Quick Take: A joke that missed both context and punchline

An outsider stumbling upon the outrage over a seemingly throwaway line in Karuppu might well wonder what the fuss is about. After all, isn’t humour — and by extension, creative freedom — part of a filmmaker’s right? The issue here, however, goes beyond a joke.

The controversy stems from two specific choices in the scene. The first concerns the use of Poradada — a song that since its creation in 1985, has evolved into far more than just a film song. It has become an anthem representing resistance and assertion for the working class and marginalised communities, particularly Dalits fighting for dignity and basic rights. To use such a number as part of a fake protest staged by an antagonist reveals insensitivity on the filmmaker’s part.

In a film packed with pop-culture references, this runs the risk of reducing a politically charged anthem into meme material, thereby stripping it of its emotional and historical weight.

The second issue lies in the line about Ilaiyaraaja filing a copyright case over the song’s use in the protest — a moment clearly intended to invite a chuckle by referencing the veteran composer’s recent legal actions against unauthorised usage of his music.

But the joke also exposes how poorly understood the copyright debate around Ilaiyaraaja continues to be. Given RJ Balaji’s background in radio and media, it’s even more surprising. For, at the heart of the composer’s legal battle is not greed or ego, as social media often reduces it to, but a creator’s attempt to retain control over his own work. Ilaiyaraaja has repeatedly stated that he intends to donate financial gains from these cases towards the welfare of struggling musicians through the Cine Musicians Association.

At a time when large sections of the public still remain uninformed about the legal and ethical dimensions of the issue — and when the composer continues to be casually labelled as “greedy” or “arrogant” — such lines in a mainstream film might only end up reinforcing lazy narratives rather than challenging them.
The makers have now expressed regret and announced that the line will be removed. Yet, the moment also feels like a missed opportunity. RJ Balaji could easily have used the scene to communicate the larger point behind Ilaiyaraaja’s fight for creative rights. All it would have taken was a single additional line — perhaps from the lead character Karuppu, a local deity, himself — warning the antagonist that even the

“God of Music” does not stand by his ways and he better change them. This would not only have given the joke its missing punchline, but also given the film a true hero-elevation moment.