For many years, an old wall stood in my village, its whitewash had peeled and was scarred by the rain. The downpour left behind curious patterns, exposing the mud beneath. Across it was written the slogan: “Kaveri, Thenpennai, Palaru; Congress paruppu vegathu.”

It was likely the handiwork of supporters of the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) during an election against the Indian National Congress. Taking inspiration from one of the DMK’s leaders — renowned for peppering his speeches with alliteration — local cadres linked three rivers of Tamil Nadu — Kaveri, Thenpennai, and Palaru — with the Congress party’s electoral fortunes. “Paruppu vegathu” roughly translates to “the dal won’t cook” to denote “it will not succeed.”

In response, an old Congress supporter wrote on another wall: “Kaveri, Thenpennai, Palaru; Karunanidhi mandaiyil kolaru,” implying that the DMK leader and former Chief Minister M. Karunanidhi had lost his sanity.

These slogans illustrate how deeply adukku mozhi — the tradition of alliterative expression — has shaped political discourse in Tamil Nadu. Many walls across the State once bore such lines before they were gradually replaced by posters.

As Bernard Bate notes in Tamil Oratory and the Dravidian Aesthetic, the literary sophistication of the centamil (chaste Tamil) movement ensured that Dravidianist politicians distinguished themselves not only from their political opponents but, interestingly, also from the electorate.

DMK founder C.N. Annadurai and Karunanidhi were past masters of this style. Annadurai was hailed by admirers in resonant, alliterative praise as “Thennattu Gandhi” and “Innattu Ingersoll”— the Gandhi of the South and the Ingersoll of this land. He was reverentially called “Arignar” (scholar) and even the “Bernard Shaw of Tamil drama,” while Karunanidhi was celebrated as “Kalaignar” (artiste).

“The people of the Dravidian movement, however, with the exception of Periyar E.V. Ramasamy, developed a new form of political discourse — and consequently a new relationship between speaker and audience — that helped them capture power in the mid-1960s; their political descendants have ruled ever since,” writes Bate.

“Kooli kettan; athan kundadi pattu sethan” (“my husband asked for wages, but fell to police bullets”), a slogan coined by Karunanidhi during the 1967 elections, left a powerful impression. Another striking promise was: “Rupaikku moontru padi arisi latchiyam; oru padi nitchayam” (“three measures of rice for one rupee is the aim; one measure is certain”). At a time of acute rice shortage in Tamil Nadu, this alliterative appeal carried immense political weight and contributed to the DMK’s electoral success.

Dravidian leaders, including Periyar and Annadurai — who once advocated a separate Dravidian nation — even met Muhammad Ali Jinnah. A slogan from that period captured the intensity of the demand: “Adainthal Dravida Nadu; illai entraal sudukadu” (“we shall either attain Dravida Nadu or go to the graveyard”). The demand was eventually abandoned.

Well-versed in Tamil literature, Dravidian leaders wielded language as a political weapon. infusing energy into words. The dialogues in the film Parasakthi, written by Karunanidhi and delivered by Sivaji Ganesan, marked a turning point in Tamil cinema:

“Pagattu en thangaiyai mirattiyathu; payanthu odinaal. Panam en thangaiyai thurathiyathu; meendum odinaal. Bhakti en thangaiyai bayamuruthiyathu — odinaal, odinaal; vaazhkaiyin orathirke odinaal.”

(Ostentation threatened my sister — she ran in fear. Money chased her — she ran again. Devotion frightened her — she ran and ran, to the very edge of life.)

These lines once echoed across Tamil Nadu and continue to be invoked even today.

Another enduring slogan —“Vadakku vaazhkirathu; Therku theikirathu” (“the North prospers while the South declines”) — coined by Annadurai, remains part of political vocabulary. It resurfaces whenever policies of the Union government are perceived to disadvantage Tamil Nadu.

This political discourse attracted the common man, though it sometimes descended into coarse rhetoric. Platform speakers of the Dravidian movement, while launching scathing attacks on their opponents, occasionally violated norms of civility. Even Annadurai, for all his stature, was not entirely immune to such lapses.

While Bate writes that Annadurai, in many respects, embodies the democratisation of the Dravidianist paradigm, writer Jayakanthan was sharply critical of the movement and its leaders. In his book Oru Ilakkiyavathiyin Arasiyal Anubhavangal, he argued that Annadurai’s positions on literature, art, language, economics, and sociology were simplistic and catered to “idiots and ruffians.”

At a memorial meeting for Annadurai, Jayakanthan went further, remarking caustically that only fools called him a scholar, and greater fools hailed him a great scholar.

Yet, for all his criticism of the Dravidian movement, Jayakanthan eventually developed a close relationship with Karunanidhi, who supported him in his final years.