“It’s a girl thing. You would know if you were a girl.” How tempting it would have been for Priya to blurt these words out, when Surya responds to her heartfelt confession by wondering if… More
Pangaali from Kadhalum Kadanthu Pogum: Comic absurdity at its very best
Kathir, the tired-looking bearded man, makes an appearance only in the 11th minute of Nalan’s Kaadhalum Kadandhu Pogum, after Yazhini’s character and conflict have been introduced and sculpted to the minutest detail.
And suddenly, when all your focus is on the girl trying to hold on to her steely resolve, a gruff character almost walks into the scene like an extra.
Make no mistake, you recognise him as the protagonist only because he’s played by Vijay Sethupathi.
There is no other way you would know.
For one, he gets the most non-heroic of entries. There is nothing showy about it, except for the scorn on his face.
Secondly, and most importantly, VJS plays Kathir in such an unassuming form that anyone unfamiliar with Tamil cinema might not realise that the lead pair has actually met.
The film’s most riotous parts, which explode over the course of a three-minute-long song, happen a few minutes later, in fact, just a scene after this unceremonious of introductions.
Kathir, working as a henchman to a local bigwig, is having a drink, brooding over his boss’s constant refusal to acknowledge him as someone worthy of a “rowdy”.
You, however, don’t know much of him, yet.
He dips a banana in his drink and has a mouthful.
VJS gives this whole set-up an impish sort of coolness that you almost start believing that this guy is really bad-ass.
Someone brings him the news that he is wanted in one of his boss’s bars to settle a brawl.
The nonchalant look on his face points towards the obvious. The man is disappointed over being offered petty tasks.
“Is this squabble truly worthy of my interference?” …the thought screaming all through his disinterested demeanour, the man rises from his chair, to get done with it.
And the lines “Oru oorula orey oru veeran” start. It works like a charm.
A classic heroic action-motif unfolding to some crazy-sync rhythm and whistle-begging riffs.
As VJS walks up the stairs of the bar, sporting a Rayban aviator and a smug gait, he stops for a moment to let us dwell on the mortal consequences of this intervention, lights a cigarette and proceeds.
It’s the actor at his cocky, showboating-best.
The man bends down to take the mass-hero stance.
Something about Arun Raja’s nutty voice suggests a hint of conceit. What are we being lead into?
What follows in the next 120 seconds is probably one of the most hilariously-enacted stretches of self-deprecating heroism (or anti-heroism, depending on how you choose to look at it) in our cinemas.
VJS ups the ante every passing second with his brash antics, making the whole exercise seem like his daily bread and butter.
As he walks up to the mischief mongers, and attempts to assert his presence, you are left with a strange sort of anticipatory high. Something that only belongs to VJS.
Deep down, you understand that the scene can’t unfold like that of a conventional star-vehicle. You know bodybuilders can’t go orbiting around, as the camera freezes the man in a 360-degree twist. You know he can’t catapult a rowdy to his back like a bow, and walk towards the camera in slow-mo.
Yet, you wait for something. Something you believe will be amaze-balls.
That “something” keeps you watching. With a cheerful grin.
The man doesn’t make you wait long though.
Just watch him hand over his glasses on the way to a senior citizen, hinting at some sort of a one-stroke-brutality, and you’ll know.
The lines in the background go “Avan peru solla moochilla… vaazhtha vayasilla…”
It’s rousing, yet strangely farcical. You almost forget to blink.
Kathir’s dialogues reek of arrogance. It’s a picture of a hero, with a capital H, who clearly doesn’t want to let things drag.
The guys responsible for the fuss, however, don’t seem threatened.
Kathir takes a few jabs, and on realising the futility of his verbal threats, goes for a stylish blow to the face of the gang leader. And argh… misses it by a sloppy mile.
This is where the tables get ludicrously turned on the scene.
The song continues, giving the same heroic vibes. But, before the four trained fighters, our man is quickly reduced to a sorry joke.
A lot of hurling happens. Bottles are broken. Plates are shattered. The wrangle is so realistically gawky, that you suddenly see who Kathir is.
VJS plays this moment, where he gets battered mercilessly before he could even manage a single move worthy of all his early flamboyance, so brilliantly that you feel sorry for the man, but still cannot stop laughing at the oxymoronic absurdity of it all.
But, it’s not over yet.
VJS saves his best for the end, when the gang leader goes up in the air, and lands a fierce kick on his chest. It’s what you call a savage hit.
Our man ends up sprawled on the floor, and the song instantly stops. A micro-moment of a pause.
And before you could even get the gravity of the ‘ouch’, the man springs up like the 90s hero, who returns to his feet after the second blow, and starts walking back, with the air of someone who had just destroyed a horde.
The song starts again.
Almost snatching back his glasses on the way, he readjusts his hand-cuffs. The lines and VJS’ mannerisms scream of someone who had owned the moment, but we know otherwise.
The character had been given the best exposition, ever.
The coup de grâce? When you are still gaping at the way the man carries the fake swagger, there is this blink-and-miss moment, where he almost grabs a cigarette from the mouth of an unsuspecting bystander, just before royally sprinting down the stairs.
Absolute gold.
You know, there’s something about watching a hero, whose image allows him to do things our usual heroes can’t. You can’t define it, but it’s quite a feeling. A truly delightful one.
Vizhigalil Oru Vaanavil from Dheiva Thirumagal: A raging soul-scream disguised as a soothing melody
Sometimes, you can’t explain what you see in a person. It’s just the way they take you to a place, where no one can.
Anuradha Raghunathan will agree.
“What do you see in Krishna?”
The question that kept plaguing her for eternity, as if it was a thing you could just explain with inferential equations.
How can you describe something that you don’t understand yourself?
