'The Triple Stream'

‘The Triple Stream’

‘THE PASSING OF DASARATHA’

The frontispiece is a reproduction of one of a series of water-colour paintings by the gifted Andhra artist, Mr. Ram Mohan Sastry, illustrating the story of the Ramayana. The Madras Law Journal Press will publish shortly an edition of the great epic with the commentary of Kathaka, and young Mr. Sastry has rendered into line and colour sixteen of the striking episodes so dear to all lovers of Indian literature. The series was completed just before Mr. Sastry left for England last November to pursue his studies at the Royal College. We are greatly obliged to the Madras Law Journal Press for permission to print the picture in Triveni.

It represents a death scene, one of the most pathetic in all literature. ‘After life's fitful fever’ the king sleeps. A long and eventful reign ends tragically. The last moments of the king are clouded by a terrible conflict between his love for Sri Rama, the heir-apparent, and his anxiety to fulfill a long-forgotten promise to his favourite queen to make her son Bharata king. With a pang he pronounces banishment on Rama and dies heart-broken, soon after the prince's departure. The picture brings out with wonderful fidelity the atmosphere of an ancient Indian palace. The colour scheme is harmonious and subdued. The flame burns low in the exquisitely ornamented lamp, almost suggestive of the ebbing away of the king's life. The queens are stricken with grief; they cling to the cold form of their lord. The artist seizes a moment of temporary calm, between the passing of the old order and the commencement of the new. A great picture, in form as well as in content.

IS IT ‘TYAGARAJA’?

An esteemed friend, Mr. G. Venkatachalam of Bangalore, contributes a short note to our ‘Forum’ this time. He is full of praise for the artistic excellence of ‘Tyagaraja’ published in the July-August Triveni but he questions the cortectness of the identification of the subject of the picture with the great Tyagaraja. Among other things, he contends that the picture is unlike any other hitherto believed to represent Tyagaraja. In the traditional portrait, no doubt, Tyagaraja isvery much older, wears a Vaishnavite caste-mark on his forehead, and has a turban. But the Triveni picture, we believe, is an earlier portrait. The features are those of an average cultured Telugu Smartha Brahmin, and Mr. Hari Nagabhushanam, the great musician of modern Andhra and an ardent admirer of Tyagaraja, informs us that the picture has very close resemblance to a grand-nephew of Tyagaraja now living. The absence of the Vaishnavite mark is not important, for it is well known that the Smartha Brahmins of the Telugu country worship Siva and Vishnu with equal devotion. Mr. Venkatachalam imagines that the picture may be that of a Lingayat follower of Basavappa. We are unable, however, to trace any indications of a Lingam Casket or other symbols of the Lingayuts. And obviously a Lingayat picture would not be adorned with the foot-prints of Vishnu in the ground as in our picture.

As regards the distinction drawn between the Tanjore and Mysore schools of painting, may we point out that they are but off-shoots of a common school–that of the great court-painters of Vijayanagara? Mr. K. Venkatappa, the famous Mysore artist of today, belongs to a family of Vijayanagara painters, and several other families must have migrated to Mysore and Tanjore when the Southern Empire broke up in the seventeenth century.

THE MODERN KURUKSHETRA

"Hinduism has fallen from the purity and vitality it once had...it is only out of the ashes of untouchability that Hinduism can revive." This is the dominant note of the statement issued by Gandhiji, announcing the temporary postponement of his fast. Since the epic fast of September which led to the signing of the Poona Pact, the country has been witnessing a great upheaval. The conscience of the caste Hindus is quickened; they are becoming intensely alive to the hideousness and the utter inhumanity of this great blot on Hinduism. The Press and platform in every province are today flooded with appeals to throw open the temples, great and small, to the lowly and the down-trodden, who are in a special manner dear to the Lord of All. The tapasya of a Mahatma, and the nation-wide propaganda in support of a great cause–what is it that these cannot achieve?

The trustees of temples have naturally taken shelter behind the technique of the law. Legislative sanction, they maintain, must be accorded before they can respect the popular demand. This is not the last of their defences. For, if the legislatures break down this barrier, there is the rooted conservatism of the Sanatanists to overcome. They are marshalling their forces, hurling anathemas, and coining the watchwords of ancient warfare. The Zamorin is acclaimed by a ‘Holy Synod’ as a great warrior. Guruvayur, according to them, is the modern Kurukshetra: the army of Righteousness–which in this instance is the army of the orthodox–is ranged against that of Unrighteousness. Gandhiji is the blind Kaurava monarch, standing apart from the fight and trying to glean news of it through faithful Sanjayas, like Mr. C. Rajagopalachari. The low water-mark in this controversy was reached when a revered Sanatanist leader sought to simplify the problem by declaring that the Harijans are not Hindus at all! This was soon perceived by more astute people to be a tactical blunder, and the position was repudiated.

These unending discussions and the attempts to prove or disprove that the Harijans are entitled to enter the temples, are mostly beside the point. Every great society has the inherent right to fashion its institutions in accordance with the pressing demands of the age. Untouchability is today felt to be a crying evil. The enlightened conscience of the community demands its abolition. It demands, too, that in the presence of the Deity, all shall be equal. Nothing can withstand this rising tide. The barriers will soon be swept away, and India stand before the world purged of her shame.

THE HOME-COMING

Another session of the Round Table Conference is over. The Indian delegates are on their way home. Before embarking, the Sapru group–the most progressive in the absence of the Congress–expressed disappointment at the result of the deliberations. Sir S. Hoare's closing speech was conciliatory in tone but it did not very much advance the Indian cause. Vague promises to meet the Indian view-point by incorporating certain provisions, not in the Statute but in parliamentary resolutions and in the Viceregal Instrument of Instructions, are not calculated to satisfy anyone. In any case, no final opinion can be expressed on this point till the promised White Paper is ready. But there are some features of the provisional settlement that are very disquieting: The Federation is to materialise only when a certain proportion of the Indian States signify their intention to accede; the establishment of a Reserve Bank must precede the transfer of responsibility at the centre; the powers to be vested in the Viceroy and the Governors of provinces promise a long continuance of autocratic rule; no time-limit is set to the period of transition, nor to the Indianisation of the army; further constitutional development is to depend on the will of the British Parliament. The present scheme is, in a large measure, the negation of self-rule. There is surprisingly little desire on the side of the British to part with the substance of power or to conciliate the Congress which represents an overwhelming majority of politically–minded Indians. This last aspect of the problem–the need to secure the co-operation of Gandhiji and the Congress–was stressed by Sir T. B. Sapru in his final speech.

Fresh developments may be expected when the delegates reach India. But the Congress leaders are not likely to fall in love with a scheme which withholds much more than it gives, and takes away with one hand what it gives with the other.

‘NEW INDIA’

We note with sorrow the decision to close down New India. Started as a daily paper in l914, New India was a doughty champion of the cause of Indian freedom. It made a great place for itself in Indian journalism; it set a high standard of efficiency and of editorial courtesy. Political ideals and methods have changed rapidly within recent years, but everyone respects Dr. Besant for her fearless expression of views, however unpalatable. The weekly New India is, in truth, the lineal successor of The Commonweal, which was as great amongst Indian weeklies as the late Mr. Malabari's East and West was amongst monthly journals. The disappearance of old familiar papers is fraught with sadness; it is like the cruel snatching away of beloved friends whose smile once cheered us, the affectionate pressure of whose hand sent a thrill through our frame. We had a similar feeling when, early in 1930, Dr. Pattabhi Sitaramayya's Janmabhumi was discontinued. The weeklies in India are usually views papers: we turn to them for intimate converse and communion with some high-souled individual like Dr. Besant or Mr. K. Natarajan. Somewhat removed from the dust and the conflict of day-to-day politics, these bright messengers transport us to an atmosphere of study and contemplation. They raise us to the hill-tops and give us a clear vision of the panorama of life. We can never have too many of them. Yet we have so few; and their number is diminishing. To Dr. Besant and her co-workers on the New India we offer homage for their valuable service of two decades.