FILMS THEN AND NOW

 “Digital technology has given filmmakers wings—but some have forgotten how to fly.” — Anonymous

Watching films has always been one of life’s favourite pastimes. But back when we were young—before television, the internet, or mobile phones—films weren’t just a pastime. They were the only source of entertainment we had.

In our family, the movie craze ran deep. My mother, in particular, was almost addicted to films, and so were her sisters. They never missed a movie—good, bad, or forgettable. My father, on the other hand, had different tastes. He preferred stage plays, classical music, and dance performances. We children, naturally, followed our mother’s lead.

Theatres Then and Now

Movie theatres in those days were nothing like the plush halls of today. Many were just makeshift buildings, with no chairs or benches. We sat on bare sand floors, and the old projectors would often stop midway. Still, it was magical. Over time, things improved. We graduated from open-air sheds to large, air-cooled—and later air-conditioned—theatres. Today, we have sleek multiplexes, mini-theatres in malls, and of course, OTT platforms. The films themselves evolved—from silent reels to talkies, from black-and-white to vibrant colour.

Malayalam Films

We began our film journey with Malayalam cinema. Though the first silent film Vigathakumaran (1930) and the first talkie Balan (1938) predated us, our first real experience was Padatha Painkili (The Silent Nightingale). We only watched two films with our father—Sita and Rama Bhakta Hanuman—both religious. Though Neelakuyil (1954), a landmark film that won the President’s Silver Medal, was widely discussed, we somehow missed it.

Satyan and Prem Nazir were the giants of their time—Satyan, with his intense, grounded performances, and Prem Nazir, the charming, evergreen hero. Miss Kumari often played their leading lady. Later came stars like Lalitha, Padmini, Ragini (the Trivandrum Sisters), followed by Ambika, Sheela, Sarada, and Jayabharathi. Shobhana, Urvashi, and Manju Warrier arrived in later years.

After Satyan and Prem Nazir passed on, Mammootty and Mohanlal took over and came to define an era. They became so familiar that they now seem part of every Malayali’s daily life.

Interestingly, it’s often hard to say whether the lead actors or the character artists were better in Malayalam films. Artists like Sankaradi, Oduvil Unnikrishnan, Kottarakkara Sreedharan Nair, Nedumudi Venu, Sukumari, Kaviyoor Ponnamma, Philomina and KPAC Lalitha brought unmatched depth to their roles.

Malayalam films, like their Bengali counterparts, had a unique flavour: strong stories, earthy characters, realistic settings, and gentle humour. I fondly recall S.P. Pillai and Adoor Bhasi’s comic acts. With the arrival of Jagathy Sreekumar, Malayalam comedy reached new heights. It’s a tragedy that a road accident silenced such an exceptional talent.

Some college-time favourites remain etched in memory. The haunting Bhargavi Nilayam, scripted by Vaikom Muhammad Basheer. Chemmeen (1965), which portrayed life in the fishing community and won the President’s Gold Medal. And Nirmalyam (1974), where P.J. Antony gave an unforgettable performance as an oracle.

Living outside Kerala for many years, I missed Malayalam cinema. But when I returned, I was fortunate to watch Manichitrathazhu (1993), a psychological thriller by Fazil. Shobhana’s portrayal won her the National Award—and my eternal admiration. I could watch it endlessly.

Malayalam cinema is known for its offbeat gems. Films like Swayamvaram, Elipathayam, Adaminte Variyellu, Mathilukal, Kanchana Sita, Kodiyettam, and Agrharathile Kazhutha were pathbreakers. Directors like Adoor Gopalakrishnan, G. Aravindan, K.G. George, Bharathan, M.T. Vasudevan Nair, and Shaji N. Karun crafted films that left a lasting impact. Sadly, many of them are no longer with us.

Tamil Films

Thanks to my mother’s fluency in Tamil, we also watched Tamil movies. Kalyana Parisu, Nenjil Oru Aalayam, Thiruvilayadal—we saw them all. Icons like Sivaji Ganesan, Gemini Ganesan, M.G. Ramachandran, Savitri, B. Saroja Devi, and J. Jayalalithaa lit up the screen. Interestingly, MGR and Jayalalithaa parlayed their screen popularity into successful political careers. Nagesh, the beloved comedian, kept us all laughing.

Hindi Films

Language was never a barrier. Hindi films were, and still are, loved across India. My mother adored them, despite not knowing the language. I remember her becoming emotional while recounting scenes from Mother India, Do Aankhen Barah Haath, Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam, Bhabhi and others.

