S. Satyamurthi-a Sketch

Fifty-six is old age by Indian standards. Satyamurthi was fifty-six when he passed way at Madras in the last week of March 1943 leaving a gaping void in Indian public life. And yet no one who knew him can figure him as an old man. His bearing and energy both in talk and gesture, his great self-confidence and buoyancy of spirit placed him among those rare individuals who may be called God’s own young men, dowered the gift of eternal youth. A walking stick with a large hook at one end formed part of his out-door equipment. But he always carried it slung down from his arm. It rarely supported him. During the last few years, however, he was in indifferent health. The privations of jail-life mental rather than physical in character, must have oppressed him sorely but he would have fought to the end–fought against the unreasoning and implacable approach of death, against the prospect of enforced separation from the scene of his life’s labours, from his daughter whom he loved so tenderly, as he had fought against similar forces all his life.

Satyamurthi was the most brilliant and indefatigable Parliamentarian of his day not excepting the big guns like Nehru, Das and others whose boom, if louder and more impressive, was never of such long duration, nor so consistently devastating. Satyamurthy took to the work of Legislative Councils. Assemblies and other deliberative bodies like fish to water, and turned his on his professional life even at the threshold of his career as a public man nearly thirty years ago. He dedicated all his time and talents to public causes, and quite properly, therefore, he was; among those who urged that, as every labourer was worthy of his hire members of Legislative bodies and other public workers should be paid reasonable salaries to keep their above want there was to be sustained public work in the country. Except for a brief period of Presidentship of the Provincial Congress Committee and the Mayoralty of Madras, he never occupied pontifical roles perched in positions of dignity and authority. It was shirmishes, minor engagements, guerilla warfare that came his way and he was more like the leader of bands of men always in the rough and tumble of fight than the General of a big army. That is why though his name appeared in the newspapers more often perhaps than that of most people in the public eye, he never scaled to the heights of what is considered greatness. He was never, for instance, in any list that has been compiled of the ten greatest men of India. He did not secure a niche in the Valhalla of heroes whose biographies or speeches and writings have been compiled, nor have his portraits been on the market like those of many other National leaders far less energetic and brilliant than he.

An unkind fate delayed the advent Satyamurthi into this world by a decade or two. Born in an earlier generation, Satyamurthi with his cascades of fluent English speech and aggressive and challenging manner might have gone striding the political arena in the spacious days when Surendranath Banarjee and Lalmohan Ghose became the tribunes of the people. He might have been in deputations that periodically visited England, made that country and this reverberate with his great English eloquence and would have easily marched up to the Presidential Gadi of the Indian National Congress. But entering public life when Gandhiji loomed On the Indian horizon, spreading his message of non-co-operation and preaching the ideology that legislative bodies under British Rule were ‘a snare and a delution’, Satyamurthi’s special gifts found no congenial atmosphere for their full blossoming and fulfillment. Ever since 1921 Parliamentarianism has been at a discount and even the brief interlude of Congress Ministries for 27 months in several Provinces of India has not been more than in the nature of an experiment, the acceptance of a challenge, as it were, that popular leaders never flinched from accepting responsibility. But the spirit of Indian politics has to a large extent remained, so far as the mass mind was concerned–sceptical and cold regarding the value of scoring debating victories in the legislative bodies. Satyamurthi, the ardent Parliamentarian, found the ‘times out of joint’. He was never in perfect according with the prevailing ideology of non-co-operation, and eagerly waited to turn every opportunity that now and then presented itself to make the country more parliament-minded. It was thus that when Das and others started the ‘Swarajist’ party in 1922 Satyamurthi became an ardent propagandist for the new cause and, later, when the 1935 Act came into operation and the Congress contested elections, Satyamurthi threw himself heart and soul into the task of bringing about a re-orientation in Congress politics and rose to be the Deputy Leader of the Congress party in the Central Legislative Assembly, foregoing his chances to the Premiership of Madras, in loyal obedience to the behests of his party.

