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15Apr

The day I helped change India

I had heard a lot about the notoriety of polling booths. The long queues, the scorching heat, the general disorganisation, the grumpiness of voters made to feel poll officials were doing them a favour by allowing them to vote. So I went prepared. I had with me a giant water bottle, my hat, and The Theory of Everything.

The day was important to me. This was my first vote.

Youth power in 2014 ElectionsWhen I walked towards my polling booth in Sector 11 in Chandigarh on April 10, I knew I lived in a time history books and period films of the future would try to depict. I lived in the midst of a revolution, at a time when the youth the world over are rising up, overthrowing governments, making history.

I am that youth, part of that revolution.

When people speak about elections, they speak about youth disengagement. Disillusionment. Perhaps they haven’t met the new youth of India.

Look at the incredibly talented All India Bakchod mocking the Congress and the BJP on YouTube. Look at the Aam Aadmi Party memes. Look at the thousands, the tens of thousands, who consume, spread those messages.

We are the new youth. We are engaged. And today I would seal my engagement by casting my first vote, ever. It was my duty. My chance to change my nation.

My city of Chandigarh is an interesting place. A Union territory serving as capitals to two states, Punjab and Haryana, it is not your average Indian city.

It has the highest human development and gender development indexes in the country. The third highest per capita income. Ninety-seven per cent of its population is urban, and the literacy rate is high, 86.43 per cent, compared to the national average of 74.04. Two Bollywood actors and an ex-federal minister are contesting the elections, and who comes to power will be a reflection on the sentiments of the educated, urban, high-income segment of the Indian population.

The 800,000 people of Chandigarh are spread across 63 sectors. Each sector is allotted a voting station, with one or more polling booths, depending on the population density.

My own booth was at the Government High School in Sector 11. Before I started out at 11am, my mother had checked on the web site of the Chief Electoral Officer, Chandigarh to see if there was a long queue. There wasn’t.

I entered the school through a small side gate, along with three others voters – an elderly couple and a middle-aged man with a Blackberry glued to his ear. A policeman was at the entrance. Spotting the couple tempting gravity with every step, he signalled to someone inside. A man rushed out with two wheelchairs. I was surprised. I had certainly not expected it to be organised to this level.

I queued up with some 10 people. Sector 11 had been divided into two, with a polling booth for each division. I could see senior citizens given priority and taken up to the head of the line. Within 10 minutes, barely one page into my book, it was my turn. 

My identity was verified by four government officials, who matched my face to the photo on my voter’s card. Before I entered the booth, a fifth rechecked my identity and marked my index finger with a semi-permanent black dye. I had waited for that mark for long.

I pulled a grey curtain shut behind me and stared at the machine in front. I had always imagined the voting machine to be like an ATM. It was, only smaller.

There were about 10 names on the machine. To my dismay, they were all in Hindi. While the symbols were in most cases sufficient to let the voter know which button to press, it would have been good to have the name of the party in English as well. My grandfather, for instance, could not read Hindi. He would have been confused.

I pressed the button I wanted to. I heard a ping, the kind you hear when you summon assistance at hotel receptions.

It was done.

When I walked out into the hot sun, I was a democratically engaged Indian. By pressing a small button, I helped determine the course of India, and, to some extent, that of  the world. I helped determine whether India will be a Communist nation, or whether it will follow a capitalistic model fuelled by trade and industrialisation. I determined whether equal rights will be granted to the LGBTQ community, whether sectarian policies will rage.

I took a stand on issues that matter to me — to us — today. I exercised my right to take that stand, and I am proud of it.

That is why I want to hold on to that black stain on my finger for as long as I can.

Image: Nabarun

This story was also published on Rediff.com, our media partner.

15Apr

Women are the almost forgotten sex in Haryana

A woman in a Haryana village. Photo: Vikas Lather

“Politicians only address men. We, the women of this village, are mostly told by our husbands which symbol to vote for. We don’t think, we just go and vote.”
Nirmala Devi (not in the photograph above), in Sarhera village, Haryana

In 1996, the late Congress politician Bansi Lal won the state assembly election and became chief minister with a single-point agenda — prohibition. It was the first and only time women voters took central position in India’s ‘khapland’, the councils that decide on pretty much all aspects of the community, including the personal lives of its members. The idea of a ban on alcohol sale and consumption captured their imagination. (In 1998, however, the government had to lift the ban because of the political and economic fallout.)

