மலர்ந்தும் மலராதவை # 12

மலர்ந்தும் மலராதவை #12

சித்திரப்பூ சேலை...

Rajaram Theatres’ புது செருப்பு கடிக்கும் was based on a short story by Jayakanthan. The story was written in 1971, and came out as part of a collection of short stories, published by Meenakshi Puthaga Nilayam, Madurai.

The story revolves around three characters- Nandagopal, Girija and Vatsala. Nandagopal enjoys his bachelorhood till he is 30 years old. He harbours bitter memories of his father physically torturing his mother day after day, and thus he develops an aversion towards marriage. He meets Girija, who works as a sales girl besides doing various odd jobs to eke out a meager living. He is attracted to her cheerful disposition and caring ways. One day, when seeing her hungry state, he treats her to a meal and buys groceries for her. She suggests that he move in with her and share the monthly expenses. He readily falls in with the scheme, and their friendship assumes new dimensions. They share the expenses....and some more...

He tells her of his mother’s constant nagging, asking him to get married. Girija encourages him to take the step. He tells her of his cousin Vatsala who is very pretty. Girija masks her disappointment, and congratulates him on his decision. When the wedding day looms near, she suggests that he move out, as it would not be appropriate for them to share the same roof any more. There is a hint of tears in her eyes as she tells this….

Nandagopal finds marital life not at all what he had bargained for. Vatsala and he rarely see eye to eye, and arguments, unpleasantness and humiliations become a daily affair. One night, after some bitter exchanges, he suddenly remembers wistfully his carefree days with Girija. He takes a sudden decision to pay her a visit, even at that unearthly hour. Girija is surprised at his sudden visit, but gives him a warm welcome. To her eager queries on his married life, he responds by listing the complaints he had against Vatsala, and adds that he is suffering for the callous way in which he had treated Girija.

She admonishes him gently, and explains to him how Vatsala must have felt to leave all that is
familiar and dear to her, and come to a strange place and that even the male species may appear strange to her. Girija adds that Nandagopal was ‘experienced’ in the ways of women (in a wry reference to their living together), and she too was ‘trained’ in the ways of men- but men do not want “trained” wives! Nandagopal understands the truth. Presently, seeing that her foot is injured, tenderly enquires about it. She replies that she had bought a new pair of slippers, and was suffering from acute ‘shoe bite’ Then come her punch lines “A new pair of slippers necessarily hurts, but would that make anyone go in for an old pair”?!!! She smiles as she says this…. he breaks down….

What a moving, stark story- Jayakanthan had expanded it into an evocative black & white movie running for just more than an hour. I believe Srikanth & Saradha played the lead roles. Sadly, JK could find no distributors. The movie never made it to the marquee, while Jaganmohini, released around the same time, ran to packed houses.

However, பது செருப்பு கடிக்கும் remains in our memories for the two wonderful songs penned by Jayakanthan and tuned by the genius M.B. Srinivasan.

The first of them was a Radio Ceylon regular in the late 70s. A song of aching memories of a lost love, a wistful window of vistas of a past that is gone… the man remembers his lady love, and recalls in vivid detail his impressions of her striking appearance… The song is a sigh, a tender throwback…JK’s refreshing lines with the adjectives that are are truly inventive, sit so snugly into the MBS trellis. JK’s friend Mr. Kuppuswami recalled in an interview to The Hindu that the lines came to Jk when they were bathing in the Cauvery. SPB conjures up the wistful ache, the unhurried rumination that the mood demands…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oijasCnOmNg

The other is the haunting Vani Jairam solo ‘உடல் என்பார்.’ Vani renders it with great depth of emotion. I found the song to be tranquil, but more like the peace one finds in the company of a lingering sorrow. Alone and at a loss.

Has the sorrow of a girl whose love has gone unrequited, ever been depicted more poignantly- each line is redolent of this suffering- the suffering that only people who have loved and lost can understand……the wait is endless, futile, yet still she waits….

The lyrics are truly remarkable, of a kind seldom encountered in film songs. MBS adds spellbinding sheen to the lyrics by his unobtrusive and masterful use of Veenai, Flute and Violin- each interlude is a short but effective statement.

Vani brings to the song a Ghazal like aura- how much hushed pain peeps out in her song! The song is a celebration of heart-rending sorrow, of forlorn disappointment, of benumbing betrayal, of eerie emptiness that knows no solace...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QhEp3aGfzGM

Discussion at:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1018417744856618/permalink/1832702163428168/

Paadhai Theirudhu Paar (The conclusion)

Saravanan Natarajan

JK & Tamil Cinema: Part 1

Paadhai Theirudhu Paar (The conclusion)

Reminisces JK in his ‘ஒர் இலக்கியவாதியின் கலையுலக அனுபவங்கள்', - " பல முற்போக்குத் தோழர்கள் முயற்சியினால் குமரி பிலிம்ஸ் என்னும் ஒரு படத் தயாரிப்பு நிறுவனம் துவக்கப்பட்டிருந்த்தது. அதில் சம்பந்தப்பட்ட அனைவரும் கம்யூனிஸ்ட்களாகவும், கம்யூனிஸ்ட் அனுதாபிகளாகவும், தொழிலாளர்களாகவும் இருந்ததால் அவர்களோடு எனக்கு தொடர்பு நெருக்கமாய் இருந்ததது. தோழர் எம்.பி. ஸ்ரீனிவாசன் இந்த நிறுவனத்தின் தோற்றதிற்கு முக்கிய காரணமானார்.

