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| Kum.Veerabhadrappa |
Murderers with their native
ammunition knock at your doors for refuge. Any peaceful activity devoid of
violence appears rather unnatural here. There is no wonder if comic
exaggeration is the chief tool of Kum.Vee.’s narratives. Kum.Vee.’s constant
experimentation with diction, syntax and narration is not an indulgent
aesthetic activity but a creative need to grapple with and to come to terms
with the histrionics of his characters and the unbelievable situations they are
placed in. He has also been exploring new narrative strategies to transform his
raw material, which is at once rich but explosive, into creative structures.
In Hemareddy Mallammana Katheyu Kum.Vee. has employed multiple
first-person narrators. The first narrator happens to be the friend of one
Tanikella Parthasarathi, a Telugu writer. One day he receives a telephone call
from Parthasarathi requesting him to meet him at Kurnool and browse through the
manuscript of his novel, which is yet to be completed. The narrator obliges.
Looking at the title, the narrator exclaims that it is a mythological novel.
But Parthasarathi smiles and clarifies that ‘it is not about that Shivasharane
Mallamma but the Dharmapatni of that Hemareddy’ and implores the narrator to
see for himself what it is about. The narrator starts reading Parthasarathi’s
novel, which is in first person. The narrator of Parthasarathi’s novel is a
primary school teacher in a remote village. This novel is a record of his
experiences, observations, interpretations and encounters with a very wide
range of personalities. In Parthasarathi’s novel this narrator is also a
fiction writer. He says that a story he started a week ago is slowly
transforming itself into a novel! This teacher-narrator--novelist is fascinated
by the fact that real life incidents and characters have begun to influence and
actually dictate his narrative.
This motif recurs in the
main narrative as well. Apart from uncovering the tapestry of the complex
fabric of feudalism, Kum.Vee.’s novel reflects on the intricate relationship
between fact and fiction. One turning point in the life of the villagers is the
arrival of a drama company. They put up a number of performances in the village
and ultimately venture to take up the legend of Hemareddy Mallamma. This
triggers a flurry of activities in which different faces of feudal culture show
up in all their hues. Even the novelist Parthasarathi finds it hard to complete
the last sentence of his manuscript. At this point Kum.Vee.’s novel gets back
to the first narrator. A small discussion takes place between Parthasarathi and
the first narrator regarding alternative possibilities of plot and
characterisation and now it is left to the first narrator to rewrite and
complete the manuscript. Hemareddy
Mallammana Katheyu is a
continuation of Kum.Vee.’s relentless effort to make sense of the complexities
of the feudal system. However what makes this narrative slightly different from
the other works of Kum.Vee is the interplay between fact and fiction on the one
hand and fiction and meta-fiction on the other.
Naanu,
Bhargavi
Bhargavi
Narayan’s autobiography, Ankita
Pustaka, 2012 pp. 415, Rs. 250
What is it that drives one
to the stage and don the role of some one else for a brief period, against all
odds? Money? There isn’t any in the Kannada theatre; fame? very short-lived;
inner urge to be somebody else? Such questions haunt one while going through
the autobiographies of theatre-persons like CGK, BVK, Prema Karanth, and
others. The most recent one in this illustrious group is the autobiography of
Bhargavi Narayan — the famous stage-film-TV artist. Bhargavi, who has been
associated with the stage for the last six decades, narrates the poignant tale
of her life, in a simple and straight manner: an unwanted child, she lost her
father when she was seven. She led a hand-to-mouth existence with her mother
and brother and hung on to a low-paying clerical job until she opted for VRS.
She entered the stage during high-school and continued to act for six decades.
She entered films and much later the small screen. She was bamboozled into
marrying B.S. Narayanarao alias ‘make-up Nani,’ another illustrious
theatre-person, who was the first Kannada theatre-person to get a British
Council scholarship, and who had the privilege of doing make-up for Rajinikant
and Girish Karnad (in King
Oedipus).
This long story of
suffering and accidents, difficult births and sad deaths could easily have
become a sob story, making heavy demands on the readers’ patience but for two
saving qualities: Bhargavi’s sense of humour, and her stoic temperament. She
narrates her story as objectively as possible, free from self-pity and
cynicism. She freely describes her own whimsicalities (like going to Mysore
without telling anybody at home just to tick off her husband) as well as her
husband’s quirks. She has the awareness that many others in this world could be
in a worse situation. It is this awareness that enables her to give moving
pen-portraits of unfortunate women around her – her mother, hated by her mother
and widowed at an early age; her aunt Bhagirathi and Sheshamma (distant
relatives) who were widowed just three years after marriage and spent the rest
of their life serving others. More importantly, she believes that there is some
unknown power which has come to her aid in critical situations. Hence, the
repetitive motif of her life-story — daivam maanusha rupena — God helps in the
form of human beings. There are ample instances of such ‘divine interventions’
in her story: unexpected help from one V.S. Sastry (unrelated to them) when
Bhargavi’s aunt, Suguna’s marriage was about to be a non-event; when Bhargavi
wishes to revoke her application for VRS, the famous playwright Parvatavani
happens to meet her and carries her letter to Delhi on the last day. Hence,
Bhargavi, despite her poverty and hardships, can boldly say: “I have nothing to
crib about.” Again, as Ananthnag points out rightly in his foreword, this
autobiography is also a history — a history of Kannada theatre and amateur
theatrical groups. We come to know of Prabhat Kalavidaru, Ravi Kalavidaru,
Histrionic Club of National College, Bangalore Little Theatre, which rendered
selfless yeoman service to Kannada theatre in the early days.
We see Kannada theatre
slowly moving away from the realistic plays of Kailasam (Bhargavi’s pet play
being Taali Kattok Kuline)
and Sriranga through those of Parvatavani (Bahaddur Ganda being Bhargavi’s favourite) and
Kshirasagara to those of Lankesh and Karnad. Bhargavi lists not only scores of
plays (and films) in which she acted but also the entire cast, which serves as
a valuable reference work for theatre-scholars. On one occasion, Bhargavi
admits that passion for the stage is an “incurable madness”; immediately, she
adds: “but no regrets”. I am sure many others like CGK, BV K, C.R. Simha, and
Prema Karanth would agree with her. Kannada theatre is rich today only because
of committed artists like them
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