Category Archives: Analytical articles

Structure [silpam] in Telugu fiction

Stories evolve in a given culture, like their lifestyle, from their own environment. Readers and critics are required to critique a story from that perspective. On one hand, it would appear like applying modern criteria in assessing a work of fiction from previous centuries is untenable. On the other hand, we will not have new insights into the literature of previous centuries if we do not apply new ways of reading a text of the past. Then the question is how to appreciate the fiction from the past centuries?

Kondaveeti Satyavati, writer and editor of bhumika, a feminist magazine, pointed out in her article on Bhandaru Acchamamba, that Acchamamba has not been given due credit by the establishment as writer and as the first writer in the history of modern fiction. She commented that the critics dismissed Acchamamba’s story as “failed to meet the criteria for short fiction.”

I thought it would be interesting to compare Acchamamba’s story to a contemporary story by a writer who is highly regarded as a writer and critic. While I was searching for such stories, I stumbled on an anthology, alasina gundelu [Tired hearts] by Rachamallu Ramachandra Reddy. In the same anthology, Ramachandra Reddy included a 43-page essay on the structure in fiction, “kathaanikaa, daani silpamuu” [Short story and its structure]. In the essay, Ramachandra Reddy quoted Kodavatiganti Kutumba Rao, our top-ranking Marxist writer and critic, as saying, “In these stories we read about the same events we see every day in real life and ignore, and are electrified after reading them.” Translating the entire essay is beyond the scope of this article. I will quote a few salient points relevant to my discussion from the aforesaid essay.

Ramachandra Reddy elaborated on his views on short story as follows:

I wrote these stories with a hope that they would imprint a strong sense of emotion in the readers’ hearts. … In fact, the entire literature is oriented towards hearts. There is no literature without feeling. That feeling however must not turn into a melodrama.

One popular notion is that “a story must have a point” I am not sure if there is an equivalent in Telugu for the word ‘point’. For the present, I would call it lakshyam. A story must convey a truth, a moral, a principle, or a hypothesis. …

In the previous century when the story was born, its point was either a truth or a moral. That means it is only a concept in the mind of the writer.

Then the question is, what about feeling? … The reader continues to experience the emotions of the characters while reading a story. Then the question we must ask is whether a story can be written to either invoke a feeling or convey a message exclusively?”

Ramachandra Reddy discussed the topic at length quoting a few European writers like O’Henry and Katherine Mansfield and then posed the question how it was relevant to his discussion on hand. He stated that currently the short story in Telugu had gotten entangled in the steel arms of commercial magazines, lost its original form, and been reduced to a skeleton. He further added:

Because a story will inevitably contain “feeling” in some form or other, and because nobody is writing at Katherine Mansfield’s level now, let us limit our discussion to the point in a story. … A short story must have only one point; and, characters and incidents should contribute towards that end, the point.

From that perspective, Ramachandra Reddy attempted to write a story as an experiment in structure, an indispensable characteristic to achieve the point in the story. The author observed that most people in the world live tedious, uneventful lives, and most of them are women, understandably. Therefore, he decided to depict the life of one such woman.

The story, mana jeevita kathalu [Stories of Our Lives], opens with the statement, “I could search her entire life and still find not a single incident worth writing about. How can I write a story without anything special in her life or lifestyle?” That is the problem for structure, says the author.

Mr. Ramachandra Reddy took it as a challenge since he had never come across a story without point, which makes it impossible to make the story structurally strong. The closest he could think of was “Madame Bovary” (Gustavo Flaubert) in which Emma, the main character, lived a dull life. She was not without emotions. In fact, she had a fantasy in her mind, which clashed with her surroundings outside, leading to her mental breakdown. Her husband on the other hand was willing to take life as it came and so he had no problem. There was no conflict in his life. He was a flat character.

Ramachandra Reddy decided to create a character similar to the husband in “Madame Bovary” in Peddamma, the main character in “the Stories of Our Lives.” Since there was no conceivable tension or conflict in Peddamma’s life, the author creates two more characters, a couple living next door. He bases his story on the responses of the couple to the dull life of Peddamma. Readers are expected to respond to the husband/writer/narrator’s anxiety to find a thrilling incident in the old woman’s life and the wife’s twofold anxiety. The wife attempts to squeeze out a story from Peddamma for the sake of her husband, and in the process, builds a bond with the old woman rather unwittingly. In the end, the wife sees a story in the life of Peddamma but not the husband. Is that a comment on the way men and women think and respond to a fellow human, or, a writer and a non-writer?

In his analysis of structure, we see three perceptions—that of Ramachandra Reddy the writer, Ramachandra Reddy the critic, and the narrator in the story. The author and the critic explain the why, how and the result of writing a story without plot. The narrator within the story lives it. There is however some overlap, I think, between the writer and the narrator.

The author says, “Peddamma had a husband, children, the usual events such as children’s weddings, and life’s little tribulations as everybody else … That is the common denominator for almost all people. Other than that, there are no events, nothing unusual, in her life. She has experienced no intense pleasures or unbearable hardships. She believes that life is the same for everybody. Her understanding of life is so narrow.”

As I was reading this analysis, I had to stop at the last line. Suddenly it felt like the critic became the narrator in calling the woman’s understanding of the world into question. The narrator in the story had the same impression from Peddamma’s life as the critic. His wife could relate to Peddamma’s account of her life nevertheless. That is obvious in the question the wife asked her husband later, “Did you hear Peddamma’s story?” There was a story as far as the wife was concerned.

Ramachandra Reddy the writer decided to write a story about the way people around Peddamma would respond to her unflustered life in the absence of passion. “Others may react to her in any number of ways. Some may be sympathetic to her; others may resent her apathy, or even be aggravated by it; or turn philosophical. If I could depict all these responses effectively, it could turn into a good story,” said Ramachandra Reddy.

There was also a comment about the names in the story. In response to the comment by another critic, the author said, “Somebody commented that I did not give a name to the old woman to imply that she is a very ordinary person, insignificant in a way. I did not think so. In fact, I did not give names to the other two characters in the story either. I agree that names do carry weight in stories but I did not find the need to do so in this story.”

I would like to add a note on this aspect in our stories. In Telugu culture, we often address people using relational terminology such as peddamma, akka, and maamma, even when we are not related by blood. I see the term Peddamma as a name in itself. Other minor characters in the story such as son and daughter are also not given names.

Acchamamba’s story, “Women’s education,” is comparable to the above story in some ways. Both the stories deal with no major heartbreaking issues or earthshaking resolutions. In Acchamamba’s story, the point is women’s education needed for communication between husband and wife, while the husband is away, in prison to be specific. The crux of the problem is wife’s lack of reading and writing skills. The entire story is an elaborate discussion of the superior benefits of women’s education and so forth.

In both the stories, the incidents leading to the end are not played out or described in detail, as is normal practice in storytelling. They are verbalized in brief statements. In “Women’s Education,” the wife says she would have her younger brother read and write the letters on her behalf. In “The Stories of Our Lives,” Peddamma says she was married, her son and daughter were married and so on. Each incident is a one-liner or a few lines at best.

I thought it would be interesting to study the two stories in juxtaposition, using the criteria, Mr. Ramachandra Reddy had identified.

(Editorial by Nidadavolu Malathi, published on thulka.net, January 2007.)

Dynamics of Transcultural transference: Translating from Telugu to English by Malathi Nidadavolu

After arriving in the U.S. in 1973, I became intensely aware of the incongruities on the surface in the two cultures—American and Indian—and the commonalities beneath. Hit by culture shock, and encouraged by my American friends, I launched the website, www.thulika.net, in an attempt to demystify the stereotypical perceptions, identify the underlying commonalities in our beliefs and customs. Reasons developed in course of time include the interests of the current generation Telugu youth: those who cannot read Telugu script and those who have gotten used to English so well that they are comfortable reading the stories in English. Additionally, the site has been recognized as a valuable source for scholars in multicultural education and Telugu literature by the academy globally.

Selection criteria have been based on: The stories that reflect our intrinsic values as opposed to the values newly developed in recent times; those that explain the age-old customs specific to Telugu culture; and the stories that lend themselves to translation reasonably well.

Problematic areas in translation experienced relate to: Native flavor, dialectal variations, phrases peculiar to Telugu, proverbs, (those that are easily translatable and those that are not), humor, and structure and the Linguistic areas: Pronouns, forms of address, and grammar, especially tense. I have gained valuable experience from my interaction with the authors of source texts and critics. In the summer of 1978, I started teaching Telugu as Second Language at the university of Wisconsin-Madison. While working with the students and talking to my friends at the university, I noticed the stereotypical perceptions prevalent in America. The repeated questions I was asked reminded me of typecasting we, the Telugu people, did. It made me think of ways to dispel some of the misconceptions at least. Being a writer, I wanted to pass on our stories, which would reflect the fundamental values we cherish in our culture and the broader spectrum of our writers in the process to the non-Telugu readers.

Before launching my website, I researched what was available in translations. My findings confirmed my belief that Telugu fiction is conspicuous by absence on the international literary scene. Very little Telugu fiction was available in the media and on the Internet, although there was considerable amount of fiction from other Indian languages. 2. There was no systematic attempt to illustrate the broad range of our writers in a coherent and comprehensive manner. 3. The translations were always of the stories by a few reputed authors, which meant ignoring other excellent stories by less known writers. 4. In the published translations, there seemed to be an assumption that the readers were familiar with our language and culture. To put it in another way, the academic journals and the web magazines had been catering either to the pan-Indian readers or to the foreign readers, who have some knowledge of Indian culture. However, there was no well-organized, concerted effort to translate modern Telugu fiction in a cohesive manner, catering to the readers who were not familiar with our culture. To my knowledge, the published works in translation had not reached the readers outside India, particularly outside the academy. Further, the academy appeared to be focused on ancient poetry, especially the romantic poetry in translations to the detriment of fiction.

I was convinced that there was a dire need to present Telugu fiction in English to the global audience, especially those who had not been familiar with our language and culture. With that in mind, I launched the website, thulika.net in June 2001, creating a platform exclusively devoted to modern Telugu fiction, and introducing the broader spectrum of the intellectual richness and the talent of several writers from Andhra Pradesh to the global audience.

My next step was to examine the readers’ preferences. I understood that people read stories from another culture not only to appreciate the intellectual perceptions prevalent in that country but also to draw parallels from everyday lives and comprehend how the problems in question were dealt with in other cultures. Suffering is universal; happiness is universal; so also a host of other issues in human life. One good example is marriage. Americans are curious about arranged marriages and our media plays up to their curiosity. Sad but true is the fact that most of these stories make no attempt to explain the underlying principle of the arranged marriages or why the custom was put in place to begin with, how it plays out in times of adversity and the recent metamorphosis of the custom in modern times. After watching the wedding process in America, I have concluded that, in a marriage, the most important aspect is not how you arrive there but what you would do to make it work. In both the cultures, keeping a marriage together is hard work. Thus, my primary goal has not been to criticize one culture or the other but to draw the analogues and highlight the commonalities in human psyche.

Translations are hard. Crosscultural translations are harder. There is no translation, certainly no word for word translation, which permits us to switch back and forth with mechanical precision. In my interaction with some of the readers, I have noticed that the native speakers and writers often tend to retranslate, unconsciously I might add, when they read a translation. Usually it shows in their comments on the translation in question. In order to appreciate a translation, the reader must be willing to accept certain prerequisites. For a foreign reader, it is the need to leave his/her preconceived notions about the other culture and start afresh. For a native reader, in this case Telugu reader or writer, it is the willingness to beware that the translation has been done for a reader, who cannot read the original in Telugu and is unfamiliar with Telugu language and culture. Personally, I think crosscultural translation is transcreation and the translator is invariably a creative writer.

There are several elements to consider in translating for crosscultural audience. I will briefly discuss each of these aspects, namely, dialectal variations, native flavor, structure, phrases peculiar to Telugu, proverbs, and grammar comprising tense, pronouns, and proper nouns. Humor is one more element that requires close attention with reference to the target audience.

The first step would be to identify the peculiarities of the source language and the target language.Clearly, the language I have learned at Andhra University, Waltair, India, is not sufficient for translating for American readers. If I want the Americans to read my translations, I need to give the stories to them in American English. At the beginning, I started out with seeking advice from my American friends on my translations. One of them was Dr. Abbie Ziffren, who had been a great help in fine-tuning my language. In 1982, my first translation, man, woman, [Rachakonda Viswanatha Sastry, mogavaadu, aadamanishi] was published in the Journal of South Asia Literatures.

Soon enough, I realized that there was no consensus regarding the “correct” usage. Each time, I corrected the text according to one person’s suggestions, and showed it to another friend, there were more corrections. Sometimes, I would have to “do and undo” the same words back and forth. Finally, I realized that, while the American English had its distinctive features, there were always variations in the preferences of each person regarding how a word was used or how a sentence was constructed.

Selection Criteria

Initially, my selections were based on the premise stated above, namely, introducing the fundamental philosophy underlying our mode of thinking, lifestyles and customs. Therefore, I turned my attention invariably to the stories written in the nineteen forties, fifties and sixties – during which period Telugu fiction flourished. As my work progressed, I continued to redefine and fine-tune my criteria for selection. My second criterion has been the ease of diction, which is controversial in itself and which is explained by the translation process illustrated below. Third is the literary value and/or the author’s unique style. As stated earlier, I strongly believe that it is important to introduce not only the most prominent writers but also other good writers, in order to illustrate the breadth of our artistic accomplishment and for a better understanding of our cultural values.
I might as well mention that, from the start I did not care for the stories focused on specific ideologies. I feel that such stories have received extensive exposure in other journals and websites and there is no need for me to rehash the same. However, on occasion, I would make exception as in the case of the story “yajnam” [The Rite of sacrifice] (Rama Rao). Further discussion follows under the subheading Structure.

Dialectal and regional variations

In Andhra Pradesh, the dialectal variations are based on several aspects. They vary not only from region to region, but also, within a given region, there may be variations based on caste, calling, education and economic status. Some families may even develop their own language from a mix of a few dialects. The differences in regional dialects such as Chittoor, Telangana and Coastal Andhra are accepted as dialects. Then there may also be variations, which come into play, defying regional and caste practices.

There is no consensus concerning how to handle the dialectal variations in translation. A well-known dramatist and actor, Ravi Kondala Rao argued that the native flavor in the source language cannot be imparted effectively into another language and therefore translations are pointless (Kondala Rao. Aa sogasu vastundaa? [Can that beauty be achieved? (in a translation)]? Apparently, Kondala Rao missed the one point, which is, translations are meant for those who cannot read the Telugu originals. For instance, in the sixties, the translations of Hunchback of Notre Dam [ghantaaraavam] by Surampudi Sitaram, and A Tale of Two Cities [rendu mahanagaraalu] by Tenneti Suri were received by Telugu readers with remarkable enthusiasm because of the beauty in the Telugu versions regardless of the native flavor in the original versions. I am sure that a vast majority of the readers did not read the originals in French and English and did not care for what they might be missing.

In addition to the foreign readers, in recent times, there are two more groups of readers, who are enjoying the translations in English. First group consists of the educated Telugu people who have gotten used to using English almost as their first language, and thus enjoy reading Telugu stories in English. The second group is the current day Telugu youth who have attended English medium schools and cannot read the Telugu script. They, being knowledgeable in Telugu culture, are different from the foreign readers though. Nonetheless, they all enjoy the translations in English with the same fervor.

For the purpose of this article, the target audience is assumed to be unfamiliar both with the Telugu language and culture.

Language: Pedantic versus Colloquial

In modern Telugu fiction and literature, the language started out as the language used by the polite society, known as sishtajana vyaavahaarikam, which is translatable fairly well. Basically, it is the language standardized and adopted by magazines and other media. The underlying philosophy is stories written in sishtajana vyaavahaarikam would reach a wide range of readers across the state. In English, this is comparable to the British English I had learned at Andhra University. Of course, still there are variations such as spelling between British and American English.

On the other hand, the colloquial style consists of several dialects. They vary based on region, social groups, and even sophistication of the readers. To be honest, some of the dialects are beyond my comprehension despite my stay in those regions for considerable amount of time. In that sense, stories written in regional dialects and the dialects of rural communities pose bigger problems for me. In America, the colloquial forms include words spelled as spoken, contractions and ellipses. For example “I ain’t cummin’” for “I am not coming”, “Whaddyado” for “What do you do”, “bro” for brother, “ADD” for “attention deficit disorder” and so on. However, this implies understanding a completely new language, which is beyond my comprehension. For that reason, I have decided to stay with the language of the polite society and paraphrase it, where occasion calls for it. However, I have attempted to bring about some distinction between the pedantic and the colloquial styles in my translations. For instance, the difference is evident in the translations of two stories The Soul wills it (Satyanarayana. jeevudi ishtam) and Middle class complex (Mullapudi Venkataramana. janataa express). I used the pedantic style in the former and the colloquial style in the latter. Pavani Sastry, son of Viswanatha Satyanarayana’s son, and Mullapudi Venkataramana expressed their satisfaction with my translations. Venkataramana wrote to me, “People say my stories are hard to translate but you have done good job.” (Personal correspondence with the author.). I was able to do justice to Venkataramana’s story because there was a story to tell, and the humor in the story emanated from the incidents universal in nature. On the other hand, another story by the same author, Mullapudi Venkataramana, Radha’s debt [Raadhamma baaki] (Review by Malathi) was hard to translate since it contained humor and phraseology that would go beyond the pale of my language skills. That being the case, I chose, instead of translating, to write an analytical article, explaining the humor in the story. I believe I have succeeded in conveying to the non-native readers a taste of the humor prevalent in our society.

Native flavor

As mentioned earlier, the native flavor is a big problem in translations, possibly even within the context of Indian languages. For instance a phrase like katha Kancikee, manam intikee, [Literally, the story (moves on) to the town of Kanjeepuram and we to our homes] may have similar phrases in other languages possibly with the name of a town in their area. In such instances, the translator would have to decide whether he would keep the proper noun, Kanjeepuram, or choose an equivalent phrase in the target language. Personally, I would prefer the Telugu phrase and provide an explanation.
Second aspect of the native flavor is the sonorous quality of Telugu. The vowel-ending feature and alliterations contribute to the musical nature of our language. One has to be a poet to bring about that effect. Although I am not a poet, I will try my best to achieve that effect. I will remind myself that I was translating a story, not poetry. Stories by Rachakonda Viswanatha Sastry fall under this category. In his stories, there is a story to tell and poetry to experience the beauty of the language.

On rare occasions, I feel a story untranslatable because of its musical quality. Had I chosen such a story for a different reason, I would elaborate on the native flavor in the editorial. If the entire story is poetic in nature, and I am trying to translate it, I will alert the readers at the beginning itself of what they might be missing in the translation along with the high watermarks in the story. Malladi Ramakrishna Sastry’s stories are known for his command of diction. The traditional values, especially the manner in which he deals with the institution of prostitution, is not exactly my cup of tea yet his presentation is captivating.

Structure

Occasionally, I would select a story specifically for its historical significance and the details regarding the lives of the rural communities. One such story is “yajnam” (Rama Rao). This critically acclaimed and highly controversial story has been translated by more than one translator, I believe. I have not seen the other translations but I am positive that there are significant differences between my translation and their translations. In this story, apart from the author’s use of Srikakulam dialect and the farming community, there is a passage where the protagonist, Appalramudu, delivers a speech, which runs to about four pages. Additionally, the speech is interspersed with episodes from the past. That requires the reader to move back and forth in time, and grasp the speech at two levels—the past and the present. That puts a huge burden on the mind of a reader unfamiliar with our culture; it would be frustrating. Therefore, I have made some structural changes in my translation with, of course, the author’s express permission.

One more factor to remember is we have not outgrown the use of some of the elements of narrative technique in oral tradition. Telling a story to a live audience has its advantages and is hard to resist. Besides, Telugu readers have no problem with the elements of oral tradition such as switching between past and present and digression in a narrative. Nevertheless, it is a problem for readers from other cultures.

In a heartrending story of a working-class woman, aarthanadam (Ranganayakamma), the author, includes an episode containing a long humorous dialogue between a grandmother and her grandchildren. The episode has no relevance to the original story and the language she used is not easy to translate because of several forms of address and trivial phraseology. It is a structural flaw in the story. Further discussion of this episode is offered under Humor.

Dhvani [suggestion] and vakrokti [indirect communication] in translations

Dhvani [suggestion] and vakrokti [indirect communication] are common in literatures but problematic in crosscultural translation. While the concept is known in all literatures, it is not easy to comprehend the full meaning in the stories from other cultures. It makes the reader constantly worry that he might be missing something, being unaware of the nuance. That would be an additional burden on the reader, and subsequently discouraging to continue to read the story. In such instances also, I would add a brief note. For the same reason, long conversations involving too many phrases like “you know what I mean” are best avoided.

Grammar: Tense

In Telugu, we switch tenses freely. In English the tense needs to agree with the actual sequence of events within a given time-frame. If the story is told in the past tense, any references to the previous incidents should be told in the past perfect.

In some of our stories, we find long narrations of previous incidents, which require past perfect forms. The use of “had” in each sentence in a long passage is grammatically correct yet disruptive in the flow, especially if the previous incident runs to two or three pages. Added to the confusion is when the previous incident has references to another incident further back in time. Some of my friends suggested indenting or changing the font size in order to mark the change in tense, which means making it visible in long passages. Another suggestion is to add opening and closing lines at the beginning and end of the long narration of the past. The additional lines help the reader to move back and forth in time along with the storyline. In shorter sentences, I would avoid the use of past perfect tense sometimes. For instance, a sentence like “He had four children” seems to mean he “had children in the past but not now”. After consulting my American friends, I have learned one way to circumvent the problem is to rearrange the sentences. I could say, “his sons were helping him in chores” or something similar to that effect, based on the context. Implicitly, the readers would know that he had children at the time of narration

Non-finite verb forms

Another linguistic peculiarity in Telugu is the use of nonfinite verbs [asamaapaka kriya]. In English, it would be a series of short complete sentences or used in conjunction with a gerund, the -ing ending. A phrase like cheppi vacchaanu translates as either “I said and came” or “After telling, I came”. In either case, the actual verb for cheppu [to say] fails to convey the ease of diction, which the Telugu phrase carries. This example is the simplest in this type of construction. There are other instances where a series of nonfinite verbs may be used to build tempo. Native speakers appreciate the escalating tension as they read the sentence. In translation, we can hardly accomplish that pace with the use of gerunds or several short sentences.

The longest sentence I have come across is the first paragraph in “anavasara dampatyam” [Puranam Subrahmanya Sarma. Meaningless Union]. The very first sentence runs to 14 lines and contains 23 nonfinite verbs, not to mention verbal adjectives! In my translation, I broke them into shorter sentences. Also, of necessity, I moved the last part of the 14-line sentence to the fore. This is necessitated by the differences in the sentence structures in the two languages – Telugu and English

Pronouns

The abundance of pronouns in Telugu language vouches for the richness of our language. We have six forms for the third person singular, male, vaadu, atanu, aayana, veedu, ithanu, eeyana – all translate into one word “he” in English. In addition, we have a gender-free pronoun, tanu, which acts like a third person singular, which will be discussed later.

Consider the following sentence for translation and note the resulting confusion in translation.Aayana vaadini kaafee tecci ataniki immannaaru. Vaadu kaafee tecci ataniki iccaadu. The translation could be, “He told him to bring coffee for him. He brought it and gave it to him.” In this case, once again, it would be immensely helpful to the reader if the translator makes clear who is who, and who is doing what.

The use of the pronoun “those” for “they” may be grammatically correct yet looks odd at the end of a sentence. Translation for annaaru vaallu as “said those” does not look right for me at least. Probably, my translation would be “they said” or “said those farmers”, or, whoever the people were in the story.

The second person, singular and plural pronouns, meeru and nuvvu translate into English as the same word, “you”. There is no distinction between formal and informal, or singular and plural. In this case, the translation loses the cultural nuance.

One good example is a conversation between a husband and wife. In Andhra Pradesh, the husband-wife relationship is complex. The use of second person singular pronouns, nuvvu and meeru used by husband and wife calls for attention. I am aware that the usage varies depending on the region, caste, economic status and, in modern times, sophistication. Despite these variations, customarily, it is considered normal for husband to address wife as nuvvu and wife to address husband as meeru. This usage presupposes a shade of hierarchy in a familial context. Additionally, the verb endings change, which again are missed in the translation. In some stories, the author may be making this distinction to drive home a point. In the story, kavi gaari bharya (Nayani Krishnakumari), the narrator comments that the poet’s wife referred to her husband as meeru or nuvvu depending on what she thought of him as husband or uncle’s son at any given moment. In such cases, a brief note is needed.

