RR
29th February 2008, 03:39 PM
THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT SUJATHA…
- Naaz
Goose bumps.
[html:be40902453]http://www.mayyam.com/contribs/incoming/sujatha.jpg[/html:be40902453]
They are not uncommon when you read a novel by Sujatha. But when you have the man, the epoch, on the other end of the line, you’ve got to be good in math, fast before you think you could die. The goose bumps multiply to the power of a long-distance call between Canada and India. “I am…” you stammer, and the chill of fear is so complete, your skin is a cold, burning page.
Tracking Sujatha and getting him on the phone is a short- story in itself, but I’ll leave that for another time. I sent him my questions on Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo, and before you could say “hello ganesh, hello vasanth,” I had the answers. Made me think: Straight for the jugular.
He said he found the questions to be “interesting,” and got to it.
Swift. Crisp. No Nonsense.
Everything you’d expect from a master of the game.
Here’s Sujatha on Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo.
[html:be40902453]http://www.mayyam.com/contribs/incoming/20060630/karayellaam_s.jpg[/html:be40902453]
Q. A genesis question: Which came first, your interest in Ethnography (Folklore) or the plot/story for the novel, Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo? Could you share the process of writing this particular novel?
A. Neither. Music director, Ilayaraja, once suggested, “why don’t you write a village based thriller?” The idea interested me. I was then reading a book on Tamil folk songs, Thamizhar Naattuppaadalkal, compiled by Prof. Na. Vanamamalai. I took a line from a folk song as the title and spun a story around a researcher coming to a village.
Q. Another genesis question: Is the novel a modern attempt to excavate a lost, pre-lapsarian time? In a metaphoric sense, the novel opens with the arrival of Kalyanaraman(Adam) in Maempatti (Eden). There is his immediate infatuation with Velli (Eve), and soon after, Snekalatha (Snake) is introduced as the “evil” temptress. Given this triangle, could one read the novel as a contemporary (biblical) parable/parody?
A. This is an interesting interpretation. I had never intended it to be a biblical metaphor, though I had read the Bible before.
Q. The first impressions of “folklore” are usually that of innocence, naiveté, and untamed (and uncorrupted) goodness. Kalyanaraaman is taken with the sheer unaffectedness of the people and the songs they sing. Yet, in the story of Pazhaiyanoor Neeli, there is such graphic violence. Is this your way of debunking the urban myth of “good as gold” villagers?
A. If you read the genuine folk songs you are struck by their unaffected simplicity. The Pazhaiyanoor Neeli Kathai is a folk tale of revenge that dates back to pre-Cilappathikaram period. It is elemental in its theme of revenge of a wronged wife, which is also a simple and repetitive folk theme.
Q. The title of the novel, Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo, evokes a vista of colour and abundance. However, the novel pivots on the “deadly sins” of Avarice, Lust, Pride, and Envy…Is the title a trap/conceit?
A. As I said, the title is a line from a folk song. It was given in before the plot of the story evolved, and no trap or conceit was intended then.
Q. In archetypal terms, Velliamma and Snekalatha are, as you mention, “stud(ies) in contrast.” But are they, really? Once the rural/urban veneer is removed, aren’t they both just victims/survivors of a traditional, patriarchal social order? (eg. [tscii:be40902453]"¦ÁøÄ ¦ÁøÄ ´Õ Å¢§Ã¡¾õ ¯ÕÅ¡¸¢ì¦¸¡ñÎ þÕ츢ÈÐ. Š§¿¸Ä¾¡Å¢ý ÅÃ× þó¾ àíÌõ ¸¢Ã¡Áò¾¢ý Å¡É¢¨Ä¨Â Á¡üȢ즸¡ñÊÕ츢ÈÐ." "¿øÄ À¡õÒ ÌðÊ §À¡Ä ÅóÐ §º÷ó¾¡." "«ö¡, ±ýÉ ¸¡ôÀ¡òÐÅ£í¸Ç¡?"[/tscii:be40902453])
A. It is always advisable to have contrasting characters in a complex mystery story. Shades of character are in order in emotional, “social” stories.
Q. The literary work won high critical acclaim, but the film did not sway the masses. Compared to the cinematic success of Gayathri and Priya, Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo was more than a bit of a letdown. Why do you think the audience rejected the screen version of a book they so unanimously loved?
