‘Kanya Sulkam’

(A CRITICAL ANALYSIS)

‘Kanya Sulkam’ is the first original drama to be written in the Telugu spoken dialect. It is also the first Telugu drama with a social theme, and it is by far the best drama in Telugu Literature so far.

The author, Mr. G. V. Apparao, "wrote it to advance the cause of social reform and to combat a popular prejudice that the Telugu language was unsuited to the Stage. Itinerant Marathi troupes staged Hindi plays in the Telugu districts and made money. Local companies copied their example, and audiences listened with delight to what they did not understand. The bliss of ignorance could not have been more forcibly illustrated."

Literary prose in Telugu, as in many other languages, was, and still is, different from the spoken dialect. It was a highly artificial and conventional form. Progress in any language comes through a constant approximation of the literary to the spoken form. Pandits however discountenanced this approximation. Mr. Apparao, the author, found that the highly artificial and archaic literary Telugu was unsuited for the expression of living sentiments or for reaching the masses. He was one of the earliest and staunchest advocates of the claims of the spoken dialect. "I know it is not arguments that will evolve a new literary dialect for Telugu," he wrote. "A great writer must write and make it: let us prepare the ground for it." With a view to prepare a model and demonstrate the practicability of his ideas he wrote this play. He has produced not a mere model but a masterpiece. He has set up a standard very difficult to approach. The language is superb: often it is musical. If today most of the literary output in Telugu is written in the ‘Vyavaharikabhasha’–the spoken dialect–not a little of the credit for this is due to him.

The second purpose with which this play was written was the advocacy of social reform. The need for social reform, in its manifold aspects of widow remarriage, the abolition of the practice of taking bride-money, the opposition to early marriages, and the abhorrence of the idea of ‘keeping’ prostitutes, is the theme of the drama. He has singled out, however, the practice of giving away in marriage mere babes to old men in consideration of fat sums, the practice of selling girls, for his, broadside attack and dealt with other evils incidentally. He evolved a complex plot, and developed convincing characters with which to lay bare the social evils he was seeking to attack.

The central plot of the play is this: Agnihotravadhani, a bigoted, orthodox Brahmin, determines to give his second daughter, Subbi, aged about eight years, in marriage to Lubdhavadhani, a rich miser of sixty-five years, for a consideration of 1,800 rupees. Venkamma, Agnihotravadhani’s wife, who was remorseful on account of the fate that already befell their first daughter Buchamma in similar circumstances, strongly objects to this, threatens to commit suicide if the plan is carried out, and entreats Karataka Sastri, her brother, to avert this calamity. Lubdhavadhani, the bridegroom, was at first reluctant to get married. His desire for a wife was outweighed by his abhorrence of parting with money. But Ramappa Pantulu, the diplomat of the village, who made a living by his wits, frightens him into matrimony–notwithstanding the loss of money it might incidentally involve–with the astrological prediction that his fate would be miserable unless he got married. Ramappa Pantulu further predicted that a wife now would be the cause of immense financial gain! Karataka Sastri, finding it impossible to dissuade his brother-in-law from carrying out this project, resorts to subterfuge. Under the guise of one Guntur Sastri, with a disciple of his dressed up as his daughter, he approaches Ramappa Pantulu. With the help of Madhuravani, the dancing girl, a former friend of his but now in the ‘keep’ of Ramappa Pantulu, he prevails upon Ramappa Pantulu to consent to break this alliance with Agnihotravadhani, and instead to recommend his daughter to Lubdhavadhani. As an inducement to Lubdhavadhani for this change-over the new ‘girl’ is to be offered for Rs. 1,200 only, and Ramappa Pantulu is to get half of this sum for his services. Ramappa Pantulu forges a letter as from Agnihotravadhani refusing Lubdhavadhani’s alliance, and settles the second match.

