Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Vasanthangal varum munbe from Lalitha (1976)

Saravanan Natarajan writes:

Continuing to remember the giants whose birth anniversaries fell on June 24th, let us dive deep into the MSV/Kannadasan ocean one again, and see what pearls we come up with this time…
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Two versions of ‘Vasanthangal varum munbe’ from Lalitha (1976)

Ashutosh Mukohopadhyay (1920-1989) was a popular Bengali writer and journalist many of whose engrossing stories have found celluloid adaptation. The most famous among them perhaps is the story ‘Nurse Mitra’ that was adapted by the brilliant Asit Sen as Deep Jwale Jai (1959). Asit Sen remade the classic in Hindi after 10 years as Khamoshi (1969).

Another of Ashutosh Mukohopadhyay’s stories that was made into a successful movie was Saath Pake Bandha. The story was fairly simple. The wealthy Archana falls in love with a principled college professor Sukhendu, despite the considerable differences in age and status. She goes ahead and marries him, unmindful of her haughty mother’s opposition. However, the idyll does not last long, the dream turns into a nightmare. Archana’s domineering mother sows the seeds of marital discord by her constant disdainful gibes at Sukhendu’s impoverished circumstances.

The hurt Sukhendu becomes cold and aloof. Archana remonstrates with her mother, but her entreaties fall on deaf ears. Things reach a point of no return when Sekhendu demands that Archana severe all ties with her family. Caught between the two, she suffers and watches her marriage collapse. Sukhendu and Archana separate. Years roll by and finally when they meet, they find their defenses crumbling, and reunite with an understanding that the long years of separation had bestowed them with.

The movie ‘Saath Pake Bandha’ (1963) had the legendary Suchitra Sen playing Archana, with Soumitra Chatterjee as her Sukhendu. Chaya Devi portrayed with aplomb the snobbish mother and Pahadi Sanyal performed with restraint the role of the affectionate but helpless father. Hemanta Mukherjee scored the background music for the movie which did not have any songs. Directed by Ajoy Kar, ‘Saath Pake Bandha’ was a great success with Suchitra Sen walking away with the Best Actress Award at the prestigious Moscow Film Festival in 1963.

Anil Ganguly remade this movie in Hindi 11 years later, and ‘Koraa Kaagaz’ (1974/ Shreeji Films) remains a celluloid masterpiece of eternal appeal. As the piteous Archana torn under divided loyalties, the petite Jaya Bhaduri stands tall in her sensitive, delicately nuanced performance. Vijay Anand’s portrayal of Sukhesh was marked by dignified subtleties. Achala Sachdev was perfectly cast as Archana’s meddlesome mother, while A.K. Hangal was the natural choice for the father. Kalyanji-Anandji’s compositions such as ‘mEra jeevan koraa kaagaz’ and ‘rootE rootE piyaa’ have acquired the status of cult classics over the years.

Our Valampuri Somanathan was drawn to this story of marital discord and decided to tell it anew for the Tamil audience. He drafted the screenplay and wrote the dialogues, besides producing and directing the movie. Lalitha (1976/ Girnaar Films) had Sujatha and Gemini Ganesh essaying the lead roles. While Sujatha was an apt choice to bring forth the tumultuous suffering of the character, Gemini Ganesh looked aged and tired. Perhaps the choice was intentional, for even Vijay Anand had looked old beside the vivacious Jaya, and the story itself was that of a mismatch in age and wealth. Sukumari and Calcutta Viswanathan played Lalitha’s parents. The surprise however, was Kamalhasan in the role of Lalitha’s brother. The episodes relating to his love for Sumitra and the scenes involving veteran Thangavelu who played Sumitra’s father temper the somber proceedings with some light moments, even while leading to a startling twist.
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M.S. Viswanathan’s music was a delectable highpoint. Armed with Kannadasan’s bounty, the Mellisai Mannar composed a set of scintillating songs. Besides lending his own mystic mystique to Vasanthangal varum munbe, MSV summoned all his favourite singers to do the needful and then called upon the venerable Thevaram singer of the Kapaleeswarar Temple, Lalgudi Swaminthan to render a few traditional verses. Thus we have the folksy ‘ennamma aaththOra kuruvi’ rendered by TMS & L.R. Eswari with characteristic gusto. Vani Jairam sings the endearing ‘kalyaaNamE oru peNNodu thaan’, the equivalent of Lata’s ‘rootE rootE piyaa’ in the Hindi version. SPB and Vani team up for that unforgettable ‘sorgathilE mudivaandhu, sondhathilE nilaiyaanadhu’, where Vani’s lines sum up the growing disillusionment of Lalitha. P. Suseela and MSV sing two versions of ‘vasanthangaL varum munbE’, MSV’s fitting answer to Kalyanji-Anandji’s touted ‘mEra jeevan koraa kaagaz’. MSV further springs a surprise by getting Lalgudi Swaminathan to chant the Thevaram verse ‘maNNil nalla vaNNam vaazhalaam’ which flows into ‘Oradi kadavutkaaga’, where Kannadasan’s lines glitter as veritable treatises on marriage vows and the spiritual union that the seven steps enshrine. K. Veeramani and Sripathi join Lalgudi Swaminathan midway and whole song takes on the aura of a benedictory hymn.
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I walked a mile with Pleasure,
she chattered all the way;
But left me none the wiser,
for all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow
and ne'er a word said she;
But, oh, the things I learned from her
when Sorrow walked with me!

