1.30 pm on May 2, 2003. The moment is seared into Alagu Sundaram’s memory. He was 22, back in Dharavi after a summer trip to Tirunelveli, when word reached him that the man whose face adorned the walls of his kholi was in Mumbai for a couple of days. If he hurried, he might still catch him at the airport.Sundaram didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a photo album documenting his local fan club’s welfare work, a camera and four fellow fans, and sped to the terminal on his bike only to realise they were too late. Vijay aka Anna (elder brother) had already crossed into the boarding area. What followed has since become a part of Tamil fan folklore in his pin code.“He requested the security guards for a good five minutes to let him meet us for a short while. The guard gave in,” Sundaram recalls. “Anna then stepped out, asked us why we were late. We showed him the album, told him about the work we were doing, and took a picture.”Vijay stayed back for nearly ten minutes before heading in again.That was the first time Sundaram met ‘Thalapathy’, the superstar whose films had shaped his adolescence through rented VCRs and communal TV screenings.Among them, Poove Unakkaga held special meaning. Vijay’s 1996 film about a young man quietly trying to reunite two families torn apart by an interfaith marriage still lingers in Sundaram’s mind. “As the hero heals old wounds, it is revealed that he is actually helping another interfaith couple gain acceptance,” he says, drawing a parallel with the kind of bridge-building he believes fan groups can do within communities.Today, at 45, Sundaram is no longer the boy who chased first-day-first-shows. Clad in a crisp white veshti, the former head of a local Vijay fan club is now Maharashtra president of Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam (TVK), the political party floated by Vijay in 2024. “I was one of 131 people who joined to form the party,” says the bachelor who draws his self-belief from a scene from ‘Ghilli’ (2004) that cut deep. In it, Vijay’s character delivers after saving the heroine from the villain with a blade: “I wish I had placed the same faith in you as I had in this blade.“Born in Tirunelveli district, Sundaram moved to Mumbai in 1990. By the late 1990s, work was uncertain but cinema wasn’t. “From when he started acting, I started watching all his films,” he says, recalling how he devoured Deva, Rasigan and Vishnu through rented VCRs inside his Dharavi shanty. Since many Vijay films did not release in Mumbai then, summer trips to his village became opportunities to catch up.In the 2000s, admiration evolved into organisation. Sundaram and his friends formed Ilaya Thalapathy Vijay Makkal Iyyakkam, packing Matunga’s Aurora and Sion’s Moviemax for first-day-first-shows armed with banners, drums and giant cutouts. When single-screen theatres gave way to multiplexes, the rituals adapted too. For Varisu, they booked three 3 am shows at a Chembur multiplex.But fandom, Sundaram insists, was never only about cinema. Every June 22, Vijay’s birthday, the group distributed food at old-age homes near Mumbai Central, shelters in Mankhurd and cancer care institutions in Navi Mumbai. Blood donation camps became routine. Sewing machines, sarees and notebooks were handed out. “If someone asks for money for education, we give it immediately,” Sundaram says. “We only give to the have-nots.“Over time, even the culture of celebration changed.Milk abhishekams (milk showers) on towering cutouts — once central to Tamil fan culture — were gradually discouraged. “Anna said instead of wasting milk on cutouts, give it to people who need it. So we did,” he says. During the release of Beast, the group distributed sewing machines instead.As Vijay’s fan network spread across Maharashtra, Sundaram became an informal bridge between film crews and fans. During the 90-day Mumbai shoot of Thuppakki in 2012, crew members frequently called him when crowds became difficult to manage. “I was there on set for all 90 days. I even brought my parents to meet Anna one day,” he says.He still remembers one piece of advice Vijay gave him directly: “Don’t borrow money. Look after your family first.”When Vijay launched TVK in February 2024, Sundaram says he was not surprised. “People were sceptical but our Anna remained calm.”Now wearing TVK’s red, black and yellow shawl, Sundaram oversees party outreach across Maharashtra using methods honed over decades in as a fan club head. Crowd management, welfare work, mobilisation, loyalty–he was well-versed in all. “Even if we don’t know the problems of the people, we can go and ask: Is the water coming properly? Is the cleaning going well?” he says.Riding on welfare promises and a broader anti-establishment pitch, TVK’s electoral breakthrough earlier this week triggered celebrations across Mumbai’s Tamil neighbourhoods, from Dharavi and Chembur to Mulund and Malad.Right now, Sundaram is in Tamil Nadu amid uncertainty around government formation. But the chaos does not seem to unsettle him much. “We have seen this kind of last-minute chaos many times around his film releases,” he says. “This isn’t new for us.”
