Five Lamps for Ulaganayagan: Notes from Diwali, written on the night before I arrive, for a man who turns 72 today.

 Five Lamps for Ulaganayagan

Notes from Diwali, written on the night before I arrive, for a man who turns 72 today.

Before the first cracker goes up, I walk through a country of doorways. Every doorway has a diya, and every diya has a story. Some stories are about gold and sweets. Some are about a film that came with the festival and never left. Today I want to light five of them for Kamal Haasan, who has spent decades giving my nights a second face.

Lamp One: The Eve Lamp (Varumayin Niram Sigappu, 1980)

This flame was lit the night before I arrived. On 6 November 1980, this film reached theatres a day ahead of my own date, so it waited at the threshold like a guest who came early. Three educated youths struggle in a hard city, with Sridevi beside Kamal. Its colour is not festive gold but the red of a city that wears people down. I like having it here. Not every home lights its lamps in celebration, and Kamal never forgot those homes.

Lamp Two: The Brother’s Lamp (Thoongathe Thambi Thoongathe, 1983)

On 4 November 1983, on my own day, this film opened and ran for 275 days. Kamal plays a jobless youth and a rich man returning from abroad, two men with one face and two destinies. I picture a family in 1983, a plate of murukku between them, arguing cheerfully about which brother they would rather have as a son-in-law. That kind of argument is my favourite music.

Lamp Three: The Dancer’s Lamp (Punnagai Mannan, 1986)

On 1 November 1986, this dancer’s love story came in with my first light. It stayed in theatres for 25 weeks, through a festival full of rivals. Its romance is quiet and wounded, and it glows best after midnight, when the crackers have gone quiet and only a few small flames remain. This is the lamp I light when the house is finally still.

Lamp Four: The Laughing Lamp (Michael Madana Kama Rajan, 1990)

On 17 October 1990, on my own day, this comedy opened and ran for 175 days. Four identical quadruplets, a storm of mix-ups, and Crazy Mohan’s sharp dialogue. If I were allowed one joke of my own, it would sound like this film playing in a crowded hall while the fireworks burst outside. It is the lamp that makes me laugh the loudest.

Lamp Five: The Village Lamp (Thevar Magan, 1992)

This is the lamp that sounds like a whole village laughing at once. Kamal wrote it as well as starring in it, and it became one of his biggest blockbusters on Deepavali, beating Rajinikanth’s ‘Pandian’ in their festive clash. When I walk through a village on my festival night, I hear something like this film in the air: sweets being shared, neighbours arguing over rangoli, children running with sparklers. It is a film that belongs to the crowd.

So, Kamal, here is what I bring you on your 72nd birthday: five lamps, a basket of sweets, and a sky full of crackers. You have spent your career proving that a festival can hold a story, not just a celebration. May the year ahead be as bright as these five films, and may every doorway you walk through carry a small, steady flame.

Happy birthday, Ulaganayagan. 

Yours

Diwali

Happy Diwali to everyone who is lighting a lamp tonight.(From Senthil)