mgrfan4ever

[mgrfan4ever]

It's Baila Time.

சிங்களத் தீவினுக்கோர் பாலமமைப்போம்…

Invasion of Kafrinha in Tamil Film Music

All the writings I have been doing, especially lately at this time of my life, have given me immense pleasure in doing deep-dive research and also dig deep inside in bringing out my childhood memories of growing up in Nandambakkam and Saidapet.  Most importantly, it keeps my brain active and memories fresh still before falling into that inevitable stage of dementia etc which is bound to happen in future.  To quench my thirst for finding more about my childhood, I recently started watching a series on Youtube, The Anglo-Indians of Madras (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzyMKC6XzsA ).  In this, Episode 5 (two parts), gets into St. Thomas Mount, the place I grew up.  It was so much fun listening to words like மாஞ்சா நூல், கில்லி தாண்டு, கோலி பேந்தா, காத்தாடி, all those terms I grew up with.  Having lived in the middle of Anglo-Indians, I can immediately place myself in the middle of these episodes,

So what else do I remember about growing up in 60s and 70s?

As this was prior to TV and other visual communications, listening to Radio played a crucial role in our day-to-day entertainment.  If we needed to see any news, then we would go to theatres to watch the Newsreel, a short documentary film consisting of current news, and then the movie.  We never missed the newsreel if I remember correctly.

About radio, besides All India Radio, Radio Ceylon played a pivotal role.  I still remember

Amit Sayani’s Binaca Geethmala

S.P. Mayilvaganam and `Radio Mama' Saravanamuttu

Cricket commentary (eg, West Indies vs Australia)

பொங்கும் பூம்புனல், பிறந்த நாள் வாழ்த்து, இன்றய நேயர் என் விருப்பம் ஒரு படப்பாடல் , பூவும் பொட்டும் மங்கயர் மஞ்சரி விவசாய நேயர் விருப்பம்

etc

During this time, you could hear the songs from Ilangai Vaanoli:

சின்ன மாமியே

சுராங்கனி

கமலாப் பொண்ணு, கடைக்குப் போகாதே..

I also remember some of these songs sung by young men used as message in their eve teasing endeavors.  But I did not know where this music came from: Ceylon or Anglo-Indians.

Over the years, this type of music has been copied, partly or wholly, in songs such as:

Surangani (Avar Enakke Sondham)

Angamuthu (Thangaikkaga)

Vaada Maappilley (Villu)

Ullaallaa (Petta)

Jolly O Gymkhana (Beast)

I realize that Ravichander’s Jolly O Gymkhana (Beast) created ripples among music buffs not only because it was rendered by Vijay, but also because it brought back the Baila flavor, music originated from Ceylon, in Kollywood. Tamil cinema music has always experimented with genres, and this resurgence of Baila has gotten fans excited.  The electrical guitar portion in Vaada Maappilley (Villu) was based on the Ceylon Baila style.

The origin of Baila dates back to when the Portuguese landed in Sri Lanka with African workers.

After arriving in Ceylon in 1505, the Portuguese gradually set out to convert the Sinhalese and Tamils to Roman Catholicism, and to build their wealth and power through both the spice and slave trades. As early as 1630, African Kaffirs were brought to Ceylon to work as slaves or soldiers. The Kaffirs were once described as a people 'steeped in opium and witless with drink'. It was the carefree spirit of the Kaffirs that inspired two music forms known as chicote and Kafrinha infusing them with humor and satire.  The word Kafrinha itself comes from kaf (Kaffirs) and rinha which means 'local lady'.  The Kaffirs and Portuguese Burghers mixed freely together, and in time both chicote and Kafrinha came to be subsumed under the general term Baila, which is a Portuguese verb meaning 'to dance'.  In Spanish, “bailar” means “dance”.

Tamil cinema’s music composers and playback singers who also worked in Sinhala films in the early fifties were quite familiar with Baila:

Chandrababu, the singing comedian who had lived for some years in Colombo rendered the lovely Baila-style number ‘Pambara Kannaale’ (‘Manamagan Thevai’, 1957).

Veda composed the very typical song of the genre in ‘Dingiri Dingaale’ (‘Anbu Engey’, 1958).

Music composer G Ramanathan invested ‘Chinna Kutti Naathana’ (‘Aaravalli’, 1957) with ‘bailaesque’ hues.

The identification of the genre with carefree and youthful celebration is clear from ‘Once a Pappa met a Mamma’ in ‘Anbe Vaa’ (1966), in which a bus full of young holidayers is shown rocking to the Baila song.

One surprising piece that appeared in the earlier days of SPB was that of Shyam-Phillip’s ‘Poondamalliyile Oru Ponnu Pinnaale’ in ‘Karunthel Kannaayiram’ (1972) with Manorama.  An hilarious scene with Manorama, Thengai and others. Please watch it if you get a chance.

