Sometimes a film isn’t just cinema. It’s a statement. Our art is a reflection of the society that we live in today. And Aditya Dhar’s Dhurandhar is a statement – that this is a new India that is unapologetic and gives back as good as it gets. Our soldiers enter our enemy’s homes and beat them to pulp. Our artists and storytellers are now doing the same.

Dhurandhar feels like a classified dossier opened for the public — every frame signalling an India that has moved from defence to offence, turning cinema itself into a cultural surgical strike against decades of narrative assault by D-gang filmmakers.

Bollywood finally gets a political action drama that isn’t scared of Pakistan, the ISI, or the Congress ecosystem—and most importantly, a film that doesn’t tiptoe around historical realities.

But before we go ahead with the review, it helps tremendously to know the real figures whose shadows loom large over the film.

The Real Men Behind The Reel

Rehman Dakait Played By Akshay Khanna

The feared Karachi crime lord, was more than a gangster—he was a quasi-political actor protected by Pakistan’s deep state. His reign over Lyari forms the violent texture of the film’s Karachi underworld, and Akshay Khanna infuses that biography with a menacing and terrific performance.

Chaudhry Aslam Played By Sanjay Dutt

Pakistan’s infamous “encounter specialist” who led the Lyari Task Force against Karachi’s underworld before terrorists assassinated him in 2014. Sanjay Dutt’s role is clearly modelled on him—steely, haunted and built on a lifetime of combat with Karachi’s monsters.

Ilyas Kashmiri Played By Arjun Rampal

Former Pakistani commando turned global jihadi asset, deeply tied to ISI operations and cross-border terror campaigns. Arjun Rampal’s character channels the cold-blooded tactician Kashmiri was.

Ajit Doval Played By R. Madhavan

And in unmistakable shadows stands Ajit Doval, India’s living legend of covert doctrines and national security strategy. Dhar never names him, but the film breathes Doval’s worldview—the doctrine of offence as defence.

The Hits

The film begins, in classic Aditya Dhar style, in sharply defined chapters—each chapter world-builds, introduces new characters, creates a texture, ends with a bang and shifts us into a deeper labyrinth. By the interval (two hours into the film!) you don’t even realise time has passed. The pace is relentless.

This isn’t Bollywood’s usual cardboard Pakistan. Dhar takes us into the dirty gutters of Lyari, the gang alleys, the ISI-controlled shadows, and Pakistan’s terror breeding underbelly with frightening authenticity. It feels like Dhar himself air-dropped into Karachi taking notes like a R&AW operative to draw the viewers into the dirty miserable hellhole called Pakistan and Pakistanis are shown like they deserve to be shown.

The authenticity hits like a gut-shot: Dhar’s research feels forensic, as if he embedded with ghost operators, sketching Lyari’s bullet-riddled bazaars and Peshawar’s teeming madrasas. Dhar can probably add “Expert on Pakistan Affairs” to his Insta bio—he’s earned it. Dhar deploys Guy Ritchie-esque on-screen text blasts to tag characters.

The violence in the film is Tarantino-esque in its rawness and unflinching brutality, but it goes a step further. The gore doesn’t feel stylised—it feels disturbingly real. Dhar doesn’t just show violence, he makes you feel it. Unlike Tarantino, where you admire the craft of bloodshed from a safe cinematic distance, Dhurandhar drags you into the visceral pain of it. You don’t just witness the violence—you absorb it.

Akshaye Khanna’s Rehman Dakait is the film’s feral heart—tight-lipped menace propelling the plot more than Singh’s brooding Hamza, who arrives looking every inch the chiseled “chad” but shines in quiet vulnerability. Sanjay Dutt’s Chaudhary Aslam is a powder-keg patriarch, his gravelly Pashto inflections evoking the real cop’s doomed valor. Arjun Rampal slinks as Ilyas Kashmiri, all icy calculation, while Sara Arjun slips into Yalina’s skin, though their romance feels like the one soft spot in this ironclad tale. R. Madhavan pops as the Doval-like RAW head, his silences louder than soliloquies during the first 10 minutes of the film.

Shashwat Sachdev’s score isn’t merely background music—it becomes an active character in the narrative. The vintage tracks, layered with his contemporary signature sound, melt seamlessly into the film’s fabric, elevating every frame. And then there’s the camerawork—especially in the action and chase sequences—which deserves a standing ovation. Every shot feels carefully choreographed, immersive, and purposefully raw.

The Misses

If there’s one place the film overindulges, it’s in the length of the action and chase sequences. A tighter edit would’ve made them far more impactful, because after a point the outcome becomes predictable.

The romance between Hamsa and Yalina, too, needed more emotional depth. The stakes feel oddly low, making the track come across as formulaic rather than integral.

And while the narrative relies heavily on dialogue to unfold the larger conspiracy, there are moments where it slips into a cinematic-documentary tone. A more organic integration within the screenplay—rather than spoken exposition—could’ve made these revelations even more powerful.

Dhar, The Dhurandhar

Aditya Dhar holds no punches and rips apart Congress laying bare its sins. If you’ve brushed up on UPA-era scandals or 26/11 intel lapses, every frame lands heavier.

The film reveals how the Congress-led UPA sourced Indian currency security material from the British firm De La Rue—the very same company supplying Pakistan—jeopardizing India’s national security, implicating a senior Congress leader and his son in the process.

There’s a scene involving Ajit Doval look-alike Madhavan briefing the Minister while the R&AW head who resembles AS Dulat, is seen going soft on Pakistan.

The film also discusses how counterfeit notes, terror funding make their way into India through illegal slaughter houses in Uttar Pradesh and the ‘secular’ politics that shield them. It feels like Dhar asking the viewers “Do you understand the reason behind demonetization now?” but without preaching or cinematic dialogues.

Perhaps the most devastating is Dhar’s portrayal of 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks and the events leading upto it.

In the second half comes the most haunting moment of the film. It’s not even a scene—just a blood-red screen, stark black text, and chilling voices echoing in the background. No characters, no action, nothing “cinematic” in the traditional sense. Yet Aditya Dhar folds a real-life incident into his fictional universe with such precision that the hall froze in pin-drop silence. The audience wasn’t watching a scene—they were experiencing a cold, uncomfortable truth.

He drives home the point that never ever should Congress come to power.

Aditya Dhar practically lined up Congress, Pakistanis and the ISI like guilty suspects, pulled out a lathi of cold facts, and landed blow after blow—right on their backs. The line “Ghayal hun isiliye Ghatak hun” (I am wounded, therefore I am lethal), delivered near the film’s climax, isn’t just a dialogue—it’s the declaration of Dhar and the New India itself.

Anupama Chopra has called the film laden with “shrill nationalism” and “inflammatory anti-Pakistan narrative”. Dhruv Rathee compared Dhar to ISIS because he cannot digest India finally portraying Pakistan exactly as it is — a terrorist manufacturing factory calling itself a country.

Their outrage proves Dhar’s accuracy. Period.

Dhurandhar isn’t cinema.
It’s a debriefing.
It’s a counter-attack.
It’s a cultural surgical strike.

And yes—Congress, Pakistan, and their loud online lackeys will cry. If Pakistan and its loyal Indian proxies are rattled, Operation Dhurandhar is already successful.

Waiting for more of their meltdown in March 2026.

S Kaushik is a political writer and a film buff.

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The post Dhurandhar Review: Aditya Dhar Rips Apart Congress, Pakistanis And ISI Dry, That’s Gonna Make Its Lackeys Cry appeared first on The Commune.

The results of the 2025 Bihar Assembly elections have once again exposed a fundamental truth about the Congress–RJD ecosystem: when they lose, they don’t introspect — they manufacture conspiracy theories. Their latest excuse is not just desperate, it is mathematically absurd. According to their melodramatic script, the Special Intensive Revision (SIR) exercise “deleted 65 lakh voters” — all, by some miracle, exclusively from their own support base.

This claim would have been laughable if it wasn’t being peddled so seriously.

The Numbers Completely Busts The 65-Lakh Deletion Myth

Let’s examine the official vote counts from 2020 and 2025 — numbers that don’t bend for convenient propaganda:

2025 Bihar Assembly Elections:

BJP: 10,081,143

JDU: 9,667,118

RJD: 11,546,055

INC: 4,374,579

2020 Bihar Assembly Elections:

BJP: 8,202,067

JDU: 6,485,179

RJD: 9,738,855

INC: 3,995,319

Now look at what actually happened:

BJP gained 18 lakh votes.

JDU gained 31 lakh votes.

RJD gained 18 lakh votes.

Congress gained nearly 4 lakh votes.

