The Substance of a Dream

Among many of us lurksthe sentimental fear that those whom the Gods love die young. This is found to be more true of the world of periodicals. ‘Little Reviews’ and literary periodicals the world over are prone to infant mortality. The Pall Mall Gazette and the Review of Reviews, Notion, Horizon, Adelphi and Athenaeum Scrutiny and The Criterion, which were once the pride of the English intelligentsia, are now but a few of the names in the memory of students of literary journalism. If journals like TLS and New Statesman, the London Magazine and the Encounter in England and the Partisan Review and the Ever-green Review in America happen to survive, their readers must ascribe it to their own good luck. The game of survival may often be for the fittest, but not necessarily for the best.

As for the plight of the little review, in whatever language, nearer home, the less said about it the better. If it is published in English, a language under constant attack from various quarters, the position could be even worse. Against this ground, it is a pleasant surprise that the Triveni Quarterly, now published from Machilipatnam should be going strong, after completing its half-century. Many of its sister journals had fallen by the wayside. Readers of the older generation need hardly be reminded that it was born in Madras and had been shuffling between Madras and Bangalore, before shifting to Machilipatnam and settling down there for good.

‘Triveni’ literally means the triple stream, referring to the cultural context and covering art, literature and history. In the geography of the orthodox Hindus, it is familiarly applied to the confluence of the triple streams of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati at Prayag. On the spiritual plane, it could signify the convergence of the spiritual energies running through the Ida, Pingala and Sushumna Nadis of the human system. The periodical has, all these years, been conducted in the spirit of a “votive offering to Him, who is the source of the Triple stream of Love, Wisdom and Power, towards whom converge the self-same streams of Bhakti, Jnana, Karma.”At the mundane level, it may be well-remembered that the journal has the triple home of Madras, Bangalore and Machilipatnam.

The first issue of Triveni came out from “Malabari House” in Vepery Madras in January 1928, while its office was formally opened in December 1927. It is a sumptuous, well-got-up volume of 144 pages, printed on fine feather-weight paper with a number of art plates for reproduction of sculptures and paintings. Appropriately enough for a cultural periodical of this kind, the leading article was on “New Beginnings in Indian Culture” by C. Jinarajadasa, later to become President of the Theosophical Society. The poetry section comprised two renderings from Viswanatha Satyanarayana and Devulapalli Krishna Sastri, leading Telugu poets and one from Tamil. The “Declaration of Rights” for incorporation in the Swaraj Constitution is ably outlined by S. Srinivasa Iyengar, former Congress President, and one of the truly original minds that Madras could be proud of. The problem of Indian States in relation to Swaraj is discussed at length by Dewan Bahadur (later Sir) Mocherla Ramachandra Rao, one of the great Liberals of the South. Discussion of painting and sculpture is ably represented by Dr James H. Cousins and T. G. Aravamuthan. Homage to the youthful patriot, Shrimati M. Annapurna Devi containing the facsimile of a letter from Mahatma Gandhi, marks the highlight of this number. All this, in a volume that is as solid and substantial as a book, for a single Rupee!

The journal was the brain-child of K. Ramakotiswara Rau, a lawyer of Narasaraopet (in Guntur District), who gave up his profession in the ‘Twenties in response to the call of Gandhi and plunged himself in the freedom struggle, which he continuedthrough national education and journalism. After a spell of subbing in Prakasam’s Swarajya and teaching at the National College (Andhra Jateeya Kalasala) at Machilipatnam, he decided in 1927 to launch a cultural periodical on his own. He wrote in September 1928, a few months after the inauguration:

“Triveni seeks to interpret the Renaissance movement as reflected in the various linguistic units of India. The Editor is an Andhra, and in close touch with the literary and art movements in Andhra Desa. But he is anxious to publish detailed accounts of similar movements in other parts of India. He makes an earnest appeal to scholars inother linguistic areas to write about the literary and art movements with which they are familiar. Triveni will thus lay the foundations for that inter-provincial harmony and goodwill which is the prelude to a federation of Indian cultures.”

