Director Anoop Satyan remembers the late actor, director and screenwriter Sreenivasan. He described Sreenivasan as his most beloved screenwriter. Anoop shared that, while writing his very first film, he kept one of Sreenivasan’s script books open by his side. He added that the Sreenivasan he knew best was the one his father, Satyan Anthikad, often spoke about from behind the cinema screen.

The full Facebook note from Anoop Satyan reads:

“Sreeni is gone.”

That’s all my father said, and within a second, he hung up.

Recently, whenever Sreeni uncle was admitted to hospital unexpectedly, a call from my father would come. “Go and see him,” he would say.

I would go, meet Vimala aunt, and she would assure me, “There’s no trouble now,” and take me to Sreeni uncle. “I would recount some old stories shared by my father. On the way back, I would call him and tell him about that day. 'Uncle is weak, but is ok'. When Aunt Vimala brought up the topic of my wedding, a nurse came to take his blood, and Uncle jokingly proposed marriage for me with her, embarrassing both the nurse and me. My father would laugh and share another story like this.”

That was the time I spent most closely with Sreeni uncle— at my father’s house in Udayamperur and later in the hospital. His health was poor, and speaking was difficult. Yet, when he recalled certain events and stories, I realised that the Sreenivasan who never let a stroke or heart issue hinder him still lived vividly in front of me.

I last saw Sreeni uncle two weeks ago. He had been admitted after a minor fall caused a small fracture. Sreenivasan was someone who expressed love from a distance. Yet that day, he held my hand and spoke. ‘The greatest pain I’ve ever felt in life is what I experienced in the last three hours’, he said. I reassured him that it would pass, and now I feel at peace.

Sreeni uncle was my most beloved scriptwriter. I wrote my first film by opening one of his script books. The Sreenivasan I know best is the one my father often spoke about behind the cinema screen.

Every moment of life seemed to hold my father–Sreeni uncle combination story. And to remember it, my father needed just one second. Today morning’s call was no different:

“Sreeni is gone.”

Nothing more needed beyond that.