'The Triple Stream'

...he that laboureth right for love of Me
Shall finally attain! But, if in this
Thy faint heart fails, bring Me thy failure!

–The Song Celestial

‘The Triple Stream’

BY K. RAMAKOTISWARA RAU

‘MINISTERS’ BY COURTESY

Since the elections to the Provincial Legislatures in India, events have moved with lightning speed. After prolonged discussions, the All-India Congress Committee permitted Congressmen to form Ministries in the Provinces where they command a majority. But this permission was only conditional. The leader of the Congress party in each one of the six Provinces was to satisfy himself, and be in a position to assure the public, that the Governor would not exercise his special powers of interference or set aside the advice of his Ministers, in respect of their constitutional activities. It was not an abrogation of the Constitution or an amendment of it that was sought to be obtained, but the setting up of a convention in virtue of which the Governor would not thwart the legitimate plans of the Ministers. In the very limited sphere of Provincial Government where the Governor-General and the Secretary of State were not required by Statute to interfere, and where the Governor in his individual judgment could waive his right of interference, Congressmen wanted a free hand to be given to the Ministry. Only thus, could they carry through those ameliorative schemes on which their hearts were set.

It was not anticipated that there would be any difficulty in arriving at an informal understanding on these lines, especially when the Governor’s power to dissolve the Legislature, or to dismiss the Ministry in cases of acute conflict, would not be touched. But as the negotiations proceeded, it became clear that the attitude on the official side was stiffening; and the family resemblance between the answers, simultaneously vouchsafed by the Governors, gave rise to the impression that a common policy of unyielding and unhelpful obstinacy was dictated from Delhi, and ultimately from Whitehall. It was alleged that the Congress demand was an ‘impossible’ one, that no Governor could legally contract himself out of his obligation to exercise his statutory powers.

The Congress was never anxious to accept office; it would just tolerate such acceptance, if the required assurance was forthcoming. When the negotiations fell through, the Governors made frantic efforts to get leaders of non-Congress groups to form what were termed ‘interim’ Ministries. The more far-sighted and patriotic amongst such leaders frankly refused to step in, and to function without a parliamentary majority to them. It was the clear duty of the Governors, at this stage, to fall on their powers under Section 93 and take over the administration of all Departments. Instead of proceeding in this manner, they got together a miscellaneous assortment of individuals, with or without seats in the Legislature, representing nobody but themselves, and in some cases disowned by their party men. One Chief Minister called to office under these conditions asserts that he is there to carry on the King’s Government and to prevent chaos and disorder; yet another that he is anxious that power should not pass forthwith to the Services. When there is not the pretence of a Government responsible to the electorate, the governance is assuredly by the Governors and the Secretariats. The presence of dummy Ministers who are avowedly the creatures of the Governor, cannot hide the truth, namely, that the Constitution, is not functioning under normal conditions, that, in fact, it is wrecked even at the start.

It is not correct to label these stop-gap Ministers as ‘black- legs.’ That term could be applied only to Congressmen if they had forsworn allegiance to the Congress and accepted Ministerships, after their accredited leaders had refused. Fortunately, this has not happened. The Ministers called into being by the Governors, and kept in office by a failure to summon the Legislatures, are queer by-products of the Constitution: they are unlike any Ministers contemplated by any Statute. They are really official advisers called ‘Ministers’ by courtesy, even as zamindars and farmers of revenue are dignified by the appellation of ‘Maharajas.’ The real Ministers are only those who now have the country behind them. Sooner or later, they will be not merely in office but in actual power. Meanwhile, public opinion is being expressed with increasing vehemence against these ‘King’s men’ who seem to imagine that, but for their splendid heroism, the King’s Government could not be carried on!

THE BHARATIY A PARISHAD AND ENGLISH

The idea of an All-India Literary Academy took shape last year at Indore, and after some preliminary spade work, the first annual conference of the Bharatiya Sahitya Parishad was held at Madras under Gandhiji’s presidentship. But, coming in as an adjunct to the Hindi Sahitya Sammelan and half-a-dozen other allied gatherings, the Parishad did not attract the attention it deserved. And one could not escape the feeling that the obsession about Hindi-Hindustani as the ‘national’ language, and Nagari as the common script for India, obscured the main aim of the Parishad. If every one of the ten or more provincial literatures should be nourished into strength, and if friendly contacts should be established between the litterateurs all over India, the promoters of the Parishad will not help the cause by insisting at every turn that English ought not to be used for the promotion of these very desirable objects, and further that it is a shame and a disgrace to do so. Strong words cannot alter facts. While I am not over-fond of English, I certainly believe in making use of it for inter-provincial communication no less than for maintaining international contacts. Hindustani will, within the next two or three decades, assume its rightful prominence in our national life. On this point, there is a fair consensus of opinion. But this process will not be speeded up by refusing to recognise that, circumstanced as we are at present, it is useful to carryon the work of the Parishad in English as well as Hindustani.

