There are many poets in Kerala whose words are read, many lyricists whose songs are heard, and many writers whose names find a place in history. But only a rare few become part of how people feel, and for Malayalis, that presence was Vayalar Ramavarma.
He was there in the song rising from a neighbour’s radio at dawn, in the festival loudspeaker drifting across temple grounds, on the makeshift stages of protest meetings, in the soft humming of a mother at home, and in those half-remembered lines that return uninvited during long, lonely journeys.
Through his words, he remained everywhere — part of memory, part of language, part of the emotional rhythm of generations.
On October 27, 1975, Vayalar’s pen, which had gifted generations their songs, poetry and words for their deepest emotions, came to rest. Those who remember the time say it felt as though every flower from Chalai market had been brought to the VJT Hall in Thiruvananthapuram.
Currently, the Vayalar Trust is observing the period until October 27 this year as the ‘Vayalar Year’, with programmes across Kerala celebrating his life and work. A remembrance that feels less like a formal tribute and more like an extension of collective affection.
Vayalar once wrote the words “Enikku maranamilla (I have no death)!” Malayalis will agree. For his words continue to resonate: once through radio sets, later through cassette players and CDs, and now through headphones.
“Great poets have a life beyond death — in the hearts of their readers. That is why, even half a century later, Vayalar still lives in us,” says poet and lyricist Prabha Varma.
“He had a rare gift for imagery, structural elegance and an extraordinary choice of words — qualities that even modern poetry often struggles to match. Yet he also carried a modern sensibility.”
Vayalar’s role in renewing the language too deserves to be remembered. “Without him, we may have not even heard many Malayalam words,” says Prabha Varma.
“When he moved into cinema, many felt Malayalam poetry had lost a great voice, but it proved to be a huge gain. The cream of his poetry flowed into his songs, giving them a supreme poetic essence that continues to outlive the films themselves.”
Born in Vayalar village in Alappuzha district, Ramavarma began writing early, with his first poem published in the ‘Swaraj’ weekly. His early collection ‘Padamudrakal’, which was influenced by Gandhian thought, was followed by works such as ‘Sargasangeetham’, ‘Ashwamedham’, ‘Thadaka Enna Dravida Rajakumari’, ‘Enikku Maranamilla’ and ‘Mulankadu’ that established him as a powerful poetic voice.
Vayalar’s entry into cinema in 1956, with ‘Thumbi thumbi vaa vaa’ from ‘Koodapirappu’, marked the beginning of a lyrical journey that would go on to shape the golden era of Malayalam film music.
Central to this was his legendary partnership with composer G Devarajan that began with the 1959 film ‘Chathurangam’. Nearly 60 per cent of Vayalar’s film songs were set to Devarajan Master’s music.
Together, the duo created around 755 songs across 135 films, many of which became classics, often carried to listeners through the voice of K J Yesudas.
Vayalar worked with other doyens, too, such as V Dakshinamoorthy, M S Baburaj and K Raghavan. Overall, he wrote about 1,300 songs for over 250 films, and about 150 songs for nearly 25 plays.
Playback singer Rajalaksmy says a great fortune of her musical journey has been the opportunity to sing Vayalar’s songs on stage. “At the recent Vayalar Ganasandhya at Thiruvananthapuram’s Manaveeyam Veedhi, I had the chance to present his songs before a packed audience. Some fill my eyes with tears, others make my voice tremble. That is how deeply those lines touch one,” she says.
“I still wonder how one could write such stirring lines. I loved his songs even before I was old enough to understand their meaning. Now, when I think about it, I feel many thoughts the new generation discusses today were already written by Vayalar decades ago, within his short lifetime.”
Singer Anila Rajeev echoes the sentiment. “He wrote lines like ‘Manushyan Mathangale Srishtichu’ years ago. Even today, those words feel strikingly relevant,” she says.
“For me, his songs belong to my childhood. My mother taught me his songs, and many of the first pieces I learnt to sing were written by Vayalar. ‘Chandrakalabham’ has always remained a favourite. And the iconic Vayalar–Devarajan combination, as in songs like ‘Thurannitta Jaalakangal’, shows how beautifully lyrics and music can come together to make something timeless.”
In Vayalar’s words, love was never alone. It came with the rustle of leaves, the softness of rain, the colour of flowers, the hush of evening light — always entwined with images of nature.
Lines like ‘Kaayampoo kannil vidarum kamaladalam kavilil vidarum…’, ‘Aayiram padasarangal kilungi...’ and ‘Sankupushpam kannezhuthumbol...’ still open something within people, stirring that simple wish to love and be loved.
And then there were songs like ‘Ee manohara theerathu tharumo iniyoru janmam koodi…’, ‘Swargathekkal sundaramanee swapnam vidarum gramam...’, ‘Swapnangal, swapnangale...’ and ‘Periyare, Periyare...’ — lines that make listeners pause and notice the beauty of life around them.
Interestingly, the same pen that wrote the revolutionary ‘Balikudeerangale…’ and lines like ‘Manushyan mathangale srishtichu, mathangal daivangale srishtichu…’ also produced memorable devotional songs such as ‘Sabarimalayil thanka sooryodayam...’, ‘Saranamayyappa, Swami Saranamayyappa...’ and ‘Chethi, mandaram, thulasi...’.
Love, affection, compassion, science, reason, philosophy, faith — almost everything connected to human life found a place in his lyrics. Perhaps, that is why they felt so close to the people.
In many ways, Vayalar stood at the rare meeting point of poet and lyricist, carrying both gifts with equal strength.
“As a poet, Vayalar was shaped by a radical humanist vision. When he came into songwriting, that depth remained,” says poet and lyricist Anvar Ali.
“His early lyrics carried the imprint of classical Sanskrit learning and a refined literary culture. Yet he explored human-centred spaces and brought a striking naturalness into poetry and lyrics. The craftsmanship of his songs made them stand like the sculpted tiers of great temple towers.”
Many who came later, no doubt, followed him or were shaped by his influence. “Beyond writing, too, Vayalar was known as a warm presence — a man of friendships and companionship,” Anvar adds. “That warmth continues to radiate.”