Silence of the lambs

I came across this article on the Wall Street Journal yesterday. Now, before you think that I am a regular reader of WSJ, a finance professional going to work in a suit, or I'm trying to show off, this was what got delivered to my room at the hotel where I'm now staying, instead of the usual International Herald Tribune. And since it is a 30 minute ride to work, I flipped through the pages and hence this post. But I digress. The article talks about research aimed at improving the social skills of sheep. No, really, this talks about scientists trying to reduce the levels of methane emitted by sheep. The concern being, methane is a greenhouse gas more potent than CO2 thereby accelerating global warming.

If this an issue with sheep, then by an extension, it must also be just as serious in the case of cows. Looking beyond the dairy industry, the meat industry is a worse offender. Expectedly, this issue is gaining awareness across the US, UK and other countries.

I'm sure that the researchers have the best interests of planet earth foremost on their minds when undertaking work on a topic as pleasant as the guts of sheep. But it surprises me that the best minds in this field are not recommeding a simpler solution that lies in what you eat, or rather, what you don't. Yes, vegetarianism has been proven to be more environmentally friendly than driving a Prius. The researchers can free up bandwidth to train their brains and research grants on other equally serious issues threatening our existence.

Jamais Cascio has an analysis that is as interesting as it is scary. "The greenhouse gas emissions arising every year from the production and consumption of cheeseburgers is roughly the amount emitted by 6.5 million to 19.6 million SUVs. " It is surprising then that the voices against SUVs seem to be more louder than the ones against a meat intensive diet.

At the risk of sounding preachy, a vegan way of life may be pushing the limits, or may be unavoidable in the future, but for now, vegetarianism is certainly a viable option. We may have arrived at a fork and must pick between driving down Dinosaur Drive or down Via Veggie. On a Prius, of course.

"Ram"-en Noodles

Close on the heels of Ms. Clinton's soft pedalling in China, where economic issues overshadowed everything else that should have been discussed, N Ram has suddenly woken up to the "economic growth" of the Tibetan region and has used that to declare that all is well with that part of the world. In this news item in The Hindu, he paints a rather rosy picture of Tibet, its state of affairs and the future. The keen, self appointed brand ambassador for China has noted things that have missed the eyes of, well, the rest of the world.

Ram is quoted as saying “The reality is that Tibet is on the road of rapid economic development and the atmosphere there is relaxed, not tense at all,” and a little later is seen to observe that "the problem facing Tibet was the economic slowdown as the global financial crisis took its toll on the region." Yeah, right! Economy is about the only trouble facing Tibet today.

This whole piece seems to have been put together rather hurriedly and comes across as a bit patchy with vague, disjointed statements. It goes nowhere, contradicts itself and serves no other purpose than to scratch the back of our eastern neighbor.

Based on his three visits to the region, and using what meets his eyes as the sole crietrion, Ram makes some grand statements, sweeping a whole bunch of issues under the carpet including China's distinctively dubious human rights record, occupation of Indian territory and denial of basic rights of its own citizenry. All of a sudden, he appears to be intent on bringing the whole "Hindu"-Cheeni bhai bhai thingie back alive and is in a hurry to give a clean chit to the Chinese government.

Ram may have missed his geography lesson that the eye of the storm is actually a calm spot. May be he was visiting Tibet! Ada Rama!

(Image courtesy: http://www.allposters.com/)

A legal battle...

(Image courtesy: The Hindu, Dinamalar)

Afghanistan? Iraq? Pakistan perhaps? One could be forgiven for linking these violent images to the usual trouble spots. These scenes of lawlessness unfolded within the premises of the high court in the heart of Chennai, Tamil Nadu on Thursday, Feb 19th. Lawyers and the police were engaged in a frenzied battle against each other, breaking the very law and order that they are expected to safeguard. 

These lawyers were waging a legal battle of a different kind, outside the confines of the court room. They were "appearing" for their colleagues who were arrested for having earlier attacked a local politician, again, within the court complex. The cops had to resort to lathi charge and firing tear gas shells to check the surging lawyer brigade. In the melee, the cops were also seen breaking the windows of cars parked nearby and hurling verbal abuses and venting their anger at the men of law. For the second day running, there have been multiple cases of violence resulting in bloodshed, burnt vehicles and arrested lawyers across the state.

The Hindu reports that the hospitalized Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, who also holds the Home portfolio, is willing to come and meet the acting Chief Justice, "even in an ambulance" to seek suggestions from the judge "to contain the violence and ensure that justice was done and peace restored." It is indeed a sorry state of affairs that the Home Minister lacks what it takes to handle law and order situations in the state!

