Fashioning modernity in Telugu: Viresalingam and his interventionist strategy / 45

Fashioning Modernity in Telugu: Viresalingam and His Interventionist Strategy Vakulabharanam Rajagopal University of Hyderabad

This article looks at the politics of modernity within Telugu culture by focusing on Kandukuri Viresalingam, the most prominent Westernizing social reformer from the Telugu-speaking region of British India in the nineteenth century. It analyses two of his major literary productions—an autobiography and a novel—and his wider interventions within the public sphere. This study reflects on the ambivalences and contradictions within the reformist project, and the nature of its association with nationalism. It is suggested that in the battle between social reformers and political nationalists, the former managed to assert their social leadership. This allowed Viresalingam’s legacy to be successfully appropriated by the nationalist ideology of the region. By showing that political nationalism could indeed accommodate critiques of Indian society from Western or colonial perspectives, the article puts forward an argument different from some of the current understandings of Indian nationalism.

Colonial modernity, as it unfolded in India, was structured by local contexts and actively shaped by Indian intellectuals. Different regions of India experienced colonialism differently, in accordance with the timing of colonial impact, variations of colonial policies and the specificities of regional societies. These variations— temporal and spatial—influenced the region-specific formulations of colonial modernity.1 As a result, nationalism—itself a product of colonial modernity— came to incorporate differential responses to colonial critiques of Indian society. Through an analysis of Viresalingam’s ideas and an exploration of the process through which his legacy was appropriated by the nationalism of the Telugu-speaking Noting for instance, the differences between Bengal and western India, Naregal (2001: 58) writes: 1

The appropriation of indigenous languages and knowledges into frameworks of Western rationality and the subsequent introduction of English and colonial education were chronologically related within the transformative designs of colonial power. However, these shifts did not follow a uniform, set pattern throughout the subcontinent. There were significant differences in the duration and the sequence of these two phases in Bengal and Western India. Acknowledgements: I am grateful to Velcheru Narayana Rao for discussing with me at length many ideas developed in this article. Comments by the anonymous referee helped me tighten my argument. I also benefited from the feedback by Chinta Srinivasa Reddy, V. Ramakrishna, Paruchuri Srinivas and Vakulabharanam Vamsicharan. The usual disclaimers apply.

Studies in History, 21, 1, n.s. (2005) SAGE PUBLICATIONS New Delhi/Thousand Oaks/London DOI: 10.1177/025764300502100103

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districts in the Madras Presidency,2 I attempt to demonstrate that political nationalism could indeed accommodate critiques and evaluations of Indian society from Western perspectives.3 Kandukuri Viresalingam (1848–1919)4 was the most prominent modernizer and Westernizing social reformer of Andhra in the nineteenth century. His life work was located at the intersection of multiple fields—literature, journalism and a range of other activities in the public sphere. He inaugurated literary modernity in Telugu and, by his participation in the public sphere, influenced the formation of modernist discourses in social and political realms. I analyse in this article Viresalingam’s autobiography in conjunction with a novel written by him. Autobiography and novel are known to be interrelated literary genres that developed simultaneously, along with the growth of individualism in eighteenth-century Europe.5 These two genres also arose simultaneously in the colonial Indian context of the nineteenth century. Part of a derivative discourse, they arose as a result of the new material conditions created by colonial rule .6 These genres in the Indian languages evolved through an imitation of modular literary forms available in English even as they drew upon and improvised indigenous fictional traditions.7 2 The Telugu-speaking Northern Circar districts of Ganjam, Visakhapatnam, Godavari and Krishna were given by the Nizam to the British in 1766. Guntur was occupied by the British in 1788. In 1800 the Nizam ceded the districts of Bellary, Kurnool, Cuddapah and Anantapur to the British, and they were known as the Ceded Districts. The Madras Presidency was formed in 1801. 3 On the basis of his reading of the experience of Bengal, Chatterjee (1993: 5–10) for instance, has argued that anti-colonial nationalism offered resistance to the imperial power by asserting sovereignty in the ‘inner’ or ‘spiritual’ domain even as it sought to emulate that power in the ‘outer’ or ‘material’ domain. I argue in this article that colonial critiques of Indian society, even of this ‘inner’ domain, were successfully accommodated by anti-colonial nationalism in the Teluguspeaking districts. 4 For a biography of Viresalingam, see Leonard (1991). For a comprehensive account of Viresalingam’s work and a history of reform endeavours during his life, see Ramakrishna (1983). 5 Though the autobiography claims (or at least used to claim) to be ‘real’ and the novel to be ‘fictional’, they share common assumptions as well as techniques (such as the narrative), and make similar demands on readers. Authorial self-identity and the central narrating subject are common to both the genres as they emerged in the new individualist regime, and many of the early novels in English were written as first-person fictional accounts. For a detailed discussion of the context of the rise of autobiography and novel and their relationship, see Mascuch (1997), Shumaker (1954) and Watt (1964). 6 A forceful argument has been put forth about the autonomous rise of literary forms compatible with modernity in late medieval/early modern Indian historical period. See Narayana Rao et al. (2001); Narayana Rao and Shulman (2002). My position in this article is not counterposed to their argument. The logic of autonomous indigenous development, such as it was, was interrupted by colonial intervention, leading to a different trajectory of social and literary change in the nineteenth century. 7 Commenting on the rise of the novel in India, Mukherjee (1985: 3) writes: ‘The factors that shaped the growth of this genre since the mid-nineteenth century arose as much from the political and social situation of a colonized country as from several indigenous, though attenuated, narrative traditions of an ancient culture that survived through constant mutation.’ Within the limits of a ‘derivative’ discourse, novels in Indian languages certainly evolved their own forms by drawing heavily upon the already existing literary traditions and introducing original innovations (Chatterjee 1993: 7–8).

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In the specific instance of Telugu, these two genres share similarities such as a developmental narrative and a common style of prose. In the individual case of Viresalingam, his autobiography and novel share an additional common worldview, the world-view of their author whose various aspects are best brought out by a joint consideration of the two texts.8 Viresalingam’s autobiography, Sviyacaritramu (1982, 1984),9 contains an account of his life and his contribution to various fields from his perspective. As the first published autobiography in Telugu, it laid out the model that later autobiographers in Telugu assiduously emulated. Likewise, his first novel, Rajasekhara Caritramu (1969),10 one of the earliest novels in Telugu, set the pattern for subsequent novelists to follow for a number of decades. It is important to keep in mind that Viresalingam was unlike most other literary figures of his time. He did not believe that literature existed for its own sake, but instead viewed it as means to an end. He used literature for his projects of social intervention and engineering, and hence all his literary works, including his autobiography, take on an additional dimension. In this sense, he did not merely imbibe or reflect certain discourses of the contemporary society, but actively fashioned, promoted and popularized them. In addition to his literary agenda, Viresalingam intervened through other discursive spaces such as journalism, and also directly by conducting widow remarriages and fighting corruption. For these interventionist projects, Viresalingam required ‘tools’—literary and social. While such tools were already available in contemporary society, he refined and improvised them and exploited them as much as possible. It is instructive to examine in some detail these ‘tools’ and how Viresalingam learned to use them before going on to analyse his novel and autobiography. Prose as a Tool for Communication Prose was well on its way to becoming the dominant genre for both literary production and public communication in the nineteenth century when Viresalingam arrived on the literary horizon. While poetry was the dominant genre in literature in the pre-colonial period,11 the use of prose registered a significant increase in the centuries immediately preceding colonial rule as it was used for inscriptions, history writing and literary commentary. It has been compellingly argued recently that a notable shift in historical awareness occurred in south India from about the early sixteenth century onwards, resulting in the production of several histories in prose (Narayana Rao et al. 2001: 19). This is also the time when the technology 8 Spacks (1976) has adopted the method of pairing individual autobiographies and individual authors and studying them side by side. While the novel and autobiography in each of her pairings are by different authors, in this article I pair a novel and autobiography by the same author. 9 The editions I have used for this article are reprints of the two parts of Viresalingam’s autobiography first published in 1911 and 1915 respectively. 10 This novel was first published in 1878. 11 Poetry appears to be the dominant literary mode in other pre-modern Asian literatures as well, Javanese literature being one such example (Anderson 1990: 209).

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of public communication increasingly shifted from stone inscriptions to copperplates, palm leaves and paper. Examples of such histories in Telugu include Prataparudra Caritramu of the sixteenth century by Ekamranatha, Rayavacakamu of the seventeenth century and Tanjavuri Andhra Rajula Caritra of the eighteenth century. These works employed a simple and non-literary mode of exposition. Reports on local villages, communities and economies in the Telugu-speaking region, collected as part of a survey undertaken by Colin Mackenzie in the early nineteenth century and known as the Kaifiyats, can also be said to have continued the previously described tradition of historical writing. There was a proliferation of prose works following the introduction of printing. German missionaries introduced printing technology for Telugu well before the onset of colonial rule.12 Missionaries in general commissioned translations of the gospels and the Bible into Telugu, and prose was their preferred genre due to its suitability for wide dissemination. Missionary printing in Telugu initially took place in Calcutta though it later moved to Madras in the 1820s. Vernacular tract societies were set up in places such as Bellary, Madras and Visakhapatnam in the 1820s and 1830s. All of these missionary-owned printing presses also undertook, for financial profit, the printing of school textbooks and works in various subjects such as linguistics, literature and Hinduism.13 There was a continually increasing demand for printed books from a growing reading public. The Telugu prose used in the Christian tracts, however, made odd reading as it was edited by Europeans who did not have a proper sense of Telugu idiom and usage.14 The European civil servants of the Company who came to work in India in the initial phase of colonial rule were encouraged to learn Indian languages well so that they might be in a position to govern effectively.15 The Company government 12 Printing in Telugu was first developed by the Christian missionaries in the eighteenth century. Benjamin Schultze, a German Protestant missionary, brought out the first printed book to contain Telugu script at Halle in Germany in 1746. Details of developments in the history of Telugu printing mentioned in this section have been collated from Mangamma (1975) and Virabhadraravu (1986). 13 Some of the prominent presses of Madras engaging in Telugu printing in the first half of the nineteenth century were the American Mission Press, the SPCK Press, the Church Mission Press, the Scottish Press, the College of Fort St George Press, the Commercial Press and the Asylum Press. During this period, the London Missionary Society Press at Visakhapatnam and the Godavari Delta Mission Press at Narsapur were also involved in the printing of Telugu books. 14 Commenting on the incompetence of those European translators, C.P. Brown wrote:

The wranglings among those who fancy they can translate, arise from want of learning. Having little, they squabble about it. Had they the patience to study for ten years they would be wiser. They talk of translating into Hindu tongues or passing a judgment on translations while they are mere beginners. (Reddy and Bangorey 1978: 51; also see Kulasekhararavu [1971: 628–31] and Virabhadraravu [1986: 106–14]). 15 ‘In 1820 Sir Thomas Munro arrived in Madras as Governor, and was present at the College when my final examination took place. He addressed the students in a brief speech, pointing out the necessity of studying the languages if we wished to do our duty honestly’ (Reddy and Bangorey 1978: 30).

