Readers Write In #754: Mani Ratnam: Musings of an ABCD

By Roshini Selvakumar

Bio – My name is Roshini and I am an eleventh-grader from the United States. I am a huge fan of this blog and am passionate about cinema and writing.

Although I was born in the beautiful town of Kumbakonam, my time there was brief. In just five months, I was a crying baby on a bustling airplane, where the initial “aww”s must have quickly turned to exasperated sighs. I grew up in medium-sized cities on opposite ends of the United States. My parents, like many first-generation immigrants, wanted the best opportunities for me while holding tightly to the memories and remnants of their homeland. This connection always impacted me, building my own romanticized view of my birthplace. Though I’d never gone to school in tight braids, hung out at a tea kadai, or watched a first-show thalaivar movie, I felt like these “memories” and “nostalgia” belonged to me. Even if they were stereotypical or generic, they felt real and magical.

My strongest connection to this world was through cinema. As a kid, I loved watching Tamil movies with my family every Friday. But as I grew into my teenage years, my view of these movies changed. The films I’d once enjoyed and laughed about started to seem a little cringe, maybe even problematic. This was during the pandemic, so I had a little too much time on my hands. I scoured YouTube, enjoying reviews that humorously dissected these films from a new perspective. It was around this time that I came across BR’s writing, which spoke about cinema in a way I’d never imagined. To me, a good movie was simply an interesting story with interesting characters, but through BR’s work, I began to understand and appreciate the beauty of true direction, cinematography, and unconventional storytelling. Of course, you can’t read BR without encountering Mani Ratnam. I’d probably seen some of his movies before (my parents have watched Alaipayuthey over 10 times), but I hadn’t been fully aware of his work. This discovery led me down a path to watch each of his films.

I started with Roja. This was A.R. Rahman’s first album, marking the start of a truly magical and lasting collaboration. While the story dealt with heavy themes of terrorism and Kashmir, the movie centered around a young woman. I couldn’t believe it!

A young woman from a conservative, rural background, yet full of spark and joy. Her conversations with her saami were hilarious yet real; a girl like that would speak just like this. A story of a village girl marrying a Bombay living lad or a Kasmir-based thriller are not too unconventional. But this perfect bridging of these two internal and external conflicts created a memorable story.

Then I watched Mouna Ragam and fell in love with Revathy’s character. Here was a woman who wasn’t a “loose” character, a perfect angel, or an evil villainess. She was simply a young woman with internal turmoil and a mind of her own. Even the songs felt woven into the story: “Oho Megham Vandhodo” wasn’t just a random rain dance, but a shrewd plan to get home late so her unwanted suitor would leave. The film’s revolutionary quality wasn’t in drastic actions, but in small, bold lines, like her defiant remark about the first night. Though some choices in the film are conservative, as it still depicts a forced marriage, it’s rare even today to see a woman written with such understanding and care. By this point, my love for these movies was undeniable.

I loved Alaipayuthey as to me it felt like I was able to live vicariously and experience what young millennial Chennai is and was. While these experiences weren’t relatable I found myself feeling an odd kind of nostalgia during Madhavan’s scenes with his friends, the thirritu kalyanam and the budding romance. While Madhavan’s swoon-worthy lines are still remembered and repeated, it was Shalini’s character that felt like a revelation. She had a certain anger, uncertainty, and stubbornness characteristic of a young girl. She was extremely practical but felt a liking for a boy that went against her own self-perception as a practical woman. 

This reminded me of many of the women in my life who balanced personal desires and responsibility to family. 

My favorite two movies were Kannathil Muthamittal and Iruvar. Much has been said about the masterpiece quality and cult classic label of Iruvar and is a movie that felt different in an ineffable way. 

Kannathil Muthamittal was once again a deeply personal story of an adopted girl, her parents, and her birth mother placed in a larger external conflict that spanned countries. Each character was painted with such color. Madhavan’s anger issues and ego but caring and easy relationship with Amudha. Simran’s more complex relationship with Amuda as her character goes through the turmoil of a loving mother whose daughter feels the need to run away and find her birth mother. The support of her daughter’s needs but also a slight twinge of pain and even anger. 

These movies made me feel proud of Tamil cinema, and I persistently recommended them to everyone around me. These were movies that i felt weren’t just “timepass”, “one time watch” or “good for a Tamil movie” but were truly benchmarks of cinema. 

Then I couldn’t stop myself. Each movie felt like chocolate from a box, each with its own flavor and sweetness, and my hunger was insatiable. Nayagan, Thalapathi, Dil Se, Kannathil Muthamittal—each one had well-written characters and deep interpersonal relationships that left me pondering for days. I even dragged my family to watch Ponniyin Selvan on its first night. This movie, too, had Mani Ratnam’s signature touch, exploring each relationship with such depth and nuance.