Every once in a while, a film comes along that deserves to be judged not merely by its cinematic merit but by the questions it compels society to ask. Satluj is one such film.
Ironically, before audiences could even decide its relevance, the film itself has become the very issue it seeks to address. Delayed for nearly three years by legal challenges and censorship-related hurdles, it eventually found release not in theatres but on an OTT platform — only to be withdrawn within two days. Why do certain chapters of our history continue to make us so uncomfortable that even telling their story becomes an uphill battle?
At one level, Satluj is set against one of the darkest chapters in independent India’s history. At another, it is a timeless meditation on conscience, courage and the moral choices that confront ordinary citizens.
There should be no ambiguity here. Every sovereign nation has the solemn duty to defeat terrorism with determination. Those entrusted with protecting the nation often have to take extraordinarily difficult decisions under extraordinary circumstances, and history should acknowledge that reality.
Yet, mature democracies are distinguished from the forces they fight by one crucial principle — they remain governed by the rule of law. The line between using legitimate force against terrorism and descending into abuse of power is often thin, but inviolable. When counter-insurgency slips into extortion, fake encounters, torture, enforced disappearances or indiscriminate killings, the moral authority of the State itself begins to erode.
But Satluj is not only about the State power, it is primarily about conscience and character.
What makes the protagonist remarkable is not that he possesses extraordinary powers or occupies high office or is a charismatic leader. Quite the contrary. He is a banker leading a comfortable, successful life and is even presented with an opportunity to seek asylum abroad, leaving behind the turmoil engulfing his homeland. He chooses the far more difficult path of listening to his conscience. That decision transforms him from an ordinary individual into an extraordinary citizen.
Satluj reminds us that history is often changed not by the powerful, but by ordinary people who refuse to remain silent when silence becomes complicity. It compels us to confront a distinction that mature democracies must never lose sight of. The legitimacy of the State rests on remaining faithful to the rule of law, even when tackling complex situations like terrorism. The allegations surrounding the disappearance of nearly 25,000 people during the troubled years of insurgency in Punjab continue to cast a long and painful shadow. Whatever one’s interpretation of individual cases, there can be little disagreement that democracies cannot afford to become indifferent to questions of accountability. The moral strength of a nation lies not in denying uncomfortable episodes but in possessing the confidence to examine them honestly.
Satluj, ultimately, is a story about institutions. A reassuring message from the film is that even during periods of immense fear and political turbulence, not every institution surrendered. The judiciary continued to provide a forum where injustice could still be challenged. Sections of the media persisted in asking uncomfortable questions despite enormous pressure. Brave investigators, lawyers, and citizens refused to look away. Democracy survives because enough people choose integrity over convenience; courage over silence; and duty over self-interest.
That lesson may be more relevant today than ever before.
In today’s times, information is available instantly, but perspective is increasingly getting scarce. If our cultural diet consists only of spectacle, fantasy and instant gratification, we risk producing citizens who know every trending reel but little about handling moral dilemmas that have shaped the nation they inherit.
Films such as Satluj remind us that democracy is preserved not only by soldiers guarding borders but also by judges defending justice, journalists asking inconvenient questions, police officers refusing unlawful orders, and ordinary citizens choosing courage over comfort. Stories like these build historical perspective, cultivate moral imagination, and, above all, they force each viewer to ask a profoundly uncomfortable question: What would I have done?
And there are far too few films today courageous enough to ask them. A nation is ultimately defined by the values it chooses to pass on to its next generation. If Satluj inspires even a handful of young Indians to believe that an ordinary citizen, armed with nothing more than integrity and the courage to act, can make an extraordinary difference, it will have achieved something far greater than cinematic success. The government must introspect if our next generation deserves this opportunity.
Prabal Basu Roy is a Sloan Fellow of the London Business School and a board member. The views expressed are personal
