prajna alva

I recently watched Kantara Chapter 1 and as someone who belongs to the same Daivaradhane tradition, I went into the theatre with immense excitement, pride, and curiosity. Ever since Rishab Shetty announced that this film would explore “how the Daivas came to earth,” I was waiting eagerly not just as a movie lover but as a devotee connected deeply with this culture. Technically and cinematically, the film is beyond brilliance. The visuals, the sound design, the intense performances, and the sheer grandeur of the storytelling are world-class. Rishab Shetty and his team have once again shown what Kannada cinema is capable of achieving the raw energy, the emotional depth, the breathtaking camera work, and the power of traditional performance art are all extraordinary. As a piece of cinematic art, I have nothing but respect and admiration. But when it comes to the storyline and the representation of Daivas, I must confess I walked out with a heavy heart. As someone who has grown up witnessing Bhoota Kola and Daivaradhane not as a ritual of entertainment but as a living tradition, a sacred bridge between the human and the divine. I found it painful that the movie took such an important spiritual truth and merged it heavily with fiction. Rishab sir had repeatedly mentioned that the movie would tell the story of how the Daivas came to earth. Naturally, this built a sacred expectation among those of us who are part of that tradition. But when I watched it, it felt like the soul of the tradition was replaced by cinematic imagination. I understand that cinema needs creative freedom and that filmmakers must blend myth with artistry. But when the subject is as sensitive and sacred as Daivas, there’s a huge responsibility attached. The Daivas are not just characters or myths to us, they are living deities, protectors of our land, guardians of our people, and the spiritual heartbeat of Tulu Nadu. Using their imagery, attire, and rituals in a fictional fantasy context can mislead audiences especially those from outside Mangalore or Udupi who do not know the real stories and the deep spiritual meanings behind these traditions. For them, what they see on screen becomes the “truth.” And that is where the pain lies. If the intention was to create a fictional story inspired by our culture, that would still be fine but then it should have been presented clearly as fiction, with a different divine form or an invented belief system. Why bring in , who are still worshipped, who still guide families and communities into a plot that is purely imaginative? As a fan of Rishab Shetty and as someone who has admired his work for years, this review comes from a place of respect and love, not hate. I have always admired his dedication to portraying our land, our dialect, our culture, and our roots. But this time, as someone from within that very culture, I feel deeply disappointed. Please, Rishab sir, if you or your team are reading this, we request you to treat our Daivas not as cinematic material but as sacred beings who deserve reverence. If you wish to make a fictional story, please do. Your story telling power is unmatched, but don’t mix fiction with the spiritual truth of our tradition. Because for us, the Daivas are not mythology. They are alive. With respect and disappointment in equal measure, - A Devotee from the Daivaradhane Tradition

What a graceful craving of a love story.