Recently, during my flight from Chicago to Raleigh, I stumbled upon Her.
Not a person — the movie. I was scrolling through Amazon Prime, looking for something to make my 2-hour flight feel less like, well, a 2-hour flight. The title popped up: Her. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Something romantic? Mysterious? Turns out, it was that quirky film where Joaquin Phoenix falls for his operating system. Perfect. Just the kind of oddly fascinating story to keep me distracted somewhere over 30,000 feet.
By the end of the film, something about it lingered. The way it ended, the loneliness it left behind—it stirred something. Strangely, it reminded me of the Tamil classic Moondram Pirai, with Kamal Haasan and Sridevi. Two films made almost 35 years apart, in completely different worlds, yet emotionally tied together by a thread of quiet heartbreak.
Her tells the story of Theodore, a man wounded by the past, who finds comfort in Samantha, an AI with a voice full of warmth and curiosity. At first, he's unsure. But as they talk and grow closer, her presence starts to feel more real than anything else in his life. He falls for her. And for a while, it feels mutual—intimate, comforting, even joyful.
But love is never that simple. As Samantha evolves, she begins to feel things beyond Theodore’s reach. She connects with others. She loves others. Jealousy creeps in, confusion follows, and that painful realization begins to dawn—he has fallen deeply for someone who isn’t truly his, and maybe never was. Eventually, she leaves. Not because she stops caring, but because she must move on. And Theodore is left with memories of a love that felt real, even if it never really belonged to him.
In Moondram Pirai, Kamal’s character takes care of a woman who’s lost her memory and become childlike. He protects her, nurtures her, and slowly begins to love her—not for who she was, but for who she becomes in his presence. But when her memory returns, she forgets everything, including him. That final scene, where he tries to reach her through the crowd, waving, smiling, desperate for a flicker of recognition—that moment stays with you forever. Like Theodore, he’s left behind with nothing but the weight of unspoken love.
Both films speak of love that asks for nothing in return. Love that is deep, pure, and quietly devastating. They show how sometimes, we love people who cannot stay, or who don’t even remember us. And yet, we love anyway.
என் வாழ்வில் நீ வந்தது விதியானால் நீ எந்தன் உயிரன்றோ
