Crowds totalling two lakh souls, plenty perched atop light towers and hoarding scaffoldings for a better glimpse of the action, cops waving lathis across police barricades.

That was the scene at the trailer launch which flagged off the promotional tour for actor Allu Arjun’s Pushpa 2 – The Rule, the highly anticipated sequel of the Telugu movie Pushpa: The Rise - Part 01 (2021).

It isn’t just that the launch of a movie trailer drew such hordes. It is that all this was unfolding 1100 km from Hyderabad, in the quintessential heartland of Hindi - Patna - that makes it astounding.

Patna may seem a strange choice for a Telugu blockbuster’s opening salvo. Not so in the India of 2024, and not for those who have been observing the decades-in-the-making rise of Telugu potboilers in its home market and beyond, and the simultaneous weakening of mainstream Hindi movies.

ET spoke to film academics, distributors, seasoned journalists, entertainment companies and others to explain the seamlessness with which dubbed Telugu movies became the toast of Hindi heartland audiences, culminating in Allu Arjun’s party in Patna.

The journey to Patna began in the late 1990s, and with one phenomenon - multiplexes. That was the start of the alienation of the mass audience from the mainstream Hindi cinema, which changed considerably in subsequent years.

What worked in the smaller confines of a multiplex was a certain genre of storytelling that clicked with urban audiences, which a new bunch of film-makers who grew up in urban environs could instantly identify with.

This contrasted with their predecessors, whose points of reference were different and who were far more grounded and aware of the world beyond the urban bubble.

They knew of the concerns and realities and dreams of people of almost all classes in the society and derived a great deal of their raw material from life, literature and lived experiences.

Consequently, their films cut across classes and geographies. Even movies like Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s Parinda (1989), which appealed to the urban audience, also struck a chord with the masses because of the universality of its storytelling. That’s not quite how it worked in the world of multiplex movies.

Avijit Ghosh, a veteran journalist and author of Cinema Bhojpuri, points out, “There was an explosion of a feel-good cinema which had sensibilities and style of narratives which worked with urban audiences.”

The new wave focused more on western culture and aesthetics. It also catered to Non-Resident Indians (NRIs) to a great extent.

Anupama Chopra, editor, The Hollywood Reporter India, points out, “There are mainstream Hindi films which are set abroad and speak a language which the masses cannot understand or relate to.”

For instance, the aesthetics of thriller writer James Hadley Chase showcased in Johnny Gaddaar (2007) may not work with the masses, with their markedly different language, ideological references, worldview and jargon.

Simply put, the single-screen audience could not identify with this cinema. This led to the disappearance of the commoner from mainstream Hindi films, resulting in the dwindling of those quintessential mass entertainers.

Brijesh Tandon, a film exhibitor from the Delhi and Uttar Pradesh regions, points out, “The masses want stories which contain multiple emotions, easily hummable music, and stories which can be watched along with families.”

These rich-in-imagination movies copiously incorporated the elements of Navarasa from Natyashastra, copiously mixing the nine emotions ranging from romance to peace, with each furthering the plot and complementing others.

Such movies were made solely with the intent to entertain. Movies like Ghayal (1990), Krantiveer (1994) and Ghatak (1996) are prime examples.

As Dr Sanjay Ranade, associate professor, Department of Communication and Journalism, University of Mumbai, underscores, “Hindi cinema as an alternative does not exist for the Hindi heartland. There is no entertainment in Hindi cinema. It is time for Hindi cinema to shut operations and go in a thinking mode.”

That is quite the indictment.

It is in the nature of economics that when there is demand, supply will find its way. The journey of dubbed Telugu films into Hindi heartland began with television, and interestingly, piracy.

Ira Bhaskar, who taught cinema studies at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), explains, “One of the reasons why dubbed Telugu films clicked with Hindi heartland audiences is piracy. They were hardly released officially in the northern region.”

But in many areas, she says, local stores supplied dubbed Telugu films on pen drives. Those who viewed one wanted more. It had the cultural elements they craved for - the larger-than-life hero, action, themes, storytelling structure. The preeminence of the hero stood out in Telugu cinema.

Author Mukesh Manjunath in his book The Age of Heroes: The Incredible World of Telugu Cinema observes, “All Indian film industries have produced stars, megastars, and superstars. But one peculiarity differentiates the Telugu film industry from others: Telugu films do not produce stars, they manufacture ‘heroes’.”

Concurring with this thought, scriptwriter Jaidev Hemmady points out, “Telugu films have a typical larger than life hero who has a devil may care attitude which strikes a chord with the North hinterland audiences whereas mainstream Bollywood has become too politically correct.”

