Heralds of the Dawn¹

BY THE EDITOR

Gurazada Appa Rao: A 'Herald of the Dawn'

In tracing the history of the literary Renaissance in Andhra, we have to take note of the fact that, for over two centuries, there has been no Ruling Prince specially devoted to the cause of Andhra culture. The Nizam rules over a large Telugu population, but he is not a patron of Telugu poets, like some of the Kutub Shahis of Golconda. The Maharajah of Mysore has some Telugu subjects, but he is pre-eminently a patron of Kannada literature. The Andhra Zamindars have done something recent years for Telugu men of letters, but with notable exceptions, they have other and far more engrossing interests in life than the cause of learning. The nearest approach to a culture-state in Andhra was the Vizianagaram Raj in the palmy days of Sri Ananda Gajapathi. Statesman, scholar and philanthropist, this ‘Prince Charming’ of his day reproduced in his capital, on however humble a scale, the glories of the Courts of Raja Raja Chalukya and Krishna Deva Raya. The brilliant coterie that gathered round him–Kasinatha Sastri, the Sanskrit savant; Venkataramanadas, the master of the vina; Narayanadas, the accomplished bhagavathar; Ramanujachari, the finest flower of Anglo-Sanskrit culture–reminds one of the gems that adorned the other Vijayanagara of a by-gone age. Younger than these giants, but by his dreams and by his achievement destined to be the forerunner of the Andhra Renaissance, was Gurazada Appa Rao–verily, a Herald of the Dawn.

Brought up in the traditions of luxurious Court, Appa Rao developed an exquisite taste. His sense of the beautiful in Art and Literature was remarkable. In other and happier times, he would have been a distinguished poet-diplomat, accompanying his royal master in his triumphant military marches and beguiling the Monarch's leisure by the extempore recitation of verse and song. But this joy was denied to him: and Appa Rao with all the genius of a Peddana, –poet-laureate of Krishnaraya–had to be content with a humble private-secretaryship, even as Ananda Gajapathi, with the makings of a warrior and statesman, was but the biggest of Zamindars, denied even the doubtful glory of maintaining a battalion of the Imperial Service Troops.

Appa Rao was a graduate of the Madras University, but unlike most graduates of his generation, he was a first-rate Sanskrit and Telugu scholar. And, too, his study of the classics of English literature was intimate and discerning. He had unbounded admiration for the English lyric poets of the early 19th Century, and felt that if Telugu literature was to be a life-giving flood, the decadent prabandha ought to give place to the lyric. In common with Gidugu Ramamurti and others, he raised the standard of revolt against the archaic prose-style, brought into fashion by Chinnayya Suri, devoid of all flexibility and grace, and divorced from

the spoken language of the cultured Telugus of the modern age. The bridging of the gulf between the spoken and the written Telugu, and the exaltation of the lyric into a distinct literary form–these are Appa Rao's contributions to the Andhra Renaissance.

His published works are few. To most Andhras, he is known as the author of that remarkable social satire–the ‘Kanya Sulkam’. But the play is long and rambling; there is no unity in the plot; the end is tame and unconvincing In spite of its brilliant dialogue, and its faithful portrayal of certain phases of contemporary life, the ‘Kanya Sulkam’ is not the highest expression of Appa Rao's genius. The style of the play has given rise to serious misunderstanding. It is an exact reproduction of the local dialect of the Vizagapatam District, and wonderfully true to life. But the opponents of the reform of Telugu prose seize upon this as a sample of the ‘standard spoken Telugu’ which the reformers are advocating. They charge Appa Rao and his school with having attempted to import into the language of books all the mannerisms, yea, vulgarisms of a local dialect. But it is clear that the language of the play was intended as the language of farce, in the same way that Viresalingam's farces reflect the spoken language of Rajahmundry and around. For purposes of other and more serious forms of literary expression, the reformers want, not an exact reproduction of, but a close approximation to, the spoken speech. The ‘Kanya Sulkam’ has already attained the position of a classic, and few there be in Andhra Desa that do not admire it and its hero, Girisam.

