Meryl SebastianBBC News, Kochi and
Anahita SachdevBBC News, Delhi

A new Bollywood film has reignited an age-old conversation around how India’s largest and most influential film industry represents characters from non-Hindi speaking states.
Param Sundari, a romcom starring Sidharth Malhotra and Janhvi Kapoor, is a love story between a woman from the southern state of Kerala and a man from Delhi in northern India.
Param and Sundari first butt heads and then fall in love, successfully overcoming the cultural differences between them.
The idea isn’t new: Bollywood has long explored north-south cultural clashes through romcoms, and in a multilingual country, well-executed cross-cultural romances can be a hit.
But in this case, critics and social media users from Kerala and beyond have called out the film for its caricatured depiction of the state, particularly Sundari.
Played by Kapoor, Sundari often wears a string of jasmine flowers in her hair, can communicate with elephants and climbs coconut trees as a hobby – all stereotypical traits, often associated with Kerala. Though she’s lived there most of her life, her Malayalam is atrocious.
The criticism began as soon as the film’s trailer was shared, with many puzzling over Sundari seemingly mispronouncing her own name. This also invited comparison with another much-derided character, Shalini Unnikrishnan (played by Adah Sharma), from the controversial film The Kerala Story.

In both films, the heroines, despite living in Kerala, speak Hindi and are unable to speak fluent Malayalam when they break into it.
A few minutes into Param Sundari, when Param’s friend learns that they will be visiting a village in Kerala called Nangiarkulangara, he exaggeratedly pronounces the name and asks, “Where is that? Africa?”, combining stereotypes and casual racism into one question.
Once in Kerala, the film whizzes through a checklist of things a layperson might associate with the tourist-favourite state – its famous backwaters, the ubiquitous coconut trees, toddy, elephants, and Onam, its most popular festival.
One reviewer called the film “a feature-length ad for Kerala tourism” that “gleefully bulldozes over all possibilities of any cultural nuance”.
The film brims with coconut gags: Param and Sundari first meet by a tree, she vents her anger by furiously harvesting coconuts, and he finally confesses his love from atop one.
For many viewers, cultural inauthenticity is not a dealbreaker.
Rajiv, from northern Bihar state, saw Param Sundari as a fun window into an unfamiliar culture, saying its portrayals may not be true to life but chasing authenticity can dull entertainment.
“Maybe this will change gradually. But this much artistic freedom is okay to make the movie interesting,” he said.
For others, however, the film’s attempt to educate audiences is half-hearted.
In a blistering review, critic Sowmya Rajendran slammed the film as “generic, exhausting and offensive,” saying it hides tired cliches behind an “exotic” Kerala setting and a score that overplays the land’s “foreignness.”

Films often face and survive casting criticisms: Chennai Express (2013) was panned by critics but soared at the box office.
When the makers of Mary Kom (2014) cast Priyanka Chopra to play the role of the Olympic medal-winning boxer from Manipur state, it was met with plenty of criticism. Chopra herself admitted later that “in hindsight, the part should have gone to someone from the northeast”. But the film was a hit and Chopra won awards for her spirited performance.
And Mehmood’s 1968 Padosan caricature of a Tamil singer remains a classic.
But the landscape of Indian entertainment has shifted: post-pandemic cinema closures and the rise of streaming have left Bollywood struggling for hits, with big-budget flops shaking its dominance.
Non-Hindi films now reach nationwide audiences via Netflix and Amazon Prime Video, earning fans through dubbed versions, while big Bollywood releases no longer dominate cinema primetime.
Since its release, Param Sundari has earned steadily but slowly, while the Malayalam female-superhero film Lokah has become a superhit with praise for its innovative plot and execution.
In her article on Param Sundari, writer Cris notes how many Indian film industries accept actors playing roles outside their own cultures.
“It is when the characters look like caricatures of a state or its people that the audience takes offence,” she writes.
Param Sundari does try to balance its storytelling. More than once, Sundari gets to school Param and his friend about their assumptions about her state – in one instance, throwing bias back at them about “ignorant, illiterate, arrogant, entitled” north Indians.

Commentators point to strong examples in India’s mobile society: Godha (2017) skilfully tells a cross-cultural romance of a Punjabi wrestler in Kerala; Axone (2019) tackles discrimination faced by people from north-eastern India with wit; Qarib Qarib Single (2017) follows a Malayali woman in Mumbai; and Cannes winner All We Imagine As Light (2024) portrays immigrant struggles with nuance.
Bollywood isn’t alone: Writer and poet Aleena notes Malayalam cinema has stereotyped tribespeople, Dalits (formerly untouchables), and Tamil characters, while Hindi speakers are often caricatured in southern films.
“I think this is a larger question of power dynamics and representation,” Aleena says, emphasising a community’s role in shaping its own stories.
She says that when a story portrays a community without including the real voices of people from the community, its risks becoming skewed and imbalanced.
“We need to make people participants or stakeholders in the art we are trying to make.”
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