The Man in White

I am not a movie buff, unless you are talking about Westerns, World War movies, 007 movies or such, which I saw on my own during my college days. During school days, it was only if father took me (us) to any movie. One movie I remember he took all of us was Veerapandya Kattabomman. He took me alone for The Absent Minded Professor. I remember even now the scenes from those movies. I was highly impressed by both the movies for different reasons. I had admired the former and had laughed my guts out throughout the latter.

While in college, I had generally looked at vernacular movies with disdain. Since I grew up in Madras as a Malayali, it is not as if I never saw a Tamil or a Malayalam movie. I did. But only those considered as a must, being a classic or so and only when dragged along by friends. Those actors were all hams to my mind. But I must confess, much as I disliked the theatrics of some heroes of those days, the dumb acts of some super heroes (a term not coined then I believe) and the ridiculous coy histrionics of the heroines who were merely arm candies for the so called heroes, I did happen to like some Tamil and Malayalam movies rather inexplicably.

Ever since I joined the Army, Hindi movies became staple along with English ones. In almost all stations and institutions we had our own theatres, open or closed. It was always fun to watch movies in the open air theatre during rains, getting totally drenched, but watch the movie till the end, we would! Even the ladies, mostly the young ones, loved to get drenched. You got to be an Army wife to enjoy such madness. I suppose we all had a kind of adventurism in our blood! However, the disdain I had for the South Indian movies extended to the Hindi ones too. Most of them were like flat soda. No fizz! I would pick holes in every department of every Hindi movie much to the chagrin of my wife. I was spoiling the fun of it all, I believe! There were only very few ones that I genuinely liked and appreciated.

And then I retired and came back to Madras which had by then been forced to transform into Chennai to which I still have not reconciled. One retires from Army quite soon. There is enough life and light left in you. So I got onto the civvy street and worked for some companies. During one of those times, I had gone on leave to my hometown to visit relatives. I enjoy every visit to Kerala. Though there is a sea change in the environment from the time I lived there as a small boy to now, I find it rejuvenating and a good way to reminiscence and get nostalgic.

Whenever I travelled in train I always used the First Class which the Railways have done away with lately. I found it the most enjoyable for the openness of the cabins. One could feel the rhythmic sound of the train and the cacophony at the stations and smell of the approaching landscapes and feel the breeze with no crowding inside. Also I had got used to this class of travel right from the beginning of my career. The four berth cabins were later perfect for us as a four member family with dogs. (But I did love the six berth ones more – what luxury!) You could take dogs in the First Class cabins then. And we always had dogs. Four members, four dogs!

In one of those return journeys from my home town, Vadakara to Madras, (with no family and with no dogs), an overnight journey, I entered my cabin and found that there was only one passenger in the cabin, quite tall and thin. We shook hands, introduced ourselves and struck up a conversation (one should with co-passengers) from which I learnt that he was a Merchant Navy Captain coming to Madras to write a career exam. He had boarded the train from a much earlier station, Kasargod to be precise. Soon we had reached Calicut where the train has a longish halt. One person in white and white and with white shoes to boot and with a large face entered the cabin. Another person came in behind him rolling in a large suitcase, placed it under the berth and after a word or two with him, left the cabin. I told myself in all certainty that the new person was a politician. He was somewhat stout and was in white and white. That was proof enough for me. I had read a lot of Sherlock Holmes.

Since I had decided that he was a politician and since I dislike politicians like hell, I was going to be the last one to get into a conversation with him. But the Capt was more social and civil. He started a conversation with the new entrant. Names were exchanged. I remained stoic. Apart from names what one was up to also comes up in such social conversations. It came up here too. The man in white and white said that he was a film director. Oh, come on now, I thought. But even if he were a B grade director, my curiosity was aroused, because film world is one too obscure to many of us, at least to me. My ears perked up for more tit bits about the film world.

At his juncture, I must say one thing. I would expect a film director to be full of ego, perhaps only next to a damned politician and would expect him to brag. But this man was more matter of fact. The Merchant Navy Capt kept on prodding him. It appeared that the Capt was not much given to movies either, like me. Our man in white said that he was a Malayalam movie director. After retirement my movie watching was at the mercy of TV channels only. I had not heard or noticed his name.  It turned out that our Capt also had not heard that name. I was away where Hindi was the thing and the Capt being in some Norwegian ship or so, both of us were not given to vernaculars. So he asked him as to what all movies he had directed. He gave out his latest release as a starter. It never rang a bell for our Capt. I was a shade better. I had heard about that movie but had not seen it. So the Capt asked him more questions and the man in white explained and listed out some movie names with a little surprise about the ignorance of the Capt. If I am not mistaken I think I noticed a bit of amusement also in the man in white, from the curve at the corners of his mouth as he listed out the names. I must say it is to the credit of the man in white that he didn't ask me whether I had seen his movies or not and so I was saved.

By now a couple of hours had passed and we were reaching Palakkad. Almost time for dinner. Capt and I had carried our dinner and we asked him about his. He said he will get it at Palakkad. I thought someone would bring his dinner, he being a director and all. But no, this man went out and came back with a couple of masala dosas. I watched him buying it from a stall. Nobody seemed to care much for him. I mean, no crowd getting around him as might be normal for a film director worth his salt (In hindsight, I think I must appreciate Malayalees on that). The man came back in and as the train started we got down to the business of having dinner. By then I was quite intrigued by the man. He seemed quite down to earth and simple, apart from being to the point in his talks.

Well, after dinner and a little more of after-dinner talk we all hit the bed. To my credit I was more of a listener to the interaction between the movie director and the Capt. I never bothered to introduce myself to the film director and he too never bothered to ask me. So much for my personality, I suppose. I mean he could do without knowing my name or anything about me. He was not curious about me at all. That’s what I mean my personality. I had sparsely interjected some sentences in between their conversations merely to avoid boredom. Lying on my berth, with lights off but for the night lamp, awaiting sleep, I reflected on the dialogues that had gone on. Somewhere along I drifted off to asleep.

Next morning the train chugged in to the inimitable Madras Central, by which time all three of us had woken up and were ready to alight. We said good byes to each other and shook hands. I expected a host of people to come to receive the director but I was disappointed. The man in white just pushed the suit case on wheels out of the compartment all on his lonesome. Capt and I followed suit. I am always last in deboarding, not to talk of boarding. I was convinced that this director was just run off the mill. I watched him walk with his head down pushing his largish suit case. I thought he was sad.

Since the Captain’s destination was along my route, I offered him a lift in my taxi. On reaching his destination, he offered to pay me the taxi fare which I being a gentle man refused. Then he offered to pay what he thought would be half the fare and that too yours truly refused. After all if he were not there, I would have had to pay the full fare, right? After dropping him and wishing him the very best of luck for his exam, I reached home.

I must say, I wasted no time in Googling for this director. It turned out that most of the best Malayalam movies that I had seen after retirement as I said on TV were of this person. After that, till date, if any Malayalam movie indicates that this fellow is the director, I give up everything else and watch that movie in full. As it would have it, all those movies are of old vintage. He is not a proliferate director it seems. His movies are all very meaningful being mostly socially relevant. They evoke all kinds of emotions in you. They hit you hard in the solar plexus. The stories are excellent. He had won awards aplenty. Till today I kick myself for being an ignoramus and for not having given my respects due to the man in white and white in the train.

The movie he mentioned as his latest was “Kerala Varma Pazassi Raja” and his name of course as he had given out to the two idiots, was Hariharan. I hope I meet him again merely to apologise to him. Such a humble person!

And I missed the chance to ask him for a side villain’s role – a dream I have been nurturing!