Stopped In Our Tracks
Stories of U.G. In India from the Notebooks of K. ChandrasekharTranslated and Edited by J.S.R.L. Narayana Moorty 2d/3d Series
Vazir Rahman
In writing U.G.'s story, my friend Vazir Rahman helped me to steer away from the traditional style of writing, and polish the writing somewhat by urging me to render U.G.'s words into simple and clear Telugu. I still remember the days of our spending hours together in Kodambakam. Our common interests were Chalam and U.G. We also listened to music when we were bored. That was in 1976 when I was going through an orientation course in the Indian Institute of Technology in Madras. We two used to meet every weekend.
In March 1980, the article I wrote on U.G. was published in the Sunday Supplement of Andhra Prabha Daily. I sent a clipping of that article to Vazir. Here is part of what Vazir wrote about that article:
Madras
March 17, 1980
Dear Friend:
I have your kind letter and the press cutting. I read the article carefully twice. You know how I am—I am never satisfied easily. I always find something lacking in what I read, if it doesn't come close to my own ideas. Your effort and the interest you have shown in your article are evident. It looks good to a degree. But if you ask me my final opinion, I would say that you should polish it some more.
Another thing. Philosophers like U.G. use language in an ingenious way. They wield unimaginable meanings through their words. If they use language in so many nuances, it means that their language is alive. Notice that neither U.G. nor J.K. use language artificially. They can express any complex idea in colloquial language and in a conversational style. I feel that the live quality of their language is the essence of their ideas.
Please review your essay keeping in mind what I said above. You have moved away from a conversational style to an artificial language loaded with heavy Sanskrit. As a result, instead of being lively, your writing has become heavy and acquired the style of a philosophical lecture.
I am writing all this just so you won't fall into this sort of pitfall when you write your larger originally contemplated book.
Yours,
V.R.
Vazir Rahman passed away in 1983, before he ever could see how many other big defects slipped into my larger work. He sent me a copy of his poetic work Sahasi as soon as it was published. In it are included poems—"Sport" and "At the End"—inspired by U.G. When U.G. heard the paragraph Vazir wrote about him at the end of the book, he said, "He summed it up very well."
This is all—nothing remains. It has to happen. One early dawn, a red-tailed bird drinking oil. Suddenly it must fly into emptiness. That's all—at the end, nothing remains. You flew singing thus Vazir! The Daring One! You left me here alone. Where did you go tonight? To the other shore? What is there? A big nothing (lit. donkey's egg)!
In March 1980, the article I wrote on U.G. was published in the Sunday Supplement of Andhra Prabha Daily. I sent a clipping of that article to Vazir. Here is part of what Vazir wrote about that article:
Madras
March 17, 1980
Dear Friend:
I have your kind letter and the press cutting. I read the article carefully twice. You know how I am—I am never satisfied easily. I always find something lacking in what I read, if it doesn't come close to my own ideas. Your effort and the interest you have shown in your article are evident. It looks good to a degree. But if you ask me my final opinion, I would say that you should polish it some more.
Another thing. Philosophers like U.G. use language in an ingenious way. They wield unimaginable meanings through their words. If they use language in so many nuances, it means that their language is alive. Notice that neither U.G. nor J.K. use language artificially. They can express any complex idea in colloquial language and in a conversational style. I feel that the live quality of their language is the essence of their ideas.
Please review your essay keeping in mind what I said above. You have moved away from a conversational style to an artificial language loaded with heavy Sanskrit. As a result, instead of being lively, your writing has become heavy and acquired the style of a philosophical lecture.
I am writing all this just so you won't fall into this sort of pitfall when you write your larger originally contemplated book.
Yours,
V.R.
Vazir Rahman passed away in 1983, before he ever could see how many other big defects slipped into my larger work. He sent me a copy of his poetic work Sahasi as soon as it was published. In it are included poems—"Sport" and "At the End"—inspired by U.G. When U.G. heard the paragraph Vazir wrote about him at the end of the book, he said, "He summed it up very well."
This is all—nothing remains. It has to happen. One early dawn, a red-tailed bird drinking oil. Suddenly it must fly into emptiness. That's all—at the end, nothing remains. You flew singing thus Vazir! The Daring One! You left me here alone. Where did you go tonight? To the other shore? What is there? A big nothing (lit. donkey's egg)!
