'No pretence, no restraint...': Maniyanpilla Raju remembers his friend and colleague Sreenivasan
My journey in cinema began almost at the same time as Sreenivasans. I passed out from the Adyar Film Institute in 1975, while he completed his training at the Film Chamber, nearly simultaneously. From the very beginning, our lives ran parallel shaped by struggle, persistence, and an unshakeable love for cinema. Those early days were not easy. Survival itself was a challenge. I can still see him coming for dubbing work for just Rs 50, while I would take acting assignments for about Rs 100. That was how our cinematic lives beganwith Rs 50 and Rs 100 in our pockets, but with dreams far bigger than we could imagine. We both struggled, stumbled, and fought our way forward, and today, looking back, I marvel at how far we came. Sreenivasan was extraordinary, irreplaceable. He was more than a colleague; he was a guiding force in my life. He wrote scripts for some of my most important films Vellanakalude Naadu and Orunaal Varum . He also acted in Aye Auto and Hello My Dear Wrong Number . Later, he directed Akkare Ninnoru Maaran and cast me as the hero. That was Sreenivasan confident, generous, and committed not just to cinema but to the people he believed in. When aspiring writers come to me with their scripts, I often tell them that something is missing. I tell them to study three masters closely MT Vasudevan Nair, Padmarajan, and Sreenivasan. They had a rare clarity in writing. They would leave small, invaluable notes alongside dialogues. A simple dialogue like, Where are you going? would carry a side note: Concealing an old resentment, he casually asks where he is going. Those notes tell actors exactly how to perform a scene. Sreenivasans attention to such emotional detail was unparalleled, and it is a lesson for the next generation. I have never met anyone with such a fine, natural sense of humour. If he heard a genuinely good joke, he would laugh wholeheartedly, with no pretence, no restraint. That honesty in life, in humour, in cinema defined him. The same clarity shone through his writing, acting, and direction. His scripts were sharp, witty, and deeply satirical. Even today, Sandesham feels as relevant as ever, its political satire cutting through the noise of our times. Sreenivasan was a man of deep political awareness, yet he never preached or imposed. His insight was quiet, intelligent, and always humane. But beyond cinema, he was a remarkable human being a true friend, a committed farmer, and a man of integrity. Above all the roles he played actor, writer, director he was simply good. We shared a friendship spanning nearly five decades. We spoke often, laughed often, and shared countless small moments that I will treasure forever. When I heard about a minor fall he had in the toilet, I had planned to visit him the very next day. That visit never happened. For the next generation of filmmakers and writers, Sreenivasan should be a textbook. He, like MT and Padmarajan, understood that cinema is about more than dialogue its about emotion, subtext, and the honesty of performance. I will never forget that Vellanakalude Naadu was rewritten entirely in just three days at the shooting locationa testament to his brilliance, dedication, and love for cinema. An actor, a director, a writer and above all, a good human being. Malayalam cinema has lost one of its finest minds. And I have lost one of my closest friends. (As told to Jose K Joseph)
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