Two vocative forms require special attention. In an informal setting, people of the same age group use the vocative forms, orei and osei, males and females respectively among themselves. The closest form in English would be “hey”. Probably, the use of “hey” is acceptable in a casual conversation but not when the author makes a point of it specifically. In the story, yajnam, the narrator comments that the village head, Sriramulu Naidu addresses the poor farmer, Appalramudu, as emoi but never as orei (Rama Rao, “Yajnam”). Native speakers would know that emoi is informal and respectful and orei is demeaning in this particular context. By “in this context”, I mean there are other instances when orei will not be considered offensive as stated earlier.

I have also noticed that long Indian names such as Sitaramudu and Sriramulu Naidu (Rama Rao.“yajnam”) will be confusing to the non-native speakers. Several forms of the same name like Erri, Errakka, and Erramma are also prone to be mistaken for the names of three people.
Proper nouns based on physical attributes:

In empu [Choices] (Somayajulu), the author used physical attributes as personal names—Kunti for a crippled man and Guddi for a blind man. Technically, these terms are not different from names like Visalakshi, meaning a woman with large eyes or Syamasundar for a man with dark-colored skin. These terms however are not considered offensive. On the other hand, the terms referring to physical limitations are derogatory and often accepted only by the people who are not in a position to protest. Perhaps, that is one of the messages the author intended to convey. However, the literal translations of these terms as “crippled” and “blind” would not do justice in my opinion. A non-heritage speaker would interpret them as insensitive. I am not saying they are not insensitive. That is not the cultural trait I would want to convey. I would rather keep the original terminology as is and explain them in a footnote.

Professional terminology as Proper Nouns:

Another habit in our culture is to use professional terminology as personal names. For example, Beena Devi used daactaru garu and jadjee garu in her story, ribbanu mukka [A Piece of ribbon]. My dilemma was whether to treat them as English words and follow the practice of the English language or treat them as given names, and follow the spellings the way they were written in Telugu. If I were to consider the words as professional titles, I should spell them as doctor garu and judge garu. Also, I would have to use the articles ‘a’ or ‘the’ appropriately. Then I would be failing to convey to the reader an important cultural trait in our culture, which is, forging close friendship with the professionals we come across in our lives and using the terms as personal names without reference to their professional status. As a translator, I think it is important for me to create an environment in the translation so the foreign reader would understand all these implications.

In this regard, I have consulted several Americans, both friends and strangers. Once again, there is no consensus since the concept is foreign to them. I have decided to treat them as personal names and explained in a footnote or in the editorial.

Relational terminology as Proper Nouns:

Relevant to our discussion are the forms of address prevalent in our society. We have different terms for the children of brothers or sisters (baava, maridi, vadina, maradalu) as opposed to the children of two sisters or two brothers. Terms like attagaru, tammudu, and akkayya tell immensely about our culture. I also would like to see these terms find their way into English across the world the same way karma and masala are incorporated into English. Maybe I am being naïve; maybe I am being ambitious, but certainly, I would like to work to that end!

In America, all these relational terms, including persons from different generations, are rolled up into a single term, “cousin”. If I translate chinnakka and peddakka, as “little big sister” and “big big sister”, it does not make sense and certainly hurts the flow. Further, in a dialogue, it is hard to use them as vocative forms; it would be jarring. It is also hard to let the reader understand that sometimes, the same term such as peddakka may be used by others even when the relationship between the two is not the same. Another contradiction is the standard MLA requirement that all foreign words should be italicized.For instance, in the story, hundaa [Tulasi. “My sister: A Classy Lady”], akkayya is known only as akkayya. In all, I have been treating the relational terminology as personal names, unless the story calls for a different interpretation. Additionally, I would suggest referring to the glossary for further explanation. Incidentally, I might add that the glossary on my site is the most frequently accessed file yet! A unique pronoun in Telugu language is tanu, which is technically third person singular pronoun. When the author uses tanu as narrator, the entire story is told from the point of view of that character as if tanu is a first person singular pronoun. Unlike the third person pronouns, tanu is not gender-specific. Sometimes, but not always, it is possible to deduce the gender by the verb-endings in a given sentence in Telugu. It is a long ride for the reader before he can figure it out on his own.

Writers may occasionally use this term loosely, giving rise to some confusion. In the story, soham [Ramakrishna Sastry. “He is I”], the narrator switches between the first person, “I” and “tanu”. This form of narrative, distinctive in oral tradition, is easily understood by native speakers but confusing to the readers from other cultures. Therefore I take it upon myself to be consistent even when it meant a departure from the original text.

Phrases and Idioms

We may classify Telugu phrases into three categories: 1. Phrases that allow straight translation; 2.Phrases and idioms, which may be translated with some effort; and 3. Phrases and idioms, which require considerable effort to make them comprehensible to the foreign audience. In the latter two instances, the question is to what degree we can make the necessary changes in the original. How do we find a meaningful phrase or sentence, which will capture the reader’s imagination and, at the same time, convey the cultural nuance? Second question is whether we should use the English equivalents wherever available or translate the Telugu phrases to highlight the Telugu nuance and provide the English equivalent in a footnote.

Phrases, which allow straight translation

There are not many but a few like pustakappurugu, which translates as bookworm easily. The phrase chevini vesukonakapovu is comparable to “turning a deaf ear”. On the other hand, a phrase like mannu tinna paamu has no equivalent in English to my knowledge. However, it is not hard to coin a new phrase like “a snake snacked on dirt”, working on the alliteration to give it a proverbial sense. There is no ambiguity in these translations.

One more note on this subject. When I first started my website, thulika.net, I did not provide the Telugu equivalents for these translations. Then, a young Telugu reader, who attended English medium school, suggested that I give the Telugu proverbs in a footnote so readers like her would be able to improve their Telugu language skills as well. That substantiates my claim that providing additional information does not hurt.

Phrases, which require some effort to make them comprehensible in translation

I am not enunciating a new theory but giving what has been my practice and I will explain why. Some phrases may not be translatable while others leave some room for us to be creative. For instance, the phrase, Kondaveeti chentaadu in trikonam [Seela Veerraju. “A Triangle,”] is one such phrase. I translated it as Kondaveeti rope. The phrase refers to the topographical significance of the village Kondaveedu in Guntur district, where water is scarce and the wells are dreadfully deep. For the villagers of Kondaveedu, drawing water from those wells is a long and laborious task. Implicitly, a task compared to kondaveeti rope is long and laborious. I thought, by translating the translatable part, chentaadu as jute rope, a foreign reader would have a better motivation to learn more about the implicit meaning. Additionally, the name of the village Kondaveedu, slightly id different from the oblique form, Kondaveeti, and that is another problematic area for a foreign reader. If I were to leave the entire phrase as Kondaveeti chaantaadu, the reader is sure to miss the entire connotation.

Untranslatable Phrases

We have phrases and idioms that are almost untranslatable. Just translating them alone would not suffice to communicate the spirit of the original to the readers. Two languages of two diametrically opposite cultures do not lend themselves to accurate translation one hundred percent. Culture-specific phrases and idioms belong in this category. Let us take a culture-specific phrase like lempalesukonu (Bhanumati. Attaakodaleeyam [A Story of a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law]). No matter how we translate it, it would be impossible for a foreign reader to visualize the actual scenario. I translated it as “She tapped on her cheeks lightly and reverently.” One young writer asked me why not translate it as “she slapped her cheeks”. My explanation is the phrase lempakaaya iccu in Telugu means slapping another person and in anger. On the other hand, lempalesukonu is an act to express his/her remorse. or respect like in temples, and there is no force. The person touches lightly her/his cheeks. It refers to a socio-religious, cultural practice and apologetic in spirit.For a reader who is not familiar with this practice, “slapping” invokes a completely different imagery in his mind. This is not one of the instances, a foreign reader can understand from the context, without some explanation.

Proverbs, which have corresponding proverbs in the target language

Proverbs or adages are time-honored, time-tested facts. They are the props that come in handy for a writer when the language fails or is inadequate. Proverbs often contain a rhyme or an alliteration either to capture one’s attention or as a mnemonic device. This is one aspect the translator must remember while translating the proverbs. When I translate, I try to bring about similar effect in English. That explains some of the digression from the original in my translations of Telugu proverbs. The following examples illustrate my point.

My translation for the proverb mundu nuyyi, venaka goyyi is “a well in front and a trench behind”. In English, the corresponding proverb is, “between a rock and a hard place”. Nevertheless, I would prefer to give a translation of the original Telugu phrase instead of using the English proverb. My aim is to highlight the commonalities in different cultures and perhaps the topography.

Culture-specific Proverbs, which have no equivalents in the target language.

Some proverbs, which are culture-specific in terms of beliefs and lifestyles, are equally open to more than one interpretation.

I translated kadupu cincukunte kaallameeda padutundi as “You tear your guts and they fall on your feet” in yajnam [Rama Rao]. In the Telugu sentence, the subject is not stated explicitly but the verb cinchukonu is a reflexive, meaning one is doing something to oneself. I supplied ‘you’ in the conditional clause and ‘they’ [the guts] in the principal clause. The translation is fairly literal and thus imparts the implied meaning—“when you hurt your children, in turn, it hurts you”.

Another angle in these proverbs is lack of a subject or subject without a given name. In such cases, it is necessary to improvise a subject for the purpose of clarification. English language will not permit sentences without subject as illustrated above. The translator needs to pick the correct subject based on the context.

Another proverb I translated is gati leni manushulu taguvukedite matileni peddalu teerchevaaraa ani as “like hapless men seeking justice from brainless men” (Rama Rao. yajnam). Here again, I tried to coin a new adage based on the original text loosely.

Let us examine the proverbs or phrases, which are not translatable. For example, a phrase like adugulaku madugulottadam carries deeper cultural nuance. I think the word madugulu refers to madatalu (folded clothes). I understand the phrase refers to spreading a sheet for the guest of honor to walk on. In everyday usage, it has come to mean something similar to the red carpet treatment. However, I would prefer coining a new phrase as opposed to using the English phrase “red carpet treatment”, in order to emphasize the slight differences in the two cultures.

Distinctive and Culture-specific Phraseology

Culture-specific phraseology requires more than the use of a dictionary to translate. For instance, mancimaata chesuku vaccu is an archaic phrase referring to an old custom. In the old days, poor brahmin women used to run what is known as poota kuulla illu, where the woman serves food for money in an informal setting. The phrase, mancimaata chesuku vaccu has come to mean discussing food arrangements with a homeowner. Another example is vaaraalu chesukonu, also refers to an erstwhile custom. It is also food arrangements young Brahmin boys would make with seven families for seven days of the week while they pursued their education. Whenever I come across phrases like this, I would like to keep them in the story and explain in a footnote. From my perspective, that is important for the story to keep its cultural nuance.

Other concepts peculiar to our culture are engili, antu, madi, and dishti.The corresponding English words, which have gained some currency, are saliva pollution [engili], touch pollution [antu], quarantine-like condition [madi], and evil eye [dishti]. I hope one day these Telugu words will be incorporated into the English language. The word karma has gained currency in America to mean divine ordinance. In Telugu, it has several shades of meaning. Based on the context, I may use the term karma or translate it into English. That helps the reader to move forward without wasting too much time guessing what the meaning might be.

I am aware that some writers and some readers feel that these distinctions overburden the reader or undercut his/her imagination. I would rather prefer to think that these concepts are important in setting one culture apart from the others. It helps the readers to understand how these concepts play out in the source culture.

I translated sodi manishi as village psychic (Prabhavati.) with some hesitation. I am aware that telling sodi is not the same as predicting future by a psychic. My point is the sodi practice is culture-specific. There are other terms like fortuneteller, occultist, medium, and spiritualist. None of them exactly means the same as sodi manishi. When two cultures do not have the same practice, vocation, or lifestyle, we need to choose just one term in the target language based on comparable practices. A psychic invokes spirits to predict future events; the sodi woman invokes goddesses for the same purpose. The spirits and the goddesses are not the same but both are unverifiable sources. In that sense, I thought sodi woman would be comparable to a psychic or fortuneteller. Frankly, this is one of the instances no matter what word I had chosen there would always be a question. I chose psychic since it rolled easier on my tongue. Nevertheless, I was aware that the term did not import the complete cultural nuance and therefore I provided further explanation of the sodi tradition in the glossary at the end of the book.

Culture-specific Humor.

Unquestionably, humor is hard to translate, since it is deep-rooted in a given culture. Bhanumati narrates an incident in attaa kodaleeyam, in which she describes her mother-in-law’s madi, a temporary, quarantine-like condition, one creates for oneself. And her husband makes fun of the smelly pickles his mother was eating. In both the cases, the son and the daughter-in-law were not being polite to the older woman from a westerner’s standpoint. Thus translating the paragraph as is without paraphrasing is not sufficient to convey the humor in the story.

In the same passage, the daughter-in-law also comments about her mother-in-law sitting on the floor facing the wall to eat. The narrator’s reference to the Lord Narasimha in this context once again is hilarious for those who are familiar with the mythological character. For those who are not familiar with the story of Narasimha, an explanation is necessary.

In aartanaadam (Ranganayakamma), there is an episode in which the grandchildren visit their grandmother, after they were informed that she was dying. As it turned out, she was not ready to die and the grandchildren seized the occasion to tease her. The episode has no relevance to the story, except the storyline calls for the female protagonist’s absence from home for an extended period of time.

In a personal letter addressed to me, the author agreed that the episode was irrelevant and gave me permission to delete it at my discretion (Ranganayakamma. Personal Correspondence). I however chose to keep it in order to drive home a point—the free exchange of almost irreverent words between adults and children in a family. Grandchildren asking grandmother whether she would really want to die at all, or where she kept all her money, what she was going to do with it, and the tone in the conversation—all would be considered rude at one level and entertaining at another level. This is in direct contradiction of the custom of showing respect to the elders by the young people. Nevertheless, it is normal in some families and the story highlights that point. I discussed this topic in detail in my book, Telugu Women Writers, 1950-1975 (Malathi).

English words in Telugu stories:

Various writers use English words in Telugu stories to serve different purposes. If the English words are used simply as a reproduction of current colloquial style, probably, the translator may take them as they are and incorporate them without thinking twice. However, if it is part of the author’s narrative technique as in the case of Rachakonda Viswanatha Sastry, they need to be interpreted appropriately. It is necessary to examine if the author is using the English terminology to shift gears in the flow of the narrative or to invoke ridicule of an existing practice. Viswanatha Sastry uses this technique superbly. Also, if the author is simply reproducing the English words from the original, the translator needs to see if the actual words used in India are comprehensible to the global audience. For instance, “far relative” for “distant relative”, “long hand shirt” for “long sleeve shirt” and “time pass” for “passing time” are some examples, which do not go very well in a translation for global audience. In fact, only recently, I have learned that the phrase “giving a hand” in Andhra Pradesh, does not mean giving help but “not keeping one’s word.

Working with the Authors

In general, my practice is to translate first line by line, then go over the translation, and make the necessary changes for smooth reading. In the process, I may change the order of the sentences, add a word or two in some places, and even move around sentences to make it readable. Then I send it to the author, with a note about the changes I have made. The authors suggest one or two changes. I would accept their suggestions, if appropriate. Or explain my translation. That has been my practice for the past seven and a half years. On rare occasions, if the author is not with my translation, and keeps suggesting alternative forms, I may decide not to proceed with that project. In short, working with writers has not been a problem for me. The only problem is locating the writers or copyright holders for permissions.

CONCLUSION

To sum up, the translator needs to remember who the target audiences are. Even as we tell children’s stories in a language intelligible to the children, and women’s stories in the diction with which women are comfortable, we, translators, have a moral obligation to honor the language behavior of the target audience. Leaving it to the readers to deduce the meaning from the context may work fine when the readers are from within the culture. As stated at the outset, an important goal of the translations is to serve as an educational experience for the readers from other cultures. In that sense, we are obligated to focus on the cultural nuance. The reader may still choose to skip the explanations. In my experience, a translator is a writer also. He works at three levels: 1. the source work; 2. target audience, and 3. the vocabulary he has at hand. Often, readers, writers and critics tend to miss this angle. He will draw on the diction at his command and produce a translation, while striving to make it appealing to the target audience. In that attempt he may lose some of the native flavor of the original yet he will succeed only if he has the freedom to be creative and present story in a language he is comfortable with. If the author disagrees, there is no meeting of the minds and there is no translation. He just moves on to the next translation.

[End]

Originally published on ICFAI Journal, Hyderabad, and reprinted on thulika.net, 2009.]

Sources
Books
Malathi, Nidadavolu. Telugu Women Writers. 1950-1975. A Unique Phenomenon in the History of
Telugu Fiction. Madison, Wisconsin: Author, 2008. 123-136.
Tulasi, Chaganti. “My Sister: A Classy Lady” [hundaa]. Trans. Nidadavolu Malathi. A Spectrum of My People: A Collection of Short Stories from Andhra Pradesh. Mumbai: Jaico Publishing House. 2006. 139-154.
Prabhavati, Vasa. “The Village Psychic.” Trans. Nidadavolu Malathi. A Spectrum of My People. Mumbai: Jaico, 2006. 283-297.
Ventaramana. Mullapudi. Middle Class Complex [Janataa express]. Trans. Nidadavolu Malathi. A Spectrum of My People. Mumbai: Jaico, 2006. 69-102

Journals
Kondala Rao, Ravi. a sogasu vastundaa? [Can the translation get that beauty?]. Andhra Jyothy. Vividha. 15 October 2003.
Viswanatha Sastry, Rachakonda. Man, Woman [mogavaadu, aada manishi]. Trans. Nidadavolu
Malathi. The Toronto South Asian Review. Summer 1987. V.7. No. 1. 1-12. Reprint. Rachakonda
Viswanatha Sastry. Values & Other Stories. Srinivasavanam, Kuppam: Dravidian University, 2007. 88-103.

Internet sources:
Krishnakumari, Nayani. The Poet’s Wife. [Kavi gaari bharya]. Trans. Nidadavolu Malathi.

Malathi, Nidadavolu. Radha’s Debt [Raadhamma baaki] by Mullapudi Venkataramana”.
Rama Rao, Kalipatnam. The Rite of Sacrifice [yajnam]. Trans. Nidadavolu Malathi. 3 March 2009.
Ramakrishna Sastry, Malladi. He is I. [soham]. Trans. Nidadavolu Malathi. 3 March 2009.
Satyanarayana, Viswanatha. The Soul Wills It [jeevudi ishtam]. Trans. Nidadavolu Malathi. 3 March
Subrahmanya Sarma, Puranam. Meaningless Union [Anavasara dampatyam]. Trans. Nidadavolu
Malathi. 3 March 2009.

Other sources.
Ranganayakamma. Personal correspondence with the author. 17 January 1983.
Venkataramana, Mullapudi. Personal correspondence with the author. 15 February 2003.

Nori Narasimha Sastry’s views on History and Historical Novel

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In a couple of essays, Narasimha Sastry discussed history and historical fiction at length. He put forth enormous amount of information in support of his theory that our way of studying our history if faulty. In the process he also defines the correlation between history and historical novel.

In the essay, swatantra bharatamulo charitra rachana (Writing History in independent India), he shows how our mode of thinking had been molded by the methods established by famous western historians such as Gibbon, Carlyle, the lord Prudhoe and Wells. Their works on history are valued as literature; they have shown us that historians are poets in essence.

However, we also need to remember that the British rulers introduced Macaulay Report in schools only to serve their purpose, which is to turn our people into tools for prolonging their rule in our country.

That led to us relying on English books to study our history to a point that we would not read our Telugu and Sanskrit texts unless they are given in English. This craze for English is extended to all the other fields as well—religion, society, politics, literature, science and even into geography.

Currently, the history of India is broken into three periods—the Hindu period, the Mohammedan period and the British period.

Narasihma Sastry goes to elaborate on the problems with this division as follows:

Originally, the Aryans came from outside, assailed the Dravidians and the Dasyulu and promulgated their religion in our country vigorously. Their cultural power however waned due to the hot climate in our country. Internal struggles eroded and some of them turned traitors. After the Aryans, the Mohammedan rulers came in multitudes and took over. They attacked the feeble Hindus. Later, they succumbed to mundane pleasures and lost their power. When the British came, the country was in shambles. They could easily drive away the Mohammedans and the other white rulers and take over the country. This is the gist of the division of the historical periods.

There is a perception that heat weakens individuals. This is not a proven fact though. Possibly others who are accustomed to cold climate may suffer from the heat in our country and vice versa. However this should not be an argument to let ourselves be slaves to the foreigners. Heat is a geographical issue and irrelevant to one’s strength or weakness. This is a pious land and the place for such sacred activities as bathing three times a day and offering prayers to the Sun god (sandyavandanam).

Narasimha Sastry continues to observe that since creation of the universe, 195 crore 85 lakhs and 550 years have passed. In this long span of the history of mankind, the British ruled our country for 190 years, the Moghuls for 181 years, the Lodis for 75 years, Sayyads for 37 years, Tughlaks for 94 years, and Khiljis 30 years.

Among the Indians, the Gupta period runs for 500 years and that is considered golden age. We read that the Satavahanas ruled for 464 years and no other reign had sway for a period that long. And the Kushans seemed to have ruled for 230 years, the Mauryans for 160 years, and the Nandas for 74 years. Also the Bimbisara and others ruled for over 200 years.

Thus, it is evident that the current history as we study in our books gives more importance to the time we had been under foreign rule. We should rewrite our history books expanding the times we had been free and proud, and delimit the period we had been subjected to slavery.

No doubt the British have ruled our country for about 200 years. There were some local rulers called Zamindaris but they existed only with the blessings from the British. Mohammedans stayed mostly in the north. Attempts of Tuglak and Aurangazeb to take over the southern part of India failed. At the time, the Kakateeya kings in the south were powerful. After that Vijayanagara kings prevailed in the south for one hundred years more. Thus, the label for these periods should be Kakatiya period, Vijayanagara period and so on. In the 18^th century, the Maharashtra rulers were strong all the way from the southern end, the Sethu, to Himachal. Indian culture has flourished in the north for sometime and later the south enjoyed superiority. There were times when the Chola, Chalukya and Pallava kingdoms and Kancheepuram were at the peak. There is no reason to accept the labels given foreign rulers who ruled only the northern part of the country.

Other facts to note are: During 550-330 B.C., Persian kings ruled Punjab and Gandharam (current Nepal?). Later Greeks ruled over the same land for 150 years (200-20 B.C.). Kushans prevailed for sometime. There is also a misconception that all Mohammedans are the same. In reality, some of them were Shiites and others Sunnis. In the north, Persian culture was prominent while the Absenian culture prevailed in the south. The difference between these two is no less than the difference between the Greeks, Patheons, Sakuns, and Kushans. That being the case, it is unfair to lump them all together as one race.

Against this background, Narasimha Sastry suggests labels such as the Turkish threat, the Moghal menace, the Sunny hazzard, Shiaite turmoil, and the British tempest for periods our history. Also there are only two races—Aryans and non-Aryans, and one is productive and the other destructive, like any other living organism in the world.

It is important to note that the Aryans regard the land as their motherland and fatherland. For them, the land gives them birth, entertains them, and comforts them. It is karmabhumi [place of action], tapobhumi [place of contemplation], and punyabhumi [pious land]. For them, the entire India is one country and the Vedas and the Vedangas are the paradigms to live by. Sanskrit is the language of the polite society. The non-Aryans on the other hand are engrossed in self-promotion, their physical image, and abandonment.

The detailed discussions of dates for a given king are not important. The Puranas have recorded the history of the kings who reinstated the Aryan dharma following political and social turmoil. They should be the paradigms for us but not the texts written by foreigners such as the Greek travelers in Alexander’s time, Megasthanese during Chandragupta’s rule, the Chinese traveler Huen Tsang, and so on. We should read our history based on the data available in our texts produced by our poets. The texts by foreigners may be used as secondary texts. Historians should sift the falsehood propagated by foreign historians.

Let’s not forget that regardless of their affinity to the kings of their times, Valmiki and Vyasa maintained their stance as poets in their own status quo.

