Meta humour and brain rot: why Internet loves The Ba***ds of Bollywood

This is where Aryan Khan’s The Ba***ds of Bollywood has earned its fan following. It has triggered an Internet-wide easter egg hunt, and everyone seems to agree: it is pure ‘brain rot’ cinema. With self-referential digs, profanity-laced humour, and absurd plot twists, the seven-episode series is a hilarious take on the industry.

Brain rot, Oxford’s 2024 Word of the Year, is both a diagnosis and a guilty pleasure. It describes the supposed “deterioration” of one’s mental state due to the overconsumption of online content. But it has also become the Gen Z phrase for content that offers an escape from the everyday and mundane. The fun of brain rot lies not in its lack of sense but in its refusal to take sense seriously. It is when absurd plot twists meet slapstick humour, a series of mishaps, and a little bit of cringe.

What works for The Ba***ds of Bollywood

Users have dedicated Reddit threads, X discussions, and Instagram reels to fish out the real-life references in the show and dissect each cameo.

There are obvious references, such as Khan’s dig at his drug-related arrest, with an actor that looks suspiciously similar to the real-life Narcotics Control Bureau (NCB) officer Sameer Wankhede. He ended the scene with a cheeky, “Say no to drugs”. What makes it funnier is that comedian Samay Raina turned up to the show’s premiere wearing a T-shirt that read, “Say no to cruise”, referencing Khan’s arrest at a party on a cruise ship.

Samay Raina would never not be iconic 😂😂😂#Badsofbollywood #samayraina pic.twitter.com/4gfyZ6WYy0

— Shivani Shenai (@ShivaniShenai) September 19, 2025

There is a nod to the Ananya Panday-Siddhant Chaturvedi banter over nepotism. Chaturvedi’s remark at Karan Johar’s roundtable – “The difference is jahaan humare sapne poore hote hain, wahi inka struggle shuru hota hai (Their struggle starts where our dreams are fulfilled)” – became an iconic clapback to the nepotism debate. But Aryan Khan, a star kid himself, does not stop there. He hints that the industry is self-aware and unlikely to change. Cue Johar’s line: “Don’t mess with the movie mafia.” If that rings a bell, it’s because it is straight out of Kangana Ranaut’s explosive 2017 Koffee With Karan episode, where she crowned Johar the “flag bearer of nepotism and the movie mafia.”

But perhaps what turns the entire debate on its head is the ending of the show (no spoilers here), which has left everyone wondering: is there a real-life parallel lurking behind that finale, too?

Redditors also dug deep to uncover a treasure trove of more subtle references. For instance, if you take a closer look at the text messages received by Ajay Talwar (played by Bobby Deol), you would see chats with “Sunny” (Deol’s real-life brother) and “Ranvijay Singh” (his on-screen rival in Animal).

Several cameos sprinkled across the storyline have generated much intrigue as well. There is Orry with his controversial jacket. Emraan Hashmi, the OG lover boy for a generation who grew up watching his films, finally gets the acknowledgement he deserves. Arshad Warsi returns in a get-up similar to his most-loved role as ‘Circuit’.

Many have also argued that the show hinges on these high-profile cameos and self-digs to make up for the lack of compelling storytelling. One user called it a “glorified spoof with a big budget”. But for others, it is this nonsensical structure that works. It is the perfect example of that one viral meme, “Never let them know your next move”.

A Bollywood template

Bollywood has been belting out ‘brain rot’ cinema even before the term entered our vocabulary. Driven by masala, comedy of errors, and the nonsensical, brain rot has long been the national pastime.

Several audience reviews of the series have drawn comparisons to Farah Khan’s style of direction. Her films, like Tees Maar Khan and Happy New Year, both heist comedies, thrive on caricatures, chaos, and wildly inventive (often delightfully wacky) plots that exist only to entertain. She is also the queen of self-referential cinema. Om Shanti Om pays homage to classics like Karz, Dream Girl, and Mother India. Meanwhile, Main Hoon Na slips in references to Sholay, with “Dhanno” painted on the back of a rickshaw and Satish Shah channelling a hilariously Gabbar-esque energy.

And no conversation around brain rot cinema can be complete without the mention of the 2000s era of Indian cinema, when Priyadarshan delivered films that went on to attain cult status. Malamal Weekly, centred on an entire village that pursues a dead man’s lottery winnings, is now celebrated for its unforgettable one-liners and performances. Hera Pheri, once just another exaggerated comedy, has transformed into an internet legend, feeding memes even today and cementing Paresh Rawal’s place in cinematic history. Films like Garam Masala and Bhagam Bhag followed similar trajectories, becoming pop-culture staples years after their debuts.

Anees Bazmee’s Welcome is another standout example of this genre. Nana Patekar’s resigned “Seh lenge thoda” has morphed into a universal WhatsApp reaction. Majnu Bhai’s absurd horse painting adorns walls and t-shirts. And Mushtaq Khan’s immortal “Meri ek taang nakli hai…” line still resurfaces whenever audiences want to call out obvious PR gimmicks. The baton was later picked up by Rohit Shetty in the 2010s, with entertainers like Golmaal, Bol Bachchan, and All The Best, which leaned unapologetically into chaos, slapstick, and melodrama.

These movies break away from the mould of more serious cinema. Brain rot does not mean “bad” cinema. It is the kind of entertainment that works precisely because it is outrageous, exaggerated, and joyfully illogical.