AS Tamil Nadu rocks to Vairamuthu’s latest hit Gemini, beloved Indian poet Javed Akhtar does handsprings about the Tamil poet-songwriter: ‘‘Mr Vairamuthu is a great contemporary poet. I’ve met him at A R Rehman’s house and discovered he has a fantastic sense of humour. My opinion is based on realistic assessment. If he told you he likes my work, that is his magnanimity!’’ Akhtar’s opinion derives from the intense creative relationship that he and Gulzar share long-distance with the mustachioed Tamilian: they wrote the Hindi versions of several immensely popular film songs (for Sapnay, Bombay, Dil Se, Jeans) while Vairamuthu wrote the original Tamil poetry. Film folklore has it that Gulzar (away travelling last week) reportedly threw up his hands and declared that he was ‘‘Only a lyricist, while Vairamuthu is the poet!’’ Such appreciation from two senior Hindi poets is an evolutionary step from the bad old days when pracharaks and producers gave language fanatics in the South plenty of free ammo with their hostile attitude to anything south of the Vindhyas. ‘‘But the last 10 years have cemented new bonds’’, is Akhtar’s opinion, and Roja was definitely a benchmark in this fragile process, just when Kashmiri and Lankan militancy were at their peak, nipping at Indian ankles already sore from Punjab terrorism. Says Akhtar, of Vairamuthu’s first and resounding national hit (with Hindi lyrics translated by PK Mishra): ‘‘I heard ‘Chinna-chinna asai’ before it became ‘Dil hai chhota-sa’. I liked the tune so much that I asked a Tamil friend to tell me the words. I found the poetry so delightful that I made a translation, which I’ve kept safe even now.’’ I heard ‘Chinna chinna asai’ before it became ‘Dil hai chhota sa’. I asked a Tamil friend to explain the words to me. I found the poetry so delightful that I made a translation, which I keep safe even now— Javed AkhtarHe went on to Pachhaippa’s College, Chennai, to graduate in Tamil Literature, and became an ‘‘MA gold medallist’’. An anthology of his verse, called ‘Dawn Clouds’ was published in 1972, and while the poet was himself yet a student, was actually prescribed as part of the syllabus by the prestigious Women’s Christian College (WCC), Chennai, in 1974. It was hastily withdrawn when the author’s identity became known! While at university, Vairamuthu fell in love with his professor’s daughter, Ponmani, herself a sound Tamil scholar whose doctoral dissertation at Madras University was on ‘Aspects of modern literature in Sangam literature’ (the 3,000-year-old classical literature that gives Tamil its attitude vis-a-vis Hindi). ‘‘But do you know, we were such polite and respectful young people, we didn’t even hold hands — even our fingers didn’t touch by accident — until we were married,’’ confides Vairamuthu, who, at 23, found himself a government job as translator, so that he could marry. (He later opted full-time for cinema). Says Vairamuthu, ‘‘In my 35 years as a poet, I have worked with about 50 music directors. In the late 80s, I wrote for RD Burman (Ulagam Pirandadu Yenakke) for Laxmikant-Pyarelal (Uyire Onakke and for Andanda Shankar (Kannada film Hamsalekha). What gets me excited is melody with song. I enjoy Rehman’s fusion very much. But while with poetry, I am king, with music, I am the servant. Perhaps because I love the spoken word so much, a wordless tune to me is a beautiful shirt hanging from a nail, dancing empty in the air. When it carries lyrics, it is as though it has a human body in it and comes alive!’’ (There was a famous ‘incident’ a couple of years ago in which Vairamuthu publicly asked Rehman to give more space to lyrics in his compositions. While there was no obvious spat, they ceased to be an ‘exclusive’ team and began working quietly with others. Both are tight-lipped on the subject).
