Kerala Story 2 Trailer: My Honest Take on Extremism, Politics, and the Real Kerala

I finally watched The Kerala Story 2 trailer because the noise around it became impossible to avoid. I had stayed away from watching it till then, hoping we would collectively ignore it.

The trailer begins with a call to “convert India into a Muslim nation.” That kind of rhetoric comes from extremist outfits like PFI, not from everyday Muslims. It’s in PFI’s “India 1947” doctrine, available online. But the moment a film shows Islamist extremists, people immediately react as if the entire Muslim community is being insulted. That jump is what frustrates me. The trailer is clearly about extremists, not ordinary people (also confirmed by the makers).

I keep seeing reels saying, “Where in Kerala is this? This is nothing like Kerala.” Exactly. It is not about the regular Muslims we meet every day. It is about fringe groups.

When the movies, Bombay or Empuraan, showed Hindu extremists attacking Muslims, no one claimed the film insulted all Hindus, and that it was an insult to Bombay and a generalization. When films show fringe Hindutva groups, we do not accuse the filmmakers of attacking every Hindu. So why is criticism of Islamist extremism treated as an attack on Muslims as a whole? This inability to separate ideology from community makes any honest conversation impossible. And political groups thrive on that confusion.

I thought the film would be ignored this time. I watched the trailer only to understand the hype. Otherwise, I would not have bothered. And once again, the makers got free publicity because controversy sells.

The director’s NDTV interview

In an NDTV interview, the director was asked why he named it after Kerala again even though the film covers incidents in multiple states. His answer was very simple. He said he got attention for the first film because of the name “Kerala.” So he used it again to get the same effect. It was a marketing strategy. And we fell for it.

He also mentioned that the film connects certain cases to networks like Chhangur Baba’s. According to him, these networks have a specific goal in mind. Again, he presented this as the reasoning behind the storyline, not as a statement on all Muslims.

The song and the real-life cases

The song O Maayi Ri, sung beautifully by Shreya Ghoshal, reminded me of the emotional interviews with the mothers of victims (some notable victims include Nimisha, Sonia Sebastian, and Merrin Jacob). They begged for their daughters to be brought back from ISIS camps in Afghanistan. The girls, as per officials, were too radicalized to be brought back home. No country easily brings back citizens who have a soft corner for a terror group. Many countries around the world refuse repatriation because of national security concerns.

And Kerala has had some troubling conversion-related cases too.

There is the case of Sona Eldhose, who was allegedly forced to go to Ponnani for conversion.
There is also the story of Kamala Surayya, discussed in the book The Love Queen of Malabar. According to the book, she was encouraged to convert with the promise of marriage made by a mainstream political figure. Once she converted, he backed away. The book also mentions foreign funding from the Gulf that influenced the situation.

These cases do not define Kerala as a state, but they exist. They cannot be erased from the larger conversation.

Kerala’s habit of defending itself too quickly

What irritates me is how quickly Keralites jump into defensive mode. The moment someone brings up extremist incidents or conversion cases, people post “This is the real Kerala story” along with photos of communal harmony and Onam celebrations. Those moments are beautiful, but they do not cancel out the darker stories. Kerala can be progressive and safe while still having pockets of extremism. That duality is real. Acceptance does not mean defamation. In fact, acceptance is the first step toward accountability.

My issue with the beef discourse

Beef in Kerala has become a political symbol. I eat beef, but I am not here to prove that “I am a Hindu who eats beef. I’m so cool.” I am also not going to claim that Hindus who eat beef are not real Hindus. Those extremes mean nothing to me.

There are actual cases of people being forced to eat beef by partners or relatives. A basic online search shows plenty of such stories. So mocking that scene in the trailer becomes insensitive because coercion is not fictional for some people.

What makes the discourse more insensitive is the constant use of beef as a political prop in Kerala. Historically, beef has been used to hurt Hindu sentiments and harass certain groups. As someone who eats beef, I have never felt proud of it in a political sense. It is food. We can all eat what we like, but weaponising it feels disrespectful.

