational organization of production relations. Rather the effect is one which produces
a fetishization of hybridity – the ability of multinational capital to combine the national

Figure 3. Rohan (Hrithik Roshan) enjoys the sights in London in K3G (Johar, 2001).
 Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies 369

and the global within a singular narrative of commodity fetishism’. Such fetishism is
apparent in SN through Nik’s gadget-filled apartment, and his mobile phone holder in his
car. In KANK it occurs through Sam’s (and Rishi’s) flamboyant suits and latest designer
eyewear (Figure 4).
The notion of the aspirational Indian in a global setting has become an almost
dominant theme in Bollywood films over the past decade or so, and as Martin-Jones (2006)
notes, K3G is amongst the plethora of films that ‘celebrate the wealth that market
capitalism can create, and equate the economic success of Non Resident Indians (NRIs)
with that of India’s middle classes’ (53). Kaur (2002, 206) notes that for NRIs the veil of
‘shame, guilt and consequent low self-esteem associated with the poverty, corruption and
caste oppression in their home country, could be replaced with strategic and economic
success stories’. And for Garwood (2006, 348) ‘the NRI romance concentrates almost
exclusively on characters from the affluent middle-class’, reinforcing and normalizing the
class status of NRIs. There is a strong aesthetic dimension at work here as well; as noted,
the cosmopolitan Indian has to be visibly wealthy and technologically savvy in order to
support the ongoing narrative of global engagement.
In response to one commercial operation’s use of iconic imagery of the West to
promote its own importance as a global force, Fernandes (2000) says it illustrates how
‘Indian capital provides the means of access to and success over the global, a process
which once again is not in danger of displacing what is Indian’ 618). She maintains that:
If for transnational capital the hybridity of the national and global eases the anxieties of the
reach of the global into India, visual representations of Indian capital center more on the
effectiveness of India’s reach outward. Images of various Indian companies make references
to their ability to compete in the global market; as one advertisement puts it, ‘We have given
India what it had always deserved – recognition’ (618).
But consumption cannot be viewed as a mere activity: the end result of consumption
(beside driving economies) is the broadcast of affluence, which leads to the aesthetic
superficialities so favoured by cosmopolitanism, and featured in all three YRF productions
chosen for this study.

Cosmopolitanism in Salaam Namaste

The setting of SN in contemporary Melbourne occurs because, following Abbas (2000),
‘cosmopolitanism must take place somewhere’, even if such places are increasingly ‘those
“non-places” of the contemporary city’ (772). Thus, Melbourne itself is presented as a
non-place in that it could be any Western city – the cosmopolitanism is found in the
symbols of wealth rather than the specificity of Melbourne’s history as a Western city. Its
identity is therefore rendered less important than its modern façade and clean lines which

Figure 4. Sam’s (Amitabh Bachchan) range of flashy eyewear.

