ENGLISH

Modern Marathi Short Stories. Edited by B. G. Shinde. (Published by B. G. Shinde, Saroj Prakasthan, 249, Sharad Villa, Bombay, 19). Copies obviously can be had on applying to Mr. B. G. Shinde. Price not made known.

Speaking for myself, because I cannot claim to speak for certain others in literary matters, and there are plenty of them for whom the gods that made them must some day apologise, I must say that this collection of translations into English of some modern Marathi short stories, published by Mr. Shinde, evokes in me an enthusiasm which nothing else literary, of recent times, written by an Indian, or published by an Indian, in India or abroad, in English or in an Indian language, roused in me. I am so emphatic about this that I cease to think of the impropriety of my praising afresh, in these review columns, a publication that pays me the compliment of printing my opinion of Mr. Shinde’s fine publishing venture on the book’s coverlet! Living in a literary India that sees Tchehovs in R. K. Narayans, it pains me to think that a volume like the one I am now reviewing might miss the notice of the high and the mighty in the world of well-sold newspapers. There can be nothing more agonisingly awkward than that an Indian, who speaks his own mother-tongue in his home, should attempt writing stories or novels about Indian life in English, and that some one else, ignorant and dark of mind, should talk of them as precious delineations of Indian society! If, added to this, there is flaunted, in the face of the literary world, the monstrous view, be it even in a most insignificant preface to a not too significant book, that the great Tagore, who created magnificent works of art in the language he spoke in his home, was a fake, and that the latest adventurer playing with English syntax, is a Tchehov, there is an end to tolerance. It is time one realised that Tchehov’s place in the world’s literature is quite unlike the claims of an Indian who, even apart from his astounding lack of depth, must, because of his choice of a foreign medium, only play with the surface of life in India, so as to be able to present, maybe the whole surface, but still only the surface, to an admiring, non-Indian audience to whom anything more Indian than the inanities of Mrs. F. E. Penny, of honoured memory, is gloriously Indian! The wise men who see Tchehov in Mr. R. K. Narayan do not know their Tchehov–and do not know their India.

And that is why this collection of modern Marathi short stories appeals to me as a step in the right direction as far as the growth of literatures in the Indian languages is concerned. It is not that I cannot see the flaws in the publication, and, more, the flaws, too in many of the stories collected here for translation. But one thing is beyond doubt. Each story is a genuine attempt to interpret the various social forces at work in modern India. It is the authentic voice of literary India: not less authentic because some of the stories are crude, and some even immature. A few of the stories, of course, are perfect chiselled pieces. Mr. Phadke, I have always thought, is a master-craftsman, and, if his story, Chandra, in this collection, is very, very good, (and the Triveni published it a year or so ago) the story of his I liked best is one called Love’s Interlude, or perhaps just The Interlude, published in the Triveni two or three years ago, which can rank with the world’s best. Mr. Phadke has understanding, imagination, balance of mind, and excellent technique. He deserves more notice from the literary public in India than half a dozen Mr. R. K. Narayans reckoned together. Mr. Chinchlikar’s story about a bit of a pencil is done in bad English at places, but it is a highly interesting and amusing story, and betrays no signs of crudeness or immaturity. Most of the other stories are ambitious attempts by very promising writers, but failing at one point or another towards the end of the story: in fact, just failing to be successful literary pieces. This must be said in particular of the stories: The Guardian Angel by Mrs. Krishnabai, The Queen of the Night, Two Hearts and The Ordeal. The last mentioned story struck me as one with beautiful possibilities, destroyed in its beauty by a melodramatic turn where the poor girl’s stupid ordeal begins, and an ugly and needless unreality swamps all else out. The story of the prostitute, Rakhmabai, is well-conceived. Only, I think the author should have made the prostitute throw away the rupees into the street instead of merely into a corner of her room. The point about her searching for the money later would have been more effective, if she started searching with a torch-light or a lantern in the street.

Apart from the substance of the stories and the criticism thereof, it is my regretful duty to point out that the publication leaves something to be desired otherwise. It is necessary that the names of the writers should be mentioned not only on the page of contents, but also on the pages on which the stories begin. Also, there should be more correlation between the page of contents and the contents themselves: more of it than to leave it possible for the last story to be called Two Hearts in the page of contents and The Heart where the story is actually printed. These may appear to be but slight inelegancies, but meticulous attention to these details will enhance the value of the publication, and a publishing scheme like Mr. Shinde’s, which contemplates publishing more such valuable volumes in future, should be more careful about details of elegant publication.