Appa Rao's poems and songs lie scattered in the old volumes of extinct journals like the Andhra Bharathi, and no attempt has so far been made to publish a collected edition. They have, nevertheless, cast a spell over the rising poets of Andhra, like Krishna Sastri, Nanduri Subba Rao and Basavaraju Appa Rao. His new metre–‘The Garland of Pearls’–is eminently suited to narrative poetry, as is evident from his immortal poems–the ‘Kanyaka’, and the ‘Dream of Lavana Raju’. Lofty sentiments expressed in homely yet telling phrases are strewn all through his poems. Time and again, he gives expression to poignant regret that he had worn himself out in vain yearnings after the ‘fruits of the Empyrean’ while he spurned with contempt the beauteous things that lay right around him. This is a reference to his early love for classical literature, either Sanskrit or highly sanskritised Telugu. The ineffable beauty and grace of the native Telugu idiom had been lost on him till late in life. But he made ample amends by enshrining it in a series of beautiful poems. There are few things in Telugu literature finer than the closing lines of ‘Kanyaka’ in which the proud Vaisya maiden curses her would-be ravisher and flings herself into the flames:

" If thou art a Monarch and ruleth thy Realm,

Is there not One Above that ruleth all Monarchs?"

or where King Lavana in his dream woos a maid ‘of low degree’ and being warned by her that she is a mala (pariah), declares passionately :-

"There are, amongst men, but two castes–the good and the bad,

If the mala doth belong to the good, then am I content to be a mala"

Love for the lowly and the down-trodden was, with Appa Rao, but another phase of his love for the despised and long neglected native idiom of the Telugu language. He once burst out into an invective against those that saw no beauty in his poems and said:

"How should the charms of beauteous women appeal

to those that are enamoured of wooden dolls?"

Persecuted for his literary ‘heresies’ and cut off in the prime of life, Appa Rao's end was infinitely sad. But the seed that Appa Rao has sown is bearing abundant fruit. The ideals for which he lived and died are winning splendid recognition, And as the centuries roll by, a grateful posterity will cherish his memory as that of the harbinger of a new and glorious era in the world of Telugu Letters.

II

From Vizianagaram to Madras, it is indeed a far cry. But the absence of a separate Province and Metropolis for Andhra made it inevitable that some of our foremost literary men should gather at Madras, the common capital for Andhras and Tamils, where unfortunately neither Telugu nor Tamil culture is found at its highest. If a series of fortuitous circumstances had not huddled the southern sub-nations together into the polyglot Province of Madras, Madura or Trichinopoly on the one hand, and Guntur or Rajahmundry on the other, would have obtained the primacy as the cultural and political capitals of their respective areas. Poona is the cultural capital of Maharashtra, Calcutta of Vanga, Karachi of Sindh, and Cuttack of Utkal, but the cultural life of the Tamils and the Telugus is divided as between a number of second-rate towns, none of which enjoys an acknowledged pre-eminence. Scholars like Vedam Venkataraya Sastri, Kokkonda Venkataratnam, Viresalingam Pantulu, Vavilakolanu Subba Rao, Chilukuri Veerabhadra Rao and Chennapragada Bhanumurti, spent the best years of their lives in Madras. The University and the Colleges, the Oriental Manuscripts Library and the Translator's Office, absorbed the best brains of Andhra Desa. It was, therefore, in the fitness of things that K. V. Lakshmana Rao, Andhra by birth and Maratha by domicile, should have found his way to this City of Chennappa Nayak to accomplish the great mission of his life–the opening up of new vistas of glory to his Andhra countrymen.

Lakshmana Rao came of a family of hereditary Dewans of Munaga1a in the Kistna District, but his early life was spent in Maharashtra and more particu1arly at Nagpur, where he took his M. A. Degree. He was an ardent student of Marathi literature and, to his last day, he cherished a profound regard and admiration for the history and cu1ture of Maharashtra. In fact, his first attempts at 1iterary expression were in Marathi. He contributed frequently to Marathi journals and edited some chronicles in that language. And when he began to write in Telugu, the very first of his productions was an inspiring life of the maker of the Maratha Nation–Chatrapathi Shivaji. Besides Marathi and Telugu, Lakshmana Rao mastered Sanskrit, Hindi and English. He was almost the first Andhra to realise the supreme Importance, for purposes of nation-building, of a study of other Indian languages. In that direction, according to him, lay the path to inter-provincial harmony and the federation of Indian cultures.

Lakshmana Rao was fortunate in that he had a master who realised his worth, and left him ample leisure for his favourite pursuits. The young Rajah Saheb of Munagala relieved his gifted Dewan from the dreary routine of his office and permitted him to spend the greater part of every year at Madras in close proximity to the Museum and the Manuscripts Library. Lakshmana Rao soon drew towards himself a group of young men of his own age, and inspired like him by a passionate desire to serve the Motherland –Ramalinga Reddi, Harisarvothama Rao, Kaleswara Rao, Lakshmipathi, Viswanatha Sarma and the late lamented Ravichettu Ranga Rao of Hyderabad. The publication in the mother-tongue of high-class works on History, Economics, Politics and the Physical Sciences was their immediate task. The Vijnana Chandrika series was the outcome of their devoted labours. Amongst the most valuable of their publications was Veerabhadra Rao's epoch-making ‘History of the Andhras’ which contributed in no small measure to the awakening of the dormant national consciousness of the Andhras. Historical novels like Velala Subba Rao's ‘Ranee Samyukta’ and Raghavachandriah's ‘Vijayanagara Samrajyam’ presented for the first time the stirring episodes of Indian history in a picturesque setting. Lakshmana Rao was Editor-in-chief of the series as well as the author of two excellent volumes on Indian history–the Hindu and Mohammedan periods–incorporating the results of the latest research and couched in his crystal-clear and charming Telugu style. He never lived to complete this magnum opus of his career, for he was snatched away while yet engaged on the Maratha Period. This was indeed an irreparable loss, for no other Andhra is even half as well-equipped as Lakshmana Rao for the task of writing the History of the race of Shivaji and Nana Fadnavis.

