[In this series, Dr. Chengalva Ramalakshmi and Mr. Boddapati Chandrasekhar introduce renowned Telugu short story writers.]
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A MODERNIST AND A GREAT VISIONARY MAHAKAVI GURAJADA
September 21, 1862, is a day etched in golden letters for the Andhras. Every year, September 21 is to be remembered as a festival of letters.
A grand literary celebration of the Telugu people . For, it was on that day that Gurajada Apparao was born — the one who rose to be the greatest writer of modern Telugu.
A short story writer, poet, playwright, essayist, educationist, reformer, linguist, and visionary — all rolled into one. His keen observation of society, his deep concern for people, and his extensive reading shaped him into a revolutionary modernist. He was not only a harbinger of change but a torchbearer who stirred Telugu literature in every genre he touched.
His wide reading of literature, both Indian and foreign, his ability to assimilate diverse trends and probe them deeply, his profundity of thought, broad vision, and keen powers of observation were truly Amazing!
Awe-inspiring as well!!
Braving ill health, Gurajada pursued every task he set his mind to. He knew the evil that illiteracy could cause. His wish was clear: everyone must be lettered, especially women. Saddened by the social evils of his time, he determined to write a play that would awaken society.
Kanyasulkam – A Social Thunderbolt
The play Kanyasulkam was his response to the burning issue of bride-price. Gurajada, with remarkable foresight, used the dialect of Vizianagaram district to bring the play close to people’s hearts. His aim was to shock society out of complacency — to expose the plight of women and the cruelty of an unlettered community.
After much deliberation, he chose drama as the medium — for its visual impact and direct appeal. Thus was born Kanyasulkam, a play that not only reached a wider audience through its colloquial language but also became a movement in itself. The brilliance of wit, irony, sparkling dialogue, and living characters made it an immortal work. Befriending the great colloquial scholar Gidugu Ramamurthy, Gurajada mastered the art of simple yet powerful language. Small wonder Kanyasulkam is hailed as his magnum opus, a mirror held to society and a beacon of reform.
Father of Modern Telugu Short Story
Though Gurajada wrote only five stories, each was a gem. His very first story, Diddubaatu (1910), is celebrated as the first modern Telugu short story — admired for its startling simplicity and wit. Just three characters, one small incident — and yet, Gurajada spun it into a sparkling story. His other stories too stand apart, each carrying a different theme, each a model for later generations.
Poet of Progress and Patriotism
Gurajada’s literary career began with the English poem Cuckoo. Later his poem , ‘ Muthyala Saralu ‘ became a sharp deviation from conventional poetry — fresh in conception, theme, and language. He never cared for applause. His words were:
“Whether people praise my experiments or not, I don’t bother. Mine is people’s path. I don’t want to forsake it to please anyone.”
That conviction made his poetry immortal. His patriotic song still rings in every heart:
దేశమును ప్రేమించుమన్నా
మంచి అన్నది పెంచుమన్నా
దేశమంటే మట్టి కాదోయి
దేశమంటే మనుషులోయ్!
(Desamante matti kaadoi, Desamante manushuloi!)
What appears simple is profound when read between the lines. It defines patriotism in the most humane sense.
Voice for Women and Social Reform
Gurajada’s women characters were self-respecting, prudent, and practical. He believed that women must themselves analyse their position in society and solve their problems with dignity. As an essayist too, he displayed astonishing versatility — probing into literature, language, and society with fearless insight.
Immortality Beyond Death
Gurajada dreamt of writing more, but failing health worried him. He feared he would not complete his mission. Yet, even in his short span of life, he created treasures for generations. On November 30, 1915, death embraced him. Some say he hastened into the world from his mother’s womb two months before his destined time — and left this abode early too.
But great souls outlive their deaths. Gurajada is such a soul — immortal in literature, eternal in thought, ever-progressive in spirit.
