1. South Indian Stage And Other Lectures Bellary Raghava

Barcode

:

2040100046798

Title

The

South

Indian

Stage

And

Other

Lectures

Author

B.Raghava

Language

english

Pages

122

Publication

Year

1976

Barcode

EAN.UCC-13

THE

SOUTH

INDIAN

STAGE

AND

OTHER

LECTURES

OF

BELLARY

RAGHAVA

EDITED

BY

K.

DES

V.

SP

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

AND

OTHER LECTURES

BELLARY RAGHAVA

EDITED BY

K. DESAPATHI RAO

V. SRINIVASA SARMA

September

1976

Published with aid from Government of Andhra Pradesh

Ten Rupees

Copies can be had of

V. Srinivasa Sarma

334/2 RT, Vijaynagar Colony

Hyderabad - 500 028

Printed at Avon Printing Works, Hyderabad.

P R E F A C E

Raghava gave the lecture on South Indian Stage at Mysore University. The lecture, Purpose of Art, was delivered by him during the Travancore, Festival of Fine Arts. South Indian Stage, Letters from the West, and Art and The People, were published during Raghava’s life time. The Purpose of Art. The Role of An Actor, and Girisam Looks at Life, were found by us in manuscript form and are being published for the first time here.

The lectures and articles on art and life are relevant even to this day for they contain the unchangeable truth. Though they were conceived some decades back Raghava’s ideas about art and life do not in the least appear dated. They deal with the legitimate in art and the inherent strength and weaknesses of human nature and behaviour. His views on theatre and the changes required in it are valid even now. The danger of the contractor’s clutches on the theatre, about which Raghava was so much worried, has receded but amateur associations have not risen to his expectations. We still do not have a full-fledged theatre befitting our heritage, traditions, and the great size of our nation. Now we not only need a great theatre but infact deserve one. This we can achieve by following that great actor’s spirit.

Sri D. Venugopalachari, a leading advocate of Bellary and son-in-law of Raghava, and Dr. P. S. R. Appa Rao, Director of International Telugu Institute, have given us the manuscripts. Sri N. V. R. Seshagiri Rao has guided us in the reading of manuscripts. Sri G. Subba Rao, Steno-typist, A. P. Industrial Infrastructure Corporation, has helped in copying the manuscripts and preparing the press copy. Sri P. S. Moorthy, Accounts Officer, A.P. Sangeeta Nataka Akademi, has rendered great help in bringing forth this publication. We are much indebted to all of them.

E D I T O R S

We

express

our

gratitude

to

Sri

M.

V.

Krishna

Rao,

Hon'ble

Minister

for

Education

and

Cultural

Affairs,

Andhra

Pradesh,

for

the

financial

assistance.

CONTENTS

About Raghava

i

The South Indian Stage

1

The Role of an Actor

33

The Purpose of Art

41

Girisam looks at Life

59

Letters from the West

85

Art and the People

91

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

Raghavacharyulu. Tadpatri was also his family name but since he lived at Bellary he came to be called Bellary Raghavacharyulu.

From an early age Raghava showed keen interest in the theatre. He used to see any play that was enacted in and around Bellary.

He was first introduced on the stage in his twelfth year and within a short period he developed a discerning taste for acting and was even capable of criticising his own uncle and mentor Dharmavaram Ramakrishnamacharyulu who was a great Telugu playwright.

Raghava's early education took place at Bellary. Later he graduated from the Madras Christian College. His interest in drama was growing with him, and he continued acting in English plays.

European professors at college were admiring his talent as a Shakespearean actor.

After graduation Raghava worked as a teacher in the Bellary Municipal High School for a brief period of two months.

Leaving it he joined the Government Engineering department, but naturally these vocations were not satisfying to Raghava, a man of insatiable urges.

Morcover they deprived him of his independence. His uncle Ramakrishnamacharyulu was a prosperous lawyer and this profession attracted Raghava.

So, he went back to Madras and joined the Law college. Raghava was not able to pass the Law examination in his first attempt but in 1905 he appeared privately and succeeded in getting a law degree.

Soon after his return from Madras his marriage took place with Krishnamma, daughter of Lakshmanacharyulu, who was a lawyer at Kurnool.

Krishnamma soon became known for her hospitality and kindness.

In 1906 Raghava joined as a junior to his uncle and continued till his uncle's death in 1912.

Later on he practised independently.

ii

ABOUT RAGHAVA

Raghava's career as lawyer was a great success. Not withstanding this his first love continued to be the theatre. In 1906 itself he trained several young actors and staged a number of English plays and a Shakespeare Club was established.

Another great playwright Kolachalam Srinivasa Rao recognised Raghava's unlimited talent and invited him to take part in his Sumanorama Sabha. Raghava used to act in these plays along with his troupe. But this ultimately led to the decline of the Shakespeare Club and its activities. Rivalries developed between this Sabha and Sarasa Vinodini Sabha, organised by Ramakrishnamacharyulu. Inspite of the fact that Sarasa Vinodini Sabha was his uncle's, Raghava used to act only in the rival organisation. This continued even when he practised law as a junior to his uncle. Obviously his ideas about theatre arts were quite different from his uncle's. These differences, though vehement as they were, were not personal. Even when they both did not work together in the field of theatre their relations outside it were cordial. Raghava had his own ideas about the theatre and its development but they inevitably appeared unorthodox and westernised to his uncle.

Raghava was equally at home on Telugu and Kannada stages. At Bangalore, his plays, though most of them were in Telugu, always received packed audiences. As early as 1907 he acted in various plays under the Sumanorama Sabha banner where he became its leading star. Even before taking part in the Sumanorama Sabha repertory Raghava was well known for his roles in Sheridan's and Shakespeare's dramas. Raghava's first drama with Sumanorama Sabha was Sunandini Parinayam, an original play in Telugu, and for the first time he was acting in a Telugu drama.

In his early career Raghava had some disinclination towards the mythological plays and it was only by chance that he came to act in them. A play on the Mahabharata war by Sumanorama Sabha was in progress and, as was his wont when the Sabha

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

staged mythological plays, Raghava was sitting in the auditorium. The actor who was playing the part of Yudhishthira received calamitous news from home and abruptly left the theatre. Unless somebody replaced him the whole thing would end in a fiasco. Kolachalam went upto Raghava and requested him to save the situation. Naturally Raghava felt it his duty to save the honour of an organisation with which he was closely associated. Promptly walking into the green room he began his mythological characters.

Inspite of this Raghava was not inclined to take part in mythological themes. Later on he modified his stand and a change took place in his attitude towards mythological plays. Raghava weighed the impact of the social and historical plays on the masses as against mythological ones. He found the latter to carry the message more quickly among the people. Therefore he had to choose mythological plays which were infiltrated with relevant social comment. The message reached the masses quicker and appealed effectively. Whenever a change occured in his opinions Raghava never hesitated to publicly admit it. Raghava had to say this on the change of his stand about mythological plays : Religion is in the very blood of our masses and therefore any message will readily reach them through the established characters of our mythology. At least for the time being it should be the form to carry the message. But these plays must be written in a new way with a new interpretation that is relevant to our times and to our problems. We should have dramas that are powerful enough to bring a change and not those romances which appeal to the base emotions.

Ramakrishnamacharyulu died in 1912 depriving the Andhra stage of a pioneer playwright and actor. His brother Gopalacharyulu formed the Ramakrishnamacharyulu Memorial Company, a dramatic association to perpetuate his memory. Raghava decided to join this association. This and the rivalry between the two dramatic associations, Sarasa Vinodini Sabha and Sumanorama Sabha, ended in their own complete eclipse.

iv

Raghava used to enact plays written by both Ramakrishna-macharyulu and Srinivasa Rao. His frequent visits to Bangalore and his performances there brought him close to the Kannada stage with which his association grew with years. Even today Raghava is as much venerated by the Kannada stage as the Telugu stage. Because of his friendship with the famous Kannada actor A. V. Varadachar, Raghava began taking part in the Amateur Dramatic Association of Bangalore, a pioneer and most popular dramatic association of the Karnataka theatre movement. This association was formed in 1909 and Raghava became its leading actor. He used to visit Bangalore frequently to conduct rehearsals for the plays and soon became the kingpin of the association and its activities.

This association conducted a Festival of Fine Arts for a week at Bangalore in 1919 and it was presided over by Rabindranath Tagore. For the first time Tagore was paying a visit to the South, and the achievements of the theatre movement spearheaded by the Amateur Dramatic Association and Raghava created a deep impression on him. Having seen Raghava's performances at Bangalore, Mysore and Calcutta the poet acclaimed him as the greatest actor of the country. The association between Tagore and Raghava continued further. An actor himself, Tagore knew the great heights Raghava had reached in the field of acting.

In 1927, during summer, Gandhiji went to Nandi Hills for rest and once visited Bangalore. At that time it was planned to stage Pundit Taranath's play, Kabir. So, they invited Gandhiji to witness the performance. Gandhiji agreed to stay only for a few minutes. But at the performance progressed Gandhiji stayed on till the end. Meanwhile Rajaji, who was beside him, reminded Gandhiji that it was getting time for prayers and Gandhiji replied that the drama itself was a prayer and at the end getting up he shouted 'Raghava Maharaj ki jai'.

Raghava was no stranger to the Madras stage too. There he was a member of the famous Suguna Vilas Sabha.

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

The popular playwright and theatre personality Sambandam Mudaliar and the critic V. V. Srinivasa Iyengar were intimately known to him. On behalf of this Sabha he acted in English and Telugu plays. The Fall of Vijayanagar was one of the many plays he enacted at Madras, and the Pathan character he donned in the play was highly appreciated. This play was subsequently proscribed by the British Government on the pretext that it was detrimental to the communal peace. One leading actor of Madras did not like to give Raghava his due place and believed that he himself could do better in the role of Pathan. So, he requested Raghava to show him how he did the role. Raghavadid it not once but six times, each time differently and this artiste was stunned and grasped how inimitable Raghava was. To witness his performances at Madras fellow actors and admirers used to go there from far away places like Chittoor, Nellore and Guntur.