BURRA V. SUBRAHMANYAM

"The Poetry of Valmiki" By Masti Venkatesa Iyengar (Price Rs. 3-12-0 Address: 43-44, Gavipur Extensions, Basavangudi Post, Bangalore City.)

A book with the title that the present volume bears is sure to create expectations of the usual type of appreciation, written by an Indian to satisfy the ‘standards supposed to be set by Western masters’ of literary criticism. But the author has followed a method which combines originality of approach to a vast subject as the Ramayana of Valmiki with a precision that is the strength of Sanskritists.

In evaluating such literary criticism of this "major item in the heritage of India," much could be said both by way of encouragement and disparagement. The idea of a literary criticism of the Ramayana is itself to be welcomed, especially in a country like ours, where the Ramayana has been more often read as a religious text than appreciated as a great poem. Again, we appreciate Masti Venkatesa Iyengar’s arrangement of the various aspects of the poetry of Valmiki, as would impress a highly refined and well equipped modern literary mind. But there is the other side of the picture. Few could resist the eternal beauties of the epic in the original, which fail to re-live in our memory in a translation of the verses however well rendered. Moreover, many may deem the attempt at a narration of the story of the Ramayana as purely elementary in form and content. Yet the thoughtful among us need no great persuasion to admire the simplicity, which is the crowning virtue of any real art, marking almost every line from the pen of Masti Venkatesa Iyengar. His is not the recondite scholar’s discourse on the fascinating problems offered by the Ramayana. Nor is his a mere repetition of what critics have already expressed on the subject. He has chosen the correct course for himself in presenting the Ramayana, signified more as poetry than as a religious text. In this he has done us distinct service.

As we peruse the concluding chapter entitled "Salutation to the Poet," a natural feeling occurs to us: "Why should this chapter be at the end? And why not at the beginning?" The following sentences occurring in that chapter: "Will you have rather your Indian empire or your Shakespeare?’ asked Carlyle, imagining a, situation, and said that he would rather give up the Indian empire than Shakespeare. Indians have no Empire to lose: they have only Valmiki and his like," stir our hearts and our very being, making us realise at once with the author that Valmiki’s "large heart, open mind, deep vision and rich utterance came from this population." Indeed, we find the ideals set up by Valmiki given expression to in various lives at various times, which give us continued proof of the persistence of a great civilisation amidst us.

The chief merit of this book lies in the delightful perception of the truth that "the Ramayana first went to the people as a poem. Religion thereafter took hold of it. To release it from this hold and treat it again as a poem is to do it service. When all is said and done, religions in the wide expanse of history are houses of lac built for a day. Now or a little later they are bound to burn and disappear. If the law of life stays in them it is sure to come to harm. It is in the power of poetry alone to save it from injury; and by claiming poetry as poetry we help to make righteousness permanent." Wise words these are, and more fitting introductory lines could not have been chosen for a critical appreciation of our Adi Kavya.

In the sixteen chapters here devoted to an analytical examination of the poetry of Valmiki, we have got, interspersed here and there, narrations of the story, in order perhaps to give a sense of completeness to the reader, and especially to the foreign reader who may not be as familiar as we are with the episodes of Rama’s life. The character delineation of the important personages in the Ramayana naturally attracts our attention, and we are made to feel the masterly strokes of the poet, which reveal the utmost that human nature is capable of, both for good and for bad. What the great Shakespeare is too often praised for in his tragedies as the crowing achievement of his understanding of human psychology, seems to have come quite as naturally and as easily of divining to this ancient poet of our land. And what is more is Valmiki’s deft art, which brings in, at every stage in his grand narration of Rama’s life, the life of the forest, and of the birds and flowers. Nature lives again and again, comforting and pacifying man in his various moods, and the message of Valmiki to posterity strikes us to be that man and nature living closely together will be the sole panacea for all the ills that man is heir to, otherwise. Mr. Masti Venkatesa Iyengar has, with true poetic insight, selected portions of Valmiki’s descriptions of nature, which defy the best description of it in any other language known to us, or in the same by other poets that followed Valmiki. The chapters on the poet’s "Skill of Narration" "Civilisation and Culture", "Some Questions". "The Valuation of Valmiki" and "The Good and the Sacred", have for us much significance as the valuable results of fresh thinking upon an old, old subject. No doubt, the author’s theories regarding interpolations in the text may not attract the same amount of agreement among scholars and students who have made a special study of the Ramayana as must his critical appreciation in general of the many aspects of the poetry of Valmiki.

