Forty years of Moondram Pirai: A poignant look at loss, love and desire

Cheenu limps into a railway station, frantically looking for his Viji. He tries to wade through the crowd to get closer to her, who is watching the gathering through her window. He tries hard to get her attention – he calls out her name, repeatedly, almost like a chant. He waves at her with a frenzy. She looks at him, just for a moment, before she turns away. Cheenu realises that the love of his life doesn’t recognise him anymore. Her amnesia had been cured, and while she had gotten back her old memories, she had lost the ones with him. That doesn’t deter him from trying though – he mimics the exchanges they had, trying to jog her memory. But all his antics get in return is a sympathetic glance and a packet of food she throws at him, thinking he is a beggar. The train moves away and the crying Cheenu slumps into a nearby bench. A verse from Ilaiyaraaja’s iconic Kanne Kalaimaane begins in the background. “I had devoted my soul to you, but you’ve now forgotten me. What peace would I have without you?”

It has been forty years since Moondram Pirai first hit the silver screens. But this sequence is fresh in the minds of many cinephiles. It is such a well-known pop culture reference that everyone knew of Cheenu, Viji, and their dog Subramani – regardless of whether they have watched the film or not. It is a sign of the film’s longevity and success that when designer Gopi Prasannaa chose to do a retro poster for the film, all he needed was just text to recreate it. You can hear the sequence when you see the poster. “The climax barely had any dialogues. They had managed to convey the depth of Cheenu’s pain with just her name. I tried to capture that with my poster – with every period and comma. I have a surreal connection with the film. And the admiration has not dulled at all with time,” he says. Moondram Pirai was Producer TG Thyagarajan’s first film as an independent producer. For a debut production, a tragic romance between a man and a child-like woman suffering from retrograde amnesia is quite an unusual choice. “Inspired by films like 16 Vayathinile, I was looking to be part of different scripts. Mani Ratnam, a childhood friend of mine, was the one who connected me to Balu Mahendra sir, saying that he had an interesting script in hand. I was already a fan of Balu sir’s cinematography. And my father (also a veteran producer) and I were convinced right after he narrated the story to us.” With each stage of production, Thyagarajan got additional proof that he had made the right choice. One example was the day they shot the final scene in Ketti station. With great effort, the team had made all arrangements for the climax shoot. “It was raining unexpectedly and I was worried if we had to push the shoot. But Balu sir simply said – can we begin shoot?" While Thyagarajan trusted Balu Mahendra, he was still worried about the rain. After all, they didn’t have the perks of technology that we enjoy today. He asked a production manager to go to Chennai and get the first 800 metres of footage developed immediately. “The next day, I was anxiously waiting for the colourist to call me. And he did, to gush about how beautiful the footage was. That was Balu sir. He was an extraordinary technician, always thorough and well planned.” However, this doesn’t mean that the film didn’t meet its share of hurdles. After watching the first copy, several producers and distributors had written off the film. A senior producer had completely trashed the film, saying the second half was completely unnecessary. Thyagarajan also recalls the ‘unceremonious’ beginning Moondram Pirai had. “The pooja was at the recording theatre at Prasad Studios, Chennai. The custom is to light the lamp, to kickstart the proceedings. But just as we were about to do it, there was a power cut. Few people just left the event because of this ‘sign’. But I remember what Raaja sir said as he lit the candle – Light will be born from this darkness.” And it did.

Moondram Pirai is one of the rare films that raked in both money and critical acclaim. The film was a smashing hit – it had a theatrical run of 330 days – apart from clinching several laurels, including two national awards. “After its release and success, distributors who had refused to buy the film came back to us and bought it for a very good amount.” smiles Thyagarajan. “The love of the audience made us very happy,” he adds.