Ramappa Pantulu however finds that he was double-crossed and cheated out of his lawful share. In his absence Guntur Sastri was able to persuade Lubdavadhani to a ‘one-night’ marriage, get it celebrated and disappear with the money, leaving no trace behind. In anger and disgust, Ramappa Pantulu throws out a suggestion that the girl must have been a widow surreptitiously married away a second time: otherwise, would the father have disappeared so completely? This works Lubdavadhani into a state of hysteria: he has a nightmare that the former husband of his newly-wedded wife was strangling him to death. In the confusion that follows, the ‘bride’ slips away, and throwing off ‘her’ garb joins his master. Ramappa Pantulu had borrowed a jewel from Madhuravani and lent it to the bride for the marriage. The disciple, before he joins his master, returns the jewel to Madhuravani, but Madhuravani refuses Ramappa Pantulu admission into the house unless he brings the jewel . Lubdhavadhani finds that the bride has disappeared. Also, Ramappa Pantulu charges him with the murder of that girl and the theft of the jewel. Meanwhile, Agnihotravadhani, in blissful ignorance of all that has happened, turns up for the marriage with an immense train of relations and friends, only to find that the intended bridegroom is already married. He chastises Lubdhavadhani physically, but Ramappa Pantulu induces him to finance the false case he was launching against Lubdhavadhani for the murder of the ‘girl.’ Agnihotravadhani also finds that his first daughter–a child-widow and a victim of his greed–has eloped, during the journey, with her brother’s tutor, Girisam. Agnihotravadhani files a complaint against Girisam for abduction: but the girl’s age being falsely given, and the full details regarding Girisam not being known, the case had to be left in the air and later withdrawn.

Threatened with a criminal complaint, and terribly ashamed of his folly in trying to get married in his old age, Lubdhavadhani falls at the feet of Saujanya Rao, an extremely good and virtuous lawyer. Under his influence Lubdhavadhani even consents to get his widowed daughter re-married. Saujanya Rao exposes the treachery of Ramappa Pantulu and warns him off. Meanwhile, Karataka Sastri, coming to know of the straits to which Lubdhavadhani has been reduced, comes to Madhuravani to request her to return the jewel so that he might send both the jewel and the money to Lubdhavadhani which would be proof enough that he had not committed the crime. Madhuravani gives the jewel, but herself goes to Saujanya Rao. Saujanya Rao is a reformer; he had taken a vow that he would not see a dancing girl; therefore, she goes to him in male attire, and winning his confidence reveals herself and the whole hoax of the marriage. The calamity is thus successfully averted. Lubdhavadhani learns his lesson and is won over to the path of reform. Agnihotravadhani is unrepentent to the last, but what of it? His plans for marrying off his daughter had been Successfully thwarted. His elder daughter had eloped. He had to spend most of his property in futile preparations for marriage, and in litigation against Lubdhavadhani and Girisam.

The plot tangles itself and is finally unravelled with rare skill; events move with astonishing rapidity. The characters with which the drama is unfolded are varied, and are drawn from life with a depth of understanding.

Agnihotravadhani is a blind, bigoted, orthodox, pig-headed Brahmin. He is impatient of opposition or counsel; he scorns diplomacy. His method is the frontal attack. He can be insensitive enough to abuse a guest who comes to his house; prepare to marry off his daughter to a dying man in spite of the protests of his whole family–nay, notwithstanding the attempted suicide of his wife. He is unbending to the last. There is a magnificence about his Himalayan stubbornness, for he knows not to stoop even to conquer.

Lubdhavadhani, the old bridegroom, in contrast to Agnihotravadhani, is a weakling. His only strength is his miserliness, but there is not enough strength even in his miserliness. The only redeeming feature, however, is that there is no nauseating meanness about him. While it is true that he counts the cost of everything, he can, it is obvious, be made to overlook that aspect by threats and intimidation. He is won over in the end to the cause of social reform, but it is a conversion born of sheer necessity. There is no spectacular "change of heart." To the end he remained a sop depending on one or other of his counsellors. He can only excite our pity, not our admiration like Agnihotravadhani or our sympathy like Madhuravani.

Ramappa Pantulu is made of sterner stuff. He is the diplomat par excellence; the type that delights in making and unmaking empires. His is an extremely fertile brain; and he is never at a loss to extricate himself from any situation, however complex or difficult it might be. He has no heart, no scruple and no fear; he is a thorough-bred scoundrel, who never hesitates to commit any crime to serve his private gain. But there is no clumsiness about anything he does. To each plan of his, either of conception or of execution, he brings to bear immense skill. He makes one marvel at his dexterity!

