Astrology  Chat  Cityscape  Classifieds  Entertainment  Health  Matrimonial 
Music  News  Panorama  Search  Shopping  Services  Tours & Travel  Home

Food Style Society Children Science & Environment Chennai Citizen Artscene HR & Education Home Decor Festivals & Religion Columns Mail us your feedback Recommend this page

Download Tamil Fonts

He is a national award winning film director…

He does not have a phone…

He has an address…

I decided to call on him the minute I got the address.

The doors of the old house in Venus Colony in Alwarpet were wide open to any wayward stranger.

I climbed on the stairs to the first floor and faced a spacious empty dark room. On the right was a small room - with an old wooden table and four or five wooden chairs - which seemed to be the director’s office.

I stood for a moment at the doorstep listening to a fan which creaked from another room and knocked on the open door.

A slim and long bearded middle-aged man, wearing worn out shirt and pants, appeared with curious eyes. No. He could not be the director. I was quite sure that the director was a bit more fat and that he did not have such a long and pointed beard.

“I am a journalist. I want to meet Lenin Sir.”

“He is sleeping,” the man said in a mild voice, leaving behind a Malayalam accent.

“Are you a Malayalee,” I asked.

“Athe (yes),” he replied and translated his earlier words into Malayalam: “He is sleeping.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Okay. Come and sit here,” he said, switching on the old creaky affair on the roof and left.

I looked at the room he went into and saw editor-turned-director B Lenin enjoying siesta with a harmonium and notebook as his sleepmates on a mat on the floor. Yes, ‘mat’tukku moonnu paer’.

My attention came back to the room I sat in and I enjoyed looking at two black and white photos in this and that corner. When I was tired of waiting, I went out to the courtyard to enjoy the cloudy warmth of the afternoon.

By the time I came back, the director was awake. He had been informed of my disturbing presence and so as soon as he saw me, he asked me to sit and looked into my eyes as a proper cue.

“I’m a journalist working in Chennaionline.com. I write a column about Malayalees in Chennai. I would like to interview you. So I came here to get an appointment as you have no phone.”

“Malayalees in Chennai…? Ha…Ha...Ha….”

I felt the chair I was sitting on crumbling to bits.

By then the slim and long bearded man entered the room.

“Hey, listen; he wants to interview me for his column about Malayalees in Chennai…Ha…Ha…Ha…”

I clutched the chair.

The slim and long-bearded man did not laugh. Instead, he looked at me sympathetically.

“See, I am not a Malayalee though I have worked for a number of Malayalam films,” Lenin said in pure Malayalam.

He continued, “Have you heard about director Bheem Singh?”

“Yes.”

“I am one of his sons. He was not a Malayalee. My mother is also not a Malayalee,” saying so, he hung his head as if feeling pity at a journalist’s ignorance (or at himself?).

“Sorry, Sir, I …”

“Don’t worry. It’s human. Anybody can make mistakes,” he said.

Maybe I was visibly upset by then, so the director said some soothing words.

“My wife is a Malayalee. She is in Thrippunithura. My children are also in Kerala. They don’t like staying here. They don’t like the climate and water here. So I have to join them in Kerala after a few years,” he paused.

Then he continued, “That means, in the years to come, I will be known as a Malayalee. No doubt. I will meet you later.”

And he took down my contact number, saying, “I will surely call you.”

Readers' response/inputs can be e-mailed to salil@chennaionline.com.