Nrrative technique in Kanthapura

Raja Rao in his Kanthapura makes a deliberate attempt to follow traditional Indian narrative
technique and it is Indian sensibility that informs the telling of the story of Kanthapura. In fact
both the spirit and the narrative technique of Kanthapura are primarily those of the Indian
Puranas, which may be described as a popular encyclopaedia of ancient and medieval Hinduism,
religious, philosophical, historical and social. Rao, at the outset, describes his novel as a sthala-
purana - legend of a place. The novel begins expressly as a tale of a small, non-descript Kannad
village in Southern India. The story of the village’s transition from a state of relative stasis to
chaos, change and ultimate destruction is narrated by a Brahman widow, named Achakka, who
tells it in the manner of oral folk epic, in a simple, flowing, and digressive style, often
commenting upon incidents with emotion, wisdom and humour.

Achaka’s narration is clearly divided into two sections: the description of the peaceful, idyllic,
and fairly ordered past of Kanthapura, and the portrayal of the violent changes which its
inhabitants undergo, as a result of the coming of Gandhian nationalistic ideas via the idealistic
Brahman young man Moorthy. The narrator Achaka speaks with utmost conviction about the
mythical origins of Kanthapura. The realistic and everyday story of Kanthapura, that of a South
Indian village, undergoing a spiritual change under the impact of Gandhian ideologies, and
attempting to oust their British masters through a civil disobedience movement, is placed within
this mythical framework, which, with its references to some local gods/goddesses like
Kenchamma, the human sacrifice-demanding demon, and sages like Tripur, is an echo of the
larger Hindu myth of Lord Krishna who had declared he would appear in every yuga to punish
the ungodly and protect the good. In the harikathas or oral recounting of Hindu puranic tales,
organized by Moorthy, Mahatma Gandhi is conceived of as the latest avatar of Lord Krishna, and
the entire political conflict between the Indian National Congress and the colonial government is
seen as a moral/theological conflict, between sura (godly) and asura (demonc).

Moorthy, of course, is the equivalent of the sage Tripur, who, through his conspicuous suffering
and penance, is able to bring Gandhian ideologies, and thus a change of heart among the
inhabitants of Kanthapura. Before he launches into a full-scale war against caste prejudice, and
exhorts people to join the civil disobedience movement, he undergoes a period of penance, by
fasting for three days.

Gandhi is surely imagined as a godlike figure whose blessings will help the people of Kanthapura
to overcome their problems, and fight unitedly against the red-faced demons, the British who, like
the mythical demons, demand sacrifice in terms of wealth, and dignity. In the Skeffington Coffee
Estate, the British master is almost an exact replica of the mythical demon because his coffee
plantation demands human sacrifice in terms of high rate of mortality due to disease and hard
work. He also demands the wives and daughters of his coolies, for personal enjoyment.

The final battle is also conceived in the mythical terms as an epic encounter between the forces of
good and evil, and even though, in material terms the inhabitants of Kanthapura are no match
against the might of the British empire, their conspicuous suffering does bring them glory, and
hope, of a better tomorrow, based on the foundation of national unity. At the end of the novel,
when all seems lost, Achaka assures the villagers as well as the readers that Gandhi will
ultimately bring independence, and the Ram-like Moorthy’s period of exile will end in the
destruction of the Ravana or British rulers. Raja Rao thus intersperses the mythical and the
realistic mode to narrate his tale in Kanthapura.
On the structural level, the plot of Kanthapura resembles the circular structure of the Hindu myth
of yugas or time cycles: Satya, Treta, Dwapar and Kali, after which there is the great destruction
or pralaya, and then again the entire cycle is repeated. Kanthapura begins with a description of a
village which is apparently stable, peaceful, and content with its lot, till there is the entry of the
foreign devil, the Red man, whose oppressions reach a peak point. The attempts to resist and oust
the Red demon, and the consequent suffering of the villagers, at the behest of the almost mythical
hero, Moorthy (and through him, the god-like Mahatma Gandhi), leads to a veritable pralaya, as
men and beasts are destroyed, and the very existence of the village is threatened. However, this
penultimate battle brings hope of a satyayuga, a new utopia, built on the blood and sacrifice of
people.

The tension between the two, often contradictory, levels of writing - the mythic/poetic and the
political/prosaic - is the defining characteristic of the narrative technique of the novel. This
tension is both a strength and a weakness to the narrative. On the one hand it enhances the novel’s
readability as a story; on the other hand it blurs the readers' understanding of the realities of the
Indian Independence struggle.

Rao makes a highly innovative use of the English language to make it conform to the Kannada
rhythm. In keeping with his theme in Kanthapura he experiments with language following the
oral rhythms and narrative techniques of traditional Indian puranic models of writing. The
emotional upheaval that shook Kanthapura is expressed by breaking the formal English syntax to
suit the sudden changes of mood and sharp contrasts in tone. Like many other after him, Rao
makes use of a large number of Sanskrit or Kannad words to convey a sense of Indianness. Other
linguistic devices he uses for this purpose are combining words, as is done in Sanscrit or Kannad
(‘a moon-crowned god’, ‘dung-eating curs’ etc.), translating Kannad dialectical idiosyncrasies
and proverbs into English (‘I’ll drop a word in your ear’, ‘every squirrel has his day’, etc.). All
these give the language of narration in Kanthapura the impression of a highly original and
authentic voice of an artless, unlearned village grandmother in whose telling, like that of a kathak
of puranic tales, fact and fiction, myth and reality, past and present mingle in a perennial flow of
words.