25 years of Indian: when grandeur had no limit

In a telephone booth in Hong Kong, freedom fighter Senapathy calls a police officer in India and says this best dialogue of the film: “Indian ku saave kidayathu (Indian will never die).” He then stylishly wears his sun glasses, fixes his hair and sets off on a long walk. AR Rahman’s goosebumps-inducing score keeps us glued to the screen as end credits roll.

‘Indian’, directed by Shankar and starring Kamal Haasan, completes 25 years. The 90s kids are adults today but nostalgia is irresistible. The final scene of the film (‘Hindustani’ in Hindi & ‘Bharateeyadu’ in Telugu) is fresh in the minds of those who watched it on the big screen in 1996.

Today, vigilantism, Shankar’s pet theme, feels like a jaded concept. Perhaps no director is as obsessed as him with the idea of a common man fighting corruption. But ‘Indian’ was the first film that showed us Shankar’s heroes could kill for ‘justice’. Of course, the idea grew stronger in Shankar’s head and the murderers got gruesome in ‘Anniyan’ (2004).

Corruption is still a way of life in the country and the film’s themes are very relatable. Having said that, two aspects fuelled the film’s blockbuster success. Firstly, it’s the peculiar allure of an old man gunning down dishonest people. Secondly, Shankar’s packaging of his product was marked with sheer grandeur. If cinema is an escape, then Shankar (during his prime), had the tickets.

Be it the extremely convincing prosthetic make up on Kamal, the visually gripping flashback portion of India’s freedom struggle (Jeeva is the cinematographer), the incorporation of ancient martial art Varma Kalai in action sequences and the imaginative special effects in the ‘Maya Machindra’ song, everything delivered the shock of the new. Backed by an ambitious producer A M Rathnam, Shankar gave a bang for our bucks.

Though Shankar’s solutions to the problems seem slightly superficial, he never dumbed-down the content. Sujatha’s dialogues deserve major credit for this. His words gave us the chill and hit where it hurt.

For instance, take the scene where Senapathy kills the corrupt hospital dean (Nizhalgal Ravi). A livid Senapathy, describing the difference between a developed nation and India, tells the doctor, “Anga kadamaiya meeruradhuku dha lanjam, aana inga kadamaiya seriyuradhuke lanjam (There, people are bribed to go against their job but here people take bribe to do their basic duties).”

Sujatha’s humour is criminally underrated. He writes terrific satirical lines for the famous duo Goundamani and Senthil who are at loggerheads again as usual. Shankar badly misses Sujatha as his latest film’s writing lacked life.

It was a time when Rahman was producing era-defining music. Films of Mani Ratnam and Shankar have brought the best out of him. Always, he manages to give unexpected beauties in their films. The high-spirited ‘Telephone Manipol’ and adrenaline pumping ‘Kappaleri Poyachu’ has aged brilliantly.

For Kamal, a dual role was never a venture outside his comfort zone. He found new ways to ace the challenge. Playing Senapathy, his body language and chilling expressions are brilliant. A popular trivia is that the role was written for Rajinikanth. But Kamal successfully gives his own stylish and ‘mass’ touches to Senapathy’s unending anger.

One scene that deserves to be kept in a museum is when Senapathy murders his own son in the climax. While he appears cold-blooded about the act, his eyes give away the pain of killing his own son. Kamal rarely gives his less than 100 per cent and it’s impossible for one to finish the film without the feeling of having watched one of the finest performances in Indian cinema.

It’s unfortunate to see the film’s sequel struggle in a legal tangle. Hope Shankar, Lyca Productions and Kamal settle the issue so that the old man can do his thing again. Till then, happy 25th to this timeless classic!