For two weeks and more the Indian continent was convulsed by the fear that a precious life was about to be sacrificed. As a protest against the provision of separate electorates for the Depressed Classes, Gandhiji resolved to fast "unto death." It was after long and painful travail of the spirit that he took this step. He was aware that the correctness of his judgment, though not the purity of his motive, might be questioned. But to him it was a compelling call from within which had to be answered with promptitude. Death by voluntary starvation is an idea familiar to the Jain ascetics; and vicarious suffering for the cleansing of the sins of humanity is associated with Jesus. At the first flush, however, it was astounding that in the modern age when miracles are not so common, a person of Gandhiji's eminence should have staked his life on what appeared to be a minor issue. Similar doubts were expressed when non-co-operation was first conceived in 1920 as a measure of protest, not for winning Swaraj but to alter the decision regarding the Khilafat. Gandhiji has always his singular point of view. He resorts to programmes which confuse even his most intimate following. It is nevertheless true that when time is given for ideas to be clarified, he is invariably proved to be in the right. Thus, in 1920, Hindus and Muslims were brought together in a way that was not imagined to be possible. In the present instance the emotion and energy set free by the announcement of the great fast were so immense that the work of centuries was compressed into the space of a few weeks. The actual details of the Poona Pact are, comparatively, of little consequence. It is a temporary arrangement for the purpose of ensuring adequate representation to our wronged brethren and to prepare the way for their speedy absorption into the general community. But the supreme value of the Pact lies in that it was arrived at after anxious negotiations amongst Indians themselves. It is the first streak of dawn after a long night of helpless disunity. Swaraj is desired primarily to enable us to take decisions about India on Indian soil, to commit mistakes and rectify them ourselves. The right to err must be ours, even though in a particular case the foreigner may be able to arrive at a correct decision and impose it from above. The Poona Pact is the beginning of Swaraj. It is the prelude to other pacts between the communities of India, which will make the Premier's communal award inoperative. A mighty wave of feeling has overspread the land which, rightly controlled and rendered purposeful, is bound to take us very far. India rejoices that the Mahatma has been spared to her and to the world.

The threat of non-co-operation by the Indian Liberals has brought about a welcome change in the British attitude to Indian reforms. The Round Table Conference is to be re-assembled on a smaller scale about the middle of November next, and speculation is rife regarding its personnel. Some names are inevitable; some re-shuffling too, with a view to placate certain sections of Indian opinion. The Sikh leaders are holding aloof. The Congress, of Course, is not in the picture. Immediately after the conclusion of the Poona Pact, there was some informal exchange of ideas on the subject between Gandhiji and the Congress leaders on one side, and the peace-makers–Sapru and Jayakar–on the other. But the conversations were brought to an abrupt close because the Government cut off all interviews with Gandhiji. The Congress cannot call off Civil Disobedience while the Ordinances are about to become a permanent feature of the Statute Book; and the Government cannot give up their extraordinary measures because the Congress continues rebellious. And so, the future Constitution will be framed in the absence of the representatives of the Congress at the R. T. C.

Everyone in India, from Sir T. B. Sapru downwards, and many in England, pointed out the futility of a Constitution to which the Congress is not a party and which it may help to wreck any day. Both countries are tired of this condition of prolonged stalemate. All normal activities in India, political, cultural, or economic, are languishing on account of this utter absorption in the fight. At some stage, the country must settle down to the work of reconstruction. But that is being put off indefinitely by the short-sightedness of the Government which refuses to use all the means in its power to come to an understanding with the Congress. At the beginning of the year, the Viceroy declined to be interviewed by Gandhiji; today his Government places obstacles in the way of distinguished Indians who are bent on achieving peace. This type of blundering is habitual with the Government of India, but after the remarkable speed and decision shown by the Premier in ratifying the Poona Pact, the Indian public expected greater courtesy and reasonableness on the part of the authorities in India.

The stage in South India is in a most deplorable condition. Indeed, it seems to have grown considerably worse within the last decade. In Andhradesa especially, plays by well-organised and talented groups of actors have given place to ‘contract’ plays. Some enterprising businessman, with an eye to profit, brings together the most noted actors for an evening, pays each of them according to a scheduled rate, and puts on boards one or other out of half-a-dozen worn-out dramas. Huge audiences are drawn by the display of the names and titles of the actors, and nearly always, the public feels intense disappointment. For, this chance-grouping of actors for the occasion reveals all the weaknesses due to lack of co-ordination. Some of the actors do not turn up at the last moment, and their role is either left out or filled in by ill-equipped, inferior actors, much to the disgust of the audience and possibly to the disgust of the actors themselves. There are no adequate rehearsals and the minor characters are utterly neglected. New plays are neither written nor staged. The actors in the ‘contract’ scheme have no inducement to prepare new plays or perfect the old ones.

Even Mr. T. Raghavachar, the most eminent of our actors, has occasionally appealed in these dramas with the laudable object of rendering financial assistance to some good cause. But his reputation has thereby suffered. Things always get worse before they can get better. We are possibly on the eve of a great revival. The first indication of this was given by Mr. Raghavachar himself some months ago. He trained a set of very competent actors and actresses, and produced a new social play, Facts Unpleasant, with himself in the leading role. For the first time after weary years of ‘contract’ dramas, a Madras audience followed with rapt attention this new play in which everyone did his or her part to perfection. There was a minimum of music,–and that of the best kind. Attention was concentrated on the evolution of the plot and the interpretation of individual characters. We offer our congratulations to Mr. Raghavachar and his associates. We look forward to a speedy reformation of the South Indian stage through their efforts.

BACK