Yes — even the Congress party that is shouting the loudest about “deleted voters” saw its vote tally increase. Yes — even RJD, the supposed “victim,” saw its vote count swell by 18 lakh.

In fact in absolute terms, RJD has got more votes than BJP.

If 65 lakh opposition voters were genuinely deleted, how on earth are all major parties, including Congress and RJD, showing substantial gains?

The 65-Lakh Claim Is Nothing More Than A Excuse To Cover Incompetency

For weeks, the Congress–RJD camp has ranted about “6.5 million voters” being removed. But if such a massive and targeted deletion had really happened:

Opposition vote totals would have collapsed.

At the very least, they would have stagnated.

Instead, we see the opposite: Growth across all major parties — including those screaming conspiracy.

The 65-lakh bogeyman is nothing but a post-defeat pacifier for Rahul Gandhi who suffered a humiliating defeat on Children’s Day.

Higher Turnout, More Votes, Zero Suppression

The 2025 election saw a more engaged electorate. More people voted. More votes were cast for every major party. A state that supposedly lost 65 lakh voters somehow clocked higher participation — a statistical impossibility if the Congress–RJD story were even remotely true.

So Why Did Congress–RJD Lose? 

Their loss had nothing to do with voter rolls and everything to do with: uninspiring leadership, stale messaging, weak organisation, and the utter lack of a coherent vision for Bihar.

Blaming SIR is simply their way of dodging accountability — a refusal to confront the fact that Bihar rejected them on politics, performance, and credibility.

The 65-Lakh Myth Has No Legs

Data is a stubborn, unforgiving thing. And Bihar’s 2025 numbers make one fact crystal clear:

There was no mass disenfranchisement.
There was no 65-lakh deletion.
The 65-lakh excuse is only a facade to cover Rahul Gandhi’s miserable leadership.

The people of Bihar weren’t robbed of their votes.
They just showed two dynasts their aukaat.

S. Kaushik is a political writer.

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The post Busting The ’65-Lakh Voters Deleted’ Propaganda: Bihar’s Numbers Reveal Congress-RJD Did Not Lose Because OF SIR appeared first on The Commune.

In his pre-release interview with Sudhir Srinivasan, Mari Selvaraj spoke of offering the people of his region and community a bird’s-eye view — showing them how he sees them, from the perspective of an outsider who has journeyed far in his evolution as a filmmaker.

And that’s precisely what he does in Bison Kaalamaadan. He lays bare how impulsive rage has kept old flames smoldering, how small grievances are fanned into generations-long conflicts, and how this cycle shapes the lives of those trapped within it.

Mari Selvaraj’s Bison Kaalamaadan isn’t just a film — it’s an act of cinematic courage. Set against the volatile socio-political backdrop of southern Tamil Nadu during the Pasupathi Pandian–Venkatesh Pannaiyar era, Mari blends historical realism with haunting fiction. The result is a deeply rooted, emotionally stirring tale that looks caste, conflict, and identity straight in the eye — without flinching, without sermonizing.

Right from the opening frame, Mari signals that we are in for something audacious. The first shot — a breathtaking bottom-up view of the inside of a cylindrical high-rise, with identical floors circling upward — evokes the horns of a bison stacked behind one another. Something like this:

It’s both a literal and symbolic tunnel: the viewer being drawn into the world of the Bison, and a visual metaphor for the odds the protagonist must rise above. As a big fan of Mari’s visual grammar, I was hooked – this is the world of Bison, and we’re being pulled right into its spine.

At its heart, Bison Kaalamaadan tells the story of Kittan (Dhruv Vikram), a young man from a so-called “untouchable” community whose life revolves around kabaddi — a sport built on touch. Mari uses this irony brilliantly, turning the game into both metaphor and battleground. Kittan’s journey is one of discrimination, betrayal, and redemption — but not in the simplistic “oppressor versus oppressed” binary we’ve been fed by recent Dravidianist narratives.

Mari does something far more honest and courageous. He holds up a mirror to his own community, revealing the caste prejudices that thrive even among those who are generalized as “oppressed”. Kittan faces discrimination and violence both from members of his “rival” community but also from within — from an extended family member, a caste zealot who rallies behind the Dalit leader Pandiarajan. And Mari doesn’t resort to token symbolism or virtue signaling. He doesn’t show someone cutting a poonool to make a statement. Instead, he stages a far more powerful image — the PT teacher snipping away the caste-marker threads of red-green, green-blue, yellow-red. The message lands quietly yet firmly: on the kabaddi ground, caste doesn’t speak — talent does. It’s a moment of profound self-introspection and rare honesty, one that few filmmakers in Tamil cinema would dare to attempt.

And yet, it’s people from the so-called “rival” communities who lift him higher. The PT teacher (Madankumar Dakshinamoorthy) who first encourages him, Kandasamy (Lal) — a kabaddi coach from the “dominant” caste who spots his talent and breaks bread with him — and Kaandippan (Azhagam Perumal), whose home proudly displays a portrait of freedom fighter Arthanareesa Varma, all become agents of change in Kittan’s life for the better.

This is where Mari Selvaraj’s brilliance truly shines. He doesn’t villainize. He doesn’t glorify. He humanizes. Even when Kandasamy’s relationship with Kittan fractures under the weight of social violence, Mari refuses to demonize him. Instead, he lets pragmatism and pain coexist — Lal’s Kandasamy isn’t evil, just trapped in a brutal world order. And even in separation, he ensures Kittan’s growth by recommending him to another club. It’s rare empathy in today’s polarizing cinematic landscape.

Cinematically, Bison Kaalamaadan is a masterclass in pace and tension. Despite running close to three hours, the film never drags. The rapid-fire edits, the claustrophobic camera work, and Nivas Prasanna’s tense score create an atmosphere thick with urgency and danger. The qualifying match sequence, intercut with Kittan’s father dancing in a trance before their clan deity, stands as one of Mari’s most powerful visual montages — a scene where religion, sport, and emotion merge into something almost transcendental. The pounding Rajamelam that we heard in Karnan and Dhruv’s fierce energy make it pure goosebump cinema.

Like every Mari Selvaraj film, animals in Bison Kaalamaadan carry deep symbolic weight. From Karuppi the dog in Pariyerum Perumal to the tied donkey in Karnan, the pigs in Maamannan, and the cow that wanders into a banana plantation in Vaazhai, Mari has always used animals as living metaphors — pivots that elevate the story, heighten the tension, and mirror the human condition. In Bison, it is a goat that pisses inside a bus.

Dhruv Vikram delivers a deeply committed performance, his physical transformation as a kabaddi player evident in every move. But it’s Pasupathi who owns the film. It wouldn’t be unfair to say that he’s the real hero. His portrayal is extraordinary — every flicker of his eyes, every muscle under his cheek tells a story of trauma, endurance, and pride. His performance alone is reason enough to watch Bison Kaalamaadan.

Lal and Ameer have also done their job quite well giving a sense of what the rivalry between Pasupathi Pandian and Venkatesh Pannaiyar would’ve been like.

What’s perhaps most striking about Mari’s evolution is how he rejects the tired Dravidianist clichés that plague modern Tamil cinema. There’s no Brahmin-bashing. No north-versus-south sloganeering. No preachy political inserts. In fact, a Tamil man casually speaking Hindi becomes a quiet but powerful moment — a reminder that embracing another language isn’t betrayal, and that identity and inclusivity can coexist without bitterness.

And then comes the final image — the Indian tricolour flying high. It’s not jingoism, but a visual of triumph and unity. After all the blood, discrimination, and chaos, the flag becomes a symbol of transcendence — of belonging to something larger than caste, creed, or conflict. When was the last time you saw a Tamil film end with the Indian flag shown with such dignity, such purity?

And underpinning it all is Mari’s central message — that anger, when channelled right, can be transformative. For Kittan, anger births achievement; for Mari, it births art. The film stands as a testament to what righteous fury can create when guided by compassion and self-awareness.

“Everything that you speak out loud, let it be spoken from within the seeds”

Those were Mari’s opening words in the video of Naan Yaar song from Pariyerum Perumal — and with Bison Kaalamaadan, he has done exactly that. He has spoken from the roots, from the soil that shaped him.

As noted in my review of Vaazhai, Mari Selvaraj is a gifted filmmaker at the height of his cinematic mastery and storytelling craft — a storyteller who should continue to chronicle his life, his journey, and his community’s struggles through such deeply rooted, resonant tales.

Kaushik is a film buff and political writer. 

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The post Bison Review: Mari Selvaraj’s Most Mature, Honest, And Fearless ‘Raid’ Of Self-Introspection That Lands As A Masterstroke appeared first on The Commune.