விழிகளில் ஒரு வானவில்
இமைகளைத் தொட்டுப் பேசுதே,
இது என்ன புது வானிலை
மழை வெயில் தரும்….
She did try, though. First, to make sense of it herself.
Is it the way he laughs that reminds her of her better self?
Is it about the way he strives to do what is right?
Is it his naivety that makes him rather impervious to hate?
Is it about his childlike sincerity that always means well, irrespective of status and creed?
Is it his about the warmth that he exudes? His inability to loathe?
Is it about the way he looks at people and they break into a smile, not because they know why he’s smiling, but because he’s happy?
But, does it really have to be one of these?
The more she thinks of it, the more she’s convinced that her fondness doesn’t need a rationale.
If only, the society made an attempt to keep it that way!
If only.
You have to see the lengths its collective consciousness goes to elicit explanations, when a relationship shakes up its conventional understanding of how endearment and sexuality works!
Does it feel threatened when something doesn’t fit within the confines of its belief system?
Why this compulsive urge to validate emotions?
After all, isn’t that the beauty of the matters of the heart?
Why should any kind of non-familial affection make sense, first of all? Shown accountable?
Isn’t any form of liking, by its elemental nature, inexplicable? Isn’t any form of attachment inherently imperfect?
Once it hits, you’ll know, right? It probably might not be like you thought it would be, but that doesn’t make it non-existent.
Why is ‘developing a liking’ always likened to a lightning strike? Why can’t it be more like a dripping rain that makes you wet without you knowing it?
Why should it always be something that gets your pulse racing and your legs weak?
Someday, why can’t you just look back at that person in your pillion, and sense a soothing tranquility, where your heart seems to feel at home?
உன்னிடம் பார்க்கிறேன்
நான் பார்க்கிறேன்
என் தாய் முகம் அன்பே!
It wasn’t as if her brain had been reprogrammed overnight; overridden. It had been a bittersweet journey, which had her questioning a lot of things.
உன்னிடம் தோற்கிறேன்… நான் தோற்கிறேன்…
என்னாகுமோ இங்கே…
But, Anuradha, rightly, seems unapologetic about what she’s going through.
Why explain yourself when you realize that people only understand from their level of perception?
She also knows if she tries to understand it with her head, she won’t stay sane for long.
நீ வந்தாய் என் வாழ்விலே
பூ பூத்தாய் என் வேரிலே!
Maybe, she feels that fate has locked his faculties and thrown away the key, and she hopes to find this key and return it to him, so he can be the way he longs to be.
One moment, she realizes the price of all this – the letting go of reason and following her heart – but the very next moment, she discerns that’s exactly what it takes.
The leap of faith, the “all in” of life.
These feelings.. do they need not have a finite form? Do they always need to have an intelligible surmise? Despite everything, they are part of you, right?
முதன் முதலாய் மயங்குகிறேன்…
கண்ணாடிப் போலத் தோன்றினாய்,
என் முன்பு என்னைக் காட்டினாய்
கனா எங்கும் வினா!
But, as every passionate person will tell you, you can’t be true to your own self without acknowledging your inner voices.
Yes, it might wreck you. Yes, it might leave you in pain. But still, they are yours, and you can’t lie to a part of you.
There will be times when these voices transform into raging storms, because of all the doubts and triggers of the past. But, doesn’t that stem from the community’s notion of the voices that need to be silenced?
தயக்கங்களால் திணறுகிறேன்!
நில்லென்று சொன்ன போதிலும்
நில்லாமல் நெஞ்சம் ஓடுதே!
இதோ உந்தன் வழி,,,
She probably knew what she felt was something rare, and even more meaningful than romance. And more importantly, it made her truly happy.
Hey, does every thing worth going after need to make complete sense?
இனம் புரியா உறவிதுவோ…
என் தீவில் பூத்த பூவிது.
என் நெஞ்சில் வாசம் தூவுது
மனம் எங்கும் மணம்!
“I’m strong; I can stand alone and take care of everything. So, all I need from this is a sense of mutual nurture. Maybe, I want someone with me when the sun gives way to the stars, and when it returns to reignite the colours of the daytime. Just maybe, all I want is to keep seeing the effervescent smile in your eyes.”
She knows all these might end up as a dead-end reverie in this world constrained by logic.
நாளையே நீ போகலாம்
என் ஞாபகம் நீ ஆகலாம்
தேர் சென்ற பின்னாலே வீதி என்னாகுமோ…
But, isn’t the biggest reward for love, the experience of feeling it?
Nee Paartha Paarvaikku from Hey Ram: Transmuting agony
Have you ever had the experience of returning to a place with thousands of memories – some keeping you alive and some silently killing parts of you, every passing moment?
Have you dragged yourself from room to room – picking up bits and pieces of lethal mental souvenirs, strewn all over the floor, smeared on every one of those wall-hangings, clouding the view from the window – leaving you half-dead and half-alive?
Have you walked down the stairway, or peeked down the balcony, half-wishing that you would see that person – the one who had once shared your utmost joys, deepest fears, and darkest secrets – emerging out of thin air?
Then, you might understand what Saketh Ram is going through, when he visits his apartment in Calcutta, where his loving wife, Aparna, was brutally raped and murdered in a communal riot.
As he hesitantly approaches the entrance of the apartment, he looks up at the balcony of the third floor.
The image of Aparna waving out to him, asking him to come up, flashes before him.
நீ பார்த்த பார்வைக்கொரு நன்றி,
நமை சேர்த்த இரவுக்கொரு நன்றி!
Memories in such instances are strange in the way that you can never anticipate which one would engulf you the next moment.
அயராத இளமை சொல்லும் நன்றி நன்றி,
அகலாத நினைவு சொல்லும் நன்றி நன்றி!
