Malapalli: A Milestone in the History of Telugu Fiction
What it means for today’s non-scholar reader.
[Note: This is not a translation. Please, read the editorial for important information. -- Nidadavolu Malathi.]
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1. The fields
The novel opens with a description of the close interrelationship of man, especially of farmers, with nature and family.
Ramadasu stopped briefly and gazed at the sky and the fields. The rainy season had ended and the sky was clear. It was
time for his midday meal. He wondered why she [his wife] had not come yet. Then he noticed somebody at a distance; it
was his little daughter Jyoti. Suddenly he remembered that it was time for the train to arrive and was worried. Jyoti crossed
the tracks before the train arrived and came running to father. She bypassed the danger. Ramadasu felt relief.
He kept pondering over the field, the yield and the family. Ramadasu was a tall man; the thick moustache on his lips was
showing streaks of grey; his body was strong because of sweating and toiling in the fields. The white in his eye sparkled
feasting on the crops as they danced to the breeze and ready to be harvested. The western breeze was blowing in full force.
The crowns of corn stalks were swinging like waves. The ears of corn adorned with a tinge of gold and copper were
delightful. He thought that, by the grace of god and hoping that the children were blessed, the eastern winds would remain
calm, and the land could yield no less than two puttis of grain.
The full-grown crops thrilled him immensely. As he was basking in the thought, he heard foot steps.
Ramadasu gently removed the stew pot from the top of her head, wiped the beads of sweat from her face and asked her
why her mother sent her instead of coming herself. Jyoti said mother went to give food to her brother and take care of other
chores.
Jyoti was born after two sons. They all treated her as a beloved child. Although she was a mala child, she was not dark like
her father but fair like her mother. She wore a dense, hand-woven saree and a blouse with mirrored trim, which her aunt got
made for her. A red stone studded stem was sitting cozily on her cute nose. The mirrors on her blouse reflecting the silver
chains in her neck were complimenting each other and enhancing her beauty.
She said, “Ayyaa, amma asked me to bring some raw rice kernels and tender cucumbers.” Ramadasu told her wait there and
he went into the fields to pick those items for her. After he returned with the rice kernels and cucumbers, she crawled on to
his lap and they both ate while she told him in her childlike tone how she was going to dole out the cucumbers to everybody
in the family. “Don’t you have one for me?” Ramadasu asked teasingly. Jyoti said that he should pick one more for himself.
After they had eaten, Jyoti started to leave with the empty pot hanging over her shoulder and with the cucumbers. Ramadasu
saw her tender bare feet and told himself that he should buy sandals for her. Jyoti left.
Ramadasu fastened the plough to the bulls again and returned to his work in the field. He thought about Venkatadasu, his
eldest son and his hard work. Ramadasu was working on the pepper farm occasionally to relieve Venkatadasu of his burden
to some extent but it was getting hard. His second son, Sangadasu had been put in a local landlord’s household as a hired
hand. Ramadasu thought he should probably bring him home to help Venkatadasu.
2. The Animal Shed
The sun was down. Ramadasu returned home from the fields. He went to the cowshed steering the bulls. Appadasu, the
cowherd, was grinding grains for the bulls. Ramadasu inquired about fodder and water for the animals. Appadasu told him
how much available and what else was needed.
Appadasu was a fourteen-year old young man. He had not taken to the trendy ways yet. He was hard working and studious.
After he started as a hired hand with Ramadasu, he developed a taste for literature. Ramadasu was paying him two varahas
more than the other hired hands and made arrangements for his food and clothing as well.
Appadasu was attaching the water jugs to the yoke to make the kavadi ready for bringing water. Ramadasu untied the bulls
from the plough, tied them to the rods, and started chopping hay. Venkatadasu came in big strides; his body was shaking
along with the kavadi on his shoulder. He lifted the two water jugs with his steely arms effortlessly and emptied them into
the troughs. Then he turned to his father. “Why you chop the hay? Aren’t we here to do that?” he said raising his voice.
Ramadasu said it was not a hard job and asked him how many more kavadis he would have to run. Venkatadasu said it
might take two more at least. Ramadasu suggested taking Appadasu with him to bring one round for the shed and one for
use at home. And he said he would help to bring water the next morning. Venkatadasu would not hear of it. He would rather
have Appadasu put to work. Then they talked about the daily matters that needed to be done. Venkatadasu told him that the
cow had given birth to a calf.
Appadasu fixed his kavadi and followed Venkatadasu awkwardly and watching him with admiration. The calves were
mooing. Ramadasu was worried that the animals had not yet been given water. He finished chopping the hay and gave some
to the cows.
His sister, Subbalakshmi came. She told him that a local landowner whacked her with his cane. She pushed her saree up her
emaciated and skin-dangling arm and showed him the bruises. She wore no blouse.
Ramadasu asked her what had happened. Subbalakshmi said she had been walking on the ridge on the outskirts of the village
with a bundle of fodder for her buffalo. Basivireddy, the landowner, claimed that she had stolen it from his land, which she
said was not true, and beaten her. Subbalakshmi had tried to tell him that she’d gotten it from the wasteland farther down
and it was not his but he would not hear of it. He seized the bundle and ran her out.
Ramadasu said sadly, “They’re used to ill-treating the Mala and Madiga people.”
Subbalakshmi narrated a few more similar incidents and said she would not be able to
keep the buffalo anymore. She was thinking of selling it. Ramadasu gave her two bunches of hay and reminded her not to
start chewing tobacco again. Subbalakshmi said that she had given up the habit and that Sangadasu was watching her. After
she had left, Ramadasu looked around the shed, pulled the door shut, inserted the metal rod across the door, and went home.