Even the MSF, the youth wing of the Muslim League, called out the SFI beef fests happening on campuses. They said it is insulting to those Hindus in Kerala who consider beef unholy. They added that they themselves would find it offensive if there were pork fests. Whether political or not, they made a fair point. Sensitivity should work both ways.

The political angle behind the controversy

This is something I have been observing closely. In my opinion, the controversy did not naturally explode. It was amplified politically. The first major reaction came from CM Pinarayi Vijayan on X. Once he reacted, his supporters followed, and the discussion spiralled from there.

I believe his response was a political strategy to position himself as the protector of secularism in Kerala. He had lost support earlier due to his association with Vellapally Natesan and also the Sabarimala gold case. His tweet seemed carefully framed as the Kerala election is near. He even highlighted that Kerala has not seen any communal riots in the last ten years, which also happens to be the period during which he served as Chief Minister.

Whether intentional or not, the film’s visibility multiplied because of this political reaction.

Why the title still annoys me

The title “Kerala Story Goes Beyond” suggests that Kerala is some central hub of Islamist extremism, which is simply not true. Kerala is safe. Hindus are safe. Fringe groups exist, but the narrative of “Hindu genocide” is false.

At the same time, filmmakers have always used region names to provoke reactions.
Movies like Bombay did not lead anyone to generalise the entire city.
Shows like Delhi Crime did not make people say Delhi is entirely unsafe.

But names like Kashmir or Kerala grab attention instantly. Filmmakers know this. It is part of the business. And audiences fall for it every single time.

Final thoughts

Kerala has many stories of harmony, culture, and peaceful coexistence. But Kerala also has some unsettling stories involving extremism, manipulation, and political strategy. Both realities can exist together. Loving a state does not mean denying the uncomfortable parts. Real progress and intellect come from honest acknowledgement.

Tu Juliet Jatt Di is The Lighthearted Hindi Romcom We’ve Been Missing

With dark and heavy content flooding streaming platforms these days, my old soul keeps craving simple old school romance. I still enjoy serious shows, no doubt about that, but when the real world already feels intense, I prefer feel-good stories when I sit down to unwind. The type of content that I grew up watching.

I have stepped away from Pakistani dramas and films on YouTube because I didn’t want my views or money indirectly going anywhere near causes I don’t support. The disrespectful remarks on India after Pahalgam from their celebrities didn’t help either. The mental distance I felt afterwards was enough for me to stop endorsing their entertainment. Everyone is free to choose what they watch though. I chose to stop out of personal preference. People say politics and art/sports/religion should not be mixed, but in reality, they often overlap.

There’s definitely a void now that I’ve stopped watching Pakistani dramas, so I’ve been hunting for lighthearted Indian content instead that would lift my mood. And I’m happy I found it in the new romcom series Tu Juliet Jatt Di.

I cannot believe this is Jasmeet Kaur’s first project. She performs like a seasoned professional and is already more competent than many Hindi industry actresses who’ve been around for years. Syed Raza is impressive.

The chemistry between Syed Raza and Jasmeet Kaur is electric. I haven’t seen such crackling romance on screen in a long time. Most modern romances feel too serious. Think of movies like Saiyaara and Aashiqui 2, where the mood stays melancholic instead of happy or dreamy. There’s definitely an audience for that kind of storytelling, but I usually prefer something lighter and a little more positive.

We don’t get that fun vibe in Hindi movies anymore, the kind we once loved in Salaam Namaste, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge, Kal Ho Naa Ho, or, if we are to talk about something comparatively newer, then Wake Up Sid. Stories where silence and lingering eye contact made an impression, where romance was a slow-burn and intense, yet positive. When you watch stories like these, your mood shifts almost instantly. You walk away feeling lighter and a little happier than before. You feel like you yourself are in love, the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. That’s missing nowadays, isn’t it?

Critics and serious cinema lovers have been pushing the industry to take up more logical, serious, and believable stories that have put romcom fans like me in a fix. That’s why Tu Juliet Jatt Di feels refreshing. It’s playful, flirty, and full of swoonworthy moments. Sure, there are emotional scenes and melodramatic scenes, which may not feel like reality, but they don’t drag the mood down. Also, the heroine refuses to wallow. She’s bold, sharp, and unafraid to call out nonsense. Syed Raza as Nawab adds the right amount of mischief, something that’s missing in many love stories today.

Tu Juliet Jatt Di is loud, lively, chaotic, just like the old times. It’s not here to spread a social message or make you think. It’s here to offer pure entertainment that isn’t enveloped in hopelessness, violence, and despair. And what can be more entertaining than love?

If you enjoy Korean dramas or Pakistani romantic shows, you will, in full certainty, like this new Hindi series too.

Tu Juliet Jatt Di is currently streaming on Colors TV and Jio Hotstar.

Haq: When a Film About Muslim Women Speaks to All Women

For the most part, Haq is not a story only about Muslim women. It is a story about women in general. Almost all of us know someone, married or unmarried, who has been cheated in love. We have seen that heartbreak up close, and we understand the emotional toll it takes.

When Shazia feels betrayed, we feel it too. When she wants the best for her children, that emotion feels familiar. When she fights for her rights, it resonates deeply. And when her father stands by her without hesitation, it reminds us of our own fathers and the quiet strength that support brings. These are emotions that are universal to women, cutting across religion, culture, and background.

The narrative becomes specifically about Muslim women only when the legal issues come into focus. That is where the real differences emerge, and the film clearly highlights how laws and systems can shape a woman’s fight for justice. It is to be noted that soon after the Triple Talaq ban was implemented in India, many Muslim women began approaching the courts to seek justice. While there was no open praise for the current government for such a ban, there was a quiet acceptance of the relief and protection the law offered them in real life. Many Muslim men, however, continue to view the ban as an insult to their faith rather than as a legal safeguard for women.

Getting back to the movie, Yami’s final monologue is powerful and leaves a strong impact. Emraan feels completely natural throughout and never once seems like he is performing. Sheeba Chaddha is equally convincing and brings depth to her role.

I especially want to credit Emraan for choosing to act in a film that openly talks about Muslim women’s rights. It takes conviction to support a story like this, especially as a Muslim, without dismissing it as Islamophobic. The film is clearly not that. Instead, it focuses on real issues and lived experiences, and his decision to back the narrative adds credibility and strength to the message being told.

Overall, I liked the film. The background music could have been better, and Yami is not fully convincing in a few scenes. Still, she more than makes up for it in the final act, which stays with you long after the film ends.

Haq is now streaming on Netflix.

Dhurandhar Lingers Long After the Credits Roll

I watched Dhurandhar a few days back, and it has stayed with me ever since. It keeps running in my head – the songs, the action sequences, the passion for the country. The nationalist in me is satisfied.

For the first time in a long while, an Indian spy movie moved away from humanizing terrorism. That shift feels bold and necessary. The film forces you to sit with harsh truths instead of offering easy heroes and neat endings. It does not try to make violence look noble or harmless. That honesty is what makes Dhurandhar powerful, and also hard to shake off.

Personally, I felt a quiet mix of angst and sorrow when I saw some people brush the film off as propaganda or political. This view is subjective, but it still made me uneasy. The events shown are not opinions or theories. They happened. Calling a film like Dhurandhar propaganda does a disservice to the people who lost their lives in terrorist attacks. It dismisses real events that happened and real pain that was lived. These truths were not addressed openly for years, often out of fear or sheer convenience. When cinema finally creates space to tell these stories, the instinct should be to listen, not reject. The strong box office response shows that many people are ready to face uncomfortable realities. That response matters. Aditya Dhar deserves credit for choosing honesty over comfort. I have admired his films for consistently daring to tell stories most would rather avoid.

When the screen turned red, I could not hold back my tears. It made me emotional. But I also wondered if anyone watched that moment and felt nothing at all. That thought itself felt disturbing. Not feeling the pain of fellow Indians, or even a flicker of anger, says something deeper. In a country where apathy is already common, it is easy to believe some viewers saw it with blank eyes. For them, everything uncomfortable becomes propaganda, dismissed as an attempt to show Pakistan in a bad light.

Sometimes it feels like a lost cause to expect people to stand firmly with the country, without hesitation or filters. Many of us avoid the truth because it feels uncomfortable. We prefer to hide behind safe words like peace and love. But years of doing that came at a cost. We were taken for granted. Our suffering was questioned. Our stories were dismissed as lies or branded as conspiracy theories.

I think it is time for India to stand up for itself. We need to acknowledge our truth and stop looking away. Facing reality head-on is not hatred or extremism. It is honesty. Only when we accept what went wrong can we learn from it. Growth does not come from denial. It comes from clarity, courage, and accountability.

Now there are people who argue that this much truth does not belong on screen. If that were true, then why do we make social films like Homebound at all? Those films are also hard-hitting and deeply uncomfortable. Cinema has always helped bring difficult issues to the public in a more digestible way. Stopping that only pushes reality back into silence.

The violence in the movie is also being criticised, but real-world events prove how close such scenes are to the truth. The recent lynching of a Hindu man in Bangladesh is a grim reminder that brutality is not exaggerated fiction. Dhurandhar does not sugarcoat this reality, and that honesty is exactly why it matters.

Coming to the performances, while many are praising Akshaye Khanna, for me it was Ranveer Singh who truly stood out. His eyes did most of the talking, and it was brilliant to watch. There was a quiet intensity in his acting that stayed with me. Sara Arjun also impressed me with her performance and screen presence. She brought both grace and emotional weight to her role. The music deserves special mention too. It lingers in your mind and pulls you back into the world of Dhurandhar long after the film ends.

Overall, I would say Dhurandhar is a must-watch. It is not an easy film, but it is an important one. It stays with you long after the credits roll. I most probably would end up watching it again.

I Watched Homebound… and Ended Up Thinking About India Beyond the Film

I waited a while before watching Neeraj Ghaywan’s Homebound on Netflix. Even with glowing reviews and friends urging me to watch it, I knew it wouldn’t be an easy experience. It’s heavy in more ways than one, because the film doesn’t just explore caste discrimination, it also shines a light on the prejudice faced by Muslims in India. So from the beginning, you know you’re stepping into something intense and uncomfortable.

Neeraj Ghaywan holds an important place in Indian cinema as he’s one of the very few Dalit directors who publicly acknowledge his Dalit identity. As viewers, most of us don’t sit and think about a filmmaker’s caste or religion when watching a movie. But the uncomfortable truth is that opportunities in the film industry still seem to be uneven. If he is the first Dalit filmmaker in decades because of gatekeeping rather than lack of talent, then that says a lot about how deep systemic bias still runs in India, even in an artistic platform like the film industry. This is something the film industries across India need to acknowledge and work on.

As expected, the story in Homebound was heartwrenching. It’s based on a real incident, which sadly doesn’t come as a surprise. The film also draws inspiration from the Bhim-Meem idea, a political expression that promotes Dalit-Muslim unity, adding another layer of depth and context to its narrative.

For me, the most heartbreaking scene was when Ishaan’s character, a young Muslim boy, is accused of being Pakistani after an India vs Pakistan cricket match. That moment was infuriating and hard to sit through.

At the same time, I feel Indian films need to move beyond the usual “General Category vs Dalit” and “Hindu vs Muslim” framework when addressing oppression. Recent incidents, including the honour killing of a Dalit man by an OBC family because he dared to love their girl, show that reality is much more complex in India, and discrimination doesn’t come from one direction. It exists across castes and religions. Dalit Christians, Pasmanda Muslims, and many others face layered forms of exclusion, yet these conversations rarely enter mainstream media or pop culture.