திரைக்கதை எழுதுகிற பொறுப்பை நாங்கள் அனைவரும் ஆர். கே. கண்ணனிடம் ஒப்படைத்தோம். நான் இரண்டு பாடல்கள் எழுதினேன். "

Thus the comrades sat together, and the story titled Paathai Theriyuthu Paar took shape over many animated discussions. Comrade R.K.Kannan drafted the screenplay and penned the dialogues. K. Vijayan, who was working as a railway employee in Ponmalai Station and acting in the plays produced by Comrade Simon’s Valluvar Kalai Mandram was roped in to play the fiery, principled hero. S.V.Sahasranamam, T.K.Balachandran, S.V.Subbiah, Muthuraman, V.Gopalakrishnan, L.Vijayalakshmi and Sundaribai and were the other actors.

The storyline goes thus. Sundaram Pillai works as an accountant in a large company. He is known for his integrity and discipline. Shankar and Meena are his children. He also brings up his late friend’s son, Murugesan. Murugesan had imbibed all the noble principles from Sundaram Pillai and works as a labourer in a cotton mill. Murugesan and Meena fall in love. Stung by the oppressive policies of the management, Murugesan becomes an aggressive member of the Labour Union. He manages to form a co-operative store to help the poor get essential commodities at fair prices. The labourers raise their voice against black-marketeering and hoarding, and notch significant victories after a bitter struggle.

* * * * *

Nimai Ghosh took on the twin responsibility of cinematography and direction.

Music was by M.B.Srinivasan. The comrades were very particular that the songs should not be incongruously inserted into the story; all the song sequences appeared in perfectly natural situations.

Thus we have the the hilarious ‘Rasa maga polirundhe’ by A.L. Raghavan & Chorus, the poignant ‘Azhudha kanneerum paalugumaa’ sung by the dulcet P. Susheela and the clarion ‘Unmai oru naal veliyaagum’ by Tiruchi Loganathan.

Giving here the links of the remaining songs available in YouTube.

The uplifting Thevaram 'மாசில் வீணையும்' sung by Janaki & A.S. Mahadevan.

There are three pieces (maasil veeNaiyum, namachivayavE gnanamum kalviyum, viragil thEyinan) from Thirunavukkarasar's Thevaram that feature in this song.

Those were S Janaki's early years. It is a matter of ceaseless wonder that SJ, who underwent very little formal training in music, was entrusted with so many classical and semi-classical songs in films in all languages, and she did ample justice to all of them. Hark at the light brigas with which she adorns the lines in this song.. It adds so much luster to the fervent traditional lyrics.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFUgMTIddt4

Next is the haunting 'சின்ன சின்ன மூக்குத்தியாம்' sung by TMS.

'Communism has nothing to do with love' declared Mao Tse-tung with smug disdain. I wish he could have read the romantic verses of Turkish poet Comrade Nazim Hikmet or 'Chinna chinna mookuthiyaam' of Comrade KCS. Arunachalam! Perhaps the great leader would be mollified when he hears KCS, even in this moment of throbbing passion, showing his true colours, in lines like 'sigappu kallu mookuthiyaam' and 'vetthila pOtta un vaai sivakkum, kannam vetkathinaalE sivandhirukkum!' The romantic heart hidden in the crusty comrade reveals itself in 'kazhuthai chutthi Or attiyalaam, un kattazhagE oru pattiyalaam!'

I can never get enough of this vintage TMS! How dreamy and lovelorn he sounds as he croons the lines, and how joyful and exuberant is that 'Hey' in the middle of each charaNam! Old-fashioned, leisurely romance, where sunny afternoons merge into balmy evenings. and balmy evenings make way for dream-laden nights.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pM1W5HuZNLg

And then we have this song of timeless enchantment 'தென்னங்கீற்று ஊஞ்சலிலே' penned by Jayakanthan. Sung by the salubrious P.B. Srinivas and the soprano Janaki.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wplkczKa3Zg

With his flute, piano and violins, MBS composes a song that summons the sublime; a tune that lingers over decades with unhurried allure, and ந் add caressing flourishes like the gentle breeze in the still of the night. PBS sings only the pallavi, Janaki sings only the charaNams, and two unite in that immortal humming, like the lines, ‘vaanai bhoomi azhaikkuthu, thoduvaanil iraNdum kalakkuthu…’

The song remains one of the favorites if PBS himself. Of his only film song for MBS, he is said to have wondered with awe, ‘ ஒரே ஒரு பாட்டுத்தான், அதனாலென்ன எப்பேர்ப்பட்ட பாட்டு!' Today happens to be the anniversary of his demise. We salute the memory of the gentleman singer and celebrate the rich legacy he has left behind.

