akrishnarao

Tag: Stalin

  • The Sharpened Voice in the People’s Throat – Vairamuthu

    At a poetry festival held in 1975 at Pachaiyappa’s College in Chennai, the then Chief Minister M. Karunanidhi came and read poetry. At the same festival, a 23-year-old young man read his poems and said that from the age of 12, Karunanidhi had been his inspiration in poetry. Listening to those poems and the young man’s words, Karunanidhi was deeply impressed and suggested, “Why don’t you write for Kunkumam magazine?” From then on, a friendship developed between Karunanidhi and that young man. Whether Karunanidhi won or lost in politics, the friendship continued unchanged. Karunanidhi would even attend small programs for his sake. Out of the 37 books written by that young man, Karunanidhi himself released 18 of them. That young man is none other than Vairamuthu, who was selected for the Jnanpith Award, which is considered as the highest literary award in India. on Saturday. After C. Narayana Reddy, Vairamuthu is another writer who has received the Jnanpith Award as both a film lyricist and a literary figure.

    The Jnanpith Award is India’s highest literary honour, often called the “Nobel Prize of Indian literature,” awarded annually for outstanding contributions to literature by Indian citizens. It includes a ₹11 lakh cash prize, a citation, and a bronze Saraswati idol. Vairamuthu was selected for the 2025 (59th) award, becoming the third Tamil writer honoured

    Seventy-three-year-old Vairamuthu published his first poetry collection when he was just 19 years old. While he was still a student, that poetry collection became a textbook. Born in Mettur in Theni district, Vairamuthu, who belonged to the Kshatriya community, continued his education while doing agriculture. His poems express rural life, human relationships, the environment, and the dangers arising from globalization. Social problems such as poverty, a mother’s love, child marriages, and lack of freedom appear throughout his poetry. He says, “My poetry is the voice of those who remain silent.” Ancient Sangam literature has greatly influenced him. Blending ancient literary words with modern music is his specialty.

    After reading Vairamuthu’s poems, Bharathiraja gave him the opportunity to write songs for films in 1980, when he was 27 years old. His first song was sung by S. P. Balasubrahmanyam. From then on, he never looked back. Over the past 46 years, he has written about 7,500 songs. Directors and composers such as K. Balachander, A. R. Rahman, Ilaiyaraaja, and Mani Ratnam made his songs resonate on people’s lips. Singers like S. P. Balasubrahmanyam, Shankar Mahadevan, K. S. Chithra, and P. Unnikrishnan gave melodic beauty to his poetry. The song “Chinna Chinna Aasai” that he wrote for the Tamil film Roja later became a hit in many languages including Telugu. Not only songs, he also wrote screenplays and dialogues. At the same time, he never stopped writing poetry.

    Vairamuthu belonged to one of the 14 villages submerged because of the Vaigai dam; his novel Kallikkattu Ithikasam, which depicts the tears, blood, and suffering of the displaced people affected by modernization, received the Sahitya Akademi Award. Another novel, Karuvachi Kaviyam, about the life of a rural woman crushed by patriarchy, also became famous. Along with Padma Shri and Padma Bhushan, he has received many honors. As a lyricist, he has won the National Award seven times. Just as Viswanatha Satyanarayana is recognized as “Kavisamrat” in Telugu, Vairamuthu received the title “Kavisamrat” in Tamil. This title was presented when Atal Bihari Vajpayee was the Prime Minister.

    No bird
    builds a nest
    and rents it out.
    No animal
    steals land
    that it does not need.
    O human, observe—
    the life that lives together
    without collapsing
    still exists in the forest,
    not in human society.

    Through such lines, Vairamuthu feels that the forest and the animals living there are nobler than humans.

    Even if you leave,
    your shadow
    still remains the same—
    waiting
    in the depths of my heart.

    In these lines, Vairamuthu continues searching for the woman he loved.

    I was like the distant sky;
    with your scarf
    you pulled me close.
    How did you capture
    the twenty-five years of my life
    in a single moment?

    He asks her.

