THE EDITOR
K. CHANDRASEKHARAN
Not
often we come across an editor who not merely accepts a contribution to his
journal on its merits but takes a genuine interest in the contributor. If his
interest gets deepened by an active sympathy and understanding of the other,
then a real bond of comradeship begins to grow between the two, not easily
liable to break under any strain.
The
late Sri Ramakotiswara Rau was of the stuff of journalists, whose devotion to
the chosen profession did not stop with achievement of distinction alone for
the journal of which he happened to be founder-editor, but engaged itself in
furthering the human bonds of fellowship among those whom opportunity brought
together in serving the cause of higher journalism.
If
some of us became his close associates from the early days of the Triveni publication,
it was not due to any seeking of our own but to Ramakotiswara Rau’s infectious
absorption in the child of his creation, drawing us beyond even our own
inclinations.
The
December of the year 1927, witnessed the birth of Triveni and the scene
of activity shifted for Ramakotiswara Rau from Machilipatnam
to
So,
when with ardent hope and genuine passion for writing, he set foot on the
none-too-smooth path of English journalism, he was confronted by insurmountable
difficulties of both ready finance and steady circulation. He could not find
his way to realise his expectations of a journal
which should mark the level of an enriched Indian culture by the fusion of
modern thought with the inheritance from our imperishable literatures.
No
sooner had he brought out two or three issues with an exclusively high-class
finish in its printing and binding, than there was a stir in intellectual
circles to look eagerly for the succeeding numbers. It was with such an
expectation that I also joined the group of prospective writers to the journal.
Before long, the editor gave me
a fillip by accepting an article of mine with the words, on a post card, on
January 29, 1929, “I received your excellent article on F. W. Bain” and ending
the little note with the sincere wish: “I shall be meeting you one of these
days at your place.” My acquaintanceship with Ramakotiswara Rau thus began with
his sympathy in my writing which was strengthened in no time by his quicker
perception to find in me a sharer of his woes of running a journal.
The
taking up a room for his office in the Y. M. I. A. building in Armenian Street
of George Town, was the commencement of a closer bond with him not only for myself but a number of other prominent writers such as Manjeri S. Isvaran, K. S. Venkataramani, Dr. K. R.
Srinivasa Aiyengar and his brother Bangaruswami, A. D. Mani, M. Chalapathi Rau, Iswara Dutt and
other friends who were only too earnest to help the editor in the magnificent task of keeping up a
high-class magazine, solely mirroring the aspirations of a generation which was
adhering to traditional values combining them with the awakening consciousness
of a fresh dawn of purposeful activity in our cultural horizon.
The
editor made the friends, who gathered during luncheon hour at the Y. M. I. A.
in his place, to feel at home. If occasions arose for small clashes of opinion
or argument among the spirited group, he was too willing to restore peace and
amity through his timely ministrations. As an editor he was never known to
perform his work of editing and proof-reading in any shoddy manner. Every
little detail requiring his attention was attended to with prompt concern to
keep up the reputation of the journal. If by oversight an error crept in,
either in the printing or in the explanatory note appended to art-plates, he
was too ready to rectify it or apologise for any
unavoidable occurrence.
It
was an enviable array of statesmen and scholars who were enlisted by him in the panel of his contributors.
Publicists such as the Rt. Hon. V. S. Srinivasa Sastri, Rajaji, Sir P. S. Sivaswami Aiyer, Mocherla Ramachandra Rao, T. A. Ramalingam Chettiar, C. R. Reddy,
D. V. Gundappa, men of letters like T. P. Kailasam, Masti Venkatesa Iyengar, Dr. Pattabhisitaramayya, and connoisseurs of art such as Jinaraja Dasa, O. C. Ganguli, S. V. Ramamurti, K. V. Ramachandran,
not to speak of a host of younger spirits, found a welcome place in the pages
of the Triveni which was issued every two months, thereby assuring
subscribers of six numbers for a year. The editor’s ambition was never to show
off merely his capacity to muster strong the beaming intellectuals of the times
in the service of his journal, but to discover younger talents also and make
them the standard writers of the morrow in their own respective lines. If he
was much inclined to encourage younger writers like Manjeri
S. Isvaran and M. Chalapathi Rau, there was the
recompensing satisfaction to the public that they were not spoilt by indulgence
but only inspired to blossom out with enduring substance and creative output of
a high order in the literary field.
