Thought Box

ALTERNATIVE ENTERTAINMENT: AND THE LEGACY LIVES ON

ALTERNATIVE ENTERTAINMENT: AND THE LEGACY LIVES ON

by Khalid Mohamed October 14 2025, 12:00 am Estimated Reading Time: 9 mins, 51 secs

Khalid Mohamed in conversation with Ramu Aravindan, founder of a Documentation Centre and a socially concerned photographer — son of G. Aravindan — the pioneering force of the Malayalam parallel cinema movement whose films Thamp and Kummatty have been recently restored and screened at prestigious international film festivals.

In this rare and intimate conversation, Khalid Mohamed speaks with Ramu Aravindan, photographer and son of G. Aravindan, one of India’s most revered auteurs who redefined Malayalam cinema through films like Thampu, Chidambaram, Kummatty and Esthappan. As Ramu reflects on his father’s creative legacy, the restoration of his classic films, and his own path in photography and design, the dialogue unveils how the spirit of artistic inquiry continues across generations. With insights into cinema, memory, creativity, and technology, this interview offers a glimpse into how one legacy quietly lives on.

Cut back to January 1991: G. Aravindan (1935–2011) was at the Madras International Film Festival and looked trim and in good health as he had lost weight. He had been advised by doctors to keep a watch on his diet and to quit smoking.

Stroking his flowing grey beard, as was his wont, the master of Malayalam cinema’s auteurship had laughed, “I am finally looking after myself.” Ironically, his end came when he was looking for a prescribed medicine in the bedroom for his wife, Kaumudi, who was suffering from asthma. His only son, Ramu, a student at the National Institute of Design, attempted to resuscitate him, but the doctors who arrived at 12.15 p.m. said it was much too late.

Aravindan had returned home around 11 p.m. after working at Chitranjali Studio for a Doordarshan-commissioned documentary on the noted novelist Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai.

Earlier, at Madras, he had held previews of his new feature film Vasthuhara (The Dispossessed), a compassionate account of the no-exit situation faced by Bangladesh refugees in Calcutta. He had nurtured this project for 17 years.

“Did you like it?” he had asked shyly after the film’s screening but looked away in embarrassment when the answer was in superlatives. Everyone who met him would remark on the self-effacing, gentle personality of the Kerala filmmaker who, with films like Thampu (The Circus Tent), Esthappan (Stephen), and Chidambaram, had sparked worldwide interest in Malayalam cinema.

He had become legendary for creating films of poetic beauty and power on shoestring budgets, quite often within the range of Rs 7 lakhs to Rs 10 lakhs — less than the sum frequently spent on one-minute ad films.

Winner of seven National Film Awards and feted constantly at international film festivals, Aravindan had completed ten feature films and four documentaries in a span of 17 years. He was honoured in 1984 with a retrospective of his work by the Cinémathèque Française in Paris, as well as in Canada. His films were showcased at film festivals in Berlin, London, Cannes, Mannheim, Locarno, and Hawaii.

However, at home, he would sometimes have to contend with myopic juries, which kept his films Marattam and Unni out of the Panorama section of the International Film Festival of India. Moreover, his excellent documentary Sahaja (Becoming, 1988) ran into snafus with the Festival of India bureaucracy when it was to be shown in the Soviet Union. Aravindan's study of the Ardhanarishwara concept, or the androgynous role sometimes taken on by performing artists, was considered far too unorthodox.

Born in 1935 in Kerala, he had graduated from University College, Trivandrum, in Botany.

There was an unspoken bond of friendship between us. Decades after he left us, I tracked down his son, Ramu, to know more about his father’s legacy of films and to find out which profession the son had chosen and why. Shy of being interviewed, Ramu Aravindan, after some persuasion, agreed for an email Q&A. Excerpts:

A Creative Childhood and Gentle Influences

Could you describe your childhood and the influence of your father, G. Aravindan sir (1931–1991), on you?

Both my parents were working for the Central Government’s Rubber Board when I was small. There were mostly just the three of us at home, and we were in Calicut briefly and then in Trivandrum. We stayed at various rented houses. My dad used to drop me off or I used to walk to the different schools, which were not too far from home. My parents had many friends whom we visited or who visited us. I also spent a lot of time with my cousins, grandparents, and relatives from both sides during holidays. It was an idyllic childhood.

Though my dad had that day job, he was also drawing a cartoon/comic strip in Malayalam called Cheriya Manushyarum Valiya Lokavum (roughly translated as Small People, Big World). This was before 1974, when he started making films. Also, my mom read a lot.

In Kottayam, at my dad's place, my grandfather was a writer; my dad’s brothers and sister used to draw, and there were a lot of books there, including children’s books, a few of them translated by my grandfather. So, I guess there was a liberal and maybe a creative atmosphere at home. Though this kind of an atmosphere wasn’t that uncommon — most of my friends also came from similar middle-class Kerala homes where the love for literature and reading was the norm. The visual arts part of it was perhaps not that common.

