State Machinery as Censor: ED and IT Raids Follow Malayalam Film 'Empuraan' After Political Firestorm

In a stark illustration of how state machinery can be weaponized to silence dissent, the BJP government has once again deployed central agencies as instruments of intimidation against its critics. The latest target is the Malayalam blockbuster L2: Empuraan — a political thriller that dares to hold a mirror to India’s recent past. The coordinated actions by the Enforcement Directorate (ED) and Income Tax (IT) Department against the film’s co-producers — notably businessman Gokulam Gopalan and actor-director Prithviraj Sukumaran — are widely seen as political vendetta masquerading as legal enforcement.
Within days of its March 27 release, the film drew ire from right-wing groups for its depiction of the 2002 Gujarat riots. Accusations flew that Empuraan vilified Hindus and distorted facts. But what particularly stung the establishment was the film’s bold suggestion that central investigative agencies were being used as political tools — a message that, ironically, seems to be manifesting in real time.
On Friday, April 4, ED officials swooped down on Gokulam Gopalan’s offices in Chennai and Kochi. The raids, conducted under the Foreign Exchange Management Act (FEMA), reportedly probe suspected violations totaling ₹1,000 crore. Additional allegations of cheating and forgery under the Prevention of Money Laundering Act (PMLA) have been floated. Gopalan was interrogated for two consecutive days, underscoring the perception that this was far from a routine financial inquiry.
While the ED's justification centers on financial irregularities, the timing and optics suggest otherwise. Adding fuel to the fire, the RSS-affiliated magazine Organizer published a sensational story attempting to link Gokulam Gopalan to the banned LTTE. Citing nebulous “intelligence inputs” and unnamed sources, the piece appeared less concerned with facts and more focused on character assassination — a classic move to delegitimize dissent through guilt by association.
The film’s portrayal of state power and communal violence clearly struck a raw nerve. Facing mounting backlash, the producers opted for self-censorship. A total of 2.08 minutes of content were cut — including muted dialogues and removed scenes — in a bid to defuse the growing controversy. In a public statement, Gokulam Gopalan said, “I have told the director Prithviraj to make necessary changes. We are not involved in any politics.” Actor Mohanlal, who stars in the film, also issued an apology, confirming the removal of the contentious material.
But the gesture failed to appease critics.
Almost immediately after the ED raids, the Income Tax Department revived a dormant inquiry against Prithviraj Sukumaran. A notice from the Kochi unit demanded explanations for ₹40 crore received by his production house for previous films like Kaduva, Gold, and Jana Gana Mana. In these films, Prithviraj had taken no actor’s fee, working solely as a producer — a detail now being scrutinized with renewed vigor.
Simultaneously, digital attacks on Prithviraj escalated. RSS-linked social media networks and right-wing platforms launched coordinated smear campaigns, branding him “anti-national” and calling for probes into his foreign affiliations. A Bharatiya Janata Yuva Morcha leader went so far as to demand an investigation into his overseas connections, adding further fuel to the fire.
In Kerala, the backlash was swift and bipartisan. Leaders from both the Left Democratic Front (LDF) and United Democratic Front (UDF) condemned the raids as a blatant abuse of power and a direct assault on artistic freedom.
LDF convener T P Ramakrishnan, speaking at the CPI(M) party congress in Madurai, slammed the ED’s actions as a “cheap tactic” and a warning shot aimed at the cultural community. “This is not just a raid. It is a warning to artists and filmmakers not to question the ruling ideology,” he said, urging a united front against this growing climate of fear.
Echoing his words, UDF opposition leader V D Satheesan remarked, “Everyone knows these raids happened only because Gokulam Gopalan produced Empuraan. The message is clear — don’t touch politically sensitive subjects, or face consequences.”
This incident is not an anomaly. Over the past decade, central agencies have increasingly been accused of acting less as impartial watchdogs and more as political enforcers — turning their attention to journalists, opposition leaders, activists, and now, filmmakers.
Yet the targeting of Empuraan hits at something even more fundamental. It is a strike against the cultural space — the last sanctuary for dissent, satire, and honest storytelling in a democracy. When fiction becomes threatening, when filmmakers are punished for uncomfortable truths, it sends a chilling message: challenge the narrative, and you will be silenced.
What makes Empuraan especially dangerous in the eyes of the establishment is not just what it says, but how far it has reached. The film has broken box office records and captured the public imagination, showing that politically charged narratives resonate with audiences — even in the face of state-sponsored pushback.
Though the film avoids naming names, its implications are unmistakable. It paints a picture of a country where memory can be manipulated, institutions co-opted, and religion weaponized. And in doing so, Empuraan becomes more than just cinema — it becomes a mirror to a nation at a crossroads.
And the state, it seems, is deeply disturbed by the reflection.