MY TWO WEEKS AS A WRITER!

October 3- October 19^th, 2002.

In early September I decided to go to India. I was very excited about the trip, and also apprehensive. I nearly lost touch with Telugu literary scene for nearly 20 years. I started writing in 1996 and launched a web magazine, Thulika, in June 2001. I must admit that the response from some quarters in the US was far from flattering. I even mentioned my concerns to a couple of my friends in the US. I knew instinctively that this trip was going to be an education for me.

As soon as I got down in Bombay, my brother Sitaram told me that he had contacted several writers and the responses were positive. That was exciting yet I was unsure as to what to expect.

As it turned out, by the end of the two weeks I felt like the phoenix rising from the ashes! I have learned a lot about myself. In all, three literary gatherings and numerous meetings with individual writers swept me off my feet.

Several writers have commented on current literary scene in Andhra and America [regarding the NRI’s contribution to Telugu literature] and the need to develope a healthy atmosphere for writers. I also have received valuable feedback regarding my two projects—the web magazine, Thulika, and my book on Telugu female writers, 1960-1975. I will transcribe the audiotapes and publish some of the interviews in due course. For the present, here is a brief review of my experiences.

In Hyderabad:

My first meeting was with Bhargavi Rao. Bhargavi Rao is an acclaimed writer, critic, translator and well-versed in several languages. She showed me some of her anthologies and translations. One of the anthologies was a recently released book, entitled nuureLLa panTa [Fiction by prominent female writers in the past one hundred years]. She said they had considered including my story but couldn’t locate me for my permission. “Well, you’ll have to publish again with my story in it,” I said jokngly. “Of course,” she replied.

In regard to translations, Bhargavi Rao warned me about some of the pitfalls such as submissions of poor translations and pressures from friends and colleagues. I was impressed with her knowledge. As I was about to leave, she went in and returned with a little Ganesh figurine and a hand-made pouch that were the specialty of Mysore, her home state—a traditional gift. It felt like we had known each other for years.

The following day, we [my brother Sitaram and I] went to Vaartha office to meet Vedanta Suri, Srikanth, and J. Syamala. In a casual conversation, Srikanth observed that the current day fiction is not up to the standards set by eminent writers like Adivi Bapiraju. He also quoted instances where writers were involved in personal attacks, which tarnishes the literary scene in general. Syamala interviewd me and published an article in Cheli section in Vaartha the following day.

On 4^th, Radhika Yelkur came to meet me at my niece’s home. Radhika is a brilliant young woman involved in women studies in general and Andhra women in particular. She and I have been corresponding for over six months in regard to my book on female writers. Some of the questions she has raised and the suggestions she has given were very valuable to me.

On the 5^th evening, I met with Turaga Janakirani, a notable writer who has been writing since 1950s. She is quite an orator and my interview with her was very informative. One of her comments was with reference to the importance of language skills. Janakirani said that the women writers of our generation had a good command of Telugu language, and that such diction is sadly lacking in current day fiction. Her concern that modern day Telugu fiction is filled with English phraseology is something I also shared. We can not however ignore the fact that English has become a huge part of modern Telugu. In Andhra Pradesh today the language spoken is a fusion of Telugu and English. If characters are drawn from present day society, this amalgamated language is probably a necessity for portrayal of those characters. In general, I also believe that language comprises an instrinsic part in any culture.

On the 6^th morning, I met with Nayani Krishnakumari, a scholar held in high esteem for her work in the field of women’s literature and folk literature. She held the position of Vice-Chancellor [highest rank in Indian Universities] of Telugu university and retired.

Krishnakumari was not new to me. Discussion with her was very informative. Referring to one of my statements in my book [draft], she pointed out that there was no evidence that Krishnadevarayalu had a daughter named Mohanangi (see my article in Thulika, September 2002). She also mentioned that almost all women in the previous centuries wrote only in their latter years or after they were widowed. The theme, she added, was invariably their pain.

Krishna Kumari showed her library, and offered me to take the books useful for my two projects. She kept insisting that we should stay for lunch. In stead, we decided to meet her again the following day and go to the Sakhya Sahiti Writers’ meeting together.

