The survivor had alleged that she was targeted for professional rivalry and intimidation — a claim that led to the formation of the Women in Cinema Collective (WCC) and forced Malayalam cinema to confront its own entrenched misogyny. The Hema Committee Report, commissioned soon after by the Kerala state government, later confirmed widespread harassment, power abuse, pay disparity, and unsafe work environments.
It is in this charged moment that revisiting my exclusive Gulf News interview with WCC co-founder Parvathy Thiruvothu becomes crucial. Conducted before the acquittal, her words now feel eerily prophetic — a road map for understanding how power operates in Malayalam cinema, why survivors remain vulnerable, and why institutional reform was never optional.
A Case That Changed Malayalam Cinema
The 2017 assault case cracked open Malayalam cinema’s veneer of progressiveness. It exposed the unregulated, male-dominated power centres operating through unofficial boycotts, shadow-banning of actresses, and cliques that dictated careers.
The survivor’s courage in continuing with the case — despite public mudslinging, professional penalties, and relentless trolling — became a turning point. Her decision to not quit films but to stand her ground inspired the formation of the WCC, with Parvathy, Rima Kallingal, and Padmapriya becoming its public face.
But for all the scrutiny, the industry largely continued without structural change. Dileep remained active in films; his releases drew crowds; fan clubs stayed loyal. The message to survivors was chillingly familiar: consequences remain for those who speak, not for those who act.
In our conversation, Parvathy had articulated this imbalance bluntly.
“The taboo and price are always paid by the survivors,” she said, pointing to a culture where welfare associations and film unions often function as gatekeepers rather than protectors. Their silence, she warned, “adds to the impunity exercised by many perpetrators.”
AMMA’s Fall — And What It Signified
By the time the Hema Committee report was released last year, the industry was already in turmoil. Veteran actors, directors, and comedy icons were named in sexual harassment allegations publicly for the first time: Siddique, Mukesh, Jayasurya, Ranjith, and others. The collapse of AMMA — the industry’s powerful artists’ guild — became inevitable.
Its mass resignations, including that of president Mohanlal, came amid accusations that the organisation had failed to even acknowledge survivor complaints.
Parvathy called it out without hesitation.
“Resigning at such an incredibly revelatory stage and behaving as if it’s a noble move fell really short,” she told me. Instead, she argued, AMMA should have “put in the work first… reconstituted their Executive Committee through a fair emergency election… ensured any complaints reached them.”
Her criticism is sharper now, in the aftermath of Dileep’s acquittal. With no robust institutional mechanism in place, survivors remain at the mercy of public opinion and industry cliques.
The Cost of Silence
The silence of industry superstars — especially the bankable leading men — has long rankled activists. Fahadh Faasil, Dulquer Salmaan, Indrajit Sukumaran, and others have rarely addressed the topic publicly. In a male-dominated industry where heroes dictate the moral temperature of film sets, their silence is not neutral. It is structural.
Parvathy was categorical about this imbalance:
“Those that don’t speak up—it’s only a reflection on them. Also, speaking up is the bare minimum when you are the most privileged.”
She refused to frame the fight as lonely. Instead, she emphasised the power of solidarity:
“There is something about being on the right side of history with my sisters from the collective… helping us keep going.”
The Survivor’s burden
The emotional and professional toll on survivors — including the woman at the heart of the 2017 case — is something Parvathy repeatedly returned to.
“It is heart-wrenching to see survivors having to go through trauma management… having to leave their craft because they have been shadow-banned,” she said.
In the case of the 2017 survivor, the trial stretched for years. She worked intermittently, faced sustained trolling, and battled stigma despite being the victim. That she persisted is testament to extraordinary resilience.
Parvathy’s warning was clear:
“When no effort is made to collectively find solutions, it gives the impression that their lives aren’t valued enough.”
The larger #MeToo moment in Kerala
The Hema Committee report — though long delayed — cracked open decades of silence. It confirmed systemic abuse, gender bias, and a deeply unsafe work environment. It also validated what actresses had been saying for years: that harassment was not isolated, but structural.
Parvathy clarified that the committee’s scope was always wider than only sexual harassment. It examined “on- and off-location practices, pre-production to post-production working conditions.”
But reforms, she insisted, can only happen through serious investment:
“Ensuring POSH laws are implemented would be a good start… Even starting with the basics — a zero-tolerance policy… and contracts for all workers.”
The WCC is now preparing a list of recommendations for the government.
After acquittal — What now?
Dileep’s acquittal does not erase the systemic issues the case brought to light. Nor does it invalidate the survivor’s experience — something that has historically happened in India. Legal outcomes and moral realities rarely align neatly in cases of gender violence.
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Why did shadow-banning and professional retaliation become routine for survivors?
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Why did AMMA have no functioning mechanism to address complaints?
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Why are fan associations allowed to intimidate women who speak up?
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Why did the industry continue functioning as if nothing had changed?
The acquittal will embolden some, but it also reopens the debate on legislative reforms, union accountability, and the need for independent, third-party bodies to address harassment.
Parvathy’s final message
Parvathy told me that the goal was always larger than any single case:
“The MeToo movement has a purpose to serve… it has woken up society to talk about the pervasive systems set up to fail our women.”
The WCC’s work continues. Survivors continue to speak. And the public conversation — once unthinkable — is now unavoidable.
But this moment, after the acquittal, is critical. If Kerala allows this case to fade into another news cycle, the message to survivors will echo exactly what Parvathy cautioned against: that their suffering is forgettable.
Eight years after a woman was assaulted in a moving car, Malayalam cinema stands at another crossroads.
The question is no longer whether the system is broken. It is whether the industry has the courage — and conscience — to fix it.