A noteworthy mentiom here is the contribution by AE Manoharan, a Ceylon Singer, who was called the “Pop Isai Chakravarthy”. Manohar’s career-transforming moment as a singer came with ‘Suraangani’ in Sinhala and Tamil in 1972 with a Surya label record which was frequently broadcast over Ceylon Radio. The foot-tapping number in which Manohar had written of a youth wooing his girl named Surangani was so infectiously catchy that soon every Tamil Nadu college student fest was rocking to the number.

Now, coming to our main topic, the Baila song, “Dingiri Dingale” from the movie Anbu Engey (1958).  Veda (aka Vedhasalam), the music director (well known for reproducing hindi music in JaiShanker movies) lived in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) in the 1940s. This song was hugely popular amongst the Sinhalese community in Sri Lanka and they took it almost as their own despite the language being different. The Goans in India too played similar music.  As a dancer,

S.S.Rajendran was the best amongst the top Tamil hero actors, far better than M.G.R, Sivaji Ganesan and Gemini Ganesan. Otherwise, this song should have gone to comedian Chandrababu who also lived in Sri Lanka and knew the Baila music and the Baila dance.

When the film was planned it was decided by the director and music director that a dance sequence in a western – style club should be filmed. The director wanted an upbeat toe-tapping number. The music director suggested a Baila type melody. Yoganand, the director of the movie, gave the green light to Vedha. He composed a “Bailaistic” tune. The producer Govindarajan rejected it and wanted Vedha to compose a light classical number instead.  Fortunately, the director overruled the producer and the original tune stayed.

The lyricist V. Seetharaman was given the task of writing the song. Seetharaman had a flair for writing humorous songs and was known as “Sirippu Paadal Seetharaman”. When Seetharaman was searching for a catchy opening line, it was Vedha who suggested “Dingiri Dingaaley”. Apparently, Vedha who composed music for “Dingiri Menike”  (Dingiri – sweet little girl, manike- my love) liked the sound of the word “Dingiri”. Seetharaman went on to write the words of the song in a satiric mode. It was a general indictment of the pretentious changes in society due to western influence. In a song laced with pin- pricks of a lighter vein several English words too were used. Each verse was in two lines with an alliterative touch.  The song is sung by TM Soundararajan.TMS and of course, TMS does justice to the mood intended for the song with with his full –throated voice.  Finally, it is worth noting that a large number of Anglo- Indians in Madras were hired as dancers for the film shoot.

The song starts with a BGM intro accompanied by typical instruments used in any Baila music: violin, viola, acoustic guitar, drum, tambourine etc. Now the Pallavi starts and gets repeated:

டிங்கிரி டிங்காலே

மீனாட்சி

டிங்கிரி டிங்காலே

உலகம் போற

போக்கப் பாரு

தங்கமே தில்லாலே

Watch the comical steps (in combination with typical Southern kuthu steps with elongated tongue) by SSR.  Then he gets into this hilarious comical posture and starts the first charanam, split into two parts, a common these throughout this song:

In the first part, you hear

அதிகமாக

படிச்சுப் படிச்சு

மூளை

கலங்கிப் போச்சு

அணு குண்டைத் தான்

போட்டுக்கிட்டு

அழிஞ்சு போகலாச்சு

Followed by an interlude of BGM that extends the fervor of the song itself.  You may note the intention of the lyricist, satire, and the general indictment of the pretentious changes in society due to western influence, which is then reaffirmed in the second part of the charanam:

அறிவில்லாம

படைச்சுப்புட்டா

மிருகமின்னு சொன்னோம்

அந்த மிருகமெல்லாம்

நம்மைப் பாத்து

சிரிக்குதென்ன செய்வோம்

Followed by உலகம் போற போக்கப் பாரு தங்கமே தில்லாலே and the whole Pallavi is repeated.  Wow, in the year 1958, thinking this style as well as the pattern must have been something new and raised some eyebrows in the industry.  Kudos to Vedha!

And then the next charanam:

ஐயா வரவை

பாத்து வீட்டில்

ஏங்குறாங்க அம்மா

அந்த ஐயா இங்கே

கும்மாளந்தான்

போடுறாரு சும்மா

And the BGM follows similar to the first charanam with a delightful/funny “ha ha” from TMS.  The next part of the charanam has a kicker:

அப்பன் பாட்டன்

ஆஸ்தியெல்லாம்

சிகரெட்டாக மாறி

ஐயா வாயில்

புகையுது பார்

I am very sorry

When SSR sings this second part, you will see a man smoking in the cormer. SSR goes down to him singing the charanam and reaches out and snatches the cigarette from the man’s lips saying, “I am very sorry”.  Wow, what a situational song and picturization and the way TMS says “I am very sorry” was way ahead in times.

