By V Vijaysree
In a 1977 black-and-white film set in Madras, a rich widow sets out to work as the ayah of her grandson – a bit likeAvvai Shanmugi, except there is no big disguise involved. The middle-aged woman trades her diamonds and silks for a maid’s garb and sets out to atone for the wrongs of her devious son. He has just moved back into the family bungalow after a brief marriage in Bombay about which he has kept her in the dark. Perhaps, this is just another addition to a list of reprehensible things he has done. In any case, she does not think her son is such a great human being.
One evening, this middle-aged woman arrives at the flat of her son’s ex-wife, who has relocated to Madras. The single mother, who just picked up some groceries and her toddler on her way back from work, is tired. The widow, first hesitant, then sassy, talks herself into an ayah’s job. Other than taking care of the infant, she will do all the work around the house for a monthly wage of Rs.25.Then she locks a term into their verbal contract: a daily mugful of coffee, same as the one her employer drinks. (If you grew up in Madras, you know that a maid is usually given watered-down coffee; the first decoction filter coffee is strictly for the boss.)
A well-to-do self-respecting Tamil woman may be ready to a lot by way of daily penance – sweep, swab and wipe a kid’s butt –but she cannot make herself drink bad coffee every day. Director K. Balachander’s genius was in using such tiny details to create true-to-life characters in his films. Much has been written about what makes Avargal a classic – the compelling characters, the actors, and even the songs. To me, the stereotype-busting mother-in-law played by actor Leelavathi is the most memorable character of them all.
Leelavathi was also the name of her character in the film. In the normal course of things, she would have been athai to Anu the divorcee (played by Sujatha). Instead, Anu asks the older woman for her name, and jokes that the name Leelavathi sounds like that of a cinemakaari. The name may be redolent of movies, the ayah says, because she is from a slum near Krishnaveni Theatre, a real cinema hall in T. Nagar.
Soon, we begin to see Anu’s life through the eyes of the self-appointed ayah. Educated women were just beginning to enter the workforce – they were a new breed in urban society. When Leelavathi finds that Anu is interested in her new neighbor, a young flautist, she does not judge her. Later, she realizes that the flautist is Anu’s former boyfriend and does her best to help them reunite.
It is Anu who mystifyingly clings to her old taali. To her, the wedding chain is not an accessory to tell a conservative society that she was once married to her child’s father. She says if she discards the taali, her ex may suffer, and she doesn’t want that to happen. It may make little sense now, but divorce too was a new phenomenon in the 1970s. Discarding a taali when the man who tied it is still alive – as opposed to taking it off for a dead husband–may have been too radical for some women, even educated ones with office jobs.
Not to Leelavathi, whose thinking on this is clear: if you accepted the divorce provided by the court of law, you should discard the taali prescribed by tradition, she tells Anu. She tries to make Anu see sense. “I don’t like scoundrels like my son, nor do I like stupid people like you,” says Leelavathi, to goad her into action. Understandably, she is impatient with the woman who has agency over her life but acts as if she doesn’t. When Anu comes to her senses and removes her taali, it is much too late. After a brief exhilarating spell of togetherness with the old boy friend, Anu finds herself alone yet again. She has been outmaneuvered by her wily ex-husband. Still, she remains strong – she will not give the man the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Even the minor female characters in this film are so well written. There is Anu’s bubbly work bestie Rajathi (played by Kumari Padmini). Rajathi has inane fights with her husband but also makes up with him loudly and publicly –everyone in Mount Road, that downtown stretch in Madras, knows of this silly amorous couple, we are told. There is the rich young woman Gayathri (played by Kutti Padmini) who can dream of a life without marriage because she is wealthy, and more importantly she has enough interests – cricket, books, and music – to keep her engaged. She is not afraid of being lonely.
