When Goddesses Fight Back: Kerala's Superhero Revolution and India's Gender Paradox

Kerala has given India a truly unique gift – a female superhero who doesn't conform to the usual tropes. Lokah Chapter 1: Chandra, Malayalam cinema's first female-led superhero film, has not only broken box office records, but it has done so with a relatively unknown lead actress, Kalyani Priyadarshan. This success is a testament to the audience's hunger for stories where women wield power rather than endure suffering.

The film's success carries profound irony. India, a land that worships powerful goddesses – Durga the warrior, Kali the destroyer and Lakshmi the provider – simultaneously perpetrates some of the world's most devastating violence against its daughters.

National Crime Records Bureau data from 2022 reveals 6,450 dowry deaths, nearly 18 women killed every single day. Uttar Pradesh alone accounts for every third dowry death in India, with 11,488 women killed over five years. Meanwhile, a UN report from 2020 had estimated that some 4,61,500 girls in India were not born between 2013 and 2017 due to prenatal sex-selection.

The stark contradiction of goddess worship alongside gender-based violence makes Kerala's cinematic breakthrough all the more significant. The state, which consistently ranks among India's most progressive, has not just delivered entertainment, but a cultural intervention. Lokah reimagines what female power looks like on screen, challenging traditional narratives and paving the way for a more inclusive future.

What sets Lokah apart is the deliberate and authentic involvement of women throughout its creation. Director Dominic Arun worked with co-writer Santhy Balachandran, an Oxford graduate who brought social science expertise to complement Arun's grasp of Malayalam pop culture. Colourist Yashika Routray shaped the film's visual aesthetic, while rapper Reble contributed to its musical landscape.

This wasn't tokenism; it was a strategic collaboration that ensured authentic female perspectives permeated every aspect of the storytelling process, from dialogue nuances to costume choices and body language.

Producer Dulquer Salmaan's decision to champion this project deserves particular recognition. As one of Malayalam cinema's biggest stars, his production house Wayfarer Films could have pursued safer, more conventional projects. Instead, Salmaan backed a vision that placed a woman at the centre of India's superhero universe, even when he initially expected the film might struggle commercially. His willingness to use his platform and resources to amplify female-centric narratives demonstrates how male allies in positions of power can fundamentally alter industry dynamics.

The film cleverly weaves Kerala folklore, specifically the legend of Kalliyankattu Neeli, a yakshi or vampiric spirit, into contemporary superhero mythology. This approach challenges traditional narratives where supernatural women are often portrayed as malevolent forces requiring male intervention. In Lokah, Chandra is the hero of her own story, summoned not as a threat but as a protector, wielding power that serves justice rather than vengeance.

Critics and audiences have embraced this reversal of gender dynamics. The movie's success, without relying on big-name male stars, proves that the audience is craving change. International audiences have responded equally enthusiastically, with the film performing exceptionally well in overseas markets and becoming the second-highest-grossing Malayalam film internationally. This commercial success signals shifting audience appetites and the viability of women-centric content.

Kerala reported 18,980 crimes against women in 2023, including 2,562 rapes and 4,816 molestation cases. Its crime rate of 82 per lakh women as of 2022, above the national average of 66.4, may also signal better access to the police for women, unlike elsewhere in India where many victims face pressure not to report. But even in India’s most progressive state, the numbers underscore how stark the gap remains between onscreen empowerment and everyday reality.

In India, women's rights activism has traditionally operated within echo chambers – women speaking to women, preaching to the converted, whilst struggling to reach the men who often hold decision-making power in families and institutions. The breakthrough represented by male producers and directors actively championing female-centric narratives suggests a potential shift in this dynamic.

Malayalam cinema's growing embrace of female directors and stories also reflects broader changes. Directors like Anjali Menon, who delivered the commercially successful Bangalore Days, and Geethu Mohandas, whose internationally acclaimed Liar's Dice and Moothon garnered critical praise, have paved pathways for the next generation. Their success challenges the persistent notion that female-driven stories constitute a niche rather than mainstream entertainment.

The Women in Cinema Collective, co-founded by Anjali Menon, has pushed for systemic industry changes, advocating for safer working environments and more inclusive storytelling practices. However, as Menon herself notes, “being the good girl doesn't really help”, and meaningful change requires sustained pressure and structural transformation rather than polite requests for inclusion.

The broader implications extend beyond cinema. When a female superhero film outperforms movies featuring established male superstars, it signals shifting audience appetites and the commercial viability of women-centric content. This success creates market incentives for more such projects whilst demonstrating that Indian audiences are ready for stories that move beyond tired tropes of suffering women awaiting rescue.

However, cinematic progress alone cannot address India's deeply embedded gender-based violence. The country that celebrates Chandra's fictional power must simultaneously confront why its real daughters face such systematic abuse. Effective change requires coordinated efforts across education, legal enforcement and cultural transformation.

The film industry's role becomes crucial in this context. When respected male producers like Salmaan use their influence to elevate female stories, and when directors deliberately include women in creative decision-making processes, they model collaborative approaches that challenge patriarchal structures. Such initiatives demonstrate that supporting women's narratives isn't charity, it's innovative business and social responsibility.

As team Lokah prepares for a sequel, they also set a precedent for sustained female-centric storytelling.

The challenge now lies in translating this cinematic enthusiasm into broader societal change. Kerala's gift to India, a female superhero who fights her own battles, arrives at a moment when the country desperately needs real-world heroines empowered to shape their own destinies. The goddess has awakened on screen; now she must be allowed to thrive in life.

Lokah's most outstanding achievement isn't its box office success but its proof that when women's voices are genuinely centred in storytelling, and when male allies use their platforms to amplify rather than overshadow, the results resonate far beyond entertainment. In a country where goddesses are worshipped but daughters are endangered, one Malayalam film has shown that the revolution begins when women stop waiting for permission to be powerful.

As honorary president of The Himalayan Dialogues and a specialist in global health diplomacy, leadership and crisis communication, Sunoor Verma writes in a personal capacity. His views are independent of his institutional affiliations. Details at www.sunoor.net.

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