As late as in 2000, during a concert in Chennai, PBS felicitated Janaki on the stage and they joined to sing this bewitching duet. Age told, but the magic was still intact. So many of us jumped from our seats and gave the living legends a standing ovation!

A moment…An eternity…

* * * * *

M.R. Venkataraman presided over the unpretentious event, and Jeevanandam cranked the camera for the first shot of Paathai Theriyuthu Paar. The shooting proceeded at a brisk pace, for each shot had been planned in meticulous detail and much in advance. Nimai Ghosh worked to create a movie that brought into the portals of Tamil Cinema shades of European Neo-Realism, Russian Avant-Garde and Bengali Leftist Theater.

Despite all this and the haunting album by MBS, Paathai Theriyuthu Paar, released on 18th November 1960, was a colossal commercial failure. And in hindsight the crestfallen comrades realized that they should not been content with merely making the movie, they should have also taken upon themselves its marketing and distribution. For it was alleged that the big studio owners/ producers were determined to nip in the bud the entry of the communists into Tamil cinema, and after buying the rights of the movie, chose to release it in some obscure suburban theaters, or worse still, not release it all! AV Meyyappa Chetttiar, it is said, secured the distribution rights for Madras, and released the movie for a brief while in a little known Murugan Talkies somewhere in the outskirts. It is not known if the prints of this movie are available anywhere today. In my time, I have never known Paathai Theriyuthu Paar to be screened in any theater or shown on television.

But on second thought, all that the bourgeois barons gained was a pyrrhic victory. The comrades had carried their point home by making a movie all by themselves, and a good one at that, sans any charismatic star or even seasoned technicians. Paathai Theriyuthu Paar was a daring experiment that gave abundant creative satisfaction to the comrades involved in its making.

Perhaps the big filmmakers wished that Paathai Theriyuthu Paar would be forgotten quickly, but here they had not contended with the doughty Radio Ceylon. For by going to town with the wondrous album, thamizh sEvai iraNdu kept the memory of Paathai Theriyuthu Paar alive for decades. True, I have never heard ‘Azhutha kanneerum paalugama’ or ‘Unmai oru naal’ aired, and have only very vague memories of listening to ‘Maasil veenaiyum’ and ‘Raasa maga polirundhe’, but can recollect with avid clarity the unabated pleasure each frequent broadcast of ‘Thennankeetru oonjalile’ evoked and the unanswered questions that it fuelled regarding the song’s picturization, the movie itself, and, of course, MBS. ‘Chinna china mookuthiyaam’ was a Thenkinnam regular, and I listened to it with mixed feelings, for this long song meant one song less in the programme! Be it as may, Paathai Theriyuthu Paar is ensconced snugly in a rightful place of pride in the annals of Tamil Film Music.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I…
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference!
- Robert Lee Frost (The Road Not Taken)

Discussion at:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1018417744856618/permalink/1557305534301167/

First part here:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1018417744856618/permalink/1551500981548289/

Second part here:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1018417744856618/permalink/1555316444500076/

Paadhai Theiyudhu Paar - JK & Tamil Cinema

Saravanan Natarajan writes:

JK & Tamil Cinema- Part 1

Paadhai Theiyudhu Paar (Contd)

Along with bringing about refreshing changes in drama and reviving traditional arts like ‘Burrakatha’ of Andhra and ‘Pawada’ of Maharashtra, IPTA also ushered in a renaissance in music in general and choral music in particular. In fact, the modern choir music in India owes its origins to IPTA. Iqbal’s ‘Saare jahaan se accha’ became hugely popular when composed by Pandit Ravishankar for the Central Cultural Troupe in 1944. Salil Chowdhury, Binoy Roy, Jyotirmai Moitra, Prem Dhawan, Shailendra, Hemang Vishwas, Vallathol, Narendra Sharma, Anil Biswas, Jyoti Prasad Agarwal, Bhupen Hazarika and many others composed stirring songs in many languages, and were also instrumental in spearheading the people’s choir movement. Ruma Guha Thakurta set up the Calcutta Youth Choir; and IPTA nurtured for the South, the great M.B. Srinivasan.

M.B. Srinivasan had gone to Lakshadweep islands to train a youth choir there, when he suffered a massive heart attack and passed away on 9th March, 1988. I was studying for my annual exams when I read of his demise. In the midst of frantic last minute revisions, I still mourned his passing away, for many of his songs had brought me so much joy and many, many hours of listening pleasure.

Manamadurai Balakrishnan Srinivasan was born in 1925 in Chithoor, where his father was working as a Lecturer in an Agricultural College. Music was an integral part of his childhood, as both his parents had great love for it. MBS grew up in times when the freedom struggle was at its zenith.

