‘Salman Khan's politics mirror Bajrangi's': Kabir Khan reflects on Bajrangi Bhaijaan's 10th anniversary, ‘heated discussions' with Bhai during shoot, potential sequel

Indian Express

17-07-2025

As Bajrangi Bhaijaan marks 10 years, Kabir Khan, currently neck-deep in writing his next film, took time out to reflect on what is arguably the most beloved film of his career. He revisits how the story found him almost miraculously, how he cast Salman Khan in a role completely antithetical to his screen image, breaks down key narrative choices, talks about the possibility of a sequel, and whether the film could be made in today's political climate.
Edited excerpts for clarity and brevity:
I was rewatching Bajrangi Bhaijaan last night. When was the last time you watched it fully?
Yeah… it must've been quite a while ago. But in bits and pieces, really. The thing is, it's always running on television. Almost every weekend, it's on. So someone or the other in the house, because it's one of my family's favourites, especially my daughter, Sairah, puts it on. You start watching one scene and before you know it, you've reached the end. So I've seen it many, many times. But fully? I don't think I've watched it in a couple of years.
Are you doing anything special for the 10-year anniversary?
Apart from a few social media posts and stuff, nothing really. But Salman and I have been talking about it. Even he is someone who doesn't make a fuss about anniversaries. He never likes to make it too much about himself. And the film is out there, it's received unprecedented love. It's one of those once-in-a-lifetime films. For it to continue getting that kind of love for 10 years… I don't think many films can match that. That said, we did discuss a possible re-release. So many kids, even as young as six or seven, come up to Salman and me to talk about the film. We're talking about it.
When you revisit Bajrangi Bhaijaan, are you able to view it objectively? Do you notice anything you'd do differently now?
With any film, once you have a little distance, as a director, you're always looking at what could've been done better. Sometimes it's not about the emotional graph. As I'm happy with how the emotions played out, but I'll see a shot and think, 'Maybe the lighting could've been different,' or 'I should've edited that differently,' or 'The music should've started here.' Those little things. Every time you watch your own work, you can't help but criticise it. That said, Bajrangi Bhaijaan and 83 are two films where I feel I came very close to what I set out to do. That's rare. Especially when working with a star like Salman. I had done Ek Tha Tiger before that, and there were constraints during filming. But Bajrangi was a film that rose above its script. That's a magical feeling, when a film becomes greater than what you had written on paper. It doesn't happen often. Usually, your goal is just to come close to the script.
It really feels like one of those films where everything just came together.
Exactly. Every small character leaves a mark. Whether it's that Pakistani policeman slapping Salman, or the guy helping them cross the border, everyone brought something unique. It wasn't just the principal characters like Nawaz's or Harshaali's. That's when I knew something special was happening.
Did you expect the emotional response it ended up receiving?
Not at that level. I knew it was emotional, but I thought it'd be funnier than emotional. After the release, I visited theatres and saw people just sitting in their seats, not getting up. I realised they were trying to compose themselves. They were sobbing. That's when it hit me, this is really emotional. Even now, when I rewatch the last part, I get misty-eyed. And if I'm tearing up, then I can understand the impact it's had on audiences.
Take me back to the origin, to 2013 or 2014. How did this Vijayendra Prasad's story even find you?
After Ek Tha Tiger, I was getting a lot of calls from the South, big stars wanting me to do another action film. But I didn't want to repeat myself. I even stopped taking calls. Then a close friend told me that, V Vijayendra Prasad (Rajamouli's father), was trying to reach me. When I finally spoke to him, he narrated this idea. It was so simple, so much in my zone, that I thought, 'Why didn't I think of this?' He didn't have it on paper, it was all in his head. We met up, and he narrated it to me. The second half was a little sketchy, but the core idea struck me. I took that seed and built on it.
And how did Salman come on board?
