- Editorial: Gita Viswanath
- Reinforcing Masculine Authority and the Making of an Ideal Woman by Nalla Dilip Kumar
- ON THESE ROADS WE CARRY NOTHING BUT LOVE by Kabir Deb
- Candice Louisa Daquin reviews The Last Showgirl
Editorial: Gita Viswanath
The scorching heat is back and what better time to stay indoors and read! In this special issue of Parcham Online on the theme of “Roads,” I am happy to present an insightful essay by Nalla Dilip Kumar on a cinematic adaptation of a Telugu novel, Mrs. Paramkusham by Malladi Venkata Krishna Murthy, published in 1973. Though not directly related to the theme, we may still see the journey of a book to film as one that traverses many paths; some tough, some not so.
Right from the late 19th century, most regional language novels in India have focussed on existing social realities such as caste discrimination, gender inequality and economic disparity in order to critique the systemic inequities of the social structures. Foremost amongst these writers were Premchand in Hindi, Ashapurna Devi in Bangla, Pannalal Patel in Gujarati, Kuvempu in Kannada, Vishnu Sakharam Khandekar in Marathi, Gurajada Venkata Apparao in Telugu and several others. Across languages, writers proved to demonstrate similar concerns and wrote predominantly in the social realist style.
Whether it is David Lean, Satyajit Ray or Mira Nair, filmmakers have often used novels to adapt to the cinematic medium. The transfer from the verbal to the visual effects changes that are more than superficial. Dilip Kumar posits in this essay that while the novel sought to present the female character’s changes as an individual, the film, Jyothi Lakshmi (2015, dir. Puri Jagannath) radicalizes such a possibility to present social transformation. Films make regional texts accessible to people who speak different tongues; thus fostering a cultural exchange of great significance that we may have missed had the literary works remained within the printed pages of a book.
Kabir Deb’s short piece uses two films; Wrong Move (Wim Wenders, 1975) and Living is Easy with Eyes Closed (Vivir es facil con los ojos cerrados), (David Trueba, 2019) to demonstrate the power of music and film narratives. Both films evoke a strong sense of journey through visuals of roads and demonstrate that even if the path is strewn with blood and sweat, the road still takes us to our desired destinations.
We also have here Candice Louisa’s review of The Last Showgirl (Gia Coppola, 2024) that discusses the journey of a woman’s body from youth to old age and male perceptions of the changes that accrue.
Happy Reading!
Gita Viswanath
Reinforcing Masculine Authority and the Making of an Ideal Woman by Nalla Dilip Kumar
In the period of Telugu popular literature that celebrated genre diversification, Mrs. Paramkusham (1973, Malladi Venkata Krishna Murthy), a Telugu novel, explored social drama’s generic elements, followed by the complex nature of romance between a man and a prostitute.[1]. The author, Krishna Murthy, claimed that the main story was inspired by real events he witnessed as a teenager.[2]. The novel was published as a weekly serial in Andhra Prabha magazine for five weeks, from April to May 1973. It was popularized among Telugu readers and filmmakers as an unconventional text that delivered progressive insights within the ideological framework of social reformation. The film adaptation of the novel, Jyothi Lakshmi (2015, dir. Puri Jagannath), struggled to elevate these quasi-progressive insights into a more radical interpretation to match the contemporaneous cinematic expression.[3] The novel presented the individual change of a prostitute for the purpose of making her an ideal woman in the disguise of liberation and emancipation, whereas the film extended it to the social change scenario that transformed a call girl into a vigilante, relating to an illusory depiction of women’s empowerment. This essay will analyse both texts to demonstrate the conceptual presentation of the novel, which was popularized as a social reform text, and the film, which was promoted as a rendition of efficacious women’s empowerment and self-respect.
Mrs. Paramkusham: The Novel
Paramkusham is a bachelor who decides to marry an eighteen-year-old prostitute, Soudamini, who resides in a brothel house. He wants to change her into a ‘cultured woman’ before their wedding and requests his Sister’s help.[4] He meets Naidu, who is an officer at the Social and Hygiene Department of the state for counselling. Later, he seeks the help of a police inspector in bringing out Soudamini from the brothel house that is guarded by a squad of goons. After they successfully move Soudamini out to the new house, the Sister welcomes her with open arms. She begins her role as a trainer to change Soudamini into a traditional housewife. Soudamini struggles to adjust to the new environment. The ideal wedding draws adequate attention from the print media. The married couple fights with a thug, who is an old client of Soudamini, on their way back home after the wedding party and ends up at the police station. After seizing the thug in a cell, the Inspector calls Soudamini as ‘Madam’ and assures her that ‘There is no need to worry. I will take care of that crook’. She experiences respect for the first time in her life and compares it with her indecent past. The training lasts for eight months under the supervision of Paramkusham and the Sister. Everyone praises him for his efforts in making a prostitute the most traditional housewife. The change that was considered an impossible task to achieve was eventually appreciated by everyone when they encountered the result.
