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Journalism of Courage
Do you know Tamil? Have you ever read any of my works?8221; Sujatha asked, half an hour into our conversation.
Nothing unusual. Generations of young, globalised Tamils were taught to read the language by introducing them to the works of Sujatha. For the rest, he was S. Rangarajan, the equally inventive man of science who worked in ISRO, BHEL, Bangalore, or best introduced as the man who led the team that designed the Electronic Voting Machine in India and who shared the scientific spirit and world vision of his mate, former president Abdul Kalam at St Joseph8217;s College, Tiruchirapalli in Tamil Nadu, as also the script writer of Rajnikanth8217;s last monster hit, Sivaji, and the writer who was called the Isaac Asimov of Tamil literature.
I slipped into speaking Tamil and asked, 8220;Why don8217;t you ever write in English?8221;
8220;I can, but I belong to a generation that thinks in Tamil though conversant with English8221;, he explained.
Since the 1970s, for the generation of Tamils that was rapidly Anglicised and who jettisoned orthodox aspects of Tamil traditions and found the literary canons of another age turgid, Sujatha was a modern avatar in contemporary Tamil literature. His oeuvre was eclectic as were his interests, his vocation and his incessant need to write. He wrote on current themes, of a nostalgic past and a distant future, social mores and trends with an ease and self-assuredness that was hard to beat. He was engaging, intelligent, informative, witty, wicked, provocative and profound as the occasion demanded or as his muse dictated him.
He is the only contemporary writer to have a cult following and adulation that rivals that of a movie star. No mean accomplishment in these days of mediocrity and celebritydom and the decline in reading habits. Sujatha8217;s writing proved the silly notion that the vernacular is unsophisticated, wrong. He could induce pathos, revulsion, nostalgia, romance, tenderness, ruefulness over the tragi comedy of our lives and predicaments, including his own. His genre was vast, including novels, short stories, poems, literary essays, plays, outputs for literary publications and small magazines. He also wrote scripts for Tamil cinema for Mani Ratnam, Kamal Hasan and Rajnikanth. In later years, he showed steadfast commitment to disseminating information and bridging the gap between a digitalised world and its human inhabitants, and towards using Tamil as a language of communication in a world of distances and the predominance of English.
Sujatha8217;s important contribution was to give shape to the young and modern Tamil8217;s identity, especially the Tamil male. He brought out the contradictions in a man who was earthy and modern; quick to technobabble and slow to drop tradition; who could be elegant and vulgar, who carried his sharp suit well but could hint at the rippling beast beneath.
There was huge female adulation for his writing. He was not immune to the feminine facets of grace and grit though he doubted the aggression of the traditional feminists of the 8217;60s.
At the end of our first meeting, he introduced me to his nom de plume, his wife Sujatha, saying, 8220;She is my sharpest critic8221;.
A couple of years ago, musing on a bench on the Marina beachfront, Sujatha wrote he would prefer to land in hell than in heaven. 8220;I8217;m sure to find more interesting and kindred spirits there than among the pious lot in heaven8221;, he remarked wryly. Knowing him, Sujatha, who died on February 27, is right now using his inventive magic to turn heaven out of hell.
The writer is a Delhi-based journalist