MBS, though hailing from an affluent family, was attracted to Communist thoughts, inspired perhaps by his uncle M.R.Venkataraman who gave up a flourishing career in law and joined the Communist Party. As a student of Madras Presidency College, MBS joined the Madras Students Organization (M.S.O.) Along with like-minded enthusiasts like S. Damodaran and Baladhandayudham, MBS was actively involved in garnering student support for imprisoned freedom fighters and conducting patriotic meetings, where Bharathiyar’s fiery songs were sung with fervour.

For a while, MBS worked in the office of the Communist Party’s Parliamentary Committee in Delhi. It was then that he got involved with IPTA and helped in bringing about plays and road shows highlighting problems faced by people in everyday life. Whilst going about this, he also got an exposure to musical influences from all corners of the country. He also underwent formal training in classical music.

It was during this period that MBS met and fell in love with Zahida Kitchlew, who shared with ardor, the same passion for both music and people’s causes. Zahida was the daughter of the great nationalist Dr. Saifuddin Kitchlew. In Zahida, MBS found a perfect soul mate and married her- he a Tamil Aiyangaar and she a Kashmiri Muslim- but what does religion matter, when hearts unite! They named their son Kabir, after that wonderful poet, who was celebrated alike by both Hindus and Muslims.


True, he had composed music for only 8 Tamil films- but he had created some songs of timeless enchantment in those few films- from the bewitching ‘Thennankeetru oonjalile’ to the moving ‘Amma undhan kai valaiyaai’- songs that will live on to tell the tale of a genius…A great musician, and a great human being, a noble soul who strove throughout his life to better the lot of his fellow beings, all the while creating songs of eternal allure.

But the same destiny which closed the door of Tamil cinema for MBS, threw wide open for him the portals of Malayalam cinema, and there MBS found enchanting avenues to create his kind of music. Internationally acclaimed filmmakers like KG George, MT Vasudevan Nair, Adoor Goplakrishnan and Aravindan came to MBS repeatedly to set music for their films. MBS bagged the Kerala Government Award for the best Music Director for four years. It was MBS who, in 1961, gave KJ Yesudas his first ever film song, (a short verse by Narayana Guru) in the film Kalpadukal. Jayachandran got the State Award for the song ‘Ragam sriragam’, composed by MBS for the film Bandhanam.

Be it any language, MBS gave his best to all his films. The first film in Baduga language, Kala Thapitha Pailu, had memorable music by MBS. MBS was the pioneer in Radio jingles- Many of the jingles heard in the early 70s were composed by him.

MBS was not content to rest with his laurels in film music. Through music, he wanted to inspire in children the qualities of patriotism and National Integration. The beginning was made when he trained 25 students to sing 6 songs of Bharathiar for the Ilaya Bharatham programme of AIR in August 1970. Under his guidance, the Bharathi Ilaignar Isaikkuzhu was constituted in 1971, which blossomed into the Madras Youth Choir in 1973. MBS was instrumental in setting up such choirs in many parts of India. Songs of Bharathiar, Bharathidasan, Tagore and Iqbal, when sung by hundreds of children in one voice, evoked rare emotional fervour in the listeners.

MBS loved children- most of his Serndisai programmes were by children from the Corporation schools and children from the slums. MBS headed the Madras Youth Choir right from its inception up to his death in 1988. After his demise, Zahida took over the responsibility with enthusiasm. Zahida passed way on 23rd October, 2002.

MBS was honoured with the Award for Creative Music by the Sangeet Natak Akademi in 1986. He galvanized the Cine Music technicians to form a Union and demand prompt payments and fixed wages. He was instrumental in the formation of the Indian Performing Right Society Ltd (IPRS) to give Copyright protection to Music Directors and lyricists.

MBS has left behind a rich, vibrant inheritance. Today performing artistes in every nook and corner of the world remember him with gratitude- Rajkumar Bharathi who sang in his choir, Subha Harinath who teaches music and performs in Australia, Sundar who works with top composers in North America, Karthika Ganesan who is a ‘Naatiya Kalanidhi’ in Sri Lanka, Kaveri Sridhar who formed the Bangalore Youth Choir….these are just a few from the thousands of artistes whose lives MBS has touched in one way or the other.

Even on the fateful day, when MBS left for his heavenly abode, he was engaged in training a Youth Choir in a remote island of Lakshadweep- urugidum vELaiyilum nalla oLi thandha mezhugu thiri….
* * * *

In the late 50s, a group of Communist Comrades used to meet regularly and over innumerable cups of tea and cigarettes, debate on topics close to their heart, including cinema. They were filled with chagrin that Tamil filmmakers could come up only with irksome melodramatic themes, tired rehashes of mythological lore and furtive copies of borrowed ideas. Like Bertolt Brecht, they too lamented, “How much longer are our souls, leaving our ‘mere’ bodies under cover of the darkness, to plunge into those dreamlike figures up on the stage, there to take part in the crescendos and climaxes which ‘normal’ life denies us?” .