The legal community, long since polluted by politics, has stooped to a new low with this. The last bit of respect that a few might have had for this profession must have now been blown to smithereens. This fiasco has resulted in the closure of the high court on Friday. As these men of law recover from their bruises and soreness, thay can ponder on:

The number of working days they could manage in 2009

The pending backlog of cases in Indian courts

நெஞ்சு பொறுக்குதில்லையே இந்த நிலை கெட்ட மாந்தரை நினைத்து விட்டால் - Subramanya Bharathi

The Mustafa maze

I've begun to notice, in recent times, that roughly once a week, around the weekend, our household runs out of stuff that we require to keep it going. As we gaze at the empty shelves inside the refrigerator, we slowly realize that now's as good a time as  any to grab our trolley and head out to Mustafa Center to stock up. This scene plays out simultaneously  across every Indian home and, in a few hours, a sea of humanity and shopping trolleys descend on Syed Alwi  Road. Mustafa center, the giant Indian shopping center that carries everything from gold to garam masala  and whatever goes inbetween, is located in the Little India belt in Singapore and spans across 2 city  blocks, 4 floors and 3 time zones (all of them running late) and still growing. In fact, NASA recently  confirmed that this store is now visible from Jupiter because it IS the size of Jupiter. They also  confirmed that since this store started expanding, earth's spin has slowed down and they've had to add a  few seconds to the year (OK, I made this up.) In other words, this is a cross between your local Nadar  store and a Burma Bazaar shop. Except, the kid is on steroids (I did not make this up.)

Entry into this monstrosity, with a tastefully done exterior matched only by the aesthetic appeal of the  interiors, is strictly monitored. One cannot carry any bags or containers inside unless they have been  secured with a nylon tie wrap. They couldn't quite figure out how to secure the wide lid of my lunch box  and hence put one right across the strap, for whatever worth it was. You then proceed past two watchful  security guards that can catch the slightest of inappropriety in your carry on items, also have an eye on  what the shoppers carry out, while still catching up on each other's lives back home in India. If you  possess any object that doesn't pass their standards, you will need to deposit that, and your DNA sample  (for matching the owner), with two burlesque guys at the entrance. In return you will be handed a security  tag with an alphanumeric code on it. It may take anywhere between 8 to 12 hours from when you reach the  store entrance to when you actually step inside. To put things into perspective, without a prior  appointment, it takes a little under 30 minutes to get a private audience with the Pope, at the Vatican on  a Sunday. 

Not to discourage propsective shoppers that might be contemplating heading elsewhere, there is a display  at the entrance that assures them that the total occupancy is a benign and manageable 97 at a time when  there is barely elbow room within. A more accurate number would be the display number times 38 plus 12,400  (the ever present floating population a.k.a Mustafa's constant) minus one (That is, if you are still  outside.)

The store is laid out in such a way that no matter how long (or short) your shopping list is, it takes you  roughly 3 hours to pick out the stuff. A fraction of this time, upwards of 96%, is spent in navigating  through the aisles which are comfortably wide enough for a worm. Some parents firmly believe that if there  was one place to teach their kids life's lessons, it would be the aisles of Mustafa's. With their shopping  carts firmly Wedged between two shelves, blocking everybody, they will let their kid pick out the 500gm  packet of chana dal from amidst a maddening array of all kinds of dals known to mankind - a test that Chef  Sanjeev Kapoor failed. Twice. 

Then there are the folks who are in the store because it is their idea of a leisurely evening stroll. They  float at nearly 2kmpy (kilo microns per year) past shelf after shelf, pushing their near-empty cart,  inspecting everything that comes in their line of sight. Then there is the sleep-walking tourist, usually  on a layover at Changi on his way to India, who, upon setting foot into the store, will enter an excited  state and will try to be at all sections at the same time and appears as a blur to the others. I also have fond memories of waiting for the only elevator, my fingers turning blue from the loaded plastic bags that I'm carrying, while a set of parents encourage their daughter, all of 24 inches and 25  months, to reach out to press the elevator button. The girl turns around and beams at her dad after  pressing the wrong button. The dad, ever the patient teacher, gently chides her, "Chotu, we need to go  uuuup (finger pointing upwards). But you pressed the dooooown (finger pointing downwards) button. Try  again!" without the slightest hint of urgency. 