Early in the film, Leelavathi receives a letter from her son in Bombay. He has written to ask his mother to find him a bride. In the same envelope, there is a note in Hindi. When Leelavathi meets with the family of a prospective bride, she hears the young lady say “bus, bus…,” realizes she is fluent in Hindi and hands her the note. Turns out, it is from the son’s household help in Bombay. He has written to say that his employer has recently divorced a woman, Anu, who has left for Madras with their child. The annulled marriage is not a deal-breaker for them, the visitors hasten to say, but Leelavathi, deeply hurt by her son’s deception, will not hear of it. In her newly acquired Hindi, she assertively says, “bus, bus.”
Throughout, Leelavathi comes across as someone who has a clear sense of right and wrong – she is never sanctimonious or preachy. When Anu decides to start life afresh in another city, it is Leelavathi who goes along with her. She has decided to turn her back on her son, her riches, and her comfortable home. She asks to go along as the child’s ayah and Anu’s companion. A stoic Anu, who by then is aware of Leelavathi’s real identity, breaks down and cries. The two women hug. With that, the movie ends, but these women can linger in your memory for a long time.
lavanyasubbu
November 11, 2023
Nice write-up. Brings back memories of watching the film in my late teens and crying my heart out .
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vijee
November 11, 2023
I don’t recall whether I cried when I watched the movie, but I resolved never to cry in front of anyone after watching this film. For the longest time, I was strictly a bathroom crier (not always possible to turn on the taps to drown the sobs, because as you know there was water shortage, and the taps ran dry in Madras for months)
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Nimmi Rangaswamy
November 12, 2023
Terrific write up on the mother in law character – like all KBs women characters she is quick witted sharp and her own person. KBs characterisations are so detailed specific and keeps an even tone- such a master and a masterful movie- Thanks for writing Vijee
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brangan
November 12, 2023
This mother-in-law character is also an excellent example of how emotional logic can trump over “logical logic”.
Think of it. This is an absurdly melodramatic contrivance: instead of introducing herself to her DiL and becoming her friend (say, Leelavathi “arranges” to meet Sujatha at her office and goes onto become a shoulder to cry on, or maybe she even moves in next door and becomes a helpful neighbour), this woman degrades herself in a sense. She wants to “wash away” her son’s sin by washing her grandson’s bum.
But the writing and the storytelling is so filled with conviction that we don’t question Leelavathi’s act for a second. Instead, she becomes the film’s most lovable character.
The people who made movies those days made their movies with supreme conviction. I am very moved by this aspect these films — even KALYANA PARISU for that matter.
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Madan
November 12, 2023
Brilliant, brilliant write up. Making a note to self to catch up with this phase of KB. Have yet to watch this one, Aboorva Ragangal and Aval Oru Thodarkathai. Love Moondru Mudichu, needless to say.
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vijee
November 12, 2023
Thank you all for reading and taking the time to comment. I had to write this piece because I don’t think I admitted even to myself how much of a role model Anu was – especially the part about not crying.
BR I had this in there — Because she knew her son was an asshole, she was ready to wipe her grandson’s butt as atonement. (Word told me not to be such a potty mouth).
If L had walked up to the self-respecting Anu and said I am here for you — that earnestness just might not have worked for anyone. Not for Anu, not for the audience. L too had to be “devious” about it — do it her own way. And that, as you point out, was done brilliantly. Logical logic (nice term!) simply would not have cut it here.
I wonder if the Tamil writer Chudamani Raghavan – who wrote strong/real women characters – had watched this movie. Unfortunately, none of her work has been adapted on screen till date.
In Hindi Chudamnai’s counterpart was the writer Mannu Bhandari, but she actually wrote for films as well. “In 1974, a story by Bhandari was adapted into a film by Basu Chatterjee, called Rajnigandha. Bhandari’s story was about a young woman, recording her feelings about her past and present lovers, in a diary, in an attempt to choose between them. The film adaptation remained largely faithful to Bhandari’s story, with some minor changes.” I wonder if Mannu wrote the line “Woh sala Ranganathan!” or that came as part of the treatment.
Mannu also wrote screenplays for the DD television serial titled Rajani for those who are old enough to remember 😊
Happy Diwali all!
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vijee
November 13, 2023
BR — the pic you chose of KB — 1/2 Bharatiyar on one side and something written in Telugu (?) on the other side is v. interesting. 2. Also. I didn’t think too much about it first — the mil constantly wiping the kid’s butt … Total atonement — almost like Catholic penance.
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mvky
November 13, 2023
Guppedu manasu, a 1979 telugu film directed by KB starring Sujatha. That word Guppedu in telugu in that photo.
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RK
November 13, 2023
Fantastic essay. I have seen the film multiple times but the nuances that you have observed makes me go watch it again. Just checked your blog & want to read more of your work.
And this is a peripheral character whose screen time is very limited. Its very much possible that Leelavathi is the soul of the film.
KB’s women are always on the precipice of revolution having done all the hard yards but never really taking the final plunge. BR has written about this maddening aspect in great detail.
Chudamani is superb writer with a very sparse style. I have read only some of her short stories but going by what Director Vasanth says she was a very popular writer at least among women. To my knowledge none of her works were adapted for screen. She was considered as a popular writer with not much literary merit but some of the stories I have read are as good as any written in Tamil. If I remember right, some of her stories are also translated into English.
What I would not give to watch this movie on the big screen!
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Nimmi Rangaswamy
November 13, 2023
Guppedu manasu is dubbed version [ or remake of] Nool Veli – another bunch of KBs women, Sujata and Saritha, playing in this movie- I kinda liked this movie too though it had the stirrings of a later day Balachander who made Kalki… you can watch it here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdZo1etmDPA&ab_channel=KINGMOVIES
I quite enjoyed this movie
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Sundar Rajan
November 13, 2023
Watched the film sometime during my college days only after one of my friends told me I was like Avargal Rajini.. lol. Thanks for the great piece; KB is iyakunar sikaram for a reason.
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vijee
November 14, 2023
Thanks, guys, for telling me about what was written in Telugu, which Tamil movie it is made from … & for all your kind words.
@RK about R. Chudamani definitely has literary merit as you already know from the stories you have read. For instance, The Fourth Ashram in this anthology. (page 335)
https://archive.org/details/women-writing-in-india-vol-2
Director Vasanth’s mother may have read R. Chudamani, but she was not popular in the same way as, say, Sivashankari whose novels were adapted into serials/ movies. The best of Chudamani’s work is contemplative, more about human psychology – than say about drug abuse/alcoholism/ any pressing social issue/ event and maybe her quiet themes don’t lend themselves easily to adaptation.
After Sivaranjaniyum…. Vasanth said he will do more adaptations of Tamil short stories. Hopefully he will pick the right Chudamani story – I was blown away by Payasam. He introduced so many new and interesting lines, characters into that short film – even the writer Thi.Ja would have said Sabash! Vale! That didn’t occur to me.
In the same anthology, Mannu Bhandari comes right after Chudamani – they were born in the same year, 1931, so they saw the same changes in society when Indian women started getting college degrees, going to work etc. etc.
I would really like to see Chudamani get her due at least now.
And yes avar @BR has written plenty about KB’s women not being finishers. And it is so true. sad, sad, sad…..or rather maddening as you put it..
@SunderRajan – Hope your friends were referring to just mannerisms/style etc. 😊. In any case, we all change over time. We are not what we were in our college days.
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Sifter
November 15, 2023
@Vijee- Nice write-up. One of my favourite movie and the fact that you mentioned R Chudamani made me go ‘Finally! Someone talking about her’ because I have felt that she hasn’t been given her due as a writer for a long, long time now.
Retired Judge Prabha Sridevan had translated some of R. Chudamani’s short stories and published as ‘Seeing in the dark’. I loved it.
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vijee
November 15, 2023
Sifter – nice to meet a Chudamani fan!
I had read The Fourth Ashram about a woman’s two widowers discussing her after the cremation.
https://archive.org/details/women-writing-in-india-vol-2/page/338/mode/2up
Don’t know if you have listened to Bharathy Bhaskar reading out a series of Chudamani Raghavan stories on YouTube – BB is a huge fan. Right voice for it, in my opinion! Felt the full impact of CR only then.
