Lohithadas dies......and with it ends a class of films (rather stories) that were so human and so raw, they almost breathed life. Thaniyavarthanam is one of the most depressing movies I've seen. So much so that my aunt still refuses to watch films that even remotely deals with mental agony or distress. She hasn't watched even Manichitrathazhu. That's the kind of impact Thaniyavarthanam left on the minds of viewers. With it Malayalam got one of the most gifted story writers. From his mind flowed touching stories like Kireedam, Bharatham, Amaram..... He was a relief to the tired, bored viewer, his stories reminded us that simplicity still exists.
I spoke to him once, last month, for an article. It was such a joy to hear him....words that he used and softness with which he spoke was a rarity. Definitely not something I've heard when I've spoken to people with a celebrity-status. Well, he never considered himself a celebrity, and that's was endeared him to people.
It's always shocking and devastating when lives come to an end with no notice or warning. This was one such incident. I cried too. Why? I don't know. I was always consioered the insensitive one, but now am turning into a little too emotional being. Or did I always have this side to me? Maybe. I hated crying in front of others, I always projected myself as the strong one. Somewhere along I forgot to do things that I wanted to. I ignored the emotional side in me, turned a deaf ear to my heart's wants.
I am very much a today's girl... strong, independent, cool..who loves 'hanging out' with friends, enjoys a drink, roams malls to simply 'kill' time... But there is another me who loves companionship, who loves to be pampered, who enjoys movies and books and loves to simply sit back, enjoy the breeze and rain and warm up to someone I love. There is a me who cries at the siliest of things, who laughs at the stupidest of jokes, who likes to cook for fun, who wants to travel to places that ooze with rawness and freshness...a me who wants to live and celebrate life. And now there's something or someone whispering in my mind, telling me it's not too late. There is a me who wishes to hear stories and that me is deepply hurt at the abrupt end of a soulful story teller's life.