At a time when films that do well in theatres are trolled on social media once they hit OTT platforms, Raja Karuppasamy’s debut Modha Rathri (now streaming on Netflix) is being celebrated. Interestingly, despite its September 18 OTT release, it is still running to near-packed cinema halls across Tamil Nadu.
The film, about a young couple with a past who are pushed into an unlikely wedding and the pressures of an extended family, is
being lauded for speaking of loss and grief and what women and men actually seek.
It helps that Rishikanth and Anshima Anilkumar play Marudhu and Muthu endearingly, letting you know what’s going on in their turbulent minds.
The director, 30-year-old Raja Karuppasamy, is from Thoothukudi, where Motha Rathiri is set. His dialogues and staging are refreshing because they don’t apportion blame but try to heal those in pain.
“Blaming people and making others feel guilty is what we have seen all along. But, in any relationship, there are good times and bad times, and what do we gain by blaming someone? Time teaches you the maturity required to move ahead without hate,” Raja tells TNM.
As a child, he was exposed to life in bigger towns only when he visited Madurai and Kundrakudi for summer holidays. He is familiar with poverty and hard work and how neighbours sometimes know you better than relatives.
“I grew up poor, but at a time when there was no avenue to compare our lives with others and feel bad about it. There was no Instagram to make you jealous about another young couple or about a holiday someone went on. It was all about your neighbourhood and sharing pencils with friends,” smiles Raja.
Raja’s father was a real estate agent, and his mother did a variety of chores to keep the home afloat. He was raised by a woman who decided she had to make things work for the family.
“She worked in a coconut oil company and also sold idli-dosai batter. Our home benefited tremendously from the free grinder provided by the state government. I would distribute newspapers in the mornings and work in the courier office in the evenings.”
Life changed after he moved to Chennai in 2016 to study filmmaking at Loyola College. From a world of English films and cartoons like Chhota Bheem and Popeye dubbed into Tamil, he moved to world cinema and parallel cinema.
“The first film that I watched was Innocent Voices (2004) from Mexico. It’s about a boy trying to avoid the war raging around him. It shook me because all my life, my mother had protected me from violence. She would not even let me watch Kannathil Muthamittal (2002) or Anjali (1990), because there were elements of sorrow.”
Possibly because of that, even when Raja wrote sorrow into his debut film, it came from a place of wanting to heal.
Marudhu broods over his dead love. Muthu is angry over an irresponsible boyfriend. They both get to spill their angst. Modha Rathri had a lot of tender moments, and even the landscape is filled with things a discerning audience may pick up on — how a villagers’ protest site turns into a refuge for Muthu later or a glass bottle thrown away mindlessly in one scene hurts someone in another.
“I love it when the audience picks up on these things. It makes it all worthwhile. And it tells you that if a regular moviegoer can pick up nuances, then it simply means you should not question the audience’s intellect and restrict yourself,” says Raja.
In between the conversation, Raja loves to travel back in time to share the wonderment he felt when watching Ritwik Ghatak’s works, Adoor Gopalakrishnan’s Mathilukal (1990) and Goutam Ghose’s Paar (1984). “Remember that river, and Naseeruddin Shah and Shabana Azmi, and the pigs, and how they struggle?”
Raja’s film and his interviews have charmed many young women, who cite him as an example of a mature person who tries to understand women’s viewpoints. Raja says he has learnt from cinema and women in real life.
“I remember how my mother admired K Balachander’s Manadhil Urudhi Vendum (1987). I loved Kottukaali and Meena’s fierce spirit. I used to be that person who shared memes on periods. My ex-girlfriends and some men in my life, who did not mind wearing nail polish and marudhaani (henna), chiselled me into what I am today. Cinema and books improved my worldview too.”
Raja’s late father, whose photograph makes an appearance in Motha Rathiri, was a progressive person too. “I still try to recall our last conversation, our last touch,” he says.
As the conversation proceeds, Raja grows quiet and asks if he can share something.
“In the show Satyameva Jayate, hosted by Aamir Khan, they spoke about child sexual abuse. They spoke about how men are sometimes victims of society’s rules, and they don’t even know it. Around that time, I opened up to my then partner about how I was sexually abused as a child and that I felt bad about it. She told me that I was a survivor and the person who did it should feel bad, not me.”
That helped Raja understand that being vulnerable was not a bad thing, though he rarely saw the men in his family cry.
“I think that because they store grief and sadness, they turn toxic. A friend of mine was punished a lot as a child. He recently told me he still cannot sleep at night because he is still afraid. What was his mistake?”
There is a scene in Motha Rathiri in which Marudhu asks the photographer if there are any poses where he and Muthu don’t have to touch each other. That was seen as thoughtful by many. “Even today, in 2026, in many places, newly married couples are given a time and date and forced to have sex. It is nothing by rape sanctioned by society.”
This is possibly why many did not feel Modha Rathri was a movie — it felt like a peek into the lives of two people you know. “That was the plan,” Raja says. “Within 10 minutes, I wanted them to enter the world I had created and not feel they were watching cinema.”
One of the biggest reasons Modha Rathri worked is the cast — Rishikanth and Anishma Anilkumar. If he was the perfect brooding man who steps up to handle a sudden wedding and what happens later, she conveyed the fury of a girl who is not in control of her life.
“Even when she was dubbing, she cried, because the lines triggered her so much. Her lament struck a chord with so many. And when I wrote the climax, my only brief to Rishikanth was to use variations of ‘hmm …’ Women don’t really need suggestions or solutions. They just need someone to listen to them.”
Amid all the euphoria of films helping shape society, how hopeful is Raja of change?
“I am very hopeful. Only after watching The Great Indian Kitchen (2021) did I start filling my own tumbler of drinking water. I never knew it was wrong to ask. One movie won’t change people, but it will disturb them. That’s good enough. That will sow the seed of change.”
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