The last two charanams (3 and 4) are:

(3)

கறியும் கூட்டும் சோறும்

தின்ன மாட்டார்

இந்த மைனர்

காஞ்சு போன

ரொட்டித் துண்டும் சூப்பும்

இவரு டின்னர்

குறுக்கு வழியில்

பணத்தை சேர்க்க

இந்த மனுஷன் ஆச

குதிரை வாலில்

கொண்டு போயி

கட்டிடுவார் காச

One point I enjoyed in the third charanam was the way TMS says “minor” and “dinner” with stressing “irr” at the end of “dinner”.  Also TMS’s humming of “ah aha” as part of the interlude.  Just totally ahead of its time creation by Vedha.

(4)

கண்ணும் கண்ணும்

பேசிக்குது

மூக்கும் மூக்கும்

முட்டுது

பொண்ணும் ஆணும்

ஜோடி போட்டு

கையைக் காலை

ஆட்டுது

கண்டவங்க

மண்டையெல்லாம்

தாளத்தோட ஆடுது

காலு கையி

உடம்பையெல்லாம்

தூக்கித் தூக்கி

போடுது

And the song concludes with anglo-Indians dancing around the floor. A timeless classic, a total entertainment way ahead of its time with classic taunting lyrics that was rendered without rancor. Or advice.  You may agree that this original had a class compared to the remake that was done recently in a Malayalam movie Kurup with Dulquer Salmaan.

Hope you like it as much as I do and please let me know your comments.

[mgrfan4ever]

Unnai Arindhal Nee Unnai Arindhal

What is the most important tool for a person to succeed in life? Money, education, talent, luck? More than all of these, the true driving force is the ability to decide for oneself what is possible and what is not, and to act accordingly.

The mind thinks of thousands of things; desires lakhs; expects crores. But is it possible to achieve all of that? What is one’s strength, what is one’s weakness, what are one’s positives and shortcomings? Clarity about what one can engage in and perform well is absolutely essential.

If a person embarks on an effort without this clarity… it can make his life worthy of mockery.

The reason is that the path to success is rough and uneven—filled with thorns, stones, and shards of glass. One can travel this path only with great effort. The essential tool needed to journey such a path is knowing oneself.

This truth was beautifully and powerfully conveyed by the poet laureate Kannadasan in one of his songs, expressed in a simple yet impactful way that leaves a lasting impression on the listener’s mind.

Set to music by the maestro K. V. Mahadevan, based on the Shankarabharanam raga, and sung with great emotion by T. M. Soundararajan, the song etched itself deeply into the hearts of listeners and remains unforgettable even today.

The song featured in the successful 1964 film "Vettaikaaran", starring Makkal Thilagam M.G.R., and produced by Devar Films.

‘உன்னை அறிந்தால் நீ உன்னை அறிந்தால் உலகத்தில் போராடலாம் உயர்ந்தாலும் தாழ்ந்தாலும் தலை வணங்காமல் நீ வாழலாம்’ - இது பாடலின் பல்லவி.

A fearless mind that boldly faces everything will naturally arise in a person who truly understands himself. So, even if he faces situations that try to pull him down, he will not lose heart.

He clearly knows what he is capable of and what he is not. Therefore, he also knows how to overcome setbacks and lift himself up again.

The poet instills self-confidence by affirming that such a person can live with dignity—without ever bowing his head.

The way the poet skillfully weaves the essence of Thirukkural into simple and elegant lines in the song’s refrain is truly astonishing.

மயிர்நீப்பின் வாழாக் கவரிமான் அன்னார் உயிர்நீப்பர் மானம் வரின்’

Even if it has to lose a single hair from its body, the gaur (a wild bull) would rather give up its life. In the same way, humans who possess noble character will not hesitate to give up their lives if their dignity suffers even the slightest blemish. In the next stanza, Kannadasan conveys the essence of this Thirukkural in a single line, in a way that even the common man can easily understand

மானம் பெரிதென்று வாழும் மனிதர்களை மானென்று சொல்வதில்லையா?’ -என்ற கவிஞர் அடுத்த வரியைப் பல்லவியோடு தொடர்புபடுத்தி இருக்கிறார்.

பல்லவி என்ன? ‘உன்னை அறிந்தால் நீ உன்னை அறிந்தால்’ என்பதுதானே. ?

"Alright then… what is the benefit of knowing oneself? Kannadasan places the answer in the final lines of the first stanza: ‘When one understands oneself and speaks for the good of the people, do they not become leaders?’

In the first line of the next stanza too, the poet conveys the essence of a Thirukkural in the simplest manner: A person who follows the moral codes that must be upheld in this world, and lives righteously, will be regarded as equal to the divine beings in the heavens

வையத்துள் வாழ்வாங்கு வாழ்பவன் வான்உறையும் தெய்வத்துள் வைக்கப் படும்.

