Bollywood’s love for glam often crosses into cheap misogyny, with songs treating women as props rather than people. From courtroom bans to social media outrage, the industry keeps repeating the same lazy, objectifying patterns.
Hall of Shame!
Bollywood sometimes seems to mistake cheap titillation for creativity. The latest blow came from the Delhi High Court, which on Thursday ordered the immediate removal of a song from the 2000s called ‘Volume 1’, released under the “Mafia Mundeer” banner, sung by none other than Honey Singh and Badshah. Justice Purushaindra Kaurav didn’t mince words: the lyrics were “grossly vulgar, obscene, and derogatory towards women”.
Let’s take a stroll down memory lane and see which songs have faced similar outrage, bans, or legal scrutiny for objectifying women, and how Bollywood seems trapped in a cycle of misogyny disguised as entertainment.
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When Kannada cinema released ‘Sarke Chunar Teri Sarke’, featuring Nora Fatehi and Sanjay Dutt, it should have known trouble was brewing. The song’s over-the-top lyrics and suggestive moves immediately earned it a reputation as “cheap” and “vulgar.” YouTube, the very platform that loves viral hits, had no choice but to remove it following audience backlash.
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This controversy is a classic example of how the digital age empowers viewers but also exposes Bollywood’s laziness. The song’s removal marks the first time in Kannada film history that the Centre has intervened over alleged vulgarity.
Badshah’s song ‘Tateeree’ turned out to be a textbook case of how not to attempt regional pop. The song quickly sparked outrage for misogyny, sexualisation of minors, and blatant provocations that crossed every red line.
Women’s groups condemned it, calling the lyrics offensive and inappropriate, while the Haryana State Commission for Women jumped into action.
When Badshah failed to appear before the commission on March 13, authorities escalated matters by ordering police to arrest him and even confiscate his passport.
In the 1990s, Madhuri Dixit’s ‘Choli Ke Peeche Kya Hai’ became an instant hit but it was also a lightning rod for controversy. The song faced backlash from over thirty organisations, which called it “obscene” and demanded a ban.
Even All India Radio and Doordarshan refused to play it.
It wasn’t just about the lyrics. The choreography, the camera angles, and the repeated emphasis on Dixit’s body parts made the song a poster child for Bollywood’s casual misogyny.
Bollywood’s obsession with item numbers and titillating lyrics isn’t new. Over the decades, many songs have walked the fine line, or blatantly crossed it, when it comes to objectifying women. While not all were banned, they generated heated debates and occasional legal scrutiny.
Classic item numbers like ‘Sheila Ki Jawani’ from ‘Tees Maar Khan’, ‘Munni Badnaam Hui’ from ‘Dabangg’, and ‘Baby Doll’ from ‘Ragini MMS 2’ received heavy criticism for sexualised depictions of women.
Even tracks like ‘Aa Re Pritam Pyaare’ (‘Rowdy Rathore’) and ‘Fevicol Se’ (‘Dabangg 2’) faced scrutiny for likening women to objects, reducing them to props in male fantasies. And then there’s ‘Tooh’ from ‘Gori Tere Pyaar Mein’, whose obsession with a particular body part became emblematic of Bollywood’s laziness: when you can’t write a proper song, just repeat a word that titillates.
‘Azul’ kicks off with Guru Randhawa strolling into an all-girls school as a “photographer,” but the two-minute video quickly dives into blatant objectification of minor girls in uniforms. To make matters worse, he even compares the students to brands of alcohol.
Mika Singh’s original lyrics “Bittoo sabki lega” were slammed by the censor board for obvious double meanings. Instead of owning up, producer and composer quickly neutered the line to “Bittoo sabki photo lega”, re-recorded it, and rushed it back to the board. Tweak over real accountability!
Older songs were no different. Tracks like ‘Sexy Sexy Mujhe Log Bole’ (‘Khuddar’), ‘Khada Hai Khada Hai’ (‘Andaz’), ‘Din Mein Leti Hai’ (‘Amaanat’) faced backlash for obscene lyrics.
Even ‘Laila Teri (Le Legi)’ and ‘Laila Tujhe Loot Legi’ (‘Shootout at Wadala’) were forced to undergo censor revisions after being criticised for overt objectification.
Some songs may not have outrightly faced bann, but legal bodies have taken note. Punjab Women’s Commission, for example, flagged Yo Yo Honey Singh’s ‘Millionaire’ and Karan Aujla’s ‘MF Gabhru’ for misogynistic and derogatory lyrics.
The irony is that even when legal scrutiny or public backlash occurs, producers often treat it as free publicity. They bank on the “any publicity is good publicity” mentality.
If there’s one thing that emerges clearly from decades of music, it’s a pattern: item numbers and pop hits often rely on double entendres, suggestive lyrics, camera angles designed to highlight women’s bodies.
Whether it’s Madhuri Dixit in the 90s or Nora Fatehi today, women are frequently ‘visual eye candy’, while male stars get to deliver catchy lines without scrutiny.
This is a cultural malpractice. Music that consistently objectifies women perpetuates stereotypes, reinforces the male gaze, normalises disrespect.
Yet, time and again, producers roll out the same formula.
The cycle repeats. A song drops, women’s groups complain, legal bodies intervene, and the song is either banned, censored, or quietly removed. But by then, the damage is done; the lyrics have been sung millions of times, the visuals shared across social media, the message internalised by impressionable viewers.
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