After negotiating the maze of aisles and the crowds multiple times (we shop from a list committed to  memory), I join the billing line, the end of which is actually in a different postal code. At this time,  the shopper needs to be aware of two rules. 

Rule 1: The person ahead of you in the line will be billing 3 cart loads of stuff as you wait with your  single shopping basket.

Rule 2: Roughly 12 (24 in the weekends) people will rush to take up positions ahead of you when you locate  a counter with a slightly short line. 

In the event that the above incidents don't happen and its the turn of the seemingly innocent person with  just a single basket standing before you in the line, members of his family, till then occupying positions  in other lines will materialize, with a cart each, to satisfy rules 1 and 2. Jumping lines (with carts),  now considered a human rights violation by the UN, can be such a painful experience that I don't realize  that the store stacker just parked a loaded cart of Malaysian pineapples with a wheel sitting on my left  foot. After billing and collecting my groceries, neatly packed in plastic bags that can accommodate a  sedan, we walk out triumphantly, relieved at having survived this sadomasochistic ordeal, and make our way  to the train station, forgetting the items we had left at the security desk, the security tag dangling  from my pocket, and the cart of pineapples still stuck to my foot. 

(Image courtesy: http://farm3.static.flickr.com)

Recipe for aracha maavu

Megaserials (soap operas) provide a quick (pun intended) route to fame for everybody involved in it. Be it the ones relegated to the mornings/afternoons or the ones chosen for prime time slots, every one of them is a winner in one way or the other, with a devoted viewership that have come to accept the cast of their chosen soaps as part of their own family and will not let anything come in the way of their watching the day's episode. Those thirty minutes are their idea of "quality time" where temporal needs can wait, guests are unwelcome and a power failure is hell. If you are a director, real or self styled, not wanting to be left out and looking for the right mix to get your own megaserial up and going, here are my 2 cents.

1. The lead lady

A generic lady with passable good looks, preferably a has been actress that has just crossed her use-by date with very little prospects on the silver screen. These are the only known qualifications. Any of her incompetencies will be glossed over by the story (and the public) as it sails aimlessly, yet smoothly, for the next few years. Usually a single lady or separated from her husband, she will be shown to wear only sarees and a handbag will always be slung around her shoulders: two things that can make nearly anybody look responsible and capable of taking it on the chin. She will be shown to rise from extremely humble beginnings to build a business empire that will compete with that of the lead villain. The nature of the business itself could be vague but should be run out of a plush office and talk would always be about tenders, quotations, profits and orders. 

2. The mother

Another washed up actress of still older vintage to play the mother to no. 1. This lady, preferably widowed, must definitely have been wronged in the recent past - either by her morally corrupt husband or a dead husband's relatives, or by the society in general. She must have a story to tell in some future episode.

3. The villain

In the family oriented soaps, this will be played by the aunts. The aunts, worth a post of their own, should be evil personified and wrapped in a sari, always scheming and plotting against someone either criminally or politically. In the upscale soaps, aired during prime time, this could be a well built person that won't think twice about committing any kind of crime and bend any law with the sole aim to bring misery and misfortune to the lead lady and her family: in other words, the male version of the aunt but definitely less evil. He must be highly religious (strictly Hindu), have a typically threatening name in chaste Tamil (Kaliaperumal, Sankarapandian, Mechinaarkiniyasivan, etc)

4. The father

A generic male to play the father of no. 1. If by chance, this father guy is shown to be still alive, he must be definitely separated from no. 2 and should be a successful businessman with a happy (second) family driving around in expensive cars. In the rarest of cases when the parents are still living together, although for only a few episodes, he must be all or any of the following:

a. a highly ethical person, rooted in moral principles and high values

b. retired from an ordinary job (and hence should be seen lying around on an easy-chair in white dhoti and banian)

c. physically challenged or atleast with an ailing heart

Note: If separated, leave the back door open for yourself by showing the separation as a result of circumstances beyond this guy's control. 

5. The family

Throw in a bunch of siblings with the only consideration that the sisters outnumber the brothers. The sisters should each have a pressing problem - marital (preferred), mental health (compulsory), professional (good enough). The brother must be educationally challenged, professionally disadvantaged and in general, up to no good, showing up occasionally to clench his teeth and mouth dialogs highlighting their plight and his inability to act. They all must live their sorry (yet honorable) lives hand to mouth in a rented place with plastering coming off the walls. 

