The list does not end there, his performances in Engeyo Ketta Kural, Anbulla Rajinikanth, Bhairavi and Johnny, to name a few, stand testament to the exceptional actor that he is. We would cry for the orphaned son, the pained brother, the hurt husband. He may just look at his ungrateful brother and sister with a painful smirk (Aaril Irundhu Arubadhu Varai), or look out a car’s window imagining his long-lost wife, Pradeep Kumar crooning ‘Vaanam Paarthen’ in the background (Kabali), and we would cry. Ketta paya sir avan” with worry written all over his face (Mullum Malarum) and it would break us.
He could silently look at a goods train with Raja Sir’s BGM doing the rest, and tell his stepdaughter, “Na karuppa irundhena, enga amma enna thooki potutanga” (Thalapathy), or “Rendu kai, rendu kaal ilanaalum pozhachukavan sir indha Kaali. Thinking about it, I realise that he had a knack for making you cry for him, with him every single time. I’m wondering if there’s anyone who didn’t cry when Manickam is tied to a pole and hit by goons with SPB’s ‘Piece-u piece-ah kizhikum podhum yaessu pola sirippa paaru daaa’ playing in the background. Starting with the ‘Naan autokaaran’ song till the last scene, the movie is so etched in my memory that even now whenever I catch it on TV, I sing the ‘Tododooo’ background music whenever it plays, thanks to music director Deva. Baasha, the 1995 blockbuster, is the first Rajini movie that I remember seeing, and it’s no surprise that I became a fan of the man who ruled the screen as Manickam, the innocent auto driver protecting his family, a faithful friend in the flashback, and as Baasha the don who avenges his friend’s death and protects Mumbai from the villain Antony.
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