Cinema has always been a playground for exploring justice and vengeance, a space where ordinary people don masks—both literal and metaphorical—and rise against forces larger than themselves. This trope never grows old because, let’s be honest, who doesn’t love a good vigilante story? Two films, made decades apart, embody this narrative in strikingly different ways. Shahenshah (1988), a quintessential Bollywood blockbuster, and Bagheera (2024), a modern psychological thriller, might seem like an unlikely pair. But dig a little deeper, and you’ll uncover a fascinating connection—Bagheera may just be drawing inspiration from Shahenshah, both in its core premise and its approach to justice. The interplay of similarities and contrasts in how these two masked heroes navigate their battles is more than coincidental. Or is it?
Both films center around masked crusaders, shaped by personal tragedy, operating outside the law to right the wrongs of society. Yet, while their origins and motivations share common roots, the worlds they inhabit—and the methods they employ—are as different as night and day. Let’s walk through their stories and see how they mirror and diverge from each other.
Shahenshah begins with a tragedy so classic for 80's Bollywood that it almost feels nostalgic. Vijay Kumar Srivastava’s father, an upright police officer, is framed for corruption by a gang of villains. Unable to handle the disgrace, he takes his own life, leaving young Vijay to grow up under the shadow of this injustice. As an adult, Vijay lives a double life—by day, a bumbling, seemingly corrupt cop who raises no suspicion, and by night, the indomitable Shahenshah, complete with a steel arm, a leather ensemble, and a flair for dramatic entrances.
Bagheera, on the other hand, takes a much darker approach. Vedanth Prabhakar idolizes his mother’s belief in the power of good cops—ordinary men capable of extraordinary change. But his faith in the system crumbles when he discovers his own father’s involvement in corruption. This betrayal, coupled with the traumatic suicide of a rape survivor, pushes Vedanth to channel his anger into something far more dangerous. He becomes Bagheera, a shadowy, violent force who targets not just criminals, but the very machinery of systemic corruption.
Both men are driven by personal loss, but their responses couldn’t be more different. Where Shahenshah wears his righteousness boldly (literally—his costume is a symbol of superheroic justice), Bagheera internalizes his rage, turning it into something raw, unpredictable, and frighteningly human.
It’s impossible to ignore the impact of the eras that shaped these characters. Shahenshah is a product of the 80's, an era when Indian cinema reveled in exaggerated heroics. Vijay’s antics as a “corrupt” cop are played for laughs, but when he becomes Shahenshah, he’s all swagger, righteousness, and moral clarity. The world of Shahenshah is one where good and bad are clearly defined, and justice is always served with a flourish.
Bagheera, on the other hand, reflects the complex storytelling demands of the 2020's. Vedanth’s world is bleak, and his choices mirror that grim reality. He’s not interested in grand speeches or symbolic gestures; his justice is swift, brutal, and personal. The villains in Bagheera are not cartoonish overlords, but real, terrifying threats—a global organ-trafficking syndicate led by the chillingly pragmatic Rana.
This stark shift in tone reveals much about the evolution of storytelling in Indian cinema. While Shahenshah invites the audience to cheer for a hero who embodies moral clarity, Bagheera forces us to confront uncomfortable questions. Is Vedanth’s brand of justice justified? At what point does the line between hero and villain blur?
A vigilante’s mask is more than just a disguise—it’s a statement, a metaphor, and sometimes, even a crutch. For Vijay, the mask of Shahenshah is his way of reclaiming his father’s honor and restoring faith in a society that failed him. His costume—complete with an exaggerated steel arm—is almost theatrical, designed to inspire hope and fear in equal measure. Shahenshah uses his alter ego not just to fight crime, but to symbolize justice for the oppressed.
Vedanth’s mask as Bagheera, however, is much more visceral. It’s not just about hiding his identity, it’s about unleashing his pain and fury. His transformation into Bagheera is as much about the need to escape as it is about expressing his anguish. Whereas Shahenshah is a beacon of justice, Bagheera is a harbinger of terror. His mask does more than protect him—it represents the fractured psyche of a man pushed to the edge.
This contrast in their use of masks reflects the deeper philosophical differences between the two characters. For Shahenshah, the mask is a tool for good, a way to serve justice while maintaining a sense of identity. For Bagheera, it’s a necessary evil, a means to an end in a world where the rules no longer apply.
Both films build toward climaxes that reveal not just the identities of their vigilantes, but also the moral underpinnings of their stories. Shahenshah reaches its zenith with a courtroom showdown, where Vijay untangles the web of corruption and delivers justice with the force of a hammer. It’s poetic, satisfying, and utterly unambiguous. The good guy wins, the bad guy loses, and the audience walks away with a smile.
Bagheera, however, leaves no such comfort. Vedanth’s journey ends on a bittersweet note, marked by personal sacrifices and unanswered questions. After avenging the death of his fiancée Sneha, Vedanth vanishes into the shadows, leaving behind a legacy of justice tainted with loss. There’s no applause, no catharsis—just the stark realization that justice, in the real world, often comes with a heavy price.
At their core, both Shahenshah and Bagheera are meditations on justice—what it means, how it’s achieved, and who gets to wield it. Vijay and Vedanth are two sides of the same coin, shaped by different eras and different interpretations of heroism. One thrives on nostalgia, offering a world where the hero is always right and justice is always served. The other confronts us with the messiness of reality, where heroes are flawed, victories are bittersweet, and the cost of justice is often too high.
What makes these films enduring is their ability to resonate with audiences who crave justice in a world that often feels unjust. Whether you’re drawn to the flamboyant righteousness of Shahenshah or the dark, uncompromising grit of Bagheera, there’s something cathartic about watching these vigilantes take on the system.
Having walked through the journeys of these two masked crusaders, the question remains: Which story speaks to you more? Do you find solace in the moral clarity of Shahenshah, where justice prevails with dramatic flair? Or does the unrelenting realism of Bagheera strike a deeper chord, reflecting the complexities of our world today?
In the end, whether it’s a steel arm or a shadowy mask, we all need heroes to believe in—even if they don’t always follow the rules. And as for whether Bagheera borrows inspiration from Shahenshah, the decision is yours.
~ arin paul
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