The curtains opened. The stage had been set up and in came the man everyone has been waiting for. With a histrionic music in the background. Arms enclosed in one another, he stood facing the crowd. And then came a powerful voice from somewhere in the depths of his throat that was both exciting and arresting. Probably one of the most powerful shows in Tamil Nadu, Bigg Boss’s Saturday nights open to huge expectations for actor-turned-politician Kamal Hassan’s brilliant eloquence and politics-topped innuendos, that mostly wouldn’t make sense right there, but probably on your way back home. This is how Aandavar has branded himself: an armed pistol, an inked-up pen.
I don’t know about you, but if I had the ability to travel into future, I would definitely avoid the seven days of warfare between the good and the substantially lesser good. The ending is predictable. They lay in open books. Etched in history. And they bound to repeat themselves. Trust me; you are not missing anything.
You have two choices: poetic and factual.
The purpose of this post is not to be poetic. It does not dwell in ordinary hearts to heave and throw tantrums via words, as waging wars are in engagement, livelihoods at stake. The purpose of this post is not to be factual, either.