It is the idea of this Thirukkural that the great poet Kannadasan conveys as the first thought in the second stanza: ‘Aren’t all those who live righteously on this earth equal to God?’

The next line, ‘Those who understand the needs of others and generously provide—are they not the children of God?’ clearly reveals that this song was written with Makkal Thilagam M.G.R. in mind.

In this way, when a person understands themselves, upholds their dignity, and lives generously on the path of righteousness, fame comes to them naturally. And what kind of fame is that?

If they were to walk into a gathering of the greatest sages, garlands of praise would fall upon their neck. People would proclaim, ‘Is he not gold without impurity?’

With this, the poet concludes the song in the final stanza

மாபெரும் சபைதன்னில் நீ நடந்தால் உனக்கு மாலைகள் விழவேண்டும். ஒரு மாற்றுக்குறையாத மன்னவன் இவன் என்று போற்றிப் புகழ வேண்டும்’ இந்தப் பாடலின் சிறப்பம்சமே அது அமைக்கப்பட்டிருக்கும் விதம்தான்.

As stated in the final stanza, if one wishes to receive great honor and fame in a grand assembly, what must be done? Read the first three stanzas — the answer will reveal itself naturally.

Why Kannadasan Emphasizes "நீ" (You)

The phrase "நீ உன்னை அறிந்தால்" (Nee Unnai Arindhaal) translates to "If you know yourself".

The "நீ" (You) is emphatic—it places responsibility and agency on the individual.

Kannadasan is urging personal introspection—a shift from blaming the world to understanding oneself.

The repetition of “unnai arindhaal” emphasizes that self-knowledge is not optional—it’s the first step to clarity, peace, and power.

In Tamil poetry and philosophy, this focus on self-awareness is very deliberate. Kannadasan, a deeply spiritual and philosophical lyricist, often intertwined Vedantic and Bhakti themes into his lyrics, even in popular film songs.

Connection to the Bhagavad Gita

There is indeed a philosophical resonance with teachings in the Bhagavad Gita. One relevant shloka is from Chapter 6, Verse 5:

उद्धरेदात्मनाऽत्मानं नात्मानमवसादयेत् आत्मैव ह्यात्मनो बन्धुरात्मैव रिपुरात्मनः॥ Uddhared ātmanātmānaṁ nātmānam avasādayet, Ātmaiva hyātmano bandhur ātmaiva ripur ātmanaḥ.

"Let a man lift himself by himself; let him not degrade himself. For the self alone is the friend of the self, and the self alone is the enemy of the self."

This verse teaches:

You must know and elevate yourself.

Self-mastery is the foundation of power and balance.

Your greatest ally or enemy is you—depending on whether you know and govern your inner world.

So, when Kannadasan writes “Nee unnai arindhaal…”, it directly echoes the Gita's emphasis on self-realization as a prerequisite for facing the world.

Philosophical Message in the Song

The lyrics continue to elaborate that if you know yourself:

You can understand the hearts of others ("ulagam adhu unakku illai"),

You won't be afraid of struggles or loss ("nimmadhi varum unakku"),

You can navigate life’s challenges with peace and poise.

Final Thought

Kannadasan was not quoting the Gita directly—but his core idea aligns beautifully with Krishna's spiritual message:

“Conquer yourself before you try to conquer the world.”

His genius lies in embedding such eternal truths in simple, emotional Tamil lines that resonate across time, faiths, and generations.

[mgrfan4ever]

MGR Buying a New Car

TVS Group, Financing a New Car for MGR

As early as 1948 Madras Motor Insurance Company (MMI) came into existence with Santhanam as its MD. The Company branched into other areas of general insurance, fire and marine in 1960, when it changed its name to Madras Motor and General Insurance Company (MMGI). While this business was doing well, Santhanam was already looking at growing his pet project, Sundaram Finance.

Thanks to his involvement with the Motor Vehicle & Allied Industries Association, he was aware of the non-availability of easy finance for operators and fleet owners. While banks dealt only with large commercial establishments, the small fleet owners were left high and dry. According to Santhanam, it was these transporters who persuaded him to get into the finance business. Till the end of his life he would always maintain that Sundaram Finance was established for the welfare of truck and bus operators.

Sundaram Finance came into existence on August 11, 1954 as a subsidiary of MMGI. Among the first loans from the company was one to a VIP customer, M. G. Ramachandran, who received a loan of Rs. 66,000 at 7.5 per cent interest for the purchase of a new Fiat car.

What about MGR’s view on buying a new car?  He wrote an Op-Ed page article in Swadesamithran, a Tamil language newspaper that was published from the then Madras city from 1882 to 1985. One of the earliest Tamil newspapers and the longest in print, Swadesamitran was founded by Indian nationalist G. Subramania Iyer four years after he had started The Hindu.