6. The support system 

An extremely good person, typically male, of high moral standing - the maanju maanju nalladhu pannra type guy - that is either a business associate of the lead lady and must have wallowed with her during her early days and risen to a good position along with her or somebody holding a high office that is aware of the sterling qualities. Sharing a platonic relationship with no. 1, he will not be corrupted by power, position or money and will stay the course in helping the lead lady out at any cost even when his intentions are questioned by the lead herself, which almost always happens.

7. The lead male

(This section intentionally left blank.)

8. The cops

Two additional commissioners. The first one, extremely honest and moral, should always be a phone call away with a team to attend on the lead lady's family problems. The second one, the exact opposite in nature, must be working overtime to hinder the first.  

9. The other stuff

A rose is a rose but a single word title with a ring to it is a winner. Some samples include Kolangal (extremely knotty), Anandham (is what is missing here), Sondham (Wish I could have chosen my relatives), Bandham (Why me?). You get the drift? If all such words have been taken, which is very likely, just give it the name of the lead lady. Then get a leading cinema lyricist to pen a highly philosophical song set to tune by a good enough music director. Over time, it will have tattooed itself on to people's consciousness strong enough to force them to drop what they are doing and park themselves in front of the telly. 

10. Oh, and the story

I almost overlooked this small nuisance. All that is required is a seed - a happy family that has fallen on hard times brought upon them by a set of relatives or the villain. 

Throw in all the ingredients listed above and let it ferment on air for a month and something will definitely germinate. This seedling will then be nourished by the life force called TRP ratings and will soon bloom into a high-yielding, self-sustaining tree under the able care of the sponsors and the TV channel. And while the audience wipe their tears, you can head to the bank, laughing. 

(Image courtesy: Kaipullai's photostream at flickr.com/photos/kaipullai/399585499)

Naan Kadavul - My thoughts

After years in the making, numerous delays, changes in the cast and uncertainties, director Bala's Naan Kadavul has  finally hit the screens. Given the long gap since his previous release, his past movies and the hype  surrounding this project, the expectations were naturally high and Bala, in my opinion, has not diasppointed.  Naan Kadavul has turned out be an emotionally haunting movie that has been worth the long wait.  

The tag line, Aham Brahmasmi - which nearly sums up the movie, is a very debatable topic and trying to  spin a celluloid tale around this can be a very tricky exercise that offers a high risk path to high  rewards. To his credit, Bala has almost pulled off a neat trick with his abilities. 

The story has two tracks running in parallel and intercepts only at the later stages to provide a poignant  climax. The movie begins in the city of Kasi, where a father comes in search of his son Rudra (Arya), who  he had left in an ashram there, heeding the warnings of astrologers that his son would bring ruin to his  family. The father locates his son who has become an aghori, a sect of sadhus who believe that they are  God incarnates and possess the power to give moksha (prevent future births) to others. Returning to his  native Malaikovil, Rudra continues his ascetic ways much to his parents' grief who, at one stage, realize  that they have lost their son for good. Malaikovil is also where Thandavan runs a macabre business of  owning disfigured beggars and appropriating their collections. Hamsavalli (Pooja) is a blind girl who  finds herself caught in his web and suffers at his hands. Rudra, seen as someone with special powers,  lives an isolated life hardly mixing with anyone. He spends most of his time smoking ganja and utters some  high decibel verses but for the most part takes no part in what happens around him. When things come to a  head, Rudra gets involved in the proceedings and brings relief to some and delivers justice in his own  way. 

While the more common view of death is that of an unfortunate happening, the movie tries to take the other  view - that of death as a relief to someone who is under extreme agony and has very little to live for.  The protagonist of the movie seems to be Hamsavalli rather than Rudra. The latter is shown as an  instrument in the deliverance of the former and relieve her of her wordly sufferings. Both Arya and Pooja  have been doing the odd movies but with Naan kadavul, they have announced their arrival in style and  couldn't have asked for a better launch pad to propel themselves higher. The last scene where Hamsavalli  pleads with Rudra for relief is particularly powerful and Pooja has done a great job. Arya does not have  much opportunity to showcase his emoting skills but does his part really well, daring to take on a  radically different role. 

Arya's character comes across as just a tad undercooked. We directly get introduced to Rudra as the aghori  ascetic and his unusual ways. Bala could have dwelt a bit more on developing Rudra and his transformation  and his losing his earlier identity and gaining a new one that could have lent more depth. It was also a  bit disappointing that the story moves rather quickly away from Kasi to Malaikovil which left me wanting  more. On the same note, Pooja's character was scripted really well. It was refreshing to see Brahmins  getting portrayed in a positive light in a Bala movie - a significant deviation from his earlier way of  taking a dig at the community. I also wish that he grows over his fetish for including a dance routine for  an old movie song no matter how out of place it looks. 

