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Ye To Petrol Hai

This post discusses a key early scene from Dhurandhar (2025), directed by Aditya Dhar and starring Ranveer Singh.

Proceed with caution if you have not watched the film yet.

Dhurandhar

Aditya Dhar’s Dhurandhar has stormed theaters, blending high-octane spy thriller elements with the gritty underworld of Karachi‘s Lyari.

While much of the buzz revolves around Ranveer Singh’s intense performance, Akshaye Khanna‘s menacing Rehman Dakait, and the film’s bold political undertones, there is one early sequence that’s quietly (or perhaps deliberately under-discussed) shaking viewers: the brutal assault attempt on Hamza Ali Mazhari (Ranveer Singh).

Lyari

In this raw, uncomfortable scene set shortly after Hamza arrives in the lawless streets of Lyari, posing as a Baloch outsider, he is overpowered by a group of rival gang members.

What starts as a beating escalates into a humiliating sexual assault attempt.

One attacker pins him down, gropes him aggressively (reaching into his pants), and as part of the dominance ritual, smells his hand before exclaiming in shock: “Ye to petrol hai!” (This is petrol!)

Decoding “Ye To Petrol Hai”

This line is not just shock value; it is a layered insult rooted in real-world ethnic stereotypes.

Hamza is infiltrating as a Baloch boy in a Sindhi-dominated gang territory.

Balochistan, the region associated with the Baloch people, is rich in natural gas and oil resources, and there is a history of cross-border petrol smuggling from Iran.

This has bred derogatory slurs in parts of Pakistan, where Baloch individuals are mocked as “smelling like petrol”, a dehumanizing way to mark them as outsiders, poor smugglers, or inferiors tied to those economic activities.

The attacker’s exclamation identifies Hamza as a hated Baloch interloper, amplifying the humiliation and ethnic rivalry in Lyari’s brutal underworld.

It is a moment that underscores how power in such lawless spaces is asserted through dominance, violence, and stripping away dignity, especially targeting perceived “weak” outsiders.

However, what makes the scene even more haunting is Ranveer Singh’s portrayal.

There is no heroic fight-back in the moment, no dramatic escape with punches flying.

Hamza endures the vulnerability silently.

Later, there is no breakdown, no verbal processing of the trauma, just a quiet hardening.

He becomes more armored, more resolute.

The incident is never explicitly discussed again, yet it fuels his transformation without overt melodrama.

Director Aditya Dhar does not shy away from this discomfort.

In a film packed with testosterone-fueled action and patriotic fervor, this sequence shatters the invincible Bollywood hero trope.

It shows that even a trained undercover agent like Hamza, our protagonist, can be reduced to vulnerability.

Masculinity built on bravado is fragile when faced with raw humiliation.

It is a bold choice in mainstream Indian cinema, where male leads are rarely depicted in such powerless, violated positions.

This is not gratuitous shock; it is the narrative’s purpose.

Dhurandhar uses the scene to immerse us in Lyari’s merciless reality, inspired loosely by real gang wars, while exploring themes of power, resilience, and the unseen scars of espionage.

It humanizes Hamza beyond the spy archetype, making his later rise feel earned through unspoken pain.

Note

This is a highly graphic sequence depicting attempted sexual violence. The film is A-rated for a reason; viewer discretion is advised, especially for sensitive topics.

What did you think of this scene?

Did it hit as hard for you, or change how you saw Hamza’s journey?

Drop your thoughts below, let us discuss (spoiler-free for others if possible)!