The theatre had almost fallen silent when the first strains of 'Koodappirannor' from 'Vaazha II: Biopic of a Billion Bros' began to play - soft, wistful, almost hesitant, as if careful not to disturb the moment.
Within seconds, the song wrapped itself around the audience like a memory they didn't realise they had been carrying.
At the centre of this stands composer Parvatish Pradeep, the young musician whose melodies have shaped the emotional landscape of the 'Vaazha' universe.
When Parvatish heard the final cut of 'Koodappirannor' (siblings), his mind wasn't on streams or social media metrics. He was in the studio with the 'Vaazha 2' team - director Savin SA, writer Vipin Das, music supervisor Ankit Menon, lyricist BK Harinarayanan and vocalist Sooraj Santosh - when the completed track played. As the outro faded, the room slipped into a stillness that spoke louder than words.
"I almost never get emotional listening to my own music," he says.
Today, the song's impact extends far beyond that first playback. Across Kerala, and increasingly across India, 'Koodappirannor' has become the latest chapter in the 'Vaazha' franchise's cultural wave. Its predecessor, 'Makane', from 'Vaazha: Biopic of a Billion Boys', had already secured its place in Malayalam music history.
But 'Koodappirannor', released as the climactic centrepiece of 'Vaazha 2', has evolved into something else entirely: a shared memory, a point of connection, a song listeners don't just hear but inhabit.
For 28-year-old composer Parvatish Pradeep, who created both 'Makane' in 'Vaazha 1' and 'Koodappirannor' in the sequel, the overwhelming reception has felt both surreal and gratifying. "When the trailer came out, people immediately began using the song for reels. When the film released, it went to another level," he says. "People shared videos about their siblings, parents, friends. What truly stood out was the number of heartfelt messages I received. It was overwhelming in the best way. "
The beginning: 'Vaazha' and 'Makane'
Parvatish's journey with the franchise began with 'Vaazha 1', where he worked on the songs 'Makane' and 'Thottavadi'.
He recalls being shown the scenes in advance. "'Thottavadi' was meant for the romantic moment between Siju Sunny and Meenakshi, while 'Makane' revolved around the emotional bond between the father and son," he explains.
For 'Makane', the emotional intent was immediate. "The moment I saw the visuals, I realised I needed to create something deeply emotional, something that would allow people to really connect with the scene," he says.
He worked alongside Vipin, Ankit, and the song writer to shape the track's direction. Initially, Ankit was expected to compose the piece, but the responsibility eventually shifted to Parvatish.
A song built backwards
Parvatish's process for both songs began in a similar way - the melody arrived from the ending. In 'Makane', the first phrase he heard in his mind was 'hridayam muriyum,' which eventually became the emotional peak of the song. He built the rest of the track around that fragment.
For 'Koodappirannor', he faced a different pressure, the expectation created by 'Makane'. "I wondered if I could match that emotional depth," he admits. Once again, the melody came to him starting from the concluding line, 'Thammil pinangi povalle.' Because both songs would play during the film's climax, he intentionally composed the outro of 'Koodappirannor' as a continuation of 'Makane', ensuring the transition felt seamless.
The team remained largely the same: BK Harinarayanan wrote the lyrics, Sooraj Santosh sang the first segment, Parvatish sang the outro, and this time, a children's choir and young singer Nila Raj added an additional layer of innocence.
"I intentionally composed the outro of 'Koodappirannor' to sound like a continuation of 'Makane', almost like its second part," he explains. "So the emotional flow wouldn't feel abrupt."
Meeting the director, finding a brother
The director of 'Vaazha 2', Savin SA, was originally an associate director on 'Vaazha 1'.
Parvatish first met him during the making of 'Thottavadi'. "Savin was present throughout that process, observing everything in real time, from me humming the tune to the lyrics being written on the spot," he says.
During the background score sessions for the A-team, the relationship deepened.
"Over time, we really bonded. We travelled together, explored a lot of places to eat. It went beyond a director-composer relationship; I started seeing him more like a brother," Parvatish recalls.
He firmly believes the film's emotional context is what made 'Koodappirannor' resonate so deeply. "If it existed independently, it might have just been another emotional track. But within the story, it hits differently," he says. "Even though the song is mine, I see it as a collective effort."
Crafting emotion, one cue point at a time
The brief for the track was simple: it should make people cry. That was the only clear instruction. But the way they arrived at that emotion was anything but strict. The director, the writer, and the background-score team sat together and went through the scenes, identifying the emotional cue points, the moments where the music should swell, the moments where it should fall away, and the moments where it had to simply sit with the scene and let it breathe.
According to Parvatish, the entire process felt easy and organic. "It felt less like instructions and more like a group of friends discussing what worked," he explains. They weren't handing out rigid directions; they were collectively deciding what served the film best. "The goal was always the same, to bring out the best version for the film."
Building the choir effect
The climactic, choir-like swell in 'Makane' wasn't recorded with a large group of singers. It was built entirely from Parvatish's own voice - stacked, layered, and blended with guitars and distorted guitars until it created the wide, uplifting sound the scene needed. What audiences hear as a full choir is really just multiple layers of him, arranged to feel bigger and more hopeful.
