Vivek Ranjan Agnihotri announces release date of new movie about Bengal; social media says, ‘Waiting for Manipur files'
'They turned Bengal's wisdom into ashes. The land that once lit up Bharat's soul with Indic renaissance… was silenced by communal hate,' the director wrote on social media, not revealing the identity of 'they'.
'The streets of Bengal were drowned in blood. India forgot. But we remembered. And now the world will know,' Agnihotri wrote while announcing the release date.
Social media users, especially those from West Bengal, reacted to the announcement.
'Tell your boss that they will lose again in Bengal,' came from one Bengali user.
One user claimed, 'The movie was called Delhi Files earlier. When BJP came to power in Delhi, the name change happened.'
'We are good here. Can you please stop doing this Publicity Stunt?' wrote another Bengali.
One of them wrote, 'B-Grade movies ka C-Grade director…'
'How about the Gujarat files? It could solve why a popular public leader does not give interviews for 2 decades!' commented another.
Another remarked, 'Waiting for Manipur files.'
One user predicted that it would be a 'Maha Flop communal movie'. Another called Agnihotri 'The film director from WhatsApp University'.
Vivek Ranjan Agnihotri is no stranger to controversy. In October 2013, he tweeted, 'What makes NANO the SAFEST car for Women. THERE IS SIMPLY NO WAY TO GET GANG R*PED IN HERE.'
Earlier in 2025, he reacted to the Samay Raina controversy and compared it to Kashmiri Pandits 'getting lynched'.
Samay Raina 'must have experienced how it feels when people who don't agree with you come to lynch you', he wrote.
Vivek Agnihotri's film The Kashmir Files (2022) became a massive box office success. However, it faced criticism for showing communal violence in an allegedly biased manner.
Kashmir politicians like Omar Abdullah and Mehbooba Mufti slammed the film. West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee called it 'false propaganda'. Agnihotri sent her a legal notice seeking an apology.
Israeli filmmaker Nadav Lapid called it a 'propaganda, vulgar movie'. The jury head at the 2022 International Film Festival of India sparked a major controversy with his comments.
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The Wire
35 minutes ago
- The Wire
Is India Going Through a Humour Crisis?
Culture Rahul Bedi Light-hearted joviality in offices is now policed for tone and political correctness, while in schools and colleges, humour amongst peers is more guarded and cautious, lest it be misconstrued. Chandigarh: Once known for its earthy wit, street-smart repartee, irreverence and instinctive ability to laugh at itself, Indian society today seems trapped in a growing humour deficit in its daily life. What was once casual banter till India's mid-adulthood, when humour was taken for granted, is now forensically dissected for imagined slights; witticisms and jokes risk being misconstrued as insults, provocations or veiled political statements, banter triggers offence, and satire is increasingly being labelled as sedition. Once a pressure valve for public frustration in drawing rooms, WhatsApp groups, comedy clubs or editorial cartoons, humour is now a potential trigger for outrage. 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Laxman earlier declared that his 'Common Man' was silent and no longer amused. He was afraid to laugh in case someone got offended, he declared in the early 2000s. Stand-up comic Vir Das put it a little more starkly, following a severe backlash to his droll 'Two Indias' monologue at the Kennedy Centre in Washington in 2021. He tweeted that Indians were not losing their sense of humour, but that it was being taken from them (by officialdom), one complaint at a time. Other pro-establishment celebrities, however, argued that limits were both necessary and justified. Actor and BJP MP Kangana Ranaut, for instance, has frequently asserted that comedy should not be centred on criticising the country or its culture. That's not humour, she has said, but mockery under the guise of liberalism. Similarly, television anchor Sudhir Chaudhary contends that some comedians today used freedom of expression to promote ideological agendas. 