Comment | Bhagyaraj, Bharathiraja and the memories they left behind

“Bhagyaraj was Bharathiraj’s companion. Together they transformed the grammar of Tamil cinema’ | Photo Credit: The Hindu

I vividly remember the night I went to watch K. Bhagyaraj’s Thooral Ninna Pochu. I was sitting on my cousin’s bike carrier as he pedaled against the strong wind blowing from Putheri Lake in Kanniyakumari district. That night we slept on the porch of my cousin’s neighbor’s house and woke up to the scorching morning sun beating down on our faces with the movie still playing in my mind. His memorable songs – especially Erikkarai Poongatre – still ring in my ears decades later.

The day Bhagyaraj died, I was in Thukkachi, a village near Kumbakonam. My office chief, Ramya Kannan, alerted me to the news. I was amazed. Barely two weeks before, another one of my favorite filmmakers, Bharathiraja, had died.

Bhagyaraj was a companion of Bharathiraj. Together, they transformed the grammar of Tamil cinema. Writing Bhagyaraj’s obituary – and before that Bharathiraj’s – came naturally to me as I had admired their work for decades. As a director, actor, screenwriter and dialogue writer, Bhagyaraj broke almost all the conventions of commercial filmmaking.

A gifted storyteller with an instinctive understanding of human relationships, he dethroned the larger-than-life hero and replaced him with an ordinary man on the street. He proved that charisma does not depend on a commanding screen presence or exaggerated heroism. Wit, intelligence, vulnerability and self-deprecating humor could be equally compelling. His films showed that an unassuming young man could win a woman’s heart with ingenuity rather than machismo.

In Indru Poi Naalai Vaa, he and his friends are willing to do almost anything to win the heroine’s affection. Bhagyaraj’s character accompanies the heroine’s mother to the grocery store in hopes of bonding with her family, and even draws a donkey because its milk is believed to cure the heroine’s younger sister’s illness. Such scenes became believable due to his extraordinary sense of humor and perfect comic timing.

Bharathiraja, on the other hand, dealt with more serious themes and captured the emotional landscape of rural Tamil Nadu with remarkable sensitivity. His films were marked by dialogues that lingered long after the curtains came down. One such line that resonates with me is Sridevi’s poignant statement to Kamal Haasan in the closing moments of 16 Vayathinile: “Indha Mayilu Unakkagave Eppavume Kaathiruppa (He will always wait for you).

In Bhagyaraj’s Suvar Illatha Chithirangal, comedy scenes with Kallapetti Singaram and Goundamani, spoken in an authentic Kong dialect, testify to his deep understanding of society. From that movie I learned the word siluvanam which is used to describe a naive person. Equally memorable is the tailor’s lament on the street: “Veppankaikku kood irandu kaaka varuthu; enakku kadankaranthan vaaran (At least a few crows visit the neem tree for its fruits, but only moneylenders visit me).”

I watched most of the films of Bharathiraj and Bhagyaraj in traveling films. These humble theatres, the crackling projector, the smell of the earth wafting across the floor and the collective excitement of the audience whenever a punchline dialogue was delivered made watching the film an unforgettable experience.

During the summer temple festivals in our villages, naiyandi melam groups often performed songs from Bhagyaraj’s films. Even today, whenever I come across such performances, I ask them to play Mookuthi Poomele from Mouna Geethangal and Kadhal Vaibhogame from Suvar Illatha Chithirangal.

I watched Mouna Geethangal with a young girl, her father and brother. That’s when I started wearing glasses like a kid character in a movie and my classmates kept making fun of me. Still, I appreciate the film for a completely different reason. The girl who watched it with me became my wife years later.

Published – 03 Jul 2026 01:10 IST