A
LIGHT has gone out. Not merely the legal profession and the Bench of the Madras
High Court which he adorned, but the world of culture in South India is the
poorer by his premature demise. He was only fifty-two, a couple of years
younger than myself. He entered the Law College just after I left it; and he
joined the Bar in Madras about the time that I gave up the profession after
having practised in a small town for a few brief years. But without being
college mates or colleagues at the Bar, we were drawn together by a common love
of the things of the mind, and a common interest in institutions like the
Andhra Jateeya Kalasala of Masulipatam and the Art School near Nagarjunakonda.
Watching him as he spoke or as he went about his work, how proud I felt of him!
It was a kind of possessive instinct which made me tell myself, “Isn’t he like
a younger brother, but how much wiser and more gifted!”
He
was intimate with poets, artists, and journalists. He helped every cultural
enterprise with funds and with his sage counsel. In the circle of friends who
rejoiced at his rapid rise as a lawyer, it was usual to refer to him
half-jocularly as ‘the Advocate-General’. I remember it was K. Iswara Dutt who
coined the expression and used it more frequently than any other friend. We
were all so certain of his Advocate-Generalship and of his eventual elevation
to the Bench. When the latter event came off without the interposition of the
earlier one, we looked forward to his becoming the Chief Justice of
India,–directing and controlling all the judicial tribunals of Free India, and
administering the ceremonial oath of office to the Head of the Indian Union.
Or, if we thought of education as the right sphere for him, who could be a
greater Vice-Chancellor of a University than our Govindarajachari?
Triveni
brought us into comradeship. Even during the first year or
two, it became clear that the journal could not survive without large donations
to cover the perpetual deficits. Govindarajachari made it his special
responsibility, in collaboration with K. Chandrasekharan, to take me round to
the cultured, prosperous lawyers of Mylapore and collect funds for Triveni. This
had to be done so frequently that the sight of us three together made people
exclaim, “Ah! It is the Triveni going about for funds!” But help was
never grudged, and with a happy smile Govindarajachari would say, “We have
tided over this crisis. We can wait for the next.” He always spoke of Triveni
with intense affection, and called it ‘our journal’. He was glad to be on
the Advisory Board.
When,
after two decades, the last of the crises was overcome, and I introduced the
new Publisher to him towards the middle of August this year he expressed great
pleasure and thanked Sri Viswanathan for relieving the Editor of the financial
worries connected with the journal.
I
called on him again on the evening of the 19th, before leaving for Bangalore.
There were no visitors, and we had a quiet half-hour all to ourselves. He
noticed that I was distressed on account of the death of a valued
journalist-friend, Challa Jagannadham, which had occurred that morning. He was
full of sympathy and kindliness, and sought to divert my attention to other
things. He referred to the forthcoming visit of the Governor-General to
the Cosmopolitan Club; as President, it was to be his privilege
to welcome C. R. to the premier club of his home Province. He recurred again
to the future of Triveni and said: “Now, you can devote greater
attention to the editorial work. I am glad to know you will soon settle down in
Masulipatam as Editor of the weekly Krishna Patrika. It is an excellent
paper, and I read it regularly...Some day, I shall visit you at Masulipatam.”
Neither
of us could imagine that it was the last interview. He was then in normal
health and maintained his usual serenity and cheerfulness. But something seemed
to move him. A touch of tenderness crept into his voice as: he said, “Several
friends have told me that your father was a prosperous lawyer and you were
brought up tenderly. Life has been a long struggle for you. But now you will
find peace, and you can do the work you love.”
We
parted hoping to meet again. But that was the last meeting, this side of Death.
When I came to Madras for the next visit on the fateful morning of the 2nd of
October, the first news I got was of his passing away in the early hours of the
morning. I was hoping to see him on his sick-bed, but it was the dear form,
bathed and made ready for the last rites that I saw. And I witnessed the last
journey. Some karmik link between us must have brought me to Madras that
particular morning for, otherwise, even this consolation would have been denied
to me.
He
meant so much to me and to Triveni. But outside his immediate family
circle, there are two who should receive condolences in a larger measure than
any other,–Prof. M. Venkatarangaiya who taught him History and Politics at
Vizianagaram, and Sri Alladi Krishnaswami Aiyar who loved him as an
apprentice-at-law, and felt happy as a father when that apprentice was elevated
to a judgeship of the High Court.
Great
as a judge and scholar, Govindarajachari was incomparably a great gentleman.
Rest, noble soul! Friend and guide of Triveni! Accept this tribute of
tears.
MADRAS, October 4.