B and a Malayalam song

Yesterday (November 9) afternoon I came across a DD Malayalam presentation of original sound track of Vayalar cinema songs. When I switched on the TV it was, to my disappointment, the last part of ‘Sanyasini’. Fortunately, another immortal song followed – ‘Chakravartini’ from the movie ‘Chemparathi’. It brought back some memories.

One was of my late friend whom I shall call B for the sake of anonymity. This big made man was a hero of Cochin sixty years back. Those days he used to be known as ‘Kaloor’ B. He was captain of the Maharaja’s College football team and a student leader. Later he became a successful businessman.

I came to know B only in 1979 and soon we became friends. Within the tough exterior he had a heart of gold. Those days some of us used to have occasional musical evenings. They were informal gatherings where anyone could sing. The problem however was that some who could sing didn’t know the lyrics and others who could not sing but knew all the words. So, once in a way, we invited as guest an outsider who could sing. On one such evening B was also present.

The guest artiste was good and rendered several popular numbers. After a while B said, “Those are okay, but sing a really good song.”

“Suggest one please”, the singer said.

B thought for a moment and responded, “That song where the girl leaves her shoes outside and goes in”.

Most of us did not catch on immediately. But the singer did and came out with ‘Chakravarthini’. He sang it very well. B was happy and so were all of us.

I have heard a story about the origin of the song but can’t vouch that it is true. The movie ‘Chemparathi’ was produced by SK Nair. He was an exporter, industrialist, and publisher. He also had a hotel named Neela at Quilon.

Vayalar Rama Varma and some of the key people who were connected with the movie were at Neela. SK was worried that Vayalar had not written the lyrics yet. He went across to the bar where the poet was and requested him to speed up. Perhaps Vayalar was a bit irritated at being chased. He asked for a piece of paper and sitting on the bar stool, wrote ‘Chakravarthini’.

Whether this story is real or not, the lyrics created by Vayalar are great.

Ends.

Also see:

Malayalam songs: Lyrics

Malayalam cinema: Random thoughts

A Malayalam cinema and its lyrics.

Yesterday I saw a Malayalam movie, a rather dated one, on TV. It impressed me. Before going into the other aspects of that cinema, I would like to talk about the lyrics in it.

The movie has only one song. The lyrics by Rameshan Nair, particularly the second line which contains only three words, reiterated my conviction that Malayalam songs are so descriptive with the minimum use of words. One can almost visualize the scenes without the help of a camera.

A literal translation of the words in question into English would read ‘inner courtyard besmeared with moonlight’. Doesn’t sound all that poetic. One can improve it by changing it to ‘moon-washed (or moon-bathed) inner courtyard’. Still not good enough. In Malayalam, the lyrics are ‘chandrika mezhukiya manimuttam’. And that is poetry.

What do these words bring to mind? It could mean different things to different people. Here is one scenario. A quite moonlit night. An old nalukettu tucked away in some remote village. The manimuttam (inner courtyard) with its tulasithara (a basil vase). Someone sits on the mezhukiya (cow dung coated) floor, staring at the moon-washed white sands of the courtyard, thinking of – what? It could be so many things; imagination has no limits.

The song also reminded me of one from yester years. Unfortunately I can remember only the first line now: Nalukettin thirumutta thilaveyi lettunilkum Krishna thulasi poove… Does anyone know the rest of it?

Coming to the movie – it is by the one man movie machine (a borrowed usage), Balchandra Menon. I never used to take his creations seriously till I saw ‘Achuettante veedu’ yesterday.

The story is basically simple, a tale that we see in many families and places. The characters are fantastic though. They are not unusual; we often find them in real life. But how minutely Balachandra Menon observed them and transferred them so realistically on to the celluloid is truly amazing. He has woven the story tightly and smoothly without even one obtrusive knot. The deft manner in which Menon handles the suicide attempt is excellent. The dialogues are crisp, to the point, and carry the story forward.

The artistes merely live their parts. I wonder whether the movie would have had the same quality if there was one character more, or one less. The only comment about casting is that Sukumaran was overqualified for the role; it didn’t offer any challenge to the great histrionic talent the actor had.

The subtly symbolic end where the heroine walks to her new job against the backdrop of a serpentine political jatha in front of the Government Secretariat is a master stroke. Life goes on in spite of snakes and ladders.

Achuvinte veedu is not a great movie. But it is a good one. If you haven’t seen it yet, get hold of a print.

Ends.

Also see:

Malayalam cinema: Random thoughts

Malayalam songs: Lyrics