Some Women-Poets of Ancient Andhra

By V. N. BHUSHAN F.P.S. (Lond.)

Though women-singers in all climes have been few and far between, their voices have the supreme value of beauty and power. In India especially, it seems as though by some transcendent miracle of divine ordination, the banner of song has been handed down through the long centuries, beginning with the noble dames of the Vedic era, then the silent sisters of the Buddhistic age, then the ardent votaries of the Bhakti school, then again the Muslim and Mughal Begums, and finally the women of our own times. Poems by Indian Women in the Heritage of India Series is, I think, the only one of its kind where we have in a collected form beautiful selections from the utterances of our women-poets. The volume, praiseworthy as it is, has certain serious draws, one of them being the complete omission of Telugu. Could it have been that ‘the Italian of the East’ the language spoken by twenty-four million persons over an area of 2,00,000 miles escaped the attention of the Editors? Or was it that they could find nothing in Telugu Literature worthy of representation in an anthology like theirs? Anyway, Andbra-Desa has had its women-singers who have bridled the pegasus to the envy and applause of their contemporary litterateurs. Of such women who, shunning the limelight, proved to be perennial sources of poetic ecstasy to their lovers or their lords, instances are numerous in Telugu Literature, for, women inevitably were, and still are, the inspirers of the thoughts of men. But, apart from such subdued sources, there were poetesses in ancient Andhra, worthy of our esteem and commendation.

Kuppamamba of the thirteenth century was an unfortunate young girl-widow who sang sweetly of her saddest thought; and these poetic wailings are suspected to have been made use of by Ayyalaraju Ramabhadra Kavi–one of the Ashtadiggajas of the Court of Krishnadevaraya–in his famous work, Sakala Katha Sara Sangraha. Next, Kumari Molla of the sixteenth century has, by her single work of translation,-Ramayana, which even today is extremely popular, taken an abiding place in the galaxy of our literary stalwarts. To the same century belongs Mohanangi, daughter of the great royal poet and patron of letters, Krishnadevaraya. Born of a highly cultured father she inherited all his literary talents and was a centre of attraction in the learned assemblies of her father's Court. She encouraged in all ways those that thronged around her, and on one occasion bought for a fancy price the poems of a certain poet that hawked them along the city streets for the sake of bread. She was also the author of the no-longer-extant Marichi Parinaya–a kavya of great charm and invaluable merit that won the appreciation of the Court-poets of the time.

Next, we have Muddu Palani of the eighteenth century–a courtesan attached to the harem of Pratapasimha of Tanjore, whose work Radhika Swantvanam is still read for its splendid descriptions, situations and delineations of character. Muddupalani is also the translator of the famous Saptapadi songs of the celebrated Dravida poetess Andal collected under the caption: Tiruppavai. This work which is regarded as a monumental one in that language is still the ‘song clestial’ of the devotees of the Vaishnava cult. Belonging to that band of seekers of refuge in God through love, Andal treats of the loves and longings of the milkmaids of Brindaban for Krishna–their hope and consummation. This, Muddupalani translated with felicity and fidelity, but only the first ten out of a set of thirty songs are extant.

In the nineteenth century we come across Tarigonda Venkamamba, a widow ere she enjoyed connubial life, who, by the strength of her radiant spirit and song most miraculously turned her tears of sorrow into flowers of worship to the Almighty Giver of all good gifts. With a sincerity and simplicity all her own, she lived for a time within the holy shadows of her village temple, and spent the remainder of her existence on the serene heights of a sacred mount. Three of her important works–Venkatachela Mahatya, Muktikanta Vilasam and Bhagavata–are most enthusiastically read for their spiritual tone and ethical outlook. To this same period belong two others–Bapamma, with her Minakshi Sataka and Ratnamamba with her Venkataramana Sataka. These two works, though small in compass, form a distinct contribution to the brilliant Sataka chapter in Telugu Literature.

But, of all these women, the names of only three gifted writers,–Molla, Muddu Palani and Venkamamba,–stand out conspicuous, as having contributed something substantial to Telugu Literature and enriched it.

MOLLA

‘Kummari’ Moll a or ‘Molla of the potter’s caste’ was born of poor and humble parents in the village of Gopavaram in the Nellore District. What fairy star was dancing in the heavens at the time of her birth we know not, but Molla deliberately refused to be attracted to the industry and business of her caste and from her youth up, spent her time in moral discussions and literary pursuits. The heroes and heroines of her playfield were gods and goddesses, and the immortal epic-theme of the Ramayana was very often enacted by her and her playmates with a delight that knew no bounds. To a puissant inborn literary urge, Molla added an inquisitive ardour and incessant industry, and very soon conned most of the existing moral and spiritual texts, particularly in Sanskrit. The foremost work in that language that attracted her attention was the Ramayana of Valmiki; and very soon, the idea of translating that work into Telugu, that it might inspire and influence the lives of many, possessed her so thoroughly, that she could not remain at peace till it took tangible shape. She prayed ardently for divine help and guidance in her arduous task, and, faithful devotee that she was, soon found her prayers granted; for, hitherto unknown to the art of expression, she felt strangely enough endowed with the divine faculty of song. It was surely a gift divine for how else could she translate a whole canto of Ramayana, impromptu, during the brief time that it took her wet tresses to dry up after bath. Thus by a gift given her, she soon rendered the Valmiki Ramayana into Telugu–a literary feat of no mean order. Good translations are as valuable as their original, for, they certainly demand of the translator talents and capacities of a high order. These, Molla had in abundance, and more than successfully fulfilled her self-imposed task. For easy flow of style, pithy expression, simple and figurative phraseology, and naive power of narration, Molla has few equals and no superiors in the circle of women-poets. That is what account for the wide popularity of her work even at the present day, and that is again what keeps her memory bright in the annals of Telugu Literature. With her literary reputation based on a single work of translation, Molla reminds us of Edward Fitzgerald–who, in spite of his other works, lives in English Literature mainly through his unique translation of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam which, as Dr. Cousins remarked, "has become one of the inescapable things in literary culture."