M.G.R. wanted to buy a new car. He himself wrote the following in a Pongal Issue of Swadesamithran:

For the past few days, my wife has been telling me that we should buy a new car as a Pongal gift. The car I currently have is old; it's been more than ten years since I bought it — that’s her discovery!

Generally, if cinema artists feel like it, they go ahead and buy a new car. But in my case, for some reason, it hasn’t happened so far.

There is some merit to my wife’s grumbling. Last year, on Pongal, I had supported her idea of buying a new car. Accordingly, I started inquiring about car prices from a couple of people. Seeing that, there was a glow of happiness on my wife's face.

But until the end of last year, all the talk of buying a new car remained just that — talk. What can I do! Sometimes, when I hear the price of a car, I’m stunned. Every time I hear those high prices and feel dizzy, people from the film industry and car dealers around me ask,

"You? Hesitating to buy a new car, M.G.R.?"

They assume I can buy any new model car at any price.

As these questions kept coming, another Pongal has arrived. But there’s another reason I haven’t yet bought a new car — it’s my emotional attachment to the old one. That bond keeps changing my mind about buying a new car.

The big car I have now has been very faithful to me; it has carried me all over the South; it has rushed me to studios to act in many successful films. Surrounded by thousands of fans, it has gained its own prestige and popularity.

Even from afar, many people recognize the car and shout my name in excitement. It has been enjoying that honor for the past ten years — how can I destroy that? Somehow, my heart doesn’t allow it.

Just because someone has become old, can you throw them away? I feel the same about my car.

I don't know whether my wife will accept my explanations and the reasons I’ve found, but for now, my old car still remains with me.

PS:

While I was in elementary side of Cantonment Board High School, situated near Nandambakkam/St. Thomas Mount, Chennai, I remember vividly standing outside the main entrance of the school with other children, waiting for MGR’s car pass by the Mount-Ponamalle Road.  I remember him stopping the car many times and shaking hands of the kids.  I think I was one of the lucky ones few times.

[mgrfan4ever]

Invasion of Algarve Caves

Whispers of Algarve Caves

Beneath the cliffs of Algarve’s shore, Where ocean songs forever soar, A secret chapel carved by waves— The lantern-lit Benagil caves.

Through turquoise glass, the waters glide, To hollow domes the tides once pried, Where sunlight spills from heaven's eye, A circle cut into the sky.

The sandstone walls, in ochre hue, Hold echoes old, yet always new, As if the Earth in breathless grace Paused time within this sacred place.

Paddle close, let silence guide, Feel wonder with the turning tide— For in these caves, both fierce and still, The soul drinks deep, the heart stands still.

[mgrfan4ever]

Actor JaiShankar (1938-2000)

#JaiShankar

At a time when legends like MGR and Sivaji were tying up big producers and making grand films, Jai appeared as a boon (like Kamadhenu) to producers who wanted to make films on a small budget.

Not just that—cinema is an industry. Heroes, heroines, character actors, comedians, writers, directors, music directors, lyricists, singers, supporting actors, art directors, stuntmen, choreographers, editors, processing lab workers—countless people depend on cinema for their livelihood.

When MGR and Sivaji could act in only 3 or 4 films a year, many producers had to make more films to keep these workers and their families fed. If a producer made one or two films and they flopped, they might disappear from the scene entirely.

It was during such a time that Jai elevated people like costumers, makeup men, and production managers to the status of producers. He proved that you didn't need a big budget or a grand storyline. With just 3–4 lakhs of rupees, using a tight script, filming three songs at Vijaya Vauhini studios, and wrapping up in 30 days with affordable heroes and villains, he helped create a whole generation of new producers.

Even if the film only made a small profit, he would still give dates for the next film. He often took only a quarter of his agreed salary, telling them, “Pay the other actors and the crew first. Give me what’s left.” There were likely no more than 10–20 films where he was paid his full fee.

If a writer was struggling, he'd get them hired at a production house. If a director was struggling, he'd connect them with a producer. More than the number of hit films, his legacy was the number of families whose lives he helped sustain.

During the same era when Sean Connery was dazzling Hollywood as James Bond, Jai earned the nickname "South India's James Bond." With cinematographer Karnan and Modern Theatres Sundaram, he starred in a series of detective and stunt films like Jambu, Ganga, Kaalam Vellum, and Enga Paattan Sothu, CID Shankar, Vallavanukku Vallavan, and Vallavan Oruvan, solidifying his place as a permanent hero.

To fans, the name Jai Shankar also recalls films with strong storylines like Kuzhandhaiyum Deivamum, Pattanathil Bhootham, Muhurtha Naal, Uyiraa Maanamaa?, Poovaa Thalaiyaa?, Nootrukku Nooru, Kulamaa Gunamaa, Soodaatam, and Thunive Thunai.

Jai didn’t just help producers and writers. He adopted an orphanage named Mercy Home. On his birthday, on co-stars’ birthdays, and during Diwali and Christmas, he would provide food and clothing to the children there and enjoy seeing their faces light up with joy.