The need for a book of this kind from one who is out and out an Indian at heart, and a lucid writer and creative thinker in addition, has been long desired. True it is, as Mr. Venkatesa Iyengar himself feels, that "in days of loss and depression, when patience with opponents seems to bring one nothing better than exile and destitution, people very naturally question, if patience is the right article. Indians see the West enjoy more comfort and, contrasting with that comfort, the poverty and suffering of their own people, are likely to doubt if Valmiki’s prescription is the right one." To this question and doubt we cannot give a better answer than what is again contained in this book, in such plain and yet valuable words, namely, "Indians today see good in terms of western achievement; they have lost their heart to the beauty of western civilisation, much as Sita lost her heart to the golden deer. ‘How bright, how beautiful is its face!’ We send our soul in "pursuit of it and wish to have it, as Sita did the golden deer, dead if not alive. The beauty and brightness to which we lost our hearts are, however, illusion; even if not illusion, they cannot be ours. We may be prepared to own them dead, and press the pursuit, but What we shall get for all our trouble is only a monster’s corpse. Evil in Indian society today should not make its wise men question the fundamentals of this civilisation. Apparent beauty in another civilisation should not lead them to believe in the fundamentals of that civilisation in preference to this one. The evil in Indian life proves that something has to be done to improve that life; but that something has to be evolved from within by thought and by pursuing India’s natural bent in growth."

The Ramayana is daily food to many in this country. But few have tried to take it to the rest of the world, while holding fast to its teachings. If Masti Venkatesa Iyengar has enabled us to see for ourselves that Valmiki, as a great teacher, has influenced Indian society deeply so far, We need have no doubt that it is also the best way in which he could show the rest of the world how valuable is the teaching of the Indian Poet.

K. CHANDRASEKHARAN

A Woman of India. (Being the Life of Saroj Nalini) By G. S. Dutt, Indian Civil Service. Price Rs. 2. Printed at the Wesley Press and Publishing House, Mysore City. (Third Edition of an Oxford University Press Publication.)

The late Mr. G. S. Dutt, of the Indian Civil Service, in this most attractively got up, well-rendered and brief biography of his wife, gave us a very intelligent picture of a remarkable woman who in her life, did not sacrifice either the home to society or society to the home; of an intelligent woman whose advanced views were discriminately tempered with keen understanding, commonsense and caution; of a sincere woman who appreciated and believed in the necessity for a change in the manner of women’s lives, but also realised the value of beautiful traditions of the past; of a great woman whose gospel was that the ultimate truths of life can be reached only by the Path of love and not of mere reason; of a noble woman whose passionate ambition was to organise the entire womanhood of Bengal for their educational, social and economic emancipation; of a woman with foresight and vision, whose message to her motherland was that only education, the creation of living ideals of true social service in the home, and genuine public spirit could restore the unparalleled glory of ancient India; and of a spirited feminist and social reformer, who yet could be a tireless housewife, a devoted wife and a disciplined mother.

The first eight chapters of the book are a unit by themselves, that could be called "True Love’s Achievement." The last chapter is one of absorbing interest, for it deals in detail with the Women’s Institute movement (Mahila Samitis)–which is the living symbol of Srimathi Saroj Nalini’s inspiration, enthusiasm and devotion.

The publication of the present edition is timely, as we are in the throes of a great awakening among the women of India. And Srimathi Saroj Nalini’s views about Indian womanhood, the remodeling of the schemes of women’s education, the caste system, village uplift, the Purdah system, child marriages, and the remarriage of child-widows, would be valuable guides to the reformers who carry on the very difficult task of the social liberation of Indian women.

This book should be read by every man and woman in India.

SRIMATHI V. T. LAKSHMI

TELUGU

"Rajaji Chitti Kadhalu"–Published by A. S. Kuppuswami, Giddalure, Kurnool Dt. Price Re. 1.

