RAJAJI–THE WRITER AND JOURNALIST
D.
ANJANEYULU
Rajaji,
whose birth centenary is being celebrated this year, led a full and fruitful
life. His was a manysided personality–lawyer, civic father, patriot,
freedom-fighter, politician, administrator, elder statesman, writer, translator
and journalist. In the last two decades of his life, when he gave the nation of
the maturity of his experience and wisdom, he was looked up to by his admirers
as the Socrates of this century. He was to them the philosopher and guide, not
only in matters relating to politics and public policy but to private conduct
and personal ethics as well. There was practically no subject in which he was
not interested, in his own way, no problem for which he had no solution to
offer. He was deeply engaged in the human condition.
In
discussing Rajaji, the writer and journalist, one must remember the fact that
he was neither a professional man of letters nor a journalist by occupation.
But he wrote a lot, both in English and Tamil, and on a wide variety of themes,
including Khadi, prohibition, untouchability, inter-caste marriage, B C G
vaccination, Nuclear proliferation, world peace, the
language problem, socialism and free enterprise, quota-permit-licence Raj, to
name only a few of them. Of course, he wrote copiously on the Hindu religious
classics, some of which he translated into Tamil from Sanskrit, retelling them
later in English.
While
Rajaji was known widely for his daring originality of approach and sharp
critical acumen, the bulk of his admirers, some of them highly educated, tend
to regard him with an uncritical attitude of hero-worship. They insist on going
into ecstasies over whatever he had written – a translation of a Tamil hymn, a
comment on a political event, a letter to the daily newspaper on an ephemeral
issue of local interest. Never indulging in false humility, he had no illusions
about the corpus or character of his own written work. In an interview with Ved
Mehta, the Indian writer, settled in the
“I
have written books, articles, stories, fables.
But
on the whole, I am not a man of letters. ...
I
have written mostly for specific causes I was
working for.”
In
this he is comparable more to Mahatma Gandhi than to John Morley or Jawaharlal
Nehru.
The
writings of Rajaji could be broadly classified into three categories: (1) his
short stories and parables; (2) the religious classics, translated or retold
and reinterpreted by him; and (3) his political and journalistic writings,
represented by his regular contribution to the ‘Dear Reader’ column in Swarajya, later collected in book form,
under the title ‘Satyameva Jayate’.
Most
of the stories were originally written in Tamil and some of them published in
the weekly periodical, Kalki, edited
by his friend and coworker, R. Krishnamurti. Out of the thirty odd stories now
available in book form under the title ‘Stories
for the Innocent’. sixteen of
them were translated into English by his son, the late Dr C. R. Ramaswami, and
the rest by Prof. P. Sankaranarayanan. The translation is, by and large,
adequate, though not particularly brilliant. After going through two of the
pieces written by the author himself, originally in English, it is doubtful if
he would have done a better job of the translation himself, had he chosen to
try it.
Every
one of the stories has an obvious moral to teach – the curse of untouchability,
the evil habit of drink, the problems created by inter-caste and inter-sectal
marriages, the importance of telling the truth, the value of adjustability in
family life, the lasting wisdom of the Hindu tradition and so on and so forth. ‘Ardhanarl’ is one of his best stories,
in which the problem of caste is presented in a new light. The Harijan boy, by
name Ardhanari, obtains education and gets a good job and his superior in the
office, who is a Brahmin, offers him his sister in marriage. He conceals his
true taste and passes for a caste Hindu. Owing to his neglect, his parents die
of cholera at the village. He is struck by repentance and changes the whole
course of his life. The conclusion is poignant.
“Ardhanari
did not agree. You do not mind my caste, I know. But I am a murderer. I have
killed my father and mother”, he said and told the whole tale.
When
he was quite well, he resigned his job and returned to Kokalai. He is now the
‘Samiar’ or ascetic, who conducts the school in the Maramman temple”.
“The
Tree Speaks” is an amusing anecdote and a touching reverie, in which the peepul
tree recounts its sad plight and seeks the author’s help in the matter.
Some
of them are not short stories strictly in the sense in which we understand
those of Somerset Maughulm, H. E. Bates or R. K. Narayan. Each is the vehicle
for a moral which the author wants to convey.
The
language is simple; the sentences are straight and short and the author comes
to the point without any camouflage or circumlocution. But none of these
stories can be read, much less re-read, for the sheer pleasure of it. Aptly
described as ‘Stories for the
Innocent’, they are really meant for the “potential convert”. The stories
for Rajaji do the job of fables for Aesop and parables for the preacher. It
matters little whether the characters are human beings or animals, but Rajaji
is a fabulist par excellence. His
flair for the parable is proverbial.
Among
the religious classics treated by him are Tirukkural
and Tirumandiram, Bhajagovindam,
Bhagavad Gita, Upanishads, the Ramayana
and the Mahabharata. In
interpretating the ancient works of wisdom, Rajaji does not get involved in
intricate textual problems, or lose the main track in the hair-splitting
distinctions drawn by the erudite commentators. He tries to reduce the
difficulties to the minimum, without prejudice to the main purpose of
presenting an adequate idea of the content–be it the Upanishads or the Bhagavad
Gita. Not overburdened by traditional scholarship in Sanskrit or Tamil,
Rajaji, with his wide familiarity with world affairs and shrewd understanding
of human nature, is able to get at the Kernel, where profounder scholars might
have got stuck. His approach is essentially that of the intelligent layman,
clarifying matters for those who need his guidance.