Comrade S.Damodaran was the leading light of this enterprising group that decided to venture into filmmaking, and along with like-minded friends like Uthamapalayam Jamal, K.V.Ramasami, MBS, V.M. Pazhanisamy and Somu, formed a company called Kumari Films. A total 45 comrades joined together to form this company, each one subscribing to shares ranging from Rs. 500- Rs. 5000. They refused to accept more than Rs. 5000 from any single individual. Profit was not their only driving motive, they were filled with idealistic fervour and wanted to try their hand at something different.

- Paadhai Theriyudhu Paar to continue....

Discussion at:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1018417744856618/permalink/1555316444500076/

First part here:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/1018417744856618/permalink/1551500981548289/

JK & Tamil Cinema Part 1

Saravanan Natarajan writes:

JK & Tamil Cinema Part 1:

Paadhai Theriyudhu Paar

“Nothing has a right to live without a purpose. We don’t create our lives, but we create in our lives. Sometimes people may not be able to articulate the purpose in their lives. That's what a writer does. He gives... voice to those who can't speak; eyes to those who can't see; a mind to those who can't think; a heart to those who can't feel….”

-Dhandapani Jayakanthan (24.4.1934- 8.4.2015)

Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown of Thorns. These things and deeds are diametrically opposed: they are as distinct as is vice from virtue. We too often confound them-they should not be confounded. Appearance should not be mistaken for truth. Narrow human doctrines, that only tend to elate and magnify a few, should not be substituted for the world-redeeming creed of The Almighty. There is a difference; and it is a good, and not a bad action to mark broadly and clearly the line of separation between them.

The world may not like to see these ideas dissevered, for it has been accustomed to blend them; finding it convenient to make external show pass for sterling worth-to let whitewashed walls vouch for shrines. It may hate him who dares to scrutinise and expose, to raise the gilding and exhibit the base metal beneath, to penetrate the sepulchre and reveal charnel relics; but hate as it will, it is indebted to him.

Jayakanthan was one such writer who defied sacrosanct convention and prim niceties all his life and did so in such a way that he found his way into the hearts of generations of Tamils for whom he will forever remain a glittering star in the firmament of Tamil literature.

His forays into the film world (well documented in his ‘Or ilakkiyavvathiyin kalai ulaga anubavnagal’) have been limited, but he has left an indelible mark and brought a refreshing whiff of realism into the melodramatic portals of Kodambakkam.

Between 2003- 2008, being actively involved in the songs in the Song of the Day series of dhool.com, I was fortunate to present songs from movies that Jayakanthan was associated with. The discussions that followed were animated, enriching and memorable.
Posting the JK series again here for new members.

The first is on ‘Paathai Theriyuthu Paar’ (1960) of which today am posting the first part.
* * * *

"Writers and artists… Come actors and dramatists, Come all, those who work by hand and the thinkers, come and dedicate yourself to create a brave new world and a society that values freedom, independence, and social justice!" This was the clarion call of Hiren Mukherjee on May 25, 1943, and thus began a magnificent era in the cultural history of India with the formation of the Indian People’s Theater Association (IPTA).

And IPTA was not formed just overnight; it was the culmination of the efforts of various artistes over a period of time. The Progressive Writer's Association Conference held in 1936, the founding of the Youth Cultural Institute at Calcutta in 1940, and establishment of the People's Theatre at Bangalore by a young Sinhalese writer Anil De' Silwa in 1941 were all catalysts that helped hasten the constitution of the IPTA.

But more than these, the harrowing times that India was going through and the need to pull the people out of their lethargy and indifference to the happenings around them was largely the necessity that mothered this invention. The ruinous, largely man-made famine in Bengal in 1942 stirred many radical artistes and writers into action (In later years, Satyajit Ray’s Ashani Sankat and Mrinal Sen’s Akaler Shondhaney have dealt with the cataclysmic famine) Binoy Roy, along with like-minded artistes like Prem Dhawan, Usha Dutt, Dasrat Lal and Reva Roy, formed the Bengal Cultural Squad and traveled all over the country with his adaptation of Vanik Jaunpuri’s Bhooka Hai Bengal, collecting money for famine relief. This ‘Squad’ and its missionary zeal was the forerunner of several such cultural groups springing up in various parts of the country.

It is a fact that most of these groups were inspired by leftist idealogies and P.C.Joshi, then the General Secretary of the CPI, was the man behind persuading these groups to unite on a common platform. Thus IPTA was born in a humble hall of the Marwari school in Bombay. (The name IPTA itself was put forward by scientist Homi Bhaba) Jawaharlal Nehru sent a congratulatory message to the Conference, hailing the formation of the IPTA. Trade Union Leader Joshi was first president, Anil De' Silwa was the General Secretary, Khwaja Ahmed Abbas was appointed the Treasurer, Binoy Roy and K.D.Chandi were the Joint-Secretaries. Regional Committees were also set up, drawn from reformist performers and members of various People Fronts in Bengal, Bombay, Madras, Delhi, Hyderabad, Punjab, Mangalore, Malabar and the North-East.