Though Raghava had been a popular actor for a long time it was not until 1921 that he performed in the coastal districts of Andhra Pradesh. He seems to have entertained some doubts about the tastes of the coastal Andhra audiences—that they wanted more music in plays, that they might not like his style of acting, and finally, that they were unruly in the theatre. As if justifying his apprehensions he did have some unpleasant experiences in the beginning. When one of his friends, Guduri Lakshmana Rao, invited him to the coastal districts in 1921 Raghava put up plays there. His first drama was at Vijayawada. To the music-loving audiences of the place Raghava’s acting did not appeal. Still he carried on his shows in all the coastal towns. These shows gradually influenced the actors there and many of them began to follow in his footsteps. Critics and fellow artistes started holding him in high esteem. Though Raghava’s style of acting and his new ways of verse-reading were very highly appreciated in and outside the State he still felt something was lacking in the Telugu theatre. He felt change was inevitable to bring about a renaissance of the Telugu theatre. At that time western theatre was at the helm of its glory. In order to study

the ways of that theatre Raghava felt an urge to go and see it

himself. Therefore, in 1928, he visited the Continent and

England for two months. In the United Kingdom Raghava

witnessed many plays by English and Continental artistes. Not

only plays, but even rehearsals of these plays he used to attend

and had a brief but thorough look into the various aspects of the

theatre there. He also had discussions with the great actor and

actress. Sir Forbes Robertson and Mrs. Robertson, Spanish

actress and producer Miss Kitty Willoughly, well-known play-

wrights George Bernard Shaw and Sir Arthur Pinero, famous art

critics Winston Churchill, Ashley Dukes and C. J. Grain.

Shaw dismissed the experience of the western theatre and

commented to Raghava: Why did you come here to learn art?

It is we that should go to the east to learn art, religion and

poetry. Shaw was not satisfied with what the western theatre

had so far achieved. Therefore he himself was seeking light

from the East and its exotic theatre. Keeping his own under-

standing of the western theatre in view Raghava began attempt-

ing to convince people here about the changes that are necessary

in our own theatre. He argued that our own theatre should

portray the current problems of our society and suggest re-

medies. He said that our theatre should inspire life; young

artistes should have facilities for proper training in the dramatic

art; separate theatres should be built for enacting plays; women

alone should play feminine characters; we should borrow stage-

craft liberally from the West; acting should have more import-

ance than music in a play. Raghava also decided to act more

and more in plays with social themes. For this purpose he made

Rajamannar* write a play, Tappevaridi, and he himself wrote

Saripadani Sangatulu and staged them. Raghava insisted that

family women with talent should take part on the stage. As a

result of his persuasions several women came forward to par-

• Dr. P. V. Rajamannar is the former Chief Justice of Madras High

Court and a noted social playwright in Telugu. He was also the first

Chairman of the Sangee Natak Akademi, New Delhi.

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

ticipate in dramas. To the orthodox it was a scandalous thing that women and men should move freely in the theatre groups. There was tumult but Raghava did not care to take cognisance. Only due to his unstinted support did Madapati Sarojini, Kommuri Padmavati Devi, Kopparapu Sarojini, Kakinada Annapurna and Varada Bai boldly come forward and bring glory to themselves and the Andhra stage.

In the early stages Raghava was strongly opposed to the introduction of music in dramas. But later Raghava seems to have reconciled to the place of music in plays, though not fully. The final acceptance was undoubtedly conditional. Raghava was quite justified in his suspicions because music was then, as even now, the most abused on the Telugu stage. But this should not be construed as hatred for music. On the contrary it was only due to his great love and respect for music that he fought against its abuse in dramas. If we just look back to the decade between 1920-30 and the state in which our own stage stagnated acting. It was not only in Andhra but in the whole of South India plays became musical concerts rather than occasions for giving scope to acting out human emotions. Raghava argued that the place of music in dramas was limited and the importance of acting should be paramount. His arguments with a missionary zeal finally had their impact.

Raghava believed that actors cannot be manufactured like commodities but it is necessary that an actor should be trained to understand the play properly and the talent dormant in him must be roused. To understed a character in a play, to imagine how one character should behave with another as in life, to know the meaning and sense intended by the playwright-to learn all these-it is necessary to have proper training. Raghava was greatly impressed by the work done by the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London in this direction. The developments in the art of bodily gestures there attracted him. Raghava anxiously sought to introduce these advances in our theatre as

viii

well. In 1937 Raghava wrote a letter to Rajaji, then Chief Minister

of Madras state, requesting him to provide opportunities for

training actors at the Madras University.

However his proposal attracted the attention of the Andhra

University. The University senate appointed a committee with

Raghava and Sambandam Mudaliar. This committee prepared

a syllabus and reported that unless sufficient opportunities were

created for training and study of the dramatic art it would be

futile to merely conduct examinations in the subject. For some

reason or the other the University could not introduce the course

in dramatic art till 1961.

Raghava entered films in 1936 with encouragement from

some friends and acted in three films Droupadi Mana-

samrakshanam, Rytu Bidda and Chandika. But acting in films

seemed to him too mechanical a process, what with the technical

limitations that were only natural to the field then. Raghava

felt that his style of acting was out of place in films and re-

nounced his screen career. About Raghava's acting in films the

famous shortstory writer Kodavatiganti states: I have seen

Raghava rehearsing for Ramabrahmam's Rytu Bidda four times.

Each time it was different. There are actors who act out a

character a number of times the same way. But such a thing is

not to Raghava's taste. Is not natural acting always an

impromptu creation! Probably this is the reason why Raghava

could not thrive in films.

Raghava came under the spiritual influence of Pundit

Taranath, who was exiled from the Nizam's dominion in

1920. Taranath was of a great philosophical bent of mind and

he established his hermitage on the banks of Tungabhadra and

called it Premayatana. There he used to impart training in Yoga

and Ayurveda. Taranath inspired many people from various

states. Raghava collected funds with the help of his plays for the

establishment of an Ayurvedic school there.

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

Raghava was as ardent in charities as in learning money.

He used to spend thousands of rupees for social causes. Raghava

founded a school for Harijans at Bellary which is still function-

ing. He used to move among Harijans without any inhibition

and on festive occasions they were invited as guests to his house.

These down-trodden people used to freely participate in the

festivities.

Though Raghava was extremely liberal in spending huge

amounts for humanitarian causes he was against pomp and

frittering away money without purpose. To him it was not

proper to spend more than twenty five rupees for the holy thread

ceremony and two hundred and fifty rupees for a marriage. He

kept up his ideal in deeds by celebrating two marriages, of his

own daughter's and his brother's son's, with only five hundred

rupees.

That Raghava never cared to distinguish between castes and

moved along freely and dined with all castes supposed to be

below his own, that he preached that women should not be isolated

from the mainstream of progress—and his reformist views—

antogonised the orthodox elders of his caste who excommunicat-

ed him. But how does it curb a man of his zeal ? Those reli-

gious zealots even tried to get him censured by a vaishnava

Pithadhipati at Mysore. Some of his supposed well-wishers

tried to convince him that his revolutionary ideas bode him no

good, that he should renounce his ways and return to the esta-

blished path. Some even threatened him with dire consequences.

But all the same Raghava did not budge an inch. 'But indeed

they put a spoke in the wheel of progress. Oh! these spooks of

the past,' Raghava thought. He wrote in his dairy of that

period: A true vaishnava has no caste. He is an outcaste. He

can never become a true devotee until he has effaced caste

altogether. But at last many of those who had slighted him be-

came his ardent followers.

For the welfare of the actors, Raghava strove for an old

age pension scheme but it could not be realised in his own time.

x

All the same he did his best by participating in several benefit performances in aid of ageing artistes. Only when he staged a play could an organisation earn funds. Unless it was beyond his power Raghava never declined a request to stage a play in aid of an organisation.

Raghava was as celebrated a figure in the legal circles as he was in the dramatic field. He was well-known for his unusual ways of cross-examination. It was a common occurrence to see people coming from nearby places to witness his talents in court. His gestures and speech in court used to be like his acting on the stage, impressive and purposeful.

Raghava was appointed Government pleader in 1927 and was in the same position for nine years. The British government conferred on him Rao Bahadur in recognition of his talents as a lawyer, and Raghava did not accept it. But later the same title was bestowed on him for his services to, and excellence in, the field of drama. Though Raghava had enormous income as a lawyer he never breached the ethics of his profession. Before accepting a brief Raghava used to study all aspects of the case to see if it justified his convictions as a human being. He was like a yeoman among lawyers, and from the poor he never accepted any fees for arguing their cases. Once a brief was accepted Raghava put all his efforts into it sincerely and worked hard to win the case.

In Raghava's opinion titles and medals were signs of hypocrisy. He never used his titles Natyakala Prapoorna and Rao Bahadur even on his letterheads. He dropped the suffix acharya from his original name which was a mark of respect to his caste and simply called himself Raghava.

While some critics said that Raghava was an adept in the depiction of equanimity and compassion (Santa and Karuna rasas), others admired his mastery over romantic, ferocious and tragic (Sringara, Bhayanaka and Vishada) moods. Each one-

xi

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

artiste, crtic and scholar got what he wanted from him. To say

that Raghava was adept in one and defficient in another is only

due to the incapacity of the beholder of the colossus on the stage.

Whatever be the nature, size and status of a character in the

play Raghava put in his best, which was inevitably the best

anybody could present. Raghava always used to improve on

his own performance and that was why he was inimitable

to the last.

When we say Raghava acted in his roles with complete

devotion and understanding it should not be construed that he

became one with the role he was acting by forgetting his exis-

tence. This is simply not to understand him properly. Raghava

himself said about it: I would not deny that an actor may not

become one with his role on the stage even temporarily. But a

role is fully under the control of a true actor and he is not

carried away by its emotions. Such an actor alone is capable

of depicting emotions which are contrasting in quick

succession. Such actors are of the first order. The lesser ones

are carried away by their roles and are swayed by those emotions.

How can they do justice to the roles they are playing?

Eventhough Raghava was taking part in historical and my-

thological plays his interest in social themes never declined. He

used to encourage playwrights in Telugu and Kannada to

write social plays. Many Telugu and Kannada writers used to

approach him for suggestions and advice. Whether playwrights

or actors, whoever came to him Raghava always encouraged and

gave them help.

The egoless nature of Raghava was naturally attracted by

the story of Visvamitra, who was charitable, sacrificing and

persevering, but brimming with ego which took him thousands

of years to become a Brahmarishi. Only when he got rid of his

self could he attain it. Raghava thought of having a play

around this. At that time he was planning to stage Tegani

Samasya, which Raghava co-authored with Rajamannar.

xii

Raghava was not in good health but his love for drama had not declined a bit and he used to participate in all the dramas of the amateur associations which called him. By that time he was 63 years. Raghava founded the Art Lovers League at Bellary and used to act in its plays. He always incurred loss on these plays in which he used to experiment with new ideas and his earnings as a lawyer were freely used to keep them going. He even used to pay salaries to the poor artistes from his pocket.

Even as Raghava advanced in age the hurdles also grew higher. But he was determined to stage the play Tegani Samasya and it was finally staged on 23rd March 1946 at Bellary. In about another fifteen days the condition of Raghava's health became worse and on 16th April at 11 hours 5 minutes in the night he passed away from the drama of his life.

Thousands of people followed him to the cremation ground on his last journey. His dress maker Ramanappa was not able to leave his dead master and carried an umbrella to shade the body. Raghava's intimacy with his friends and the down-trodden was such.

