Editorial July 2007:         

On Malapalli and other stories


With this issue, Thulika turns 7. In the past six years, I have published stories and articles close to one hundred. Some of them
captured readers’ attention more than others. While surfing the web, I found that some of them have been copied and pasted on
other sites, with credit of course. That is gratifying and flattering. Nevertheless I would like to point out that I go back and
revise the pages as and when I have time and/or more information. Therefore it would be better if you just provide a link to the
pages on my site, with your comments if any. That way you and your friends will have the latest version of what I am saying.

This is particularly important in regard to the novel Malapalli, which I start publishing herein and continue to post few chapters
at a time. You will know my reason for this unorthodox practice as you proceed to read.

Malapalli – revisiting a modern classic.

First, this is not a translation, not a synopsis, nor a critical e review but a modest attempt to introduce the highly acclaimed novel
to the readers who are  either not aware of its existence or not in a position to read the Telugu version. I have encountered
several problems in drafting this “introduction”. I could obviate some of the complexities by publishing my account in
installments, hoping to revise as I read more and reflect more.

While reading for articles on Thulika in the past six years, I have come across the title Malapalli so many times that it has
become hard for me not to say something about it. I borrowed the novel from the library about five months back and started
reading it. My experience has been one of a curious mix of education and confusion.

The novel was proclaimed unilaterally a monumental work of epic proportions for depicting the socio-economic and political
scene of Andhra Pradesh in the first half of the century.  

The history of its publication is interesting in itself. The novel Malapalli, with an alternative title, sangavijayam, was written by
Unnava Lakshminarayana (1877-1958) while he was in prison for his involvement in the freedom fight against the British
government. It was first published in 1922 and immediately banned by the government. In 1928, Ayyadevara Kaleswara Rao, a
noted Member of the Legislative Assembly, argued against the ban. Then Madras Government lifted the ban and allowed Andhra
University to publish the book with the objectionable pages removed and prescribe it as textbook. In 1936, Madras government
banned it for a second time. The following year, the ban was lifted by C. Rajagopalachari, the governor of Madras presidency. In
1976, the Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi, published a shorter version of the novel in 416 pages, abridged by Marupuru
Kothandarama Reddy.  

The copy I am reading now contains 792 pages. Desi Kavita Mandali, Vijayawada, published it in 1957 and noted it as a reprint
but there was no mention of the first print.It took me almost four months for one go. My reading and the current rendering were
based on three premises:
1. The novel has been deemed a modern day epic on par with Mahabharata. It depicted the rustic life much the same way the
Mahabharata had done;
2. It was one of the earliest novels to be written in colloquial Telugu; and,
3. The author was a social reformer, a freedom fighter and a champion for the cause of the oppressed and the untouchables; he
depicted their lives.

I tried to read the novel and read some of these claims into the book. I am going to record what I have understood. Please note
that I am not a scholar. My reading reflects what I, as a reader with average intelligence have understood. I am planning to
revise as I go along.

I also urge you to read the original and/or the critical studies written by the learned scholars like Bandi Gopala Reddy (Bangore),
V.V.B. Rama Rao, and G. Venkatasubbaiah. You may even try to read the abridged version by Marupuru Kothandarama Reddy..

The first and third premises noted above encompass the entire novel. Therefore I will address them after I had finished the first
round of perceptions. Here is a brief note on the second premise: Let us review the author’s dilemma (as stated in his foreword)
between choosing as his medium the classical language which was common in those days and the colloquial style, which was
gaining ground at the time. He decided on the colloquial style. His dilemma and his arguments have roused my curiosity since the
discussion is as legitimate today as it was in his day.

Lakshminarayana said:
This is my first attempt to write in colloquial Telugu. There are no books to model upon. Neither scholarship in Sanskrit nor
familiarity with Telugu prabandhas is helpful for me to write in everyday language. To be able to write in pure Telugu, one must
have familiarity with rural folks, who had no knowledge of Sanskrit. The Sanskrit scholars in the beginning and now the English
scholars have changed the character of Telugu language. We do have pure Telugu words to express several thoughts yet it has
become common to borrow words from English language. Because of that, beautiful Telugu words are pushed out and the
language became a blend of many languages. [Unlike those writers] I tried to write this book in step with the flow of Telugu.

Keeping in mind the conditions of Telugu today, I am aware that it is easier to write in classical language than everyday Telugu.
Habit is the first reason for this. Secondly, my lack of complete knowledge of the native tongue. Only those Telugu pundits who
have lived in villages and thus gotten used to the real character of the native dialect are qualified to write in that dialect.
Nevertheless, I thought it would be helpful if I laid the path. I am aware that even among the proponents of colloquial Telugu
there are differences. I am sure there will be arguments from all sides. Yet I decided to write as it comes to me and publish it. I
hope to make corrections if necessary after I have heard the arguments.  