The Aam Aadmi Party, the new party of anti-corruption crusader Arvind Kejriwal,  is promising similar reforms in the general election currently underway to woo women whose first wish is that their husbands and sons should not become drunkards. Other parties in the region have not shown much energy to push for women rights.

Women in Haryana have been so marginalised and discriminated against that most remain economically weak, educationally backward, socially depressed and politically disabled. Many are slave to poverty, unemployment and financial crisis.

According to data compiled by the Census of India in 2011, Haryana has the lowest sex ratio among all states of the Indian Union, with a shocking rural female literacy rate of just 60.02 per cent. The National Crime Records Bureau says that in 2011 Haryana had a conviction rate of only 23.4 per cent in rape cases; molestation, domestic violence, and other woman-related crimes increased.

So how deep-rooted is the apathy towards women’s issues in Haryana? Surjeet Singh, a former principal of the government school for girls at village Bobua says, “In Haryana, statistics related to honour killing do not come up; there is no way you can measure [this crime] as most incidents are not reported owing to social pressure. Marriage or love affairs outside one’s caste are, in some cases, punished with death.”

Singh recalls reading a newspaper report by well-known British journalist Robert Fisk on an acid attack, a product of the victim’s decision to marry outside her caste. “It said the acid fused her lips, burned her hair, melted her breasts and an ear, and turned her face into a look of ‘molten rubber’. This is humiliating. It makes us a prisoner of the shame, and responsible for it as it is happening in modern India,” he said.

The future of women in rural areas depends on how well they understand the need to vote for the right candidate. Nirmala Devi, who is quoted at the beginning of this report, remembers how her vote helped bring about the change she desperately wanted. This time she has made up her mind whom to vote for without consulting her husband. Sadly she remains a tiny minority.

Main image: A woman in a Haryana village. Photo: Vikas Lather 

11Apr

2% illiterates, 2% Phds… 6 interesting facts about tomorrow’s candidates

10Apr

Modi on your mug, Kejriwal on your cap. Prices range from Rs 2 to Rs 349

AAP supporters wearing the party cap and holding up brooms, their election symbol. Photo: Yotsana Tripathi

A Modi coffee mug costs Rs 225 (roughly £2). A Modi t-shirt Rs 100 (£1).

Or you could go for a Modi key chain or a Modi laptop skin, for anything from Rs 229 to Rs 349.

As India begins to vote, the Bharatiya Janata Party’s Narenda Modi is not alone in his strategy to reach the Indian voters through political merchandise. Arvind Kejriwal of the Aam Aadmi Party has done a commendable job too.

Even as Delhi voted today, the capital city continued to see a scattering of political products in its markets and streets, in violation of the Election Commission of India code of conduct. As per EC regulations, publicity and campaigning should have ended on April 8.

The trend picked up from mid-March in Delhi and several parts of India, with the arrival of Holi, the Indian Festival of Colours. The market was then flooded with Modi water squirters, which carried the BJP candidate’s mugshots, along with his party symbol, the lotus.

The other popular BJP goodie on sale was the Modi coffee mug, which ranged from Rs 225 to Rs 349, depending on the quality you went for. On offer were also Modi shirts, video games, and clocks, mostly supplied by the online store, NaMo.

And the caps. Don’t forget the caps, which were reportedly visible among BJP supporters in more than one place in Delhi even on the polling day today. In the run-up to the election, caps of both the BJP and AAP were available. Mohammed Chaman of Sadar Bazar, who printed the caps, shed some light on the trend in an interview early this week.

“We sell around 2,000 to 5,000 AAP caps as compared to 700 to 1,000 Modi caps,” he said. Chaman said he also supplied Modi bags for Rs 15 and Modi badges for Rs 2.

The AAP caps ranged from Rs 2 to Rs 25. Flags with the broom symbol of the AAP were also available, costing Rs 10 to Rs 50. The AAP badges, priced at Rs 3, sold well, said Rajinder, a vendor in Sadar Bazar, who also revealed that he earned “12-15% profit” on each cap and flag he sold.