Efforts are being made constantly to benefit from the traditions and high standards set by Raghava and to improve upon them. About Raghava's greatness as an actor and lover of the drama time has proved beyond doubt; in the hearts of men who go to the theatre, and in the hearts of those innumerable artistes who have dedicated their lives to it Raghava is an everliving symbol of the dramatic art.

K. Desapathi Rao

V. Srinivasa Sarma

The South Indian Stage

A history of the South Indian stage may prove to be the history of South Indian life, South Indian society and culture. It is possible to conceive the stage as a church or temple where the human urges to strive after the useful and the beautiful meet to unite in happy wedlock. The purpose of a wedlock is, or should be, (with apologies to Mr. Bernard Shaw) the true conception of Truth, Beauty and Happiness. Drama may be considered as the ritual of this interesting ceremony; the dramatist as the High Priest who brings about the union in the interests of human progress; and music, painting, costumes and wigs as some of the more important supporters of the event.

The urge to strive after the useful is by itself an awakening of the spiritual consciousness in human beings; and if left to itself, unhampered and unfettered by the musty, mouldy, evil-smelling cob-webs of purdah-hidden convention and superstition, it is sure to find its mate and the result would be a song of joy vibrating with the rich notes of a triumphant life. Similarly the urge after the beautiful, in a natural state of progress, would bring one to the same happy destination. The precincts of the stage would be desecrated if the dramatist did not bring about this happy union. The function of religion itself may be conceived to be the translation of the useful into the beautiful and the beautiful into the useful. A great thinker says that religion is an art which equips human beings with creative faculties to sort, arrange, and rehearse the natural forces; and utilise the natural wealth for the production of first class plays for the edification of the very gods and goddesses.

The great Bharta is credited with having said loka vrittyanukaranam natyam. Natya is defined as dance with gestures.

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

Nataka (drama) is of course something more complex. If natya and its presentation alone should fulfil the purpose of reflecting or reproducing the world, or visualising the sublime and gorgeous play of reason, emotion, and volition which make up the real, genuine, living life how much more powerful a nataka could be, may be easily imagined. A nataka is a vivid inset photograph of the millions of thought-forms which are caused by human emotions, struggles and aspirations in their onward march, striving after the useful and the beautiful. To quote from the literature of the International Theatre Society, London: Knowledge of a people is best gained through its literature and the easiest form of literature to understand is the dramatic. A consideration of the South Indian stage, therefore, is a consideration of the South Indian people, their society and culture.

I do not profess to know much about the Tamil stage and the Tamil drama, except that I have witnessed a few Tamil performances in Madras and Bangalore. I believe I am fairly conversant with the Telugu and Canarese dramas and I have actively participated in the activities of the Telugu and Kannada stage for more than twenty years.

Origin of Indian Stage

I have no inclination whatever to dwell on the origin of things, as regards the Indian stage and drama. It is not always a healthy condition of the mind to glue itself to the pages of past deeds and past glories. Progress mainly consists of looking around and looking ahead. Looking back now and then may be necessary to assure oneself that the life-line is intact, is duly served and has not lost touch with the centre. Looking around and looking ahead are, however, more important in the interests of a society's progress. There are two more factors in progress, which make life really alive. One is the spirit of adventure and the second is the pace we adopt. A straight, steady and vigorous stride makes the progress exhilarating, and a spirit of adventure trains the power of vision to expand and galvanize all human

2

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

energies into a state of healthy activity. Proof of a healthy life

is the presence of experimental impulses in its blood. A

disinclination to consider the present and future in a fearless

manner; a dread of casting aside the conventional blinkers

adjusted by diabolical exploiters; a religious determination to

shut one's eyes to naked actualities; a complacent holding back

from the ring of life; seeking shelter with a convenient philosophy

of ahimsa to avoid a clinch with the hard and ugly facts of one's

existence; and a belief that religiousness is unthinking,

unquestioning obedience to dogmas and platitudes—all these are

indications that something is rotten in one's kingdom of

intellect. Revolt is one of the birth-rights of human beings.

Sure he that made us with such large discourse

Looking before and after, gave us not

That capability and God-like reason

To rust in us unused.

That is what Hamlet says.

There is another evil factor in the calculations of this reign

of human self-complacency. It is a morbid desire to place all

weakness, disease and ruin at the door of external and objective

influences. It cannot be denied that environment and circumstan-

ces play a very important part in the healthy growth of an

individual or a society but the real cause of one's weakness and

ruin lies within one's self, just as the real cause of one's glory

and strength lies within one's self. External bacilli may attack

and undermine the healthy growth of a society only when the

white corpuscles of the society's life-blood have lost their

vitality to resist attacks from outside. The real question for

consideration would therefore be the cause or causes which lead

to the impoverishment of the life-blood of society and its

muscle-power. To blame external causes, without candidly

analysing the internal ones, is not a correct way of diagnosis,

and not at all the road to recover lost health. A general

investigation into the conditions of the stage, however, would

help us to understand the conditions of our society. As a great

3

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

thinker says, there is no surer evidence as to the character and

fibre of a people than is afforded by the nature and quality of

their popular amusements and especially of their drama. It

needs no great effort to perceive that one who knows how to get

the best out of a holiday knows also how to get the best out of a

working day.

It may therefore be useful in the interests of the material

and moral welfare of our society itself to consider in a general

manner the growth and development of our stage and to

consider it without any prejudices, and if I may call it so,

without any ‘practerito-mania’ or the obsession of fancying that

our ancients and ancestors knew everything, perfected everything

and laid down the last word on every subject.

The Past

I have already told you that in considering the growth and

development of the South Indian stage, I am not inclined to look

back into the hoary past except to ascertain if the connecting

chord or life-line between the centre and the present development

is intact or broken. In other words, if the South Indian stage

(to become accurate the Kannada and the Telugu stages) as we

find it now is keeping in view the essential characteristics of such

an institution and realizing its proper place, purpose and

dynamic force as realised by our ancients in the evolution of our

society on the lines of our dharma, culture and our philosophy.

Like all other arts, the dramatic art is essentially human and

universal. This is an obvious proposition. Like all other arts

the dramatic art takes its life from the emotional strata in human

nature. The likes and dislikes of man find their corresponding

forms in his expression of joy and pain. Like all other arts the

dramatic art is instinctive in its inception. The volcanic power

of suppressed instincts in human nature, reacting to the stimuli,

either of pleasure or pain, struggles to express them outwardly

in some form of delineation and the dramatic art does so by

word and gesture. To the primitive man, expression of pleasure

takes the form of dancing in joy and gratitude to the Almighty

4

for possession of the things he has desired; and expression of

pain takes the form of weeping, crying, and wildly gesticulating

in imploring appeals to the Almighty for a shower of His

blessings. It follows therefore that the beginnings of the dramatic

art should be found in religious demonstrations or exercises

undertaken either for the purpose of thanksgiving to, or for the

purpose of propitiating, the creator. Both involve a visualization

of the creator's infinite powers, prowess and resources. When the

first conditions of society appear, when the primitive man begins

to realize that he is only a unit of the settled society, then a

stage begins to take shape. If each individual lived for himself,

there might not be any need for the institution of a stage at all.

It is because men are thrown together or band themselves

together to lead a corporate life that the necessity of a stage

arises. Individuals left to themselves without obligations due to

a society around would naturally give free play to their emotions

and respond to all external stimuli without any check or

hindrance. On the other hand, the moment an individual finds

himself surrounded by society and realizes that he has some

obligations to perform, the necessity to restrain his natural

impulses to respond arises. He will be obliged to feel that he will

have to regulate and moderate his natural impulses, if he chooses

to keep within the folds of society. The privileges of a society

react on the natural instincts of an individual. Similarly society

will have a corresponding obligation to protect the interests of

the individual. The aims and aspirations of a member of a

society and the aims and aspirations of society itself begin to act

and react mutually one upon the other. A well ordered society,

therefore, requires a comprehensive mirror where the units can

detect their faults inter se and the effect of such faults on the

beauty and symmetry of the group itself. That comprehensive

mirror is the stage. Any right thinking person perceives his

individual weakness or abnotmalities in a process of self-analysis.

His faults or shortcomings, in other words, his natural handicaps

against his spiritual or material progress are pictured before his

mind's eye. Likewise the faults or defects of society as a whole

will have to be detected and analysed before progress in the right

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

direction can be achieved. Such a mirror of society is the stage

and such mind's eye of the society is its literature, chiefly the

dramatic. The ancient Aryans carried this perception to its

logical consequences and laid down that all the peoples of the

world were members of one society; the whole world was a stage

and the creator was the jagannataka sutradhara of this huge

play. The highest knowlegde according to them is therefore to

realize that the entire creation is a leela or the play of Brahma.

The beginnings of such a view point are found in the smaller

stage which a smaller society creates for itself, to train itself to

achieve the desired end. Let us now examine a little more

particularly how the stage and the drama serve the progress of

society and its individual members in the attaimment of this

knowledge.

Firstly, the artist-actor acquires a talent of enjoying the

unreal, fancying it to be real and a talent of experiencing pain,

sorrow, misery and agony without his real self being pained,

grieved or made miserable. The artist really enjoys the sensations

of pain, sorrow and misery and learns for the first time that his

real self can pass through a world of emotions and yet remain

aloof and detached from such emotions.

Secondly, every actor begins to understand that it is the

outward form, dress and colour that indicate inequality and that

once the colour is washed away and the dress cast aside, such

inequality disappears. A king is made to value the importance

of a servant and a servant the necessity of a king. Perfect

understanding and mutual trust and help should prevail in the

management, else a king, in spite of all his majesty, will present

a ludicrous spectacle and come to grief. An actor consequently

learns that the laws of mutual respect and mutual help are

necessary to harmonize the apparent inequalities in life and

reveal the true and inner meaning of equality. There is yet

another chapter of this lesson which reveals to the actor that

ideas of birth-right, privilege and monopoly are extraneous, if

not detrimental, to the well-being of a progressive society. One

6

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

assume a complex face, the original vital principles which governed human life were brushed aside or put on the shelf to serve the demons of avarice and self-aggrandizement in human beings. Instead of the idea of one joint life regulated by laws of harmony with equal rights or atleast equal facilities for the evolution of all, there arose the idea of the exploitation of the masses by classes. The instinctive urges were swamped and crowded out by the urge for storage and selfish enjoyment. The domination of the masses by the classes began and the stage was misused by the fortunate few for their own gratification. The wealthy and the leisured few desired to enjoy; and art, at the expense of others, always handicapped by poverty, was obliged to subordinate its free and natural expression and pander to the selfish tastes of its rich patron. The rich patron was never inclined to see life as it was and understand life as it ought to be. A faithful mirror would be inconvenient to him and disclose all his ugliness; so he wished for a magic glass which would conceal that ugliness. A severe self-analysis would be equally painful to his guilty conscience and so he desired a drama which revelled in imagery and repetition, and depicted life, not as life, but as a dream.