As he closes his eyes for a second, he winces at the image of a piano being lowered down from the same floor. The pain is unflinching.
நான் என்ற சொல் இனி வேண்டாம்,
நீ என்பதே இனி நான் தான்!
The piano had been a silent witness to the boundless love that he had harboured for Aparna. On the first day in the new apartment, he had kissed her passionately, while leaning on the piano and playing it along with her. They had made mad love, as the mellifluous music filled the room. They had surrendered to each other, lying beneath their testimony of love.
இனிமேலும் வரம் கேட்க தேவையில்லை…
இதுபோல் வேறேங்கும் சொர்க்கமில்லை,
உயிரே வா…
But, to arrive at that point, Saketh had had to endure a lot.
Hailing from a conservative Brahmin household in Madras, he had found it impossible to convince his kin about Aparna. Finally, he had married her against his family’s wishes and moved to Calcutta with her.
The piano hits the ground with a thud and breaks into pieces.
As had Saketh’s life, since then.
He forces himself back to the present with a shudder.
நாடகம் முடிந்த பின்னாலும்,
நடிப்பின்னும் தொடர்வது என்ன!
To lose someone you madly love is to alter your life forever. Nothing in the universe can replace the times spent with them. The pain stops for a while, but the gap never closes. And when it hits you again, it’s unbearably crippling.
It shows in Saketh’s eyes as he stares ahead. The ground where the piano shattered is now vacant.
ஓரங்க வேடம் இனி போதும் பெண்ணே…
உயிர் போகும் மட்டும் உன் நினைவே கண்ணே,
உயிரே வா…
As the agony writhes around, Asha Bhosle and Hariharan continue to transport us into the nooks and corners of the doomed apartment.
And simultaneously, Kamal takes us through the tormented mind of Saketh with such clarity and depth, that it’s really tough not to empathise with him when he goes avenging the death of his sweetheart – the only person who meant the world to him – even if that meant, first a bloody killing spree, and later a plan to assassinate the one and only Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.
As they say, everything is fair in love and war. He lost his love. He started a war.
Nee Kaatru Naan Maram: A soulful, lullaby-style tribute to similes and poetry
Vijay breaking into that sweet little blush as he starts off with “நீ காற்று”…
That reticent barely-a-smile that he teases you with, soon afterward, as he gives a moment’s pause for that sublime flute-bit to pique your curiosity…
“நான் மரம்…”
The way he keeps you guessing over the next fraction of a second, setting up a superb stage for those intervening violin-strings to land like a charm, before proceeding to channel the high with “என்ன சொன்னாலும் தலையாட்டுவேன்…”
What magic!
Thinking about it, just a simple song about expressing your love – something that has been beaten to death in increasingly mundane ways since the birth of the moving frames.
But here, the man is not only smitten by her looks, but also knows her well enough to be convinced that she is indeed his soul-mate.
Now, how does he convey this – a dream-like hunch that they could turn out to be soulmates – to her?
The song, much to
our astonishment, effortlessly evokes the yin and yang concept – the concept of duality forming a whole – to achieve this purpose.
It quotes ordinary elements – things that we don’t usually give a second thought in routine conversation – and draws stunning parallels with their complements.
“நீ மழை…” Another teasing halt, just for a micro-moment.
Darn, the way these silences speak.
“நான் பூமி…”
The words left unsaid in these break-offs!
“எங்கு விழுந்தாலும் ஏந்திக்கொள்வேன்.”
The alchemy starts getting to you.
Vidyasagar sticks to the bare basics with the melody, which almost flows in auto-pilot mode; the minimal instrumentation making it a point not to cut into the genius of the wordplay.
The song, over the course of the next five minutes, keeps notching up the tribute to the Chinese philosophy.
“நீ இரவு…” Another flash of a stunning standstill.
“நான் விண்மீன்…”
You, subconsciously, become a part of this simile-celebration. The correlations, by now, start taking a poetic twist.
நீயிருக்கும் வரைதான் நான் இருப்பேன்!”
And as it flows, the song keeps hinting – through breathtakingly-worded couplets – at the way we easily overlook the striking linkage between interconnected things, which are generally considered too commonplace or obvious, but are in reality, indispensable in the perspective of the ‘twosome’.
Like when one ceases to exist, you can’t even imagine the other.
The chirpy birds and the cheery sunshine.
The shiny stars and the moonlit-nights.
The incessant waves and the shore that never stops missing them.
The sensual breath and its intoxicating touch.
The ubiquitous blues and the towering skies.
The lovely leaves and the uncomplaining branches.
The tripping trees and the soothing breeze.
The female body, and clothing as the third human necessity.
The flowing words and the complicated thought processes.
The brilliance is so staggering that you almost tie yourself in knots in trying to decipher how one simile can so smoothly segue into the next.
My favourite moment, however, arrives much later, when Chitra, in a much slower rendition of the saranam, goes “நான் மரம்…”
The camera discreetly dollies in, and at the exact moment of “என்ன சொன்னாலும் தலையாட்டுவேன்”, settles into a comforting cradle.
Try resisting the nostalgic head-nod with it, the next time.
Yeah seriously, try.
Enna Solla from Thanga Magan: Yamuna writes to Tamizh on their 10th wedding anniversary
Thamizh,
I know you aren’t used to me writing to you, or expressing my emotions this way; so, receiving a hand-written note would have probably been the last thing in your mind.
But, here I am, doing exactly that.
Before you get all excited and ready to be blown away, let me make few things clear.
Firstly, I can’t write like the way you do. And more importantly, this discovery – that I can indeed transcribe my feelings onto a piece of paper – is only a byproduct of dire necessity.
So, keep your expectations low. சரி, இப்ப கதைக்கு வருவோம்.
