Tamil Nadu witnessed one of its darkest political tragedies on September 27, 2025, when a stampede at a Tamilaga Vetri Kazhagam (TVK) campaign in Karur claimed 41 lives. Children, women, and men were crushed in the crowd, and 116 people were injured — people who should have been protected, not abandoned. This was not a natural disaster; it was a man-made failure.
The next day, Tamil Nadu Chief Minister MK Stalin announced an independent probe led by retired Judge Aruna Jagadeesan. At the same time, the state police launched their own investigation into the tragedy.
Beyond the organisational failure of actor Vijay and his party TVK, the ruling Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) government also stands accused of gross negligence. The local administration must be asked whether it ignored safety norms and bypassed state rules (Tamil Nadu Police Standing Order Vol. 1, 8(e), p. 632), as well as national guidelines from the Ministry of Home Affairs’ Bureau of Police Research and Development (Chapter 8) and the National Disaster Management Authority (NDMA)’s guidelines of 2015.
On September 29, Chief Minister Stalin released a video on his official X handle warning the public against spreading what he termed “slander.” Within hours, police cases were filed, arrests made, and voices critical of the DMK silenced. This response speaks volumes. The government seems more concerned with controlling public perception than confronting its failures. TVK president Vijay, for his part, released a video asking the CM to “take action” against him and not his fans or his supporters.
The arrests expose a deeper anxiety: the government’s insecurity about losing its grip as discontent grows.
Equally alarming are the ineffective interventions of the All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK), a party entrusted with holding this government accountable. Its failure to act as an opposition has left the ruling party facing little institutional challenge.
Meanwhile, the DMK’s record continues to deepen public anger. Armed with a court order, it unleashed the police force against sanitation workers in Chennai, broke promises to legislate against ‘honour’ killings, refused to reduce government-run liquor shops, overlooked custodial deaths and encounters, failed to protect leaders like Armstrong from brutal murder, and jailed “Airport” Moorthy, a Scheduled Caste leader, under the Goondas Act after a fracas with the VCK. These are not isolated missteps but part of a pattern of arrogance, betrayal, and suppression.
Into this vacuum steps actor Vijay, whose party has become more than just a political experiment. It is, for many, a symbol of hope and resistance. At a time when democracy seems compromised and opposition weakened, his entry represents the possibility of a genuine alternative.
Emergence of Vijay as a politician
On February 2, 2024, Tamil Nadu witnessed a turning point in its political history. Vijay, known to millions as “Thalapathy” Vijay, one of the state’s most beloved actors, formally launched his political party, the TVK. From that moment, the state’s politics became more heated, unpredictable, and alive than it has been in years.
For decades, Tamil Nadu politics was shaped by towering figures: M Karunanidhi of the DMK and J Jayalalithaa of the AIADMK. While they lived, their authority was unchallenged, their parties unshakeable. Actor Vijayakanth briefly broke this duopoly with his Desiya Murpokku Dravida Kazhagam (DMDK), securing 8.38% of votes in his first election. Yet after his health declined, and until his death, his party faded into irrelevance.
When Karunanidhi passed, he had already prepared the ground for his son, Stalin, to inherit the DMK’s mantle. Jayalalithaa, however, left behind no heir. Without her, the AIADMK splintered into factions, leaderless and directionless. In this vacuum, Stalin consolidated DMK power, but opposition politics collapsed. Into this emptiness stepped Vijay.
Vijay’s charisma and the crowds he pulls
At first, many, including myself, believed that the massive crowds following Vijay were nothing more than fans chasing a superstar, unlikely to translate into real votes. I remembered how my own parents, like many from the Arundhathiyar community, were unwavering in their loyalty to MGR’s AIADMK. For them, the two-leaf symbol alone was enough to secure their vote.
But times have changed. After Jayalalithaa’s death, many Arundhathiyars shifted to supporting Stalin, drawn by the DMK’s policies on reservation and social justice. Today, however, a new generation — educated, outspoken and less bound by uncritical loyalty — is emerging. For this generation, Vijay is not just a film star. He is managing to inspire men, women, and even children across caste and class.
The transformation became visible in real time. After Vijay’s first conference at Vikravandi on October 26, 2024, critics dismissed the crowds, questioning whether TVK had any ideology at all. By his second major conference in Madurai on August 21, 2025, the debate had shifted. People were no longer asking whether he had followers; they were asking about the political consciousness of those followers. Even criticisms, such as branding his supporters as “just fans,” failed to hide the fact that his crowds were growing, not shrinking.
From Vikravandi to Karur, the story has been the same. Vijay continues to pull massive gatherings, and the enthusiasm shows no signs of fading. The energy in these meetings is a force that cannot be ignored.
Negligence of the past led to the Karur mishap
The Karur stampede was a product of repeated negligence, ignored warnings, and a dangerous disregard for public safety. The recent press briefing by the ADGP of Tamil Nadu laid bare a list that should shake the conscience of every citizen.
