‘THE TRIPLE STREAM’

K. RAMAKOTISWARA RAU

Towards Integration

There is today, in every part of India, a keen desire for national integration, and an effort to achieve it. Attention is being directed to the many causes and tendencies which have promoted disintegration since the attainment of Independence. Committees under the chairmanship of eminent leaders of public opinion, like Dr C. P. Ramaswami Aiyar and Dr Sampurnanand, are recommending the adoption of measures to counteract casteism, linguism, materialism, provincialism and other evils which threaten national unity and impede our progress to a higher level of thought and action. The feeling is widespread that, during the last decade, deterioration has set in, both in the matter of the recognition of moral values and in the choice of means for compassing desirable ends. While technical efficiency and scientific knowledge are on the increase, there is not a corresponding insistence on the promotion of a cultured and benignant outlook on life and its problems. In most spheres of public or private activity, the emphasis is on speedy success, acquisition of wealth and rise to power. In the daily tasks of life and in working for the welfare of the ordinary citizen, goodness, gentleness, courtesy, refinement, idealism are at a discount, and praise is bestowed on the ‘clever’ person who pushes himself forward and manages anyhow to attract attention. It is usually assumed that objective success is the one thing that matters. This is a malady which has affected our politics and administration, our schools and colleges, our trade and commerce. There is a general lowering of standards, and the prevailing inefficiency and corruption have become the subject of common talk in streets and market-places, and in buses and trains.

There is indeed no necessary conflict between goodness and efficiency. It may even be urged that goodness, rightly conceived, is an important constituent of efficiency. Goodness is not mere softness or weakness of spirit. It is the result of prolonged training, mental and emotional, and can ultimately be traced to a selfless and joyous dedication to Duty, valued as the highest good. ‘Cultured efficiency’ is a term often used to indicate this balanced and harmonious development of the individual man who pursues his own good while promoting the good of all. If ever there is a sense of conflict, the good man will, without a pang, efface himself. There must be a return to this type of idealism which sustained the nation in its darkest hours during the freedom struggle. Every man can be a light unto himself; but the presence of a few Shining Ones at the highest level in New Delhi, and at every level including the villages in obscure corners of the country, will make it easier for him to light his lamp and illumine his personal life. The ranks of such Shining Ones–the loftiest as well as the lowliest–must swell. This is the first step in national integration. And to this end, a wider diffusion of the wealth of poem and song and the words of wisdom of the epics and scriptures of humanity, must be deemed to be at least as valuable as the diffusion of scientific and technological study. Poetry and philosophy will bridge the gulf between man and man, and between nation and nation. An awareness of the immanence of Spirit in Matter will furnish the requisite atmosphere for the success of all schemes of integration, political as well as social.

Was it an Error?

In the course of discussions relating to the problem of national integration, it is sometimes pointed out that the re-organisation of States on the basis of language was the initial error, from which flowed most of the troubles with which the country is now faced. It is necessary to counteract this view and to remind the public of the important fact that the early pioneers of the movement for such a re-organisation were men of unsullied reputation, and patriots of the front rank who played a distinguished role in their provinces. They took an active part in all-India politics; they pleaded for the creation of new provinces like Bihar, Orissa and Andhra even before the assumption by Gandhiji of the leadership of the nation. Sachchidananda Sinha and Mahesh Narayan of Bihar, Nilakanta Das and Gopabandhu Das of Orissa, and Venkatappayya and Pattabhi Sitaramayya of Andhra, urged the claims of their respective regions to recognition as distinct administrative units of what was then known as ‘British’ India. They felt that national consciousness would be fostered by the formation of well-knit, homogeneous provinces possessing a common language, history and tradition. It was, in their view, a step in the process of nation-building on sound, well-understood lines. Lokamanya Tilak and Sri Aurobindo blessed the movement, for they looked upon it as a sign of national awakening, similar to the movement for the re-integration of Bengal after its unfortunate partition by Lord Curzon. The sponsors of the movement were quite aware of the problem of linguistic minorities in the proposed provinces, and of possible disputes ever border areas. But these, they argued, could be solved in a spirit of friendliness as between brothers and good neighbours.