As
for the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, they are not only the
best-known national epics of this country, but Rajaji’s best-known works as
well. Originally written in Tamil under the title ‘Chakravarti Tirumagan’ (Son of the Emperor), the first was
serialised in Kalki; the second was
serialised under the title ‘Vyasar
Virundu’ (Vyasa’i Feast).
The
English version of Ramayana has
proved so popular that a school-boy is known to have answered the question
about the author of Ramayana with “C.
Rajagopalachari”. In his hands, it has emerged as a happy amalgam of Valmiki,
Kamban, a little of Tulasidas and a lot of modern sensibility, with no violence
to the pristine tradition that it represents. True to the practice that the
epics have to be reinterpreted for every age, Rajaji has done the job for this
age. He does not justify the unjustifiable, but tries his best to understand
the behaviour of those epic heroes and villains in the light of his own grasp
of human nature, which has not changed much through the ages. Stimulated by
Gandhiji’s remark that Ramayana is a
great love story, Rajaji says: “In love, that is not opposed
to Dharma, we find a manifestation of God…The Ramayana has, for its twin theme, love that is opposed to Dharma also.” Unlike Srinivasa Sastri,
who looks upon Ramayana as a lyric
and treats Rama as an idealised human being (in the manner of Bradley), Rajaji
sees the value of compromise is ticklish situations.
The
Ramayana is a more complex
proposition–in size as well as in scope – with about 120 thousand slokas in the
original Sanskrit. Rajaji’s genius for simplification and flair for analysis
come in handy in tackling this unwieldy classic. With its wars, diplomacy and
negotiation, it is also just the epic for one who has been a past master in the
game of politics – of peace as well as war. He gives us a sharp insight into
the many characters, noble and not so noble. But he sees the gospel of Dharma running like a thread through the
whole maze of stories, linked with stories, like wheels within wheels. He says
of the classic in general:
“The
Mahabharota has moulded the character
and civilisation of one of the most numerous of the world’s people By its
gospel of Dharma, which like a golden
thread, runs through all the complex movements in the epic; by its lesson that
hatred breeds hatred, that covetousness and violence lead inevitably to ruin,
that the only real conquest is in the battle against one’s lower nature.”
The
journalistic work of Rajaji can be said to have started with the editorship of
Gandhiji’s Young
His
‘Dear Reader’ column in Swarajya was
eagerly looked forward to by all those who sought guidance, when all around was
gloom and confusion. It was the veritable Bible for those of the ‘Swatantra’
school of thought. He was hardest against the increasing State control in the
economic planning of the Nehru type. The themes that have a lasting appeal
are–measures for world peace, ban on nuclear proliferation, the utility of
English, the folly of linguistic fanaticism, the harm done by curbs on
individual enterprise, etc. Many others, of a purely topical nature, are likely
to have dated. This was journalism of a personal type, where the writing
represents the author’s reactions to certain events of public importance,
rather than the methodical study by a group from all angles.
Admiration
for Rajaji the journalist has to be qualified by two considerations.
One is his anxiety to project a particular point of view at the expense of all
the other possible points of view, which may be almost as valid. He wrote
oftentimes as a protagonist, an advocate eager to win his case. Though an elder statesman in terms of age and experience, his
approach was essentially that of an active politician, committed to a definite
course of action. Another is his use of the English language, which was
workmanlike, and more like that of a lawyer than that of an artist or student
of the language. The present writer vividly remembers what the news editor of
an English daily remarked on Rajaji’s first statement on taking over the reins
of Chief Minister’s office for a second time (in 1952) “A first-rate brain with
original ideas, no doubt; but let us be careful about the regionalisms and
Indianisms in the use of English.”
On
the basis of his Autobiography, Nehru
was hailed as one of the dozen best prose-writers in English by John Gunther.
His editorials on foreign affairs in the National
Herald did not compare unfavourably with those in the Guardian and New Statesman. One
cannot say the same thing of Rajaji’s exercises in political journalism. Their
range of appeal was comparatively limited; so was their style–homely, with a
local flavour.
In
a review of two books of short stories (by Leo Tolstoy and Dorothy Parker),
Rajaji once wrote:
“Art
and literature need not always have a didactic purpose. Indeed direct
didacticism is far from art…..The moral or purpose should be “wrought into the
body and soul, the matter and tendency of the story or the poem, not tagged to
the end like a ‘God send the good ship into harbour’ at the conclusion of our
bills of landing”, as Charles Lamb put it.”
Well
said indeed! But rarely does Rajaji seem to follow these maxims. It is no easy
matter of volition or choice, perhaps, but that of artistic inevitability.
Rajaji is as didactic as the preacher of the gospels. Where he is not
didactica1, he is certainly dialectical. His sensibility is more that of a
moralist than that of an artist. His approach is that of an advocate in a court
of law. But what a brilliant advocate; and what a compulsive moralist!
“I
met scores of presidents and princes and prime ministers during this trip
(1953) but for me the most memorable meeting was with the leader of the
Paul
Hoffman, who had supervised the Marshall Plan before becoming president of the
Ford Foundation, had told me he (Rajaji) was one of the world’s most gifted
men. This was an understatement. After Rajaji’s name in the
three pages of notes. I made about our conversation I wrote ‘Infinitely
wise’.”
–RICHARD NIXON.