We all wish to give the mother-tongue the first place in our affections. Several of us are equally clear in our minds that Hindustani ought to come second–though a long way behind–and English as an optional language and only as an accomplishment. I belong to a generation which learnt English compulsorily alongside of the mother tongue from the age of six, and for several years it even overshadowed the mother tongue. A younger generation is growing up which, under happier auspices, will know how to give to the mother-tongue, to Hindustani, and to English, the relative positions which they can legitimately claim. In this stage of transition, let not Hindustani enthusiasts spoil a good cause like that of the Parishad by bad advocacy and expect of non-Hindustanis (1) to employ some kind of broken Hindustani, or (2) to employ our mother tongue and depend upon indifferent translations of our views into Hindustani in order to make ourselves understood. Delegates to the Parishad from every non-Hindustani Province must assert themselves and claim the right to employ English if they are so inclined. It is not difficult to pick up enough Hindustani to follow a speech or a conversation, but to speak Hindustani fluently requires years of practice. So, while we non-Hindustanis do not wish to stand in the way of Hindustani being utilised by all who can do so effectively, the Hindustani scholars on their side must definitely understand that they ought not to treat us with superior disdain, merely because we find it convenient to use English at inter-provincial gatherings. It is only on this basis that goodwill and sympathy can be established.

At future sessions of the Parishad, and in its normal work during the year, Hindustani and English should be recognised as the two official languages of the Parishad. In addition, the language of the Province where the Parishad meets must also be used. In our cultural and political activities, bi-lingualism will have to be adopted for all-India purposes. When we meet at gatherings like the Bharatiya Sahitya Parishad, it is of more vital importance that we should understand each other’s minds and discuss each other’s literatures than that the discussion be invariably in Hindustani. And if the use of the English language is sometimes inevitable, in a period of transition, to achieve these objects, there is no point in refusing to face realities.

THE HERO AND THE SAINT

It is meritorious to found and endow institutions; it is not less so to devote a lifetime to the efficient administration of those institutions. This point was emphasised by speaker after speaker when the portrait of Rao Bahadur A. Krishnaswami Aiyar was unveiled at the Mylapore Sanskrit College. The founder, V. Krishnaswami Aiyar, passed away more than a quarter of a century ago, but the institutions that owe their existence to his beneficence and public spirit have grown from strength to strength under the fostering care of his life-long friend and namesake. Sir P. S. Sivaswamy Aiyer, who unveiled the portrait, spoke of Mr. A. Krishnaswami Aiyar as a modern saint who believes in working selflessly amidst the thoroughfares of men, instead of remaining a recluse. And, to this saint, as Sir P. S. pointed out, the late V. Krishnaswami Aiyar was a hero. Theirs was a rare comradeship which enriched the cultural life of South India.

While the artist presented a portrait of Mr. A. Krishnaswami Aiyar in oils, the Rt. Hon. V. S. Srinivasa Sastri drew a pen-picture of him in the course of a touching letter to Mr. K. Balasubrahmania Aiyar, the eldest son of the illustrious Founder. I reproduce with pleasure a few sentences:

He minds other people’s affairs; his own he leaves to Providence. Is there a person to whom he has knowingly done harm? Is there a person who sought his help in need and was refused? His soul is all compact of benevolence. There is no measuring the comfort and happiness that he has secured for people. Physical ailment, family discord, legal knot that wants untying, son or son-in-law unemployed, school-house requiring to be built–public or private needs have only to make themselves known and he will not rest till they are satisfied.

What he looks like in the picture to be exhibited tomorrow I do not know. But I love to fancy him walking with thoughtful mien along a dusty Mylapore road, sans umbrella, sans shoes, tanned and wrinkled, head tilted a wee bit on one side, angavastram and red shawl thrown on the left shoulder, eyes cast on the ground, the fingers of the depending right hand scribbling in the air, his methodical mind revolving maybe some problem in ethics for Sivaswamy Aiyer, some conundrum in law for Venkatarama Sastri, or some fatherly comfort for his pet Savitri waiting under the shade of the mango tree in the ‘Asrama.’ How I wish I could draw! When my wife and I lived in ‘Svagatam,’ we looked for his coming as for that of a guardian angel.

The charming eloquence of Mr. Sastri was never more worthily employed!