In a rare moment of civic generosity, Metro India and Vijayakranthi have offered their offices as a neutral stage for this elusive Congress-BRS debate

mahesh avadutha & vjm divakar I hyderabad

In the Telugu states, politics isn’t just a game of power—it’s a full-blown blockbuster, complete with melodrama, over-the-top dialogues, and a cast of characters who seem to have mistaken the Assembly for a film set. The roots of this theatrical extravaganza can be traced back to the legendary NT Rama Rao, or NTR, the Telugu cinema icon who swapped silver screen stardom for the Chief Minister’s chair in 1983.

With his open-top Chaitanya Ratham van, NTR didn’t just campaign—he performed, crisscrossing Andhra Pradesh like a mythological hero on a divine mission. Playing Gods like Krishna and Rama on screen had made him a household deity, and the masses, starstruck, handed his Telugu Desam Party (TDP) victory in a record nine months. Move over, Oscar winners; NTR was scripting real-life political epics.

NTR didn’t just govern; he brought the drama. As Chief Minister, he wielded gestures, dialogues, and theatrics that blurred the line between reel and real. Once, when Rayalaseema Congress leaders, led by the wily YS Rajasekhara Reddy, staged a dharna demanding action on regional issues, NTR didn’t negotiate or delegate. No, he outdid them by staging his own dharna in front of the secretariat—protesting the protesters! It was peak political absurdity, a masterclass in one-upmanship that left everyone wondering if they were watching governance or a Tollywood climax scene.

NTR’s legacy of histrionics has since infected Telugu politics like a catchy movie song. Every leader now fancies themselves a star, borrowing from his playbook with varying degrees of success. Take Jana Sena chief and Andhra’s Deputy CM Pawan Kalyan, who recently embarked on an 11-day Prayachita Deeksha in Guntur to protest the alleged adulteration of Tirumala laddus. A noble cause, perhaps, but one can’t help but chuckle at the irony: a deputy CM fasting in his own state, as if he’s an opposition leader crying foul. It’s less governance, more Gandhigiri with a cinematic twist.

But the plot thickened—and darkened—during YS Jagan Mohan Reddy’s tenure as Andhra CM. Under his YSRCP regime, political discourse took a nosedive into the gutter. Forget NTR’s playful theatrics; Jagan’s lieutenants unleashed a torrent of personal abuse that made soap operas look dignified.

TDP supremo N Chandrababu Naidu, his son Lokesh, and their families were targeted with venom so vile it could curdle Tirumala’s sacred laddus. YSRCP leaders, egged on by their boss, set “gold standards” for political mudslinging, dragging opponents’ families into the fray with language that would make even a villain’s henchman blush. It wasn’t politics; it was a verbal cage match, minus the civility.

Fast forward to 2025, and the Telugu political circus is still in full swing, now with a Telangana subplot. The Congress and Bharat Rashtra Samithi (BRS) are locked in a war of words so juvenile it could pass for a schoolyard spat. BRS working president KT Rama Rao, with the flair of a game show host, reserved an empty chair at Hyderabad’s Press Club, daring CM Revanth Reddy to show up for a debate.

Revanth, not one to miss a cue, countered by demanding BRS supremo KCR grace the Assembly for a face-off. Meanwhile, Congress MLC Addanki Dayakar joined the chorus, egging KCR to “come out and fight” like a wrestler hyping a pay-per-view event. The result? A lot of noise, zero debate, and an audience—us, the voters—left wondering if these leaders are governing or auditioning for Bigg Boss.

The irony is delicious. These grand challenges, flung with the gusto of a hero’s entry scene, are never accepted. It’s like watching two roosters puff their chests, crow loudly, and then scamper off when the other gets too close. The burning issues—lapses, promises, governance—remain untouched, buried under layers of ego and posturing. One almost expects a director to yell “Cut!” and reset the scene for a more sensible take.

In a rare moment of civic generosity, Metro India and Vijayakranthi have offered their offices as a neutral stage for this elusive Congress-BRS debate. A valiant effort, but don’t hold your breath. These leaders seem more comfortable hurling taunts from afar than sitting down to discuss actual problems. It’s as if the script demands perpetual conflict, not resolution.

The Telugu states’ political drama, born from NTR’s charisma, has morphed into a caricature of itself. What began as a charming blend of cinema and statecraft is now a farce where leaders prioritize theatrics over governance. From dharnas to dares, personal jibes to empty chairs, the focus is on performance, not progress. The voters, meanwhile, are stuck in the cheap seats, watching a show that’s long on entertainment but short on substance. Perhaps it’s time for a plot twist: a leader who governs quietly, debates sincerely, and leaves the drama to Tollywood. Until then, grab your popcorn—the Telugu political circus rolls on.