[దక్షిణ ఆసియా అధ్యయనానికి పేరెన్నికగన్న షికాగో యూనివర్సిటీ, అట్లాంటా లోని ఎమొరీ యూనివర్సిటీలలో, డాక్టరేట్ డిగ్రీ కొరకు పరిశోధనలు చేస్తున్న ఆయన శిష్యులు గౌతమ్ రెడ్డి, జమాల్ జోన్స్, ఇలానిత్ షాచమ్, హర్షితా కామత్ తమ తమ అభిప్రాయాలు ఈ వ్యాసం ద్వారా పంచుకుంటున్నారు. -సం.]

[The University of Chicago has long been renowned for its commitment to the study of the history and cultures of South Asia. The University’s Department of South Asian Languages and Civilizations (SALC) offers a variety of courses in South Asian languages and emphasizes a textual-historical approach to the study of the region. Despite the continuous presence of Telugu language instruction for many years, classical Telugu literature has not been the primary focus of scholarly research. The arrival of Professor Velcheru Narayana Rao in 2009 was instrumental in inspiring a group of graduate students to place primary Telugu texts at the heart of their academic research. For the first time in the department’s history, Professor Narayana Rao offered a course in Classical Telugu alongside courses in Modern Telugu and Telugu literature. He taught classical Telugu through the texts of Srinatha, Allasani Peddanna, and Pingali Suranna.

In 2011 Professor Narayana Rao accepted a position at Emory University as a Visiting Distinguished Professor of South Asian Studies. Nevertheless, through technology as well as his commitment and zeal, the work he began with his students at the University of Chicago continues to thrive. Below are a few accounts of students who have worked with Professor Narayana Rao at the University of Chicago and Emory University.]

Gautham Reddy, University of Chicago

I first had the opportunity to meet Professor Narayana Rao in the spring of 2007 when he was co-teaching a class on Indian poetry with Professor David Shulman at the University of Chicago. Although hailing from a Telugu speaking family, I grew up in the United States without any serious exposure to Telugu (or Indian) literature. In my limited experience, the great wealth and history of Telugu literature was restricted to the few iconic padams of Annamacarya that my parents would play on well-worn cassette tapes. It was only in Professor Narayana Rao’s course that I came to realize how vast and varied the literary tradition of Telugu really is.

Through his and Professor Shulman’s anthology of translated Telugu poems, Classical Telugu Poetry, I was introduced to the captivating complexities of Nannaya, Srinatha, Pingali Suranna, and a whole host of other literary greats. We learned about enlightened emperors like Krishnadevaraya, clever jesters like Tenali Ramakrishna, and cultured courtesans like Muddupalani, all of who composed outstanding poetic works in Telugu. We examined the layered intricacies of catu poems and discussed the intelligent wit of satakas. Professor Narayana Rao’s eager enthusiasm for Telugu literature was exhilarating and I became inspired to learn more. In effect, a whole new world of history, literature, and imagination was opened to me that spring.

With the encouragement of Professor Narayana Rao, along with Professor David Shulman, I decided to apply for PhD programs where I could study Telugu literature and cultural history. Since I have been at Chicago, I have had the great privilege of studying with Professor Narayana Rao on multiple occasions. During my first year, we had many discussions on the role of western Orientalist scholars, such as C.P. Brown, in the making of modern Telugu literature. In the following year, we read through Cattamanchi Ramalinga Reddy’s path breaking Kavitvatattva Vicaramu and studied the implications of his work for future generations of Telugu literary critics. Most recently, we have been reading through some works of Visvanatha Satyanarayana, notably Veyi Padagalu.

Throughout my studies, Professor Narayana Rao has been a constant and committed guide. From simple questions on Telugu grammar to elucidating the particular socio-political literary context of the early twentieth century, he has been fundamental to my development as a student of Telugu literature. Few teachers can match the level of dedication and investment he has committed to his students. I feel truly blessed to have met such a multifaceted, broad-minded, and versatile scholar.

Jamal Jones, University of Chicago

During my second year of graduate school, I was engaged in a project on Telugu satakas under Professor Narayana Rao’s guidance. Though I was eventually to focus on the Simhadrinarasimha Satakamu and Venkatacalavihara Satakamu, in the early days of my research we were reading widely in the genre so that I could get a sense of its features. We read together almost every day, even if only a few verses. When I arrived at Professor Narayana Rao’s on one such day, he was noticeably under the weather. I told him that we could meet another day when he was feeling better, but he wouldn’t accept my offer. Reading would make him feel better he said. So, we sat down to read selections from the Ramadasu’s Dasarathi Satakamu. He sipped milk tea and took my questions on each verse I read in my halting Telugu. He was astute as always but I could see that he was tired. However, when we came to the verse where the poet with zeal and intense alliteration expresses his devotion, Professor Narayana Rao read after me. His eyes lit up; that slight, characteristic smile returned to his face; and, as he sung the sound of the drum (dandadadandadanda…), his voice returned to its usual vigor. In just a few moments, he had demonstrated both the power of Telugu poetry, however simple, and the great pleasure he takes in it.

Of course, Professor Narayana Rao has been demonstrating the power and importance of Telugu literature for years, offering deep insights into a wide range of genres through his extensive body of work. He asks much of the texts and of us as readers. He has made explicit the ideas of author, audience, text, and language that operate in Telugu literature. He asks us not just who wrote, for example, the Sri Kalahastisvara Satakamu and when: we all know that it was the 16th century poet Dhurjati. He asks not just what it says (though he has, with Hank Heifetz, told us English-speakers what it says in For the Lord of the Animals, his model translation of Dhurjati’s composition). No, he asks: what the nature of the satakamu is, beyond the hundred verses of its definition? What is the image of the author of the sataka? What is his position in society? How and to whom is a sataka meant to be read? How does the sataka relate to society? And, in these terms, how does a sataka–or any other kind of poem–differ from other major genres, such as the prabandha?

