“The Hero We Remember, The Struggle We Forget”
The Hero We Remember, the Struggle We Forget
Cinema does not simply tell stories; it also shapes the way we remember history. It decides which figures become heroes, which struggles become part of the national imagination, and which voices remain outside the frame. S. S. Rajamouli’s RRR (2022) is a powerful example of this process. The film brings together Alluri Sitarama Raju and Komaram Bheem as heroic figures united against British colonial rule. Through spectacular action, emotional friendship, and nationalist symbolism, RRR transforms historical figures into larger-than-life cinematic icons.
However, Dilip Barad’s article “Reimagining Resistance: The Appropriation of Tribal Heroes in Rajamouli’s RRR” encourages us to look beyond the film’s spectacle. The article argues that although RRR creates a compelling narrative of unity and resistance, it also shifts the historical struggles of Raju and Bheem into a broader nationalist framework. In doing so, it gives less attention to the struggles over land, water, and forests that were central to their legacies.
This raises an important postcolonial question: When a marginalized hero becomes a national symbol, what happens to the specific struggle that originally made that hero significant?
From Tribal Resistance to Nationalist Heroism
Alluri Sitarama Raju and Komaram Bheem were associated with different historical contexts of resistance. According to Barad’s article, Raju opposed British policies following the Madras Forest Act of 1882, which restricted Adivasi access to traditional forest habitats. Bheem, meanwhile, is remembered for his resistance against the Nizam of Hyderabad and is strongly associated with the principle of “Jal, Jangal, Zameen” — water, forest, and land.
RRR brings these two separate historical figures together as close friends fighting against the British Raj. This fictional transformation creates a powerful story of unity. Raju and Bheem become symbols of collective Indian resistance against colonialism.
Yet this transformation also creates a tension. Their specific tribal histories become less important than their role as national freedom fighters. The film therefore makes them visible to a huge popular audience, but at the same time, it simplifies the contexts of their original resistance.
This is where postcolonial criticism becomes significant. Postcolonial studies does not examine only the relationship between colonizer and colonized. It also asks how history, culture, representation, and power continue to shape the voices of marginalized communities.
Who Owns the Story of Resistance?
The idea of appropriation is central to Barad’s argument. RRR takes historical tribal figures and places them within a fictional nationalist narrative. This gives their stories greater visibility, but it also changes the meaning of their resistance.
The important question, therefore, is not whether RRR celebrates resistance. It clearly does. The deeper question is:
Whose resistance is being celebrated, and what has been left outside the story?
The film's main conflict is between Indian revolutionaries and British colonial power. As a result, the specific struggles involving tribal land, forests, water, and local forms of oppression become less central.
The article suggests that this is a missed opportunity because these issues remain relevant to indigenous communities even today. Displacement, industrialization, deforestation, and environmental degradation continue to affect communities whose lives are closely connected with their ancestral lands.
Therefore, RRR can be understood through a productive contradiction: it recovers marginalized heroes while simultaneously reshaping the history of their resistance.
Nationalism and the Postcolonial Question
The nationalism of RRR is powerful and emotionally appealing. The British are represented as colonial oppressors, while Raju and Bheem emerge as courageous figures fighting for freedom. Their friendship becomes a metaphor for unity.
However, postcolonial theory encourages us to question nationalism as well.
The end of colonial rule does not automatically mean the end of domination. Power can continue through economic systems, political institutions, social hierarchies, and control over natural resources.
This is particularly relevant to Barad’s discussion of Jal, Jangal, Zameen. If Raju and Bheem are remembered only as heroes who fought the British, their resistance can appear to belong entirely to the past. But if their struggles are connected with land, forests, water, and indigenous rights, their legacy becomes relevant to contemporary India.
The question then changes from “Who defeated colonialism?” to “Who controls land and resources today?”
Jal, Jangal, Zameen: The Forgotten Dimension
The phrase Jal, Jangal, Zameen is more than a slogan. Water, forests, and land are connected with indigenous livelihood, culture, identity, memory, and belonging.
Barad argues that the historical struggles represented by Raju and Bheem could have been connected more directly with contemporary environmental justice. The destruction of forests and displacement of indigenous communities are not simply environmental problems; they are also questions of social and political power.
