S. SATYA MURTHY

K. CHANDRASEKHARAN

It was the opening session of the Madras Legislative Council after the general elections in 1923. The Council hall was getting full before the usual hour. The visitors’ galleries were packed from floor to ceiling. The passages and corridors were crowded with students who could not gain admission inside. The first resolution to be moved that day in the House was that of No-confidence in the new Ministry. Excitement pervaded the atmosphere. Mr. C. R. Reddy, the mover, spoke with moderation and elegance like a born debater. Speaker after speaker followed him in support of the resolution. The Ministry made but a feeble effort to withstand the volley charges against it. Just after 3-30 in the afternoon rose a defiant figure from his seat with a face indicating derision at the whole race of office-seekers. A fresh enthusiasm ran through the serried ranks of visitors both above and below. The Ministers were afraid to meet the fervent gaze and frenzied phrases of the speaker. Everyone of the sentences he uttered bore an emphasis. His attack was direct and determined. His looks were riveted on the opposite benches. His voice grew strong and steady. Humour and eloquence distinguished him from the rest. “These three Ministers do not exhaust the possibility of ministerial talents in this Presidency Deso Vishalha Prabhaavopyanantah” he exclaimed, and the whole House became tense with expectation. There was an effective and detailed tirade against the reactionary policy of the Ministry that had come into office again. When the late leader of the Justice Party was dealt with in his turn, an indistinct protest rose from that old man, but the reverberating voice of the President hushed everything into silence when he commanded, “Mr. Satyamurthi will proceed.” There was once more a driving torrent of words. The more the obstacles in his way, the greater seemed the volume and flow of his eloquence. None dared to interrupt him again. None looked cheerful on the Ministerial side, and a death-like gloom overhung them when he wound up the peroration with a bold prophecy, “I already see the hand of Death upon the Ministry. It is not permanent. It is bound to die. When it dies, it will die unwept, unhonoured and unsung.”

It is all very characteristic of Mr. Satyamurthi. It forces the mind to recall another occasion, when an American professor was in Madras and a public meeting was convened at the Gokhale Hall to welcome him. Mr. Satyamurthi was asked to take the chair. The professor spoke about the great events happening in the West, the Christian spirit of tolerance and propaganda that actuated reformers there, the great advance of socialism in Europe, the unsparing endeavours of true Christians to perpetuate peace and goodwill in the world, and his own high hopes of the mission of the East. Mr. Satyamurthi made his concluding remarks. “Let not the Christians think of peace and good-will only on Sundays”, was one of the first few utterances from his lips, and the foreigner sat wondering at the speaker’s natural humour and courage on the platform.

“It must be remembered that in the delivery of a long speech emphasis should be economised, so that the voice may not get unduly taxed” says the book on “The Making of an Orator”. Mr. Satyamurthi does not care for any such economy however long he may harangue. The lingering pauses that lend distinction to the Rt. Hon. Sastri’s speeches have no allurements for him. He is always ready to rise up and speak with feeling. If an audience requires stirring up, his is the voice that can rouse the emotions. It is not sweet to the ear but sufficiently lusty to reach the vast crowds on the sands of the beach. His manner is not imposing but ever direct and appealing. His speeches have no agreeable spray of faultless pronunciation and finish; but always a great satisfaction fills you that his words are happy and ideas clear. The study of his own literature “infuses him with the inspiration for his ideas and with the philosophical justification or the enlightened impetus for his boldness, zeal and patriotism”. The great Ruskin said, “Language becomes accurate if the speaker desires to be true; clear, if be speaks with sympathy and a desire to be intelligible; powerful, if he has earnestness; and pleasant, if he has sense of rhythm and order.” Mr. Satyamurti has almost all these. He does not lack information. He pauses not for expression. He can be fresh and fascinating in his anecdotes. He can be catchy and catholic in his tastes.

It is quite obvious that “if the man who does not hesitate to speak his mind freely in a private company could imagine, when he faces a public audience for the first time, that he is going to have a little talk with a few friends, he would conquer the initial difficulty of extempore speaking.” But with Mr. Satyamurthi, it must have been just the other way about. He seems never to have known what it is to be nervous or to speak less freely his mind to a large audience. Nothing deters him from exposing his foes to ridicule and contempt. Neither position nor age has any restraining influence on him. The Liberals had their share of his ungrudging attentions. The Ministerial party suffered long at his hands. The Government every time had to face opposition from him when they wanted to introduce a bill in the Council. He took in everything at a first glance. Nothing could escape him; nothing unnerve him. He provided himself with ammunition every time he sallied forth for battle. He returned unexhausted for all the rebuffs he received. Crowds cheered him; councillors respected him.