That was written about three quarters of a century ago. During this period, the Telugu language has changed dramatically.
Umpteen words from Hindi, Urdu and English have amalgamated into colloquial Telugu. Additionally, the rural terminology used
in this novel and several regional dialects have found their way into the modern day novels and stories.

That has posed a problem for me. I barely finished the first one hundred pages before I realized that a good part of it was
beyond my comprehension. Despite the author’s claim that it was written in colloquial Telugu, (modern day critics would agree
with the author), I had to struggle in several places. I agree that it was colloquial in his day.  

In addition to the colloquial Telugu, there are also instances where the author’s erudition came to the fore. One such example is
on pages 19-20 where he went into a scholarly religious jargon to describe Ramadasu’s trance. His knowledge of Hinduism and
his Sanskrit  language skills dominated the narration. This brings me to the question for writers—what to say and how much to
say as opposed to what needs to be said—and what is the basis to any kind of determination.

Secondly, judging from the title, I was curious how much I would learn about the lives of the untouchables—their customs,
beliefs, and practices from inside; not as activists and social reformers would have us believe but really what the people in a
village of untouchables thought and felt and what their lifestyles were like.

Having said that, let me move on to expound the story as I understood it in the next few pages.

Three more stories:   

Achanta Sarada Devi was one of the atypical woman writers of the fifties in terms of her choice of themes and developing a
style of her own. While most of the writers in the fifties and sixties wrote about family issues such as women’s education and
economic freedom, a few dealt with women’s identity and somber reflections on life. Sarada Devi chose themes of philosophical
and ponderous nature, submerged in pensive mood. Some of her most famous stories such as "The Escaped Parrot"
[paaripoyina chilaka] and okanaati atithi [One Night Guest] fall into that category.

The story included in the current issue, "A Coral Chain" [pagadaalu] was written in her usual reflective style but it also
highlighted the social injustice towards the poor and the shallowness of middle class morality. One of the predominant elements
in her stories has been the relationship between woman and nature, it is lyrical. She describes the nature effectively and captures
reader’s attention.

Madhurantakam Rajaram is a household name in Telugu communities not only in India but also across the two oceans. Most of
us also know him as a writer from Damalcheruvu, a small village in rural Chittoor district. He had a significant flair in depicting
the rural life and stealing our hearts. But Rajaram also wrote with equal dexterity about people that transcended the limitations of
rural setting. The story, "Men's Special" [purushualaku pratyekam] us not about something offered specially to men but to
underscore the narcissistic nature of some men and their degradation that is bound to follow. Although there is also a theme of
an educated woman being constantly humiliated by an egotist, I don’t see it as the author’s tribute to woman’s fortitude. In any
event, Rajaram was a great researcher of human nature and that is evident in all his stories.

The story "Three thousand five hundred rupees, dowry or debt? [muudu vela aidu vandalu] has an interesting angle to it—the
system of dowry. It is narrated from the point of view of the bridegroom who had accepted the dowry despite his staunch fight
against the system. The entire story unveils the groom’s struggle to consider it a debt and his attempts to pay it off. There is a
generosity in considering the dowry as debt, I am not sure if author was questioning his sincerity. One line that was interesting
to me was when the narrator was blessed with their first child. In his mind, “Kamakshi gave birth to a boy within the first year
of our marriage,” as if she had done it on her own and he had nothing to do with it! That sets the tone for the reader to be
prepared for the shallowness of the narrator’s arguments to the end.

I used to enjoy the stories written by Puranam Suryaprakasa Rao back in the fifties and sixties. Although he had published in
reputable magazines like bharati, we don't hear much of him nowadays. In fact, the Guntur Writers Association published an
anthology titled vismruta katha [Forgotten stories] and it included Suryaprakasa Rao's story. That says it all.  

With that note, I sign off and on to ‘joyous reading’.

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On a different note:

I created a separate site to publish my writings and ramblings at my corner. I hope you will enjoy them as always.

Secondly, I also created another site, a platform for discussing the stories and translation issues. I know there are a couple of
sites where Telugu fiction writers are discussed among other topics. I particularly would like to a platform for writers and
writings that are not prominently featured on other sites and in other media.

Thirdly, the GLOSSARY has been one of the most accessed pages. As you all know the glossary is usually correlated to a
given text and the meanings are contextual. However, since readers from other sources are referring to the glossary and even
posting the meanings elsewhere, I would like to make it more useful by adding more words and meanings. I am particularly
trying to give words from modern fiction, so people wanting to read the Telugu stories will have a chance to better understand
the story. If you are interested in contributing to these pages, please, post the words and meanings on discussion site and I will
incorporate in the main glossary.


Thanks.


MN
July 2007