This makes RRR especially interesting from a postcolonial perspective.
Imagine if the film had connected the historical resistance of its heroes with present-day struggles over forests and ancestral lands. The film could then have moved beyond a nationalist freedom narrative and become a broader reflection on indigenous rights, environmental justice, and development.
Such a narrative would have connected the colonial past with the postcolonial present.
Representation: Visibility or Simplification?
Another important issue is representation.
Mainstream cinema can give marginalized communities visibility. When tribal heroes become the central characters of a globally successful film, their stories reach audiences that may never have encountered them otherwise.
But visibility does not automatically mean accurate representation.
In RRR, Raju and Bheem become larger-than-life figures defined by extraordinary physical strength, courage, friendship, and sacrifice. Their transformation into cinematic superheroes makes the film entertaining and emotionally powerful. Yet their historical complexity becomes less visible.
This creates a paradox:
Can a marginalized hero become more visible while the specific history of that hero becomes less visible?
In the case of RRR, the answer appears to be yes.
The film brings tribal heroes into the centre of popular culture, but it also transforms them into national symbols whose meanings extend beyond their original historical contexts.
From Hollywood Hegemony to Indian Nationalism
This issue becomes even more interesting when connected with Barad’s other article, “Heroes or Hegemons? The Celluloid Empire of Rambo and Bond in America’s Geopolitical Narrative.” That article examines how popular cinema can become a form of soft power, shaping ideas about national identity, political legitimacy, and global power. It argues that films such as Rambo and James Bond can project Western geopolitical perspectives and normalize particular understandings of power and heroism.
Although RRR comes from a completely different cultural and political context, the comparison is useful.
Hollywood can create a cinematic hero who represents American or Western power. RRR, meanwhile, creates Indian heroes who represent resistance to colonial power. In both cases, cinema transforms political histories into emotionally powerful heroic narratives.
The important postcolonial task is therefore not to replace one “celluloid empire” with another. It is to question how cinematic power operates in the first place.
Cinema should allow us to ask who tells the story, whose interests the story serves, and whose voice is missing.
Resistance in a Globalized World
The relevance of RRR does not end with the colonial period. Barad’s article connects the film’s historical narrative with contemporary concerns involving indigenous rights, displacement, and environmental degradation.
This connection is particularly important in today's globalized world. Indigenous communities continue to face struggles over land, forests, water, development, and environmental protection.
Therefore, resistance should not be understood only as opposition to a foreign colonial ruler. Resistance can also involve protecting a community's land, culture, environment, and right to determine its own future.
A postcolonial reading allows us to connect the historical struggles of Raju and Bheem with these continuing questions.
My Reflection
I find RRR fascinating because it makes history emotionally accessible through popular cinema. Its celebration of courage, friendship, unity, and resistance is powerful. However, Barad’s article encouraged me to think beyond the spectacle.
For me, the most important lesson is simple:
Celebrating a hero is not enough; we must also remember what the hero was actually fighting for.
If we remember Raju and Bheem only as nationalist heroes who fought the British, we risk reducing their complex legacies. If we remember their connections with land, forests, water, indigenous communities, and resistance against exploitation, their stories become meaningful not only for the past but also for the present.
Conclusion
RRR is a remarkable celebration of resistance, but a postcolonial reading reveals a deeper contradiction. The film brings marginalized historical figures into mainstream culture while simultaneously reshaping their specific histories into a broader nationalist narrative.
Barad’s article helps us see that Raju and Bheem were not simply freedom fighters in an abstract sense. Their struggles were connected with concrete questions of land, water, forests, indigenous rights, and local oppression. By moving these concerns into the background, RRR creates a powerful nationalist myth but misses an opportunity to connect historical resistance with contemporary environmental and social struggles.
Ultimately, the most important postcolonial question is not simply “Who is the hero?” It is:
“What does the hero represent, and whose story disappears when resistance becomes a national myth?”
In today's globalized world, cinema has the power either to reproduce dominant narratives or to challenge them. Truly postcolonial storytelling should do more than create heroes. It should recover marginalized histories, preserve the specificity of indigenous struggles, and create space for voices that have too often been spoken about rather than allowed to speak for themselves.
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