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wanted its officers to learn a simple prose style that could be used in everyday administration.16 Textbooks prescribed for the officers such as Vikramarka Kathalu and Pancatantra Kathalu were written in simple prose.17 The early nineteenth century was also the period when a number of grammars and dictionaries, meant to aid Europeans in learning Telugu, were prepared and published. Learning quickly from the European initiative in Indian language printing, and in what may be called a limited manifestation of print capitalism under colonial conditions,18 several Indians set up printing presses in Madras for publishing Telugu works.19 There was demand for books in Telugu and money to be made by printing them. In the 1840s Indian-owned private presses published scores of Telugu books in multiple fields such as law, medicine, religion, philosophy, grammar and literature.20 These books were written in simple prose and edited, annotated and elucidated through an employment of methods for easy reading introduced by the Europeans. Though a simple style of prose appeared to be a logical choice by the middle of the nineteenth century, somewhat of a counter-intuitive development took place at that time, and a more turgid and literary style of prose gained ascendancy. One may speculate as to why this happened. Historically prose did not have the same status as poetry in literature. The adoption of a literary style—one that resembled the poetic style sans the use of metre—might have been a strategy to claim a high status for prose. A key personality involved in the elevation of literary prose to importance was Paravastu Chinnayasuri (1806–62).21 Chinnayasuri taught at Madras University High School in the late 1840s, an institution that later developed into the Presidency College. Claiming to address the need for instructional materials in Telugu at the advanced level for schools and colleges now open to Indian students, Chinnayasuri 16 ‘Hindu grammarians, like those of China, neglect the colloquial dialect which they suppose is already known to the student and teach only the poetical peculiarities .... [T]hey are reluctant to teach us the language of common business. But unless we first surmount this, the lowest step (which natives attain untaught), how can we climb to the highest?’ (Excerpt from C.P. Brown’s preface to the second edition of his Telugu grammar in Mangamma [1975: 191]). Also see Schmitthenner (2001: 30–31). 17 The two books, printed in 1819 and 1834 respectively, were written by Ravipati Gurumurti Sastri (Mangamma 1975: 198). 18 For the celebrated account of the role of print-capitalism in the rise of nationalism, see Anderson (1991). 19 Committing books to print was initially regarded as profane by traditional scholars. This attitude, however, soon changed. Some of the well-known private Indian presses that printed Telugu books in the first half of the nineteenth century were: Vivekakalanidhi Mudraksarasala, Jyotiskalanidhi Mudraksasala, Vivekadarsa Mudranalayamu, Adivivekadarsa (Press), Vaneedarpanum (Press), Hindu Mudraksarasala, Vanivilasa Mudraksarasala, Vartamana Tarangini Mudraksarasala and Sarasvatipitha Mudraksarasala. 20 The Christian presses sometimes refused to print works such as the Ramayana, impelling some scholars to set up their own presses. See Puranam Hayagriva Sastri’s letter to C.P. Brown in Virabhadraravu (1986: 255). 21 For a short biography of Chinnayasuri in Telugu, see Venkataravu (1962).

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published Niticandrika in 1853. This text was a prose adaptation of two related works, Visnusarma’s Pancatantra and Narayana Pandita’s Hitopadesa (Ayyar 1931: 2–4). Chinnayasuri divided Niticandrika into four parts, of which he wrote the first two, Mitralabhamu and Mitrabhedamu, and printed them at the press that he owned in Madras. This text was written in a turgid style. But using his influence within the Madras government, Chinnayasuri got his work prescribed from 1857 as a textbook for the Madras University.22 He also authored in 1858 Balavyakaranamu, a grammar of Telugu and an authoritative restatement of the rules of the literary style. This grammar wielded considerable influence over the literati of subsequent generations. Because of its use in textbooks for schools and colleges, and for competitive examinations for positions in government bureaucracy and modern professions, this literary style of prose acquired a prominence disproportionate to its everyday use.23 Viresalingam entered the Telugu literary scene at a time when the literary style of prose had already acquired respectability. A keen student who studied in the native educational system before going to an English school, Viresalingam was well grounded in traditional Telugu literature. Keen for recognition in the literary field, he tried his hand at writing traditional poetry in his initial career. Later he completed Chinnayasuri’s project of Niticandrika by writing the remaining two parts.24 Viresalingam published the third part Vigrahamu in 1874, also the year in which he started his journal Vivekavardhani. He declared, in one of the initial issues of that journal, that his objective was to write in a simple style accessible to everyone. Thus, there was variance between the style he wished to use for his journal and the turgid style he adopted for Niticandrika. On the one hand Viresalingam was seeking recognition from the literati by proving his ability in using turgid prose. On the other hand he wished to use a simple, though still somewhat formal, style that could be understood by a wider audience. He resolved this issue in favour of the simple style after 1878, the year in which he serialized his first novel Rajasekhara Caritramu in Vivekavardhani. In discussing this conflict regarding choice of style, Viresalingam writes (1984: 125): 22 Chinnayasuri dedicated Niticandrika to A.J. Arbuthnot, secretary of the University of Madras and the College of Fort St George. 23 Later polemicists against the literary style very largely blamed Chinnayasuri for its adoption (Ramamurti 1933: 32). But to be fair to Chinnayasuri, it may be noted that he held to a distinction between ‘prose as literature’ and ‘prose for everyday use’, as is evident in his translation of A Manual of Hindu Law by Thomas Lumsden Strange in 1858 (Virabhadraravu 1986: 242–46). Examples of a simple prose style, however, did not entirely disappear in the latter nineteenth century. A notable example is Samineni Muddunarasimham’s (1792–1856) Hitasucani. Written in 1853 and published in 1862, this work contains a radical critique of tradition. 24 Kokkonda Venkataratnam (1842–1915), an orthodox Brahmin with a conservative worldview who taught Telugu at the Presidency College after Chinnayasuri, and editor of the journal Andhrabhasa Sanjivani (founded in 1871), was another prominent figure who actively championed a turgid style. Venkataratnam also contributed to the unfinished project of Chinnayasuri’s Niticandrika by writing an independent version of the third part, Vigrahamu, in 1872 (Venkatasubbaravu 1910: 145). Venkataratnam was one of the prominent antagonists of Viresalingam on social issues.

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What is the purpose of language? So that people can communicate with one another. What is the purpose of books in a language? So that one can communicate clearly with readers removed in space and time. Will books such as Vigrahamu serve that purpose? No. Ordinary people require the help of scholars or dictionaries to make sense of such books. After all that effort, what will the readers learn additionally in the end? Nothing more than they would from lucidly written books. In that case, how may books be written? They should be written in a style accessible to all. That is why I decided to write all my future prose works in simple style, unlike the style employed in Vigrahamu, and announced this intention in my journal.25 Curiously, Viresalingam also published in 1878, in book format, Brahmavivahamu, a social farce he wrote in a colloquial style and previously serialized in his journal. This genre was called prahasana in Telugu. It was a satire about child marriage written in the form of a play (though meant to be read rather than performed). Colloquial language is employed for dialogue between the various characters of the farce, while the narrator of the play who connects different acts and introduces characters still uses a simple but formal prose. Though the colloquial style used for the characters is simpler and more accessible to ordinary readers, Viresalingam stuck to the more formal style for the bulk of his literary and journalistic writing. He continued to use the colloquial style selectively in his prahasanas, but did not consider it appropriate (or respectable) for mainstream public discourse. His message of Westernized social reform was then clearly intended for the members of upper castes comprising the emerging ‘middle class’. This simple but formal prose became the standard medium of public discourse for many decades and well into the twentieth century.26 Thus, while Viresalingam simplified and popularized prose effectively to spread the message of social reform, he operated under the constraint of a ‘middle class’ world-view. ‘Public Sphere’ as the Site for Intervention The ‘public sphere’ was already in the process of formation when Viresalingam entered the literary and social arena. We may take note of two of its aspects. It is a discursive sphere where debate about ideas and politics takes place; in addition, it is also a ‘political sphere’ where individuals or communities intervene in the political process—through working the legal system, petitioning to the state and participating in the legislative process (in however limited a manner)—to represent and fight for their rights and interests. Viresalingam’s interventions in the public Translations from Telugu in this and other instances are by me. This prose style in Telugu may be said to be akin to sadhu bhasa in the Bengali case. See Roy 1996: 58). It is only by about the middle of the twentieth century that a concerted effort was made to use a colloquial prose for mainstream discourse, and the spoken dialect of the upper castes of the coastal districts succeeded to this status. For a theoretical elucidation of the choice of a colloquial language on the basis of European experience, but quite applicable to Indian contexts as well, see Anderson (1991: 44–45). 25 26

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sphere consisted of both these dimensions. We can further subdivide the discursive sphere for convenience into two: a literary sphere, a space where authors intervene, consciously or unconsciously, by their literary production, such as poetry or fiction and embodying certain ideas or ideologies; and a non-literary sphere, a space where writers write directly and articulate their views regarding social and political issues. Viresalingam consciously intervened in the public sphere in both ways. Though English became the language of administration following the formation of Madras Presidency, many languages used within its confines were beginning to be transformed into print languages. Therefore, when we speak of the rise of ‘public sphere’,27 we are speaking of its manifestation in English as well as in different print languages of the presidency. Prose became the preferred choice for communication in that sphere. Since such public communication in English and Indian languages was interactive, I will first present an overview of the discourse of ‘public sphere’ in English in the Madras Presidency. With the development of Madras by the early nineteenth century as an important centre for trade and commerce, a commercial elite formed out of the trading communities of the Tamil and Telugu districts came into existence and played a collaborative role in colonial trade. In addition to this elite, there was a small but important group of Indians in Madras employed in the junior level of the bureaucracy of the Company administration as translators and interpreters. In the initial phase these groups had no conflict of interest with the Company administration. Their origin and survival was connected to colonial rule, and the Company, for its part, practised a policy of non-interference in Indian religious affairs. The Indian elite of Madras also enthusiastically sought English education provided by anyone, including the Christian missionaries. Things, however, began to change in the 1830s, when some missionaries succeeded in prevailing upon the government to let them inaugurate a more aggressive policy of proselytization (Suntharalingam 1974: 32–37). At a time when there was limited state initiative in education, the missionaries stepped in and started many English schools in the hope of converting young students.28 While the Madras elite welcomed the missionary initiative in education, they resented their proselytizing motive, and in time preferred to launch their own initiatives. Within the colonial society of the time we see the emergence of a limited ‘public space’, which various indigenous interests sought to represent their concerns. This new context allowed for the formation of new identities that cut across and redefined older and more localized identities. Some of the indigenous concerns 27 ‘Public sphere’ is the concept put forth by Habermas to describe the realm of rational-critical debate about public issues by private persons that arose in conjunction with the rise of modernity in Western Europe. See Habermas (1989) and Calhoun (1992). While the relevance and applicability of this concept to the colonial context of nineteenth- and twentieth-century India is admittedly restricted, its suggestive value has been noted in Naregal (2001) and Orsini (2002). 28 The Marquis of Tweeddale, governor of Madras, favoured, in 1842, the privatization of educational institutions and openly supported missionary endeavours in education (Schmitthemer 2001: 183).

