In Fazil’s classic Malayalam movie Manichitrathazhu, things begin to go south when a small room in the attic of an old mansion in Madampalli in Kerala is opened. Years ago, the room belonged to Nagavalli, a dancer from Tanjore, brought there as a concubine by landlord Sankaran Thampy and murdered by him when her love story with another dancer was discovered. It is believed that Nagavalli’s spirit is locked up inside the room, and is still thirsty for revenge.

Ganga (Shobhana) hears this story when she moves into the house with her husband Nakul (Suresh Gopi). She unlocks the room despite sufficient warnings, and becomes obsessed with Nagavalli. Alone for hours on end in the palatial house, Ganga begins to imagine what life must have been like for Nagavalli and ultimately turns into the dancer. A form of psychosis, says the doctor (Mohanlal) who comes to treat her.

Ganga’s transformation is complete after she sings Nagavalli’s favourite song from start to end. The song is in Tamil, Nagavalli’s native tongue and a language that Ganga does not know at all.

A blockbuster when it was released in 1993, Manichitrathazhu inspired several remakes: Apthamitra (2004) in Kannada, Chandramukhi (2005) in Tamil (which was also dubbed in Telugu) and Bhool Bhulaiyaa (2007) in Hindi. But the Malayalam original is the spookiest of them all, and one of the factors is Nagavalli’s song Oru Murai Vandu Parthaaya and Shobhana’s stunning performance.

The doctor feels that the only way to treat Ganga of her possession is to let her sink deeper into the Nagavalli role. He sets up the stage for Oru Murai Vandu Paarthaya.

Snatches of the song are heard throughout the film, especially near the attic. Like Nagavalli, her song too is locked up until Ganga frees it. Dressed in a Bharatanatyam costume and wearing Nagavalli’s jewellery, Ganga dances to her heart’s content, and it finally becomes clear why Ganga had to be the one to free Nagavalli.

The song’s lyrics fit both Nagavalli’s and Ganga’s predicaments. The song is about waiting endlessly for a loved one – in Nagavalli’s case, it is her lover, and in Ganga’s case, it is her parents, who left her alone with her grandmother when she was a child. The wait for the beloved is also a common theme in classical dance, and it helps that the song is choreographed in the Bharatanatyam idiom. Role play is common in the classical arts. Shobhana, with her training as a dancer, fits the role beautifully.

The stage for her performance is an open temple bound by ancient stone pillars and covered with fallen leaves. The eeriness of the setting is heightened by Shobhana’s dishevelled appearance.

Among the remakes, Vidya Balan’s rendition in the Hindi version and Soundarya’s dance in Kannada come close to the essence of the original. Jyothika’s jig in the Tamil movie strays into melodrama. Shobhana’s Nagavalli remains the one who sends shivers down the spine.

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