Breaking my head on what I should get you for the special day, I was scouting for the perfect card, after dropping Yazhini and Thamizhini at school.
But, not even a single card in the whole of Archies could verbalize the crazy whirlwind of thoughts inside my head. And what justice would a simple ‘I love you’ in stylish font, embossed on a floral backdrop, do to the man, whose love is the greatest blessing of my life?
அதான் வரது வரட்டும். எழுதி கொட்டிரலாம் னு…
This day, ten years back, you and I were pronounced husband and wife. I remember the day as if it were yesterday.
The day I was offered the biggest Hobson’s choice of all. The day, I, of my own free will, gave seeming consent to live under the same roof with a complete stranger.
What are the odds that this stranger, over time, would turn out to be my BFF, better half, my biggest support, and my number one fan. Why is this not a Disney movie, yet?
நல்லா ஞாபகம் இருக்கு. It was one of those sultry February mornings, when we took the bus, along with our families, to Tirupathi. செம கூட்டம், செம வியர்வை, செம எரிச்சல் I ain’t sure about you, but I was nervous, indecisive, scarred and scared.
Come on, you were 27 and I was 25. And, in the three phone-calls we had had prior to that fateful day, you sounded more like that random guy from the street, who tries to be extra-nice, while asking for the time. And so, I guess my doubts weren’t without reason. Hehe… there, I said it.
But, I often wonder… how did I get to that point, where I was sitting on the stage, ready to accept a man, whom I had no freaking clue about? The more I debate that seemingly unreasonable decision in my head, the more abstract it becomes.
I have always been a girl of contradictions, for as long as I remember. Even with all my reservations about love at first sight, I fell for him, in college. And, when that dissolved into thin air, as swiftly as it had taken form, I was left questioning my own instincts. That was quite a phase.
இப்ப எதுக்கு தெரிஞ்ச கதையெல்லாம்? அதான…
flow முக்கியம் தமிழு…
So, கேளு. It was in that phase when the alliance topic first took root at home. And, your ‘தலை-வாரி பவுடர்-பூசி shirt-in-பண்ண studio photo’ landed on my table.
I believe I still had the agency to say ‘No’. But, I didn’t.
Was I rueing in low esteem? Was I anguishing in guilt? Was I in terrible self-doubt? Did I believe I owed it to my parents? I don’t have my answers yet, but in one of life’s most wondrous twists, the questions have become redundant. Voila…
காலு தரைல படல பாரு தமிழு. முதல இறங்கி வா 
ஹ்ம்ம், எங்க விட்டேன்… Yeah, and what a rollicking journey it has been.
I remember the first time I saw you clearly. No, it wasn’t the wedding. No… not even at our reception, In fact, I was so tensed about having to fake intimacy on stage for three full hours that I almost forgot to look at you. But, that’s a story for another day.
For now, back to that first glance! Believe me, it was only on our first night together. And honestly, I hadn’t been that frazzled before. How do you share a 10 by 10 ft room with a man, whom you have barely talked with?
I was visibly bumbling around, wondering if I could just magically vanish into thin air. From what I could gather, you weren’t in a better position, either.
Nevertheless, I gathered the courage to blurt it out. “What makes you believe in marriage?”
Remember the story, which begins with a dead brother that you unleashed on me? That, probably, set the tone for a night that I would never forget,
We began with some niceties. And the weather talk followed. We smiled. It broke the ice.
You took your time to open up. But, even in your reticence, you tried your best, every passing moment, to acknowledge and lessen my discomposure.
And thanks to you, I spent a whole night in a new house, amidst new people, and didn’t feel largely threatened. Trust me, that’s no mean feat.
At one point, I randomly realized that I was starving. I had forgotten about dinner in all the chaos and tension of the reception. And in that moment, when you whipped up an omelette – garnished with all the sincerity in the world – I guess I had started falling for you.
அப்டியே கண்ணுல நிக்குது. In vivid detail. I stood by the door, sporting an awkward smile. as you showed me what it means to truly care.
Our eyes met for probably the first time, when I was gorging on that ‘legendary’ omelette. And all I could see was a modest, loving person, who did what needed to be done; not an inkling of pretense, loftiness or saviour pride.
We spoke. A lot. As we strolled around the quarters, we found silly things to laugh about. Gosh, we even tried the slide.
Your parents must have thought we were crazy. But, who cared, anyway? Lol.
Every little detail added up.
We goofed around like there was no tomorrow.
It wasn’t like I got to know ‘Thamizh’ overnight. After the seven hours of nonstop chatter, you were still more of an acquaintance. But, an acquaintance who understood that you have to know and respect your partner first, if you’re to fall in love with them.
As we went to bed, at dawn, almost hanging on to the corners of the cot, I felt strangely comfortable. Even though we didn’t know much of each other still, I knew we had made a start, A bloody good one at that.
I believed I could trust you. I felt good around you.
I was still not ready to delve into the future, but then, I was happy with the present. You can’t build a relationship overnight, right?
It took me a while to adjust to my new role as a wife, and my new challenge of being a homemaker. But then, the small steps we took each day, as friends, made it all the more easier. And all the more worthier.
And, you sure knew a thing or two about consent. You waited till I was ready; even for the most benign of cuddles. It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.
We saw Aayirathil Oruvan in Sathyam on the third day of our marriage – our first film together. I didn’t care for it much. It wasn’t my kind of a movie, anyway, But, honestly speaking, I was not even watching it, half the time. ஆமா.. I was busy, trying to catch all those myriad emotions on your face. What an experience that was. And man, you loved cinema!
After the movie, we went to a dingy place for dinner. You wanted me to try the food there. I wasn’t exactly interested. We sat across each other at the table, and spoke of the day’s events, yours and mine. And that’s when I told you about him, And the ugly breakup. You listened, held my hands, and told me about yours.
