This was waiting to happen.

Prof U R Ananthamurthy has declared he will not take part in literary functions in future.

The decision came in the wake of strong criticism for his reaction on S L Bhyrappa’s controversial novel Aavarana that appeared in a section of the media. Prof Ananthamurthy said he was “misquoted” and in the wake of strong criticism of his comments, decided not to take part in any literary functions.

Not Ananthamurthy’s decision but his criticism of S L Bhyrappa.

This episode is a good jolt to shake off my sloth and post a review of S L Bhyrappa’s (latest) Aavarana. Ever since Vamsha Vruksha propelled him to literary fame, every new Bhyrappa book is eagerly awaited by thousands of Kannada readers. Aavarana broke new ground purely in terms of its commercial success when it was published in February this year. It clocked three successive reprints in about two weeks, an astounding record in the small market for Kannada novels.

That however, is not Anantha Murthy’s ire. And neither is his tirade against Bhyrappa recent. It is about three decades young.

Aavarana alternates between contemporary, and Aurangzeb’s India. Its technique is similar to the familiar play-in-a-play in dramatics. The protagonist is a Hindu lady who converts to Islam post-marriage. She visits her father’s house upon his death, and discovers his seemingly-sudden interest in studying Islam and its various encounters with India. Up to that point, she is a progressive feminist, schooled in the JNU version of the history of India. Her studies lead her to question the history she was schooled in. Among other characters in the book is Professor Shastri, who hails from the same village and is her long-time mentor. He distinguishes himself by his staunch commitment to Leftism, fierce intellect, wiliness, intimacy with politicians, and a capacity to generate limitless funds.

Professor Shastri resembles U R Anantha Murthy in real life–complete with the Socialist beard.

Anantha Murthy is no stranger to my blog. Anantha Murthy is vocally clear about his Communist sympathies. His Beijing Diary (?) records eyewitness events–in Kannada–during his stay at Beijing when the Tiananmen Square massacre happened. That travelogue has not a single word of reproof against the Chinese government’s savagery. Anantha Murthy’s fame as a wire-puller is legendary. From securing appointments to Vice Chancellorships to chairmanships of various cultural boards to bagging the Jnanapith to obtaining free land doled out by the government, he has done it all. Interestingly, when he secured prime land in Dollars Colony when J.H. Patel was heading Karnataka, fellow-travellers like G.K. Govinda Rao yelled murder. Murthy it seems, is skillful in spotting well-ahead, which way the road bends. From a revolution-monging Communist, he has been spotted recently with Dalit/backward class leaders like Mallikarjun Kharge.

Anantha Murthy’s fame as a littérateur rests on just Samskara. A survey of his entire literary corpus yields mediocre harvest. His non-fiction is varied, insightful and at times, original. In his heydays, he dominated the entire Kannada Navya literary movement with Gopala Krishna Adiga, a phenomenon that S L Bhyrappa records in his autobiography, Bhitti. The Navya movement in one massive surge, uprooted the likes of DVG, Masti, Bendre, and others who drew from ancient Indian philosophy and values. It imposed a confused melange of existentialism, socialism, communism and other intellectual diseases that plagued the West at that time. It sought to introduce alien experiences in Kannada literature. It sought to prop up its popularity using spurious devices like publishing only favourable literary reviews. Rebellion naturally followed. More outspoken writers like P. Lankesh walked out on the Adiga-Ananthamurthy clique and started the parallel Dalit/Bandaya literary movement. The Navya movement for what it is worth died soon.

S L Bhyrappa was the lone dissenter belonging to no camp. A Phd in Philosophy, he sought to find his roots in ancient Indian philosophy. His doctoral dissertation entitled Satya Mattu Soundarya (Truth and Beauty) explores complex relationships between truth, ethics, beauty, art, existence, and philosophy. Bhyrappa’s celebrated novels are founded on a strong Hindu philosophical base. The author was inspired by Ananda Coomaraswamy, Swami Vivekananda, Sri Ramakrishna, Mahatma Gandhi, the Upanishads, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita in his formative years. A few literary critics focus on the Rasa element present in his works. When Vamsha Vruksha heralded his arrival on the Kannada literary stage, expected reactions erupted. The progressives called it colourful names: reaffirming Brahminical tyranny, retrograde, regressive, and backward. But the novel was wildly successful among critics and laymen alike. It earned Bhyrappa the permanent loyalty of a large base of devoted readers, something Anantha Murthy was unable to manage despite critics’ encomiums.