Professor Narayana Rao’s engagement with such questions goes back to his earliest work in Telugulo Kavita Viplavala Svarupam. And though he pushes us to examine these larger questions of genre and history, Professor Narayana Rao always works to unearth the unique voices that emerge from Telugu literature. More to the point, he always works—and makes me work—to listen for the particular beauty of the poem. He pushes us to see not only what power it may have held for those who first heard it. But, as my story shows, he also pushes us to see what power it holds for us as readers now.

Ilanit Loewy Shacham, University of Chicago

I first met Professor Narayana Rao in the summer of 2005 at the Summer Academy for Regional Sanskrit Literatures in Jerusalem. At the time, I was fairly new to Sanskrit literature and Indian studies but I was aware of Narayana Rao and had read a few of his articles. I was also in the midst of a long, frustrating and unfruitful chase after a Sanskrit text that I needed for a paper I was writing for a course. Unfortunately, the specific volume that I needed was nowhere to be found in the US or Europe. When my repeated correspondence with the publishing house in India also didn’t produce a copy of the text my professor suggested that I ask Narayana Rao for his help. I was very reluctant; because I was a neophyte in the field and a total stranger to Narayana Rao I thought it might be rude to approach someone of his caliber for favors. But I was also desperate, so I mustered up some courage and approached Narayana Rao. I told him about all of my failed attempts to get hold of the text. Narayana Rao listened attentively, occasionally nodding his head. The first thing he said to me was, “if the text is physically available you will get it”. Two weeks later the book arrived to Jerusalem. And that was that.

Three years have passed since I began working with Professor Narayana Rao; he remains one of my most important and supportive resources on this academic journey. More often than not – though we are no longer strangers and I can no longer claim to be an utter neophyte – I feel that our first encounter foretold our work dynamic, at least in essence. When I come to a point where all the resources I have are not enough, I turn to Narayana Rao and he magically turns the dead end into a passable road -a textual vighnavinayaka if you will. I am currently reading the Amuktamalyada with Narayana Rao as part of my dissertation research, and I think that the most important piece of advice I habitually receive from him is to “just read the text”. This seemingly simple instruction is extremely challenging because in Narayana Rao’s world it means something entirely different than what one might expect. Indeed, Narayana Rao’s total commitment to the texts he reads requires at least three different levels of reading. The first level of reading involves unpacking the individual verse in which meaning is only half (sometimes even less) of the story. At this level, Narayana Rao insists that the meaning, grammar and syntax of every word and syllable (including the dropped endings only he seems to know were there in the first place) are understood and accounted for; here he also examines how sounds, meanings and metaphors fill up and flow over the metrical skeleton in order to create the poetic effects of the verse. At the second level of reading Narayana Rao focuses on the work in its entirety in order to understand the cumulative effect that the individual verses and chapters have. The third and final level of reading involves the world outside of the text. Here the question is the extent to which one should lean on contextual materials, both primary and secondary, for understanding the text at hand. Indeed, particularly with respect to the Amuktamlayada, Krsnadevaraya and the setting of the royal literary court Narayana Rao has shown me time and again that the secondary and related primary sources, while offering potential insight, can also overshadow the text itself. So for now I am trying to heed Narayana Rao’s advice to “just read the text”; I am sure that I will hit many brick walls as I attempt do so, but it is a privilege in the deepest sense of the word to know that Narayana Rao is here as a teacher and guide; a textual vighnavinayaka.

Harshita Mruthinti Kamath, Emory University

I first heard the name Velcheru Narayana Rao many years before I met the legendary classical Telugu scholar in person. My undergraduate advisor at Emory University, Joyce Flueckiger, was a doctoral advisee of Professor Narayana Rao’s at the University of Wisconsin and constantly mentioned his many wonderful qualities throughout my years at Emory. Although I met Narayana Rao briefly during a summer Telugu program at the University of Wisconsin in 2004, I had the fortune of learning classical Telugu sahityam from him at the University of Chicago in the spring of 2007. During the directed reading course I took with him, I had the opportunity to read Nandi Timmana’s Parijatapaharanamu. I would spend several hours each day preparing for our classes, but no matter how much I prepared, Professor Narayana Rao would quickly surpass me. If I prepared ten verses, he would go through twenty; if I prepared fifteen verses, he would go through thirty. During our sessions, which would often last more than two hours at a time, I struggled to maintain my attention, particularly because the complexity of classical Telugu was new to me at the time. Professor Narayana Rao, by comparison, never seemed tired, and his enthusiasm for the subject never waned, despite the extensive time and efforts he put in.

Professor Narayana Rao’s passion for classical Telugu literature is unparalleled and in the years since that University of Chicago course, I have had the fortunate opportunity to read selections of several texts under his guidance, including Bammera Potana’s Mahabhagavatamu, Krishnadevaraya’s Amuktamalyada, Allasani Peddana’s Manucaritramu, Pingali Suranna’s Kalapurnodayamu, as well as padams by Annamayya and Kshetrayya. Professor Narayana Rao has also been integrally involved with my Ph.D. dissertation, which examines the characters of Satyabhama and Krishna in classical Telugu literature and Kuchipudi dance performance. My scholarship is shaped, in many ways, by Professor Narayana Rao’s insights, and I am deeply indebted to him for his guidance throughout the years. In my mind, Velcheru Narayana Rao is classical Telugu literature and I cannot imagine one without thinking of the other.