From the very first conference in Vikravandi, where six people died in accidents, tragedy has walked hand in hand with its public conferences. In Madurai, three more lives were lost — including Roshan, a young man from the Arundhathiyar community, who collapsed from sunstroke after being left without shelter under the scorching sun. He was the sole breadwinner for his family, yet TVK never formally acknowledged his death. The same event left 14 others injured. Villupuram saw another life cut short, while 47 attendees suffered injuries. Six were injured in Ariyalur, 14 in Thiruvarur, and 17 in Tiruchy. These are not just statistics, but fathers, mothers, workers, and students — ordinary people whose only fault was attending a gathering in hope and loyalty.
On the very morning of the Karur disaster, 35 attendees at a Namakkal meeting had to be rushed to the hospital for dehydration. Hours later, Karur witnessed the most devastating scenes yet.
These were not unavoidable mishaps; they were entirely preventable, and prevention begins with responsibility. But instead of investigating past failures or taking accountability, TVK leaders brushed them aside, even claiming the party “cannot be held responsible for all deaths.” Another, a press secretary, equated Vijay to a deity and asked, “If someone dies in a temple, would you hold the Minister of Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowment Department responsible?” Such statements reveal the arrogance and recklessness that made the Karur disaster inevitable.
At the same Madurai conference, a massive flagpole collapsed onto a party worker’s vehicle. No one was killed, but the near miss underscored how recklessly these events were being organised. Still, no lessons were learnt. In Trichy and Nagapattinam, attendees again complained of being forced to wait for hours under the blazing sun without water, toilets, shade, or basic facilities. Nothing changed.
Karur was simply the final blow in this chain of negligence. Attendees reported unbearable heat and a shocking absence of even the most basic provisions — no drinking water, no shaded rest areas, no shops nearby, and, most concerning, no arrangements whatsoever for women, children, or families with infants.
This was not just another political rally. For the first time, entire families had come to see Vijay. Yet the organisers, despite repeated warnings from past tragedies, made no effort to ensure even minimal safety or comfort. Women were left waiting more than seven hours without access to sanitation. Such disregard is not a minor oversight—it is a direct failure of responsibility.
Yes, the administration failed to anticipate the scale of the crowd. But Vijay, while protected by Y plus security, never prioritised his fans’ safety or dignity. The organisers, meanwhile, failed even more gravely by repeating mistakes that had already cost lives at earlier conferences.
The deeper problem runs through Vijay’s political journey. Throughout his film career, he kept fans at a distance. As a political leader, that distance has turned dangerous. For fans who have waited decades to see him, the chance to glimpse him in person has become electrifying and overwhelming. This is precisely what fuels the crushing crowds at his massive political rallies — the only times he appears before his followers.
In Tamil Nadu, a fan has always been more than a spectator; he is a soldier of the star. It’s the leader’s responsibility to channel that devotion into disciplined cadres. But Vijay has not yet made that transition. His followers remain fans, not trained political workers. And when critics online raised concerns about unruly fan behaviour, neither Vijay nor his associates defended them or held the party administration accountable. They let the narrative spiral out of control, and now it has ended in tragedy.
The Tamil Nadu government’s negligence
The Karur tragedy was not just TVK’s failure. It was also the Tamil Nadu government’s failure. For months, the state had imposed restrictions on TVK rallies. Vijay even approached the Madras High Court, arguing that the DMK government was applying “special rules” only to him, burdening his party with excessive conditions. In court, TVK argued that these restrictions made it harder to provide proper logistics to the public. On paper, the government’s regulations looked sound. In reality, they collapsed where it mattered most, on the ground.
Even in earlier TVK conferences, the police presence was woefully inadequate. Crowds were left unmanaged on highways, at entry points and inside meeting venues. The government repeatedly shifted the blame onto organisers, as though crowd management were their sole responsibility. But the law is clear. The primary duty lies with the police, who must coordinate with organisers and ensure public safety. That is why permission is sought a week in advance, so intelligence can be gathered, risks assessed and arrangements made. Yet in rally after rally, TVK and the police clashed, and the government failed to enforce its own rules.
The Tamil Nadu Police Standing Orders themselves provide crystal-clear guidelines, such as visiting the venue in advance and having advanced intelligence. Though the orders list provides separate enclosures for women and children, backup power, trained officers at the spot and contingency planning, it does seem like the police force wasn’t prepared.
The Ministry of Home Affairs’ National Police Mission Bureau of Police Research and Development’s Guidelines on Crowd Management state that effective event management must have highly accurate intelligence covering all relevant aspects. This includes the type of event and its purpose, along with the precise time, date, and duration. It is essential to assess the estimated crowd strength, the attitude of organisers, and their ability to exercise control. Information should be gathered on how participants plan to reach the assembly points and disperse, as well as the extent of militancy within the crowd.
The intelligence must also account for possible disorder during the meeting or along the procession route, the anticipated public reaction, and the likelihood of conflict. Detailed knowledge of the route, potential alternate routes in case of trouble, and identification of vulnerable buildings is crucial. Attention must also be given to the personal security of eminent persons attending, the likelihood of deliberate disruption to public order or traffic, and the stance of organisers towards unwanted participants. Finally, intelligence should cover the possibility of counter-demonstrations, competing attractions, or simultaneous events in the same area. (P 47)
These rules were precisely focused to prevent stampedes and other incidents.
