Ramakotiswara Rau, Triveni and The Indian Renaissance

RAMAKOTISWARA RAU, ‘TRIVENI’ AND THE
INDIAN RENAISSANCE

Somehow I seem to think of Dr Ananda Coomaraswamy and Kolavennu Ramakotiswara Rau as twins–almost Siamese twins. They were inseparable, spiritually and aesthetically, But, physically, I wonder if they had any contact with each other at all, I am not sure that they ever corresponded even. If they did, their letters were neither published nor discussed publicly at any time to the best of my knowledge, though in their time what they said or did was of public importance. They were both eminent contemporaries in their respective areas of specialisation. They cherished identical ideals, values and interests, and even beliefs, which eventually killed them, Yes they were martyrs to the causes dearest to their hearts: the one wanted to see Indian art and culture loved, respected and assimilated the world over, being the highest development of the human spirit, while the other sought to impart a new dimension to Indian journalism, not only by first personalising it and then professionalising it in a highly sophisticated manner, but by raising it to the loftiest of moral and intellectual levels possible, consistent with the traditional, deeply cherished norms of the Fourth Estate.

The word compromise was not found in the dictionary of either Coomaraswamy or Ramakotiswara Rau. Both were savants, both had the same urges and perspectives and both spoke in the same accent. Both were true internationalists, because they were genuine nationalists, though Coomaraswamy was partly of Ceylonese origin. They both believed firmly and irrefutably that nationalism was the only solid foundation on which internationalism that made sense could be built. To quote Coomaraswamy: “The new nationalist painters find their inspiration, as all true prophets have done, not in the present, but in the past,–and the future. For it is only in idealised pasts that idealised futures can be built…it is for art to show to us the universal in the particular, revealing that one touch of timeless unity, that unity of self whereby the whole creation has one being.” Coomaraswamy said these words when the Bengal school under the leadership of Abanindranath Tagore, Nandalal Bose and other stalwarts was in its most creative phase. But later Coomaraswamy became one of the severest critics of the movement, when he realised that the trend was not towards “idealised futures,” but towards suicidal stagnation, complacency and obscurantism. In another context, he said sharply:...“Every nation has its own part to play in the long tale of human progress ... nations which are not free to develop their own individuality and own character are also unable to make the contribution to the sum of human culture which the world has a right to expect from them…we are not merely striving for a right, but accepting a duty that is binding on us, that of self-realisation to the utmost for the sake of others...Nations are created by artists and poets, not by merchants and politicians. In art lies the deepest life principles.” I don’t have to quote from Ramakotiswara Rau’s writings or speeches because every issue of “Triveni” that he edited was a testament of the ideals and beliefs he shared with Coomaraswamy.

There must be, indeed, many people today, like me, afflicted with a nostalgia for the Triveni of the good old ’30s, when Ramakotiswara Rau used it as a most effective medium for widening and strengthening the base of the Indian Renaissance. In the South Triveni played the same responsible role as Viswa-Bharathi Quarterly and the Modern Review did in Bengal, vis-a-visthe national movement. I first came into contact with the Triveni journal, which was then a two-monthly, in 1936 at Madanapalli where I was at the time a Junior Intermediate student at the Theosophical College. The magazine was in great demand in the college reading-room. Each month practically every serious student and every member of the staff tried to grab it, the moment it became available. Ramakotiswara Rau’s sharp and sensitive editorial notes which appeared under the heading “The Triple Stream”, were more widely read and discussed than the other features. Art, Literature and History–these were the three subjects that received special coverage in the pages of the journal and they were discussed with love, knowledge, wisdom and authority by contributors who had a deep concern for India’s future in the context of the new world order that was bound to emerge sooner or later.

