This is the year of celebration for the Telugu short story which is said to have been born in 1910 (with Gurazada’s
Diddubatu). The literary fraternity here has started centenary celebrations which will culminate in 2010. The latest theory that the first story was not by Gurazada but was written by Bhandaru Achamamba, in 1902, has led to arguments both for and against. Not surprisingly, it was rejected by the patriarchs of literature. If that argument, made strongly by women writers and a few male supporters had been accepted, the centenary of the short story is long over and done with. Obviously it remains just one more argument about gender bias in writing literary history. Hence the celebrations. Whatever the occasion, it is always good to take a look at a genre which has remained unfazed by ups and downs of the literary market or the confluence of divergent movements. Fiction, unlike poetry, has the temerity to carry forward on its own, irrespective of trends and ideologies. This is not to say that social movements have not influenced short fiction. They have; but the short story has a life of its own; it is not constrained by the reigning ideologies. At any point of time in literary history, we have stories of all kinds, and the quality of the work as well as the response to it is unquestionable. If there is one genre in which Telugu has produced great works in great numbers it is undoubtedly the short story. A short story is not easy to write, as any fiction writer would tell you. Some even feel it is easier to write a 300- page novel than a three-page story. The greatest contribution of the short story is to language itself. From the colloquial idiom introduced by Gurazada Apparao, through the natural and feminine flavour of Sripada Subrahmanya Sastry, the logical exposition of Chalam and Kutumba Rao, the articulate expression of Ravi Sastry, the poetic expression of Buchi Babu, the understatement of Abburi Chayadevi to the varieties of rich regional fragrance from scores of contemporary writers — the short story has brought out the glory of Telugu like no other genre. If language is its greatest contribution, themes are not far behind. The main focus of the short story (unlike the novel) has been the progressive attitude towards society. Whether it’s gender, class or caste, the short story has been very advanced in its perspective on issues. For instance, the very first story (whether we take Achamamba’s or Apparao’s) is about women’s education and the short story has continued to espouse the cause of women all through. The short story has also been the main voice of the middle class. Their aspirations, their joys and sorrows, their tragedies, their idiosyncrasies, their foolhardiness — these occupied the minds of most writers, especially during the 1950s and the ’60s. At the same time, it responded to social movements and historical moments. Nearly all literary movements starting from the Reformation to Dalit empowerment have produced excellent specimens of short story.
All this is true about the content. But it is not easy to carry the same appreciation of form in the Telugu short story. Writers of earlier
generations had excellent grasp of both content and form. They knew what made a short story a creative art. They knew how to narrate a simple theme, making it a great work of art. The contemporary short story writer is so much obsessed with the content that he does not deem it necessary to turn it into art. Many times the story reads like an article or a news story; flat, straight and mechanical. It is even unfashionable to expect a writer to show some finesse in telling a story. Probably the problem with contemporary writers is that they write a lot and read less. Technical finesse can be achieved only when we read a variety of authors and imbibe the narrative modes of great literature. So…the short story in Telugu is still going strong. But the telling of the short story is becoming weak. Hopefully, the centenary celebrations of Telugu short story would cast an eye on this.