Even as I
write this, doctors and medical experts have just lost the battle keep Jayalalithaa,
the charismatic CM of Tamil Nadu alive. I
say this with a pang, for she is probably the first successful woman politician
I have had a chance to observe as an adult myself and form an opinion about.
Yes, there were women ahead of her whom I admire, but it’s mostly been hearsay
in those cases. Jayalalithaa has been a part of my growing up experience in Chennai – mad
as my family was about Tamil cinema. She
is someone I have grown up watching on the big “silver screen.” Though the young sensations of my times were
Sridevi and Sripriya, none could match
the presence which was Jayalaithaa. In
the 1980s, many of the 1960s and 1970s films used to come up for reruns, and I
ended up watching some of the films she had acted in before I became a film
buff.
I got to
watch the films during the peak of her film career - Jayalalithaa usually
played bold and deep characters – was it the angle of her gaze, the way she
carried herself, her star status or just the way stories were told in that age?
I am not sure. But, leave an impression,
she did!
Of course, given the attitude of the times,
many of the stories were woven around a
modern and arrogant (read confident ) girl tamed [sic] by the virile,
tradition-bound hero. I am not counting MGR films when I say this, because
those were all about the hero conquering the hearts of the people and women in
these films were usually only glamorous, decorative, complements to the hero –
just a part of the “world of the story” and not self-propelled characters, even
those that would be “tamed” later.
Even one of
the more advanced films of her time, Suriya Kaanthi – in which she plays a
successful career woman married to a man with an oversensitive ego – pampers the male ego beyond what we would
tolerate today, even as it remains sympathetic to the woman in question.
Yaarukkum Vetkamillai (1975) written and directed by Cho
Ramaswamy, was a shocker then, portraying a woman cheated by her lover, who
seeks to live beyond that experience. I
have dim memories of this film, but remember the stir it created. More than the
movie, I remember the songs which were so meaningful, and, with hindsight, a
bit moralistic… The title song, sung by K J Yesudas, was of course the most
popular, calling into question the double standards laid in society for men and
women. The other one, “Anaiyaadha deepam
manithaabimanam“ (the lamp that shines
perennially, humanism) has a haunting melody and raises deep questions about
morality, religion and humanitarianism.
I started
writing about the films of Jayalalithaa that have affected me deeply, but now I
realize that more than the film itself, the songs and visuals remain, telling
us their own story – like a brain that goes on thinking and feeling minutes
after the heart has stopped… Two of the most beautiful songs of Jayalalithaa
are “Chittu kuruvikkena kattuppaadu” from Savaaley
Samaali (meet the challenge) and “Vaanam
ennum veedhiyiley” from Annai Velankanni . These two songs complement each other, but
only in the sense that two mirrors, held at different positions show up
different facets of the same personality.
The former shows a teenage Jayalalithaa romping around the farmlands and
coconut trees, a child-woman,
privileged, city-educated, returning to her village, bursting with confidence.
The lines “Paarkum kangal paniya vendum; paavai ulagam madhikka vendum” (eyes that gaze at me should submit; a woman [who
is] respected by the world). The vision of young Jayalalithaa dressed in pink
lace and goggles, her confident steps, the song itself a sonorous image of this
confidence in P Suseela’s voice, is
unforgettable. The second song – “Vaanam
ennum veedhiyile” (the pathway of the sky) is a dream sequence, and the dancers
are dressed in glittering costumes; the song captures the magic of falling in
love, finding your life partner – no rebellion here. The reigning goddess Jayalalithaa and the
most romantic hero of his times, Gemini Ganesan, take this song to a different
dimension altogether.
Jumping
backwards to one of her first songs as an adult in Sreedhar’s Vennira Aadai , “Enna enna aasaigalo,” –
well nearly adult, because, I hear that
she herself was not allowed to see the movie which was “adults only” in the 1960s
– one is totally charmed. She just looks
too young for the sari-clad, long-plaited look, wearing a bundle of flowers in
her hair and gauche-looking makeup, playing a piano, falling in love with her
psychiatrist only to realise later that it cannot be. The song leaves an
impression of someone very young and inexperienced trying to convince everyone
around that she has everything under control.
It’s easy when writing to simply catapult
oneself and the reader forward in time, and that’s what I will do – consider
her last lead role in Tamil cinema, Nadiyai
Thedi Vandha Kadal (the sea that went in search of the river) – what a
change in attitude! There she is casually doing stretches in a track suit and
then gracefully dancing with Sarath babu to the catchy tune of “Thavikkudhu thayangudhu
oru manadhu.” Ilayaraja scored the music
for the film. There are two
unforgettable numbers, this one and “Engeyo edho pattondru ketten”by Susila and
one more stunningly beautiful “Poonthottam Poovil ,“ sung by Sailaja which
reminds me of the 1980s song “Oru iniya manadhu isaiyai” from Johnny. Incidentally,
Jensi also sang in the movie Johnny, and
this may not be a coincidence at all. Perhaps, Raja just wanted to recreate the
feeling he had experienced with the earlier song – “Poonthottam”…
One of the
films I loved seeing her in was Yaar Nee?
with Jaishankar. A remake of Woh Kaun Thi?,
this film had Jayalalitha playing dual roles –
a ghost and an orphan girl. Some
of the most melodious songs in Tamil cinema are those sung by ghost characters.
