Haq, The Movie: Personal Faith, and the Ongoing Conversation on Justice
The new courtroom drama Haq (2025) arrives at a moment when questions of faith, law, and personal dignity continue to shape India’s public life. Directed by Suparn Verma and inspired by the historic Shah Bano case, the film follows the struggles of Bano, a Muslim woman seeking maintenance after her marriage collapses — a battle that forces courts, families, and religious authorities to confront the difficult spaces where personal law and constitutional rights meet.
At its heart, Haq is not simply about one legal dispute. It is about the intimate stakes of justice: a woman’s right to security, autonomy, and dignity. The film’s courtroom focus — its arguments, testimonies, and competing interpretations of faith and obligation — reflect the real tensions many communities face when personal faith traditions intersect with the promises of a secular constitution.
For Muslim audiences, the subject carries a long public memory. The Shah Bano case has, for decades, been a symbol of debate around representation, women’s rights, religious authority, and the anxieties created when law and community identity appear to be placed in opposition. Haq enters that conversation with care, striving to avoid caricature and allowing its characters — including religious figures, judges, and family members — to embody the layered, sometimes contradictory pressures that shape everyday life.
theatrical release poster
Critics across platforms have noted this restraint. Reviews highlight the film’s refusal to sensationalize India’s largest minority community, its effort to depict relatable characters, and its commitment to portraying the complexities of lived faith within a legal framework. Many reviewers point out that the film’s power lies not in taking sides, but in showing how difficult and deeply human the search for justice can be, no matter the religion one belongs to.
In spaces where faith, human rights, and community life intersect, Haq offers an important reminder: conversations about personal law are never just legal debates. They involve identity, belonging, memory, and the fears communities hold about how they are seen. The work of justice — whether in Muslim, Hindu, Christian, Sikh, or any other traditions — requires sensitivity to all of that, especially in a political climate where religious identity is often weaponized or misunderstood.
A film cannot resolve such tensions. But Haq contributes to a public space where nuance is still possible, where women’s rights can be discussed without caricature, and where the dignity of communities is not pitted against the principles of equality. That in itself is meaningful.
A commitment to a plural, democratic, and rights-affirming India, should view films like Haq as opportunities for deeper, more empathetic dialogue — not about any one religion, but about how law and faith can coexist in ways that honor the dignity of every person.