How I'm preparing for Kabali's release: A Rajinikanth super-fan on Thalaivar's new film

Down South, Deepavali (yes, that’s what we call it) takes on a different meaning, as a festive occasion. It’s not so much about performing Lakshmi puja or lighting diyas. It’s about waking up early in the morning, wearing new clothes, bursting a few crackers and then — watching films.

Yes, films. Don’t ask me why that is part of a religious occasion. You see, we are like that only.

As an adolescent, Deepavali for me was about the smell of new clothes, and the sulphur in the air (from all the firecrackers). Then there were those consistent marches to the tailor’s shop that would have put Muhammad of Ghazni to shame! Pleading and begging the tailor to hand over our new clothes before dawn. And then Rajinikanth happened.

One fine Deepavali, I was a grown up. All I was keen on, was wolfing down my breakfast asap and joining the throngs of people making their way to the theatres screening Rajini’s latest release. More often than not, my journey would end at a respectable distance of 50 metres from the gate of the cinema hall — only to drool at the giant cutouts of Rajini and come back defeated. My brain would tell me that it would be a long time indeed before I could manage to get a ticket; yet the marches to the cinema hall continued dutifully.

From then on, it was the same story every Deepavali. But I was adding to my muscles — and my wallet — so the number of attempts I had to make, before I finally got to see the movie(s) kept reducing. Somehow, I would manage to wangle a ticket.

The years passed and suddenly, Thalaivar was no longer interested in participating in the rat race. The number of movies he graced dwindled and soon enough, there were none for Deepavali.

As a self-righteous Thalaivar fan, I had only one choice. The day his movie released, became Deepavali from then on! Because a festival is characterised by the celebrations and what could be a better celebration than a Thalaivar movie release? Now this somehow compounded the problem. The frequency (of his films) was now limited, but as the fan base grew at a faster rate than the population itself, being present for a FDFS (first day, first show) became a distant dream.

And why FDFS? I wish I could provide a cogent answer to that question. But some of life’s posers to you don’t beg for answers, they demand experience. It is highly philosophical. It ought to be FDFS. Because it is Thalaivar!

The sense of achievement when you manage a ticket (and look at that longingly till the show starts), the sense of euphoria when you manage to enter the hall (feeling happy to be a part of your tribe), the sense of daze when you can’t even hear yourself in that din and the sense of accomplishment when the signature tune starts on screen and then you reach a state of nirvana, having attained the pinnacle of life’s purpose. The interval then introduces you to hundreds of Rajinis. Everyone subconsciously acts and talks like Thalaivar himself. And everyone smiles at each other — after all this is a select crowd that has achieved the impossible! And when the movie is done, the smug look you wear, the disdain you have for the ones who are waiting to enter the hall for the next show… They are after all FDSS-ians — yes first day, but not first show buddy. Get your act together the next time at least.

Did I tell anything about the movie itself? Who went for the movie? We go to an event. We go to see the Superstar. What happens on screen is incidental.

Cinema, they say is teamwork. Rightly so. But a Thalaivar move is just his. It is about that invisible bond between us and him that is strengthened at every showing. It is about that child in you that is awoken every time he appears on the screen. It is about those three hours in which you are not saddled with any of your other trappings. So what if you are a dad or a senior executive? You’re not any of that during those hours. It is a surreal experience. To quote John Dryden: “There is a pleasure sure in being mad which none but madmen know”.

With Kabali, there is talk about his earlier movies not doing so very well, hence there being higher expectations, so on and so forth. But does a fan care about all these? Or does the industry even care about these sentiments? The movie is made and sold at record profit. These are rules that apply to mere mortals. Not to Thalaivar — as long as this loyal legion of fans exists.

I saw my first Rajini movie when I was 10 years old. Four decades have passed since and in theatres today, I see children younger than 10 putting their hands up for Thalaivar, as his fans. This is like Yudhishtra’s answer in Yakshna Prashna to the question “What is the most surprising thing in the world?”.

Meanwhile, as D-Day for Kabali draws closer (1 July 2016), I am ready with my Thalaivar t-shirt — and a begging bowl, to somehow get those FDFS tickets.

Shrikanth Veeravalli is a Chennai-based senior management professional and entrepreneur. He is also the author of ‘MGR: A Biography’.