What can be more joyful than to have someone to whom you could say things with the same absolute confidence as to yourself?”
Days rolled on. Romance happened. And so did life.
You started taking me outside my comfort zone, constantly pushing my boundaries. You batted for my own personal growth, despite all the odds. You taught me the art of bending, without breaking my own sense of self.
You held my hands through the scary unpredictability of life.
In short, you chose me, again and again.
And for that, I am thankful. Forever.
Love you to the moon and back, Thamizh. And, happy anniversary.
இன்னும் நெறய எழுதணும் னு தோணுது, ஆனா ஸ்கூல் விட்ற time… Yazhini அஞ்சு நிமிஷம் லேட்டா போனாலும் ஊர கூட்டிருவா!
So, மீதி முத்தங்களாக…
என்றும் உன்,
Yamuna.
Anthimaalai Neram from Monster: A heartfelt letter from Anjanam to Meghala
Dearest Meghala,
You know what?
When your eyes locked into mine, amidst all the madness that day, it was… something that I had never felt before.
I was left staring at you with the befuddled look of a dopehead.
You were surprised. I don’t blame you.
The romance, by itself, wasn’t something new. I know.
We had come a long way, from that bumbling restaurant-meet to this beautiful betrothal.
Our friends and family couldn’t have been happier.
But, that freaking moment, when I looked into your eyes, I felt this weird deluge of contradictory emotions that I couldn’t effectively process.
And before I could make sense of any of it, I was being pulled into this labyrinth, in all its vigour.
One moment, it was solace. It was like entering a house and finally realizing I’m home.
The next moment, a strange sense of weakness overrode that sense of comfort. I felt so vulnerable. A feeling of being consumed, piece by piece.
Then again, the next micro-moment, I felt all fearless. Like there’s nothing in the world that I bloody can’t do.
And then, the all-familiar doubts took over. Is this all for real?
That was when I realized something… my very own moment of epiphany.
I wasn’t overwhelmed at this beautiful thing that we have come to share. In fact, falling in love with you was the easy part.
The real struggle, paradoxically, was admitting to myself that I was indeed this loveable.
You see I’ve had these crater-sized flaws and awkward, yet efficient, defenses for so long, and you didn’t even notice them.
Or, did you just learn to overlook them?
And, the diffident me couldn’t perceive the difference.
Was I scared? I didn’t know.
Perhaps, they were meant for others, and you had your own door that I didn’t know existed, for three long decades.
I could ask why, and how, but what’s the point?
When you smile at me I feel invisible hands wrapping around me, making me feel warm and safe.
I feel complete.
You’re here and I’m so glad, even if I’m sometimes hiding, imagining a distance, instead of seeing you right there.
Maybe, one day.. very soon, I will stop hiding.
Maybe.
Lots of Love,
Your *Anjanam Azhagiya Pillai*.
PS: Here’s a special something for you. The event video has come. I look dumb, but you look like a million bucks, as usual. Hope you like it 
.
Kannamma from Kaala: Point of Retreat
Breakups are always hard, right?
It hurts. Quite a lot.
You don’t want to get out of bed, or talk to anyone. Sitting slumped, you stare into nothing, stuck in your thoughts.
You see your world crumbling around you.
All you get to hear is that it’s going to get better. But, that moment though, it feels like you are never going to be the same again.
Everything has changed, and your body seems to be screaming this cognition back at you.
உன் காதல் வாசம்
என் தேகம் பூசும்..
காலங்கள் பொய்யானதே!
First, you are in denial. And then, anger takes over.
After a billion “Why me?” and a million “What-did-I-do-to-deserve-this?”, you slowly, come to terms with the fact that that’s how things work.
Don’t you inhabit a world restrained by rationality? You could try all your best to make that special thing work, but more often than not, doesn’t the real world catch up?
Time, however, does work in strange ways.
It heals in bits and pieces, just like the way you fall in love.
And, eventually, you meet someone else. Love happens all over again. And life, too.
You take a step back, and look at the distance you have come, reveling at the beautiful bonds that you have built, over time.
ஆகாயம் சாயாம தூவானமேது!
ஆறாம ஆறாம காயங்கள் ஏது!
கண்ணம்மா கண்ணம்மா…
Your existence suddenly takes on a new meaning. You stumble upon the joys of a family. And it gives you a whole new perspective on why you wake up every day.
The person, who was once your everything, becomes a sort of bittersweet memory in your subconscious. A sort of a memory-wreck that you, intentionally, don’t want to fiddle with.
But, you know what?
You can be the world’s biggest planner, and can set your life to cruise-control mode all you want, but nothing can prepare you for the moment when you bump into that person again. The person you thought would be the one with you, until the end.
How many times have you imagined this meeting in the past decade? Hundreds? Thousands? How many versions have played on your mind — the angry, the passionate, the blasé version?
But now? Why are you seeing pieces of your world deconstructing themselves, and flying around? As if someone had VFXed it.
While a part of you revels in a mishmash of joy, anxiety, and self-consciousness, another part urges you to look away, as if the person didn’t exist.
The former wins, eliciting a reluctant half-smile.
And there begins something you can never comprehend, however, hard you try.
You know you are happy with what you are. But then, the “what-ifs” – hitherto hidden in supraliminal cerebral recesses with barricade tapes – come gushing out, like water breaching a dam.
You willfully subject yourself to following the masochistic tracks these “what-ifs” take.
But, is it worth the trip?
தீராத காதல்
தீயாக மோத…
தூரங்கள் மடை மாறுமோ?