We grew up watching masterpieces like Mughal-e-Azam, Anarkali, Bandini, Sujata, Kagaz Ke Phool, Madhumati, Hum Dono, Guide, and Khamoshi. We admired Nutan and Waheeda Rahman immensely and never missed their films.

The earlier actresses were Surayya, Nalini Jaywant, Madhubala and others. Later came actresses like Sharmila Tagore, Zeenat Aman, Rekha, Hema Malini, Sridevi, and Madhuri Dixit. On the men’s side, there was Balraj Sahni (unforgettable in Do Bigha Zamin), Ashok Kumar, Dilip Kumar, Dev Anand, and Raj Kapoor. Pran was the villain in most films; Mehmood and Johny Walker the comedians. Kapoor’s films—Awara, Sangam, Mera Naam Joker, Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai, Teesri Kasam—were hugely popular. Dev Anand too left a trail of hits.

Pran was the villain in most films; Mehmood and Johny Walker the comedians.

Then arrived Rajesh Khanna—the first real superstar—followed by the intense Amitabh Bachchan. Together, they delivered the deeply moving Anand. While Rajesh was adored, Amitabh became a legend and still commands the screen well into his eighties.

One film I particularly remember is Satyajit Ray’s (the timeless pioneer of Indian Cinema) Shatranj Ke Khiladi, based on a story by Munshi Prem Chand. Ray’s Pather Panchali and Apu Trilogy won global acclaim. Though some criticized him for showing India’s poverty, his films were humane, realistic, and rich in artistry.

English Films

In college, English films were a rage. That was the golden age of Hollywood. We’d watch them at Sree Kumar Theatre in Trivandrum—The Ten Commandments, Ben-Hur, The Bicycle Thief, Roman Holiday, The Birds, The Sound of Music, Doctor Zhivago... such magical experiences! After starting work, I stopped watching them. I’m not sure if the films changed—or I did.

Film Songs

Film songs—Hindi or regional—are inseparable from Indian cinema. In my time, songs touched every emotion. Early Malayalam songs were sung by K. Purushothaman, P. Leela, Santha P. Nair, and M.L. Vasanthakumari. Then came Jesudas, Jayachandran, S. Janaki, P. Susheela, Vani Jairam, Chitra, Sujatha and others. Jesudas, rightly called “Gaanagandharvan” (Celestial Singer), ruled for decades.

Hindi songs transcended language barriers. Saigal had a cult following. Rafi and Lata were national treasures. Asha Bhosale brought boldness, Mukesh his sorrowful sweetness. Hemant Kumar, Manna Dey—they all had their own magic. Today’s stars like Shreya Ghoshal continue the legacy, but the old songs had soul.

During the golden age of Hindi cinema, a group of highly talented Lyricists penned some of the unforgettable film songs. Among them were Anand Bhakshi, Sahir Ludhianvi, Shakeel Badayuni, Kaifi Azmi, Naushad, Shailendra and Hasrat Jaipuri.

Many old Hindi songs were poetic gems, their Urdu-tinged lyrics adding romance and grace. Songs like “Diwana Hua Badal,” “Abhi Na Jao Chhod Kar,” “Tere Mere Sapne,” “Waqt Ne Kiya”—they linger in memory. I miss the days when songs blared from loudspeakers, when people sang together while walking or working. Now, music is solitary—heard through earbuds, not shared.

Changing Times

Today’s films mirror today’s world—fast-paced, tech-savvy, sharp. As one critic wrote, “Cinema used to be an art of shadows and suggestion. Now it’s a symphony of pixels and precision.” Melodramas about family are fading. An actress once lamented, “There are no roles for mothers or sisters anymore.” But society has changed—joint families gave way to nuclear ones, and films merely reflect that.

Many of the earlier films included dancing by heroes and heroines. Madhubala, Meena Kumari, Padmini, Waheda Rahman, Vaijayantimala, Hema Malini, Sree Devi and Madhuri Dixit excelled themselves in dance performances. The accompanying music was equally captivating. Modern movies unfortunately have no place for classical dances or classical music.

Modern films aim for realism, but often lose the poetry. As someone observed, “Silent films said so much with so little. Today, some films say so little with so much.”

Earlier, actors were well-rounded in more ways than one—physically and emotionally. Today, they are trim, smart, and camera-ready—but somehow, they all look the same. Gone is the gentle charm once found in a single glance from someone like Nutan. We rarely see that kind of grace anymore.