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were requests for favours from the government, such as the petition signed in 1839 by 70,000 inhabitants of Madras asking for the establishment of a high school. Others were complaints such as the one articulated at a public meeting in Madras in October 1846 protesting proselytization and its endorsement by certain members of the government—a complaint subsequently also framed as a memorial to the Court of Directors.29 The above public gathering was conducted on modern lines after obtaining due permission from the authorities. The ‘Indian subjects’ of the British rule and the ‘Hindu community’ are the phrases used in the memorial indicative of the newly forming identities. It was protested that the policy of the local government tended to exclude Hindus from participation in ‘government measures for public benefit’, a policy that was out of conformity with the intentions of the Court of Directors and the British legislature. The local government was violating the Company’s Charter, the memorialists contended, which promised non-discrimination and freedom of religion. They felt ‘entitled’ to the redress of their grievance, as per the Charter and the proclamation pledge. They used ‘plain language’ rather than an ‘obsequious’ one ‘because they are not asking for a favour, but for justice’. The Indian elite of Madras, with encouragement from George Norton, advocategeneral of Madras, formed the Hindu Literary Society to discuss and take up issues of concern to the indigenous community, education being an important one. They started their own school in 1834, and lobbied for a high school of the Madras University, which was finally set up in 1841. Vembakam Raghavacharyulu, Komalesvarapuram Srinivasa Pillay and Enugula Virasvamayya were among the prominent members of that organization. The English language newspapers that first appeared in Madras were meant primarily for Europeans.30 Some missionary newspapers were also published, of which the Native Herald was prominent. The Indian elite of Madras also realized fairly quickly the importance of having their own newspaper, and C. Narayanswamy Naidu, a partner in the agency firm G. Sidhulu & Co., started the Native Interpreter in 1840. Gajula Lakshminarasu Chetty, the main partner in that firm, took over the management of the paper in 1844 and renamed it the Crescent (Suntharalingam 1974: 38). This paper, though edited by a European, Edward Harley, acted as a mouthpiece for the Indian elite. The activities of the Hindu Literary Society slowed 29 Proccedings at the Public Meeting of the Hindu Community Held in the Rooms of Patcheappa’s Institution, On Wednesday the 7th October 1846, Madras, 1846. Permission was requested of the sheriff to convene the public meeting. The address of the elected chair of the meeting, Gajula Lakshminarasu Chetty, was read out in Telugu. A series of resolutions was proposed, seconded and unanimously passed by this gathering. A memorial detailing the issues discussed and resolutions passed and addressed to the Court of Directors of the Company was prepared and signatures collected. About 2,000 signatures were collected on the evening of the public meeting. A Tamil translation of the memorial was also read at the meeting. By the time of submission of the memorial, more than 12,700 signatures were collected. 30 Government Gazette, Madras Gazette and Madras Courier are three weekly papers mentioned in Sadasivan (1974: 60). The Armenian community of Madras, which played an important role in the colonial trade, started its own newspaper as early as 1794 (Suntharalingam 1974: 25–26).

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down in the 1840s and a new organization, the Madras Native Association, which initially started off as a branch of the British Indian Association of Calcutta, came to exist in 1852 under the leadership of Gajula Lakshminarasu Chetty. In the same year, Lakshminarasu Chetty organized a petition to the British parliament protesting excessive taxation and the inefficiency of the legal system and requesting better facilities for education, transport and irrigation. There was a difference in views between Lakshminarasu Chetty and Srinivasa Pillay, another member of that association, on the question of the role that the colonial government might play in facilitating social change among Hindus. Lakshminarasu Chetty advocated non-interference, whereas Pillay favoured a proactive role for the government. This conflict led to a split in the association. There was a lot of enthusiasm in the Telugu districts of the early nineteenth century for English education, but as already noted, state initiative in the field of education was minimal. There was only limited private European initiative, sometimes from individual Company officers and sometimes from individual missionaries, in setting up English schools. They set up schools at Kakinada, Rajahmundry, Narsapur and Machilipatnam, but such schools were not always stable. They depended upon the individuals running them, who were often reluctant to stay at a single place for a significant length of time for both official and personal reasons. Separate schools for upper-caste Hindus and ‘untouchable’ castes were also set up, this being the only feasible option at that time. It was also believed that Christianity would spread more successfully if the upper castes were first converted. The attempts of Europeans to introduce Christianity stealthily into the curriculum were not resisted by the local society, since the local people appeared to have a reasonably clear-cut strategy of taking what they wanted, namely, English education, and ignoring the religious message. In one exceptional instance, however, when a missionary at Rajahmundry forcibly removed a lingam, a caste marker, from a student, there was uproar and as a result attendance at that school fell off dramatically for some time (Maitland 1843).31 Telugu journalism made a beginning in Madras with the publication of Vrittanti in1838 (Arudra 1968: 10–11). Some letters by readers published in that journal display enthusiasm for social reform. That journal was monitored by the government for content of disaffection and reached distant towns such as Rajahmundry in the Telugu districts.32 It was closed down in 1841 for financial reasons. Another Telugu journal, Vartamana Tarangini, published by Syed Rahmatullah and edited by Puvvada Venkata Rao, began to be brought out of Madras in 1842. It was distributed manually in Madras, while copies were mailed to outside towns. Yet 31 The identity of the author is kept anonymous in this book and is referred to as ‘A Lady.’ She was the wife of an English officer posted as the district judge at Rajahmundry and wrote these letters apparently to a friend back in England. The letters offer an interesting English perspective on the contemporary conditions in the Telugu districts. 32 The local English officer at Rajahmundry subscribed to this journal apparently to please his subordinates. Copies of journals, along with other reading material, were kept in the reading room that opened for the public in Rajahmundry during 1836–39 (Maitland 1843: 240–41).

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another Telugu journal, Hitavadi, was published starting in 1848 by Edmond Sharkey, a missionary based in Machilipatnam. This is the first instance of a Telugu journal published from the Telugu districts (though it was printed in Madras). Bellary and Visakhapatnam were the only places with printing presses at that time in the Telugu districts. Godavari Vidyaprabodhini, published from 1870 at Rajahmundry by the English headmaster of a high school, and Purusartha Pradayani, publication starting in 1872 at Machilipatnam, were the two journals to which Viresalingam regularly contributed on social issues before he started his own journal Vivekavardhani in 1874. It was a monthly at first and copies were printed in Madras (Arudra 1968: 20). Andhrabhasa Sanjivani, publication starting in 1871 at Madras and edited by Kokkonda Venkataratnam, took conservative positions on contemporary social issues. Issues concerning all subjects, and not particular groups or individuals, fall within the realm of ‘public sphere’. Such issues include education, taxation and irrigation, to name a few. These issues are subject to legislation by the state. The existing policies of the state may be openly debated in the ‘public sphere’. If those policies are thought unacceptable, the state may be urged to implement different policies. This is part of what was going on in a journal like the Crescent published by Lakshminarasu Chetty and in the petitions submitted to the government. But in addition, there was also discussion of what ought not to be done in the public sphere. There were many instances of intervention, Lakshminarasu Chetty argued, when the state overstepped the boundaries of legitimate activity and went back on its promise of non-interference: legislating in matters affecting particular religious communities, testing knowledge pertaining to one particular religion in competitive examinations to recruit personnel for public employment or colluding with Christian missionaries. Once the public sphere, in however limited fashion, was constituted and the media for the articulation of public opinion put in place, discussions in such media were not confined only to public issues that concerned all. Christian missionaries, for instance, could berate Hindu beliefs and practices in their journals to undermine their influence. Hindu reformers too could use the public sphere to articulate critiques of their religion and society and advocate reform. The public media also became an efficient means of internal communication and discussion for particular communities even as such communication happened under the ‘public gaze’, so to speak, as those outside the community listened in. This new context had important consequences for the functioning of particular communities. Traditional authority in a particular community could now be challenged in the public media and undermined. Space for dissent or minority opinion within a community could be fought for in the public media. When factions within a community were unable to settle issues amongst themselves, they could approach the state to intervene. This logic applied to all communities in colonial India, be they religious communities or castes groups. Reformers, including Viresalingam, used this new context to their advantage as much as possible in advancing their agenda for social change.

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The Novel The material conditions for the rise of the novel33 began to take shape in south India in the early nineteenth century. There was a spread of school education, a spurt in the publication of books and journals,34 and an increased demand for reading material in Telugu and English. 35 Yet it was not until the early twentieth century, when the library movement took off, that reading rooms and libraries came to dot the towns and villages of Telugu districts.36 Viresalingam’s Rajasekhara Caritramu, published in 1878, was the second novel to be published in Telugu, the first one being Srirangaraju Caritra by Narahari Gopalakrsnama Setti published in 1872 (Virabhadraravu 1986: 484). Setti’s novel is a fictional account of the life and adventures of Srirangaraju, the son of a king who lived 400 years ago. Through this story, Setti writes about the customs and manners of nineteenth-century Telugu society. Inspired by Viceroy Mayo’s appeal for books illustrating the life and manners in lower Bengal, Setti set out to write about the social life of the Telugus (Ibid.: 487).37 Setti called his work navina prabandhamu, just as Viresalingam called his novel vacana prabandhamu. There is an allusion here to the medieval poetic genre of prabandha in Telugu, with a master plot and many sub-plots, and a generous sprinkling of varnanas or elaborate descriptions of a varied range of people or places or situations involved. 38 It is also interesting that the term caritramu is used in the titles of these two novels. Caritramu is traditionally used for biography, real or fictional, though in the later medieval period it came to be used for history as well (Narayana Rao et al. 2001: 21). Drawing on the traditional usage, the term was used in a genre of early novels in which the narrative revolved around life stories or biographies of protagonists. 33 The rise of the novel has been explained as a modern phenomenon whose history could be traced back to the middle of the seventeenth century. This was a time when a new notion of the self, a new bourgeois identity of the individual, came into being.There was an expansion of literacy, the formation of a new readership, and a growth in publishing and lending libraries. Within this context, the novel emerged as new genre of writing, claiming to be ‘realistic’, not so much in what it represented as in the way it represented contemporary social life (Kroll 1998: 2–3; Watt 1964: 31–32). 34 The appearance of the printed book, which included the novel, entailed that a large number of identical copies of an author’s work were distributed through the market to thousands of private, separate and unknown readers, and authors and novelists were confronted with invisible and atomized publics (Anderson 1990: 210). 35 ‘The reading-room is established and much approved. The doors are opened before six in the morning, but there are always people waiting outside, ready for the first moment they can get in. Always twenty or thirty at a time sit reading there, and about a hundred come in the course of the day’ (Maitland 1843: 243). 36 For an overview, see Raju (1988). 37 Setti dedicated the book to Lord Mayo. 38 ‘A prabandha is defined by the number of descriptions it contains, generally listed as eighteen (an auspicious number) but almost always more. These are supposed to include descriptions of such subjects as a city, seasons, sunrise, moonrise, marriage, lovemaking, the birth of a son, hunting, battle, and so on. The focus of the prabandha is on the aesthetic quality of the descriptions and not

