“Sujatha” Rangarajan, the most recognizable Tamil writer around today, turns seventy next Wednesday. In an evocative, nostalgic piece in Anandha Vikatan, he talks about his multifacted career and his legacy, signing off wiith the “The love of my fans is my Nobel prize” line, stung perhaps by the lack of recognition as a serious writer.
Employing a racy narrative laced with dry humor and writing in conversational, easy to understand Tamil – a mixture that quickly became his trademark – Sujatha is a prolific writer. His works span different genres: science fiction to middle class angst; classical poetry to courtroom dramas. In a culture full of home brewn creators that pride themselves on their indigeneousness, Sujatha stood out for his use of Western style rhetorical devices and literary technique. A small town boy that grew up to be an engineer, well traveled, hard working and no communist leanings: Sujatha does not fit the profile of the average Tamil writer. Continuing on the differences, he is well read – he can quote ancient Tamil poetry and Saul Bellow in the same breath – and his books are always bestsellers. He dabbled in script writing too, writing screenplays and dialogues for a few Tamil movies.
A sound knowledge of writing techniques and the ability to employ them well; a voracious literary appetite; an immense love for his craft: Notwithstanding all this, Sujatha’s works never rose above passably good. Constrained perhaps by writing in a language whose public prefers magazines and newspapers to serious fiction, Sujatha sacrificed quality for quantity: his books were interesting reads, but never great. Flitting from genre to genre, he mastered none, succeding only partly in his attempts at straddling popular fiction and serious writing.
He did not win literary awards, but he sold books. A lot of them. And that is nothing to sneer at, for not all Bellow fans can be Bellow.