By the time Vyasa wrote Maha Bharata, 193 crores, 83 lakhs of years passed. He was fair in depicting the histories of the two dynasties, including the violations of Dharma by the Pandavas. The pundits who question Maha Bharata’s integrity need to separate the later interpolations and study the original carefully.

The historians should help us to revive the spirit of unity, nationalism. Valmiki and Veda Vyasa should be viewed as the archetypes, the protectors of dharma; they are historians and poets in true spirit.

Historical novel

The term “historical” implies narration of truth without fluff. On the other hand, novel requires invention specifically.

A novel may not contain even one page of authentic history in a 304 page book. Yet it may provide details about the political atmosphere, social customs, manners, travel amenities, and other facilities of its time without contradicting historical facts.

A novelist takes bits of history, “dry as dust” in Carlyle’s words, brings them together, adds other parts and grows into a big tree, sprays heavenly nectar on it and brings it to fruition.

Westerners store dead bodies in graveyards. They save important and unimportant incidents alike. The historians cull through these bits of data and elaborate on the past history. Because of this custom to save all the items, the historians are able to tell the stories of their people—poets, sculptors, lyricists, kings, ministers, their kept women, businessmen, priests, actors and actresses, soldiers, and beautiful women. The books, diaries, magazines, letters, inscriptions, and memorials carved on the graves—all these are available to their writers. However, despite the availability of all this information, the established theories are getting thrown out by new revelations. While interpretation of history keeps changing, great novels are being produced in the west.

We do not have the amenities to write historical fiction or biographical fiction the same way the westerners do. Nevertheless, we have produced great novels such as Bhagavan Parasuramudu by K. M. Munshi and Simha Senapathi by Rahul Sankrutyayan. The first one attempted to recreate the Vedic and the Pauranic works from the perspective of national spirit. The second one took the Vedic literature with Buddhist tradition as supreme ideal, and attempted to promote the current communist ideology. Both the works as great examples of our historical fiction.

In a country’s or even world’s history, what has happened is important. The dates and the names of individuals are like the body. The incidents are the life force behind these works. Beyond these two elements, there is also the Atman which is the dominant force in our lives. A historian must not forget the soul. From this perspective, we need to examine whether our historians have understood the supreme truth about our nation as much as the authors of our puranas.

Numerous plots and subplots embedded in the Ramayana and Maha Bharata appear to have happened actually. They might not have happened in that particular time and in that particular place but they seemed to carry certain authenticity about them. And they contain lessons for us. To collect such stories and record them is the primary responsibility of our historians.

The authors of our puranas had a great sense of the timelessness of history and what must be recorded. We fail to appreciate their philosophy only because of our self-indulgence and our ignorance.

Greek historian Herodotus had written several fantasy stories in the name of history and we regard him as the king among historians. The Chinese travelers wrote history, depicting their own importance and we have accepted them as standard the same way as the histories written by Christians. The stories in their books are fabricated much the same way as the stories in our puranas. It is the same with personal letters, diaries and other writings.

The genre of novel may have been born in Italy or France but there is no clear-cut definition yet. It has been taking various forms in different times and different places, which is its distinctive nature.

A novel could be rendered in the form a play, story, biography, letters, diaries or a combination of several forms. It can be short like a little pond or like a great sea, a combination of several features.

We may create suitable platform and call works like Dasakumara charitra, Simhasana dwatrimsati, Bhoja charitra, pancatantra, Hitopadesa, neeti chadrika novels. Our critics called kalaa purnodayam a novel, although it is written in the form of poetry.

That being the case, it is a mistake to consider only the form set by westerners as the only standard form for a novel. We may even stay as far away as possible from the western mode of thinking and create much better novels.

Narasimha Sastry also points out that writing novel is a profession for westerners. And marketing it requires novelty constantly. In his opinion, they are short-lived for that reason. On the other hand, we consider novel as a literary genre, and thus maintain its quality.

Novelist has a wide range of opportunities. A novel is not a short story and in that, there is no holding back. It is not a miniature painting; it does not have to flow in a monotonous manner as in a big story. Unlike a play, the novel does not rely on theaters, the vagaries of actors and actresses, and insensitive audience.

However, as in a drama, the writer may take the uniqueness of dialogues and incidents—the intrinsic qualities of a play, and incorporate poetic merit and musical quality in his novel. He may include his entire knowledge in it. A novel has the ability to reflect numerous varieties of literary genre in numerous ways. Novel is the supreme genre among the entire literary genre so far we have gotten. The proverb, naatakantam sahityam may be rewritten as navaalanatham sahityam.

The novel that contains history with the traits noted above may be called historical novel. When we study novel from that perspective, we find no contradiction between the noun “novel” and the adjective “historical”. On the other hand, the elite may even find a close affinity between the two terms.

It is common knowledge among intellectuals that it is hard to evaluate contemporary works, regardless how capable we are and how unbiased we are.

Unless we examine them from a distance, we cannot recognize their authentic value; the incidents do not rise to the level appropriate for plots of kavyas. This is the reason many poets in all countries at all times choose the stories related to their heroes and events from the past. That does not mean writers should not write about contemporary occurrences.

Critics sometimes comment that authors of historical fiction, being unable to face the modern day society and issues, choose incidents or people from the past and write about them. Their ignorance regarding the characteristics of kavya is evident in this kind of comments.

A novel may achieve the status of kavya even when it does not depict contemporary life? And that is so even when it does not aim to solve the current society’s problems. For instance, Tolstoy wrote War and Peace based on Napoleon’s invasion of Russia. Even as our rishis would, Tolstoy did not rely only on the history written by historians but conducted intense search for historical facts and thus was able to produce a unique work. Same thing can be said of Faust by Goethe, Paradise Lost by Milton, and so on.

Thus it is evident that poet, even when writing about the current events, can produce a high quality work only when he has the ability to look back in to the past. In support of this argument, He quotes an example from his own experience after China attacked India:

He says, “I was furious. I wanted to take over the entire nation of China in retaliation. I was irate that our government pledged to fight for the land up to McMohan line only. What about our ‌Manasa sarovaram, Kailasam that is the abode of Lord Siva, and the land that conjoined the sites where the two rivers Brahmaputra and Sindhu originated? I was so irate yet not a single poem came out of my mouth. So many people have written kavyas and sang songs. None of them appealed to me, when I try to read them as kavyas.

Secondly, dragon China’s national symbol. I searched hard for an quivalent term for dragon in Sanskrit. “Sarabham” or “Sarabhasaluvu” could be but did not sound right. In Rg veda, “ahi” had been mentioned. Some scholars used dragon for Ahi in their translation of Vedas into English. I remembered the verse in the vedas which described Indra at the time he killed Vritrasura. To my knowledge, nobody else thought of it yet even I could not view it in the form of a kavya. My heart has been sullied with my hatred for the Chinese. It will not reach the kavya level unless and until the hatred in my heart has been washed up.

If we think on these lines, the scholars who study the philosophy of kavyas may note that among all the genres of kavyas, the novel and among all varieties of novels the historical fiction is the highest.

Basically the Maha Bharata has been identified as history (ithihasa) and Ramayana as a purana (mythology). From the standpoint of tradition, both the works had been written by the writers who had lived in those times. Yet they became great works for the following reasons. Valmiki was a tapasvi (introspect). He was capable of distancing himself from contemporary life and observing it with uncontaminated eyes. Similarly, Vyasa was a rishi who could stay detached despite his kinship with all the characters in the story. He could stay in his hermitage quietly, contemplate and reflect on the story in his heart.

Some scholars accept that these two authors simply collected several stories told by several individuals and had them recorded by a few or several other individuals. There is no doubt that the incidents in these stories had been based on actual occurrences.

As is evident, the social, political, and dharma-related systems, the war strategies, philosophic reflections are narrated in these works focusing identifying the ultimate truth. No other work has that much influence on Indian culture. Despite the fact that these two works are based on Vedas, they have exerted more influence on our culture than the Vedas themselves. Without these two classic works, it is hard to imagine how far our culture could have deteriorated. This is deductible from the history of other countries where there is no such impact.

However, the Ramayana text and most of the Maha Bharata text are rendered in the form of poetry. It is not filled with difficult Sanskrit phraseology but written in a form that is close to modern prose. We can call them historical kavyas or historical novels written in the form of poetry. The difference is only in terminology but not in essence.

One of them is a great river flowing with zest like the River Ganges. The second one is the milky ocean encompassing several great rivers. Today’s historical novelist is a follower of those great authors, Valmiki and Vyasa.

They are not performers of death rituals who collect pieces of history. They are the visionaries who have attempted to identify the historical truths.

Modern day historians should search their souls and find to what extent they have understood these tenets and adapted them.

End.

(Translations of excerpts from two articles by Nori Narasimha Sastry. I am grateful to the writer and publishers of the volume Nori Narasimha Sastry. V. 5 Sahitya vyasaalu.

Originally published on thulika.net, June, 2011.)

Nori Narasimha Sastry by Nidadavolu Malathi

Nori Narasimha Sastry (1900-1978) started writing poetry even as a child and produced voluminous amount of literature in almost all genres—poetry, plays, short stories, novels, and literary criticism for over six decades. He received the title kavi samrat [emporer of poets] in 1947. He was an active participant in several literary organizations.

Narasimha Sastry was born to Hanumacchastri and Mahalakshmi on June 2, 1900. He obtained his bachelor’s degree in 1919 and B.L. degree in 1925. He was well-versed in Sanskrit, Telugu, English and Kannada languages. He received the deeksha (a vow of commitment) from Sri Kalyanananda Bharatiswamy.

“He was a top-ranking literary persona and his work in all the genres of literature is exemplary,” says his son, Hanumacchastri (Preface to Nori Narasimha Sastri Gari Sahitya Vyasalu [Literary Essays by Nori Narasimha Sastry])

Sastry was nineteen by the time he had published his first anthology of poems. Although he had written excellent poetry, his novels, especially historical novels such as Narayana Bhattu, Rudramadevi, Malla Reddy, earned him fame and fortune. His first novel was Vagheera. He wrote three novels depicting the lives of poets, Srinatha in Sarvabhaumudu, Srinatha and Pothana in kavidwayamu and Dhurjati in Dhurjati ]. Additionally, he included our famous poets as important characters in other novels such as Rudramadevi, thereby demonstrating his respect for distinguished poets from the past.

Among other works, Devi Bhagavatham (3 vols), plays, poetic plays, literary essays, reviews and prefaces stand out as evidence of his remarkable scholarship. One of his achievements was to coin a new phrase Bhava Natikalu [perception-based plays] and add a new angle to the plays, wherein perceptions or ideas take precedence over action. These plays contain heavy Sanskrit phraseology. He also wrote a short play in poetry and prose, Karpoora Dweepa Yatra, a children’s novel, and Sabdavedhi.

The fifth volume of his complete literary works is devoted to his literary essays and is available on the Internet. This one volume contains over 940 pages and reflects his vast knowledge in several genres of not only literature but also in other subjects such as music, sculpture, art and religion. For instance, in his article on highly regarded lyricist “Subrahmanya kavi“, he discusses the qualities of a great lyricist in general, standards set by lyricists in the past centuries (Sarjnadeva, Kshetrayya,) and modern lyricists such as Balantrapu Rajanikantha Rao, Rallapalli Ananthakrishna Sarma, and then states his opinions on the superior talent of Subrahmanya kavi.

Similarly, sculpting does not mean carving a stone but envisioning the form latent in a stone, and removing the parts of stone that envelope the figure inside called [parasthalaalu]. The process is very close to envisioning the Brahman, comments Sastri.

While discussing the novel Himabindu by Bapiraju, Sastri explains the depth with which Bapiraju enhanced the novel with his knowledge of music and sculpture. So also, when he writes about the beat in modern poetry, Sastry states how Veena Dhanamma, a famous musician, introduced new trends in raaga prastaaram [elaborating on a note].

In short, in each article, he points out a new angle regarding a particular writer, poet or the times in which the work has been written.

The range of topics he has discussed in these articles is impressive. They include renowned classics in Sanskrit, Indian history, history of Andhra Pradesh, the Telugu intellectuals, literary criticism, prefaces, reviews, literary movements, modern literature, fiction, humor, and devotional literature.

In these articles, we see the special regard he has for our country and our culture. His comments particularly regarding our history are notable.

Narasimha Sastry states that we have come to accept the divisions of our history enunciated by Europeans and from their perspective, which distorted our perception of ourselves. He suggests strongly that we should study seriously our Maha Bharata and Ramayana from a historical perspective, and study the two perspectives—the Westerners’ and ours—in juxtaposition. Only then we will have a comprehensive well-balanced perspective of our history. He also explains at length the changes our country has undergone as a result of the onset of the Buddhists, the Jains, the Turkish, the Hun and the English (mana desa charitra [History of our country]). In another article, Andhra desa charitra [History of Andhra Pradesh], he points out how our history has been distorted because we have accepted English as model and rejected our own language, Telugu.

In Charitraka Navala, he elaborates on how literature flourished in the historical context. He contends that classics like Maha Bharata and Ramayana have been written to incite people into thinking and action, and reexamine their views of their dharma at a time when the morale of the country took a turn for the worse. He highlights the close, inexplicable rapport between history and historical novel. Authors may take real life incidents but it is not necessary to record them precisely the way it had happened. A poet has the right to make necessary changes to the story in order to produce a kavya. As an example, Sastry says he has compressed six years of Rudramadevi’s rule into six months in his novel by the same name. However, the author also has the responsibility to examine the history under reference carefully, understand it thoroughly and then only he can write a successful novel. He says he has researched his materials always before writing his novels.

The two articles swatantra bharatamulo charitra rachana [Writing history in the independent India] and Andhra bhashalo charitraka navala [Historical novel in Telugu] provide us with excellent background information. They would be particularly helpful for those interested in writing historical novels in my opinion.

The three articles are listed under “humor writing“—failing exam, celebrating the 60^th birthday called shashtipurti utsavam, and mushti kavitvam [poetry besought]. The first one, “failing exams” [pareeksha tappadam] is somewhat flat. In the second article, the 60^th birthday celebration, Sastry explains how the celebration originated. Actually, it is not a celebration, Sastry comments. According to the legend, death appears in the form a human, Ugraratha and destroys the person his family on that specific day. And the person in order to avoid such calamity performs a ritual pacifying Ugraratha. In mushti kavitvam¸is a satire poking fun at the poets, who, motivated by politicians, party bosses and by their own greed for fame and fortune, are writing second rate poetry.

Narasimha Sastry strongly believes that poets should have the same qualities as rishis—being focused on dharma, inquiry of truth, commitment, and temperance. Even when they take lust, anger and spite as their subjects, they still should write with self-control, in the footsteps of the rishis in the past. The poets of the past, even when they depended on the kings for their livelihood, they still wrote freely unfettered by their obligations to the royalty. In modern times, the critics should take the responsibility of preventing writers from falling prey to these politically motivated “-isms”

The second book I have read by Narasimha Sastry is the historical novel, Rudramadevi, depicting the political turmoil of the times under Rudramadevi and her successful victory over rebellious yadava, chola and chalukya kings in the south and Maharashtra kings in mid thirteenth century. Her husband Veerabhadrudu, a Chalukya king, becomes her enemy because Rudramadevi’s father refused to annoint his son by another queen as emporer and instead annoints Rudramadevi as empress. Veerabhadrudu provokes other minor kings to attack Kakateeya kingdom. Rudramadevi found herself in a conflict between her duty to the empire and personal interests, which was to save her marriage. She decided to put her duty to the kingdom ahead of her personal choices. Her husband prods naïve Jains to rebel. Rudramadevi pardons the Jains and punishes Veerabhadrudu for his transgressions, regardless his status as her husband.

Into this political story, the lifestyles of all strata of society are woven skillfully, I might add. Tikkana Somayaji’s character as a detached poet with a flair for politics has been depicted beautifully. Similarly, Koppera jingadu (also known as Rajasimhudu), a Kadava (Kerala) king, crosses the Godavari river and while his ships were attacking Andhra warriors, sets up his tent on the shores and arranges for a performance of uurubhangam [Breaking Duryodhana’s thighs in the Maha Bharata war] attesting to his superior taste in literature.

The author succeeded in giving us a piece of literature with a right mix of history and fiction. The characters in this story come alive and it includes enormous amount of the lifestyle of the queen’s times. Rudramadevi is one of our best novels of all times in modern Telugu literature.

Narasimha Sastry’s views on history and historical novel are recounted in the next article. Click here.

End

This article has been published originally on thulika.net, June 2011.

A historical perspective of Women’s writing in Andhra Pradesh

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by Nidadavolu Malathi.
Dog wonderedWhy are there so many poems

About dogs

Pink chalk wondered

Why there are none

About him

Here, pink chalk,

a poem about a dog.

–Anonymous.

I saw this poem on the sidewalk during my evening walk one day. I stood there memorizing the lines. Next morning I went back to read again. Last night’s rain washed away the poem. For me the pink chalk became a metaphor for women writing.

Here follows my perception of women writing in Andhra Pradesh.

–Malathi

ORAL TRADITION:

In cultures like India where oral tradition is predominantly a mode of tutelage and dissemination of knowledge, the short story continues to be another important medium. Colossal works like Katha Sarit Sagaram (The Ocean of Stories) and Panca tantram (The Five Strategies of Polity) are series of never-ending stories with several layers of embedded stories. In books like these, the narrator starts a story, branches off into another story within the story and leaves only to pick it up the following night. The listeners have time to ruminate on the story and make mental notes. Dakshinamurti, a prominent fiction writer stated that, “not only Indians but even foreigners agree that India is the first to explore short fiction. … Our Vedic literature possesses stories in their rudimentary form.” (3).

For centuries, Telugu mothers have been telling stories to children, in the time-honored spirit of oral tradition, while doing chores–stories about handsome princes, wicked witches, and mean step-mothers as well as stories of national heroes. The story of Dudala Salamma of Quila Shapur in Women Writing in India (Tharu and Lalitha 216-224) is an excellent example of stories in oral tradition. The narrative highlights some of the important features of oral tradition: [1] a woman, with no formal education narrated the story. For centuries, while formal education for women was substandard, their lore, cognition and aptitude to tell a story remained unquestionable; [2] It reflects the narrator’s strength of character as an active participant in a people’s movement (Telangana Movement 1946-1951); and, [3] Humility, not showmanship, has been one of the telling virtues of Hindu philosophy, and by extension, that of Indian women. Possibly for the same reason we have no biographical details of the narrator, Salamma. Telugu women had no problem in telling a story. The question of recognition and reward was a moot point even in 1960s.

WOMEN’S EDUCATION IN UPPER CLASSES:

Oral tradition imparts knowledge. Over the centuries, women have acquired knowledge while staying within the confines of their homes. There is evidence of scholarship among women from upper classes, Brahmin [scholars], Kshatriya [royalty] castes, and other economically advantaged classes.

Utukuri Lakshmikantamma (1917-1997), a highly respected female scholar in Sanskrit and Telugu, poet, and literary historian, listed more than 200 female poets extending over ten centuries in her monumental work, Andhra kavayitrulu [Andhra female authors] (1953)[1]. Some of the acclaimed female authors were Leelavati, 11^th century, Tallapaka Timmakka, 12^th century, Gangadevi, 13^th century, Mohanangi, 15^th century, and Muddupalani, 18^th century, to name but few.

The females in the upper classes have received support and encouragement from male family members in acquiring knowledge as well as in their literary pursuits. Bhaskaracharyulu, a famous mathematician, 11^th century, taught his daughter Leelavati mathematics. Leelavati authored a textbook, Leelavati ganitamu which is considered a valuable contribution (Lakshmikantamma 42-43).

Mohanangi, 16^th century, daughter of emperor Krishnadevarayalu, received unequivocal support from her father in her literary venture. Following passage affirms the father-daughter relationship in the medieval period. The original text is in poetic form.

One day Krishnadevarayalu noticed that his daughter was perplexed and asks what was troubling her. Mohanangi replied that she was considering writing not “a few silly lines” but “a kavya [epic] much to the chagrin of those who ridicule female writing.” Krishnadevarayalu expressed immense pleasure at her decision and said, “I have been telling you, and you didn’t listen to me. Please do let me have the pleasure of your poetry.” He also assured her that her scholastic excellence was superior even to male writers (Lakshmikantamma 30-31).

It is evident that female scholarship in royal families existed and male family members were supportive of female scholarship. This tradition of receiving support from family members continued in modern period. The story of Bhandaru Acchamamba’s (1874- ?) is a classic example of such support. In fact, her story provides arguments on both sides of the question—whether and how the family members responded to females acquiring knowledge. Acchamamba’s brother Komarraju Lakshmana Rao, a famous activist and respected journalist, encouraged her to learn to read. Some members of her family were opposed to the idea. Acchamamba was indifferent at first, and later decided to go along with her brother’s advice. Then she took upon herself to convince the other family members. Eventually she became a scholar not only in Telugu, but also in Sanskrit and English, and authored a book, Abala Saccharitra ratnamala in 3 volumes [1. histories of women in classics, 2. women in history and 3. biographies of foreign women] (Lakshmikantamma. Andhra kavayitrulu, 105).

Lakshmikantamma cited several instances in her book where the family members have actively supported women’s education and encouraged women writing. It would also appear that by this time the female scholarship extended beyond brahmin and kshatriya castes, to other economically higher classes. Acchamamba belonged to Vaisya caste (business community).

WOMEN IN LOWER CLASSES:

Speaking of the females from lower classes in the previous centuries, Atukuri Molla belonged to potters’ caste/class and is commonly referred to as kummari [potters] Molla. Unlike the female writers from upper classes. One critic raised the question how could Molla, a woman of lower caste, acquire the writing skills (Radhika Gajjala. Personal correspondence). I could only take a wild guess based my limited knowledge of the heirarchy in India. Within each community there is an internal structure. For instance, within the kummari caste, Molla’s father could be the head/chief [kulapedda] in which case she was entitled to the privileges of the higher status women. I remember seeing in my younger days this kind of imitation of the upper class customs in the lower class communities. Yet the question remains how a person from lower classes, male or female, could acquire the reading and writing skills?

Coming back to the known facts, Molla did not hesitate to appear in public or approach the royalty (Further discussion in the later part of this article). Molla was acclaimed for her Ramayanam, written in pure Telugu, brimming with cultural nuance and native idiom, unadulterated with long winding and heavily Sanskritized phraseology. She was the second[2] female poet to write in pure Telugu. Arudra’s comment is pertinent here, “Molla’s Ramayanam enjoys popularity to this day while several other Ramayanams written by highly regarded male scholars of her times were lost in history” (Samagra Andhra Sahityam 8: 110).

Molla belonged to the 14^th or 16^th century. Lakshmikantamma established authoritatively the dates as 1320-1400 or 1405 (Andhra Kavayitrulu 25) while Arudra determined it to be the 16^th century (Samagra Andhra sahityam 8: 114). Let’ note that this kind of discrepancy however is not peculiar to female authors only.

Women started receiving formal education in public schools in the late 19^th century. Kandukuri Veeresalingam (1848-1919), a prominent social reformer and activist, pioneered the women’s movement in Andhra Pradesh, and for that reason earned the title “the father of modern epoch” [yugapurushudu or yugakarta] in Andhra Pradesh.

VEERESALINGAM (1948-1919) AND WOMEN’S MOVEMENT:

Kandukuri Veeresalingam took up women’s cause in the late 19^th century. Among his major accomplishments, the most notable were women’s education, widow remarriage and eradication of prostitution. Veeresalingam believed strongly that “the country can not prosper unless women are educated.” (Venkatarangayya 37). He started with educating his wife, Rajyalakshmamma who later became an active participant in his reform movements.

An important issue of this period was the controversy among the male elitists regarding female education. While some were supportive of female education, there were other activists who opposed it vehemently. Kokkonda Venkataratnam pantulu (1842-1915) was one of the staunch opponents of education for women. In his magazine Andhra bhasha sanjivani, Venkataratnam pantulu was publishing articles on the negative effects of women’s education at the same time Veeresalingam was striving to advocate the positive factors.

Narla Venkateswararao, better known as V. R. Narla (1908- ), an eminent journalist and western-educated scholar, reported the debate as follows [original in English] as “The biggest and the most long-drawn-out of his [Veeresalingam’s] battles were for the right of a woman to education and of a widow to remarriage” (36) … and “In its [his magazine, satihita bodhini] columns, he serialised his stories of Satyavati and Chandramati, his biographical sketches of famous women, Indian and foreign, his popular guide to health, his moral maxims in verse, and his many other writings meant exclusively for women.”(37).

