Here’s how much Ranbir Kapoor is being paid for the two Ramayana films
Bollywood is no stranger to big numbers, especially when it comes to mythological epics and superstar salaries. But the amount being reported for Ranbir Kapoor’s role in the upcoming two-part Ramayana film is enough to make jaws drop—even by industry standards. According to insider leaks from credible production sources, Ranbir is being paid a whopping ₹150 crore for portraying Lord Ram in the ambitious cinematic adaptation directed by Nitesh Tiwari.
That’s ₹75 crore per film.
Let that sink in for a moment. ₹150 crore. For one actor. For two films. We’re not talking about a franchise like Brahmastra, where the money was spread across heavy VFX, multiple actors, and long delays. This is for Ramayana, a story so deeply etched into Indian cultural consciousness that people won’t just watch it—they’ll judge it. They’ll dissect every frame, every costume, every dialogue. And Ranbir, at the center of it all, has been trusted with the image of Maryada Purushottam Ram.
Now whether that trust is well-placed or not… is a whole different debate.
Before we dive into opinions, let’s just face one undeniable fact. Ranbir Kapoor is one of the few actors in Bollywood today who can actually act. He’s got range. From the vulnerability in Rockstar to the boy-next-door in Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, and the unpredictability of Animal—Ranbir has managed to evolve as a performer while maintaining a very calculated distance from the media circus that engulfs most of his peers. He’s a private person, and that in itself gives him a mystique.
But ₹150 crore? Is any actor in India really worth that amount?
Let’s be honest. Salaries like these don’t just reflect talent—they reflect leverage. Ranbir Kapoor brings a legacy name (being a Kapoor), a fanbase that’s remained loyal despite his absence from mass entertainers, and the ability to be both subtle and grandiose, depending on the script. The makers of Ramayana know this isn’t a typical masala movie. It’s not about punchlines and item numbers. It’s about delivering something sacred to an audience that holds this story close to their hearts.
That pressure is enormous. And that’s where this fee starts to make a little more sense. Ranbir isn’t just acting in Ramayana. He’s carrying the film’s emotional core, its moral compass. One misstep in portraying Ram—not just as a divine warrior but as a relatable, ethical man—and the film could collapse under the weight of its own ambition.
On the other hand, this kind of money highlights a brutal contrast in Bollywood today. While some technicians and writers barely scrape through, lead actors continue to demand (and receive) astronomical fees. Sure, Ranbir’s performance will define the film. But so will the writing, the production design, the cinematography, the background score. What about them? Are they being paid with even a fraction of the same respect?
As an industry observer and a fan of mythological storytelling, it’s hard not to feel a little conflicted. On one side, I understand that Ranbir is a major name and casting him creates buzz, which ultimately brings money, investors, and audience interest. But on the other side, I can’t ignore the top-heavy nature of Bollywood—where the hero becomes the center of the universe, and everyone else becomes a background detail.
What’s even more intriguing is that Ranbir reportedly refused to take on any other project for the next two years in order to fully immerse himself in the role of Lord Ram. That’s commendable. You don’t see many actors in this age of overbooking and brand endorsements actually putting in that kind of commitment. So yes, the fee is massive, but it comes with sacrifice too. No quick money on side gigs. No glitzy ad campaigns. Just Ramayana and silence.
What gives this entire story a deeper emotional punch is the timing. At a moment when India is rediscovering its roots, where Ram Mandir has become a national symbol and conversations around dharma, culture, and identity are taking center stage again, Ramayana is no longer just a film. It’s a cultural mirror. The expectations from this project aren’t just cinematic—they’re spiritual, political, and emotional.
People won’t just watch it with popcorn. They’ll carry their personal beliefs into the theater. Which brings back the question—can Ranbir handle this pressure? Can a modern, urban, mostly quiet star like him become the face of a divine story that millions grew up listening to from their grandparents?
I believe he can. But only if he sheds the star image. Only if he disappears completely into the role. Only if the dialogues don’t sound like another dramatic Hindi monologue, but instead come across like the calm and centered voice of dharma. The challenge is not about looking heroic. It’s about embodying restraint, something very few Bollywood actors can pull off without seeming flat.
But again, the audience will decide.
Another point worth noting is that Ramayana is not just banking on Ranbir. The buzz is that Yash from KGF will play Ravan and Sai Pallavi will portray Sita. So this isn’t a Ranbir solo-ride. It’s a pan-India project designed to redefine cinematic storytelling of Indian epics, blending realism with visual spectacle. If the makers pull it off right, it could stand next to RRR and Baahubali as a benchmark of myth-meets-modern filmmaking.
And if they fail? It will be remembered as a massive vanity project where too much money was thrown at stars, and too little was given to the soul of the story.
As for Ranbir Kapoor, he may never get another role like this again. This isn’t Sanju. This isn’t Animal. This is a role that will define how he is remembered in Indian cinema—not by critics, not by Twitter, but by generations. It’s not just about acting. It’s about becoming a symbol. There is no leeway for moral ambiguity here. No scope for flawed anti-heroes. He’s playing Maryada Purushottam Ram—the embodiment of ideal conduct.
In that context, ₹150 crore doesn’t feel like just a paycheck. It feels like a burden. A sacred burden.
We as an audience can only hope that the money translates into art, and not just VFX-heavy posturing. Because with all due respect, if this becomes another case of gloss without grace, the backlash won’t just come from film critics. It will come from the hearts of the people, who see Ramayana not as entertainment, but as emotion.
Only time will tell whether Ranbir Kapoor’s version of Ram will live up to the weight of ₹150 crore—or crumble under it. But one thing’s for sure: every dialogue, every expression, every moment of screen time will now be watched, remembered, and judged for years to come.
That’s the price of legacy.