Telugu
original1 by: Rajani Katragadda
Translated by: Atreya Sarma U
 commemorating Tripuraneni Gopichand |
 Maa Naanna Gaaru (My great father) |
More than enthusiasm it’s tenseness that
envelopes me if I have to write about my father since there are a number of
readers, friends, fans and publishers who feel much more possessive about him.
That’s why his memory continues to be cherished even now. The litterateurs and
their creative oeuvre of his generation were all-time greats.
However, I attempt a brief introduction of the life
and work of Gopichand. He was born on 08 September 1910 on the day of the
sacred Ganesh festival day. A law graduate, he was a great writer, narrator,
script writer for movies, and film director. His iconic novels like Asamarthuni
Jeeva Yatra (An Incompetent’s Life Journey), Cheekati Gadulu (Dark
Rooms), Pandita Paramesvara Sastry Veelunama (Pandit Parameshvara
Shastry’s Testament), and Merupulu Marakalu (Sparks and Stains) elevated
him as a beacon of light for the short story.
His work Tattvavettalu (Philosophers) beats the
reader’s brain out. Have a clean conscience and follow it, was his motto of
life and he lived it. His life and literature weren’t separate, they were
integral. What I like the most in him is his transparency rather than his
philosophy. In retrospect, I realise that he had lived a smooth and transparent
life even in the modern materialistic world, and it could be only due to those
fundamental values of life. Quoting sage Vemana’s poetic lines that only a
Bhogi can become a Yogi (that only a reveller can become an ascetic), a fan remarked
that Gopichand was also like a Bhogi turned into a Yogi. But Gopichand was a
Karma Yogi (one believing in relentless activity without an eye on the result).
The words and sentences he writes while in agony are very solacing. Dad’s life
was an open book for anyone to look into and learn a lot from. Whatever work he
was doing as a film director, writer, Director of Public relations in the
government of Andhra Pradesh, or as a producer of the rural programme in the
All India Radio, it was only his writing that was the undercurrent in the
running stream of all his multifaceted creativity.
Tripuraneni Ramaswamy (1887-1943), father of
Gopichand, was a scholar in Sanskrit and Telugu who also did the
Barrister-at-law course during those days in England. Never after money, the father-son duo were
short-lived, but their accomplishments were incredible. While Ramaswamy’s
writings were rationalistic, revolutionary and patriotic, Gopichand focused on the
psychoanalytical and progressive aspects of life. I knew grandfather only
through his writings, having never seen him physically for I was born a couple
of years after his demise. I was with
father for only sixteen years for he breathed his last as early as 1962. Never
have I seen a personage like him ever since. The society revolved around him,
and he lived like a lion. The house was like the abode of Sarasvati, the
goddess of learning visited by lots of eminent people from various fields
including profound Vedic savants, writers and artists. Among them was Mullapudi
Timmaraju who requested father to pen the history of the Kamma society. Another
frequent visitor was dear relation Nutakki Ramaseshaiah, Diwan of Jeypore in
Odisha and also a lawyer. During those days when I was very young, me and my
siblings weren’t aware of the greatness of such distinguished people.
Six decades have rolled by since father’s demise in
1962, yet till date he is being written about or referred to. His continued
popularity testifies to the unique power of his pen which stopped to move but
whose ink hasn’t dried a whit. Despite father being extremely preoccupied in
his hectic literary activity, he had throughout taken care of all of us his six
children, with minute concern for our studies and health. This salubrious
familial spirit has flowed into our genes and it’s no exaggeration to say that
all of us have similarly brought up our children.
When it comes to my mother, though there was
difference between her and father looks-wise, she was intellectually no less in
any way. Even during those days when women’s education was minimal, she was a
disciple of the legendary Unnava Lakshminarayana Pantulu (1877-1958). Though
well-versed in Hindi and Telugu, she was content being a housewife. Her self-confinement
to the home-front, though voluntary, was perhaps a cause of disappointment to
father, I guess. When we read his novel Yamapasam (The Noose of Death),
we get that feeling. But they were an ideal couple reminding us of the
primordial couple Lord Shiva and Parvati. It was an irrecoverable bolt from the
blue to her when father met with his sudden premature death.
