IN CONVERSATION
`Extraordinary' man
GOWRI RAMNARAYAN
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At 96, the Tamil writer Chitti's interest in books, writers and people is still undimmed.
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Chitti: Too lazy to be a novelist. Photo: S.R. Raghunathan
`I MUST be talking sense because people still come to see me,' he laughs. At 96, Tamil writer Chitti (P.G. Sundararajan) retains his memory, raconteuring skills, and an endearing humour. His interest in books, writers and people is undimmed. This significant contributor to contemporary Tamil literature is now engaged in discovering the wisdom of the ancients in science and philosophy. Critics point out that he can contradict himself. Waywardness? Or is it due to the context, and the refusal to stagnate?
The writer calls himself a sadharana manidan (ordinary man), the title of his biography by fellow writer Narasiah. The flaming comet on the cover and the name pun on the fact that Chitti's birth year is sadharana in the Hindu calendar (1910), when Haley's comet was sighted. Friends and critics believe that the man has not realised his full magnitude. If he had known he would live so long, would Chitti have been more serious, industrious? No, he had said earlier. But this time, he is ruminative, rueful, "I'd have tried to overcome my natural laziness, done more lasting work."
Empathy for womankind
This self-assessment is truer with regard to fiction, not so much non-fiction and literary criticism. "I never tried novel writing, I was too lazy to build characters, scenes, links," he chuckles. In the short story collections (Andi Mandarai, Tazhai Poothadu) some tales refuse to be dated. The varying style points to a process of evolution. The best of them deal with uneasy feelings lurking at the back of the mind. The author's empathy for womankind is obvious, he can catch women in vulnerable moments, often strong in helpless situations. Chitti shines as an essayist (Mannangatti, Sila Vishayangal). His humour is a spontaneous offshoot of his language, and outlook on life. You are not surprised that he hero-worshipped P.G.Wodehouse, whose postcard reply he still preserves. The writers parodied each other. Were such squabbles intrinsic to the Tamil literary world then as now? Chitti retorts, "In those days the attacks were over principles, never personal. The vehemence came from the greatness of the issues." "I won't deny that there was some envy also," he once said smilingly. But Kalki's Kalvanin Kadali has a place in Chitti's list of the 10 most important novels in modern Tamil.
A different side
The other side of Chitti is seen in his friendship with Upton Sinclair with whom he corresponded for years. He even adapted his Wet Parade to the Tamil milieu. Sinclair's commitment to socialist causes won Chitti's young heart, though he was to distinguish himself as the member of the Manikkodi group which believed in commitment to art rather than to causes. However, Chitti's own biographies were of men who had dedicated themselves to causes. Telugu-born Chitti began writing in English, inspired by old issues of Strand in a friend's house. His innate acumen identified the then little known Luigi Pirandello as a candidate for the Nobel Prize, which the Italian won, a month after Chitti's critique was published in The Sunday Chronicle. Enquiries about Chitti from Italy and Japan came to nothing, the man being, as usual, "too lazy to follow those leads". His stint in films included a soundly trounced screen story, and fostered bonds among a wholly new fraternity — from cult hero M.G. Ramachandran to the American Ellis R. Dungan who directed Tamil films. All grist to the writer's mill.
Many friends
The man throve on friendships. C.N. Annadurai was an inseparable pal of college days, cutting classes with him, to debate on opposing views on politics and literature. Another unlikely bond was with Carnatic musician Madurai Mani Iyer who had Chitti write — and even speak — his presidential addresses at sabhas!
Chitti's most significant contribution is as a literary historian of his time, on the evolution of the Tamil novel and short story. He is a walking encyclopaedia on the subject, accessible to any seeker. He does not spout dry information, but colours facts with his own thoughtful perspective. He talks of women among early novelists (Jayasilan: Meenakshisundarammal, Kadivalam: Gowri Ammal) who touched on subjects that were taboo. His male chauvinism had given way in his long-term correspondence with novelist "Krittika", which, if published, will become an invaluable source of both information and insight into writers and writings. More recently, he has been sharing his thoughts with Delhi-based writer Lakshmi Kannan. "Of late, I've stopped reading fiction," he admits. But he reels off names like Mohammad Meeran, Jayamohan or S. Ramakrishnan, recognising their fresh, new visions on coastal life, fundamental issues, or unconventional expression. "Society is always hidebound in one way or another. If you try to win acceptance, fulfil needs, you will get nowhere. A writer doesn't need an audience."
Writing and renaissance were part of the era when Chitti entered the field. Language was evolving in new, exciting ways. What does he think of the present day English-drowned Tamil? "This hybrid is good for communication, not for literary growth. But language, like everything else, undergoes change, cycles. Classicism gives way to Romanticism, followed by realism... The problem is that those who want the growth of Tamil bring in caste politics. This reduces the appeal. The 1930s and 40s were relatively free of such casteism."
Chitti recalls how he became a Tamil writer almost by accident, when his first tentative contribution was published in Manikkodi. Links with the literary phalanx (Va. Ra, Na Pichamurti, Ku.Pa.Ra, B.S. Ramiah, Pudumaipithan) rooted him in the field. Why do many of his books involve collaborators? "Writer friends like Sivapadasundaram and T. Janakiraman shaped my ramblings," he laughs and muses, "I'm really a chronicler, I love to restore old, forgotten texts, I don't have the dedication to be a writer."
Change and development
Chitti mentions Sangam literature. Why didn't contemporary Tamil develop from those native roots? Why does it seek foreign pastures for its forms, and styles? "It is a defect, certainly," says Chitti. "Foreign languages and their cultures invaded us. Going back to Sangam and Bhakti is difficult. Nor can that guarantee literary quality. So let's say change is always development." Chitti also believes that Tamil has good writers who borrow only the form from the West, not content. Subtlety has gone out f fashion. "Anyway, we can't pass judgement now, only time can."
"Now I want to ask you a question," Chitti smiles. And so, after the goodbyes, you go down the staircase, his words echoing in your mind, "Why do you write in English?"
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