Delhi Ganesh: Bringing Middle-Class Believability To The Heart Of Tamil Cinema

For a man with the sobriquet 'Delhi,' there was nothing North Indian about either his on- or off-screen persona. Delhi Ganesh was decidedly Tamil in everything he brought to his roles — his looks, emotions, and feel all belonged to the Tamil state. And that is why the veteran actor, who passed at the age of 80 on Saturday night due to age-related ailments, would hardly be known outside of the Tamil film ecosystem. 

It’s sad (but understandable) that an actor with reliable old-school skills will mostly be limited to appreciation from just one language. Though not a direct comparison, two actors (from other languages) who readily come to mind in terms of being in similar mould would be (late) Oduvil Unnikrishnan from Malayalam and Anupam Kher in Hindi. 

The fact that both Unnikrishnan and Kher won many awards while Delhi Ganesh didn’t even receive a state award reflects the lack of imagination in Tamil writers, who never created roles to showcase his skills adroitly. Okay, he did win a Special State Prize for one of his early movies — Pasi (1979). But the TN Special Prize is hardly of note, especially when you realise that it has also been bestowed on Ajith for Poovellam Un Vaasam (201) and Vijay for Tirupaachi (2005). 

Some of his best roles, as every obituary on Delhi Ganesh would point out, was in the company of that peerless talent-spotter Kamal Haasan. It is no real surprise, as both emerged from the KB School of acting. Also, both of them had their early career days burnished on the lathe of Tamil drama troupes. Delhi Ganesh’s strength was his strong dialogue delivery — the words landed with conviction. It was essentially your dad or brother speaking, so real and so near.

For The Love Of Acting

Ganesh, who worked with the Indian Air Force in New Delhi (on the administration side) in the early 70s (hence the prefix), dabbled in Tamil theatre and literary activities like many Tamils living in the national capital those days. But in his case, what started as an amateur spirit later became a full-blown passion for him to pursue.

And so, he soon shifted his base to Madras and got himself involved in the thriving Tamil drama circuit of the 70s. In those days Tamil drama themes were mostly middle-class oriented and comedy-filled. No coincidence that this would be the centrepiece of Delhi Ganesh's acting persona all through his over-400 films-filled career.

Even though he got his movie breakthrough under the aegis of KB in Pattina Pravesam (1976) and Pasi happened three years later, Delhi Ganesh was never in the running for main roles. With an avuncular look that was his even when he was in his 20s, he was always middle-aged on screen. In that sense, he shared the same quality as the old-timer VK Ramaswamy, who, as legend has it, was never young. Both have to be the eternal agreeable boomers of the Tamil screen.

An unassuming cop (Polladhavan-1980), the hero's side-kick (Simla Special-1981), the heroine's brother (Raja Paaravi-1981), the tragic penury-filled man (Dowry Kalyanam-1982) are among Ganesh's early well-known roles. Nothing extraordinary as characters to be remembered. But he had this knack of playing even ordinary roles with conviction so that they could be recalled later.

In the 1984 KB-helmed Achamillai Achamillai, Delhi Ganesh had a strong character as the altruistic father of a man gone astray due to political influences. Again, this was something taken note of, but it did not give him the kind of popularity that he may have wanted. The real big splash came with Sindhu Bhairavi (1985). While Sivakumar's exploration of the Carnatic singer JKB was a bit hammy, it was Delhi Ganesh's believable show as the alcohol-addicted percussionist that gave the film its feel and fervour. 

A True Citizen Of The Iyer Land 

 The next KB movie, Punngai Mannan (1986), again had him in a drunkard role — this time as the gambling father of the hero. Another KB protege, Visu, also saw Delhi Ganesh as a bankable actor, casting him in solid character roles, like Samsaram Adhu Minsaram (1985), and as an unlikely villain in Chidambara Ragasiyam (1985). 

By this time, Delhi Ganesh had become a staple in the Tamil film industry with two or three-bit roles, but nothing truly headline-grabbing until Nayakan in 1987. It was a typecast role for Delhi Ganesh — a Brahmin manager or associate to the main man. In fact, he is just a generic 'Iyer' in the film in a role that doesn't have major screen time. But off-hand, if you mentally scan Nayakan, his role would readily come to mind, alongside Kamal's. His scenes were impactful because he brought the vulnerability of a middle-class/lower-middle-class man with no real prepossessing qualities to the fore. 

Nayakan opened many doors for him but the bigger roles, the one that would have the girth and heft of the protagonist never really arrived for him. In the event, the roles in tandem with Kamal brought him all the laurels. 

In Apoorva Sagodharargal (1988) and Michael Madana Kamarajan (1990), the role of Palakkad Mani Iyer, though a cook, can also be read as a hat-tip to the great percussionist of the same name as Delhi Ganesh's most famous role till then was also that of a mridangist. 

Avvai Shanmugi (1996) and Tenali (2001) were laugh riots not the least for Delhi Ganesh's yen for comedic timing. The hard yards he put in on the drama stage truly stood him in good stead alongside Kamal at his humorous best. Kamal, Delhi Ganesh, and dialogue writer Crazy Mohan emerged from the same background, and that shared niche helped them become kindred spirits.

At the core, he was essentially a middle-class Brahmin, and those roles kept coming — Aahaa..! (1997), Saamy (2003), Kalyana Samayal Saadham (2013). But he also brought great respectability to the responsible father and uncle characters that filled his CV. His amiable acceptability to all sections meant his face and scenes easily lent themselves to the mirth of the meme world (think clips from Ayan and Middle Class Madhavan).

But surely, it was not his limitations that confined him to such typecast characters. The forever cussing politico in Unnal Mudiyum Thambi (1988) — a very small role, but it showed his ability to convincingly portray intriguing characters and deliver various dialects with aplomb.

Surely, he deserved films like Nizhalkuthu and Saaransh — the ones that brought national fame to Oduvil Unnikrishnan and Anupam Kher. But sadly, Delhi Ganesh will go down (in history) as an actor who exuded ‘Tamilness’ and will be remembered mostly by Tamil audiences only. Talk of that old truism, one's strength can also prove to be one's undoing.