Yaar Nee? also had one such “haunting” song – “Naane
varuven” – in which Jayalalithaa plays the ghost in a white saree, her hair let
loose and eyes liberally darkened with liner. Now, as to why ghosts must wear
white sarees and sing the sweetest of songs, opinion may be divided, but then
there is no one who can prove otherwise – if they had proof of what a ghost
would do, they would perhaps not be in a position to communicate it to us
either. Anyway, later on (as tamil
cinema grew older) ghostly beauties started wearing heavy strands of jasmine
and red lipstick, and nose-rings, too. And,
much later, in the 1980s, in walked director Bharatiraaja, who found this play
of colour so effective that he would always have a scene in his films with
hundreds of women in white chasing the heroine, also in white, with more
haunting Raja melodies playing in the background…
There were
one or two more remakes in which Jayalalithaa had some lovely roles – Vairam was one – It was a remake of Victoria 203 with Saira Banu and ( I
think) Dharmendra. In Vairam Jaya plays a carriage driver –
now, why a person should be driving a horse carriage in the 1980s I do not know
– but the whole story revolves around a small bag of valuable diamonds being
left inside the lamp of the Victoria coach that Saira, in the Hindi, and Jaya,
in the Tamil, drive. Directors then loved the idea of their heroines driving
carriages, I guess. Hemamalini , in Sholay,
driving a horse cart, was quite something, too.
Another
film which also has a Hindi parallel is Engiruntho
Vandhaal (She came from somewhere) – this was Khilona in Hindi with Sanjeev Kumar and Mumtaz – and a beautiful
song in this film comes to mind – “Sirippil undagum raagathiley” – this was beautiful
not for its own structure, tonality or lyrics, but for the laughing girl that
Jayalalithaa is in the picture, in this song.
I have
hardly said anything about Jayalalithaa’s songs with MGR. I will just pick on
two of my favourites, and that’s a very tough job because MGR was so particular
about the quality of music in his films. One is “Unnai naan santhithen”
from Aayirathil
Oruvan and the other – two – are “Aayiram nilave vaa” and “Kaalathai
vendravan nee” from Adimai Penn.
Her beauty
and grace in enacting the song sequence – “Unnai naan santhithen,” sung by P. Suseela – is nothing short of captivating.
This film was shown again in Kamadhenu Theatre – a cinema hall in Luz corner –
in the 2000s and I did make an attempt to watch it. Not then being in a state
of mind where I could sit in one place for hours, I left soon after this song.
Kamadhenu theatre, sadly , has been converted into a wedding hall now (and when
it’s not an auspicious month for weddings, it serves as an exhibition hall).
This is the fate of several cinema halls we used to visit as kids - Kabali Talkies, Globe Theatre, Midland,
Wellington, Elphinstone, and most recently, Shanthi Theatre. How on earth can a
mega mall or a shopping plaza replace what a theatre has to offer? This is
something I cannot understand easily. Perhaps it is something to do with a “have and hold” attitude as opposed
to “enjoy and ruminate over” one. “Aayiram
nIlave vaa” has been sung by one of my favourite singers – S P Balasubramaniam
- and P Suseela. Apart from “Adho andha
paravai pola” this is the most memorable song of Jayalalithaa with MGR,
according to me.
Jayalalithaa’s strong, slightly nasal voice, may not have suited the coy, lilting
melodies needed of women singers in the 1960s 1970s and even 1980s. But she
certainly can sway a crowd when she speaks, such is the power of her oratory
skills. Yet she has also sung for a few films.
Once for the song, “Oh meri dilruba”
from Suriyakaanthi with Muthuraman,
which I ‘ve dwelt upon at the start of this piece and the other is a song from Thirumangalyam, again with Muthuraman.
Surprisingly, in both films, Muthuraman plays an egoistic, chauvinistic man.
While Thirumangalyam was utterly
depressing as a movie, the song with her voice – “Thirumangalyam kollum muraiyillaiyo”
– does have an interesting depth and dimension to it.
From
Sreedhar’s Vennira Aadai to B.
Lenin’s Nadhiyai Thedi Vandha Kadal
Jayalalithaa’a career arc in Tamil cinema groomed her and let her develop to a
point where she could call the shots. After Nadhiyai
Thedi Vandha Kadal she did act in a few movies, but politics and public
life took over, leaving little time for art. Songs written for her, brought to
life by her… those of which she is an inseparable part, lie at the foundation
of my own love for her. And perhaps it
is that way for you, too.
