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.

My Yali Capkini Journey: Rage, Romance and Baklava Cravings

I started watching the Turkish drama Yali Capkini (Golden Boy) on Amazon Prime (MX Player) for a very simple reason. The lead pair looked good. I honestly assumed I would drop it after a few episodes because good looks alone rarely keep me hooked. Chemistry matters. A solid storyline matters. Surprisingly, Yali Capkini seems to tick every box so far.

This is the first time I am watching a Turkish series, and it gave me a small window into how Turkish Muslims live. It feels very different from what we usually see in Indian society, where things tend to be more conservative. Turkish culture comes across as more liberal, and a lot of that credit goes to Atatürk’s reforms, which pushed women’s rights forward. The show reflects that beautifully. Women face no criticism for dressing modernly, can speak up for themselves, and aren’t afraid to assert their rights. At the same time, the drama also shows conservative families who believe women should stay home and raise children. One scene shows a father accusing his daughter of being a disbeliever just because she drew a Christmas tree. In Pakistani dramas, the word “kafir” gets thrown around easily, but from what I’ve seen here, it isn’t normalised in Turkish shows. In fact, later, you see characters happily celebrating Christmas trees and decor.

If you plan to watch Yali Capkini, keep a box of Baklava ready. There are so many references to the sweet that you will start craving it instantly. I highly recommend trying Swaadesi Baklava, which should be available in most local Indian stores and also online. In the show, coffee and Baklava feel like supporting characters. They show up during happy moments and sad ones. Just like how many of us enjoy a cup of chai on a rainy day, the characters in this drama keep turning to their coffee and Baklava at any time of the day.

Now, coming to the main characters. Ferit, played by Mert Ramazan Demir, has to be one of the most toxic characters I have ever seen in a drama or movie. Since Yali Capkini’s story is written by a psychiatrist, the male character’s behaviour feels layered and too realistic at times. He is the kind of partner who says “So what?” when you tell him he hurt you, yet he reacts strongly if you give him the same treatment. His emotional manipulation, hot and cold behaviour, and constant lying create a type of rage that builds up inside you. His words sting more than any physical act. Anyone who has ever dealt with a toxic partner would relate, and this applies to both women and men who have experienced suffocating or manipulative relationships. The way most female characters in the drama react to disrespect is infuriating, but it is still close to reality. We all know someone who tells women to “adjust” or “compromise” to keep the relationship going.

The female lead, Seyran, played by Afra Saraçoğlu, is stunning, with eyes that instantly remind you of Aishwarya Rai. She is fiery, refuses to accept injustice, and that naturally irritates Ferit and his family, who are used to submissive women. She is easily the best performer in the show and delivers every scene with perfection.

There are very less feel-good scenes here. The series feels like pure rage bait. Still, it keeps you hooked. I haven’t completed it yet because Season 1 alone has more than 100 episodes. Then there is Season 2 and 3. I am not sure I will finish everything if the constant toxicity gets too irritating, but for now, I still have the motivation to continue.

Yali Capkini is available in both Turkish and Hindi on Amazon and MX Player. The English subtitles aren’t perfect, and sometimes don’t make any sense, but I still recommend watching it with subtitles rather than switching to the Hindi dub. The Hindi audio uses overly respectful language even when characters talk to someone younger, and it takes away from the natural flow of the scenes. That was my only issue.

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.

An Ode to Feminichi Fathima

Feminichi Fathima is a Malayalam movie I had been waiting to watch for a long time. The film received strong appreciation at several film festivals. Many critics also spoke highly of it in their reviews. Now that it has finally released on OTT, the wait feels worth it. After watching the film, I can say it truly lives up to the praise it received.

The movie is a bold and thoughtful effort by director Fasil Muhammed to explore feminism from the perspective of a Muslim woman. This is a refreshing shift in Indian cinema, where feminist narratives are often shown through a cultural Hindu lens. Films like The Great Indian Kitchen (Mrs. in Hindi) and Thappad shaped much of that earlier conversation. Against that backdrop, this film feels timely and necessary. It adds a new voice to discussions on gender, faith, and everyday patriarchy.

What’s It About?

Fathima is married into a conservative and deeply religious family in the Malappuram district in Kerala. Her husband is a usthad (a religious leader) who expects his household to follow every rule without question. Life in the home is seen only through a strict, conservative lens.

Trouble begins when their young son wets the mattress. Fathima cleans it and leaves it outside to dry, but a dog later urinates on it. Since dogs are viewed as ritually impure, her husband reacts with anger and disgust. What follows is Fathima’s quiet struggle to fix the situation, facing resistance at every step.

The film makes a strong point that a woman in religious clothing can also be a feminichi (a slur often used by Malayalee misogynists to dismiss feminists).

