Books and Authors

“India, is a land of many languages” – it sounds like an overworked cliché to say that. It is a significant fact, nevertheless. There are at least 15 languages, recognised by the Indian Constitution; and about 24 or 25 of them recognized by the Sahitya Akademi (or the National Academy of Letters).

Turning to literature, we speak of Indian literature (in the singular) as well as of Indian literatures (in the plural). Strictly speaking, it has to be recognised that there are, or could be, as many literatures as there are languages. That is the literal fact, which we cannot get away from. But most, if not all, of these literatures have a common source of inspiration, as also a common experience – emotional and intellectual. This gives rise to a feeling of shared values, along with a cherished tradition.

As in the wider field of culture, so in the narrower arena of literature, it is, therefore, possible to think of unity in diversity, which is why it is observed, in a happy blend of actuality and idealism, of understanding and aspiration, that Indian literature is one, though written in many languages. But the trouble with some of us who seem to mistake parochialism for patriotism and linguistic chauvinism for cultural nationalism, is that diversity is projected at the expense of unity, the gains from which could be temporary and in terms of regional politics, while the loss is more permanent in terms of national history. A greater loss is of our own perspective today – we miss the wood for the trees.

How could we possibly avoid this ever-present, but now insistent, danger? By not losing sight of the national identity, always present, perceptibly or imperceptibly, in our literature or literatures, and by not deliberately and even perversely, setting our face against the factors that make for cultural unity. Mountains could be made of mole hills by prejudice of one kind or another, which is born of ignorance–of some basic facts of our life and literature, not to speak of the concepts of philosophy and culture.

A good starting-point could be a study of comparative Indian literature. While comparative literature, as an academic discipline, is a new subject in Indian or foreign universities, some kind of comparative study is implicit in the very process of literary criticism and artistic appreciation. Only the tools have to be sharpened, and a suitable methodology has to be evolved for the purpose.

Just now, we do not seem to have many, or even any, standard books for a professional study of comparative literature in India. Comparative Indian Literature, in two volumes, launched as a Silver Jubilee Project of the Kerala Sahitya Akademi, is a welcome publi­cation. It is edited by Dr. K. M. George (who is the Chief Editor and Director of the Project) and published by Macmillan India, which could be a guarantee of its intellectual standard and quality of production.

Even this publication is not strictly an exercise in the com­parative study of Indian literature, as the term is apt to be understood. It is essentially a history of Indian literature with a generic approach which could, in view of its consequent design and structure, facilitate comparative studies of the various constituents of Indian literature. For instance, in volume I, which was released earlier this year, the whole subject in view is discussed under six sections – viz., Language, Folk Literature, Traditional Poetry. Modern Poetry, Drama and Novel.

Volume II, to be released towards the end of the year, covers the rest of the subject under six, other sections, viz., Short story, General Prose, Biographical Writings, Literary Criticism, Children’s Literature and Literary Movements. There are useful appendices, containing glossaries of literary terms and other references.

Apart from the panel of contributors drawn from writers and critics of experience in the different regions, the chief editor is ably assisted by an editorial board of seasonal teachers well-versed in their respective languages as well as in English.

By and large, a creditable performance on the part of all concerned in this ambitious, pioneering project.

Not only the Kerala Sahitya Akademi, but individual Kerala writers and critics in English have taken the initiative in projecting writers and aspects of writing, which had not received adequate attention until recently.

Prof. K. Ayyappa Paniker has done well to undertake the editing of a new series of monographs, entitled “Kerala Writers in English,” which reminded me, in content as also in format, of the handy and handsome series, sponsored by the British Council on English authors, and brought out by Longmans. The British series comprises about a hundred titles.

The present series has so far covered half-a-dozen writers–A. S. P. Ayyar by K. P. K. Menon; Menon Marath and Aubery Menen by Mohammed Elias; K. M. Panikar and Manjeri S. Isvaran, both by K. Ayyappa Paniker; K. P. S. Menon and P. Palpu both by N. Viswanathan.

Not all of the writers discussed in the series so far are creative writers in the true sense of the word, not even critical or construc­tive writers who can stand scrutiny without the aid of regional sentiment. As far as the present reviewer is concerned, the best known to him are Manjeri S. Isvaran and K. P. S. Menon and the least familiar is P. Palpu.

Isvaran has a special claim to be remembered in the pages of this periodical, of which he was once the Associate Editor in addition to being a regular contributor. That apart, he was one of the most sensitive of short story writers, a poet in prose as well as in verse. I can hardly think of any other Indian writer in English, who was conscientious in his craft or committed to literary and human values, in which he believed. Many of his short stories are exquisite portraits of Indian, especially South Indian, life, in miniature. That long short story or novella, Immersion, remains a classic – in emotional substance as well as in style. His poems, not that powerful perhaps, manage to reflect his flights of fancy and virtuosity as a stylist. Worth remember­ing how Isvaran and Marcella Hardy did a good job of editing Shakespeare’s “Henry IV, Part I” for an Indian publisher. Ayyappa Paniker does justice to the work of Isvaran – his psyche as well as his style.

Perhaps, when a Paniker meets a Panikkar, it is not Greek meeting Greek! It is almost like an admirer meeting his idol. Ayyappa Paniker is more than just to K. M. Panikkar. He is out­right generous. He is hardly able to see any faults (of excess) or defects (of inadequacy) in his subject. It is true that Sardar Panikkar was intellectually resourceful, versatile in his interests, and prolific in his output. But his writing is glaringly un-literary, with a style that is not only flat and pedestrian, brut downright clumsy. Even his flaunted originality was not above suspicion, for he had an admirable flair for making books out of books! He was frankly an overrated writer. A more balanced and really critical estimate would have been in order.