A look at the merchandise available online shows the costlier items are the Modi kurtas, silver coins, phone and tablet covers, mouse pads… wait, is that a Modi pepper spray? And surely, priced at Rs 24, that is not a Modi balm? Headache, anyone?  

There is business and there’s promotion. The AAP volunteers began the trend, happily giving away caps. Not to be left behind, the BJP followed suit, distributing Modi T-shirts for free.

“Twice I called the supplier to place an order for a Modi t-shirt and both the times it was out of stock,” Singh, an ardent BJP supporter from Govind Puri, said. “Modi sells more because people feel that if Modi becomes the PM, India will be a bigger Gujarat model in terms of growth and development.”

In all this, the ruling Congress party seems to be lagging. Media reports say the Congress products with pictures of vice-president and possible PM candidate Rahul Gandhi are not hot items. Now that can’t be an omen, right? 

Photo: Yotsana Tripathi

10Apr

‘Strings’ of vote: artisans in a New Delhi colony feel like puppets

The artisans of a New Delhi colony feels like puppets on strings. Will their vote make a difference? Photo: Nithil Dennis

“Politicians promise much before an election. After they win, we are forgotten,” remarks Rohit Bhat, a young puppeteer and dhol (drum) player from Delhi’s Kathputli Colony. Bhat is upset that residents of the five-decade-old colony near Shadipur metro station are being shifted to a ‘transit’ camp.

The shifting is a consequence of the ‘modernisation’ of the capital. The plan was put into action in 2007 when the Delhi Development Authority (DDA) planned the city’s first on-site slum rehabilitation project and chose Kathputli Colony in West Delhi owing to its proximity to the city’s heart, Connaught Place, which is just a ten-minute drive away.

The slum has 685 recognised jhuggi jhopris (slum tenements). The settlement’s ‘real estate’, which is under the DDA’s ambit, was sold to Raheja Developers for Rs 61.1 million (approximately £607,535). The residents had to be moved to another camp so that construction could begin. The rehabilitation process was divided into three stages: first, residents who qualified for rehabilitation would move to a transit camp; second, the developer would raze the cluster and start building high-rise apartments; third, after three to five years, the residents would move back to their new homes next to Delhi’s ‘first true’ skyscraper — Raheja Phoenix (a 190 metre-tall, 54 storey tower housing luxury flats and equipped with a ‘skysclub’ and helipad).

“We believe them [politicians] each time, but who knows what they will do?” continues Bhat. “Unse hume koi umeed nahi hai [we have no hopes of them].”

Kathputli Colony traces its roots back to the early 1970s when puppeteers and musicians from Rajasthan settled in the Shadipur area of the national capital. With time, artisans, magicians and musicians from states like Andhra Pradesh and Maharashtra joined in, collectively forming a settlement of artistes. The colony got its name from string puppet theatre (kathputli in Hindi), a folk art form practised by a number of its residents.

The performers have found mention in Time magazine (2008) which wrote that ‘you can find magic in the Kathputli slum, if you know where to look’. A few of the residents have also been felicitated by government heads.

Well-wishers have set up a Facebook page titled ‘Friends of Kathputli Colony Delhi‘ to marshal support for the residents. “The problem is that privatisation, in the name of modernisation, is invading everything,” says one comment from an unnamed person on this page. “These artists are the ambassadors of India. They propagate a magical image of the country all over the world with their art. They should not be removed.”

Another person wrote, “I SUPPORT KATHPUTLICOLONY. I learn puppet with master Puran Bhat and I know so much Kathputli colony, it is like my second house. I am so indignant. Destroy the Kathputli colony without consulting the first people concerned: the residents. It is not respectful of us and their identity. They represent Indian culture all over the world. India will be proud of them. They are the heritage of the Indian culture. All these artists and this place must be protect. Kathputli Colony should be inscribe in UNESCO organisation as international cultural heritage. Martine in Paris.”

Messages such as these indicate that the place is more than just a colony; culture and emotions are deeply involved here.

Nithil Dennis, a photographer who covered the protest,  says, “The simple lot do not talk much about politics, they just want a place to perform, food to eat and a place to peacefully sleep. They are protesting because they are sceptical whether these simple wants will be satisfied at the transit camp.”

Dennis says the residents are mostly being supported in their cause by NGOs (Non-Governmental Organisations); politicians are still not a large part of the struggle. “Till now they have not been benefited in a major way by anyone from the political class,” says Dennis. “Maybe their vote might help make a difference, I do not know. But the question here is not about vote, it is about who can do something for them. Anyone who does that will earn their loyalty.”

The main candidates in fray in the West Delhi parliamentary constituency, of which Shadipur is a part, are Meenakshi Lekhi (Bharatiya Janata Party), Ajay Maken (Indian National Congress) and Ashish Khetan (Aam Aadmi Party). They have all promised to attend to the issue in the best way possible, but a distinct leaning  towards the AAP candidate can be seen on the part of many residents.

Meanwhile, the ‘kalakars’ (performers) are in a limbo. They are torn between walking into ‘good’ transit homes and staying put in their hovels. Some express their disbelief by asking loudly, “Kya hume sacchi jaana hai?  (Should we really move out?).” Some others are moving out, leaving behind more than just a house, hoping they can return in a few years.

The remaining residents recently staged a peaceful, intelligent protest in the colony against their ‘rehabilitation’. The performers first mesmerised spectators with their art, then slowly brought them to the heart of the problem using skits. The dwellers then read out a list of their ‘legitimate wants’ at the transit camp, including pucca houses with waterproof roofs and adequate space to practise their art forms and earn their living.

To be fair, the developer has promised to deliver ‘a good and safe camp’ for the residents with all basic facilities. The DDA has promised not to evacuate the residents by force, leaving the choice of registering for transit accommodation to them.

But the question remains: will their vote make a difference? The answer hangs by a string, just like a kathputli. As Rohit Bhat says on second thought, “They [the politicians] may yet do something for us. Who knows?”

Photo: Nithil Dennis

This story was also published on WoNoBo.com, our media partner.

9Apr

Delhi’s Tibetans find their political voice after 50 years

A Tibetan monk in New Delhi's Majnu Ka Tila colony. For the first time since they arrived in India more than five decades ago, Tibetan immigrants living here will vote in India's parliamentary election this month.  Photo: Rishabh Gupta

For the first time since they arrived in India more than five decades ago, Tibetan immigrants living in a Delhi settlement will vote in India’s parliamentary election this month.

Thousands of Tibetans fled across the Sino-Indian border in the late 1950s when Mao Zedong’s forces seized their homeland. Some took refuge in the North Delhi colony called Majnu Ka Tila where they were provided makeshift shelters.

Over the years these makeshift shelters have morphed into permanent homes. The first and second generations spent their lives coping with the basic issues of bread and shelter. The third generation has now gained the right to vote. Though according to Indian law, a person born on or after July 1, 1987, is a citizen of India if either parent is Indian, Tibetan settlers in some parts of India were not seen as full citizens till a Karnataka High Court ruling in August 2013.

Katen Tsering, head of the Residents Welfare Association at the Tibetan colony, said, “Only a few people have enrolled for voter cards because of the shortage of time and lack of necessary residence proof.” Out of 350 families at Majnu Ka Tila, only about a dozen have registered. Others tried to register but were late. As a result, most politicians are not paying much attention to the colony.

Asked which party they would favour, Katen said, “We are not favouring any party but we will push for our rights from whichever party comes to power.”

But the first-time Tibetan voters are clear what they want. It’s not very different from what the average voter in Delhi wants. As one shopkeeper said, “We want better schools, hospitals and roads.”

The residents of Majnu Ka Tila are mainly traders, tour registrars and guides. Many also sell Tibetan products in the narrow lanes of the colony. Most of them are happy with what the government has provided till now. Tenzin Wangchuk, 27, a member of the Tibetan National Congress, said, “We are happy that the Indian government has given us many amenities. Most importantly, they have provided us exclusive schools where our community’s children can study.”

However, many parents in the settlement want better schools. Suman, who operates a food business and has a child, said, “I will vote for that party which can promise me that my child will be better educated and can live a respectable life.”

The younger generation, which has been educated in Indian universities, can now get jobs, thanks to citizenship. Norbu, a 22-year-old graduate from Delhi University, said, “I would like to give my vote to the Congress because they have promised better jobs for youth.”