That said, good films are still made. I recently saw two Malayalam films—Home and Kishkindha Kandam. Both had strong stories and tight scripts. But many others disappoint—too many thrillers, too much violence. It’s hard to tell if films are imitating life or the other way around.

Today’s songs, though technically brilliant, often lack depth. Many in my generation still turn to the old melodies, where love, passion, sorrow, and spirituality found voice. I once asked my nephew why today’s songs are so loud. “Because there’s so much noise around us,” he replied. It made perfect sense.

I miss the films that spoke for the poor, that wove nature into their narrative. I remember one Malayalam film where the wind too was a character! Today, nature is beautifully shot—but no longer part of the story.

Every generation clings to its own golden age. We know those times are gone—but memory keeps them alive. And so, like many of my generation, I can only smile wistfully when I hear Raj Kapoor sing: “Jaane Kahaan gaye woh din…” (Where have those days gone?)

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OF DESIGNS

“Great design is about more than good looking products. It has the power to shape how we experience life”— Stephen Bayley, author, critic and columnist

Design—whether man-made or naturally occurring—is a fascinating subject of study. With the advent of three-dimensional printing and other modern technologies, we are now able to craft a vast array of objects in innovative forms. At the same time, science has begun to unravel how patterns emerge in nature. Yet, despite these developments, most of us rarely pause to notice the designs, both simple and complex, surrounding us—whether in everyday objects or the natural world. As someone once aptly said, “A good design is harder to notice than a poor one, because good designs fit our needs so seamlessly.”

Designs of Ordinary Things

I have always been fascinated by the ingenious design of the humble safety pin—so simple, yet so effective. The sharp point is rendered safe by tucking it into a clasp. While its origins trace back to ancient Egypt, it was American mechanic Walter Hunt who perfected its modern form in the 19th century. Remarkably, it remains in common use even today.

Look around at the variety of tables—teapoys, writing desks, ironing boards, workbenches, and stools of all kinds. The same holds true for chairs, almirahs, beds, and other furniture, whose designs have evolved to meet our functional needs, while also appealing aesthetically.

In our gardens, we find a dazzling variety of fruits and flowers. The tools we use to tend them also come in many shapes and sizes. With technological advances, we now even have designer varieties of plants and better agricultural tools.

Our kitchens, too, are filled with an array of utensils, glasses, plates, mugs, and cutlery—each thoughtfully designed for specific functions. One vessel that has always fascinated me is the Kindi, traditionally used in Kerala. This small spouted metal pot, typically made of brass or bronze, is crafted to pour water in a controlled stream—without contaminating the rest—making it both hygienic and aligned with ritual purity. A truly marvellous design!

Even the humble bicycle reflects functional design at its best. In contrast, the designs of aeroplanes, trains, buses, and cars have undergone significant evolution over time. I remember, as a child, seeing only a few car models—Ambassador, Landmaster, and Fiat. Today, we are spoiled for choice, with ultra-luxury vehicles representing the pinnacle of design.

Trains remain the lifeline of everyday travel in India. I’ve journeyed extensively by train in my younger days. Back then, the now-defunct third-class compartments had hard benches, with no cushioning. Families carried large holdalls filled with bedding, clothes, and utensils. Spreading these on the compartment floors allowed everyone—children included—to sleep comfortably during long journeys. The introduction of cushioned second-class seats eliminated the need for those bulky holdalls almost overnight.

Another marvel of modern design is the flush toilet. Even more efficient are the vacuum-operated toilets now being introduced in some planes and trains in India. I do hope they become standard everywhere soon.

Similarly, India boasts an astonishing diversity of clothing, all richly designed with ethnic flairs.

Human beings have been designing homes since ancient times, adapting them to terrain and climate. Today, eco-friendly homes are in vogue. I was fortunate to meet Laurie Baker, the visionary British-born Indian architect who revolutionized affordable, sustainable housing in India, particularly Kerala. He championed the use of local materials and traditional techniques, like the Rat-Trap bond—a double-wall system that reduces construction costs and materials while enhancing insulation. Inspired by his philosophy, we incorporated many of his ideas while building our family home in the 1980s.

My mother’s ancestral home, a traditional Tharavad, was built in the Nalukettu style—four wings arranged around an open courtyard (nadumuttam), following Vastu principles. It beautifully reflects Kerala’s climate, aesthetics, and cultural values. These elegant homes are no longer being constructed, but they remain symbols of ecological and architectural wisdom.