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Viresalingam, like Setti, attempted to address the need articulated by Lord Mayo for books about the inner life of Hindu society.39 It was not always possible for foreign rulers and colonial ethnographers to cross boundaries and a gain perspective of the colonized society from the inside, so it was sometimes best to encourage insiders to provide that information.40 Accordingly, Rajasekhara Caritramu contains a number of varnanas or elaborate descriptions of the temple, religious procession, domestic architecture, conversations among Hindu women, etc., in addition to the main narrative that throws much light on indigenous life. R.M. Macdonald, a retired official of the Madras education department, wrote to Viresalingam requesting a translation for publication in an English journal so that ‘the English reader will see Indian home life delineated’ (Viresalingam 1984: 117). Christian missionaries were also enthusiastic about the translation, and Viresalingam himself explicitly acknowledged its appeal to foreign readers.41 Rajasekhara Caritramu moves closer to the novelistic ideal than Srirangaraju Caritramu as its protagonist is just an ordinary man, not a distinguished son of a king. Persuaded by Samarthi Rangayya Setti, a mathematics lecturer at the Madras Christian College, to write an original Telugu novel, Viresalingam began by attempting something less than original. He set out to translate Oliver Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield (1951)42 to practice and evolve his own writing style in prose so that he could later attempt something original. But after translating a few chapters, he felt that the unfamiliarity of the context would make it unappealing to Telugu readers. He abandoned the translation, but retaining the English novel as a model, set out to write Rajasekhara Caritramu.43 It is difficult to tell how much of the context of The Vicar of Wakefield made sense to Viresalingam himself, but he readily saw that translation would not be on narrative or character development. The grandeur of the prabandha consists in the ornamental beauty of language, in luxurious description and intricate detail. It is a text to savor, to relish, and the notion of sanctity acquired through listening to the story is far less important than in the case of itihasas and puranas’ (Heifetz and Narayana Rao 1987: 137–38). Viresalingam took the element of elaborate descriptions then from the genre of prabandha, and put it to use in the novel for which narrative and character development are equally important. 39 ‘It is known to all that there are no books in Telugu until now that depict the manners and customs of people and encourage ethical behaviour in them’ (Rajasekhara Caritramu, preface to the first edition, p. 7). 40 The logic behind the colonial official desire to learn Indian language, according to Cohn (1996: 46) was ‘the objectification and use of Indian languages as instruments of rule to understand better the “peculiar” manners, customs, and prejudices of Indians, and to gather information necessary to conciliate and control the peoples of India’. 41 ‘I desisted from making any changes in the second edition, since foreign readers attempting to read the original with the help of the translation would run into difficulties, as the English translation is based on the first edition’ (Rajasekhara Caritramu, preface to the second edition, p. 8). 42 This novel was first published in 1766. 43 Though not regarded by contemporary or later critics as a novel of the first rank, The Vicar of Wakefield quickly became popular after it was first published in 1766, and several English editions and European language translations appeared. Though Goldsmith was perceived as an eccentric tramp better known for his poetry in the eighteenth century, nineteenth-century re-evaluations of

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comprehensible to Telugu readers.44 What he borrowed from the English novel was the plot—the ignorant, credulous, though happy, state of the protagonist and his family at the beginning, the subsequent endless difficulties, and the eventual restoration of happiness—a restored happiness only more enduring for being the result of a rational perspective, mature reflection, and right values. The English story is excessively melodramatic, inconsistent and improbable in many places, and the Telugu book, somewhat strangely, emulates these negative aspects as well. Many characters in the Telugu novel are developed on the lines of the English ones.45 Despite such a strong influence of The Vicar of Wakefield on Rajasekhara Caritramu, Viresalingam’s Telugu novel could successfully pass off as an independent work.While the plot was borrowed, it was effectively deployed, well sketched out and adapted to a different cultural context. Viresalingam says he wrote the novel to stamp out superstitious beliefs among the people. It was his intervention in the literary sphere to promote his project of social reform. As Mukherjee (1985: 16) would say, it is a ‘novel of purpose’. It was first serialized in Vivekavardhani in 1878 and later published in 1880 as a book. While some newspaper editors praised the novel, it did not become popular among Telugu readers, discouraging Viresalingam from enthusiastically taking to the novelistic genre.46 his works highlighted their focus on morality/virtue, and The Vicar of Wakefield became his most universally admired work (Williams 1975). Though severely put down by critics such as Thomas Macaulay in 1856 for inconsistencies and improbabilities in its plot, the popularity of The Vicar of Wakefield endured in an age obsessed with morality and virtue (Hadow and Wheeler 1946: 28). It also became, along with Samuel Johnson’s Rasselas, one of the two most popular eighteenthcentury English novels among the early generation of English-educated Indians (Mukherjee 1985: 10). 44 Set in the middle of eighteenth-century England, The Vicar of Wakefield sought to defend the interests of the farmer class from the threat of rising urban and commercial interests. It is a firstperson fictional narrative by Dr Charles Primrose, a priest working in rural England. With the progressive expansion of franchise, urban groups were gaining increasing influence in parliamentary institutions, and threatened to weaken monarchy. Culturally, too, new fashions and trends of towns appealed to the rural folk and threatened to undermine their way of life. Temptations of town life, clamour for high society and quests after fortunes are shown in the novel to affect everyone, including the family of Dr Primrose. Dr Primrose, usually sober, is himself tempted by the prospect of marrying his daughters off to rich husbands. He advocates Christian values of temperance, simplicity and contentment that will help the rural folk overcome the temptations of town life. It would, however, be simplistic to consider Goldsmith anti-modern. He not only advocates a judicious tempering of the medieval value of unrestricted generosity, but argues that there is much to be gained by travel and contact with towns and cities, and advocates modernization of prisons and rationalization of punishment in England. For an account of the newly forming ‘narratives’ of criminal reformation, see Bender (1998: 107–34). 45 Thus, one can see that Rajasekharudu, the protagonist of the Telugu novel, is based on Dr Primrose, Ramaraju/Krsna Jagapati on the character of Burchell/Sir William Thornhill, and Sobhanadri Raju on the younger Mr Thornhill. More similarities can be listed. 46 It took many years to sell the 1,000 copies printed for the first edition. The three other novels that Viresalingam wrote in later years are Satyavati Caritramu (1883), Candramati Caritramu (1884) and Satyaraja Purvadesa Yatralu (1891–94). The last mentioned novel was inspired by Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels.

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The novel, however, did become influential. The Madras University prescribed it as a textbook and in the 1890s the editors of the reputed literary magazine Cintamani upheld it as a model to be emulated by participants in its annual competition for novel writing (Ramapatiravu 1972: 137). Viresalingam dedicated the novel to R.M. Macdonald, the education officer in the Godavari district at that time. Asked by Macdonald in 1881 to come up with an English translation, Viresalingam said that he was too busy to undertake the task. Rev. J.R. Hutchinson of the American Baptist Mission, working at Srikakulam at that time, translated the novel and serialized it first in the journal of the Madras Christian College in 1886. It was published as a book the following year and Macdonald wrote a preface to the translation (Viresalingam 1887; Viresalingam 1984: 118–19). For a novel to be a ‘realistic’ endeavour, the narrative must be firmly located both in time and in place. The story of Rajasekhara Caritramu takes place in Dhavalesvaram, a village near Rajahmundry, approximately 200 years prior to the writing of the account, and the descendants of the protagonist are said to be the living contemporaries of the narrator. The narrator claims to be performing the task of an historian.47 Acknowledging that the narrative contains certain implausible and unlikely scenarios,48 the narrator says in a rhetorical tone that they are no more implausible than a number of descriptions, believed by people to be true, contained in the puranic narratives. Compared to the latter, he thinks, the scenarios of the novel are at least within the realm of the possible. Notwithstanding the narrator’s claim that the story happened 200 years in the past, the text describes nineteenth-century society. This slippage between the past and the present is made possible by the assumption of a deep continuity between these times.49 Through the story the author critiques contemporary society. A shared discourse is assumed between the narrator and readers, and Telugu desamu, or Andhra desamu, subsumed under the larger category of Hindu desamu, is mentioned as the society of reference. The term desamu, originally connoting a 47 The narrator in Goldsmith’s novel too recounts events ‘with the veracity of a historian’ (Goldsmith 1951: 2). The difference, however, is that this is a first-person narrative written by a participant-observer, whereas in Rajasekhara Caritramu, the narrator is entirely outside the time and course of events. 48 For example, Rukmini, the 14-year-old daughter of Rajasekharudu, the protagonist, after being knocked down unconscious by a robber, survives the night in a forest infested with tigers and other wild animals. Regaining consciousness the following morning, she dons a man’s attire, sells her valuables and lives incognito as a man for a few months. ‘Some might argue it does not sound credible that a young and naïve girl like Rukmini accomplished a task that even older and more experienced women are unlikely to have done. Whether or not people believe him, the duty of a historian is to report facts just as they happened, and I am performing that duty’ (Viresalingam 1969: 182). 49 While Viresalingam himself did not comment explicitly about this issue, general understanding that informed the English-educated men of his generation may be found in the preface that Setti wrote to his novel Srirangaraju Caritra in 1872. ‘Though this story is said to have happened four hundred years ago, there is not even a trace of difference in the customs of the people between then and now. You may therefore note that all the customs described in the book pertain to the current society as well’ (Virabhadraravu 1986: 485).

