In 2023, in the Reflections column, I wrote a warning. A stark, uncomfortable warning about the trajectory of fan culture in India—how the dangerous cocktail of celebrity worship, political megalomania, and systemic negligence was creating a powder keg waiting to explode. That warning has now materialized in blood and broken bodies on the streets of Karur, Tamil Nadu, where 41 lives were extinguished at a TVK party rally. Forty-one families were shattered. Countless others were injured. And yet, the question that haunts every thinking citizen is this: Why are we still talking about arrests of small-time party secretaries while the architects of this massacre walk free?

The Recurring Nightmare We Refuse to Wake From

Let's be brutally honest—this is not an isolated incident. This is not even a Tamil Nadu-specific problem, though the state has become a particularly fertile ground for this deadly phenomenon. The stampede at the IPL match in Bengaluru's Chinnaswamy Stadium. The tragic deaths at religious gatherings during the Kumbh Mela. These are not accidents. These are systemic failures dressed up as unavoidable tragedies, and we, as a society, have become complicit in this charade with our silence and selective amnesia.

But Tamil Nadu presents a particularly insidious case study. When actor-turned-politician Vijay's rallies have already claimed seven lives in previous incidents—six in one rally, one in another—and yet he continues to organize massive gatherings without consequence, we must ask ourselves: What kind of democracy are we living in? What kind of justice system allows a pattern of negligence to continue unabated?

The Karur massacre wasn't a bolt from the blue. It was entirely predictable. When you create a cult of personality, when you encourage frenzy over reason, when you prioritize spectacle over safety, death is not just a possibility—it's a probability.

The Grotesque Theatre of Impunity

Here's what makes this situation particularly stomach-turning: the complete absence of accountability at the top. If an ordinary citizen causes a vehicle accident through negligence, the law comes down hard. The driver is arrested, prosecuted, and held responsible. If a common man defends himself in a moment of crisis, he finds himself entangled in legal proceedings that can last for years. But when a political figure's rally becomes a death trap? When people are literally falling under campaign vehicles? The perpetrators don't just escape justice—they escape to the airport.

Let that sink in. While bodies were still being counted in Karur, while families were identifying their dead, the man whose rally caused this carnage didn't have the basic human decency to address the victims, to take responsibility, even to pause his political ambitions. Instead, he fled. And the system let him.

The Supreme Court's interference in canceling the SIT investigation ordered by the state government adds another layer of absurdity to this tragedy. When the highest court in the land steps in to obstruct an investigation into mass deaths, what message does it send? Does that influence matter more than justice? Do political calculations trump human lives?

The Anatomy of Selective Justice

The pattern is clear and disturbing. In Tamil Nadu, fan culture has metastasized into something far more dangerous than mere celebrity worship. It has become a vehicle for organized hooliganism, public misconduct, and violence. Fans of certain actors—particularly Vijay's supporters—have been repeatedly involved in rowdy activities, harassment of women, vandalism, and intimidation. This isn't fandom; it's fanaticism weaponized.

And who enables this behavior? The very person they worship. The megalomaniac who thrives on this adulation, who cultivates this frenzy, who converts blind loyalty into political capital. The fact that his general secretary is the son-in-law of one of the country's biggest lottery barons and a wanted criminal should have raised alarm bells across the political spectrum. Instead, it's met with a collective shrug, a convenient amnesia that speaks volumes about the state of our public discourse.

Why? Because elections are around the corner. The Tamil Nadu government and opposition parties are playing a calculated game of silence, unwilling to alienate a massive vote bank. Democracy, that noble ideal of government "for the people, by the people, and of the people," has been reduced to a farce—it's now for the elite, by the elite, and of the elite. The common man is collateral damage in someone else's ambition.

The Structural Void That Kills

One would imagine that after multiple deadly incidents at large gatherings—political rallies, cricket matches, religious congregations—there would be comprehensive, enforceable regulations governing such events. One would be wrong.

India still lacks a robust national framework for organizing mammoth rallies. There are no stringent safety protocols, no mandatory crowd management plans, and no serious penalties for violations. Cities continue to allow massive gatherings in congested areas with inadequate entry and exit points. Leaders arrive hours late, if at all, while crowds swell to dangerous proportions. Structures are erected without proper engineering oversight. Security measures are token gestures rather than serious safeguards.

This isn't rocket science. Countries around the world have developed sophisticated crowd management systems precisely because they've learned from past tragedies. But India seems determined to learn nothing, to change nothing, to simply absorb the shock of each disaster and move on to the next news cycle.

Why isn't the highway department held accountable when someone dies in a road accident, despite everyone paying road tax? Why aren't event organizers criminally liable when their negligence leads to deaths? Why do we have different standards of accountability for different classes of citizens?

The Deeper Disease: Manufacturing Mindless Masses

But let's dig deeper. The fan culture phenomenon in Tamil Nadu is not happening in a vacuum. It's being actively cultivated, nurtured, and exploited. An entire generation of young people is being trained to surrender their critical faculties at the altar of celebrity worship. They're taught that blind loyalty is virtue, that questioning is betrayal, that their identity is defined by whose poster they carry.