A. I am not happy with the screen versions of Gayathri and Priya also. Screen versions are never satisfactory to the author and discerning readers. Bibuthibhushan Bhattacharya was very unhappy with Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali. Hemmingway, when asked about the films based on his novels said, “take the money and run!”
Q. Ilayaraja was born to write the score for a film like Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo. Yet, this was no Annakili. What are your own personal views on the tunes in KS? And were you involved in the selection of music/lyrics?
A. The tunes were ordinary. Ilayaraja had so many assignments and was very busy at that time. I was not at all involved with the lyrics or music for the film.
Q. Dialect and Humour are essential antidotes to the dark proceedings of the novel. Despite a bravura performance by Manorama (Periaaththaa), these features are diffused in the film. Do you think that the literariness of a work such as Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo is anathema to the screen?
A. The director substituted a Coimbatore dialect, whereas I had used a southern Trichy dialect in the book. Dialect was used only for flavour in the novel, and it wasn’t fully authentic either. The director was not capable of thriller narration – that was the problem.
Q. You are by far the most celebrated cine/author of the Tamil screen. How do you view your commercial success?
A. I view commercial success as a result of cooperative effort. The writer has only a 25% role. The director, the editor, music director, cameraman, casting – all contribute to the success.
Q. Do you re-read your own works after a period of time (say five years after publication?)? And when you do, what do you (dis)own in the writing?
A. No. I do re-read with a reader’s viewpoint, as though it is somebody else’s work. Sometimes I am surprised, and sometimes I am disappointed. Put back in their time and compulsions, I am generally happy with them.
- * -
Analysis of story and movie
What does it mean to say, "there's something about Sujatha"? And what does it mean to find that ambiguous adjective in chiasmatic symmetry and certainty with "comparing Sujatha to Bharathi is stretching it too far”? "Something" keeps its namby-pamby, and "far" gets the axe of cut-off point. Many possibilities Vs. Singularity.
Having read only three full novels by Sujatha, I'd be foolish to attempt a monograph of his life's work, so I'll just keep it at "here's what I know from what I've read."
First, let’s celebrate the multiplicity.
There is a stylistic modernity that flies right off the page, no matter what the subject or thematic preoccupations of the work. By 'stylistic modernity' I mean an engagement with language that is more than just purposeful on a "needs only" basis. Sujatha does not just play with words and syntax; he perseveres to make it all feel new and different. In a truly literary way, he exoticizes the familiar. For a reader, that discovery is both electric and erotic. S/he is already taken.
Something can mean Sex, or the possibility of. Sujatha's novels offer that, and lots of it. The repressed fantasies of his male characters lead them into some precarious frat-boy descriptions of the female anatomy, and Sujatha, aided by C. Jeyaraj (he with the pencil that puts the liss back in lissome) plays with the questionable politics of objectification with all the panache of a trickster. He challenges the prude and the crude in both of us. (Here's a scary thought: Reader as Character.)
Urbanity is Sujatha's playground. Even if the characters are located in a village between here and there, their worldview, their manner of apprehending everything around them in language, in parole, is urban. I'd happily put the three books I've read in the Metropolitan box. The witticisms, the turns of phrase and the narrative's momentum, all conspire to punch language in its face, and the books seem to hurtle to a finish, breathless, like rush hour commuters at Nungambakkam Station.
Dark Hilarity or Murder, most Casual? If the book is Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo, you can - in Sujathaese - kill the or.
Of course, these are all superficial and random gleanings of a reading list that has not moved to number four. As much as I'd like to get into things like "larger thematic concerns" or "narrative ambivalence," which would no doubt be interesting and illuminating, I cannot go there. Sometimes, ignorance just is. I have to accept that. Limited by my reading though I am, I would still go out on a limb and say that the features I have highlighted above are a good part of Sujatha's writing (including the purely genre undertakings such as Historical or Science Fiction.) There, I conjecture, the proceedings would be equally cunning in language and narrative, while at the same time striving for a register of authenticity.
[html:be40902453]http://www.mayyam.com/contribs/incoming/20060903/prathap.jpg[/html:be40902453]
Let's take Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo. It falls under the self-admitted "thriller" genre, albeit with a rural twist. Right off the press, the book screams "formula," and there's nothing the matter with that. The tale is in the telling, after all. And Sujatha tells it with delight.