Paramkusham and Phallocentrism:
As McGowan (2007) postulates, conventionally heroic qualities of saving the woman are practiced as a redemptive force for corroborating the ideological operations of patriarchal society. Paramkusham illuminates these qualities several times throughout the narrative in the process of changing Soudamini into an ideal woman and a traditional housewife. When Paramkusham is moving out, he informs his decision to Ammaji, the landlord’s daughter. She confesses her love to him with tears and questions his decision by comparing herself to Soudamini, a whore from the streets. The incident invokes the libidinal dilemma in Paramkusham. The dilemma effectively juxtaposes the differences between Ammaji and Soudamini. The former one is a virgin raised in the traditional fashion desired by any man of his kind, having the potential to become a respectable housewife and a great mother. The latter one is a woman who satisfies the sexual appetite of men for material gain, conspicuously not of his kind. ‘The institution of marriage is imposed on women as one of the rituals of defilement. It often depreciates the woman’s existence in the patriarchy that is constructed to support the man’s fantasy and voyeurism’ (Modelski 2005). In the conversation with the doctor, he reveals a childhood traumatic experience that made him decide to marry a prostitute. He witnessed the atrocities committed against prostitutes at a brothel house in the neighbourhood. The trauma transforms into an urge to marry a prostitute to save her and give her a normal, peaceful, and secure life. Ironically, Soudamini doesn’t consider her life as problematic as Paramkusham assumes. She has never experienced any kind of violence, assault, or atrocity from any of her clients. Thus, Paramkusham’s decision to marry a prostitute contrasts with the idea of saving an innocent woman, who does not need saving and who is very comfortable with her life. She is constituted with socially unacceptable elements of a seductive smile, provocative language, ostentatious behaviour, vulgar clothing, and sexually alluring gestures. He wants to take on the challenge of changing her into a traditional housewife. The challenge is as ridiculous as his ambition to marry a prostitute and transform her into a housewife in the name of emancipation and idealism, which doesn’t stand on the basis of his traumatic experience. When the doctor tries to convince him, ‘Prostitution is as old as ancient times. It is acknowledged as a necessary evil and legalized in many countries in the world’ (106). As a representative of patriarchy, he expresses his contempt for accepting prostitution as a regular profession. There is no place for hypersexuality in a conservative society that obstructs freedom. Soudamini is the sheer personification of that freedom. She was suspended from that sexual freedom even before her marriage. Paramkusham’s views on women’s sexuality and prostitution do not fit in the realm of patriarchy. By advocating supreme exploitation, patriarchal capitalism deprives women of sexual freedom by making sexuality a commodity and establishing individual sexual urges in the economic system (Mitchell 1974/2000). Even though Paramkusham had sex with Soudamini a few times in the brothel house, he feels vanquished after the consummation. The object is finally conquered with the involvement of the symbolic order. She becomes his wife through marriage and his woman with proper sexual penetration. He encounters criticism for marrying her on several occasions from his family, friends, at the office, and in the neighbourhood. If we observe how Paramkusham’s character is projected throughout the narrative as a man who is performing a difficult task in the course of changing Soudamini into a housewife, we can understand that these comments not only indicated the gravity of his challenge but also elevated him as a dutiful husband. When ignoring criticism from everyone, he intensifies his effort to make her a traditional housewife. He maintains a journal to track her improvement on a daily basis and assess her transformation every week. After eight months of training, Soudamini completely adapts to the new role as a traditional housewife. Soudamini steps out of the house for the first time, going out to the movies with Paramkusham and the sister. At the movies, Ammaji, who detested Soudamini, runs into her and compliments her elegant appearance. Paramkusham takes Soudamini to his office party and introduces her to his colleagues and their families. She greets them by saying, ‘I am Mrs. Paramkusham’ (163). The difficult task was successfully accomplished, making him a champion in the eyes of society.
