BY K. RAMAKOTISWARA RAU

After an interval of forty years, the National Congress met once again in Maharashtra. The land of Ranade and Telang, of Tilak and Gokhale, must be exceedingly dear to every Indian. In the arts of war and peace, the people of Maharashtra have always been in the forefront. Poona, their cultural capital, is great in its present achievement no less than in the memories which it enshrines. And the hardy peasants who flocked to Faizpur for the Congress festival, gave rich promise of Indian citizenship in the making–the citizenship of a Swaraj India.

Except for the novel experience afforded by a village session, Faizpur is not a landmark in Congress history. No momentous decisions were reached; it was agreed to put them off till after the elections in February. But the plan of a Convention of Congress legislators, leading eventually to a Constituent Assembly of the Nation, is Faizpur’s distinctive contribution. What had been vague in this respect was rendered precise. India’s right to self-determination was thus re-asserted, and a programme of action envisaged.

It is being felt, however, in Congress circles as well as outside of them, that the chances of a Constituent Assembly functioning and drawing up an agreed Constitution are very remote. These critics point to the way in which the Indian delegates to the Round Table Conferences wrangled without end, and made a mess of their business. And, too, the Congress has nearly given up, in despair, the attempt to solve the Hindu-Muslim problem. These indeed are formidable objections. But the imposition of an un-wanted Constitution, which is designed to hinder rather than hasten the coming of Swaraj, is likely to unite all sections of Indian progressive opinion. At long last, men may turn from fruitless discussions on averages and percentages, on music and mosques, and concentrate on the one vital issue before the country, namely, the transfer of power to the people. No Constituent Assembly can wrench power from unwilling hands, without adequate sanctions behind its demand. And our sole sanction is the growing strength of the demand for Swaraj.

It is futile to discuss which should come first: the framing of a Constitution or the forging of sanctions. psychologically, the very process of framing the Constitution will react on the national mind, and give it the hope of a better ordering of the country’s affairs, as also the courage to strive for noble ends. Above all, the labours of a Constituent Assembly will prove of the greatest educative value, and awaken the people to a consciousness of their just rights. In the coming months, the attention of all-India must be diverted from the new legislatures, and focussed on to the Constituent Assembly.

In this connection, it is necessary to point out that the acceptance of office, under the new Constitution is fatal to the successful functioning of a Constituent Assembly. The Ministries are veritable death-traps, and Congressmen who talk of acceptance of office in the same breath is the calling of a Constituent Assembly are labouring under a pitiful delusion. They cannot eat the cake and have it too. President Jawaharlal made no secret of his views on this matter, and it is to be hoped that opinion will rapidly crystallise against all schemes for the formation of Congress Ministries.

‘C. R.’ ON THE ‘GITA’

After withdrawing from active political work, Sjt. C. Rajagopalachariar is able to devote more attention to problems bearing on Indian culture and social organization. More especially, he is seeking to throw fresh light on the fundamental concepts of the Gita. The elasticity of its teaching–its inherent power of enabling us to cultivate a sane outlook on life during periods of rapid change like the present–formed the subject of his discourse before the Sanskrit Academy of Madras. Rich experience, even more than technical scholarship, leads to a correct understanding of the Gita view of life. It is this vital experience which informs his utterances.

In speaking of swa-dharma, he seemed to have in mind the particular vocation to which each one is called. If a lay-man might venture an opinion, it seems more correct to render swa-dharma as ‘the law of one’s being,’–one’s ‘individual uniqueness,’ to borrow J. Krishnamurti’s expression. It is in the unfettered pursuit of each individual’s dharma or ‘law of being’ that fulfillment is found. Not the doing of particular work, but the temper and the attitude of mind that governs all work, is of prime importance. This, in its turn, is determined by the manner in which each one cultivates his uniqueness, through ceaseless striving and not by a mechanical acceptance of dogma.

In an age of large-scale production, the individual musician singing to a local group and perfecting his art in comparative seclusion, is yielding place to the mechanised music of the gramophone and the radio. There is no longer that living contact between the artist and his audience, so essential for the varied play of the emotions. So too, the ‘talkie’ has thrust into the background the actors who adorned the stage and entertained the public in the villages and the smaller towns in every part of India. A few of them have been drafted on to the screen, and they have learnt to adapt themselves to the new technique. But the rapid dissolution of Dramatic Associations is a loss to the art of the Theatre. Everyone of us can occasionally see the best actors of all lands on the screen, but at the same time it ought to be possible to rescue the stage-play from the oblivion which threatens it. The ‘professionals’ cannot easily be weaned back to the stage. However, even in out of the way places which do not possess all the appurtenances of the modern stage, groups of cultured amateur actors can provide real, soul-filling entertainment to a discerning public. New plays of high literary worth may be written and new actors achieve fame, without the stupendous waste of money on the production of scores of screen-plays which flood the land but fail to advance the cause of true Art.

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