Kalyanaraman, a 30ish, sensitive, horny researcher arrives in Maempatti for fieldwork. The bigwigs of the village have arranged for him to stay at a locked-up "zamin" bungalow, and we can already hear the floor and stairs creaking at night. Maruthamuthu and Velli are the assigned house-help. Kalyanaraman records songs, conducts interviews and trains the village kids to sing in a chorus (Listen to "yeriyile.. elantha maram" (http://music.coolgoose.com/music/song.php?id=200286)). He lusts interminably for Velli.
And the floors begin to creak and cigarette butts are discovered on the flat roof terrace.
Ancestral ghosts getting their nicotine fix?
Maybe.
[html:be40902453]http://www.mayyam.com/contribs/incoming/20060903/sumalatha.jpg[/html:be40902453]
However, claiming great granddaughter relative-ism, Snekalatha (“snake” for short) shows up at the “zamin” bungalow. She’s tall and fetching and such a tease. Maruthamuthu, Velli’s fiancé, falls instantly for her snakey charms. Velli feels left out, but she won’t let Kalyanaraman in. And Snekalatha is hell bent on seducing Kalyanaraman. This quartet plays itself in a quirky, and seemingly innocent way, until Snekalatha is found murdered. The very next day, Velli disappears. What links these bizarre turns?
That’s the story within the story. A story where a dried senbagapoo nestles next to a diary entry, a clue to a secret from the past, and a key to some serious gold jewelry. It would be unfair to give it away.
If every frame were one inventive stylistic turn of the novel, G.N. Rangarajan makes sure there are none on the screen by being entirely faithful to the text, page by page, yet intent on turning cheese to chalk. If one were to take “screen-turner” quite literally, the images on the screen follow the images in the text, in the same prosaic order, without any of the narrative’s jujitsu. I could swear I heard pages turn, and I knew which chapter we were on when watching the video. Sri Priya (Velli) Sumalatha (Snekalatha) Pratap Pothen (Kalyanaraman), a motley crew not a casting coup, turns in a listless, I-am-so-bored, but I am getting paid for it performance. Manorama’s Periaathaa is that much needed saving grace (for one does want to be charitable) in an otherwise dull, how not to make a thriller lesson. To be blunt, the film musters all the spooky suspense of a Vayalum Vaazhvum episode.
Ilayaraja’s score also seems indifferent. But to be fair, the director’s penchant for flatness over cinematic ingenuity could be to blame. It would help to bear in mind that Alaigal Oyvathillai, Aaraadhanai, and Enakkaaga Kaaththiru were all made in 1981, and Ilayaraja still owned the summit. Aeriyile Elanthamaram still holds brilliance in the choric parts, and Kalyaanraman Cookku Raman has a terrific opening. (Listen to "kalyan raman" (http://music.cooltoad.com/music/song.php?id=181946)) Kaadellaam Pichippoovu, the opener titles track sung by Ilayaraja himself, is adequately nondescript.
<hr>
Now back to the second part of the chiasmus: the “stretching it too far” bit. Revolutions and radical thought are contextual. Each cultural-wave both builds and demolishes artistic traditions that have preceded it. Bharathi’s idealism is not Sujatha’s; Sujatha’s times and themes are not Bharathi’s. And vice versa, and vice versa for every era defined artistic advance.
While it is easy to understand the urge to keep certain icons sacrosanct and distant, how can it hurt when the subject is the one that achieves the object’s standards of excellence? Bharathi is who Sujatha is measured against.
(C) Author 2006
[tscii:be40902453]̓¡¾¡ - ¸¨Ã¦ÂøÄ¡õ ¦ºñÀ¸ôâ
Å¢º¡ ÀôÇ¢§¸„ýŠ
Ò¾¢Â ±ñ: 16 (À¨Æ ±ñ: 55)
¦Åí¸ð¿¡Ã¡Â½¡ º¡¨Ä
¾¢ ¿¸÷
¦ºý¨É - 600 017.[/tscii:be40902453]
Sujatha – Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo
Visa Publications
New No. 16 (Old No.55)
Venkatnarayana Road
T. Nagar
Chennai 600 017
[tscii:be40902453][/tscii:be40902453]
- Naaz
Goose bumps.