A mother of two, shopping for groceries, said, “I am waiting for my voter card. I will vote for the Aam Aadmi Party because they will bring down inflation by reducing corruption”. The woman was unwilling, however, to give her name.

What also needs addressing, say residents, is the discrimination that the Tibetans sometimes face in the public sphere. Chime, a young woman who has also applied for her card, said, “Now that we have a voter card, perhaps the discrimination we sometimes face will end and we can get good jobs.”

The Tibetans are slowly finding their political voice in their adopted homeland. Irrespective of whom they vote for, this election will be a landmark for these one-time refugees as they become part of the Indian mainstream.

Photo: Rishabh Gupta

8Apr

The extraordinary man who set up India’s extraordinary electoral system

Sukumar_SenIndia is merely a geographical expression… To leave India to the rule of the Brahmins would be an act of cruel and wicked negligence… the judicial, medical, railway and public works departments would perish and India will fall back quite rapidly through the centuries into barbarism
–Winston Churchill, later Britain’s prime minister, at the Royal Albert Hall, December 1930

India is a land beyond explanations, an extraordinary country — one of the world’s fastest growing major economies, home to the world’s most watched cinema, and the second most populous country with over 1.2 billion residents. India is the largest English-speaking nation and its cricket team is currently world champion. And, despite its enormous social and political diversity, it shows remarkable tolerance in situations of classical conflict.

It is, however, not the present but the past that makes India so remarkable. India undertook one of the most astonishing journeys for freedom. And its future depends on how well the nation understands its past crises and how the fathers of modern India worked to win freedom with compassion and creative thinking.

One giant of modern India, a person of critical importance in his time but largely forgotten today, was Sukumar Sen, mathematician, civil servant and, most importantly, the man who set up our extraordinary electoral system.

Sukumar Sen was born during the famine of 1899 in a Bengali Vaidya-Brahmin family. He studied in Calcutta’s Presidency College and graduated from the University of London with a gold medal in mathematics. His contribution to India began in 1921 when he joined the prestigious Indian Civil Services. He also served as a judge before becoming chief secretary (the highest position an ICS officer could aspire to under the Raj) of West Bengal, holding the office from 1947 till 1950. In March 1950, a year after the Election Commission of India was established, Sen became India’s first chief election commissioner, in which role he supervised the general elections of 1952 and 1957.

Sen took great care while designing the electoral system; he knew democracy meant an opportunity for everyone to participate in decision-making. He was confronted with 176 million Indians aged 21 or above, of whom more than 85 per cent lacked even elementary education. The Election Commission had to identify and register each adult inhabitant. After all voters were registered, a coordinated series of activities had to be undertaken to design party symbols.

The first general elections saw candidates being chosen for 4,500 seats for the Lok Sabha as well as the state assemblies; 380,000 reams of paper were consumed to print ballot papers, 389,816 phials of ink were used to mark voters, 2 million ballot boxes were made out of 8,200 tonnes of steel. Sites were chosen to set up 224,000 polling booths, 16,500 clerks were recruited on six-month contract to design the electoral process, 56,000 officers were selected for supervision, 280,000 volunteers and 224,000 policemen were deployed for honest administration of the polls and to protect voters against aggression and misconduct. All India Radio and films were used to educate the public about the elections — 3000 films were shown around India. In mountainous areas bridges were specially built; for small islands boats were used to ensure people’s participation.

One of the greatest challenges Sen faced, however, was social. For instance, women in Northern India were reluctant to give their names to the officials preparing the electoral rolls as they were habituated to being known by association with one or the other family member, such as Ramu’s mother or Shyamu’s wife; so they had registered in that fashion. Sen was outraged when he saw this and directed his officials to rectify the records. As a result, some 2.8 million women struck their names off the list. But historians now believe it was a good move to force them to register with their own identity and helped to establish women’s equality with men; most women who dropped out in the first election added their names in subsequent elections. This was the first time in history when every adult, regardless of race, sex and social stature, was granted the right to vote at the same time in true universal adult franchise.

The first general election saw India successfully enter the new age of direct democracy. ‘The second election in 1957’, an India Today report reveals, ‘cost India Rs. 45 million less because the prudent Sen had safely stored the 3.5 million ballot boxes used the first time round.’