It is rarely that a politician of the first rank is also an artist of high quality. That Rajaji (Mr. C. Rajagopalachari, Ex-Premier of Madras,) is one of the foremost leaders of the Indian National Congress and a very busy politician is universally recognised; but that he is an artist, capable of creating beautiful short stories, is not so universally recognised. Usually busy national leaders are too busy with their work to attend to the fine arts and to put forth their creative energy to create something beautiful. It is no doubt true that all those who have heard Rajaji speak are struck with the wealth and variety of apt parables nicely studded in his speech. Most of them, if not all, are original, but to set them down in black and white and make them artistic pieces is not an easy matter, and Rajaji has succeeded in it to a remarkable extent.

The book under review contains ten short stories. They are frankly propagandist in their nature. They deal with the various problems now confronting the villagers. The ruin of home industries owing to the establishment of factories, the unemployment resulting therefrom the Harijan problem, the evils of drink, the caste system, Khadi propaganda, and malpractices in elections, are some of the problems that are dealt with in these short stories.

One story depicts how the home industry of hand-loom weaving in Salem was ruined, as a result of which a girl named Devana was driven through sheer starvation to beggary and prostitution. Another story shows that unless the right spirit of service infused, mere money and place acquired by a Hanjan would alienate his sympathies from his caste and make him useless to the community. In another story a vivid description is given of how a man goes down the depths of degradation, and arrives at ruin and imprisonment, when he takes to drink. That Khaddar is not a new innovation introduced by Gandhiji but is only an exhortation to follow in the foot-steps of our ancestors, is the theme of another story. The various tactics and manoeuvres that we usually witness in Local Board and Municipal elections are depicted in another story. The rest of the stories deal with various aspects of the Harijan problem.

Thus all the stories deal with vital problems affecting the present and future of our country. They are stories with a message but that does not mean that they have no intrinsic value as stories. The descriptions are vivid, the incidents are well chosen, and the story interest is kept up unflaggingly till the end. Even as stories and as pieces of literary production, they are of a high order. The style of the Telugu translation is simple and direct. It can easily be understood by almost everybody who can read and write. The few words which are exclusively used in the Ceded Districts do not detract from the beauty of the style; on the other hand they enhance it.

Such stories as these playa prominent part in awakening the public to the needs of the day. They deserve to be read by everybody. The printing is excellent, but the price, Re. 1, is a bit high–not that the book deserves less, but that it may prove too much for the poor villagers. A cheap popular addition may meet the need.

SOMANCHI LINGAYYA

BENGALI

A Pondicherry Novelist ¹

Bengali poetry and novel have not lost the tinge of romanticism in spite of the flood of realism that is sweeping over literature in almost all countries. But the days of pure romance are over. The pronounced tendency is analytical. The technique is almost the same in the writings of all Bengali novelists. The attention is not on events and actions but on mental reactions. The days of grand passions, thrilling events and mighty actions are over. The royalty or aristocracy is no longer the hero. Commoners are the subject-matter of characters; their mentality is portrayed with all deftness and skill, and the mental eddies followed with meticulous care.

This may lead to mere psycho-analytical experimentations and produce nothing creative. Cynicism may become the chief note. One may simply play bagatelle with the principal theme–love. And soon novels may appear drab except for their story values. By this, one may of course serve the cause of realism; but too much of it blunts emotions and feelings, and the writer has nothing more worthwhile to do than to portray a few mental currents and cross-currents and show his deftness of style. At this stage romance may come to the rescue–romance not merely in the romantic sense but as the quest of the unknown. You feel thereby a new throb in your heart, your nobler emotions are stirred, a new mental horizon widens, and you hear the music of a new sphere.

This neo-romanticism is the key-note- of the writings of two Bengali novelists of Pondicherry–Dilip Kumar Roy and Jyotirmala Devi. I am inclined to the opinion that in pure romanticism the latter excels the former. She revels in it in her first novel "Rakta Golap" (Red Rose), but comes to a broader and deeper and richer view of life in the second–"Sandhane" (In Quest). But both are following more or less the same technique. The stress is not on events but on the revelation of personalities through them. This is not the occasion to deal with Dilip Roy, and a comparison is not intended. Still, one must refer to some of Roy’s fine novels, like "Ranger Parash", "Dola" and "Ascharya."

Both Dilip Kumar and Jyotirmala are not concerned with problems and their solutions. In fact, they leave the problem unsolved. The tangle is illumined, the issues become clear but they need no finale. You may call it a tragedy–love unfulfilled, according to the commonsense view, no ‘happily living ever after.’ But it is not all tragedy, no grim frustration. The characters are left amidst sublime pathos, but they are shown in a halo of glow, with their inner selves revealed, their outlook widened and their passions sublimated.