As a curious coincidence, Vamsha Vruksha and Samskara were published at around the same time. The former examines changing values and mores at the threshold of an era from the perspective of a devout Sanatani (the protagonist of Vamsha Vruksha). Samskara seeks to show the futility of upholding traditional Indian values in the face of an undefined–at best, a crudely defined–modernism. Further coincidence: Bhyrappa’s Daatu and Murthy’s Bharatipura were published at around the same time. Read Daatu if you want to understand caste in India. Bhyrappa won the Sahitya Akademi for the work. Bharatipura however, is a mere cut-and-paste job. Its overt anti-Brahminism is based on flimsy grounds. In a critique titled, Anantha Murthy’s Literary Integrity (rough translation), Bhyrappa provides a firm rebuttal to Bharatipura.

Bhyrappa details the inner workings of the Kannada literary world in his autobiography, Bhitti. In the book, he provides evidence to back his claims for how Anantha Murthy tried to sabotage his novels, most notably his magnum opus, Parva. A frequent tactic that Anantha Murthy employed in order to discredit Bhyrappa’s novels was to term them “popular novels” as opposed to “books with literary merit.” In Murthy’s view, literary classics were those that the critics whetted their approval on. This tactic was convenient because the Kannada literary world then, was in the firm grip of the Navya writers. The theory of literary criticism ever since Independence has steadily accelerated towards the Western model. Too few critics today know–or even care to learn–about Indian literary theories of Rasa, Dhwani, Bhava and so on. The dichotomy of “literary value” vs “popular novels” is both contrived and false. “Literary worth” is not the monopoly of a gifted few. A true classic has universal appeal that is at the same time timeless. Most epics belong to this category. Bhyrappa’s Parva and Tanthu embody this epic element in them. At best, Anantha Murthy’s attacks are cheap efforts to dissuade the public from reading Bhyrappa’s books. On that count, Murthy’s much-praised Samskara rests on dishonest premises as Bhyrappa notes in Bhitti. Murthy characterizes the protagonist, Praneshacharya as a Brahmin scholar who had mastered Hindu Dharmashastras for 12 years in Kashi. Yet, he marries a diseased woman on the premise of finding fulfillment by serving her. She is unable to have sex with Praneshacharya, effectively ending his lineage. However, one of the fundamental goals of marriage, according to Hindu Dharmashastras is to perpetuate one’s genealogy. If the wife is unable to conceive at all, the husband can marry again for the express purpose of having children but he should treat the first wife with due honour and respect. Anantha Murthy’s Praneshacharya essentially seeks salvation through suffering, a purely Christian concept. Bhyrappa questions Murthy’s integrity in mischaracterizing a whole system of philosophy and value system. In addition, we could accept Murthy’s premise if Praneshacharya was an unlearned Priest but not when he is explicitly described as a scholar in Dharmashastras. But then, Praneshacharya’s characterization makes sense if you remember that Murthy wrote his books for the Western audience.

Given this record, Murthy shines more splendidly as a lobbyist and politician than as a litterateur. All lobbyists and politicians are fine specimens to caricature. Neither has Bhyrappa caricatured him in Aavarana alone. Anantha Murthy briefly figures as Hari Shankar Prasad in Tantu. However, he is both easily identifiable, and more prominent in Aavarana than in Tantu.

Because Aavarana uncovers the gory extent of Aurangzeb’s–and Islamic–brutality, it has delivered a blow where it hurts the most: to Aurangzeb, the darling of the secularists. Understandably, Aavarana opened to stoic silence from the secularists’ quarter followed by few opposing murmurs. Local Kannada rags called it the “textbook of the Saffronites,” “dangerous,” “divisive,” “communal” and the rest. No “noted” writer wrote anything about it. Till a book release function where Anantha Murthy spoke about Aavaranada Anaavarana (The unravelling of Aavarana) for its “critical analysis” of Aavarana.

“Bhyrappa does not know either Hindu religion or the art of story-telling. He is only a debater,” says Anantha Murthy. “He does not go beyond his opinions. He constructs the plot and selects characters only to suit his opinions and end up as a debater, rather than a creative writer.”

The skies opened up instantly. Vijaya Karnataka reports (free subscription to access the link; the report is in Kannada) that it received more than 2000 responses condemning Anantha Murthy’s “insolence.”

This grand drama ended predictably. Anantha Murthy claimed:

…he was “misquoted” and in the wake of strong criticism of his comments, decided not to take part in any literary functions.

He said, “This will be my last literary function. Henceforth, I will confine my interaction regarding literature with my close associates. However, he said he will continue to participate in political debates.

Standard secularist response. When cornered…

Crossposted on Desicritics.