“
Balakrishnan, who saw in me the earthiness of Ilayaraja's music, and in me he claimed to uncover the wide-eyed, strong-willed, quick-to-retort, dancing-in-the-rain Mouna Raagam Revathi, the kind of woman the men of my father's generation fantasized about, the woman whose touch was electric, whose speech was sharp as sickles, who coupled old-world shrewdness with rustic naivete, and the longer he kept projecting this image on me, the more distant I grew from myself, and from him.
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