Letter 28

Maadhavi Chechi,
I grew up in a small town call Kannur in Kerala in the 90s. Once every couple of years during our childhood, we would visit my aunt and uncle in Vadagara (Kerala) and spend a few nights at their house, visiting cousins, playing board games and engaging ourselves in all things that a set of pre-internet kids would engage themselves in.
One of the perks of visiting my aunt and uncle was that they owned a movie theater, and we would get to watch a movie in the private balcony section of the theater during each visit. It was one such summer, when Akashadoothu came out. That was also the summer when I saw Akaashadoothu for the first and last time.
When I say “first and last time”, it is by no means meant as a diss to the creators, actors and contributors of Akaashadoothu. In fact, it is quite the opposite. The story had been so masterfully woven that It successfully achieved its goal of being the saddest story ever told, so much so that it is basically impossible for me to watch that movie one more time.
Now you might be wondering why I’ve been forcing you to take a trip down my (a stranger’s) memory lane. Well – I have you to thank for that. I was actually getting lost in the wonderful world of Facebook and the interweb, on a beautifully warm Saturday night, when I came  across a Facebook post about a famous Mayalam actress from the 90s who now flies planes. Curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked the bait. And before I knew It, I was deeply immersed in the biography of someone, who to me was (and always will be) “Annie” from Akaashadoothu – the character that was the backbone of Akaashadoothu.
Reading about “Madhavi” and doing a Google search on “Madhavi” is what brought me to this email address. And here I am. I am not sure if this is a real email address. Either way, I would like to say “Hello Madhavi Chechi”. I would love to hear from you.