Lakshmana Rao and his friends planned a Telugu Encyclopedia and even published the first few volumes. It was conceived on a magnificent scale and executed with the utmost care. But Lakshmana Rao passed away, while the most important of the volumes on ‘Andhra’ was in preparation, and the task of completing the ‘Vijnana Sarvasvam’ was left as a noble legacy to his Andhra countrymen.

Lakshmana Rao's prime passion was for original historical research. It was marvelous how he pored over old inscriptions on stone, copper-plate grants, and palmyra manuscripts turned yellow with age. They revealed all their hidden treasures to his master-mind and enabled him to throw fresh light on many dark corners of South Indian history. Most epigraphists and numismatists lack imagination and fail to see the wood for the trees. The minute details of the history of a period blind them to the significance of broader issues in national history. But Lakshmana Rao had a vision which lifted him high above his compeers. As a historian, he combined in himself the accuracy of Freeman with the brilliance of Froude, the laborious research of Sarkar with the patriotic fervour of Ranade. During his latter years, he invited a young man of brilliant parts and of lofty enthusiasm to collaborate with him in his work. Thus it was that, when Lakshmana Rao was suddenly removed from the scene of his labours, his mantle fell without an inter regnum on his son and successor in the spirit, M. Somasekhara Sarma.

If Appa Rao is the forerunner of the Literary Renaissance and the inspirer of the younger poets of our day, Lakshmana Rao is the father of Andhra nationalism–the nationalism that is born of a correct appreciation of the past of the race and of its possibilities in the future.

III

Unlike Vizianagaram, Masulipatam is not the residence of a Prince; nor is it, like Madras, the capital of a Province. The general belief seems to be that its soil is as arid as that of the Sahara; that its climate, like that of Baeotia, does not make for intellectual alertness; that its citizens are dull, naturally dull.’ One ingenious student put it down in black and white in the course of an examination paper that Masulipatam was famous for just two things–pigs and prickly-pear. And yet, out of this modern Nazareth, something good did come, and no account of the Andhra Renaissance would be complete, if it left out the rich and varied contribution of old ‘Machili Bandar.’

It is strange, yet true, that mere accidents sometimes influence the destiny of great movements. And the presence of Venkataratnam Naidu at the Noble College, Masulipatam, was one of such accidents. A brilliant galaxy of young men sat at his feet and drew inspiration from his life of singular nobleness and purity. Dr. Ramakrishna Rao, Pattabhi Sitaramayya, Mutnuri Krishna Rao, Mokkapati Subbarayudu and Kopalle Hanumantha Rao, have figured prominently in various fields of national endeavour and played their parts in the cultural and political life of the Andhras.

Yet another accident was the employment of the Poet and Satavadhani, Venkata Sastri, as a Telugu Pandit in the Hindu High School. After his repeated triumphal marches and poetical tournaments allover the Telugu country and beyond, in company with Tirupati Kavi, his life-long friend and brother-poet, Venkata Sastri settled down at Masulipatam for a long spell of fifteen years. Poetry was the very breath of his being. He was a past master in the art of composing verse extempore. As a conversationalist and public speaker, he had few equals. Wherever he went, men flocked round him and listened with rapture to his poems and his genial talk. There was something fascinating even in the way that he recited Telugu verse. In those days, poetry seemed to fill the atmosphere of Masulipatam with its magic perfume. Pingali Lakshmikantham, Katuri Venkateswara Rao, Viswanatha Satyanarayana and a number of others first turned verse in imitation of him, and later on took their rightful places among the poets of the Renaissance.

Trained in a different atmosphere and worshipping other gods, Kopalle Hanumantha Rao, the scholar and the dreamer, was in some respects the most arresting figure in the Renaissance movement. Like Lakshmana Rao, he was the son of a Dewan; like him too, he was an ardent admirer of Western culture; in joyous dedication to the service of the country, both were alike. But in his surpassing love of the beautiful, and his readiness to sacrifice his all for the sake of an ideal, Hanumantha Rao is truly beyond compare.