Suddenly, you start waking up, moments after drifting off to apparent sleep, to unsettling shivers and an awkward taste on your tongue. Your chest just doesn’t feel right. Like someone had placed a rock on it. You feel smothered.
Why this sudden ambush? Why go palpating all those broken wedges and chunks inside, in obsessively compulsive ways?
Just when you convince yourself thinking sanity will prevail, it happens.
Not a day goes without this person crossing your mind, and making it heavy. Again.
You take a deep breath and try to brush it off.
But, you know it won’t go off, that easily. The times with that person had taught you this bare minimum.
You take a grueling step back, and attempt some emergency damage-control.
Moments with your loved ones at home flash through your head.
Why now, after all this time?
Despite the unending efforts at ignoring the past. After all the unspeakable struggles at healing.
வான் பார்த்து ஏங்கும்
சிறு புல்லின் தாகம்…
கானல்கள் நிறைவேற்றுமோ?
“What’s the thing with destiny? Why is it not just leaving me alone?” You can try all you want to reason it out.
But, every failed attempt at reasoning metamorphoses into frustration, in stealth.
You don’t realize that you are not actually being given a choice here. You are being forced into this again. By another ‘you’.
“Now, visit those dark nooks and corners that had been long-quarantined…”
Uffffff. Talk about being helpless.
Is the relationship still unfinished? But, you can’t tell yourself that, and you certainly can’t believe it, because it will literally drive you mad.
நீரின்றி மீனும்
சேறுண்டு வாழும்
வாழ்விங்கு வாழ்வாகுமோ?
So instead, you tell yourself you are fine, and that you can effectively ignore that person’s unexpected return.
But, what do you do when the person who broke your heart is the only one who can fix it?
Your friends think you’re crazy, and you start getting qualms. Why, in a world full of billions of other people, are you allowing one to keep holding you back?
Should you just treat that person as a friend?
Well, wouldn’t that be weird? After all, it’s someone with whom you were intimate with, in ways most people will never be with you.
How could you just ignore someone who gave you so much to remember?
மீட்டாத வீணை
தருகின்ற ராகம்
கேட்காது பூங்காந்தலே…
Finally, you resign yourself to the predestined, and decide to confront your fears.
Maybe, you should meet that person and talk it out. Ask that person how life has transpired, and how tough was it to get to this point.
Just, maybe.
And before you realize it, you are sitting in front of this person, a table between you.
“I have no doubt we would have been really happy together, if we’d gotten married.” The person’s heartfelt admission resounds in your ears.
You nod. You know it.
“Then, why didn’t we?” you blurt out, instantly. Only to realize the pointlessness of that question, soon afterward.
But you know, it’s also criminal to swallow your words at such a moment. “Why didn’t we end up together? Why did it have to end?” You wonder aloud.
At some level, you know the cost of asking these sorts of questions. You’re suddenly as angry as you were, years ago, feeling it all again.
If there is still this much anger, mustn’t there be a lot of love left, too?
ஊட்டாத தாயின்
கணக்கின்ற பால் போல்,
என் காதல் கிடக்கின்றதே!
A hand reaches across the table.
Instinctively, you both stand up.
Some words need not be spoken out. You can hear them, nevertheless.
It all makes sense now. Even this chance encounter.
காயங்கள் ஆற்றும்
தலைக்கோதி தேற்றும்
காலங்கள் கைகூடுதே!
Your hands stop shaking, as you finally believe you know what to do.
You take that person’s hand, hold it for a few extra seconds, and give it a tight squeeze.
Bidding goodbye, you walk away.
தொடுவானம் இன்று
நெடுவானம் ஆகி…
தொடும்நேரம் தொலைவாகுதே!
After all, if you love someone enough to let them go, don’t you need to let them go forever?
Na Muthukumar: A dream cruelly cut off
They say that you can never fully resign yourself to the reality of losing a loved one.
But how do you begin this journey?
What prepares you for this sudden change?
How do you wake up every morning knowing that your love won’t be with you anymore?
A lifetime of dreams, snatched away when you were least ready.
How do you bring yourself the will to exist? How are you even sure of who you are and what lies ahead?
Muthukumar nails the mood here with lines that speak directly to the soul.
நினைத்து நினைத்து பார்த்தேன்
நெருங்கி விலகி நடந்தேன்
உன்னால் தானே நானே வாழ்கிறேன்
உன்னில் இன்று என்னை பார்க்கிறேன்!
You could now feel yourselves being consumed by the melancholy.
எடுத்து படித்து முடிக்கும் முன்னே
எறியும் கடிதம் எதற்கு பெண்ணே?
It’s almost impossible to describe the feeling that the words incite. Your heart feels violated. The excruciating agony of lost love devours you, one thought at a time, pulling you into the moment and leaving you muddled.
They say there is a reason. They say it would heal. But neither time nor reason seem to change the void.
How, at all, could you make sense of the cripple that Muthukumar’s words are leading you into?
அமர்ந்து பேசும் மரங்களின் நிழலும்
உன்னை கேட்கும் எப்படி சொல்வேன்
உதிர்ந்து போன மலரின் மௌனமா?
You instinctively reach for the crutch of ‘memories’. Eyes get moist. However hard a person you might be, someone or something flashes before you. In bits and pieces.
It feels like drowning. And a breath of fresh air. Simultaneously.
தூது பேசும் கொலுசின் ஒளியை
அறைகள் கேட்கும் எப்படி சொல்வேன்?
உடைந்து போன வளையல் பேசுமா?
The emptiness rapidly metastasises. Like glass pieces lodged in your throat. Man, does it hurt! And how you wish for a moment, it’s all a reverie! A painful one. And you could just wake up and brush it off.
But Na Muthukumar is in no mood to show any mercy. The brooding only intensifies.