My dad’s influence on me must be subliminal when I think about it, but being a part of me, I rarely think about it. He was at home working as much as he was out on work when we were in Trivandrum. My mom was the nine-to-five officegoer because my dad had quit his job by then. Later, when I was studying in Ahmedabad and came home during holidays, I used to drive him around, and we also used to meet in Madras or Bombay sometimes when he was travelling. We’ve spent a lot of time together as a family.

The Lost Reels and the Preservation Effort 

Now that his films Thamp and Kummatty have been restored and screened at film festivals, what is the condition of his many other films? I'm particularly interested in Pokkuveyil, my personal favourite.

None of the original camera negatives of his films have survived from the processing lab where they were stored. Both Shivendra Dungarpur of Film Heritage Foundation — he was the driving force behind the two restorations — and I have tried to find out about the source negatives over the years.

There are prints of some of his films preserved at a handful of institutions across the world. And the National Film Archive of India (NFAI) in Pune has kept prints of all his features barring one, Oridath, as well as some of his documentaries. But, as you said, only Thamp and Kummatty have been restored so far.

Some of these prints at NFAI are from the time when P.K. Nair was its director. Other prints and elements were deposited later (around 2008, if I’m not mistaken), thanks to the efforts of some of my dad’s younger colleagues — Bina Paul, Sunny Joseph, K.G. Jayan, V. Sasikumar et al. Their initiative helped with the archiving of not just my dad’s films but some other artistic films as well at NFAI.

You have set up a Documentation Centre in Bangalore and have been a passionate photographer — be it commissioned or for your own satisfaction. Could you tell me more about this than what is accessible on social media?

‘Landeater Design and Documentation’ is the name of my studio/consultancy. Landeater comes from an image of devouring landscapes — a kind of stand-in personification for what I enjoy doing with photography. Also, my design work over the years has moved towards documenting, generating, and then organising a variety of content. I combine these two passions in the work I do, both for commissioned projects or for fun.

Do you return to Trivandrum often?

I go to Kerala often, but that’s to Thrissur, where my mom has settled down after she retired. Trivandrum used to be my hometown when my parents were there, though I’ve stayed there only till my late teens.

If it’s okay, can I ask you about your personal life — age, siblings, marriage, children, and has life been remarkably different after your father passed away?

I’m 58. No siblings. My wife, Sreeja Nambiar, is an educationist based in Bangalore. Our son, Mihiran, is in Class 11.

Has life been remarkably different after my father passed away? In a physical sense, not very different, I think. He passed away around the same time I graduated from the National Institute of Design, and by then I had spent a good six years, starting from my late teens, in Ahmedabad. I had friends whom I shared work and passions with and had plans; I had left my moorings from home and Kerala for a while by then. So, physically, life just continued.

I had to finish two documentary short film projects my dad had started, soon after he passed away. I did the production coordination for one and finished it with the help of his associates like cinematographer Sunny Joseph and Rajiv Vijayaraghavan. The other one on V.K. Krishna Menon, I completed working with some of my friends who had just graduated from FTII, as well as Sunny Joseph.

Technology, Creativity, and Inherited Sensibilities

Do you intend to direct and write films?

No, I don’t think I have a passion for it the way I do with photography or design. Though I have watched a lot of films as a student and have many friends who work in films.

Which films, books, artworks, photographers, and philosophers have been an influence on you?

The kind of work I find inspiring is quite subjective and varied. I like several photographers whose work I feel I can get deep into and read visually for a length of time: Lewis Baltz, Cindy Sherman, Josef Koudelka, Hiroshi Sugimoto, many Indian photographers — too many to list. With films and art as well, it's increasingly getting more varied with time. I'm generally very fond of abstraction in art, many sci-fi films, and films that show a lot of travel and outdoors. I’m not a very regular reader.

With the entry of Artificial Intelligence, is creativity in danger?

No, I think. AI is opening fascinating new creative worlds as it meshes more with cognition, language, and other inter-disciplinary areas. On the flip side, many jobs in the creative industries are already hit, including copyrights. No one really knows how it will pan out, so there are a lot of interesting discussions to understand it — and maybe create policies so that ‘judgement day’ won’t happen anytime soon.

Your photography indicates a deep social concern often… which social issues concern you the most?

My interest in photography has largely to do with looking at places, spending some quiet, quality time around that subject, and creating an image. I’m not always certain if it’s done till I view it for some time after I photograph, while editing. I enjoy that process-oriented approach. I’m not sure if I have any specific concerns other than the general disquiet one feels about some of the things we see around us.

Your father was extremely gentle and a man of few words. Have you inherited this trait?

I don’t have his bandwidth with people nor his gentleness, in my view. I have inherited his love for Indian music.  




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