The above passage highlights two points: The controversy surrounding women’s education in Andhra Pradesh was not so much gender-specific as society-specific—meaning the issue was not one of males versus females but between two groups of males, supporters and opponents of education for women. This trend continued well into the modern period.

Secondly, Veeresalingam’s course content for females—what subjects women should be taught—was not as progressive as his views on the need for education. He started the magazine exclusively for women, satihitabodhini, the first of its kind in 1883. His views were made clear in one of his articles entitled “Uneducated women are the enemies of their children,” Veeresalingam wrote, “If women were educated, they will stay away from using foul language, will not get into brawls, and behave sensibly and quietly. We have the proverb, ‘children take after their mother.’[3] If women behave, the children will learn good behavior. … If the mothers were stupid and petulant, the children fail in their studies, become irascible, take to evil ways and hurt others and hurt themselves.” (Quoted in Potturi Venkateswararao. 86). Veeresalingam’s views on female virtue raised some controversy in his later years. This is discussed further on page 8 of this article.

SOCIAL CONDITIONS DURING VEERESALINGAM PERIOD:

The prevailing social conditions of women during Veeresalingam’s period are discernable from the story of his wife, Rajyalakshmamma. Kanuparti Varalakshmamma (1896- )[4], an acclaimed poet, lyricist, and fiction writer, wrote about Rajyalakshmamma as follows:

After her husband [Veeresalingam] started the widow remarriage movement, her relationship with her natal home became a struggle. There was no way she could keep her relationship with the two families—her natal home and the in-laws. … After much thought, she decided to stay with her husband, as was appropriate for an Indian woman. …

Due to their excommunication[5] by the local community, Rajyalakshmamma suffered several hardships. Household help was not available anymore. She had to cook, clean, fetch water from the river Godavari … the list was endless.

For the same reason [excommunication], she was not invited to festivities at her natal home, or by the neighbors … She had to put up with ridicule from the other females silently and with tears welling up in her eyes… In addition, her husband was terribly short-tempered, would not give her the time of the day. If she tried to talk to him, he would say, ‘If you can’t take it, just go back to your home.’ Therefore, she had no other recourse but to keep quiet. God only knows how she had endured such hardships. … (42).

Narla also had expressed similar view in regard to Rajyalakshmamma’s position at home.

In a way, she [Rajyalakshmamma] bore greater burden than he [Veeresalingam]. It was easy for him to offer protection to every child widow that had come to him seeking help. But it was Rajyalakshmamma who had to feed them, clothe them, and take care of them like a mother. …women from different areas, with different backgrounds and personalities. … And she had to deal with several child widows with several heartrending stories. … (Yugapurushudu 17).

For centuries, Hindu philosophy has been preaching one’s duty to family and society, and selfless service. In familial context, compromise is a cultural value. The title of the article, dharmapatni Rajyalakshmamma, reinforces those convictions. Literally, dharmapatni is the woman who carries out her duties, consistent with her husband’s role in society. Rajyalakshmamma lived according to these principles. One example of her fortitude was in regard to the will Veeresalingam had created. While contemplating to donate his entire estate to Hitakarinisamajam [his organization for women’s welfare] he was unsure of the amount he should set aside for his wife. Rajyalakshmamma heard about his dilemma and told him that between the two of them, she would die earlier and so there was no reason for him to worry about her share of the property[6] (Varalakshmamma 44).

The two comments (of Varalakshmamma and Narla) point to the anomaly between Veeresalingam’s preachings and practice. The freedom Veeresalingam was advocating for women had its limitations. However, even in his times, towards the end of his era, women began showing signs of independent thinking.

Two female writers who were children during the last two decades of Veeresalingam throw light on the social change that was taking place almost imperceptibly in the early 20^th century. Battula Kamakshamma (1886- ), a teen child widow at this time gives us a touching account in her autobiographical essay, a short 4-page paper, smruthulu, anubhavamulu [memories and personal experiences] of how women lived with grace under trying social conditions[7]. The gist of it is as follows:

She was a child widow, about 15 years old in 1901-1902, and was living in her relatives’ home. During those days the well-to-do families were observing rigid traditions and customs. Women couldn’t show their faces in public. Kamakshamma was always dedicated to reading books and public service. She was interested in Veeresalingam’s writings and evidently was inspired by his writings. When her family members and other disciples of Veeresalingam tried to encourage her to remarry she resisted. She devoted her life to public service. ..

Her family members did not object to her reading since she was also reading epics and gathering other women in her neighborhood for religious discourses [emphasis mine]. Evidently she had to circumvent possible opposition to her reading the controversial books (69-72).

To me, the article was interesting since it showed how she had noticed the unfavorable conditions, and circumvented the objections in subtle ways. Her account gives us some of the notable details as to how, during and after Veeresalingam period, women managed to process the information they had received and put it to their best use while keeping good relationship with their families. Wisdom lies in working things out. Kamakshamma was a good example. She decided not to remarry but had no problem in helping other widows who wished to remarry. The hurdles from her family did not prevent her from following her heart—that was reading Veeresalingam’s writings and taking only whatever suited her mental disposition.

Another female writer, Nalam Suseelamma, wife of Nalam Krishna Rao[8], also expressed similar sentiment:

She was not interested in her husband’s activities at first. She was hesitant even to talk to Rajyalakshmamma [Veeresalingam’s wife]. But she was following her husband … only to please her husband but not because she believed in his them. Suseelamma added that she was not ashamed of her lifestyle during those days. ‘I am saying this to point out the hold the traditional values had on us during that period.’ In retrospect she felt there was nothing to be ashamed of, she was only sorry but not ashamed. …

“I could not step outside past the front door in those days. Now I am running this Andhra Mahila gaana sabha [Andhra women music society]. I owe it to the incessant teachings of Veeresalingam garu. ….” (95-96).

Evidently the males allowed women to read books but within the norms set by the society. And individual women found ways to circumvent the hurdles. That was and has been the spirit and character of Telugu women. This spirit of compromise or conformation rather than of confrontation has been evident even in the female writers in 1960s. Kamakshamma and Suseelamma reaffirm the evolutionary nature of social values. Change does not happen in one quick move but takes place imperceptibly.

NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES

By 1930s, the women’s education movement gained momentum. The nationalist movement needed an educated woman. National leaders found women to be of valuable asset not only for their strength but also in terms of numbers. A little later, Ayyanki Venkataramanayya started the library movement, once again with educating women as one of its primary goals. As a result of the combined efforts of all these three movements, several women’s magazines came into existence.

Several magazine exclusively for women started appearing soon. Telugu janana was started in 1894 and published from Rajahmundry, the central part of the state with rich literary history. Hindusundari was another magazine for women, started by S. Sitaramayya in 1902. Potturi Venkateswararao quoted the mission statement of the editor:

“Considering that [Telugujanana] is the only magazine currently available for women, and there is no other to compete with, I decided to start this [hindusundari]… hoping to educate women, encouraging to express themselves freely, and without fear. I contacted our sisters who were sending their contributions to my other magazine, desopakari [guardian of our country]. They all expressed great enthusiasm at the prospect, promised to help me to make it a useful magazine for all women. Some of them offered to write and publish themselves, while a few expressed concern. For fear of ridicule by their female neighbors, some of them preferred to use pseudonyms … For all these reasons, we tried to make the women take up writing and running the magazine themselves, but the country has not reached that level yet, I suppose.” (87)

And Venkateswararao commented that,

This rather long editorial is indicative of the educated women’s interest in writing, of their fear of ridicule by female friends, and also, the determination of the publishers and magazine editors to promote the women’s education, to encourage women to act as magazine editors. At the request of Sitaramayya, two women, Mosalikanti Rambayamma and Vempati Santabayamma became editors. In all possibility, these two women were the first female journalists and magazine editors. After a few years, some 7 or 8 years, Madabhushi Chudamma and Kallepalli Venkataramanamma took up the editorial responsibilities of the magazine. It was about this time that the term “sampadakulu” [Telugu term for male editors] came into vogue, and the two women announced themselves “sampaadakuraandru” [female editors]. The magazine was moved to Kakinada in 1917 and later was dissolved.

The first issue of Hindusundari included articles on traditional duties of wives [pativratadharmam], the tenets for married women, skills required in the performance of their daily chores, women’s songs, cosmetics, hygiene, biographies of foreign women, and also fiction for diversion. The stories that were supportive of women’s education and literary interest were given priority (87-88).

Notably women were invited to participate in running the magazine and they responded zealously. Interestingly they had expressed their concern that they might face ridicule from their female cohorts [emphasis mine]! Another noteworthy point was that Hindusundari did not differ in its views from Veeresalingam’s on female education.

Tirumala Ramacandra, (1913- ) mentioned two female writers in his book, Telugu patrikala sahitya seva (1989) –Racamalla Satyavatidevi as the first female editor of a magazine, not for-women-only, Telugu talli, 1938-1944 (61), and Jnanamba as an essayist. Ramacandra quoted almost one page from one of Jnanamba’s article [non-fiction] on the delicious nature of sitaphalam [winter apple] and its benefits for one’s health (44). Potham Janakamma who wrote an article, “videsi yatra” (traveling abroad) in 1874, published in Andhrabhasha sanjivani, could be the first Telugu female essayist (Lakshmana Reddi. Telugulo patrika racana 58).

Significantly, the magazine Andhrabhasha sanjivani was run by Kokkonda Venkataratnam pantulu, who was a staunch opponent of education for women. The magazine was a “platform for the traditionalists of the old school to revive the long-established social norms, and also to oppose all social and cultural reform movements. The magazine was publishing articles opposing widow remarriage and women’s education” (Lakshmana Reddi. Telugulo patrika racana 57-58).

K. N. Kesari, a nationalist leader, noted philanthropist and journalist started Gruhalakshmi in 1928 providing a viable platform for women to express themselves. Kesari’s mission was to “improve the health and welfare of women.” Venkateswararao commented that, “although this is intended for women only, the magazine was publishing highly informative articles useful for everybody. There are several articles of lasting value.” Probably this was one of the significant moments when the ‘exclusively for women’ idea started fading. Venkateswararao further elaborated that “Gruhalakshmi provided platform for several female writers… worked for women’s education, women’s voting rights and was keen on encouraging women to work on the spinning wheel at home. Encouraged women to conduct conferences, seminars, etc. and published the news in its pages. In this magazine, the national activist Gummididala Durgabai [later came to be known as Durgabai Deshmukh] published her serial novel, ‘Lakshmi’. The story was about an orphan named Lakshmi who suffers several hardships and later becomes a teacher. At the end of the novel, Durgabai addressed the readers and said, ‘if even one woman learns from this story and improves her life, I will feel blessed.’ … Gruhalakshmi has a special place not only among women’s magazines but all the magazines of that epoch” (P. Venkateswararao 90-91).

In the same context, Lakshmana Reddi observed that, “Several women who had no knowledge of even alphabet, worked hard to improve their reading skills and rose to the level of becoming eminent scholars.” (Telugu journalism 306). … Kanuparti Varalakshmamma ran a column entitled ‘Sarada lekhalu’ [letters from Sarada] in which she discussed important women’s issues like Sharda Act [Government Act prohibiting child marriages] (307).

Kesari also set up an annual award, “Swarna kankanam” (golden bracelet) to honor female writers of eminence, and this award continues to present times.

Pulugurta Lakshmi Narasamamba was also an active contributor to Gruhalakshmi who later started her own magazine, Savitri in 1904, “challenging Veeresalingam’s position on widow remarriage and declaring war on several other movements of Veeresalingam. Although she opposed widow remarriage, she was a great advocate of women’s education” (Lakshmana Reddi. Telugulo patrika racana. 121). Venkateswararao noted that, “Although it is not clear how long this magazine existed but evidently has published valuable articles. The articles were published later in anthologies” (P. Venkateswararao 90).

I would like to relate an anecdote that adds another dimension to Lakshmi Narasamamba’s character. One of her granddaughters was my friend and classmate in Andhra University, 1956-1959. My friend had mentioned that her grandmother Lakshmi Narasamamba garu was progressive in numerous ways; and, when my friend wanted to marry a man of her choice the family opposed. Her grandmother however supported and encouraged her to follow her heart. Like Kamakshamma (see page 6 of this article), women in those days made choices on a case-by-case basis. Their choices might look like a contradiction on the surface but are indicative of the strength of their characters.

While the movements were focused on “educating women”, women with hardly any schooling were writing and publishing in the 1930s and 1940s. One classic example of their success was a scholarly work by Burra Kamaladevi (1908- ), Chhandohamsi (A study of meter). The book was prescribed as a textbook for post-graduate students in Telugu Literature and bhashapraveena diploma (attestation of scholarship in Telugu language studies) in schools. The notable factor was that Kamaladevi received no formal education, and that the academy did not consider it an obstacle to consider it a scholarly work.

These magazines for women published poetry and fiction by female writers. Men openly encouraged women to write. There was no stigma in writing. There was no stigma in publishing their writings in their own names. Women writers in Andhra Pradesh did not hide behind pseudonyms to conceal their identity

THE SHIFTS IN MALE SUPPORT AND FEMALE EDUCATION

Veeresalingam had stated his goals of female education in no uncertain terms. After the declaration of independence, there was a shift in the attitudes of males at least on the surface. The ‘magazines exclusively for women’ were replaced by special sections for women in magazines for general public. For instance, Pramadaavanam in Andhra Prabha, vanitaalokam in Andhra Patrika, and later vanitaajyoti in Andhra Jyoti with female columnists were and have been such replacements. The topics dealt with in these special sections however remained the same—cooking, sewing, female hygiene and beauty tips. Unlike Veeresalingam the social activists in later period did not spell it out though. The attitudes have become much more subtle. There was no movement like that of Kokkonda Venkataratnam opposing female education in public.Yet, the reality women faced in day to day life on the home-front was a different story. The double standard some of the male activists evinced, the contrariety between their preachings and practice also went unrecorded.

The women took it upon themselves to make that shift to social issues that seriously affected women. The dissent started to surface in other ways like movies and in real life situations. This is evident in the 1960s female writing.

Statistically, the names of female writers appeared only sporadically in critical works. Potturi Venkateswararao devoted one chapter, “acchamgaa aadavaallakosam” [exclusively for women] in his book, naati patrikala meti viluvalu (the high standards of the magazines in the past] (86-91) in which he briefly commented on the magazines for women and female writing in the early 20^th century. Poranki Dakshinamurti listed over 200 short story writers, as prominent fiction writers between 1910 and 1975 in his book katha vanjmayam [history of short story] and 30 of them were females. Most of these 30 writers were from the 1950s and 1960s decades.

RECOGNITION AND REWARD

It would appear from modern day criticism that the two important questions regarding women writing are recognition and reward. Attempting to put these two questions in a social context in India is a complex task. The complexities arise from the caste-oriented social hierarchy as well as multi-layered familial relationships. My intent is to show, not how women were ridiculed and spurned, but how they handled themselves in literature and in society. Human nature being what it is, there is always room for conflicts and confrontation. Wisdom lies in dealing with the conflicts, and, I think, Telugu female writers handled themselves beautifully.

Let’s first examine the aspect of recognition. Historically, women writers were not appearing in public. Several biographies in Lakshmikantamma’s Andhra Kavayitrulu included comments on the extraordinary talent of female authors, but did not refer to their reception by the public. This custom of not seeking recognition was evident even in the 1960s, to a much lesser degree though.

Women in upper classes have written but did not seem to have sought royal patronage like male writers. During Veeresalingam’s period females began showing interest in publishing articles in the women’s magazines as well as books. This could be considered the first departure from tradition. Lakshmikantamma has stated that she owed her interest in the female writing of the past to Veeresalingam’s works (98). The content and the views expressed in these writings however remained the same as in the past. The works by these female writers carried Veeresalingam’s philosophy—Ahalayabai [story of Ahalya, a chaste woman in mythology], bhaktimargam [the rules of devotion], satidharmamulu [the duties of wife], and such.

Among those who deviated from this norm, Molla was prominently featured in the history of Telugu literature. Molla did not hesitate to go to the court despite her caste status. The following passage from Pratapacaritra by Ekamranatha, an early historian throws light on Molla’s stature in society [translation mine]:

Molla offered to dedicate her work Ramayanam to king Prataparudra. The scholars present in the court objected, calling it sudrakavitvam [poetry of a lower class person] and so was inappropriate. The king, in deference to their objection, invited the male brahmin scholars to write Ramayanam. Molla came to the court and read verses from her Ramayanam. The king, being knowledgeable, and appreciative of her [Molla’s] talent, yet afraid he might offend the brahmin scholars, rewarded her appropriately and sent her to the queen’s palace… (quoted in Samagra Andhra Sahityam 8: 113-114).

This account raises questions like how could Molla, a woman from lower class, gain access to the royal court in the first place? How could she read her poetry if her writing were considered objectionable? Why did the poets in the court waited until Molla recited her poetry, and then raised their objections? What prevented the King from overruling the objections of the poets in his court? To me, it appears the issue here is more than male versus female.

On the same lines, I would like to discuss another story about Molla, prevalent in Andhra Pradesh. A word of caution is needed here. Both Lakshmikantamma (Andhra kavayitrulu 19) and Arudra (Samagra Andhra Sahityam 8: 113) made brief references to the story but would not go into details. Lakshmikantamma dismissed it as irrelevant. I am, however, inclined to give here one story, for a couple of reasons. I will get to my reasons after giving the story.

One day Molla was returning from the market carrying a chicken and a puppy in her arms, and ran in toTenali Ramakrishna, a contemporary poet and prankster. Ramakrishna saw Molla, and as was his custom, saw an opportunity for a good laugh. He asked Molla if she would let him have the chicken or the puppy for a rupee. The question was a double entendre. At one level, it was a simple, straightforward question—whether she would sell the chicken or puppy to him for a rupee; and, at the other level, it was an obscenity.

Molla saw where he was going with his question, and replied that she would not sell him anything at any cost. Her response was also a double entendre matching his wits—at one level, her response was a straightforward answer—that she simply would not sell anything to him, and at the other level, her response meant, ‘Whatever your intentions are, you know I am like a mother to you’. The story continues to state that, then on Ramakrishna treated her with respect, like a mother.

The story raises several questions in regard to the status of women in society, in general, and of women poets, in particular. Was this a story of humiliation or success? How could a lower caste woman claim to be a mother-like figure of a brahmin? Wouldn’t that be preposterous? Does this story mean that women poets were subjected to ridicule? Or did it intend to show that women equaled men in a battle of wits? Ramakrishna was known to pull pranks on his male contemporariesll as we, and at times, ended up at the receiving end himself. In that sense, could we say that he treated Molla like he would any other poet, irrespective of gender? In my teen years, I read this story as an example of battle of wits.

My reasons for quoting the story are: In Telugu literature, there is a genre called tittu kavitvam [poetry of slander]. For centuries, it has been common practice for Telugu folks to ridicule each other. Personal attacks and defamation of character have been national characteristics. What would be considered an offense in the west would be a trivial matter for Telugu folks. Comments like “scribbling women” (Lawrence), or comparing women writing to “a dog walking on his hind legs” (Johnson) are easily forgiven or brushed off in our culture. Regarding the outrageous attacks and insults Venkataratnam Pantulu and Veeresalingam poured on each other in the late 19^th centuries, Krishnakumari, a respected scholar and critic commented that only persons of their stature [Veeresalingam and Venkataratnam pantulu] could entertain such ferocious personal attacks (Yugapurushudu 173). This trend of personal attacks is widespread in Andhra Pradesh and continued in to 1960s and 1970s. Such sarcasm did not stand in the way for women to write and publish.

The second female writer to make history in the past was Muddupalani (1730-1790). Muddupalani was the first female writer, I think, to cause the scholars raise gender related questions. While Molla’s story was often quoted as an example of battle of wits, Muddupalani’s work was associated with her caste, courtesans.

Muddupalani was a granddaughter of Tanjanayaki, a courtesan in Tanjore court during Pratapasimha rule (1730-1763) (Arudra Samagra Andhra Sahityam 12: 172). Muddu Palani wrote Radhikasantvanam, a poetic narrative of how Krishna set out to pacify incensed Radhika. She included several intimate details and erotic notes on woman’s modus operandi of satisfying a man in the process.

From the recorded history it would appear that questions regarding the authorship of radhikasantvanam were raised and dismissed (Samagra Andhra Sahityam. 12: 171-176), but the details are not relevant for the purpose of this book. What is relevant was the controversy surrounding its publication a century later. In 1910, when Bangalore Nagaratnamma, a scholar and poet in her own right, attempted to publish the book, met with strong opposition. The opposition and banning of the book came from the British government.

Among the Indians, Veeresalingam, a champion of women’s movement was one of her harshest critics. He condemned Muddupalani’s descriptions of love-making. Here is the account of Veeresalingam’s objections and Nagaratnamma’s rebuttal:

Veeresalingam commented on Radhikasantvanam as follows: “Several references in the book are disgraceful and inappropriate for women to hear or write about.”

Bangalore Nagaratnamma questioned Veeresalingam’s integrity: “Does the question of propriety and embarrassment arise only in the case of women, and not of men? Is he [Veeresalingam] implying that it is acceptable for this author [Muddupalani] to write about conjugal pleasures in minute detail and without reservation because she was a courtesan, but it would not be so for respectable men? Then my question is: Are the obscenities in this book [radhikasantvanam] worse than the obscenities in vaijayantivilasam, a book which pantulu garu [Veeresalingam] personally reviewed and approved for publication? And what about the obscenities in his own work, rasikajanamanobhiranjanam?” (Quoted in Arudra. preface. xx).

Apparently, women did not hesitate to rise to the occasion and register their protest when the occasion called for it. Radhikasantvanam was eventually published, as a result of an appeal to the government by some male scholars. They claimed that, “It is unfair to ban the entire book simply because it contains a few, some two dozen, objectionable verses.” The ban was not lifted until after the British rule ended though.

Some of the Andhra elite considered the book deserved to be published and got it published. Yet the stigma continues to this day, as is evident in some of the comments in the 20^th and 21^st centuries. Lakshmikantamma paid a remarkable tribute to Muddupalani’s poetic excellence and her command of language, and then said in her final note, “With her explicit descriptions of sexual acts, however, she [Muddupalani] made it impossible for scholarly discussion of her work in respectable company. … However, we should not put the blame entirely on Muddupalani for her explicit descriptions [pacci srungaram]. … The country was under military rule. It was a chaotic period.” (Andhra Kavayitrulu 67). Another comment posted on the Internet, as recently as July 2001 is equally subjective: “She [Muddupalani] wrote “Radhika Santvanamu” to prove that women can write lust and sex as well as or even better than men! Being a Vesya (concubine or prostitute) it was not difficult for her to write about lust and sex.”[9] (Vepachedu Srinivasarao Homepage)[Original in English] . There is however a noticeable difference in these two comments. Lakshmikantamma stayed with her subject while Srinivasarao took a jab at the author’s profession and personal life!

SUMMARY:

In summary, historically education was available to women in upper and middle class families. Questions like how and why this happened, and whether it was selective are open for debate. After declaration of independence, and the abolition of zamindaries and princely states, the middle class came into prominence with renewed vigor. Women from royal/ruling class became part of the middle class. Almost all the female writers in post-independent Andhra Pradesh belonged to middle class in terms of social strata. Their values represented the values of the new emerging middle class. The women started writing about the values of the middle class families, which were changing dramatically because of the social and political changes in the country.

Secondly, the controversies surrounding women’s education was not gender-specific. The dissent was between two groups, each group consisting of males and females, rather than separate groups of males and females. And strangely, the division continues to prevail even in modern times.

A third distinction was between the academy and the public–a modern concept. With the popularization of adult and women’s education, the non-scholar readership has increased exponentially, and it was responding to fiction with enthusiasm, irrespective of academic assessment of women writing.

Final note: I am examining Telugu female writers of 1960s era against this background. I am looking forward to readers’ comments, suggestions, and stories. I am inviting readers to share their comments and stories that have a direct bearing on this topic. You may email your comments to me or mail to my contact in India. I am planning to visit India briefly and will be happy to meet with readers and writers.

(End)

(Originally published on thulika.net, September 2002. The suggestions and comments from Radhika Yelkur, India, and Radhika Gajjala, US, are gratefully acknowledged. – Nidadavolu Malathi.)

The complete book for personal use may be downloaded. Click on Telugu Women Writers, 1950-1975: Analytical study of women’s writing in Andhra Pradesh.