Soudamini as an Ideal Woman:
As Freud (1949) posits, the criticism implemented by the ego ideal is silent when love is involved and enhanced with a sensual desire for the object. Conversely, Paramkusham’s idea of love is completely contradicted by the concept of the absence of the ego ideal. He is well aware of what he wants to procure from the object, i.e., Soudamini, and he does not cease the ego ideal being operated. Thus, his love is not blameless, and the faculty of criticism is in full alert. It is evident in his methods that he transformed Soudamini into a traditional housewife and eventually an ideal woman. He explains, ‘There are advantages of marriage and a married woman, who lives a secured life, conceives children, and attends auspicious events in the community as a virtuous wife instead of devastating the precious youth, body, and mind’ (20). He convinces her that marriage is an ‘Act of liberation’ that offers emancipation instead of an escape from the brothel house. The sister, a stereotypically virtuous housewife who supports the idea of marrying a prostitute, acts as a trainer to guide Soudamini in the path of liberation, which turns her into a traditional woman and a homemaker. Soudamini struggles to adjust in a house that has been complying with patriarchy from the first day. The training starts a week before the wedding. It is the journey of a wish fulfilment of Paramkusham’s ideal fantasy that is empowered by masculine politics. During the course of training, she acquires skills such as waking up at seven o’clock, commencing household work, cooking, doing dishes, wearing a saree, learning the rules of social etiquette, reading the Ramayana and Bhagavata, and learning English and Telugu from Paramkusham in the evenings to attempt the pre-metric examination through distance education. We can notice Paramkusham’s obsessive fascination with the two factors of acceptance and validation from society, even when he is not ready to accept her as a prostitute and validate her personality as a wicked one. Surprisingly, Soudamini never tends to bother with those two factors Paramkusham is obsessed with. She intends to focus on making him happy, i.e., sexually, psychologically, and emotionally, as a good companion, until their relationship lasts. In this way, his projective use of idealism to transform her into a housewife acquired maximum aggressive power. It is manifested in his frustration towards her hypersexual behaviour and her belief system. From his viewpoint, she is not able to understand the importance of Sheelam, the sacred virtue of chastity.
She questions, ‘What is that sacredness involved with chastity?’
He clarifies, ‘It means being holy’.She insists, ‘Can you show me holiness?’
He mentions Sita and Sivitri from Hindu mythology, who served their husbands and maintained Sheelam until their deaths.
‘What would happen if they didn’t live with Sheelam?’ (134-136).
He never answers her logical questions that destabilize the patriarchal imposition of Sheelam on women to constrain her as a one-man’s object. She struggles to keep her identity as a nonconformist woman in a realm where Sheelam and sin are established as distinctive elements in the moral value system. As the training went by, she wilfully succumbed to feminine masochism by obtaining the qualities of a traditional housewife, such as humility, modesty, and obedience. These are highly praised in the family, among friends, and in the neighbourhood. They start inviting her for auspicious occasions where she was previously forbidden. The transformation is imposed at the expense of freedom as she is changed from a prostitute to a housewife and ultimately an ideal woman.
Jyothi Lakshmi: A Radical Adaptation
When promoting the film, Puri Jagannath mentioned the cinematic adaptation of the novel and the necessary changes that were implemented in the narrative and narrative structure following the contemporary trend.[5] The process of radical adaptation explored the lead characters of Jyothi Lakshmi and Satya to a different degree. The film’s opening scene depicted the childhood traumatic experience of Paramkusham from the viewpoint of the narrator. We see a disturbing scene where an innocent woman, Nandini, recently abducted by Narayan Patwari and his goons, has been tortured sadistically. Patwari, as the crime boss of the company, an organized prostitution mafia in the city, explains to the girl about the business that involves human trafficking and kidnapping. Then he warns her, referring to ‘The Training Centre’, where a stubborn woman undergoes violent flogging. He warns her that they never care about the consent of women whom they intend to turn into call girls (0:00:36-0:02:58). In the absence of Satya, a counterpart of Paramkusham, the scene elevates the necessity of liberating the women from prostitution as a supreme goal for Jyothi Lakshmi in the end. The goal is achieved by a rather quixotic resolution than a practical one that is proposed and executed by Jyothi Lakshmi. The stereotypical character traits of man and woman in Telugu cinema were exchanged between Satya and Jyothi Lakshmi. Satya’s character is presented as shy, innocent, non-alcoholic, and non-smoker, and he never experienced any sexual conduct with anyone before meeting with Jyothi Lakshmi. Contrary to Satya, Jyothi Lakshmi is a hypersexual, active, bold, smoker, and alcoholic woman who is personified with masculine qualities. After the exhaustion of roaming for fifteen days, Satya finally meets Jyothi Lakshmi in a spectacular brothel house. He confesses his love to her, but she considers him one of the many clients who spent a night with her for sexual pleasure. She agrees to his proposal after a few days of incessant pursuit, and they both escape from the brothel house and marry with the help of a sub-inspector. During the night of consummation, he does not want to use protection because they are now a legitimate married couple. With the influence of alcohol, Jyothi Lakshmi intensely objects to him, ‘What if I get pregnant? What if you disown me?’ He reassures his love by saying, ‘I love you.’ She replies, ‘I’m not in love with you.’ Then she continues, ‘I came here with you out of excitement and thrill.’ When she doubts how long this marriage will last, he reassures his love and says, ‘I tied Thali, and I’m your husband, and now we don’t need any protection’. The conversation extends into a heated argument (0:59:34-1:02:20). As Mitchell (1990/1974) emphasized, marriage is a protective institution that determines a woman’s conservative character. She is deprived of playing an independent role in the economic system to be exploited within it as a housekeeper and a mother (216, 218). Satya’s view of a housewife reflects in his male chauvinistic comments, which are delivered from his authoritative position in patriarchy. Here, the protection signifies the physical pleasure without any attachment, further implications such as sexually transmitted diseases, pregnancy, abortion, etc. (Jyothi Lakshmi’s fear of consequences), but it does not provide the orgasm, which is the ultimate result of the intercourse (Satya’s sexual fulfilment). Thali is a social knot, a physical symbol for the sacrament of marriage, which binds a man and a woman together for a lifelong relationship and commitment. It establishes a bond between those two individuals, involving their family, friends, and the symbolic order, completely opposite of conception for what a protection represents. If we draw a perspicacious line between the two terms, a protection supposed to connect two physical bodies intends to obtain sheer pleasure over a short period of copulation, but a Thali connects the two individuals to make a proper relationship. By the end of the scene, Jyothi Lakshmi breaks the thread of Thali in frustration. The moment is presented as a sign of liberation. It is an act of subverting the established norms of patriarchy. However, she does not enjoy the freedom from the marriage and her husband. She discerns the benefits of marriage and being a married woman as the result of an incident where she encounters sexual abuse from a couple of thugs. Satya fights with those thugs and drags them to the police station. A constable politely approaches Jyothi Lakshmi and calls her ‘Madam!’ then offers her tea. She recalls a memory and shares it with Satya: ‘The constable called me a bitch when I was arrested on a raid and brought up here. Now he is calling me Madam with the utmost respect’.And she asks him, ‘Does everyone respect a married woman?’ He replies dramatically, ‘Yes, they do. But you’re not acknowledging it. You broke Thali. Even if you break it off, you’re mine as my wife. I will live and die with you. We stay together until the end’.She picks up the Thali from her handbag and gives it to him. He ties it around her neck as a gesture of reconciliation (1:04:50-1:08:28). After this incident, she changes her attire from that of an active call girl, who wears flashy clothing, to that of a traditional woman, who wears a saree and a bottu on her forehead. The transformation is not entirely dedicated to her appearance but equally to her personality, which changed from a carefree call girl to a husband-abiding housewife.
Meanwhile, Narayan Patwari gets to know that Jyothi Lakshmi has escaped with Satya and settled as a housewife. Then he orders his goons to attack Satya. The incident motivates Jyothi Lakshmi to fight against Patwari and his company.
Unlike Soudamini, Jyothi Lakshmi questions Satya after he gets beaten up by goons and rests on the hospital bed, ‘Why did you marry me?’ He reveals a childhood traumatic experience that encouraged him to marry a prostitute. Satya and his sister were raised by a prostitute after their parents’ deaths. Later, she dies in an accident, and that leaves a traumatic impression on Satya’s mind. Jyothi Lakshmi again insists, ‘Why did you marry me when you can find a lot of women like me? Why did you choose me?’Satya replies, ‘I fell in love with you at the very moment when I first saw you.’He recalls their first encounter, where she was giving money to a couple of poor kids sitting at a street corner (1:23:25-1:24:52). It is discernible that Satya imagined his dead foster mother when he first saw Jyothi Lakshmi helping those kids. He wanted to fill the ideal image of his mother with her. If we notice the circle of being in Satya’s character, it reveals that he has been surrounded by more females than males for all his life, such as his biological mother, sister, foster mother, and Jyothi Lakshmi. The subliminal aspect of oedipal desire has been shifting from one female to the other throughout his life. When Jyothi Lakshmi gets to know the reason behind Satya’s decision to marry her, she stands from the chair and reaches him, patting his head covered with a bandage. The moment manifests a sign of a mother’s love. A significant transformation occurred in her character from a call girl to a girlfriend, later into a traditional woman, then an obedient housewife, and now a mother and an eventual vigilante.
