Book Review: A Teashop In Kamalapura & Other Classic Kannada Stories

Series Edited by Mini Krishnan

Translated by Susheela Punitha

Human values have evolved over time, and this change became so very evident when I read Harper Colins’s “A Teashop In Kamalapura & Other Classic Kannada Stories”, a compilation of short stories in Kannada written many decades ago, some over a century ago. The change in values is especially true with respect to how women were viewed and the social expectations placed on their shoulders. There are 18 stories in this collection and the oldest story in this collection was published in 1900. Most were published before India’s independence and the penultimate one, Shankar Mokashi Punekar’s ‘Bilas Khan’, though first published in 1985, is set during the reign of Emperor Akbar. From the brief bios of the authors of these stories provided at the end of this wonderful book, I gather that none of the authors are alive today.

The various nuances of the relationship between a husband and wife forms the core of many stories. Patriarchy, and the submissiveness of the wife, is not only taken for granted, but is also celebrated in many stories. When Srinivasa Kulkarni tells us in ‘A New Tongue’, which was written in 1933 that ‘most men are strict with their wives; fearing that they may lose their hold on them if they were indulged,’ it does not seem to be out of place in that era. Predictably, at the end of the story, the husband and wife resolve their differences, and the wife runs into her husband’s arms and declares that he is her God. I could sense the author (Srinivasa Kulkarni) looking on with approval as the wife did so. In Kadengodlu Shankarabhatta’s ‘My Alarm Clock’, the wife Venkamma has a sharp tongue, blindly believes in and rigidly follows rituals of purity and refuses to take any allopathic medicine. When the Venkamma falls ill, the husband makes a lame attempt to get her to take proper medication and fails. I could not make up my mind if the author also disapproved of the wife’s attitude or if he was just a fly on the wall, observing and reporting as the events unfolded. ‘My Alarm Clock’ was published in 1934.

‘Vani’s Confusion’ by Kodagina Gowrama has a mélange à trois, involving two women and a man. Indu is a single woman, who is good at housekeeping and domestic chores. Vani, married to Ratan, is not. The effect of Vani’s sloppiness on Ratan’s life, is devastating. When Ratan, a successful doctor, comes home for his lunch, his midday meal isn’t usually ready. Why don’t you hire a maid, I wanted to scream, but author Kodagina Gowrama is definitely not on Vani’s side. Indu gets close to Ratan, but she is a good woman and draws back a bit. Or does she? Please do read this very interesting story to find out how it ends and also to get an idea of how society viewed woman in 1939, the year this story was published.

Panje Mangesharaya’s ‘At a Teashop in Kamalapura’, the first story in the collection and one of the three best stories in this collection, reminded me of RK Narayan’s writing. Poornaswami Iyengar, aka Ponswami, is street smart and colourful character who is good at his business of running a teashop. Ponswami’s teashop in Kamalapura could be straight out of Malgudi, though Kamalapura is by the sea. Ponswami’s yarns make his customers spent more than they would have otherwise. Then one day, the genuineness of his stories is questioned and Ponswami has to find a solution, else his business will suffer, and so Ponswami brings in Gundacharya, leading to more trouble and fun. Please do read this story to find out for yourself how the story ends. ‘At a Teashop in Kamalapura’ was first published in 1900. 

Malleshi from Kerura Vasudevacharya’s ‘Malleshi’s Sweethearts’, first published in 1912, reminded me of the hero of at least three movies (Tamil and Hindi) I have seen in the late 80s and early 90s. Healthy, goodlooking, hardworking, innocent, guileless and loyal, women make fun of him, and Malleshi takes it good-naturedly. Finally, there is a happy ending, as befits a feel-good story of this sort, where everyone is good at heart and means well. S. G. Sastry’s ‘A Gift for the Festival’, first published in 1941, reminded me of movies from the 60s and 70s where good and evil are so clearly demarcated and some human being are the personification of purity and sacrifice.  

At least one story is so adorably simplistic, it reminded me of the parables and anecdotes that my primary school teachers used to educate us and make us better human beings. I am referring to ‘The Child, A Teacher’ by Nanajangudu Thirumalamba, first published in 1914/1915.

‘The Battered Heart’ by Saraswathibai Rajawade is actually a murder mystery, but at the end of the story, after all the dead bodies have been buried and created, after all the dead bodies have been buried and created, the author gives her readers a philosophical ending, which philosophical ending, which I found to be fascinating. ‘The Battered Heart’, first published in 1938, is one of the three best stories in this collection.

‘Who’s the Thief?’ by Mundkur Narasimha Kamath (M.N. Kamath) is a crime story and the detective is the district Collector who resolves the theft and punishes the guilty with ease. M.N. Kamath is full of praise for the Collector and the British system of justice, though the collector levies taxes on farmer. Till the end of the story, I wasn’t sure if the Collector was a Briton. On one hand, since this story was published before India’s independence (in 1941), I thought that the Collector was unlikely to be an Indian. On the other hand, the reader is told that the Collector was familiar with Tulu, Konkani and Kannada. M. N. Kamath doesn’t reveal the answer till the end. Do please read ‘Who’s the Thief?’ to find out more about the Collector and how he delivered justice.

'The Story of Jogi Anjappa’s Hen' also involves a crime, but Jogi Anjappa is such a colourful character that this story by Dr. Masti Venkatesha Iyengar has shades of Panje Mangesharaya’s ‘At a Teashop in Kamalapura’. Also, I ended up liking Jogi Anjappa much more than I liked Poornaswami Iyengar, especially on account of the injustice he is dished out and which he accepts with stoicism. There is also a twist at the end of this interesting story and so I would rate this too as one of the three best stories in this collection. 'The Story of Jogi Anjappa’s Hen' was first published between 1945-1955. 