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The resultant humour remains cautious, sterilised, and often dull, reduced to safe subjects and recycled tropes, much like German jokes, which 19th century American writer and humourist Mark Twain said were no laughing matter. Real satire – one that poked fun at the powerful, questioned societal hypocrisies and norms, or exposed cultural absurdities – was near extinct and irreverence was no longer celebrated or encouraged, particularly in the formal electronic or print media. Alongside, the language of humour itself across urban India had narrowed, where largely Hinglish 'vegetarian' jokes lacked the knock-out punch of robust Punjabi ones from yesteryears, a wicked Malayali comeback or even a sly Tamil pun. A plethora of hilarious Punjabi jokes from countless impromptu gatherings in my youth – with their earthy punch and saucy irreverence – still linger as iconic, endlessly amusing memories, though now retold sotto voce. These gems were joyfully embellished over the years by generations of wickedly witty Punjabis, each adding their own quirky, risqué and deliciously inventive twists, turning simple jokes into sagas of mischief and social insight. Many carried pleasurably imaginative and bizarre plots, often laced with sharp social commentary reflective of their times. They weren't just jokes – they were mini-performances, a joy to recount, and an even greater pleasure to hear and relish. But, unfortunately, what was once shared freely is now whispered, the laughter tempered but not entirely silenced. These days, some of us greybeards diffidently ask – or are asked in return – 'Heard any genuinely funny new ones lately?' The standard answer is largely a sheepish 'No'. But in apologetic defiance, many of us reach defensively for their cell-phones to read out a recycled joke or to forward one via WhatsApp which has become today's ultimate humour crutch. And though fleetingly mirthful, this form of humour remains impersonal – a dehumanised, utilitarian exercise that misses the tone, tenor, body language, and above all, the theatricality accompanying a well-told, and at times, even the not-so-good joke. Doubtlessly, this WhatsApp substitute robs the moment of its pitch, spectacle, warmth and the vital human connection that only live, personal storytelling can evoke. Impersonally e-mailing jokes or circulating them via social media is the easier, more practical and lazier amusement alternative. Even stand-up comedy emerges like a poor substitute, part of the larger subcontracting syndrome in a world where, at a personal level, we're becoming more dour than droll, more reverential than refreshingly irreverent. 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The Secunderabad railway station in Telangana is a noisy transit hub. Thousands of people enter and exit the concourse every day. Ad jingles in Hindi, Telugu, English, and Bengali, about the various medical procedures offered by hospitals across the city, blare over the din. Billboards outside the station feature smiling couples with babies. The city, along with Hyderabad, is a significant hub for medical tourism in India. In August 2024, after having done some research, Sonam Singh and her husband Akshay travelled to Secunderabad from Kuharwas village near Jhunjhunu in Rajasthan for an in vitro fertilisation (IVF) procedure. They rented a house near the railway station and began searching on the Internet for hospitals nearby. Near the railway station, they found the Universal Srushti Fertility Centre, which promised them an 85% success rate for an IVF procedure. The hopeful couple met the owner, Pachipala Namratha aka Athaluri Namratha, 64. 'The test results showed that we were medically fit to conceive,' says Sonam, speaking over the phone from Kuharwas. 'But the doctor insisted that we opt for surrogacy. She told us that it was safer and more reliable. She also assured us that the clinic would use our sperm and egg, and also handle all the paperwork and legalities.' While an IVF procedure can cost anywhere between ₹2 lakh and ₹6 lakh per cycle, Namratha told the couple that surrogacy would cost them ₹30 lakh. She asked Sonam and Akshay to transfer half the amount through their bank account and pay the remaining in cash, supposedly for the surrogate. Convinced, the couple made their first payment on August 16, 2024. According to the First Information Report filed by Akshay, Namratha also promised the couple that 'a healthy child [would be] delivered... after DNA confirmation.' Nearly a year later, on June 5, Sonam and Akshay were handed a baby at Lotus Hospital in Visakhapatnam. However, the couple grew suspicious when Namratha's clinic refused to perform the DNA test. They took the infant to the DNA Forensics Laboratory in Vasant Kunj, Delhi. To their shock, the results showed that the baby was not theirs. When they returned to Secunderabad to confront Namratha, she had disappeared. Sonam and Akshay approached the Gopalpuram police in Secunderabad, which investigated the matter and uncovered a baby-selling racket. The police booked Namratha under Sections 61, 316, 335, 336, and 340 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita Act, 2023, which deal with criminal conspiracy, criminal breach of trust by carriers, forgery of documents, and related offences. They also booked her