370 P.C. Pugsley and S. Khorana

become essential to the construction of a site in which Nik (Saif Ali Khan) and Ambar
(Preity Zinta) can play out their cosmopolitan roles. Of course Melbourne’s institutions
and industries keenly court India’s filmmakers in order to promote their city as a global
cosmopolis and desired tourist location (Hassam 2009), but, for the most part, the city
merely provides a visual backdrop for the characters. Nik and Ambar feature as effort-
lessly and deservedly cosmopolitan in their Western clothes, in their modern designer
home, in their use of the latest gadgets and cars, and in their unquestioning attendance at a
Western wedding. In contrast, the cosmopolitanism of many other characters comes across
as clumsy or pretentious (and sometimes both) – Ambar’s boss and owner of the ‘Salaam
Namaste’ radio station, Debonair, who is a failed singer from Kerala (a state in South
India); Nik’s boss and owner of ‘Nick of Time’ restaurant, Mr Deka, who is depicted as a
glutton from Bangladesh (he started with a hot dog stall in Melbourne, and accidentally
made it big as a result of a law suit); and Nik and Ambar’s ‘Crocodile Dundee’ landlord
(Jaaved Jaffrey) who is an unlikeable character in both his Indian and Australian avatars
(he is a lecherous taxi driver from Bihar who also runs into good fortune, in this case by
winning a lottery).
Notwithstanding Nik and Ambar’s easy cosmopolitanism, their manifestation of it is in
line with Ackbar Abbas’ (2000, 771) understanding of cosmopolitanism in the modern era,
which ‘by and large meant being versed in Western ways’. In other words, the male and
female lead characters of this Melbourne-based Bollywood film are cosmopolitan because
they are leading a largely Western lifestyle in terms of their work, home, and recreational
activities. However, they seem to amend elements of what is widely known as a ‘Western’
way of life so that they are not in conflict with their Indian values and upbringing. Ambar
may be alienated from her family in India, but works for an Indian radio station in
Melbourne. There is an attempt at de-stereotyping traditional gender roles by showing that
it is Nik rather than Ambar who prepares the meals at home and is particular about
cleaning chores, but this is offset by Ambar’s claim to domestication in decorating their
shared house with scented candles and lace curtains. Later in the film, Ambar’s decision to
have a child out of wedlock, even though radical in terms of ‘Indian values’, comes across
as a stereotypically soft female response when set against Nik’s inability to commit to
marriage and fatherhood. Another manifestation of their Indian brand of cosmopolitanism
is the critical appraisal of habits/characters that are deemed ‘too Western’. While Ambar
rebukes Nik for changing his name from Nikhil and thereby displaying discomfort
with his ‘Indian self’, both look down upon their Indian-born landlord (Jaffrey) who has
turned into a ‘Crocodile Dundee’ character, and is most likely a caricature of NRIs who
deliberately give up what is unquestionably assumed to be their innate ‘Indianness’. Their
cosmopolitanism then, is comparable with the cosmopolitanism of Shanghai in the 1920s
and 1930s which ‘could be understood not as cultural domination by the foreign but as the
appropriation by the local of “elements of foreign culture to enrich a new national
culture”’ (Abbas 2000, 775). In this sense, the NRIs initially come across as Westernized,
while mainstream ‘white’ Australians appear to fade into the background and do not
feature as major characters. With this marginalization of the mainstream (i.e., white)
population, any attempts at a realistic portrayal of multicultural urban Australia are pushed
into the background.
The aforementioned ‘new enriched national culture’ may be considered as a reference
not only to a newly cosmopolitan India (and Indian diaspora), but also to the national
culture of an increasingly multicultural Australia. This is evidenced by the presence of
Australian settings, icons, and characters (even if minor and/or stereotypes) in Salaam
Namaste. The film’s opening credits roll with shots of the Melbourne city skyline (intercut
 Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies 371

