. .
.he that laboureth right for love of Me
Shall
finally attain! But, if in this
Thy
faint heart fails, bring Me thy failure!
-THE
SONG CELESTIAL
The
air is thick with plans for the future–big plans costing astronomical figures.
There are the reconstruction plans of the Govt. of India, of Provincial and
States Governments: there is the 1,500 crore plan of the Bombay industrialists,
and others along the same lines. The figures involved need not stagger us–the area
to be covered is vast, the work to be put through is enormous. And everyone now
realises that piecemeal measures, mere nibbling at particular ends, cannot set
India on her feet again, healthy, happy and prosperous, and put her in her
rightful place in the world.
Most
of the plans so far put forward are predominantly for reconstructing economic
life. There is, of course, the Sargent Plan–but even that designed only for the
young of the nation: the school-going population and has a “departmental” outlook.
A
thorough system of national education and rehabilitation of economic life, in
fact, all schemes conceived on a grand scale, need for their successful
undertaking and fruition the human factor, a widespread awakening. The
nation must feel the urge of a new life, the glow of great things to come and
the confidence of marching forward with hope and cheer to a better state.
Tagore once spoke, with reference to finely constructed educational programmes,
that “the canals were dug but water refuses to flow”! The momentum of a mass
movement is necessary before any scheme, however cleverly conceived and
expertly designed, can irrigate the entire life of the nation from one end to
the other.
The
establishment of a national government has been generally recognised as the
prerequisite for taking on hand national reconstruction of a far-reaching
character. That alone can generate the energy required for a herculean task.
But other conditions calculated to provide the man-power are equally if not
more important.
Today
in India, the preponderating majority live away from big cities and towns, like
poor relations or suppliants waiting for crumbs that fall from the tables of
their rich ‘masters’ living in towns.
A
reversal of this position, psychologically speaking, is urgently called for.
That India lives in villages has become a trite saying that is so often
repeated as to fail to appeal with the full force of its living significance to
the dweller in towns. They who ‘toil and spin’ are our masters: and they have to
be enabled to live a full life again. Educational plans that affect the young
are all right and economic plans, though they may at first flush may rouse the
suspicion so common in the villages, that the towns folk are at some big game
to increase their exploitation and the burden of taxation are no less urgently
called for. But the primary need is a charter, widely and unequivocally
proclaimed, which guarantees self-determination and self-government to the
villages. The gulf that divides rural and urban India in life and thought, even
in language and dress, habits and ways of life and means of amusement and
recreation–this has to be bridged–or built over with causeways so that the
town-dweller may come to realise in actual fact that he is of the same land as
the village-dweller, who is indeed the truer citizen of the land and provides
the matrix in which the national life is cast. Such identification is not easy
unless the town-dweller de-educates himself and sheds a great deal of the
imitative trappings of mind and body in which he is swathed. Any economic
proposition proceeding from the city-dweller frightens the average
village-dweller and fills him with apprehension. But the approach through
language and song, art and religion–all the things which may be comprehensively
termed the ‘humanities’–strikes a responsive chord in his heart. This is the
causeway that has to be put across–and trodden by the city and town-dwellers to
reach the heart of rural India–the real India. In past days, during periods of
national upheaval, an army of unpaid propagandists and preachers with the name
of God on their lips, and the call to Dharma as their battle-cry scoured the
land and created the national front for mighty undertakings. The genius of
India responded, because the language and them were familiar. The content of
the message may be different today but the method of approach and the agencies
to be employed have to be much the same.
May
not, then, a few crores be made available to create such agencies to revivify
Indian languages, Indian art and culture, rural life and institutions that
preserve the peculiar characteristics of the people? Only thus may India grow
into a good and great country and yet remain true to her special genius of
peace and goodwill: of each for all, and all for each.
A
manifesto has been issued by Dr, G. V. Chitnis, addressed to Modern Indian
Writers which invites all creative artists in India to resist the attempt to
introduce regimentation of artistic work, which is a matter of free individual
expression, and to make literary people camp-followers of a particular
political party and calling them “Progressive Writers”. The manifesto defines
creative art as an “expression of individual yearnings in conflict with the
traditional forms of social life which hold the individual in bondage”,
contrasts art with propaganda, which is coercive in its outlook, and shows how
scientific progress has revolutionised life and its values. It makes a fervent
appeal to Indian writers to take their due share in bringing about a
psychological revolution, Says the manifesto: “Art is essentially the most
subtle of psychological weapons. Freedom is the very life-breath of artistic
creations. If the Indian writers and artists can succeed in integrating their
mind with the momentous force of freedom that is gathering strength in India
and abroad they will be able to present through their art, a new vision of
India and the world, out of which will emerge a new social consciousness necessary
for the reconstruction of the world on a human and progressive basis. The new
revolution which the world needs is fundamentally a psychological revolution”.
We
are glad to note that “it is proposed to bring out in book form a short history
dealing with modern tendencies in all provincial literatures”. A Conference of
modern writers will be held shortly in Bombay to discuss the draft manifesto.
A
Conference, which entails great trouble and expense (which most writers are not
able to afford) is perhaps not necessary merely to discuss a manifesto that
contains mostly unexceptionable sentiments; and if the Conference goes further
and gives directions to writers in India, they will
be
introducing regimentation against which the manifesto has protested. The social contacts among writers from
different provinces will, however be a substantial result the conference is
held.
Though
intended as a counter-blast to the Progressive Writers Conference, held in May
1943, we imagine that the new move should be supplementary rather than
antagonistic in character. The present conference stands for freedom of the
individual and the country and speaks of Indian culture and genius, and its
potential value to the world. The Progressive Writers Conference, also, we
believe, was passionately for freedom. Only, some of the Progressive writers
spoke in the idiom of communists (though, if we remember right, they repudiated
party affiliations) and seemed to draw their inspiration more from modern
Russia than from old India. Behind the war of words, there is a great common
measure of agreement in regard to the main objective to be achieved.
An
appeal signed by distinguished publicists and scholars of South India has been
issued to perpetuate the memory of the late Mahamahopadhyaya Kuppuswami Sastri.
It is proposed that the memorial should take of the form of a Research
Institute bearing the distinguished name of the late Mahamahopadhyaya, on the
model of the Bhandarkar Oriental Institute at Poona and the new Ganganath Jha
Institute at Allahabad. “Such an institute,” says the appeal, “would be a
fitting memorial to the great Professor and it could take under its protecting
wings the Sanskrit Academy and the Journal of Oriental Research that were so dear
to the Professor, during his life-time, undertake the publication of the
unpublished works of the Professor and continue the useful work of research
started by him.”
The
scheme would require a lakh of rupees as a minimum. Contributions may be sent
to the Treasurer, Rao Bahadur K. V. Krishnaswamier, Advocate, 6, North Mada
Street, Mylapore, Madras. We heartily support the appeal and trust that this
worthy project will soon be an accomplished fact.