BY K. RAMAKOTISWARA RAU

When Lord Willingdon failed, Lord Linlithgow has succeeded. The informal meeting between Gandhiji and the Viceroy is the outward symbol of an inward change in Indo-British relations. Between the 1st of August 1920 when Non-co-operation was launched, and the 1st of August 1937 when the Congress Ministry day was celebrated all over India, the Nation passed through an arduous struggle, and achieved a partial triumph. The fight is by no means over, and Congressmen cannot rest on their oars; but the fight is carried on under new conditions. For the first time after the inception of the Indian National Congress, the representatives of that august body in the Legislatures function not as His Majesty’s Opposition, but as His Majesty’s Government. The Congress Ministers are painfully aware of the limitations of the Constitution, of the depleted finances of the Provinces committed to their charge, and of the heavy responsibility resting on them to redeem the pledges contained in the Congress election manifesto. But the Premiers and their colleagues are seasoned soldiers, utterly unselfish and high-minded, and filled with a love of the common people whose service is their sole aim. It is a case of power being entrusted to those who do not hanker after it, and who while in office will guard the honour of the Nation as a devotee guards a shrine.

In this new phase of the struggle for Swaraj, attention has to be riveted on to the scrapping of the Federation as outlined in the Government of India Act. It must be noted in this connection that Indian hostility is not to the Federal ideal as such: indeed several Indian patriots have yearned for a Federation which will knit together the States and the Provinces, and prevent the growth of an Indian Ulster. Federation is the only method which will reconcile the claims of Indian nationhood with the needs of the different sub-national units, with their distinctive languages, cultures, and traditions; but the Federation that is sought to be imposed on India is a ‘legislative monstrosity’ which will indefinitely put off the day of freedom, by rallying the conservative and reactionary elements against the forces of progress. While large schemes of reconstruction have to be undertaken in every Province, there ought to be a simultaneous drive against the federal part of the new Constitution, and, sooner than we expect, it may be replaced by one after our hearts’ desire. Thus, while the formation of Congress Ministries marks the end of one chapter in our fortunes, it is also the herald of another,–in which the massed strength of the Ministries and the people in the Provinces will provide the momentum for the re-shaping of the Government at the Centre.

The Congress Premiers have displayed great foresight in including younger men in their Cabinets. The experience of the old and the freshness of the young, the ripe wisdom of those who have led the Nation to victory in a limited sphere and the ardent hopes of those who may be trusted to lead it to ultimate victory,–such is the combination which augurs well for the future of the new Cabinets. A story is told of a Muslim ruler of India that he had the Mahabharata read to him in translation, and in the end exclaimed: "I admire two warriors most,–the oldest and the youngest." He was referring to Bhishma and Abhimanyu. Similarly, on the Madras Cabinet, Sjt. C. Rajagopalachariar, the Premier, is the Bhishma, and Gopala Reddi, India’s youngest Minister, is the Abhimanyu. In 1920 when a boycott of courts and schools was declared, ‘C. R.’ gave up his practice at the Bar, and Gopala Reddi gave up his study in the regulation school. For three years he studied at the Andhra Jateeya Kalasala of Masulipatam, and then migrated to Santiniketan where he spent a further period of three years. In both places, he imbibed a love of literature and the fine arts, and learnt to place the service of the Mother-land above any desire for personal distinction. Modest but self-confident, courteous but firm, he has a combination of gifts which will lead him far, and make him a leader of men. It is a great privilege to have been selected at the age of 29 to serve as a Minister, and a yet greater privilege to own ‘C. R.’ as Chief.

As one who taught him for a time at the Kalasala, I am exceedingly proud of Gopala Reddi. And my ambition for him is nothing less than this, that in the larger life of India under Swaraj, it may be given to him to be our Federal Prime Minister. Purer than the joy of doing great things yourself, is the joy of watching them being done by some one dear to you.

A MINISTRY OF FINE ARTS

It is a little disappointing that nowhere in India do we have a Ministry of Fine Arts, though on every Cabinet there are Ministers deeply interested in them. The ideal of a simple life is bound hereafter to colour the national outlook, but with simplicity must be combined beauty. Gandhiji emphasised this point when he urged that simplicity is not the same thing as shoddiness. When dirt, disease, and poverty are being exorcised from the land, the Goddess of Beauty should be welcomed into her rightful place in the home, in the city, and in every sphere of national life. In particular, the colleges which are turning out graduates by the thousand, do not at present minister to the aesthetic sense, either through the structures built at a huge cost, or through the interior decoration of the class-rooms. No music, no painting, no recitation of verse, ennobles the humdrum existence of these institutions. So, starting from the village and its simple needs and working up to the great cities, the Minister of Fine Arts under Congress administrations should seek to restore that sensitivity to beauty which is a common enough gift, but which is apt be stifled in uncongenial surroundings. Some of the Congress leaders are great aesthetes, and that explains how an artist like Sjt. Nandalal Bose was requested to design the Congress camp at Faizpur with its bamboo huts and also the Presidential carriage reminiscent of ancient Indian chariots. While only a few can be actual exponents of the Arts, it is possible for most to love them and cherish them. A Ministry of Fine Arts will be India’s crowning glory.

Janardana Rao, Editor of the Telugu bi-monthly journal, Udayini, passed away last month under distressing conditions. He was passionately devoted to high-class journalism in Andhra. After serving for some years on the staff of the Bharati, he started the Udayini on his own account. He gathered round himself the younger writers in prose and verse, and enabled the literary public of Andhra to know at first-hand the wealth of talent that lay all around them but had not been sufficiently recognised. In addition, several of the Andhra litterateurs who had already achieved fame contributed to Udayini. In the choice of contributions, in the superbly beautiful get-up of the journal, and in his critical reviews and notes, the young Editor displayed an altogether rare type of artistic and literary taste. From the very beginning, Udayini was acclaimed as a worthy successor of journals like Sahiti and Jayanti.

All this, however, did not make for the financial success of the new journal. The Editor struggled from day to day, not having the wherewithal to pay the printer’s bills. His business acumen was not commensurate with his literary gifts. Every number was delayed, creditors became insistent, and it was a problem how the journal could be kept alive. Meanwhile, the Editor developed symptoms of tuberculosis, brought on by corking anxiety and under-nourishment. He was removed to his village in Godavari district, where the sight of a new number of his journal gladdened his last moments.

Here was a martyr to journalism, whom Andhra did not know how to honour or encourage; and it is doubtful if the Udayini can be continued by his friends. Andhra is the graveyard of good journals; and Udayini is possibly the last of a series of heroic efforts to maintain a high level of journalism.

I loved him like a brother, and always admired his heroism. But now he can only be a memory, splendid but sad.

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