with footage of the Great Ocean Road), an aerial view of a street intersection, and the bay.
The voiceover narrates the story of Ambar coming to and falling in love with Melbourne,
followed by her announcing ‘Salaam Namaste’ at the Indian radio station where she works
as an announcer. When Ambar is interviewing ‘successful’ Indians living in Melbourne,
the shots are those of an Indian man at a supermarket (a number of 7/11-type convenience
stores in Australia are owned by people from the subcontinent), an Indian woman at a
laundromat, and another Indian woman on a treadmill. Therefore, it appears that we are
introduced to Melbourne, a foreign city, but from an Indian cosmopolitan perspective.
Other scenes where the Melbourne cityscape and other identifiably Australian scenery
come into the foreground are the drive along the Great Ocean Road to the wedding, the
song following the wedding at a beach with bikini-clad women and beach volleyball, the
‘falling in love’ song between Ambar and Nikhil around the Yarra River and Melbourne
city, and their reconciliation song at the Crown Casino. This not only shows the growing
cosmopolitanism of Indians who now freely live in and interact with Australian spaces, but
also the cosmopolitanism of Melbourne itself as it literally opens its streets, beaches, and
businesses to people from various ethnicities. This also feeds into Abbas’ (2000, 775)
conception of cosmopolitanism as necessarily dependent on the ‘cultivation of
indifference’ (his italics) which are apparent in each of the films when the protagonists
freely enter public thoroughfares such as in the ‘Vante Mataram’ scene in K3G or SRK in
New York’s Grand Central Station in KANK, or Nik and Ambar in SN dancing through the
streets of Melbourne.
Also significant in the film is the depiction of Australian characters who, even though
minor and often stereotypically represented, form a crucial background to the overall
action of the film. The first Australian to appear in the film is the cop who tells Nik to go
and see a doctor when he gets a bleeding nose. The second appearance is that of an
Australian prostitute who Nik’s hopelessly romantic friend Ron ‘bumps into’ as he steps
out of his house. This character is similar to that of the ‘Crocodile Dundee’ character’s
companion, a skimpily-dressed blonde who says nothing more than ‘sorry’ in a dreadful
nasal twang every time her partner asks her a question. The major Australian character in
the film is that of Ron’s wife, Cathy (also Ambar’s best friend, played by Tania Zaetta),
who is shown alternately bickering and canoodling with her husband. The rushed love
story and marriage of Ron and Cathy serves as a backdrop for the happenings between Nik
and Ambar. The former couple serves as a relative compass for the state of the latter’s
relationship, and vice versa. Thus, while Ron is depicted as more compromising than his
Australian wife, it is Nik who emerges as the ‘Australian’ in his relationship with Ambar
through his self-centredness and shirking of responsibility. It is only when he embraces the
idea of marrying Ambar that he becomes more ‘Indian’ and a more likeable character.
Therefore, despite the main characters of the film being effortlessly cosmopolitan, their
cosmopolitanism is only accepted when it has been ‘Indianized’; that is, when it has
welcomed the tropes of family and sacrifice into its fold.

Conclusion
The recognition and adoption of cosmopolitan lifestyles by characters in Yash Raj Films
serves to highlight India’s post-colonial identity as a fiercely independent, proud, and
capable nation. And with Yash Raj Films at the forefront of the global rise of Bollywood
cinema in the past decade, their shift from locally-based Hindi films to films that highlight
the global achievements of Indian people capitalizes on nationalistic feelings perpetuated
by home-based and diasporic Indians. By using foreign locations as a site in which the
372 P.C. Pugsley and S. Khorana

successful, cosmopolitan NRI is pitted against the non-Indian (the Westerner), Yash
Chopra and his team fulfil a desire that any nation must wish for once independence is
achieved: the ability to be seen as globally equal to (or better than) its former colonizers.
Unlike the critical nationalism seen in the works of diasporic filmmakers such as Mira
Nair or Deepa Mehta, Yash Raj Films are first and foremost all-singing, all-dancing
vehicles for Bollywood stars. But through their assertive portrayal of globally-savvy NRIs,
they perpetuate nationalistic pride in Indian (predominantly Hindi) culture by inhabiting
the moral high ground. By successfully tapping into local and international markets,
the company’s films showcase India’s rise in the global economy, and its resistance to the
hegemonic forces of the West. Such a selective use of foreign cities populated by Indian
citizens well versed in patterns of Western consumption allows Yash Raj Films to
articulate a particular discourse of nationalism. This discourse both manifests the
nationalist pride of a post-colonial nation, and successfully adapts the cosmopolitan
language of an increasingly globalized world.

Notes on contributors
Peter C. Pugsley teaches Asian Screen Media and Advanced Media Theory at the University of
Adelaide. He has published on Asian media in a range of journals including Asian Studies Review,
International Communication Gazette and China Information.

Sukhmani Khorana is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow in the Centre for Critical and Cultural Studies
at the University of Queensland. Her current research examines the discourses of India’s television
news media. Sukhmani recently completed a critical-creative PhD in diasporic cinema at the
University of Adelaide. Her documentary I Journey Like a Paisley can be viewed online at:
http://vimeo.com/9520203. Sukhmani’s work has appeared in high-ranked media and film journals,
and community and independent online publications.

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