Jyothi Lakshmi’s final role as vigilante is prompted by Patwari. He plans to teach a lesson to Nandini when she decides to quit the company. She has been lying to her parents about her employment in order to maintain their family’s prestige in the community. Patwari convinces her to go to a customer for the last time. He secretly arranges a police raid with a corrupted Circle Inspector to get her arrested. The media circulates her photo and other details on news channels, and the truth about her employment finally reaches her parents. The plan tragically ends when she commits suicide in a prison cell, and the incident influences Jyothi Lakshmi to fight against the company, prostitution-free society, and patriarchy all at once. She explains her goal to Satya and takes his permission, like a typical male lead who seeks the approval of his love interest before committing an act of altruistic greater good. She plans to capture the sexual acts of businessmen who spend time with call girls. She gathers all of the goons who are unhappy with Patwari, explains her plan, and distributes hidden cameras. After two days, she arranges a meeting with the businessmen who were being captured in the videos. She delivers a speech on gender roles in society and gives a socialist definition for a ‘prostitute’: ‘She is a woman who emerged from the failure of the society that runs under the patriarchal order’ (1:48:56-1:56:50). The meeting successfully ends with an impractical solution where every call girl obtains a material gain from their respective clients, such as money, a job, property, gold, etc. Later, she goes to Patwari’s home along with the Circle Inspector. There she remonstrates about the social injustice against women and shoots Patwari with the Inspector’s revolver (1:57:10-1:58:38).
The novel presented the individual change of a prostitute for the purpose of making her an ideal woman in the disguise of liberation and emancipation, whereas the film extended it to the social change scenario that transformed a call girl into a vigilante, relating to an illusory depiction of women’s empowerment. In that way, Jyothi Lakshmi does not act as a counterpart to Soudamini but as a successor of Paramkusham and answers his lamentation for a reformative society, although with an overpowered masculine identity that delivers an idealistic solution for real problems generated by patriarchy.
References:
Bazin, Andrew. “Adaptation or cinema as Digest.” Esprit16:146 (1948). pp. 32-40. Translated by Alain Piette and Bert Cardullo. Routledge, 1997.
Bluestone, George. Novels into Film. University of California Press, 1961.
Bordwell, David. Narration in the Fiction Film. The University of Wisconsin press, 1985.
Cahir, Costanzo. Literature into Film: Theory and Practical Approaches. McFarland & Company, 2006.
Chatman Seymour. Story and Discourse: Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film. Cornell University, 1978.
Hutcheon, Linda and Siobhan O’Flynn. A Theory of Adaptation. 2nd edition, Routledge, 2013.
Leitch, Thomas. Film Adaptation and Its Discontents. The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007.
Malladi, Venkata Krishna Murthy. Mrs Paramkusham. 58th edition, Lipi Publications, 2009.
McFarlane, Brian. Novel to Film: An Introduction to the Theory of Adaptation. Clarendon Press, 1996.
McGowan, Todd. The Real Gaze: Film Theory after Lacan. Albany: State University of New York. 2007.
Mitchell, Juliet. Psychoanalysis and Feminism, Second Edition. London: Penguin. 1990/1974.
Modleski, Tania. The Women Who Knew Too Much: Hitchcock and Feminist Theory, Second Edition. New York and Oxford: Routledge. 2005/1988.
Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema,” in Marshall Cohen and Leo Braudy (eds.) Film Theory & Criticism, New York: Oxford University Press. 2009/1975.
Smelik, Anneke. “Feminist Film Theory.” The Cinema Book. Edited by Pam Cook, British Film Institute, 2007, pp.491-504.
Stam, Robert, and Raengo, Alessandra. Literature and Film: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Film Adaptation. Eds. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2005.
Telakapalli, Ravi. Mana Cinemalu (Our Films). Prajashakti Book House, 2019.
Vivek, Sachdeva. Fiction to Film. Orient Blackswan Private Limited, 2017.
Wagner, Geoffrey. The Novel and the Cinema. Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 1975.
Wood, Robin. Hitchcock’s Films Revisited. New York: Columbia University Press, 1989.
