It probably began with the casual stereotyping of South Indians and their languages through dismissive phrases like “Anda gunda thanda pani.” Bollywood amplified it. South Indians and their cultures have often been reduced to a handful of clichés: idli-sambar, vegetarianism, thiruneer/pattai worn on the forehead, and veshtis worn as everyday attire.
This, largely upper caste-denoting stereotype, became so deeply ingrained that when Janhvi Kapoor spoke about eating idli with chicken curry, it surprised many. After all, wasn’t idli supposed to be eaten only with sambar? And weren’t South Indians supposed to be vegetarians?
But the days when cinema alone shaped these perceptions are long gone. Social media has created a new generation of influencers who now have the power to both reinforce and challenge stereotypes on a scale once reserved for mainstream media. What is striking and worrisome is that even young and educated creators are not necessarily immune to reproducing similar caricatures.
Over the last ten days, many creators have been appearing on our screens as Dhibu Ninan Thomas’s 2018 hit Othayadi Pathayila played in the background. Each of them attempted, in their own way, to apply thiruneer (sacred ash commonly known as vibuthi). Some used creams and sunscreen; others used white eyeliner or pencil liners. A few resorted to toothpaste, Fevicol, GluconD, and what appears to be dosa batter. All of this was apparently meant to show that they are attempting to “look” or “become” South Indian.
For some, it didn’t immediately seem problematic. Meenakshi Devaraj, a historian, recalls how she was eager when she heard of the trend, thinking that something specific to the South Indian culture has been popularised. “At first, it did not reach me in a wrong sense right off the bat. I was just thinking about how creative people can be,” she says. Some others found the trend to be in bad taste. Ashvin E Rajagopalan, director, Ashvita’s, calls out the cultural appropriation. “Imagine if someone from the United States painted their face black to depict an African-American? It is a similar thing that is happening here… This appropriation is a problem and it is definitely not in good taste,” Ashvin says.
Although he believes that the creators who have jumped on the bandwagon may personally not have intended any harm, and could have simply created a reel for fun, he believes that the ignorance and the lack of knowledge on cultural nuances, bothers him. “I don’t think there is any maleficent intent… But what they are doing is expanding illiteracy, giving trends no context, and making cultures feel more disconnected and dystopian,” he adds.
Owing to its religious significance, Meenakshi notes, “Just trying to dress like a Tamilian somewhere from up north by applying something that could bring in the vibuthi look is fine, but even one small wrong body language may become a sensitive matter since it is a symbol very sacred among the Tamilians.” A few creators even received backlash for enunciating the lyrics with over-emphasis, resulting in some words sounding like colloquial slurs.
Story of the sacred ash
When asked about vibuthi’s origin, Ashvin retells the mythological story he is familiar with. Lord Shiva, he says, had once given three asuras the power to rule the earth, sky, and the netherworld respectively. They became so powerful that Tripurantaka, a manifestation of Shiva, had to come down to the world and kill them. “It is said that it is the ash of those three worlds he destroyed that Shiva took in his fingers and applied across his forehead, which is why mostly Saivites wear the three stripes (known as pattai),” he tells.
The sacred ash and its importance were then emphasised on by the Nayanmars (Saivite poets), roughly from the 6th century onwards, Meenakshi adds. “From then till date, applying vibuthi on one’s forehead is literally an everyday practice for most of the Saivites. Thirugnanasambandar has written separate verses to enforce the significance of it in his work called ‘Thiruneetru Pathigam’. The absence of such an influential Saivite Bhakti movement up north may be the cause for lack of awareness of it and practice of wearing it on the forehead,” she speculates.
Beyond the attempt to “look” or “seem” South Indian with thiruneer, what has triggered the south is undeniably the texts that accompany the content. Creators, yet again, reduced the south’s identity to idli and sambar. Donna Reji, a brand manager who grew up in different parts of the country, laments, “I already had a tough time to disassociate from that identity and now, as an adult, I have a tough time educating people about our culture. This trend doesn’t help at all. As if, generalising South Indians under the umbrella term of ‘Madrasi’ wasn’t enough.”
While it undoubtedly reinforces age-old stereotypes, for once, it seems like North Indians have also reduced their own cultures to food caricatures. Someone from the north-east called themselves “momo,” a Maharashtrian “poha,” a Gujarati “dhokla,” a Punjabi “lassi,” and so on, and went on to then say that they are trying to be “idli-sambar”. At least we’re all being stereotyped equally in this trend!