Satyamurthi ever loved a verbal fray and had mastered opposition tactics to a nicety. In this respect his spiritual affinities were more with e agitators for Irish Home Rule in the British Parliament under Parnell than with any other school of thought and action. His trenchant speeches delivered in the best parliamentary manner, deliberate, devoid of needless rhetoric or sentiment, his incisive phrasings, his characterisations of members on Treasury Benches, his withering sarcasm, his quick repartee and flashing gibes, his fund of unabashed self-possession when parrying and thrusting interrupters and opponents made him the centre of interest in any Assembly and provided edification to thousands of newspaper readers in the country who loved to talk fiery arm-chair politics. No other member of our Legislatures ever used the question hour to greater purpose and with greater effect, exposing the vagaries of officialdom and turning the searchlight on many public grievances, big and small. Brilliance of form such as Satyamurthi possessed is not usually associated with hard industry and attention to details. But he was an exception and took to his duties with rare assiduity and devotion. His best role was as an opposition member, a role, by the way, that Dr. Besant had chosen for him in the early days of his public career when the mock Madras Parliament sat in the, Gokhale Hall and Bills were debated and Acts were enacted drafted with all the punctiliousness of real, serious Legislative enactments.

It was in 1918 that what had been practice games became a serious contest. The Provincial Conference that was held in May of that year in Conjeeveram proved a land-mark in the careers of four prominent people in India. Firstly, the Conference was presided over by Srimati Sarojin Devi until then only a picturesque poetic personality who had never taken to serious politics. Secondly, it marked the entry of C. R. into provincial politics and though he did not appear in the open session played a prominent part in the Subjects Committee. He was the mystery of the Conference, with his black alpaca long coat and dark glasses subjecting the innocent President and political stalwarts to many a moment of embarassment by his points of order and mild but relentless cross-examination executed in the most unruffled manner. Thirdly, Dr. Besant who was then setting the pace of Indian political life by her Home Rule movement and had reached the peak of popularity as the President of the Calcutta Congress in 1917, was then faced with stiff resistance, for the first time at the hands of Satyamurthi and his group and the Conference marked the beginning of the decline of Dr. Besant’s great influence in Indian political life. And fourthly, it ushered Satyamurthi as a doughty fighter against effete leadership, and as a powerful exponent of the rising temper of India.

For one who was still a tenderfoot in politics to oppose a veteran like Dr. Besant required no small temerity. But Satyamurthi never lacked such courage nor suffered from needles and untimely modesty. With C.R. to prompt his performances and load his missiles, he staggered the veterans of the old guard, who later retired one by one from the lime-light of the public life of South India, the later Tinnevelly Conference almost completing what the Conjeeveram Conference had begun.

The World War I was still on. The Declaration of August 1917 was not yet implemented –and Satyamurthi pressed for an Amendment expressing the dissatisfaction of the Indian public at this tardiness of the British Government, and making further support in the war conditional on an adequate and generous gesture from British rulers. Dr. Besant pleaded with noble eloquence that it was unworthy of India with her ancient dharma to resort to such bargaining in a moment of grave Imperial crisis. The Amendment came up before the open Conference and Satyamurthi piloted it with a forceful speech. They were still days of English eloquence in public life. When votes were taken by a show of hands, the House looked equally divided. Satyamurthi demanded a poll. And, strange to say, the poll revealed just an equal number on both sides. It was now for the President to give her casting vote, which she did in favour of Dr. Besant. Satyamurthi’s Amendment was defeated. But he had scored his first signal triumph and made his debut on that day into ‘first class’ politics, as he himself recorded in one of his articles of a reminiscent character. Here was a stormy petrel indicative of the deep discontent raging in the bosoms of the Indian people. The politicians of the older generation could no longer rest in undisturbed security on their well-won laurels of a former day nor could the Justice Party, which had then come into existence, and loyally submitted to work Dyarchy for what it was worth to them, lull the country into the belief that popular ministries were taking the country along the road to progress, so long as Satyamurthi was there to raise his challenging voice.

In addition to his strenuous work as a critic of Dyarchy and communalism, and politics of the ‘Liberal’ variety, must be mentioned his deep interest in the cause of constitutional progress in the Indian States. Himself a native of Pudukottah, with which ‘his relations were not of a pleasant character’, as the Dewan of that State said the other day in ruling out a Condolence Resolution on his death in the Pudukottah Assembly recently, Satyamurthi had an intuitive grasp of the problems of Indian States’ people, and longed to see responsible government established in them, with the ruling chiefs as constitutional monarchs. His faith in democracy was unbranded and he had no mental reservations about the fitness of people in Indian States, as in British India, being able to manage their affairs, if given an unfettered opportunity to do so.