I recently spoke to someone from the Yadav community who felt that Yadavs should be getting more opportunities than others in Bihar. It surprised me, because it shows how deeply caste identity shapes expectations, even among groups that aren’t “upper caste.” It’s even sadder to see communities that once faced discrimination now repeating the same mindset toward those they see as lower in the hierarchy. Many people assume caste hierarchy is a simple top-to-bottom structure, but in reality, it behaves more like overlapping layers of status, power, and regional identity.

I also think about the discrimination that exists within minority communities. My neighbour, a very liberal Muslim woman in Kerala, once told me that some of her extended family members won’t eat food cooked by non-Muslims. So who addresses that side of prejudice?

If we want a more equal and united India, we need to acknowledge and call out all forms of discrimination. But if someone tries to make a film exploring other angles, it often gets labelled propaganda or agenda-driven. That makes honest conversation difficult.

We’ve seen similar themes in films like Dhadak 2 this year, and even the first Dhadak explored the same kind of social divide. Something that stood out to me across movies in this space was the prominent placement of Ambedkar’s photograph. It’s a small detail, but it says a lot. Ambedkar himself is a layered and complex figure. His critique was not limited to Hinduism, and he questioned multiple belief systems with the same sharpness. But that side of him rarely enters public discussion, because even many of his admirers seem hesitant or defensive about acknowledging it.

Many of us are ready to recognise discrimination against Muslims and Dalits, and those conversations are important. But there should also be space to talk about other traumatic histories like the Kashmiri Pandit exodus without being dismissed or judged. Empathy and understanding shouldn’t stop at one group. If injustice matters, it should matter universally.

This isn’t a rant. Just a hope that our films, stories, and discussions grow braver and more layered. Because India isn’t simple. It’s diverse, complicated, emotional, and full of uncomfortable truths. And storytelling feels meaningful when it reflects that reality rather than just one slice of it.

Rohit Saraf Feels Like Old-School Romance and I Love It

I often find myself missing the old Bollywood romance era. Films by Yash Chopra or early Karan Johar had a kind of magic that is hard to find today. The lead pairs had real chemistry, the kind that made you feel every emotion with them. When they looked at each other with misty eyes, you felt like you were falling in love too.

But in many new-generation films, that spark seems lost. I don’t know whether it’s the acting, the writing, or the shift in filmmaking trends. Modern romance feels rushed, predictable, too dark, melancholic, or sometimes just flat. The warmth, passion, and emotional storytelling that defined classic Hindi cinema is fading, and I genuinely miss it.

In today’s film landscape, Rohit Saraf feels like a breath of fresh air. He brings back that soft, believable romance many of us grew up loving. One thing that stands out about him is his effortless chemistry with his co-stars.

My favorite project of his isn’t even a Hindi film. It’s the Tamil romance Kamali From Nadukkaveri, where his performance and chemistry with the lead actress, Anandhi, is genuine and sweet. I would also suggest watching his earlier series on Zee5 titled Woh Bhi Din The. He filmed it when he was much younger. The emotional connection between the characters feels very real. Also, let’s not forget his impeccable chemistry with Pearle Maaney in Ludo, which remains one of my favourites.

In Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari, Rohit Saraf continues that image of the ideal romantic partner. His chemistry with Janhvi Kapoor feels natural and much stronger compared to the chemistry between the main lead pair. Honestly, their scenes had more warmth and emotional pull. I found myself wishing the makers had focused on that storyline instead of pushing the romance between Janhvi and Varun Dhawan. It felt like the more organic love story was sitting right there, but never fully explored.

Personnally, I feel Rohit Saraf deserves more recognition for keeping that old-school romantic charm alive.

Maybe it’s time filmmakers start looking for the right lead pair for Rohit Saraf. If they get that pairing right, many of us women could finally relive the era of Kajol and Shah Rukh Khan or Aamir Khan and Juhi Chawla. Those iconic pairs made romance feel real, soft, and unforgettable.

A couple with that kind of natural chemistry is missing in today’s Hindi films, and audiences like me are definitely craving it.