Kattappa's guide to north Indians watching Baahubali

Dear north Indian viewers of Baahubali,

Time and again I have been plagued by particular reactions from you sitting in the countless multiplexes of India that is north of Aravalli and Vindhya, belying acute ignorance on your part. I am distressed at your popcorn-popping idiocy, your cloistered attitude to south Indian cinema (something I would attribute to the steady diet of the Khan-troika movies) and your utter befuddlement at the colossal impact of Baahubali, which has exploded the bloated gas balloon of your North Indian imagination, leaving it in shreds.   

So, hereby, I am suggesting a few remedies. Please give it a good read.

Firstly, just because you have not heard or don't understand a language, even an invented one, does not mean it is gibberish. Just like you cannot tell apart Tamil from Telegu, or Kannada from Malayalam, some of us south of Narmada and Mahanadi, cannot distinguish between Hindi and Punjabi, Haryanvi and Gujarati. (Oh, so can't many of you!) But, usually we Dravidians tend not to laugh at what you're saying in Hindustani and its various regional inflections, because, as it happens, we are (statistically) more understanding towards the complications created by the Everest-like linguistic barriers.

So, all those whose giggles of derision echoed in the air-conditioned multiplexes of New Delhi, Noida and Gurgaon, as you heard the black-faced "Kalakeya" speak the "Kiliki" language (yes, an imaginary one), I wish you knew what a fool you made of yourselves. The "Kiliki" jokes, memes and viral videos on the internet, are similar expressions of your hardened bias dripping with cultural illiteracy. It would do you well to move up the rung of sociocultural comprehension, expand the extremely limited horizon of your movie consumption and watch some more of magnificent films by SS Rajamouli, Mani Ratnam, and other fantastic filmmakers who are closer to the Indian Ocean than you happen to be.

Secondly, all of you who fall back on Chennai Express for a grammar on south Indians and their cinema, who want your fair and handsome north Indian hero (even if he's touching 50) to romance the twenty-something, svelte south Indian heroine and rescue her from her own chunky, clunky Oriental despots of a father, brother, uncle and the whole dark-skinned clan, Baahubali must have been a distressing reversal of fortune. While overly critical among you have blamed our whitening of the southern belle (by casting the pearly white Tammanah Bhatia in the role of Avanthika), most of you were comforted by Prabhas' skin tone, and by his torso that's more Spartan than your demigods Hrithik, Akshay or John. Once again, you are trapped in a cage of stupid comparisons, and cannot appreciate the flavours of south India without turning them into faux north Indian mirror images in your minds.

Finally, even though the wigless Rajanikanth is your Khan-troika and "WTF-hairpiece Big B" rolled into one divine and inscrutable phenomenon of superstardom, he is not the beginning and end of south Indian cinema. I understand he can be, and often is, an immense, eye-popping blinker towards many of our eye-opening cinematic achievements, I urge you all to look beyond him. It is difficult, but not impossible.

And even though I am only a regicidal slave warrior that your benighted sense of humour wants to laugh at (okay, I accede that my role gives little to laugh along with), at least have the decency to open the treasure trove of ancient Indian history and read about the generals and swordsmen of empires like Vijayanagara, Chola, Pal, Satavahanas, Kalabhras, Chalukyas, who have somewhat contributed to my entirely fictitious character. Often, facts are stranger and far more fascinating than the infantile fictions that you are spoon-fed on.  

Cinematically yours,

Kattappa