In the afternoon, we met with K.B. Lakshmi, sub-editor, Eenaadu newspaper. She was going to conduct an interview for TV but was cancelled. In stead, I ended up asking her a few questions. Lakshmi told me that her dissertation topic was the fiction of I.V.S. Atchyutavalli, a famous writer from my generation. Lakshmi also gave me the traditional gift—sweets, fruits, flowers, blouse material… I came across this part of tradition several times and that made me nostalgic.

Next morning, we went to visit Kameswari. Kameswari commented on the current practices of book publishing—it has become a common practice for authors to publish anthologies at their own cost, arrange a meeting to release the book and then turn over the stock to distributors. She added that it was fairly expensive, and that the financial support offered by Sahitya Academy and/or Telugu university would hardly cover the title page.

At Visalandhra Publishing House we met with P. Rajeswara Rao, manager, to obatain permission to translate stories of Malladi Ramakrishna Sastri. He suggested we contact his grandson Malladi Narasimha Sastri and gave us his phone number.

In response to my question regarding the current state of publishing industry, Rajeswara Rao commented that publishing novels became a losing proposition. In recent years the readers are favoring short fiction due to the time constraints, he added. I recalled Kameswari’s observations on the same topic.

In my discussion with Vasireddy Naveen, a couple of interesting things came up. Naveen said it was at his suggestion that Sahiti Circle published my story in their anthology Streevada Kathalu (Feminist stories) without my permission. I didn’t know what to say. During the course of those two weeks, several writers have mentioned about their works being taken without their knowledge or permission and used for translations and anthologies. I wondered if I were stupid to travel 10,000 miles to seek permissions from writers.

A few minutes later, Naveen asked me, “How do I get copies of your translations? I want to use them in my translations class.” I did not respond to him right away. I thought it is best under the circumstances I put it in writing. I wrote to him from Madison. An important part of my letter, relevant to the writers whose translations I am publishing on Thulika, read as follows:

“In the case of the translations I am publishing on Thulika, the original authors retain copyrights. My commitment is limited to publishing on my web site, Thulika. Beyond that, the persons who desire to use my translations for academic purposes must obtain permission from the original authors. The persons are also advised that commercial publications like Streevada Kathalu (Feminist stories) need to address the issue of royalty as well.”

My second question was about statistics. In the past few decades the representation of female writing in anthologies has been a moot point. From our conversation, Naveen appeared to be sympathetic to feminist cause. Therefore I tried to figure out their rationale.Pointing to Katha 2000, one of his anthologies, I asked him why they included only 2 female writers as opposed to 12 male writers. Naveen replied, “Well, look at the ratio of the educated women to men.” I am not sure I understood his point.

On the 7^th afternoon, I went to Krishnakumari’s home and we went through her library one more time. There were so many books I could have taken if transportation was not an issue. I took some 6 to 8 books and we proceeded to Sakhya Sahiti Samiti meeting in Thyagaraja Gana Sabha.

I was surprised that Sakhya Sahiti could organize such an impressive gathering at such a short notice. The meeting was well attended—included veteran writers like Pothukuchi Sambasiva Rao, Seela Veerraju, Seela Subhadradevi, Tamirisa Janaki, D. Kameswari, Vedula Sakuntala, Nandivada Putalibai, Attilipati Vijayalakshmi, Munipalle Raju, Gidugu Rajeswara Rao, Abburi Chayadevi, Yasoda Reddy as well as several current generation writers. C. Mrunalini was on her way to another meeting where she was the guest speaker yet made time to stop by for a few minutes.

Vasa Prabhavati, President, and Srilatha, Secretary welcomed the gathering. Prabhavati invited the members in the audience to say a few words about me. I was amused to see that, while they all were familiar with my writings, none of them knew me personally, not enough to talk about.

Nandivada Puthalibai introduced me to the guests. Pothukuchi Sambasiva Rao stated that we have several plausible writers in Telugu that could compare to any writer in world literatures. He particularly invited our attention to some of the anthologies produced in the United States and which ignored some of our great writers.

Malayavasini, Vizag, also made similar comment. Whether I like it or not, I was from America and as such I was required to hear, if not answer the questions regarding the contribution of NRIs in the US to Telugu literature. I however could only speak for myself. I assured the gathering that I was trying to present notable fiction from the 1960s and 1970s without bias. The reason I limited myself to that period was that, being a writer from that era, I could understand that fiction better and was in a better position to editorialize.

