The debate over The Kerala Story 2 is no longer just about a film. It is about who gets to define “freedom of expression” in India — and more importantly, who decides which stories are allowed to be told. When Pinarayi Vijayan calls the film “false propaganda” and “poisonous,” he is entitled to his political opinion. But opinion cannot become prohibition. The moment a state begins to decide that certain narratives are too uncomfortable for public consumption, it crosses from democratic disagreement into paternalistic censorship. India is not a fragile republic that needs to be shielded from cinematic discomfort. For years, we have been lectured about artistic freedom whenever films, stand-up comics or authors have taken sharp jabs at Hindu traditions, majoritarian politics, or even the Indian state. In those cases, we are told: “If you don’t like it, don’t watch it.” “Debate it.” “Counter it with facts.” “File a case.” But when a film alleges forced conversions, coercion in interfaith marriages, or radicalisation linked to Islamist networks, the language suddenly shifts — from debate to ban. Why this selective amnesia? If a film questions Hindu orthodoxy, it is “bold.” If it questions Islamist radicalisation, it becomes “hate. ”That double standard is precisely why these films resonate beyond their cinematic merit. Despite protests and attempted bans, The Kashmir Files became one of the most commercially successful Hindi films of 2022. It was not backed by a typical Bollywood masala formula. It did not rely on superstar glamour. It ran purely on word of mouth and the emotional pull of a story long buried under political correctness. Similarly, The Kerala Story performed strongly at the box office despite legal challenges, street protests and accusations of exaggeration. The audience — not politicians — decided its fate. That is the crux: bans create curiosity. Suppression amplifies reach. Every protest becomes free publicity. If critics truly believe the content is hollow or exaggerated, the simplest response is to let it fail commercially. Instead, the rush to courts and censorship boards signals fear — not confidence. The Kerala High Court has issued notices to the Centre, the Information & Broadcasting Ministry and the CBFC over petitions challenging the sequel’s release. That is how a democracy functions. If someone believes the film violates the law — incites violence, spreads falsehoods, or disturbs public order — the remedy is judicial scrutiny. But demanding pre-emptive bans because elections are approaching in Kerala is intellectually dishonest. In India, elections occur somewhere almost every few months. If that logic is accepted, politically sensitive films could never be released at all. Democracy cannot operate on a permanent election-season censorship code.
At the heart of the controversy is an uncomfortable theme: allegations that some Hindu women were targeted, lured under the pretext of love, coerced into conversion, and in extreme cases radicalised. Are all interfaith marriages suspect? Of course not. Are all allegations of coercion fabricated? Equally, no. India has seen documented cases of radicalisation linked to ISIS recruitment networks. Law enforcement agencies have investigated modules in multiple states. Courts have examined individual cases involving conversion and marriage disputes. To pretend these issues do not exist is not secularism — it is denial. The film claims to present a cautionary tale. Critics call it communal propaganda. That argument should play out in the marketplace of ideas — through rebuttals, documentaries, fact-checks, counter-cinema — not through administrative throttling. Ironically, the loudest critics of such films often accuse them of dividing society. Yet what divides society more: a film that presents a contentious narrative, or a political establishment that signals certain subjects are taboo? Suppressing discussion does not eliminate grievances. It pushes them underground — where they grow sharper and more resentful. If the content is inaccurate, disprove it. it exaggerates, expose it. it offends, critique it. But banning it validates its core claim — that uncomfortable truths are being buried. India’s constitutional framework under Article 19(1)(a) protects freedom of speech and expression, subject to reasonable restrictions. “Reasonable” cannot mean “politically inconvenient.” Cinema is not scripture. It is an interpretation. It is storytelling. Viewers are not mindless consumers; they can discern exaggeration from fact, drama from documentary. Ultimately, the box office is the most ruthless censor. If The Kerala Story 2 lacks credibility, audiences will reject it. If it taps into anxieties people feel are ignored by mainstream discourse, it will succeed — just as The Kashmir Files did. The solution to speech is more speech — not silence. In a nation of 1.4 billion people, the fear of a film says more about political insecurity than about cinematic power.