When it came to 'Koodappirannor', he leaned on the same method but expanded it further by bringing in a children's choir. The foundation of his layered vocals remained, but the addition of children's voices gave the piece a different emotional texture. "Children's voices naturally carry innocence. It pulls you back to your own childhood," he says. That quality became the emotional anchor of the track, shaping the lift and purity the moment required.
On whether he brought personal interpretation to his singing, he says his intention was simply to complement Sooraj Santosh. "He's incredible. I just wanted to elevate what he had already done," he says. For the outro, he chose a layered, airy texture because he wanted it to feel intimate. "I used an airy texture in my voice; naturally, my tone has a bit of that softness, and layering it created a kind of gentle, whisper-like effect. Technically, that portion could have been sung in a much harsher or louder way, especially since it sits in a higher pitch range. But I consciously chose to keep it soft. I wanted it to feel like you're speaking to your sibling, intimate and personal, almost like a conversation, not an announcement."
When lyrics and melody click
For Parvatish, the simplicity of BK Harinarayanan's lyrics played a major role in shaping the emotional impact of the song. He points out that the words feel natural and familiar, the kind people use in everyday life. Phrases like "pinangi povalle" carry a casual, conversational tone, making the emotion feel immediate and real rather than distant or overly poetic.
He explains that while it is always possible to use heavier, more literary language, experience has shown him that listeners connect more deeply with words that feel lived-in. In this case, the melodies were composed first and the lyrics came later, but once the words were written, the two came together effortlessly.
"When the lyrics were added, everything blended so seamlessly you can't tell what came first, the tune or the words. It fell into this rare, sweet spot where the lyrics complemented the melody and the melody complemented the lyrics. ," he says.
Recording memories that stayed
Recording with Sooraj in person for the first time was a highlight. "Meeting him felt like bonding with an elder brother," he says. Watching musicians add their parts - guitars, violin, flute, sitar - made the song feel "larger than life."
When child singer Nila Raj performed the bridge section, it instantly clicked. "I was initially unsure about including a kids' vocal. But I asked her to try it out, and the moment I heard her sing, it felt so pure and beautiful that I knew we had to keep it."
Personal connections to the song ran deep for him too. As someone with a younger brother, the lyrics hit him hard. Playing the completed track for close friends and seeing their emotional reactions confirmed how powerful it had become.
"I think the most rewarding feeling as a musician is when people connect with your song and begin to see their own stories in it. That's when the music truly belongs to them. Those moments were overwhelming, and I know I'll carry them with me for the rest of my life," Parvatish added.
Lessons from 'Vaazha'
To him, the 'Vaazha' team is family. "At no point did it feel like work," he says. Working with childhood friend and music supervisor Ankit Menon made it even more personal. "It felt like working with your own koodeppirannor."
From Vipin and Ankit, he learned the importance of carrying your people with you. "They've reached where they are today, but they make it a point to uplift the people around them and ensure everyone grows together. This project felt like that. Whenever something good happened to someone in the team, it felt like a win for all of us. That's not something you come across often."
Musical journey rooted in many worlds
Music began at home, with his father, a Carnatic vocalist and teacher. Growing up in Bhopal, he absorbed a mix of old Malayalam songs, Western classical, and global pop. Years of keyboard training gave him another dimension. At 20, he moved to Mumbai, working on over 35 Hindi films as a background music producer. But the work culture in Malayalam cinema eventually pulled him back south.
"It felt more collaborative and respectful. It felt like home," he says.
He worked on projects including 'Antakshari', 'Jaya Jaya Jaya Jaya Hey' and 'Guruvayoor Ambalanadayil', along with an independent Think Music track titled 'Baraati Drop', and playback opportunities in films such as 'Pennu Case', 'Thirike' and 'Manjummel Boys'.
His experience in Bollywood was vastly different, more hierarchical, more rigid, less room to experiment. "The approach to music there is also quite old-school, and experimentation isn't encouraged as much," he added. The Malayalam industry, he says, gave him the freedom to be himself. "They tell you what the emotion or intention is, and then give you complete freedom to interpret it in your own way. That's why the industry is growing. Artists here are allowed to fully express themselves, to experiment, to improvise. If you ask any artist, that's what we thrive on, creating something new, stepping out of patterns, and constantly learning."
Making music for 'Vaazha 3'
With 'Vaazha 3' announced, he says he would love to be part of it. "I'd walk in blindfolded," he laughs. But he also believes the franchise stands for giving newcomers their first break, just as he got his. "The whole spirit of Vaazha has always been about giving new people an opportunity. That's exactly how it happened for me, I was a nobody when I got my first chance in 'Vaazha'. People connected with the music, and then 'Vaazha 2' also came my way. So if 'Vaazha 3' happens, I would genuinely prefer to see another new talent being discovered through it. That would stay true to what 'Vaazha' stands for," he says.