In the neon-lit maze of Indian cinema, few topics ignite as much intrigue and controversy as sex. For decades, Bollywood has flirted with sensuality while cautiously avoiding full-blown representations of it. The result? A catalogue of tropes—some artistic, some scandalous, and some quietly revolutionary. In this critique, we dive into the complex relationship between Bollywood and sex, examining how narratives of desire have been shaped by cultural mores, censorship, and evolving audience appetites.
The Legacy of Suggestion: From Flowers to Fireworks
For much of its history, Bollywood’s portrayal of sex has been cloaked in metaphor. The infamous trope of two flowers touching, or rain-soaked lovers dancing around trees, served as euphemisms for intimacy. Directors sidestepped the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) by relying on symbolism. These cinematic codes were not only born out of censorship but also reflected a cultural ethos where public expressions of sexuality were taboo.
Yet, behind the coyness was a repressed desire to explore the erotic. This paradox gave birth to what critic Bhaskar Sarkar calls “the erotics of restraint.” Filmmakers learned to express passion without showing skin. The 1970s and 80s, however, changed the rules.
The Softcore Boom: Art, Exploitation, or Both?
The arrival of directors like B-grade maestro Kanti Shah and films like Raat Ki Rani, Insaan Bana Shaitan, and Jungle Love marked a dramatic shift. These movies, often termed “sex films” in local parlance, weren’t part of mainstream Bollywood but found eager audiences in video parlors and late-night TV slots. They peddled titillation with low budgets and sensational posters.
At the same time, arthouse directors like Mahesh Bhatt (Arth, Saaransh, Jism) and Mira Nair (Kama Sutra: A Tale of Love) attempted to bring eroticism into the realm of narrative sophistication. Their films were still subject to bans, edits, and moral panic, but they paved the way for more nuanced explorations of female desire.
This dual track—the exploitative and the artistic—has continued to haunt Bollywood’s sexual expression. On one hand, it normalized the “item number” and voyeuristic male gaze; on the other, it cracked open conversations about agency and longing.
Censorship as Cultural Gatekeeper
The CBFC has long acted as Bollywood’s moral police, often dictating what constitutes “Indian culture.” Scenes with kissing, nudity, or even too much cleavage have frequently been chopped or blurred. Movies like Fire (1996), which depicted a lesbian relationship, were met with outrage and vandalism. Even Lipstick Under My Burkha (2016), a searing portrayal of female sexuality, was initially denied certification for being “lady-oriented.”
Ironically, this overbearing censorship has often had a Streisand effect, bringing more attention to the very films it seeks to silence. It also forces filmmakers to become more subversive—embedding critique within character arcs, dialogue, or visual metaphor.
Take Dev.D (2009), where the character of Chanda—a sex worker played by Kalki Koechlin—redefines the archetype of the “fallen woman” by showing agency, intellect, and emotional depth. Or Tamasha (2015), where intimacy becomes a metaphor for self-discovery rather than just pleasure. These are not accidents; they are conscious rebellions against imposed moralities.
The Rise of Streaming and the Sexual Renaissance
In recent years, the OTT (over-the-top) revolution has radically altered the landscape. Platforms like Netflix, Amazon Prime, and ALTBalaji have allowed for bolder, more explicit content. Shows like Sacred Games, Lust Stories, and Bombay Begums have explored sex with a maturity rarely seen in mainstream cinema.
This shift has enabled the emergence of more authentic depictions of queer desire, female pleasure, and complex sexual dynamics. Importantly, it has decentered the male gaze. Women now write, direct, and produce stories about their own sexualities. Filmmakers like Alankrita Shrivastava (Dolly Kitty Aur Woh Chamakte Sitare) and Ruchika Oberoi (Anthology: Lust Stories) are at the forefront of this movement.
But even the streaming world is not immune to critique. While some projects elevate the discourse, others fall back on the same old formula: gratuitous nudity and sex as spectacle rather than substance. The challenge remains to distinguish between representation and commodification.
The Scandal Cycle: Sex as a Media Event
No critique of Bollywood sex movie tropes is complete without acknowledging the role of scandal. From leaked scenes (MMS culture) to paparazzi-fueled moral outrage over bold actresses, the media often capitalizes on sex to fuel headlines.
Stars like Poonam Pandey, Sherlyn Chopra, and Sunny Leone have all faced public shaming for owning their sexuality—even as their appeal has been monetized by the same industry that vilifies them. Sunny Leone’s transition from adult film star to Bollywood lead in Jism 2 marked a moment of both progress and contradiction: she was celebrated as an icon of liberated sexuality but boxed into erotic thrillers that rarely transcended surface-level allure.
Subversion as Survival: New Voices, New Narratives
What’s emerging now is a subtler form of subversion. Directors are using genre to smuggle in sexual politics. In Gehraiyaan (2022), the depiction of infidelity and physical intimacy isn’t just about shock value—it’s a commentary on inherited trauma and emotional disconnect. Similarly, Badhaai Do (2022) tackles lavender marriages and closeted queer identities without reducing them to caricature.
Even comedy is becoming a tool of critique. Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan plays with camp aesthetics and family drama to normalize gay love stories. These films challenge heteronormativity without preaching, proving that Bollywood can evolve while staying entertaining.
Conclusion: Between Scandal and Subversion Lies Art
Bollywood’s relationship with sex is both tortured and tantalizing. It mirrors India’s broader cultural schizophrenia—an ancient civilization that birthed the Kama Sutra but flinches at on-screen kissing. Over time, the tropes have shifted from symbolic to scandalous to subversive.
The road ahead lies in balancing storytelling with representation, desire with dignity. As audiences mature and platforms diversify, the hope is that Bollywood can embrace sexuality not as a gimmick, but as a legitimate, layered part of the human experience.
Whether it’s art, scandal, or subversion—how Bollywood handles sex reveals much about the nation’s psyche. The question is not whether the industry can handle sex more maturely. The real question is: can the audience?
