Nimisha Sajayan: The Whole 9 Yards

The Whole Nine Yards With Nimisha

It's difficult to pin down the luminous presence that Nimisha Sajayan brings to the screen, writes Neelima Menon

FILMMAKER JEO BABY has an anecdote about how he finalised Nimisha Sajayan for The Great Indian Kitchen: Jeo was observing a CIA protest in Kochi when a group shouting slogans passed by. “And at the forefront was Nimisha, shouting the loudest,” he recounts. “I could see the climax of The Great Indian Kitchen, where she walks out of the house, in front of me. There was so much anger on her face and in her body language, against the system. I knew instantly that she was right for the role.”

Indeed it was perfect casting. Not only did Nimisha look the part but also subtly manifested the helplessness of a young bride married into a patriarchal household. Her character is nameless in the film, a nod to how her identity has already been muffled by deep rooted sexism. From the moment the bride enters her new home, to her daily battles with the all-encompassing oppressiveness, and her conflicting relationship with her misogynistic partner, Nimisha embodies the character to the hilt. The initial nervous joy that soon dissipates in her suffocating confinement, and that final walk into the sunset… it is a performance streaked with realism that services the story and the character.

And what Jeo saw in Nimisha that day quickly becomes evident…look out for the scene in which she snarls at her younger brother for his entitlement. You can witness the quiet rebellion brimming in her.

A few days before her debut Thondimuthalum Driksakshiyum (2017) was about to hit the screens, the film’s music director Bijibal took to social media to write an appreciation note for Nimisha: “What a wonderful actor. I was surprised by some of her subtle expressions. A performance that made you forget that this was a film.”

That stress on “subtlety” wasn’t a hyperbole. Watch the song montage that has the actor (who plays a sales girl called Sreeja in the film), sitting with her lunch dabba, indulging in casual banter, taking a mouthful of rice, and you will be taken aback by her naturalness. You would think someone filmed the clip discreetly without her knowledge. When Sreeja, who hails from a small town, feels that Prasad (Suraj Venjaramoodu) is intruding into her personal space, she casually lets him know, although romance blossoms eventually. Sreeja is upfront, instinctive, and fearless. When her mangalsutra is stolen, she is more outraged by the deceit perpetrated than the monetary loss and that’s why she persists with the case, despite her husband telling her to leave it.

Maybe today, she wouldn’t have been able to pull off the character with the same unaffectedness she did back then. And to think that Dileesh Pothan was sceptical about whether or not the Mumbai-born and bred 19-year-old with a heavy accent could pull off the role! Nimisha has a hazy memory of the events that unfolded during her first film. In an earlier interview, she spoke of still carrying vivid images of Pothan standing opposite her and making her act, and of how her famous co-star broke the ice. “On the first day of the shoot, I avoided talking to Fahadh Faasil out of sheer fear and was stumped when he came over and asked why I wasn’t talking to him. I was his biggest fan. Imagine!”

Since then one is inclined to believe that writers and directors have consciously layered her characters with spunk. That is evident in Eeda. Aishwarya is a nice blend of tradition and modernity. She is ritualistic, respectful towards elders and their wishes, loves night-outs with friends, and doesn’t endorse her family’s political leanings. Even in love, she would rather weigh the pros and cons than allow her heart to rule her head. Nimisha brings a candidness to Aishwarya that’s charming.

“(Nimisha is) one of the finest of her generation will ever get to see. With every microcosm of her existence, she loves art. She is art,” observes Sowmya Sadanandan, director of Nimisha’s third film Mangalyam Thanthunanena, a family drama in which the actress played a sorted, headstrong young wife.

If there is one Nimisha performance that deserves more appreciation, then it has to be Madhupal’s Oru Kuprasidha Payyan. Nimisha plays junior lawyer Hannah, who finds herself pitted against her former mentor (veteran Nedumudi Venu). In court, the underconfident Hannah is constantly derided by her senior, and Nimisha surprises you with the nuance she brings to Hannah. The unease, fear, humiliation, and subsequent assurance that bypasses the other emotions are all effectively brought out by the actor.

The adolescent Janaki (from Chola) who elopes with her teenage lover, only to be assaulted by the man the couple initially considered their saviour, had Nimisha flexing her craft like never before. That transition from a naïve adolescent in love to a traumatised survivor was heartbreaking to sit through.

Having said that, there have been misses too. Take Rosaline in Malik — while the younger version of the character seems fine, the actor struggles to fit into the part of an elderly Rosaline. This time everything seems off-key, including her accent. And, her stand-up comic and activist Keerthi in Standup was a casualty of bad writing.

Other times, she surprises you in just a scene — in the immensely forgettable Innale Vare, there is a raw, terrifically staged fistfight between Asif and Nimisha. Though Umani didn’t have a lot to do in Thuramukham, her presence was comforting in that grim drama. To the feisty Vasanthi in Oru Thekkan Thallu Case, Nimisha adds a surprising layer of oomph — most often with just a sneaky smile. “She will be cracking jokes all the time and once the camera is on, you can witness the transformation. She is one of the easiest actors to work with,” says Jeo.

As for what sets her apart from her contemporaries, “her authenticity is refreshing. She is also very impromptu and organic,” observes Sadanandan. She has the old-world charm of the ‘80s arthouse heroines, a period widely considered as the golden hour in Malayalam cinema. One wonders what an Adoor, Aravindan, or Bharathan would have presented her as on screen. It seems fitting to end with this quote from Nimisha: “I have been lucky to get a great start. I am not worried about what awaits me in the cinema. If nothing else, I will be around as an assistant director.”

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