WORKS CITED:

Arudra [pseud]. See Sankarasastry, Bhagavatula.

Dakshinamurti, Poranki. Kathanika vanjmayam. Hyderabad: Andhra Pradesh Sahitya Academy, 1975.

Kamakshamma, Battula. “Smruthulu, anubhavamu [Memories and experiences].” Kandukuri Veeresalingam Smarakostavamula Sangham: yugapurushudu Veeresalingam. Hyderabad: Author, n.d. 69-72.

Kandukuri Veeresalingam Smarakostavamula Sangham. Yugapurushudu Veeresalingam. Hyderabad: Author, n.d.

Lakshmana Reddi, V. telugulo patrika rachana. Vijayawada: Lakshmi Publications, 1988.

— telugu journalism. Vijayawada: Gopichand Publications, 1985.

Lakshmikantamma, Utukuri. Andhra kavayitrulu. Hyderabad: Author, 1953.

— “Naati Vidusheemanulu.” Kandukuri Veeresalingam Smarakostavamula Sangham: yugapurushudu Veeresalingam. Hyderabad: Author, n.d. 97-102.

Narla, V. R. See Venkateswararao, Narla.

Ramachandra, Tirumala. telugu patrikala sahitya seva. Hyderabad: Visalandhra Publishing House, 1989.

Ramalashmi, K. Comp. Andhra racayitrula samacara sucika Hyderabad: Andhra Pradesh Sahitya Akademi, 1968.

Sankarasastry, Bhagavatula. [Arudra, pseud.] Samagra Andhra Sahityam.V.8. Madras: Seshachalam &Co., 1965. 110-118.

— Samagra Andhra Sahityam, V. 12, Madras: Seshachalam &Co., 1968 168-176.

— “pravesika [preface]” Muddupalani. Radhikasantvanam. Madras: EMESCO Books, 1972, xi-xxiv

Salamma, Dudala. “Dudala Salamma of Quila Shapur.” Tharu, Susie and Lalitha, K. ed.: Women Writing in India, V.2. New York: East-West Books, 1998. 216-224

Suseelamma, Nalam. “Pavitra smruthulu [Ennobling memories].” Kandukuri Veeresalingam Smarakostavamula Sangham: yugapurushudu Veeresalingam. Hyderabad: Author, n.d. 93-96.

Varalakshmamma, Kanuparti. “Dharmapatni Rajyalakshmamma.” Kandukuri Veeresalingam Smarakostavamula Sangham: yugapurushudu Veeresalingam. Hyderabad: Author, n.d. 41-44.

Venkateswararao, Narla. Veeresalingam [English]. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 1968.

— “Yugapurushudu.” Kandukuri Veeresalingam Smarakostavamula Sangham: yugapurushudu Veeresalingam. Hyderabad: Author, n.d. 11-18

Venkateswararao, Potturi. nati patrikala meti viluvalu. Hyderabad: Rachana Journalism Kalasala, 2000.

Venkatarangayya, Mamidipudi. “sarvotomukha sanghasamskarta.” Kandukuri Veeresalingam Smarakostavamula Sangham: yugapurushudu Veeresalingam. Hyderabad: Author, n.d. 33-40.

Vijayalakshmi, Arepudi. navala racayitrulu-navalaa udyamaalu. Hyderabad: author, 1996.

[Internet sources]

Vepachedu, Srinivasa Rao Home page. 7 July 2001 <http://members.iquest.net/-vepachedu/Women.html>.

[1] The book received Madras Government Literary Award in 1953, and went into several reprints. To this day it remains a valuable research tool.

[2] Tallapaka Timmakka was the first female poet to write in pure Telugu.

[3] Telugu original: talli chaalu pillalaku vacchunu.

[4] Swarnakankanam recipient in 1934, the best female writer award of Sahitya Akademi in 1966 (Ramalakshmi n.pag.)

[5] Due to Veeresalingam’s movement for widow remarriage, they were treated as outcastes..

[6] Rajyalakshmamma died nine years earlier than Veeresalingam She died in her sleep, painlessly (Varalakshmamma 44).

[7] Translation of complete article is available on my web site, Thulika (https://thulika.net/), September 2002.

[8] Kamakshamma’s uncle’s son, she had mentioned earlier.

[9] http://members.iquest.net/-vepachedu/Women.html.

Dr. Arudra by Nidadavolu Malathi

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Arudra, a relentless researcher and poet, devoted his life to write for the ordinary people without compromising his integrity. He proved successfully that poetry in classical meter could be written in colloquial Telugu and produce valuable literature. He did not believe in academic degrees. He researched incessantly and brought valuable information on a wide
variety of topics to the public.

Arudra [Bhagavatula Sadasiva Sankara Sastry] was born in Visakhapatnam in 1925. He moved to Vizianagaram in 1941 for college studies. During this period, he met with literary stalwarts Chaganti Somayajulu and Ronanki Appalaswamy who became powerful forces in molding his literary pursuits and helped to define his literary values in the years to come.

Early in life, Arudra became involved in the political movements. He left college and joined the Air Force in 1943. He moved to Madras in 1947, where he served on the editorial board of a popular magazine Anandavani for two years. Then returned to Visakhapatnam where he was a photographer for a short period. In 1949, he returned to Madras. He always believed that journalism had “adventure value.” He tried for a job in journalism and ended with script and lyric writing in the movies.

Arudra did not care for academic degrees but his incessant thirst for knowledge and acquiring it in the traditional method was notable. When he wanted to learn the fundamentals of Telugu grammar, he went to the highly reputable grammarian, Ravuri Doraiswamy Sarma. Interestingly, at the end of three years, however, Arudra changed Doraiswamy Sarma’s perceptions of the importance of colloquial Telugu. He proved to be a rare student who could convert the teacher and a staunch classicist into an advocate of colloquial language.

Arudra pursued his interest in literature and fine arts on his own and with unusual fervor. He studied not only classics in Telugu literature but also in other languages, and other fields such as dance, music, magic and palmistry. Top ranking artists in music and dance would consult Arudra for interpretation and explanations. He was well versed in the games of chess and bridge. Sri Venkateswara University, Tirupati, conferred an honorary doctorate of letters on Arudra in 1978. Andhra University honored him with Kalaprapoorna title. Arudra’s works had been subjects for several doctoral dissertations and M. Lit. Degrees.His sixtieth birthday was celebrated on a grand scale in Chennai in 1985. Marking his seventieth birthday, East and West Godavari districts organized huge literary meets. He was truly a people’s poet in every sense of the term.

Arudra met Ramalakshmi, a well-known writer and critic, while she was working at the Telugu swatantra office as editor of the English section of the magazine. They got married in 1954. They have three daughters and one adopted daughter.

Arudra’s first poem, lohavihangaalu [Metal Eagles] written in 1942 caught the eye of the elitists. During the Second World War, the Japanese airplanes dropped bombs on the Visakhapatnam harbor and people dispersed in panic. Arudra wrote the poem depicting the horrific scene.

Arudra strongly believed in two principles: First, literature must be able to stimulate people, and secondly, it must be written in a language that is intelligible to all the readers, the elite and the ordinary readers. In a personal letter written to me in 1981, Arudra said, “Our ancient poets said people’s tongues are the palm leaves that safeguard the literature. Now the hearts of the people are the tape recorders that preserve literature.” Arudra had experimented and produced valuable works in every literary genre—several techniques in poetry, literary history, short stories, detective novels, stage and radio plays, essays, lyrics and scripts for movies. Several of his lyrics and poems are still fresh in the hearts of the people.

The two most important works that gave him a permanent place in the history of Telugu literature are Samagra Andhra Sahityam [A Comprehensive Literary History of the Andhra People] and Tvamevaaham, [You are I –an aphorism from Upanishads]. The two works left an indelible mark on the minds and in the hearts of Telugu people.

His voluminous literature may be categorized into three areas: 1. works based on research, 2. creative writings (poetry, fiction, etc), and 3. lyrics and poetry written in a lighter vein. Further, his articles fall into the following categories: articles [1] related to the ancient and modern literature; [2] on fine arts and folk arts; [3] social reformers and others worked in the area; [4] movie industry; and, [5] miscellaneous.

Arudra mentioned in one of his essays an incident that led to working on his major work, Samagra Andhra Sahityam. It was triggered by a brief conversation the author had with B. N. Reddy, a prominent movie producer. Arudra casually suggested to Reddy to make a movie on the famous poet Tikkana. Reddy asked Arudra to see if there was enough material to make a movie.

Arudra, as his wont, started researching the subject, and was fascinated by the enormous amount of material he had come across in the process. The movie did not happen but his research, which extended over a period of sixteen years, resulted in the said volumes. “The information useful for the race [of the Telugu people] must not be put away,” he told himself, and set out to publish it in a series of volumes. The set of twelve volumes speaks of not only Arudra’s thirst for knowledge and tenacity but also his commitment to the Telugu race. Arudra’s commitment is evident from his comment that he quit smoking in order to continue his reading in the library uninterrupted.

The history of the publication of his monumental work, Samagra Andhra Sahityam [Comprehensive Literary History of the Andhra people], is worth mentioning here. In the sixties, M. Seshachalam &Company created a project under the banner “intinti granthalayam [Library in every home]. Under the project, subscribers received books on a monthly basis. The company agreed to publish Samagra Andhra Sahityam in 12 volumes between 1965 and 1968. Arudra worked day and night incessantly to meet the publishers’ guidelines, sometimes modifying the content to fit the size. After the 12th volume, the author realized that there was information for one more volume to cover the modern period. His health however held him back for a while. The first edition of 12 volumes sold out quickly. In 1988, Prajasakti publishers, Vijayawada, undertook to reprint the set. This time the author had the opportunity to include the details he had left out the first time and the volume on the modern period (volume 13). The second edition was published in 1991. Once again, the books were sold out quickly. In 2002, Ramalakshmi approached Telugu Akademi, and they agreed to publish the entire work in four volumes.
At this writing, volume 1 of this set is out of print.

Samagra Andhra Sahityam covering the period from the early Chalukya period (the eighth century to the British rule (the mid-nineteenth century) is not just a laundry list of authors’ names and their works. In his preface, the author mentioned that history of any country encompasses the literary history as well as social history. To that end, Arudra included umpteen particulars about the authors, their works, critiques and the minutiae of daily life in the period under discussion.

An important characteristic of these volumes is the language. Arudra wrote in colloquial Telugu in accordance with his belief that literature is for the people. kavisamrat Viswanatha Satyanarayana was strongly opposed to this view. It would appear that Satyanarayana was disappointed that Arudra did not write them in classical Telugu.

The second book, tvamevaaham [You are I, an upanishadic axiom] is one of the most widely received poetry volume in the history of modern Telugu literature. It is a powerful statement on the atrocities committed by the Razakars under the Nizam regime in 1948. While the people protested against the Nizam rule, the razakars committed unspeakable crimes. It was a hell let loose.

In his preface, the author stated that he was inspired by a news item published in krishnapatrika, under the banner naakaa siggu, naa stritvam enaaDo poyindi [Me, ashamed? My femininity was long gone]. It narrated the story of a woman who removed her clothes in a third class railway compartment in a leisurely fashion. One of the passengers asked her if she were not ashamed to do so. She replied, “Am I ashamed? How can I be? I was tied to a tree for twelve days in this manner by the razakars, the cronies of the Nizam, and was raped repeatedly. You did nothing. You should be ashamed”. Several poets of Andhra Pradesh responded to the appalling incident and the atrocities. Arudra’s poem set him apart from the others for his technique and its commanding tone.

The technique Arudra developed to write his poetry included rhyming couplets and extensive borrowing freely from Sanskrit, English and Urdu to make his point. Unlike other poets, Arudra did not use Sanskrit phraseology to impress the elite. He used them to create a stronger sense of the milieu.

The book in several cantos using the clock-related terminology such as hours, minutes, seconds, water clock, and sand clock, depicts in analogous meter the atrocities and violence that had occurred during that period.

In the preface to the book, Arudra said he originally called it Telangana. When he showed it to Sri Sri for his opinion, Sri Sri said he was very pleased with the poem. Regarding the title, Sri Sri said, “Giving the title Telangana to a book on Telangana is like drawing a picture of an elephant and call it elephant. It does not convey the essential message of the poem.” Arudra then changed it to the current title.

Let me digress here for a moment. Possibly the above incident could be the last when Arudra sought Sri Sri’s opinion. In terms of ideologies, Arudra moved away from Sri Sri soon enough. While Sri Sri remained strictly adhered to his Marxist principles, Arudra studied the Marxist and other ideologies and imbibed the spirit of those principles. He then developed his own philosophy and remained a man of his own convictions.

The book, tvamevaaham, was published in a biweekly magazine, Telugu swatantra, in 1949. I read it in the early fifties. I was not aware of the connotation and I did not understand every word of it, yet I was taken by the ambiance. It was one of my favorite readings at the time. The book has become an important part of history for its political and social context. That I came to know much later.

The public reception of the book was not immediate though. Nearly four years later, in a letter to Dasarathi, Arudra stated that he [Dasarathi] was the first to make constructive comments on the book. Dasarathi praised it as unique for its style and content. The review was published in Bharati monthly in 1953.

Arudra’s second daughter, Lalita, is a writer in her own right. She commented on tvamevaaham and translated one of the poems from the book. I was glad to note that her appreciation of the book was similar to mine. There is a notable difference of course. She is Arudra’s daughter and thus has a better sense of the poetic quality in it. You can find Lalita’s comments and the translation on her blog, http://lalitalarking.blogspot.com. Click on the October 2007 folder and scroll down to The Train You Intended to Take.

Among his other anthologies of poetry, koonalamma padaalu deserves special mention. In his preface, the author mentioned that he had come across an article by Veturi Prabhakara Sastry on the eight poems with the caption O Koonalammaa! In Bharati monthly in 1930. Arudra stated, “When I first read them, I was excited; the poems moved me and provoked me. The divine skill imbibed in these poems mesmerized me. … I scrutinized them closely and, after understanding the depth of meaning in those poems, decided to write similar poems and bring them to light.”

Arudra researched further and found that the time when these were written could not be established with certainty. He was however certain that they were being sung in the 17th century. Arudra arrived at two premises: 1. they were probably not written by Koonalamma herself but written by someone else as a tribute to Koonalamma, 2. they followed a particular type of meter that included rhyming the first three lines and ending with the caption, O Koonalamma as the 4t line. He discussed the meter in detail in this preface to this book. (I would not want to go into that area, since it is all Greek and Latin to me.)

Here are a couple of poems I translated. Of course, the original poems are more fascinating.

Andhra folks’ passion
O ghosh, is a load
That never lives to see the end
Oh Koonalamma.

The debt keeps growing
The shoe keeps stinging
It is a flame unavailable for viewing
Oh Koonalamma.

Arudra’s poetry in lighter vein is equally captivating. His poems under titles, intinti pajyaalu and America intinti pajyaalu illustrate the humorous side of events in our daily lives—his comments on the everyday realities and lifestyles. His humorous side is obvious even in the spelling of the title. His spelling was in step with the prevalent pronunciation at a time when it was not common in written texts.

Arudra is a great juggler of words. It is not an exaggeration to state that his rhyme brought him closer to the vast majority of readers. In his preface to the book, he mentioned that he modeled these poems, intinti pajyaalu, on the poetry of Ogden Nashe. Aptly, he stated,

American poet, Ogden Nashe
Had made plenty of cash,
As for me, all I wish for
Is a nod of sehbash

Here are a couple of poems from intinti pajyaalu.

Cricket match
To tell the truth, I cannot play cricket
Yet, for every match, I buy the ticket
Between Umrigar, Bordey and Desai, I cannot tell the difference
Not even when I’m close by.

That’s why, when our team is fielding
I shout aloud, “Milka Singh”
He wears a turban and a beard
That’s how I remember him well.

History on the move:
The hare and the tortoise made a wager
I’ll tell you how the tortoise won the race
He walked the one hundred miles
While the hare switched two trains

The book, America intinti pajyaalu [Poems in homes in America] depicts similar incidents in the homes of Telugu people in America. Personally, I think the real Telugu humor did not seep through in these poems as well as its precedent. Again, it could be my frame of mind.

Arudra wrote another book of poems, madhyakkaralu, to prove his argument that writing metrical poetry need not be laden heavily with meandering Sanskrit phraseology. Earlier, Viswanatha Satyanarayana published a volume entitled viswanatha madhyakkaralu, which received Sahitya Akademi award. Arudra called his book suddha madhyakkaralu, highlighting that his technique was the pure form and yet intelligible to all readers. His intent was to show that the ancient principles of poetics were just as suitable for colloquial Telugu as the classical Telugu.

In addition to his Samagra Andhra Sahityam, Arudra had written numerous essays over a period of fifty years.Most of them were published in anthologies such as mahaneeyulu [Great Personalities], vyaasapeetham[Articles on a wide variety of topics including history, classics, society, journalism, and movies], Ramudiki Sita Emavutundi [How Sita is related to Rama], temple sculpture, and prajakalalu and pragativaadulu [Folk arts and Freethinkers]. The book, Ramudiki Sita emavutundi is one of his works that explains his mode of thinking. In this book, he takes a popular adage, which implies that the question, how is Sita related to Rama, is idiotic since the answer is obvious; a question nobody in his right mind would ask. Arudra however takes the question seriously, and gives numerous examples from various texts in other cultures and other countries to show that the answer is more complex than appears to be. The book clearly gives a lot for the reader to wonder about and think.

In 1999, Ramalakshmi has decided to publish all the works of Arudra. One of them is a collection of critical essays on a wide variety of topics, entitled vyasapeetham the second imprint. The essays range from Vedic times to the beliefs and practices in modern times—legends and facts surrounding various mythological characters such as Krishna, Sita, Draupadi, various issues as described in Vedas, women’s position in society, customs at various times, persons of importance in the movie industry, the state of today’s journalism, and so on. The volume speaks of Arudra’s tenacious pursuit of knowledge on one hand and his ability to present the topics in a language that is appealing to the widest audience. Arudra excels in capturing his audience’s attention.

In some case, the articles clarify some of the popular notions. Others provide additional information and educate the readers. In his article on what the word putrika meant, Arudra points out that the word was originally meant to refer to the daughter who had no brothers. He quoted ancient texts such as Manu dharmasastra, Vedas, and modern Vedic authorities (Panchagnula Adinarayana Sastry) and western scholars (Sir Moniere Williams) to support his view. He also quotes from Women in the Vedic Age by Sakuntala rao Sastry, wherein Mrs. Sakuntala rao comments, “After the male domination came into play, the woman without brothers was labeled putrika and declared unfit for marriage. Sayanacharya who had written commentary on Vedas attributed the 14th century A.D. mode of thinking to the Vedic period”. Arudra would append his own
views wherever he felt strongly about the issue on hand. For instance, in the above article, he asked why today’s traditionalists accept the Vedas as authoritative, yet would not allow the same rights to women that had been allowed in the Vedic period (p.58).

Vemanna Vedam is another valuable work of Arudra. Vemana, a 14th century poet, is highly respected for his keen insights into the customs of society and pungent remarks. Arudra interpreted these poems, quoting extensively from the Vedas and other scholarly works. His commentary adds immensely to the study of Vemana’s poems.

Arudra has written books on palmistry, hand gestures in bharatanatyam, people and folk arts, and on chess among several others.

The book, hastalakshanam, is a small book in which Arudra wrote poems illustrating the hand gestures in classical dance. He worked closely with Padma Subrahmanyam, a famous dancer, to explain the underlying philosophy.

In the early eighties, I started working on Telugu writers for a doctoral dissertation (never finished). In that context, I contacted several writers. Arudra was kind enough to respond to my questions. I am happy I could share his thoughts with you at this late date.

Arudra in his own words:
In a letter dated July 28, 1981, Arudra wrote:

1.        Prior to entering the movie industry, I have gained the knowledge of writing good lyrics from the standpoint of literary technique. After getting into the movies, I understood the technique from the standpoint of music. I understood specifically how to use the rhyme and assonance. My technique improved because of the movies, but not hurt.
2.        The movie industry is only a business in the world of capitalist society. Producers make movies only to make money. If a competent director has good taste, he will be able to create a movie that does not fall below the standard. Writer is a part of this team. This is a collaborative effort.
3.        When a writer writes a lyric and publishes in a magazine, a reader reads it, sitting at home. Between him and a moviegoer, there is a big difference. These differences are inevitable in today’s society. As long as there is a difference between the literature that is read and the one that is heard, there will also be a difference between literary technique and the literature of the movies. For example, once, I read a poem aloud in a literary meet. It opens on the lines, “Is this the country where Gandhi was born?” Later, there was an occasion where I had to write the same as a lyric for a movie. The views were the same but the way it was expressed had to be changed. I did it myself. One of the trade secrets of the artist is to be able to change the technique according to the medium. The difference between the stage play and the screenplay is the same as the literary technique and the movie technique. It is just as crucial.
4.        I have written numerous movie songs. I was never ashamed of the songs I have written for the movies. On the other hand, I am proud of them. I have been working in the industry for 32 years now (1981) that is about 3200 over the years. On average, I have been writing one hundred songs per year, maybe more. Some of these songs have become very popular. A few dozens of them are still being heard from individual singers, and broadcast on radio and television even now. Our ancient poets said that we might call them lyrics only those which act as the palm leaves for the tongues of the people. I am content that I have written songs that are tape recorders for the hearts of the people.
5.        I will not be disappointed if a producer or director asks me to change the lines. Movie songs require fixing. The song must be suitable for the episode and the presentation of it in the movie. Without thinking about the episode, the writer might imagine it in a different way. Then one of them would have to change his mode of thinking. It is appropriate for the writer to modify the song. How can a writer satisfy hundreds and thousands of audience, if he cannot satisfy the producer and the director?
6.        There was no occasion I had to write songs that were not consistent with my outlook.
7.        There were occasions when the storyline was changed based on my song. Director Tilak used to change the storyline based on the songs I had written. Once I wrote a song, raayinaina kaaka pothine [Why I have not turned into a rock at least?] for a private recording. Bapu heard it and was so pleased he created a scene in his movie goranta deepam. They do ask for my suggestions as well.
8.        To entertain the public is also one of the functions of literature. I think this can be attained through movie songs to a greater extent. I was very pleased when I heard one of my songs from the movie premalekhalu, sung by workers at the railway station by coal lines. Same way, when people, whom I’ve never met before, would approach me on the railway platform or some other place and congratulate me for the song muthemanta pasupu. Where is greater joy than knowing that my song has given them on the spot respite for a few minutes? [Sadyah eva nivruthi.]
9.        My ideology is scientific equality. I am including this in the movies whenever possible in an easily understandable, colloquial Telugu and using popular adages, but not with stock phrases. Nevertheless, the producer would allow the premise of equality only if it fits today’s business framework. In today’s template movies liberalism is nil. The views in the songs make an impression only when the entire movie resonates with liberalism. Otherwise, it will be like the juices and solids remain separate

My answer to the question you [Malathi] did not ask:
In the Telugu movie industry, numerous literary stalwarts such as Veluri Sivarama sastry, Viswanatha Satyanarayana, and Viswanatha Kaviraju, have written lyrics. So also progressive writers like Devulapalli, Sri Sri, Dasarathi, Si.Na.Re, and Atreya. Before the formation of Abhyudaya Rachayitala Sangham in 1947, we used to argue that we should write in a language that is intelligible to all the people. Yet we filled our writings with phrases built on Sanskrit phraseology [tatsamabhuuyishtamaina] that was incomprehensible to the people. After joining the movie industry, the language has taken the forms of desyam [native], aicchikam [random], and graameenam [rural]. Nowadays, nobody is writing lyrics filled with Sanskrit phrases, unless it is a purana movie. This is a linguistic revolution.

Second letter dated October 21, 1981:
Writing for the movies is my vocation. Literature is my passion. It is morally untenable to yield to shameful acts in the name of one’s work. For that reason, I will never do anything that is dishonorable voluntarily.

In literature, a disparity between the writer and reader leads to communication gap. That happened at the time of tvamevaaham was published. Even a great poet like Bhartruhari despaired that jeernamange subhashitam. [Good words are lost in oneself for want of receptive audience.] Kalidasu lost heart and said that puraanamiteva na saadhu sarvam. [Not everything is commendable because it is old]. Bhavabhuti had to tell himself vipulaa ca prithvee [The world is expansive] and be content with it. Chemakura Venkanna was annoyed that ee gati raciyincireni samakaalikulu meccharu gadaa [Contemporaries do not appreciate regardless in whatever style you write].

