The Lure And Longing in 'Alaipayuthey'

 

What moves someone to love a movie song?

Music? Lyrics? Picturisation? Voices? The story/context?

While all these are important factors deciding the mass popularity of a song, some compositions leap beyond such trivialities and step into the realm of the soul. If the picturisation and visualisation mattered, soundtrack albums would not be released to a rousing reception. And even if the lyrics of a song adhere to the context of the story, poets know better than to tie a song with only that situation.

There is a universal appeal to music that goes above all other factors. Even the most wonderfully penned poetic words might fall short without the accompanying music – the same music that would easily lift normal conversational words and carry them towards a lasting eternity.

When Alaipayuthey was released in 2000, my first exposure to the movie was the cover flap of the audio cassette that featured an immediately attractive ochre theme. I took it up to read the list of songs, and only one song jumped out at me. The titular Alaipayuthey (which was thankfully not a great deviation from the Carnatic classical original), ensnared my senses when I first heard it. It also was the only song that piqued my interest enough.

But it would be many years later that I would stumble upon the haunting voice of Swarnalatha whose lilting cadence could never be ignored in any song she lends her magic to. Evano Oruvan Vasikkiran was not a jolt of lightning or a roar of thunder or even the peppy warmth of a spring sun like some of the other songs in this album. It was the slow seeping of summer rain onto the parched mud. It was too slow and sad to hold my interest at first, but once it caught on, it held its own even amidst the many choices that I had from the album.

Karthik and Shakthi were a good representation of love in the millennium – a blend of funny pranking, serious fights, and the inevitable making-up with apologies. A young love that navigated the troughs of life, fuelled by hope and an inexplicable longing.

Sometimes, distance gives a different perspective to things.

The mischievous and playfully bold Shakthi (brought to life onscreen by an underrated Shalini) teases the man who confesses his love to her, probably because even he does not seem serious about it. Actor R Madhavan’s portrayal of ‘I-am-rich-and-handsome-and-I-know-it’ Karthik as the carefree youngster whose passing crush slowly deepens into undeniable love is one of my favourite character trajectories in the movie.

Every movie plot has a twist and a point of realisation that makes for a good cinematic experience. It may be overly dramatic, sometimes even laughable. But is that not the beauty of this larger-than-life media? That twist in Alaipayuthey is beautified with this composition.

What would you do if you realised that something you thought of as a casual crush suddenly loomed large over your horizon, covering your sun, moon and stars?

What would you do if you realised that distance is not a barrier when you really want to express the seriousness of what you now feel?

What would you do if, at some point in your life, you realise that you have taken a mischievous game a tad too far?

Would that beloved man haunting your thoughts and completely eclipsing your emotions shake off all the playful rejections and seek you across rivers and lands? Would such a move be welcome? Would you expect someone you barely knew to understand the underlying yearning of your heart and unshackle the doubts that hold you back?

Shakthi’s residency as a medical student requires her to travel to an inaccessible place, where her fellow doctors are not the company she craves. And amidst the brilliant cinematography that covers a beautiful landscape, the flute interludes speak of a longing that cannot be expressed by words. Maniratnam’s Alaipayuthey managed to brilliantly picturise that time when cell phones were not commonplace, and the scenes of this movie stand as testaments to the nostalgia of an entire generation now.

புல்லாங்குழலே! பூங்குழலே!

நீயும் நானும் ஒரு ஜாதி

என் உள்ளே உறங்கும் ஏக்கத்திலே

உனக்கும் எனக்கும் சரிபாதி

கண்களை வருடும் தேனிசையில்

என் காலம் கவலை மறந்திருப்பேன்

இன்னிசை மட்டும் இல்லையென்றால் நான்

என்றோ என்றோ இறந்திருப்பேன்!

Maybe if you had music as your companion, you would tide over moments that require tears, and pay up instead by sharing the burden with that inanimate and intangible entity.

Maybe music itself is the soothing salve that touches a part of your conscience and reaches beyond the mundanity of everyday life.

Maybe music is the answer to questions that you cannot speak out loud.

Sometimes, certain words entrench so much of feeling and power in them that you would rather hear the wind and the rain bring news of your beloved instead!

Evano Oruvan is the expression of longing more than sadness. It is the concentrated version of an unquenched thirst, the pain of misunderstandings wrought upon oneself, and the beauty of two souls communicating in silence and with something more than words.

At that point in the song, maybe it is not just Shalini/Shakthi/Swarnalatha who is calling out to a regret of the past while nursing the hope for a spark from the future!