The Forgotten - 1

Where I hope to chronicle small roles that loom large in my memory.

If you're a chennai denizen and worthy of being addressed as such, you've heard of and have an opinion on Mani Ratnam's films. And if you've had a friend named Chandramouli, you've never let go an opportunity to channel Karthik from that famous scene in Mouna Raagam. In spite of a borrowed premise, be it the bard's Taming of the Shrew or Mahendran's Nenjaththai Killadhey, this movie is vastly more popular than the original and features one of Tamil cinema's most celebrated cameo's. But this post is not about Manohar.

An obviously conflicted Divya sits on the roof of her house - is it still even her house any more? - as her mother tries to talk her into participating in that most well designed of awkward situations, the first of many nights to be spent with someone you barely know. The archaic ceremony that had taken place earlier in the day, something she had been emotionally blackmailed into, had done nothing to change her apprehensions. Her mother repeating banal statements, the understanding of which is predicated on unquestioningly buying into tradition, just serves to aggravate her further. It is the purpose of youth to disrespect age and the bane of the aged to forget their youth.

It is here that Rathnam's writing stood out to me, demonstrating a considerable understanding of the inner workings of a joint family. Divya's sister-in-law (brother's wife), in all probability realising that the argument would hardly solve anything, asks to speak to her privately. The next scene has Divya facing Chandrakumar in a room. Implied is the fact that the sister-in-law succesfully talked Divya down off the roof. What exactly transpired between them is of no importance, because the average Tamil cinema viewer already knew the outcome. The genius in the writing is how this foregone conclusion is engineered. And who better to do it than a character who probably faced similar apprehensions not long enough ago to have forgotten them?