The exasperation is clear as one of the top names in India’s intelligence talks about the representation of spies in movies. “They reduce us to caricatures.”
Spy thrillers have long been viewed as a guaranteed formula for box-office success. The heady mix of espionage, glamour, patriotism and geopolitics draws millions of viewers who are captivated by the exploits of James Bond and Jason Bourne in Hollywood, and Avinash “Tiger” Singh Rathore, Pathaan, Kabir, Agent Vinod and Shabana Khan back home.
These characters, though separated by storylines, share more than just their missions; they embody an exaggerated imagination of what a spy should be. They are portrayed as super-athletic heroes, flexible gymnasts, masters of martial arts, explosives experts, missile specialists and precision shooters. They are fearless, invincible and often bulletproof, capable of surviving explosions, gunfights and impossible odds. Yet, they possess an almost saintly humility and a romantic heart.
These agents can single-handedly dismantle enemy networks, neutralise hundreds of commandos, defuse high-tech bombs and even nuclear warheads, and still find time to fall in love with their lady love—often an agent from the enemy country—while performing a dance sequence in an exotic foreign location. Armed with every conceivable gadget, from laser pens to stealth aircraft, they enjoy unlimited access to arms, ammunition, cash, vehicles and technology, even deep within enemy territory. The most powerful generals and dictators of rival nations tremble at the mention of their name. And by the end of the movie, these heroes inevitably save the nation, vanish into the horizon and return in another franchise instalment to do it all over again.
Such fantastical portrayals make for a good spectacle, but most of the folks in the intelligence community and beyond don’t quite share the enthusiasm—not just because of the absurdity of the plotlines, but also the lack of attention to detail. This raises important questions: what does the real world of espionage look like? What do real spies do? How are they trained, how do they live, and what psychological and ethical burdens do they carry? And, most importantly, how can storytellers capture the work of these pillars of our country with more nuance, without reducing them to mere caricatures?
RESEARCH & RESEARCH
Intelligence folks say only a couple of Hindi movies have got it right: Shoojit Sircar’s 2013 political thriller Madras Cafe and Meghna Gulzar’s 2018 spy drama Raazi. Sircar underlines the one thing that underpinned the realism in his movie—extensive research.
Availability of material helped too. As it was a story woven around Rajiv Gandhi’s assassination, there were plenty of reports to rely on. But it is not so much the story that has made real-life spies like Madras Cafe. It is also the acknowledgement of the grind, the leg work and drudgery that go into gathering intelligence on the ground.
Sircar says creative liberties have to be taken at the behest of producers who want the broadest possible segment of the audience to get what is happening on screen and to increase the box office appeal. “I want to make more movies of the genre,” says Sircar, who referenced realistic Hollywood spy movies, including Stephen Gaghan’s Syriana, for stylistic cues.
NOT CHAOS CREATORS
While there are plenty of unrealistic spy thrillers in Hollywood too, the officers ET spoke to were referring more to movies that claim to be based on real-life events. Many of these movies end up simplifying what they do. On top of that, some officers say unrealistic quirks are added to real-life characters, which detract. There is also the problem of the all-in-one spy.
Lt-General (retd) Vinod G. Khandare, who served as principal adviser in the Ministry of Defence and director-general of the Defence Intelligence Agency, believes that a core aspect of intelligence gathering—the sheer amount of teamwork that goes into making sense of snippets of information—is often overlooked in movies.
A typical operational scenario unfolds over months, even years. A single operation may require hundreds of supporting personnel, including logistics handlers, communication experts, technical geeks and backup teams. Every action is deliberate, cautious and calculated.
Another top officer is exasperated by something even more basic: the lack of differentiation between an intelligence officer—who is an employee of an intelligence agency, specifically trained for the job—and an agent, who is technically an external person providing information. The two are used interchangeably in movies and broader media, much to the chagrin of officers.