IPTA’s symbol, designed by the painter Chitta Prasad, was a profile of a drummer, serving as a reminder of the ancient, trusted mode of communication. The stated objective of IPTA was ‘to portray through the stage and other traditional arts the internal and external crises facing Indian society and polity and to enlighten the masses about their rights and the proper way to fight the twin evils of imperialism at home and fascism abroad’ . The formation of the IPTA co-coordinated and canalized all progressive tendencies that had hitherto manifested themselves in the form of music, dance and drama, and brought about trail-blazing changes in theater concepts. IPTA soon became a national movement that swept the length and breadth of India with its socialistic and nationalistic zeal. A wave of realistic performances in theater, music and cinema was ushered in by the promoters of IPTA.

Over the years, the roster of artistes/thinkers associated with IPTA reads like a who’s who of Indian Performing Arts. These include Niranjan Sen, Amar Shaikh, Shombhu Mitra, Dr. Raja Rao, Krishanchander, Rajendra Raghuvanshi, M. Nagabhushanam, Kaifi Azmi, Vallathol, Eric Cyprian, Sarla Gupta, Dr. S.C. Jog, Bimal Roy, K. Subramaniam, K.V.J. Namboodri, Shiela Bhatia, Majrooh Sultanpuri, Sahir Ludhianvi, Balraj Sahni, Mohan Segal, Ali Sardar Jafri, Mulkraj Anand, Romesh Thapar, T. Chalapthi Rao, Hima Devi, Bijon Bhattacharya, Annabhau Sathe, Shailendra, Prem Dhawan, Ismat Chugtai, Kanu Ghosh, Chetan Anand, Dina Pathak, Pt. Ravi Shankar, Sachin Shankar, Bahadur Khan, A.K.Hangal, Habib Tanvir, Abrar Alvi, Hemant Kumar, Adi Marzban, Salil Chowdhari, Manoranjan Bhattacharya, Tarla Mehta, Khayyam, Phani Muzumdar, Dev Anand, Shanti Bardhan, Chittoprasad, Harindranath Chattopadhyay, Thopil Bhasi, VP Sathe, Durga Khote, Keshavrao Date, Utpal Dutt, Ritwik Ghatak, Satyen Kappu, Sanjeev Kumar, Zul Vellani, Shaukat Kaifi, Manmohan Krishna, Basu Bhattacharya, Tapas Sen, Abid Razvi, M.S.Sathyu, Kuldip Singh, Ramesh Talwar, Sulabha Arya, Shabana Azmi, Farooque Shaikh, Kader Khan, Yunus Parvez, Mac Mohan, Javed Siddiqi, Sudhir Pande, Anjan Srivastava, Bharat Kapoor, Rakesh Bedi, and many, many others. Time and again, these artistes ‘established a new definition of the relationship between art, artists and the audience’.

And two great men who came to Tamil Cinema, fresh from their fruitful association with IPTA, were Nimai Ghosh and M.B. Srinivasan.
* * * *

Hugging the delighted young director, the redoubtable Russian director and theorist, Vsevolod Pudovkin exclaimed with wondering joy “I have seen an Indian movie for the first time!” For Pudovkin, his widely publicized visit in 1950 to India as the head of a large cultural contingent, had been disappointing, to say the least. All the Indian movies he had been shown were either mythological costume dramas or unabashed copies of Hollywood hits, or a confused hotchpotch of both. And all this changed when he chanced to see a just released offbeat effort of a debutant director.
The movie was Chinnamul (The Uprooted/ 1950/Desha Pictures) Chinnamul was the first film that dwelt on the partition of India, narrating with brooding sensitivity the story of story of a group of farmers from East Bengal who are forced to migrate to Calcutta because of the Partition. The trauma was real; refugees were huddled in hordes on railway platforms, or herded into overcrowded camps.

Entire hamlets were razed to the ground; plunder, rape and murder were ruthless and rampant. Employing innovative idioms juxtaposed intelligently with documentary footage, the film managed to convey the gruesome, gory terror that was unleashed, without even a single shot actually showing any violence! Chinnamul was a courageous and scathing indictment of the powers that planned the partition. Ritwik Ghatak, who started his illustrious career by making an on-screen appearance in Chinnamul, as well as working behind the camera as an assistant to Nimai Ghosh, was to demand with characteristic candour, “Nimai Ghosh's Chinnamul has started a new era. Have we been able to proceed further in our consciousness?”

Nimai Ghosh was born in what is now Bangladesh, in 1914. He was drawn to cinema as a young man, and enrolled as an assistant to cameraman Bhibuti Das in 1932. He was among the young pioneers of IPTA, and became a close friend of Satyajit Ray. He was one of the founder members of the Calcutta Film Society in 1947, along with Ray and Chidananda Dasgupta. Ghosh was horrified by the Partition and the suffering that it brought in its wake, and set about recording on celluloid his own outrage at the tumultuous events. Thus the movie had a sense of rare, uncanny immediacy.