Thus I began to respect the magazine first as a reader. Later I tried to become its contributor but failed, because of the Editor’s magnificent obsession with quality. My respect for the paper now was even greater, because whenever I received my article from the Editor, it was always accompanied by a most helpful elegantly hand-written note from him, giving me the guidelines for improvement. I went on receiving my articles along with his notes and with each of these rejections my esteem for the Editor increased more and more. Soon I realised that I had less to learn from his published comments in the magazine than from his hand-written notes accompanying my unaccepted articles. It was several years later that I had the privilege of being accepted by his as a contributor.

Ramakotiswara Rau was an aesthete and intellectual turned nationalist. The political circumstances of the country were such that he had to assess every situation, view every problem and judge every person from a fiercely nationalist angle. In politics, his hero was Gandhiji, in literature, Tagore, in art, Nandalal Bose, in education, Pandit Madan Mohan Malavya and in journalism, Ramananda Chatterji. Not that he had none or nothing to admire nearer home. In fact, he was a very fearless crusader in the cause of fighting for Andhra identity at its strongest. He deeply loved everything that was genuinely Andhra and, through his magazine, sought to project it to the outside world in the most evocative manner possible. Apparently, according to him, regionalism, not chauvinism, was the basis of true nationalism, as nationalism was the basis of true internationalism. He was a Gandhian who had his feet on the terra firma but his eyes fixed on the starry heavens. He was a romantic with a healthy passion for the finer things of life such as art, literature, theatre and even cinema–yes, why not?–but with a feeling for the realities of the freedom struggle which he faced manfully.

Among his contributors were all nationalists with a humanist bias. The result was that whatever they wrote came alive because of their sense of personal involvement. They didn’t write, because writing was their vocation. Writing was their vocation, because they could use it effectively as a weapon for fighting the evils that had been eating into the vitals of India–social, political, and economic. There were even foreigners among the Triveni by-liners. But they were all, naturally, friends of India. The Cousinses, for example. Dr James H. Cousins, dedicated to the cause, then very relevant, of revivalism in Indian art, championed the cause of modern Indian painting in the South with the same passion and insight, as E. B Havell and Percy Brown did in the North, while his illustrious wife, Mrs. Margaret E. Cousins, addressed herself to the equally urgent task ofachieving a better deal for the Indian woman. The Indian scholars and writers who contributed to the magazine also had a similar objective: namely to draw the reader’s attention to the various aspects of Indian awakening.

Ramakotiswara Rau spared no effort to emphasise, not the tempo of the Indian renaissance, of which the daily press took care, but the quality and range. So even the political articles that he published were more about the values and principles involved than with the events of the day. The approach was objective, scholarly and humane. He regarded intellectualism or professionalism as a means to an end, the end being the projection ofthe resurgent nationalism in chaste language and crisp style. He had an uncanny sense of right and wrong, of good and bad, ofhigh and low. His judgments were more intuitive than intellectual and they invariably took the paper to greater and greater heights in terms of quality. Being a crusading editor, he had tooperate simultaneously on different levels: political, intellectual, journalistic and moral. But his indestructible, evergreen optimism and cheerfulness never wore or wilted in the face of any challenge or crisis, however serious. In the process, he collected not only a number of admirers and supporters but many friendly critics who thought he was too idealistic to last long. Critics, yes, but not a single enemy, and the criticism offered was in good faith and the intention behind it was just to make him more practical and realistic, his basic principles and convictions remaining as firm as ever before. But no, he wouldn’t deviate from his chosen path even a little. Indeed he was made of very stern stuff. There was a streak of Tanguturi Prakasam in him, I suspect.

The format of Triveni’seditorial policy was clear enough. Negatively, it was not (1) to accept vulgar and inelegant advertisements, (2) to promote commercialism of any sort, (3) to support orthodoxy, obscurantism and obstinacy in any form, (4) to endorse anything pseudo, i.e., nationalism, revivalism, modernism, classicism, romanticism, rationalism, etc., (5) to strengthen vested interests, (6) to compromise the freedom of the press under any circumstances and at any cost, (7) to indulge in criticism for itsown sake, (8) to encourage parochial or partisan attitudes towards national issues. In positive terms, it was (1) to publish creative writing at its best, modern as well as classical, regional and national, eastern and western, (2) to invest the political debate with a highly moral and intellectual tone, (3) to strengthen the roots of liberalism and democracy, (4) to give a new dimension to the art movement, pioneered by such giants of the Bengal School as Abanindranath Tagore and Nandalal Bose by integrating it into the indigenous Andhra Art traditions, (5) to strive for economic independence by decentralising industry and by making the rural economy self-sufficient, (6) to depoliticise the educational system by agitating for the autonomy of the universities, (7) to preserve the spirit and character of our performing arts, (8) to serve as a forum for rebels, non-conformists, crusaders, progressives, visionaries and innovators with  a keen awareness of the basic resilience and vitality of tradition and (9) to accept only such contributions on approved subjects as are animated by love, compassion, integrity and scholarship. What Ramakotiswara Rau tried to do was to “draw together cultured men and women in all lands and establish a fellowship of the spirit.” He declared fervently and unequivocally: “All movements that make for Idealism, in India as well as elsewhere, receive particular attention in these columns. We Count upon the willing and joyous co-operation of all lovers of the Beautiful and the True.” There was great power in his prose. His style had an elegance and elan. But he was more a missionary than a professional. His personal integrity, professional morality and political rectitude were transparent. His humility was as disarming as his integrity was fierce. No power on earth could either corrupt or intimidate him. But he was wherever love was, wherever culture was, wherever good taste was. He suffered neither the vulgar nor the naive, But he was too suave, sensitive and sophisticated for the company he was sometimes obliged to keep: journalists, politicians and lawyers, Even today his rich legacy continues, well-preserved in the pages of Triveni, thanks to the imaginative efforts of the dynamic editors who followed him: the late Mr. K. Sampathgiri Rao and Mr. Bhavaraju Narasimha Rao who now nurses the delicate magazine in a true spirit of dedication.

Ramakotiswara Rau was an aesthete who had a feeling for whatever was clean, true and beautiful. He moulded the taste, judgment and sensibility of a whole generation of readers many of whom have by now become good writers. Though his own brilliant editorial notes and through the material he published in Triveni he influenced the thinking of the elite and the attitudes of the decision-makers. He told them what to read and what not to read, what to accept and what not to accept, what to do and what not to do in a given situation. Even today Triveni is a talking point, a status symbol, in the South, wherever quality journalism is mentioned, journalism bordering on literature. It was Ramakotiswara Rau who discovered, for the benefit of the non-Andhra readers, such dazzling facets of the many-splendoured Andhra achievement as Yenki Patalu, Bhava Kavitvamu, Chalam’s stories, Dwaram Venkataswami Naidu’s divine music, T. Raghava’s unique histrionic genius, the thoughts of Dr S. Radhakrishnan, Dr C. R. Reddy, J. Krishnamurti and others. Also for the benefit of the Andhra reading public he brought to light the choicest material, both creative and critical, from the other parts of India, particularly from the South, and thus prepared the ground for genuine integration. Ramakotiswara Rau was a modernist to whom modernity was inseparable from and innate in tradition itself. He had no use for the wild, wooly-headed avant-garde with their half-baked ideas and pseudo-intellectual postures and, what was worse, with their loyalties divided between the East and the West, between the past and the future. He was a champion of integrated internationalism through vigorous nationalism. He reminds us, again, of Dr Ananda Coomaraswamy who has said: “Each race contributes something essential to the world’s civilisation in the course of its own self-expression and self-realisation. The character built up in solving its own problems, in the experience of its own misfortunes, is itself a gift which each offers to the world. The essential contribution of India, then, is simply her Indianess; her great humiliation would be to substitute or to have substituted for her own character-svabhava-a cosmopolitan veneer, for then indeed she must come before the world empty-handed.”