When Rokesh’s friend Muthu called to tell him that a certain K. V. Anand had asked to meet him, he thought it was a ruse. In his words, “a kalaai ”. A 21-year-old machine operator by profession working out of Parry’s, he had already taken his quota of leave for the month and couldn’t afford to waste time on his friend’s practical joke. After repeated pleading, he conceded and took leave, much to the chagrin of his employer. Shortly, to his astonishment, he found himself in K. V. Anand’s office, explaining to his friend that the man was a director who had made hits such as Ko and Ayan .
The reason K. V. had called this Ayanavaram resident had much to do with the latter’s popularity in writing gana songs, a hobby he had taken great liking to after indulging in it for the first time when was 19. In the thriving industry of gana albums prevalent in north Chennai and its unglamorous localities, Rokesh had become an eager participant when an acquaintance, Dilip, promised him an opportunity to sing, provided he wrote the lines. Rokesh fell for the trick, but Dilip never kept his promise. His writing, however, got better with time and successful gana albums resulted from his collaboration with a friend called Balachander. He would write about anything and everything, including “ bike otravanga, kudikkaravanga, ponnunga…, ” while travelling on buses, but enjoys writing at his friend’s modest home in Vyasarpadi. Word of his work soon spread and when K. V. was looking for somebody to write an authentic gana for Anegan , Dhanush’s upcoming film, the roads led to Rokesh.
After meeting K. V. and later, Harris Jayaraj, he was given a CD that had a single track — the tune of the song hummed by the composer. The brief was simple: write a gana song with words appropriate to a slum in the 70s. Barely a day later, Rokesh called K. V. to tell him that he had the lyrics ready. The director, surprised at his efficiency, requested that he take an additional day and come up with two other options. Rokesh’s reply: I already have six options.
The ensuing meeting at the composer’s office in Virugambakkam saw the director and composer nodding in appreciation as they read the lyrics. Just as Rokesh leaned back in comfort at the idea that they had understood the lyrics, they told him they didn’t. The words were too local, too alien. He would patiently explain the meaning and write and rewrite several times before the lines were finalised, a month later. The opening line read, “ Danga maari oodhaari, puttuguna nee naari ”. I ask Rokesh how he could have possibly known the slum language of the 70s. He breaks into a smile and mentions that his ‘ aaya ’ came to his rescue. He remembers one day when he cooked up excuses to explain why he hadn’t returned the money he had borrowed from her. “ Poda danga maari !” she had said, using a little-known term that refers to an unreliable person who changes his stance often.
‘Danga maari’ is now the biggest hit of the Anegan album. It has given Rokesh, a high school dropout, renewed belief that he can become successful as a gana writer. He also met actor Dhanush at the audio release, resulting in his friends clamouring for the actor’s number. “Like I have it!”
When he was paid a lump sum of Rs. 20,000 for ‘Danga maari’, he was pleasantly surprised. “I didn’t expect anything in return.” Does he now walk the bylanes of Vyasarpadi with his collar up? “ Avlo scene illa, sir,” says this lyricist, who has now quit his job as a machine operator. He now hopes that Anegan ’s release will bring him more opportunities. “Perhaps somebody will even allow me to sing my own song?”
