The pen never ran out of ink: A tribute to K Bhagyaraj (1953-2026)

A middle-aged schoolteacher goes to a vegetable shop.  The unsuspecting vendor invites him warmly, expecting a brief and productive interaction.  Little does the shop owner know that the teacher is a worldly-wise man who will investigate every piece of produce that he will purchase.  Anticipation turns into exasperation soon, with the owner looking to desperately get rid of the teacher from the premises.  Zinger after memorable zinger follows.  Here is the catch: the hero of this story is not the shopkeeper.  It is the teacher who is the butt of the jokes.  The film, of course, is “Mundhanai Mudichu.”  The teacher – also the writer-director – is K Bhagyaraj, who sadly passed away last week.  Many tributes have pointed out how he played the common man whose foibles and idiosyncrasies were the focal points of his films.  A persona that was disarming and charming in its own manner.  But what I wish to focus on is K Bhagyaraj, the writer. 

Bhagyaraj, as a writer, was a purist.  To him, the script and screenplay were sacrosanct.  Everything related to the film was in service of that.  It was evident in how in most of his films, the female lead always had a meaty role, sometimes overshadowing him.  It was seen in the way character actors and comedians (such as the aforementioned shopkeeper) stole the scene from right under his nose.  The word “stole” seems wrong because of the fact that he was the one who wrote the scene in the first place!  The strong anchoring to plot meant that even in his lesser films, there was never really a problem with the flow of scenes or questionable logic.  I cannot remember a Bhagyaraj film that had me bored.

“Mundhanai Mudichu” is seen as the pinnacle of his career, given the universal critical acclaim and the stunning box office success.  But to me, his best work was in the period prior.  He had an amazing run in the early 1980s where he made a variety of films at a fast clip, all memorable in their own way.  My favorite film of his is not “Mundhanai Mudichu.”  It is “Mouna GeethangaL.” 

“Mouna GeethangaL” was arguably the first film in Tamil cinema that offered a lifelike, microscopic view of a newly married couple, replete with their mutual affection, desires and even mischief.  There was something absolutely real in the conversations between Bhagyaraj and that acting powerhouse, Saritha.  There is a sequence where Bhagyaraj makes a list of women in their neighborhood, trying to proclaim that he is a squeaky-clean man, not attracted by any of them!  Pat comes a stinging question from Saritha, “How come you know all these details of these women?!”  A hilarious argument ensues.  The laughs are non-stop.  But if you watch the scene closely, not one laugh feels manufactured.  So organic is the humor. 

The affair aspect of “Mouna GeethangaL” seems a bit regressive in its handling when viewed now.  But even then, the strength of Saritha’s character is undeniable.  She is no easy pushover – far from it, in fact.  She probably had more agency than most female leads back in the day.  That was the thing about Bhagyaraj’s women characters.  They seemed to have been burdened with flawed, idiosyncratic men, whom they had to forgive and reform.  But on the flip side, they ended up having the best author-backed role in the films and walked away with all the laurels.

Much has been written about his stint in politics.  I am largely apolitical.  So, it is not something that I wish to dwell on.  But I do think that his foray into politics in the late 80s influenced his writing choices a bit.  Political innuendos and references made their way into the narratives.  Photographs of MGR and references to his political leanings featured in scenes and song lines.  For someone who had been accustomed to his almost ruthless adherence to script and screenplay, I didn’t quite enjoy these distractions.  Thankfully, this was short lived.  And he recovered form in the early 90s with films more in his style such as “Sundara Gandam” and “Rasukutty.” (As an aside, you have not lived until you have heard Bhanupriya’s rendition of “Devane…” in the former film.  It is arguably Bhagyaraj’s most hilarious scene ever.)

His last few films were varied in terms of quality and box office success.  But by then, he had built up a filmography that very few in Tamil cinema can boast of.  Even if there was not the prolificity of his heyday, one thing remained constant – his respect for writers and the art of writing.  During his peak years, he was arguably the only filmmaker who had a title credit for his story discussion group which included veterans like Kalaignanam and Thooyavan.  Many filmmakers have recounted anecdotes of his painstaking story discussions where every sequence would be ground to the finest detail.  In his later years, he was actively involved in the writers’ association.  And was known to have had a sense of equitability towards budding story writers over their intellectual rights.  In some way, shape or form, the writer in him was always alive. 

Alas, the writer is no more.  But the stamp left by his ink on Tamil cinema will be indelible for years to come.  May you rest in peace, Bhagyaraj Sir.