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.
NM
January 2005