I needn’t too much elaborate on the books by Gopichand
for they are well-known. Jnanpith recipient Viswanatha Satyanarayana who was
fatherly to him praised his works.
The portrayal of stepmom Damayanti in the novel Cheekati
Gadulu (Dark Rooms) is a befitting tribute to such characters. There are
other powerful characters with distinct personalities like – the British
principal of the college and his wife; Kalyana Kinkini; Susila; revolutionary
Siva Kumar; and Gandhi Damaiah. And the character Krishna Swamy represents
Ramaswamy, father of Gopichand; so, I needn’t interpret it further. In fact,
Gopichand had originally conceived a tetralogy of this novel, but he could
complete only the first part. Had it been completed, all these characters would
have stood out as full-fledged live individuals before us so that we could have
learnt from them. The wistfulness of missing it gnaws at our hearts.
Anyone who reads through the novel Asamarthuni
Jeeva Yatra (An Incompetent’s Life Journey) does feel that they are reading
about themselves. It’s a work created after deeply probing and analysing the
minds and hearts of the characters. And you find intense philosophical
reflections in the novels – Merupulu Marakalu (Sparks and Stains), and Pandita
Paramesvara Sastry Veelunama (Pandit Parameshvara Shastry’s Testament).
There is a stage transcending even spiritualism, and anyone who attains it will
segue into a universal human. Why should we be afraid of solitude? Those who
tap solitude with a pristine mental focus will imbibe the rhythm underlying the
universe, and experience an enduring ecstasy. This higher realm of thinking
harmonises the spiritualistic and the materialistic aspect of life,
enlightening that they are not mutually exclusive, and thereby brings about a
sweet and salubrious serenity of mind. These reflections not only help an
understanding of the feelings and viewpoints of Ramaswamy and Gopichand but
also make us benefit from them. Incessant and dispassionate quest for wisdom
makes us equanimous to any type of ups and down in the life.
When I was in my BA, at RBVRR Women’s College,
Hyderabad, father used to correct my essays on philosophical/spiritual topics.
By the time I joined MA (Sociology) he was no more around, for me to look up to
him. If me and my siblings have any spiritual and rationalist bent of mind,
skills in English language, and discipline, we owe it totally to our father.
It’s because of that inherited foundation only that all the six of us have been
able to stand strong in life. We still feel the presence of mom and dad around
us.
By the time father passed away, he was at the
intellectual peak. He used to write the three novels – Cheekati Gadulu
(Dark Rooms), Yamapasam (The Noose of Death), and Premopahatulu (The
Love-wrecked Ones) – simultaneously. He used to dictate them extempore to
Gopala Rao, a staffer from the Yuva monthly, who would write it down.
“Why don’t you write too something?” dad would ask me.
To slip out of that snare, I would say, “Dad, I don’t have the mood now.” He would
share this conversation with a chuckle with his friends. With a view to amusing
my younger brother Sai and younger sister Nalini, he would take them out,
having them on either side and holding their hands. He was a man of small
pleasures. He was a like a banyan tree, yet he let us grow up under his vast
canopy. He gave us full freedom. He built our home not with bricks but with
hearts. That’s why, our home ever brimmed with fun and frolic.
It was 02 November 1962. I took part in the students’
march in protest against the Chinese invasion of the Indian territory, and
returned home in the evening. Father had already contributed to the national
defence fund as a patriotic citizen. Seated in his bedroom, he was gently
stroking his chest. The previous night he said he would get to writing the
novel Bharya Vilapam (The Wife’s Grief). Apparently, he had a sense of
promotion like a Yogi. Why, he was a Karma Yogi himself, as I mentioned
earlier. A few minutes later walked in Dr Pinnamaneni Satyanarayana Rao, a
leading cardiologist to-be. He had father recline on the bed, and administered
an injection. Even as he was orally responding, dad’s head sank aside for ever.