Literature, more especially dramatic literature, was used as a mechanical device for repeating things of a showy nature to tickle the besotted fancies of the wealthy and the powerful. Descriptive imagery and extravagant poetic fancies resumed the order of the day. The dramatist filled his works with inane rhapsodies over the elements, mountains, oceans and rivers and indulged in descriptions bewildering to a degree. Monarchs with miraculous powers, for whose personal convenience empires should be sacrificed, were made heroes. Women were depicted only as beautiful bouquets that could be placed in and displaced from the hero's buttonhole with perfect sang-froid. As raja bhakti was considered to be unquestioning and slavish obedience to the king, pati bhakti was defined to be a total surrender even to the brute in man—the same old plots, the same old imagery and the same old disregard of the larger life around.

8

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

Influence of Religion

It is in these days the dramatic art became what is called

mythological. The priest contributed his own to this period.

To maintain his supremacy over the moneyed and the powerful

ones of the land, the priest began to cry down and denounce

their ways. He condemned all indulgence in the emotional field

(except the devotional) as sinful. He linked physical or outward

renunciation with virtue, and the drama not sanctioned by him—

he regarded as vicious. He favoured religious plays and gave

his blessings only to entertainments which ushered in the gods

and goddesses and their frolics, however high-flavoured they

may have been. To wander with Srirama in the jungle or to

encourage Srikrishna in committing the offence of theft, (if not

crimes of a more reprehensible nature) was to make one-self sure

of a place before the gates of heaven and to see Anjaneya use his

make-believe tail for an unpardonable act of incendiarism was

entrance into heaven itself.

The priest was the sole interpreter of the puranas, and the

puranas were put forth as indispensable in the scheme of life to

attain salvation. The actor in those days had to swim with the

current. He indulged in outrageous music and still more out-

rageous dress and gesticulations. Who could say how the

gods dressed, spoke, sang and danced? Certain so-called religi-

ous ipse-dixits were laid down for the guidance of dramatic art,

and long-winded, superlatively descriptive recitals held the sway.

Thus the stage in this period of the mythological art, where the

classes ruled over the masses without the fear of the challenge;

when the masses were kept in a state of pitiable and shocking

ignorance by all the Machiavellian devices of the priesthood

completely lost touch with real life and dramatic literature lost

its rich musical strain and emitted a hollow croak of sickening

sycophancy whose hall-mark was repetition. The dramatic art

naturally became dead. No real art could thrive in a society

where ninety-five per cent of the life is in a state of helpless

stagnation. A good stage is an indication of a good society and

a sincere actor is always a good citizen.

9

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

In the light of the above general observations, let us consider the growth and development of the South Indian stage during the last fifty years. As I have already told you, I am going to restrict myself to the Telugu and Kannada stages only. In the Telugu speaking districts, as far as I have been able to gather, there was no stage about fifty years ago in the sense in which we understand the word now (a place set apart for the purpose of a dramatic performance and fitted with a proscenium and curtains.) There were a few groups of players called bhagavatula varu who visited a few important centres and exhibited in action and dialogue a few incidents from Srikrishna's life as described in Bhagavatam. The incidents chosen were mainly, if not solely, of the pastime of Srikrishna with the gopies, Satya-bhama and Rukmini. The actors were not more than four or five; the dialogue was long and burdended with innumerable verses and songs which were explained in prose ; and the action consisted in loud recitation accompanied by natya and symbolic gestures and gesticulations. It also appears that women graced women's parts in such representations. The themes chosen did not generally admit of any other rasa except sringara and karuna.

Veedhi Nataka

Later on what was called Veedhi nataka appeared, where stories from the Ramayana and Mahabharata were represented in a similar manner. In these performances, there appears to have been no attempt at any realistic effects or natural delineations. The histrionic art appears to have mainly confined itself to the copying of a set of rules framed in the Abhinaya sastra and nothing more. The real art, which is infinitely more than voice, more than elocution, more than recitation, more than gestures and more than even facial expression, does not appear to have been correctly interpreted. The stage was any place with any surroundings; the drama was only a representation of the epics in dialogue-form with aggressive music. Acting was only a form of recitation with conventional gestures, gesticulations and dancing; and the artists were a group of players who

eked out their living by pleasing their audiences. This appears roughly to have been the state of affairs before 1880.

Emergence of Telugu Stage

About 1880 a change occurred in the Telugu country with the advent of a set of players from Maharashtra who for the first time in the Telugu country used a stage proper with a proscenium, curtains and scenic arrangements etc. to present their shows. This appears to have caught the fancy of the Andhras and prompted them to start similar associations amongst themselves. Their first dramas appear to have been in Marathi or Hindi. We have relics of such performances even now in the Circars. We still hear of a representation of the gruesome story of Peshwa Narayana Rao in Hindi. The credit for the composition of the first Telugu drama proper must go to the late D. Rama Krishnamacharlu of Bellary. He was rightly hailed as the Andhra Nataka Pitamaha. His ‘Chitra Neleeyam’, a book read in every house hold of the entire Andhra Desa, was first completed in the year of grace 1886. Mr. Rama Krishnamacharlu writes in the preface to his work that even as early as in 1879 he had taken part with a few of his friends in one or two representations in English and that the first play he wrote and finished was ‘Swapna Aniruddha’ in Canarese. He states that he was not proficient in Kannada literature but that he was obliged to write his first drama in Canarese owing to the fact that his friends fancied Canarese to be the only language suitable for the Stage. In this respect he may have been influenced also by the advent of the Mysore Rangacharlu Natak Company Bellary in those days.

Subsequently, however, he turned his hand to writing Telugu dramas and gave us some masterpieces of which any literature could be proud. Mr. Rama Krishnamacharlu was a student of Shakespeare and had himself taken part (during Students’ Socials) in the representation of some of the masterpieces of the immortal bard. He adopted a new and more rational method of writing and gave the drama a form and shape which held out possibilities for

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

expansion and progress. The dramatic association he started

was called the Sarasa Vinodini Sabha. And the name of Sarasa

Vinodini Sabha and the stage it created for itself will live down

to posterity as the pioneers of the Telugu drama and the Telugu

stage proper. It is about the same time between 1880 and 1890

that dramatic associations were organised in almost all the

important centres of the Telugu country like Masulipatam,

Rajahmundry, Nellore and a number of other places. Temporary

stages were erected and organized after the fashion of the

Maharashtra companies which visited such places. Dramas were

written by renowned poets like the late Veeresalingam Pantulu

and the living Chilakamarthi Lakshminarasimham Pantulu and

artists of unparalleled talents like the late Lakshmana Swami of

Masulipatam and the living Desoddharaka Kasinathuni

Nageswara Rao Pantulu, T. Prakasam and Hari Prasada Rao of

Guntur appeared on the dramatic firmament in shining splen-

dour. I could give you many more names which added, and

some of them are still adding, lustre to the Telugu Stage. But I

should be taking up too much of your time, if I did so.

Kannada Stage

Similarly, as far as your beautiful province of Mysore is

concerned, I have gathered from several articles written on the

subject in various journals and magazines that the beginnings of

the Kannada drama proper can be found within the last thirty

or forty years. I learn that it was only after some Maharashtra

Dramatic Company visited this place that the Kannada stage as

it is, took its birth. The magnanimous patronage which the

rulers of this province have, from the beginning, extended to all

artistic endeavours to have given the first breath of life to the

Kannada stage in this province. The distinguished pundits of

the state and its brilliant set of officers ably took up the lead

given by the royal patronage; the drama and the stage were born,

grew up, and threw in an atmosphere of dazzling artistic

splendour, which gave birth to the late Varadachar of never-to-

be-forgotten fame whose marvellous power in harnessing to his

artistic chariot the splendour of the rainbow and the music of

the gandharva, whose princely and perfect artistic taste and whose magnetic charm casting a spell of wonder on the most fastidious critics of the times still remain unrivalled on the South Indian Stage. There are many more to be mentioned; but they are very well known to you and I need not repeat them.

It becomes clear, therefore, that it was only about forty years ago that both the Kannada and Telugu stages were founded for the performance of dramas written by scholars and pundits which were acted by artists of position and status in society; stages which boasted of prosceniums, curtains, side screens, green rooms and other equipment; where the question of lighting was studied with care; where competent musicians helped and supported the actors and which could boast of gate-money and an income. It should also be noted that most of the artists who helped the stage did so for the mere love of the art and lucre did not form the motive power. They danced because dancing was joy to them.

I do not for a moment forget that the dramatic art did exist before this period but such art was confined to crude representations in veedhi natakas and yaksha ganas which cannot be reckoned as stage proper as is generally understood.

If the Maharashtra stage was the parent of the Telugu and Kannada stages, the origin of the parent itself should indeed provide material for an interesting investigation. There have been several articles written on the origin of the Maharashtra stage. I gather that the origin of the Maharashtra stage proper is connected with one Bhave who started an association and erected a stage for the representation of his dramas under the distinguished patronage of the then Chief of Sangli. In 1843 Mr. Bhave's first performance Seetha Swayamvar appears to have been staged. Later on Mr. Bhave appears to have gone to Poona and Bombay, where (in Bombay) Sri Jamesetji Jeejeebhai and other distinguished Indians appear to have helped him.

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

art in that period was only mythological as described already or cultural, depicting life as it was and life as it should be.

Rama Krishnamacharlu

The history of the Bellary Telugu stage from the time it was started in about 1884 would make my point clear.

The late Mr. Rama Krishnamacharlu started with Swapna Aniruddha in Canarese in deference to the then existing conventions.

The dramatic art employed was purely mythological.

Current life was millions of miles away from the theme.

The dramatist was eager to please his audiences and nothing more.

Next, his masterpiece Chitra Naleyam, was finished and staged in 1886.

The previous year had seen the birth of the Indian National Congress, and in Chitra Naleyam we find a political question of some importance discussed, namely, the relationship between the rulers and the ruled.

Mr. Rama Krishnamacharlu makes his hero proclaim in a fearless manner that even if a single subject of his starved for want of food, such a king's name was fit only for the bonfire.

This was putting it a bit strongly but it proves the rise of questioning spirit in society.

Again in connection with the second marriage of Damayanti, the poet introduces a shastric discussion of the legality of a second marriage for widows.

The birth of the Social Reform Movement in society was reflected on the stage.

Then we come to his Sarangadhara.

Here the poet is found loosing his shafts against the cruel privilege conceded to the old men of our society; the privilege concerning lifeless and ill-paired marriages; the influence of the Social Reform Movement again.

Paduka Pattabhishekam is another of his masterpieces.

Even here the dramatist has no touch with current life and current problems.

The citizens of Ayodhya rebel against the autocratic decree of Dasaratha in a most violent manner and are about to attack the royal household until Rama himself intervenes.

