REVIEWS
The Great Sentinel: By
S. C. Sen Gupta (Publishers: A. C. Mukherjee and Co., Calcutta, Price,
Rs. 6).
Writing
about the Function of Criticism, one of the greatest critics and poets of our
time, T. S. Eliot, has remarked: “Criticism must always profess an end in view,
which, roughly speaking, appears to be the elucidation of works of art and the
correction of taste.” Dr. Sen Gupta’s study of Gurudev’s literary world fulfils
both these functions superbly. In fact, one is surprised at his success in dealing
with this theme. He is better known to the literary world as a critic of Shaw,
and G. B. S’s works have very little in common with the works of Gurudev. From
the cool rationalism, rather Vitalism, of Shaw to the warm-blooded
emotionalism-cum-mysticism of Gurudev, is a far cry. It is nothing less than an
achievement for a critic to succeed in both, and Dr. Sen Gupta has admirably
succeeded.
Time,
the merciless critic, is making us feel the absence of Gurudev more and more.
When our country is passing through a great travail, an unending crisis, and a
great depression is swamping our spirits. We look in vain for a message of
cheer. It is a tragedy of the first order that great soul-shaking events have
not been able to produce even a single work which promises to last for a few
generations.
So,
one has to return to the works of the literary and spiritual giants of the last
generation. They are there to inspire and cheer, and to enjoy them better one
has to take the help of a critic. Dr. Sen Gupta is an extremely sympathetic and
reliable critic; he can help us to find new beauties in the literary world of
Gurudev.
The
book is divided into twelve chapters. The first two deal with the life of the
Poet, and indicate the formative influences. The wisdom of the Maharshi
pervaded the whole atmosphere. The Tagores were extremely rich, but the
Maharshi was simple. Thus we get the central paradox of Gurudev’s literary
works; simplicity in richness, and unity and wholeness in a disjointed and
incomplete world. Gurudev soared high. But he neither lost touch with this
earth like Shelley’s Skylark nor remained on the earth like Keats’ nightingale,
but transformed this earthiness by a strange alchemy into ethereal beauty. It
is impossible to even briefly narrate his many sided experience, but the author
has packed it all into the first forty pages.
In
the next two chapters he has, with a rare balance, interpreted the contribution
of Gurudev. It is here that we find the author at his best. He is right when
the remarks, ‘Rabindranath cannot find any room for ugliness in life, even as
he finds it difficult to assign a place to untruth.”
Gurudev’s
poetry takes the next three chapters. A single sentence, “Rabindranath seems to
be the first among saints who not refused to live”, sums up a great truth and
it is the key to Rabindranath’s poetry.
Most
critics seem to fall into a mistake about Kabir’s influence on Gurudev. A
mystic poet with a Shavian attitude towards society and religion, Kabir has
been one of our greatest critics of society. (Are all mystics essentially
rebels?). His poetry lacks sweetness and light; it is burning fire. Dr. Sen
Gupta commits the same error. A classic like Dr. Hazariprasad’s Kabir (in
Hindi) ought to be given an English garb. Then alone can this myth be exploded.
The
chapters on the Dramas are well-written, but one feels that the chapters on the
Stories and Novels do not reach a high level. Prof. D. P. Mukherji gives a
better estimate of his Novels and Stories. The conclusion sums up his literary
achievements and ends with his message: “That I exist is a perpetual surprise
which is life.”
This
is a book which deserves to be read by all, for it is a standard work on
Gurudev. It is excellently printed and got-up and the price also is not too
high.
Rupadarsini: By
M. R. Acharekar (Rekha Publications, Lady Jamshedji Road, Bombay, 14. Price,
Rs. 15)
The
conception that Indian art in its passion for conventional poses, ignores some
of the main anatomical principles cannot secure much support. People must try
and acquaint themselves with what actually inspired our artists and sculptors
in the past, when they produced wonderful figures which have not ceased to be
grippingly divine, despite their conforming to human types. A peep into this
illustrated monograph, representing side by side pencil sketches of well-known
sculptures and their prototype studies from life, will give an idea to the
inquisitive mind how much useful purpose is served by such an enterprise. The
author, himself a distinguished modern painter of portraits, has chosen to
follow our ancient traditions that have validity in the art-world of any age.
Mere
verbal accounts can convey only a fraction of the pleasure to be derived by a
perusal of such monographs. Yet, one close the beautifully
got-up volume without praising the finish of the blocks, preserving at once the
freshness and speed of pencil strokes, and looking very much like originals.
No Anklet Bells for
Her: By Manjeri S. Isvaran (Mitra Publications, 5,
High Road, Egmore, Mudras 8. Price Rs. 2/8)
Manjeri
Isvaran is not a writer needing introduction to the literary world. Already his
collections of short stories in half a dozen volumes have gained for him a
unique recognition from compeers of his, both in this country as well as
outside. If John Hampson, the British writer, has paid him a high tribute in
his Introduction to this volume, he has only echoed what many others have felt,
though they could not express their admiration in such well-chosen words.
