Kerala Story 2 | Creativity weaponised against communal harmony

When films trade truth for propaganda, they don’t just distort reality, they fracture society

Films may provoke, satirise, criticise, or even offend — that is part of our fundamental freedom. But when the primary intention is to tarnish, dehumanise, or systematically degrade a section of society, it becomes targeted contempt masquerading as creativity.

The Kerala Story 2: Goes Beyond, like its prequel, weaponises imagination against the Muslim community in particular, and Kerala in general — a state long seen as a model of communal harmony. When the makers met the media in Delhi, they admitted the film is not just about Kerala, but incidents across the country. If so, why drag an entire state into the narrative for targeted vilification? The Kerala High Court, taking cognisance, made scathing remarks against the filmmakers for showing the state ‘in a wrong light’.

Propaganda films are not new to Indian cinema, but when blatant lies are peddled as facts under the guise of ‘inspired by true events’, they take on a dangerous edge. The Kerala Story (released in 2023, timed ahead of the Lok Sabha polls) claimed to expose a massive ‘love jihad’ conspiracy, alleging thousands of Hindu and Christian women from Kerala were tricked into converting to Islam and recruited by ISIS. Marketed aggressively — with Prime Minister Narendra Modi himself mentioning it at a rally in Karnataka — the film initially touted the figure of 32,000 women (later revised amid backlash). Yet, fact-checkers, investigations, and official probes found no evidence. A handful of isolated cases were exaggerated into a sweeping, unfounded narrative. Needless to say, the Union government is yet to acknowledge this phantom called ‘Love Jihad’. 

Every credible analysis found it to be Islamophobic propaganda that stigmatised Muslims as predators, portrayed interfaith relationships as threats, and falsely painted Keralam — a state renowned for its high literacy, social progress, and centuries-old communal harmony — as a hotbed of religious extremism and conversion rackets. The sequel is on the same track, with the trailer showing a hapless woman being force-fed beef.

As someone who frequently travels outside Keralam, I can vouch that the damage from the first film was profound. Even educated people asked me about the ‘worsening situation in Keralam’. It deepened divisions, fuelled suspicion between communities, amplified stereotypes that turned everyday interactions into perceived dangers, and contributed to a broader climate of Islamophobia.

Reports highlighted how it exacerbated religious tensions, influenced public opinion to view Muslims with suspicion, and even sparked harassment linked to heightened polarisation. In Keralam itself, where interfaith coexistence has long been a strength, the film was seen as a deliberate attempt to erode that fabric, sow seeds of hatred, and damage the state’s secular image for political gain.

Justice Ujjal Bhuyan recently illustrated how divisive narratives worsen prejudice. He recounted how his daughter’s Muslim friend, a PhD scholar, was denied rental accommodation in Delhi after her surname revealed her religious identity. The landlady bluntly refused, telling her to look elsewhere. This incident, he noted, shows the gap between constitutional ideals of equality and fraternity and a ground reality of exclusion — where propaganda fuels everyday discrimination.

Such content doesn’t just entertain — it actively shapes perceptions, turning nuanced realities into victim-villain binaries along religious lines. In India’s diverse society, these portrayals risk eroding trust, fostering community suspicion, stereotyping minorities, and transforming personal freedoms into communal flashpoints — often for commercial or political gain, amplified by social media.

The Supreme Court recently slammed the title of an OTT film, Ghooskhor Pandat (starring Manoj Bajpayee, directed by Neeraj Pandey), terming it contrary to ‘public order, morality, and constitutional fraternity amid fragile societal sensibilities.’ If this is the response to a colloquial title, what observations might this objectionable movie sequel deserve from the apex court? In a separate opinion, Justice Bhuyan underscored that it is constitutionally impermissible to vilify any community through any medium.

Today’s polarising politics is paving the way for a plethora of propaganda films, as promoters know viewers can be influenced. This trend has amplified and professionalised, as seen in the much-hyped Dhurandhar, a spy thriller starring Ranveer Singh. Like most so-called ultranationalist movies, it blends historical events with fiction to portray perpetual cross-border threats, drawing criticism for distortions, manufactured Pakistani villainy, and hyper-patriotic binaries, often labelled as ideologically embedded films.

As The Kerala Story 2 lingers in legal limbo and echoes of the 2023 film’s harm persists, the challenge is clear: prioritise responsible storytelling over sensationalism that profits from fear, hatred, and polarisation. Kerala’s discerning public has often rejected such narratives; the hope is that this critical lens prevails nationwide before more noxious and fetid content widens societal fractures further.

John Brittas is a Member of Parliament.

(Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.)