When beloved Malayalam actor Kollam Sudhi tragically passed away, the public mourned deeply. Known for his wit, energy, and magnetic presence on screen, Sudhi left behind a grieving family—and his wife, Renu. But what began as collective grief has slowly morphed into a disturbing spectacle of moral policing, cyberbullying, and public humiliation, especially directed at the very woman who should be allowed to mourn and rebuild in peace.
Recently, Renu has come under sharp public criticism for her participation in acting, modeling, and short video content creation—especially after a video featuring her and Kalabhavan Shamnath acting out a romantic reel to the Tamil song Uruguthe went viral. The video, shot on a riverbank, shows Renu playfully portraying youthful love in a skirt and blouse. To some, it was just harmless performance art; to others, an unforgivable act of betrayal.
But why is Renu’s attempt to earn a living and express herself through art being scrutinized so harshly?
A Woman’s Grief: Judged and Measured
Grief is deeply personal. There is no one-size-fits-all manual on how to mourn a partner’s death. Yet in societies where patriarchal values still hold sway, a widow’s sorrow is expected to be demonstrative, lifelong, and preferably silent. She is expected to wear her pain like a permanent costume—a sign of virtue and devotion.
For Renu, moving forward after Sudhi’s death has meant finding her footing in the world of media and entertainment—fields she likely felt a connection to due to Sudhi’s own career. Her photo shoots, video reels, and acting ventures are not signs of disrespect, but of survival and reinvention. But in the public eye, they are being twisted into a narrative of indecency.
The criticism has been harsh:
“She should be ashamed.”
“Sudhi’s soul will not rest seeing her like this.”
“She’s doing all this for cheap fame.”
Such statements are not just insensitive—they are cruel. They reveal how women, especially widows, are still held to outdated standards of purity and devotion, and how society quickly turns on them when they dare to reclaim joy, confidence, or visibility.
The Language of Abuse
One of the most disturbing aspects of the backlash is the language used in online comments. Critics have not merely disapproved of Renu’s work—they have attacked her character, appearance, and dignity. She has been called “ugly,” “cheap,” and accused of “lying down with men” to gain popularity. The comments are not just sexist—they are violent.
This kind of language, dressed up as “cultural concern,” is nothing more than verbal abuse. It reflects a deeper misogyny in our society, where a woman’s worth is often tied to how silent, submissive, or sorrowful she appears. When she defies that expectation, she is labeled immoral.
What’s even more jarring is the casual tone in which such hatred is spread. Under the pretense of “concern for values,” many feel entitled to strip a woman of her right to express herself, earn a livelihood, or simply live.
The Problem with Moral Policing
The Renu episode is a textbook case of moral policing—a phenomenon where self-appointed guardians of culture dictate what is acceptable for others, especially women. These critics often forget that what one wears, performs, or expresses is not a public decision. It is a personal choice.
Let’s be honest: if a man had posted lighthearted reels or modeling photos after losing a spouse, would the response have been the same? In most cases, men are allowed to remarry, move on, or even enter relationships without scrutiny. Widows, however, are expected to fade into the background, live quietly, and honor the dead through suffering.
Renu’s case exposes this double standard vividly. Her actions are being viewed not through the lens of individual freedom, but through the outdated lens of honor, shame, and sacrifice.
Voices of Support
Thankfully, amid the online vitriol, there are voices of reason rising in support of Renu. Many people, especially women, have stepped forward to say that her actions require courage, not condemnation.
One supporter wrote, “No woman should stay at home just because her husband died. She has every right to live her life and follow her passions.” Others pointed out how Sudhi himself was a man who embraced joy, humor, and creativity—traits that Renu is now being punished for.
These supporters argue that the pressure on widows to “behave” a certain way is nothing short of social violence. Life after loss should be about healing and growth, not fear and shame.
Why This Story Matters
This isn’t just about one woman and her Instagram videos. It’s about the larger societal message we send to women about their place in public life. It’s about the toxic culture of online judgment that has become far too normalized.
In a time when digital platforms give everyone a voice, we must ask ourselves how we are using that power. Are we building empathy, or tearing people down for sport? Are we promoting dignity, or hiding cruelty behind a mask of tradition?
What Renu is experiencing is not unique—but it is a wake-up call. A reminder that even today, in 2025, a woman’s choices are debated as if her autonomy is up for public vote.
Moving Forward
Renu has continued to stand strong amid the noise. By all accounts, she remains committed to her creative pursuits, refusing to let negativity define her. That in itself is an act of rebellion—a quiet, powerful resistance against outdated expectations.
Let us not forget that she is still someone who has endured great loss. And like anyone else who has lost a loved one, she deserves time, space, and compassion to shape her future.
We don’t have to agree with her videos, her outfits, or her artistic choices. But we do have to agree on one thing: she has the right to choose.
The Double Standards of Grief: The Online Trial of Renu, Widow of Kollam Sudhi

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