1998
Not many know that I used to be a child actor, who rubbed shoulders with quite a number of A-listers in the world of TV and cinema. In not-so-big roles in cinema, and quite big roles in serials, I even had visiting cards printed out that said — Avinash R, Child Artist. While I might not quite remember everything about the life that I once lived, there is a specific incident that changed the course of my life. A very specific conversation with a very special person, which ended with two words.
“Quit Cinema”
2018
After a year of journalism college, and another year as a sports journalist, it was time to move back home. Cinema was as much home, as Chennai is. Twenty years after I first started drifting away from the dreamy world of cinema, I was pulled right back in. The mothership finally called me back. Here I was, standing at the shore of the endless ocean ahead of me, and charting the course of action that would take me closer to the dreams that gradually evolved over two decades.
1998
I never knew this was going to be my last ever shoot. I never knew that a blood-soaked white shirt and blue half-trousers was the last costume I would wear in my then fledgling cinema career. My first and last onscreen name was Velmurugan, S/O Shanmugham. I think the film was being shot in Besant Nagar, and it was directed by one Mr VC Ramani, who would go on to direct films like Dhill, Dhool, and Ghilli, under the name, Dharani. But then, it was during this shoot that the special person made a very compelling argument, and all of a sudden, the dream wasn’t mine to dream anymore. It stopped as abruptly as it began.
2018
I am nearing 30, and a tectonic career shift at this age isn’t exactly welcomed with open arms. I know this has been said multiple times before, but it is not easy to navigate the endless barrage of questions, the patronising looks, the ‘sympathetic’ nods, the unnecessary comparisons about the salary gap between my present and past professions, and of course, the sage-like wisdom.
That’s why I take photos with celebrities I interact with or interview. It not only gives me some much-needed street cred but also makes an important set of people impose their trust in my decision. They are forced to believe I am finally doing something worthwhile.
A photo speaks louder than words.
1998
The shooting of Ethirum Puthirum came to a close. My scene was wrapped up in a single take, I think. Amma and I met Mega Star Mammootty during the lunch break… And That special conversation happened.
Mammootty: Where does your son study?
Amma: *Mentions the school*
Mammootty: Periya school dhaane. Is his acting career fuelling your household?
Amma: Nothing like that
Mammootty: If that’s the case, let him concentrate on studying. One can always try their hand in cinema, but primary and secondary education has a window. Do that first, and he can return to cinema anytime he wants.
Amma: Okay…
Mammootty (looks at me): Cinema vendaam…
1999
Ethirum Puthirum released. My cinema career stopped even before I could fathom how much I wanted it. I received a black and white shooting set photo, which featured the likes of Radhika Sarathkumar and Mammukka himself. A lasting memory from that life.
2018
As I grew up, I used to often look at the photo and try to remind myself of the time that was, and the time that could be. Over a period of time, I misplaced that prized possession. After a while, it just became an anecdote I told people. I’m not sure how many believed me, but it was fun to narrate. An exercise that made me feel special, even if only for a fleeting moment. These are just one-off chances. Even when working out of Chennai, and in Tamil cinema, it isn’t quite easy to meet someone like Mammootty.
Not everyone gets second-time lucky.
2019
I got lucky. Almost 21 years later, I met Mammootty… Again.
It was for an interview, and I couldn’t let this opportunity pass. I had printed out the screenshot of the scene featuring me and him. The scene from Ethirum Puthirum where he enquires about the whereabouts of my father. And showed the screenshot to him.
He remembered everything about that scene, including the director, his co-actors, the year of release, the name of the film, and even the plotline. He remembered everything except the diminutive figure lying down in the midst of it all. His reaction when I introduced that person to be me was… well, priceless. That tooth-missing wide smile, the wide-eyed stare, the hint of a sparkle in the eyes, and a swift but firm handshake from him preceded the interview.
At the end of it all, when I stood next to him for the picture that eventually turned out not so Instagram worthy because my phone sucks, he looked at me and said,
“So… You have come back eh?”
I sheepishly nodded my head and said, “Yeah Mammukka sir.”
During the parting handshake, he said, “Good. You have done it.”
It almost felt like Mammukka himself invited me back into the world of cinema. I finally felt a sense of belonging in this world. And for the first time, in all these years of struggling, humiliation, failures, and what-nots, I finally felt I had really arrived. I wanted to bellow it out to anyone who would listen. I wanted to shout into the skies about how money isn’t everything. I wanted to hug Mammukka and thank him for providing the ‘take diversion’ sign in my life.
But, all I could muster after the parting handshake was to look him in his eyes, give him a firm handshake of my own, offer a smile, and say, “Yeah, I did it.”
…
…
…
I flucking did it!
Avinash Ramachandran 