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Mother India to Darlings: Bollywood’s Most Powerful Portrayals of Motherhood

  • Writer: Style Essentials Edit Team
    Style Essentials Edit Team
  • May 4
  • 4 min read

There’s a reason the phrase “Mother India” echoes louder than just its film title. It has become a cultural shorthand, a cheeky punchline, even a reluctant badge of honour that Indian mothers carry—sometimes with pride, often with exhaustion. From black-and-white frames to Netflix originals, the way Indian cinema has portrayed mothers has changed. But at its core, the emotional landscape remains: mothers sacrificing, mothers surviving, mothers healing, and sometimes—finally—mothers choosing themselves.


Let’s revisit five powerful films where motherhood isn’t just a plot device. It’s a prism through which we understand love, gender, identity, and resilience.




To speak of Indian mothers in cinema and not begin with Mehboob Khan’s Mother India is impossible. Nargis as Radha becomes the eternal symbol of the nation’s moral compass. A woman abandoned by her husband, left to raise children amid poverty and famine, and still unwilling to trade her ethics even in despair—Radha’s character was, and still is, used as a metaphor for sacrificial motherhood. The image of her picking up a rifle to shoot her own son for the greater good isn’t just cinematic melodrama—it’s a cultural watermark.


For generations, whenever Indian mothers put family over self—whether giving up their dreams and needs for others or staying up late for grown-up children—they’re affectionately (and sometimes mockingly) called “Mother India.” The film gave Indian society a template for what an ideal mother should be: self-sacrificing, strong, and silent in her suffering. But that template has also created impossible standards.



If Radha was the archetype, Sridevi’s Devki in “MOM” is its modern-day revision. This mother isn’t driven by social obligation—she is fuelled by rage, heartbreak, and love that defies biology. When her stepdaughter Arya is sexually assaulted, and the justice system fails her, Devki steps outside the law. She doesn’t ask for validation. She avenges.

What makes MOM powerful is how it dismantles the idea that mothers must always forgive. Devki is nurturing, yes, but she is also relentless and morally ambiguous. And that’s what motherhood often is—a territory where decisions aren’t clean, and love doesn’t come with disclaimers.


Sridevi’s portrayal is haunting not just because of her steely calm, but because she gives voice to millions of mothers watching their children suffer without recourse. MOM reminds us that a mother’s justice can be swift, fierce, and not always legal.


Alia Bhatt and Shefali Shah’s dynamic in Darlings is unlike any mother-daughter representation we’ve seen. Here, the mother isn't just a protector—she’s a co-conspirator. Shamshu (played brilliantly by Shah) and her daughter Badru team up to take control of a life marred by domestic violence. 


The film brilliantly breaks stereotypes—not every mother is docile, and not every daughter is innocent. Shamshu, far from being a passive elder, is sharp, dry-humoured, and morally flexible. When Badru struggles to break free from her abusive husband, Shamshu doesn’t moralise. She acts.

 

Darlings is intimate, uncomfortable, and deliciously dark. It’s about generational trauma, survival instincts, and the way women pass down not just recipes or rituals—but also rebellion.


Renuka Shahane’s Tribhanga is a film about three generations of women and the emotional tectonics that ripple through a family when mothers live life on their own terms. Tanvi Azmi plays Nayantara, an unapologetically ambitious writer who chooses art over motherhood. Kajol as her daughter Anu resents her for it, and her own daughter Masha just wants a “normal” life.What Tribhanga does masterfully is peel back the moral binaries we often place on mothers. It asks: can a woman be a good mother if she’s a great artist? Can a mother choose herself without being vilified? And what happens to daughters raised by flawed women?


The film doesn’t offer tidy answers. But in doing so, it reveals the emotional minefields of forgiveness, legacy, and identity. Kajol’s performance is especially potent—volatile, raw, and entirely human. This is not a story of sacrificial mothers or vengeful ones—it’s a story of messy love and imperfect healing.



Based on the real-life story of Aisha Chaudhary and her parents, The Sky Is Pink is less about death and more about defiant, life-affirming love. Priyanka Chopra plays Aditi, a mother navigating the terminal illness of her teenage daughter. What sets this film apart is its tone—poignant, yes, but also funny, irreverent, and full of fight.

Aditi doesn’t crumble under grief—she micromanages her daughter’s medical care, fundraises for treatment, and even helps her write a book. And yet, she’s also a woman who fights with her husband, gets angry with doctors, and occasionally breaks down in stairwells.


In showing the multidimensionality of Aditi, the film captures something often lost in portrayal of mothers: the woman behind the role. Her grief, her rage, her love—all coexist without apology.


Why These Films Matter

These films aren’t perfect. But they matter because they show Indian mothers as more than just caregivers. They show them as women—complex, contradictory, courageous. They fight, they fail, they forgive. They put others first, sometimes at the cost of themselves. And slowly, Indian cinema is learning to tell those stories with honesty and grit.


In real life too, every Indian mother is some version of these women. The one who never takes a sick day. The one who says “I’m fine” when she’s clearly not. The one who saves the last piece of cake. The one who remembers everyone’s birthdays but forgets her own dreams. And yet, she still wakes up the next day to pack tiffins, to heal wounds, to hold the family together.


Maybe it’s time we stop teasing her with “Mother India” and start honoring what it really means. Not martyrdom—but magnitude. Not perfection—but persistence. Not silence—but strength.


So this Mother’s Day, watch one of these films with her. Or alone. Cry. Laugh. Call her. Hug her. Or just listen. Because even the strongest women sometimes just need to be seen.


And maybe, just maybe, we’ll all start seeing our mothers not as ideals—but as the incredible, imperfect women they’ve always been.


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