Malayalam actor Mohanlal went to Sabarimala, prayed for his colleague Mammootty, and walked out. That should have been the end of the story. But social media needs its daily dose of outrage and hate, so suddenly, a simple prayer turned into a “controversy”.
Apparently, a Hindu praying for a Muslim is newsworthy. As if this isn’t ordinary in Kerala.
A friendship beyond competition
For over four decades, Mohanlal and Mammootty have been the two pillars of Malayalam cinema. Colleagues and competitors, but also the closest of friends.
Fan clubs have spent years fueling debates over who’s the bigger star, while these two men have remained completely unbothered — showing up for each other during triumphs and tragedies alike. Mohanlal praying for Mammootty isn’t an exception. It’s just an extension of the bond they’ve always had. Ichakka, as Mohanlal calls him, was always an elder brother.
Look at Mohanlal’s wedding photos. The groom, dressed in a traditional mundu, is all smiles. But right next to him, looking sharp with shining gold-framed glasses, absolutely like the actual groom, is Mammootty. People still joke that he looks more invested in the wedding than Mohanlal himself.
Or take any award ceremony in Kerala. If Mohanlal is on stage, Mammootty will be the first to clap — sometimes prouder than Mohanlal’s own kin. When Mammootty attempts a dad joke, Mohanlal laughs the loudest.
Even on screen, despite the countless films that pit them against each other, the camaraderie is unmistakable. Mammootty (as himself) in the 1990 murder mystery No. 20 Madras Mail spends half the film trying to rescue a youthful Mohanlal from trouble. In Mohanlal’s action flick Narasimham, it’s Mammootty’s voice that delivers the final note of justice. And with a Mahesh Narayanan movie starring them both currently being made, Kerala looks forward to watching what they deliver, not their character’s faiths.
Sabarimala: A tradition of caring for others
If people actually understood Sabarimala’s traditions, this wouldn’t even be a discussion.
Ayyappa devotees don’t just pray for themselves. They pray for family, friends, neighbours, and even strangers. The pilgrimage itself is an exercise in discipline, selflessness and concern for others. They address each other as Ayyappa, using the deity’s name — equating themselves with each other and the supreme — materialising the temple’s philosophy of tatwamasi.
More importantly, religious harmony isn’t a modern performative addition to Sabarimala. Every year, thousands of Ayyappa devotees take part in Erumeli Petta Thullal — a vibrant ritual, re-enacting the legendary dance of Ayyappa and his followers after defeating a demon.
The most striking part? Before heading to the Sabarimala temple, devotees first pay their respects at the Vavar mosque in Erumeli. It is not an obligation or a compromise. It is simply tradition. Hindus and Muslims stand side by side, smeared in colours, dancing through the streets. There is no tension, no debate — just centuries-old faith and friendship.
Sabarimala has a sanctum for the same Vavar, a Muslim companion of the main deity Ayyappa, and thousands of devotees, regardless of religion, have made offerings there for generations.
If this is the legacy of Sabarimala, why should a simple prayer between two friends be a problem?
Malayalam cinema: Secular by nature, not by force
This effortless coexistence isn’t just found in Sabarimala — it’s embedded in the very DNA of Malayalam cinema.
Think of the most iconic film in Malayalam. Chemmeen (1965) told the story of Karuthamma, a Hindu woman from the fishing community, and Pareekutty, a Muslim trader, capturing both love and the harsh realities of caste and tradition.
Cut to the 2000s, Amal Neerad’s Big B (a 2007 remake of Four Brothers by John Singleton) has Mammootty as Bilal John Kurishinkal, whose brothers are Eddy and Murugan. These names don’t sound odd to any Malayali moviegoer because, well, why can’t they be brothers?
And these weren’t “statements.”
They weren’t designed for applause. They simply reflected the world we live in — a world where faith is just another part of identity and one’s personal history, never a barrier to friendship or storytelling.
Meanwhile, in the real world…
Mohanlal will probably forget this ever happened. Mammootty might crack another dad joke about it in an interview. And tweets on X will find some new “controversy” to obsess over.
Because that’s the game, isn’t it? Keep people distracted. Manufacture outrage. Give fake profiles something to fuel. Meanwhile, real issues — rising inflation, unemployment rates and climate issues — fade into the background. The trends are dangerous, yes, but they are short-lived like our attention spans.
And outside all this noise, life in Kerala will continue as usual. People will pray for, and help each other. Every once in a while, they’ll argue about pointless things before forgetting about them entirely.
Because at the end of the day, some things won’t change. Not Sabarimala’s secular tradition. Not Kerala’s way of life. And definitely not these two thespians.