The moment the first look dropped, you could smell what was coming — Coolie was bound to be another glossy, overhyped dud in Rajinikanth’s post-Kabali streak of mediocrity. Rajini fanboys went into a frenzy, flooding timelines with edits and posters, while on the other hand, Lokesh Kanagaraj’s name was tossed around like a magic seal of genius who is making a time travel film part of a meta pan-Indian cinematic universe and what not. But to be frank, Loki is no better than Atlee. Both of them have the skills to elevate a mass hero using their already existing star status.

In my view, Lokesh Kanagaraj has delivered only one truly terrific film — Maanagaram. And that too we’re beginning to wonder if it was really and solely his effort or was it someone else’s because he has not been able to recreate the same magic.

Cinephiles know that Kaithi is just a Tamil rehash of Assault on Precinct 13 that ended up as average at best. And everything that followed — Master, Vikram, Leo — were not just mediocre but simply bad films. Yes, you read that right. Master was nothing but a brainrot version of Kamal’s Nammavar. A History of Violence was butchered and messed up into Leo. Vikram is nothing more than a celluloid on cocaine rush. Once the frenzy wears off, you see it for what it is: just another overhyped star vehicle under Red Giant banner, one that conveniently chauffeured Kamal Haasan straight to the Rajya Sabha. If not for Anirudh’s adrenaline pumping music, all of them would’ve gone down the Cooum.

So, given the track-record of Rajini since 2016 and Loki’s underwhelming filmography, I had the least expectations from Coolie. Rajini is not the Rajini of his heydays. Lokesh is not the best director in K town. So, I wasn’t expecting a cinematic feast.

But is it too much to ask for these so-called best of the best to serve a simple Sambhar Saadham atleast?

As the saying goes, too many cooks spoil the broth. And that’s exactly what happened with Coolie. The promotions and hype packaged it as a grand pan-India spectacle bursting with big names — the cinematic equivalent of walking into a swanky, overhyped five-star restaurant, ordering their “signature spicy special” expecting an explosion of flavours… only to be served a cold, watery donkey’s diarrhea that the waiter — and Rajini fanatics — insist is gourmet.

Let’s call Coolie for what it really is – a hollow spectacle, shallow in substance, a mere façade of a film to launder the ill-gotten wealth of those in power.

But let’s not go there. Let’s stick to the film that has been presented to us. Even as a mass commercial entertainer, it raises more questions than it answers. This isn’t “mass” cinema. This is a shoddy, insincere, stitched-together patchwork of lazy writing, tied together by Rajini’s star persona which now feels more like a crutch than a strength.

Here’s what I want to ask the Rajini fans gushing about Coolie — acting like a Sun Pictures sleeper cell on a mission to brand it a “super duper hit”:

1. If for major part of the film, Rajini is someone who owns a mansion, he’s not a Coolie. He’s a mansion-owner, a businessman. Title e gaali!

2. Why hype up a luxury watch smuggling plot in the first place if you’re going to abandon it completely?

3. There’s another subplot of human organ trafficking and that’s also abandoned. Why even think of subplot when your main plot itself is dangling in the air?

4. How on earth does Sathyaraj jump from being a harbour coolie 30 years ago to suddenly becoming a ‘scientist-inventor’ who creates an electric chair for disposing bodies?

5. If Nagarjuna’s gang can kill people openly in front of thousands, why the hell do they need a secret cremation chair? Since, their business is in the port, wouldn’t the simpler thing to do have been to tie a rock to the body and drop it to the sea for fishes to eat?

6. Why on earth does Aamir Khan randomly start shooting people at the end? Wait, why does Aamir Khan even exist in this film?Matlab! Kuchi Bhi!

This is exactly why Aamir should actually read scripts before saying yes. Just because Rajini is in a film doesn’t mean that a serious filmmaker of his stature should stoop to committing to crap masquerading as cinema.

7. Sathyaraj gets killed by Soubin, who’s revealed as undercover police. Rajini, decides the logical thing to do is… continue burning bodies in chair with Shruti Haasan.

8. Rajini is brother-in-law of Satyaraj. Satyaraj disapproves of Rajni’s drinking habits. Rajini enforces a no-drinking rule in his mansion. Since Satyaraj is killed, Rajini takes this as a symbolic “permission” to drink Powerhouse again? Enna karumam da idhu!

9. Why is Rajini hiding coolies like Pokémon in a mansion?

10. How was Soubin caught by Nagarjuna as an undercover cop? How a Coolie like Rajini was so powerful? What’s the need to show Rajini cutting mutton in the beginning? How can a son of a smuggler and criminal become a customs official? Wouldn’t IRS not conduct a background check? We can keep going on and on but mudila!

Fine. You want to blow your money on a worthless script — your money, your choice, your stars. But why on earth drag a masterpiece like Breaking Bad into your trash fire? From ripping off the ‘I’m the Danger’ phrase, to shoving in the ‘Say My Name, You’re Goddamn Right’ line in Powerhouse song, to showing Mahesh Manjrekar like Hector Salamanca—except written by a Sun TV serial writer. This crime can never be forgiven. I think Vince Gilligan should sue everybody – Lokesh, Rajini, Sun Pictures for not just copyright infringement but for trampling his stellar work in the name of ‘inspiration’.

Now for the larger questions:

1. Considering you’ve locked Rajini into doing X number of films for you as part of a ‘deal’, and you claim you want to deliver Kollywood’s first ₹1000-crore blockbuster, who at Sun Pictures looked at this donkey’s diarrhea of a script and thought, ‘Yes, we hit the jackpot’.

2. In the pre-release interviews, Lokesh is described as a master story teller who is fabulous at narration. What did he narrate? How did he narrate? What story did he narrate?

3. For how long and how many more directors will keep milking Rajini’s stardom—rehashing stale nostalgia in songs and scenes, and dressing up a lazily written, poorly made fan-service vehicle as a ‘Superstar miracle’ for the blinded brigade to hail?

4. And how long will Rajini fans keep propping up every mediocre mess their demigod churns out—glorifying it as a ‘pure Rajini film’ or hailing it as some grand ‘Thalaivar Sambavam’?

And to the Rajini fans who’ll come charging at me for saying this—calm down. You can scream ‘Look at his style, bro! Look at his laugh, bro! Look at his mass, bro! The man is still mesmerizing at this age bro’ all you want, but don’t expect every average moviegoer to chant along when the film itself is trash. We’ll happily cheer all that if he at least stars in a halfway decent commercial entertainer. I’m not even asking your Thalaivar to give us another Baasha. Just give us something like Sivaji, Chandramukhi… hell, I’d even settle for a Lingaa.

Final Thoughts

Telugu cinema gave the world RRR, a global sensation. Pushpa and Baahubali organically became pan-India blockbusters. Kannada cinema stunned with KGF, Kantara, and now Hombale is creating a cinematic universe with Vishnu’s Dashavataram with the animated film Mahavataram Narasimha becoming a runaway hit and doing big business across India.

And what does Tamil cinema have to show? An endless parade of zombies screaming “Rajini, Rajini, Rajini” or “Vijay, Vijay, Vijay,”.

The harsh truth is this: Tamil cinema, once a trailblazer of pan-India hits, has not been able to produce even one oflate because its biggest stars and directors are trapped in the cycle of churning out mindless fan-service for Rajini, Kamal, Vijay, or Ajith, instead of daring to create stories with vision and universal appeal.

The industry keeps feeding this cult of stardom, and the zombies keep lapping up every bit of garbage as long as it has their idol’s sticker on it. The moment someone points out the rot, it’s instantly brushed off as ‘hate’ or rival fan noise. And so Tamil cinema stays stuck in this toxic loop—stars too scared to take risks, fans too blind to accept flaws—while other film industries march ahead with stories that are conquering the world.

Kaushik is a writer and filmbuff.

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The post 0% Rajini, 0% Loki, 100% Diarrhea: A Brutally Honest Review/Roast Of Coolie Scam That Will Make Rajini Or Loki Fans Angry appeared first on The Commune.

Paramasivan Fathima dares to tread where few in Tamil cinema have. In a cinematic landscape dominated by Dravidianist narratives that often seek to de-Hinduize Tamil identity, this film plants its feet firmly in the soil of Tamil spiritual tradition and boldly questions the unsettling realities of religious conversions sweeping through the hinterlands.

At its core, the film exposes how Christian missionary activity, often masked under the garb of charity and upliftment, can fracture not just families but entire villages. Be it chocolates handed to innocent children or job offers dangled before the desperate, the film doesn’t shy away from depicting how conversion through enticement erodes native culture and community bonds.

The most striking achievement of Paramasivan Fathima lies in its rejection of the myth that Tamil Nadu is solely “Periyar’s Land.” Instead, it reclaims the Tamil identity through the spiritual lens of Periyapuranam, honoring ancestral worship and asserting the omnipresence of Shiva as central to Tamil heritage. The film also doesn’t hold back when it comes to calling out religious fanatics who brand Hindus as Satan-worshippers.

The film highlights a critical issue: government-aided schools run by Christian institutions receive public funding for salaries and operational costs, yet they actively engage in religious indoctrination and are openly identified as Christian establishments. This contradiction was also emphasized by the director during the press meet. The filmmakers could’ve made this the core of the film just like how Director Mohan G effectively made the issue of ‘crypto-Christians’ the central core in Rudra Thandavam. Missionary forces misusing foreign funds and engaging in illicit activities gets only a passing mention with no depth.

The film also gives strong rebuttals to Dravidianist filmmakers. In one scene, the protagonist delivers a stinging rebuttal to a character (played by M.S. Bhaskar) who parrots the colonial cliché that we owe our education to the British. “They came here to beg,” he retorts. No Gnanavels were harmed in this scene.

In another scene, a character played by ‘Cool’ Suresh utters the line, “Once you make a woman fall in love with you, you should finish the ‘matter’ immediately.” The protagonist’s immediate slap felt like a tight slap given to a certain caste-obsessed filmmaker.

Yet, for all its boldness in content, Paramasivan Fathima falters in craft. The first half is sluggish, bogged down by clichéd tropes and clumsy writing.  The supernatural elements, which could’ve elevated the story into something mythic and memorable, suffer from a lack of narrative innovation. Dubbing mismatches in multiple scenes disrupt immersion, and while the film’s shoestring budget is understandable, it doesn’t excuse the uneven screenplay and underwhelming execution. The second half of Paramasivan Fathima is where the narrative gains momentum but by that time, you’ve already had enough.

The film also flirts with the supernatural, building toward a Kantara-esque climax with metaphysical realm rooted in Tamil Hindu belief systems. But it doesn’t have the magic that Kantara has.

In the hands of more seasoned storytellers, this could’ve been Tamil cinema’s Kantara—a spiritual, cultural, and cinematic experience rolled into one. But even with its flaws, Paramasivan Fathima stands out as a rare, gutsy voice in Tamil cinema—unafraid to ask uncomfortable questions, challenge dominant dogmas, and reclaim space for a more rooted, unapologetic Tamil Hindu identity.

Kaushik is a freelance writer.

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The post Paramasivan Fathima Review: A Bold Take On Religious Conversion That Could’ve Been Tamil Cinema’s Kantara With Better Storytelling appeared first on The Commune.

The Supreme Court of India, revered as the guardian of the Constitution, has increasingly morphed into an overreaching behemoth, trampling the delicate balance of powers that underpins our democracy. Its recent order to maintain the status quo on Waqf properties, as it hears challenges to the Waqf (Amendment) Act, 2025, is yet another brazen display of judicial hubris. This directive, issued on April 16, 2025, not only undermines the will of the people as expressed through Parliament but also exposes the judiciary’s growing penchant for encroaching on the domains of the legislature and executive. The Court’s sanctimonious posturing as the sole arbiter of justice is not just hypocritical—it’s a dangerous assault on the democratic edifice of this nation.

Let’s begin with the Waqf order itself. The Waqf (Amendment) Act, passed by the Lok Sabha with 288 votes in favor and 232 against, and by the Rajya Sabha with 128 for and 95 against, represents a hard-fought legislative effort to address longstanding issues in the management of Waqf properties. These properties, spanning millions of acres, have often been mired in disputes, with entire villages claimed as Waqf land, leaving countless citizens in legal limbo. The Act, backed by six BJP-ruled states and informed by 98.2 lakh memorandums and 38 parliamentary sittings, sought to bring transparency, curb arbitrary declarations, and ensure accountability. Yet, the Supreme Court, led by Chief Justice Sanjiv Khanna, has chosen to freeze its implementation, effectively stalling a law that reflects the democratic will. Why? Because the Court, in its infinite wisdom, believes it must “ensure the situation as it exists now is not disturbed.” This vague, paternalistic reasoning reeks of judicial overreach, as it substitutes the Court’s whims for the legislative process.

This is not an isolated incident but part of a disturbing pattern. The judiciary has repeatedly flexed its muscles to encroach on the powers of the other pillars of democracy. Take, for instance, its recent rulings on the role of Governors and the President’s assent to bills. The Court has waded into the executive’s domain, dictating timelines and procedures as if it were an administrative overseer. In doing so, it has conveniently ignored its own inefficiencies—millions of pending cases pile up in courts across the country, with litigants waiting decades for justice, while judges enjoy leisurely vacations. The Supreme Court’s summer breaks and festival holidays are sacrosanct, but it has no qualms lecturing the executive on adhering to strict timelines. This double standard is not just galling; it’s an insult to the millions who languish in the judicial quagmire.

Perhaps the most egregious example of judicial overreach is the Court’s 2015 decision to strike down the National Judicial Appointments Commission (NJAC). Passed with near-unanimous support in Parliament—367 MPs in the Lok Sabha and 179 in the Rajya Sabha voted in favor, with only one dissenting voice—the NJAC sought to make judicial appointments more transparent and inclusive by involving the executive and eminent citizens alongside judges. The amendment was ratified by 16 state legislatures, a testament to its democratic legitimacy. Yet, the Supreme Court, in a 4:1 ruling, declared it unconstitutional, arguing that it violated the “basic structure” of the Constitution by undermining judicial independence. The Court’s real fear? Losing its monopoly over appointments through the opaque collegium system, where judges appoint judges in a closed-door process that reeks of nepotism and insularity. By nullifying the NJAC, the Court not only spat in the face of Parliament’s near-unanimous mandate but also asserted itself as the ultimate arbiter of constitutional propriety, above the elected representatives of the people.

The Waqf order is cut from the same cloth. By halting the implementation of a law that seeks to reform a system plagued by misuse—where Section 40 of the Waqf Act allowed boards to declare any land as Waqf with near-unassailable authority—the Court is effectively preserving a status quo that benefits vested interests. Solicitor General Tushar Mehta rightly pointed out that “lakhs and lakhs of representations” highlighted how vast swathes of land, including entire villages, were being claimed as Waqf, creating chaos for ordinary citizens. The Act’s provisions, such as scrapping Section 40 and empowering collectors to verify claims, were designed to protect property rights and curb arbitrary conversions. Yet, the Court, swayed by petitioners like Asaduddin Owaisi and Mahua Moitra, has chosen to prioritize abstract notions of “Waqf by user” over the practical need for reform.

The irony is palpable. The same judiciary that lectures the executive on accountability operates with impunity, answerable to no one. Its orders, often laced with moral grandstanding, betray a disconnect from the realities faced by ordinary Indians. The Court’s concern about “grave ramifications” if Waqf properties are denotified rings hollow when it ignores the ramifications of its own inaction—decades-long delays in justice delivery, a collegium system that breeds cronyism, and a propensity to meddle in matters best left to elected representatives.

The Supreme Court’s defenders may argue that it is merely upholding the Constitution. But this is a convenient fiction. The Constitution envisages a balance of powers, not a judicial dictatorship. When the Court strikes down laws passed by Parliament, dictates executive procedures, or freezes reforms like the Waqf Act, it is not protecting democracy—it is subverting it. The judiciary’s role is to interpret the law, not to rewrite it or stall its implementation on a whim. By positioning itself as the ultimate authority, the Court mocks the very people it claims to serve.

It’s time to call out this judicial overreach for what it is: a power grab that threatens the foundations of our republic. The Supreme Court must be reminded that it is not above the Constitution or the will of the people. Parliament, as the voice of the electorate, and the executive, as its implementer, deserve respect, not judicial disdain. If the Court continues to act as an unelected super-legislature, it risks eroding the public’s faith in the very institution it claims to uphold. The Waqf status quo order is not just a misstep—it’s a symptom of a judiciary that has lost its way, drunk on its own power and oblivious to the democratic ideals it is duty-bound to protect.

Kaushik is a freelance writer.

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The post Milords, India Is a Democracy, Not a Judiciocracy: As Waqf Encroaches Lands, The Judiciary Encroaches Powers appeared first on The Commune.

After the closure of a copper smelting plant few years ago, the state of Tamil Nadu has now also halted plans for the establishment of a tungsten mining project in Madurai.

What could have been a big opportunity for industry-driven development in the long-neglected southern part of the state, which has been yearning for industrial growth, has once again been deprived of development.

Unbecoming Of A Development-Oriented Party

The romanticization of agriculture through pop culture, along with vested interests using farmers as props for protests, has led to a distorted narrative that overlooks the real challenges faced by the farming community and hinders meaningful policy-driven solutions.