For those who introduce innovative trends, this problem is inevitable. For the writers who think that they are right and the people are idiots, there is no problem, none whatsoever, for instance, Viswanatha. I am people’s writer. Real writer is a person of the society he lives in [sanghajeevi]. The purpose of literature is inherent in the society’s activities. The elite may hold the same disrespectful view towards the movie writings as their view towards folk songs. The epics live on paper. Lyrics live on the tongues of the people. Songs sung along with pestle and mortars are the songs. Now I am very happy that my writings are within the reach of the ordinary people.

To conclude, I would like to quote the last lines in the volume 13 of Samagra Andhra Sahityam. Arudra stated that in recording any literary history, the modern period begins but does not end. … In a continuing tradition, the details of movements and the episodes are only comas and semicolons … but there will be no full stops.”

Arudra left his legacy for Telugu people to continue. As long as the history is in the making, the legacy of Arudra will remain in the hearts and on the minds of Telugu people.

Source list.

Arudra Abhinandana Sanchika. Madras: Arudra Shashtipurti Celebration Committee, 1985.

Works by Arudra.

1. Poetry.
Sinivaali. Madras: M. Seshachalam &Co., 1960.
Suddha Madhyakkaralu. Chennai: Stri Sakti prachuranalu, 1999
Tvamevaaham. Secunderabad: Chanda Narayana Shreshti, 1962.

2. Critical works (Books and anthologies of essays)
Mahaneeyulu (pen portraits). Chennai: K. Ramalakshmi, 1979
Prajakalalu, Pragativaadulu. Vijayawada: Prajasakti Book House, [1986]
Ramudiki Sita emautundi. Vijayawada: Navodaya publishers, 1978
Samagra Andhra Sahityam. 4 vols. Hyderabad: Telugu Akademi, 2002.
Vemana Vedam. Vijayawada: New Students Book Center, 1985
Vyasapitham. Vijayawada: New Students Book Center, 1985.

3. Fiction
Arudra kathalu. Vijayawada: Vijayasarathi prachurana. 1966

*Complete list of Arudra’s works is available at http://en.wikpedia.org./wiki/Aarudhra.

This article by Nidadavolu Malathi has been published on thulika.net, June 2008.

Telugu short story from early times to 1930s by Dr. K. K. Ranganathacharyulu

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(A review by Malathi).In the past nine years, well over one hundred Telugu stories have been translated and published on this site in an attempt to introduce the intellectual richness of Telugu writers to the non-Telugu readers. But for the two stories by Bhandaru Acchamamba, all of them have been written in the later half of the twentieth century. Additionally, a few articles discussing the nature and peculiarities of Telugu story have been published. Nevertheless, up until now, the origin and the development of modern Telugu story have not been expounded. The present monograph, tolinaati Telugu kathaanikalu: modatinunchi 1930 varaku. Telugu kathaanikala pariseelana [Telugu short stories from early years to 1930s: A Study] by Prof. K. K. Ranganathacharyulu fulfills that gap.

This 120-page long monograph is a meticulous study of the origins and the development of Telugu short story in Andhra Pradesh. The author walks us through the significant elements of the short story in its nascent state during the first three decades specifically.

Prof. Ranganathacharyulu has taken great pains to study the subject objectively and it is obvious in these 120 pages packed with valuable information. Even the title so carefully crafted vouches for his commitment. It says “from the beginning” but gives no specific date. The reason for doing so becomes obvious in his discussion on identifying a given story as the first modern Telugu story. I will come to this later.

During my last visit to India, Prof. Kethu Viswanatha Reddy gave me this book. I found it not only interesting but valuable for anybody interested in studying Telugu short story as a genre. While I was in Hyderabad, I asked the author for permission to publish an abridged version of this book in English. However, as I started working on it, I found it impossible to shorten the text. Hence, I decided to quote a few arguments from each chapter in order to give the readers a glimpse into the nature of Telugu story in its early stages. I earnestly hope that those who can read Telugu will read the original in order to benefit fully from this monograph.

The author opens with a brief history of Sanskrit texts. He states that, initially, the short story has been taking brief accounts from the longer Sanskrit texts and retelling them in the form of kavyas and plays. In the process, it progressed through various stages such as adaptations, translations, and finally settled as modern stories, which is narrating current events and occurrences in colloquial language. The topics discussed in this monograph include a preface giving the background, the Telugu short story (magazines, identifying the first short story, the bloom of Telugu story, anthologies, translations, diversity of themes and variations in styles), famous writers of the early times, and a few more notable stories and writers, and critiquing short stories.

The monograph also includes notes, source list, and a 28-page long appendix of the stories examined by the author, with complete bibliographical data for the purpose of this study.

Here is a brief account of Prof. Ranganathacharyulu’s study.

***

Normally, in a given culture, the short story and the narrative technique would have as long a history as the existence of language itself. In the past, stories had been prevalent in the form oral literature across the world.

In modern times, the changes in production, the industries, and the businesses brought about significant changes in the nature of our lives. Now we have greater latitude in human relationships, experiences, and in our mode of thinking. Printing facilities and magazines made it possible to reach wider range of readership. As a result, the short story attained greater variation in themes, narrative technique and complexity. We refer to the modern story as fictional story because it is a product created by a writer based on his observations of the people and incidents in real life, which have happened repeatedly, and after finding a commonality in his observations.

Like the short story in the other cultures, Telugu short story also has a long history. According to scholars, short story in India has been in existence since the Vedic times. The Bruhat katha written by Gunadhya in the Paisachi language is the first notable writing in Indic languages. Along with Ramayana and Maha Bharata, Bruhat katha also provided writers with anecdotes for kavyas and plays in Sanskrit.

In Sanskrit literature, some stories are entertaining while others are didactic. Vikaramarka charitra, Salivaahana charitra and similar other works are focused on royal families and are imbibed with rasas such as excitement, bravery, and amazement. Stories like Panchatantra and Hitopadesa belong in the category of didactic stories. Usually, they include animals and birds as characters. Most of these kavyas gained circulation in the form of oral literature.

In the Telugu country, there are umpteen stories prevalent only in the oral form. Several scholars such as Gurajada Sriramamurthy, Komanduri Anantacharyulu, Madhira Subbanna Dikshitulu, and Nandivada Chalapati Rao rendered them in the print form. Some of the writers, who are known for their scholarship, put them in pedantic style. A few wrote them in semi-classical style while others wrote in colloquial style. The stories containing romance and ethical values are intended to entertain readers.

In the early years, adaptations from Indian stories into other languages and vise versa are undertaken freely. For instance, chitra ratnaakaram by Gurajada Sriramamurthy is based on Arabian nights. Taking the incidents or events from the original, he modified the names of the people and places as appropriate for Telugu readers.

Whether modern Telugu story has evolved from the ancient works progressively or is it a newly developed form is open for debate. Modern scholars and critics claim that it is not evolved from the ancient works.

The stories mentioned earlier are oriented towards narration. All the incidents and events centered on a single hero. Authors took the story and repositioned it in their own milieu, languages and peculiar styles. On the other hand, modern story is anchored in one theme and also structured. It contains the peculiar characteristics such as opening, organization or scheme, ending, and a distinctive style. Each writer has a style of his own and each story has a form of its own. Also, the importance of the incidents he creates, the characters he depicts, and the dialogues he develops change according to his point of view and his perception of his audience. The structure in modern short story has no room for expansiveness. Variation in themes, realism, depiction of contemporary life, and human psyche are vital. They belong to the written culture in their entirety. Modern short story is an invented story based on realism. The stories adapted from the oral literature do not belong in this fictional category.

In ancient times, the stories are rooted in the tradition of invoking a sense of amazement in the readers as a whole and taking them into an imaginary world or teaching them the righteous path. The modern story, on the other hand, helps the reader to understand one dimension of truth in real life. Whether the topic is taken from history, oral literature, or mythology, if it contains an awareness of modernity in essence and in perception, it becomes a modern story.

Kolluri Dharmarao identified this distinction between the modern story and the ancient story in his article, “kathaa parinaamam” [evolution of story] published in Andhra Bharati in July 1928. He comments that the stories containing ideas of social reform are harmful to the society. Notably, he believes that the English kept retelling the old stories because they could not give up the didactic nature of the old stories and that the fabricated stories in our society started only after the desire for social reform caught on. Modern story is defined as a story illustrating today’s realism in today’s language as opposed to retelling the old stories in modern language.

Although the modern story belongs to modern times, the name itself is not modern but taken from old times. Ancient grammarians classified the genre of story into five categories: Akhyaayika, katha, khanda katha, pari katha, and kathaanika. Based on the nature of the theme, topic, length, and scheme, each is shown as having a different set of characteristics.

A kathaanika has been defined as:

bhayaanakam sukhataram garbhe cha karuno rasah

adbhuto[a]sthe sukluptaarthaa no daatthaa saa kathaanikaa.

These characteristics may be redefined in the context of modern short story as follows:

Bhayaanakam in the modern sense is to create interest in “what next”, suspense, and amazement in the opening. garbhe cha karuno rasah may be interpreted as including a little sadness, conflict and internal struggle in the scheme of narration. Ending the story with an unexpected twist is adbhutam [Amazement]. Presenting it in a language easily comprehensible to the readers is sukhataram [uncomplicated]. sukluptaarthaa [brevity of diction and meaning or unity of theme] is the same as making the topic brief, and keeping all the elements (the characters, incidents, events, illustration, underlying thought, and conflict) focused on the core theme.

In general, a short story may be defined as one that contains the opening, which can draw the reader in, maintains suspense and curiosity in the reader by describing the internal or external conflict of the characters powerfully, and finishes it with either an unexpected twist or which provokes the reader into thinking. This is only a general statement. Modern story contains more breadth and depth. The critics of the first generation Telugu short story have discussed this subject in great detail.

In modern literature, prose literature has a special place. In the early days, terms such as vachanam and gadyam had been current for some time. In course of time, vachana sahityam became the accepted term. Several terms such as chinna katha, kathika and kathaanakam were in vogue for a while. Other terms found in magazines are navalika, pitta katha, kalpita katha, and kalpanaa katha. Detective fiction was referred to as nirupaka katha and detective as nirupakudu. Eventually, kathaanika has been accepted and katha became a shorter form for the same genre.

Akkiraju Umakantam is one of the early critics to discuss short story in this period. With his knowledge of English critics like Hudson, and French and Russian writers, he accepted Telugu short story as a separate genre. He adds that Hudson’s theory that the short story originated in order to cater to the readers who are hard-pressed for time is not tenable in our case (Andhra Bharati. July 1918). He further comments that, “A short story gives the same, inclusive pleasure and satisfaction as a play or a novel to the reader. … After reading a story, the reader experiences a suggestion (dhvani). Suggestion is important in a short story. All the elements in the story are anchored in this suggestion.” Umakantam’s validation of Telugu short story, in the light of his scholarship in classics and poetics, is notable.

Andra Seshagiri Rao deserves special mention as a critic from the same period. He comments that, “Readers now live a fast life in cities and have no time to read huge volumes and lengthy novels. Therefore, their interest turned to the short story which can be finished in a short period of time.”

D. A. Narasimham encapsulates the characteristics of a short story. He states that books such as biographies, rajasthana kathavali and Arabian Nights, do not belong in the category since they are not focused on one theme. In his opinion, the important element in a short story is a single topic, which should fill the reader with suspense and imprint itself in the reader’s mind deeply. He makes a special distinction between a short story and a novel and suggests six principles that writer should observe when writing a short story.

1. Short stories also may contain a variety of unusual topics the same as novels.

2. A short story is not a short novel. There is no rule regarding the length for short story.

3. Characterization through dialogues is more difficult than descriptions. However, the best way is to let the reader understand a character through dialogues. With that, the reader understands the story’s environment by himself.

4. Reading a story puts the reader to work. It makes him think. The reader feels satisfied after reading a novel.

5. The reader, who has read a novel, reminisces over it. The short story does not constrain the reader’s thoughts. They (the thoughts) leap forward, and are anxious to befriend new thoughts.

6. Unlike novel writer, story writer gives very little to the reader. He gives ten times more work to the reader than what he has given in his narrative.

Kolluri Dharmarao does not approve of short stories offering social reform messages, although he does comment on short stories favorably. He states that, “There is no other gadget that could goad a reader better than a short story.” Also, he prefers colloquial language as a better means to serve the intended purpose in a story. Regarding the subjects for a short story, he says, “the purpose of a short story is to narrate a topic, taken either from history or fictional social event, and narrate it in a manner that reinforces the traditional Aryan values.”

There are definitive proofs to show that Telugu short story has acquired an independent and significant stature even in its early period.

Magazines:

There is no need to state specifically that magazines have been particularly instrumental in promoting the short stories. Umakantam published his stories in his magazine, Trilinga in 1913-1914. Rayasam Venkatasivudu published his stories in Telugu janaana. Achanta Venkata Sankhyayana Sarma published his notable stories in Kalpalata. Other magazines, which provided platform for short stories during this period, are Suvarnalekha, Sahiti, and Bharati. Between 1916 and 1920, after the First World War, printing magazines slowed down due to the high cost of paper and printing materials, commented Andra Seshagiri Rao. His comment underscores the close relationship between magazines and the progress of short stories. Sujatha is credited with publishing stories by prominent writers such as Malladi Ramakrishna Sastry, Madapati Hanumantha Rao, Oddiraju Sitaramachandra Rao, and so on. In the same magazine, some of the early stories of Chalam appeared. Some critics seem to wonder if other magazines hesitated to publish Chalam’s stories. Along with the stories, the magazines published essays also.

Which one is the first short story in Telugu?

For a long time, critics have been insisting “diddubaatu” by Gurajada Apparao as the first modern short story. Vallampati Venkatasubbaiah states that modern short story should be studied with the assumption that diddubaatu is the first short story. He posits that modern Telugu short story has no infancy and that the short story has come about with full stature, like a well-developed, beautiful figure. And, he believes that diddubaatu contains all the elements of a good story such as brevity, feeling, unity, conflict, and strong structure. However, recent studies indicate that there are other stories published prior to diddubaatu, even though they may not contain all the elements mentioned by Venkatasubbaiah. If we search magazines published in the last two decades of the nineteenth century and the first decade of the twentieth century, it is possible to find several other first short stories.

Whether diddubatu is the first story or not makes no difference to Apparao’s status. There are stories before his story is published but there are no models from which he could develop. Notably, in terms of his philosophical perceptions and choice of topics, there are no stories comparable to his stories in the latter years either. That is the peculiarity of Gurajada Apparao’s stories. Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry comments on Apparao’s stories only on their remarkable qualities but not its status as the first story.

Some of the stories published before Apparao’s story, and may be claimed as the first story, are:

Lalitha by Achanta Sankyayana Sarma was published in November 1903 in “Kalpalatha” and is named as the first story by Puripanda Appalaswamy. Setti Iswara Rao states that “the style and the language in Lalitha are classical but not modern. Nevertheless, the short story elements such as opening, development, dialogues, the muse [sphurti], and the narrative technique are modern.” Several others have quoted Sankyayana Sarma as the first writer. In another story by the same author, Apoorvopanyasamu, the author depicts the speeches of social reformers and their associations and the tone is one of sarcasm.

From the sources recently made available, Bhandaru Acchamamba’s name came to the fore as the first writer. Her story, strividya, narrated in the form of dialogues, is taken into consideration as the first story. It was published in Hindusundari monthly. Another story, dhanatrayodasi [The Lakshmi puja Day] also has been considered for the same claim. The story was published in November 1902 in Hindusundari. Rayasam Venkatasivudu stated that Acchamamba had been publishing short stories since 1898. His article was published in 1902 in his magazine, Telugu janaana. According to his article, Acchamamba’s stories, Prema pariksha, was published in July 1898 in Telugu janaana, Eruvula sommu baruvula chetu in September 1898, and Lalithaa Saaradalu in September 1901 in the same magazine. Another of her stories, Beeda kutumbamu was published in February 1904 in Savitri magazine.

Apart from the language in these stories, dhanatrayodasi and beeda kutumbamu are noteworthy in terms of structure. The opening scenes in these stories are completely modern. Until we find other evidence to prove otherwise, we need to state that the stories written by Bhandaru Acchamamba are the first stories in Telugu. If we compare her writings to the activities of the social reformers who had undertaken the women’s issues, we will find Acchamamba’s writings as advocates of women’s individuality. ***

Additionally, Prof. Ranganathacharyulu discusses the early stories in other Indian languages and points out the similarities and dissimilarities between those stories and the early Telugu stories.

In the period under discussion, not only the writers with originality but also people in other fields such as social, political and reform movements and research, have written stories. The list of stories published in this period is indicative of the recognition, the status and the importance of the short stories. Akkiraju Umakantam, Andra Seshagiri Rao, Seshadri Ramana kavulu were all scholars of repute. Sankhyayana Sarma was not only a traditional scholar but also knowledgeable in art, music and dance. He was editor of two magazines, Sujanapramodini and Kalpalatha. Famous short story writers like Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry, Veluri Sivarama Sastry and Malladi Ramakrishna Sastry were well-read not only in Sanskrit and Telugu but also several other Indian and foreign languages. Writers like Panuganti Lakshminarasimha Rao, Adivi Bapiraju, Kavikondala Venkatarao wrote short stories in addition to writing in other genres.

Madapati Hanumantha Rao, Kanuparti Varalakshmamma, and Gummididala Durgabayamma, among others, are known for their participation in politics and social reform, and also as writers of short fiction. Famous story writers Chalam and Chinta Dikshitulu were associated with the field of education. Among others who wrote short stories, Gidugu Sitapati was an activist in the language movement and Giri (Nandagiri Venkatarao) was a judge at the district level. Sri Vasudevarao declared himself as belonging exclusively to Hyderabad, wrote stories, which should be labeled as modern in all aspects such as language, style, and themes.

During this period, we also see several writers writing under pennames. Komarraju Lakshmana Rao wrote under the pseudonym, Ramanujarao (brother of Rama), says Adiraju Veerabhadrarao. Other pseudonyms are Bhasudu, Samgha samskari, rasapipasi, okaru, nenu, oka mitrudu and several others.

Approximately, two hundred writers are found in his search. Fifteen of them are women. More than five hundred stories have been discovered by Ranganathacharyulu. Stories written by such writers as Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry, Chalam, and Minimanikyam Narasimha Rao, who became famous later, were published during this period. In this period, the number of stories written by Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry is the highest, up to forty. Stories by Rayasam Venkatasivudu, Chinta Dikshitulu, and Munimanikyam Narasimha Rao ranged from fifteen to twenty-five. Among the writers who wrote from five to fifteen are Chilakamarti Lakshminarasimham, Kanuparti Varalakshmamma, Abburi Ramakrishna Rao, Viswanatha Satyanarayana, Bhamidipati Kameswara Rao and others. It is hard to state that all the stories under consideration meet the criteria of modern story. For instance, most of the stories written by Abburi Ramakrishna Rao were published in 1923. Among them, Suryarao cheppina kathalu [Stories told by Suryarao] are not stories focused on one topic. Most of the writers wrote only two or three stories yet their stories show the characteristics of modern story at an advanced level. Counting the numbers is meant only to show the extent to which the Telugu story has developed in the first two or three decades of the twentieth century. In the magazines, meant exclusively for women such as Telugu janaana, Anasuya, and Savitri, the stories are woven around the characters from mythology and famous historical women. They are not taken into consideration for this study.

Literary organizations and associations also contributed to the dissemination of the story extensively in this period. Sahiti samiti, Kavita samiti, Sodarasamiti, Kavikumara samiti, Saraswata samajam, and Andhra geervana sahitya sammelam are prominent in this period. Writers suffixed their membership status of these organizations to their names along with their educational qualifications. Some writers developed a separate nomenclature for parts of their stories. One practice was to break the story into rangaalu, adhyaayaalu, prakaranalu, and chinukulu. Giving names to each part was another practice. We can also see including verses at the beginning, in the middle and at the end of a story, as deemed fit. Those who could not do away with tradition followed these methods. Among the places that were featured extensively in these stories are Chennapatnam, Calcutta, Bombay, Hyderabad, Poona, Visakha, Rajahmundry, Bezwada, Nellore, Anakapalli, Bellari and Konaseema. Some of the cities in Burma and Rangoon are also featured in these stories. (The names of some cities have changed since. I believe the author kept the original spellings as appeared in the stories and I followed the same pattern in this article.)

Anthologies

The fact that there are already notable anthologies in this period vouches for the advanced status of short story at the time. Some of them are anthologies of one writer, Chalam, Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry and Munimanikyam Narasimha Rao for instance, and others included stories of several writers, edited by one writer.

Translations

Several critics stated that modern story entered Telugu field, following the introduction of English literature in our country. During the period under discussion, along with original stories, numerous translations also came into existence. Numerous stories are translated not only from English, French and Russian but also from Bengali, Urdu, Hindi, and Marathi. At one point, Krishna patrika published stories under the name of the original author but without the translator’s name. In the early stages, the information regarding the original story or writer was not given in full. Some mentioned the original title while others mentioned the name of the original author only. Some said it was a translation but provided no other information. Several terms such as anukaranam, etti raasinadi, grahimpabadinadi were used to identify a translation. Some called it anuvadam. Among the stories in Indian languages, most stories were translated from Bengali and most of them were the stories by Tagore. In the anthology, trilinga kathalu by Akkiraju Umakantam, six of them were from Bengali. Umakantam does not mention the name but they are Tagore’s stories. Since 1912, several stories of Tagore have been translated without mentioning his name. Among those who translated Tagore’s stories in great numbers, the name of Karumuri Vaikuntarao stands foremost. He and Sobhadevi translated several stories and published under the title, katha guccham. Among the stories translated from Marathi, only Sri Vasudeva Rao’s name appears.

Among the translations from foreign languages, Russian stories appear prominently. Jayanti Brahmanandam (Pseud. oka haindava yuvati) and Kurma Venugopalaswamy in collaboration with Seshubai translated several Russian stories. Ponaka Picchireddy wrote some stories based on French writer, Balzac, and called them anukarana.

Multiplicity of themes

Telugu story has gained strength in structure as well as in the range of themes in the first three decades itself.

In the early stage, the stories mostly featured woman-centered themes and women’s reform movement. Among the woman-centered themes, widow-related issues are prominent. Child marriages, their consequences, problems faced by widows, their status in the family environment, their experiences, and remarriages are themes for many stories. We see quoting ancient works such as smruthi in order to rationalize the widow remarriage and the Sarda Act opposing child marriages in the stories written by female writers. Some stories depicted parents as coming forward to arrange marriages for their widowed daughters, or widows themselves getting married under the auspices of Veeresalingam or Brahmo samaj of Calcutta. Another important aspect relating to women is education. Promoting women’s education, Bhandaru Acchamamba (women’s education) and Gurajada Apparao wrote stories. Another theme is the identity of prostitutes and their marriages.

Muslim women, women as ideal individuals in a family, women subjected to oppression, suppression, deception, and those who put up with the oppression silently, their tragic lives—all are portrayed in the stories at this time. The names of Muslim women are used as titles for some stories. Bhandaru Acchamamba portrayed women as cherishing self-esteem, strong will, and also capable of mending the moral weaknesses in their husbands. This kind of portrayal of women is not evident in the stories that came after Acchamamba. Chalam’s stories show women from a variety of social strata. Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry depicted courageous and worldly-wise women, wiser than their husbands. We see widows dreaming about motherhood and the conflict between motherhood and love in Chalam’s stories. There are also stories depicting women as ideal housewives. In some stories we see educated, self-disciplined women carrying themselves on equal status with men liberally. We need to make a special note of women in zamindar families, their poise, determination, ego, and their sense of self-worth as depicted in some of the stories.

Several stories depicted the hardships of individuals from several angles within the family and the marital status of couples. Husbands suspecting wives and wives suspecting husbands are treated rather lightly. Often, the suspicions of the wives turn out to be unfounded. The problems arising out of marriages with considerable age difference, subsequent suspicions in the man and his mental struggle are the themes in some stories.

Many stories depicted the conflict between generations. In these stories, we see the youth questioning child marriages and exposing the dishonest attitudes of adults, who claim to be upholding tradition. This appears to be a struggle between the tradition and the modernity. Several stories depicted modern educated youth as ideal. The bridegrooms insisting on meeting the prospective brides is a new trend in these stories. Another new trend is the young men marrying a girl of their choice and without their parents’ intervention. Young men, who go abroad for education, return home with new values, and their altered attitudes—all these figured into the stories. Writers’ own values also are worked into the choice of topics.

