THE HOUSE OF VAVILLA
By
D. ANJANEYULU, B.A. (Hons.) B.L.
To
many of the present generation the name of Vavilla has a peculiar association
of vague reverence. Though Sri Venkateswara Sastrulu had hardly finished the
Biblical span of three score and ten when he passed away in February last, his
immaculate figure seemed to conjure up visions of an ancient world. His
personality has become rather dim, partly because of the mist of ancient
classics that has surrounded it and partly because of his retirement from
active public life, due to illness, over a decade ago.
This
impression of antiquity is bound to be reinforced by even a casual visit to the
Vavilla book-shop in China Bazaar tucked away in a quiet corner. The
possibility of attracting prospective purchasers is out of the question and the
hardy buyer, if he is persistent, would have to knock at the door and
announce his demands. And then one or two mysterious figures would silently
appear from the dark chamber and place the musty volumes into his hands after
payment of cash. But the seasoned customers, who come from far-off villages,
are not to be deterred by the narrow shop-windows.
It
would, however, be sheer injustice to describe Venkateswara Sastrulu as a mere
book-seller, printer or publisher. He was, in his time, many other things
besides–journalist, publicist, patriot, politician and benefactor of public
causes. But, more than everything else, he was a great educator in every sense
of the word. The name of Vavilla is a household word wherever Telugu is read
and Sanskrit is loved. It would be no exaggeration to say that, but for this
publishing house, many a precious gem of literature would have been lost. From
the familiar schoolboy’s Ramodanta to the scholar’s annotated version of
Srimad Ramayanam, and the Balasiksha primer to the monumental
18-volume edition of the Southern Recension of Mahabharatam, there is
not a book of some importance in the cultivation of Men’s minds that has not
been produced by them. The credit for translating in Telugu Tilak’s famous Gita
Rahasya goes to them. Whether it be the ancient classics in a presentable
form or modern masterpieces in a respectable garb, their publications bear the
stamp of quality. Vavilla’s are to Sanskrit and Telugu what Natesan’s are to
English in the South, comparable in some ways to Victor
Gollancz and George Allen and Unwin in U. K.
The
fact that a discriminating literary critic like Dr. C. R. Reddy got his book Kavitva
Tatva Vicharamu (possibly the first original work of literary criticism in Telugu)
published by Vavilla’s rather than by any other publishers, is enough tribute
to their reliability in matters of taste and workmanship. In addition to
rescuing ancient authors from oblivion in decaying cadjan leaves, Venkateswara
Sastrulu encouraged quite a few of the modern writers whose work would not have
seen the light of day but for his timely and discerning patronage. With his
unerring instinct for spotting merit, he could recognise real scholarship where
he saw it.
A
staunch believer in tradition, he had no love for new-fangled ways of writing
and unorthodox schools of thought, though he was quite familiar with the trends
in literature, present and past. His titles in modern poetry
include the works of Duvvuri Rami Reddy and Devulapalli Krishna Sastri, while
many hot favourites are not to be found in the list.
He had a connoisseur’s cynical suspicion for mere show and surface brilliance
in writing, as in other things. The novels of Bankim, the speeches and writings
of Sri Aurobindo and the stories and poems of Tagore, are all covered by his
translation scheme. The omission of a master like Sarat might
be due either to a deep-seated conservatism or the anxiety to avoid competition
with others. If it could be complained that he could have paid more
for the Pandits whose services he had enlisted for the expansion of his
business, it has to be admitted that there is none to pay even the little that
he did for the vanishing tribe that must feel orphaned by his exit.
It
is not perhaps so well-known that Vavilla’s publications are not confined to
Sanskrit and Telugu. A number of research works in English like Sri Bhavaraju
Krishna Rao’s ‘Early Dynasties of Andhradesa’ and Dr. N. Venkataramanayya’s
‘The Origin of the South Indian Temple’, received his ready patronage, with the
help of which the authors earned recognition as historians. His contribution to
the popularisation of the Tamil classics deserves greater recognition. Not only
did he get translated into Telugu and English works like Manimekhalai,
Silappadhikaram and Thirukkural but he launched a series of original
publications with the help of that patriot and pioneer navigator, V. O.