A peaceful and loving family life is a divine gift for actors. Jai married Geetha, whom his parents chose for him, and became the father of two sons and a daughter.

Just as he lived his life with speed and intensity, he also departed this world swiftly—leaving us at the age of just 62 on this very day.

[mgrfan4ever]

Power of TMS, the greatest TFM singer in the history

The film Vanampadi was released in the year 1963. In this film, S. S. Rajendran played the hero. The music for this film was composed by K. V. Mahadevan. One of the songs featured in the film contains the line:

கடவுள் மனிதனாக பிறக்கவேண்டும் அவன் காதலித்து வேதனையில் வாடவேண்டும் "God must be born as a human; he must fall in love and suffer in pain."

This song was written by Kannadasan. Originally, he had written the line as:

கடவுள் மனிதனாக பிறக்கவேண்டும் அவன் காதலித்து வேதனையில் சாக வேண்டும் "He must fall in love and die in pain."

However, the playback singer T. M. Soundararajan (TMS), who sang the song in the film, was a devout believer in God. He asked Kannadasan, "Why do you have such anger toward God? You've written that God should die. How can God die? Please change that line, or I won’t sing this song."

Respecting his concern, Kannadasan agreed and changed the line to:

அவன் காதலித்து வேதனையில் வாடவேண்டும் "He must fall in love and suffer in pain."

If someone could change Kannadasan's, the greatest lyricist in the history, mind (besides the MDs) on lyrics, only TMS could do it. That shows the power and popularity of TMS and his voice during that period.

[mgrfan4ever]

1976 and 1992 in Tamil Cinema - Ilaiyaraja's legacy

As most of the Tamil music fans now know, there were clearly two deflections points in Tamil film music and fans' reception: one happened in 1976 and the next one happened in 1992.

In 1976, with Annakaili unnai theduthe, TFM fans got introduced to a newcome and new type of music with Ilaiyaraja and he pretty much ruled the fied for almost 15+ years until 1992, when another newcomer was introduced with a flick chinna chinna aasai from Roja and that newcomer was AR Rahman. Though MSV produced masterpieces during this period, especially in 80s, Ilaiyaraja remained to be the most sought after MD in tamil films,

So, on this 82nd birthday of Raja, what do I recall my time in Chennai in 1976?

Ilaiyaraaja, one of India's greatest film composers, has an extensive discography, but a few key songs were pivotal in capturing the imagination of fans and bringing widespread attention to his unique musical style, especially in the late 1970s and early 1980s. A standout among these is:

"Annakili Unnai Theduthe" from Annakili (1976)

This song is widely regarded as the one that introduced Ilaiyaraaja’s distinct sound and changed Tamil film music forever. Here's why it stood out:

Fusion of folk and Western orchestration: It blended Tamil rural folk melodies with Western harmonies and instrumentation — a hallmark of Ilaiyaraaja's style.

Emotional pull: The rustic simplicity and emotional depth struck a deep chord with Tamil audiences.

Cultural impact: It wasn’t just popular — it redefined film music expectations in South India.

After Annakili, Ilaiyaraaja quickly became a household name, and more groundbreaking works followed. Other early songs that cemented his genius include:

"Senthoora Poove" – 16 Vayathinile (1977)

"Ilaya Nila" – Payanangal Mudivathillai (1982) – known for its synth and guitar work

"Ninaivo Oru Paravai" – Sigappu Rojakkal (1978)

But Annakili was the spark that ignited the fire — it turned Ilaiyaraaja from a debutant into a musical phenomenon.

What do you think?

[mgrfan4ever]

Happy 82nd Birthday Wishes to Isaignani Ilaiyaraja, June 3, 2025

🎵 An Ode to Isaignani Raja 🎵 On His 82nd Birthday

In the silence between two heartbeats, He found a tune that time repeats. A whisper of wind, a temple bell’s chime, He wove them into the fabric of rhyme.

From village lanes to silver screens, He painted dreams in sound and scenes. A veena's sigh, a flute’s soft cry, Carried us all where spirits fly.

He did not just compose — he breathed, Melodies from the soul, unsheathed. With strings and keys, he spun a spell, Of love and loss we know too well.

In every score, a story lives, Of ancient truths and what art gives. A master of ragas, rhythm, and soul, He made the broken heart feel whole.

Today, as candles softly glow, We honor him — the music’s flow. Ilaiyaraaja, our guiding star, Your notes still reach us from afar.

Eighty-two, yet ever young, In every song that’s ever sung. To you, the crown of sound we raise — A legend etched in endless praise.

[mgrfan4ever]

Jaishankar, Tamil Actor - Makkal Kalaingar, South Indian James Bond

Thinking of Jaishankar, on his 25st Death Anniversay, June 3.

Though i grew up a hardcore MGR fan, I have always considered Nadigar Thilagam as the greatest actor in the history and Jaishankar as one of the most likable actors and human being. I have grown up watching so many of his great movies.

Being a "crazy fan" of actor Jaishankar likely ties into a mix of nostalgia, personal taste, and emotional resonance. Here are some reasons that might explain my deep admiration:

🌟 1. Charisma & Screen Presence

Jaishankar wasn’t just an actor — he had a distinct charm, especially in his suave detective and romantic roles. His style was cool, confident, and ahead of its time in Tamil cinema.

🎬 2. Unique Film Choices

He often chose unconventional roles — police officers, CID detectives, and bold protagonists. That made him stand out, especially in an era dominated by mythological or family dramas.

🎶 3. Iconic Music

The songs in his films are melodic treasures — often set to M.S. Viswanathan’s or K.V. Mahadevan’s timeless compositions. That nostalgic 60s/70s vibe is addictive.

💡 4. Sentimental Connection

Perhaps you associate Jaishankar’s films with your childhood, family movie nights, or memories of a simpler time. Those emotional links can deepen admiration.

👑 5. The Original “South Indian James Bond”

He had that stylish edge — sunglasses, suits, and mystery — way before it became mainstream in Tamil cinema. For fans of style and suspense, he was the perfect hero.

Ultimately:

My love for Jaishankar was mainly because of the joy, comfort, and a sense of connection that I used to feel watching his moves. His life in cinema, memories, and his place in the Tamil Film world were both timeless and magical.

[mgrfan4ever]

Happy Belated 96th to Nargis

An Ode to Nargis: Radha Eternal

On June's first breath, belated though it be, We raise our hearts in homage, wild and free— To Nargis, star whose grace did gently shine, In silver frames and memory’s sacred shrine.

She was Radha, mother, storm, and flame, In Mother India's eternal name. With soil-stained hands and eyes of fire, She bore the weight of fate and pyre.

But long before that tragic arc, She danced with dreams in meadow and park, With Raj Kapoor by moonlit stream, Their love was cinema's golden dream.

From Barsaat’s rain to Shree 420’s street, She moved with charm, so pure, so sweet. Each glance, a poem; each smile, a song, In her, the goddess and girl belonged.

Not just an actress, but a flame, A woman of soul, not merely fame. She stood with grace, with spine and voice, In roles of sorrow, in roles of choice.

Though time may pass and stars may fade, Her light remains, her legend stayed. In every cine-lover’s gaze, She walks again through golden haze.

So here’s to Nargis, on this June day, Your spirit in reels shall ever play. Belated, yet eternal is our praise— For you still bloom in film’s own blaze.

[mgrfan4ever]

Identify of Tamil Film Music

What Characterizes Tamil Film Music?

If you play "Aadaludan Paadalai Kettu" from Kudiyiruntha Kovil to a Tamil film music fan, they might say, “It sounds like a Punjabi song.” Similarly, "Paaradi Kanne Konjum" from Vallavanukku Vallavan may be identified as qawwali-inspired. This reflects how Tamil film audiences are musically versatile, often recognizing and connecting songs to other Indian genres—thanks to broad exposure through cinema.

In contrast, many of my friends from North India (e.g., Mumbai or Delhi) don’t seem as exposed—or perhaps as interested—in Tamil film music. This could be due to language barriers, or perhaps because their musical needs are met within their own linguistic and cultural spheres. I often wonder: is it simply unfamiliarity, or is there something about Tamil film music that lacks the kind of instantly recognizable identity seen in Punjabi pop, ghazals, or qawwalis?

So, what defines Tamil film music? Why isn’t it as immediately identifiable?

Why Tamil Film Music Feels Less Instantly Recognizable

1. It’s a Medium, Not a Genre

Punjabi music, ghazals, and qawwalis are distinct genres with strong cultural signatures.

Tamil film music is an evolving soundtrack tradition, not a genre—it's an umbrella that fuses classical, folk, jazz, EDM, hip-hop, and more.

2. Stylistic Diversity

Composers like Ilaiyaraaja, A. R. Rahman, and Anirudh Ravichander are known for fusing Carnatic ragas with Western orchestration, electronic beats, or folk rhythms.

This results in musical versatility, not uniformity—every song feels different.

In contrast, qawwalis, ghazals, and Punjabi songs follow relatively fixed forms and instrumentation.

3. Language Is Adaptable, Not Defining

Punjabi music, for example, has rhythmic and tonal qualities that are intrinsic to its language.

Tamil, by contrast, is sonically adaptable, blending seamlessly into a variety of global styles—making the sound less region-specific.

4. Contextual, Not Exported

Punjabi pop is a standalone global product.

Ghazals and qawwalis are framed as classical or spiritual genres.

