Once upon a time, Kamal Haasan lit up Indian cinema with his versatility, charm, and jaw-dropping dance moves. The man who could cry, kill, kiss, and kick—often all in one film—was once considered an intellectual powerhouse in the film industry. He wasn’t just a hero; he was a symbol of Tamil Nadu’s cultural pride. But cut to 2025, and Kamal has turned into something rather less dignified: the political version of a method actor lost without a script. If confusion were an art, Haasan would be Picasso.
In his latest political twist—more twisted than any plot in Aalavandhan—Haasan has leapt headfirst into the Rajya Sabha via the DMK’s backdoor, having effectively abandoned the very ideology his own party, Makkal Needhi Maiam (MNM), was supposedly built on. The irony? MNM was launched to challenge the Dravidian duopoly and cleanse Tamil Nadu of its corrupt, dynastic politics. Today, its founder has done a full pirouette into the arms of one of those very parties. From “Ulaganayagan” to “U-turn Nayagan”—what a fall from grace.
Let’s rewind a bit. When Kamal launched MNM, he struck a Churchillian pose and thundered about ushering in change, transparency, and a new political culture. He vowed to quit cinema to devote himself to public service. The man even shed tears on stage, talking about the plight of the common man. “No more films,” he declared. Politics, he said, was his only calling.
Well, that lasted until his films began underperforming and his party began overpromising. Then came the spin: he now needs cinema to “finance his politics.” Oh, how noble! One assumes the MNM party office is being run on popcorn and screenplay royalties. Maybe someone should remind Kamal that public service isn’t supposed to be crowd-funded by ticket sales.
Of course, Haasan defends this hypocrisy with his usual highbrow snobbery. In his trademark I-am-smarter-than-you tone, he recently scolded those questioning his dual careers. “Instead of asking if I’m a full-time politician,” he snapped, “ask why 40% of Indians aren’t full-time citizens.” Ah, yes, that age-old democratic principle—when cornered, insult the voter. MGR and Jayalalithaa must be applauding from above.
The comparison with Tamil Nadu’s cinematic political giants is inevitable, and Haasan doesn’t come out looking good. MGR and Jayalalithaa radiated leadership. Even Vijayakanth, in his gruff, meme-worthy way, connected with people. They weren’t perfect, but they had presence, conviction, and a certain grassroots grit. Kamal Haasan, on the other hand, floats in a cerebral bubble, disconnected from ground realities, weighed down by his delusions of grandeur.
He loves to tout his clean income tax records as proof of political integrity. Good for him. But sorry to break it to you, Kamal—honesty is a basic requirement, not a badge of sainthood. One doesn’t become Abraham Lincoln just because the I-T department didn’t knock on their door. Also, constantly reminding the world that you’re honest reeks of insecurity. When was the last time you saw a real leader insist that they’re honest every five minutes?
The truth is, MNM today stands for “Muddle, Neglect, Meandering.” What does the party stand for? Do they have a position on NEET, a burning issue in Tamil Nadu? Any stance on the Mekedatu water dispute? A word on the swirling corruption allegations against DMK ministers? No? Nothing? Deafening silence? Kamal Haasan’s politics is like one of his art films: beautifully lit, elegantly spoken, but nobody understands what’s going on.
At one point, Haasan even sneered that the biggest insult to Karunanidhi’s legacy is to simply say “Stalin.” That comment aged about as well as MNM’s 2019 campaign promises. Today, he’s happily campaigning for the very man he once mocked. Opportunism is one thing, but to do it with the smugness of moral superiority is truly peak Kamal.
Now, he’s been gifted a Rajya Sabha seat—not earned it. This backroom entry into Parliament may be the only ticket he can get without standing in line—or standing for election. In return, he must now play errand boy to the DMK. Let that sink in. The man who once claimed to fight corruption is now polishing the boots of a regime drowning in allegations. So much for the anti-establishment crusader.
As Kamal Haasan settles into his cozy Rajya Sabha seat, it’s fair to ask—who is he now? An actor clinging to fading glory? A politician chasing relevance? Or just a man who never truly knew what he wanted?
And now, his latest jibe—that Kannada was born out of Tamil—might just script his political downfall.
Whatever the case, the script is no longer in his hands. And sadly, there’s no director to yell “cut” on this tragic farce.
