A Tribute to JV

Prof. J. Vasanthan 

I think it is more correct to say that JV bade us farewell yesterday. Unlike many, he wanted to be truly in charge of even his final journey from home so that no dead ritual, no habituated priest and no requiem, could misrepresent his faith and deep spirituality. As he was consigned to flames, what finally flew back from the ember to imprint on you was his signature-JV.

The closing phrase of a very secular hymnal that gently floated through and fell on my ears in the crematorium was “Ponavar punniam namakku.”(The good that the departed has left behind is ours). This made me pause for a while and feel more poignant.

I know that there are many close friends and colleagues who can talk more authentically than me about JV. I was not his student. I was not his colleague in the department. I would not claim myself to be his intimate friend. I was not an active member of the Curtain Club either. Joining the faculty in 1981, I was seventeen years junior to him. My student day awe of the word ‘JV’ I still carried in my head. My wife, who was yet to be my wife, had known him much earlier. Even then, I avoided him. 

But my first accidental meeting with him in the canteen was a serious beginning of a relationship the memories of which I would cherish forever. His first conversation with me put in me such great self-worth that all the ‘myth of a monster’ was gone in a single encounter. He took me seriously. Till this day I value this gesture as it was very important for me as a young person aspiring to grow. 

The first art I saw in him was his conversation. The beauty of his conversation was in his ability to listen and appreciate. Unlike many artists, he was no narcissist. He entertained everyone who went to him and got himself entertained by them. Once he told me, “Even if I am too bored of someone, I do not stop taking inspiration from him or her to draw a cartoon character.” That was his aesthetic self defense.

There was a general notion that JV did not take criticism kindly. But my experience was radically different. It needs no mentioning that Shakespeare and stage drama were his passion. At one point he wanted me to act in one of his plays. I was in fact frightened. It was not only that I did have little talent for acting but also very little knowledge of the play under question. Then he suggested that I can see his play and provide a critique. I was just married for a few weeks but dutifully came with my wife and sat in the third row. In the first twenty minutes we became impatient for obvious reasons and wanted to go out. We stole ourselves into darkness and tried to slip out. Before we reached the parking lot we were caught by JV who had followed us. “So you didn’t like my play?” he asked. There was a disappointment in his voice. We felt thoroughly embarrassed. We gave some vague excuses and left, apologizing. But I felt sad. I went to him in a few days and confessed: “Sir, somehow I don’t like stage plays…Is it not possible that you innovate on the form and even on the script.” Saying this I became nervous. “Then you help me in that,” he said without a wink. I knew my inadequacy. The name ‘David of TTS’ figured in then and he held a series of meetings with him. But it became one of his unfinished projects. His passion didn't blind him or anger him. After a long time, when I casually asked about it, he without any pretension said, “I think it is too late in the day.”

It was 1984. Street theatre became a counter point to his stage drama on campus and I was busily promoting it with the help of Thedal Troupe. In my enthusiasm I went about telling everybody “Ours is Curtainless Club.” It was BG who called me one day and asked me, “Chinnaraj, don’t you think you are hurting JV.” It took a while for me to realize my rudeness. But JV never even once expressed his displeasure. He continued to be only curious about Street Theatre and had his conversations with me, with the same old elan. I discovered that he was an exemplary model of a man too sure of himself and too gentle to take notice of the ordinary and commonplace in people and get ruffled. Possibly he was the only senior colleague with whom I never entered into an argument.
He spoke spontaneously. He wrote with enormous candour. Simple things amused him. He celebrated things he remembered with significance. His quick wit of course took you by surprise.

‘No politics’ was his politics. He never easily took sides. His equipoise attracted everyone. This does not mean that he was indifferent to issues that mattered. He was greatly anguished by the events of 2008. He without hesitation threw his weight on the side of justice and unequivocally condemned the aggression of the church. In a way it exasperated him and he started feeling very hurt by the turn of events. At one point even he avoided being dragged into any conversation relating to the college. 

The last long conversation I had with him was about a year or more ago. It lasted for about three hours. It was about his childhood, days with his mother and grandfather at Kovilpatti, black & white photography, talk about Sawyerpuram, my village where from his grandmother hailed and about a few of his paintings. It was full of nostalgia. He was already frail and almost stumbled as he got up. He went into his study and searched for something. He came out again and said, “Chinnaraj I wanted to gift you one of my paintings but I don’t find it.” I convinced him that I would come some other time and receive it. But that never happened. I saw him finally in the hospital bed on Jan13. When His wife mentioned my name there was a half wink of his eye lids.

What makes JV special? Of course his talents as dramatist, writer, painter and convesationalist come to our mind. Unlike many artists, he never allowed himself to be carried away by ‘a self of projected talents.’ He buried his talents deep in his personality and presented ‘a life sublime’ that made him so charming and endearing. Art and living were not two different things for him. He suffered no grandiose. This singular aspect of his life made him a teacher extraordinary. This made JV give his signature to American College. This made people of Madurai cherish him. 

For me personally, he always gave me the necessary emotional and intellectual warmth to grow but gracefully allowed the critical distance. I could never go away from his orbit.

It is important to remember here the contribution of Mrs. Padmini Vasanthan his wife and constant companion without whom JV would have lost half his charm.
I think the most fitting way to pay tribute to JV is to create an endowment and plan for a memorial lecture as an annual event. JV story needs to be appropriately remembered. 

Ponavar punniam namaku! 

Chinnaraj Joseph