LITERARY RAPPORT:

DR. VISWANATHA SATYANARAYANA

 

A. S. RAMAN

Formerly Editor, “Illustrated Weekly of India

 

Whenever I think of the deepening crisis, where aesthetic values are concerned, I’m reminded of Dr. Ananda Coomaraswamy’s advice to the traditionalist which cannot be bettered. He says: “Each race contributes something essential to the world’s civilisation in the course of its own self-realization. The character built up in solving its own problems, in the experience of its own misfortunes, is itself a gift which each offers to the world. The essential contribution of India, then, is simply her Indianness; her great humiliation would be to substitute or to have substituted for this character (svabhava) a cosmopolitan veneer, for then indeed she must come before the world empty-handed.”

 

Few writers in Andhra Pradesh have greater authority to demonstrate through their own writings the compulsive relevance Dr. Coomaraswamy’s argument than Viswanatha Satyanarayana, the latest Jnanpith-Award winner. His appeal is wholly through his writings which are as acceptable to modern sensibility as they are to traditional scholarship. By temperament and by orientation, as a person, he is reputed to be very rigid, reticent and rough-hewn, and naturally, does not care to cultivate people at the cost of his convictons. But his works are universally lovable because of their range, depth and brilliance.

 

I have been Viswanatha’s admirer since the 30s and during my long distance “affair” with him all these years I have had many doubts, fears and misconceptions about his literary ideals, methods and attitudes for want of first-hand information about him. It is therefore with pride that I offer his views below on literary matters expressed in reply to the specific questions asked by me.

 

Question: May I, Sir, request you to give me a brief resume of your life with the emphasis on literary influences, crises, challenges, etc., with a direct bearing on the evolution of your vision and technique? I mean the influences, such as your own forbears (parents, grandparents and other ancestors), gurus, the impact of literary classics on your young, impressional mind, pulls and pressures from economic, environmental, ideological and other factors.

 

Since the early life of Viswanatha must be I am sure by now familiar to every reader of Triveni, there is no point in my reproducing his elaborate answer in detail. I wish to, therefore, if I may, stress only a few little known aspects. Here are the excerpts:

 

“My early literary be considered in three phases: (1) Up to 1917 (I was born in 1895) (2) From 1922 to 1927 and (3) From 1927 to 1933. The first was a period of boyhood, of study and discipline, of failures and frustrations. The second period was more productive. I came into close contact with literary virtuosos with a mastery over techniques perfected by Sanskrit and English classicists. The foundations of my own literary idiom became firmer and more meaningful. The third period saw the culmination of my dedicated study of English and Sanskrit literary traditions and techniques. At the same time, for a living, I found myself teaching Telugu at two colleges: Hindu College, Masulipatam and A. C. College, Guntur. My literary activity also continued simultaneously. My final and most challenging literary “innings” began in 1938 when I became a lecturer at S. R. R. College, Bezwada. The writing of my magnum opus, the Raamaayana Kalpavrikshamu, began in 1934. I did not know how to print it, when it was completed. So the pace of my writing was somewhat uncertain but the quality was not uneven. I was always in need of money. Whenever someone offered to pay for a book to be written by me, I produced one. My enemies, who have been numerous, began to discuss me as a mere hack. But none of them had the guts to reject the quality of my writing which evoked the admiration of readers representing varying degrees of receptivity...My critics didn’t like my professional approach to writing, which to their discomfiture I found it easy to reconcile to my own sense of commitment and spirit of dedication. My pursuit of excellence and my fierce rectitude and sense of responsibility used to unnerve my critics and detractors. I was an overbearing highbrow and beyond the limited intelligence of my enemies. Naturally, they delighted in attributing to me words, thoughts and sentiments of which I was incapable.”

 

Question: What are the various innovations you have tried during your long and distinguished literary career and with what results, Sir? What was the motivation behind these, was it technical, or intellectual or emotional? Or, Sir, did you just want to pursue novelty for its own sake? Is it possible for one to be modernistic and traditional at the same time? What precisely is the scope for experimentation within the framework of tradition?