Seela Veerraju reminisced on the times we were publishing in Telugu Swatantra. He remembered my writings along with other famous writers like Manjusri, Randhi Somaraju, P. Saraladevi and Veerraju. He also stressed the high caliber writing in Telugu fiction of our times and the need for its exposure not only world-wide but also to our younger generation readers, who seem to be unaware of the excellent fiction our generation had produced. Critical works and anthologies should reflect quality writing and not personal preferences, he stressed.

Another suggestion by Veerraju was to bring Thulika in print. He said that the use of computers in Andhra Pradesh has not been that common yet, and for that reason, making Thulika available in print would be a welcome service. Several writers ensthusiastically supported his proposition. To me the proposition was flattering, but it also means investment of time and money. I assured them I would explore the possibility.

D. Kameswari said that although she knew me as a good writer couldn’t remember any of my stories, and suggested I bring out an anthology. Srilatha offered to release the book by Sakhya Sahiti! That was a sweet moment.

I am not much of a speaker. So I went straight to the point and told them about my two undertakings—a book I was writing and my web magazine, Thulika. I mentioned that the web magazine is exclusively devoted to bringing Telugu fiction to non-native speakers; and has been received very well not only by the western readers but also by current generation Indians who have grown accustomed to English as their medium of communication.

Nayani Krishnakumari presented me with a shawl and a memento. C. Anandaramam, an eminent writer and critic, presented me with a shawl. I was touched when Anandaramam told me that she still had the small photo my daughter had given her during her visit to the US some twenty years ago.

Vedula Sakuntala narrated one of my stories published in the 1960s and said she had always imagined me as someone in a saree. I don’t remember the story she had mentioned but another story, nammakam written in the early 1960s came to my mind. The story was a kind of comment on the image of women writers in the 1960s decade [I will upload in March Thulika].

Regarding submissions to Thulika, Sakuntala asked me if I’d accept only unpublished material. Anandaramam asked for the specifics regarding the criteria for acceptance. In response to both the questions, I mentioned that Thulika was still in the evolving stage, and my policies were in the making. At the moment, I am focussed on publishing notable fiction, irrespective of its publication status.

I also stressed that I intend to run Thulika as a wholesome literary magazine. In that sense, I would not accept pornographic material, personal attacks, scandals, gossip, and such. I am hoping and praying that Thulika would live in the spirit of classic Telugu magazines like Bharati.

Vasireddy Sitadevi couldn’t attend the meeting for health reasons. After the meeting Nayani Krishnakumari took us to her home. I gave Sitadevi a copy of my translation of her story rabandulu [vultures] published in September Thulika.

Sitadevi referred to my article published in rachana, October 2002, and asked me why I mentioned P. Saraladevi, an unknown writer [not in my opinion] while there were so many other famous writers. I replied that P. Saraladevi had written some very good stories in Telugu Swatantra and beyond that, I couldn’t recall the context in which the statement was made. Later I checked and found that it was a quotation from a book drushti by KethuViswanatha Reddy. He commented that even outstanding female writers like ... [names] did not make any unique contribution comparable to that of Katherine Mansfield. In my opinion the point whether the female writers have made any significant contribution to style comparable to that of Katherine Mansfield was more important that the names. I think that is what we should be concerned about—what is our contribution to Telugu fiction?

In Guntur:

I have lot of memories unrelated to my status as a writer. Chetana, a multipurpose organization run by Mangadevi includes a children’s home. Two years back, I came there with a group of students and a professor on a service-learning project. Our group still has fond memories of the children. In addition, I have a friend Vijayalakshmi from my university days. It was great to see all of them again—Vijayalakshmi, George, Marudvati, Jayasri and Mangadevi and spend some time with them. While I was there we also celebrated the opening ceremony of the classroom for which our students have contributed back in January 2000. I enjoyed playing the guest of honor thoroughly.

In the evening, writers in Guntur arranged a get-together. Writers, Kondepudi Lakshminarayana, Papineni Sivasankar, Ravela Sambasiva Rao, Chandrasekhara Rao, P. Suseela, S. Gangappa, Kondepudi Rajeswari [founder of Kondepudi Srinivasa Rao award for accomplishment in Telugu literature], T. Satyavati, professor of Telugu, Nagarjuna University, and several others attended the meeting hosted by Mangadevi and her family.

