Dense narrative
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Through Interesting reads in Kannada
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Nishabudadedege by Ka. Ta. Chikkanna
Sumukha Prakashana, Rs.130
Writing about one’s own boyhood days is not new to Kannada literature. Kuvempu, Karantha, Goruru, and a host of others have gone on this nostalgia trip. But Ka. Ta. Chikkanna’s “Nishabudadedege” is distinct in more than one se
nse. It is not a “personal story” with a linear sequence; it is not bound by a particular time sequence; it is not a continuous record of events; it is not an organised unveiling of the village portraits; it is a collage, probably a detour that the adult Chikkanna takes the reader from J.C. Road to his village, Koppalu.
The dense narration with an eye for delicate details makes the book extraordinary. The rendering of unique village experiences is superb. The world of the boy Chikkanna is a world of relatives, siblings, parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, and friends who are all located in his picturesque village. There is always an air of celebration there. The cultural evenings with the readings of classics, bhajans, and enacting of plays; singing folk songs and lullabies, the adult politics; the distaste for formal education; conflicts, quarrels, love, hatred, innocence, adultery and the use of rough language. A sense of subtle humour looms large in the narration. By a combination of all these, the book offers an enjoyable reading. The title of the book is indeed comprehensive; it is to the pensive, introspective mood the author gets into as he recollects his past (looking at the fan in his Kannada Bhavana office). In the last chapter, he gets back from the past to the present, a polluted urbanised world. Thus the past is well connected with the present.
Unlike Krishna Alanahalli’s novel “Kaadu” where the boy (Kitti) comprehends the world around him in all his innocence, this book offers the narration of an adult educated male. The recollection is selective and not unidirectional. It goes on and on without any sense of time. Though one need not bother much about the form of the book, the lack of an established form poses a special problem to the reader. It is a challenge not only to the writer but also to his audience.
K. SUNDARA RAJ
Company Saval by Satish Kulakarni, Lohiya Prakashana, Rs. 50
The song “Kattutteva naavu…” is familiar to all those who have even a nodding acquaintance with any stream of political struggle. It is virtually the invocation song in all rallies, protests and functions organised by progressive gr
oups.
But not many know the man who penned it, Satish Kulakarni, whose poetry has always reflected the political climate of the time. While his first collection “Odalaala Kicchu” captured the repressive years of Emergency, the dominant theme of his fourth and latest work “Company Saval” is the impact of economic liberalisation on the lives of ordinary people.
The poems in “Company Saval” carry a sense of premonition, as though a quiet conspiracy is hatching somewhere beyond our field of vision. The first poem “Yaro Illi” opens with “No handcuffs, no prison bars./ Yet someone is arrested here.” It ends with a subtle comment on the globalised economy. “Buyers and sellers/ are huddled together here./ Someone is holding the remote,/ elsewhere.”
The title poem has the protagonist examining a new electronic clock, a metaphor for the new world order. He is fascinated by the slick new clock, which has replaced the old grandfather’s clock. But its complex mechanism leaves him completely puzzled. “Aa Nanna KEB” makes a comment on liberalisation and privatisation through an unusual metaphor – Karnataka Electricity Board. While these poems are at once subtle and sharp, a few others in the collection are too verbose. The collection has some beautifully crafted love poems as well. Tinged with a sense of melancholy, they portray love as an ideal one hankers afterIf love is a fleeting memory in “Ondu rathriya nenapina kathe”, it is the hope of stumbling upon something unexpected in “Naa horatiruve”. There are also some sensitive poems on mother like “Ulida nenapu” and “Belthanaka”. A couple of tributes to individuals, to Safdar Hashmi for example, are touching. One very striking feature of Kulakarni’s style is the effect he achieves by playing with the sound of words – the unique gift of a song writer. In the poem “Bete”, he calls a squirrel “Tulupuluganna maduvanagitti”. It is hard to think of a phrase more evocative to capture the restless, bright eyes of the endearing creature!
BAGESHREE S.
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