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region with a specific geo-cultural character in Telugu, came to be widely seen as synonymous with the category ‘nation’ in the twentieth century. It is clearly a sensibility that takes into account the political reorganization of the subcontinent in the nineteenth century and the new identities that were being forged. ‘Widows’ and ‘child widows’ are mentioned in generalized plurality in a reflection on their fateful condition in ‘our country’.50 Viresalingam drew from his own life and experiences to write the novel, accounting for similarities between the novel and his autobiography. The novel itself is a linear narrative of a phase lasting approximately a year in the life of Rajasekharudu, the protagonist, a time in which his identity is radically reshaped. It shows how, at the age of 40, he is transformed from a ‘critical traditionalist’ to a ‘critical rationalist’.51 Rajasekharudu is a wealthy man to begin with, having inherited a fortune from his father, and patronizes relatives, friends and gift-seeking Brahmins.52 He organizes cultural performances at his house for the benefit and entertainment of his friends and gives money to temples. He is susceptible to flattery and adulation, which he receives in ample measure on account of his wealth and patronage, though he also possesses an inner criticality that sets him apart from others in his milieu. He educates his daughter, unlike most other fathers. He quotes evidence from the smritis in favour of women’s education and invokes the example of many pativratas who were well educated. He refuses to get his daughter’s head shaved when informed of her husband’s death. He selectively heeds the advice of the astrologers. That he does all of these things even before his perspective is radically transformed is indicative of his innate criticality. Despite this, he shares with other members of his milieu several ‘irrational’ notions and ‘superstitious’ beliefs. People belonging to Rajasekharudu’s milieu believe in omens and astrology and worship stone images.53 Astrologers explain away the falsity of some of their predictions by pointing to inaccuracies in recording a person’s precise time of 50 Coming to feel a generalized compassion for the generalized suffering of a collectivity from the standpoint of a disembodied observer (as opposed to feeling specific compassion for a particular person) is a marker of modernity. See Chakrabarty (2000). 51 The idea of improvement implicit in Rajasekharudu’s transformation is reminiscent of the moral autonomy and responsibility of the individual and the individual’s capacity for perfection, implicit in the work of Joseph Butler. Though first published in the early eighteenth century, Butler’s work remained influential in England up until almost the beginning of the twentieth century, and in India as well due to its incorporation into the educational curriculum (McDonald 1966: 463–66). 52 In the traditional Indian world-view the rich gained prestige and status through generosity and sharing of their wealth. Mythological kings like Sibi and Bali achieved greatness due to generosity, even if in that process they had to undermine themselves. Hospitality, a value connected with patronage and generosity, appears to have been a cherished value in pre-modern England as well, if Goldsmith is to be believed. Dr Primrose, in The Vicar of Wakefield, talks about many relatives visiting his house. Sir William Thornhill is also a generous and somewhat indiscriminate patron before he gets impoverished, but ‘at present his bounties are more rational and moderate than before’ (Goldsmith 1951: 17). 53 Image worship is too familiar to be mentioned from a native reader’s perspective. It is another indication that Viresalingam had the Western and Christian audiences in mind.

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birth or inadequacy of training that an astrologer received. People fully swear by astrology though only a small percentage of predictions come true. They also think planetary influences cause diseases and practise planetary propitiation as remedy. Brahmins variously perform the role of doctors, priests and astrologers. These Brahmins in the novel are both hypocritical and devious. They do not practise the customs they profess, collect money during festivals from credulous worshippers, and split income from temple lands with the devadasis, leaving little for the gods themselves. The devadasis get their income from the temples but do not satisfactorily do their duties in return. Astrologers manipulate the details of birth charts and give arbitrary interpretations of them for selfish and instrumental purposes. There is widespread belief in ghosts who also can cause diseases. Some manipulative men, usually though not always from a Brahmin caste, cash in on this belief by posing as bhuta vaidyas. What is striking in the narrative is the instrumentality of astrologers and bhuta vaidyas. They are shown as having no faith in their occupations and as manipulators of people’s naïveté. In the novel people strictly observe caste distinctions and members of the upper varnas do not even drink water served by the Sudras. Women are generally in an ignorant state and have a tendency to gossip, a habit attributed to their uneducated state. The devadasis are the only women who go to school, though their training is directed towards attracting men and not improving knowledge or ethics.54 Instruction at most schools is highly inefficient, and teachers often resort to corporal punishment. Girls, especially among Brahmins, are married very young to men much older than themselves with the result that many become widows. They, however, do not see widowhood to be the result of faulty marriage practice, but fatalistically attribute it to their astrological propensity. Widows are unable to satisfy their sexual desires and sometimes have illicit affairs or elope. When theft or robbery happens, people are shown as not interested in conducting proper investigation to catch the culprits, but resort to magical procedures and as a result often punish innocent persons. Rapacious traders sell their wares at high prices and some buyers try to get even by cheating on their payments. Travel between places is hazardous, since the forests surrounding them are full of dangerous beasts and robbers posing as religious mendicants. People are shown as lacking a ‘civic sense’. Their worship is passionate and loud and might strike outsiders (foreigners or Europeans by implication) as preposterous, and their eating habits during pilgrimages are unhygienic. The wealthy donate money to temples but refuse to help out fellow human beings in need. When a neighbourhood accidentally catches fire, people simply watch the spectacle without making an effort to extinguish the fire. As some are bringing things out of the burning houses, others are observed to be stealing them. Spouses quarrel with one another in public view, and when that happens, the onlookers do not intervene to stop the fight but simply enjoy the spectacle. When newcomers arrive in a village or town, people are highly 54 The autobiography also mentions a number of schools at Rajahmundry to train the devadasis (Viresalingam 1982: 69–70).

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inquisitive about them but reluctant to help. The streets of the towns are filthy with garbage. There is precious little that the novel’s author finds positive about the social context of his work. Living as a member of such society, Rajasekharudu, despite his inner criticality, continues under the sway of irrational beliefs. He needs a jolt in life to set out on a path of radically altering his perspective. Loss of his wealth provides it. The reason for this loss is his own personality: naïveté, indiscriminate generosity and susceptibility to flattery. Following his impoverishment, he steps out of the narrow cocoon of his village into the outside world. He sets out on a pilgrimage to Kasi. Though he never manages to reach Kasi, his experiences on the journey sharpen his criticality and bring him close to the narrator’s (and author’s) world-view. Rajasekharudu and his family pass through towns such as Rajahmundry, Peddapuram and Bhimavaram on the way to Kasi. They encounter more suffering due to their naïveté, but learn with every experience. With most predictions pertaining to him and his family having gone wrong, Rajasekharudu loses all faith in astrology and gives an interesting reply to yet another astrologer who offers to read his birth chart: Even if your prediction may be accurate, I don’t want it, for if something good is predicted, I will be disappointed greatly if it does not come true. If it comes true, having expected it from before, I will be denied the satisfaction of a pleasant surprise. If the prediction is bad, in addition to suffering the bad consequence, I will worry about it from now on. If the prediction of a bad event does not materialize, all my worry about it would have been eminently avoidable. (Viresalingam 1969: 142) At the end of the novel the king of Peddapuram liberates Rajasekharudu from his travails. The king offers him advice that he should not be vulnerable to flattery, he should not gift more than he earns, he may forgive his enemies as that will effect a change of heart in them, and that a poor man like him ought not to express anger against officials, for the anger against the rich and powerful is often ineffective and lands one in trouble.55 The king lets off the culprits who troubled Rajasekharudu with light punishments, in a manner that conformed to the practices of a modern and democratic government. Though appreciative of Rajasekharudu’s virtue and honesty, the king does not lavish handsome rewards on him but merely restores his former properties with the advice that he should be content with money adequate for a comfortable livelihood. Rajasekharudu imbibes these lessons and returns to his village. When the old sycophants try to make a return, he disavows them and gives out gifts only with discrimination. When he celebrates the weddings of his son and daughter, he does not engage the ‘immoral’ devadasis for dance entertainment, opting instead for hari kirtanas by distinguished singers. He underscores the importance of thrift in 55 Viresalingam’s view here perhaps indicates the attitude he wished to see cultivated towards the colonial government.

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wedding expenditure56 and eliminates the customs that he considers to be of little value. By the end of the novel, Rajasekharudu emerges as a rational individual, having lost faith in astrology and other superstitions. Imbued with faith in the human agency to change the world for the better, he reflects on the downtrodden condition of women in general and widows in particular. Moved by the condition of widows, Rajasekharudu attempts to ameliorate their condition, but his attempts are thwarted by the stiff resistance of conservative forces. Autobiography The novelistic narrative displays a modern and contemporary sensibility. Viresalingam’s critique of Indian society in the novel is shaped by colonial understandings and evaluations. His autobiography portrays a similar sensibility and understanding. The trajectory of Rajasekharudu’s life in broad outline can also be said to be the trajectory of Viresalingam’s life with some differences. Since Rajasekharudu is said to have lived in the seventeenth century, he could only draw upon indigenous resources to sharpen his criticality, whereas Viresalingam’s criticality is clearly a result of his contact with Western ideas mediated through colonial rule. The focus of the novel—a fictional biography—is an individual who progresses from ignorance to a stage of critical knowledge. Likewise, the autobiography tells the story of a real individual who achieves a similar transition. To mark off the ‘truthful’ and ‘credible’ autobiographical account from a fictional though ‘realistic’ narrative, Viresalingam introduced an important stylistic difference. He did away with varnanas, an important element of his novelistic strategy, a choice emulated by most of the later autobiographers in Telugu as well. Sviyacaritramu also employs the same prose style as the novel. In fact, after writing Rajasekhara Caritramu in 1878, Viresalingam used this style in all his subsequent works.57 The autobiography is a chronological account of Viresalingam’s life from birth. Seven of the eight chapters deal with different phases of his life, discussed as successive years and decades, beginning in1848 and ending with 1913. Chapter four is an elaborate account of several widow remarriages that he conducted between 1880 and 1890, and the difficulties he faced. There is a special chapter devoted to the most active phase of his literary career, a phase that spanned the three decades from 1870 to 1900. There are two appendices at the end that provide the details about Hitakarini Samajamu, a public association Viresalingam founded in 1906. 56 It was felt during Viresalingam’s time that extravagant expenditure during weddings was a chief cause of indebtedness among Indians. Many commissions set up by the colonial government to investigate peasant indebtedness also held this view. 57 The linear narratives he wrote after the first novel consist of three more novels, a few biographies and a few histories, in addition to Sviyacaritramu. For information about his other novels, see footnote 46. Viresalingam began to write a biography of Rammohan Roy in 1896, which remained incomplete. He published a biography of Queen Victoria in 1897, and a biography of Jesus in 1913. He published a history of princely states of India in 1895. Viresalingam also completed a three-part history of Telugu poets in 1897 and considered this work as his most valuable literary contribution.