With the democratic tradition taking root in the national psyche, electoral contests are now being articulated with a unique vocabulary: colourful, vibrant and seeking total participation. A fair, stable and robust election system has been one of the most striking features of Indian democracy, but this would have not been possible without the remarkable vision and dedication of its architect.

Sukumar Sen was later invited by Sudan to oversee its first general election. The media there announced him as a man of extraordinary skills for his ability to organise elections in daunting circumstances.

Sen was also a thinker; he raised serious doubts about Western claims over the idea of democracy, arguing that, in fact, ‘republican forms of government existed in many parts of ancient India’.

Historian Ramachandra Guha calls Sen ‘the man who had to make the election possible, a man who is an unsung hero of Indian democracy. It is a pity we know so little about Sukumar Sen. He left no memoirs and, it appears, no papers either’. It is sad that a man of such distinct intelligence and integrity has slipped from public memory and been reduced to a mere geographical expression (G T Road in Burdwan was renamed Sukumar Sen Road).

Sukumar Sen still awaits his biographer. His contribution deserves to be recognised with the Bharat Ratna, and Indians owe him a debt of gratitude.

Photo: Election Commission of India

4Apr

Sharp rise in unrecognised parties, independent candidates

The 2014 Parliamentary elections will see the highest number of unrecognised parties in the fray in India’s electoral history.

The number of unrecognised parties has shown a five-fold increase from the 2009 figure, reaching  a total of 1,593, according to data from the Election Commission of India.

Unrecognised parties, as the label indicates, are the ones that are registered but not recognised by the EC. To be recognised, a party needs to complete five years of registration. Alternately, it needs to win 4% of votes polled in a state or Parliamentary elections, whereupon it would be recognised as a state party.

The rise from 322 in 2009 to 1,593 is the largest growth spurt seen in registered parties since 1951.

In 1984, the number of unrecognised parties was just nine.

Data from the EC also shows a steady rise in independent candidates from the 1998 figures. In 1998, 1,915 independents had contested the elections. The number had risen to 3,831 by 2009, and this year, it is expected to be higher.

The number of independent candidates was at its highest in the 1996 elections — a whopping 10,636.

By means of comparison, the number of independent candidates during the 2010 General Election in the UK totalled 308, which equates to just 8% of the number of independents contesting the 2009 Parliamentary elections in India.

In contrast, the number of national parties in India has barely fluctuated, remaining just under double digits, whilst the number of state parties has been slowly rising. An increase of 20 this year brings the total number of state parties to 54.

25Mar

Why Tamils like their politicians to be movie stars


Why Tamil like their politicians to be movie stars

My heart is touched when the world wakes up at the sight of the rising sun
and I get reminded of the days when King Chera’s flag flew high on the Himalayan peaks
– Lyrics from Anbe Vaa  (1966)

I wasn’t around in 1966, but  as a child growing up in the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu, I have watched Anbe Vaa (Come Darling) many, many times. And like thousands of my generation, and the generation before, I enjoyed it immensely.

I just could not figure out though why the hero, the unparalleled M Gopalan Ramachandran, was singing such a song in a romantic comedy. True the film was set in Simla, so there was cause to look to the Himalayas. But why was he interested so much in the rising sun? And why on earth was he wearing that red-and-black striped jacket all the time?

It was much later that I came to understand that MGR was the face of Tamil Nadu’s major political party, the Dravida Munettra Kazhagam. The rising sun was its party symbol, and its flag had red-and-black stripes. And MGR made sure all his  films carried signs of his political stance. He propagated the philosophy of C N Annadurai, the founder of DMK, through his films. MGR was the DMK’s face till  he left the party to start the Anna Dravida Munettra Kazhagam in the 1970s.

Coming from a family of ardent MGR fans, I grew up watching pretty much all MGR movies. More to the point, I got to witness the kind of sway he held over his followers. My grandfather, who became spellbound when MGR appeared on the silver screen, was one among the millions of die-hard MGR followers, and he remained a loyal ADMK man to his death.

Such was the charisma of MGR. He used his immense popularity as a movie star to ascend the political ladder and become chief minister of the movie-crazy Tamil Nadu. That action was not without consequence. It led many Tamil actors to attempt the same feat, with varying levels of success, to the point that Tamil politics and films are inexorably intertwined in a way seldom seen elsewhere. 

