25/04/2026

SATURDAY | APR 25, 2026

18 Vijay: From reel hero to real force V IJAY is how my son knows him. Not Joseph Vijay, not a politician, not a man contesting one of India’s most closely watched state elections – just

Vijay. The hero who always arrives at the right moment, who fixes what is broken, who lives in that comforting space between certainty and spectacle. In our living room, like in so many Tamil homes far from India, his films are not just watched – they are felt. And maybe that is where this story really begins: not in the political heart of Tamil Nadu but in homes like mine, where identity has always been stitched together through language, memory and cinema. So, when Tamil Nadu went to the polls on April 23, it did not feel distant; it felt personal. This is a state that has long understood something the rest of the world often underestimates – that cinema is not separate from politics; it is a rehearsal for it. Long before manifestoes are read, narratives are believed. Long before candidates are tested, they are trusted. M.G. Ramachandran or famously known as MGR did not simply enter politics; he carried devotion with him, built over years of being seen on screen as a protector and provider. J. Jayalalithaa did not have to introduce authority; she embodied it, drawing from a legacy in which performance and power were never entirely separate. In Tamil Nadu, the distance between reel and real has always been negotiable. But what is unfolding now is not a repetition of that past. It is something more unsettled and far more revealing of the present moment. Vijay is not stepping into a system waiting to crown him. He is stepping into one that is fractured, restless and no longer held together by the same emotional certainties. The towering figures are gone. The loyalties they commanded are thinner. And the electorate, especially the young, is no longer willing to inherit political allegiance without question. And into that space walks Vijay. Not with a legacy, not with a political machine but with something arguably just as powerful – familiarity that has already been tested, absorbed and believed. It is easy, perhaps too easy, to reduce this moment to a simple question: Will he win? With results due on May 4, the expectation remains P O T T U B Y H A S H I Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting. Kuala Lumpur was adorned with the flags of Commonwealth countries, a sight that excited me as a child. Then we hosted the XVI Commonwealth Games when Ella delivered her stirring performance of Standing in the Eyes of the World . My dad, a former rugby player for the country and Negeri Sembilan, is now retired. Naturally we often frequented the stadium in Kelana Jaya to support our national team and watch Jonah Lomu, the legendary All Blacks superstar. In the match against New Zealand, we were beaten 53–0 but what I remember most from that day was the roar of Malaysians when we managed to tackle the formidable Jonah Lomu and stop a try. Our scoreboard remained at zero , yet the ecstasy of bringing him down – despite the disparity in size – remains etched in my memory as a moment of pride for us as Malaysians.

Vijay is not stepping into a system waiting to crown him. He is stepping into one that is fractured, restless and no longer held together by the same emotional certainties. – PIC COURTESY OF TEAM TVK

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We inherited these icons from a distance. We understood Tamil Nadu through films long before we understood it through policy. And now we are watching that same cultural language reshape its politics in real time – not as spectators but as people still emotionally tethered to what the state becomes. So what happens after May 4? Perhaps the same parties will return, perhaps the same names will hold power but it will not be the same state – because something has moved. Vijay may not rise to power in the way MGR once did, nor command the sweeping authority of Jayalalithaa. But he does not need to – not yet. Because this moment is not about arrival; it is about entry. The beginning of a new phase in Tamil Nadu politics – one that is less predictable, less anchored and far more open to disruption. He may not win this election but he has already changed the terms of it. And in Tamil Nadu, that is often how power begins.

Munnetra Kazhagam and the All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam – two poles that shaped not just governance but identity itself. This election will not dismantle that structure overnight but it is beginning to test its limits. There is a restlessness beneath the surface – among voters less bound by history and more open to disruption. Vijay does not resolve that restlessness – he channels it. Of course, the criticisms are already forming – and not without reason: that this is charisma without clarity, that he risks splitting votes rather than consolidating them and that cinema cannot substitute governance. These are necessary questions. But they do not cancel out what is already unfolding because politics is not built on policy alone. It is built on belief – on emotion, on connection and on the pull of a figure people feel they already know. And belief, once stirred, does not easily retreat. From where I sit in Malaysia, this feels like more than just another election. It carries the familiar mix of cinema and power we grew up with but something about it is shifting.

that established parties will hold their ground. But to frame Vijay’s entry purely in terms of electoral victory is to misunderstand what is actually happening. He is no longer just a candidate; he is a force to be reckoned with – not because of the seats he may secure but because of the votes he is capable of shifting. What he brings into this election cannot be neatly measured. It is emotional capital, built over decades, now being redirected into politics. It draws in first-time voters, unsettles long-held loyalties and opens up the possibility – however fragile – that power does not have to remain where it has always been. In a state where elections are often decided by narrow margins rather than sweeping landslides, that matters. A small shift in sentiment, a fracture in a traditional vote bank or a handful of constituencies tipping differently. This is how outcomes change – quietly but decisively. For decades, Tamil Nadu politics has been defined by the dominance of the Dravida P O I N T A V I S H T R I

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Hashini Kavishtri Kannan is the assistant news editor at theSun. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com

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Malaysians for Malaysia: Riding the storm together IN 1989, Malaysia hosted the

That vivid memory was reignited when I recently travelled with my sister to Beijing and encountered fellow Malaysians while walking along Wangfujing Street and trekking the Great Wall. In the sea of people, our ears were quick to catch the familiar words “ orang Malaysia-ke ?” from afar. We started chatting and asked the famous question “ dah makan ke ” before professing our love and longing for teh tarik, nasi lemak, roti canai and the list goes on. Strangers at home, comrades abroad. It is the same sense of pride each time Malaysia Airlines lands and greets passengers with, “To all visitors, welcome to Malaysia; and to all Malaysians, welcome home”. Our national carrier demonstrated an extraordinary grit and resilience in recovering from the devastating tragedies of MH370 and MH17. The net profit posted in 2023 marked a significant turnaround for the company after a long and difficult journey. Life is a cycle of ups and downs.

each other’s pain. This year we are being tested again following the US–Israel attack on Iran and its aftermath. Supply shocks are emerging, prices are rising and uncertainties remain abound. Solutions are contingent upon the duration of the crisis. Until then, the options and possibilities of what the future holds remain open. The coming weeks and months could be rough and tough, with long periods of tension and exasperation. The only way out is by riding through the storm together with family, friends and fellow Malaysians. Crisis brings out the best and worst in humans. It opens doors to kindness, gratitude and love, giving Malaysians the strength to endure and emerge on the other side – changed but intact. Let us stand together for better or worse. Nur Ayuni Zainal Abidin Putrajaya

Fortune and misfortune are like a twisted rope that come by turns. In 2020, the flood sent many to evacuation centres. I remember a photograph of an elderly woman standing at the site of what used to be her house in Hulu Langat. Together with family and friends, we organised a large container lorry bearing the Harimau logo for victims in Selangor and Negeri Sembilan. Doing nothing is not an option when fellow Malaysians are struggling. Then Covid-19 happened, ravaging our economy and livelihoods. MCO in place, people lost jobs and incomes. White flags were raised and the largest mobilisation of Malaysians for Malaysia took place through #kitajagakita . We rallied and organised assistance in the shortest time possible. Food riders went out of the way to send food to the homeless. Personal Protective Equipment was sewn and face shields were made. Everyone contributed, gave and helped in every way possible to ease

“Crisis brings out the best and worst in humans. It opens doors to kindness, gratitude and love, giving Malaysians the strength to endure and emerge on the

other side – changed but intact.