The movie throws light on the hitherto unexplored and dark side of begging and the people that actually  make a living off it. What was more horrible was when these unfortunate people actually laugh and have fun  in spite of what life has thrown at them. Against the backdrop of their misery and suffering, the jokes  and funny situations strike a different note and only add to the pathos. The scene where the old man  breaks down when his grandchild is taken away from him and mouths obscenities brings out their plight  better than anything else. 

Arthur A. Wilson's camera work has splendidly captured the grandeur of Kasi and has done equally well to  portray the stark surroundings of the beggar dwellings. Ilayaraja's background score is subdued almost  unnoticeable in the sense that it has been beautifully woven into the storyline and doesn't stick out. The  lyrics for the song "pichai pathiram" can rattle one's soul: athanai selvamum un idathil, naan pichaikku  selvathu evv vidathil, verum paathiram ullathu en idathil, athan soothiramo athu un idathil. 

Naan kadavul is easily Bala's best one so far and takes you through a journey that very few have attempted  to make. Right from the word go, the story holds you tightly and lets go at the end and it feels like a burden has been lifted off one's shoulders. It is, in its own way, a feel good movie that goes for the  jugular and can set one thinking, even if only for a while. 

Doing a song and a dance

Where I live, I get two Tamil channels - Vijay and Sun. While both of them have their share of tear jerking megaserials and a host of programs living off the movie industry it is their respective mutations of American Idol that I find least palatable. I can flick on the telly during prime time and I'm guaranteed to watch someone crooning earnestly on one channel and catch a blighter shaking a limb on the other - replete with an elaborate set, accompanying artists, a captive audience and judges with questionable credentials and a loud compere. Families, employees, individuals and just about any member of human society is playing a part, competing against one another in a hundred different combinations of individuals, teams, pairs, all on their way up to a prize and hence glory, under the glare of arc lights and the public eye.

Now, I don't have a bias between the two arts themselves but between the song and dance shows, the song variety seems to be less irritating. I think the structured options available to hone one's singing and the quality of judges seem to be the main reasons behind this. It is common to find boys and girls getting trained in music (classical/carnatic). Training in classical music provides one with a set of transferable skills that can be leveraged in the arena of film music to their advantage and the solid grounding in technique makes them a better singer, whatever be the genre. Contrast this with the case of dancing. Relative to singing, fewer numbers take up lessons in classical dancing, much less in cine dancing. Moreover, learning the former doesn't necessarily equip the practitioner to do well in the latter, which, over the years, has been reduced to a set of exercise drills done in bad taste and skimpy dresses, where grace is conspicuous in its absence, thus making it appear to be the low hanging fruit that is within the reach of just about anyone. While it is not fair to expect a Salangai Oli in every movie that is being made, fewer performers of quality, and falling standards have combined to make film dancing, or whatever passes for it these days, as the exclusive fiefdom of a handful of dance masters and their students, who in their quest for innovation and pandering to the "paying public" have only added to the isolation to the extent of a stigma being attached to it rather firmly. If this theory is valid, which I think it is, then it not only explains the calibre of the participants in these shows but also that of the judges.

The shows involving the TV personalities - armed with a license to entertain us - have a flavor of their own. Since most of them have been on screen, by showcasing their skills in cooking to dancing and everything inbetween, these shows are more elaborate and involve a lot of practice sessions which are also meticulously documented and broadcast for the entertainment starved viewers.

Since there appears to be very little by way of guidelines to gauge the performances, the pronouncements of the judges are mostly arbitrary, definitely vague, often questionable and always hollow. The exchanges between the judger and the judgee, which has to happen a few seconds after the performance is over, even before the contestant has had a chance to get a breath, can lead to some very fine moments on television.

"Neenga eppdi panneenga?" at a contestant who has just finished his routine and is sweating profusely and panting equally profusely.

"Master....(puff)....(puff)..." volunteers the judgee.

"Illa innikki neenga eppdi pannadha nenaikkareenga?" persists the judge rather solemnly.

What you've read above is now a compulsory routine that leaves me wondering as to who is playing the role of judge.

"Unga opening nalla irundhudhu...hand nalla panneenga..." intervenes the second judge morosely, but stirs the pot by, "anaa...idhu dhaan unga best-a?"