Filmography-Jyothi Lakshmi. Directed by Puri Jagannath, CK Entertainments PVT LTD and Sree Subha Swetha Films, 2015. Hotstar, https://www.hotstar.com/in/movies/jyothilakshmi/1000074330/watch
[1] As a part of my doctoral research project on ‘Film Adaptation: An Exploratory Study of Telugu Films Based on Telugu Popular Novels’, I have categorized Telugu film adaptations into three phases based on the adaptation activity and changing discourses:
- The Phase of Social Reformation (1930s-50s): In this phase, Gandhian ideas and social reforms were the prime concern of adaptations. Mala Pilla (1938, dir. Gudavalli Ramabrahmam) dealt with the issue of untouchability in a rural backdrop. It is based on an unpublished novel by Gudipati Venkatachalam. Vara Vikrayam (1939, dir. C. Pullaiah) portrayed the brutal dowry system during British India. It is based on the popular play under the same name written by Kallakoori Narayana Rao.
- The Phase of Popular Novels (1960s-80s): Growth of the literacy rate in the post-Independence era led to a greater accessibility of literature among Telugu people. In this backdrop, Telugu popular fiction was initiated with Chakra Bramanam, written by Kodori Kausaladevi. The novel presented human affairs under the theme of platonic love between a married man and a married woman, who suffers with her insecure husband. It was adapted into a film, Doctor Chakravarty (1964, dir. Adurthi Subba Rao). The prominence of popular novels increased with a number of film adaptations, and the majority of the films were made under the same name as the novel. During this phase, we have such adaptations as Kausaladevi’s Prem Nagar (1971, dir. K. S. Prakash Rao) is a romantic drama between an aristocrat and a middle-class working woman. The conceptual themes of the middle class are reflected in Yaddanapudi Sulochana Rani’s novels such as Aatma Gowravam (1965, dir. K. Viswanath), Meena (1973, dir. Vijaya Nirmala), Jeevana Tarangalu (1973, dir. Tatineni Rama Rao), and Bangaaru Kalalu (1974, dir. Adurthi Subba Rao). Yandamuri Veerendranath introduced the idea of an ordinary individual who raises against the established system with his novels and their traditional film adaptations, such as Abhilasha (1983, dir. A. Kodandarami Reddy), Challenge (1984, dir. A. Kodandarami Reddy), and Akhari Poratam (1988, dir. K. Raghavendra Rao). Malladi Venkata Krishna Murthy practiced genre diversification with his novels and their film adaptations and created a classic comedy genre in Telugu cinema with his novels like Chantabbai (1986, dir. Jandhyala) is a detective comedy, Rendu Rellu Aaru (1986, dir. Jandhyala) is romantic comedy, and Mrs. Paramkusham is a social drama and adapted as Jyothi Lakshmi (2015, dir. Puri Jagannath).
- The Phase of Revisitation (1990s-2010s): Telugu literature witnessed a gradual decrease by the end of the century and in the new millennium, and that consequently led to a rapid decline in film adaptations as well. However, several promising filmmakers with a literary background have begun to revisit the content from Telugu literature and have begun adapting it films that represent various ideologies and use different kinds of narrative techniques. Yagnyam (1991, dir. Gutha Ramineedu), made from a critically acclaimed story of the same name, exemplified the exploitation of the feudal system in rural India and was written by Kalipatnam Ramarao. Idhi Sangathi (2008, dir. Chandra Siddhartha), based on a novel Mera Bharath Mahaan written by K.Y.N. Pathanjali, is a satire on contemporary politics with a multiple-character-driven narrative.
[2] Malladi, Venkata Krishna Murthy. Navala Venaka Katha. Godavari Prachuranalu, 2020, pp. 24-27.
[3] Cahir (2006) categorizes three types of translations that are possible in the production of literature based adaptations.
- Literal translation: The process reproduces the plot, narrative, and all its given details as closely as possible to the text of the source.
- Traditional translation: It maintains the overall aspects of the source text, such as plot, setting, genre, and stylistic conventions, but renovates particular details in particular ways that the screenwriters and filmmakers see as necessary and compatible.
- Radical translation: It reshapes the source text in an extreme and comprehensive way by proposing an interpretation of the literature and making the film as a complete independent work (16-17).
[4] The name of Paramkusham’s sister is not mentioned in the novel.
[5] Sakshi, a Telugu daily newspaper, published an interview of Puri Jagannath titled ‘Missus Paramkushame ee Jyothi Lakshmi’ on 19 May 2015.
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