To come to the story: Renu (Nilima) and her distant relation Supriya sail for England to continue their higher studies, and are preceded by Anupam, a cousin of Renu. Supriya is betrothed of her own accord to Anupam, but the marriage is put off at the instance of the latter. This caused a great stir in the family Circle, but Supriya’s father is a large hearted man and gives free scope to the development of the daughter’s personality. Supriya is quite unsophisticated in the ways of life, and thinks that her life’s course is fixed, according to the ideal propounded by Anupam–duty, patriotism, dedication of life to a higher cause. This she reveals during talks with Renu on board the ship.

Her first shock is the pathetic inner history of Renu’s life. Renu chanced to be the object of love of a fine youth named Bimal while she was a student in an upcountry medical school.

She responded with all her heart, but some fortuitous circumstances caused a misunderstanding, she became cold, there was a violent reaction in him. And a grim tragedy smothers Renu’s heart: for he commits suicide. Chance reveals that Nirmal, a cousin of the ill-fated Bimal, is on board the ship, and Renu looks on him with affectionate eyes. Supriya also finds in him, by and by, a psychic companion; in fact, something in him rouses her slumbering soul–it reveals itself from beneath the stratum of an imposed idealism.

All his ways are not pleasing to her. There is a hitch. But he too feels her imperceptible influence and, unknown to Renu for the time being, soul-fascination develops. His attraction for a European girl, Dorothy, wears off, and the light-hearted love making with her gets a quietus. The party thus get down at Marseilles, and are met by Anupam. They go to Paris, where in a garden Nirmal gets an unkind cut from Supriya, and slips out to London where he lives unknown to others, sore at heart, given up in reaction to flippancy and doing some work in painting for which he had originally sailed for England.

Renu goes away to Ireland much to the surprise of Anupam. Anupam and Supriya join Colleges in Cambridge, and once more she tries to reconcile herself inwardly and outwardly to her betrothed. She joins Anupam in his various patriotic activities and becomes very popular among Indian students. Chance again brings her face to face with Nirmal, and at the sight of her he bolts away, to the utter surprise of the party. Renu had come it back in the meanwhile. Nirmal is thoroughly upset and wants to take away Dorothy to some far-off lonely place in southern France or Italy. Dorothy knew him intimately during this period and feels that he loves her not at heart. She avoids him and writes him a touching letter.

To begin life anew in quest of the beauteous, Nirmal retires to Stratford-on-Avon and devotes himself to art. He is happy, but he is again in touch with his friends by a chance meeting with them. He is determined to keep away, but Renu reveals her identity and he cannot leave her as she is developing tuberculosis. At her request he goes with them for a trip to the Lake Districts. Here the old fire is kindled up, and Supriya feels herself more and more drawn into it, and Anupam has come to know of the state of her mind. He too feels the pang, and all his lofty idealism fails to keep his spirit high. He unkindly accuses Renu: the shock proves too much, and she dies. She had a stroke of paralysis shortly before and was recouping. Her last days were sweetened by the love of Prafulla, one of their group.

The tragedy is complete. Nirmal wants to go away; and, strangely, Supriya now gives up all reserve and throws herself entirely into his hands. But Nirmal is now willing; he has learnt real love; his outlook has widened; he would now lead his weary way alone in quest of his deeper self.

The conclusion reminds one of the sublime self-abnegation of Anne in Dilip Kumar’s "Dola"; but the present writer, being a woman, has gone perhaps deeper into the women-characters’ souls. Renu is really a fine creation and one is touched by her life; Lovable is also Nirmal, and the writer reveals his true being amidst the confusion of the surface waves of life. That is why Supriya is subtly attracted to him, for at heart she was in quest of a personality which does not impose itself on another but illumines the soul like a gentle light. Anupam, worldly wise, was an ideal husband, and she knew him from early years. But his planned idealism with a life tuned to a set purpose is repellant to her inmost soul.

The writer has experience of life in England, and this has been thoroughly made use of as the background. This is a novelty in a Bengali novel, introduced first by Dilip Kumar. But the reader never feels ill at ease therefore. For one is attracted not by the background but by the figures in the foreground, nay, their souls at play through varied experiences, in quest of what is beauteous; joyous and free.

PROMODE SEN