| 7:54p |
Mamukkoya
Recently I read a Malayalam book Mamukkoya written by Thaha Madai. This book is written based on Thaha's conversations with actor Mamukkoya, about the actor's life and his memoirs of Kozhikode of 1960-80 period, when the town used to be a kind of "intellectual capital" of Kerala. I think this book was named as "Book of the Year 2007" or something in an article published in Malayala Manorama in its December 30th edition, even though I couldn’t read that article completely.
Contrary to my expectations and what is written in T Padmanabhan's introduction, this is not an exceptionally touching biography or anything. It is a small book with several short articles, where Mamukkoya talks about his days as a worker at Kallayi, as a drama actor, about his interactions with artists like Basheer, SK Pottekkatt, John Abraham (the memoir about John's death is a moving article), Thikkodiyan, Baburaj, Pavithran, Sreeraman and many others. Some of the articles are just short passages enumerating the names of various clubs or ancient tharavadus of Kozhikode, and there is an article about various types of timber!
Reading this book, written in a sort of conversational language in first person, gives the feeling of talking with an innocent and friendly man about various matters of life. Perhaps that is the most significant thing about this book. Mamukkoya is a film actor, but he is a human being above everything. His success as a film actor and (probably) the resultant financially elevated status has made no changes in his personality. He hasn’t forgotten his days when he used to extract clay from Kallayi river and sell drumstick leaves to Tamil Brahmins to make money for living; He doesn't hesitate to narrate those days, and there is nothing of the "glorification of hardships of the past" either. He just talks about those times as well as his post film-entry days with identical attitude. Everything is part of life, he mentions. The sincerity, honesty and simplicity in his narration makes this a readable book.
Reading about the informal cultural clubs of Kozhikode reminded me of one of my favorite books, Arangu Kanatha Nadan, autobiography by Thikkodiyan that was serialized in Mathrubhoomi Aazhchapathippu during the early 1990s (or before that?). That was an extremely moving narrative, in which he talked more about his friends and other artists than about his own life and family. I think I need to read that book again. (1 Comment | Comment on This) |