Chidambaram Pillai. He also published quite a few musical treatises in Tamil.
In
all his endeavours to keep the torch of learning bright, had the primordial
Hindu ideals as his guiding star. In strict adherence to the
filial injunction of the Upanishads (all of which he had published), he
tried to continue the work started by his father, Ramaswami Sastrulu, who was a
scholar in his own right, especially in the sacred lore. That a Vedic scholar
of the mid-Victorian period, a class that would not touch a machine with a
barge-pole, should have thought it fit to start a printing press in Tondiarpet
is a glowing commentary on his remarkable foresight, in view of the growth of
this machine as an aid to mass education and democracy. It was, at any rate, a
happy idea and the tender plant nurtured by the father’s long years of toil and
tears has grown into a mighty tree under the watchful eye of the son,
protecting many under its shade and spreading its fruits far and wide. If the
son could not claim to be the father’s equal in learning, he was possibly his
superior in business acumen and capacity for organisation. If he did not know
to edit a recondite treatise on metaphysics or a technical monograph on Indian
surgery, he knew who could do it and got it done, very often at minimum cost
and with maximum return. His rigid sense of economy may be described as austere
by the sympathetic and niggardly by the uncharitable.
Quite
alive to the possibilities of modern industry, Venkateswara Sastrulu had none
of the trappings of a captain of industry. His capitalism is distinguished by
the human touch of a benevolent patriarch. The workers in his press could never
think of high wages as their counterparts in some prosperous concerns. But they
had also no need to starve and no fear of losing their jobs by a mere whim of
the proprietor. His employees, who are in some cases as old as the hoary
machines they handle, had reason to be contented, if they were not unsettled by
the Trade Union fever. If a worker had quarreled with his wife and feared to go
home for the night, he could have his frugal meals at the proprietor’s house
which was always open to the poor and needy.
Not
a few students of Sanskrit and other courses were fed and clothed by Sastrulu,
who, like the good Samaritan, often did good by stealth. Whether it was the
marriage of a poor Pandit’s son, medicine for his ailing wife, or even the
weekly rations for his family, they could always count on his unfailing help.
His stern and reserved exterior covered a kindly heart that was not callous to
suffering, though there was no evidence of soft and feeble sentiment. He gave
charity without ostentation and rendered service without love of publicity.
To
say that he belonged to the Tilak school of thought is a compliment with a
qualification. For, he not only shared the Lokamanya’s political extremism but
his social conservatism–the latter more than the former. Gandhi was the
blindspot of Sastrulu, whose politics hibernated between the Congress
radicalism of Srinivasa Iyengar and the moderate liberalism of Chintamani. To
this unrecognisable mixture are added a few drops of admiration for Prakasam
and Rajaji, and a secret liking for Subhas Bose. Though he sympathised with the
Swadeshi Movement and participated in Congress activity (acting as Treasurer at
the Madras Congress in 1927), he took care not to allow his politics to
interfere with his business. Denied the comforts of a happy home, he did not
become bitter and frustrated but extended his interests and touched life at
many points. There was not a field of useful activity in the City of Madras
with which he was not associated. He was not only an institution but a landmark
in old Madras which knew no linguistic barriers or parochial rivalries.
On the road to cultural revival and renaissance of letters in the South, Andhra in particular, the house of Vavilla has a preeminent place with the name of Venkateswara Sastrulu boldly written on it. It is not with the real estate mentality, that revels in the laws of inheritance and succession, that the problems created by his passing need to be tackled. Now that the patronage of letters (at least the responsibility) has shifted, or is shifting, from princes and potentates to the people, ways and means must be explored to continue his unfinished task in the spirit of a sacred public trust.