<p>K P Poornachandra Tejaswi (1938-2007) would have been 85 on September 8. He wrote poems, short stories, novels, travelogues, plays, and science fiction in Kannada. Some of his works have been adapted into films — ‘<em>Tabarana Kathe</em>’ (1986, dir: Girish Kasaravalli), ‘<em>Kubi Mattu Iyala</em>’ (1992, dir: Sadanand Suvarna), ‘<em>Kiragoorina Gayyaligalu</em>’ (2016, dir: Sumana Kittur), ‘<em>Abachurina Post Office</em>’ (1973, dir: N Lakshminarayan) and ‘<em>Daredevil Mustafa</em>’ (2023, dir: Shashank Soghal). </p>.<p>In ‘<em>Tabarana Kathe</em>,’ a short story, Tejaswi comments on a failed Indian state unwilling to come out of its colonial past. Independence, for him, meant completely reorienting our thinking about society. So on the one hand we have the colonial bureaucratic machinery masquerading as the Indian independent state, and on the other, we have a deeply traditional society rooted in contradictions. In Tabarana Kathe, the tragedy of an individual becomes a metaphor for the Indian state and Indian society. The story is a commentary on society told through an individual’s life story. But the same cannot be said of Girish Kasaravalli’s adaptation. The film focuses on the struggle of an individual. I feel there is a mismatch of sensibilities and points of view. Kasaravalli picks a thread from the story and weaves his own screenplay about existential reality in post-independent India. He looks at it as an individual story while Tejaswi is grappling with an epochal problem. </p>.<p>In ‘<em>Kubi Mattu Iyala</em>’, Tejaswi’s focus is on a society trapped in superstition with no hope of acquiring a modern scientific outlook. A radical liberal becomes a tragic hero. Tejaswi doesn’t believe in organised mass movements; he believes individuals should realise their place in society and become agents of change. Dr Kubi is one such radical individual who strives to rid the village of superstition, but he doesn’t find support. This is a common narrative in Tejaswi’s writings. He is sympathetic to such radical liberal characters. He doesn’t foresee change and hence doesn’t bother about optimistic endings. Kubi represents the writer’s aspiration of a radical liberal and Iyala is a metaphor for society’s ignorance. The stories of both Kubi and Iyala end in tragedy. </p>.<p>Kasaravalli and Suvarna have picked the contradictions from Tejaswi’s texts. But the treatment is entirely about individual tragedy rather than the tragedy of the system. Tejaswi believed that the modern Indian state had no understanding of rural Indian realities. So the state is incapable of transformation. Kasaravalli and Suvarna have admitted that they have only picked their themes from the story and woven their own screenplays according to their understanding. </p>.<p>In ‘<em>Kiragoorina Gayyaligalu</em>’, Tejaswi is looking for anarchic liberals in society, and he does see a silver lining. The narrative is thus suffused with comedy and satire, tones missing in his early works. He believes a radical element in society will eventually rupture traditional society, and from the ruins, a new society will emerge. In <em>‘Kiragoorina Gayyaligalu</em>’, change comes from a group of women, not organised but feisty nevertheless. For him, those with anarchic abilities come from the marginalised sections. </p>.<p>The story doesn’t end with a resolution but with the hope that a new consciousness will emerge. </p>.<p>Sumana Kittur, the director, treats it as a sensational comedy — she fails to grasp the anarchic elements in Tejaswi’s writing. It is still a good effort as it comes across as a feminist interpretation even if it lacks intensity. Tejaswi’s story is not about feminism, it is about the rebellion coming from a marginalised section. He uses women as a metaphor for the oppressed. Sumana mimics Tejaswi’s text and fails to interpret it. Again a problem when written fiction is adapted for screen: Is the filmmaker able to catch the philosophy of the text and reinterpret it? </p>.<p><em>‘Kubi Mattu Iyala’</em> and ‘<em>Tabarana Kathe</em>’ are creative reinterpretations, but <em>‘Kiragoorina Gayyaligalu’</em> is an imitation of the story. When a literary text is adapted to a visual language, it has to be a reinterpretation. In ‘<em>Abachoorina Post Offic</em>e,’ it is destruction, a crude mimetic. Director Lakshminarayan fails to grasp the gravity of the tragedy in Tejaswi’s story. </p>.<p>One has to understand Tejaswi’s sensibility before one applies visual grammar on his works. The visuals should be constructed as strongly as Tejaswi’s point of view, or reinterpreted. </p>.<p>I was thrilled to watch the first half of ‘<em>Daredevil Mustafa</em>’ because it was the first time I was able to see a visual recreation of Tejaswi’s sensibility. In the second half, Tejaswi leaves things open, but in the film we have an optimistic end. If the screenplay had developed the love between the PT teacher and the English teacher further, the story would have become more interesting. </p>.<p>Tejaswi is a challenging writer to adapt. </p><p><em>(As told to the author by film critic Phaniraj K)</em></p>
