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<a name="RTFToC40">Book

Review

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When God is a Customer: Telugu Courtesan Songs by Ksetrayya and Others.

By A. K. Ramanujan, Velcheru Narayana Rao, and David Shulman. Berkeley:

University of California Press, 1994. Pp. 158.

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This work introduces a new genre of South Indian poetry to the Western audience

-- the Telugu padam, defined as "short musical compositions of a light

classical nature, intended to be sung and, often, danced" (p. 1). The bulk of

the fifty translated poems in When God is a Customer were composed by

the wandering court poet Ksetrayya (mid-seventeenth century). Ksetrayya's

padams are framed between those of the earlier Tallapaka Annamayya of

Tirupati (late fifteenth century) and the later Sarangapani of Chittoor

district (early eighteenth century). This not only gives the reader access to

a variety of poetic voices, but also highlights the changing nature of the

padam tradition over time. A lengthy introduction precedes the

translated poems, in what has now become a standard format for such

translations following the model of A. K. Ramanujan's previous works.

The poems as rendered in English are utterly charming, speaking to the reader

with a freshness and directness that transcend the distances of time and place.

One would expect no less, given the demonstrated poetic sensibilities and

interpretive skills of the volume's editor-translators. A. K. Ramanujan,

Velcheru Narayana Rao, and David Shulman have all achieved recognition for

their mastery of South Indian literature; perhaps less well known is their

stature as poets in their own right. It is this combination of a thorough

immersion in South Indian poetry and a personal poetic vision that enables the

translators to convey the meaning of the padams to us in such an

understandable and contemporary manner. Listen, for example, to their version

of a wife's plaint as envisioned by Ksetrayya:

<blockquote>Don't tell me what he did in some other country.

What has it got to do with me? For god's sake, stop it.

What are you saying: that he went to her house, fell for her,

gave her money and begged her?</blockquote>

<blockquote>More likely, she saw his beauty, wanted him,

fell all over him, begged him, melted him with her music.

After all, he's a man. He couldn't contain himself, that's all.

Don't tell me what he did.

(from Ksetrayya 233, p. 93)</blockquote>

The introduction to the poems represents a considerable contribution in and of

itself, as the first major essay in English on the padam genre. It

begins by situating padams within the larger bhakti tradition of

devotional poetry. Like earlier bhakti poems, padams are

generally cast in a feminine voice and addressed to a male deity-lover. But

while the dominant tone of classical bhakti, as exemplified by the

eighth-century poet-saint Nammalvar, is that of frustrated desire and anxious

separation (viraha), the late medieval padam is said to be more

playful in mood as well as more often suggesting sexual fulfillment. Hence, "a

lover's pique, never entirely or irrevocably serious, is the real equivalent in

these poems to the earlier ideology of viraha" (p. 16). Above all, the

padam is far more unabashedly erotic than earlier poetry, and the

translated poems contain many explicit references to sexual union. This

eroticism reflects the late medieval emphasis on bodily knowledge, an argument

developed at greater length in Symbols of Substance: Court and State in

Nayaka Period Tamil Nadu (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1992), a recent

book by two of the editor-translators, Narayana Rao and Shulman, along with

Sanjay Subrahmanyam. By refuting the misguided metaphorical interpretations of

the last century, which attempted to obscure the forthright sexuality that is

so central to padam poetry, the editors of this volume have restored the

erotic element to its rightful place in Indian literature.

The title When God is a Customer alludes to another major departure

from earlier bhakti traditions. The female-devotee is no longer so

helpless and subservient in her longing for the male deity-lover. Instead, the

female voice in the padam genre is often that of an independent and bold

courtesan, who on occasion even withholds her favors from the god-customer if

insufficiently remunerated. In these poems, it is the woman, the devotee, who

has the upper hand, in a startling reversal of previous patterns. The

insouciance of the courtesan comes through loud and clear in verses such as the

following:

<blockquote>Prince of playboys, you may be,

but is it fair

to ask me to forget the money?

I earned it, after all,

by spending time with you.

Stop this trickery at once.

Put up the gold you owe me

and then you can talk,

Adivaraha.

Handsome, aren't you?

(from Ksetrayya 1, p. 69)</blockquote>

Yet, the majority of the female voices in the translated poems are not so

self-assured nor indifferent. The most common character is the woman hurt by

her man's unfaithfulness, who lovingly accepts him back nonetheless. In this

sense, the padams resemble their predecessors more than the introductory

essay and title might suggest.

In short, When God is a Customer is a delightful addition to the

growing body of Indian verse in translation, considerably augmenting the meager

quantity of Telugu literature available in English. Poetry, it was said in

medieval Andhra, was one of the sapta-santana, the seven offspring that

would perpetuate a man's memory. And, without doubt, When God is a

Customer will long serve as a reminder of all that we gained through the

presence of A.K. Ramanujan amongst us and all that we have lost as a result of

his untimely death in 1993. It is surely fitting that one of Ramanujan's last

works was a collaboration, for he will be remembered not only for his skills

but equally for his generosity of spirit.

Cynthia Talbot

Northern Arizona University

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