Sarrainodu (2016) is an example of this. In that movie, Gana, the hero, played by Allu Arjun, is a former army major who does not tolerate injustice. The story contains almost every trope that clicks with the Hindi heartland. The setting is a village. Gana is a man of principles. He is fearless. He fights for the have-nots and the oppressed.

Gana is the template for the hero the Hindi heartland craved for.

Bhaskar explains, “The Hindi heartland audience go for characters rather than actors since they do not know them well. So, the narrative of oppression, fight for justice and action genre are elements in dubbed Telugu films which work.”

The angry young man for the modern age then.

What also worked is the folktale structure Telugu movies tend to follow.

Take for instance, the dubbed Telugu film Don No. 1 (2008), a cult hit in the Hindi heartland. The film unfolds like a folk tale. Surya, the film’s hero, kills his parents’ killer. He wins because he is righteous.

As Manjunath notes in his book, “All mainstream Telugu films are folk tales. Not just the actions of these heroes, even the themes and tropes in these films stem from and are steeped in folk traditions.” He adds, “The hero (in Telugu films) does not survive because he is the hero; he is a hero because he survives.”

This kind of storytelling gives not only a sense of rootedness but also provides a great deal of familiarity in its setting for the Hindi heartland audience.

As Avijit Ghosh, author of the book Cinema Bhojpuri, points out, “Tropes such as a Zamindar with a henchman or a mother pining for a son, seen in old Hindi films are quite present in dubbed Telugu films. These stereotypes create a sense of familiarity with the underclass as they have been missing these elements in commercial Hindi films.”

Over the years, dubbed Telugu films also have exhibited a structure which has worked very well with non-Telugu audiences, reflected in the film’s pace and editing to its music.

Sanjay Ranade of University of Mumbai reckons that there are four key parameters which make dubbed Telugu films work in the Hindi heartland. They are slapstick comedy, crisp editing, engaging music, using interesting techniques and sound and action-oriented scenes.

Add to this the not so subtle showcasing of caste and class dynamics, along with the preeminence of family as the binding unit, and the thali is complete.

Ranade says, “In this manner, dubbed Telugu films have been creating more expansive narratives which are more generalized.”

Another aspect is their production value.

Manish Shah, owner of Goldmines Telefilms, a YouTube channel with more than 101 million subscribers which showcases dubbed southern languages films shares, “In dubbed Telugu films, money is invested in films and not in stars. As a result, the production value of these films is top-notch, which enhances their entertainment quotient.”

He adds, “Largely, there is not much vulgarity which makes them suitable for collective viewing especially with family.”

Add copious amounts of dishoom dishoom. Most of these movies being action oriented also help cut across geographical boundaries of states and appeals to the Hindi belt.

As Bhaskar points out, “Telugu films focus largely on the action genre which has high engagement value and cuts across geographical boundaries.”

Ghosh adds, “Despite modern action sequences, Telugu films have retained these elements. Also, these films have a certain degree of earthiness which the Hindi heartland audience identifies. The character Pushpa is a case in point. He is a throwback to an old hero. One can imagine a person from eastern Uttar Pradesh or Bihar emulating Pushpa’s swagger.”

No wonder then, as a seasoned event management professional puts it, the Hindi heartland is now home turf for Telugu heroes. “There is nothing unusual about Allu Arjun promoting Pushpa 2 – The Rule in Patna.

Telugu films have simply managed to achieve the masala entertainer grammar seen in mainstream Hindi films of directors Manmohan Desai and Prakash Mehra.

The Hindi heartland audience is a mass audience. It helps that the composition of the audience in Telugu-speaking states is not materially different.

The undivided Andhra Pradesh has been a cinema-loving state. This is reflected in the number of single screens (largely associated with the masses) in the state. According to the Film Federation of India, the number of single screens in undivided Andhra Pradesh was 2809. The only other state with a similarly large number of single screens is Tamil Nadu (1546).

As more and more Telugu films become bolder and bigger in their technique, scale and grandeur, will this sustain?

Let’s wait for the third installment of Pushpa.

Shabana Azmi and Naseeruddin Shah in Shyam Benegal’s Mandi. Pic Courtesy/Shyam Banegal

Right at the outset, Delhi-based novelist-author Avijit Ghosh tells us of his interest in “lost causes”. He illustrates this with the titles of his previous books, Cinema Bhojpuri (2010) and 40 Retakes: Bollywood Classics You May Have Missed (2013). Both reflect on movies and experiences that were cast away but deserved a prominent place in Hindi cinema history. His latest book, When Ardh Satya Met Himmatwala: The Many Lives of 1980s’ Bombay Cinema (Speaking Tiger Books), is no different. “During discussions on films with friends and colleagues, I’d often hear that the 1980s was a useless period, a black mark of sorts.”