 

Answer: Almost all the books which appear to be in orthodox traditional style reveal innovations at every turn of the phrase, provided the reader is alive to the cadences of the language employed. In my opinion, an author can be modernistic and traditional. Creativity and conformity I feel are not things divorced from each other. Life is a perennial stream and it goes on renewing itself on the strength of its own secret, invisible reserves. An author who addresses himself to his contemporaries is bound to speak in clear, firm accents which are not only intelligible but acceptable to them.

 

Question: Sir, what is your conception of an individualist, committed to a social purpose? Is it possible? Is it desirable at all? For a creative writer to be involved in extra-literary problems on which depends the very future of the community to which he belongs? For example, Sir, are you aware of the criticism that your novels such as Veyipadagalu and Cheliyalikatta are full of extra-literary irrelevances resulting in clumsy formlessness? This is what your critics say. What is your reply to them? Which of your novels would you regard as artistically impeccable and socially significant? What was the main inspiration behind this particular work?

 

Answer: An author who assimilates the temper of the age he lives in without uprooting himself from the values and ideals he has inherited from the masters of the past, is a true individualist. My Veyipadagalu and Cheliyalikatta have the tone and texture of life itself. Would you say that the works of Dumas, Hugo, Balzac and Tolstoy are full of extra-literary irrelevances? When diversity is accompanied by depth and when it constitutes the very core of a master-design, the result is a literary tour de force. I think my Ekavera and Veyipadagalu are artistically complete. In the Veyipadagalu I have projected the evocative image of a society that is today on the verge of extinction in an age dominated by values that have only a passing relevance. As for my Ekaveera, I have tried to depict in vivid detail the war that goes on all the time inside the human heart under the stress of circumstances beyond control. This I consider my artistically perfect novel.

 

Question: Another criticism against you, Sir, is that you are an obscurantist without any sympathy for or understanding of anything that is modern. In other words, you are the champion of lost causes, the upholder of values that are no longer valid today. What is your defence? Is it not futile to resist what is inevitable, irrepressible and irreversible? I mean the avant garde trend. Have you read any modern European or American authors? Who are your favourites among them? Have you read any modern Indian writers? Perhaps in passing you will care to say a few words about the quality of modern Telugu writing, particularly where poetry and fiction are concerned.

 

Answer: If people say that I have no sympathy for modernism I can only pity them. I am not an enemy of science and technology: the train, the phone, the plane, the TV, the spacecraft, these are all irreplaceable. If you go through my writings carefully and dispassionately, you are sure to attribute to me unqualified admiration for the sort of government that the Russians have in their country. My ideal briefly stated is socialism plus God plus religion. I may be a defender of lost causes. But I think it is better to cling firmly to something that is within our reach than chase desperately something that shall never be ours. I have read hundreds of books by the English and American authors. I’m interested in any type of good writing, popular or classical. James Bond, Perry Mason, Sherlock Holmes: I get on very well with these “super-men”. I’m also interested in science and science fiction. Philosophy, history, classical art–everything good you can think of. I’m particularly fond of our own ancient classics: the puranas, the Itihasas, the Brahmanas, the Upanishads, the Bhashyas, and so on. But what does all this study prove? I don’t know what you expect me to say. I believe that scholarship is an excellent aid to creativity. Without the support of the depth and range of one’s own reading, one soon exhausts oneself if one begins to write seriously. I don’t want to say anything about my own contemporaries.

 

Question: What is your position vis-a-vis the controversy re: vyaavahaarika bhaasha vs. graandhika bhaasha? Don’t you think that the spoken word has serious limitations, where its adaptability to the finer literary nuances is concerned? In my view, which is of course contestable, the spoken word is best spoken and the written word, best written.

 

Answer: About graandhika and vyaavahaarika bhaashaas you hold a view identical to mine. I can write a book elucidating my ideas on the subject, but I had better not, lest I expend my knowledge on a fruitless controversy.

 

Question: Coming to your Raamaayana Kalpavrikshamu: How is it different from other versions of the Ramayana? Kamban, Tulsidas, Valmiki and many others have written the Ramayana. How do you claim special literary merit for your own version?

