Kannada short story writer Vasudhendra in an essay Janapriyate Galisada Kathana Shaktiyannu Naanu Oppuvudilla recounts an incident. A senior writer who he met in a literary function told him: “When you write, imagine that your reader is a senior litterateur, your story will acquire strength.” Astounded by such a statement, he replied: “No, that’s not possible. When I write, my mind is full of my mother. What is it that she will understand, what is it that she won’t understand, will this evoke laughter in her, and will she be moved to tears by this episode… I keep thinking about her all through the writing process.” When Vasudhendra had this conversation his mother was no more. But, he told the writer, “there are a handful of senior writers, and people like my mother are in lakhs. I write in the hope that lakhs of people will read my story. In the bargain, if writers also read and appreciate, then I think that’s a bonus.”
Vasudhendra is certainly among the most honest voices in Kannada literature today. Mercurial and bubbling with dynamism, he runs his own publishing house Chanda and promotes only young Kannada writers; he gave up his high paying job as an engineer when he felt that “this was not the way to live”; he doesn’t want to be straight-jacketed into his image as a writer and in a world that thrives on publicity, he says “readers will surely read if my work is good. I don’t have to beat a drum”; goes on Himalayan treks not just for the love of nature but also to connect with people… these are just a few things about Vasudhendra. His recent collection of short stories, Mohanaswamy has created a stir in the Kannada literary world. While the writing community at large has been conspicuous with its silence, the readers have given him an overwhelming response. The collection has gone into its third edition. Vasudhendra’s Mohanaswamy… is the first collection of gay stories in Kannada and a section of readers are shocked not merely for its explicitness but the fact that Vasudhendra chose to bring it to the open.
E.M. Forster’s “Maurice” written in 1913-14, is a novel about same sex love. He kept the book under wraps and it was published only after his death. Forster felt unsure about the British society he lived in, with public and legal attitudes being hostile. He aspired for ‘preservation of a space, and an existence beyond scrutiny’. When it became too claustrophobic for Forster, he came away to India. Vasudhendra says it was no different for him. “Hiding one’s self for the fear of social ostracisation is not easy. I have struggled a lot…There was a period in my life that was horrible. I went into depression and was haunted by anxiety. All kinds of fears troubled me.” Many writers have made references to the existence of gay love, but as Vasudhendra puts it, they have hardly been empathetic or human. “They saw it as vile and degenerate. Mookajjiya Kanasugalu by Shivaram Karanth is one of my favourite novels, but I cannot excuse Karanth’s ending. He did not understand the complexities of this world. Masti, who we all think was conservative, had a more compassionate view. ‘I can understand’, he said speaking of the trauma of gay identities,” explains Vasudhendra. “For a good three years I couldn’t do anything. I slowly started mingling with the gay community and the solace and comfort it gave me was huge. At this point, I felt I should start writing about my experiences. My first gay story was published under a pseudo name, but I felt like a coward. Eventually I decided to publish the stories irrespective of what the outcome was going to be. For me, getting it out of me and living as myself in this society seemed more honourable than hiding in fear of what people may say.”
The literary merit of these stories did not matter to Vasudhendra. He has reached out to a large number of people, particularly the LGBT community in rural Karnataka. They started opening out to him, most of them told him that he had written ‘their story’, and asked for advice. “It is sheer horror. I had lived a far better life compared to many of them. Out of fear of being exposed many have even got married. Both the man and woman quietly suffer. Many of the wives have gone into depression…” You should have written it earlier, our lives would have been different, they told him. As he entered the ‘real space’ Vasudhendra felt there was a huge need for counselling as several doctors are themselves homophobic. He underwent a counselling course and these days he devotes a lot of time to counselling. “I wrote fiction, but I think non-fiction writing is important. If you walk into a book shop can you find one single book that a gay person can pick up and say this addresses his problems?” It is easier for LGBT’s living in cities. But those in villages have it really tough.
“I started writing when I was two years into my job. The corporate world was killing me, and I always wondered why I was in this race. It was big money, plenty of comfort, but that didn’t leave me happy. I always told myself that this is not the way to live…,” recalls Vasudhendra, who says he can survive on bare minimum -- a simple rice-rasam meal and travel by III class in trains. “I quit my job and decided to do writing and several other things that I always wanted to.” He was always a voracious reader and hence, writing didn’t seem too difficult. “I never got a Foreword or blurb written for any of my books. Let it go without any embellishments and people will decide if I am worthy enough to be read,” says this publisher of 56 books.
Writers of the past, Dinakar Desai, Shivaram Karanth, Panje Mangeshraya, Govinda Pai, Gourish Kaikini… all of them believed that they had obligations towards the society. They lived simple lives and made a difference to the world around them. What kind of a relationship do modern day writers perceive with the society they live in? “Literature is only a part of life. Life is more important. I write something and I live in a way that has no connection with my writing, that’s not possible for me… In many short story workshops I have told the participants that it is okay if they cannot write a good story, but the more important thing is to be good human beings. Art is one way of cleansing us, and it has to reflect in the life we lead.”
Writing is lonely and so is life, says Vasudhendra. As readers we may not always agree with him, but one has to concede that to live in the ‘real’ sense does take enormous courage. If one could use the term creative activism, then Vasudhendra is a creative activist.