under Sections 38, 39, and 40 of the Surrogacy (Regulation) Act, 2021, which deal with prohibitions, punishments, and penalties related to surrogacy practices. Sourcing surrogates According to the Gopalapuram police, Universal Srushti Fertility Centre has cheated at least 15 couples. Promising these couples a baby through surrogacy, it has charged them between ₹20 lakh and ₹30 lakh each, and handed them babies not related to them. It has also furnished falsified documents, say the police. An investigation has revealed that the clinic paid commissions to smaller centres for referrals of potential surrogate mothers and women who wanted to undergo abortions, forged medical reports, and operated without proper licensing. According to the police, an agent called Dhanasri Santoshi struck a deal between a couple from Assam and the clinic. They say the Assamese couple's baby was given to the couple from Rajasthan. The police have arrested the couple from Assam on charges of selling their baby. 'Instead of getting ₹15 lakh, the couple from Assam got ₹90,000 for selling their baby,' says a police officer. The baby has been moved to foster care at Shishu Vihar, a childcare centre under the Women and Child Welfare Department. The police add that they have discovered a disturbing pattern in how surrogates are sourced. The sealed medical facility in Secunderabad is surrounded by lodges and bed-and-breakfast rooms. These lodging facilities were used to house women. A police officer says, 'The agents would approach vulnerable women, particularly those seeking abortions, and offer them money to continue their pregnancy so that they could take the baby later. These newborns would then be passed off as children conceived through surrogacy. This is how people were misled into believing that the babies were biologically theirs.' In at least four known cases in Telangana, women were not paid at all and completely abandoned post-delivery, the officer adds. On November 26, 2024, a woman engaged as a surrogate by a couple died after falling from the ninth floor of a building in Raidurgam in the western part of Hyderabad. According to the police, the victim and her husband, both natives of Odisha, were given accommodation by Rajesh Babu and his wife at their residence. When Rajesh allegedly tried to sexually assault the 26-year-old woman, she tried to escape through the balcony and slipped and died. She was purportedly brought to the city through middlemen for surrogacy for ₹10 lakh, say police reports. Donors in queue As the police widened their probe, they raided a facility operating under the name, Indian Sperm Tech, near Secunderabad East Metro Station, located about 400 metres away from the fertility clinic. They found 17 sperm donors and 11 egg donors waiting in queue at the facility. 'The women donors were brought from Delhi, and the men from Andhra Pradesh and other parts of Telangana. The sperm donors, mostly aged between 22 and 30, were paid ₹1,000-₹1,500 per sample. The men were in need of quick cash,' says a police officer who led the raid. L. Shiva was among the people arrested by the police in the midnight raid. Shiva, 35, from Vizianagaram, brought egg and sperm donors and connected them to the hospital. Another broker who was arrested hails from Indore in Madhya Pradesh. One of the egg donors caught in the raid was a 30-year-old resident from Baksa, Assam. Indian Sperm Tech, reportedly headquartered in Ahmedabad, had allegedly set up the sperm collection unit in Secunderabad without a valid license. 'It is a diagnostic centre,' says an officer from the District Medical and Health Officer's office. 'They collect sperm samples, freeze them, and send them to Ahmedabad. The processed samples (isolated and concentrated to select the healthiest sperm) are then returned with reports and sold to clinics across Telangana, Andhra Pradesh, and Chhattisgarh. The place has been operating for two years without registration.' In trouble before It is a typically busy weekday afternoon on St. Johns Road in Secunderabad. But just a short turn away from this arterial road, the noise fades. A narrow bylane, about 20 feet wide, is almost hidden in plain sight. Two old gates, one swung wide open and the other barely ajar, lead into it. Two policemen sit here, silent witnesses to what the North Zone police uncovered. The building of Namratha's clinic has been sealed and the clinic shut down, following an investigation that exposed the baby-selling racket running under the guise of fertility treatments. 'The hospital operated only on the first two floors. The rest were empty,' says one constable. The two floors were filled with equipment required for childcare and fertility treatment. Rajesh Ravi lived here for 16 years before moving closer to the city centre. He is shocked by the revelations. 