Stories of unusual love and romance are also numerous in this period. They included both categories—happy endings and tragic endings. Some of them featured platonic love, successful love, and poetic element in the romantic tradition, while a few others dealt with failed love and broken hearts.

Most of the stories illustrating the economic problems and the changes in the economic world are limited to the middle class. Some of the female writers depicted the families once rich and later ruined, ensuing problems because of their penury and the manner in which the women handled their situations. So also, the problems relating to jobs, loss of jobs, preference of starting a business and living independently as opposed to working for somebody, the high style of zamindars and the lazy lifestyle of the men in Agraharams [endowments bestowed on worthy Brahmins by royal families] are depicted.

Many writers included literary discussions in their stories whenever possible. The works of Kalidasa, Shakespeare, and other English novels found their place in these stories. Stories also take a shot at romantic poetry. Women in these stories appear to be well-read in classics. There are husbands who encourage their wives to read English literature. Similarly, the language issues are also discussed in the stories.

At some point in this stage, self-delusion seeped into the stories. Especially, we see this aspect in Gurajada, Chalam and Sripada. After Gurajada, no writer dealt with the folly of religious beliefs. There are stories with World War I, national and non-cooperation movements as background.

Very few stories discussed politics. Also, stories depicting farmers, their relationship to the land, and the land ownership issues are not found. The only story found by the author is chacchinanta kala gante … There are no stories featuring the oppressed and their issues, not as much as expected at least. In short, the stories published up until 1930, represented only the middle class. At this stage, stories illustrating the delicate angles relating to human nature, their depth, and their inner struggles are next to none.

Variations in structure

The diversity, multiplicity, and the signs of structure, which are common in modern stories are prevalent even in the first two or three decades. In this period itself, the stories have acquired the modern form in language and style. Even when the language is classical, the narrative technique is modern. In course of time, some of the writers developed their individual styles as part of their creativity. Chalam, Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry, Veluri Sivarama Sastry, and Malladi Ramakrishna Sastry developed their own styles. Gurajada Apparao’s stories illustrate density in expression, depth (nirbharata), brevity, and simplicity blended with gravity. We should make a special note of the writing based on pronunciation by Gurajada and Chalam.

Another feature peculiar to style of this period is moving away from the straightforward narration and toward complex narrative technique. We see a wide variety of characters from simple to complex in this period. Also, some stories are told in the first person while others are told in the third person. That the writers are able to narrate the story in the first person even in this period indicates that the Telugu story has developed to a great extent by then. In this period, most of the stories with strong structure are told in the first person. The narration in the first person allows the reader get closer to the writer. We see this first person narration in the stories written by Bhandaru Acchamamba and Kanuparti Varalakshmamma. At times, we see the writer interfering in the narration to comment on the relationship between two incidents or events; so also to comment on the characters. Some writers like Acchamamba and Sripada have used dialogues exclusively to narrate a story.

In terms of opening, construction, and ending, the stories display as much diversity as possible. Also, during this period, we see the titles given to the stories indicative of the nature of the theme and the narrative technique. Some of them are single words like darjaa, bolta, veli while others are two correlated words such as nenu-jonna rotte, aame-eeme. Some of the titles are complete sentences. For example, karmamitlaa kaalindi, menarikam tappaledu. Such descriptive and expressive titles indicate how the story proceeds and how it is going to end. They vouch for the writers’ talent.

***

Further elaborating on these insights, Prof. Ranganathacharyulu discussed some stories by following writers individually under the caption “Prominent writers of early times [tolinaati pramukha rachayitalu].

They are: Bhandaru Acchamamba, Achanta Sankhyayana Sarma, Gurajada Apparao, Madapati Hanumantha Rao, Akkiraju Umakantam, Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry, Gudipati Venkata Chalam, Chinta Dikshitulu, Veluri Sivarama Sastry, Rayasam Venkatasivudu, Kanuparti Varalakshmamma, Viswanatha Satyanarayana, Adivi Bapiraju, Munimanikyam Narasimha Rao, Mokkapati Narasimha Sastry, Bhamidipati Kameswara Rao, Vempati Nagabhushanam, Malladi Ramakrishna Sastry, Sri Vasudeva Rao, Nandagiri Venkatarao, Oddiraju Sitaramachandra rao, Oddiraju Raghava Rangarao, Siriguri Jayarao, Panuganti Lakshminarasimharao, Chilakamarti Lakshminarasimham, and Abburi Ramakrishna Rao.

Critiquing stories

Akkiraju Umakantam has enunciated the importance of the genre of prose in literature in no uncertain terms. He stated that the genre of fiction has the same important place as novel and drama in literature. Andra Seshagiri Rao is the one critic to study a single story of a single writer and analyze it thoroughly. In his criticism of Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry’s stories, he wrote a comprehensive review of the story in which he gave a brief note about short story as a genre, commended the book and the writer, and the purpose of the book. Then he proceeded to analyze the various elements such as classification of themes, structure, and the improprieties in a couple of places as well. While paying tribute to the writer as a social reformer and preacher, Subrahmanya Sastry’s themes are classified into four classes—widow remarriages, post puberty marriages, promoting the idea that business and farming are better than working for somebody, and family life.

Modern critiquing techniques are present in Seshagiri Rao’s analysis. He balances the positive and negative aspects while analyzing the author’s complete understanding of all the elements, his taste in good writing, and his technique. He then summarizes the elements of a short story. He ascertains the relationship between an author’s personal life and the writer contextually. He points out the impropriety of the setting in one story. He believes that variation in the settings in general contributes towards authenticity for readers.

In 1928, an article on the specifics of a short story was published in Bharati. D. A. Narasimham wrote some articles discussing the structure and the nature of short story extensively. He states that literature changes along with the environment, time and conditions, and that, among the literatures, which evolved after the introduction of English literature, the gadya kathaanakamulu [prose fiction] gained in popularity. He also admits that he became knowledgeable after reading short stories published in Bharati and Andhra patrika magazines. Based on his extensive reading of the contemporary stories, Narasimham postulates six tenets. He believes that a short story should be able to penetrate into the reader’s mind deeply as a veritable fact. He also believes that a good writer will have the skill to stay behind the characters and make them narrate the story.

Notably, by 1930, Narasimham studied all the elements and explained them with examples supporting his conclusions.

In reviews of the time, Chalam’s stories stood second to Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry’s stories. His story, Sasirekha (1921) is written in pedantic language yet the theme has created a sensation. Thallavajjhala Sivasankara Sastry wrote the preface to the book dwelling on its philosophical and rational aspects. Arikapalli Lakshminarasimha Rao and others criticized both Chalam and Sivasankara Sastry for their position in 1926. Kolluri Dharmarao is another critic who rejects the modern progressive views prevalent in the stories and criticizes Chalam in strong terms for promoting uninhibited love. He, along with a few other critics, set Munimanikyam Narasimha Rao as a deliverance from the literature created by writers like Chalam. Narasimha Rao’s Kantham kathalu did not receive the status of serious literature during this period, it would appear.

The monograph includes source list, notes and, a list of the stories with complete bibliographical details, the author has reviewed for this study (28 pages). This is a remarkable work.

It is published by Dr. Madabhushi Rangacharya smaraka sangham, Hyderabad. 2008.Also available on avkf.org.

(Review by Nidadavolu Malathi and published on thulika.net, April 29, 2010)

Putting an end to the boilerplate literary history by kalpana Rentala

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(See note at the end.). We have one thousand years of literary history. Up until now, there had been an effort to portray women’s literature only as a part of the mainstream history; women writers were mentioned only sporadically, one Molla or one Timmakka. Our history is a male-dominated record that has been accustomed to record women’s participation only as a measly strand.

Ever since westernization started influencing our culture, women’s awareness also started changing. That is reflected in the fields of literature, science, and sociology. The massive changes, which are taking place in men’s perceptions, are noted; but there has been never a systematic attempt to note the changes that are taking place in the perceptions of women, the mode of development in their participation in the academy, and their mode of thinking.

Today, a concrete attempt to question this boilerplate documentation, and rewrite a different kind history has begun. This is not limited to a handful of persons or books. They are examining the women’s consciousness from several angles and in various fields. Until now, women’s contribution has been recognized only partially, and limiting to a few writers or a specific period. A few responsible writers however departed from this tradition in an attempt to study women’s writings in a larger context. Nidadavolu Malathi is one of them.

In this book, Malathi examines the history of Telugu fiction and women’s fiction from a completely different angle and from the existing records.

In general, whenever women’s fiction is mentioned, the writers are invariably presented either as novelists or feminists, who came to be known in the 1980s. But there has never been a better, comprehensive discussion on the subject. The number of female short story writers was much higher during the time the freedom movement and women’s education movement peaked; but it was not so after the declaration of independence.

This is particularly obvious, when we consider the availability of printing presses, awareness of women’s identity, and other several amenities available for women to write; the number was however much less comparatively speaking. A famous critic, Racapalem Chandrasekhara Reddy raised the question, “Should we attribute this decline in the number of female writers writing short fiction to their preference such as writing novels instead?” (Telugu kathakulu – kathanareetulu, part 3. 111).

Contradicting that stance, Malathi has shown, quoting several examples, that women writers have not written only novels but also several excellent stories; she has also discussed at length their themes and technique. Malathi’s detailed analysis of their themes and technique in this book can be considered a milestone in the literary history of Telugu women.

Malathi did not use the term “feminism”; yet she has pointed out clearly that women’s awareness of identity did not start with the feminists in the eighties; but it was evident even in the nineteen fifties fiction. Her detailed analysis of stories like eduru chuusina muhurtam by P. Saraladevi, depicting women’s awareness of identity enhances our respect for writers of the past.

The history of Telugu fiction, which often quotes diddubaaTu by Gurajada Appa Rao as the first short story in Telugu gave very little importance to women’s writing. The histories speak extensively of Gurajada, Malladi, and Sripada, and very little about Bhandaru Acchamamba, Kanuparti Varalakshmamma, Kommuri Padmavati, Illindala Saraswatidevi, P. Sridevi. Adimadhyam Ramanamma, Sivaraju Subbalakshmi and several others. Nobody discussed the works by these women writers.

As far as the discussion on the fifties writings is concerned, reference to women’s writings appears naamke vaasthe [nominal]. If we see the books and articles written so far on Telugu short story, we find only one or two unqualified sentences limited to three or four women writers and an all-inclusive phrase “and others”. We have no evidence of anybody paying serious attention to these women’s stories, their themes, and techniques; much less critiquing them in detail. On rare occasions, we might find a complete article on women writers. But nowhere have we seen a complete analysis of women writers’ contribution as a part of mainstream literary history. I have no doubt that Gurajada, Malladi and Sripada are great writers. But, my question is: Don’t we have to study the women’s fiction in detail and in the same light in order to assess their works, and to see how they stack up?

When we examine the story, diddubaaTu of Gurajada in juxtaposition with the stories, strividya and khana, written by Bhandaru Acchamamba, we will understand that the latter two stories are in no way inferior to Gurajada’s story. Acchamamba, who had been educated as early as 1900, had written women’s biographies and several stories; yet her writings are ignored. No literary historian of Telugu fiction bothered to make a note of Acchamamba’s stories.

One of her stories, khana, for instance, narrates the social conditions of her time and her ill-fated life. Khana was wife of Mihira, an astrologer in king Vikramaditya’s court. The story vouches for the women’s awareness of their conditions as early as 1900s.

Yet another example is the story kuteera Lakshmi by Kanuparti Varalakshmamma. The story depicts the aftermath of the Great War, the manner in which large-scale industries such as the Manchester Company caused the ruination of the local handloom industries, and the significance of our nationalist movement. Once again, very few literary historians made a note of this story.

It sounds harsh but the reality is throughout the history from the earliest to date, the literary historians stated women’s writings as “by women and for women only” but made no serious attempt to give it its due place in history and examine it as an intrinsic part of the mainstream literature.

Women have always been perceived as a part of the movements—women’s, social and education—but there is no other attempt to place them contextually. History made a special note of women’s education only for the purpose of women’s role at home, for their contribution to the family’s well-being, but not for assimilating them into the mainstream. The social reformers intended women’s education only to make her a better housewife. There is no evidence to show that they wanted women to become better persons. Malathi pointed out this biased view of the reformers in her book.

The period immediately following the achievement of independence, namely 1950-1975, was a significant period. That was the time when major changes were taking place in all the fields—political, sociological, and literary. And most of the literary historians dismissed that significant period, labeling it the age of novels or romance fiction.

During that period, several significant novels have been written. Several novels have illustrated sensitive issues relating to man-woman relationships, and important familial issues.

Yet even a senior critic like Puranam Subrahmanya Sarma could not make a valid comment on this fiction. In his article, “telugu katha, samaajika spruha” [Telugu story and social consciousness], he wrote, “Many women writers were able to depict a woman’s life to the extent it was correlated to a man’s life. However, one can see from their writings that women knew absolutely nothing about the man’s world. There is no brainpower. They are hopelessly poor in their command of language. They do not read at all. They are lifeless cutouts submerged in self-aggrandizement, slandering others, and egos. This confounding state, which the women have created, pulled down the level of Telugu readers, and turned the clock back to fifty-years.” (Telugu katha: vimarsanaatmaka vyaasa sampuTi). Strangely, the same Subrahmanya Sarma registered his protest in 1976, when Andhra Pradesh Sahitya Akademi eliminated the fiction category from their list of various genres for presenting awards.

On the same lines, a famous fiction writer and notable critic, Kethu Viswanatha Reddy commented, “Women writers did not care about short story as much as novels. … Even writers like Sridevi, Saraladevi, Turaga Janakirani, Kalyanasundari Jagannath, Vasireddy Sitadevi, Achanta Sarada Devi, Pavani Nirmala Prabhavati, Nidadavolu Malathi, Ranganayakamma, have not developed any notable technique in short story writing, the reason being women are still lagging behind in their perception of the modern day consciousness. And what is even worse misfortune is they cannot write even in simple Telugu [bhashaa saaralyam kuda ledu].” (Viswanatha Reddy. p. 73).

These few examples should suffice to show how the criticism in the field of Telugu fiction has been changing, based on the perceptions of individuals during different periods. Up until now, Telugu people have gotten used to seeing only this kind of literary criticism, which is subjective.

Malathi’s book, for a change, takes up a significant part of the contributions made by Telugu women in the field of fiction for a period of twenty-five years and presents it from a refreshingly new angle. Malathi, positioning them in their social and historical context, analyzed the themes, genres and their technique effectively.

I have no doubt that this book will be a valuable contribution to the true history of Telugu literature.

Kalpana Rentala

September 27, 2004

Madison, Wisconsin.

Editor’s Note:

This is foreword by Kalpana Rentala for the book, Telugu Women Writers, 1950-1975, a critical study. published by Malathi Nidadavolu, author in 2006. Later this book has been published by Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University, Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, under the title, Quiet and Quaint, Telugu women writers, in 2010. – Nidadavolu Malathi

The book may be downloaded for personal use only. Click on Telugu Women Writers, 1950-1975

Women in Telugu Folklore by Dr. S. Saratjyothsna Rani

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If you say, “I’ll tell you a story,” nobody is going to say “I’ll not listen.” Folktale captivates everybody’s heart. Primordial man contributed to developing the story while sharing his experiences with the people around him. He kept adding minute details to make his experiences more enchanting and thus developed the technique of storytelling. The rustic folks sat in the yard at night and listened to the stories for relaxation after the day’s tough grind. A skillful narrator tells the story in a manner that captivates his audience. For that reason people used to gather around and lsiten to him.

References to aphorisms such as katha kanchiki, manam intiki [The story returns to Kanchi and we to our homes[i]] and kathaki kaallu levu, munthaki chevullevu[ii] [story has no feet, pot has no ears] only reaffirm that story has been around for a very long time.

We may find storytellers and listeners even in the remotest corners of the world. There is not a soul in India who is not interested in stories. For that reason, India is considered the natal home for story. We have evidence of the seeds of story even in the Vedic period. Folktales prevalent among the populace are included contextually in the epics of Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagavata purana. Pancatantra told by Vishnusarma also includes a few folktales. Bruhatkatha by Gunadhya can be termed an anthology of folktales. Jataka stories of Buddha contains stories of birds and animals. Ancient texts on poetics such as kavyadarsa and sahityadarpanam define story as a fictitious or made up account. Manusmruti defines ‘katha‘ as dialogue.

Evidently, ‘katha‘ meant an account and includes a few real-life incidents. Folktale belongs to the genre of prose. Janapada katha, folktale in English, may be defined as a mode of communication from mouth to mouth, and from one ear to another in a set tradition and down the generations.

Spith Thompson defined the term “folktale” broadly and stated it as tradition-bound, prose narrative. We however need to make a distinction between a folktale as defined above and the folk epics and folk histories (chronicles). When we talk about a folktale, we must seperate these two genres. From the perspective of themes, the three genres appear to be comparable. However, the folk puranas and the chronicles are different from folktales, if we take into account the time, the place, and the individual perspectives of the narrators. Fictional literature features two traditions:

1. that of the elitists, and,

2. that of the folks in general.

In the case of folktales, it is hard to establish the date and the author. The written literature on the other hand is made available necessarily keeping in mind the criteria of its patrons, regardless from which part of the world they came. In that, oral literature has greater freedom than the written literature. For the same reason, oral literature has the capability to obtain the approval of all the people in a given society. They all are in a position to share the same experiences as narrated in those folktales. Folktales are based on the people whose lifestyles also enhance the amount of its freedom and become even more influential in creating that literature. For instance, the day laborers possess economic freedom as well as individual freedom, and freedom to live their lives as they pleased. Their stories reflect that freedom in the expression of their thoughts and mode of thinking.

Story is a mechanism that projects the social set up from the past into the present and from the present into the future. We may classify folk tales into the following categories: epics, chronicles, classics, humor stories, long stories, issue-based stories, stories of crooks, fantasy, parables, and social stories.

The story that grew out of a society is capable of molding that society. Therefore, the individuals in that society, their mentalities, religion, beliefs, customs, and minute details of their daily lives are featured in those stories. For that reason, they would say, “The folklore is a mirror of culture”. Society is the basis for ideal life. Men and women play important roles in the prosperity of that society. And family is the primary basis for individuals. Woman plays a key role in the prosperity of the family. Man participates in social activities while woman is more rooted in family matters.

There is no story without a female character whether it is a folktale or modern day story. Even when the society in general respects women, stories often depict woman as a weak indiviudal. There are also writers who depict woman as an incarnation of sakti while in real life abuse and humiliate them in every possible way. Also we read stories where the message is no woman deserves independence. Today, we still read stories, which emphasize that chastity is important for woman, and chastity is valued higher than beauty. We must admit that these stories are actually undermining woman’s position in our society today.

Netheless, there are a few writers, inspired by the progress taking place in the society, present stories that drum up woman’s greatness.

Woman appears in a variety of forms in folktales. She is portrayed as a mother, daughter, younger sister, daughter-in-law, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, co-daughter-in-law, co-wife, aunt, niece, cousin, queen, maid, and/or witch. The entire literature of folktales may be divided into three categories:

1. Folktales depicting domineering mother-in-law;

2. Folktales depicting domineering daughter-in-law; and,

3. Folktales depicting woman’s situation at home and in society.

1. Domineering mother-in-law.

In family environment, mother-in-law’s role appears to be an important one. There are numerous folktales depicting mother-in-law’s dominance. Some of them depict the mother-in-law as cruel towards her daughter-in-law while a few other stories show her as kind-hearted. Let us first review the stories, which validate the popular proverb, woman is woman’s enemy. These stories invariably present mother-in-law as domineering and her role as central to the story.

i) Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law stories.

Once upon a time there was a mother and a son. The mother got her son married and brought the daughter-in-law home. She was a wicked person. She would give the daughter-in-law only a glass of rice broth for food while she and her son had sumptuous meals everyday.

They had a strip of land on which they were growing eggplant and enjoying the profits from the produce. And also they had an palmyra tree in front of their house, from which they were making arrack[1] and drinking.

One day, the daughter-in-law told the old lady living next door about her hardships. Following the neighbor’s advice, she waited until the next day when the mother-in-law climbed the palmyra tree to extract sap. While the mother-in-law was on the top of the tree, the duaghter-in-law removed the ladder. Then she went inside, helped herself a plate full of rice and eggplant curry, and said three times, taunting, “Attaa, the food, the food.”

The mother-in-law saw the daughter-in-law with the food plate, was upset, and threw down the pot she was holding at her. While doing so, she slipped, fell down and died. The son was sad for his mother’s death. The daugher-in-law was glad, thought that her mother-in-law deserved it for all the suffering she had caused to herself (daughter-in-law).

This story describes the bad things that could happen to mothers-in-law who ill-treat their daughters-in-law. This story is a lesson for every mother-in-law in our society.

ii) The mother-in-law who became a donkey.

There was an old kaapu woman in a village. Her husband died and she was living with her son. She arranged his marriage with a young woman from the next village. After the daughter-in-law moved in, she wanted to get rid of the mother-in-law one way or the other. She told her husband, “Your mother is getting old. She has a good appetite but is no good with the chores around the house. You send her away or else I’ll go back to my mother’s house.”

The son was hurt by his wife’s remarks and he told his mother the entire story. His mother was a smart one. She told him to take her to the forest and leave her there. He found a place by a well, put up a hut for her and left her there. He also gave her provisions enough to last for a while. And then, returned home and told his wife that he had left his mother in the forest. His wife and her mother were happy. They both started ill-treating the son. The son took their abuse without complaint.

A war broke between the three gods, god of rain, god of fire and the god of wind. They were fighting to determine which one of them was the greatest. They saw the old woman in the forest and asked her the same question.

The old woman told them that all the three were very important for the world. They were happy to hear that response, and they blessed her with a life of a twelve-year old girl forever.

The son went to see his mother, found her to be young girl, and conveyed the same news to his wife. His wife wanted her mother also turn into a young girl, and so, asked him to leave her mother also in the forest. He did so.

The three gods came to her (wife’s mother) and asked the same question again. They became angry with her answer and cursed her to turn into a donkey. The son brought the donkey back to their home, and tied her to the pole in front of their house. The villagers suggested that it was appropriate only for washermen to have a donkey in front of their house but not a kaapu person. Then he sold the donkey to a washerman.

The message in this story is that good befalls those people who live examplary lives and uphold the path of truth and dharma. On the other hand, those who follow the path of evil will come to their downfall as is evident from the wife’s greed and the unfounded wish for her mother’s transformation as a young girl, which resulted in the woman turning into a donkey. In this story, the son’s devotion to his mother and the plausible attitude towards his mother are also portrayed well. Some incidents in the story appear to be far-fetched but they are necessary to convey the message of common good. Also, this story includes two mothers-in-law, one portraying the admirable qualities in a woman and the other suggesting that greed is inappropriate for a woman.

iii) Mother-in-law’s statue.

A mother was living with her son in a village. After the son came of age, she married him to a girl from the neighborhood village and brought her home. The daughter-in-law was very obedient, was always seeking her mother-in-law’s permission for everything. After her mother-in-law died, she could not live alone and told her husband so. Her husband made a statue of his mother and gave it to his wife, and told her to consider it as her mother-in-law. The wife was happy. One day, she wanted to go to the village fair in the neighborhood village and as usual she asked the statue for permission. She did not get any response from the wooden statue, and so she took it along with her. On the way, she saw a Hanuman temple. She left the statue by the temple and went to the fair. People passing by saw the statue, mistook it for a goddess, and left gifts by the statue. The daughter-in-law returned from the fair, saw the money, and she returned home with the money cheerfully.

Next day, the entire village came to know that the wooden mother-in-law went to the fair and brought plenty of grains and money.

The next day, the daughter-in-law went to the fair again and did not return until it was very late. Therefore she decided to stay in the temple for the night. That night a few robbers came to the temple for disbursing their loot among themselves. The daughter-in-law was scared and cried and called out for her mother-in-law. The robbers thought that the statue might be sanctified with some mantra and gave it a part of their loot. The woman took the money, came home and told her husband about the money.

Her neighbor heard about it and asked her husband also to make a similar statue for him. Then, she went to the fair, and spent that night on a tree with the statue. She saw the robbers who were sitting under the tree, got scared and dropped the statue. The robbers saw her, became angry for dropping the statue on them, beat her up and robbed her of her possessions.