This is catastrophic for democracy. When citizens become fans, they stop being citizens. They stop asking questions. They stop demanding accountability. They accept narratives without scrutiny. They become foot soldiers in someone else's game, willing to fight, willing to disrupt, sometimes even willing to die—for what? For a fleeting moment in the presence of someone who sees them as numbers, as props, as disposable tools for political ascent.

And the most cynical part? Many of these young people are lured to rallies with promises of alcohol, biryani, and a few hundred rupees. Their participation is bought; their presence commodified. They're not attending out of genuine political conviction or civic engagement—they're there because poverty and unemployment have made them vulnerable to such exploitation.

Tamil Nadu's Paradox: Progress and Regression

Here's the most troubling irony: Tamil Nadu boasts an exceptional economic growth rate of 9.69%, positioning it as one of India's top-performing states. Yet this economic progress masks disturbing social realities. Literacy rates haven't kept pace with economic growth. Caste divisions remain as rigid as ever. Honor killings continue to blight the state.

The Dravidian movement, which once stood as a bulwark against casteism and Brahminical hegemony, is now being systematically undermined. New political formations like TVK are emerging not as genuine alternatives but as tools to fragment and weaken Tamil Nadu's historical resistance to majoritarian politics. Religious factions, caste-based parties, and right-wing elements are working in concert—sometimes overtly, covertly—to break the state's social fabric.

Vijay himself represents a particularly dangerous archetype: a mediocre actor whose influence has grown not despite, but because of the regressive tastes that dominate Tamil cinema. He's a product of an industry that has long glorified toxic masculinity, violence, and the cult of the hero who is above law and accountability. That this translates into political megalomania is hardly surprising. That it's being tolerated is unforgivable.

What Must Change—Immediately

We've had enough warnings. We've had enough deaths. It's time for concrete action:

• Regulatory Framework: The government must immediately ban large political gatherings in crowded urban areas. All rallies above a certain size must be held in designated open spaces outside city limits with proper infrastructure, multiple entry-exit points, and emergency access.
• Criminal Accountability: Event organizers, including political leaders, must be held criminally liable for deaths and injuries resulting from negligence. If your rally kills people because of inadequate safety measures, you should face prosecution. Period.
• Strict Timelines: Leaders must arrive at scheduled times, or the event must be canceled. No exceptions. The practice of keeping massive crowds waiting for hours while VIPs decide when to grace the venue with their presence must end.
• Ban on Dangerous Structures: No more giant banners, hoardings, and structures erected without engineering certification. Every year, these installations collapse and kill people. Enough.
• Protection for Vulnerable Groups: Mandatory separate, secured sections for women and families with stringent security protocols.
• Party Registration Reform: Influence, fan following, and money cannot be the primary criteria for registering political parties. Leaders must demonstrate actual policy understanding, engage in substantive public debates, and prove their capability to govern—not just their ability to mobilize crowds.
• End Coalition Blackmail: Coalition politics has created a situation where problematic parties are coddled because they control vote banks. This must be challenged through electoral reforms that reduce fragmentation.
• Vigorous Prosecution: The CBI investigation into the Karur massacre must be truly independent. If Vijay is found culpable—and the pattern of deaths at his rallies suggests negligence at minimum—he must face consequences. If the investigation clears him despite overwhelming circumstantial evidence, it will only confirm what many already believe: that India operates on a two-tier justice system where the powerful are literally above the law.

A Call to Citizens: Save Yourselves, Save Your Children

Ultimately, systemic change will take time. In the meantime, we must take individual responsibility. Parents must actively work to ensure their children don't get sucked into this destructive fan culture. Young people must be encouraged to develop their own critical thinking, to pursue genuine life goals rather than derivative glory through celebrity association.

Families must prioritize their safety and well-being over momentary excitement. The thrill of attending a massive rally is not worth your life. It's certainly not worth dying so that someone's political career can advance one more step.

Citizens must refuse to be bought. When someone offers you liquor, food, and cash to attend a rally, recognize it for what it is: an attempt to commodify your citizenship, to turn you from a thinking individual into a manipulable mass.

The Verdict We Already Know

If the CBI investigation ultimately clears Vijay—which, let's be honest, seems likely given the way such investigations typically conclude when powerful people are involved—it won't be a vindication of his innocence. It will be confirmation of something far more damning: that India remains a nation where justice is negotiable, where accountability is selective, where the common man is led like sheep to slaughter while the elite write and rewrite the rules to suit themselves.

Forty-one people died in Karur. They were not statistics. They were human beings—sons, daughters, parents, siblings—with dreams, responsibilities, and futures that were stolen from them. Their deaths demand more than perfunctory arrests of low-level functionaries. They demand a fundamental reckoning with the deadly culture we've allowed to flourish.

The question is: Are we brave enough to demand it? Or will we simply wait for the next tragedy, the next set of broken bodies, the next round of empty condolences from the very people responsible for the carnage?

The choice, ultimately, is ours. But make no mistake—our silence is complicity. Our inaction is approval. And the next deaths will be on all of our hands.

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