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Viresalingam clearly thought that his life was remarkable and worthy of record. One of his associates expressed an interest in writing his biography as early as 1888 but Viresalingam dissuaded him. But an appreciative literary biography of Viresalingam was published in 1894 (Venkatasubbaravu: 1910).58 His friends then began to pressurize him to write an autobiography, and yielding to that pressure, Viresalingam started the project, writing a portion of it in 1903. But he left it unfinished. Once again friends prevailed on him and he resumed the project, completed the first part, and published it in 1911. The autobiography begins with a prayer and invocation of God in the manner of traditional literary works, though Viresalingam’s God is without name or form as per his Brahmo faith.59 He seeks God’s assistance in order to write a truthful account and not be swayed by the considerations of fame and popularity.60 There is a similar invocation of God at the end, wherein he attributes the merits of the work to his blessing, and hopes he has been able to write a truthful account subject to the limitations of human fallibility. As much as Viresalingam is eager to record his version of the happenings during his lifetime for posterity and make the claim of a lasting contribution to society, he cannot but appear a reluctant autobiographer given the ethos of the times that discouraged people from highlighting their individual achievements and contributions.61 Venkatasubbaravu’s book of 1910 is a revised and enlarged edition of the 1894 original. Viresalingam stresses the importance of God perhaps in response to critics who characterized radical reformers as ‘denationalized’ and ‘atheistical, irreverent and materialistic’ (Suntharalingam 1974: 329). When Yeluri Laksminarasimham and he set up a theistic school in the early 1880s at Rajahmundry, Viresalingam insisted on the primacy of religious teachings in the school. Laksminarasimham favoured a more gradual introduction of religious instruction. The two of them fell out on account of this and other differences (Viresalingam 1982: 122–23; 1984: 17–25). He also included in the rules and regulations of the Hitakarini Samajamu set up in 1906 that no atheist shall be eligible to become a member of the managing committee. 60 Viresalingam requests God to help him accomplish the difficult task of writing an autobiography: 58 59

Even writing a biography is difficult, autobiography only incredibly more so. People think of an autobiographer as vain, narcissistic and hankering after popularity. May no such impulses motivate me. May I remain humble, and always speak the truth. May I not do anything for popularity or acclaim, and may I have only altruistic motives. Hemmed in as I am by severe limitations, and though my life might not be ‘exemplary’ and worthy of notice by many, it might at least be of some use to a few, if the old adage that ordinary actions of ordinary people also pave for general advancement is correct. (Viresalingam 1982: 1) ‘I only wished to show how things may be done by doing them, but from the beginning I never had a strong desire to tell about myself’ (Viresalingam 1982: xxiii). The early autobiography appears to have been reluctant in English as well: 61

As both a bookseller and a voracious reader, Lackington was acquainted with the long tradition of printed hagiography, which included a number of narratives penned by the saints themselves. He counted over a dozen of these ‘pious lives’ in his personal library. Yet such lives were typically published posthumously, by editors who valued them as tools for the promotion of godliness.

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Viresalingam dedicated the autobiography to his wife Rajyalaksmi, an unprecedented practice.62 Men at that time did not dedicate their literary creations to women unless the woman in question was either a goddess or a rich and powerful patron. Dedication to one’s wife was entirely out of the question—open or public expression of appreciation for one’s wife was anathema, though it was quite normal for women to dedicate the books they wrote to their husbands. In addition to the dedication, Viresalingam also mentions his wife at several places in the text and notes her contribution to the public activity he took part in—a practice other male autobiographers in Telugu were rather slow in picking up. We learn from the autobiography that Viresalingam was born into an erstwhile landowning family that took up employment in the colonial bureaucracy. He first studied at some indigenous schools, though his uncle simultaneously began teaching him the English and Mathematics necessary for a career in government service. Viresalingam joined an English school in 1860 and matriculated from it in 1870. Though he qualified in the examinations that made him eligible for jobs in the colonial bureaucracy, he opted to become a school teacher in 1871 and stuck to the profession for the rest of his life. There was nothing different about Viresalingam’s upbringing from that of other boys of his social background. Born into a Brahmin caste, he underwent upanayana at the age of seven and, as mentioned earlier, attended indigenous schools before joining an English school—a common trajectory for many Brahmin and upper-caste boys of his generation. What is different is the manner and the extent to which Viresalingam responded to the new influences after joining the English school in 1860. While there, he read a book containing the speeches of Keshub Chandra Sen,63 which induced in him scepticism about many of his beliefs about ghosts and astrology. He also came into contact with Atmuri Laksminarasimham, a Brahmo who joined his school as a teacher and began to discuss new ideas with the students. By about 1871 Viresalingam’s world-view had undergone a complete transformation. This new world-view, in combination with the righteous self-perception of being a ‘doer’ rather than a ‘talker’, might explain how he became a relentless social reformer in the second half of the nineteenth century. In one of the initial issues of Vivekavardhani in 1874, Viresalingam declares his objectives in starting the journal as follows: Only in exceptional circumstances did holy people publish their own lives, and then with profuse apologies for their breach of proper practice. Nevertheless, by Lackington’s day abuses of the hagiographic tradition for personal rather than spiritual promotion had become so frequent that such texts nearly embodied a genre of their own. (Mascuch 1997: 3) 62 ‘I am dedicating this book to my other “half” Rajyalaksmi, who went along with me and encouraged me in all the activities I undertook, gladly bore the difficulties that came in the way, took care of me as a mother would her child, and kept me company for fifty years’ (Viresalingam 1982: dedication page). 63 Keshub Chandra Sen visited Madras in 1864 and delivered speeches that influenced many students (Leonard 1991: 51).

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I am a Brahmin. I learned English and passed the matriculation examination in that language. I have an interest in Telugu language and literature. I will spare no efforts for the development of the country/nation. I also possess some literary ability. I will write about issues of general interest for everyone and ethical issues in a simple style that is accessible to all, avoiding the turgid style. I will also employ in my writings usages borrowed from other languages if necessary. (Viresalingam 1982: 59–60, emphasis added) He adds in the autobiography, in which this statement from the journal is excerpted, that his objective in the publication of the journal is two-fold: development of the language and development of the country. We can thus see Viresalingam operating within the language of modernist discourses, using the terms ‘development’, ‘progress’ and ‘country’. The Telugu terms he uses are desamu for country/ nation and abhivrddhi for development/progress (ibid.). In a similar vein, Viresalingam wrote in Vivekavardhani in 1878: We are not aspiring for financial profit in publishing this journal. We are doing it for the welfare of the people and the country. We have made enemies of some local government servants by writing about their misdeeds. But we cannot swerve from our duty as journalists fearing someone’s wrath or to curry someone else’s favour. We are glad we were able to help the society in spite of antagonizing some people. (Ibid.: 100, emphasis added) Though Viresalingam is using the discourse of the‘nation’, in the absence of an anti-colonial awareness, it is incorrect to call him a nationalist. It is a discourse of modernity and of the public sphere, and Viresalingam was the first to deploy it in the Telugu districts. Viresalingam contributed to the ‘discursive’ public sphere through his literary output and essays and articles of the non-fictional kind. Many Telugu journals including Vivekavardhani often carried both kinds of writings. He also wrote about what he considered ‘immoral’ practices of the local Indian elite.64 He contributed to the political sphere by his activist journalism of writing about issues such as corruption in the local administration. The presidency government kept a close tab on the Indian language press and sometimes responded to investigate such allegations. Viresalingam also intervened more directly by conducting widow remarriages and popularizing new forms of voluntary association.65 64 The chief ‘immoral’ practice was for a man, usually a successful and wealthy lawyer or civil servant, to take a concubine in addition to his legally wedded wife. The concubine usually came from the devadasi community, represented locally by the bogam or sani castes. Though such women had no legal status, men did not try to hide their association with them. 65 The Prarthana Samaj in Andhra, started by Viresalingam at Rajahmundry in 1878, though ostensibly religious in character, was a kind of voluntary association. Its membership was open to all castes and it also advocated public service such as assistance to the physically disabled and night schools for the poor (Viresalingam 1982: 102). In addition, he founded associations that conducted widow remarriages and worked for social reforms—bodies that had representation from multiple castes.

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We know from reading the autobiographical account and also from other sources that traditional religious leaders such as the sankaracaryas and the leaders of various castes were slow in responding to the challenges posed by the colonial context. Part of their authority was undermined by the colonial rule, but they also showed little initiative in developing a future vision for a society in the throes of transition. When Viresalingam embarked upon his project of social reform, he decided to bypass them entirely and work independently. Not only did he not attempt to work with them and win them over to his side, but on the other hand he attempted to undermine, by his effective use of the public sphere, whatever limited authority they still enjoyed. He had no faith in the sastras, and invoked them primarily for strategic reasons.66 The power of traditional authority discouraged people from associating with widow remarriages. A number of Viresalingam’s own supporters did not turn up at these weddings, and most of those who attended them performed prayascitta or penitence so as not to be excommunicated from their caste. Even Paida Ramakrsnayya, a wealthy merchant of the Komati caste and the chief financier of the early weddings, was forced to undergo prayascitta. Religious and caste authorities for their part, perhaps fearing a loss of social basis, were tolerant of deviation from the proscribed behaviour as long as opposition was not extreme. They were quite willing to admit people back into the fold if they apologized. Widow remarriages had to be conducted under heavy police protection. Unable to count on the neutrality of Hindu policemen, colonial authorities sometimes commissioned Christians and Muslims for duty. European officials, such as the district judge, joint magistrate and local college principal, used to turn up at such weddings to express solidarity and support. Much money had to be spent to support the married couples as they were disowned even by their own families and found it impossible to rent houses. A section of the ‘middle class’, however, continued to be silently supportive of reform even as they were unable to publicly declare their solidarity. Viresalingam and reform supporters in various parts of India publicized the weddings by writing about them in the English and in the Indian language press. This was yet another instance of an effective utilization of the public sphere to create a critical opinion and drum up support for reform. The society of the Telugu districts responded slowly and partially at the beginning to the project of social reform. For instance, Viresalingam’s own supporters paradoxically insisted on having devadasi performances at these weddings of widows, for this practice was seen as signifier of social status. Viresalingam himself had to give in to these pressures despite his critique of the devadasi system. His support base consisted of students of various schools and colleges, Indian officials working in the local government and European officials. Viresalingam cultivated the personal acquaintance of many European officials and even dedicated 66 Asked when once he gave a speech on widow remarriage at Black Town in Madras whether he had faith in the sastras, Viresalingam replied that he did not, and that he invoked them only for self-protection and for the sake of those that had faith in them (Viresalingam 1982: 161).