The Craft and Language of Gurajada’s Short stories
Gurajada wrote only five short stories in all. Four of them were in Telugu: Diddubatu (Correction), Mee Peremiti? (What is Your Name?), Metilda, and Mathamu–Vimathamu (Faith and Dissent). The fifth, Stooping to Raise, was written in English in 1904.
Significantly, this was Gurajada’s very first short story. Just as his first poem was in English, so too his first story appeared in English — but it was written on request, and for foreign readers.
Gurajada’s method of writing
His method was unique. Like a sculptor, while chiseling a stone, determined to make it a flawless, and beautiful image, Gurajada worked very diligently over every piece of writing with utmost care and persistence. He would never leave a work as it first stood in print. He would go on polishing it – especially the language. Thus, we find two versions of certain works: Kanyasulkam (the play), Diddubatu (the story), and Purnamma (the poem). Published collections of his works mark these versions as “1” and “2,” with symbols indicating whether a piece is the first or later version. Apart from Kanyasulkam, however, the time gap between the two versions of the others remains uncertain.
Diddubatu
The story Diddubatu first appeared in Andhra Bharati in February 1910. That version was in a simple classical style (saraḷa grāndhikam). Later, Gurajada completely re-wrote it in everyday spoken idiom (vyavahārikam). The plot in both is identical. But in the second version, retitled Kamalini, he foregrounded the heroine by naming the story after her.
The theme is simple: a wife attempts to reform her wayward husband — who habitually comes home late — through the gentle stratagem of a brief letter.
The revised version reveals striking linguistic changes. Sentences become more meaningful, apt to context, and very natural to character.
By the time Gurajada re-wrote Diddubatu, he had already revised Kanyasulkam. Hence, in matters of diction and pronunciation, many interesting parallels appear.
For instance, compounds are tightened:
Gopalarāvu → Gopalrāvu
Repati nun̄ci → Repāṭnun̄ci
Rāmuḍini → Rāmuṇṇi
Likewise, phonetic shifts:
enta → yenta
oṇṭi gaṇṭa → vanti gaṇṭa
laghnamai → laghnavai
Rāmuḍu → Rāvu(ḍu)
gadiyāramu → gadiyāram
dīpamu → dīpam
Archaisms vanish:
teravabaḍalēdu → teravalēdu
manishi vale → manishi lāga
These modifications lend clarity and subtle suggestiveness. For example, “teravalēdu” implies that though Kamalini was inside, she deliberately did not open the door.
Thus, every alteration in the second version deepened meaning, heightened plausibility, and enhanced beauty.
Narrative Structure
Diddubatu is a compact tale: a brief incident, three characters, a time span – only a few minutes. It could easily be staged as a one-act play.
The story begins with suspense: at midnight, Gopalrao arrives home. He calls “Door! Door!” but does not knock. Only later do we learn that had he knocked, it would have opened instantly. The striking of the clock then makes him aware of the late hour. His self-revealing monologue follows.
From this point, the narrative shifts into dialogue — with the servant Ramudu. Gopalrao, distressed by his wife’s absence, vents anger on the servant. Sitting despondent, he notices a letter on the table — Kamalini’s letter. Reading it, he is moved to repentance and sends Ramudu at once to bring her back from her parents’ home. Then, as he resolves to change, Kamalini herself emerges — she had been hidden under the cot all along, silently observing.
Through this clever ruse, the educated young wife reforms her husband without confrontation. The reader, never once suspecting her hidden presence until the end, is taken by surprise. A novel beginning, an unexpected closure: Gurajada’s hallmark.
Notably, in both versions the language of the letter itself remains unchanged — a glimpse into the letter-writing style of that era.
Some argued, debated, and even wrote essays categorically asserting that Diddubatu was by no means the first Telugu short story. They toiled diligently, researching and tracing more than a hundred stories that had appeared prior to Gurajada’s.
True — such stories did exist. Nobody denies that fact.
Yet, scholars and researchers felt, and almost unanimously affirmed, that Diddubatu, by virtue of its opening, narration, linguistic economy, and unembellished directness, embodies the essential features of the modern short story.