Thoughts

Shamla Hamza and Kumar Sunil deliver standout performances. Shamla Hamza, in particular, is remarkable throughout the movie. It is hard to believe this is only her second project, after 1001 Nunakal, released in 2022. She performs with the ease and control of a seasoned actor. Her expressions carry much of the film’s emotional weight. Shamla winning the Kerala State Film Award for Best Actress feels well deserved. The storyline is fresh and quietly rebellious, which makes her performance even more powerful.

In many ways, the film feels braver than other feminist movies. Dissent is rarely encouraged in conservative Muslim families, which makes this narrative more powerful. The story shows how questioning norms itself becomes an act of courage. That is what sets this Malayalam feminist film apart. It opens space for conversations that are often silenced. Ideally, it will inspire more Feminichi Fathimas to speak up and stand for their rights.

Even though the subject is heavy, the movie never becomes overwhelming. It avoids melodrama and keeps emotions grounded. Light comedy is woven into the narrative. This balance makes the film feel surprisingly breezy. The pacing is tight and engaging throughout. You can easily watch the full 1.5 hours in one sitting without needing a break.

I would call this movie a must-watch for anyone interested in meaningful Malayalam cinema. Feminichi Fathima is now streaming on Manorama Max. You can also watch it via Amazon Prime with a Manorama Max subscription. English subtitles are available.

Why ‘The Girlfriend’ Left Me Thinking About Parenting and Love

I started watching the Telugu film The Girlfriend with low expectations. I assumed it would be yet another romantic drama that glorifies toxic relationships and emotional manipulation in the name of love. To my surprise, the movie took a more thoughtful and layered route.

Minor spoilers ahead for context

The Girlfriend doesn’t just explore unhealthy love. It also dives into toxic parenting and how childhood conditioning shapes adult behaviour. The female lead is quiet, agreeable, and used to shrinking herself. The film makes it clear that her personality isn’t random. Her upbringing trained her to feel guilty for wanting space, choices, or independence. So when she picks a controlling partner, it feels strangely familiar to her. She’s not frightened of it at first, but she faces a tinge of uncertainty throughout. She tries to treat her partner’s behaviour towards her as normal because she has spent years adjusting to her father’s controlling behaviour. But deep down, there’s a quiet discomfort she can’t ignore. Something feels off, and her instincts begin to push back. This duality is what makes the character so different. This push and pull that many of us have experienced in our own relations with others who are not right for us.

The male lead, on the other hand, is aggressive, impulsive, and driven by ego. He worships Virat Kohli, maybe because he admires the cricketer’s aggressiveness and his devotion towards his wife, Anushka Sharma. He has a charming personality and enjoys a lot of attention. People around him like him, and he knows it. He’s used to getting what he wants, even in friendships. His behaviour reflects a narcissistic mindset where his needs come first, and empathy barely exists. Yet he remains popular, which feels very realistic. In real life, people like him often get the benefit of the doubt because their confidence and charm make them likable, even when behind closed doors, they’re not. This is why it’s often hard for someone with a narcissistic partner to justify leaving. People around them struggle to believe anything is wrong. The scene where he delivers that long, dramatic monologue in front of everyone when she ends the relationship is unforgettable and true to life. It’s an attempt to stage himself as the victim, even when he himself was the one in the relationship with the problematic dynamic.

When the movie shows the male lead’s mother, the pattern becomes clear. She mirrors the heroine’s personality. Anxious. Passive. Always accommodating. His father dominated the household, and his mother absorbed the behaviour without protest. In his partner, he doesn’t just see love. He sees a repetition of his family dynamic. In his own dysfunctional world, this is the definition of love.

This is what makes the film interesting. Many romantic movies in Indian cinema focus only on the lovers. But The Girlfriend highlights how family culture, parenting style, and generational trauma influence relationships. It reminds you that behaviour has context.

It made me think of my own past. My ex-husband had a similar attitude at home. I remember watching him take all his mother’s freshly washed clothes and throw them outside the house, onto the dirt-filled ground, just because she left them drying near the house’s entrance. She didn’t scold him. She didn’t even react. She simply smiled and picked them up to wash again. She later told me she was once abandoned on the roadside at night by her husband after an argument. She narrated it casually, as if it were normal. That’s when I understood why her son expected unquestioning loyalty and forgiveness from his own partner, me.

Watching the movie felt personal because it portrayed something many Indian families silently live with. Not abuse in the usual cinematic sense, but the subtle cycle of fear, guilt, silence, and acceptance.

I liked The Girlfriend mainly because of how honestly it handled the parenting angle. The performances were solid, especially from Rashmika Mandanna and Dheekshith Shetty. Their chemistry felt natural, and the relationship dynamics never felt exaggerated or forced. The emotional tension, confusion, fear, and hope all felt real. It’s rare to see an Indian movie explore love, trauma, and family influence with this level of subtlety. If you enjoy character-driven cinema with emotionally complex and layered characters, this one is worth watching.

The Girlfriend is streaming on Netflix and runs for 2 hours and 18 minutes.