But wait, was it MGR who used films for political gains? Or was it politics that used MGR to mobilise masses?

And why is that the Tamils are so susceptible to charm of the movie stars?

Arts and drama have always been part of the Tamil culture. For instance, the therukoothu,  the street theatre that depicted stories from the Indian epics, is a way of life for the Tamils, dating back to the Sangam period of 3rd and 4th century AD. Cinema replaces such ancient art forms, and the Tamils, who have always enjoyed such entertainment immensely, have transferred their adulation from the heroes of old to the heroes of the silver screen. 

The DMK was one of the first parties to realise the potential movies held for politics, and act on it in a significant manner through  MGR and his films. It was the DMK, under the leadership of Annadurai, that took film seriously as a vehicle of political mobilisation. 

An excellent orator, writer and a theatre artist, Annadurai himself was part of the film fraternity. He debuted as a screen writer in 1948 with the film Nallathambi. The film was against the Zamindari system, and Annadurai went on to script many films such as Vellaikari, Rangoon Radha, and Or Iravu, all of which had the ideas of self-respect, women’s rights, and anti-Braminism. There were other movie stars — S S Rajendran and Shivaji Ganesan, to name two — who believed in Annadurai’s ideas and joined him.

“Their films introduced symbols and references to the DMK, and the party rode the rising popularity of cinema,” writes Professor Robert L Hardgrave in his paper Politics and the film in Tamil Nadu. “Film artists brought glamour and electoral support to the DMK, and actors graced the platforms of party rallies.”

The strategy attracted scorn from other mainstream politicians initially. Erik Barnouw and S Krishnawamy write in their book Indian Film how  K Kamaraj, who was then president of the Congress Party, scoffed at the idea: “How can there be government by actors?”

Unfortunately for Kamaraj, there did come about government — governments, actually — by actors. Shivaji Ganesan was the first to rise to fame and become the face of DMK. But he did not stay with the party for long. He went on to join the Congress, and always preferred to keep his movies and politics separate.

It was then that MGR became the face of DMK. All his films propagated DMK ideas. Dialogue and songs were carefully crafted to hint at the political stance of the actor and promote the party among the masses. In Vivasayi (Farmer) 1967,  for example, MGR sings: ‘There might be many flags of many parties in the country, but the only flag that can fly high is the flag of prosperity’. When he sings about the flag of prosperity, the DMK flag is shown in the background. 

Aroor Das, who penned scripts for many MGR films, has written about how particular the actor was that all his movies was  pro-DMK and nothing his character did hurt the sentiments of the party. And this is evident in movies such as  Neethikku Thalain Vangu, Sirithu Vazha Vendum, Meenava Nanban, and Maduraiyay Meeta Sundarapandi.

MGR, S S Rajendran and Shivaji Ganesan were all actors who rose to fame with the support of DMK. DMK used films intelligently to reach the masses. This set an example to the future generation of actors. People of Tamil Nadu have been tuned to watch films as a part of political propaganda. Today we have a number of actors-turned-politicians.  Vijayakanth, Sarathkumar and Karthik are good examples.

News of actors joining politics is  common in Tamil newspapers. It seems to have become a tradition of the state. Recently Nirmala, a contemporary of J Jayalalithaa, the present chief minister who herself has donned the female lead in more than 20 MGR movies, joined the All India Anna Dravid Munnetra Kazhagam. Actors like Kushboo, Vadivelu, and Radhika have campaigned for different parties.

Tamil Nadu has seen a total of 10 chief ministers since Independence.  Of the 10, five have been from the film industry: C N Annadurai, M  Karunanidhi, MGR, V N Annadurai and J Jayalalithaa.

Politics and films are two branches of the same tree in Tamil Nadu. Years of enculturation have primed the masses  to identify an actor who wants to be the future leader of the state from the dialogue he or she delivers in films. Elsewhere in India, there are film stars like Jaya Bachchan, Jayaprada, and Shatrughan Sinha who are active in politics. But the number of stars who enter politics in Tamil Nadu is higher. That is the tradition the Dravidian parties have created. 

Kamaraj was wrong. This is the state where you can have government by actors.

Manolakshmi Pandiarajan is a doctoral candidate at the University of Madras, Chennai.

Illustration: Safa Tharib

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