Before turning 25 he had already delivered Apoorva Raagangal, 16 Vayathinile, Sigappu Rojakkal and Aval Appadithan. At 26, Raja Paarvai became his hundredth film — he produced it himself and played a blind violinist in it, against every piece of advice he was given.
Then Moondram Pirai. Nayakan. Mahanadhi, Hey Ram, Anbe Sivam. A lifetime of range that kept refusing the shape of a career: the comedies, the prosthetics, the scripts nobody had asked for, the losses he funded out of his own pocket.
In Indian cinema only a select few invite comparison in sheer acting prowess — Mohanlal, Mammootty, Naseeruddin Shah, Fahadh Faasil. Internationally, Daniel Day-Lewis, Robert De Niro and Toshiro Mifune belong in that conversation.
What sets him apart is the restlessness. Most actors of that stature find a register and spend thirty years deepening it. He kept dismantling his, decade after decade, and absorbed the box office punishment that came with it.
Happy 72nd birthday, கலைஞானி.
Not merely a great actor. One of Indian cinema's greatest creative minds.