In 2007, Mohanlal landed in a controversy that brewed over his ‘Vaikeettentha paripadi?’ surrogate ad for a liquor brand. Lalettan, however, smiled it off in his trademark style. And the catchphrase went on to become an iconic line among Kerala’s tipplers.
Now, two decades later, eyebrows were raised again as he was seen endorsing lotteries. Only that it was a fake AI-generated ad made by a group of fraudulent lottery agencies, prompting the actor to approach the court.
An artist’s identity is often said to be the most valuable asset in an industry driven by visibility. The face on a poster, a distinctive voice, a signature gesture, or even a repeated phrase — these are what audiences recognise and remember.
But in the age of AI, where identity can be replicated with alarming ease, a pressing question emerges: who owns an identity?
The answer is still evolving. Mohanlal’s recent move against the unauthorised use of his image and persona has brought the issue into sharp focus.
In its order, the Delhi High Court granted him a ‘John Doe’ injunction, which restrains multiple known and unknown entities from commercially exploiting his personality attributes — including AI-generated content and unauthorised merchandise.
While this case involves a superstar with the resources to seek legal remedy, it raises broader concerns about what such protections mean for ordinary people.
Unlike many other legal protections, personality rights in India are yet to be codified in a single statute. Instead, they have evolved through judicial decisions pertaining to specific disputes.
So, what are personality rights? They refer to an individual’s ability to control the commercial use of their identity: name, appearance, voice, and other distinctive traits. Courts have linked this concept to the right to privacy and dignity under Article 21 of the Constitution.
The evolution of personality rights can be traced through distinct phases. It began with privacy. In the R Rajagopal case (1994), the Supreme Court recognised an individual’s right to control the commercial use of their identity, tying it to personal liberty under Article 21.
It then expanded into the realm of commercial value. In the Titan Industries case (2012), the Delhi High Court articulated the ‘right of publicity’, underscoring that a well-known personality’s identity cannot be used for commercial gain without consent. This marked a shift in recognising identity as an economic asset.
With the rise of the digital world, the conversation has entered a third phase: digital identity.
Globally, similar concerns have surfaced. In 2023, cine artists in the US protested against studios scanning their faces and reusing digital likenesses indefinitely. The eventual agreement mandated consent and compensation.
While Hollywood actors took to the streets, Indian artists have turned to the courts. Recent rulings involving Anil Kapoor, Jackie Shroff, and Abhishek Bachchan have barred unauthorised digital use of their voices, likenesses, and distinctive traits.
These cases highlighted another dimension: the value of an artist’s persona — the cumulative value of their body of work.
Technology, however, continues to test the limits of protection. Playback singer and rapper J’mymah recounts a troubling experience: “I worked on a foreign ad for a school, where I wrote a rap and shared a short voice demo. Later, I found they had used my demo to create a full track without my knowledge. I was paid only for the rap I wrote.”
In an already competitive industry, she believes the only safeguard is originality. “All we can do is keep being unique,” she says.
While acknowledging the benefits of technology, J’mymah insists on basic fairness. “At least inform us before using our voice or face,” she says. “Using someone’s identity without consent is wrong, especially when it’s manipulated to create something else.”
Theatre practitioner and actor Athira Nikathil sees the shift as already underway. “AI-generated content is everywhere — from government ads to cinema halls. Real artists have begun to lose opportunities,” she says. “We can’t stop AI. All that we can do is urge creators to use it responsibly.”
Mohanlal’s legal team
Mohanlal’s legal team included lawyers Sreehari Indukaladharan, M F Philip and Smitha Damodaran. “Any artist who has created an ‘influencer persona’ — whose words or actions can influence others — can seek legal redress,” Sreehari explains.
“There is value attached to one’s identity, and if that value is threatened by unauthorised use, the law offers protection.” That doesn’t mean protection is just for celebrities. “The law is equal for everyone,” he adds. Why did the team choose the Delhi High Court? “Only five High Courts currently possess Ordinary Original Civil Jurisdiction. This allows them to hear certain high-value civil cases directly, in the first instance, rather than only through the appeal process. Kerala High Court is not on the list,” Sreehari says.
“Also, since this case is related to the internet, we chose Delhi because most of the defendants, including Meta, Google and X, are based there.”
Taking note of the rise in such cases, Sreehari informs that “a framework for a bill specifically addressing personality rights is in the works”.
Cyber action
Superintendent of Police Ankit Ashokan (Cyber Operations) points out that the revised IT Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code impose “very strict” conditions on artificial content — any audio, visual, or audiovisual material generated or altered using computer resources. “No living person should be represented without consent,” he explains. “No one can use your persona for promotions, advertising, or content creation.” Victims can file complaints with Cyber Cell grievance officers, he adds. “In cases involving nudity, content must be removed within two hours,” the officer says. “Other complaints must be addressed within 36 hours, failing which appeals can be made to a grievance appellate committee, which must resolve the issue within 30 days.”
What is a ‘John Doe’ injunction?
A ‘John Doe’ injunction is a court order issued against unknown or unidentified defendants. Instead of naming specific individuals, it applies to anyone responsible for a particular illegal act, such as misuse of identity or copyright infringement. The term originates from a traditional English legal placeholder used when a person’s identity is unknown. In India, courts have adapted it to address offences where perpetrators are difficult to identify, especially in the digital space.
These injunctions are commonly used in cases involving:
Online piracy
Anonymous social media accounts
Circulation of illegal or harmful content