- Robert Browning Hamilton (Along the Road)

The deed is done, the estrangement complete. She is left only with memories, a handful of them sweet, most of them bitter. She distances herself from all that is familiar by taking up teaching in an obscure school, with solitude her sole companion. Time is relentless in its march, and as each year comes and goes even loneliness becomes a way of life. And as she walks one day along her usual pathways, a thousand thoughts come cascading, even as this song is heard in the background.
The Hindi version had the haunting ‘mEra jeevan koraa kaagaz, koraa hi reh gayaa’, easily among Kishore Kumar’s best efforts.



Kannadasan, as his wont, gives a précis of the entire proceedings in poignant lines.

vasanthangaL varum munbE veyil vandhadhE
mazhaik kaala mEgankaL kalaiginRadhE
pon aanaaL….. vilai illai
kaN aanaaL….. imai illai

Her life seems to be a travesty of nature…she has never danced in the sheer rapture of spring, for her the scorching summer had arrived early. As she walks along paths full of rain that remains unshed, her thoughts within are as bleak as the landscape without…

ilai uNdu malar uNdu kani illaiyE
kani onRu kai vandhum kiLi illaiyE
avaL veeNai tharum paadal orE raagamE
anandham adhil illai orE sOgamE….

She had on her side beauty, youth, wealth, intelligence and unending love, yet all these could not help her hold on to her marriage. Time, they say, is the best healer; but again, absence, they say, makes the heart fonder. So she walks along the same paths as she has been walking, thinking the same thoughts as she has been thinking…. Hers is a penance in grief….

kavi onRu varum enRu yEdaanavaL
sila naaLil veRum thaaLil kOdaanavaL
panikkaalam kuyil paada koodaanavaL
padikkaamal mudikkinRa paattaanavaL

The lines in the Hindi version sum up the lonely life of Archana as ‘kOraa kaagaz’, meaning a blank sheet of paper. Our bard ushers in the same reference in ‘kavi onRu varum enRu yEdaanavaL, sila naaLil veRum thaaLil kOdaanavaL’, and goes on to describe her wretched life as an unfinished song.

maNachchinnam kazuththOdu sirikkinRadhE
manakkinnam neruppaaga kodhikkinRadhE
ninaikkinRa manam mattum ninaikkinRadhE
thadukkinRa vidhi yEnO thadukkinRadhE

MSV designs a ghazal-like ambience for the soliloquy, and keeps the orchestration to an austere minimum, as if to accentuate the desolate undercurrent of the song. The opening guitar that continues as an unobtrusive presence all through the song, the tabla nodding in hushed empathy to the lines, the santoor and the lone flute in the interlude paint the canvas with shades of sorrow…
Who else but Susheela to bring in the gamut of brooding introspection… Her lines are soaked in sorrow, her honeyed tones drenched in grief, as she brings to life the master’s painstaking work.

Listen to P. Susheela singing ‘vasanthangaL varum munbE’


And here is the elusive version sung by the master. It has been many years since I saw the movie on TV, and if I remember right, it was Suseela’s version that made it to the screen. I wonder then at MSV’s version… and at the different placement of the charanam endings, at the flute singing a slightly different note here… MSV’s arresting voice was made surely for songs such as these… his voice here is the weary howl of the soul… The late ‘Santoor’ Vishweshwaran once revealed that MSV would sing each of his compositions hundreds of times before the recording, coaching the singers with infinite patience on each note, each nuance... He would not give up until he had extracted what he had wanted…. Truly that was a golden age of film music…

Listen to MSV singing ‘vasanthangaL varum munbE’



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