[html:be40902453]http://www.mayyam.com/contribs/incoming/sujatha.jpg[/html:be40902453]
They are not uncommon when you read a novel by Sujatha. But when you have the man, the epoch, on the other end of the line, you’ve got to be good in math, fast before you think you could die. The goose bumps multiply to the power of a long-distance call between Canada and India. “I am…” you stammer, and the chill of fear is so complete, your skin is a cold, burning page.
Tracking Sujatha and getting him on the phone is a short- story in itself, but I’ll leave that for another time. I sent him my questions on Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo, and before you could say “hello ganesh, hello vasanth,” I had the answers. Made me think: Straight for the jugular.
He said he found the questions to be “interesting,” and got to it.
Swift. Crisp. No Nonsense.
Everything you’d expect from a master of the game.
Here’s Sujatha on Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo.
[html:be40902453]http://www.mayyam.com/contribs/incoming/20060630/karayellaam_s.jpg[/html:be40902453]
Q. A genesis question: Which came first, your interest in Ethnography (Folklore) or the plot/story for the novel, Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo? Could you share the process of writing this particular novel?
A. Neither. Music director, Ilayaraja, once suggested, “why don’t you write a village based thriller?” The idea interested me. I was then reading a book on Tamil folk songs, Thamizhar Naattuppaadalkal, compiled by Prof. Na. Vanamamalai. I took a line from a folk song as the title and spun a story around a researcher coming to a village.
Q. Another genesis question: Is the novel a modern attempt to excavate a lost, pre-lapsarian time? In a metaphoric sense, the novel opens with the arrival of Kalyanaraman(Adam) in Maempatti (Eden). There is his immediate infatuation with Velli (Eve), and soon after, Snekalatha (Snake) is introduced as the “evil” temptress. Given this triangle, could one read the novel as a contemporary (biblical) parable/parody?
A. This is an interesting interpretation. I had never intended it to be a biblical metaphor, though I had read the Bible before.
Q. The first impressions of “folklore” are usually that of innocence, naiveté, and untamed (and uncorrupted) goodness. Kalyanaraaman is taken with the sheer unaffectedness of the people and the songs they sing. Yet, in the story of Pazhaiyanoor Neeli, there is such graphic violence. Is this your way of debunking the urban myth of “good as gold” villagers?
A. If you read the genuine folk songs you are struck by their unaffected simplicity. The Pazhaiyanoor Neeli Kathai is a folk tale of revenge that dates back to pre-Cilappathikaram period. It is elemental in its theme of revenge of a wronged wife, which is also a simple and repetitive folk theme.
Q. The title of the novel, Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo, evokes a vista of colour and abundance. However, the novel pivots on the “deadly sins” of Avarice, Lust, Pride, and Envy…Is the title a trap/conceit?
A. As I said, the title is a line from a folk song. It was given in before the plot of the story evolved, and no trap or conceit was intended then.
Q. In archetypal terms, Velliamma and Snekalatha are, as you mention, “stud(ies) in contrast.” But are they, really? Once the rural/urban veneer is removed, aren’t they both just victims/survivors of a traditional, patriarchal social order? (eg. [tscii:be40902453]"¦ÁøÄ ¦ÁøÄ ´Õ Å¢§Ã¡¾õ ¯ÕÅ¡¸¢ì¦¸¡ñÎ þÕ츢ÈÐ. Š§¿¸Ä¾¡Å¢ý ÅÃ× þó¾ àíÌõ ¸¢Ã¡Áò¾¢ý Å¡É¢¨Ä¨Â Á¡üȢ즸¡ñÊÕ츢ÈÐ." "¿øÄ À¡õÒ ÌðÊ §À¡Ä ÅóÐ §º÷ó¾¡." "«ö¡, ±ýÉ ¸¡ôÀ¡òÐÅ£í¸Ç¡?"[/tscii:be40902453])
A. It is always advisable to have contrasting characters in a complex mystery story. Shades of character are in order in emotional, “social” stories.
Q. The literary work won high critical acclaim, but the film did not sway the masses. Compared to the cinematic success of Gayathri and Priya, Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo was more than a bit of a letdown. Why do you think the audience rejected the screen version of a book they so unanimously loved?