During Tiger, I had seen how much he identified with what Bajrangi stood for. The politics of Salman as a person were very close to what Bajrangi's character stands for. Even though the character was the antithesis of what he was known for, as there was no action, no swashbuckling. It was a sweet, endearing character. And he got it immediately. He even said, 'This is a film that not too many people will want to produce. Because they'll expect something else from both of us. So let's produce it ourselves.' That's how it became his first home production.
There were reports back then of creative differences. Are they true?
People call it friction, but I find that a natural part of collaboration. If my lead actor isn't invested enough to offer suggestions or argue passionately, then something's wrong. We had discussions, sometimes heated ones, but always about improving the film.
Aamir Khan has mentioned before that the film's concept initially came to him, but he suggested Salman would be a better fit. Can you tell us more about that?
Before reaching out to me, Vijayendra Prasad had approached Aamir, who suggested they should go to Salman instead. But when it came to me, I was sure from the beginning that Salman was the right choice for the role.
What was it like getting Kareena on board for the film?
I always knew Rasika was a very small character, but she's the voice of reason in the film. And from day one, I was sure I wanted Kareena for it. When I went to meet her, I told her upfront: it's a small role, but you should listen to the entire narration before deciding. And by the time she heard the whole script, she was in tears. She said she absolutely wanted to be a part of it.
Harshaali was a huge revelation. How did you cast her?
Oh, that was extensive. We auditioned over 2,000 girls. My brief to Mukesh Chhabra was, don't restrict yourself to India, go to Iran, anywhere. She doesn't speak, so it's about the face, the presence. We found Harshaali in Delhi. When looked at her, and I knew she is the one. She was part of a workshop. With kids, it's not about how they act initially, it's about how they commit over time. And she had that spark.
What about Nawazuddin Siddiqui?
We had worked together in New York. I always wanted to cast him in something bigger. I had seen that Chand Nawab video years ago and made a mental note: I'll use this someday. I showed him the clip and said, 'This is your guy.' He immediately said yes. There were concerns from lawyers about naming the character Chand Nawab, but I stuck with it. The real Chand Nawab was thrilled, as he became a celebrity again! And he frequently messages me now with life updates.
I also really loved Om Puri's character in the film. In many ways, along with Kareena's, he serves as the moral compass of the story. Was he always your first choice for the role?
No, in fact, Om ji wasn't the first choice. I had initially gone to Naseer bhai, and he had really loved the script and the character. But for some reason, it didn't work out eventually. That's when I approached Om ji, and he instantly agreed.
The man who helps them cross the border, Boo Ali, is memorable too. What's his casting story?
Ah yes, it's a beautiful story of how he came on board. His real name is Mursaleen Qureshi. He came to Mumbai from a small town in Rajasthan, against everyone's advice. The day he arrived, he walked into Mukesh Chhabra's office, saw an open audition, and gave it a shot. By 5:30 that evening, I saw his test, and he was cast. That's how unpredictable and magical this industry can be.
The film says so much, but it's never preachy. It's deeply political, and also full-on masala.
Yeah. That's always been the challenge. To make a film that's entertaining at face value, and for those who get it, it has deeper political meaning. Bajrangi got that balance right.
Also Read | Bajrangi Bhaijaan director Kabir Khan: 'If we didn't get the right Munni, the film wouldn't be half what it is today…'
Watching it again now, the first half feels almost like a document of what India was about to become — rising intolerance, lynching, aggressive nationalism…
Exactly. A lot has been written about the India-Pakistan angle, but for me, Bajrangi is about borders within. That chicken song, for example, it's fun and quirky, but also deeply political. Kids love it, but adults get the subtext.
There's that line Om Puri says: 'Thoda sa humare paas bhi hai Kashmir.' Were you worried about including it, given how easily things are misread?
