By T.Chiranjeevulu, IAS (Ret).
(Dedicated to Fish Venkat – In response to an artist’s pain)
Today, some newspapers reported that the children of the late actor Fish Venkat lamented the Telugu film industry’s inadequate response to his death. It’s true—the Telugu cinema industry is a domain captive to the dominance of upper-caste groups like Kammas, Reddys, Rajus, Kapus, and, in recent times, Velamas. Why would they care when a Backward Caste (BC) or Bahujan artist passes away? The film industry is a field rife with rampant caste discrimination at every step.
Cinema is not just a medium for entertainment; it is a powerful platform for social consciousness and change. Many Bahujans have embodied artistry in their way of life, through songs, dramas, folk arts, and stage plays—forming the backbone of these traditions. However, in the very film industry that thrives on this artistic legacy, Bahujans are denied lead roles. They have the talent, but the doors of opportunity are shut. In Telugu films, Bahujans are relegated to roles like villains, drivers, goons, or comic characters, while roles portraying leadership, intelligence, or courage are invariably reserved for upper-caste actors. Families from dominant castes, often lacking any artistic tradition, dominate as heroes, tarnishing the sanctity of the art form. This caste bias is not limited to acting roles—it permeates directorial roles, scriptwriting, and production, rooted in the mindset of the industry’s key players.
Opportunities in cinema should be based on talent, but in reality, caste, family legacy, and wealth take precedence in the Telugu film industry. The status of “star hero” is restricted to certain communities, with caste acting as a “passport.” The case of Suman, the only BC hero to rise to prominence in Telugu cinema, exemplifies this. A malicious conspiracy led to false cases being filed against him, resulting in imprisonment and the deliberate destruction of his career by upper-caste forces in the industry. Yet, he remains a remarkable actor. This incident starkly reveals how the industry refuses to accept Bahujans as heroes.
Similarly, Paidi Jai Raju, a BC actor from Sirisilla, Karimnagar, rose to prominence as a first-generation hero in Bollywood and even received the Dadasaheb Phalke Award. However, the Telugu industry completely ignored him. Another gem, director Jai Bolo Telangana Shankar, created a powerful film, *Jayam Manadera*, with Victory Venkatesh, advocating for political power for Dalits and BCs. Impressed by the film, then-Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Mayawati personally invited Shankar for a one-hour discussion. Yet, the Telugu industry sidelined him, denying him directorial opportunities because he dared to make films advocating for the marginalized. In contrast, Tamil, Kannada, and Malayalam industries have 70% of their actors, producers, directors, distributors, and studio owners from BC and Bahujan communities, while the Telugu industry stands in stark opposition.
BC women like Sharada and Vanisree shone as heroines, but why haven’t BC men become heroes? The industry accepts BC heroines but not heroes—a reflection of its double standards and deep-rooted casteism. Directors like Telangana Shankar have excelled in technical roles, but the system ensures Bahujans are excluded from lead roles on screen. In contrast, other industries show a different reality: in Kannada cinema, Yash, a BC, is a superstar; in Tamil cinema, Vijay belongs to the Christian community; in Bollywood, Ajay Devgn hails from the Vishwakarma caste. In states like Bihar, Maharashtra, and Uttar Pradesh, Bahujans shine as heroes, but in Telugu cinema, the dominance of Kamma, Reddy, Raju, Kapu, and Velama castes is meticulously maintained, controlling not just filmmaking but studios, distribution, and marketing.
Bahujans are the ones who support the industry, spending their hard-earned money on films. For the past 30 years, the Kapu caste has dominated, particularly since Chiranjeevi’s rise as a hero. Fans plaster posters of their favorite heroes, perform rituals like milk abhishekam on release days, and run fan clubs, but these communities are never deemed worthy of being heroes themselves. If Bahujans are the audience that sustains cinema, is it wrong for them to aspire to see their own as heroes? Worshipping heroes who lack acting talent or have unattractive features, simply because of their caste or family legacy, reflects our collective poverty of thought. How long will we continue to be deceived? Their applause fuels their accolades. It’s time for awareness and change.
Bahujans must understand this system and stop supporting upper-caste hero films or participating in their promotions. They should showcase their creativity through platforms like OTT, YouTube, and independent productions. Governments must provide substantial subsidies and incentives for Bahujan filmmakers. We should not support films that sidelined Bahujans. Why should one community bear the cost while another reaps the benefits? This question demands a social movement to uproot upper-caste dominance. Only then will Telugu cinema truly honor its artistic legacy.
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