A few of the short stories raise cudgels against injustices in society. For example, Ajampura Sitaram’s ‘The Girl I Killed’ revolves around Chennamma, a devadasi who has been dedicated to God. The reader cannot help but feel sorry for Chennamma and the tragic position she has been placed in. ‘The Girl I Killed’ was first published in 1931.

‘The Master’s Satyanarayana’ by Koradkal Srinivasarao is a heartbreakingly sad story of a daily-wage labourer’s children being cruelly deprived of tasty Rasabaale bananas from a banana tree that the entire family had lovingly tended for many months. Srinivasarao pretends to be a mere narrator, but the pain and anguish in his narration make it clear what his thoughts are when the Landlord demands that his labourer hand over all the bananas in lieu of an unpaid debt. On a different note, I clearly remember my mother narrating to me, over four decades ago, a story with a very similar plot, but one set in Kerala. I am not sure if Srinivasarao borrowed his plot from a tale common in South India or if Srinivasarao’s tale became popular in other South Indian states. ‘The Master’s Satyanarayana’ was first published in 1938.

The plot for Sara Aboobacker’s ‘Between Rules and Regulations’ revolve around the shariah rules for issuing talaq and later nullifying it. Caught in this web are divorcee Zohra, her hungry children and her widowed mother. One can’t help but feel sorry for Zohra and angry towards those who abide by such rules. In this story which is the last one in this collection, Aboobacker does an excellent job of showing the angst and pain of humans who are caught in the web of such rules, even as she shows that the victims are to some extent culpable since they play along. ‘Between Rules and Regulations’ was first published between 1985 - 1995. 

‘The Idol That Chennappa Destroyed’, first published in 1953, is the touching story of the conflict between a man’s compulsion to earn a livelihood and his faith and values. Author Yarmunja Ramachandra tries to stay neutral, but it is clear which side he is on. ‘The Idol That Chennappa Destroyed’’s style of narration is similar to that of ‘The Master’s Satyanarayana’, but the underlying belief systems are very different.

In many stories, the author does not form judgements, though it would have been easy to do so. In Shyamaladevi Belagaonkar’s “The Scion of a Family or a Secret Gift”, Keshava, the scion of a rich family is unable to procreate, but his mother Gangabai, the matriarch of the family, is desperate for an heir. The solution that is proposed and implemented, over the objections of the scion’s wife Ramabai, would not be palatable to anyone in this day and age, but is actually quite practical. Shyamaladevi Belagaonkar does not sit on a high horse and put out a moral commentary, but just gets on with this very interesting tale. “The Scion of a Family or a Secret Gift” was first  published in 1939.

Like other Indians, Kannadigas too migrate and work overseas. For some, the departure is permanent and the motherland becomes a distant dream. For many others, the life overseas is a short stint and this is the case with Maadhu, who is in England for ‘further training’. The story by H. V. Savithramma, which was first published in 1965, is aptly named ‘An Episode’ since it is only an episode in Maadhu and Grace’s life. Grace is a single woman and gracefully offers companionship to Maadhu during his stint in England, knowing that Maadhu has a wife in India who is waiting for his to return. When the time comes for Maadhu’s departure, she refuses to accompany him to Dover (not Heathrow, mind you) and returns to her single life with sadness and grace. Maadhu goes back to his unsuspecting wife, but with sadness in his heart, missing Grace a lot. Then at the end, there is a sudden twist in the tale, which takes away much of the sadness from poor Maadhu. This was the only story in this collection which I did not like, though it is well written and reflects the values of a different era.

In “Two Ways of Living”, Anusuya Shankar (who used the penname Triveni) narrates her tale through a horse that pulls a Tonga. The horse has feelings, including romantic feelings as well as a strong sense of justice and fairplay. ‘There is no creature as heartless as Man; everyone else has to grow weary satisfying his self-interests …’ the horse feels, even as its master Usman feeds it just enough dry hay to do the day’s work and whips it mercilessly to pull the Tonga at his behest. Amidst such continuing torture, the horse is still able to observe Usman’s customer rich man Chandu show extreme callousness in his dealings with his spouse. The horse metes out a suitable punishment for Chandu, but suffers much more in the process. Please read this fascinating book to find out what exactly forced the horse to take such an extreme step and its consequences for the horse. “Two Ways of Living” was first published between 1955 - 1965.

Shankar Mokashi Punekar’s ‘Bilas Khan’, is the penultimate story of this collection and also the longest one. It runs to around 30 pages and is set on a relatively grand scale during the reign of Emperor Akbar. At the beginning of the story, Tansen (one of Akbar’s navratnas) moves to Delhi, leaving behind his first wife and their son Bilas Khan. In Delhi, Tansen impresses the Emperor with his musical abilities and does well in general, acquiring more wives, children and wealth. Bilas Khan is almost forgotten by Tansen, but not vice versa. Let me not divulge more here, but leave it to you to read this story and find out what happens to Bilas Khan and his famous father.

Translator Susheela Punitha has done an amazing job in capturing the sounds, smells, ethos and values of the bygone eras in which these stories were written, as well the linguistic nuances of Kannada prose. I was not surprised to learn (from the About the Transaction section at the end of this wonderful book) that Susheela Punitha received the first Translation Award for English in 2015 for her translation of UR Ananthamurty’s Bharathipura.

Mini Krishnan, the Series Editor, has once again done an outstanding job with this collection. A few months ago, I had reviewed a similar Series on Classic Malayalam Short Stories, which was also edited by Mini Krishnan.

A Teashop In Kamalapura & Other Classic Kannada Stories is available on amazon.