Karataka Sastri is a match to Ramappa Pantulu in every respect: only, he is fortunately on the right side of law, and has used his powers for a righteous cause. He works with so great a smoothness that we almost miss taking note of him. He it is that foils the attempts of everyone. The daring with which he plans and executes the hoax, and the skill with which he outwits even the vigilant Ramappa Pantulu are unrivalled.

Saujanya Roa is the strong, though not the silent, good man; but not one who makes a fetish of his principles. He, who took a vow not to see dancing girls, consents to kiss one–to extract evidence which will save Lubdhavadhani.

But there is no sweeter personality than Madhuravani in the whole range of Telugu dramatic literature. She is truer to life than Vasantasena; and dearer than most of the unbending virtuous heroines. She is cultured, sophisticated and virtuous. She has her own principles, and plays the game majestically. There is no vulgarity in her. She can bring a man to ruin, heartlessly; deceive him without any qualms of conscience; and yet rise to great heights of sacrifice in the most matter-of-fact way. Her profession has not killed her finer sentiments.

Into this complex plot is introduced Girisam. Girisam is the tutor of Venkatesam, the son of Agnihotravadhani, and he is related to Lubdhavadhani. He is a typical social reformer of the spurious kind–a social reformer because social reform is the fashion! His capacity for brilliant conversation is his strength. It is merely unfortuate, of course, that he now and then finds it convenient to change his principles, but he is never at a loss to find convincing arguments in justification; likewise it is unfortunate that he cannot put his principles into practice. Dancing girls are his weakness and he is compelled to be anti-nautch in theory! Girisam is a lovable rogue. But he is not evil-minded. Compared to Ramappa Pantulu, he is a saint. While Ramappa Pantulu seduces and deserts Meenakshi, the widowed daughter of Lubdhavaihani, Girsam, placed in similar circumstances, plans for an elopement and for a sanctified marriage with Buchamma, the widowed daughter of Agnihotravadhani. Grisam is often childish in his bluffs. "To talk with me in itself is an education" is his boast. But there is grandeur in the sweep of his imagination, that takes our breath away and endears him to everybody. He moves across the stage like a Colossus, vanquishing his opponents by his ‘dynamic logic.’ A sample of his ‘brilliant’ logic may be given. From an opponent of early marriages he turns, under stress of circumstances, into a supporter of them, justifying his conduct with this argument: "Widow-marriage is the best form of social reform–the sign of civilisation. ‘Widow’ means of course a young beautiful widow and not an old crony with half a dozen children. How can there be young widows without infant marriages? Hence infant marriages are essential!" So much imagination and wit have gone to the making of the character of Girisam that he is today as concrete as a living personality to the Telugus.

As far as the plot is concerned, however, Girisam is not essential; as a matter of fact, he is out of place. In the drama, he is merely the person with whom Buchamma elopes. Girisam must have taken the author himself by storm, and argued and bluffed his way into the drama!

(2)

As is at present staged, the drama opens with Grisam finding the atmosphere at Vizianagaram too hot for him to endure. He has become indebted to too many people. He meets his student, Venkatesam, the son of Agnihotravadhani. Venkatesam has once again failed in his examination, and is afraid of going to his village, fearing the wrath of his father. Girisam plans to go with Venkatesam to his village to assure his parents that their son had passed brilliantly, and also to coach him up for the ‘higher’ class during the vacation.

In the second Scene Ramappa Pantulu is introduced, settling up the bargain with Madhuravani for her to be his ‘keep.’ There is a farcical interlude when her former lover, Girisam comes to bid her farewell, but is pursued thither by one of his creditors, who was also one of his ‘loves,’ the proprietress of his hotel.

