In the introduction to a book of interviews with noted Kannada writer U.R. Ananthamurthy, the interviewer, Chandan Gowda, calls him a ‘public intellectual’. If this means a person constantly engaging with the problems of her/ his society, Ananthamurthy was indeed a public intellectual. He was also one of the few Indian writers who vaulted over the barriers of his language and was known throughout India. A Life in the World is an ambitious attempt to record the ideas of a major writer of our times for posterity. These interviews were done between 2012 and 2013, when Ananthamurthy was undergoing dialysis. But nowhere does one get any hint of a flagging spirit. In fact the interviewer is almost invisible throughout, leaving the stage entirely to the writer, who is, as always, fluent and easy with words.
Break with orthodoxy
This slim book covers an astonishing number of subjects — politics, religion, caste, tradition, globalisation, the environment, farmers and Dalit movements and so on. And, of course, language and literature, which obviously take up more space than all other subjects. His early years show the conflict which was the making of Ananthamurthy as a writer. Born in a very orthodox Brahmin family in a village, Ananthamurthy, an intelligent boy, was exposed to new influences when he went to college in Mysore where he discovered a new world. Gopal Gowda, a Lohia-socialist, inducted him into socialism; a classmate, K.V. Subbanna, (later a Magsaysay award winner) introduced him to the riches of classical Kannada literature. He made a sharp break with orthodox Brahminism by marrying a Christian girl.
It was when he was in England doing his doctorate, preparing to earn a living by teaching English, that, ironically, he decided to write in Kannada; he calls it a ‘political and a cultural choice’. Samskara , the novel which brought him fame, was written in England. His love for Kannada made his much-admired teacher, Prof. C.D. Narasimhaiah, reluctant to let him into the university post-graduate English department, when Ananthamurthy returned to Mysore. The professor was afraid he would become ‘a language chauvinist’.
Passion for Kannada
Ananthamurthy’s passion for the Kannada language and literature is at the heart of this book. He often speaks of being ‘proud’ of the language and literature; to him, Kannada is a civilised language with a continuous literary tradition.
When Ananthamurthy speaks of Kannada writers and trends in literature, he is sure-footed, knowing the terrain well. Unfortunately, the other face of this passion is his hostility towards Indians writing in English. His opinion that these writers are cut off from their own childhood, their own relations, is hard to understand. He admired British English writers and makes interesting connections between them and Kannada literature. “If I had not read Kuvempu’s novels, I would not have understood the meaning of quotidian life in Joyce’s Ulysses ,” he says. His ire was reserved for Indians writing in English. It drives him into making statements like “writers must write in Kannada and readers should accept them.”
Surely a writer knows that there can be no ‘musts’ and ‘shoulds’ in any art! One wishes Chandan Gowda had probed a little more into these views. Perhaps he did not raise any contentious issues because of Ananthamurthy’s fragile health, or because of his reverence for the man.
Haunting the backyard
One very interesting comment Ananthamurthy makes is that he became a novelist because he haunted the backyard. The backyard, according to him, was the place where women met and gossiped, the front yard being a male domain. Surprising, then, that women’s issues have been completely bypassed. Without understanding the position of women, how does one understand the world we live in? The Hindutva movement being dismissed with a “it will be forgotten” is equally unexpected. More so, because Ananthamurthy had been badly trolled for his remarks against the extreme right.
Whatever the shortcomings, this is an important book. The writer’s voice is scarcely heard in India today, drowned as it is by voices of celebrities, politicians, etc. In this book we hear the concerns and opinions of a major writer of our times. Ananthamurthy was fortunate in getting fame and acclaim in his lifetime. Fortunate, too, in having a remarkable circle of friends, which enabled him to live a rich intellectual life. In the end, however, everything falls away and he says a simple and poignant remark that he would like to be remembered as a teacher and a writer who made a contribution to Kannada. There can be no better epitaph for a writer.
A Life in the World: U.R. Ananthamurthy in conversation with Chandan Gowda; HarperCollins India, ₹399.
The author of Listen to Me is a novelist and short story writer.
