Thyagaraja, the son of a goldsmith, who turned out to be the alchemist of Tamil cinema, had millions riding on him.

It was when he was at this pinnacle that fate caught up with him. The Madras Presidency police arrested him for alleged murder. The victim was a notorious blackmailer. The heavens seemed to have fallen down on Thyagaraja.

MKT’s passage in Tamil cinema had been smooth. He was a hero in his first movie and it was a hit. Just three years after sound was introduced in Tamil cinema, ace film director, K Subramaniam, happened to watch a Hindu mythological play called, "Pavalakkodi" (coral vine) in which Bhagavathar played the lead role of Arjuna.

Thoroughly impressed with the performance, he planned to produce a movie with Bhagavathar playing the lead role. The movie was shot under primitive conditions on the banks of the Adyar river. They even had an Anglo-Indian shoot at the crows that disturbed the shooting and gave him a credit in the titles!

The film had 55 songs, 22 of which were sung by MKT. Pavalakodi was a hit. Producers thronged the gates of MKT. Life seemed to move at luxurious ease. For a small-town lad, the attention and the glory were, at the least, overwhelming.

Not all people can handle success well. MKT’s life until then was like a straight flowing stream — purposeful and efficient in its track — until it finally loses itself, at last, in a salty sea.

The talkie field had a host of distractions preventing life from becoming dull. Not all of them were above board, ethical or moral.

The rise of cinema as a major source of entertainment spurred an undue interest in the lives of the men and women who were cogwheels in it. Magazines sprouted and some even went to the extent of making curious readers happy by providing them intimate details of the actors.

The general public was inclined to give credence to these yellow journals as well because such news was scandalous; if leaked to the public, who adored their heroes to the levels of demigods, there was a lot at stake.

Bold blackmailers were on the prowl. A hint or two of the target’s identity, with a promise that more would be revealed thereafter, often had the target rushing to the blackmailers with hush money.

Lakshmikanthan, a law tout ran one such yellow journal called Indunesan. Lakshmikanthan, in a mental makeover to hide his lowly intentions, had started imagining himself as a ‘knight in a shining armour’ out to clean the murky stables of cinema.

His modus operandi was simple. In his initial offerings the tale was told in a rather vague and hazy manner, one would never have gleaned the truth except the targeted party himself, who would often run for a settlement to shut him up.

True, he despised the actors with all his heart; but he was not averse to taking their money — and potential payoffs in lieu of silence were infinite.

Meanwhile, to a superstar like MKT, the art world was one big orchard and tempting fruits lay to be plucked. MKT felt little need for prudence. The drawbridge had already been lowered and the women flooded in.

To a small-town boy who grew up in a drama company where men had to dress up like the female character due to the paucity of heroines, this was indeed a new experience. And MKT just could not handle it.

When someone pointed out his recklessness, he would shrug his shoulders with a laugh. MKT was behaving like a soldier of fortune — rich in vice and poor in virtue; he was sure his fame and position could parry the blows that came his way.

MKT fell in love with a young girl, Rajam, who was aspiring to become an actress. Rajam presented, unquestionably, a most alluring picture of youth and beauty. MKT married her in spite of the fact that he had a full-fledged family back in Mayavaram.

And since he was playing very saintly roles in the cinema, he wanted to keep this second marriage a secret.

In a ‘feeler article’ Lakshmikanthan had written about a pregnant girl whom MKT had a relationship with.

MKT worried that his blemishless image on screen would get mottled, teamed up with a few other affected actors, met the Governor of Madras and had Lakshmikanthan’s paper shut down.

A few days later Lakshmikanthan was travelling in a rickshaw when hired killers slashed open his belly and left him to bleed to death before walking away.

Resilient man that he was, Lakshmikanthan pushed back his overflowing intestines and rushed to a police station to file a complaint and name the people whom he thought had hired the killers.

He died the next day. MKT was arrested halfway through a shooting. The government was trying by every means in its power to have him sent to jail. Pax Britannica was above everyone and they had no better opportunity than this to set an example.

Cinema audiences were stunned too. Were appearances deceptive? Was this saintly persona guilty of murder?

After a jury trial of 26 days, one could sense a shudder run through the court when the jurors overwhelmingly decided that law had to be enforced. A mist swam before MKT’s eyes when he was proclaimed a murderer. He was shocked and shaken for he was expecting an acquittal.

The state was traumatised. Coincidentally, Hitler was dying in his Berlin bunker and the world got to know this via newspaper headlines everywhere except in Madras, where the headlines were about the conviction of MKT in the murder case.

Once convicted, MKT went to jail and the movies that had been scheduled with him were either shelved or shot with other stars including his primary rival, P U Chinnappa.

MKT’s last released talkie, Haridas ran to packed houses at Madras Theatre — a record for the longest incessant run at a single venue. Unfortunately, the hero of the film couldn’t attend a single of the thousands of shows because he was His Majesty’s guest in the central prison.

Many a time the notes of his songs would waft in through the bars and MKT would cry.

MKT meanwhile fought an appeal up to the privy council in London. The privy council in London, noting that India was going to get free soon denied to hear the appeal but ordered the Madras High Court to hold a retrial.

The Madras High Court witnessed a recanting of confessions and proof that approvers were not reliable, and MKT was acquitted after 30 months.

Freed of his legal shackles MKT came out with a lot of hope. He expected to continue his winning run. However, not too many producers were interested in making movies with a jailbird as a hero and a stubborn MKT turned down father roles.

More importantly, the Tamil cinema field was overrun with younger knights who lacked his singing skills but made it up with action or oration. Also, for three years with MKT out of the ring, another change happened rather abruptly.

The genre of movies with which MKT was popular — religious movies with plenty of songs — was put on the backburner.

Loud stars like Shivaji and fiery script-writers like Karunanidhi and Annadurai clambered onto the silver screen in the absence of MKT. Movies with atheistic overtones that questioned religion were being shot for the first time.

MKT started to produce his own movies and made his friends also invest their money. An aching weariness filled MKT when film after film flopped. He and his friends were bankrupted by producing them.

MKT died blind, lonely and impoverished in 1959. But memories of him still abound in Tamil Nadu.

His songs can still be frequently heard on the radio. And his film Haridas still holds the record of having run the longest, sticking onto the screens for three consecutive Diwalis.

Lakshmikanthan

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