Modern gadgets, too, tell a story of design evolution. Early computers once filled entire rooms; now, sleek laptops fit into our backpacks. The industrial revolution was, in many ways, a design revolution—ushering in mass production. Breakthroughs like radio, television, and mobile phones have reshaped our world.

Faulty Designs

Of course, not all designs are flawless. Take my refrigerator: the vegetable crisper is inconveniently placed at the very bottom, requiring me to use a custom-made stool just to access it, without hurting my back and knees! Thankfully, newer models have moved the crisper to the top.

Our modular kitchen has sharp-edged overhead cabinet doors that I frequently bump into. Why couldn’t they have rounded those edges?

India’s sleek new high-speed trains—Vande Bharat—are a major improvement over the Rajdhani Express trains. However, on a recent short journey, I was dismayed to find no bottle- holders in the compartment. As a result, empty bottles were rolling around on the floor—an avoidable nuisance caused by a small design oversight.

Speaking of trains in India, have you ever noticed how difficult it is to board them, especially the earlier ones? The high steps made it nearly impossible for elderly or physically challenged individuals without help. Simple changes in design could make a world of difference.

I recall my time in the US, way back in the nineties, attending a training program. The water dispensers there were brilliantly designed—when you turned the tap, a stream of water arched directly into your mouth. No paper cups, no water spillage. Efficient, simple, hygienic. As Einstein said, “The best design is the simplest one that works.”

Patterns in Nature

Patterns in nature are equally, if not more, fascinating. What’s surprising is that their explanation lies not in biology, but in mathematics. Patterns in nature often follow the Fibonacci sequence, the golden ratio, fractals, or Mandelbrot sets.

Nature’s Numbering System

Fibonacci numbers—named after Leonardo Fibonacci—form a sequence where each number is the sum of the two preceding it. These numbers appear remarkably often in the natural world, earning them the name “Nature’s Numbering System.”

Take a walk in nature and you’ll see them: in the arrangement of leaves, flower petals, pinecones, and even pineapples. Some flowers—like periwinkle and hibiscus—have 5 petals; lilies have 3; delphiniums may have 8; corn marigolds 13; asters 21; daisies 34, 55, or even 89. Sunflowers may display 89 or 144 florets. The spiral arrangement of petals, at about 0.618034 of a full turn, maximizes exposure to sunlight and other resources.

Golden Ratio

I had heard of the golden ratio long ago, but didn’t quite understand it. Represented by the Greek letter φ (phi), it's approximately equal to 1.618 and appears in nature, art, architecture, and design. It’s considered aesthetically pleasing, creating balance and beauty.

Mario Livio, in his book The Golden Ratio, notes: “Nature loves logarithmic spirals; from sunflowers, seashells, and whirlpools to hurricanes and giant spiral galaxies—it seems that nature chose this marvellous shape as its favourite ornament.”

Though different, the Fibonacci sequence and the golden ratio are closely linked. Dividing one Fibonacci number by its predecessor yields a value that approaches φ as the sequence progresses.

Fractals

Fractals are self-replicating patterns—shapes that look similar at every scale. As someone once put it, “Mother Nature is a hell of a good designer.” Fractals are her blueprint.

You’ll spot fractals in:

• Ferns, where each frond resembles the entire leaf

• Tree branches splitting and re-splitting

• Spiral shells and lightning bolts

• Jagged coastlines, mountains, and clouds

Fractals help us model the complexity of real-world phenomena—from weather systems to computer graphics to biological growth.

Mandelbrot Set

Benoît B. Mandelbrot, a French-American mathematician, was a pioneer in fractal geometry. Using computer graphics, he revealed how intricate patterns can emerge from simple rules. His famous Mandelbrot set, discovered in 1979, showed that even chaotic-looking forms like clouds or coastlines have underlying order—a kind of “playful irregularity” of the universe.

Design of the Natural World

When we marvel at nature’s patterns, we inevitably wonder—who designed them? Charles Darwin proposed that life evolved over time through natural selection. Though initially controversial, his theory still holds today.

Interestingly, Francis Collins, who led the Human Genome Project and served as Director of the U.S. National Institute of Health, argued in his book The Language of God that “an intelligent cause is the best explanation for certain features of the natural world.” His views on intelligent design sparked considerable debate among scientists.

The World of Designs

Design is a defining activity of our times. Design revolutions are simultaneously unfolding across disciplines. Today, good design is not just good functionality and aesthetics —it’s good business. But importantly, as someone wisely said: “A good design creates culture. Culture shapes values. Values determine the future.”

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