Have not read Prabha S’s translations yet. I am sure they are amazing! Earlier this year, I went to a reading of hers in Madras Literary Society – she was so accessible and easy to talk to. She also did another talk this fall about Chudamaniyan Chennai.
So yeah, I am slowly entering Chudamani’s world now. I wish I could have met her – she died fairly recently.
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vijee
November 16, 2023
Retired Judge Prabha Sridevan had translated some of R. Chudamani’s short stories and published as ‘Seeing in the dark’. I loved it.
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Sifter
November 18, 2023
Vijee- Glad you are entering the little-big world of Chudamani. There is an an indescribable charm, depth, and wonderment in her stories that remains indelible for me. Hoping you’d feel that too.
A couple of her short stories just refuses to leave me. One is Iravu-chudar (Tamil). Very different and un-sung Jem by any standards.
A few lines from the short story-Ascent to the Shrine (From the Translated work by Prabha Sridevan):
One little girl among them, shy, wide-eyed, and chubby-cheeked, would come every day. She would not talk much nor ask for anything, She came only to be near Vaidehi, looking at her in mute worship.
If Vaidehi looked a her, she would give a faint smile. If she spoke to her, a few shy words. That was all. But the fullness of that love!
I could easily imagine this scene and could feel the joy the little child from this particular story. Just pure joy in writing and also pure joy in reading.
Thank you for the link and BB reference. Will definitely watch them soon.
This is one author who should be more widely celebrated.
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vijee
November 20, 2023
@sifter — Last night I started reading someone’s thesis on Chudamani — can’t find the link now, but the story was of an educated single woman at 38 (past her prime by 1970 standards!) who prefers to work and take care of her blind father instead of sending him to a home. She has male friends whom she does not plan to marry. The story was remarkably like that of the movie “Piku” except the dad was not a curmudgeon and he does not call her “promiscuous.” He understands why she has checked into a hotel and says please bring the person/s home from now on. She says there is no need for them to come home. That someone could write a story like that in 1970s Madras really blows the mind… I don’t know the title of the story.
Another story — I don’t know if you have read it — is high on sentiment, very un-Chudamani-like but still very likeable If you have a sibling, chances are you’ll bawl at the end 🙂 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76ip3BVokWA
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vijee
November 22, 2023
@nimmiRangaswamy Thanks for the “Nool Veli” reco. I never would have found it on my own. I loved the Sujatha character and her dad in it, but Saritha as the child-woman — in a school uniform! — didn’t really work for me.
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Nimmi Rangaswamy
November 22, 2023
@Vijee- Saritha was 19 when she did the movie! Yeah difficult to imagine at this time… but I really liked the movie… when Sujatha allows the ‘incest’ suggestion as a censor board member you realise the grimness of what had happened …
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vijee
November 22, 2023
Really? Saritha was 19? That was so well-done — her “incest” take and then coming back home to that sight! Of course, all this presages Woody Allen’s real lifestory…
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sai16vicky
December 1, 2023
This reminds me of “Amma Vandhaal” — one of my favorite books, I wish someone made it into a movie. One look at the synopsis and the immediate reaction would be why can’t she stop having the affair and send her son to a decent school. But the writing is filled with so much beauty and conviction, where she sends the kid to a vedic school to atone for her sins. This might make her a horrible person in real life but in the world of the book, that is some kind of writing.
Not just KP, a lot of melodramas in the 60s and 70s work like gangbusters even today. I watch “Velli Vizha” today and end up wanting Bala and Sheela to end up together.
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brangan
December 9, 2023
https://www.thehindu.com/entertainment/leelavathi-a-star-of-60s-who-paved-the-way-for-many-women-to-follow/article67619026.ece
https://www.thehindu.com/entertainment/movies/legendary-kannada-actress-leelavathi-passes-away/article67618427.ece
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Nimmi Rangaswamy
December 9, 2023
What a fantastic actor – she spoke Tamil so well too- RIP!
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RK
May 24, 2024
For admirers of Chudamani, a short story about her written by a very good contemporary writer, Kamaladevi
https://vasagasalai.com/velicham-sirukathai-kamaladevi-vasagasalai-92/
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