If Tollywood were a religion, its actors would be gods, and the cinema hall their temple. In Andhra and Telangana, this faith comes with rituals: sky-high cutouts of heroes anointed with milk, garlanded with crane-lifted gaja malas, and serenaded by teen maar beats hammered out on steel plates.
For decades, fans have treated first-day-first-show tickets like World Cup finals passes – not for watching the film, but for displaying their devotion. Dialogue? Forget it. Songs? Good luck hearing them under the whistles and war cries.
Confetti in London, confusion in management
Last week, the frenzy hopped a flight. At a UK theatre screening Hari Hara Veera Mallu, audiences decided that what works in Rajahmundry must surely work in Reading. As the opening credits rolled, so did the confetti. Staff, more accustomed to quiet popcorn munchers than Pawan Kalyan milk abhishekams, stopped the screening. They did not mince words: ‘Clean it up, or the movie stays off.’
Cultural practice or just a mess?
Social media erupted faster than a FDFS stampede. One user posted, ‘This hooliganism is unacceptable.’ Another lamented, ‘Sad but Indians need decorum classes for living in the UK.’ Someone even offered a geography lesson: ‘It’s a South Indian tradition.’ Naak katva di naa bhai! The original poster wasn’t impressed: ‘In the UK, it’s called littering. Try it here, and it’s disrespectful – North or South doesn’t matter.’
Old habits die hard
Those who remember the heyday of NTR, ANR, Krishna, and Chiranjeevi might recall the good old days when fans hurled newspaper confetti, coins, and flattened soda crowns at the screen, occasionally on fellow moviegoers’ heads. Today, at least it is only confetti. But when an overseas theatre manager has to pause a film to explain that ‘you are not in Kukatpally anymore’, it is a reminder: traditions don’t always travel well. (With inputs from NDTV)