I was particularly impressed with an anthology Sivasankar brought out. The book titled vismruta katha is a collection of stories by well-known writers during the 1950s and 1960s era and who were nearly forgotten. That certainly is a tribute to good writing and I couldn’t help noticing that a story by P. Saraladevi was included in the anthology.

After I explained my two projects, Chandrasekhara Rao asked me for my mission statement, and also if I had taken any courses in translation. Ravela Sambasiva Rao asked me if I had taken any course in counseling, referring to my job and the fact that I led a group of students to Chetana for their service-learning experience. My answer to both the questions was in the negative. However, I told them that the number of hits to my current homepage was considerable, [over 6000 at present, total 13,500 to date] and I haven’t received a single negative comment yet. That should mean something. Ravela Sambasiva Rao later came to me and said that he meant it as a compliment.

The meeting ended with Kondepudi Rajeswari presenting me a shawl and Ravela Sambasiva Rao presenting me a Nandi figurine.

In Vijayawada:

I met with P. Satyavati, a famous writer known for her progressive views. Satyavati expressed concern about some of the translations she had come across. She gave me some examples of the word for word translations that give rise to ridiculous phraseology. Later I met with Prayaga Vedavati, Director, All India Radio who had arranged an interview to be aired on the All India Radio.

In Visakhapatnam:

Visakhapatnam is my hometown where some prominent writers knew me personally ever since I’d started writing. Much to my surprise, their memories are still fresh.

KAVANA Sarma, one of the exceptional writers and my classmate in pre-degree class, 1954-1956, arranged a small get-together of our classmates at his home. I met his wife Vijayalakshmi for the first time. Also for the first time I heard their views on my writing and that was flattering. We reminisced the past for about an hour and proceeded to Visakha Sahiti meeting.

At Visakha Sahiti, I was particularly happy to see Ganapathiraju Atchyutarama Raju, President, and his brother Ganapathiraju Narasimha Raju, a writer, publisher, also my classmate, 1961-62, after a long time. Narasimha Raju acted as honorary president for the evening.

Visakha Sahiti Sadussu also was very well attended, with several of them mentioning their frequent visits with my mother, father and sister. I felt right at home there. A very lively discussion took place. By the time I got to Vizag, I was also comfortable delivering my little speech. One of the questions I raised was about the authenticity of authorship of Mohanangi [see my article in September Thulika]. Reiterating the comment Nayani Krishnakumari made earlier in the week, I mentioned to them that I did not have the resources to examine such details and so I needed their help.

In response, Malayavasini and Atchyutarama Raju quoted several instances extensively and stated that lack of established authorship was very common in Telugu literature. Ramakoti commented on “ridiculing women writers.” Malayavasini stated ‘ridiculing women’ has always been there, and probably we would have more women writers but for such practice.

Regarding female pseudonyms by male writers, Malayavasini commented that the practice started in the 1930s when “magazines exclusively for women” came into existence and there were not enough female writers at the time.

Narasimha Raju spoke about two important issues in publishing translations—selection and copyright. He suggested that I watch out for possible pressures from friends, and stay focused on the quality in my selections; secondly, regarding copyright and translation rights, I should develop a permission letter and ask the writers to sign and return it to me.

Narasihma Raju, an established writer and publisher, was the first compiler to bring out an anthology of nine women writers entitled kalpana in 1962 (Padmapriya Publications). It seems a recent anthology was named as the first but the credit in reality goes to Narasimha Raju.

Visakha Sahiti also suggested that I should publish my book and they would take care of the book release!

On the 14^th morning, we met with Bharago, well known for his humorous writing. One of the comments he made was puzzling to me—that a woman needs man only to have heirs. Another point he has raised was about the remunerations the magazines were offering in the 1950s. I didn’t know until he had mentioned it. Bharago said he always negotiated with magazines like Telugu Swatantra, and received payment.

In the evening I met with Malayavasini and had a discussion about female writing in Andhra Pradesh. In response to my question why the universities took twenty years to take female writing seriously, Malayavasini responded that the timeframe was needed for writers to be taken as established writers. At present, however, some fiction is taken for a study while the novel was still being serialized. It seems the number of persons working for M. Phils and Ph.D.s in unversities has increased tremondously and due to dearth of subjects the incomplete fiction is also being considered as subects of study.

I was touched by her hospitality.

In Srikakulam:

My discussion with Kalipatnam Rama Rao was very enlightening.