This was a veritable innovation indeed in a society which was inclined to hero-worship a king who gambled and deserted his wife in a forest and to deify a king, who considered it a great virtue to gratify a piece of selfish vanity and sell his wife and child for

16

money. Mr. Rama Krishnamacharlu's Pramila marks a still

greater advance. In the epilogue to the drama the poet lays

down in unmistakable language the strongest plea in the cause

of women's progress. I refer to two stanzas in particular. They

state that society is free and flourishing only when its womenfolk

are self-reliant, well versed in all arts and free in their own

rights.

In his Panchali the poet introduces the question of the

vicissitudes of a country which depends entirely on foreign cloth.

In his Chandrahasa he discusses the propriety of a salt-tax, and

so on.

I believe the Kannada literature and the Kannada drama are

well bound in similar tendencies to keep in touch with current

life.

It is clear therefore that the South Indian dramatic art,

which was instinctive before the reign of peace and order began,

subsequently took a mythological turn, sometimes owing to the

influences of the previous period of sharp distinctions between

the rulers and classes, and the masses; and later on it

blossomed into a cultural art which is trying to keep in touch

with current life and emerge out of the slime and mire of mytho-

logical stagnation that revels only in drama, hollow fantasies,

lifeless repetitions and dead imagery.

The Four Needs of the Stage

Nevertheless the present pace of progress is slow and heavy.

It lacks woefully the spirit of adventure. The reflections of the

mirror are half-hearted and dim. There is a dread to indulge in

more than an occasional glimpse of the evils of society. There

is an unwillingness to tackle the problems of life in a fearless

manner. There is a fear of subjecting the old conventions and

old ideals to a bold criticism. There is reluctance to question

the place of the old dramas and old themes in current life. There

is a tendency to persist in conceiving the stage as serving to

satisfy only the urge after the beautiful in man. We are loath

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

to consider that the stage is also meant to serve the human urge after the useful. The present South Indian stage is still brimful of all the idiosyncracies of the present state of society.

To start with, our stage and drama clearly illustrate that the average South Indian, at any rate among our masses, has yet to realize that time is money. Time is of no value to the ordinary stage-goer or the artist on the stage. Consider the fashion of calling on one’s friends irrespective of time, place or any previous appointment whatever. Consider the time spent in needless non-essential ceremonials. You will understand that we faithfully adhere to our indifference to the economy of time even on the stage. Our people do not care to go home till morning. The management is more particular about the intervals than the scenes, so much that there is usually an interval of half an hour even before the commencement. Our dramas are also written with a sublime disregard of the facilities for representation of the scenes in quick succession.

Secondly, the proprieties of a place are not a strong point with us ordinarily. My clients would like to consult with me even when I am getting into my bath-room. Any roadside, any broken pial is just as good as any other place for any business, even for the settlement of a marriage dowry. Likewise the average stage-goer and the average actor are supremely indifferent to the fitness of the scenic arrangement to the event. He will arrange the Nandana vana with electric lights and a general post office post-box thrown into the bargain. I have read that in a Chinese drama a broken chair represents a forest. We may not be so bad as that, but our forests are devoid of all true life and are provokingly bare. You will also observe that most of the important events of our drama are transacted in a street represented by a curtain with paintings of palaces and, a light-house. The king meets his minister in the street. The captain drills his regiment there, and the lover meets his sweetheart there also.

18

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

Thirdly, our society refuses to realize the importance of mutual cooperation and team-work in life and we see this philosophy abundantly illustrated on our stage. Each actor looks to his own exaltation. After a show, he would never ask his friends "how the show went off" but only "how did I do it"? A combined rehearsal is a matter of no consequence whatever. The stage is for him and not he for the stage. This is a great evil, the root cause whereof lies in the degenerate system of the philosophy, which preaches individual emancipation. In the long run, it will be found that the very idea of individual pleasure and individual gain is a fallacy. The idea of individual emancipation in religion tends to jeopardize and weaken the impulses of collective work and affect the spirit of civil consciousness. It is the religious outlook of a community that mainly enriches the soil from which spring the various forms of activities. It is not a healthy form of religion or philosophy which teaches man to think of himself as separate from others and pray for his own betterment and his own salvation independently of the society to which he belongs. Many a dramatic association in South India has failed owing to the absence of this virtue of collective outlook.

Fourthly, and above all it is not a hyper-critical minority but a very large majority amongst us, that still adhere to the view that the stage is only a place of popular amusement. Amongst the masses this is a common belief. The sacred purpose of the stage in the scheme of life and the important place it occupies in maintaining a healthy and progressive condition of society are not yet felt keenly by most of us. Even among some of the so-called advanced amidst us, there is a subconscious feeling that the atmosphere of the stage is low, irreligious and not quite respectable. For instance it is this feeling which mainly stands in the way of our women coming upon the stage. I recollect to my mind what Srimati Sarojini Naidu said, when in 1921 she opened the second Festival of Fine Arts organised by the Bangalore Amateur Dramatic Association. If you believe that the stage is an effective kindergarten system of education in

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

eternal truths and virtues; if you believe that the stage is meant for a simple and easily understandable interpretation of human emotions, human experiences; if you believe the stage is meant to reflect life as it is and try to forecast life as it should be; if you believe that the stage is meant for a scientific analysis of the burning social problems of the day and their solutions; if you really believe (as you who pose as holding advanced views, really profess to do) that the stage is a factor - an important factor-in an effective scheme of education of the masses, I cannot understand why women should be denied a place in this system of education.

You will agree that the home where ordinarily the women rule, is the centre of education. You all agree that primary education should be compulsory and the best of authorities in the matter agree that a woman with her tenderness and powers of gentle persuasion is the best instructor for the young children; then why refuse her a place on the stage, the great kindergarten school of education for the masses ?

You have after all recognised a woman's right to ride a bicycle, a horse, drive a motor car, take part in the deliberations of local boards and preside over the destinies of a legislative council; then why make a wry face when she wants to go on the stage which you profess to believe to be an educational institution ?

A Telugu sister of mine, a poetess, has recently contributed an article in verse to a magazine published in Madras. She deplores the advent of woman on the stage and lays down that a woman's grace and virtue consist in fighting shy even of her husband.

A friend of mine (I shall not mention his name) who professes to take a good deal of interest in the cause of women's advance (by the way I don't like that expression—I hold that woman is always more advanced than man), has sent me the cutting referring to it in terms of genuine appreciation.

Do you want such a woman—a woman who would consider it outside the bounds of propriety to stand straight before her husband and smile at him or would you have a woman who, like the Satyabhamas, Kaikeyis, Subhadras, Samyuktas, Queens of Jhansi of old, can lead Indian armies to win back freedom and glory to our land ?

If you would like to have the latter type of women

20

as your friends and workers on this bigger stage, why deny her

due place on the smaller stage ?

I can think only of one reason

for this inexplicable attitude and that is, there is still a

subsonscious mentality in most of us that the stage is only a

place of popular amusement, associated with jokes, buffoonery

and low tastes. A distinguished young sister of mine, in the

Educational Department (I shall not say where) once told me

that her department would not like her to take part in any

dramatic activity, however respectable the particular stage

environment may be. I believe it is not so with the Mysore

Educational Department and I do hope that the Mysore

University will soon recognise the stage as part and parcel of its

active education.

This is an important matter. If the stage is only a place of

popular amusement and nothing more, our expenditure on the

stage must be curtailed at all costs. We cannot afford at present

to spend large sums of money for purposes of amusement for the

sake of amusement. Amusement which does not carry with it the

ennobling and elevating impulse of real joy is mere waste. Even

from the point of mere relaxation, the present stage is ruinously

expensive and detrimental to the moral and material well-being

of society as well as an individual.

Aim of Drama

Consider the enormous amount of money we are spending

yearly for the stage and cinema, and consider if the return by

way of amusement is proportionately reasonable. With the type

of theatre we have and with the long vigils in the night, the

stage is not even conducive to the health of the actor or the

audience. In our present condition of life and society every pie

is precious to us. Every ounce of energy we possess is precious

to us. Nay every thought is precious to us. Poverty and weakness

on the one side, the consequent mutual dissensions and strife on

the other side are heavy handicaps in our work of national

regeneration. We are all eager to bring back to this unfortunate

land its ancient glories. We all cherish an ambition to win back

21

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

to our dear motherland her lost jewels of gold and diamonds. It

is therefore necessary to economise and conserve our vital

energies and use our resources to the best advantage. Not a pie

should be spent, if its return does not add to our national work

in some way. Let us be honest. If we are prepared not to

deceive ourselves then none else can deceive us. Let us be

honest, I say, and fearless. If we feel convinced that the stage is

an essential factor in the growth of our national progress, let us

be prepared to give it all the honours due. On the other hand,

if we decide that the stage is meant only for a kind of recreation

let us boycott it mercilessly; for it is proving such a heavy drain

on the purse of the country.

I know of our poor people pledging their cooking utensils for

the sake of attending Mahatma Kabir or some other well-known

drama. And what is the return? Why does Mahatma Kabir attract

such large houses? That discloses another powerful reason for the

asphyxiate condition of our stage life as well as the life of our

society. It is this strong smell of religiosity with which the average

Indian always tries to surround himself. He must have his gods and

goddesses to dance on the stage. Srirama must come down from on

high and inform the audience that the world he has created is a

rotten affair and that he would hold an examination to test the

strength of his devotee. The great Hanuman is not allowed to take

any rest after his arduous labours in carrying the Sanjiva Parvatha.

He must carry a ton of ghee to help the burglarious feats of Kabir.

No one asks as to why Kabir should sever his son's head from the

body. Was he not willing to help the course of justice? Was

Kabir ashamed of the act and wanting to screen his son's

identity from the police? The average stage-goer does not want

to think about such things, for it is enough for him that he has

seen Srirama in a Parsi Theatre costume and actually heard him

talk and sing too. I have actually witnessed many people get up

and fold their hands in adoration, when Hanuman with his

machine-worked appendage jumps on the boards. Poor

Hanuman, he dedicated his whole life for service. He had no time

even to marry. Nevertheless he must give a patient ear to our

implorations and bless the childless with children. This obsession

of religiosity—religion is a quite different thing—is a great barrier

in the path of our progress whether on the stage or in our life.

What is the reason for the present state of the South Indian

stage (Telugu and Kannada) which took shape some fifty years

ago in such splendid circumstances, patronised by royalty,

manned by distinguished men of letters and service, possessing

an excellent repertory and managed by amateurs who were filled

with progressive ideas ? What is the reason for such a stage to

exhibit such signs of weakness and disease at the present day ?