<p>K P Poornachandra Tejaswi (1938-2007) would have been 85 on September 8. He wrote poems, short stories, novels, travelogues, plays, and science fiction in Kannada. Some of his works have been adapted into films — ‘<em>Tabarana Kathe</em>’ (1986, dir: Girish Kasaravalli), ‘<em>Kubi Mattu Iyala</em>’ (1992, dir: Sadanand Suvarna), ‘<em>Kiragoorina Gayyaligalu</em>’ (2016, dir: Sumana Kittur), ‘<em>Abachurina Post Office</em>’ (1973, dir: N Lakshminarayan) and ‘<em>Daredevil Mustafa</em>’ (2023, dir: Shashank Soghal). </p>.<p>In ‘<em>Tabarana Kathe</em>,’ a short story, Tejaswi comments on a failed Indian state unwilling to come out of its colonial past. Independence, for him, meant completely reorienting our thinking about society. So on the one hand we have the colonial bureaucratic machinery masquerading as the Indian independent state, and on the other, we have a deeply traditional society rooted in contradictions. In Tabarana Kathe, the tragedy of an individual becomes a metaphor for the Indian state and Indian society. The story is a commentary on society told through an individual’s life story. But the same cannot be said of Girish Kasaravalli’s adaptation. The film focuses on the struggle of an individual. I feel there is a mismatch of sensibilities and points of view. Kasaravalli picks a thread from the story and weaves his own screenplay about existential reality in post-independent India. He looks at it as an individual story while Tejaswi is grappling with an epochal problem. </p>.<p>In ‘<em>Kubi Mattu Iyala</em>’, Tejaswi’s focus is on a society trapped in superstition with no hope of acquiring a modern scientific outlook. A radical liberal becomes a tragic hero. Tejaswi doesn’t believe in organised mass movements; he believes individuals should realise their place in society and become agents of change. Dr Kubi is one such radical individual who strives to rid the village of superstition, but he doesn’t find support. This is a common narrative in Tejaswi’s writings. He is sympathetic to such radical liberal characters. He doesn’t foresee change and hence doesn’t bother about optimistic endings. Kubi represents the writer’s aspiration of a radical liberal and Iyala is a metaphor for society’s ignorance. The stories of both Kubi and Iyala end in tragedy. </p>.<p>Kasaravalli and Suvarna have picked the contradictions from Tejaswi’s texts. But the treatment is entirely about individual tragedy rather than the tragedy of the system. Tejaswi believed that the modern Indian state had no understanding of rural Indian realities. So the state is incapable of transformation. Kasaravalli and Suvarna have admitted that they have only picked their themes from the story and woven their own screenplays according to their understanding. </p>.<p>In ‘<em>Kiragoorina Gayyaligalu</em>’, Tejaswi is looking for anarchic liberals in society, and he does see a silver lining. The narrative is thus suffused with comedy and satire, tones missing in his early works. He believes a radical element in society will eventually rupture traditional society, and from the ruins, a new society will emerge. In <em>‘Kiragoorina Gayyaligalu</em>’, change comes from a group of women, not organised but feisty nevertheless. For him, those with anarchic abilities come from the marginalised sections. </p>.<p>The story doesn’t end with a resolution but with the hope that a new consciousness will emerge. </p>.<p>Sumana Kittur, the director, treats it as a sensational comedy — she fails to grasp the anarchic elements in Tejaswi’s writing. It is still a good effort as it comes across as a feminist interpretation even if it lacks intensity. Tejaswi’s story is not about feminism, it is about the rebellion coming from a marginalised section. He uses women as a metaphor for the oppressed. Sumana mimics Tejaswi’s text and fails to interpret it. Again a problem when written fiction is adapted for screen: Is the filmmaker able to catch the philosophy of the text and reinterpret it? </p>.<p><em>‘Kubi Mattu Iyala’</em> and ‘<em>Tabarana Kathe</em>’ are creative reinterpretations, but <em>‘Kiragoorina Gayyaligalu’</em> is an imitation of the story. When a literary text is adapted to a visual language, it has to be a reinterpretation. In ‘<em>Abachoorina Post Offic</em>e,’ it is destruction, a crude mimetic. Director Lakshminarayan fails to grasp the gravity of the tragedy in Tejaswi’s story. </p>.<p>One has to understand Tejaswi’s sensibility before one applies visual grammar on his works. The visuals should be constructed as strongly as Tejaswi’s point of view, or reinterpreted. </p>.<p>I was thrilled to watch the first half of ‘<em>Daredevil Mustafa</em>’ because it was the first time I was able to see a visual recreation of Tejaswi’s sensibility. In the second half, Tejaswi leaves things open, but in the film we have an optimistic end. If the screenplay had developed the love between the PT teacher and the English teacher further, the story would have become more interesting. </p>.<p>Tejaswi is a challenging writer to adapt. </p><p><em>(As told to the author by film critic Phaniraj K)</em></p>