Paranjsothy - Chennai Diary 2

Secret to ones happiness is to realize the goal and to experience the world’s wonders while never forgetting your family, or your loved ones. I have a woman in my life. And together with her, I am expecting the arrival of our baby.

In fact, I was at a point in my life where I was about to give up all my dreams. Since I was, no longer, the carefree, single guy with the luxury of staying focused to the goal, on a mission to fulfill my so-called destiny. Because all of a sudden, I had a family to look after.  

But like the great master Mr. Coelho mentions, ‘when people forget about their real purpose in life and start moving along the beaten track, a mysterious force usually appears before them to wake them up and to put them back on to the track all over again. In my case, the force happened to be my friends. New ones, I made along my way, and the old. Like it happened to me this time. And can I ever discount the role my very own father had played in shaping my destiny – I mean, every time he objected  to something I really wanted, I went for it double strong. In fact, my being in the cinema itself was winning the biggest battle with him.

It all began a week before the Easter of 2012. Prazi and me were about four or five months into our marriage and hadn’t taken a proper break as yet. Like we always wanted. And Easter holidays meant at least a three day break for her from work. That’s when I coaxed Bibin to let me be away from ‘the adcompani’ and called up Laxman about our visit to his place. 

The trip was pleasant. Six hours straight from Kochi in the Maruthi 800 borrowed from my brother. I loved the drive. Prazi seemed happy too. We saw places we had only seen in movies. Like Walayar Check Post. And Coimbatore. And the family of monkeys on the way. And the newly built highway that stretched between Coimbatore and Salem. And the umpteen number of engineering colleges along the route, but not even a single little tea shop. Prazi took a special interest in reading all the signs in green, along the way. Regularly telling me how many more kilometers to cover. How many more hours to go at the speed we maintained. Warning me time and again to reduce speed as cautioned by the road safety boards.

Laxman kept calling us, enquiring about our safety at regular intervals. And by the time we reached Erode, it was late in the afternoon. 

I met his kids for the first time there. I had only seen them in pictures before. Just as tired we were, both Kishore and Karthi, were as energetic. They made our tiredness vanish just like that. Both of them took an instant liking to Prazi, who couldn’t make out even one word they spoke. But what the heck, neither could either of them. And being kids, they would happily declare, ‘neenga enna pesharuthennu puriyiliye’. Poor Prazi, all she could do was to blush. Thankfully, Uma always came to Prazi’s rescue, translating and coordinating the three of them. 

It was on the next day, when all of us had planned to drive to ‘Ooty', the nearest hill-station, when Laxman casually mentioned that he wanted me to meet a couple of friends of his. From the Tamil film industry, who had a story to tell. 

We had the meeting at a resort-turned-country club near to where he lived. Gopu Balaji, the writer-director, began his 3 hour long narration dramatizing most of the sequences with wide shots, mid shots, tracks shots, close ups, and sound effects, which in fact, left us with the feeling of having watched a full length movie of the same duration.  

Towards the end of it, as we dropped them at the city centre and drove back, Laxman asked me my opinion about the story. Even though I felt confident about Gopu’s abilities as a director, and more importantly, as a story teller, I pushed the ball back to his court since it was his money at stake - so ultimately it had to be his own decision. There was a gigantic risk associated to it. There’s would be no plan B to it, in case it fails.

And when we parted from Ooty the next day, I didn’t have the slightest idea that he would call me out of the blue about three months later and come down to Kochi to give me the shock of my life. He was taking up the project despite my cautioning. 

He grinned sheepishly and said, ‘I sold a portion of my land to raise the money,’ when he met me at the railway station where I had gone to receive him. He had come to Kochi to ask me to be part of his project as the executive producer. I was given a week’s time to wrap up my responsibilities in Kochi and join them at the earliest possible date. 

Even though the proposal sounded good to me, I was shit scared. I still am. 

I'm here. And there is no Prazi by my side to tell me, ‘you’ll be fine eta’. God, I miss her. The doctor had strictly ordered bed rest for her till the delivery in December. I wish the child be born after Christmas. Capricorns make great directors. Not that I have decided the career of my unborn child. It’s just a passing thought. And yesterday when I called her at night, over the phone all I could hear was her sobs. Poor girl. I couldn’t even hug her to comfort her.

As of now, a thousand hurdles need to be crossed. Finding the leading lady is foremost of all. The 'Paranjysothy' team wanted a girl from Kerala. The responsibility was on me to find the right one. But I don’t really understand what it is with the girls in Kerala that Tamil film industry continually prefers them. I mean every other Tamil movie features a Malayalee girl in the lead role. No offence, though, to any of the Malayalee girls. They are all beautiful. But then question is - aren’t there enough pretty girls in Tamil Nadu?

And despite the auditions we had at Kochi and later at Chennai, the results weren’t quite encouraging. The girls, that we sort of zeroed in walked out on us, citing lame excuses. Why the hell did they audition for the role in the first place anyways? OMG... The perfect heroine, where art thou?