உள்ளங்கையில் வெப்பம் சேர்க்கும்
விரல்கள் இன்று எங்கே?
தோளில் சாய்ந்து கதைகள் பேச
முகமும் இல்லை இங்கே!
A million stories. A thousand musings. Hundreds of emotions. Countless memories. All for ‘the’ one. The one who is not with you now. But yet with you, forever.
Like an incomplete dream.
முதல் கனவு முடியும் முன்னமே
தூக்கம் கலைந்ததே!
Retro Ruminations: Kanne Kalaimaane from Moondram Pirai (1982)
People often talk about these random ‘little’ instances, over which ‘love’ happened for them. Ask them if they knew it instantly then, they will blink. Because that’s how love happens. When you are least aware of what your heart is being subjected to.
For Cheenu, however, that little moment pans out as a brooding reflection of the cruel ways of fate.
They say the worst feeling is loving someone who doesn’t love you back. Believe me, it’s not. Nothing can beat the pain of loving someone, who you realise might have loved you in another space-time dimension, but, is now not in a position to reciprocate your feelings.
Everything is going to hurt.
Everything.
Cheenu knows it, but then, what was he expecting?
The day he had accidentally seen Viji – whose mental state had regressed to that of a child following an accident – in a brothel, something inside him had snapped. There was no putting to words what he had felt for the girl-child, that freaking moment.
Why did he decide to take her with him to Keti? What made him think he was ready to play nanny to a kid? Was it a decision driven by impulse? If given a choice, would he do it the same way, all over again? Cheenu has no answers.
But, he knows something. Love happens in mysterious ways. And, it need not necessarily be understood or acknowledged.
In fact, there is no controlling the heart – when it decides to give itself up to someone. It doesn’t see logic when it’s opening wide to accommodate that person, replete with all their imperfections. But once they are inside, it slowly unlocks itself to unreasonable fears and brutal reasoning.
Cheenu seems to be slowly drowning in that ocean of doubts, this quaint night, as he tries his best to put Viji to sleep.
Is he gasping for breath, frantically trying to stay afloat?
Or, is he on a flagellant trip, having resigned himself to the inevitable?
We will never know. But, either way, it is fucking painful. In ways more than one.
All this angst, however, doesn’t show in his face, as he goes about his muted lullaby.
In fact, paradoxically, you can see a hint of tranquillity and thankfulness. Is he resorting to some strange kind of psychological projection? Or, is he just wearing a mask? Again, we will never know.
கண்ணே கலைமானே,
கன்னி மயிலெனக் கண்டேன் உனை நானே
அந்தி பகல் உனை நான் பார்க்கிறேன்
ஆண்டவனை இதைத்தான் கேட்கிறேன்
ஆரிராரோ …ஓராரிரோ …
Of all the mortals on this planet, why did he have to wind up with this girl-child, whose world starts and ends with pretend play? The more he thinks about it, the more it makes him wish that the night – and with it, this whole bittersweet reverie – never ended.
Those annoying antics. Those frustrating tantrums. Everything about Viji would drive Cheenu mad, but, only till she flashes that endearing smile. The next moment, he will be reduced to a molten, emotional mess. That way, she was an oxymoron – a guardian angel and an entitled brat at the same time.
And, that made the situation all the more complicated.
Isn’t love as much about timing as it is about who you fall in love with? Unfortunately, Cheenu hates timing. He usually runs out of time with everything he loves. Maybe, that’s just part of his ‘adulting’.
Or, maybe not.
But, to burn with emotions and keeping quiet about it is, arguably, the greatest suffering a man can perhaps bring on himself. For Cheenu though, continuing to be Viji’s caretaker from a distance, happens to be the sole therapy for his agony.
Viji yawns, and proceeds to rest her head on Cheenu’s lap.
What must be running in her head, as she clings on to his legs?
Is she blissfully oblivious of the emotional scourges of adulthood? Is her handicap a blessing that way? A beatific aberration of destiny – something that Cheenu can’t afford to be, in all his lifetime?
ஊமை என்றால் ஒரு வகை அமைதி,
ஏழை என்றால் ஆதிலொரு அமைதி
நீயோ கிளிப்பேடு, பண் பாடும் ஆனந்தக் குயில் பேடு…
ஏனோ தெய்வம் சதி செய்தது; பேதை போல விதி செய்தது!
Soon, Viji seems fast sleep. Cheenu pauses and attempts to shift her head to a pillow. Half-groggy, she resists, and grasps his sweater. His guard down, he instantly tears up.
And boom… all his defence mechanisms come crashing down.
When you truly love someone, and fear about having to let them go at some point of time, there will always be that small part of yourself that whispers, “What was it that you wanted and why didn’t you fight for it?”
For Cheenu, the whispers begin to get louder.
காதல் கொண்டேன், கனவினை வளர்த்தேன்
கண்மணி உனை நான் கருத்தினில் நிறைத்தேன்.
Every single person fighting destiny will eventually find their breaking point – that moment, when enough becomes enough. Cheenu almost gets the first taste of it, as he battles an imminent breakdown. He starts feeling the painful lump in his throat, as more tears get ready to come gushing out.
Why me? The single thought echoes all around the room.
உனக்கே உயிரானேன், எந்நாளும் எனை நீ மறவாதே…
நீ இல்லாமல் எது நிம்மதி, நீதான் என்றும் என் சந்நிதி!
Cheenu glances at Viji, who’s sucking her thumb, while in deep slumber. He feels a strange sense of joy, combined with pride.
But, it soon transforms into something that makes his chest feel tight, as if the muscles are trying not to let another breath in. His mind becomes static, thoughts making no sense at all.
Because, there always comes a time in life when you have to choose to turn the page, write another book, or simply close it. Keeping a finished page open can feel magical, but magic is, more often than not… just an illusion.