Moondram Pirai was also an unconventional choice for its lead actors. At that point, Kamal Haasan was on a stint of commercial films. “Kamal chose to walk a tightrope. He could have spent his life doing 50 more Sakalakalavallavans, but he continued to experiment. It’s a harder choice to make, especially after you’re a superstar,” says Shiva Kumar, a senior journalist. Sridevi had just begun her stint in Bollywood and was doing different roles too. (Himmatwala was a huge success) But they agreed because the script was unique. The synergy between Kamal, Sridevi, and Balu Mahendra really worked for the film. People perceived it as a tough battle of performances between the lead stars. There was even anger when Kamal won a National Award, and not Sridevi. “I believe that Kamal and Sridevi complemented each other very well. Not just here, but also in their other movies. They brought out the best in each other,” says Shiva Kumar. It was also one of those films where the actor without the author-backed role walked away with the hearts, adds Producer-journalist Sujatha Narayanan. “In Navarathri, Sivaji sir had ten roles. But the film cannot exist without Savithri. Similarly, Moondram Pirai had Sridevi in the author-backed role. And she was fabulous. But what Kamal sir did with a reactionary role truly shows his strength as a performer.” Balu Mahendra was known for his bold themes, but he was equally known for his sensitivity. Repressed sexuality was a recurring motif in his films, and Moondram Pirai was no exception. If Sridevi’s Viji was one end of the spectrum, Silk Smitha’s character was on the other end. “Moondram Pirai talks about how love comes with a sexual component. Both Kamal and Smitha’s characters could not act on their desires. The hit number Ponmeni Uruguthey was the fantasy of a sexually repressed woman. And the film was non-judgemental about her desire,” observes Sujatha. She further adds that Kamal matched Smitha’s sensuality onscreen. “How many times have we seen a hero ready to bare it all? This was decades before Salman Khan. It was quite bold, and all of this makes it quite a new age.’

Along with sexuality, mental health also took centre stage in Moondram Pirai. “Our films have a habit of shunning people with mental illnesses. But Moondram Pirai had her living within the society and a compassionate man who wanted it to be that way. In retrospect, you realise how important this stand was.” Moondram Pirai was remade as Sadma in Hindi, which was also critically acclaimed. “Balu had taken me to meet Gulzar when he was writing the lyrics for Sadma. He was floored by Moondram Pirai. I think the best thing about Sadma is that they did not try to change the soul of the film to suit Hindi sentiments, which usually happens with remakes,” says Shiva. It is said that Gulzar used the word ‘Paakhi Re’ because he could not find a perfect Hindi replacement to the Tamil word ‘Paarkiren’, in the Hindi version of the song Kanne Kalaimaane. Gulzar wanted to stay close to the sound of the Tamil lyrics. “As it was Kavignar Kannadasan’s last song, you can say it was Gulzar’s way of paying homage to the veteran poet,” adds Sujatha. For Balu Mahendra, Moondram Pirai is loosely autobiographical – triggered by the death of his wife, actress Shoba. “It was cathartic of sorts for him,” says Shiva Kumar. Thyagarajan recalls the day they shot the final shot of the film. “Kamal sir sat on the bench. The crane went up and the shot was complete. But Balu sir didn’t call for a cut, and Kamal sir didn’t get up as well. They were just there, lingering at that moment. Their trance broke only when the crew started clapping.” In a way, you could say that the vestiges of that sorrow never left Balu Mahendra. “The first time I saw Moondram Pirai properly was with Balu sir at his institute, as part of our everyday screenings” reminisces actor Kanna Ravi. “After a point, we could hear crying. At first, we did not know who it was. But later, we realised it was Balu sir himself.” How Balu Mahendra channelled his experiences into his films proved to be a valuable lesson for the Mandela actor. “I was always amazed by how he recorded his experiences. We all live lives. Some people know about it, most people do not. He lived each moment and documented them with great aesthetic and beauty. The honesty of it always leaves an impact.” You could say that’s the secret behind Moondram Pirai’s longevity. Sure, it had everything in perfect alignment – the visuals, the performances, the music. But it is the soul that powers these crafts, that haunts the viewer even after forty years. “Love and loss always strike a chord. It has been so for a long time. Tragedies have done much better than happy love stories,” notes Shiva Kumar. Thyagarajan believes that this will make the film relatable to the younger audience as well. “We have restored and digitised the film. And to mark its 40th anniversary, we will have a limited release soon. After that, I will ensure it is available on a leading OTT platform. I want to make the film more accessible to the current generation.”

Ashameera Aiyappan is a film journalist who writes about Indian cinema with a focus on South Indian films.