Decoding Valentine’s Day in Bollywood: Is Hindi cinema finally redefining love stories through woman’s perspective instead of traditional hero-centric lens?

Decoding Valentine’s Day in Bollywood: I rewatched Kuch Kuch Hota Hai this year, fully prepared for nostalgia, friendship bands and college coolness. Instead, I found myself pausing every ten minutes, whispering, “Wait… this is supposed to be romantic?” Raj’s relentless teasing, emotional manipulation and conditional affection suddenly felt less like charm and more like a masterclass in soft-spoken toxicity. The shock intensified when I revisited Rehnaa Hai Terre Dil Mein and realised Maddy’s impersonation plot is essentially stalking dressed up as destiny. Somewhere between the late 1990s and 2026, the audience changed. And finally, so did Bollywood.

This Valentine’s Day, Hindi cinema stands at an intriguing crossroads. The industry that once glorified obsessive lovers and silent heroines is slowly flipping the camera — literally and metaphorically — towards the woman’s point of view. But to understand the shift, we must revisit the era when love stories revolved almost entirely around men.

When Did Bollywood Think Obsession Was Romance?

For decades, Hindi films packaged troubling behaviour as devotion. Consider Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge — adored across generations — where Raj’s flirtation borders on harassment until Simran “realises” she loves him. Or Devdas, where self-destruction is framed as poetic masculinity while Paro and Chandramukhi orbit his pain like satellites.

Then came Kabir Singh, arguably the last blockbuster hurrah of the hyper-possessive hero. Kabir slaps, screams and spirals, yet the narrative insists he is a tortured romantic. Audiences cheered. Critics winced. Debates exploded. Something was shifting.

In Ae Dil Hai Mushkil, Ayan refuses to accept Alizeh’s boundaries, serenading her rejection as tragic love. Padmaavat glorifies male obsession through Alauddin Khilji’s gaze, where the heroine becomes an object of conquest rather than a person. Even Tamasha, though layered, frames Ved’s transformation largely through his emotional journey, with Tara functioning as catalyst.

Seen together, these films share a pattern: the man feels, the woman reacts. He desires, she validates. He suffers, she heals. Love was less partnership and more performance — staged for the hero’s growth arc.

What Exactly Is the “Male Gaze” in Bollywood Terms?

In film theory, the male gaze refers to storytelling framed primarily through male desire, perspective and fantasy. In classic Hindi cinema, this translated to lingering camera shots on heroines, songs that introduced women as spectacles, and plots where female characters existed mainly to motivate male transformation.

The archetypes were familiar: The shy village belle, the bubbly best friend who secretly loves the hero, the sacrificing wife, the kidnapped girlfriend. Rarely did the narrative ask what she wanted independent of him.

Yet audiences today — particularly younger viewers raised on global content and social media discourse — are far more media-literate. They question power dynamics, consent and agency. Filmmakers have noticed.

When Did the Shift Begin?

The change did not arrive overnight. It crept in quietly through films that centred women’s experiences rather than treating them as romantic rewards. Queen was a turning point. Rani’s solo honeymoon was not about finding a new man but discovering herself. The emotional climax wasn’t a kiss; it was her returning her engagement ring.

Pink dismantled the idea that a woman’s “no” requires justification. Raazi portrayed love as sacrifice through Sehmat’s perspective, not the hero’s. And Thappad built an entire narrative around one slap, asking whether love without respect is love at all. These films did something radical for mainstream Hindi cinema: they treated women’s feelings as plot, not subplot.

How Are Recent Films Rewriting Romantic Masculinity?

The most fascinating evolution is not just stronger women — it is softer men. Contemporary storytellers are dismantling the myth that masculinity must equal dominance. Take Dhurandhar. Rahman Dakait, a feared killer, reduces to an anxious husband in front of his wife. He seeks her approval, absorbs her anger, even allows her to slap him. In older cinema, such a scene would signal humiliation. Here, it signals emotional dependence — a man unafraid of vulnerability.

Similarly, in O' Romeo (released 13 January 2026), Hussain Ustara, a dreaded gangster, turns into a bashful adolescent around Afsah, played by Triptii Dimri. In one striking sequence, he quietly endures a beating from local boys because fighting back might upset her. Love no longer proves masculinity; it softens it.

Even glossy family entertainers are joining the shift. Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani presents a hero who proudly learns Kathak, cooks and cries — traditionally feminised traits once used for comic relief. Here, they are romantic strengths.

Are Female Characters Finally Driving the Story?

Increasingly, yes. Modern scripts grant women narrative agency rather than decorative presence.

In Gangubai Kathiawadi, Gangubai’s relationships never overshadow her ambition; romance is secondary to self-definition. In many recent dramas and streaming originals, women choose partners, leave toxic ones and articulate desire openly — actions that would once have branded them “bold” or “rebellious”.

The difference lies in authorship. More women writers, directors and editors are shaping mainstream Hindi projects than ever before. With them comes a shift in gaze: the camera watches women as people, not prizes.

Does Bollywood Still Slip Into Old Habits?

Absolutely. Transformation in an industry as large as Hindi cinema is uneven. Hyper-masculine heroes still dominate certain action franchises. Romantic songs still occasionally fetishise the heroine’s body. And some scripts mistake possessiveness for passion.

Audience taste is also divided. While urban viewers applaud progressive love stories, mass circuits often favour traditional hero-centric narratives. The result is a fascinating tug-of-war playing out on screens.

Why This Valentine’s Day Feels Different

What makes 2026 notable is not just that progressive films exist — they always have — but that they are no longer niche. They coexist with mainstream entertainers, influence star personas and shape marketing campaigns.

Actors now openly discuss consent, emotional intelligence and equality while promoting romantic films. Trailers highlight female arcs instead of merely showcasing the hero’s entry shot. Even song lyrics are evolving, swapping conquest metaphors for companionship imagery.

Love, once defined by pursuit, is being redefined as partnership.

What Does Love Look Like Through a Woman’s Lens?

When stories prioritise a woman’s perspective, romance changes tone:

Importantly, the heroine no longer needs rescuing. She might still fall in love, but she does so on her own terms.

So, Is Hindi Cinema Truly Changing?

The honest answer: It is transitioning. Bollywood has not completely abandoned its hero-centric legacy, but it is undeniably experimenting with alternatives. The industry is learning that audiences can swoon over kindness as much as swagger, over emotional honesty as much as grand gestures.

Watching Kuch Kuch Hota Hai today may feel unsettling, but that discomfort is proof of progress. Our idea of romance has matured, and cinema is scrambling — sometimes gracefully, sometimes awkwardly — to keep up.

This Valentine’s Day, perhaps the biggest love story unfolding isn’t on screen at all. It is the evolving relationship between Hindi cinema and its audience. For the first time, the heroine is not waiting to be chosen. She is choosing the story.

And Bollywood, finally, is listening.