    If life suddenly falls apart,
    where can I find her again?
    In the east and the west
    I search for her in vain.

    Like a tiny drop of dew
    she sits silently
    upon a lonely blade of green grass.

    As memories slip away
    like rivers unseen,
    the days themselves
    melt away
    in meaningless silence.

    He writes that humanity cannot flourish in a society that does not respect womanhood.

    Vairamuthu loves trees and nature deeply. He writes:
    “A tree is a painting drawn by creation, an exclamation mark standing on the earth, branches—hands rising to touch the stars in the sky.”

    And he says:
    “Alas, human! If you truly want to become human, come to the tree! Within every human there is a Bodhi tree.”

    In the poem Pilupu (“The Call”), a mother tells her child:
    “Even if a star sleeps among the clouds,
    even if the wind sleeps among the leaves,
    my eyes will stay awake all night for you.”

    Though Vairamuthu writes songs for films, he does not wait for them to appear in movies. He keeps writing continuously. They eventually flow into films as songs. In an interview he once said:
    “I keep writing pallavis day and night. What I give is actually the eleventh pallavi. The first ten pallavis fall into the dustbin of my mind. I clean the dirt from gold before giving it to directors. I can feed today the hunger that will come in the future.”

    I am privileged to be part of the Jnanpith jury panel led by noted writer Pratibha Ray, along with Madhav Kaushik, K. Srinivasa Rao, Damodar Mauzo, Prafulla Shiledar, Keshubhai Desai, and Janaki Prasad Sharma. Writers from across the country were considered for the award.. This time, many great writers from across the country were considered for the Jnanpith Award. However, in the last six decades, only two writers from Tamil Nadu—Akilan in 1975 and Jayakanthan in 2002—received this award. That means no writer from Tamil Nadu had received the Jnanpith in the past 24 years. Along with this consideration, Vairamuthu’s literary brilliance led to his selection.

    “My father M. Karunanidhi would have embraced Vairamuthu and celebrated with joy if he were alive today. I now stand in his place,” announced M. K. Stalin.

    Unfortunately, there have also been sexual harassment allegations made against Vairamuthu way back in 2018. There is no known criminal conviction or active police investigation. He has strongly denied these allegations and stated that they are false and motivated. He has said that if the allegations are true, those concerned can file a case and he is ready to face the court. Asking people not to judge him prematurely, he remarked that no one should decide whether he is a good or bad person until the court delivers its verdict, and that he will bow to the court’s decision.

  • Freebies or Bribery? India’s Welfare State on Constitutional Trial

    The debate over “freebies” in Indian politics has now entered the constitutional arena, with the Supreme Court of India agreeing to examine whether pre-election promises of cash transfers funded from the public exchequer amount to a “corrupt practice” under the Representation of the People Act, 1951. The Supreme Court said the petition will be heard in March. What began as a political accusation has evolved into a deeper inquiry into fiscal responsibility, democratic fairness, and the character of India’s welfare state. At stake is not merely the legality of campaign promises, but the broader balance between social justice and macroeconomic prudence in a competitive democracy.

    Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M.K. Stalin’s announcement on February 13, 2026, implementing a major bonanza for women in the poll-bound state of Tamil Nadu—crediting ₹5,000 each to the bank accounts of 1.31 crore women family heads who are beneficiaries under the scheme Kalaignar Magalir Urimai Thittam (KMUT)—has added further interest to the debate.

    The petition filed by BJP leader Ashwini Kumar Upadhyay raises foundational questions. Can electoral promises financed from public funds distort the level playing field? Where does legitimate welfare end and electoral inducement begin? And should courts regulate what is essentially a political and fiscal policy choice? The Representation of the People Act identifies certain forms of bribery and inducement as corrupt practices, yet it does not clearly define whether manifesto promises of welfare schemes fall within that ambit. This definitional ambiguity has allowed successive governments across party lines to expand direct benefit transfers without clear judicial boundaries.

