Such was the power and presence of B. Saroja Devi in my family that two of my aunts were named after her. Unlike the other heroines of her generation, —such as Padmini or Vyjayanthimala—who were chosen for their dancing skills, Saroja Devi was the equivalent of Madhubala in the south. She was revered for her poise, her graceful gestures and her mischievous energy. As my mother observed, her childish prattle—her trademark style of dialogue-rendering—was still alive in her interviews, even a few months before she died. She was fondly called Kannadathu Paingili (Kannada’s parrot) in Tamil.