It was a pleasure to walk through Kathanilayam library. The library stock included some 6000 books, anthologies, magazines, tear-sheets, and numerous entries in other formats. The collection is very well organized. Rama Rao spoke about the hardships in collecting books and lack of response from some prominent writers. I could relate to his comment since my experience was similar.

Saving our intellectual property for future generations has never been our strong suit. That does not mean we can not start now. In Andhra Pradesh we do have some excellent libraries like Gautami granthalayam in Rajahmundry and Vetapalem library in Guntur District. Kathanilayam could be one more excellent archival facility for fiction. I could quote one example to stress the importance of our fiction. In this issue just three stories—Lamps on a Dark Night, The Critics and the Old Letters could delineate the development and the changes that took place in our mode thinking in the past five decades.

As a writer and ex-librarian, I could appreciate the enormous task Kathanilayam has undertaken. I sincerely hope that writers would respond to their plea and send in their works.

I just learned that they have acquired a computer also, thanks to the generosity of K.K.Sastry and Kathanilayam friends. Also, I learned that some Telugu US friends are collecting contributions for Kathanilayam. For details please contact Chowdhary Jampala at cjampala@dayton.net.

I gave him the 6 issues of Thulika so far produced to add to Katha Nilayam collection. It was a memorable visit followed by an authentic Telugu meal cooked by his wife Sita garu. That was a special treat.

In Vizianagaram:

My two brothers and I went to Vizianagaram to meet Chaganti Tulasi. I have met her long time ago. Tulasi received me like an old friend, waiting at the gate. We had a sumptuous Telugu dishes for snack, exchanged wisecracks and laughed like two childhood friends.

One of the questions Tulasi raised was about the comment I made on the story empu [Choices] by Chaso, her father. She disagreed with my statement that the story was about the beggars community. Once again, I could not enter into a debate without the exact text in front me. I asked her for her comment but before she could respond we moved on to another subject.

Later we all went to meet Sai Padma. She and I have been corresponding for about four months after she complimented me on one of my poems in Sulekha. Sai Padma started writing recently. Her story Ability in Disability says it all. Afflicted with polio since she was three months old, Sai Padma is a remarkable example of what one could accomplish if one sets her/his mind to it. She stole my heart, sitting in her father’s chair, confidently and with a huge smile, and with her accomplishments in academics and fine arts, and her involvement in charitable activities--helping persons with disabilities.

During our conversation, I brought up the story empu [Choices] again in relation to a question raised in Guntur. Chandrasekhara Rao, Guntur, seemed to question the propriety of my usage of the terms KunTi [the crippled] and GuDDi [the blind] as proper nouns. My argument was that in the US, the appropriate term would be “physically challenged” and the phrase would be hard to use as a proper name. “Yes,” said Sai Padma.

I was wondering what would Tulasi say in this regard. Tulasi did not comment but Murthy, Sai Padma’s father, said that in situations like that such practice desensitizes the persons in question. My brother said it was not desensitization but their social status that renders them incapable of protest. To me both the arguments sounded right. Now, as I am writing this account, something occurred to me. As I recall none of us asked for Sai Padma’s input. Strange how often we ignore the sources right in front of us.

I couldn’t meet all the writers and friends I wanted to meet. I spoke with some of them—Binadevi, Ranganayakamma, Sri Ramana, and Mullapudi Venkataramana on the phone. Ranganayakamma said that among her novels, “andhakaaramlo” was her favorite one and asked me to translate it into English. I promised her that I would keep that in mind. They all were very kind to me and graciously extended their cooperation and support. I regret that I couldn’t meet Vedula Satyavati garu, Meerabai and Sujatha Srinivas among several others. I never thought that a two-week trip to India would be too short.

One more time, I am honestly touched by the welcome I have received from all the writers, friends, well-wishers and my families.

Hello, you all, thanks sounds trite but I mean it. All the books you have given me—quite a collection—are on their way via sea-mail. I will get down to translations in due course. In the meantime I request your indulgence.

Back in September, on the eve of my departure from Madison, one of my friends has mentioned that this trip would be a spiritual experience for me. Now I can say—yes, it has been a spiritual experience.

Plus, I just learned that the movie Leela in which my daughter was cast is now playing in theaters.

Wow!

Malathi

November 2002.