    The controversy gains urgency when viewed through the prism of fiscal sustainability. In Maharashtra, the Ladki Bahin Yojana reportedly costs approximately ₹46,000 crore annually—nearly 8 percent of the state’s total budget—at a time when the fiscal deficit exceeds ₹66,000 crore. Such recurring commitments constrain fiscal space for capital expenditure on infrastructure, education, and healthcare. The 2019 farm loan waiver of roughly ₹25,000 crore provided immediate relief but was widely criticized for restricting long-term investment capacity. Economists warn that debt-financed consumption spending can crowd out growth-oriented expenditure, raise debt-to-GSDP ratios, and increase interest burdens that future taxpayers must bear. The Reserve Bank of India has cautioned that excessive non-merit subsidies may affect macroeconomic stability, underscoring the long-term risks of fiscally expansive populism.

    Yet the debate is complicated by the absence of a universally accepted definition of a “freebie.” Economist C. Rangarajan has suggested distinguishing between subsidies on merit goods such as education and health and non-merit transfers that lack productivity linkages. But even this distinction is not always clear. Is free electricity for farmers a distortionary subsidy or a growth investment? Is free education merely welfare, or a constitutional obligation under the right to education framework? Is unconditional income support empowerment for vulnerable households, or an electoral inducement timed for political gain? The boundary between welfare and populism is not merely economic; it is normative and political.

    International comparisons add nuance but not easy solutions. Countries such as Germany and South Korea operate structured welfare systems in which benefits are often linked to employment search requirements, skill development, or contributory social insurance. These systems are embedded within stable fiscal architectures and high levels of formal employment. India, by contrast, confronts a large informal sector, weak employment absorption, and rising aspirations among its population. In such a setting, unconditional cash transfers are administratively simpler and politically more attractive than complex structural reforms.

    Electoral timing further complicates perceptions of legitimacy. In several states, welfare schemes have been expanded, advanced, or newly announced shortly before elections. Even when legally permissible, such timing creates the impression that public finances are being leveraged for electoral advantage. The criticism is not confined to one political formation. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has warned against what he termed “revdi culture,” arguing that fiscally irresponsible promises burden future generations. Yet critics note that the Modi government is providing free food grains to over 81 crore beneficiaries under the Pradhan Mantri Garib Kalyan Anna Yojana (PMGKAY) to ensure food security and reduce financial burdens. This initiative covers Antyodaya Anna Yojana (AAY) and Priority Households (PHH) under the National Food Security Act, with a five-year budget of ₹11.80 lakh crore. Moreover, BJP-led governments in states such as Assam, Delhi, Maharashtra, and Madhya Pradesh operate substantial direct transfer schemes of their own. What emerges is less an ideological contradiction than a structural incentive within a competitive democracy.

    Direct transfers produce immediate and visible benefits to identifiable voters. Infrastructure projects, by contrast, yield slower and more diffuse gains that are harder to attribute to a particular government. In an electoral environment where tangible short-term relief can decisively influence outcomes, parties across the spectrum may feel compelled to adopt similar strategies. The result is a normalization of competitive cash-transfer politics, where the debate shifts from whether to provide transfers to how large and how frequent they should be.

    As the Supreme Court considers the legal framework, it faces a delicate institutional balance. An aggressive intervention could risk judicial overreach into policymaking and blur the separation of powers. A restrained approach, however, may leave fiscal populism unchecked in shaping electoral competition. The solution may not lie in absolute prohibition or blanket endorsement, but in greater transparency and accountability. Mechanisms such as mandatory fiscal impact disclosures in manifestos, adherence to medium-term fiscal responsibility frameworks, or the establishment of independent fiscal councils could introduce discipline without undermining democratic choice.

    Ultimately, the freebies debate reflects a deeper tension within India’s development trajectory—between redistribution and growth, between immediate relief and long-term investment, and between electoral competition and fiscal prudence. In a democracy committed to both social justice and economic stability, the challenge is not to eliminate welfare but to design it responsibly. Whether cash transfers represent empowerment or populism depends on their timing, targeting, sustainability, and measurable outcomes. The Court may clarify legal boundaries, but the enduring balance between welfare and responsibility will remain a political question, to be negotiated through informed public debate and accountable governance.