Thilakan, one of India’s most talented actors, died on Monday morning. Five hours later, the Indian national media, was yet to realise that the country witnessed the passing away of one of its finest talents.
Perhaps it is the bane of regional cinema, but then, it also gave us Rajnikanth and Sridevi. Isn’t it sad that only when they move closer to Bollywood would the mainstream Indian media recognise the existence of cinema beyond Bollywood?
When Thilakan’s death was being mourned, Times of India, the venerable mouthpiece of India, decided that what matters is Karan Johar turning Shah Rukh Khan’s stylist. None of the mainstream papers had a mention of Thilakan on their home page, other than Deccan Chronicle and IBN Live. ‘No Home for Sunny Leone,’ was the top story of IndiaTimes, no surprises there.
Rediff.com, surprisingly, didn’t have a mention, while Sify.com – perhaps with its South Indian connection – played it up as their lead story. Even Gulf News and Khaleej Times were ready with obits by 9 AM, when Hindustan Times decided to inform us not to miss ‘The Rise of Mr Khiladi,’ and how Ranbir Kapoor is the brand ambassador of Darjeeling.
We talk of a country of diversity and all that, but as a nation, have we lost the ability to see nothing beyond our nose and the meaningless celebrity circus of Bollywood?
For the record, when Bhupen Hazarika died, there were more tribute on Malayala Manorama in Kerala than perhaps in Assam.
Thilakan had cried foul when Amitabh Bachchan was honoured with the Indian National Award for Best Actor for Agneepath, over his inimitable performance in Perunthachan.
I wouldn’t give that much credit for the national media to be remembering the episode to extract its revenge now. But doesn’t it tell these opinion makers in Bollywood that while Bachchan’s act could be recreated by even Hrithik Roshan, Thilakan’s Perunthachan stands untouchable?
How about deciding that the Bollywood shenanigans are unwanted in Malayalam?
We are too civilized to take that route. And we give respect where it is due – perhaps the mediocre minds of Indian mainstream media will never rise above – above their mediocrity, that is.
I rest my case.
ENDS
A tribute to the acting legend that India missed
Publication: Khaleej Times
Link: http://bit.ly/P5am9S
Actor Thilakan, who died in Trivandrum on Monday morning, was the talent powerhouse that India, at large, missed.
As it happens in Indian cinema, the finest of talent are often confined to vernacular cinema, which is unable to beat Bollywood with its glitz, glamour and money power.
And when India first took notice of Thilakan, it was to thumb its nose at the actor for losing out to Amitabh Bachchan in the race for the best actor award.
The jury voted for Bachchan’s role in Agneepath, casting aside Thilakan’s mesmerising performance as the eponymous Perumthachan — a role that can never possibly be recreated by another actor, let alone forgotten. Thilakan was the father, step-father, elder brother and scheming uncle of some 33 million Malayalis.
His performances had a defining down-to-earth quotient, much like his peer Oduvil Unnikrishnan – another talent that was confined to Malayalam cinema. When Thilakan performed, it wasn’t an actor that Malayalis watched on screen. It was a character coming to life, the way he should.
Much before Thilakan gained fame through cinema, he was a familiar name for those who thronged the professional drama circuit of the state, at a time when temple fairs had ‘social dramas’ as its staple entertainment fare.
He was accused of being manipulative too, when he bagged the prized role of Kochuvava, whenKaatukuthira, a play that was immortalised by Rajan P Dev as the lead actor, was made into a movie. But the versatility that Thilakan brought out to his roles proved that he didn’t need favours – the industry needed him. Always outspoken, totally irreverent, Thilakan wasn’t an easy man to love. There was always that aura of inapproachability to the man, which perhaps helped him in not having to please any fan base. He could be the character and never a stereotype.
Be it the theatre manager in Yavanika, one of his earlier films and award-winning roles, or the teashop owner who clings to old world virtues in one of his last films Ustaad Hotel, Thilakan brought out the flourish of the character with one look, one drop in decibel, and a character-shaping body language.
Thilkan’s roles — short, long, supporting or central — are much remembered for the intensity he brought to them.
He played a grieving granddad in Moonam Pakkam; a police constable who must watch his inspector-aspirant son turn into a criminal in Kireedam; a bitter totalitarian dad in Sphadikam; an evil step-father in Namukku Paarkaan Munthirithoppukal; a coward small-time don inNadodikkattu; and a handicapped revenge-seeker in Kauravar — all standing out for the distinctive imprint he gave to the characters. He was the perfect foil to Mohanlal, their father-son chemistry unparalleled.
His final years were sad. Last year, his car rammed into an autorikshaw, killing two children. Thilakan never recovered from the shock — perhaps the only time that the man bowed his head to the public.
Always fearless, Thilakan, in his last years, took on the combined might of the rest of the film actor fraternity, which took concerted moves to ensure he doesn’t act in movies.
Yet, when he came back with films like Indian Rupee, there was no doubt that Thilakan’s place was irreplaceable. With his death, the void becomes full and final.
ENDS
