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 develop 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 could not locate me for my permission. “Well, you’ll have to
publish again with my story in it,” I said jokingly. “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, Visakhapatnam, 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 could not 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.
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 focused 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 could not 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 could not recall the context in which the statement was made.
Later I checked and found that it was a quotation from a book drushti by Kethu Viswanatha
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 could not 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 home-page 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 Intermediate 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
did not 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 time frame 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. Phil degrees and
Ph.D.s in universities has increased tremendously and due to dearth of subjects the
incomplete fiction is also being considered as subjects 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.
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 could not 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
could not meet Vedula Satyavati, 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.