The tension is now palpable and the ball has been put back in the judgee's court.

"Illa master...adhu" offers the judgee as if in defence against an as yet unknown charge.

"Unga dance-la heavy movements avvlova illa...but nalla sync therinjichu" observes the keen first judge.

"Song energy nalla irukku but konjam steps miss aavudhu" states the chief guest of the show, considered an accomplished dancer.

A few more of such exchanges, each one contradicting the previous one and heading nowhere in particular, robs the judgee of any sense of what lies ahead and leaves him gawking completely clueless. The judges and the chief guest look on like a firing squad would look at someone they are about to decimate and an eerie silence descends on the proceedings.

At this juncture, the episode's guest does everyone concerned a favor and breaks the silence with a "You have been selected" with feigned excitement, at which point the contestant goes down on his knees and into wild convulsions and makes gestures that seem to indicate emotions that can be inferred as a mixture of relief, gratitude and happiness, in that order, and the judges, priding themselves on having added drama to the show, break into an all-knowing, sagely smile, and the audience, which must, by law, include the performer's mom with tears in her eyes, breaks into a round of applause and the compere states the obvious in a high pitch and throws in jargon like "spot selection/cool zone/safe zone" and the show sails on to another contestant, episode and a season. A celebration of mediocrity and a lesson in marketing.

(Image courtesy: www.dreamstime.com)

Adhaan Nagesh!

Tamil cinema's evergreen comedian has passed away. Perhaps calling him a mere comedian would be doing injustice to the man's all round acting capabilities. To put it right, Nagesh was an actor cast in a comedian's mould. The fact that his talent as a character actor went largely untapped by great directors of yesteryears leaves us all with a lingering feeling of what might have been.

For generations of movie goers, Nagesh was the quintessential comedian, providing comic relief by essaying a plethora of roles that were genuinely funny. His roles in movies like Server Sundaram, Then mazhai, Bama Vijayam and of course my personal favorites Kadhalikka neramillai and Thiruvilayadal will remain as evergreen ones, eliciting laughter for generations to come. His role as Vaithy in Thillana Mohanambal showed us glimpses of his acting depth by portraying a comedy-villain - something that only M R Radha was famous for earlier. Perfectly at ease in essaying serious ones, his association with KB provided us with Edhir neechal (Madhu the orphan) and Neerkumizhi (the terminally ill patient) where he played the central characters and was thus afforded a wider canvas and could rightfully stake his claim to be counted as among the best actors in the trade. It was probably an open secret that he could have given his larger-than-life contemporaries (read MGR, and the two Ganesans - Sivaji and Gemini) a run for their money had he been allowed to compete with them on an even keel. 

The latter part of his career, largely resurrected by Kamal Haasan, brought out a series of movies with roles carved out just for him. His characters in MMKR (the greedy manager Avinashi), Avvai Shanmughi (make-up man Joseph) and Panchatantram (Yugi's f-i-l) spring to mind. Seeing him join forces with Kamal, matching him in timing and surpassing him in dialog delivery was indeed a treat to watch. His screen presence pumped life into these characters and appealed to an entire generation of people that did not grow up watching his movies. I can't think of any other actor capable of playing the corpse in Magalir Mattum any better than Nagesh. 

In stark contrast with the loud and above-the-top comedy that was staple diet in Tamil movies, Nagesh brought a certain measure of subtlety to his roles. His portrayal of the impoverished poet Dharumi in Thiruvilayadal will easily rank among the best in any compilation of the best comedy sequences in Indian cinema. Of particular interest is the scene where, while interacting with Sivaji, he lifts Sivaji's angavasthra jarigai and compares it with his own - something that could easily be overlooked but added his touch to the part. His facial expressions and vocal modulations combined with his body language, influenced strongly by the American comedian Jerry Lewis, breathed fresh life into comedy tracks and brought them outside of the confines of mere funny exchanges.  

This veteran was not the recipient of many big awards and titles in his heydays, probably because of being slotted as a "comedian". Perhaps, instituting a "Nagesh award for acting" may be an appropriate tribute that we can pay him. 

I get a pleasure by wearing, or even looking at, a well worn pair of shorts or t-shirt that I cannot wear in public. Likewise, Nagesh, although not very active anymore on-screen, could give me that comfort just by knowing that he was alive and kicking somewhere out there and that is not to be anymore. In Nambiar's passing away, the Tamil cine industry lost a great actor but in Nagesh, it has lost a consummate performer. 

(Image courtesy: www.kollywoodtoday.com)