Cometh the election, cometh the thundu

In Tamil Nadu’s political theatre, where imagery often complements substance, a familiar but increasingly unused part of South Indian attire makes a quiet but striking return during each election season — the thundu.

Once an everyday marker of political identity, it had gradually receded from public life. Yet, as campaign trails heat up during elections, it consistently reappears — draped across the shoulders of leaders and candidates cutting across party lines.

Leaders such as C. Rajagopalachari, C.N. Annadurai, and M. Karunanidhi made the thundu an extension of their political persona. For them, it was neither a costume nor a strategy, but an organic reflection of their social location and ideological moorings.

In contrast, in today’s increasingly urban milieu, the thundu is often viewed as outdated, if not old-fashioned. Ponnadais or ceremonial shawls, meanwhile, continue to feature in political meetings, albeit briefly, as symbols of honour.

The thundu, however, remains inseparable from campaign imagery, valued more for what it represents than for its utilitarian purpose. Its seasonal revival is telling. Across constituencies, DMK candidates are frequently seen in red-and-blackthundus, reflecting party colours. Their counterparts in the AIADMK opt for red, white, and black patterns, while those from the TVK favour red-and-yellow combinations. Members of the VCK are often seen in blue-and-red thundus marked with a white star, adding another distinct visual identity.

Cadres of the Naam Tamilar Katchi, too, are identifiable by their distinctive thundus, reinforcing a shared visual identity within each formation. The colour-coded thundus help present candidates from diverse social backgrounds as a cohesive unit, signalling that they carry the official stamp of their respective parties.

‘Thundu linked with position’

Whether it is more appropriate to call it a “thundu” or an “angavasthiram” remains a separate debate. Adding a cultural layer, Chennai-based political enthusiast V. Ramasamy points to the late leader Annadurai’s remark equating an official position with the thundu. “In Tamil culture, the thundu is often linked with position. Here, one who has the thundu leads. As you can see, when a temple car is drawn, the one with the thundu waves, and the car moves,” he says. In that sense, those donning thundus during campaigns can also be seen as contenders for authority.

“It appears that South Indian politics prefers the thundu over the cap. White caps played a major role in Gandhian and Congress movements, as well as in campaigns led by Anna Hazare and the Aam Aadmi Party. Even Akhilesh Yadav has campaigned with a red cap. In contrast, the thundu has assumed prominence in the south,” says S. Gunasekaran of Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, adding that Communist influence may have played a role in popularising the red towel as a political symbol.

The veshti, or dhoti, on the other hand, has not remained essential even during campaigns, with many candidates avoiding it during strenuous schedules. The cap, despite its practical utility in the summer heat, is often perceived as urban and elite, and is therefore less favoured in grassroots outreach.

In Tamil Nadu’s electoral theatre, the thundu may no longer be everyday wear, but when votes are at stake, it rests firmly on the shoulders of power.