Telugu actor Sivaji did not set out to offend women. He set out to lecture them. And in today’s India, that distinction matters little. Both end the same way – with outrage, official notices, and a carefully worded apology.
What he offered was not an argument but a sermon, a prescription instead of reflection. In the process, Sivaji converted a familiar cultural discomfort into a full-blown controversy, largely through an embarrassing choice of words and a tone that sounded less like concern and more like condescension.
When concern turns into condescension
There is a clear difference between expressing a personal view and appointing oneself as a moral referee. Sivaji, 54, crossed that line with ease. He spoke of dignity, modesty and respect – terms that are neither new nor offensive by themselves – but framed them as virtues women must earn through clothing.
That framing is fatal. Once respect becomes conditional, it begins to resemble permission. And the moment a man begins instructing women on how to dress to deserve dignity, intent, however benign, is drowned by implication. This was not a dialogue. It was a lecture delivered from a self-assumed moral pedestal.
Modern fashion – freedom or exhibition?
Modern fashion, particularly in celebrity and influencer culture, has steadily drifted from expression to exhibition. Choice is celebrated … but increasingly through exposure, shock value, and deliberate provocation.
Social media rewards visibility. Paparazzi favour the boldest frame. In that environment, revealing outfits are not merely personal choices; they are also performative statements calibrated for attention – with a hunger for views and likes on Reels and other platforms. Observing this shift is not misogyny. Turning it into a moral verdict is. That distinction is precisely where Sivaji stumbled.
Dignity unravelled and redesigned
The modest saree that Sivaji prescribed for women, too, has not escaped glitzy metamorphosis. The way it is worn by some celebrities has brought disrepute to the full nine yards. The saree now often reveals more than it covers.
Once a garment that balanced grace with restraint, it has been repurposed to compete with modern silhouettes. Blouses shrink, pallus retreat, and tradition is styled to amplify exposure rather than elegance. What was once suggestive without being explicit now strains to be noticed.
The famous song from Dasari Narayana Rao’s 1980 film Sardar Paparayudu comes inevitably to mind: ‘Jyotilakshmi cheera kattindi, paapam cheerake siggesindi…’ The lyric, meant as playful satire decades ago, reads today like an unintended cultural commentary.
This is not a moral lament, merely an observation. Fashion evolves, symbols change, and garments mirror their times. The mistake lies in either sanctifying the past or demonising the present. The saree has not lost dignity; it has been reinterpreted – sometimes with taste, often without.
Where Sivaji really went wrong
Sivaji’s embarrassment lies not in noticing cultural shifts but in claiming authority over them. He spoke as though concern grants licence to instruct, and reverence for tradition authorises intrusion into personal choice.
Wisdom delivered as instruction rarely sounds wise. If his aim was to spark reflection, he chose the worst possible language. And if he intended to defend dignity, he undercut it by sounding dismissive of women’s autonomy.
Outrage, apology, and box office gains
Amid all this moral uproar, one detail has gone curiously unnoticed – Dandora, the film Sivaji was promoting, is now in cinemas and has received publicity most producers can only dream of. Panel debates, social-media pile-ons and prime-time outrage do wonders for recall value. I suspect the producers are not exactly complaining.
Which raises an uncomfortable question – was this episode entirely organic, or a controversy conveniently allowed to spiral? Sivaji’s eventual apology for his use of ‘unparliamentary’ language arrived right on cue.
In an age where attention is currency, outrage is often the cheapest marketing strategy. Whether orchestrated or accidental, the sequence played out flawlessly – sermon, backlash, apology, spotlight.
Sivaji’s comments tell us less about women’s clothing and more about an old reflex that refuses to die – the urge to correct women, and the ease with which cultural guardianship slips into spectacle. In today’s India, sermons may fail, but they still sell tickets.
