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

At Sevagram

YEARS ago, when Gandhiji was about to leave for Delhi, a little grandchild of his blurted out: “You always go to Delhi to see the Viceroy. But the Viceroy never comes to see you in Sevagram!” This was treated, at the time, as an exceedingly good joke. But the child was wiser than it knew. The position is now altered, and the Head of the State makes a pilgrimage to Sevagram and offers tearful homage to the memory of the Master who shaped the individual lives of his great lieutenants, even as he shaped the destiny of the entire Nation. As friend and co-worker, as disciple and adviser during crucial moments, Sri Rajagopalachari filled a unique place in Gandhiji's life. Where others acquiesced, he argued. And often, the argument swayed the Master’s decision.

His Excellency made an impressive, triumphal tour in the South and established a new tradition of simplicity and informality. His heart must have been gladdened by the sight of old familiar scenes and faces. But the visit to Sevagram marked undoubtedly the saddest moment of a life continually disciplined by austerity and detachment. While Gandhiji lived, Sevagram was the unofficial Capital of India, and in his little hut were taken momentous decisions. It was to Sevagram that he was yearning to return during his last days and it was here that he would have loved to welcome a governor-general or a Prime Minister of Free India, for it was the spot where, in truth, Free India was born.

India Decides

While the men in power in Hyderabad talked of a peaceful settlement with India, India watched the ‘mounting wave of violence.’ Negotiations with Delhi through Sir Mirza Ismail, frantic appeals to the Tory Party and the King of England, petitions to the United Nations, were but incidents in a tortuous game of diplomacy. Neither Mir Laik Ali nor Kasim Razvi ever wished for peace. They dreamt of an Asaf Jahi hegemony over the Indian continent. The moment has arrived when these war-mongers and their puppet Prince have to be shown their place. Very rarely in the world’s history has patience been carried to such extreme lengths as by the Nehru Government in relation to the Indo-Hyderabad issue. At every stage the Cabinet weighed with meticulous care all the implications of any decision they might take, and calculated its possible repercussions in Hyderabad, in the Indian Union and in the world abroad. Even the final decision to send Indian troops to re-occupy their old positions in Secunderabad was conveyed in the first instance as a friendly suggestion from the Governor-General to the Nizam, in the interests of law and order in Hyderabad. But the Nizam failed to take advantage of this gesture to retreat with grace from his untenable position. To claim that conditions in the State are normal and that his Army is quite competent to safeguard the life and honour of every citizen, is the height of folly. A ruler who has signally failed to discharge the elementary duty of preserving peace within his borders and openly allied himself with the promoters of insensate blood shed and rapine, deserves no consideration.

India has decided, and the decision can lead to but one result: the suppression of a government run by fanatics, and the liquidation of a ruler who has forfeited his claim to rule.

A Modern Outlook

Mr. Philip Spratt pleads for a modern outlook in India, and for the leadership of men like Pandit Nehru who have imbibed the best in Eastern and Western culture. The over-hasty abandonment of English might result, according to Mr. Spratt, in a return to medievalism. This problem has been widely discussed and more discussion is needed to clarify certain issues. But ultimately it is a question of emphasis. That the language of a Province or region should occupy the first place in all spheres of activity–education, administration, and legislation,–admits of no doubt. The Government of India’s latest instructions to the Provinces indicate the gradual substitution of the local languages for English as the media of instruction even at the University level. Happily, this disposes of the contention of bodies like the Nagari Pracharini Sabha, that Hindustani should be the medium of instruction in all Indian Universities. That English should be taught compulsorily in every University is also a matter of general agreement, though some of us would like English to be compulsory even during the high school stage. But the Government of India’s circular visualises the study of English, not as literature but as language. This is just one of those instances in which men in authority make a distinction of a far-reaching nature without reckoning the consequences. While Britain ruled here, we took to English as language in order to fit ourselves for positions of profit under the foreigner. Now that India is free, the proper attitude to English is to study it as literature, and for the mental and emotional enrichment that all great literature brings. While we make a beginning with our Indian languages as vehicles of modern thought, and while we take all possible measures to equip them with a varied vocabulary, there is bound to be a lag, for a long time, between effort and achievement. And, in the process, a whole generation will face cultural poverty, by being cut off from direct and speedy contact with the best in the world s literature and philosophy. It is therefore imperative that the intelligentsia should keep themselves abreast of modern thought by studying English and other foreign languages, not for business merely but for cultural advancement.

