Tamil Nadu Diary: Shooting star or here to stay?

It made for an arresting image: Vijay, flanked by two hulking bodyguards, making his triumphant way to the stage to launch his new party with a rousing speech that met with the full-throated approval of thousands of his fans and admirers.

A new champion entered the Tamil political arena: Kollywood star Vijay, a.k.a. Thalapathi (commander), with his Tamizhaga Vetri Kazhagam (TVK, Tamil Victory Party), in the small town of Vikravandi in Villupuram district.

It was an unseasonably warm Sunday evening (27 October), but the milling crowd, an estimated 5–7 lakh strong, had been gathering all afternoon at the venue, which had an entrance modelled on Fort St. George, the seat of government in Chennai. All roads seemed to be leading to Vikravandi as thousands of cars, vans, buses and other vehicles made a beeline for the maanadu or mega meet.

Huge cutouts of Babasaheb Ambedkar, E.V.R. Periyar, K. Kamaraj, Rani Velu Nachiyar (TN’s own ‘Jhansi ki Rani’) and freedom fighter Anjalai Ammal towered over the proceedings, carefully chosen to convey the ideological underpinnings of the party.

Joseph Vijay Chandrasekhar, a.k.a. Vijay, was making his political debut, following a long list of illustrious predecessors: the legendary MGR, the imperious J. Jayalalithaa (both former chief ministers) as well as the likes of superstar Rajnikanth, ‘Captain’ Vijayakanth, Kamal Haasan and Sarath Kumar.

Indeed, TN has always had porous borders between the world of politics and film, a trait that sets it apart from its southern neighbours. The Telugu-speaking states are somewhat of an exception, producing one chief minister, the charismatic N.T. Rama Rao, who rode to power on the issue of Telugu pride, with Chiranjeevi and Pawan Kalyan being two other notables.

Vijay’s plunge into politics made quite a splash, not only for the organisational effort that went into drumming up such a large crowd, but also for the things that he said and didn’t say—and the sheer optics of his 46-minute speech. Unlike the usual rhetorical flourishes and high-flown Tamil oratory so beloved of the state’s politicians, Vijay spoke in a more colloquial Tamil, peppered with English words.

But for all that, it was an impassioned speech, with all the right references and embellishments. The film star, without naming anyone, attacked both the BJP (the ideological enemy) and the state’s ruling DMK, whom he called “divisive and corrupt”.

He was giving up a lucrative career in films, he said, because “I, your Vijay, want to serve you.” Tamil nationalism and Dravida ideology were like two eyes, he declared, while clearly distancing himself from Periyar’s legacy by declaring he was not atheistic. Vijay went on to bat for secularism, socialism, progressivism, gender and caste equality, without offering any specifics.

He said he was confident that the party could come to power on its own in the assembly elections of 2026, but dangled the carrot of power-sharing to parties that were willing to ally with him. This is a first: coalition rule is foreign to Tamil Nadu. The AIADMK and Congress were guarded, but not hostile, in their response.

Political observers, while quick to offer a cynical take on the TVK’s chances, agreed that Vijay had gotten off to an impressive start. Ever since the Congress lost power in 1967, the people of Tamil Nadu have alternated between the DMK and AIADMK.

There is now a discernible sense of public fatigue with both these options, and a radical alternative may well appeal to the aspirational youth, in particular. For all its efforts, the BJP is still seen as a north Indian, Hindi–Hindu party at odds with the politics and culture of the state.

As the Hindu’s chief political correspondent T. Ramakrishnan rather succinctly wrote: ‘No one is ignoring Mr. Vijay.’   

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T.M. Krishna faces the music

Thodur Madabusi Krishna is an artist who wears many hats—singer, author, activist. One thing cuts across: wherever he goes, controversy follows. He has managed to antagonise the Carnatic music orthodoxy with his many actions and statements.

He has championed the cause of the downtrodden, the subaltern and the Dalits, weighed in on Brahmin domination of the arts and interpreted legends such as M.S. Subbulakshmi in his own inimitable style, suggesting that she distanced herself from her Devadasi origins in order to gain wider acceptance.

He has talked about including Christian and Islamic songs in his Carnatic repertoire and introduced farout innovations in the way concerts are performed. He is a fierce opponent of Modi and the BJP and has taken radical positions on most political issues.

Thus, it came as no surprise that the Carnatic world was outraged when that bastion of orthodoxy, the hallowed Madras Music Academy, announced Krishna as the Sangita Kalanidhi awardee 2024, a signal honour.

Prominent artistes such as the sister act of Ranjani and Gayatri, Dushyanth Sridhar and Chitravina Ravikiran threatened to boycott the Academy. Their reasoning: T.M. Krishna has glorified E.V.R. Periyar, who demeaned the Brahmin community in his vitriolic speeches. It is well-known that Krishna himself has made disparaging comments about the influence of the Academy.

Now, however, he is happy to accept the award, leading to accusations of double standards, which Krishna has denied. In October, a grandson of M.S. Subbulakshmi filed a petition in Madras High Court, challenging the award given in her name.

Krishna filed a counter affidavit, denying the charges of having belittled MS; as has the Music Academy. The award ceremony is scheduled for December during Chennai’s famed music season. Till then, the matter rests in court.

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The dangerous business of making firecrackers

Sivakasi shines with Rs 6,000 crore sales this Deepavali season,’ said the headline in a Chennai edition of a national newspaper. That was good news for the firecracker industry but not for its workers. Hidden away in plain sight, amid a welter of news on all manner of things under the sun, lies a story of neglect, exploitation and inhuman conditions.

India’s firecracker industry is the second largest in the world after China. It is dominated by one town, Sivakasi, in Tamil Nadu’s Virudhunagar. This is where 90 per cent of the country’s fireworks are made, with about 10 lakh workers employed in over a thousand units.

The underpaid workers are mainly women and Dalit. They work in the most unsafe conditions and often end up paying with their lives as safety regulations are flouted by the owners who are just looking to cash in on festive seasons.

Official inspections and safety audits are rarely done—unsurprising given the handful of inspectors available—and the result is deadly. Yet the explosions and deaths don’t seem to be ‘big enough’ to make the headlines, much like the ‘death by asphyxiation’ stories that occasionally remind mainstream readers of the dire plight of India’s manual scavengers.

In 2024, there were 17 accidents and 50-plus deaths, according to the Hindu. Reasons cited were the excessive use of inflammable chemicals and overcrowding in factories. Sadly, the situation in other parts of India where fireworks are manufactured is no different.

As one correspondent put it, if any other industry had reported similar fatalities, there would be public outrage. But given the poverty of the workers and their Dalit origins, there has been little pressure on the government to crack down.