When complete power to shape the nation’s destiny passed to the Congress, and the Congress was called upon to implement some of its pledges to different linguistic groups, a new situation arose. It was one thing to accept the principle of linguistic provinces, and even carve out Congress Circles on that basis, in the old-time administrative units of British India. But an independent India incorporating the former princely Indian States found itself in a different situation. Claims and counter-claims to various regions of the country were pressed with vehemence, and even while the Fazl Ali Commission was at work, violence broke out in some parts of India. But the recommendations of the Commission were accepted, in the main, and the States were re-organised.

While the principle behind the re-organisation was sound, the working out of the details gave rise to trouble. The bitterness of linguistic rivalries assumed ugly shapes, and a new term of reproach–‘linguism’–was coined by those who had always opposed such re-organisation. But, even as democracy is a valid concept and the democratic process is welcomed for its undoubted virtues, despite some serious drawbacks like party strife and election manouvres, the formation of Linguistic States is a satisfactory arrangement despite the antagonisms to which it has given rise. There is a definite integration within the borders of each State; the tensions between neighbouring States and between the majority and minority language groups within each State are being eased by the functioning of the Commissioner for Linguistic Minorities and the Zonal Councils presided over by the Home Minister of the Central Government. Andhra which was among the earliest to seek separation has also been the first to solve the problem of linguistic minorities within the State of Andhra Pradesh by according a proper status to Urdu, Tamil and other languages. The State has also led the way in coming to friendly agreements with Madras and Orissa on matters of common concern. The proposed recognition, by the Parliament of India, of English as an associate language for the purposes of the Central Government and for communication between the States, will go a long way to allay the present discontents. The suggestion to scrap Linguistic States is a course of despair. Wisdom lies in taking adequate steps to promote harmony and goodwill, and, in particular, to encourage a study of Indian literatures other than one’s own. Our common Indianness will then become evident, as also our common indebtedness to Sanskrit and English which, at different stages in our history, promoted the cultural unity of India.

The Gurazada Centenary

Gurazada Appa Rao, the centenary of whose birth is being celebrated, was a forerunner of the literary renaissance in Andhra. The nearest approach to a culture-state in Andhra during the latter half of the nineteenth century was the Vizianagaram Raj (Visakhapatnam District) in the palmy days of Sri Ananda Gajapati. Statesman, scholar and patron of letters, this ‘Prince charming’ gathered a brilliant coterie around him. Kasinatha Sastri, the Sanskrit savant; Venkataramana Das, master of the Vina; Narayana Das, the gifted poet and bhagavatar; Principal Ramanujachari, the finest flower of Anglo-Sanskrit culture, adorned his court. Younger than these stalwarts, but destined through his dreams and his literary achievement to be a herald of the Dawn, was Appa Rao, constant companion of the Maharaja whether at home or in his travels.

Moving in the atmosphere of a luxurious court, Appa Rao developed an exquisite taste. His sense of the beautiful in art and literature was remarkable. He was a graduate of the Madras University, but, unlike most graduates of his generation, he was a first-rate scholar in Sanskrit and Telugu. In addition, he was a lover of the classics of English literature, and was specially fond of the lyric poets of the early nineteenth century. He felt that, if Telugu literature was once again to be a life-giving stream, the decadent prabandha ought to give way to the lyric. In common with Gidugu Ramamurti and others among his contemporaries, he conceived a distaste for the archaic prose-style brought into fashion by Chinnaya Suri, as it was, altogether divorced from the speech of even cultured Telugus of the day. The bridging of the gulf between the spoken and the written Telugu, and the elevation of the lyric into a distinct literary form were Appa Rao’s main contributions to the Renaissance. His published works are few. To most Telugus of the present day he is known as the author of a remarkable social satire–the Kanyasulkam. The play is long and rambling; there is no unity in the plot and the end is unconvincing. Inspite of its brilliant dialogue and its faithful portrayal of certain phases of contemporary life, Kanyasulkam is not the finest expression of Appa Rao’s genius. The style of the play has caused a serious misunderstanding. It is an exact reproduction of the local dialect of the Visakhapatnam District, and wonderfully true to life. But the opponents of the reform of Telugu prose writing seized upon this as a sample of the ‘standard spoken Telugu’ which the reformers favoured. They charged Appa Rao and his school with having sought to import into the language of books all the mannerisms and even the vulgarisms of a local dialect. But the language of the play was the living language of Comedy, in the same way as Viresalingam’s Prahasanas reflected the spoken dialect of Rajahmundry and around. For the purposes of other and more serious literary expression, the reformers urged a close approximation to the spoken language of the educated classes, but not an exact reproduction of it. Kanyasulkam has attained the position of a classic and its main characters–Girisam, Madhuravani, and Ramappa Pantulu–are highly individualised, and attractive for their personal qualities and not just ‘types’.