In this story, one daughter-in-law proved her love for her mother-in-law whereas the second daughter-in-law was greedy, wanted to earn money by unfair means, and lost everything in the process. We also find comparable mother-in-law characters in the stories such as etthuki pai etthu, and illarikam alludu. These stories highlight folk woman’s psychology through the mother-in-law characters.

2. Daughter-in-law in folktales.

Let us review woman’s position as depicted in the daughters-in-law character in folktales.

i. Smart daughter-in-law.

A father performed his only son’s marriage with a young woman from a neighborhood village. His father however was not happy. He thought that the woman was not taking good care of his son and so decided to test her intentions. The woman failed the test and was sent away to her mother’s home. Now the father and son were alone again. Father decided to teach his son a few tricks of his trade. He gave a sack of sesame seeds and told him to sell in it in the next village fair.

The son asked him, “At what rate?”

Father said, “Use the same measure to sell the sesame seeds as to buy the oil.”

“You mean cup for cup,” he said and went to the fair and sat down to sell his goods.

A smart woman came to him, and used an item as a measure which could hold plenty of sesame seeds but not oil. Father was impressed with her brains and made her his daughter-in-law. After that, he handed over the jewelry business to his son. The son went and gambled away all the jewelry to a woman and became her slave per terms.

His wife came to know about it, put on man’s clothes, hid two rats in her pocket, and went to the other woman’s house and challenged her to gamble with her. While the game was going on, the wife let the rats out slyly. The gambler-woman’s cat ran after the rats creating a commotion. The lamp went off, and the gambler lost in the game. She had to let go of all the men in her custody.

Thus, the wife saved her husband and brought him home. The father was convinced that his daguhter-in-law was smart and capable, and handed over the family matters to them, son and daughter-in-law.

The message in this story is a smart woman is always patient, clever, courageous, and also capable of taking on any challenge. The story also depicts a folk woman as a strong character, despite her lack of education, and capable of running the family; she is up to any challenge.

ii) What kind of authority a daughter-in-law has?

Neelamma was walking on the road hiding her hands behind her saree palloo.

Sangamma saw her and asked her wherefrom she was coming.

Neelamma said, “I am coming from your home to borrow buttermilk.”

Sangamma asked, “What happened there?”

Neelamma said warily, “I don’t know. Your daughter-in-law said it was not ready yet.”

“What right does she have to say that, let’s find out. You come with me,” Sangamma said.

Neelamma followed her to their home. As they approached the house, Neelamma stopped at the porch steps.

Sangamma said, “Come in. Did you bring a dish for the buttermilk?” So saying, she took the dish from Neelamma and went into the kitchen and returned.

Neelamma was about to thank her kindness and say, “May god bless you and your family for umpteen years.”

Before she could open her mouth, Sangamma said, “Here’s your dish. The buttermilk is not ready yet,” and handed her the empty dish.

Neelamma was disappointed and left, telling herself, “I’ve heard it before, that was true.”

Mother-in-law believed that the daughter-in-law had no right to say even the obvious, that the buttermilk was not done yet. This story is realistic and a good example of everyday events in our homes.

iii) Your actions may not always yield the results you have hoped for.

In the following story, we find a folk woman in the character of a daughter-in-law, who would not accept her mother-in-law’s dominance.

A mother got her son married and brought the daughter-in-law home. From the minute the daughter-in-law set foot in the home, the two women were wrangling with each other. The young woman wanted to get rid her mother-in-law with the help of her husband.

One day her mother came to see her. After supper, they all went to sleep. The mother noticed her daughter-in-law’s evil thoughts and was watching her. The young woman (daughter-in-law) tied a rug to her mother-in-law’s foot, and told her husband to take the woman in the rug and throw her in the river.

In the meantime the mother-in-law untied the rug from her foot and tied it to the foot of the daughter-in-law’s mother. Unaware of this swap, the son wrapped up the woman, from whose foot the rug was hanging, took her out and threw her in the river. Both husband and wife were happy that their problem had been resolved.

They returned home and saw the mother sweeping the front yard. The son was surprised to see his mother. He could not figure out what had happened.

This kind of stories illustrates that if one tries to hurt someone out of malice, he or she could end of losing one of her own. The story also conveys the message that negative thoughts like anger and jealousy, which are so common in women, can be destructive to one’s own life. Mother’s character illustrates qualities like worldly wisdom, cleverness, and timely action in folk women.

iv) Settling the score:

A mother-in-law decided to kill her daughter-in-law and told her son about her plan. The son agreed and told her to carry out the plan herself.

The mother-in-law got angrier and decided to burn the daughter-in-law alive and the son agreed to that too.

She set up the pyre in the graveyard and laid the daughter-in-law on the pyre. She forgot to bring matchbox and so returned home to fetch it. In the meantime, the son felt sorry for his wife, untied her, and told her to climb a tree and abide her time. In her place, she put a rock, and covered it with a sheet. His mother returned with matchbox, set fire to the pyre and, they both left.

A few robbers came there to share their loot and sat under the tree on which the wife was hiding. They heard the rustle from the top of the tree, were scared that it might be a ghost and ran away leaving their stolen goods. The wife came down, took all the money and returned home. Her mother-in-law saw her, was scared at first mistaking her for a ghost. The young woman said that she in fact had died, gone to the heaven and found her father-in-law there. she said he had given her the money and jewelry for their use, and promised more after they had been used up.

The mother-in-law believed her story, decided to go to the heaven herself and bring all the money her husband had. She went to the graveyard, set up a pyre, and set herself afire and died in the flames.

Thus the mother-in-law’s greed led to her own death.

3) Woman in folktales.

In today’s world, women appear on the surface to have achieved progress in all fields, including positions in legislature. Yet several women are being driven to suicides and deaths arising from disagreement over dowry amounts. The reason for such atrocities is woman herself; one woman is the adversary of another. The second reason is in our country we still have parents who consider “being born as a woman” is a curse. I think it is despicable that a mother should despise her own daughter, and set different standards for sons and daughters. It is also reprehensible that, on one hand, woman is respected for all appearances, and at the same time allow the conditions demeaning to women to exist. In today’s society it is a reality, and the same conditions are reflected in folktales as may be seen. The folktales, passed on to us as fiction, do clearly illustrate the dominance of men over women in those days. Let us review some of such stories. Stories such as Mynavati, Abheda, Four daughters, Pativrata Sangamma, and Daughter of a thief are cases in point.

The story of Abheda goes as follows:

A couple had a son and a daughter, Abheda. In those days, religion, devotion, trust, and beliefs were deep-rooted and the folks gave in to those debilitating tenets and lived accordingly. They all believed that there were powers beyond the scope of humans, and people lived their lives anchored around those customs and beliefs.

Abheda’s parents were told that a single daughter would bring bad luck to the family, and so, they left her with a drifter and went away. Abheda grew up, submerged herself in a life filled with pujas and bhajans. This went on for twelve years. The drifter noticed that Abheda’s way of life would do no good to her and so he sent word to her parents.

Her brother came and convinced her to go with him to a forest. In the forest he tried to kill her but could not. He left her there alone and went away.

Abheda stayed under the tree and continued her meditation. In course of time, a sandhill formed around her. A king passing by heard her bhajans and had the sandhill dug up. He found Abheda and married her.

The point is although her parents had left her as an ill-fated woman, she got married to a king because she was blessed.

The next story about a king who was about to beat up his wife:

A king saw a young woman and noticed that she was very smart. He put her to a test. He put a jasmine garland around her neck, told her that that she should dig up a tunnel and a well, grow a garden of coriander and fenugreek. He said all this should be done before he returned and before the garland in her neck withered. The young woman agreed.

She dug up the tunnel and well. And then, she put on man’s clothes and went in to the city. She heard that the princess proclaimed that she would marry a man who could make a horse walk on the water. The woman took up the challenge and succeeded in making the horse walk on water. According to the condition, the princess was supposed to marry the man. However, since the woman was not a man, she got the princess married to a sword, per custom, and returned to the king’s palace. There she danced in the court, and spent two days with the king. She took a ring and a sheet from the king as tokens of her being there and returned to her place.

The king returned to her place and was surprised to see that the woman had completed her assignment. However he was not sure the child was his; he was about to beat her up for lying. The woman produced the ring and the sheet she had obtained from him. The king was impressed with her ingenuity and took her to his palace.

This story once again proves that women in folktales were depicted as intelligent, courageous, and capable of carrying out their mission.

In a vast majority of folktales, we see importance given to woman and her conditions. Some stories depict woman as inferior to man. Folk women, even though illiterate, are portrayed as perceptiive of their social and familial conditions and shared their experiences with each other through stories and songs. Folk women believed in religious traditions, worshipped village goddesses, and were keenly drawn in to irrational beliefs and customs.

In addition, they were also afraid that, if they had not followed tradition, bad luck would befall them. Some of the stories such as maaruti kuuthuru and Padmavati’s story indicate that not only they showed shrewdness in resolving their problems, but they also showed enormous amount of patience. But for a few stories which depicted women as capable of heroic deeds, most of the stories depicted the woman’s position as inferior to that of man.

[End]

***

(Paper presented at the National Conference on Folk literature at Osmania University, Hyderabad, November 2000, and included in the anthology of essays, Vyasa jyothsna, by Dr. Saratjyothsna Rani, 2002.

Translated by Nidadavolu Malathi, and published on thulika.net, October 2006.)

[1] Cheap liquor made of palmyra sap.

[i] The proverb appears to have its origins in dasakumara charitra. Since most of the stories had originated in the town of Kanchi, it had become common to end the story with the line that it went back to Kanchi. Possibly, it was also the time when poeple would gather under a tree and listern to the stories and then return homes..

[ii] A proverb implying stories are not often logical.

Humor in Telugu fiction by Nidadavolu Malathi

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Sometimes I try to impress my daughter, an American-born and raised, with our Telugu humor. I tell her a joke and she laughs, hihihihi. I am not sure she got it. So I ask her, “Are you laughing because you found it funny or because I thought it was funny.” She narrows her eyes, looks at me, and says, “both.”

Humor in Telugu homes is distinctly different from western humor. In recent times, a bit of our funny bone seems to be lost due to modern sensibilities of being polite. While in the west, people have come to limit humor to the stage and screen, such as standup comedy and sitcoms, it is all pervasive in Telugu homes. At least, it used to be so. I have chosen three writers I grew up with to make my case.

Bhanumati, apart from her unparalleled stature in the movie industry, made her mark as a writer of fiction, writer of humor at that. Bhanumati has written a few stories of serious nature also, but it is her mother-in-law character that has become the hallmark of her writing. While almost every critic agrees that Bhanumati’s creation of the mother-in-law character is unique, it is often left just at that, that she is hilarious. It may sound illogical but humor fiction is rarely taken seriously. More often than not, the message is lost between laughs. Bhanumati’s stories are one such example. The celebrated author did more than than create a unique character. Her mother-in-law stories reflect her belief in tradition and family values. Her stories brim with her belief in god, astrology, and family values.

Bhanumati draws her humor primarily from situations and the human ideosyncrasies; and, she never missed a chance to take a jab at our customs and beliefs. That is not however to be interpreted as disrespect for tradition. Bhanumati’s talent in creating humorous situations speaks of her keen eye for the incongruities in human behavior. One good example is in her Attagaru – avakaaya (Attagaru and pickles). In general, attagaru does not let anyone see her food plate; she sits on the floor with her back to the rest of the world, and facing the wall. “The only way one could know what she was eating was to jump out of the wall in front of her, like Lord Narasimha,” the author comments. For those who are not familiar with the reference, lord Narasimha was one of the ten incarnations; he jumped out of a pillar to prove his existence to a non-believer, demon king Hiranyaksha. The parallel is a stretch but the point is the overextended shield her mother-in-law would create for her food in the name of madi–one more custom in Brahmin families.

And then, author goes on to describe a second instance, the family members will know of what she’s eating; that is when she moves the pickles jar. The story goes to say: “The smells of her pickles extended beyond the kitchen walls and into the living room. One day, my husband sat down to eat, along with atta garu. She moved the pickles jar; and the smells exploded and filled the entire house.”

Her husband blames it on the narrator and her incompetence as a housewife. “Huh! What’s that smell? Is it the oranges’ gone bad? Maybe not, uh, what a stench! Maybe the maid didn’t clean the area after washing the dishes,” my husband started yelling. Then he turned to me and said with a grimace, “Didn’t you notice that? What’re you doing all day sitting at home? Can’t you take care of the cleanliness, at least?” I was nearly dead by the time I’d finished explaining to him that he was wrong in his assumption about the smell. (Bhanumati kathanikalu). Taken out of context, the husband’s comment could ruffle a few women. In Bhanumati’s story, the narrator is the having the last laugh; readers might even see a wink and a nod from her husband. Let’s not forget that he was ridiculing his mother’s pickles.

The incongruities in our actions and the eccentricities in human nature are great stuff for humor. And, our beliefs and gods are no exception for a good laugh as you’ll see in some of the irreverent comments in Bhanumati’s story. A few common phrases such as apachaaram [sacrilege] are used sometimes seriously and at other times flippantly to make fun of those who use it seriously. Bhanumati makes best use of this practice. and “tapping on one’s own cheeks” as a way of tendering an apology (lempalu vesukonu, lempalesukonu) is another phrase used in her stories. In other words, even gods and the sanctity surrounding gods are no exception in the realm of humor. Attagaru refers to Lord Venkateswara as Venkanna (nickname) and compares him to a neighbor in physical appearance and make up.

Bhanumati used laughter itself as core theme in two stories, which are serious in nature. In jeevitamlo agaathaalu [the depth of darkness in life] and telivitetala viluvalu [The Value of Intelligence], both the protagonists, Rambabu and Rao, laugh incessantly, much to the dismay of the narrator.

In the first story, jeevitamlo agaathaalu, the reader would come to know at the end that Rambabu was laughing to hide his pain; his wife was a hysteria patient and there was nothing he could do about it. In the second story, Rao laughs recurrently but this time it was just his habit. Additionally, in the latter story, the narrator’s husband and Rao call each other “fool” and neither was offended by this name calling. The story ends with the narrator commenting, “I stood there watching those two fools.”

Bhanumati’s respect for tradition is evident in her use of the proper names. In our homes, people are often referred to by relational terminology–somebody’ son, somebody’s daughter-in-law, and somebody’s daughter-in-law’s daughter-in-law; and this true even when two persons are cousins, two or three times removed.

As all of us, Telugu people, Bhanumati would not mind laughing at herself. In her story, pedda aakaaraalu, chinna vikaaraalu [big people and small oddities], she gives a hilarious description of her fear of lizards. Bhanumati writes:

Usually those who are not scared of lizards make fun of those who’re scared of them. You know the popular proverb, “Cat is having the time of his life while the rat is running for his life!”

I am one of those rats. … Lizard is my enemy for life. I’ll not walk into a room if there is a lizard on the wall. If I have to, I’ll ask one of the servants to remove it, and then enter the room slowly watching every nook and corner to make sure that it’s gone. Under unavoidable circumstances, I’ll enter the room cautiously, as if I were walking into a lion’s cage, tiptoeing around and watching it’s every move. We two move around in different directions like two planets. No matter how far I am from it, my eyes spot its presence automatically. Then my body moves like a robot in the opposite direction.

As a final note, Bhanumati has captured a wide circle of readership with her easy-going style and by telling us to laugh freely. Further discussion follows.

Humor has its time and place. what’s funny for us Telugu people may not be funny for people in other cultures. Remember the popular saying in America? If someone slips and falls, it’s funny and if you slip and fall, it’s tragedy. That’s not the case in Telugu homes, at least, not in the fifties and sixties.

In the nineteen fifties and sixties, the three stalwarts in Telugu humor writing that come to my mind are Munimanikyam Narasimha Rao, Mullapudi Venkataramana and Bhanumati Ramakrishna were the writers I grew up with. Munimanikyam Narasimha Rao was already an established writer by then and Mullapudi Venkataramana was making his name in the early fifties. Chronologically, Bhanumati Ramakrishna was a contemporary of Venkataramana and started writing fiction a little later.

All the three writers have showcased the laughter in Telugu homes as never before.

Bhanumati mentioned that she had been inspired by Narasimha Rao’s Kantham kathalu (Stories of Kantham, narrator’s wife), published in 1944. She also mentioned that Mullapudi Venkataramana had encouraged her. Interestingly, Mullapudi Venkataramana dedicated his anthology of short stories, Radha and Gopalam (1965), to Bhanumati. Bhanumati published her anthology, Attagari Kathalu in 1966.

In regard to the themes, I am not sure if Narasimha Rao had written about topics other than familial relationships. Bhanumati wrote a few stories, about five or six I believe, depicting the tragic situations in life. Mullapudi Venkataramana has written about almost every aspect – politics, society, entertainment (movies), and children, and also critiques, and he continues to write.

I chose to discuss three stories based on family values and domestic bliss as depicted by the three writers.

Like any other custom or tradition, humor in a given culture develops from its own environment. In that, demographics do play a huge role. When several members of a family – aged parents, sons and daughters-in-law and grandchildren – are thrown in together under one roof (Brady Bunch style), good sense of humor becomes a major part of the skills for coexistence, peaceful or not. In Telugu homes, we tease each other, poke fun at each other, and call each other names; and at the end of the day, all’s well; no offense intended, none taken.

Secondly, with the progress of civilization, the code of conduct has put a rigid barrier between people and clouded our sense of humor to a certain degree, I think. But if one wants to have good hearty laugh, one must be prepared to laugh and be laughed at with equal ease. That’s a prerequisite to foster one’s sense of humor. These stories illustrate this point.

In Nenu, Kantham” (Kantham and I), the couple appear to be mature, although the husband does act immature at times. Most of the humor in this story is anchored in the husband’s miserable experience with eating out.

In Radha’s debt, the couple, Radha and Gopalam, are newlyweds, and between the two, Radha is the level-headed; Gopalam acts like a juvenile. Gopalam’s insistence that Radha owed him for the expenses he had incurred to get attention prior to marriage itself is humorous.

In Attaa-Kodaleeyam, (A story of a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law), the story revolves round Attagaru (mother-in-law) with Kodalu (daughter-in-law) as her sidekick. Attagaru is a charming, naive, traditional woman who’s also a busybody, which often lands her in trouble; Kodalu, the narrator, is also traditional in that she’s respectful toward her husband and his mother (mother-in-law), and steps in only when her services as a mediator/arbitrator are needed. She appears to be enjoying a private joke of her own in the process. She never talks back, never offers to take matters into her own hand unless and until it becomes absolutely necessary. In the story under reference, the story is woven around a trip to Lord Venkateswara in Tirupati.

Mullapudi Venkataramana has successfully created humorous instances using “debt” as core theme in several stories, including a series, Runaananda lahari, in which his play upon words is hilarious. In the story under discussion, Radha’s debt, Gopalam surprises his wife by asking her to pay back a loan she’d never promised; she was not even aware that she owed him money. Soon enough she turned around, caught up with him, and proved he had owed her too. The theme is frivolous on the surface. To me, the story reflects the amicable relationship between husband and wife.

While in Kantham and I, the narrator was depicted as being an egotist, conscious of his status as husband, in Radha and Gopalam, the husband and wife behave like friends, teasing each other for the fun of it.

Humor in Kantham’s story comes from everyday events and interaction between husband and wife. They do care about each other, yet the husband could not take the apparent disrespect from his wife. To me it seems to be a social comment on the irrational behavior of men and their ego trips.

Bhanumati also, like Naraasimha Rao, creates hilarious scenes from everyday life; but, unlike Narasimha Rao, she narrates them while remaining complacent. Secondly, unlike the narrator in Kantham stories, the narrator in attagaru stories stays in control. We do not see her laughing but on rare occasions, the “I” of these stories seem to enjoy a private joke of her own while playing the innocent bystander.

NAMES AND FORMS OF ADDRESS:

A brief note on the names is in order here. Proper names are often abbreviated. More importantly, the relational terminology is used in place of proper names, which could be confusing for non-native speakers, or when the same term is used with reference to more than one person.

For instance, in Attaa-Kodaleeyam there were three daughters-in-law and a son (the original attagaru’s son and the husband of the narrator/Kodalu). Mother refers to him as abbayi (by attagaru), and the narrator refers to him as maavaaru(meaning ‘my husband’ but his real name was never given in the story. In fact, in this particular story, all the characters were referred to only in relation to each other, even when they were cousins two or three times removed. This usage of relational terminology in the case of distant relatives could be a way of bringing them together and of reinforcing family values. For the purpose of clarification in this discussion, I decided to leave Attagaru as is, she being the protagonist. The story is narrated in first person by Kodalu (daughter-in-law) and, I used Kodalu as a proper name for her. Her co-daughter-in-law (todikodalu) and her daughter-in-law (kodalu of todikodalu) also figure in to the story. In fact, Bhanumati makes fun of this relational terminology in another story, vavi varasalu).

Another angle to the proper names, as a form of address, is “calling each other names”. Bhanumati takes it to a new level in her story, telivitetala viluvalu [The Worth of Intellect]. The title seem to be a little off base. The core theme is the form of address as used by two friends, (narrator’s husband and his friend, Rao) to address each other as ‘fool’ and laugh at each other. Rao’s son-in-law gets involved in a scooter accident and Rao tells the narrator about the accident with a big laugh; and again when the narrator and her husband to go to the hospital to visit the son-in-law, the two friends talk about the accident, laughing and calling each other, “fool”. The narrator stands there “watching the two fools”.

In Radha-Gopalam, the author gives the characters acceptable proper names. Additionally, he uses a few perfectly legitimate proper names like Ramanatham or Gurunatham as punch lines. Further discussion of this is given in the story.

In Nenu-Kantham, the husband is the narrator; his real name is never mentioned.

Second person singular pronoun has two forms in Telugu, meeru and nuvvu. Within a family, seniors who are respected (father, grandfather, for instance) are addressed as ‘meeru‘. This is not a hard and fast rule though. Kodalu always addresses Attagaru as ‘meeru’ and Attagaru addresses Kodalu as ‘nuvvu‘. Wife addresses husband as ‘meeru‘ and husband addresses wife as ‘nuvvu‘. This protocol is maintained in the stories of the fifties and sixties. The peculiar part however is, a kodalu (the co-daughter-in-law in Attaa – Kodaleeyam) or a wife (in Radha – Gopalam) may address the other person as ‘meeru‘ and still engage in a lively bickering and pour insults on each other, and thus adding one more shade of humor to it.

Regarding technique, the three stories present ordinary events in a humorous light. In Kantham story, the narrative is tight: it opens with a husband upset with his wife; he refuses to eat at home to punish his wife; and the punishment turns out to be his, yet he acts like he has the upper hand. It is not easy create humor in such a negative atmosphere. The story is told in a straight forward manner, no unexpected twists and no shock value incidents. Narasimha Rao succeeds in bringing the funny side up, that’s the strength of an established humor writer.

In the Mother-in-law story, there is more than one plot. The story opens with a proposed pilgrimage to Tirupati by car, and as usual, the two main characters–mother-in-law and daughter-in-law–are thrown in together to the exclusion of the son/husband. The second plot includes a second daughter-in-law (todikodalu. I think Bhanumati did this on purpose. In general, the daughter-in-law’s relationship with her mother-in-law is not confrontational in any of her stories under the running title, Attagaari kathalu. Thus the author may have created the second daughter-in-law to reflect another side, a more common notion, a kind of love-hate relationship. They both get into heated arguments in one moment and are affable in the next moment. Notably the narrator (Kodalu) herself never talked back to the mother-in-law and the mother-in-law never put down the daughter-in-law in this story or in any other story. And then, there is one more subplot, the arranged marriage; arranged by the mother-in-law and the second daughter-in-law in between their heated arguments and boisterous laughter. The narrator however does not lose touch with reality. The reality is “The two women are going to meet like two rival planets on a combat zone in the month of magham” (11th month in lunar calendar). In a way, the three plots make the story less tight, compared to the Kantham story, but entertaining all the same.

The story is, as indicated by the title, about relationship between Atta and Kodalu. The incidents follow in a lighter vein. The story of Radha and Gopalam takes this idea of a theme narrated in a lighter vein further. In fact, it is a story about sweet nothings. The underlying message is the secret of marital bliss. As long as a couple can laugh together, and at each other without malice, there is no cause for complaint in a marriage. All’s well that ends well. Most of the humor in this story, unlike the other two, comes from its language and the adolescent behavior of the couple.

[End]

(Originally published on thulika.net, April 2006)