Ramesh, my elder brother, who had just then stepped in with the medicines he
bought, froze with anguish. Even now I recall his agonized face vividly. A
little while thereafter, the entire state of Andhra Pradesh came to know of
father’s death through the regional news of the All India Radio. Death is a
leveller, it’s said. But we couldn’t digest its justification in the case of
father. The persona that shone in the new set of silk dhoti and lalchi that mom
bought him for every Ganesh festival, coinciding with his birthday, passed out
of sight. All the kith and kin who couldn’t believe this shocking news, hurtled
all the way from Angaluru, his native village in Krishna district, to
Hyderabad. There was none whose eyes and hearts didn’t overflow with tears.
Yet, I would like to conclude this writeup not on a
sad but a happy note. We can’t forget some of the light-hearted moments in our
lives.
One day dad walked over to the kitchen-sink and asked
me to fill the pen with ‘water.’
“What! Fill with water?” cheekily I retorted.
“That’s enough smartie! Fill it with ink.”
Daddy was seen many a time humming the tune ‘Urvasi
lalama eeme, adhika Lavanya seema’ (Urvasi the great she is, and a graceful
land it is), one of his favourites.
Filling the pens with ink, playfully hearing dad’s
words, I had finished reading the Telugu works of all the greats, by the time I
was hardly sixteen thanks to the interest sowed by father in me. He used to
reel out names of authors like Chekov, Gorky, Maupassant, Sommerset Maugham,
Pearl S Buck and Anne Frank; and it spurred me into reading works like Good
Earth and The Diary of a Young Girl at that time. The habit of
buying and reading books continues to be a source of joy even now. But let me
admit however that we – the grandchildren of Ramaswamy and children of
Gopichand – haven’t inherited their writing acumen. However, we sense the signs
of our next generation going to fill that vacuum.
And this is the humble homage to dad from us his six
children.
******
Rajani
Katragadda
Rajani Katragadda
Rajani
Katragadda nee Tripuraneni, MA (Sociology), is a well-known Telugu writer and
translator. Born of Sakuntala Devi and illustrious writer Tripuraneni Gopichand
– son of the legendary rationalist, poet & writer Tripuraneni Ramaswamy, Rajani
was brought up in Madras, Kurnool and Hyderabad the places where her father had
been working.
After
marrying defence scientist Subrahmanyam Katragadda, she moved over to Bengaluru
where she has since settled down. Their sons Dr Gopichand and twins Siddharth
& Shilpesh are software engineers, writers and artists.
A
voracious reader of fiction and lover of arts, Rajani has penned in Telugu – Asamarthurali
Antarangam [An incompetent woman’s inner mind] (JV Publications, Hyderabad,
2018) – a collection of short stories, articles and translations. She has
translated from English to Telugu for the Maa Bozell ad
company. She went into the business of Spartek Ceramics
company for five years.
Rajani
acted in three short films, and one of them ‘Varanasi’ (directed by her son Siddharth
Katragadda) won the best foreign film award at the Atlantic City CineFest, New
Jersey, 2013. She was the co-writer of dialogues for the Telugu movie ‘Tokachukka’
(2014) directed by her son Gopichand Katragadda.
Email:
katrajini@gmail.com
No comments :
Post a Comment
We welcome your comments related to the article and the topic being discussed. We expect the comments to be courteous, and respectful of the author and other commenters. Setu reserves the right to moderate, remove or reject comments that contain foul language, insult, hatred, personal information or indicate bad intention. The views expressed in comments reflect those of the commenter, not the official views of the Setu editorial board. рдк्рд░рдХाрд╢िрдд рд░рдЪрдиा рд╕े рд╕рдо्рдмंрдзिрдд рд╢ाрд▓ीрди рд╕рдо्рд╡ाрдж рдХा рд╕्рд╡ाрдЧрдд рд╣ै।