Manjummel Boys
I had read an article recently which resonated with me very soundly.
The author talks about how we cherish certain moments in our lives, reliving precious memories from the past. He mentions how it’s often surreal to find yourself as a grown-up in a scene that you can still vividly recall from your childhood.
Scientists dub this phenomenon as the “Reminiscence Bump” — a gradual aging process where our most detailed memories tend to originate from our teenage years and early adulthood. Regardless of how many years pass, these formative moments remain disproportionately prominent in our recollections. Some of us may struggle to remember where we vacationed as a family five years ago, but we can recount with clarity the time in high school or college when we showed up at a party wearing an outrageous outfit and everyone around you sang a specific song. And the author of this article was triggered to write this piece after being triggered by a specific song.
Speaking of songs and music..
One of my most vivid memories of Guna the movie and the album was the experience of listening to its music in an audio cassette/tape. It was a time when audio cassettes ruled the realm of music.
The original Guna audio cassette was unique in that it was not just a compilation of songs but it was an attempt to recreate an immersuve experience of being a fly on the wall inside Ilaiyaraaja’s studio where Kamal Hassan, Santhana Bharathi, Gangai Amaran, and the man Ilaiyaraaja himself, were brainstorming the songs for the movie and the song placements.
Of course, their conversation was a blend of loosely scripted dialogues and spontaneous exchanges. I don’t quite recall Vaali being in that conversation (which was kind of odd), but the whole audio cassette was mixed in a manner that there would be conversations/ideas about a particular song that either Kamal or Bharathi would pitch (with mostly Kamal and IR doing the bulk of the talking) followed by the studio recorded version of the song.
The most interesting section of the tape for me was when IR asks Kamal to come to the studio the next day to record the song after listening to his and Bharathi’s pitch for “Kanmani Anbodu”. Again it was somewhat scripted and everyone in the room pretended that they had no clue what kind of song it would turn out to be.
I specifically recall the conversation going something like this (paraphrasing):
IR: கமல் சாரே பாடட்டும். (Let Kamal himself sing)
KH: நானா? (Me?)
IR: ஏன்? என் மேலே நம்பிக்கை இல்லையா? (Why? You don’t trust me?)
KH: அப்படி இல்ல.. (No. Not like that..)
IR: அப்போ நாளைக்கு வாங்க. (Then come to the studio tomorrow)
KH (with what I believe to be the punchline of the whole exchange): உங்க மேலே நம்பிக்கை வச்சு என்னை பாட வச்சீங்கன்னா சரி..வர்ரேன்..
(OK then. I will come because I trust your trust on me as a singer)
The first time I listened to this song, Kanmani Anbodu (after reading some scoops in one of those weekly Tamil magazines about a novel attempt that KH and IR were involved in Guna for a particular song), I did so with so much anticipation.
So, the song registered in my memory as this collective experience of their conversation followed by the song itself. The fusion of their exchange and the entire album’s music etched a collective memory that lingers even now.
The phenomenon of the “reminiscence bump” is real. Guna and its soul-stirring music have resurfaced in recent times, evoking nostalgia in many Tamil music and movie enthusiasts. This song Kanmani Anbodu and the movie Guna have hit a huge reminiscence bump not just for me in recent times, but based on how the movie Manjummel Boys is doing in the box office in Tamil Nadu, I guess many Tamil music and movie fans are also being hit by it.
That brings me to the movie Manjummel Boys.
Manjummel Boys is both a survival thriller and a movie about friendship. Especially friendship among men — The bromantic kind.
Manjummel Boys will make you thankful for your friends, because it’s a film about men realizing that without them all you have to get you through the worst of life is time. And time on your own stretches on forever. Or in the case of Subhash, it could lead you to death.
Occasionally your friends will define you. And Kuttan (played by Soubin Shahir) — wiped blank by the accident of his friend — lets himself be defined by becoming the savior.
At times, individuals find themselves in situations where they’ve made significant mistakes and are left with ample time for reflection. Take, for instance, the case of a man who attempted to navigate Niagara Falls encased within a large rubber ball, only for the ball to become lodged mid-descent. He had relied on his team to free him upon landing, but alas, it was not to be. Unlike that Niagara story, what happened to the Manjummel Boys (the movie is based on a true story that happened in 2006) was that they did not plan to attempt a daring stunt. They were simply being the boisterous drunk men out on a “guys trip”, doing silly things, not heeding to the warning sign, and venturing into the cave just for cheap thrills.
So, when Subhash (played by Sreenath Basi) experienced an “oops” moment, it was too late. Venturing into a prohibited area like these boys did without informing anyone of their whereabouts, Subhash, who accidentally took a step onto a hole and fell hundred odd feet below, only to find himself trapped in a deep crevice inside that dangerous cave, with his body completely covered in mud and darkness, wedged between a boulder and the cave wall. Oops indeed. Devil’s Kitchen (the name given to the cave by the British) is the last place where anyone would want to find themselves lost in.
Manjummel Boys serves as a bold attempt to tackle the seemingly impossible in filmmaking. Chidambaram, his very skillful art director and crew recreated the cave in Kochi and utilized the stunning cinematography of Shyju Khalid to capture the expanse of the Guna Caves and its dangers, as well as the emotional intricacies of the friends who were ready to do anything to save their friend in spite of them being helpless in that dire situation finding themselves at the complete mercy of the local officials’ hands.
Through adept editing, with great screenwriting that incorporates a very critical setup in the beginning of the movie for an immensely satisfying payoff towards the end, the film navigates the delicate balance of depicting the process of rescuing a friend by putting himself in danger and the emotional bonding of all the friends who were unwilling to give up on their friend.
Rather than relying only on visuals, the most emotional moment for the audience is conveyed through a line from an iconic song— a song so familiar to many and universally understood in its significance to mean something when it hits on the audience and reminds them how the exact line, when brilliantly juxtaposed over a very different situation could still make you feel emotionally vulnerable and shed a tear.
While many may refrain from calling Manjummel Boys a masterpiece, what makes the movie compelling is its lack of a message or metaphorical significance. Subhash simply made a mistake unknowlingly to fall into a crevice and his friend Kuttan who forcefully brought Subhash on this boys trip rescued him, by putting his own life at risk — and that’s the crux of it.
Kuttan’s choice was as dire and inevitable as death itself, and despite Subhash’s remarkable survival, it hasn’t altered the inevitability of mortality in the slightest. So, when words were left unspoken between Subhash’s mother when she found out it was Kuttan who rescued her son, it provided a fitting end to a movie that is exciting, touching, and one that effectively uses reminiscence bump for maximum returns.
