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Vani Jayaram's songs

Topic started by avvaiyar (@ 203.116.61.132) on Wed Jan 27 02:29:28 EST 1999.
All times in EST +10:30 for IST.

I'm a new visitor to this website. I couldn't see anyone discussing about Vani Jayaram's songs.
Let me start this one.(It had been there previously pls. forgive me!)

"Ezhu swarangalukkul ethanai paadal..
Ithaya surangathul ethanai kelvi...
Vaazhum manitharukkul ethanai salanam.."

Wow! Beautiful voice!

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VaniJayaram.com - A site that has lots of info and songs of VJ.

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Responses:

• Old responses
  
• From: Naaz (@ 24.87.30.219) on: Fri Jun 6 23:41:24 EDT 2003
  
  Weekends tend to be rather slow around here. So here's a chuckle or fume DIGRESSION. Note: This piece has already been published and is copyrighted. So don't reproduce it without prior permission (unless you want to be slapped with a lawsuit :-))
  
  
  LEATHER PANTS IN A HOT CLIMATE
  
  
  
  The hindi remake of Alaipayudhey has hopes of making the box-office sing, but the script is so-under-the-weather, the feeling is more sore than soar.
  
  Saathiya
  Starring: Vivek Oberoi, Rani Mukherji, Sandhya Mridul, Tanuja, Satish Shah, Sharat Saxena, Shahrukh Khan, Tabu.
  Music: A.R. Rahman
  Lyrics: Gulzar
  Producer: Mani Ratnam and Bobby Bedi
  Director: Shaad Ali
  
  
  Here’s how the pitch for Saathiya would have started and ended: “It has Mani Ratnam written, imagined, and packaged all over it.” It was sold.
  A remake of the tamil Alaipayudhey, the hindi avatar is not directed by the man himself, (Shaad Ali wields the megaphone) yet you could swear you’ve seen this all done before. Tedium does not make for a good movie-going experience. But here spotting the points of predictability becomes such an end in itself, it might just be the selling factor. Familiarity indeed breeds. Add to the above pitch: Yes Bobby’ji, And the Tamils bought it.
  Also, by then, you’ve paid up full price at the door, and who really cares if you stay or walk out. Unless, of course, you happen to be the person reviewing this, thinking all along (two hours and thirty-five minutes approx.,) how you might approach a piece on a film that is both searingly romantic, and deliberately childish. But, I am over-reaching already.
  First, the context (no pun intended.)
  Aditya Sehgal (Vivek Oberoi) is the son of an upper-middle class, but somehow soaking rich, Barrister (Satish Shah, looking very uncomfortable through it all). His passions are motor biking, basketball, hanging-out, and haute couture shirts that have only just made the fall-collections of Paris and Milan. He knows he’s born to go places. And the world’s his global village.
  His first stop is at a wedding - in a village – (see, I told you) somewhere in South-India where young girls in skimpy cholis dance and sing for a soon to be married friend (Mapquest will not lead you to such a place, so spare yourself the search.) There, in this liberal and emancipated rural setting, he spots Suhani (Rani Mukherji) prancing in silken pink, but an aspiring med student for all that. It’s love for him. It’s more like an audition for her. She spurns his advances and asks him to munch on a bitter-gourd.
  Time passes. (It lulls you.)
  Aditya spots Suhani again, this time as their trains come and go in the every day rush hour of Mumbai. It’s love for him. Confirmed. And privileged as he is (but he has nothing against public transit,) he just assumes she ought to love him too. Must be baba-log(ic). Stalking comes naturally, as naturally as his assumption. First, with a host of other hip types, and then, down the road, on motorbike, making the venture all his own. Her sister catches on, and plays go-between. How could anyone, most of all the urban, Indian middle-class in the ‘burbs of Matunga, (of which the Sharma sisters are a part,) pass up on those Valentino shirts?
  He dispatches his grumpy and insolent father, and his blank and boring mother (Swaroop Sampat, completely wasted in this outing,) to Suhani’s chawl. The father sniffs and complains about the malfunctioning doorbell, and from then on proceeds to be a complete jerk. The mother looks embarrassed and compromised. Suhani’s father, offended by all the class-based cholesterol, righteously, throws a fit. Words fly; the proposal doesn’t.
  The aspiring med-student says a pragmatic adios to Adi the spoilt brat. But the realist in her cannot, (just cannot,) should and will not slay the romantic in him. His love and commitment to her is tighter and more resilient than the leather pants gripping his thighs. This is just a pit stop to refuel.
  Suhani gives in when Aditya turns up at her Inoculation Camp, looking ravished by the heat and burn of Kanyakumari District, and exhausted with obsession. They elope at a temple where marriages are still gandharva, but registrars are at hand to certify the union - and then, petulantly, go their separate ways. It’s a pact they’ve made – they’ve vowed to keep their marital status a secret until Suhani’s older sister, the sensible and supportive one is married and the coast is clear, once and for all. Rebellion has its limits, or it could be just their understanding of the phrase “beating the system from within.” But some secrets have a way of pushing their way into broad daylight, and the disclosure spills out before Didi is a dulhan, and Aditya and Suhani are left holding the bag. It is at this juncture, this opening in the screenplay where cinematic fantasy could easily have switched to uncharted narrative territory, the film sadly, and very obviously, succumbs to trade figure lucre.
  Shacked up in an exposed-brick and ocean-facing outfit straight out of Architectural Digest, the married (and finally together) Aditya and Suhani, light candles, sip champagne and make-out in silken sheets. Yes, sweet are the uses of adversity. Life is a rose-tinted window and there are none that open to the alley. He launches a start-up, and she comforts hysterical women in her pediatric ward. Urban Stress and Smog catches up with them fifteen minutes and a colourful song later. Arguments ensue over locked doors (it has never occurred to them to get another set of keys,) and unwelcome friends for pizza parties. The box says Domino. The script takes its cue and goes into overdrive. Love comes tumbling down.
  The next thirty-five minutes are distilled deus ex machina.
  At its heart, Saathiya is a film that is attempting something intentionally brave – tracing the differentiation between pre-marital love and post-marital companionship. Its ambitions are commendable, for traversing that stark line that divides perception from reality, the honeymoon from the humdrum, is no mean task. However, when essayed with all the trappings of commercial escapism as Saathiya is, the challenge reveals itself to be a mere façade, and the whole exercise trades simplicity for simplistic. And we all know papier mache hearts don’t beat. Taken as symptomatic of the current vapidity that pervades the bollywood imagination, where designer clothes and cavorting in sub-zero temperatures is how far the creative impetus is stretched, Saathiya falls in line with other dullards like Mujhse Dosti Karoge & Co. All these tinsel town churnings have one thing in common: They are high on promise, but hollow in delivery. And for how long can hype alone carry the day? Of course, it is all entertainment with messages that are universal and emotions that are over the top - and shouldn’t one accept it for what it is? A bit of this and a bit of that, and a feel-good ending to cherry-top it all – what more could one want? If that is indeed the only raison d’ etre for filmmaking, then one can’t really argue with it. But still that nagging question of logic, however feebly, asserts its right to be heard: Why does escapism have to be so blatantly unintelligent? Are the two mutually exclusive? Why does every script that comes out of the PCs of Kodambakkam or Bandra, turn out to be yet another poster-child for arrested development? Even in a film that so sincerely wants its characters to grow-up?
  Oh, but that was not part of the pitch. It was hawked on a name, not maturity.
  Many moons ago, there was another film that dealt with same theme of changing love and never-changing class-warfare, and did so with scorching honesty. But Kora Kagaz this ain’t.
  Cling-wrap with an indiscriminate sprinkling of stardust more like.
  And just as wispy.
  