Tamil film music is deeply cinematic—songs are composed with scenes, emotions, and storytelling in mind. Without that context, the music’s identity isn’t always obvious.

5. No Fixed Sound Palette

Punjabi, qawwali, and ghazal genres often rely on signature instruments (dhol, harmonium, tabla).

Tamil songs might use a nadaswaram in one track, a dubstep drop in another, and a full orchestra in the next—depending on the film’s mood.

In Short:

Tamil film music is a chameleon. Its strength lies in adaptability and innovation, not in a singular sound. That’s why it's hard to pin down—but also why it remains so rich and compelling. To recognize its identity, one must understand its cinematic, cultural, and musical context.

[mgrfan4ever]

Thillana Mohanambal (1968)

Why I Love Thillana Mohanambal – A Timeless Tamil Classic

Thillana Mohanambal is a film I deeply cherish for its rich portrayal of classical art, culture, and emotion. It vividly brings to life the worlds of Bharatanatyam and Carnatic music through the spirited Mohanambal and the proud Nadaswaram maestro Shanmugasundaram. The performances by Padmini and Sivaji Ganesan are nothing short of iconic, brought to life with vibrant visuals and unforgettable music by K.V. Mahadevan.

What makes the film truly special is its authentic celebration of Tamil heritage—through its story, characters, and sound. The screenplay, written by the legendary Kothamangalam Subbu and directed by A.P. Nagarajan, is a brilliant adaptation that honors traditional art forms while telling a compelling tale of love and artistic rivalry. Earlier attempts to film this story failed, but this version was a resounding success, both critically and culturally.

I have fond personal memories of watching this film with my parents at the Jayanthi Tent Theatre in Nandambakkam, near St. Thomas Mount in Chennai. It holds a special place in my childhood and in Tamil cinema history.

The film's strength lies in its totality—powerful dialogues, classical music, intricate choreography, and stellar technical contributions across the board. Notable supporting actors like Nagesh, Manorama, Balaiah, Nambiar, and AVM Rajan added depth to the narrative, making every character memorable.

A particular highlight is the Nadaswaram sequences by renowned maestros Madurai Ponnusamy and Sethuraman, which elevate the film’s musical gravitas.

In every sense, Thillana Mohanambal is a masterpiece—a musical dance drama that remains one of the most celebrated milestones in Tamil cinema.

The link provides probably the best scene in the movie.  Scenes like this can be reproduced and get the fans excited in the culture and movies that come out of Kollywood.  Neither the producer nor the director are interested in this level beautiful intensity and of course, the current genre of Tamil film music can never support such scened.

The temple competition scene in Thillana Mohanambal is one of the most iconic and electrifying moments in Tamil cinema—a perfect confluence of classical music, dance, and emotion, set against a sacred backdrop.

Inside a richly adorned South Indian temple, lit by rows of oil lamps and echoing with reverence, Shanmugasundaram, the proud Nadaswaram vidwan, stands with his instrument, ready to perform. Across from him is Mohanambal, the fiery Bharatanatyam dancer, poised with grace and intensity. A respectful hush settles over the gathering of onlookers—devotees, artists, and nobles—who recognize the magnitude of what is about to unfold.

The challenge begins.

Shanmugasundaram’s Nadaswaram releases a cascade of classical ragas, powerful yet controlled, filled with technical brilliance and soulful expression. In response, Mohanambal's dance is not merely a performance but a visual interpretation of the music—her every movement, mudra, and expression synchronized with the rising and falling tones of the raga. Her anklets chime in rhythm with the beats, her eyes fiercely locked on the music as if in a divine duel.

What makes the scene so magical is the unspoken conversation between the two. Pride, passion, rivalry, and mutual admiration simmer just beneath the surface. It is not just a contest—it is a communion of two towering talents expressing their devotion to their art forms and, perhaps unknowingly, to each other.

As the tempo builds to a climax, the energy in the temple becomes almost spiritual. Onlookers are transfixed. The divine space transforms into a stage where art becomes worship.

By the end, there is no declared winner—because the true triumph belongs to the grandeur of classical tradition itself. The scene leaves the audience in awe, standing as a cinematic salute to Tamil Nadu's rich cultural heritage.

Enjoy watching this classic scene.

[mgrfan4ever]

Into the cave of wonders — Portugal's best-kept secret

Whispers of Benagil

Beneath the cliffs of Algarve’s shore, Where ocean songs forever soar, A secret chapel carved by waves— The lantern-lit Benagil caves.

Through turquoise glass, the waters glide, To hollow domes the tides once pried, Where sunlight spills from heaven's eye, A circle cut into the sky.

The sandstone walls, in ochre hue, Hold echoes old, yet always new, As if the Earth in breathless grace Paused time within this sacred place.

Paddle close, let silence guide, Feel wonder with the turning tide— For in these caves, both fierce and still, The soul drinks deep, the heart stands still.