Is it only a condition of arrested progress our stage is exhibiting

now or has it taken a step in the backward direction ? I have a

positive apprehension that our present day South Indian stage

has retrogressed in a marked manner. The country is swamped

with professional companies whose object is money, to earn

which they are deliberately exploiting the undiscerning middle

class men of the country, occasionally the great masses too. The

work so ably and splendidly begun by pundits and amateurs

fifty years ago was soon discovered by the profiteer’s greedy eye

and his itching hand closed upon it. He presses into his service

glittering tinsel, showy dress and glaring colours to attract and

fascinate the uncultured stage-goer to whom the theatre has

become a land of wonders. What does the ordinary stage-goer

know of historical accuracy in dress ? What does he know of

the realistic touch in painting and what can he understand of

the properties of place and light ? Garishness pleases him and

all that glitters is gold to him. Dramatists were caught hold of

and ordered to write mere ‘thrills’ for the audience. Dramas,

neither historical nor logical, were written for the sole purpose

of giving ‘thrills’. In the alternative all the ten avataras were

called and recalled to fill the pockets of the management.

Place of Music

Above all there was the introduction of music as a necessary

element in the drama. The poor Indian stage-goer fairly

collapsed before this allurement. Thereafter the play-goer was a

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blind moth and nothing more. Who does not know the strength

and fascination of music ? And the profession began to use the

magic spell of music to draw large houses and enrich itself; kill

the true histrionic art and blaspheme the stage and its sacred

purpose. I am ready to concede that music also is a great factor

in the field of education but I have no hesitation in stating that

music has very little place in a regular drama. The profiteer

would fill his stage with music and its peculiar charms—music

usurped the place of the art of acting. I know even some of the

famous art-critics amongst us often mistake good music for good

acting. I can straight away give you several instances where some

of my very good friends have made grievous mistakes in the

matter, but I choose to be discreet. The damage wrought by this

element is so complete that even the progressively-inclined

amateur is obliged to seek the help of music to keep the wolf

from the door. The booking office will enjoy a blissfully quiet

evening, if there is no music in the drama. And what sort of

music do we get ? Very weird indeed. The Parsi Theatre and

some Natak Mandalis are to be thanked for the grotesque music

that we are enjoying now. A Savitri is to be represented in a

devotional mood. There a song would not be out of keeping in

a devotional mood. There are many fine old strains of Purandara.

The management however finds no charm in them. Something

novel, something exotic, should be pressed into service to tickle

the artless play-goer. They find the Parsi stage ready to help

them.

That is the type of our stage-music now, and it is exhibited

by the king as well as the servant, the young as well as the old,

by man as well as the snake in Harischandra, and even poor

Visvamitra, who created worlds, is no exception to this rule.

Another step in the backward or wrong direction is the

ushering in of boys' companies and children's companies on the

stage. This is a dire evil. It is quite a wicked and sinful type

of profiteering and exploitation. If the stage is interpretation of

life, what justification have we for encouraging such companies?

24

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

How can children and boys interpret life? How can a mere boy depict the love of a Subhadra or the struggles of a Ramadas in training? Further, do we realize the tremendous subjective changes and adjustments that are caused by emotions either real or simulated? Do we realize the care and guidance which are essential in plunging youthful minds into the surging waters of deep-seated emotions? How can a management, whose sole concern is the income of the booking office, take any real interest in the moulding of youthful subconsciousness? The best a management can do for its boys is to arrange for their marriages so as to give complete satisfaction to their parents. Is not society, as a body, responsible for the welfare of its boys and girls? Are we doing the right thing in encouraging such companies? This is another matter for serious consideration.

A Time for Change

It is time therefore that we took some real interest in the South Indian stage, to begin with the Kannada stage in this province. Four things are necessary for the stage to live and thrive. The first requisite is the drama. The second requisite is a body of trained actors and actresses who can correctly interpret the drama. Thirdly we require a theatre to give a proper setting or the necessary environment for the combined effect of the dramatist and the artist; and last but not least we require society in its entirety to patronise the proceedings. The man in the street, lane and even the blind alley should be made to feel that the stage is a very necessary factor in his life.

An English critic states that out of 200 first class novelists, you may not be able to find more than one writer who has the talents to write a good drama. The dramatist, as you all know, has to surmount peculiar difficulties of composition before he can produce a perfect work of art. A whole life-time perhaps will have to be condensed and crowded into a few hours to portray a few incidents of importance in the said life. A novelist can take the reader from China to Peru and Peru to China without any effort whatever. He can devote pages of his

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book to describe his hero, his heroine and their pleasures and

sorrows. He can give you an invitingly attractive description of

a good dinner. The dramatist, however, labours under disadvant-

ages. A drama is essentially of action and the time is limited.

Descriptions will generally be out of place in a drama. Grouping

of several persons in a particular chapter is the easiest thing for

a novelist; whereas a dramatist, if he is a real artist, will

think twice before he can write a scene which requires grouping.

Again with a few lines of explanation a novelist will assemble his

characters from the remotest corners of the globe and work out

a successful finish. The dramatist's task is difficult in working

out a natural ending. I have often met with extraordinary

difficulties in representing a murder or even a natural death on

the stage.

The ordinary dramatist is hopelessly grotesque in such

circumstances. You will generally find an impassioned speech, a

string of verses or even a song written for the occasion which

usually call for claps from the audience. If the problem of a

dying man is hard, the problem of the bystanders is still more

difficult for the dramatist. Even the mere technique of a drama,

therefore, presents considerable difficulties and a successful

dramatist requires good literary and artistic skill. I think that

the expression natakantam sahiti emphasises the point. As a

matter of fact, however, we find that any and every person who

has some command of the language (Canarese or Telugu) who

can quote to you some sastras, and manufacture some verses and

songs fancies himself to be a dramatist. In South India,

dramatists and art-critics quote themselves by hundreds. This

is not as it should be. Good dramatists must be found and

encouraged. The thinkers and leaders of the society have a

great responsibility in this matter. A still greater responsibility is

that of making an organised attempt to get proper dramas

written; dramas which discuss problems of life and suggest ways

and means for the betterment of our society in future. Political

leaders, social reformers, legislators and even philosophers,

should press the drama into their service for the propagation of

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THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

progressive ideas. A drama should on the one hand reveal to us

the main springs of our racial genius, racial activity and racial

glory of the past; and on the other hand, it should present a graphic

picture of all the excrescent growths which are at present stifling

the free life and growth of our society. We were great—granted

none can deny it. What was it that made us great? Was it

only a spiritless observation of external conventions and āchāras

that made our ancients great or was it something dynamic in

their very philosophy and character that helped them to dare all

and achieve all? It is this something which was, and still is, in

the very blood of the Indian, that our drama should try to

portray by giving it a form, colour and voice. Let us be done

with kings, who forget their wives, kings who abandon their

wives, kings who sell their wives, and kings who sacrifice their

sons for the sake of ekādasīs. By way of a change let us have

monarchs, who take a little more interest in the material welfare

of their subjects and who can solve the problems of good for

the starving millions. Let us also be done with mahatmas who

worked miracles. Miracles beyond conception are being actually

worked now by modern science and for once let our dramas

teach our society to realize the power of human effort and

human endeavour.

This philosophy inculcated in kayena vacha is known to every

man, woman and child in India; but let us not forget that such

philosophy could only be chorus for untiring energy and fearless

work. If the story is true, it is Kabīr that worked miracles.

Kabīr himself is alleged to have answered it by saying ‘love for

all’ irrespective of sex, caste, creed or colour. Utter fearlessness

is the bed-rock of such love. Let our dramas put before us that

spirit of fearlessness in thought, word and deed which made the

Aryans great, which helped Viśvāmitra to create new worlds and

which alone would now help us to break down all barriers of

near-begotten customs and conventions, which stand between us

and the law of infinite love. Let our dramas talk of our life,

real life as it is and as it should be in future in the joint family

of the worlds. Representation of life need not necessarily mean

27

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the painting of the actual common places. Such incidents in the

life of the characters may be taken as can help the audience to

associate themselves with present conditions and at the same

time educate them to look forward to the future. Incessant

chantings of abstract truths are not dramatic. If the chief

purpose of education is to manifest the divine in man, i. e. help

a human being to evolve into the divine; the drama which is

unrivalled in its power of persuasion should best fulfil the

purpose. To sum up, dramas which conduce to waste of time

and money, where the monotony of music, colour and plot is

appalling, should be severely left alone, (if not killed out-right)

and such incidents should be dramatised to provoke the experi-

mental and creative impulses in man.

Having found a true dramatist and getting the correct types

of drama from him, we should be ready with a trained body of

artists who can well and truly interpret the said drama. We

ought to have an academy of dramatic art. The art of acting,

as Ashley Dukes puts it, is greater than the actor. Oftentimes,

I find myself thinking that acting, real acting, may not be an art

which can be taught. I have always found it extremely difficult

to teach acting.

One can easily lay down the artificial limitations of acting on

the stage. One can easily define the conflicting interests

between time, place, the audience and actors.

One can feel, and perhaps express, what is not good acting.

That is all. I am not sure, however, if acting, great acting, could

be taught. I had the privilege of discussing the subject with

Sir Johnston Forbes Robertson and he stated as follows: an

actor cannot be made. The art is or is not in him or her. You

can only fertilize the soil. And he told me that when he first

appeared on the stage people laughed at his seriousness; and his

great instructor Phellys rebuked him of not being able to control

his feelings on the stage. One at once sees the cultural training

required for a good actor. I had the good fortune to see the

work done by the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London.

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In the first place, membership of that body is not a thing to be applied for. It is an honour conferred by the Council on distinguished artists and literary celebrities. The course is divided into six classes. In the beginning, training in physical exercises like swimming, riding and fencing is given. A regular diksha is insisted for physical perfection. I was present when competitions were held for students of the fourth or fifth year class. An ordinary situation like the perplexities of a husband during a period of strained feelings between the mother-in-law and the daughter-in-law was asked to be represented by groups of actors, without any words. By gesture, look and gait, the competitors had to draw a picture of the situation before the examiner. The work of the Academy is recognised by the London University and diplomas are granted to the successful candidates. Many of the rising stars of the present stage in England are said to be the products of this glorious institution. Why should not we have a gurukula where the psychology and philosophy of the art of acting is taught and the soil is fertilized for the growth of great artists?

Amateur Companies

Let us look at our picture now for a moment. Take the amateur companies; training is left severely alone. The first serious attempt at rehearsal is only on the stage during the first night. Go to the professional; he is slightly better in this respect; but he is more partial to the elements of music, dress and scenery. In London I attended several rehearsals, especially of the International Theatre of which I am a member. The seriousness of the several actors trying to learn was something foreign to my experience of the South Indian amateur stage. The art of acting is real to them. With us, in seven cases out of ten, it is love of the self and not love of the art that takes a person on stage. It is a matter of personal exaltation and nothing more. In an amateur association the man who furnishes the funds or occupies an influential place in public life, would always demand an important role. It is his privilege. If he is denied the said part, sure he will start a rival association. These are

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matters which are well known to you all—the root cause of this weakness may be due to you all. The root cause of this weakness may be due to the fact that we have no organised institution to create an atmosphere of pure love of the histrionic art and provide facilities for the growth of real artists amongst us. Why should not we have a Faculty of the Dramatic Art ? It is for you to consider the question in all seriousness.