In the past, any attempts to shut down the extraction of crucial minerals or metals would have faced strong opposition from communist groups in the states, often citing environmental degradation and stirring public emotions by warning of polluted river waters and other negative consequences. It is understandable if the DMK and Dravidianist parties oppose a development project for their politics. Afterall, their post-2014 anti-development politics doesn’t arise from genuine concern for the people or environment but is driven purely by an obsessive hatred for one man – Modi.

But it is a tragedy that the Central Government was compelled to cancel the Tungsten Mining project in the wake of protests and political grandstanding.

What is even more tragic and shameful is the Tamil Nadu BJP’s enthusiastic chest-thumping, eagerly taking credit for the closure. It is unbecoming of a nationalistic, development-oriented party like the BJP to take pride in playing a role in preventing an industry from being established.

Mineral exploration and extraction are vital economic drivers for any country. Take the Gulf nations, for example—despite experts predicting that their crude oil reserves will last for another century, they continue to extract and capitalize on it, using the revenue to support various aspects of their economies. In contrast, here, we are witnessing a missed opportunity to harness our natural resources for national benefit. China is already heavily investing in sourcing rare-earth minerals required for the semiconductor and electric vehicle industry and India is already way behind thanks to our democracy.

Yes, there could be a valid grouse amongst the people of the Arittapatti and Nayakkarpatti villages. Yes, there are heritage sites in the surrounding region which must be protected. Yes, there could be concerns about the ecological impact. But development and economic progress comes at a small cost of the environment. The investing company should be made responsible for CSR activities to protect the environment and heritage of the sites. No company is insane to demolish an ancient protected heritage site to put its factory.

Annamalai himself had spoken about the importance of the tungsten mining project. What changed later? We don’t know.

டங்ஸ்டன் சுரங்கத்தை அனுமதிக்கக் வேண்டும் என ஆதரித்து பேசிய அண்ணாமலை @annamalai_k #TungstenProtest #Tungsten #Madurai #Arittapatti pic.twitter.com/bPMEmjYqI0

— JANU (@ShekarJanani) January 23, 2025

Probably, the intelligence agencies sensed another Sterlite protest type situation. That raises several important questions: Have no lessons been learned from that episode? What prevents the Centre from conducting thorough due diligence? Why aren’t intelligence agencies monitoring potential troublemakers? And what stops the BJP state unit from engaging with the public, educating them, and garnering their support? What stops them from working on a consensus among political parties to put national interest over political interest?

Why Tungsten Matters?

Tungsten, also known as ‘wolfram,’ is a dense, lustrous, grayish-white metal with a high melting point of 3,422°C, the highest of all metals. Its brittleness makes it challenging to work with, but its strategic importance cannot be overstated. Tungsten is essential for various industrial applications and is crucial for the economic development of any country. It does not occur naturally in its pure form but is found in minerals like scheelite (calcium tungstate, CaWO4) and wolframite, which are primarily hydrothermal in origin.

Tungsten is highly valued for its unique properties, including resistance to corrosion, good thermal and electrical conductivity, and a low coefficient of expansion. It is elastic, ductile, and boasts high tensile strength, making it ideal for applications such as light bulb filaments, vacuum tubes, and electrical furnace heating elements. Its high electron emissivity, thermal stability, and chemical resistance make it critical for thermo-emission applications.

In steel production, small amounts of tungsten are added to enhance hardness, and it is widely used in military applications, such as making armor-piercing ammunition. Tungsten carbide, one of the hardest synthetic materials, is used in industries like mining, construction, metalworking, and oil drilling. Other applications include use in dyes, pigments, ceramics, and as a substitute for lead in bullets and shot.

This valuable metal is also used in strategic industries like aerospace, defense, semiconductors. Tungsten is used in projectiles, armor-piercing shells, missiles, and aircraft components due to its high density and heat resistance. Tungsten alloys are used in nuclear reactors, power plants, and renewable energy technologies like wind turbines.

Many countries stockpile tungsten to ensure a steady supply, given its limited global production and the geopolitical risks associated with its mining and trade. With advancements in space exploration, electronics, nuclear, robotics, and medical technology, tungsten’s importance is only expected to grow, further cementing its status as a strategic resource.

The Domestic Supply Of Tungsten

India currently meets its domestic tungsten requirements mainly through imports, as there is no significant local production. A significant portion of tungsten is recovered through recycling, especially from alloys and waste. The Ministry of Mines highlights that tungsten’s primary uses include ferro-tungsten production for special and alloy steels, as well as military applications. Ferrotungsten contains between 25% and 75% tungsten, and tungsten carbide is crucial in manufacturing cutting tools and wear-resistant materials.

Tungsten’s importance extends to its role in high-temperature applications, such as heating elements, and its ability to act as a radiation shield, in ornaments, superalloys, and in the chemical and electronics industries. Its alloyed forms are used in numerous sectors, including electronics, aerospace, and defense.

China Sits On A Pile While India Imports

China holds a dominant position in the global tungsten market, producing over 80% of the world’s tungsten. The country’s reserves account for more than half of the global total. In 2019, world tungsten production increased by 12%, with China leading the charge, followed by other countries like Vietnam, Russia, and several European nations.

The global tungsten market is growing due to its applications across multiple sectors such as automotive, industrial engineering, energy, and aviation. Tungsten carbide remains the largest application segment, primarily used in cutting, drilling, and boring tools. The mill products segment, including tungsten electrodes, filaments, and wires, is also significant, driven by demand from the electronics industry.

In India, the full demand for tungsten is met by imports and recycling, and there is potential to tap into local resources. For example, the tailing dumps in Kolar, which contain high amounts of tungsten, could be a priority for extraction to meet domestic needs.

While China continues to dominate the tungsten market, it has also imposed regulations, including export quotas and restrictions on mining, which impacts global availability. Recycling remains a vital source of tungsten, as the material is highly valuable and can be reused in various industries. In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, global tungsten consumption saw a decline, especially in automotive and aerospace sectors, which are major consumers of the metal.

Looking ahead, the tungsten market is expected to face challenges, particularly from the ongoing US-China trade tensions, which could affect production and distribution. However, opportunities remain in industries such as semiconductors, consumer electronics, and superalloys. As new mines in China and Russia approach their end of life, new projects are needed to ensure adequate supply in the future.

How The Madurai Tungsten Issue Unfolded 

The Geological Survey of India (GSI) handed over the Geological Memorandum (GM) for tungsten deposits in Madurai to the Tamil Nadu government on September 14, 2021, granting them authority to auction minerals. However, the 2023 amendment to the Mines and Minerals Act shifted auction rights for critical minerals like tungsten to the Central Government.

After the amendment, the Ministry of Mines informed Tamil Nadu on September 15, 2023, about the upcoming auction of critical mineral blocks, including the Nayakkarpatti Tungsten Block. In response, the Tamil Nadu Water Resources Minister sent a letter on October 3, 2023, opposing the amendment and requesting that states retain auction rights for critical minerals. However, Tamil Nadu had not conducted any mineral auctions during the period from 2021 to 2023, when it had the authority, nor in the previous nine years under the auction framework.

On December 6, 2023, the Ministry of Mines requested details about three critical mineral blocks, including Nayakkarpatti, for auction. Tamil Nadu’s Commissioner of Geology and Mining provided the required information on February 8, 2024, acknowledging the presence of a biodiversity heritage site covering around 10% of the Nayakkarpatti block but did not oppose the auction.

The Nayakkarpatti Tungsten Block, spanning 20.16 sq. km, was offered for auction as a Composite License (CL) in February 2024. After an unsuccessful first attempt, the block was re-notified in June 2024. Hindustan Zinc Ltd. was declared the preferred bidder in November 2024. Despite biodiversity concerns, Tamil Nadu did not raise formal objections during multiple auction-related discussions between February and November 2024.

In November 2024, the Union Ministry of Mines granted mining rights to Hindustan Zinc Limited, a subsidiary of Vedanta Limited, for the Nayakkarpatti block in Melur taluk, Madurai district. This decision was met with substantial opposition from local communities, environmental activists, and the Tamil Nadu state government.

A Composite License involves a two-stage process: initial exploration and delineation of mineral zones, followed by obtaining environmental and government clearances to transition into mining. Sensitive areas, such as biodiversity heritage sites, are generally excluded during this clearance phase—a process overseen by the state government.

The Ministry of Mines’ role is limited to auctioning critical minerals to drive economic growth. Subsequent responsibilities, such as issuing Letters of Intent (LOI) and granting mining leases, remain with the state government. Revenue from mineral production directly benefits the state.

On January 7, 2025, thousands of villagers and farmers from approximately 40 villages, including Melur, organized a large-scale protest.

