MASTI-AS I KNOW HIM

Dr. D. JAVARE GOWDA

Former Vice-Chancellor, Mysore University

Masti Venkatesa Iyengar whose nom de plume is “Srinivasa” has carved a niche for himself in the hearts of the Kannada people, through his ever-shining literary gems which reflect the continuously evolving cultural traditions of Karnataka and India. He was one of the very few literary titans who were revered and adored very affectionately throughout the breadth and length of Karnataka by one and all, during my college days. He was known widely by then as the Master genius in the art of short story writing which had earned rightly for him the title of the “Father of short story” in Kannada. His penetrating and graceful plays and narrative poems were a feast to the readers. The younger writers tried to imitate his chaste and elegant style and artistry, while his admirers thronged in an assembly or function in which he participated, only to have a glimpse of him or to talk to him. People who went to his house to have his Darshan and to pay their respects, returned with a sense of satisfaction and exhilaration that the person whom they met, was not an egoistic awful stranger, but was an affectionate and amiable person belonging to their own kith and kin.

It was during the year 1948 that I met Masti for the first time in his house. I had read all his works by then. I liked his homely style. I had heard his speeches more than once. I liked them not for their oratory in the Greek sense, but for the flow of simple language which aimed at the harmonious blending of grand thought into inartificial, delightful idioms and phrases. I had developed flawless love and reverence towards his personality as expressed through his writings and speeches. I was longing to meet and talk to him. An opportunity presented itself to me when I was asked by the editor of a monthly journal to contribute an article on Masti and his works. I wrote to him seeking for an interview. Pat came the warm reply that I could meet him in his house on a particular morning.

Masti, with his caste mark on his forehead, looked to me to be highly orthodox. I had, of course, formed an idea of his life and personality by reading his books. I had come to the conclusion that he must be a kind-hearted, simple, straightforward, cultured gentleman. “Could he not be a man of double personality, as some writers are, who perform exactly the opposite of what they profess through their writings?” I thought for a moment. I was really nervous to meet him. I was thinking as to how I should behave if my expectations became untrue.

At the appointed time, I creeped into the compound of his bungalow, and tapped the door softly. In another moment, Masti himself appeared with a smiling face and gentle voice greeting me with the words, “Please come in. How nice to see you! Are we meeting for the first time? Yes. “I was looking into his beaming face and glistening eyes. He opened the door, took me by the right hand, led me to the hall, asking me at the same time in a very familiar and affectionate tone, “How are you? How is your wife? How many children have you? Which is your native place?” By that time, my nervousness had disappeared completely. I felt as though I was one of his family people. My inward spirit bowed to him without any outward gestures.

“I have reserved these morning hours for you. We can talk leisurely. I have not yet taken my breakfast. I was waiting for you” he said. I nodded my assent. In a few minutes, dosas were served: one, two, three. “You are quite young. Don’t feel shy. You must eat more. I like people who eat well. Eat, one more dosa for my sake. I will serve.” These sweet words of Masti are still ringing in my ears and the flavour of dosas is watering my mouth. Two hours of my stay and talk with him impressed me so much that I felt convinced that the Masti of real life is not different from the Masti as revealed through his works.

A glance at the Bio-data of Masti will convince any onlooker that the destiny was shaping his career from his childhood to a purposeful goal which inspired him to play an active role in the cultural resurrection of this land. He always stood first in the examinations, including the Mysore Civil Service Examination. He became aware of his literary talents very early in life and spare no pains in bending all his energies, both spiritual and intellectual, towards reaching the pinnacle of success. It was his devotion to duty, sincerity of purpose and disciplined life that were responsible for his spectacular success both as an administrator and a man of letters. Even in the literary field, he has the rare distinction of being an all-rounder like “Kuvempu”, who has not left any literary genre untouched with phenomenal success.

It is a matter of pride that some of his plays, many of his short stories, his narrative poems, his novels and several critical works are a significant contribution not only to Indian literature, but to world literature also. His Sri Rama Pattabhishekam is a monumental contribution to the long tradition of Ramayana literature. In the same way as his life style is inimitable, so also is his literary style, both being complementary to each other.

He never misused his official position for selfish gains or extraneous unlawful purposes. He knew that it was meant to earn his livelihood in accordance with the fixed norms and code of conduct. He compares official power with the snake-basket of a snake-charmer. After the public performance is over, he covers the basket carefully and keeps it in a safe corner of his shed. He does not keep it by his bedside while sleeping. Masti says that one should forget that he is so and so, as is the case with the snake-charmer, after his official duty is over and he should keep himself away from it. Masti did really practise this precept very meticulously. But he would never allow himself to be cowed down by higher authorities or his self-respect to be bartered away for any heavy price. When he was superceded by his junior while he was in Government service, he opted out for premature retirement, only to devote himself completely for literary pursuits.