A. I am not happy with the screen versions of Gayathri and Priya also. Screen versions are never satisfactory to the author and discerning readers. Bibuthibhushan Bhattacharya was very unhappy with Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali. Hemmingway, when asked about the films based on his novels said, “take the money and run!”
Q. Ilayaraja was born to write the score for a film like Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo. Yet, this was no Annakili. What are your own personal views on the tunes in KS? And were you involved in the selection of music/lyrics?
A. The tunes were ordinary. Ilayaraja had so many assignments and was very busy at that time. I was not at all involved with the lyrics or music for the film.
Q. Dialect and Humour are essential antidotes to the dark proceedings of the novel. Despite a bravura performance by Manorama (Periaaththaa), these features are diffused in the film. Do you think that the literariness of a work such as Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo is anathema to the screen?
A. The director substituted a Coimbatore dialect, whereas I had used a southern Trichy dialect in the book. Dialect was used only for flavour in the novel, and it wasn’t fully authentic either. The director was not capable of thriller narration – that was the problem.
Q. You are by far the most celebrated cine/author of the Tamil screen. How do you view your commercial success?
A. I view commercial success as a result of cooperative effort. The writer has only a 25% role. The director, the editor, music director, cameraman, casting – all contribute to the success.
Q. Do you re-read your own works after a period of time (say five years after publication?)? And when you do, what do you (dis)own in the writing?
A. No. I do re-read with a reader’s viewpoint, as though it is somebody else’s work. Sometimes I am surprised, and sometimes I am disappointed. Put back in their time and compulsions, I am generally happy with them.
- * -
Analysis of story and movie
What does it mean to say, "there's something about Sujatha"? And what does it mean to find that ambiguous adjective in chiasmatic symmetry and certainty with "comparing Sujatha to Bharathi is stretching it too far”? "Something" keeps its namby-pamby, and "far" gets the axe of cut-off point. Many possibilities Vs. Singularity.
Having read only three full novels by Sujatha, I'd be foolish to attempt a monograph of his life's work, so I'll just keep it at "here's what I know from what I've read."
First, let’s celebrate the multiplicity.
There is a stylistic modernity that flies right off the page, no matter what the subject or thematic preoccupations of the work. By 'stylistic modernity' I mean an engagement with language that is more than just purposeful on a "needs only" basis. Sujatha does not just play with words and syntax; he perseveres to make it all feel new and different. In a truly literary way, he exoticizes the familiar. For a reader, that discovery is both electric and erotic. S/he is already taken.
Something can mean Sex, or the possibility of. Sujatha's novels offer that, and lots of it. The repressed fantasies of his male characters lead them into some precarious frat-boy descriptions of the female anatomy, and Sujatha, aided by C. Jeyaraj (he with the pencil that puts the liss back in lissome) plays with the questionable politics of objectification with all the panache of a trickster. He challenges the prude and the crude in both of us. (Here's a scary thought: Reader as Character.)
Urbanity is Sujatha's playground. Even if the characters are located in a village between here and there, their worldview, their manner of apprehending everything around them in language, in parole, is urban. I'd happily put the three books I've read in the Metropolitan box. The witticisms, the turns of phrase and the narrative's momentum, all conspire to punch language in its face, and the books seem to hurtle to a finish, breathless, like rush hour commuters at Nungambakkam Station.
Dark Hilarity or Murder, most Casual? If the book is Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo, you can - in Sujathaese - kill the or.
Of course, these are all superficial and random gleanings of a reading list that has not moved to number four. As much as I'd like to get into things like "larger thematic concerns" or "narrative ambivalence," which would no doubt be interesting and illuminating, I cannot go there. Sometimes, ignorance just is. I have to accept that. Limited by my reading though I am, I would still go out on a limb and say that the features I have highlighted above are a good part of Sujatha's writing (including the purely genre undertakings such as Historical or Science Fiction.) There, I conjecture, the proceedings would be equally cunning in language and narrative, while at the same time striving for a register of authenticity.
[html:be40902453]http://www.mayyam.com/contribs/incoming/20060903/prathap.jpg[/html:be40902453]
Let's take Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo. It falls under the self-admitted "thriller" genre, albeit with a rural twist. Right off the press, the book screams "formula," and there's nothing the matter with that. The tale is in the telling, after all. And Sujatha tells it with delight.