MUDDU PALANI

Possessing literary merit, far above the average, Muddu Palani has come to occupy an abiding place in the poetic pantheon of Telugu Literature. She flourished as a favourite courtesan of the king Pratapasimha of Tanjore, who was an enlightened patron of letters in the eighteenth century. Nothing in detail is known about her parents and their past, except that they too were members of the Court in their time. Tanjore was a place of cultural importance in those days–a centre of ‘The Southern School’–whose contribution to our literature is unique; and it should be no matter for surprise that Muddu Palani, living as she did in such an environment, could swing to us from the firmament of her poetic fancy a gift of worth and value.

‘Muddu’ is a pet name, and ‘Palani’ connotes a place of pilgrimage in South India, and Muddu Palani, in accordance with the custom and convention of her caste, was a dancing-girl in Pratapasimha's Court, basking in the sunshine of his favour. Placed in such a congenial environment, she produced her magnum opus-Radhika-Santvanam (Heart of Radhika)–also known as Eladeviya–dealing with the loves and longings of Radha and Krishna, the Eternal Lover and the Eternal Beloved of every Hindu heart. Neither richness of story nor richness of poetry are to be found in the work, but Muddu Palani, being a profound scholar in Sanskrit and Telugu, could give us out of the abundance of her learning, a Kavya singled out for its beauty of thought, word and form, its loveliness of figure and metaphor, and its gushing flow-which make the discerning reader dance on waves of joy.

To some critics this Radhika Swantvanam is an immoral work, to be despised and abandoned, on account of some of the descriptions here and there, of form and character. Such canons of criticism are not only foolish, but positively harmful. Morality and immorality which essentially belong to the terrestrial plane, have no place whatsoever in the world of Bhava and Rasa. Literature and Art, which certainly transcend the limitations of Time, Space and Causality, cannot adjust themselves to the procrustean codes of our ethics and morals. We should not confuse moral and artistic judgements. "I deny," wrote Arthur Symons, "that morals have any right of jurisdiction over the liberty of art. Art may be served by morality. It can never be its servant. For the principles of art are eternal, while the principles of morality fluctuate with the spiritual ebb and flow of the ages." Only the enjoyment of Rasa is our concern in works of art, not hypercritical vivisection which is but an index of undeveloped minds.

Limitations of time and space forbid an examination of the details of the Kavya, but there is no denying the fact that it is a work of rare merit and singular charm. No wonder then, that Muddu Palani lives like a rose in our Literature, with an ever-growing fragrance.

VENKAMAMBA

Venkamamba of the nineteenth century was born of good and god-fearing parents in the village of Tarigonda in the Cuddapah District, a place hallowed by the mythic memories of the Avatar of Narasimha that once descended there to save the people from the clutches of a devastating famine. As the only child of her parents, born after a period of dull delaying, all their care and anxiety, no less than their love and affection, were bestowed upon young Venkamamba. The aged parents did all they could to put their daughter on the path of perfection and fondly yearned for the time when they would be privileged to rock their grandchildren to sleep on their aged knees; but, as the hardest ill-luck would have it, Venkamamba lost her husband while yet a girl. Thus did the most relentless hand of Fate ring down the curtain on her blossoming life. But, acquainted as she was with the immortal spiritual heritage of her country, she could cultivate a temper of mind that made her unmindful of the gains or the losses of the world. She did not, like Kuppamamba of the thirteenth century bemoan with a heavy heart the soul that had fled to the Great Beyond, but with a stupendous strength of mind she completely resigned herself to her fate and dedicated herself to a life of devotion. To a life already heaven-ward-bent, widowhood lent a helpful hand and it led her along the path of perfect peace. What with the reading of holy texts, the chanting of sacred hymns, and doing deeds of charity, Venkamamba spent her time in the most useful and enlightened manner. But. mysterious are the ways of a gullible public; there is nothing in the world that it does not want to interfere with; indecent and unfounded are its aspersions; but then, it has been the way of the world always. One like Venkamamba too, could not escape the lashes of society. One of her favourite haunts was the village temple where she sat in contemplation at times, after enjoying the quivering peal of the temple bells, which roused in her heart ripples of joy and wafted her to realms beyond our own. This particular action of hers was construed by many to be a cloak under which she was trying to conceal her infidelities. The charge was too much for Venkamamba, and desiring not to live any more in a place polluted with the vicious thoughts of her villagers, she bade good-bye to the temple in whose sanctifying shadows she had silently built her steps of vision, and left for the famous Mount where Lord Venkatesa dwelt. Here, revelling in the immediate presence of the Deity Himself, she caught the hint from the Immortal Master of song Himself and composed her famous Venkatachela Mahatmya dealing with the mysteries and the miracles of the Mount on which she dwelt and the God whom she worshipped. Surely she was god- inspired as she herself acknowledged in a neat little verse in the above-mentioned work. Her other works, Bhagavata and Muktikanta-vilasam too bear the stamp of spiritual fervour. These three works of hers still occupy a high place in Telugu Literature for their directness of utterance, sincerity of thought, earnestness of appeal and spiritual intonation.

Thus do the hurried sketches of some of the women-poets of ancient Andhra close a brilliant chapter in Telugu Literature. The Goddess of Learning verily, is justified of her daughters no less than of her sons!