Kesari 2.0: A Roaring Tribute To CS Nair, The Lion Who Shook An Empire

News18

21-04-2025

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Kesari 2.0 is a mirror to our conscience, a fist against oblivion. It demands that we teach this history, seek a genuine British apology, and honour Nair with the Bharat Ratna
As they say—and believe—that men don't cry, I cried my heart out when I waded into my nearest theatre to watch Kesari 2.0. This isn't just a film; it's a blazing inferno that scorches the silence shrouding the Jallianwala Bagh massacre and resurrects the towering legacy of Sir Chettur Sankaran Nair—a nationalist lawyer nearly erased by the Nehru-Gandhi-Vadra dynasty and their Marxist historian lapdogs.
With Akshay Kumar and R Madhavan delivering performances that sear the soul, Kesari 2.0 demands that we honour Nair with a posthumous Bharat Ratna and immortalise Jallianwala's martyrs in stone and memory.
Rewind to 13 April 1919—Amritsar's Jallianwala Bagh. Thousands—men, women, and children—had gathered for Baisakhi, some protesting the oppression of the Rowlatt Act. In ten brutal minutes, General Reginald Dyer, a psychopath in British garb, sealed the only exit and unleashed 1,650 rounds. Over a thousand fell, their blood soaking the earth; thousands more lay wounded. The British, masters of deception, pegged the toll at 379—a number as vile as the act itself. Yet, 77 years after Independence, this genocide festers in silence. The Congress, which ruled for decades, barely uttered its name. The British? Unapologetic. Their 'regret" a hollow mockery, devoid of atonement.
Kesari 2.0 shatters this apathy through C.S. Nair, portrayed with blistering intensity by Akshay Kumar. Nair, a Keralite lawyer knighted by the British, was no soldier but a legal giant—the sole Indian on the Viceroy's Executive Council and a former Congress president. Outraged by the horror of Jallianwala, he resigned in protest, shaking the colonial core. His book, Gandhi and Anarchy, accused Punjab's Lieutenant Governor, Michael O'Dwyer, of complicity, sparking a defamation trial in London's King's Bench. For five and a half weeks, Nair faced a hostile English jury and judge—unyielding—his courtroom battle a global exposé of British barbarity. Kumar embodies Nair with a fire that burns through the screen—his eyes ablaze with defiance, his voice trembling with righteous grief.
But it is R. Madhavan, as a British-aligned lawyer, who steals the breath from your lungs. Madhavan isn't just supreme—he's a revelation, a force of nature whose performance is nothing short of divine. His character, torn between loyalty to the Crown and the stirrings of conscience, walks a tightrope of intellect and emotion—and Madhavan navigates it with surgical precision. Every glance, every pause, every word drips with gravitas—his presence commands the screen like a maestro conducting a symphony of tension. In courtroom clashes with Kumar's Nair, Madhavan's delivery is electrifying, his voice a velvet blade that cuts deep. This is Madhavan at his zenith, proving he is not just an actor but a sorcerer who conjures raw, pulsating humanity. His performance alone is worth the ticket—it is a masterclass that will echo in cinematic history.
Director Karan Singh Tyagi weaves a masterpiece, blending historical grit with emotional heft. The screenplay, sharp as a khukri, slices through colonial lies—each line a spark of rage and sorrow. The production, backed by Dharma Productions and inspired by The Case That Shook the Empire by Nair's great-grandson Raghu Palat and Pushpa Palat, recreates 1919 with haunting fidelity. The massacre scene, underscored by Teri Mitti 's soul-rending notes, isn't just witnessed—it's lived. Every bullet feels like a stab to the heart.
Kesari 2.0 isn't just cinema; it's a reckoning. Why was Nair's legacy buried? Why did the Congress, under the grip of the Nehru-Gandhi-Vadra clan, erase a man who once led their own party? Shashi Tharoor's admission—that Nair's portrait gathers dust behind those of Indira and Rajiv at Kerala's Congress HQ—is a stinging indictment of dynastic erasure, abetted by Marxist historians peddling a curated narrative. This film is a corrective, a defiant resurrection. It demands a memorial for Jallianwala's martyrs, their names etched in stone to honour those slain by the inhuman British Crown. And isn't it poetic justice that India's economy, once looted by those colonisers, now dwarfs that of the United Kingdom? This is Bharat's revenge.
Nair, who traded privilege for truth, deserves the Bharat Ratna. Posthumously, it would rebuke the Congress's amnesia and salute a patriot who rattled an empire. As I left the theatre, tears staining my cheeks, I felt both rage and redemption—rage at the silence cloaking Nair and Jallianwala, redemption in this film's refusal to let them fade. Kesari 2.0 is a mirror to our conscience, a fist against oblivion. It demands that we teach this history, seek a genuine British apology, and honour Nair with the Ratna. Go watch it. Let Kumar and Madhavan break you, enrage you, and inspire you. Let's build that memorial, award that Ratna, and ensure Jallianwala's cry echoes in Bharat's soul forever.
Yuvraj Pokharna is an independent journalist and columnist. He tweets with @iyuvrajpokharna. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect News18's views.