National Theatre

Next the question of the establishment of a National stage or a National theatre for the combined play of the dramatist and the actor should be carefully and immediately considered. The necessity of such an institution is obvious. Apart from considerations of health, sanitation, light and acoustics, the theatres we can boast of now are not fit places for the development of the art. Art's fragrance is nowhere near such houses. The stage as well as the auditorium are absolutely devoid of any association with works of art. The auditorium reminds you of a ware-house where music, painting, and such other innocent babies are murdered and given no quarter. The stage walls present a number of holes, cracks and chunam daubs and nothing more. The green-room is a misnomer. It makes you cry. The smell of rank perspiration is all the inspiration of art you get there. The dressing arrangements are simple and primitive. Huge piles of dress without any idea of assortment are thrown out and the first comer gets the first chance of grabbing at anything he fancies. There is nothing whatever in the green-room to suggest to you the colour of the skin or the mode of dress which is befitting your part. A gentleman past middle age, who once upon a time took a woman's part is installed there and he is an authority and an encyclopaedia in the green-room. The wigs and crepe hair are a bewildering mass. Water and soap are luxuries only for the very high in the cast. Come to the stage—be it a forest, palace or street or even the celestial regions, the painter's name in good modern English stares you in the face. The arrangements for lighting are still more fanciful. Either the actor is placed

30

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completely in the dark or a stream of blinding light is thrown on him, bathing him once in pink, once in red, once in green and so on. The amateur is too poor to build a good theatre and the professional is too shrewd to spend too much of money on such things. It is necessary that there should be a national effort to construct a National theatre. Works of art should fill such a place. There should be a small museum attached to it, to give an idea of ancient dress, ancient costumes, ancient weapons and ancient conveyances. There should be a research room attached to it to make experiments in the art of colouring and lighting. There should be a library of the latest dramatic works of the world. There should be paintings of all our great artists; musicians, painters, sculptors and actors, whose expression could inspire the actor with the right frame of mind to react to the surrounding environment. I know all this requires money-it does. Once again let me repeat my statement : let us be honest and true to ourselves. If we honestly believe that the stage is a potent factor in the scheme of our national education, let us fearlessly ask our rulers and leaders to budget as much money for the stage as for the other educational places. I hope the members of the Mysore Senate will take up this question for consideration. If on the other hand, (I beg pardon for the repetition) we hold that the stage is only a place for amusement and not instruction, let us put a stop to the enormous expenditure on such things either by legislation or otherwise.

Lastly, the most important work is to carry the correct notions of the stage, drama, and histrionic art to our great masses. It is only the upper and lower middle class men that can afford to attend our so-called theatres now. The poor villager can hardly afford to pay for such entertainment. To him the veedhi natakam or the bayalata is still the only form of stage and it is no source of education whatever for him. Here is a field for good work by the Municipalities and Local Boards and also amateurs. Associations of trained actors should be maintained or helped by the various Municipalities and Local Boards, and they should be asked to carry a correct type of drama to the

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village. Interesting dramas on health, sanitation, temperance,

cooperation, team work inculcating our national life, dramas on

the evils of untouchability, dramas illustrating the principles and

advantages of Hindu-Muslim unity should be staged by trained

artists in all villages. Consider how this would be a most

successful way of enlivening and enriching our rural life. We

can logically claim progress only when the great masses behind

wake up and show signs of life.

In his letter of greetings for the New Year the great Sir

Johnston Forbes Robertson writes to me that drama is the great

peace-maker of the world. It is true the drama is a great

peace-maker of the world. It is the best medium to give life to

our society and to our people. It is a religious belief with me

that it is our stage that will rouse our masses and lead them on

to take their place in the comity of nations. It is my firm belief

that the stage and the art of acting not only educate society, but

also help the artist in his struggles of spiritual evolution and

finally make him realize his divinity.

Bellary T. Raghavā gave this extension lecture at the University of Mysore

in 1930. In the same year it was published in the magazine of the Mysore

University.

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The Role of an Actor

Today is a very auspicious day. The sun is in conjunction with makara (crocodile). We all know that in our planetary system the sun stands for the eye and light. Knowledge, therefore, is the attribute of the sun. Makara stands for strength and perseverance. It never lets go what it holds fast. The significance of the conjunction therefore is that we should adhere sincerely, steadfastly and perseveringly to the knowledge we gain from experience. Unless this combination exists true progress cannot be maintained. To speak on the role of an actor on such a day as today, is to have a reawakening of our position in life and our duties towards our fellow creatures.

One must try to understand precisely the role of an actor. I am reminded of the famous speech uttered by Jacques in the Shakespearean drama "As you like it". He says "All the world is a stage and all the men and women are players", etc. This is a grand truth and any deviation from the truth, from the realization of the truth, would plunge human beings into the morass of self-attachment and self-aggrandizement. Real knowledge transcends this environment and understands the self in a higher and nobler light. The self is but a part and parcel of the universal self as all other selves are. The role of an actor therefore becomes clear. It is one of moving in company with the other actors for the glorification of one and all. The actor should consider his role to be a part in the whole and for the success of the whole.

The actor and the philosopher belong to the same category. Both are useful members of a society. Self-discipline is the gospel of both, though the actor lays special emphasis on self-restraint. The world at large, and the theatre-going public in particular,

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equally turn up their noses against the philosopher and the true

actor. The world cannot accommodate itself to the stern

principles of the philosopher who preaches "To give is to Live".

Nor the common theatre-goer can appreciate the actor's ideal

"To give up is to live up". To merge oneself into the finale is

the true actor's ideal. His role to him is part of the drama as a

whole. If the other actors fail in their duty, if the drama as one

entire piece drags or suffers, the true actor feels his own part to

be a failure. Ordinarily a recognized actor is indifferent to the

success of others, if his own display is applauded. The general

theatre-goers and critics cannot travel beyond the orbit of the

"star posing and the hero proposing". To get back to the

analogy of the philosopher and the actor, it should be noted that

no philosopher can sink to this level of the cheap and common

plane. Even so a true actor cannot climb down to the level of

playing to the rable. Human welfare is the mission of the

philosopher. The awakening of the minds of the masses is, or

should be, the guiding star of the actor. To achieve his object,

a philosopher should live like one, and the actor should love

life-the universal life-for a definite purpose and such purpose

should be the centre of his life.

One such purpose is to develop good and correct taste in the

man in the street. Not only his taste for good language should

be improved, but also his taste for correct dress, department and

carriage and chiefly his taste for loftier and nobler aspirations of

life. One of the present day slogans is to raise the standard of

life. I wonder if more is meant beyond the material outlook of

one's existence. To take coffee without the use of the saucer, to

break an egg without soiling your neighbour's dress, to use a

second class or first class closet in a decent manner or to eat

without making weird noises, these are not the be-all and end-all

of human existence. They may be neccssary to give a sort of

elegance to material comforts. But life's purpose and the actor's

role are based upon other things. They are based upon a sense of

service; a sense of the necessity of a general march and general

progress; a sense of carrying others with oneself; a sense of the

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THE ROLE OF AN ACTOR

annihilation of individual happiness and individual exaltations and self-glorification; and a sense of leading others to glory. On an earlier occasion I have said that the Sanscrit word abhinaya has its root-meaning in the word neeng, which indicates that an actor should be a leader of the theatre of the society. A leader should be highly cultured. Bharata defines an actor as a kritesh, a pandit and pratibhasavan, a man of resources. An actor should have the makings of a radiator. Here is a snag. I have seen and known a few actors, who radiate sexual impulses, who radiate vulgar instincts and who radiate impulses of the common place. An actor should be able to get inspired by ideas of service and sacrifice and be able to lead the audience to a deep realization of life's purpose. An actor's role is to awaken and stimulate in the minds of the masses a sense of divine beauty and divine splendour and divinity in sex also. Actors, whose eyes are glued only to the collection-box; who care only for personal glorification; who mercilessly trample upon other's lines and push their own stand to the lime-light; who exploit their own figures to strike admiration into the audience never understand the noble art of acting at all. They are mere wage earners. They merely depend upon the costumier's crafts and the musical accompaniments to deceive the public.

There is no one to criticize them and put them in the correct way. A famous American author says that most of our present day critics should be named kritikens, because they are ready to bow to and bolster up their own favourites. He says that uninformed journalism has done more harm than good. To a very large extent, the evaluation of acting is dependent on the modern publicity demon. The cinema has added to the strength of this demon and women promiscuously become stars.

The first handicap in the histrionic field is the drama itself. In the world at large, the drama is woven by the all-powerful and all-merciful creator whose one purpose is the happiness and salvation of all. The creator of the stage drama works on different lines. His purpose chiefly is to please an individual

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actor who feeds him. He creates only such environment as

would give the best opportunity for his favourite to display the

personal attraction of his musical talent or any other stunt.

While the actor's role is considered to tickle the masses, win a

few 'once mores' and rouse up the kritikens to invent titles; the

author's role is to create a stage for the actor's special benefit

Thus the author and actor create a world of their own, which

has a separate orbit of its own. The earth travels round the sun.

Knowledge puts the modern actor's planet travel round money.

bags and slums of vulgarity. The real actor and his role is miles

away from the modernist. The author and the actor both travel

in a vicious circle quite ignorant of their legitimate roles.

Therefore the first obstacle should be overcome by the

author. He should realize that he is the creator of a world.

He should equip himself accordingly. Now-a-days no equipment

appears to be necessary. In Mudra Rakshasa, the famous

amatya in bewailing his lot, which is a hard one, narrates the

difficulties of his life. He has to protect the kingdom from

external trouble and internal dissensions. He has to protect the

poor from the ravages of the rich and the rich themselves from

their avaricious diseases. He has to provide food for the

destitutes and orphans. He has to prevent epidemics; and take

measures to circumvent droughts. The minister adds that only a

drama writer can realize such a trying ordeal.

The play-wright has an enormous task and he should

possess the more enormous equipment to write. Such a well-

developed drama requires an actor of vast learning and intensive

culture, to present the characters to the audience. Let us

examine the actor's world. We may feel a bit disappointed. The

cultural equipment most of our actors possess is not sufficient to

fill a woman's powder bag. Most of our players have no vision

of Indian culture and our ancient traditions. They have no idea

whatever of the progress made in other countries. Their

ambitions and aspirations are nil. Their outlook on life is

confined to the contractor's purse, the complimentary ticket-

36

holder's appreciation and the claps of the unthinking rabble.