Appa Rao’s poems, songs and ballads cast a spellover the rising generation of writers, who commenced to write in the second decade of this century while yet they were at college. In particular, he inspired the song-writers among them, like Nanduri Subba Rao, Basavaraju Appa Rao and Adivi Bapiraju. Appa Rao’s new metre–‘the garland of pearls’–is eminently suited to verse-tales, as is evident from his Kanyaka and the ‘Dream of Lavana Raju’ and his ballad of ‘Purnamma’. Lofty and moving sentiments couched in homely phrase are a special characteristic of these tales. Time and again, he expresses poignant regret that he had worn himself out in vain yearnings after the ‘fruits of the empyrean’ while he spurned the beauteous things that lay right around him. This is a reference to his early love for classical literature, either Sanskrit or highly sanskritised Telugu. The ineffable beauty and grace of the native Telugu idiom was missed by him till late in life. But he made ample amends by enshrining it in a series of beautiful poems. There are few things in Telugu literature finer than the closing lines of Kanyaka where the chaste Vaisya maiden flings a curse on the king who wished to ravish her:

“If thou art a monarch and ruleth thy realm,

Is there not One above that ruleth all monarchs?”

or, where king Lavana in his dream woos a “maid of low degrees” and, on being told by her that she was a mala (untouchable) declares passionately,

“There are, amongst men, but two castes–the good and the bad;

If the mala doth belong to the good, then am I content to be a mala.”

“How should the charms of beauteous women

appeal to men enamoured of lifeless wooden dolls?”

Appa Rao’s “Songs of the Blue Hills” composed in the Nilgiris reveal him as a lover of Nature in her moods expressed through cloud and shower.

Persecuted for his literary ‘heresies’ and cut off in the prime of life, Appa Rao’s end was infinitely sad. One of his last songs, “Weigh Anchor”, was composed in a reminiscent mood, when he realised that the end was approaching. He had a feeling that he had not fulfilled himself, and a sense of disappointment overwhelmed him; But the seed which Appa Rao sowed bore abundant fruit. The literary and social ideas for which he lived won splendid recognition. During the past four decades a large volume of literature has grown up, through poem and song, play and story, which can be, definitely traced to his influence. Part of this literature is ephemeral and takes us too far from the traditional values which are still valid despite the passage of time. It represents a revolt and, in the process of discounting the past, forgets that life and literature have many facets of which the modern movement is only a partial expression. A return to classicism, and to the emphasis on the form as well as the content of literature, is in evidence today. But Appa Rao played a great role; he shaped Telugu literature during the period of transition from the classical to the modern, and moved a new generation to its depths. That generation became the makers of modern Telugu literature.

Appa Rao was an admirer of Tagore. He was present at a memorable function at Calcutta fifty years ago, when all Bengal paid homage to the poet on the completion of his fiftieth year. Tagore and Appa Rao were literary contemporaries who left the impress of their personality on their respective literatures. It is significant that the Appa Rao centenary celebrations are following so close on the celebration of the Tagore centenary.

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