Hanumantha Rao was far in advance of his age. And he was a practical idealist. After a brilliant university career, he served for a short period as Assistant Botanist to Government but returned to Masulipatam to practise at the bar. The comparative ease and opulence of a mofussil lawyer, however, were not for him. In the early days of the Nationalist movement, just after the partition of Bengal, Musulipatam became the storm-centre of Andhra politics. Hanumantha Rao's sensitive soul was stirred to its depths. He longed to give himself to the country's cause, and when the idea of a Jatheeya Kalasala–National College–was mooted after Bepin Babu's visit, Hanumantha Rao renounced his practice, organised the new institution, and became its first principal.

The rest of his all-too-brief life was devoted to the building up of the Kalasala as a great centre of culture. His incessant begging tours, his pre-occupation with the administrative and financial work of the institution, the untold–but not unfelt–anxiety to keep the Kalasala going, the weary waiting at the doors of the rich and the powerful, –all these left him little time to organise the purely literary side of the institution. This explains in a large measure the failure of the Kalasala to satisfy the intellectual aspirations of Andhra youth or to make a distinctive contribution to the Literary Renaissance. Hanumantha Rao was obliged to work with men who were no doubt earnest and well-meaning, but devoid of great talents or of a penetrating vision. But there are certain achievements of the Kalasala, for which lovers of culture ought to feel grateful.

Hanumantha Rao was an admirer of Ruskin and of Ruskin's economic theories. With Ruskin, he believed in the supreme value of handicrafts in the perfecting and ennobling of man; Masulipatam had long been famous for its beautiful carpets and its more beautiful palampores. But these arts were dying out for want of patronage except from a few cultivated foreigners. Cheapish machine-made prints and ugly inartistic furniture flooded every home and killed out all sense of beauty. Hanumantha Rao sought out a talented Mohammedan craftsman and set up some carpet-looms in the Kalasala. From the spinning of the raw wool to the preparation of the vegetable dyes, every process connected with the industry was carried out within the Kalasala. No pains were spared to make the carpets the finest of their kind. It is a rare pleasure to stand by the lowly Panchama students working at the loom and watch the thing of beauty grow under your eyes. Theirs indeed is the joy of the creative artist. Hanumantha Rao's one great delight was to take round visitors to the carpet-looms and show them the marvelous beauty of design and the richness of colour which won the Kalasala carpets well-deserved fame allover India. To him, the carpets were dearer than words could tell.

With the advent of the Non-cooperation movement and the era of khaddar, the Kalasala opened a cloth-printing and dyeing section. When first the productions of this section were exhibited at Bombay, they created quite a sensation. Then was revealed to the astonished gaze of people in all provinces the infinite possibilities of artistic khaddar. And today, the whole of India has copied the example of the Kalasala.

Hanumantha Rao was an early convert to the views of E. B. Havell, Rabindranath Tagore and Ananda Coomaraswami as regards the revival of Indian Art. Coomaraswami personally visited the Kalasala soon after its inception and was deeply impressed with the work that was being carried on. There must have been long and intimate talks between him and Hanumantha Rao about Indian painting and handicrafts. Hanumantha Rao was ever after anxious to open a section of oriental painting in the Kalasala, but this dream of his was realised only after his passing away. The work of Promode Kumar Chatterjee, Ramendranath Chakravarti and their students at the Jatheeya Kalasala forms a land-mark in the history of the Renaissance of Indian Art, Ram Mohan and Ananda Mohan, Bapiraju and Vusudevan, Sundaramurti and Subba Rao, Malliah and Venkataratnam, have to their credit a record of artistic achievement of which any province may feel proud There is a tradition current that Hanumantha Rao's noble spirit hovers over the institution he had reared with such love. Inmates of the Kalasala roaming about the beautiful grounds or stretching themselves on the silver-white sands during moonlit nights, whisper with awe that in the Hanumantharaya Chitra Mandir,–the art gallery named after him–the founder's spirit is wont to sit and muse as in the days when he lived on earth, and gaze with infinite joy at the paintings that adorn the walls. It would be sacrilege to question a belief at once so beautiful and ennobling.

Sacrifices like Hanumantha Rao's can never go in vain. And the Kalasala, despite temporary lapses, will once again rear its head and fulfill the dreams of its illustrious founder. Hanumantha Rao wrote never a verse, but he had the poet's soul; he never painted a picture, but he had the artist's vision; he was not an orator, but there was more eloquence in a single quiet expression of his than in all the long-winded speeches of smaller men. He dreamed golden dreams and laid down his life that those dreams might come true: