304. The girl I fell in love with when I saw her photo

I can never forget those enchanting days in Madras that felt like liberation, a liberation forced upon me. Still, as a free spirit, I was eager to explore the world after a permanent breakup of a major relationship, a silly dance with death. Losing my most valued possession changed my outlook, making me more enlightened at only 19.

Then, in March 1980, I came across a photo of a very young girl in a Tamil magazine, smiling with innocent, childlike joy. She was Shobha, aka Mahalakshmi Menon. I didn’t know she was an actress, and I didn’t know Tamil. Still, I bought the magazine from a stand outside the Mambalam suburban Railway station, and the photo hangs in my study to this day.

One of my father’s friends ran a small shop across from the landmark Ram Theatre in Kodambakkam, the heart of the film industry in Madras. 

He was a small-time actor who played minor roles in films and supplied studios with electrical equipment for film shoots; he was well-connected in the industry. Because he had married a police constable's daughter, he also had many friends in the police department. 

Sometimes I spent the night at his house. I recall it was Thursday morning, May 1, 1980, when he took me to KK Nagar, just 2.5 kilometers from Vadapalani where he lived. I had no idea where we were headed until we arrived. There was a small crowd and some police present. It was shocking to see that girl on the magazine cover, hanging from the fan through a window on her left side. She was only 17. 

Only then did I learn that she was an actress and the dream girl of millions like me, even though until that day I hadn’t seen any of her films. 

I had seen death just two years earlier in Kanpur, and when I was nine years old, I saw my grandmother die. Then, in the eleventh grade, a very close friend committed suicide. It was the fourth death that impacted me to the core. Yes, we only see people dying, so we see death through our eyes and our hearts, nothing more.

I was young and almost three years older than she. It profoundly shook me and transformed my perspective. There are so many stories, claims, and counterclaims about why she did it, but that has no relevance now. Her popularity led to considerable public scrutiny of the events surrounding her death and to various conspiracy theories. 

Married at age 15 to the cinematographer and director Balu Mahendra, now all I can say is that she had committed suicide due to marital discord and depression. 

It was only after a few months that I learned she had won the National Film Award for Best Actress for her role in the 1979 Tamil film Pasi (Hunger) at barely 17. Despite her brief career, she received three Kerala State Film Awards: Best Actress (1978), Best Supporting Actress (1977), and Best Child Artist (1971). She also won two Filmfare Awards South for Best Actress in Kannada (1978) and Tamil (1979) films. 

She debuted in Malayalam cinema with P. Venu's Udhyogastha, credited as Baby Shoba. This film is considered the first multi-starrer in Malayalam cinema. She started her career as a child artist in Thattungal Thirakkappadum (1966). Her first lead role was in the Malayalam film Uthrada Rathri (1978). 

Now that I have seen all her films several times, regardless of language, I still watch her through the eyes of an 18-year-old, with a young heart thumping with love, admiration, and a tinge of pain. 

When my grandson was one year old, the country was under COVID lockdown, and we usually woke up early each morning. I would calmly take him to the drawing room and watch the video song “Senthazhampoovil” from the film Mallum Malarum. Now that he is six, whenever he watches that song, I try to read his expression, attempting to recognize the melodies and Shobha’s face.

The 1983 Malayalam film Lekhayude Maranam Oru Flashback is supposedly based on her life and death. Films like ‘Pasi’, ‘Shalini Ente Koottukaari', 'Ormakal Marikkumo', 'Nizhal Nijamagirathu', 'Azhiyatha Kolangal', and 'Mullum Malarum' sustain her legacy.