Readers Write In #739: Hold on for memories, but move on with life

By Madhumithaa S

After catching Meiyazhagan in a theatre this weekend, I finally got to relive the long lost feeling of happiness after watching a good Tamil cinema. A simplistic plot with aesthetic visuals; very very natural dialogues; realistic and relatable characters; some beautiful animals and birds – overall, a very satisfying watch.    

With 96 and Meiyazhagan, the director has hinted on a pattern he prefers for his protagonists – Ramachandran and Arulmozhi. They are men who have let their lives be shaped by an incident that happened during their adolescence.

Ramachandran’s life is built around a heart break he experienced as a teenager. His life choices are defined by his abrupt separation from his high school sweetheart Janaki. His life is a melancholic solitude. He becomes a wildlife photographer in order to let himself constantly wander, and live on in a state of homelessness.       

Arulmozhi, on the other hand, is forced to move out of his ancestral home as a result of a family feud. While he builds a new life for himself in another city, he also builds a new personality; a milder version of himself, quite different from his chatty, cheerful and vibrant younger self.  

Are these characters good to watch on screen? Absolutely. There’s something very poetic about their heart breaks, and their commitment to carry forward this sorrow through the rest of their lives.

As poetic as it is, we should remember to not romanticize this habit of getting stuck with the past. While their heartbreaks have been quite unfortunate, life has offered them much else thereafter.

With Ramachandran in 96, the most practical life choice was to move on with his life. Instead, he chooses to hold on to this singular assumption that “they would have lived happily ever after”. While that is just one possibility, he is completely blind to the million other possibilities of life. They could have eventually grown out of their adolescent infatuation in a few years; they could have still ended up separated as they went on to study in different colleges; so many other possibilities that don’t lead to the fairy tale “happily ever after”.

Arulmozhi on the other hand, has a career, a beautiful family of his own, and quite a palatial house in an otherwise congested city. This house in fact, lets him continue a part of his village life with enough space for his pet animals and birds. Does he still have a reason to keep mulling over the ancestral house he lost so many years ago especially when he has come such a long way ahead?

In a way, it looks like both Ramachandran and Arulmozhi have stopped aspiring for more from life.  

We all have a tiny part of us sentimental about the past, which is why we find these protagonists relatable. What’s important is where we find the strength to move on, without losing ourselves in these sweet, familiar nostalgic chapters. This is where I admire how Premkumar portrays the women in his movies.

Trisha in 96, however emotional she gets during her encounter with Ramachandran, has very clearly moved on with her life. She has a husband and a child, a whole chapter of her life to get back to once her plane lands in Singapore. In Meiyazhagan, it is Arulmozhi’s mother. As heartbroken as she seems while they leave the village home, she has moved on to accept and embrace her new life in the city. She is the one that smartly advises Arulmozhi to just attend the wedding, and get back home without getting into any of the old family affairs.

I believe it is these women who reflect the reality of life on screen.

While most of you can think of men from your own lives who have resemblances of Ramachandran and Arulmozhi, can you think of women who let their lives be ruled by the past? They almost always move on.

And after all, is there any emotion more universal than “moving on”?