If you grew up in India in the 90s, you probably remember what going to the movies felt like. Sticky floors, a samosa wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper, and a crowd that didn’t just watch the hero’s entry — they erupted. I’ve seen people throw coins at the screen when Shah Rukh spread his arms, or when Salman tore off his shirt in slow motion. Cinema wasn’t passive. It was collective madness.
Now cut to a different scene: me on a couch in 2023, it’s past midnight, lights off, binge-watching Paatal Lok. No coins, no whistles, no strangers shouting “once more.” And yet, I can’t pull my eyes away. The shift is that deep. Streaming hasn’t just added another way to watch films. It’s ripped open Bollywood, stitched it into new shapes, and dragged it into a future it probably wasn’t ready for.
The Star System Meets the Skip Button
For decades, Bollywood was a star factory. You didn’t buy a ticket for the story — you bought it for the face on the poster. Plot holes? Who cared. Logic? Forget it. If the hero danced well enough, the box office forgave everything.
Streaming cut that cord. Nobody’s paying ₹199 a month to watch recycled scripts with familiar surnames. They want content that holds them beyond the first ten minutes — because on Netflix or Prime, the “skip” button is right there. That small button changed power dynamics. Suddenly, writing mattered. Characters mattered. Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Shefali Shah, Jaideep Ahlawat — actors who once played supporting roles in theatres — now lead on OTT screens.
Follow the Money
The economics explain why this revolution is sticking.
Factor | Old Bollywood Model | Streaming Model |
---|---|---|
Revenue | Box office, overseas rights, TV | Subscriptions, licensing, global audience |
Risk | Weekend box office decides fate | Spread across shows & films |
Reach | India + diaspora | Worldwide, instant |
Creative Freedom | Tight censorship, formula films | Darker themes, experiments |
In the theatre system, Friday night could make or break a film. A bad opening meant disaster by Monday. On streaming, the clock is kinder. A show like Delhi Crime can simmer for weeks, grow by word of mouth, and still land an Emmy. Try imagining that with a Friday release in 2005.
New Stories, New Spaces
Here’s where it gets exciting. OTT blew open the range of stories Bollywood could tell. Suddenly we’re seeing scripts rooted in small towns, caste realities, queer relationships, even uncomfortable political truths. Shows like Sacred Games or Made in Heaven would never have survived a multiplex-only model. Too risky. Too niche. But on streaming? They thrive.
The audience was hungry for this. Tired of the paint-by-numbers romances and “item songs,” people were ready for messy, layered storytelling. Streaming gave us exactly that.
Nepotism Loses Its Grip
Look, nepotism hasn’t disappeared. The same surnames still flood posters. But OTT dented the monopoly. Theatre actors, outsiders, even first-timers are finding audiences. Tripti Dimri (Bulbbul), Pratik Gandhi (Scam 1992), Jaideep Ahlawat — these weren’t “launches” from big banners. They were slow burns who found their people online.
For writers, it’s even more dramatic. Bollywood once treated them like invisible typists. On streaming platforms, writers are courted like stars. Some shows are marketed more on “from the writer of…” than on actor names. That’s a cultural earthquake.
The Way We Watch
I’ve seen families in Delhi where three people in the same house are watching three different things — mom on a soap on her phone, son glued to Money Heist, dad binging Mirzapur. That would’ve been unthinkable when cable TV ruled. Back then, everyone watched the same evening serial, the same Sunday movie. Streaming splintered the audience.
Audience Group | Pre-OTT Habits | Post-OTT Habits |
---|---|---|
Young urban viewers | Multiplex weekends | Daily binging, global + local mix |
Families | Primetime soaps together | Personalized viewing on devices |
Small-town India | Regional cinema + Doordarshan | Local + Bollywood + Korean dramas |
Diaspora Indians | Imported DVDs, satellite | Same-day access, global conversations |
Bollywood doesn’t have a monopoly anymore. It’s one option among many. That forces it to raise its game.
The Pushback and the Politics
Of course, it’s not all roses. Streaming platforms have drawn heat — sometimes literally. Political groups, censors, lawsuits. You make a show that touches caste, religion, or governance, and suddenly hashtags trend calling for bans. The old pressure didn’t vanish, it just migrated online.
And theatre owners? They’re furious. COVID only worsened things. Big-ticket films like Gulabo Sitabo went direct-to-streaming, cutting theatres out. Even now, the tension simmers: will Bollywood split its offerings forever? Blockbusters for cinemas, the rest for streaming? That seems likely.
Global Spotlight
Here’s the twist nobody predicted ten years ago: Bollywood content going global beyond the diaspora. Delhi Crime winning an International Emmy. Sacred Games turning into watercooler talk in Europe. Malayalam films like Minnal Murali finding fans in Latin America. Subtitles and dubbing erased borders. Suddenly, Bollywood is no longer just “NRIs in New Jersey crying over songs.” It’s global entertainment, competing on the same shelf as Spanish thrillers and Korean dramas.
Where It’s Heading
So, what’s Bollywood 2.0? It’s not the end of the star system. Shah Rukh, Salman, Alia — they’ll always command audiences. But parallel to that glittering world, there’s another current: darker, rawer, more daring. Both will run side by side. One fuels the box office with spectacle, the other builds cultural credibility online.
Streaming didn’t kill Bollywood. It forced it to evolve. And that’s probably the best thing that could’ve happened. Because now, whether you’re in Lucknow or London, you don’t just consume Bollywood — you choose which version of it you want.
And next time you see a no-name actor own the screen in your living room, remember: that’s the sound of Bollywood 2.0 cracking open, making space for voices we’d never have heard otherwise.

Ajanta Mehra is a journalist and cultural commentator with a passion for exploring India’s fast-changing landscape. From politics and business to cinema and social trends, Ajanta brings a sharp, human voice to every story. She believes good writing should feel like a conversation — insightful, honest, and rooted in real life. When she isn’t writing for Desi Today, you’ll probably find her reading regional literature, sipping masala chai, or chasing down the next untold story.