In the second Act we are introduced to Agnihotravadhani, and it is revealed that he has fixed up his second daughter’s marriage with Lubdhavadhani. And with this the drama proper begins. Karataka Sastri is persuaded by his sister to try to avert this calamity, and the scenes in which he induces Ramappa Pantulu to change his original plan and urge the second match to Lubdhavadhani are only sometimes enacted, though they form the heart of the drama. But, meanwhile, in a series of scenes, about six in number, Girisam occupies the centre of the stage. He is attracted by Buchamma, the widowed daughter of Agnihotravadhani, at the very first meeting, and he determines to convert her and make her agree to a widow re-marriage with him. In a succession of brilliant scenes, he worms his way into her heart, until he finally wins her approval for elopement. All these scenes are invariably enacted, and take between an hour and a half to two hours to be enacted. The subtle but comic way in which he plays upon the feelings of Buchamma and finally wins her is not part of the plot of ‘Kanya Sulkam.’ The consequence of enacting all these scenes is that the drama takes an inordinately long time. What is more reprehensible, some of the latter portions, which are the vital parts of the drama revealing the climax of the plot, are ‘cut’ to make the play short. Towards the end, the drama is hustled and almost always the enacting of the play is ended abruptly. With the arrival of Agnihotravadhani at the village tank to find that Lubdhavadhani has already been married and that his daughter has eloped, there is a natural pause in the dramatic sequence. Here, on the stage, the drama is usually abandoned. The scenes depicting Karataka Sastri–that is, Guntur Sastri–double-crossing Ramappa Pantulu and those dealing with the dramatic retribution, which alone bring out the evils of Kanya Sulkam in full and demonstrate the need for social reform, are left unenacted. The impression one gets after witnessing a performance, as is usually staged, is one of utter confusion. The serious drama is missed altogether.

The author in his Preface to the second edition writes, "It was my original intention to reprint the play with slight alterations, but at the suggestion of my friend, Mr. S. Srinivasa Iyengar, for whose literary judgment I have great respect, I have recast it. In the process it has gained considerably in size." It is obvious that the original plan was not adhered to, and additions were introduced haphazard. As a consequence, the work lacks unity; minor details depicting the village life are worked into scenes without cohesion. These are usually omitted and are best omitted in the presentation on the stage. But the most serious defect of the playas a play is the introduction of scenes where Girisam plans and executes his design of making Buchamma consent to marrying him.

In its present shape, ‘Kanya Sulkam’ can be divided into two distinct parts. One is a serious drama; the other is broad farce. The first is ‘Kanyasulka Natakam,’ dealing with the evils of "selling girls" and early marriages, and advocating social reform. The other is Girisam’s farce exposing the skin-deep reformer.

Not merely is Girisam in the present form of the stage-edition unnecessary for the enacting of the serious drama; he is fatal to its proper interpretation. He actually creates a lop-sided impression that the advocates of social reform are, in entirety, humbugs. And the consequent stage-mutilation of the play at the end leaves one un-appreciative of the merits of the serious drama in ‘Kanya Sulkam.’ The play is now presented as a curious and inartistic jumble of serious drama and broad farce. Separation of these two elements and presenting them as distinct units will add to the richness of both.

If the central plot is rigidly adhered to, and every scene that is not vital but is an impediment to the progress of the play is excised, the drama will be immensely more successful on the stage than it is at present. It will then be seen that, after the second Act, first Scene, wherein Girisam and Agnihotravadhani meet, no scene dealing with Girisam need be enacted.

Like the buffoon in the circus, Girisam charms and delights the audience. But the buffoon is out of place in a serious drama. He diverts attention, and distorts the play.

The fear that audiences, accustomed to be treated to the lectures of Girisam, would be unresponsive and find the drama dull is baseless. If the drama is allowed to progress at the tempo at which the story proper unfolds itself, it will certainly hold the audience spell-bound. For instance, at Waltair, the University Dramatic Association, under the inspiration of Sri Abburi Ramakrishna Rao, the great Andhra poet, on two occasions, presented ‘Kanya Sulkam,’ eliminating Girisam’s farce. Both times the production was a marked success.

"In ‘Kanya Sulkam’ humour, characterisation and the construction of an original and complex plot have been attempted," wrote the author, in his Preface to the first Edition of the drama. Girisam submerges the original and complex plot and characterisation. It is time that these are rescued, and presented in their proper perspective.