I was surprisingly moved when I read about actor Sarath Babu’s death a few days ago. I never knew, until then, that I felt so deeply about him. His erect stature, curly hair, handsome face with a crisp mustache, fair skin, deep baritone voice, the way he walked with a spring in his step, and an overall decent demeanor that oozed kindness and warmth on screen – instantly flashed through my mind. Sarath Babu was seventy-one years old, and he died at a hospital in Hyderabad surrounded by family and friends. A health freak, and a very fit man, he didn’t realize that a very rare form of an immunity-affecting disease was unfolding in his body; and before it was suitably diagnosed, the disease had taken its toll. There was nothing much to do but wait for the end.
It is interesting to note that even though Sarath Babu has been a part of the movie industry for over four decades and has acted in over 200 films, he may not even feature in the top ten list, if regular movie-goers in certain parts of South India, were polled to name their favorite actors from memory. This is because Sarath has often played the character of the secondary protagonist in most films, with his characters providing a backdrop against which the hero’s role shone through. Although his characters were often central to the storyline, the baton would ultimately be passed over to the hero when the time came. In other words, Sarath has always been what we euphemistically call an “actor in a supporting role.” Despite this status, he has shared the screen with many superstars of the era and played important roles in many films, and forged good friendships across the industry.
My earliest memory of Sarath Babu goes back to when I was eight or nine years old when the 1978 movie “Mullum Malarum” came out. The iconic song ” Senthazham poovil” comes to mind. If I close my eyes, I can even today recreate the song and its beautiful picturization: Sarath Babu driving an open-roofed jeep, winding its way through the hills and lip-syncing to the song, glancing every now and then at the starry-eyed Shobha ( playing the role of a naive village girl) sitting behind and lost in the rapture of the experience, Ilayaraja’s lilting and free-flowing tune that somehow brought the hills to life, and Poet Laureate Kannadasan’s transcendental poetry that poured life and meaning into the tune. Even at that age, when cinema was new to me, this particular sequence created a deep impression on me. There was something utterly natural and yet sublime about those four minutes, and Sarath Babu’s performance stood out. I can still recollect that faint smile on his face, the way he handled the jeep and the overall sweetness and gentleness of his expressions.
Who can forget Sarath’s iconic role in K Vishwanath’s masterpiece ” Sagara Sangamam”? His role as Raghu as a friend, guide, family, and philosopher to the drunken and talented Kamal’s character Balu is one of the finest portrayals of friendship in Indian cinema. The only other pair that comes to my mind is between Amitabh and Rajesh Khanna’s characters in the movie “Anand”. However, in Sagara Sangamam, Sarath Babu’s role is as important as the Kamal’s. It is difficult to think of anyone else who could have played Sarath’s part as convincingly as he did. In that final scene, when Balu dies in his arms after signaling to Raghu ( Sarath’s character) that his job is done, Raghu gently swerves the wheelchair out of the auditorium and instinctively covers his friend’s head with his arms to protect him from the sudden downpour outside. There is a sublime tenderness to this climax, and it unfailingly moves me to tears even today.
It is interesting how Sarath complimented Rajnikanth’s brashness, style, and mannerisms in some of the biggest blockbusters. In “Vellaikaran”, ” Annamalai”, and “Muthu”, Sarath provided the right foil for Rajni’s histrionics to unfold. In all three movies, their characters would start out as friends, and gradually slip into a state of misunderstanding each other’s motives, only to be followed by a reconciliation and fight against a common villain. This is the persistent theme, but the chemistry between these two actors was good and professional and it never seemed repetitive. Sarath’s rich and gentle boy look went well with the macho image of the superstar. In many ways, Sarath was Rajni’s muse. The work they have done together has never failed.
Now that Sarath is no more, we will miss him. There are actors in the industry who don’t care for the number-game or commercial success in everything they do. They prefer to do their job quietly without much fanfare or public appearances to prove their worth and relevance; Sarath was one of them. He was always in the limelight, but never hogged it. That is the reason perhaps that everyone in the cut-throat film industry rushed in to pay their heartfelt tributes to the man. We don’t get many like him. I don’t think, Sarath Babu competed with anyone for a spot in the glamor and glory that cinema provides. He had a good family, steady work, and great roles that kept him happy.
Coincidentally, a few hours after I read the news that Sarath had passed away, I had to drive to the store to buy some groceries. When the music system in the car switched on, it automatically began playing the daily mix from Spotify, and the first song on the list was – guess what – “Senthazhum poovil”. It was nostalgic, and I savored every moment of it recreating in my mind’s eye the picturization of the song. When the last note faded away into nothingness, Sarath Babu’s face lingered on, and that faint smile on his lips seemed to suggest that he will live on forever in the annals of south Indian cinema, perhaps not as a mainstream hero, but as an actor, as a human being, who brought credibility, charm, grace, integrity, and commitment to the roles he was given to play. That is enough.