On her birthday, we hold onto memories because they reassure us. They remind us of a time when we were happy and safe. She did that time and again with her performances. Though I knew her for over 20 years, the little I got to know her was about five years ago. Sridevi was warm and compassionate. Her inability to articulate her thoughts was made up with warm hugs and occasional phone calls. And the joy she unleashed on screen. How well she has honed her art and her craft and every time I revisit a #moondrampirai or #meendumkokila or a #englishvinglish, I can see it. The eddies and currents churning behind that still face.
I’m so sorry and heartbroken that you went away like this. Leaving us with aching hearts and a vacuum which nothing will ever fill. These days every morning I log on to YouTube to catch a rerun of a Tamil or Telugu song. How you mastered the craft, how at the peak of your prowess you seamlessly switched to Bollywood and managed to straddle so many languages. Your ability to mine humour or pathos in a scene was so astounding.
There is a pit in the stomach, I feel anguish at the memories. The unfairness of it all. We had so many conversations left, so many more memories to share. They say letting go of the past is therapeutic. But how does one let go of the memories? Like wounds they run deep. Happy birthday sridevi. You were simply the best. Hope you are at peace always.