A part of Cheenu seems to have made peace with that illusion, though. Even if Viji doesn’t ever love Cheenu the way he wants her to, that part will still continue to love on behalf of both of them.
***
Credits:
Music: Ilaiyaraaja
Singer: KJ Yesudas
Lyrics: Kannadasan
***
Here’s the track:
Here’s a remastered HD audio version:
Retro Ruminations: Thillu Mullu Thillu Mullu from Thillu Mullu (1981)
SPB’s opening songs for Rajinikanth are a genre of their own, aren’t they? In fact, they should coin a name for it. ‘Electro-pump’ or something. Damn, what power in those renditions, man! I guess the amount of energy that the singer has packed into those Superstar intro-songs from the 90s through the 2000s, if bundled together, could easily beat a rocket blast-off. No, don’t give me that look. Ask Alexander Babu.
But, before Rajini became a demigod of sorts, and started spouting random ‘catchy’ vocables in the pallavi, and profound life lessons in the charanams, there was a time when the two could afford to let their hair down and have some madcap fun, like how we normal souls do. On one such occasion, when MSV and Kannadasan decided to whoop up the party to the next level, this cheery beauty called Thillu Mullu Thillu Mullu happened.
There’s something about these ‘happy’ songs that you hear in your early days that stays with you till the end of time. Sometimes, you wish you could take that kind of unadulterated joy, blow it up into a bubble, and live inside it forever. This feeling gets intensified when you hear SPB going “லா ல லா… லா ல லா… லா ல லா…லா ல லா… லா ல லா” after ten seconds of the zappy “Thillu Mullu Thillu Mullu” chorus.
And exactly coinciding with the delightful hum, the name ‘Rajinikanth’ appears on-screen, in the backdrop of the man doing his swag version of “Endrendrum Punnagai” on the classic Enfield, with Gundu Kalyanam on the pillion for company, albeit for a mere 5 seconds. If you have a cynic friend who’s still in doubt about the actor’s charisma, this is the visual that will make him a convert.
And when SPB gets the show on the road with “தில்லு முள்ளு தில்லு முள்ளு, உள்ளமெல்லாம் கல்லு முள்ளு,” you can sense this cheerful sparkle in his voice.
But, what sets the track apart from the numerous others in this space is the man’s assiduity in not overselling that buoyancy at any point. His vocals, despite the gleeful satire, stay firmly grounded and largely relatable, to an extent that it’s tough not to sing along.
The backing arrangements are pretty minimal, with some light trumpets, subtle percussions, and a hint of the bass guitar. But, the ‘party mood’ explodes like crazy.
ஆயிரம் நாடகம்…
ஆயிரம் வேஷங்கள்!
SPB resumes after a mini-interlude, featuring some exuberant brass. The man is set on having some screwball fun, and it readily shows.
மன்னவன் வேஷத்தில் வந்தான்
அவனிடம் ராஜாங்கம் கிடையாது…
மாப்பிளை வேஷம் போட்டான்
அவனிடம் பெண்ணொன்று கிடையாது!
Meanwhile, Rajini is rollicking on-screen, doing all kinds of zany steps. It’s truly a sight to behold.
வெட்கம் இல்லை துக்கம் இல்லை…
ஹோ ஹோ
வேஷம் ஒரு தோஷம் இல்லை…
ஹோ ஹோ
This is the part where SPB truly aces the wacky tone of the composition. Even as he keeps escalating the bounce in his voice, the “Ho Ho” chorus in the background fleshes out the track’s devil-may-care vibes.
But, the song’s signature moment of irreverence happens just after this chorus, with Kannadasan having a field day at the studio.
காலையில் சாமியார்…
மாலையில் மாமியார்!
While SPB goes about this unparalleled pearl of wisdom armed with his trademark chuckle, Rajini plays this on-screen with a one-of-a-kind cocky charm that promptly rubs off on you. It’s a riot, to say the least.
KB now intercepts the track with a hilarious sketch, where Rajini and Kalyanam pilfer a bottle of petrol from an unsuspecting passerby’s bike, right under his nose, to fill up their bullet’s dry tank. The dialogues are a scream, but one particular part, where the duo walk back to their bike with a super-conceited celebratory gait, will make you laugh your ass out.
The trumpets and the percussions return for a few seconds, and before you know it, SPB is goofing around, yet again, with the cheeky lyrics.
நல்லது செய்திட பொய் சொல்லலாம்
என வள்ளுவர் சொன்னாரு
நாட்டுக்கு கோவிலை கட்டிட
ஒருவர் திருடவும் செய்தாரு
Rajini uses the opportunity to flaunt some of his crazy moves, and boy, does he own them!
சத்தியத்தை சொல்லிவிட்டு தத்துவத்தை விட்டுவிட்டு
போவதும் வாழ்வதும் லாபமா பாவமா?
Kannadasan, on his part, keeps toying with the concept of “edhu thevaiyo adhuve dharmam” in increasingly amusing ways.
நல்லதுக்கு கத்தி எடு…
ஹோ ஹோ
இல்லையினா விட்டு விடு…
ஹோ ஹோ
And right there, Rajini gets a little moment to showcase his another avatar, something he had consciously stayed away from, for the past four minutes. And naturally, it gives you a fleeting kick.
Nevertheless, Kannadasan quickly takes over.
எண்ணமும் செய்யலாம் நன்மை தான் முக்கியம்!
How many lyricists you know can sum up their film, with a punch, in the concluding line of the title song? Well, that’s the kind of magic this timeless track is riddled with.
Funny, funky and impudent, this title track will always be a testament to that side of Rajinikanth, we, as an industry, failed to tap into.
***
Here’s the track:
maniprabhuwrites 