That, they claimed, was the crux of their reasoning — and their conviction.
Mee Peremiti? (What is Your Name?)
Following Diddubatu, Gurajada wrote a longer story, Mee Peremiti?, appeared in Andhra Bharati (April–June 1910). This story employs Vijayanagaram dialect words such as lāvu (much), mōstharu (method), khāyida (discipline), sāyila pāyila (together merrily), pikaru (trace), gāvan̄cha (upper cloth), kōvila (temple), āḍadāyi (woman).
Descriptions here attain poetic vividness:
‘A gentle breeze set the palm fronds swaying in the toddy grove. On the hill beyond, a vast Shiva-linga seemed to pierce the darkness, hinting at the littleness of man and filling one with unspoken awe and dread. Around its summit, stars glittered like divine blossoms strewn in worship.’
The narrative structure is unusual. Many characters appear; indeed, the whole village participates. The story begins not in action, but in prologue, with conversations on religion. The technique recalls puranic tales where one person narrates while others listen.
Thus, the learned Shastris and their disciples gather. “I” — the narrator — introduces them. Later, the sage Shayanna Bhuktha begins recounting events at Ramagiri. As his narration proceeds, characters step into the story and converse. The reader forgets they are hearing secondhand. At the close, however, Shayanna reappears to finish. Beginning and ending thus form a narrative frame — an innovation in Telugu short fiction.
The Shastris’ speech preserves tradition; the villagers’ dialect is true to life. In descriptions, lyricism shines.
Metilda
The date of composition is unknown. The language is entirely colloquial, enriched with dialect and loanwords. Terms like nestham (friendship), peradu (backyard), penimiti (husband), bari (schoolyard), as well as Urdu words like gastu (guard), hamesha (always), chaman (garden), lend freshness.
The heroine Metilda is painted with poetic sensitivity:
“Her golden-tinged skin glowed like a peacock feather. With turmeric still upon her cheeks, her disheveled hair, and the sparkle of her sidelong glance as she drew water from the well, she appeared like a living portrait, unforgettable to the beholder.”
Narrated in the first person (“I”), the story unfolds in five parts. The student-narrator is fascinated at first sight of Metilda, a married woman. He learns she suffers under a tyrannical husband. Events escalate when the husband confronts him. Metilda herself pleads, through a letter, that he stay away. Finally, in a surprising twist, the husband reforms, thanks (inexplicably) to the narrator and his friend, and the story ends happily.
Yet, the transition — how exactly the husband changes — is absent, leaving a gap in the narrative.
Only Metilda and her friend Ramarao are given names; others remain nameless, heightening the sense of allegory. Gurajada likely borrowed the symbolic name “Metilda” from Gothic literature, where it denotes strength and resilience — qualities he attributes to his heroine, a reflection of women’s suppressed condition in his time.
Mathamu–Vimathamu (Faith and Dissent)
Also of uncertain date, this story — also known as The Great Mosque — is based on 16th-century historical references. It is written in full colloquial idiom. The Muslim character’s speech naturally incorporates Hindustani words like bhai and saitan ka ghar.
The structure is spare, swift, and dramatic — indeed, it reads like a one-act play. Narayana Bhattu and his disciple visit Srikakulam. Expecting to see a temple gopuram, they are dismayed to find a mosque in its place. Inquiring further, they meet a Muslim who explains curtly how it came to be. At the end, Bhattu discovers the Muslim is his own relative’s son — a revelation that leaves him stunned.
Conclusion
All of Gurajada’s stories bear a dramatic quality. In Diddubatu, as in Kanyasulkam, there is an “inner play.” In Metilda, the confrontation between the old husband and the narrator reads like a stage scene. In Mee Peremiti?, Nancharamma seizing a sword and lamp to protect her father-in-law has the power of live theatre. Mathamu –Vimathamu is dialogue alone — a miniature one-act.
He may have written only four stories in Telugu.Yet what weight, what density of art! Gurajada was a master craftsman of the short story. YES, INDEED !
🌹🌹🙏
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