K. P. S. Menon was among the luckiest of human beings–a real favourite of the gods, if there were any. He didn’t die young, of course! He lived a long and full life – enjoying life at home and abroad. As a writer, he was eminently readable – a delight­ful raconteur, without a touch of malice or jealousy. I, for one, didn’t feel like reading him a second time; nor could I decide what he believed in or what he stood for – besides success every where and roses, roses all the way! The monograph is, likewise, readable, without leaving a lasting impression.

As for A. S. P. Ayyar he was a scholar, deeply attached to the traditional values. He was more of a scholar than an artist. It is a moot point how far he deserves the place of precedence in this series.

The forthcoming titles are – Kamala Das, Pothan Joseph and, G. Parameswara Pillai. They are all awaited with interest.

In a multilingual country, there is no possible way of the classics, ancient or modern, of one language, reaching the readers of the other languages, without the aid of translation. The process of translation seems to be quicker, as also more satisfying in the continent of Europe than in the sub-continent, or even the Union of India.

Though Hindi may be the largest spoken language in India, English still remains the first language of literary communication through translation. Here too, Kerala writers are probably better served than any other regional writers, with the possible exception of Bengali and Hindi. Among the more experienced translators from Malayalam into English is Mr. V. Abdulla, who has had a good innings in the field of publishing.

Three of the modern writers of Malayalam fiction chosen by Mr. Abdulla for translation are: Vaikam Muhammad Basheer, S. K. Pottekkatt and M. T. Vasudevan Nair. The first is represent­ed by two collections–The Love-letter and other stories and Voices and the Walls. Basheer is a distinguished short story writer, noted for his insight into human nature and poetic sensibility. He could ­be seen at his best in the longish title-piece, “The Love-letter” tender, whimsical, unpredictable. The translation is competently ­done, with all the nuances of colloquial Malayalam well-captured. Some of the shorter stories are wispy, insubstantial.

            Poovan Banana is another longer story, depicting Mopiah life, on the merits of which there could be two or more opinions. A semi-literate trade union leader subdues the proud and temperamental graduate daughter of a rich family, by methods which can only be described as crude and brutal. This obviously reflects another side of Basheer’s character – crude, brutal and primitive, which only an un-regenerate male chauvinist could approve. This has only a superficial resemblance to Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew and can hardly be held up for unqualified admiration (as Prof. G. Kumara Pillai seems to do in the introduction). Anyway, this can’t be held against the translator, who has done a conscientious job.

From Indian literature to Indian History – of the modern period. It is one of the saddest facts of the history Indian politics, of the pre-independence period that the era of the moderates is either completely ignored or inadequately covered by the modern Indian historian. The commonest tendency is either to run down the moderates and liberals as “loyalists” (and traitors to the cause of independence) or damn them with faint praise.

In point of actual fact, the so-called moderates were second to none in their patriotic feeling, personal courage or integrity of character. Only they believed in constitutional methods of agitation, because of their faith in the British Government’s respect for the “Rule of Law.” It would be hard to think of more genuine human material than that represented by Ranade, Pherozeshah Mehta, Gokhale and Sastri or Sapru and Jayakar later. None of them was a time-server or a place-seeker. They knew that hard words broke no bones and it was better to use moderate language to express strong sentiment and canvass reasonable demands.

Gokhale, the archetypal Moderate, was not exactly trusted by the British Indian Administration.

“I mistrust Gokhale,” wrote Lord Hardinge, the Viceroy, in a confidential letter, “more almost than any man in India, as he is watching for our mistakes, and is the only Indian who knows how to play the waiting game.”

Gokhale believed that the future of India was in the hands of Indians themselves. His words came true when Edwin Montagu made his famous declaration in 1917.

When he delivered his first budget speech in 1992, in the Imperial Legislative Council, with Lord Curzon in the chair, it fell like a bombshell in that sedate assembly.

These and many other revealing facts from the Moderate era are brought out in his recent Dadabhai Naoroji Memorial Lecture in Bombay by Mr. B. R. Nanda, eminent biographer and political historian.

The Moderates, especially Gokhale, were the link between 19th century economic and political thought and the economic and political thought as it developed in this century. They had also made the task of Gandhi easier. But for the habit of throwing all restraint to the winds in the Gandhian era, we continue to suffer the consequences. He sowed the wind and we reap the whirlwood. A natural and necessary corrective would be to turn to the wisdom of the Liberals, for selective absorption­.

Mr. Nanda has rendered a true service to the politically-minded intelligentsia of today by turning the focus on the moderates and presenting their ideas in the proper perspective.

Students of Indian History would be happy to learn that Prof. K. A. Nilakanta Sastri’s magnum opus “The Cholas” has been reprinted by the University of Madras. To appreciate the value of this book it is, however, not necessary to class him with great historians of literary merit like Gibbon, Macaulay and Trevelyan. For Sastri is no Gibbon. He has neither the brilliant style nor the magnificent sweep of the latter nor even the keen insight. But his facts are sound, his style is plain and his judgments are cautious. He can be a useful guide on the subject, though some of the conclusions of his study are overtaken by more recent researchers in the field.