Those ideals of harmony and goodwill and the concept of a federation of cultures, in a real sense, may still remain part of the poet’s dream and the philosopher’s vision. But without such dreams, life would be hardly worth living in what is called a civilized land. Ramakotiswara Rau was a poet by impulse and a dreamer on the grand scale, without the least touch of grandiloquence. His was the role of a one-man academy of art and letters. In the event, he anticipated the work of the national Akademis of free India by a full quarter-century or more. He was able to do single-handed what the Sahitya Akademi seeks to do with
infinitely larger resources.

The Editor’s ambition for the Triveni as an instrument for interpreting the Indian Renaissance found an effective endorsement in C. Jinarajadasa’s article on “New Beginnings in Indian Culture.” In its summing-up, he laid the emphasis on Indian culture, in the broadest sense of the term, ending on a note of restrained optimism:

“The rebirth of Indian culture is wonderfully assisted by the fact that there is behind India a great storehouse of spiritual energy waiting to be released. When, with her patriots and her religious leaders, Indian artists come to do their part in the Great Plan for India, once again there will be such a flowering of Indian ideals and achievements, as has never been in the past. Wonderfully great as Indian achievements, have been in the long past, I believe that greater achievements still are in store for her in the future, not only in the domain of religion and international achievement, but also in the domain of art.”

A mofussil lawyer, with considerable private means of his own, could easily have chosen the path of security and comfort. But the urge within to spread the light of culture and achieve harmony would not let Ramakotiswara Rau rest. He was ever in search of the true, good and beautiful, according to his own lights, and eager to share the thrill of enjoyment with all the others. Oscar Wilde described a cynic as one who knew the price of everything rind the value of nothing. Ramakotiswara Rau knew the value of everything and did not count the cost, even when he knew it. He wanted the best for Triveni–good reading matter, good paper, printing and production. And the cost was secondary. He was an optimist as well as aesthete. He hoped with confidence:

“In his effort to make Triveni a worthy exponent of the Indian Renaissance, he feels sure that all lovers of culture will extend their co-operation in unstinted measure. It is the Editor’s firm conviction that like all earnest endeavours, Triveni is ultimately the Lord’s work, and He, in His infinite wisdom and mercy, will vouchsafe to the Editor, an humble and frail individual, the requisite strength, physical and moral, to carry on his self-imposed but inexpressibly joyous task.”

Such co-operation as the Editor looked forward to was in fact forthcoming in ample measure in the early stages. Elder statesmen like Sir P. S. Sivaswami Aiyar and the Rt. Hon’ble V. S. Srinivasa Sastri, national leaders like Jawaharlal Nehru, judges like Sir Vepa Ramesam, P. V. Rajamannar and Nittoor Srinivasa Rau, educationists like Dr C. R. Reddi, Prof. M. Venkatarangaiya and poets like D. R. Bendre and V. K. Gokak were among its contributors. Its Advisory Board included such giants as Dr S. Radhakrishnan, Dr. Pattabhi, Prof. K. T. Shah, C. Jinarajadasa, M. S. Chalapathi and Dr Prabhakar Machwe. Burra V. Subrahmanyam, K. Sampathogiri Rao and Manjeri S. Isvaran were its associate editors at one time or another. M. Chalapathi Rau, a doyen of Indian editors now, cut his journalistic teeth on Triveni in the early ‘Thirties. Prof. K. R. Srinivasa Iyengar and Late K. S. Venkataramani breathed the old Triveni spirit. As for late Justice V. Govindarajachari, he was active in recruiting life-subscribers for Triveni. An old-timer, happily with us, is Mr. K. Chandrasekharan, who shared all the thrills and struggles with the founder-editor. In fact, his whole family, including his elder brother (K. Balasubrahmanya Aiyer) and two sisters (K. Savitri Ammal and Saraswati Ammal) took a loving interest in the periodical and its fortunes.