Faith in the Supreme and adherence to morality are the two fundamental characteristics of his personality. He believes in the sublimation of wrong into right, ugliness into beauty and evil into good. He never deviates from the path of truth and righteousness. Inexcitability, tolerance and geniality are the inherent qualities of his behaviour. Success or failure, he remains unruffled. He is courteous to all, even to his opponents. He never stoops to vulgarity. He is soft even towards the villains he has depicted in his literary works. He is neither a cynic nor a pessimist. It is these virtues that have sustained him during the long course of his life’s journey and made him feel that life is worth living. It is the personality of this calibre that pervades the entire arena of his literature.

Envy and hatred are foreign to him. He feels extremely happy when a fellow-writer produces works of excellence and gets awards. He derives pleasure from such an award as though he is himself the recipient. When an youngster gets an award in preference to himself, he is so generous as to say that sweetmeats should be distributed first among children while old people should be delighted to see them revelling joyously.

He is gentle to the core. He never uses harsh words either in his talk or writing. He does not ridicule even a wayfarer. He expresses even his displeasure and anger in a mild way. He does not lose his temper even when provoked. He believes in the old wise saying that truth, when it is not pleasing, and untruth, though it is pleasing, should not be uttered This is the motto of his life too. This principle which he cherishes very careful1y, finds its way into his literary works also. Condemnation, disparagement, sarcasm, vituperation and hard words rarely occur in his critical works. He is never vehement even in his disapproval of substandard works. At the utmost, he may administer mild dose of pills soaked in honey. He is charitable even to his critics. When a collection of his poems was published, a reviewer criticised him severely, alleging unjustifiably that he was very poor in diction. Masti reacted in his own inimitable style, “O, my younger brother, what you say about my poetry is true. I started writing in Kannada, you know, even before I learnt it properly.” He did not utter these words out of cowardice or malice. Only a man of courage and conscience can assert himself in this way. There is a bit of restrained sarcasm also lurking in these words. “If my well-wishers, specially men of good literary taste,” he continues, could find my works palatable to them, I feel highly favoured; If they are not worthy of their appreciation, I comfort myself by resigning to my fate that God has given me only so much as I am entitled to.” This is the characteristic of a Sthitaprajna as described in the Gita.

He has helped in many ways, the modern renaissance movement take its roots and shape. During the early phase of the modern period he used to move about in search of talented people, and if he discovered anybody, he would sit with them, read their compositions, pat them on the back, encourage them to continue the cultivation of literary habits, write introductions and even undertake to publish their works at his own expense, without expecting any return. Some of the beneficiaries of his generosity had the good fortune of shining as luminaries in the great galaxy of literary colosses. He is still helping the writers who are in indigent circumstances, financially. He shuns publicity about what he is doing.

By, editing “Jeevana”, a monthly for a long period, he showed to the world that the position of an editor was so sacred that he should not yield to demoralising pressures and temptations. Apart from being a model for magazines of the kind, Jeevana was read mainly for its editorial comments in local, national and international events. When there was a controversy about the admission or non-admission of Hindu ladies raped by communal fanatics to the Hindu fold, he writes that they should be taken back in the same way as a child, discharged from the isolation hospital where he was admitted for treatment of a deadly disease, is welcomed to the family reunion. He reacts painfully to the post-independent bickerings and quarrels among the Indian leaders and draws their attention to the conduct of the British people, specially during the period of national catastrophe, pointing out their political wisdom administrative efficiency, patriotic fervour and restrained behaviour and to the fact how Churchill agreed to form the national government during the war period and how be stepped down coolly from the highest scat of prime-ministership when he was not wanted by the people. Writing about the various schools in the literary field, he says very correctly that there is nothing wrong if some people were to assert that they wanted literature which would cater to their taste and that there would be no end if they were to propose that any other literature which was not to their liking, should be allowed to perish. He cites an interesting illustration, in defence of his argument. An old man had two wives. The senior wife’s hair had turned grey. She pulled out all the black hairs of her husband so that he should not look younger than herself, while the junior wife pulled out all his white hairs so that he should not look old, with the result the head of the poor old man became completely bald. Masti admonishes the critics that the same fate might befall the literary field if they continued to indulge in such a kind of perilous propaganda.

This is Masti whose intellectual vigour and spiritual vitality have not faded in spite of his old age. He is the same Masti as one used to see forty years ago. He is entitled to any honour that the world could bestow on him and he is also too great for any award. Like any other great literary genius of his calibre, he belongs to all climes and times and not to any group, country or to any particular time.

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