In response to the public outcry, Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M.K. Stalin urged the Union government to cancel the mining rights, emphasizing the need to protect the area’s ecological and cultural heritage.

Subsequently, the Union Ministry of Mines announced the cancellation of the tungsten mining license in Madurai, acknowledging the widespread protests and concerns raised by various stakeholders.

Yet Another Ploy Against Vedanta By Vested Interests?

Until 2018, India was a net exporter of copper, with refined copper exports reaching 378,555 tonnes in 2017-18. However, this dropped sharply to just 47,917 tonnes in 2018-19. In response to a question from Majeed Memon of the NCP, Commerce and Industry Minister Piyush Goyal explained in the Rajya Sabha that the closure of the Sterlite Copper Smelter plant in May 2018 led to a decline in both domestic production and exports. Sterlite, with a capacity of 400,000 tonnes per year, accounted for 40% of India’s total copper production.

In contrast, Pakistan’s copper exports to China surged significantly, from USD 35 million in 2017 to USD 308.17 million in 2019, according to the United Nations COMTRADE database. Some reports even cited a 400% increase, estimating exports at USD 550 million in 2019. While the figures vary, the overall trend indicates a remarkable rise in copper exports from Pakistan to China.

This comparison isn’t intended to suggest that China or Pakistan caused the closure of Sterlite, but it highlights how a social unrest against Vedanta’s Sterlite was leveraged by these two countries to boost their own copper exports.

In the case of tungsten, Hindustan Zinc, a subsidiary of Vedanta Limited, having emerged as the preferred bidder once again faces setback in establishing in unlocking the potential of India’s tungsten resources. The project’s future remains uncertain due to political opposition and environmental concerns, which have led to delays and calls for further review. Could this again be a doing of the DMK and vested interests? We don’t know.

The Least TN BJP Can Do – Not Ape The Dravidian Parties

Tungsten is a critical resource with numerous industrial applications, and its strategic importance will continue to grow as demand for advanced materials increases. With global supply largely dependent on China, countries like India must explore domestic mining and recycling initiatives to reduce dependence on imports. Sustainable use of tungsten and investment in new mining projects will be crucial for meeting future demand and securing this vital metal for technological and economic advancement.

Unlike regional parties like the DMK and communists, who often rely on short-term electoral gains, national parties should focus on instilling hope and highlighting the long-term benefits of crucial projects for the nation’s growth.

The current opposition to tungsten in Madurai is nothing when compared to what the Gujarat Government faced for the Sardar Sarovar Dam Project when Narendra Modi was Chief Minister. The BJP government there did not succumb to the pressure tactics of the vested interests. Today, the people living in the arid parts of Gujarat enjoy the benefits of the project and the likes of Medha Patkar have been made to suck their thumbs.

India is not an authoritarian country like China, where decisions are made top-down; where, the land belongs to the states and can be used as they see fit. However, the right approach would be to take precautionary measures, do a sensitization campaign, ensure proper rehabilitation, assurance of jobs to the displaced locals. Having failed to take confidence-building measures in favour of the project, the least that the Tamil Nadu BJP can do is not go around taking credit for shutting the doors of development to the parched people of south Tamil Nadu.

Kaushik is a political writer.

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The post It’s Tragic That Centre Has Cancelled Tungsten Mining In Madurai, It’s Even More Tragic That TN BJP Is Taking Credit For It appeared first on The Commune.

Actor Vijay’s Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam (TVK) held its first-ever state level conference on 27 October 2024 at V. Salai near Vikravandi in Vizhuppuram district where the actor-turned-politician expanded on his party’s ideologies and fixed his political opponents.

The crowd was far larger than anticipated, and Vijay’s speech surpassed expectations. For many hearing Vijay’s political voice for the first time, it was striking. Although it did feel a little amateurish, with many taking jibes at his speech as ‘deleted scenes from Sarkar’, he did press the right buttons with his extempore delivery.

Vijay’s stance seems directed at both the BJP-led central government and the DMK-led Tamil Nadu government. However, his primary political adversary appears to be the DMK, as he positions himself as a key player rooted in and representing Tamil Nadu.

But we must remember that part-time politician and former Bigg Boss host Kamal Haasan also started on a similar footing like Vijay, with dialogues aimed at the DMK and torches thrown at them. And we know how that ended. Only time will tell if Vijay will end up like Kamal. For now, we should appreciate the fact that he didn’t back off like Rajini.

The Vijayakanth Model

Vijay made his debut in cinema as a child actor in the film ‘Vettri’ directed by his father which had Vijayakanth play the lead role. Now, years later, it’s both nostalgic and symbolic that Vijay has made his political debut under the banner of Tamizhaga Vettri Kazhagam.

Actor Vijayakanth entered the film industry in the early 1980s and, over time, organized fan clubs across Tamil Nadu. Members of these clubs participated in the 2001 local body elections, gaining valuable experience in election management and grassroots networking. This foundation proved beneficial when Vijayakanth’s party, DMDK, contested the 2006 Assembly elections.

Vijay has adopted a similar strategy by transforming his fan clubs into the foundational framework of his political party. He silently tested waters in the 2021 rural local body elections, where his fan club members succeeded in securing 115 out of the 169 seats they contested by just flashing Vijay’s face and name.

If Vijayakanth’s DMDK had the word (Desiya) “nationalistic” in his party name, Vijay has added the nationalistic flavour by upholding Karmaveerar Kamaraj and making him as one of the guiding forces of the party.

Vijayakanth had a strong connect with the rural masses and Vijay too has a strong presence thanks to his filmdom and the reach of his fan clubs. Go to a random village or town in Tamil Nadu and you’ll see a flex of Vijay Rasigar Mandram with mugshots of young chaps of that locality. Till date, members of the fan clubs and their family might have voted for a DMK, ADMK, PMK or VCK. But today, they’ve their own party to canvass for and vote. Only a superficial political commentator will take these fan clubs lightly.

Vijay is just going by the playbook of Vijayakanth. As of today, he has the potential to emerge as another Vijayakanth. But Vijayakanth was of a different mettle. He was a tough political player who kept even Jayalalithaa on her toes and never yielded to enticements and pressures from the DMK despite the latter razing down his marriage hall, something that was close to his heart. Will Vijay be able to handle the pressure from DMK? We’ve to wait and watch.

Ideology And Policies: Stale And Unoriginal

‘Secular Social Justice Ideologies’ – that’s the position of Actor Vijay’s Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam, which makes it another Dravidian party in the Tamil Nadu political landscape. And it is very much similar to what the DMDK had professed. DMDK too embraced Dravidianism, secularism, social justice, and populism. By taking such a position Vijay will be fighting for the same votebank as of other Dravidian parties.

Atleast Vijayakanth had the guts and the gumption to have this as his party principle – “Save Mother Tamil and Learn All Languages”. It is disappointing to see Vijay aping the DMK, ADMK, MDMK and other Dravidianist parties on the issue of language. However, Vijay has been smart enough to accept that ideologies and policies are subject to change in accordance with time and circumstances.

From abolishing the Governor’s post to opposing NEET, resisting Hindi, and advocating for a two-language policy—it’s the same old stuck Dravidian tape recorder playing on repeat.

This makes Vijay look like an unintelligent Dravidian Stock because if he holds Dr. Ambedkar as the guiding light of his party then it is meaningless and quite oxymoronic to call for abolishing Governor post and taking anti-Hindi position because they are very much against the Constitution.

One good thing that Vijay has been pragmatic about is cancelling EVR’s anti-Hindu ideology. For the kind attention of Sanghis, even BJP Tamil Nadu leader K. Annamalai had taken the same stance of Vijay with respect to EVR saying that the BJP opposes only EVR’s anti-Hindu views while recognizing him as a reformer relevant to his time, who fought against discrimination and for women’s rights.

On closer look, TVK resembles the early AIADMK in spirit—a genuinely “secular” Dravidian party that avoids antagonizing any religion or community, unlike the DMK which espouses a virulent anti-Hindu ideology.

Vijay, while formulating his political ideology must’ve thought of it to be like a ‘Jigarthanda’ which would entice people across the spectrum. Like how Badam Pisin is the the main and a crucial ingredient in Jigarthanda, Dravidam is the crucial base for TVK. On top of that you add the Nannari syrup of nationalism, condensed cold milk of casteism, a dash of Dalitism, topped with Tamil Nationalism ice cream and garnished with fruity feminism. Voila! Vijay’s Jigarthanda is ready to be served. But the fancy for Jigarthanda doesn’t last long.