Prof. N. G. Ranga and Prof. Humayun Kabir, Prof. Hiren Mukherjee, Mr. Basudha Chakravarty and Dr V. K. R. V. Rao had always taken a lively interest in the fortunes of Triveni. There is hardly any intellectual or man of letters, now in his ’Sixties, who is not proud of having seen himself in print first in Triveni Pandit jawaharlal Nehru contributed a short travelogue in it and was happy to do so.

It was in the middle ’Fifties that the present writer came to know Mr. Ramakotiswara Rau somewhat closely, though he had met him much earlier, when his craze for journalism began to get the better of him. He was glad to publish two of his articles–one on “The Profile Art”, and the other, a kind of sequel to Mr. M. Chalapathi Rau’s brilliant piece on “The Songs of Yenki”. He was kind enough to suggest that I translate a short story in Telugu by a well-known woman writer, I. Saraswati Devi. Its title was: “Baleeyasee Kevalam Isvaraajna!” The main theme depicted in it was the change of heart in a Zamindarini towards her husband, when he is crippled in an accident. This was effected mainly as a result of her watching a loving couple of basket-makers (husband and wife) in front of her mansion then under construction. I gave the story in its English translation the title “Transformation.” Mr. Ramakotiswara Rau, who read it through, was quite satisfied with the translation of the story not the title. He advised me to change it to “The Basket.” And for good reason too. He explained to me that my title, which faithfully described the theme, would give the whole point away. The story would then lose all its suspense. I saw his point and followed his advice. This was enough for me to realise the shrewdness and subtlety of his editorial instinct, which were somewhat unexpected.

Whenever Mr. Ramakotiswara Rau allowed himself to take up a pot-boiling assignment, at the instance of well-meaning friends the financial burden of his journal, he lost no time in giving it up. He felt he was doing Triveni a grave injustice. He spent less than a year on one such job in 1957-’58 in Madras, where he had some of his best personal friends. But it was always on his conscience, though the job was an innocuous one. And he was a free man again, to devote himself entirely to Triveni, before the world outside had time to know that he had ever lost his freedom!.

Like most products of high idealism, Triveni had to see many ups and downs. The editor never compromised with his first principles, come what may. He mused once:

“If in December 1927, I had foreseen even a fraction of the suffering of the Triveni was destined to cause its editor, this frail bark would never have been launched. But having launched it, I am bound to keep it afloat.”

And he did keep it afloat, against all odds, even at the risk of getting himself drowned, in a manner of speaking. No father of an only daughter could have loved it more.

Oftentimes, the Editor had occasion to feel that the task he had taken upon himself was too much for him. The spectre of failure might sometimes dog his footsteps and make him nervous. But he never gave up his mission. He was in his own way, a God-intoxicated man, for whom a job well done was its own reward. He had fully imbibed the philosophy of the Bhagavad Gita, as could be seen from the lines he quoted at the mast-head of “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

When Triveni entered on its sixth year (in July-August 1933), the Editor had reason to feel encouraged by the growing response from subscribers, donors and literary contributors. He wrote “The thorns in his path have thus been transmuted into roses, fragrant and bright. The period of perpetual struggle to keep the journal alive is definitely over. It is now possible to devote time and attention to the task of making Triveni, in a greater measure than at present, a messenger of the Indian Renaissance.”

The struggle was really never over for him. Only he learnt to adopt the never-say-die attitude to it.

Luckily for Ramakotiswara Rau, when he began to get on in years, he received help from unexpected quarters. When it shifted its home to Machilipatnam in 1950, the main burden of its printing and publishing was taken over by Mr. Bhavaraju Narasimha Rao (of Triveni Publishers) as a labour of love. What is more, he bears it as a sacred trust. If the burden is too heavy, he takes care to let no one know about it. He is verily the Bharata whose Rama will never come . He is now its devoted Editor. Men like him are the salt of the earth. May their tribe increase!

The least that could now be done is to preserve the wealth of reading material lying hidden in the yellowing pages of its numbers in a more permanent form. Selections from it over the last 50 years could be brought out in at least five handy volumes. The best of Triveni could be culled out on the lines of the best of Scrutiny and the best of the Criterion. Meanwhile, the whole material could be microfilmed for the benefit of interested readers at home and abroad.