No. I wasn't thinking too much back then. I just followed my heart. But you're right, today, people judge a film before watching it. But back then, not one person said the film was offensive. Although there was a line the censors wanted me to cut, when Om Puri says 'Jai Shri Ram' to Salman as he's seeing them off. They thought it might upset people, especially the Muslim population. But I fought for it. I remember watching the film at Gaiety Galaxy, one of the most quintessential single-screen experiences in Mumbai. The theatre, packed with Muslim blue-collar workers from Bandra, erupted in cheers when that line came. It was the clearest sign that everyone who doubted it was wrong. You could see how deeply the moment landed with them.
Could this film be made today?
I'm not sure. Honestly, I don't know. These days, assumptions turn into controversies before a film even releases. But back then, not a single person found it provocative. So could I make it again today? Maybe. Maybe not.
I love how the film subverts the masala format, especially in how it avoids having a traditional villain, especially when the binaries between good and bad are usually so clearly defined in a typical masala film.
I believe a character cannot be black and white, right? Like, how can one person be purely black? We do usually call someone evil. But I feel people we think are doing evil, in their mind, they're not. They believe in what they're doing. So it's a question of being able to explore that. Everyone has a backstory. Everyone has compulsions. And that's what we're trying to explore as much as possible. It's also about redefining what a villain is. Like in New York, that film is actually very political, but there's no one villain. The villain is the paranoia. A country got caught up in something, and that becomes the villain.
I think the closest you've come to writing a conventional villain is probably in Phantom, which released just a year after. And in many ways, its politics were the antithesis of Bajrangi.
See, even in Phantom, there's no one person who is evil. It's the deep state that's the villain. And the fact that it came just after Bajrangi Bhaijaan, which had very different tones, there was no contradiction for me. A lot of people, even friends who write, said, 'How come you made Bajrangi and then this?' But I said, 'Listen, I've always been very opposed to the deep state of Pakistan that conducts terrorism.' We all agree on that. But I've never equated them with the people of Pakistan. So, for me, there was no contradiction. I was attacking the deep state, not the people.
I'm really fascinated by opening credits in your film. Bajrangi Bhaijaan begins over the mountain landscapes of Kashmir, and it reminded me of how even New York and Ek Tha Tiger also open with sweeping shots of locations that play a major role in the story. Is that a conscious visual signature for you?
Actually, now I've almost stopped using opening credits in my films. Bajrangi does have them though. For me, it's about mood, setting the tone. Locations are characters in my films. I don't use them as backdrops. These stories can happen only in those places. Kabul Express can only happen in Kabul. New York, obviously, only there. You put that story in Sydney or London, it just won't work. Because 9/11 didn't happen there. Illegal detentions didn't happen there.
So for Bajrangi, I knew the film begins in Kashmir. I thought, let's go from the widest shot I can find and slowly move into the close shot where the story begins. It's also, in a way, a reflection of my love for the mountains. I've always been a mountain person. I've spent months trekking, especially in Kashmir. So, it was a natural choice. The story begins in a village in the mountains, and I wanted to literally zoom in from there. There was no big intellectual reasoning, just a feeling.
You've said you don't want to do sequels, but there's talk of a Bajrangi sequel. Is it happening?
There's a lot of pressure to make sequels to my films, especially something like Bajrangi Bhaijaan, which is obviously one of the most loved films of the last 10–20 years. So yes, we're exploring it. Salman and I are very clear about one thing, and I'm really happy we're in sync on this, we know what this film means in the public consciousness. We know the kind of love it has. It's become a kind of cult film.
And look, in this day and age, every other franchise is being milked. Just use the name and it sells. It would be foolish not to explore what's possibly one of the biggest franchises. But we are very clear: we won't do it for the wrong reasons. We'll only make a sequel if the story excites us the way the first one did. Otherwise, I'd rather let it stay as a beautiful memory in people's minds than risk tainting its legacy. I don't want people to say, 'They just made this to cash in.' That would be painful. But having said that, both Salman and I keep racking our brains, what could be a worthy successor to Bajrangi? It might feature the same characters moving forward. Or it might just be a spiritual sequels: same tone, different story.