Could it be that the Karni Sena knew that Sanjay Leela Bhansali had written a love song to Rajputs, and realised that a sure-shot way of getting people to flock to the hall, would be by protesting the release of the film? Or could it be that the Karni Sena is really as ridiculous and ill-informed as we think they are, and had no clue that the film they were busy protesting was a swansong to all that they hold dear to Rajput honour? Which in this case means patriarchy, polygamy, jauhar, sati, poor battle planning and women who cannot imagine their lives without their husbands. Because that’s pretty much what Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Padmaavat is about. Along with a whole lot of pomp, glory and that most evil of evils, the scourge of Akhand Bharat and Hindustan – the evil Muslim. Played with great élan by Ranveer Singh.

Bhansali’s magnum opus (can someone teach our Hindi film directors to make films which are no longer than two hours, please?) is about the 1303 siege on Chittorgarh by Turkish invader, Alauddin Khilji. The film is named after Padmavati, Jayasi’s poem on the fictional queen of Chittorgarh, but has little to do with the poem. Bhansali has reimagined the entire story – from how the ruler of Chittorgarh, Ratnasen chances upon Sinhalese princess Padmavati, to why he must marry her to how she engineers Ratnasen’s release from Khilji’s dungeons.

I won’t give away the twists in the tale, because frankly that’s all that you can look forward to in this 2-hour 43-minute film. Deepika Padukone who plays Padmavati, looks beautiful and acts decently enough. Shahid Kapoor as Ratnasen is intense, runs the gamut of emotions from A to B, and wears the most beautiful chikan kurtas I’ve seen in a while. He is guileless and so hung up on usool and honour, that at many points you just wish Ranveer Singh would kill him and get it over with. Aditi Rao Hydari as Mehrunissa, Khilji’s wife, is vapid and long-suffering. Padukone, who is shown leaping through the Sinhalese forests trying to kill a horribly fake-looking deer and shown shunning the palace life in Sri Lanka, seems quite happy to do nothing more than wear extremely uncomfortable looking jewellery and fan Kapoor while he eats his meals and dress him if the occasion demands it, once she becomes queen.

After the insipid holier-than-thou Ratnasen, the grab-life-by-the-balls Khilji, who at least is conquering lands instead of just sitting pretty in a fort collecting wives from many lands, is a welcome change. And the romance which actually brings a smile to your lips is the one between him and his advisor and confidante, Malik Khafur (Jim Sarbh). There is longing, envy, lust, love and loyalty between the two. Which is sadly missing from Kapoor and Padukone’s interactions, which look as fraternal as possible. I do wish Bhansali had used his Rs 180-crore budget to design a more real-looking scenery, because for the most part any background in the film looks painted by a poorly-paid painter.

But what about that Rajput pride and honour which has been besmirched by Bhansali, leading to much heartburn for the Karni Sena? While I was watching the film, the Karni Sena attacked a school bus ferrying schoolchildren and teachers in Gurgaon. In Noida, schools will remain shut today because of the dodgy law and order situation. Malls have been set on fire in Ahmedabad. This is all in the name of upholding Rajput honour, which seems to mean that you commit arson and attack children and people going about their everyday lives.

I would strongly advise the Karni Sena to spend some money and go watch Padmaavat. Rarely has a film deified a community and its lack of prowess in battle or propriety in relationships as blatantly as Padmaavat has. While Khilji’s army is waiting to attack Chittorgarh fort, Ratnasen decides to celebrate Diwali and Holi and make sexual overtures to Padmavati – while also ignoring that food supplies are at an all-time low in Chittorgarh. This is shown as a virtue. Rajput honour and usool also means that Ratnasen invites Khilji into his home – and doesn’t kill or capture Khilji while he can. More fool Ratnasen.

Now this is essentially Bhansali’s reimagining of history and a dodgy interpretation of Jayasi’s poem — where Bhansali has stayed true to folklore in his opulent and romantic depiction of jauhar. Self-immolation has never looked so beautiful. And I dread to think how many women and men will watch this film and think that they must follow in Padukone’s footsteps. In Bhansali’s defence, he is depicting a regressive time and a regressive practice, but he’s glorified each of these acts by doing so in soft focus, in 3D, set to dramatic music, enacted by superstars. Unlike all of Khilji’s actions, the Rajputs are never looked at critically. The Karni Sena should actually build a statue of the cast and crew, instead of burning their effigies as they have been doing.

It’s a sad day for India, when a two-bit outfit is allowed to run amok with the ruling party’s blessing – just because they think that they may not like the storyline of a film. And that’s pretty much the best reason to watch the film, just to cock a snook at the pathetic and uneducated moral guardians in the Karni Sena. And if you do watch the film, carry some food and water supplies, and remember that while the romance between Padukone and Kapoor is as exciting as watching paint dry – it’s the bad Muslim’s relationship with his advisor, which is the one to watch out for.