'The Triple Stream'

"The Gem that is lost
In this fathomless ocean-
Can it be found again?
How long, this Quest!
Come away, Friend!"

This is the refrain of a song in Telugu by Sri Pilaka Ganapati Sastri of Rajahmundry. During the months that I spent in what appeared to be a vain search for ‘this pearl of great price’, wondering if Triveni was indeed lost for ever, these words ran in my brain. At the end of much thinking, the question would come to me, ‘How long, this Quest!’ Fourteen years is a big slice out of a man’s life; and the years between thirty and fifty are particularly precious. So, when one is weighed down by a sense of failure and frustration of hope, further striving seems futile. But "in the midst of death, Life persists," and strength comes from somewhere.

I am fortified in this attitude by a cordial letter from Sri K. Chandrasekharan, a friend and guardian of Triveni in Madras, even as elders like Sjts. B. M. Srikantia, D. V. Gundappa and Masti Venkatesa Iyengar are guardians here in Bangalore:

"To be told that Triveni will again, appear after many months of suspension, seems to assure me that life will be normal again. I remember how you looked not yourself last November, because you were uncertain then as to the future of the journal. You were very unhappy, indeed, to discontinue it on any ground, whether it was paper-scarcity or want of funds. What has now made you come out, with this assurance of fresh life for Triveni? Could it be your own incorrigible optimism, or the mysterious answer to your prayers from the Unknown?

"Well, I need not spoil the pleasure that is mine with the doubts of a calculating spirit. I know difficulties are sure to be around the birth of any creative activity. The primrose is said to peep sweetly beneath the thorn.

"May your efforts to publish the journal from Bangalore prove a sure and safe plan for success! And may you also regain the light of your eyes on seeing Triveni restored to life!"

And now, the ‘Triple Stream’ can flow again.

TAGORE DAY PRISON

So much has happened during my imprisonment that it is impossible to comment on events of even outstanding importance. The event, however, which overshadowed all else was the passing away of Rabindranath Tagore. There must be some means of giving expression to a great sorrow. But prisoners can neither broadcast a talk, nor address a public meeting, nor write to the press. So, on the Shraddha Day, the political prisoners in Trichinopoly met in ‘Azad Maidan’² under the chairmanship of Sri Gopala Reddi, ex-Minister and an old student of Santiniketan. The speakers were in a reminiscent mood. Even more than the literary achievement of Tagore, it was the influence of his personality that commanded attention at the moment; and each of us spoke of the ways in which Tagore had shaped our individual lives. It was an affirmation of our faith in the values Tagore had stood for.

Tagore is among the Immortals who are seers as well as poets. He summed up in his life the rich experience of man through the ages. He gave us the vision, without which we might have perished. He was Indian in the sense in which Valmiki and Kalidasa were Indian, for, like them too, he belonged to the world. In him there was no conflict of nationalism and internationalism, and East and West were but parts of his Father’s mansion.

Through a life given utterly to the worship of Beauty, Tagore contacted the Light that shed beauty all around. Through song and verse, story and play, he gave us glimpses of that effulgence. Santiniketan was the outward expression of that yearning for the Beautiful which filled his life, as the yearning for Truth filled Gandhiji’s. Like the sun and moon, these two have ruled the firmament of Life.

Tagore was India’s cultural ambassador to many lands. In visiting Santiniketan, the Chinese Generalissimo and his wife were paying their tribute of affection to one who had linked China and India in bonds of cultural fellowship. Amidst the din of war, and the many preoccupations of a political and military mission, the Chiangs felt that their pilgrimage to India would be robbed of all meaning unless they met Gandhiji in the flesh at Calcutta, and communed with the bright spirit of Tagore at Santiniketan. There could be no happier expression of the faith that even this ugly Armageddon will pass and the great values of life enthrone themselves in the hearts of men.

THE CRIPPS MISSION

The eyes of the world are now turned towards India and the forthcoming mission of Sir Stafford Cripps. Even as the sands are fast running out, Sir Stafford is racing against time to achieve a lasting peace between Britain and India. Indian leaders of all shades of political opinion are preparing to meet him and discuss the future of Indo-British relations. Since the historic Poona offer of the Congress in 1940, valuable time has been lost in reiterating the August declaration and its painful implications. The position has been rendered progressively worse by Mr. Amery’s unfair insistence on the right of clamant minorities to bar the way to all constitutional progress. The chances of war, and the imminence of danger, have at long last brought forth the man of the hour, for, without doubt, Sir Stafford is eminently fitted by his training and mental make-up to achieve the well-nigh impossible task of establishing friendly relations between the two countries. If he can counter Mr. Amery and Mr. Jinnah and rally round him the men who are thinking more of country than of community, more of rendering service than of capturing power, something may yet be done to vitalise the nation and arm it for the struggle ahead. On the settlement of the Indian problem depends the future course of the War, and a free India may succeed where Malaya and Burma, bound in chains, could not. We wish Sir Stafford godspeed in his mission.