This year has been the busiest Christmas of my life. A gray Christmas with nothing in particular to rejoice over. In the evening it was the worst Christmas ever. Literally a finished Christmas.
When I heard that Anil Nedumangad was dead, at first it felt like someone had hit him on the head with a basket. Take some time to reduce that crumb. Anil was not my closest friend. We have no such significant connection other than being a character in the movie Skirt that I wrote.
Anil was first seen as the host of Kairali TV’s Jurassic World. Then I saw Deepan Sivaraman as the actor in the play Spinal Code. It was while sitting in my Maharaja’s hostel room that Deepan first spoke about Marquez’s detailed plan for making the play “Chronicle of a Death Forgotten Spinal Code”.
The play was performed at the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan Hall in Ernakulam during the writing of the Best Actor film years later. After watching it, Martin Prakat and I decided to cast Sunil Sukhada and Prathap in the film for the first time. Gopalan is the one who pays the debts to all except Gopalan.
The first dialogue in the skirt was by Anil himself. “Hello. I ‘m not a character in this movie. Before the movie starts, there is no storytelling program. Even in big movies, Sreenivasan Sar and Ranjith Sar do the storytelling program. Here’s a special one … I’m hearing the story of this movie, are you kidding me about it? …… That’s the greatest qualification. “
Anil, who became the narrator, in the very first scene easily brought people closer to the skirt story of the alcoholics. The audience’s attention was drawn to what was going to be said. Like the mastermind of Sanskrit dramas, Anil, who has taken the strings of the story in the film, has been dragged into a deep darkness by death. Today was also the birthday of Sachiyettan, who gave Anil the best role of his career.
The festive nights in the rented rooms where I stayed had a constant view of the back door the next day: looking back. A pile of charred heads of beedi sticks that had been smoked last night. The last heat of the year is going to burn in the cup that says 2020. Looking back, the coals of the lives of many loved ones are piled up at the door of memories. I shudder again at the realization that there is no longer enough time to think from the coals sitting on the gamma between the fingers and the lips to the nose piercing to the ashtray spy.
Have you not seen the indifference of the slaughterers who, without even the slightest mercy, drive the sheep to their deaths, enjoying the grass and straw? Death is the sadistic indifference of the director who pulls the staggering artists off the stage so unexpectedly. Besides, as many people just say, a non-existent clown is nothing.
Anil wanted a role in the film he wanted to direct. Before that you were gone. I ‘m not sure if the writer will see it until the movie is out. Dear Anil, You go in peace. Let the game continue for the time being in this Theater of Cruelty with no guarantee of how long it can continue. No matter who comes or goes, some shows will continue.
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