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

Kerala 2 Story Photo

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.

Book Review: “A House Without Windows” by Nadia Hashimi

Afghan women walking in front of a blue building image

I just finished A House Without Windows by Afghan-American writer Nadia Hashimi. These days, I gravitate more toward non-fiction and find it more engaging. Still, I’m not ready to give up fiction entirely. A House Without Windows was my fiction pick of the month.

What’s It About?

The story begins with a murder in an Afghan home. A woman, Zeba, is accused of killing her husband and is detained, with almost no chance of survival under Afghanistan’s strict laws for women in such cases. An Afghan-American lawyer, Yusuf, arrives in the country to connect with his roots, stumbles upon her case, and decides to defend her.

Thoughts

I really enjoyed the storyline, though I found the narration slow and somewhat predictable. What stood out most was how Nadia Hashimi portrayed the Afghan-American lawyer’s struggle to balance two cultures in America. This is a story familiar to many migrants. They want to embrace the new, yet can’t fully let go of their roots.

When Yusuf starts dating, everything boils down to one question: Will she bond well with my mother? That’s such a desi trait: wanting your partner to get along with your parents, and if there’s friction, it’s often the partner who pays the price. I also liked the part where he decides to travel to Afghanistan to reconnect with his roots, eventually making peace with the country’s imperfections, because where there’s love, hate doesn’t stand a chance.

The storyline is unique, with a blend of mystique, magic, and sacrifice. I wouldn’t say I strongly recommend the book, as I personally found it slow. However, what’s slow for me might be perfectly paced for someone else.

Ending this post with some quotable quotes from the book:

Alone and free of angst and sorrow
I’ve bled enough for today and tomorrow
Now it is time for my bud to bloom
I’m a sparrow in love with solitude
All my secrets contained within me
I sing aloud—I’m alone, finally!

SHE DID NOT REGRET THE CHILDREN, BUT AT TIMES SHE DID resent them. All mothers did, didn’t they? How could they not bear a little resentment toward people who took took took all the time? How could she be expected to feed them all? Where was Kamal when they were sick or tired or unreasonable?

Medicine is what this man calls his liquor
Strange is the remedy that only makes him sicker.

“And women?” she asked thoughtfully. “What is the world to us?”
Gulnaz offered a meek smile. “Do you not know, my daughter? Our world is the spaces between the rocks and meat. We see the face that should but doesn’t smile, the sliver of sun between dead tree branches. Time passes differently through a woman’s body. We are haunted by all the hours of yesterday and teased by a few moments of tomorrow. That is how we live—torn between what has already happened and what is yet to come.”

People only say nice things about the dead, so you never know what the truth is. You can be a brute in life, but the moment you die, all is forgiven. It used to make me mad, but now that I’m old and know what people say about me, I’m glad for it.

Men were always so frightened by their mortality that they obsessed over ways to live forever: sons to carry on their work, grandsons to carry on their name, their legacies in books, on streets, or in newspapers. Some became more desperate as their black hairs turned silver.

***

Photo by Wasim Mirzaie