 

            Answer: My Ramayana is my own. It is totally different from the other versions. What does Molla know about Ramakatha? Hers is a small book in Prabandha style with the theme of Rama sketchily etched. She is just a child: she does not understand the scale and significance of the literary feat she has failed to perform. Bhaaskara Raamaayana has no unity or consistency being the work of about half a dozen writers. I have read Tulsidas’s version. I cannot claim to be familiar with Kamban's Ramayana. In all humility I submit that my own version seeks to re-establish advaita mata and to disprove that Valmiki’s Ramayana defends visishia advaita. The darshana existing at the time of Ramakatha was Saamkhya. In addition to my advaita bias, I have given full-blooded expression to the importance of Sita. The Ramayana is primarily the story of Sita. Valmiki himself stresses this significant fact lost sight of by lesser poets. I have written Ramayana with a view to emphasising the rasa content inherent in the theme. I have also tried to portray the life of the Andhras in all its richness. I have ­created Rakshasas who are ‘gentlemen’. I have introduced some new metres in a manner consistent with the mood to be evoked. My Ravana is not a conventional type. He is a great devotee of Durga. He is a mantraadhidevata, because there is a mantra called Khadga Raavana Mantra. It is a secret known to very few people: it remains hidden in the exacting Srividya. One must thoroughly assimilate Kama Kala Vilasa, the Bible of the Srividya, in order to understand this.

 

            Question: What are your views on the principles that best govern the conferment of literary awards? What are the guidelines you wish to lay down for the future trusts and foundations? What is your assessment of the principles and procedures on which the Noble Awards are based? Do you think there is any Indian writer to whom the Nobel Award is long overdue?

           

            Answer: Modern literary standards have deteriorated. Old values are thrown to the winds. So how can we expect good writing to emerge? And when it does, who is there to assess its quality? Politicians and millionaires are the literary arbiters in our country. I don’t know anything about the Nobel Awards.

 

            Question: Do you have serious interest in the arts? I mean, any creative hobbies?         

            ­

            Answer: Did I not tell you that I was once trained to be a painter in the best traditions of the now moribund Bengal School? I know stagecraft and Karnatak music. As for dancing, over 40 years ago I gave a clear and authoritative exposition of the Kuchipudi style of dancing in my popular novel Ekaveera. Once I was fond of the cinema. But because of the cataract I don’t see movies these days.

 

Question: What are your writing schedules and methods? Of course, I don’t expect you to disclose your trade secrets. But do you dictate or write in long-hand? How many words per day? Do you have to revise your drafts drastically? What type of readership do you have in mind when you begin to write? Highbrow, middlebrow or lowbrow? Do you enjoy writing commissioned poetry or fiction? Do you consider it creative enough to write for the radio or the cinema?

 

Answer: I have no writing schedules or methods. I am by nature a lazy man. Left to myself, I would rather go to a movie or participate in a game of cards without stakes. But who will fight my battles? When I write, I never have a reader in mind and I write furiously. Rather dictate furiously. I do write commissioned poetry and fiction. What is wrong with that? I never sacrifice quality. You may say my commissioned work also is my committed work. To me writing is a very serious and responsible occupation.

 

Question: There used to be a modern movement in Telugu poetry in the 20s and 30s under the impact of Tagore, called: Bhaavakavitvam. Did you participate in it with a sense of involvement Is it still a live force? Or has it exhausted itself? In retrospect, what is your assessment of its literary significance? I mean, in the context of the rich classical heritage of Telugu literature?

 

Answer: This question is a little bit difficult to answer. I was for a little while under the influence of Tagore. His influence did me no good. In my opinion, whatever Telugu literature has its root in the ancient classical traditions and indestructible values is bound to acquire an enduring quality, whatever forms it may assume. It cannot be surpassed by any literary activity, however intense or sophisticated based merely on trends and techniques.

 

Question: What is your message to the younger generation of writers? What sort of discipline do you recommend to them?

 

Answer: Don’t you think the younger generation needs no advice? What discipline is possible in a mad world where chaos reigns supreme? I can say nothing to a generation that has neither a past nor a future.

 

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