Govindarajachari: Friend and Guide

A LIGHT has gone out. Not merely the legal profession and the Bench of the Madras High Court which he adorned, but the world of culture in South India is the poorer by his premature demise. He was only fifty-two, a couple of years younger than myself. He entered the Law College just after I left it; and he joined the Bar in Madras about the time that I gave up the profession after having practised in a small town for a few brief years. But without being college mates or colleagues at the Bar, we were drawn together by a common love of the things of the mind, and a common interest in institutions like the Andhra Jateeya Kalasala of Masulipatam and the Art School near Nagarjunakonda. Watching him as he spoke or as he went about his work, how proud I felt of him! It was a kind of possessive instinct which made me tell myself, “Isn’t he like a younger brother, but how much wiser and more gifted!”

He was intimate with poets, artists, and journalists. He helped every cultural enterprise with funds and with his sage counsel. In the circle of friends who rejoiced at his rapid rise as a lawyer, it was usual to refer to him half-jocularly as ‘the Advocate-General’. I remember it was K. Iswara Dutt who coined the expression and used it more frequently than any other friend. We were all so certain of his Advocate-Generalship and of his eventual elevation to the Bench. When the latter event came off without the interposition of the earlier one, we looked forward to his becoming the Chief Justice of India,–directing and controlling all the judicial tribunals of Free India, and administering the ceremonial oath of office to the Head of the Indian Union. Or, if we thought of education as the right sphere for him, who could be a greater Vice-Chancellor of a University than our Govindarajachari?

Triveni brought us into comradeship. Even during the first year or two, it became clear that the journal could not survive without large donations to cover the perpetual deficits. Govindarajachari made it his special responsibility, in collaboration with K. Chandrasekharan, to take me round to the cultured, prosperous lawyers of Mylapore and collect funds for Triveni. This had to be done so frequently that the sight of us three together made people exclaim, “Ah! It is the Triveni going about for funds!” But help was never grudged, and with a happy smile Govindarajachari would say, “We have tided over this crisis. We can wait for the next.” He always spoke of Triveni with intense affection, and called it ‘our journal’. He was glad to be on the Advisory Board.

When, after two decades, the last of the crises was overcome, and I introduced the new Publisher to him towards the middle of August this year he expressed great pleasure and thanked Sri Viswanathan for relieving the Editor of the financial worries connected with the journal.

I called on him again on the evening of the 19th, before leaving for Bangalore. There were no visitors, and we had a quiet half-hour all to ourselves. He noticed that I was distressed on account of the death of a valued journalist-friend, Challa Jagannadham, which had occurred that morning. He was full of sympathy and kindliness, and sought to divert my attention to other things. He referred to the forthcoming visit ofthe Governor-General to the Cosmopolitan Club; as President, it was to be his privilege to welcome C. R. to the premier club of his home Province. He recurred again to the future of Triveni and said: “Now, you can devote greater attention to the editorial work. I am glad to know you will soon settle down in Masulipatam as Editor of the weekly Krishna Patrika. It is an excellent paper, and I read it regularly...Some day, I shall visit you at Masulipatam.”

Neither of us could imagine that it was the last interview. He was then in normal health and maintained his usual serenity and cheerfulness. But something seemed to move him. A touch of tenderness crept into his voice as: he said, “Several friends have told me that your father was a prosperous lawyer and you were brought up tenderly. Life has been a long struggle for you. But now you will find peace, and you can do the work you love.”

We parted hoping to meet again. But that was the last meeting, this side of Death. When I came to Madras for the next visit on the fateful morning of the 2nd of October, the first news I got was of his passing away in the early hours of the morning. I was hoping to see him on his sick-bed, but it was the dear form, bathed and made ready for the last rites that I saw. And I witnessed the last journey. Some karmik link between us must have brought me to Madras that particular morning for, otherwise, even this consolation would have been denied to me.

He meant so much to me and to Triveni. But outside his immediate family circle, there are two who should receive condolences in a larger measure than any other,–Prof. M. Venkatarangaiya who taught him History and Politics at Vizianagaram, and Sri Alladi Krishnaswami Aiyar who loved him as an apprentice-at-law, and felt happy as a father when that apprentice was elevated to a judgeship of the High Court.

Great as a judge and scholar, Govindarajachari was incomparably a great gentleman. Rest, noble soul! Friend and guide of Triveni! Accept this tribute of tears.
MADRAS, October 4.