Editorial: On Reading a Telugu Story:

My friends and readers often ask me why I am so keen on choosing stories from the past four or five decades as opposed to the contemporary fiction. I think the most valid reason is obvious from the selection in this issue.

Among the characteristics appropriate for creative expression, dhwani (suggestion) and vakrokti (indirect communication) have been valued high in Sanskrit aesthetics. U.R. Anantha Murthy, once mentioned at a South Asian Conference in the early 1980s that suggestion was the soul of poetry and indirect communication the sole way to communion. I believe that is true of fiction too. Suggestion and indirect communication help the author’s view to make a lasting impression on the reader’s mind. Additionally, or rather based on the traditional system, Telugu writers for centuries exercised freedom to some extent. Writer was a despot (nirankuso kavayah), free to write what he wanted to write about and in a form and language he deemed fit. In the process, he also allowed the reader the same freedom, and provided a venue to interpret, build on and, even to create a new story. In other words, the author would provoke the reader into thinking in his own way.

This freedom for the writers continued well into the fifties and sixties. In recent times, many Telugu writers are anxious to adapt to the western mode of thinking and fit into a formula—a specific type of hero, a particular kind of problem, and an almost predictable ending. Unlike in the past, the magazine editors and publishers are dictating the terms, and even modifying the text submitted for publication.

The technique of story telling is peculiar to writer. No two persons talk alike and no two writers tell the same story in the same words. And possibly no two readers appreciate the same story and grasp the same message. That is the reason we have so many stories on the same topic. Each writer presents a new perspective and adds to the commonality of understanding.

For all these reasons, I feel that the stories of past decades reflect our culture better than the present day writing.

One important requirement in enjoying a story from a different culture is not only the reader’s “willing suspension of disbelief”, but also a willingness to set aside their own values and convictions temporarily, and transpose themselves into the environment of the story.

For each of these stories, it is a different time and place and the readers need to strain themselves into seeing it from the writer’s perspective. That is a prerequisite for understanding a different culture, and these stories attempt to provide that environment for the reader.

In this issue, each story invokes a sense of moral outrage in the reader. In “The Soul Wills it” (Click on Viswanatha Satyanarayana for a brief note on the author), the woman, who was subjected to enormous suffering; in the “Royal Fighter” (Munipalle Raju), the senior fighter who was humiliated by the prince; the self-exile of Ramanna thatha, for all the sacrifice he had made for his country in “Lifesaver” (Poranki Dakshinamurthy); in “Her Personality” (Tripuraneni Gopichand), the knight errant who was anxious to protect the woman’s honor; and, in “Lodestar” (Somireddy Jayaprada), the young boy who was beat up by his father simply because he wanted to learn to read—they all anger the readers on some level.

At the same time, the stories also project a few other levels. That is typical of stories written in traditional style. In “The Soul Wills It”, the story presents, in a larger context, man and woman not as two entities but one. Thus the pain suffered by the woman was also experienced by man. In terms of technique, the author has used several forms. It started out with a description of the location and the characters. And then, in some parts it was presented in the form of direct report, and, in one instance, a dialogue as in a play was also introduced. Is this acceptable in modern storytelling technique? I am not sure. As I said at the outset, the author has the freedom to present his story in a manner that is befitting his mode of thinking. Is it confusing? Maybe.

Please read a critique on this story by R. Vasundhara Devi.

In the “Royal Fighter”, the senior fighter devoted his, and even his son’s, life to protecting the royal family and the reward in return was insults from the prince. What is his duty when his self esteem was called into question? Should he put his duty beyond and above his self-esteem?

In “Lifesaver”, it was yet another angle. The actual fighter was Ramanna thatha, and the stories told by him to the protagonist, Kistayya, were inspirational. Like in “The Souls Wills It”, the individual lives through another body; the spirit of Ramanna thatha acts through the body of Kistayya. In both the stories, the spirit needs to be understood in a larger context.

In “A Woman’s Personality”, it was about a woman’s self-worth. In this story, written in the fifties, a very common perception of comparing woman to a flower was taken and molded to project a different image. A champaka flower possesses qualities that could appeal to three of our five senses—color, aroma and touch. So also a woman in the eyes of a man. But, is there more to it in their personalities than these sensuous experiences?

In “Lodestar”, on the surface, it was about a rich and munificent woman helping a poor boy to obtain education. On a different level, the story also builds on the age-old values of generosity on a personal level. Charitable organizations and government institutions are modern concepts. In the past, people were encouraged to be generous on principles deeply rooted in religion. It is interesting to see that it still works and probably in a more effective way.

Permissions from authors/copyright holders are gratefully acknowledged.

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NM

January 2005