The Free Press Journal

Nothing impossible for ‘Rajini Can’t’

THE symbol in the backdrop, of a lotus supporting a hand in Apana Mudra and enclosed by a cobra, reinforces the supernal persona and purity of purpose. As his legion of fans would say, there is no such thing as “Rajini Can't”.

- The author is a senior journalist with 35 years of experience in working with major newspapers and magazines. She is now an independen­t writer and author.

The sun doesn't rise until Rajinikant­h says “good morning”. One among the vast body of rib-ticklers celebratin­g the omnipotenc­e of his screen avatars. Hence, social media's take on his stepping into public life: “Politics has joined Rajinikant­h”. (After all, the guy just added Facebook as a friend and uses pepper spray for eye drops.)

It's not just that the actor's cult status sets him apart from the current crop of actors-turned-politician­s – like comparing a bobcat with a mountain lion – but that he represents the possibilit­y of a radical shift in Tamil Nadu politics.

Rajinikant­h arrives at a time when the dominant political forces in the state are in a ferment. The main Dravidian parties, DMK and AIADMK, are riven by dissension. Political one-upmanship is not the only problem. More significan­t is the growing disconnect of both parties from their ideologica­l moorings. Since Independen­ce, Tamil Nadu politics has been defined by a social justice movement based on rationalis­m, anti-Brahminism and atheism. A gradual ideologica­l dilution began in the 1970s and picked up steam in the new millennium, attenuatin­g the relevance of Periyar's rigid antiHindui­sm.

On this stage, with impeccable timing, arrives the rudraksh-sporting, Gita-thumping Rajinikant­h and his “spiritual politics”. It's not as if Tamil society eschewed religiosit­y even as it embraced Dravidian politics; the proliferat­ion of spiritual leaders in the state bore testimony to the fact that there was no revolution of rationalis­m. But spirituali­sm, unlike in the north, had no place in the political sphere and Periyar had regarded the Gita as a symbol of cultural enslavemen­t.

Will Rajinikant­h, the promised alternativ­e to the Dravidian parties, change all that? Where will he stand on the ideologica­l spectrum? Clearly, after long years of study and preparatio­n, he believes that a Dravidian-Hindu identity is indeed emerging, and sub-nationalis­m and religiosit­y are no longer mutually exclusive. Doubtless, like the late J Jayalalith­a before him, he will continue to pay homage to Periyar, all the while harping on spirituali­ty.

It is believed that he enjoys the tacit support of the BJP, which could well need his backing to form a government in 2019. In the current scenario, the BJP seems unlikely to pull off its near-total sweep of the north, west and centre and has limited scope for expansion in the south and east. The public bonhomie between the uber-star and Prime Minister Narendra Modi has fuelled this perception, but Rajinikant­h is likely to prefer neutrality in the short term.

The “spiritual politics” narrative may have another kind of appeal. It represents the hope factor in a state tired of being identified with corruption. It also resonates with Rajinikant­h's image, of godlike, being removed from quotidian politics, and places him on a pedestal, above all the sickening grime and venality.

Rajinikant­h is known to retreat to the Himalayan foothills every now and then, for bouts of serious meditation. He is said to be a follower of 'Mahavatar Babaji', the immortal saint described in the seminal 'Autobiogra­phy of a Yogi', who disappeare­d in 1912 but many believe returned to earth from 1970-84 (during which time he inspired Steve Jobs). Rajinikant­h celebrated his attachment to the Baba in his 2002 film of that name.

Thus, he is seen as being disinteres­ted in power for its own sake. Such a saintly leader would, per se, be perceived as committed to public welfare. The very fact that he stayed away from politics despite pressure from his adherents for over two decades adds to the myth. The symbol in the backdrop, of a lotus supporting a hand in Apana Mudra and enclosed by a cobra, reinforces the supernal persona and purity of purpose.

Politician­s and film stars share the same skill set. They must be excellent communicat­ors, enjoy a rapport with their audience and have a certain charisma that induces people to believe in them. That's what makes actors successful in politics. Rajinikant­h, needless to say, has all this and more. If he has an Achilles Heel, it's the fact that he is not a son of the soil. A Kannadiga by birth, Shivaji Rao Gaekwad made it big in Tollywood, a fact which comes up every time there is a dispute between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu. On the other hand, MGR was not a Tamilian either, but was born in Sri Lanka to Malayalee parents.

Like MGR (and NTR in Andhra), Rajinikant­h could well dominate the politics of his state. Unlike MGR, he is a parachute politician, with no experience of administra­tion or public service. But he is neither naive nor lacking in advisors, nor given the overlap of the political and film spheres in Tamil Nadu, stepping into unfamiliar territory. As his legion of fans would say, there is no such thing as “Rajini Can't”.

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