  The lead pair is fetching, and shoulders the film’s burden valiantly. As Suhani, Rani Mukherji looks adequately vulnerable and also emotes with a complete lack of self-consciousness in the dramatic scenes. Vivek Oberoi’s Aditya is zestful and charming, although one wishes he did not run his fingers through his hair so much, or looked so pained during the dancer routine. Sandhya Mridul, as Suhani’s sister, introduces that much needed naturalness in an otherwise contrived environment. Gulzar’s dialogues do have those signature moments, but his lyricism is tacked on to prefabricated polyester here, and hence is more shiny than new. A.R.Rahman’s compositions are turning out to be run-of-the-mill (I have not heard the Tamil versions, but am assured that they are merely hindised) and the background element of someone wailing the film’s title, or just plain wailing during the crucial turning points of the plot, is, well, plain annoying. It’s an aural trope that’s outlived its time and should be silenced. The cinematography is competent, and the train scenes are sooty and authentic Churchgate. Shaad Ali has the unfortunate task of remaking a film that comes with two heavy words that could only spell beginning or end for any new-be director: Mani Ratnam. Can we call it a framed homage, and leave it at that?
  
  Earlier in the narrative, in that pre-intermission phase a long, long time ago, Suhani asks Aditya if he would do anything to prove his love for her. Of course, he responds, name it. Jump from this train, she says, matter-of-factly.
  I will, he grins, when it stops at a station.
  Impulse or good sense? It’s a choice we all have.
  And remember this: You’re in luck .You don’t even have to write a review.
  
  
  
• From: Neel D (@ 24.99.73.50) on: Sat Jun 7 01:10:02 EDT 2003
  
  This message applies to only one person. Identity undisclosed.
  
  Dear friend,
  
  I know you don't post in this particular thread. But I see you in other threads. I am guessing you will read this.
  
  Would you please go easy with your downloads from the website www.vanijayaram.com? You have been hogging the site for several days now. Please kindly space your downloads per the request in the pop-up message and in the homepage of the website.
  
  Your enthusiasm and patronage of the website are truly appreciated. www.vanijayaram.com is a free service. To share the services with others is the honorable thing to do. Please oblige. Thanks.
  
  Neel D
  Administrator
  www.vanijayaram.com
  
  
  
• From: Kaumudi (@ 136.142.153.250) on: Sat Jun 7 09:29:32 EDT 2003
  
  Saravanan
  Wonderful! It must have been a treat to watch her sing and talk on the TV. I am soooooooooooooooo jealous of you!! Do you know if there is any possibility of all these shows coming out as a video tape or a DVD? Wishful thinking, I suppose!
  
  Anyway, thanks again for the scene-by-scene portrayal. BTW, Naaz, I like your idea about posting programme coverage from India. That would be really nice.
  
  
• From: kalai (@ 203.124.221.146) on: Sun Jun 8 10:34:40 EDT 2003
  
  Hi
  A link for a malayalam duet "vaalkannezhthi" form the movie "Picknic". A successful combination of Arjunan master,Sreekumaran thambi & vanijayram combo.
  http://www.coolgoose.com/go/song?id=60746
  
  

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