A
characteristic of Ramakotiswara Rau, which may not be found in many others’ of
his tribe, was his intuition in selecting both the subject for an article and
the writer for it. Nothing but pertinacity in this trait could have withstood
all the attempts at evasion to write an article of substantial value on the
Simon Report by Sir P. S. Sivaswami Aiyer, in the year 1930, before the meeting of first Round
Table Conference at
Again,
as an editor, he was independent to the extent of holding to his own decision
in matters pertaining to the language used or the taste involved. People today
would be astonished to know that he deleted a word “witty” introduced by no
less a person than the Rt. Hon. Sastri in a note referring to Triveni and
its useful services to journalism. Ramakotiswara Rau felt that it sounded
somewhat cheap to a journal so serious in its outlook and steadfast in its role
as a purveyor of substantial food for intellectuals to be termed “witty”. No
amount of argument to the contrary could make him change his decision and so,
to the lasting chagrin of Sastriar, the note found a
place with the deletion in the pages of the journal. May be it was obstinacy of
a kind not associated generally with liberal spirits or may be it was an
inexplicable sense of his own responsibility in the publication that made him
hard to be persuaded to change his opinion even when the person to be reckoned
with was a man of outstanding mastery of the English language.
Childlike
he was, but also proud, very proud sometimes, which could not reconcile him and
his sensitive soul to effrontery or insults from people high-placed. A
well-known public worker in
Rajaji
has aptly described him as “a pure and simple soul”. True, he was childlike but
also childlike sometimes in his gullibility to outside influences. Among
friends he was a rare combination of warmth and restraint, unusual in persons
of such preoccupations as editor of a journal. He knew no reserve; he required
no persuasion to befriend the depressed and the lowly; he could be emotional
and comforting to lacerated hearts in singularly unfortunate straits.
Ever
fond of artistic productions, he could be impulsive and even prodigal in his
tastes. Seeing once a beautiful line-drawing of Nandalal
Bose done on China silk, of a Veena player with the
instrument lying on her lap, he deemed the price, which was beyond his means,
as nothing in consideration of its value as a piece of art, and purchased it.
He again, with equal celerity, parted with it to a dear friend whose
appreciation of the picture easily induced him to make a present of it.
He
was not showy at all in his tastes, though never lacking in distinction. If
Khaddar shawls and silks appeared attractive to his eye, no matter whether he
had spare money left in his purse to purchase things for domestic needs for the
morrow, he would go in for them. His apartment in his home as well as in his
office always bespoke of his tasteful ideas in furnishing them.
He
was attached deeply to his aged mother who lived to see him launch his Triveni
and he deemed her last wish to be cremated in the Mylapore
crematorium as a sacred duty of his to perform. Despite the distance from his
residence, then in Royapettah, he made it a
pilgrimage to Mylapore in order to give his mother
her last funeral rites. Though not very orthodox in spirit, he was punctilious
in the observance of religious rites, especially to be performed annually for
the dead members of his family.
Tender
sentiments ever weighed with him and nothing could move him so much as
classical pieces from Sanskrit and Telugu. He was ever enthused when incidents
connected with great lives were told or read out. He had a passion for the high
and the noble in the lives of men and women, whether of our own country’s origin
or outside. Hence his deep interest in biographical studies.
Left
to himself in his waning years, with practical inability to read or write
anything, it must have been a hell to him to prolong his existence. But bravely
he fought the overcoming depression, even as he fought the enemy in the freedom
struggle of his country when he courted imprisonment and privations. Friends
too remained uncontacted by him with a resignation
unimaginable in a spirit which was once so very communicative and social among kindred
souls. Perhaps he became too prematurely alive to the oblivion that everyone of
us has to face with the passage of time.
To
sum up dear Ramakoti, to him journalism, which has
become a trade, was a sacred profession. To him it was a moral function; in his
hands it bore greater significance than an occupation or vocation. The usual type of periodicals stimulate interest by the variety of its
fare: he would provide to his readers only matter for serious study; Other
journals filled their pages with miscellaneous writings starting with political
articles and ending with bits of humour. He would
only supply substance for sustained thinking and deep cogitation on purposeful
objectives. All these he was able to maintain to the last. But fortunately he
himself did not last long to see a changing world of readers who care little for real literary study
but ever long for sensationalism in writing.
DR. L. S. R. KRISHNA
SASTRY
It
is not for me to say that he was the ‘journalist of journalists’. He was an
editor who gave the spirit of nationalism a literary shape. His Triple
Stream was always eagerly looked forward to. He truly strove for national
integration by creating a forum for all the different cultures and literatures
of the country.
It
is a pity that such a great man is removed from us. I can only repeat what he
said once: “Life seems to be a banquet from which the guests are rapidly
departing.” May his soul rest in peace!