CLOAK OF INVISIBILITY
Then there is, of course, the looks. Real spies look nothing like their on-screen counterparts. They are not gym-sculpted or larger-than-life personalities. They are ordinary people, trained to disappear into the crowd. Their greatest weapon is not a silenced pistol or a microchip but their ability to blend, adapt and be forgotten.
During the Cold War, agents of the KGB, CIA and Mossad mastered the art of invisibility. CIA’s “illegal officers” and deep-cover operatives often lived with fabricated identities for decades, posing as journalists, traders or teachers. KGB’s “illegals” were famously indistinguishable from the populations they infiltrated. Israel’s Mossad still prioritises agents who can blend seamlessly into Arab or European societies.
Back in India, similar examples abound. Several Pakistani agents caught over the decades posed as beggars, labourers, students and even domestic helpers. Their ordinariness was their camouflage. Conversely, Indian operatives who managed to live undetected in hostile territories, such as the legendary Ravindra Kaushik—the “Black Tiger” who infiltrated the Pakistani military—succeeded because they could convincingly live as locals, not as action heroes.
Unlike the Bollywood narrative where the hero fights his way out of every trap, a real spy avoids confrontation at all costs. Their art lies not in combat but in evasion. A compromised spy doesn’t just lose a mission but can endanger an entire network and destabilise diplomatic relations.
In espionage, invisibility is the true mark of excellence. The more unremarkable an operative appears, the greater the chance of success. And success, in this world, is measured not in explosions, but in silence.
Real spies are not assassins or chaos creators. Their primary duty is to gather intelligence in multiple domains—politics, economics, technology and military—and to do so without ever being discovered. Their operations involve recruiting informants, building local networks, conducting surveillance, and maintaining communication through dead drops, encrypted messages and coded exchanges.
Perhaps it might be useful for filmmakers to understand some of these in detail to create more authentic spy thrillers.
THE BIG GULF
In popular cinema, romance is central to espionage. In reality, intimacy is the greatest vulnerability for a spy. Mata Hari, the infamous World War I dancer-spy, was executed after being compromised through romantic entanglements. During the Cold War, agents from both the CIA and KGB were exposed through honey traps.
In India, several high-profile espionage breaches have been linked to honey traps or emotional manipulation. A spy’s emotional detachment, therefore, is not a choice but a survival mechanism.
Spies live compartmentalised lives—one personal, the other operational. Many maintain families at home while holding fabricated identities abroad. The tension between these two realities is immense. Every call home, every visit, carries risk.
Then there are the gadgets. Contrary to what films depict, espionage is not a parade of futuristic technology. Real agencies use devices with extreme caution, as every tool can be traced. Concealability outweighs capability; a spy’s most effective asset remains human intuition—the ability to read, adapt and survive.
PSYCHE OF A SPY
Among all dimensions of espionage, the psychological one is least understood. A spy’s mind operates in a constant state of duality—between truth and deception, loyalty and betrayal, self and disguise. Balancing these conflicting worlds demands immense discipline and emotional control. A single slip of the tongue can unravel years of work.
Studies by MI6 and the CIA reveal that many long-term field operatives exhibit symptoms of PTSD, chronic anxiety and social withdrawal. Isolation, moral ambiguity and emotional repression often lead to depression, substance dependence or estrangement from family.
The ethical burden is equally profound. Spies manipulate, deceive and often cause harm to protect national interests. Living with such actions demands a complex moral compass.
Many retired operatives later reveal how anonymity, once their greatest protection, becomes their greatest curse. They live unacknowledged lives, their achievements classified, their sacrifices unsung. For every cinematic spy celebrated on screen, there are hundreds of real ones buried in silence—known only by their code names.
Bollywood’s fascination with spies is understandable. But it bears little resemblance to the grim, lonely and methodical reality of real-world espionage. A bit more care in storytelling could make these portrayals far more authentic—and realism, after all, can be just as thrilling.
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