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some of his books to them.67 Many of his books were prescribed as textbooks by the government and the Madras University, and it is likely that his familiarity with officials helped. The sale of his books brought him significant financial return, a resource he used for his reform project. Widow remarriages first happened within the sub-sects of niyogis and madhvas among the Brahmins, and later spread to the more orthodox vaidikis. In the course of time they also spread to komatis (Vaisyas), the sanskritizing sudra caste of kamsalis (also known as visvabrahmins) and others.68 As the society of the Telugu districts became more open to the project of reform and modernization, many issues concerning caste and religion were taken up at the various district association meetings organized from the last decade of the nineteenth century. Separate sessions were often held at these meetings to discuss social issues along with the main sessions that discussed mainly economic, but sometimes political questions pertaining to the districts (much like the format of the early sessions of the Indian National Congress). There is no evidence of a middle-class nationalist discourse that arose independently in the Telugu districts, though it spread to that region through contact after it emerged in other regions of India.69 When Viresalingam began his work in the public sphere in the early 1870s, he did not have to contend with the nationalist discourse.70 But after the Indian National Congress was set up in 1885 and held an annual session in Madras in 1887, Viresalingam was forced to define his relation to nationalism. In a speech delivered at Rajahmundry in 1887, excerpted at length 67 While he was a student, Viresalingam cultivated the acquaintance of Henry Morris, the district judge. He dedicated Sandhi to E.P. Metcalfe, principal of Rajahmundry College. As we have already seen, he dedicated Rajasekhara Caritramu to R.M. Macdonald. He also wished to name the Town Hall that he proposed to construct in Rajahmundry after Macdonald. 68 The issue of widow remarriage and similar issues of modernization were eventually taken up by many caste associations, including those of many upwardly mobile Sudra castes, in the early twentieth century. See Ramakrishna (1993a). 69 The developments in the city of Madras and in the Telugu districts require separate consideration. Madras, where English education was first introduced, witnessed many political developments such as the critique of Christian proselytization and violation of neutrality by the members of the government, social reform endeavours, the establishment of the Madras Native Association and the call by Laksminarasu Cetti for a government policy of non-interference in indigenous social and religious affairs. Telugu districts were isolated since they were not connected by rail to Madras until the early 1890s. Viresalingam, for example, notes in his autobiography that in order to go from Rajahmundry to Madras, he first travelled to Kakinada by a boat in the canal for a day and waited for the coasting steamer that left for Madras just once a week. Travel by the steamer took two days (Viresalingam 1982: 145–46). Only a small number of Telugu students went to Madras to study due to strong religious and customary injunctions against sea voyage. By the end of the 1870s there were no more than half a dozen graduates from the Telugu districts. Educational progress was also very slow in the Telugu districts. A first-grade college offering a B.A. degree was not set up at Rajahmundry until 1877, and second-grade colleges offering an F.A. degree were set up at Vijayanagaram in 1877, at Visakhapatnam in 1878 and at Kakinada and Guntur in 1884 (Suntharalingam 1974: 111–12). 70 Viresalingam contended with a traditionalist discourse articulated by Kokkonda Venkataratnam in his journal Andhrabhasa Sanjivani, who opposed widow remarriage and education for girls.

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in his autobiography, he spelled out his position for the first time, a position he reiterated on many occasions in subsequent years. Calling the English rule God’s gift to India, Viresalingam condemned the pre-colonial rulers of India under whose reign, he felt, there was no protection for life and property. Under their rule, he said, Indian society remained socially backward and economically underdeveloped. For Viresalingam, a mere 100 years of English rule provided Indians the benefits of modern technology and a rule of law that protected life and property, and guaranteed equality. Crediting English education for bringing together people belonging to different regions, religions and languages under the aegis of the Indian National Congress, and crediting English rule for providing the freedom to discuss even political issues fearlessly, Viresalingam understood the main objective of the Congress to be the ironing out of the minor issues of English rule prejudicial to Indian interests. A friendly relationship between India and England could thus be strengthened. Discounting the argument that the Congress had been set up to fan hatred towards the British, Viresalingam found it incredible that the English-educated middle class in India, a product and beneficiary of the British rule, could be seen as acting selfishly, ungratefully and against the interests of the country. Viresalingam argued that the country needed uniform development in all fields— not just politics—and that development in one field to the exclusion of others would lead to an undesirable lopsidedness.71 He felt some nationalists desired such an exclusive political progress. Responding to the critique that he was highlighting the need for social change, Viresalingam agreed that political progress was equally important, for a country would greatly suffer under a despotic and unjust government. However, English rule was a just and benevolent rule in Viresalingam’s estimation. There were, of course, faults with that rule, just as with any other, and one had to work towards removing those faults. The objective of the Congress ought to be to communicate to ‘ignorant’ and possibly discontented commoners the advantages of British rule and hence foster their loyalty. One could always plead with the government for mercy and persuade them to grant greater freedom. Viresalingam’s loyalist stance was clearly an important reason why the colonial government awarded Viresalingam the title of Rao Bahadur in 1893. When in the first decade of the twentieth century, especially after Bipin Chandra Pal’s visit in 1907, a ‘tidal wave’ of militant nationalism hit the Telugu districts with full force, Viresalingam found himself increasingly isolated.72 The Englisheducated students of the schools and colleges who used to be his main bulwark of 71 Viresalingam’s position on this matter is similar to the one taken by G. Subramania Iyer of the newspaper the Hindu during the controversy over the Age of Consent Bill in the early 1890s (Suntharalingam 1974: 314–18). 72 Bipin Chandra Pal was a staunch Brahmo in the earlier phase of his life. He turned into a nationalist in the later phase. For an account of the challenges that the Brahmo ideology faced from various religious revivalist ideologies and the ‘Hindu’ turn that Pal’s own life took, see Pal (1973: 341–58, 498–546).

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support now completely deserted him and turned to nationalism. One of his strongest supporters in Rajahmundry, the well-known lawyer Nyapati Subba Rao, also became a nationalist and founded the Hindu Samajamu. Though he did not entirely abandon the cause of social reform, Subba Rao advised its slow and cautious implementation on ‘nationalist’ lines. Some nationalists though wanted to abandon social reform altogether. Viresalingam felt that this latter brand of nationalists uncritically approved of all indigenous social practices, including undesirable ones, and castigated all alien practices, including good ones. This, however, was not the only form of nationalist response. Another model that combined political nationalism with a programme of radical social reform also gained ground. An instance of this occurred when Karumuri Kamaraju, an anusthanic Brahmo73 and unrepentant social radical who refused to perform prayascitta after being expelled from the komati caste for eating at a common meal, set up a shop to sell swadeshi goods at Rajahmundry. A former follower of Viresalingam, he stopped speaking with the latter for a while because of the latter’s loyalist politics. In another instance, Nalam Krishna Rao, a member of the Prarthana Samaj, hung the picture of militant Khudiram Bose in the Rajahmundry Town Hall, causing Viresalingam much anguish. Viresalingam became isolated and somewhat disgruntled towards the end of his life. He thought of himself as much misunderstood and was forced to adopt a defensive posture due to his outspoken support to colonial rule. This mood pervades the second part of his autobiography. He laments that the members of the Prarthana Samaj forgot universal fraternity, a basic tenet of that organization, according to which Indians ought to look upon Englishmen as their brothers. He nevertheless carried on more or less alone and even founded a new organization, Hitakarini Samajamu, in 1906. Published in 1915, the second part of Sviyacaritramu ends with an appeal to the Telugu people. Declaring with wry sarcasm that he might not be considered worthy of being counted among those who contributed to the progress of the Telugu country, Viresalingam goes on to recount his role as a public intellectual, who initiated many changes in literature and actively intervened in the public sphere. Though such changes came to be taken for granted by the early twentieth century, in the earlier period he confronted active hostility to all efforts at reform. He mentions the role the town of Rajahmundry played in the reform cause, but acknowledges the support that the movement received from the entire Telugu region, and indeed the whole of south India. Viresalingam concludes his appeal by exhorting the Telugu-speaking people to become members of the Hitakarini Samajamu, make financial contributions to its activities and thus carry forward the social reform project. 73 An anusthanic Brahmo is one who takes a formal vow of allegiance to the Brahmo faith. By that vow, he would renounce allegiance to the faith he was born into and also renounce caste. From the time of conversion he would adopt a set of rituals specially formulated for the followers of Brahmoism during events such as the sraddha (death ceremony).

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The Legacy of Viresalingam Jonnavittula Gurunadham published a biography of Viresalingam in 1911, soon after the publication of the first part of Viresalingam’s autobiography. Gurunadham criticizes Viresalingam as being ‘singularly devoid of national feelings’ and having a poor historical perception. Arguing that Viresalingam focused on the progress of the individual rather than of the nation, Gurunadham goes on to say that Viresalingam was mistaken in his view that pre-colonial Indian society was marked by ‘ignorant and un-progressive tendencies’. Gurunadham feels that Hinduism would be destroyed if Viresalingam’s attack on the system of caste, idol worship and the Vedas was accepted. To counter the attack, he comes up with the somewhat vague formulation that Hinduism represents the collective acquisition of centuries of spiritual experience and stands for a particular mode of spiritual culture and sadhan. Gurunadham adds that Hinduism ‘sums up in itself the politics, the ethics, the philosophy and the fine arts of those who call themselves Hindus’ and he locates the essence of Hinduism in the Upanishads, philosophy of the Vedanta and the higher forms of spiritual communion outlined in bhakti, jnana and yoga. He assails Viresalingam for ‘missing the keynote of the sublime teachings of the Upanishads and their lasting influence on the history of the Hindu people’ and for being oblivious to ‘the true meaning and purpose of the Hindu ideal and thought which lay embodied in many of our social institutions’. He then mentions Ramakrishna of Dakshineshwar and Keshub Chandra Sen as two illustrious saintly figures of that religion in our own times, men who could not be bound ‘within the petty limits of human reason and understanding’. Gurunadham, one of the founders of the Andhra Movement, a political formation based on linguistic identity that pressed for a separate province for Telugu speakers, does not, however, only critique Viresalingam in the biography. He first softens his critique by saying that Viresalingam merely attacked the external organization of Hinduism and not its ideals, a somewhat inconsistent and opportunistic position given his previous stance that Viresalingam failed to appreciate the essence of the Upanishads. He then goes on to positively evaluate Viresalingam by noting his contribution to modern Telugu prose and literature, praises his ‘unrivalled capacity to put in practice whatever he thought good and just’, and calls Viresalingam the ‘founder of Telugu public life’ and ‘the greatest man born in the Telugu country during the century that is past’. (Gurunadham even recognizes the service rendered by English education and Christianity in ‘accelerating the transition of people from superstition to reason’.) Though the ‘destructive’ work that Viresalingam did during his early career was necessary and justified, Gurunadham concludes, ‘That stage of our public life is past and his constructive work alone remains.’ Gurunadham is here clearly trying to appropriate Viresalingam’s legacy for the purpose of the Andhra Movement. The Andhra Movement became institutionalized with the setting up of the Andhra Mahasabha, which held its first conference at Bapatla in 1913. It was essentially a middle-class movement that derived inspiration

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from the annulment of the Bengal partition and the formation of an independent Bengal province in 1911. It focused on the relative underdevelopment of the Telugu districts within the Madras Presidency and the underrepresentation of Telugu speakers in the public services especially vis-à-vis Tamil speakers (Subba Rao 1982). The Andhra Movement was the culmination of a longer political process that began with the formation of various associations of the Telugu districts that raised local demands and debated economic and social issues. As a movement that functioned in the public sphere and championed an ideology based on ‘something higher than a claim for appointments’—an ideology that inspired projects such as the writing of Andhra history and the history of Telugu literature to bring out the ‘traditional greatness’ of the Telugus—it could hardly ignore the contribution of Viresalingam. It acknowledged him as ‘the initial principle of change throughout the whole course of the Telugu advance within recent times’ (Gurunadham 1911: 166).74 For his part, Viresalingam, largely marginalized in the first decade of the twentieth century in the era of nationalism, appears to have been quite pleased to be somewhat rehabilitated by the association of his name with the Andhra Movement. He attended the second conference of the Andhra Mahasabha held at Vijayawada in 1914 and even proposed resolutions calling for the perpetuation of the memory of ‘national’ (Telugu) poets and adoption of measures to conserve the ancient historical monuments of the Telugu country (Subba Rao 1982: 251–52). The Andhra Movement initially made some loyalist noises since only the colonial government could grant a separate province at that time. It was, however, realized quickly that a separate province was not feasible and that the immediate demands of the movement had to be pursued within the framework of the existing provincial regime. What assumed far greater significance was the relationship of the Andhra Movement with Indian nationalism. Most leaders of the Andhra Movement were also Congress leaders in Andhra—an instance of one leadership operating at two levels.75 As long as the all-India leadership of the Congress recognized 74 In a press release before the first Andhra Mahasabha conference in 1913, joint secretaries Konda Venkatappayya and Vinjamuri Bhavanacharyulu declared:

The Andhra Movement is the result of educational influences that have been at work amongst the Andhras ever since Rao Bahadur K. Viresalingam Pantulu started the paper Vivekavardhani and Mr (Nyapati) Subba Rao Pantulu commenced to edit the journal Chintamani. The strenuous labours of Mr Viresalingam Pantulu in the cause of social reform and the liberal ideas and high ideals of life which he preached in his vigorous writings and which were exemplified in his remarkable life roused the Telugus from their lethargy and helped to create in them a love for public life and a degree of public spirit which, with the advance of English education amongst them, and with the example of noble lives in other parts of India and elsewhere, has been gradually growing in strength and showing itself in the various institutions started in the country for the development of literature and education, and for the amelioration of their social and political conditions (Subba Rao 1982: 129–30). 75 When the Andhra Jatiya Kalasala was started in Machilipatnam in 1906 as a national institution of learning, Telugu became the medium of instruction, and that was at least one area where nationalists and Viresalingam found common ground. ‘English can never become the language of

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in principle the legitimacy of the demand for a separate linguistic province for Telugu speakers, which it did in 1917 by creating a separate Provincial Congress Committee for the Telugu districts, the Andhra Movement could be willingly incorporated into the mainstream of Indian nationalism.76 As already noted, ‘social conferences’ were held along with the district association conferences in the Telugu districts from the late nineteenth century onwards. The district associations were umbrella organizations encompassing all religious, caste and economic groups, similar in structure to the Indian National Congress or the Andhra Mahasabha at the higher level. Organized and led by the emerging ‘middle class’ of the districts, they were quite sympathetic to the social reform agenda. However, after the advent of militant nationalism in the twentieth century, traditionalist forces regrouped and began to press their agenda as well at the annual meetings of the district conferences and at other similar gatherings. Their meetings at these conferences were usually held under the banner of Sanatana Dharma Sabha or Hindu Mata Sabha. When V.S. Srinivasa Sastri introduced a Bill in the Madras Legislative Council in 1915 to prohibit child (pre-puberty) marriages, both the pro-reform group and the conservative anti-reform group attempted to mobilize public opinion on a large scale by holding meetings at the village level and sending signed petitions to the governor.77 Organizations like Sanatana Dharma Sabha had an intrinsic problem. Being orthodox Hindu and brahminical in orientation, they could not appeal to the wide spectrum of Hindu castes that were increasingly articulating their aspirations for social mobility since the late nineteenth century. On the other hand, reformists could use a language that appealed to many castes across the spectrum. Reformers such as Viresalingam, though born into the Brahmin caste, critiqued Brahmin priesthood and the social dominance of Brahmins, supporting a more open system of elite (caste) circulation. The caste issue became even more important after the the people, however widely it may spread. Those who seek service under the Government and a few others alone learn it, but the people at large do not learn it. So if the bulk of the common people should ever be educated, it will be possible only through the vernaculars and not through the language of the state’ (excerpt from Viresalingam’s article in a November 1886 issue of Vivekavardhani, quoted in Gurunadham [1911: 48]). 76 I am indicating here only the dominant trend. Non-Brahmin leadership was also involved in the Andhra Movement. For instance, Panuganti Ramarayani, king of Panagal, an important leader of the Non-Brahmin Justice Party in later years, presided over the Visakhapatnam conference of the Andhra Mahasabha in 1915. However, involvement of such leaders only strengthened the reformist agenda of the nationalist leadership. Arguing that there were some ‘wicked texts in the Puranas’ that prohibited women and the Sudras from receiving education, Ramarayani deplored untouchability and asked why the untouchables were not to be considered Andhras (Subba Rao 1982: 281–86). 77 This campaign was conducted at the meetings of the umbrella organizations as well, and when the Madras Provincial Conference, the umbrella organization for the whole presidency, met in 1915 at Nellore, Gandhi, who happened to be in Madras at that time, travelled to Nellore to attend the conference. He attended both the social reform meeting supporting the Bill and the Sanatana Dharma Sabha meeting opposing the Bill (both gatherings organized on the occasion of the conference), but refrained from supporting any position himself (Andhra Patrika, 6 May 1915).

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tremors of the non-Brahmin movement—which primarily gained ground in the Tamil districts in the second decade of the twentieth century—were felt in the Telugu districts.78 Two separate conferences of non-Brahmins of the Telugu districts were held at Vijayawada in 1916 on the same day, one advocating support for nationalism and the other opposing it. The nationalist non-Brahmin faction eventually emerged victorious. It was led by Tripuraneni Ramasvami Caudari, a non-Brahmin ideologue who also made an impact on the Telugu literary field during later decades (Subba Rao 1982: 360). Though the leadership of various ‘middle-class’ umbrella organizations continued to be dominated by Brahmins, as long as that leadership was favourable to the reformist agenda it was possible for non-Brahmins to join and work within those organizations and aspire for positions of leadership in due course. Thus, in the battle for social leadership and hegemony, the reformist group won out though various tendencies continued to operate with varying degrees of influence at the local level. That is how Viresalingam’s reform agenda came to be incorporated by the nationalist movement of the Telugu-speaking districts. Viresalingam’s legacy had a lasting impact in the literary field as well, though at the glorious moment of nationalism’s arrival there was an attempt to partially repudiate it. Gurunadham, for instance, in his biography, critiques Viresalingam’s dramas based on the mythological stories of Prahlada and Hariscandra on the ground that he wrote veiled burlesques/satires of stories that ‘have always formed themes of highest national importance to the mind of the Hindu’ and that ‘have become ingrained in the very marrow and bone of the social and religious life of the people’. Viresalingam, he says, missed the essence of the lives of such men of ‘great ideals and passions’ whose ‘services in the march of moral and spiritual culture’ were invaluable. Instead, according to Gurunadham, Viresalingam was taken up with their ‘encrustations of miracle and mystery’ and other ‘incongruous’ features (Gurunadham 1911: 67–72). But such repudiation was short-lived. It was succeeded by the ascendancy of reformist and radical trends in literature. For instance, Unnava Laksminarayana (1877–1958), a follower of Viresalingam based in Guntur who conducted a number of widow remarriages, turned nationalist and wrote the novel Malapalli (1957) on the theme of untouchability, further radicalizing of the reform agenda.79 Laksminarayana (1917) and certain other reformer-turned-nationalists, however, viewed the conversion of untouchables to Christianity with disfavour and envisaged a solution within the framework of Hinduism. An anti-Christian position was a deviation from the reform agenda, a result no doubt of the influence of nationalism. It was a position that Viresalingam would have disapproved of. 78 The Justice Party, claiming to represent non-Brahmin interests, was formed in 1916. Its politics never achieved in the Telugu districts the popularity and prominence they acquired in the Tamil districts. See Irschick (1969). 79 This celebrated novel was first published in 1922–23 and banned by the colonial government in 1923 for ‘insurrectionary Bolshevik content’. The ban was subsequently lifted in 1928 and again reintroduced in 1936.

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I conclude this article by mentioning two influential literary figures who continued Viresalingam’s legacy, developing further a critique of pre-colonial Indian culture and literature. Kattamanci Ramalinga Reddi (1880–1951), or C.R. Reddy as he was popularly known, was a Cambridge-trained scholar who became the first vice-chancellor of the newly set up Andhra University in 1926.80 A member of the non-Brahmin Justice Party, Reddy possessed a radically secular worldview.81 He praised Viresalingam as the ‘greatest Andhra of modern times’ whose life ‘towered above the distinction of Brahmin and non-Brahmin and all the differences of caste and status pertaining to the Hindus as we see them today’.82 Though not a prolific writer, he wrote Kavitva Tatva Vicaramu (1947a), an influential literary critical text.83 In this text, Reddy sought to demolish the literary and textual standards that had held sway for centuries, and introduced new yardsticks in the light of which the bulk of traditional literature was evaluated as decadent and without value (Narayana Rao 2002). Another influential writer who carried forward Viresalingam’s legacy was Tripuraneni Ramasvami Caudari (1887–1943), nationalist leader of non-Brahmin politics in the Telugu districts. Ramasvami Caudari critically retold the Ramayana story pertaining to Sambuka as an upper-caste conspiracy to perpetrate injustice on the lower castes and interpreted it in terms of the Aryan–Dravidian discourse that came into being in the latter part of the nineteenth century.84 Similar retellings of mytho-logical themes by Caudari are found in his Sutapuranamu and Kuruksetra Sangramamu (Ramasvami Caudari 1996). For a short biography of C.R. Reddy in English, see Anjaneyulu (1973). ‘The world is driven by the mechanism of “cause and effect”, whether or not we are willing to accept it. There are no cause-less phenomena in the world except the divine Grace of God. Even this statement about God can find basis only in the subjective experience of the devotees. How reliable and credible that basis may be is also open to question. Even that belief is in decline in today’s world’ (Ramalingareddi 1947b: 148). 82 Reddy writes on a different occasion: 80 81

In literature he [Viresalingam] commenced by writing in the pandit style and ended as the finest and grandest exponent of a clear, simple prose instilled with beauty and reason. He commenced by writing prabandhas bristling with slesa, citrakavita and the entire gamut of ugly artificialities, and ended as the creator of the Telugu novel, Telugu social satire, Telugu drama especially of the social type, science, scientific biography, and autobiography in Telugu. (Muthuswami 1981: 56–57) This critical work was first published in 1914. Reddy writes that Viresalingam praised and admired this work (Muthuswami 1981: 62). 84 Sambuka Vadha was first published in 1920. For a detailed analysis of Ramasvami Caudari’s book and similar works, see Velcheru Narayana Rao (2001). In a later phase, Marxists, whose influence in the Telugu districts began to spread from the mid-1930s and whose cultural impact spread through the local units of the Progressive Writers Association and the Indian People’s Theatre Association, acknowledged inspiration from Viresalingam (Ramakrishna 1993b). Another group of radical secularists also found common ground with Viresalingam’s glorification of reason and his critiques of caste and religion. Eminent journalist Narla is one such example. See Veeresalingam (1968), a short biography of the reformer that he wrote in English. 83

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