Kalyanaraman, a 30ish, sensitive, horny researcher arrives in Maempatti for fieldwork. The bigwigs of the village have arranged for him to stay at a locked-up "zamin" bungalow, and we can already hear the floor and stairs creaking at night. Maruthamuthu and Velli are the assigned house-help. Kalyanaraman records songs, conducts interviews and trains the village kids to sing in a chorus (Listen to "yeriyile.. elantha maram" (http://music.coolgoose.com/music/song.php?id=200286)). He lusts interminably for Velli.
And the floors begin to creak and cigarette butts are discovered on the flat roof terrace.
Ancestral ghosts getting their nicotine fix?
Maybe.
[html:be40902453]http://www.mayyam.com/contribs/incoming/20060903/sumalatha.jpg[/html:be40902453]
However, claiming great granddaughter relative-ism, Snekalatha (“snake” for short) shows up at the “zamin” bungalow. She’s tall and fetching and such a tease. Maruthamuthu, Velli’s fiancé, falls instantly for her snakey charms. Velli feels left out, but she won’t let Kalyanaraman in. And Snekalatha is hell bent on seducing Kalyanaraman. This quartet plays itself in a quirky, and seemingly innocent way, until Snekalatha is found murdered. The very next day, Velli disappears. What links these bizarre turns?
That’s the story within the story. A story where a dried senbagapoo nestles next to a diary entry, a clue to a secret from the past, and a key to some serious gold jewelry. It would be unfair to give it away.
If every frame were one inventive stylistic turn of the novel, G.N. Rangarajan makes sure there are none on the screen by being entirely faithful to the text, page by page, yet intent on turning cheese to chalk. If one were to take “screen-turner” quite literally, the images on the screen follow the images in the text, in the same prosaic order, without any of the narrative’s jujitsu. I could swear I heard pages turn, and I knew which chapter we were on when watching the video. Sri Priya (Velli) Sumalatha (Snekalatha) Pratap Pothen (Kalyanaraman), a motley crew not a casting coup, turns in a listless, I-am-so-bored, but I am getting paid for it performance. Manorama’s Periaathaa is that much needed saving grace (for one does want to be charitable) in an otherwise dull, how not to make a thriller lesson. To be blunt, the film musters all the spooky suspense of a Vayalum Vaazhvum episode.
Ilayaraja’s score also seems indifferent. But to be fair, the director’s penchant for flatness over cinematic ingenuity could be to blame. It would help to bear in mind that Alaigal Oyvathillai, Aaraadhanai, and Enakkaaga Kaaththiru were all made in 1981, and Ilayaraja still owned the summit. Aeriyile Elanthamaram still holds brilliance in the choric parts, and Kalyaanraman Cookku Raman has a terrific opening. (Listen to "kalyan raman" (http://music.cooltoad.com/music/song.php?id=181946)) Kaadellaam Pichippoovu, the opener titles track sung by Ilayaraja himself, is adequately nondescript.
<hr>
Now back to the second part of the chiasmus: the “stretching it too far” bit. Revolutions and radical thought are contextual. Each cultural-wave both builds and demolishes artistic traditions that have preceded it. Bharathi’s idealism is not Sujatha’s; Sujatha’s times and themes are not Bharathi’s. And vice versa, and vice versa for every era defined artistic advance.
While it is easy to understand the urge to keep certain icons sacrosanct and distant, how can it hurt when the subject is the one that achieves the object’s standards of excellence? Bharathi is who Sujatha is measured against.
(C) Author 2006
[tscii:be40902453]̓¡¾¡ - ¸¨Ã¦ÂøÄ¡õ ¦ºñÀ¸ôâ
Å¢º¡ ÀôÇ¢§¸„ýŠ
Ò¾¢Â ±ñ: 16 (À¨Æ ±ñ: 55)
¦Åí¸ð¿¡Ã¡Â½¡ º¡¨Ä
¾¢ ¿¸÷
¦ºý¨É - 600 017.[/tscii:be40902453]
Sujatha – Karaiyellaam Senbagapoo
Visa Publications
New No. 16 (Old No.55)
Venkatnarayana Road
T. Nagar
Chennai 600 017
[tscii:be40902453][/tscii:be40902453]