Chinnamul used mostly new faces bereft of any make-up, a hidden camera for shooting in the streets, and quite daringly for its time, had no songs. The cinematography, in particular, fetched universal acclaim. Half a century has gone past, and even in a recent interview P.C. Sreeram says, ‘I was zapped by Nimai Ghosh's Chinnamul!’

Speaking of Chinnamul years later, Nimai Ghosh remarked, “I wanted to project the miseries of the refugees after the partition and also to expose the selfish motives of the politicians who were behind the partition. The Indian People’s Theatre Association movement helped me to understand the actual reality. Had I not been associated with this movement, I would not have been aware of the human beings around me. This awareness prompted me to make the film Chinnamul, which is regarded by some as a political film. I did not deliberately include politics, but it could not be separated from life either. I took the camera out of the studios into the open, to bring out the truth which shaped this film. I also used artists from I.P.T.A., some of them without previous acting experience, because I thought it could lend an air of authenticity to the film.”

Pudovkin was so enchanted with Nimai Ghosh’s work that he carried a print of Chinnamul back home, and lost no time in propagating the movie all over the Soviet Union. And it was in Moscow that our N.S.Krishnan and Director K.Subramaniam saw the Indian movie that had taken Russia by storm, and became aware of the genius of Nimai Ghosh. NSK and K.Subramaniam were in Moscow in 1951 as part of an Indian Cultural Delegation. There they met Nimai Ghosh, and NSK invited him to come to Madras and work in Tamil Movies. It was thus that Nimai Ghosh came to Madras.

Another account that I remember reading regarding Nimai Ghosh’s relocation to Madras is like this: Satyajit Ray had been so impressed by Ghosh’s unconventional angles arresting frames in Chinnamul that Ghosh was Ray’s first choice to handle the camera for his Pather Panchali. But Nimai Ghosh, a member of the Communist Party, had to go underground when the party was banned and thus the cinematography of Pather Panchali went to Subrata Mitra. Presently, Nimai Ghosh resurfaced in Madras, and continued to live and work there.

When we look at the resourceful and talented technicians who were working in Tamil movies in the 50s, we find that many of them were from the Bombay and Calcutta. Even amongst the cameramen, we had the likes of Kamal Ghosh, Jithen Banerjee and Sailen Bose who hailed from Bengal and who were much sought-after cinematographers in Tamil and Telugu movies. Nimai Ghosh joined this bustling brigade and worked for many Tamil films throughout the 50s. The Tamil films for which he handled the camera include TKS Brothers’ Inspector (1953), T.R. Ramachandran’s Pon Vayal (1954), TKS Brothers’ Raththapaasam (1954), T.R. Ramachandran’s Gomathiyin Kaathalan (1955), R.S.Mani’s Maaman Magal (1955), Nagerkoyil S. Nagarajan’s Avan Amaran (1958) and Sahasranamam’s Naalu Veli Nilam (1959).

It was at this juncture that like-minded communists, who had been awed by the visual impact of Chinnamul, approached Ghosh to handle the camera and also direct their pioneering joint effort, Paathai Theriyudhu Paar.

In later years, Nimai Ghosh went on to do the cinematography of Balachandar’s early films, up to Anubhavi Raja Anubhavi (1967). He handled the camera for Jayakanthan’s experimental Yaarukkaga Azhuthaan (1966) and Malliyam Rajagopal’s Kasturi Thilagam (1970). During this time, he worked in some landmark Kannada movies as well. Sooraavali, written by M.A. Abbas with cinematography and direction by Nimai Ghosh saw a belated release in 1981.

Nimai Ghosh passed away in 1988, but to a discerning cineaste, a genius like Nimai Ghosh knows no death. To this day, there functions in Trichy, a ‘Nimai Ghosh Film Society’, which does excellent work in propagating good cinema.
* * * *

‘Paadhai Theiyudhu Paar’ to continue...

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Amma unthan kai valaiyaai - Nijangal

While many of Bharathidasan’s verses have become part of Tamil film music history, he also wrote lyrics specifically for a few films in the early years. His first film as a lyricist was Sri Ramanujar (1938/ Yessel Films), though Balamani (or Pakka Thirudan/ 1937/ Sri Shanmugananda Talkies), released a year earlier was the first to carry his lyrics. He wrote both the script and lyrics for Kaalamegam(1940/ Sri Dhandapani Films). He then joined the Modern Theatres and wrote for films like Subadra-1946, Sulochana-1947, Aayiram Thalai Vaangiya Aboorva Chinthamani-1947 and Ponmudi- 1950.

