In the death of Professor B. M. Srikantia, M.A.,
LL.B., not only the Mysore State but also the whole of South India has suffered
an irreparable loss. His work as Professor of English at the Maharaja’s
College, Mysore, and later at the Central College, Bangalore, is well-known
throughout Mysore. He was also a great Kannada scholar. He was so fond of that language
that he would travel, at great personal inconvenience, from place to place to
deliver lectures on the Kannada language and literature. It was in recognition
of his work as an educationist and lover of Kannada culture that the title of Rajasevasakta
was conferred on him by the Mysore Durbar in 1938. He was also
Vice-President of the All-Karnataka Sahitya Parishad for several years.
Professor Srinkantia was one of the soundest
English scholars I had come across. He had a great admiration for Shakespeare
and the other English writers and his knowledge of their works was both vast
and deep. His enthusiasm for the English language was great and it had, as far
as I know, only one rival, his passionate attachment to Kannada, his mother
tongue. His success as a teacher was remarkable, as one would gather from the
affectionate regard with which he has been treated by his pupils who are never
tired of singing his praises. He was also a very powerful and fluent speaker.
Mr. Srikantia was a distinguished graduate of the
Madras University, and his work as a teacher of English is a challenge to the
notion that only England-returned people can know or teach English. While one
has to concede that stay in England for a few years will be very fruitful to
those who have an aptitude for the study of that great language and its
literature, and who utilize their time properly while in that country, it is
also a fact that India has produced quite a number of eminent men who with
their training all in this country, can speak and write flawless English. Mr.
Srikantia admitted, in the course of a talk we both had one day at Bangalore,
that English being after all a foreign language, once in a way there might be a
little inaccuracy in our pronunciation of an English word or its usage; but the
purpose of English teaching in India must be more comprehensive. We must imbibe
the spirit of English literature and be able to enrich our Indian literatures
as the result of our devoted attention to English. Our study of this European
language must be productive; otherwise, it will be a case of labour lost, and
that on a nation-wide scale.
In the Karnataka-seema, Professor Srikantia will be
chiefly remembered for his work in the cause of modern Kannada literature. On
the details of his contribution, I have no authority to speak, but of this I am
certain, that his life was one of dedication to Kannada culture. He was,
however, unlike many others even here, for, it has become the fashion of late
to despise our classical heritage and, in the name of modernism, to treat
Sanskrit with indifference or look upon it with suspicion. More than once he
had said to me, “Sanskrit is our great reservoir”. It is as it ought to be,
for, is not Sanskrit the fountain-head of all Indian culture?
As a man, Mr. Srikantia was very nice. He was
polished in his ways and was excellent both as host and as guest. He had, as
all his friends knew, many domestic worries but he lost himself in his work.
Generally, men whose lives are not ‘happy’ are so full of themselves that they
spread their misery all round. On the other hand, Mr. Srikantia never bothered
others with his troubles. He had a lively sense of humour which made his
private conversation, as also his lectures, interesting. I very well remember
how in 1939 at Bangalore, when we were very busy for two days with the Madras
University Question Papers, he relieved the monotony of the work with a joke at
my expense. I had in my charge about twenty papers and I had to be very
careful. I was his guest and whenever I had to go out of my room, even though
it might be for a few minutes, I scrupulously closed not only the door but also
every one of the windows. He noticed it on the first day, and the next morning
he remarked with a smile: “You are guarding the Question Papers as jealously as
an old man watches a young wife!”
Mr. Srikantia was ten years my senior in age, but
how much in scholarship and Matrubhasha-seva I cannot say. As I write
this, I recall to mind an incident which took place a few years ago. The
Professor had come here for the Kannada Sahitya Sammelan. He was not my guest
then, but he and a few other delegates to the Conference were good enough to
come to tea at my place on the last day of their stay. After the tea, I went
along with him to his residence in the Sultan Bazaars, and, as he was leaving
the next morning, I wished him good-bye. He quietly said, “No, you shall be my
guardian-angel today,” and before I could understand what it was, we were in a
big compound almost next door to his Bungalow, where at least 500 people
including college students and professors had been eagerly waiting for his
arrival. It was a very pleasant surprise to me and, to add to it, he insisted
that I should take the chair at that meeting, an example of his great
generosity to friends. The subject was “The Renaissance in Indian Literature”
and he spoke for over an hour. It was a most inspiring address, and when my
turn came for the concluding remarks, after very briefly touching upon the
issues raised by him and complimenting him on his splendid speech and his
yeoman’s service to Kannada literature, I said: “If at the end of my career I
can say I have rendered to my Telugu language a tithe of the service that
Professor Srikantia has done to his Kannada, I shall consider I have not lived
in vain.” Today, I can do no better than repeat the words I spoke on that
memorable occasion and it is the only tribute I can pay to the memory of my
esteemed friend.