Mr. Satyamurthi is an immense force in himself. He can never be employed or dictated to. It must please him to carry out other people’s behests. He must .have his own way in everything. He must make his bold assertions. He must plunge headlong into a scathing criticism or a sweeping contradiction.

“Perhaps my imperfect knowledge of Sanskrit is alone responsible for my great love of that language. But I am sure, I will yield to none in my appreciation or attachment for it,” said he once in a speech at the Madras Sanskrit Academy. The latter part of his assertion is amply justified by the vigour and consistency of his fervid appeals at the proceedings of the Senate and Academic Council of the Madras University. His faculty for debate and grip of facts have never abandoned him while engaged in those protracted deliberations. He reads the files, prepares himself, if necessary, for an onslaught on his opponents, and brandishes his favourite weapon in utter disregard of any attempt to control him. He brings judgment and purpose to his aid. His arguments contain cogency and colour and never betray lack of pre-meditation or presentation. He rarely sleeps when long vigils are called for. Every strategic move will be adopted for winning a point: every resource resorted to for gaining his object. His opponent fears to successfully withstand him, when he is put down for moving a resolution.

Politics being his sole pursuit in life, he does not feel himself overburdened by it. Art and music have their place in the scheme of his many diversions. He loves to display his versatility. The Sanskrit and Tamil amateur dramatic stages have had a peculiar attraction for him from his boyhood. His natural gifts find him an easy prey to the consuming desire of winning applause at every turn. His acting is at its best when the part chosen by him is in line with his own prominent qualities. He is impressive as an impetuous Asvathama and unsurpassed as an indignant Sarngrava. His pre-disposition for declamation and passion clothe him in good form, when the audience needs spirit and flame on the stage.

It may look somewhat unusual that a man of his impatience or inflammable temper could ever have the softness to be ensnared by music and more so by that of the feminine voice. He has an inborn inclination to be moved to great emotions. A good concert generally fails not to impress him. His knowledge of its intricacies may be limited, but his desire to appreciate its delicacies is abundant.

Born with every fine attribute for a life of ease and aesthetic enjoyment, his career as a Congressman has left his deeper desires unsatisfied. He loves to lead others and distinguish himself wherever he be, whether in the vast assemblies of men or on the stage. The spirit of self-abnegation and discipline, so strongly advocated by the Gandhian creed, finds him unwilling to yield himself to its influence. His manhood thirsts not for self-reformation but for wresting power from a determined foe. Progressive as he is in his political slogans, conservative he has grown by experience. Though, in the plenitude of his youth, he once followed modern ways in the wake of Western fashions, he has given up everything foreign to him and his race with the pledging of his faith to the cause of inning Swaraj for his country.

“The man who cannot be loud, or even vociferous, on occasion, is wanting on the jovial side of good fellowship,” wrote Leigh Hunt in his short essay on “Table-Talk”. Mr. Satyamurthi does not stop there but makes thinking aloud his prime care. He does everything in public. His sharp remarks and trenchant observations create for him enemies in every field of activity. At, home his sway is of a stern kind. He rarely allows anything to pass unnoticed by himself. Even his little daughter must choose the hour for her, tyranny over him. He may suddenly explode with a strong expression or develop into a heartless censor.

As a host he is kind, as a conversationalist effective. There is almost a straight question from his lips when he greets you for the first time in the day. With young and old he engages in earnest discussions. The younger more particularly invigorate him. Free and hearty, he is entertaining to all in no little measure.

Perhaps few others have so much impressed the outer world of the immense potentialities of South India in the realm of mass-moving oratory as Mr. Satyamurthi. His name conjures up in the interior of the Tamil land a picture of animation combined with the full articulation of a nation’s indignation against the wrongs done to it. He is supremely emotional anti his deeper springs bubble with love for his race and its religion. His faith lies rooted in the ancient books and he fondly repeats many a pity verse from them. He wields his mother-tongue with the same force and deftness as his English. He sends thrills through the vibrant frames of many a fervent youth. He is among the first-born of Renascent India.

In a free country, Mr. Satyamurthi would any day realise his permanent rewards. His powerful tongue and alert intellect can divert the fruitful sources of our national culture into channels of universal recognition. His glowing spirit never deserts him despite the conflicts he is sometimes engaged in. He thinks for himself and speaks for others.

(From “Persons and Personalities” by K. Chandrasekharan 1932)

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