Whether provincial governments should use Hindustani or English in dealing with other Provinces or the Centre, and whether the Central Government, Judiciary, and Legislature should employ English as well as Hindustani, are questions of importance. While sentiment favours Hindustani, reason and convenience are on the side of English. In any case there need be no undue hurry to displace English, When long-range programmes are being considered, it is best not to put the lid on a controversy of this nature by an executive fiat. Even the Constituent Assembly can leave the matter to be decided by the legislatures of the future, elected on adult franchise and more fully representative of public opinion in all the States and Provinces of India. Nor is it necessary to place an arbitrary time-limit within which English should give place to an Indian language as the language of administration at the Centre. For the moment, it is enough to concede the principle that eventually Hindustani will occupy a privileged position as a language of all-India importance. But whether it will share the honours with English can only be decided in the light of the experience gained in the next decade or two.

A Kuchipudi Dancer

A type of Indian classical dance in vogue in the Telugu country takes its name from the village of Kuchipudi, where all the male members of certain Brahmin families are dedicated to the art. An ascetic, Siddhendra Swami, taught it to them some centuries ago, and a cultured Muslim nobleman made them a gift of a village for the perpetuation of this art form. In addition to the pure dance and gesture (abhinaya) in which it bears a close resemblance to the Tanjore school, the Kuchipudi dance forms an important element of the open-air drama. It was possibly this alliance with the drama which enabled the Kuchipudi artists to preserve a remarkable balance between gesture and foot-work on the one hand, and song and speech on the other. When an artist appeared in a woman’s role, he invariably began with the dance of the Ten Avatars. It formed the artist’s greeting to the audience as well as the prayer to Vishnu, the Preserver. It was not, as in the Kathakali of Kerala, the mute gesture of the actor supplemented by the recital of the musician in the ground. The artist was both dancer and reciter. Again, if a king–Harischandra or Hiranyakasyapa–started for the audience chamber, he performed a dance, repeating a refrain, “The King went forth.” Thirty years ago, when this old dance drama existed alongside of the new type of theatre, I was greatly intrigued at the king becoming his own announcer! But Andhraratna Duggirala Gopalakrishnayya explained to me the significance of this type of ‘acting.’ While yet a student in Edinburgh, he had collaborated with Dr. Ananda K. Coomaraswamy in translating into English the famous treatise Abhinaya Darpana (the Mirror of Gesture). Being gifted with insight, he revealed that the king, through song, gesture, and dance, expressed the various qualities, of a ruler–his grace, his dignity, his valour, and his magnanimity.

The Andhraratna revived interest in the Kuchipudi school and, shortly before the Gandhian movement, introduced young lawyer friends like me to a great exponent of the art, Sri Vedantam Lakshminarayana Sastri. After the passage of three decades, I rejoice to find that Sri Sastri has been honoured by the art-lovers of Madras. On the 6th of this month, the Chief Justice, Sri P. V. Rajamannar, presided over a function in Sri Sastri’s honour and praised him as a gifted artist. A beautiful armlet of gold was presented to this master of dance, who had already won the highest encomiums from Sri Uday Sankar and Srimati Balasaraswati. The armlet was designed by the poet-painter of Andhra, Sri Adivi Bapiraju. It is significant that Bapiraju was an intimate friend of Andhraratna Gopalakrishnayya. For many years, in his speeches and writings, he has been urging the claims of the Kuchipudi dance to India-wide recognition. In a time of rapid change, we have to hold fast to art-forms of eternal value. The bestowal of this artistic souvenir on Sri Lakshminarayana Sastri is therefore an event in our cultural history.

Bombay and Madras

The opinion is gaining ground that cities like Bombay and Madras with a cosmopolitan outlook and atmosphere ought not to be included exclusively in any particular linguistic Province. The fight for Bombay is as acute as that for Madras. It is difficult to understand why the Government of Madras has set its face against the formation of Madras and the surrounding area into an independent Province, or why the Tamil Nad Congress Committee characterises it as a ‘dog in the manger’ proposal. Even after the most anxious re-consideration of every aspect of the problem, the only correct solution appears to be the constitution of these cities, along with Delhi, as separate Provinces. The Linguistic Provinces Commission, now touring the Southern and Western Provinces, must devote special attention to this point of view. A satisfactory and generally acceptable solution need not be discarded, merely because a retrograde provincial government is unable to see the wisdom of it.

BANGALORE, September 9