The last film for which Bharathidasan penned lyrics was Valaiyaapathi (1952/ Modern Theatres), for which he wrote the dialogues as well. And when his line ‘Kamizhnthidum poovillelaam’ was altered to ‘Kulungidum poovillellam’ without his consent, Bharathidasan is said to have stormed out in indignation from the Studios, never to return.

Meanwhile, the trend of using verses from Bharathidasan’s poetry collections for film songs had caught on. Or Iravu - 1951(‘Thunbam nergayil yaazheduthu nee’) set the trend. And R. Sudarsanam used Bharathidasan’s lines again in Parasakthi-1952 (‘Vaazhga vaazhga vaazhgave’). Over the years, both while Bharathidasan was alive and afterwards, many MDs have set his verses to tune: MSV-TKR did it in their very first film Panam-1952 (‘Pasiyendru vandhaal oru pidi soru’) and later in among their last films together- Panchavarnakkili –1965 (‘Thamizhukkum amuthendru peyar’); Govindarajulu Naidu (‘Andha vaazhvu thaan endha naal varum’/Andaman Kaidhi / 1952), S.Dakshinamoorthi -of course he was the composer for Valaiyaapathi as well- (‘Adho paaradi avare en kanavar’/ Kalyani/1952), G.Ramanathan (‘Pandian en sollai thaandipponaandi’/ Thirumbippaar/ 1953 & ‘’Neelavaan aadaikkul udal maraithu’ /Gomathiyin Kaadhalan/1955), Aadhi Narayana Rao & M.Ranga Rao (‘Thaayagame vaazhga thaayagame vaazhga’/ Poonkothai/ 1953), T.G.Lingappa (‘Vennilavum vaanum pole’ / Kalyanam Panniyum Bhramachari/ 1954), C.S.Jayaraman (‘Aalaiyin sange nee oodhaayo’ / Rathakkaneer/ 1954), T.R.Papa (‘Thalaivaari poochootti unnai’/ Rangon Radha/ 1956), T.R.Ramnath (‘Aadarkkalaikkazhagu thedappirandhaval’/ Naane Raja/1956), R.Sudarsanam again (Vetkkamillai vetkkamillai’ /Kuladeivam/1956 & ‘Valiyor silar eliyor thamai’ / Manimagudam/1966), S.Rajeswara Rao (‘Paadi paadi paadi vaadi’ & ‘’Orey oru paisa’/ Petra Manam/ 1960), Kunnakkudi Vaithyanathan (‘Engengu kaaninum sakthiyada’/ Namma Veettu Deivam/1970), Shankar-Ganesh (‘Chithira Cholaigale’/ Naan Yaen Pirandhen/1972), Ilayaraja (‘Kaalai ilam parithiyile’/Kannan Oru Kaikkuzhandhai/1978) and Vidyasagar (‘Thoongum puliyai’/ Puratchikkaran/2000). And at times the same song has found place in more than one film: ‘Sange muzhangu’ was heard first in En Magal (1954/ composed by C.N.Pandurangan) and later in Kalangarai Vilakkm (1965/ composed by MSV). ‘Pudhiyadhor ulagam seivom’ was heard first in Chandrodhayam (1966/ composed by MSV) and again in Pallandu Vaazhga (1975/ composed by KVM), though in the earlier song, the lines after the opening were from other works of Bharathidasan.

Tamil film music has thus been gloriously enriched time and again by the immortal verses of the great Paavendhar.
* * * *
Out of all the works of Bharathidasan that were used in Tamil film music, my particular favourite is a forgotten song from a forgotten movie-

Amma unthan kai valaiyaai from Nijangal.

Sung by Vani Jairam. Bharathidasan’s verses set to music by M.B. Srinivasan.

These verses form part of a longer poem by Bharathidasan that was published in a collection of his works called ‘Oru Thaaiyin Ullam Magizhgirathu’.

Nijangal (1982) was directed by K.S Sethumadhavan. I have not seen the film, but recollect reading somewhere that it was an off-beat venture, narrating the events subsequent to the breaking-down of a bus, and the varied experiences/ responses of the passengers therein, punctuated with riveting recapitulations of some of their stories.

I recall watching the song many years ago in OLiyum Oliyum: The sequence is that of Menaka taking care of her mentally deranged mother Anandi. As she lovingly nurses her mother, combs her tresses, feeds her a few morsels, and patiently does all that her mother would have done for her when Menaka was an infant at her bosom, this song is the wondrous backdrop that multiplies manifold the melancholy of this reversal of the mother-daughter roles.

MBS bases his composition largely on Behaag, rightly harnesses Vani’s voice to bring lilting lustre to Bharathidasan’s lines, and as is his wont, intelligently intersperses chorus voices to enhance the poignant emotions that the song evokes.

Vani’s eyes brimmed with cascading memories as I asked her about this song. ‘It was just then that I had lost my mother’ she said softly. ‘And it was a disquieting co-incidence that the first song that I was called to sing after her demise was this one. Though I finished the recording in a single take, I was moved by the lyrics, and had to control myself from breaking down…’

- Saravanan

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