The disadvantage for Vijay is that like NTK, the TVK is also an individual-based and individual-centric party. The vote that that TVK party gets is not for its ideology but for Brand Vijay. Once the central figure of the party is gone, its potency will wane. How Vijay’s TVK will manage to keep his party intact for years to come after 2026 will remain to be seen.

Vijay’s TVK Will Cause Max Damage To Whom?

Since Vijay has sounded his political ‘bigil‘ fixing DMK as his primary political opponent, it can be said that he’s aiming to sway the voters of ADMK to his side. But will it be the most affected party? Not actually.

The most affected party would be Seeman’s Naam Tamilar Katchi. It is not without any reason that Seeman quickly called Vijay’s ideology as the polar opposite of NTK. While NTK opposes Dravidianism, Vijay equates Dravidianism and Tamil Nationalism as his two eyes. NTK is an ideologically stronger option for those wanting a non-Dravidian alternative and has a proven electoral track record. But Vijay’s charisma overshadows Seeman. Voters of NTK are mostly floating voters who are disillusioned with the major players. For them, a Vijay’s TVK is as good as Seeman’s NTK. Seeman seems to have sensed that his potential voters could now end up in Vijay’s pocket. Also, the reach of Vijay among first-time voters, especially in rural Tamil Nadu, particularly women, has the potential to spoil NTK’s rise. So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise if Seeman doubles down his attack on Vijay.

The next affected party would be Thol. Thirumavalavan’s VCK. Vijay has a considerable following among Dalit youth. One can see Vijay fan clubs in many of the Dalit localities and given his Christian faith, minorities will now see TVK as an option.

The ADMK, though has a experienced player who has risen from the grassroots at the helm, he lacks the glamour and charisma that Vijay has. With Vijay positioning himself as an anti-DMK force and if he goes hammer and tongs against the DMK in the coming days, he’ll sway voters who would’ve otherwise voted for ADMK. If he pulls anti-DMK votes, it might fracture the DMK bloc and weaken the ADMK’s position in elections against the DMK.

Vijay’s messaging around social justice, anti-corruption, and welfare may resonate with voters who embrace the Dravidian ideology. Many young voters in urban and semi-urban areas who have been loyal to the DMK might find a new option in TVK, particularly if they see Vijay as a refreshing alternative to Udhayanidhi’s DMK.  With anti-incumbency already setting in due to misgovernance, unmet promises, and local issues, disillusioned supporters might look for alternatives. Vijay, perceived as an outsider with a clean reputation, could attract these voters.

The BJP in Tamil Nadu is likely to feel the least effect from Vijay’s political entry as there is no overlap of ideology or possible voters. So, the BJP should see an ally in Vijay and not an enemy for now. Going by the tone and tenor Vijay’s speech, he has not made BJP a political taboo and has the doors open for a potential alliance. Unless Vijay attacks the BJP heavily targeting Prime Minister Narendra Modi, the BJP should not expend its energy on attacking TVK. To put it in the words of Vijay – Decent Appoach, Decent Attack – should also be the BJP’s strategy towards TVK.

Historically, DMK and AIADMK alliances have secured over 80% of Tamil Nadu’s votes, pushing third-party options to the margins. However, in the 2024 elections, their combined share fell below 70%, even dipping under 50% without alliances. This drop is what inspired BJP to carve its own path in the state under Annamalai’s leadership.

The DMK’s influence in Tamil Nadu remains robust, with the party leading a strong alliance that has seen repeated victories. Currently, opposition forces — including AIADMK, BJP (NDA), Naam Tamilar, and now Vijay — are fragmented in their approach against the DMK coalition. This landscape suggests a potential five-way contest for the 2026 elections: DMK alliance, AIADMK, BJP (NDA), Naam Tamilar, and Vijay’s TVK.  So unless the DMK alliance splits, Vijay’s entry will only make it easier for DMK to win.

Vijay who is electorally yet to prove himself wants others to rally behind him in case of an alliance. He should understand that realpolitik doesn’t work that way. If DMK is to be defeated, a strong alliance is required. As of today, Vijay has the option of allying with only AIADMK and Puthiya Tamilagam (which is in ADMK alliance). If VCK decides to ditch DMK and join with AIADMK+, then Vijay can play second fiddle to Edappadi Palaniswami, taking cue from Andhra politics. It took Pawan Kalyan a decade of political work to be where he is today. Vijay can’t expect to become a Pawan Kalyan in just over an year.

For 2026, a 4-way (if ADMK aligns with TVK) or 5-way contest could significantly benefit non-DMK+ contenders, provided TVK dent the DMK+ vote bank. A 3-way race, however, would likely pave the way for another DMK victory.

Kaushik is a political writer. 

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The post Honest Review of Vijay’s TVK: A Glossier ADMK With DMK Roots – Which Party Should Worry More? appeared first on The Commune.

For I am the one who gave you life,
and the demon who took it away.
O sweet child who fled in fear,
please come back!
Please come back, my treasure!
I shall tear open my withered breast and give it for you!
As blood, as a kiss, come back to me whole.
Come back, resounding loudly.

As the end credits roll to this heart-wrenching song, “Padhavathi,” masterfully composed by Santhosh Narayanan, the camera lingers on the protagonist’s mother. In that moment, you can’t help but think about the emotional turmoil Mari Selvaraj’s own mother must have endured in real life.

“No mother should ever face such a tragedy.“, I thought to myself.

Vaazhai is based on a true story and a slice of Mari Selvaraj’s early childhood. Through the eyes of a young boy named Sivanaindhan (a brilliant Ponvel who deserves a national award), Selvaraj takes us on a deeply personal journey, sharing his early experiences and giving us a window into his thoughts and memories. He spends his days engaging in typical childhood play with his best friend Sekar, bickering over Kamal and Rajini.

On weekends, however, his life shifts to the livelihood his entire village is dependent on: lugging bananas from the fields and loading them on to trucks bound for the market. The burden of carrying heavy loads on his head proves to be physically demanding and is superbly portrayed through the song “Oru Oorula Raja”.

While kids usually of his age long for weekends and long holidays after an exam, Sivanaindhan dreads them. His only solace in life is Poonkodi, the social science teacher at his school for whom he develops a liking. These portions come across as harmless and light-hearted. The complex platonic relationship is handled with dignity without making it sexual. Mari lays bare the hardships faced by students from disadvantaged communities with nuance, never forcing it on the audience. You don’t have a villainy teacher from a dominant caste who despises the very presence of kids like Sivanaindhan and Sekar. Had it been a Pa. Ranjith or TJ Gnanavel film, they would’ve forcefully inserted an exaggerated scene with a dominant caste teacher peeling the skin of Sivanaindhan to trigger audience reaction. But Mari is different. There are no deliberate caste-markings shown to identify a particular caste. The caste-based discrimination that happens are shown more realistically and without evoking feelings of hatred among viewers.

Despite demonstrating academic potential, Sivanaidhan struggles to avoid his work obligations, as his strict mother insists he assists in the fields. That’s because following the tragic loss of his father, a dedicated communist, years ago, Sivanaidhan’s mother must manage the household and care for him and his elder sister, Vembu. Mari beautifully puts the viewer in a moral conflict – should we take the side of Sivanaindhan who wants to relieve himself from the lugging burden or his mother who wants to do away with the debt burden that will keep her family in perennial poverty?

Mari is known for making nondescript animals an important character in his films which pivots the storyline. It was Karuppi the dog in Pariyerum Perumal, the donkey in Karnan and a cow in Vaazhai. A critical moment occurs when Sivanaindhan carelessly allows his cow to stray onto a private banana plantation of the middleman who confronts Sivanaidhan’s mother, demanding reparations. In a moment of humiliation before the villagers, she takes off her only pair of earrings and gives them to him.

The guilt of disappointing his mother weighs heavily on Sivanaidhan. Consumed by emotion, he promises to not skip lugging the plantains. After the intermission, he resolves to continue enduring his challenging existence. Nevertheless, an invitation to his school’s annual function, which entails weekend practices, tempts him to revert to his mischievous ways. Aware that his mother will not tolerate any disobedience, he confides in his sister and a local activist named Kani. He sneaks off to school, relishing a joyful dance rehearsal before returning to the fields to join the other workers. The dance rehearsal in empty stomach makes him tired.

Desperate and hungry, he plucks a banana from a plantain plantation of a dominant caste member who reprimands him. Frightened, he races home, only to be met with his mother’s anger, who hurls a bucket at him. He escapes to the river, where he collapses from sheer exhaustion. When he awakens, he is shocked to find the entire village gathered outside, surrounded by police officers and medical staff.

What he sees is utterly devastating. The bodies of his friend Sekar, the rebel Kani, and his sister are displayed for the community, alongside others who tragically lost their lives when an overloaded truck tipped over on the way back from work. A clap of thunder signals a flashback in black and white, revealing the unscrupulous trader instructing the labourers to board the doomed truck, fully aware of its dangerous capacity.

