There were the fans, the film buffs and critics. In spite of how contrarian they were in general; in Sridevi, they converged to a singular thought and couldn’t agree more. Versatile, vivacious and stunningly charismatic. To a legion of fans, Sri was a dream diva. To some, she was an epitome of style and fashion. To many, she was a benchmark of beauty and grace. Across decades, Sri was emulated, debated, and celebrated.
A noisy train station nestled between lush green hills. A desperate Cheenu is vehemently trying to rekindle Viji’s memory and revive her consciousness of their relationship. Viji is nonchalant and oblivious to Cheenu and his desperation; settles into her window-seat talking to her mother. The train chugs away; and Viji moves on…in life.
When the news broke of Sridevi’s passing, no other scene could I have reminisced and played in my mind more than this gripping climax sequence from Moondram Pirai (Sadma in Hindi) – a timeless classic. The role of Viji, in that sequence, warranted a demeanor to mix myriad of complex emotions – casual, cold, ignorant, pity. The role of Viji was one of Sri’s best performances ever.
Himmatwala (1983) launched Sridevi on a much bigger scene – Bollywood – as a leading lady. Essaying a mix of meaty and glamorous roles effortlessly, Sri impressed pan-India audience with great aplomb. A new star was born. That she catapulted the iconic Mr. India to a blockbuster is a fact in Bollywood history. It could very well have been titled Mrs.India (Yes, I conveniently interjected S in there to highlight Sri). Chandni, Chalbaaz and Lamhe followed in the ’90s with skyrocketing growth to superstardom.
Such was Sri’s infectious dancing abilities that, I reckon if it may have quietly influenced Sunny to shed his natural inhibitions and [effectively] shake legs with her in Chalbaaz. Clad in pleasing pastels (Chandni) and crisp whites (Lamhe), she instantly appealed to a wide spectrum of the populous film lovers. Glamour, melodrama, or comedy; Sri could play with ease, and with a great level of groundedness and aesthetics of a next-door-girl. A potent mix unseen and unheard in Indian cinema before. It was a new era. Sri would act; people would relate and connect.
With English Vinglish (2012) and followed by Mom (2017), Sridevi returned to light the screen after a substantial hiatus. It was heartening to see that nothing was amiss after a long stretch of fifteen years. The aura, the energy, the screen-presence, the charisma; absolutely pristine and intact. It was as if Sri had safely packed – her talent, passion, and potential – into a freezer and picked-up on way to show-up at shoot.
If lights, camera, and megaphone were bodied in flesh & blood, and breathed life; they would be patiently standing [and grieving] in that long line to pay their respects and tributes to a legendary actress who will be dearly missed. So long Sri.
Photo Source: Google Images