Each time I pick up a Kannada book, I am pleasantly surprised by the range of plots that the authors have presented in Kannada literature. From Shivarama Karantha, SL Bhairappa, Kuvempu to Vasudhendra, Kannada writers have smacked me on the head with their masterpieces to slap away the prejudice that vernacular books would perhaps have geographic and linguistic limitations. Yes, an idiotic thought. Honestly, ever since I discovered the vastness of Kannada literature, I make it a point to pick up a Kannada book at least every six months to keep that holier-than-thou prejudice in check, among other things.
Tejo Tungabhadra is an experience that leaves a hangover. The story begins in the fifteenth century Portugal when an exodus of Jews from Spain impacts the everyday lives of Catholics of Lisbon, and Gabriel, our little hero, finds Bella and falls in love with her. Bella is a Jew who comes from a family of master businessmen, who manage to set up their lives in Lisbon after they are forced to move away from home thanks to the tyrant queen’s religious antics in Spain. They introduce printing technology to the small town of Lisbon and Vasudhendra makes us admire how well-versed in the art of business these people are, and how full of life, despite being thrown around the world simply for their religious identity. Gabriel, a poor Catholic boy, knows not much about worldliness until his love for Bella combined with few righteous thoughts lead him onto a path he wouldn’t have imagined given his simple background. A vivid picture of life in Lisbon during the fifteenth century is drawn for us, including the bad side of religious extremism as well. The Portuguese obsession with discovering a route to India for the purpose of trade is the central element of the novel and (literally) bridges the story to the other part of the world where the other half unfolds.
When Vasco-Da-Gama discovers a sea route to the abundant land that is India, the plot turns to the banks of Tungabhadra in the vicinity of Vijayanagara in Karnataka around the same time; and the trajectory of the novel TAKES OFF. Maybe I enjoyed this part of the story more because the canvas of the Indian land is by itself more colourful and allows for more aesthetic storytelling, or perhaps because I can personally connect to this part more than the Lisbon one. Regardless, ‘Tembakapura’ on the banks of Tungabhadra and in the proximity of Vijayanagara is a miniature world of ancient India – politically active, socially avid, religiously profuse and even problematic on many levels.
Hampamma, apparently the most beautiful young lady in the village has two handsome men competing each other for her hand in marriage. The act of courting sets off a snowball that brings King Krishnadevaraya himself to the village, leads to multiple eventual deaths that reflect the religious shadows the land fostered, and an introduction to the array of distinct characters that existed in the early sixteenth century in Karnataka.
Vasudhendra’s characters are wonderfully human, set against the backdrop of the idea of some kind of divine intervention behind their being. They preach and kill in the name of God – both in Lisbon and in Vijayanagara. Even so, the ones that are meant to be radically fundamentalist, aren’t, and the commoners whom we’d expect to be rebellious are actually conventional. The well-read Brahmin priest and the Catholic frair on the ships to India display a surprising penchant for acceptance of the flaws of the religious ways – both in Christianity and Hindusim, while the others, the less read ones are more uptight about the tenets of religion.
The Hindu world, the Muslim world, the Christian world and the Jew worlds come together in the story that spans over a few decades in the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The tale is as indulging as any I have ever read, and Vasudhendra is as much a master story-teller as any great writer in this world. He sure has done his research for this one; because Tejo Tungabhadra is very much a sneak into the world of the time it unfolds in, offering a historical perspective that is balanced, vivid, impressive, sometimes traumatizing and overall, highly aesthetically enriched. The climax that brings the two plots together is truly phenomenal. Against the backdrop of the grand scheme of things, Vasudhendra has made the reader root for the littlest elements that are thrown around by the tide of time, and hope for a good ending for them. The final chapter brings in a few familiar personas from history such as Purandara Dasaru and draws to a convincing climax, worthy of the entire experience.
Out of all the characters, a few ones like the nomadic native doctor named ‘Adaviswami’ (monk who resides in a forest), Agveda – the prostitute who makes her way from Portugal to Vijayanagara, Champakka – the transgender woman who has all the experience and practical knowledge of the world are my favourites. Not because they get the most intense character arcs or play key roles in the story; simply because they are unconventional and creative on Vasudhendra’s part. Characters like those make the novel richer and make the social tapestry of the story more vibrant and perhaps more realistic.
I do not know when I’ll pick up my next Kannada novel but Tejo Tungabhadra will remain with me for a long, long time. With a brilliant story, Vasudhendra has presented subtle yet fierce social commentary through the instances of religious extremism, political figures from the past and historic events. A complete and a holistic experience that I could soak through. I do hope there will be a sequel or a spinoff to the story, because it deserves to be told!
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