As a student of Jawaharlal Nehru University, Ghosh had had first-hand experience of the decade. “I had seen so many [of these] movies in cinema halls... So I knew that this view was lopsided. I felt that we needed a more serious examination of the decade.”

The 1980s, according to him, saw entertainment arrive in the drawing room like never before. “Till then, cinema was the pastime preferred by the middle class... it was an occasion when the entire family dressed up and went to the movies. Now, cinema came home, rather illegally, courtesy the video home system [VHS] and the video piracy [network]. This, and later serials on cable TV, bruised and battered the film industry, and it caused major ripple effects.”

Simultaneously, as a consequence of Kapil Dev and team’s World Cup victory in 1983, there was a sharp increase in ODI cricket matches being shown on television. This too, he says, hurt the film industry’s ability to lure day-time audiences into theatres. “The political turmoil in Assam, Punjab and Kashmir further stumped the film market.”

While all of this was happening, there was strangely a serious leap in production: “More films were being declared as flops, and yet, more films were being made. At the heart of this contradiction is the 1980s story—how old money was gradually being replaced with new money, part of which was bad too,” says Ghosh.

The death of single screens, which hastened during the recent pandemic, began sometime during this period, as the footfall to cinema halls dropped significantly. “In Bombay, theatres such as Rex, Majestic, Broadway and Neptune had already been razed and recast as shopping centres. By 1986, two prominent cinema halls in Ahmedabad, Ajanta and Ellora, had also shut down. A similar trend was seen in Jabalpur.”

It is against this socio-political and economic backdrop that Hindi cinema was trying to find a voice. “It was a defining decade, because it changed how cinema was being consumed. VHS was to the ’80s what OTT is to the 2020s. This led to the personalization of entertainment. And because the middle class had largely abandoned the theatres, the filmmakers were making tweaks to the script to suit the taste of the core audience, which was non-gentry in nature [youth and the underclass].” The content, he says, was marked by the “sublime and ridiculous coming together”.

This was the time when the genius of Kundan Shah, Govind Nihalani, among others who rode the new parallel cinema wave, sat alongside films that boasted pelvic thrusting actors spewing double entendre dialogues, says Ghosh, who did interviews, dipped into records available with the National Film Archives of India, and scoured through English newspapers, trade magazines and Madhuri, Dharamyug and Sarika, to build his argument. “I also looked at Parliament replies by ministers to understand the sentiment of the time.”

Another significant event that marked the decade was the 1986 film industry strike. “The strike was against excessive taxation and lasted 31 days. No film was shot or screened during this time. It was a total shutdown,” he shares. 

On the 12th day, which was October 21, a cavalcade of about 150 cars and trucks gathered in the Shivaji Park area. Many even walked. Some of the participants in this march included V Shantaram, Sunil Dutt, Dev Anand, Rajesh Khanna, Rohini Hattangadi, Raj Babbar, Tina Munim, Anil Kapoor, Govinda, Khushboo, Farah, Meenakshi Seshadri, Javed Akhtar, Shabana Azmi, Sanjay Khan, Akbar Khan, Yash Chopra, Mithun Chakraborty, Shashi Kapoor, and many more. Khanna was the press convener of the action committee. “Who would have thought that the chaotic film industry, which was divided into camps, would collectively raise the banner of protest against the state government.”

“The outcome was modestly successful... it gave the industry a handle of hope when video piracy was eating into revenues. The movement also lifted the industry’s spirit and made many aware of being part of a larger community.”

The man who owned the decade, Ghosh feels, was Mithun Chakraborty. “He is significant because the 1980s was also the decade of star sons [Kumar Gaurav, Sanjay Dutt and Sunny Deol]. Mithun represented the exact opposite of that; he was a self-made star.”

That he could slip into any character or genre, be it action or a family drama like Ghar Ek Mandir, or the romantic superhit Pyar Jhukta Nahin, made him most sought after. “This decade was also typified by a certain kind of sound—disco. Mithun was the face of disco,” he adds. “Here was a star who the non-gentry cinema-goers could root for. He was an idea whose time had come.” Govinda, he says, took this forward. “But he arrived only in 1986, and came into his own [as a comedy actor] in the 1990s.”  

Avijit Ghosh Pic/Nishad Alam

Hema Malini played a dacoit in Sitapur ki Geeta. Sridevi and Zeenat Aman also starred in such films where the male actors played second fiddle. Pic Courtesy/Manmohan Kapoor

Director B Subhash and Mithun Chakraborty made a hit team after the success of Disco Dancer. Pic Courtesy/B Subhash