Satyamurthi’s work in the cause of "University Reform was equally noteworthy. He was a member of many University bodies and his seat in the Madras Legislature was on behalf of the registered graduates of the Madras University. The Annamalai University Act owes a great deal to him; and if politics, which was his first love, had not absorbed so much his attention, and put him into positions where ‘his hand was against every: man, and every man’s hand against his’, it is not unlikely he might have become the Vice-Chancellor of one or other of the South Indian Universities. He was, in any case, the great champion of the cause of under-graduates, and was their most popular hero on the public platform. He provided, indeed, the model to under-graduates in South India, for nearly a quarter of a century, in the matter of public speaking, and acquiring the appropriate parliamentary manner in their college debates.

Besides his Parliamentary, and University activities, Satyamurthi kept a busy round of engagements, going about the country and addressing innumerable public meetings. As a most effective and popular speak in English as well as in Tamil, he was always in great demand not merely to do political propaganda; but to preside over anniversaries of associations to deliver inaugural and valedictory addresses and to open conferences various kinds. His interests were wide and varied; he had always something worth saying, and said it in a manner worth listening to. Even those, therefore, who affected a superior air and were prone to treat with scorn his stagey and flamboyant manner and verbal pyrotechnics on the Madras beach–where public meetings were often held–missed no opportunity, if even from a distance, to listen to his effective phrasings and enjoy his wide repertoire of general invective, chuckling in secret at his controversial powers. For when a good blow had to be struck, Satyamurti could be trusted to deliver it effectively; and those who would not could not do it themselves liked to hear him humbling his opponents. When, however, he was in one of his irrepressible moods, not only did his opponents shrink before his resounding blows, but even ‘comrades’ in the own camp, cursed with extra sensitiveness, were kept wincing as has scorching phrases flew about in all directions.

Behind the impetuous restlessness that characterised Satyamurthis’ life, he managed to maintain and preserve his deep interest in the more enduring satisfactions of art and literature; and even amidst the eternal hustle and turmoil of political life he could live his tranquil moments of aesthetic enjoyment absorbed in drama or dance, literature or music. To those who knew him from the platform, he appeared forbidding, even austere, as though he would say with William Lloyd Garrison: "I will be as harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as justice: I am in earnest–I will not equivocate–I will not excuse, I will not retreat a single inch–And I will be heard." But, in truth, he was very human and had his share of weakness for the good things of life, like scents and sandal-pastes, good dinners and fresh betel leaves and nuts–the manna of the Tamilian aesthete–and could relax himself occasionally en rapport with artistic and cultural expression in the manner of a born connoisseur, which, indeed, he was. He was a noted amateur actor, and took an active part in producing Sanskrit plays on the amateur stage, and his own Aswathaman in "Veni Samhara" is still a lively memory with those who have witnessed it. His love for Sanskrit and Tamil literatures was deep–and thus it was that he changed without much effort to Tamil eloquence when the transition had to be effected in the Gandhian era. He displayed his Brahminical caste-marks aggressively, if rather artistically, and flirted with the Sanatanist ideology of South India. This made him the betenoir of the Self-respecters and Justicites; but he seemed, indeed, to enjoy causing a flutter among them. Old world ideals and the claims of ancient Hindu culture always exercised a powerful fascination over him, and sometimes intrigued those who could not understand these streaks of conservativism in so flaming a radical. But while he might have opposed Sastry’s Post-Puberty Marriage Bill early in his career, he never played a reactionary role in respect of the major reformist doctrines that were, preached all over the country under congress aegis. Only, his was a powerful non-conformist temperament which would not be broken in into the main trend of Gandhiji’s self-denying ordinances. Once at a public meeting in the early non-Co-operation days, when ascetic ideals made a wide appeal and were considered the essence of the new movement under Gandhiji’s leadership, Satyamurthi was heckled for calling for and drinking in public a glass of aerated waters. Satyamurthi drew himself up to his full height, after calmly finishing the drink, and thundered out: "I am not an anaemic Swarajist I am a full-blooded Swarajist." It was a question of temperament, and did not affect his political faith in Congress ideals. He stuck to the Congress through good report and evil with rare steadfastness: the Congress flag nailed to his mast was never once lowered. This great consistency and supreme loyalty must silence the murmurs of those who would like to be somewhat over-critical of his occasional personal intransigence, or of his supposed traits of opportunism and hay-making while the Congress Sun shone.

A great patriot has passed away prematurely. That rousing and glamorous voice which enthralled hundreds of thousands is now hushed for ever amidst tragic circumstances, which make his whole life look like a tale of battled glory. How one wishes he had been spared some years more to have been able to greet the dawn of Purna Swaraj breaking on the Indian horizon and lived to see the realisation of all his thoughts by day and dreams by night!