Nothing
is truer of Isvaran’s writing than that “he uses the technique of a realist
enforcing statements with the lucid perceptions of a poet”. For a careful
scrutiny of the statement can only result in our clearer understanding of
literature as aiming at the reflection of an age, only to have a starting point
in order to achieve the grander goal, far above the contingencies of time and
space. Detachment, then, being the prime source of a poet’s achievement, he
cannot make discoveries in the realm of the spirit, unless there is the urge in
him to liberate himself from self-obsessions as well as upheavals of the outer
world. Indeed, it is only such a sense of equipoise that can lead him towards
the light, which he alone has the privilege of glimpsing.
In
these twelve stories, one finds not a little of that rare combination of
courage and originality to unravel the mysteries of a world with so many ups
and downs, not only in wealth and influence but also in mental and moral
make-ups, and to employ a technique at once fresh and fascinating. Everyone of
this bunch of stories starts with a touch of utter newness in the saying of it,
so that there is nothing but the query in the reader’s mind, “How will it
proceed?” And no sooner has the reader finished a story than he in his turn
starts on his own deeper reflections on the problems of life.
If
the title story, “No Anklet-Bells for Her”, strikes us as sheer poetry from
start to finish, the next one makes a deep impression by the inextricable
psychology embedded in it. “At His Nativity” is a marvel, in thought, of a
traditional belief being fully justified. And the canvas, limited as it is,
glows with tenderness which is not of this earth alone.
“Revelation”
is something of a nice interlude
between two compressed psychological portrayals of life. “Decision” is a piece which,
only a master-craftsman, long imbued with the spirit of exploration of the
human heart, can have handled with such sure success. At once delicate and
difficult, the subject has been rendered so very convincingly, and yet with no
trace of the lewd or the physical aspect of love.
“Counsel
for the Defence” is conceived in a different tune altogether and makes one
realise the folly of witnesses and advocates in court trying to make a real
incident look an accident. “Between the flags” makes us amused at the ways of
one in a transitional period, pathetically torn by a mental conflict between
two different ideals. If a story can be woven of mere letters and yet be
sustained in interest till the last, then we have the “Heart of Man” as a
singular specimen of epitomy and artistic arrangement of sequences ‘Peaceful
was the Night’, ‘A light was Lit’, and the last two connected stories are no
whit behind the rest in kindling our literary enjoyment at its purest.
Any
other story-teller would not have found so much material for selection from
life around. It is a superior gift that Isvaran possesses. If he stands apart
by adorning whatever he touches, it is because between him and others
interpreting South India there is such a yawning gulf in creativity.
Common Script for
India, The Andhra Capital: By B. Rajabhushana Rao (Published by
Sahitya Mandali, Eluru)
With
the recognition of Hindi as the National Language of India the question of a
common script has been brought to the forefront. Much thought and argument has
centred round this topic with recent months among the literary and public men
of the country. On a smaller canvas, the question of the Andhra capital has
also come to be a much discussed issue, and were it not for the fact that the
formation of the Andhra State has been shelved by the Union Government for the
time being, it might have been by now the subject of fierce controversy. A cool
and dispassionate study of these two issues with a realistic and objective
approach is not only desirable but even necessary. The above two brochures of
Sri B. Rajabhushana Rao are, therefore, doubly welcome and opportune. They are
thought-provoking as well as interesting, and bear the stamp of a patriot who
is also an intellectual.
In
the first, which is an address delivered at the Students’ Congress, the author
considers that a common script for India is a desideratum and, after examining
the relative merits and demerits of the Roman, Persian and Devanagari scripts,
recommends the adoption of the last (the Devanagari) with some modifications,
as, for Instance, the splitting up of the compound letter and the taking in of
a few more letters and symbols to complete it. The criterion of the excellence
of the common script is its suitability for a handy type-writer, print and
lino-print. To Sri Rajabhushana Rao the common script is more than a mere
academic issue; it is “a symbol of the basic unity of culture that animates the
different languages in India, and an attempt to promote the confluence of
Indian languages, reflecting a single culture in essence, and hence a step in
the direction of lasting unity between the various units of the Indian Union.”
In
“The Andhra Capital” Sri Rajabhushana Rao makes a suggestion which ought to be
acceptable to all sections of Andhras. Instead of favouring a particular town
or city as the future capital of Andhra, he is for the building of a
magnificent capital on the banks of a river (where there is abundance of good
water supply) over an area of a hundred square miles. The capital which he
contemplates will be a modern city reflecting the grandeur of the Indian style,
synthesising, so to say, the best in the ancient and modern methods of town
planning–in short “a city of which India can justly be proud”.