These are not abstract rules. They are life-and-death protocols, and most were violated.
This failure is even more damning when viewed against the National Disaster Management Authority’s (NDMA) 2015 guidelines on mass gatherings, created after multiple deadly stampedes across India. The NDMA warned that “asphyxia” is the most common cause of death in such incidents and recommended adequate lighting, secured power supply, multiple entry and exit routes, on-site water, food and rest points, and crowd regulation.
None of this was done at Karur. Mobile networks collapsed, announcements were absent and families were left stranded in crushing heat.
The government cannot claim ignorance. It had both Standing Orders and NDMA guidelines.
Aftermath: Too little, too late
When the stampede unfolded, the response revealed the government’s misplaced priorities. According to official records, the first distress call for an ambulance came at 7:14 pm. The second call came at 7:15, and by 7:25 multiple casualties were reported. By then, the tragedy was spiralling. Why was the event not halted immediately? Why did Vijay continue his speech until 7:33 pm while people were dying outside?
Once lives were lost, the state machinery moved with lightning speed. Ministers rushed to hospitals, the Chief Minister arrived in Karur by 1 am, compensation was announced, doctors conducted post-mortems and reports confirmed victims with broken ribs. The same urgency that came after the deaths should have been shown to prevent the deaths.
Forty-one lives might have been saved if the Tamil Nadu government and TVK had simply coordinated to manage the crowd responsibly. TVK, on their part, had permission to hold their first speech at 8:30 am in Namakkal, and the police authorised the Karur event between 3 pm and 10 pm. Yet the schedule unravelled with devastating consequences.
The TVK leader boarded his private flight from Chennai to Tiruchi only at 8:45 am, and his Namakkal speech began at 2 pm—hours behind plan. In the meantime, TVK’s official X handle announced at noon that the leader would reach Karur soon, raising expectations and swelling the waiting crowd. In reality, the convoy only arrived in Karur at 7:09 pm.
By then, fans from Namakkal had followed Vijay’s vehicle toward Karur. The Karur venue was already overflowing, with people waiting more than nine hours under the scorching sun—without drinking water, sanitation, or a place to rest. When the incoming wave of supporters merged with the restless crowd at Karur, the situation turned catastrophic.
What should have been a moment of political energy instead became a night of mourning. Negligence, arrogance, and apathy transformed a rally into a graveyard.
Tamil Nadu deserves better
The DMK that once stood tall in Tamil Nadu’s political history, with stalwart leaders and uncompromising voices on social justice, today seems increasingly detached from the very people it claims to represent.
It is understandable that the DMK, seeking to protect its turf, views TVK with suspicion. Yet, as the ruling party of a democracy, it carries the burden of responsibility: to allow space for dissent, for opposition and for political alternatives to grow. Allegations of suppression or conspiracies may serve short-term gains, but in the long run, they erode DMK’s credibility. The Karur tragedy has only intensified this perception of a government more concerned with control than protection.
Tamil Nadu deserves better. Democracy weakens when one party dominates for decades, and change – however uncomfortable – is vital for its survival. The nine hours Vijay’s supporters endured under the scorching sun without water or rest was not just blind fandom but a cry for new leadership and a sign of fading hope in the present rulers.
But did Vijay rise to the occasion? Since launching his party, his focus has been on himself as a hero, not the public. Perhaps he still thinks of them only as fans, not citizens—and unless he steps out of that olive-oil lifestyle, he cannot step into the shoes of a real leader. A true leader would have acted to prevent tragedy: speaking directly to his supporters, warning them repeatedly not to bring children, and ensuring safety measures were in place. Instead, what the people received were press statements and social media posts. Until today, neither Vijay nor his party members have visited the victims. That silence speaks louder than any speech.
With just eight months left before state elections, his political work has been limited to weekend rallies. Leadership is not built on stage lights or applause but on responsibility, service, and sacrifice. Vijay may remain a hero on the silver screen, but believing that fandom alone will deliver him the Chief Minister’s chair is not just naïve—it insults his fans by refusing to see them as citizens. And worse, it risks turning the Chief Minister’s post into a disaster.
The ruling DMK should not dismiss the anger of the public and their emotions for a change and shouldn't dismiss TVK fans as mere star worship. It is a lesson, a warning and an opportunity to change and respect the public.
To honour the lives lost in Karur and prevent future tragedies, the government must set aside ego and work with the opposition, all political parties, and civil society to ensure proper crowd management. Meetings should take place in open grounds, not on streets, with all established procedures and safety rules rigorously followed. At the same time, these procedures must not be used selectively to restrict others from holding meetings. A jointly agreed-upon framework, accepted by all political parties and civil society, should guide future events. Democracy in Tamil Nadu can endure only if leaders treat people not as crowds to be managed but as citizens whose safety and dignity are paramount.
Raees Muhammad is also the founder of the YouTube channel Dalit Camera. Thanks to IMT Law College Principal Bilal, Abdul Abdul Ahad and Aljamia Alislamia for giving space to work on this article. Views expressed here are the author’s own.