India celebrates its beloved Mohanlal

From time to time, cinema offers not just a performer but a force whose presence seeps into everyday life, stirring something deeper than admiration. Mohanlal is that force. When the announcement came that he would receive the Dadasaheb Phalke Award, it felt less like recognition delayed and more like the world pausing to salute a life devoted to artistry and quiet strength.

I first met Mohanlal under unassuming circumstances. I had gone to Calicut for a meeting with my boss, Mr. Madhavan. In the waiting area, there he was, without fanfare or entourage. Seeing me struggle with a laptop bag, he simply picked it up and ushered me inside, a gracious gesture delivered with a calm smile. In that instant his humility spoke louder than any accolade.

My parents once witnessed the same innate courtesy. On a flight to Mumbai, they found themselves seated beside the legend. As they disembarked, my mother accidentally left her handbag behind. Mohanlal noticed immediately, and caught up with her on the aerobridge, returning it with a warm “You forgot this.” A modest act, yet unforgettable.

Moments like these explain why millions call him “Lalettan” with affection. Watch him stride into a frame and the atmosphere changes: the subtle tilt of the shoulders, the relaxed swing of the arms, the unmistakable walk in a crisp white mundu. It is not rehearsed swagger but an ease that generations of Malayali men have tried to emulate when they knot a mundu on a festival morning.

His range on screen is extraordinary. Mohanlal’s filmography is a gallery of human complexity: the tragic Sethumadhavan in Kireedam, whose restrained despair became a cultural touchstone, the tender father in Thanmathra, fading into the mist of Alzheimer’s with heartbreaking subtlety; the rugged action hero of Pulimurugan; the wily Georgekutty in Drishyam, outthinking everyone with quiet intelligence. Director Mani Ratnam even drew on Mohanlal’s real life wrestling skills for the striking opening credits of Iruvar, trusting him to bring authenticity to the role from the very first frame.

Recent years have shown the same daring. In Neru, he plays an ex-investigative officer helping a blind assault survivor, his curt, emotionless eyes a vivid contrast to the quiet strategist of Drishyam. Directors across industries speak of his almost legendary memory, saying he needs only a single glance at a dialogue sheet to lock every line and inflection into place. His latest turn in Thudarum, a thriller built around an old vintage Ambassador car and the brutal murder of a son, continues that tradition. With the smallest flicker of an eyelid or a measured pause, he conveys both fury and aching vulnerability.

His influence reaches beyond cinema. A recent jewellery advertisement where he danced wearing a necklace, bracelet and ring sparked a nationwide conversation about style and tradition, blending elegance and masculinity with effortless grace.

I think of many such moments where he lets silence speak: the balcony scene in Iruvar, where a shift of the eyes captures ambition and doubt; the forgotten bus stop in Thanmathra, when a fleeting smile masks the terror of a mind slipping away; the tense interrogation in Drishyam, every glance a calculated chess move; the rain-soaked breakdown in Kireedam, raw and unguarded and the muted mourning in Bharatham, where a brother’s death is conveyed in a single restrained breath. Different in scale and mood, these scenes share the same gift, filling stillness with meaning and making a simple look more powerful than pages of dialogue.

Even as we celebrate Mohanlal, it is natural to recall Mammootty, another towering figure of Malayalam cinema. Together they helped define an era of innovation and depth, their contrasting style, Mohanlal’s effortless naturalism and Mammootty’s majestic gravitas laying the foundation for the industry’s global reach. If Malayalam cinema today is recognised across the world for realism and creative daring, it is because artists like these carried it to that height.

Mohanlal is not without controversy his frank comments on gender roles during a recent reality show discussion drew sharp debate but even that revealed a willingness to speak his mind rather than hide behind stardom.

So we celebrate the laurels, the decades of unforgettable performances and the quiet influence that has shaped Indian cinema. But more than that, we celebrate the heart behind the art, a heart that reflects how to be better, kinder, more human.

Congratulations, Mohanlal, the legend who turned Malayalam cinema into a language the world now speaks.

(The views expressed are personal)