
How Vedan, the rapper, has become a voice of defiance for Kerala’s youth
By involving NIA to frame Vedan as an Eelam sympathiser or even a Sri Lankan Tamil terrorist, the BJP has escalated its attack on the Dalit rapper from mere rhetoric to full-blown institutional persecution
When V.S. Minimol, a BJP councillor from Palakkad in Kerala, filed a complaint with the National Investigation Agency (NIA) on May 23, alleging that Malayalam rapper Hirandas Murali alias Vedan’s lyrics incited caste hatred and insulted Prime Minister Narendra Modi (‘nation is in the hands of one who wielded swords' and 'pseudo-nationalist,’ goes the lyrics of one of his tracks), it was more than a legal manoeuvre — it was a political flashpoint.
The complaint — filed with the NIA, no less — goes so far as to describe Vedan with a bracketed aside, “(sic Mother Srilankan),” a loaded phrase seemingly intended to frame him as an Eelam sympathiser or even a Sri Lankan Tamil terrorist. It marks a sharp escalation in the right wing’s campaign against the 30-year-old Dalit rapper, and has, in turn, cemented his place as a symbol of defiance for a new generation of Kerala’s youth and cultural left.
The complaint came after weeks of rising tensions. RSS ideologues, including the editor of the Sangh mouthpiece Kesari, had already accused Vedan of spreading “caste terror.” VHP leader P. Sasikala called his music a stain on ‘SC/ST heritage’. Now, with the BJP formally trying to involve the NIA, the attack has moved from rhetoric to institutional pressure.
Fired up by ideology
Yet far from being silenced, Vedan has only grown louder, both figuratively and literally. In recent weeks, he’s been drawing unprecedented crowds for a singer in Kerala, larger than anything seen even for legends like K J Yesudas of yesteryears or A.R. Rahman in recent memory. His performances have turned into political events, with the CPI(M)-led government openly backing him and platforming him during its fourth anniversary celebrations.
At just 30, Vedan has emerged as a striking voice from Kerala’s margins. A self-declared Ambedkarite rapper from a Dalit community in Thrissur, his music is rooted in lived experience — and in direct, unapologetic critiques of caste hierarchy, political hypocrisy, and the erasures embedded in so-called progressive spaces. His breakout album Voice of the Voiceless (2019) put him on the map, but it’s his recent work — and the political moment — that has made him a phenomenon.
Also read: No prima facie evidence against Vedan, says Kerala court in ‘leopard tooth’ pendant case
Tracks like “The shirt stitched with sweat” — originally part of the hit film Manjummel Boys, it catapulted him to national fame after cricketer Sanju Samson quoted its lyrics on social media, following his snub from the Indian team — capture Vedan’s journey from a Dalit colony to commanding massive stages, fusing Malayalam rap with sharp, ideological fire.
His lyrics rarely name names directly, but their targets are unmistakable — from the everyday realities of casteism to the top echelons of power. It’s this unfiltered defiance that has earned him both devotion and fury.
Left rallies behind Vedan
That fury has spilled into legal action. On April 28, the anti-narcotics wing of the Kerala police raided an apartment in Ernakulam where Vedan was found with friends. They recovered a small quantity of cannabis — about six grams total — and released him on station bail. However, the incident was amplified by right-wing media, with Asianet News running a mocking headline: “The shirt stitched with ganja.” Soon after, another case was slapped on him by the Forest Department — this time for allegedly wearing a pendant containing a leopard tooth, a gift from a fan. He was booked under the Wildlife Protection Act and paraded around for evidence collection. Vedan apologised, saying he didn’t know it was a real tooth, and was granted bail.
The series of cases, inconsistently enforced and disproportionately pursued, has led many to allege political targeting — particularly in contrast with how upper-caste public figures have been treated in similar situations. Forest Minister A.K. Saseendran, after initially criticising Vedan, later conceded that the department’s approach had been overzealous.
What’s also clear is that Kerala’s Left — particularly the CPI (M) — is using the moment to rally behind Vedan. While his politics is distinct from the party’s traditional line — more identity-focused, more rooted in Ambedkarite thought — they’ve embraced him as a counter to Sangh politics. CPI (M) leaders have called out the attacks on Vedan as casteist and authoritarian, accusing the RSS and BJP of trying to muzzle a Dalit artist who refuses to play by their rules.
“Vedan’s leading a new wave in music. His politics is powerful and stand with the marginalised. The Sangh Parivar guys just don’t get it — they still believe art has to be classical or pro-Hindu. But from what I see, it’s all about rhythm and poetry, and Vedan’s got that in spades. Sure, we don’t support his drug use, and he’s apologised for that, but as an artist, we’re definitely with him,” said M V Govindan, state secretary of the CPI (M).
A Dalit voice, on his own terms
The reaction from the right wing has been fierce. Sasikala’s remarks drew sharp condemnation, and the Kesari editor now faces legal action himself for branding Vedan a “caste terrorist.” Meanwhile, the BJP-run Palakkad Municipality has also demanded compensation from Vedan’s team for alleged damages during a rally — a move seen by many as vindictive.
“The Sangh Parivar is now playing a high-risk game. A large part of Gen Z and Gen Alpha haven’t really seen the Sangh’s true face — they’re mostly comfortable in their apolitical Instagram bubble. Ironically, this very generation makes up the core of Vedan’s fanbase. By launching a coordinated hate campaign against him, the Parivar is effectively pushing these young people toward the opposite side. You can already see them expressing their anger in the comments beneath news reports about Shashikala’s complaint against Vedan,” observes Hari Narayanan, a college professor and social commentator based in Palakkad.
Also read: Malayalam cinema’s rising stars, directors caught in a web of drug raids
Though the government had removed him from the list of performers for its fourth anniversary celebrations following his arrest, it was quick to offer him another opportunity once he was out on bail, apparently trying to position him as a symbol of second chances in the context of drug use. He also attended an interaction programme with the Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan in Palakkad, after which he said he had profound trust in a democratically elected government, even though he was not part of any party politics.
There’s also been a MeToo allegation against Vedan, raised by a former girlfriend who still demands a public apology. Vedan had briefly posted an apology on social media, which he later deleted. No formal complaint has been filed, and he hasn’t spoken publicly about it since. While some see it as a personal issue that remains unresolved, others — especially his supporters — believe it’s being used as part of a wider attempt to discredit him.
Through it all, Vedan’s music keeps gaining ground. His tracks feature in new films like Narivetta, and his live shows feel more like political rallies than gigs. What sets him apart is not just the message — it’s the messenger. A Dalit artist speaking in his own voice, on his own terms, in a state that has often swept caste under the carpet. His rise signals something larger: a shift in Kerala’s cultural politics, where the battle isn’t just Left versus Right, but where caste, identity, and resistance are front and centre.