MY
TWO WEEKS AS A WRITER!
October
3- October 19th, 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
4th, 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 5th 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 6th 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 7th 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 14th 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.
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