A Life in the World U. R. Ananthamurthy in Conversation with Chandan Gowda

During a workshop in Bangalore, around seventeen years ago, U.R. Ananthamurthy (URA) turned to me with an unexpected suggestion: 'You must interview me.' I had not followed up on the invite. I was in the middle of my dissertation fieldwork and the interview needed preparation.

Ten years later, in 2012, URA fell seriously ill. When I called to find out how he was, I hesitantly asked, 'Can we go over your experiences and your views on Kannada literature? It will be good to record them.' He agreed readily, 'Oh, yes! Come and see me.'

One of the most widely admired writers in the state, URA was also a mesmerizing speaker. His openness, ethical seriousness and warmth enlivened the occasion. Unfurling against a large cultural canvas, his words nudged the listeners out of familiar ways of looking. And, he loved conversation, be it in the company of friends or new acquaintances. The value of an extended exercise where he drew out his ideas and reminiscences was always obvious. Deferring the work any longer seemed foolish.

With the financial support of Azim Premji University, I gathered a small film crew to help with the video recordings at URA's home in Bengaluru. The shoot happened over ten days between April 2012 and May 2013. In the mornings, URA shared his views in Kannada on the major writers and literary movements of twentieth-century Karnataka. And in the evenings, I interviewed him in English on his childhood experiences and his student days, his friendships, his views on matters in literature, culture and politics.

The initial sessions felt tense. URA had to be spared strain. He had even started dialysis at home around the time our work began. But the crew came to feel at ease soon enough. Rarely did URA show fatigue or make the work seem a hassle. He made the dialysis breaks during the shoot seem matter-of-fact.

Originally scheduled to be held over three months, the ten recording sessions took nearly a year to complete since URA travelled out of town in between. And technical glitches in the storage and transfer of the recorded material brought in more delay afterwards. Intent on having the episodes on Kannada literature aired at the earliest, my efforts focused entirely on editing and bringing them to final form. Telecast as eight one-hour weekly episodes on Doordarshan between June and July 2014, Sahitya Sahavasa (In the Company of Literature) pleased URA immensely. Wishing that literary critics would review the episodes, he had asked over the phone, 'People should be able to tell how I taught in class, no?'

My work on transcribing, editing and annotating the autobiographical conversations could begin only after URA passed away in August 2014. It remains a regret that I didn't record a few more conversations with him. The telegraphic remarks would then have found elaboration. His views on several other cultural and political figures would also have made their way into these pages.

URA was born to a Madhya Brahmin family in Thirthahalli, Shivamogga District, in 1932. He spent his boyhood years in an agrahara¹ and did his schooling in Thirthahalli and Shivamogga. After completing his BA and MA in English literature at the University of Mysore, URA taught at colleges in Hassan and Shivamogga before becoming a lecturer in Maharaja's College, Mysore. He then went to the University of Birmingham on a Commonwealth Fellowship. Finishing his PhD in 1966, he returned to teach English at the University of Mysore and worked there until his retirement in 1992. Apart from his dissertation thesis, he wrote little by way of literary criticism in English. He made his home in the world of Kannada literature. The conversations in this book move across the terrain of these experiences.