As Sivanaidhan wanders through the village, he silently takes in the sight of the displayed bodies, while villagers express their grief, wailing and beating their chests in mourning.

There is a scene where a famished Sivanaindhan puts his hand into the aluminium pot, takes out the Pazhaya Soru (fermented rice), and eats it as he weeps amidst the gloom that has struck his village and his near and dear ones. The staging of the scene and his mother’s emotional outburst after she sees her son running without even satiating his hungry stomach just puts a lump in your throat.

The film beautifully portrays the life of the Devendra Kula Vellalar community, showcasing their everyday struggles and the strength they find in each other. Mari transports you to his world. You can feel the swampy fields, the centipede running over your face, the smell of Marudhaani (henna) and the taste of the Pazhaya Soru. When Sivanaindhan lugs the plantain load on his head across the fields, it actually weighs on you heavy. When his mother is ill and is unable to go for lugging plantains, you immediately feel the burden.

Mari Selvaraj brings out his best when he remains rooted to the story and the underlying issue. Barring Maamannan and Karnan, he doesn’t resort to unnecessary virtue-signaling and forced messaging through imagery or dialogues. He doesn’t violently impose his ideology by provoking the audience. He remains committed to exposing the black spots in the society by showing things as they are. Yes, he comes from an ideological/political standpoint but one has to empathize and understand where he is coming from. When you are made to do the back and neck breaking work of lugging banana bunches through swampy slippery rice fields for a paltry ₹1 per bunch and you’ve to protest to raise it to ₹2 per bunch, it is but natural for you to speak communism to protest against the exploitation.

There are times when a movie shakes your soul and hits you hard where its hangover lingers on for a few days. Mari did it twice for me with his Pariyerum Perumal and now Vaazhai. Mari Selvaraj’s social and emotional burden weighs heavy on you after watching Vaazhai.

Mari Selvaraj is a gifted filmmaker and he should continue to make films like Vaazhai that will bring out the struggles of his community.

Kaushik is a political writer. 

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The post Vaazhai: Mari Selvaraj’s Tearful Ode To His Mother, Sister And To Those Who Are Deprived The Fruits Of Their Labour appeared first on The Commune.

1. What is the purpose of CAA 2019?

This Act is meant to primarily heal the wounds of partition and the resulting religious persecution the six communities mentioned in the act had to go through post 1947 in their native countries that was carved out of India. India cannot be a mute spectator to the atrocities committed on the religious minorities in these countries. India, being the natural home to these communities, is morally responsible to welcome them and take roots in our country. Hence, India is bound to confer citizenship to those who trace their origin to India belonging to these communities.

2. Why is the Act drafted along religious line?

Had partition of India had been averted on religious lines, there wouldn’t be a necessity for this bill. The nature of state in Afghanistan, Bangladesh and Pakistan is Islamic where the communities mentioned in the bill are persecuted for their religious identity. Hence, the bill is drafted on religious line.

3. Why does the Act not include Muslims?

The three neighbours mentioned in the bill are countries where Islam is the official religion. Afghanistan and Pakistan are Islamic republics where the laws are based on Sharia. Sharia is the law for Muslims. In the land of Muslims, there is no place for kafirs i.e., the non-believers of Islam. The 16% Hindus who were present in Pakistan at the time of the partition either escaped to India or tragically succumbed to the genocide that accompanied partition. Those who could not make it to safety or decided to stay in Pakistan were converted to Islam, killed, or driven away. Although Bangladesh was founded as a secular nation, it is a Muslim majority nation and Article 2A of Bangladesh’s Constitution declares that the state religion of the Republic is Islam. Its lip service to secularism is evident from the decline of Hindu population from 22% in 1951 to 9.5% in 2011.

Nehru and Liaquat signed a pact in 1950 saying that both India and Pakistan would respect and provide equal opportunities to the minorities living in their respective countries. While India has abided by the pact through its secular nature of the Constitution by providing rights
and opportunities to religious minorities and enabling them to lead a meaningful life in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh (East Pakistan in 1950) have blatantly gone against the pact. The fact that the non-believers of Islam in these countries have no basic human rights and are coerced, converted, tortured, killed or driven away is undisputable.

Since the non-believers of Islam in these three Islamic countries have been religiously persecuted, inclusion of Muslim would not only defeat the purpose of the bill but also the existence of Afghanistan, Bangladesh and Pakistan as nations as it would challenge the very basis on which these nations were created.

4. Why are Ahmadiyas, Shias, Balochis and Rohingyas not covered under the Act?

This bill which provides for relaxation of provisions for obtaining Indian citizenship through naturalization for the enlisted six communities who face religious persecution in the three Islamic countries should not be mixed with India’s policy towards asylum seekers. India’s refugee policy has always been very clear – to grant asylum to those fleeing persecution until the situation in their native country normalizes. Since the conditions are never likely to be conducive for the six enlisted communities to coexist with the Muslim population in these three countries going by past experiences as well as considering the Islamic character of the state, the Citizenship Act is being amended to expedite the process of obtaining citizenship through naturalization for the non-Muslim population who have entered India till December 31, 2014 from these countries.

Ahmadiyas, Shias, Rohingyas, Tibetans, etc facing persecution in their country are still allowed to enter India and are given asylum. There are many Ahmadiyas, Shias and Rohingyas staying in refugee camps across India. Ahmadiyas and Shias consider themselves to be Muslims and it is the responsibility of these Islamic nations to treat them as equals in their nation. Inclusion of Ahmadiyas, Shias and Balochis would be seen as India’s interference in Pakistan’s domestic affairs. One may ask – won’t India’s decision to provide citizenship to non-Muslim communities from these countries be seen as meddling in their internal affairs? The answer is simple. These countries don’t want kafirs in their land, so they would be rejoicing on India’s decision to grant them citizenship.

With respect to Rohingyas, India’s stance has been clear. They will be granted asylum on humanitarian grounds even though India is not a signatory to the 1951 Refugee Convention, but all measures will be taken to deport them back to where they belong. Rohingyas hail from the Rakhine state in Myanmar. They are seen as Bangladeshi Muslims by Myanmar. It is the responsibility of Myanmar and Bangladesh to provide a durable solution to end their statelessness. Considering there are extremist groups amongst the Rohingyas who resort to violence, India cannot and is not obliged to provide citizenship to the Rohingyas. The CAA 2019 seeks to ease the procedure for obtaining citizenship to religious minorities belonging only to Pakistan, Bangladesh and Afghanistan which were separated from India in 1947 and not Myanmar which was separated from British India through the Government of Burma Act 1935.

Those condemning CAA for not providing avenues for citizenship to these communities are either not ready to come to terms with this reality or choose to turn a blind eye to these facts or are simply trying to mislead the public by peddling a hate narrative to further their agenda.

5. So, will an Ahmadiya, Shia, Rohingya, Ismaili, Hazara or any other Muslim be turned away if they seek asylum in India?

According to a Standard Operating Procedure dated 29.12.2011 circulated by the Government of India to all State Governments/ Union Territories any foreign national who claims to be refugee can stay in India on Long Term Visa if it is proved that he/she has been a victim of oppression in his/her native country on account of his/her caste, religion, nationality, ethnic identity, membership of a particular social group or political opinion. Theycan be recommended by the State Government/Union Territory Administration to the Ministry of Home Affairs for grant of Long Term Visa (LTV) after due security verification. A foreigner to whom LTV is permitted by the Ministry of Home Affairs will be allowed to take up any employment in the private sector or to undertake studies in any academic institution. To answer the question – No, they will not be sent back.

6. Is the CAA 2019 against Indian Muslims?

No. The CAB 2019 does not seek to revoke citizenship of Indian Muslims. It does not discriminate against Indian Muslims in any way like it is portrayed to be. Indian Muslims who are citizens of India will not be sent out of India after the CAB is passed. Period.

Manmohan Singh in 2003, in the Rajya Sabha, had asked for a more liberal approach in granting citizenship to minorities who are facing persecution in our Islamic neighbourhood countries. The then Home Minister Shri Lal Krishna Advani fully endorsed Manmohan Singh’s views.

It is a shame on educated people to fall for such half-truths being peddled by the likes of Dravidian dimwits including actor Vijay.

Babasaheb Ambedkar wanted us to “Educate, Agitate and Organize”. All we have today is young minds agitating without getting educated.

Kaushik is a political writer.

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The post FAQs On Citizenship Amendment Act: A Ready Reckoner To Counter Propaganda Of Leftists, Dravidianists And Their Ilk appeared first on The Commune.