'You live somewhere for over a decade and you think you know your neighbourhood. I found nothing suspicious. The only time we were mildly inconvenienced was when too many patients came and there would be many cars on the street,' he says. Rajesh says there was a police case involving the same place about 10 years ago. 'No one talked about it much because back then, news on social media did not reach us as fast as it does now,' he says. 'We knew what was happening here,' says Manu, a lawyer who lives across the street of the four-storied Rushi Test Tube Bab Cent. While the name in English has missing letters, the name in Telugu etched beneath it reveals the complete name — Srusthi Test Tube Baby Centre. 'This place was sealed five times earlier. But eventually things got back to 'normal'. This time I think it is serious and she (Namratha) will not be allowed to carry on the business.' The Telangana Medical Council says Namratha was involved in a surrogacy scandal in 2016. A U.S.-based couple, who had used the clinic's services, had discovered that the child born to them through a surrogate was not biologically related to them. 'Following a police case and court hearings, we suspended the doctor's license for five years, with a lifetime ban on conducting surrogacy procedures,' says Dr. G Srinivas, Vice-Chairman of the Council. Yet, when the suspension period ended, the doctor returned, seeking to have her license reinstated. 'We refused. She was still involved in a court case, and our rules are clear on that,' Dr. Srinivas adds. A stringent law As surrogacy has become an increasingly popular option for couples grappling with infertility, Indian law has become more stringent to ensure that the practice remains ethical and free from commercial exploitation. What once operated in legal grey zones is now bound by clear rules, thanks to the Surrogacy (Regulation) Act, 2021. Under the Act, only altruistic surrogacy is permitted in India. This means a surrogate mother cannot be paid for carrying a child, except for her medical expenses and insurance coverage. Commercial surrogacy, any arrangement involving monetary compensation or profit, is banned and is a punishable offence. According to the Act, all surrogacy procedures must take place at clinics registered under the Act and authorised by the office officially designated as the State Appropriate Authority. . These clinics must comply with strict medical standards and ethical norms. Any attempt to bypass the law, whether through brokers, unregistered clinics, or financial inducements, is considered a criminal offence, punishable with imprisonment of up to 10 years and fines reaching ₹10 lakh. Fertility specialists say the Assisted Reproductive Technology (ART) Regulation Act, 2021, and the Surrogacy (Regulation) Act, 2021, have brought much-needed order to what was once a loosely regulated and, at times, opaque system. Dr. Preethi Dayal, who runs the Preethi Fertility Centre in Jangaon district, says prior to the enforcement of the ART law in January 2023, 'many centres operated without oversight. You could bring in any random donor, collect the sample, and proceed with checks or documentation. But we are now bound by very strict protocols. Every donor must be sourced only through a registered ART bank, which keeps Aadhaar-linked records of every sample, though the identity is never disclosed to either doctors or patients.' She adds that the new law mandates comprehensive screening of all donors, including genetic testing, and imposes tight eligibility criteria based on age and health. 'There is no room for ambiguity now. Everything has to be documented and traceable.' Dr. Preethi also points out that, legally and ethically, all third-party donor procedures must be conducted with confidentiality. 'Patients are never informed about the identity of the donor. The child born through surrogacy belongs legally and emotionally to the intended parents. That is the framework we follow,' Dr. Preethi says. To reduce the risk of human error, the doctor says many IVF clinics have now adopted the RI Witness system, a high-tech safety protocol that tracks every sample using barcode verification. 'Every patient is given a barcode-linked card. Before processing a sample, we scan the card in the system. If there is any mismatch, the entire hospital is alerted,' she says. While many corporate hospitals have already adopted this system, Dr. Preethi says smaller or less-regulated clinics may not yet have the infrastructure or the will to comply. 'Some centres are still conducting 10 to 15 IVF cycles a day. Without safeguards like the RI Witness system, the chances of mix-ups increase,' she says. Additional reporting by Naveen Kumar Names have been changed to protect privacy
