On February 15, Tamil news website Vikatan mysteriously went blank. The reason? A cartoon by Hasif Khan, depicting Prime Minister Narendra Modi in chains sitting beside the U.S. President Donald Trump—a satirical take on the deportation of Indians who entered the US illegally.
The cartoon, published in Vikatan Plus, the digital edition of the Vikatan Group, triggered immediate backlash. By the next evening, the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting issued a show-cause notice, questioning why the magazine shouldn’t face a ban.
BJP’s Tamil Nadu chief, K. Annamalai, lodged a formal complaint with both the Ministry and the Press Council of India, deeming the cartoon “objectionable”. The Press Information Bureau even sent officials to Vikatan’s Chennai office to check whether Vikatan Plus was available in print—only to learn it was a digital-only publication.
The incident echoes the words of legendary cartoonist R.K. Laxman, whose wit graced the pages of The Times of India for decades. Laxman, celebrated for his "Common Man" series, often took aim at politicians across party lines. He once described a cartoonist’s skill as "satirical draftsmanship", the rare ability to expose power with a stroke of the pen.
However, Laxman’s cartoons thrived in an era where satire was met with debate, not directives. Today, the landscape seems different, as cartoonists like Hasif Khan from Vikatan, find themselves under increasing scrutiny.
Hasif Khan, a Vikatan cartoonist since 2012, is no stranger to controversy. His sharp political caricatures have often drawn online abuse from party loyalists. Before joining Vikatan, he spent nearly a decade in the animation and VFX industry.
Bringing his animation expertise to editorial cartoons, Khan introduced a more dynamic style to Vikatan, moving beyond traditional black-and-white line drawings.
The cartoon in question portrays PM Narendra Modi seated beside the U.S. President Donald Trump, wearing a suit, with his hands and legs bound in chains. Modi’s expression appears somber and frustrated, while Trump is depicted as visibly pleased.
The illustration seems to highlight a striking contrast—the deportation of the first group of 'illegal' Indian immigrants from the U.S. in chains, just ahead of Modi's visit to Washington. Similar deportations reportedly continued even after his return.
In light of the recent controversy, Khan spoke to Decode about his work and the shrinking space for satire in India. Here are the edited excerpts from his interview.
What was your primary message behind the cartoon? Did you anticipate this level of backlash when you created it?
Some have called it disrespectful, but the cartoon does not literally depict the PM in handcuffs. As citizens of this country and as a media organisation, we have immense respect for him. The intent was not to offend but to use satire as a means of commentary. Political cartoons often rely on metaphor and exaggeration to make a point, and this was no different.
We never anticipated such a strong reaction. As a political cartoonist, I understand that not everyone will agree with my work—some will find it thought-provoking, while others may take offense. Criticism and backlash come with the territory, and we have faced online trolling and outrage over previous cartoons as well. However, the scale of this response—leading to a show-cause notice and the website being taken offline—was something of a peak.
How do you deal with trolling and threats? Do you feel the need to self-censor?
The constant trolling and attacks do take a personal toll. Sometimes, we don’t even realise when we’re self-censoring—it happens subconsciously. As human beings, it’s inevitable. Over time, the pressure builds, and you start second-guessing yourself.
When my cartoons are shared on social media, people don’t just see the satire; they see my name. And from there, assumptions follow—many immediately link me to my religion, regardless of whether I am religious or not. That becomes an added layer of scrutiny.
What’s often overlooked is the rigorous editorial process behind every cartoon. There are three layers of approval above me, and only after clearing them does a cartoon make it to print or digital platforms. But for trolls, that doesn’t matter. When the attacks come from right-wing groups, they tend to be particularly vicious, amplified by the fact that my name adds an extra dimension to their outrage. They don’t see the editorial process; they see a target.
On the other hand, trolling from DMK or AIADMK factions tends to focus more on ideological disagreements rather than religion. The nature of criticism varies, but the end result is the same—attempts to discredit and silence.
How has digital media changed the reach and impact of political cartoons?
With the ability to go viral in minutes, cartoons today reach a far wider audience than ever before. However, this increased visibility of social media definitely brings heightened scrutiny and backlash.
At Vikatan, we have a legacy of nearly 100 years, publishing cartoons that have covered everyone from Winston Churchill to Jayalalithaa. For example, there was a cartoon following Jayalalithaa’s death, referencing the 75-day-long hospital stay at Apollo and the secrecy surrounding her final days.
No politician or hospital authority was willing to disclose the full truth at the time. Only after the Aarogya Sahay Commission report did some details emerge. My cartoon symbolised this “burial of truth”.
Another example was a cartoon on Manmohan Singh during the 2G spectrum scandal. It depicted the then-Prime Minister, Finance Minister P. Chidambaram, and Member of Parliament A. Raja covering their faces with the same cloth—suggesting shared complicity. Back then, nobody reacted with outrage, nor was there a demand to shield the Prime Minister from satire.
But social media, in its current shape, has certainly shrunken the space for humor and criticism, while verbal violence is exploding. Earlier, people engaged with political cartoons critically. Today, reactions are far more emotional, often ignoring the underlying issue being critiqued. The current controversy over my Modi-Trump cartoon is a prime example—no one is discussing the plight of deported Indians, only the chains drawn around the PM.
As a cartoonist, my job is to highlight issues that affect everyday citizens. Like any middle-class Indian, government decisions impact me too and cartoons give voice to what many feel but can't express.
What, in your view, is the role of political cartoons in a democracy?
Political cartoons, by nature, are an art form rooted in controversy. They have the unique ability to distill complex political and social issues into a single, striking image—often making a stronger impact than words alone. When something negative or controversial happens, a cartoon becomes an especially powerful tool for critique, serving as a sharp and thought-provoking commentary on society and governance.
Unlike other forms of expression, cartoons are rarely used to celebrate individuals or events; instead, they challenge, question, and provoke discussions.
Since the beginning of human civilization, we have visually represented the world around us—whether through cave paintings in ancient times or, later, through political cartoons in newspapers. This form of expression has always played a crucial role in shaping public discourse, acting as a catalyst for critical thinking.
In a democracy, where dissent and debate are essential, political cartoons serve as a mirror to society, holding those in power accountable while encouraging people to engage with the issues that affect them.
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