3. Home
Ramadasu belonged to maladasari caste. Long ago [in the 11th century], Ramanujacharya, being a kind-hearted man, had
established the Vaishnava tradition and made the religious preachings available to all, scholars and non-scholars alike
irrespective of their caste. He had founded 72 pithams to disseminate his philosophy. In Andhra Pradesh, Addanki pitham
was famous; it belonged to Telanga branch. Brahmins were acting as priests for all the four castes at first. Eventually, they
instituted Satani positions for sudras and maladasari positions for the untouchables to act as priests respectively. Probably
because they wanted to be equally fair to people of all castes, or because there were not enough Brahmins for all of them, or
Brahmins were unwilling to be associated with the untouchables. Another reason could be that the fourth and the fifth castes
rebelled and insisted on being given equal status. Nevertheless, all these organizations worked together towards improving
physical and mental wellbeing of the pubic. In the process, they had succeeded in making the untouchables and other tribal
people accept the Vaishnava tradition. From this, it is understandable that many people in those days worked hard to rebuild
the society. Saivites also seemed to have made similar effort. In recent times however most of these structures have
crumbled for want of royal patronage and made it impossible even to identify which structure was erected for what purpose.
Some of the Satanis and Maladaris were literate and continued to treat patients and oversee the religious rituals, indicating
that former practices were still in force. In some places, Jangamas ousted the Brahmins and occupied the chairs. Had these
colossal attempts continued as before, the caste distinctions prevalent today would have been eradicated long ago and the
society would not have been in the current powerless position.
Ramadasu’s ancestors had been Vaishnava preachers. They would still wear the niluvubottu. For three generations now they
had courted achala bodha and followed the jnana tradition. Thenceforth, the central qualities like religious equality,
independent thinking, devotion to serving the society, cleanliness, and seeking eternal truth had become common in his
family.
Ramadasu had received his initiation from a guru and had been working towards detachment. However, until recently he had
to continue his familial obligations since his sons were not old enough to undertake the responsibilities. About four years
back, his eldest son Venkatadasu started working on the farm and that provided a respite for Ramadasu. Out of habit
however, Ramadasu continued to step in occasionally. He had been spending most of his time in religious matters though.
It is not correct to say that Ramadasu’s ancestors had been wealthy but they had been able to manage with one plough and
four or five animals. There had never been an occasion for them to say they had not had enough food to eat.
Ramadasu had sold part of the land to a local landlord Nallamotu Chowdaramma and bought fertile land on the west side and
added a few other improvements as well. He had had the cowshed built in his own backyard but his second son Sangadasu
argued that it was unhygienic and had it moved to a place away from the house.
Ramadasu finished his work in the cowshed, locked the door and came into the house. Jyoti jubilantly announced to mother
that father came home. She ran to father, held his hand and told him that she had given half of the cucumbers from the farm
to mother to make chutney. Father said she was a good girl, and that made her happy. He sat down on the cot, and Jyoti
crept into his lap and continued her chatter, “I made balls of the raw rice kernels and ate them all up. I didn’t give even a bit
to anybody.”
Malakshmi came in a slow gait holding a high stool in one hand and a milk jug in the other. She came with a smile defying
the moonbeams on a full moon day on the eastern horizon and noticed that her husband was tired. She said to Jyoti, “Dear
child, let your father rest. You go, sit on the baby’s cot and watch so he may not smother under the sheet.” Jyoti went away
into the verandah on the south side. Malakshmi let the calf go to the cow, have milk, and then started milking.
The full moon was pale by comparison to Malakshmi’s face. Ramadasu gazed at the moon and slipped into a reverie.
The captivating sounds of the baby ‘umm’ in mother’s lap and the streams of milk from the cow’s udder together resonated
the daharakaasam and the mahadaakaasam producing a distinctive sound of OMKARA. He recalled the moment when he had
received the mantra from Peerayya yogi and had been submerged in the celestial bliss at the vision of the goddess Mukti
[Salvation]. In that moment he had attained the ecstasy unattainable even to the emperors sitting on the throne studded with
the nine precious stones and wearing the bejeweled crowns. …
Malakshmi finished milking, let the calf go to the cow, and went in with the milk pot. Then she returned to speak to her
husband; she was going to suggest to him to take a bath, it would be refreshing. But she stopped; she saw that he was in a
meditative state. Tears sprang to her eyes. She thought she was blessed to have been wedded to this punyapurusha [the
chaste/blessed man] and that she was blessed with this unique image of him in that state only because of her good deeds in
previous birth. She fanned his feet with her sari palloo and offered her obeisance to his feet without actually touching them
lest she should wake him . …
Jyoti came back from the kitchen, sat down with the remaining cucumbers after Malakshmi had taken some for chutney,
and started making little piles of cucumber pieces, one for each, ‘this is for anna, this is for ayya’ and so on.
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Resource list:
In English
Kesavakumar, P. Emergence of dalit novel. (posted on Internet)
http://untouchablespring.blogspot.com/2007/05/emergence-of-dalit-novel-changing.html
V.V.B. Rama Rao. Unnava Lakshmi Narayana. Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 2002.
In Telugu:
Bangore [psued.] Malapalli nishedhaalu. Vijayawada: Visalandhra, 1979.
Venkarasabbaiah, G.: Sangha samskarta Unnava. Hyderabad: Desi Book Distributors, 1977.
http://te.wikipedia.org. Unnava Lakshminarayana.