The goods they offer are, as Hamlet says that learning a passion to

tatters and mouthing the lines as town-cries do. They will scoff

at the advice to beget a temperance and smoothness in the

torrent, tempest and whirlwind of a passion. Their chief aim is

to catch the next contractor's eye. How can such persons fulfil

their roles on the stage. As I have indicated before, the mission

of our roles in the world should be realized before we can

successfully do justice to our roles on the stage. Without

realizing the grand purpose of life in the world, how can anyone

understand the grand purpose of life on the smaller stage. To

realize the grandeur of the histrionic art an actor should make

the stage the centre of his life. He should attain the heights of

feeling that he is not acting at all. Playing to the gallery is not

his role.

Man in the Street

A second obstacle in the field of drama is the impression

that the masses are incapable of anything and any progressive

movement. This impression is based upon ignorance and defective

perception. Time and again the man in the street has proved

that he is capable of not only understanding great truths but

is capable of great sacrifices and great deeds. Apart from the

fact that an actor's role should have its own high standard, it is

ridiculous to put forward the argument that the minds of the

masses are unable to catch progressive ideas. Such an argu-

ment is blaspheming of the divine potentialities of a human

being. But this obstacle is put forward by several actor-friends

and acquaintances of mine to justify perhaps their own existence.

Even vulgarisms are courted by such actors and almost all

producers, to play to the lower self of the mass mind. I came

across some producers of the screen-world who were persuading

the director to begin the shooting with a very fat man entering

the temple dwaram while a very fat woman was trying to get out

and both meet on the threshold and find the dwaram too narrow.

The director protested; but the company of producers insisted on

the ground that the scene would please the audience. Another

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great director, a cultured man, set up a correct and high standard in his first production. The picture was not a money spinner. Suddenly the producer sought the usual slums of cheap fame and plenty of money. I protested. The producer smiled and said "Dear Achariu, your ideas, though good, have no money value. What am I to do? The producers and actors look to the box-office and nothing else. The contractors cannot think of anything else.

On the one side, the religious sense of the minds of the masses is based on the conception of the idea of the meaning of life in its material prosperity and its future. The minds of the masses, accordingly set up an ideal satisfying that view. Any drama or arrangement which reaches that ideal is good and appeals to the minds of the masses as it is. What is good to them may not be favourable to the progress of society. The idea of personal enjoyment for its own sake is very sweet and agreeable to the minds of the masses. The nature of enjoyment is largely moulded by the taste of the masses. The more primitive the taste, the more the need for the dramatist and actor to descend to the level of the demand. Consequently, the contractor and the actor vie with each other in pandering to the tastes of the masses. The presence of the really sensitive and cultured people is problematical. It is true that a few complimentary ticket holders grace the theatre; but for obvious reasons, they indulge only in a smile and a good word. The critics or the critikens have their favourites as the rest of the audience, and revel in their puranic-mindedness and have no clear vision of the dramatic sphere. They are not dramatically minded at all; Here the actor's role has a tremendously potent possibility. He should realize that he is a leader and forward-goer.

Injuring Public Taste

An actor's role is the same as that of a philosopher, a politician, a statesman, a social reformer, an industrialist, a teacher and a sportsman. I eagerly look forward to the time when actors and actresses can rub shoulders with the highest in

38

THE ROLE OF AN ACTOR

the land with self-respect, self-reliance and equanimity of temper. It was published in the papers the other day that Mr. Aseef Ali had missed his vocation as an actor. He has more poise than pose. That is the role of an actor. Man’s career through life should be to steer clear of all attachments. An actor goes through his part in the play, free from any bondage to pain or pleasure. The present day actor, however, is hammered in a triangle whose three sides are the contractor, the rabble’s applause and the critiken’s news-report. He cannot soar above this confine because he has not developed the wings of culture and hearing. If any new thing is put before him the deficiencies of the masses is glibly trotted out as an excuse. By such excuse the actor is not only insulting his role but injuring public interests. Just as on the bigger stage of life, a human being who misses his role becomes a sick vehicle in the train of human progress, even so one who cannot well and truly realize his role becomes an offensive and fostering ulcer in the body of the play. There is no more ridiculous argument than that of the ill-equipped mental condition of the masses. It is the actor’s role to educate the masses to raise the level of their taste, to awaken the creative instinct in their minds; to make them grasp the divine potentialities imbedded in them; to realize that the chief characteristic of love is strength and not lamentation; to raise the masses to the level of leaders; and above all to listen to the voice of God. The voice of God will not be heard till the voices of Mammon and self-glorification within are subdued and suppressed. The actor who does not understand his role acts out of tune with nature and at best converts himself a mere poser, a bad trickster and a huge fraud on society.

Take the rabble who witness a cricket or foot-ball match. They understand and appreciate a late cut, a leg glide, a neat passing and a straight drive into the goal. How did they acquire the capacity to appreciate a good game. They do not care for the result as for the game itself. They acquire this merit for they do get the chance of observing a good game. Even so, give the unthinking masses a chance of witnessing, the true actor

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

and his role, the audience will be inspired in no time. I am reminded of an incident. It was in a theatre. A great, rather well-known, actor was playing the hero's role. The scene was a forest at midday. I was in the audience. A village magistrate was sitting in the chair by me. The hero was describing (in a verse of course) the intensity of the heat and the merciless severity of the sun. All through the verse he was gazing at the sun for full three minutes. The villager suddenly asked me "Sir, can any one gaze at the midday sun for such a length ?" I was astonished. I entered into a conversation. I was surprised to find my neighbour was not at all well-read and did not boast of any culture.

The mass mind can think. The actor's role is to provoke such thinking power in the mass-mind and to lead it to form correct ideas of good drama and a good actor. The actor who tries to trade upon the ignorance and the undeveloped mind of the masses is, to put it modestly, a traitor to society and progress. Civilization is a dead letter to him. It is said that vested interests are a barrier to the fulfilment of civilization. Such vested interests are a danger to the easy and rapid flow of the current of human activities. Civilization conveys an idea of the sum-total of all such activities. A dramatist and an actor who ignore the grand purpose of their roles get easily into the clutches of greed and try to turn back the current of progress.

This was originally broadcast in Telugu on the AIR on a Makara Sankranti in the Forties as part of a symposium. Later, Raghava himself translated his part of the symposium into English. This manuscript was in the possession of Raghava's son-in-law Sri D. Venugopalachari of Bellary.

40

The Purpose of Art

I believe I have to begin by thanking this august assembly in general and the Arts Association in particular, for giving me the pleasure of meeting you all and enjoying your hospitality. The function of presiding over an occasion like this is, or should be, gratifying to one's soul—if there was no cruel convention behind it that a president ought to make a speech at the beginning as well as at the end of the conference. Though I am an advocate by profession I tried to dodge this convention; for making faces and speeches to please a Non-English knowing client is something radically different from trying to make oneself heard in an assembly like this, especially, where the student element is ready to organize a concert of coughs at the least sign of a struggle on the part of the speaker. However, I always believe in the essentially sportsmanly instincts of a student. He is all love and mercy to the plea of guilty; and I am at once going to confess that I am no good at this sort of thing. So I wrote to your indefatigable secretary and tried to coax him to excuse my speech; but he was adamant and gave me to understand that under the draconian code governing such functions, I should and must make a speech of 40 minutes duration at least. He made out a very strong case on precedents and a demurrer on my part was summarily thrown out. So you must settle down to 40 minutes (unless I collapse in the middle) of infliction. If you sleep through it, I shall have no quarrel with you at all. On the other hand, if you shout me down, I would love you for I would be placed on the list of martyrs.

However the iceberg melted after all and the secretary assured me in his letter dated 24.10 1930 (I file it as an exhibit) that I need not worry myself about fine-arts in general, but I could confine myself to express my own ideas on stage, drama

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

and acting which will be most welcome, as he says it. I have a

sigh of relief for I felt I was saved from my gross ignorance,

committing the grave offence of exhibiting stolen goods (property),

which I should have been surely guilty of if I had attempted to

speak generally about fine-arts, their purpose or values. I would

have been the proverbial fool walking on dangerous ground and

the idiot who carried coals to New Castle (I do not know if you

still get coal there). Yours is essentially a land of fine-arts. The

formation of the country itself is a glorious work of Art. India

itself is a country of fine-arts. The very soil is a piece of fine-

art of nature. Your land, its soil and its people are particularly

so. It would be presumptious indeed on the part of the likes of

me to attempt to address you on arts. When I had the pleasure

of meeting the great G. B. S. in London and told him that I had

gone there to study the Western stage and art, he turned round

and said "Why did you come here to learn art? It is we that

should go to the East to learn art, religion and poetry".

But for me, living in the midlands, I must come here to my

west to take lessons in art, religion and poetry. It was said of

the great Bhoja Raja that even a look at his illustrious face

would inspire the audience with poetic influence. May I be

privileged to say that a darshan of your illustrious patron is

enough to transmute the plainest prose into golden art and

poetry.

Illusion of Diversity

This world is a place of festival of lamps, says Tagore, where,

each race tries to keep a lamp of its own in full trim and

splendour. There is diversity in the patterns; there is diversity in

the colours; there is diversity in the shades and there is diversity

in the brightness of the lamps. It is this diversity that makes

universal life charming and glorious. The lamp of each race

would possess an artistic splendour of its own and it is this

diversity that is the strength of art; and the beauty of art is in

revealing that behind this diversity there is unity. The aim of

art as well as religion is to expose the illusion or maya of this

diversity that seems to reveal the unity that is the truth. If

I may call it so, art is the unifying force of the world; a sakti

which weakens and burns the germs of all harshness, pettiness,

meanness, discord and war in this world, and from the very ashes

calls into life sweetness, largeness, grandeur, music and love to

bless this world. Art beautifies and strengthens creation. Art

turns nature itself into a handmaid for serving man, bird and

beast. Art helps us to expand and get nearer one another. That

religious philosophy is imperfect which inclines towards isola-

tion and contraction. Likewise I consider as imperfect, if not

harmful, that art which does not lead self-expression into self-

expansion and finally into the great love-fire of self-effacement

and union with the great artist Srikrishna. Subjectively, as well

as objectively, art is the expression of the mighty endeavour of

all the suppressed emotions in human nature, disciplined, orderly

and chastened by suffering. We are engaged in the work of

throwing out the burdens of the soul in the hope of ultimately

catching the sweet strains of Srikrishna's flute. Art is the stroke

of chisel which knocks off the excrescence and makes the heart

perfect to win love. Art is the brush which removes the dark

spots on the heart and makes it pure for the worship of love. Art

is the pen which fills the pages of the heart not with words but

with love. Art is the contrivance which defies the heart's

eye and enables it to see a dance accompanied by the celestial

music of love.

I read somewhere that somebody took to painting to forget

an unfortunate love-affair. That man was wise, if ever

one was, and tried to fill his heart with love for

matter. He failed and then turned to fill his heart with love

itself. I am sure he would have become a great painter. You

have all heard the story of Shiraz, how love helped the blind to

see beauty and express it in a beautiful form. The heart's ache

can be cured only by art. It is the churning of the suppressed

emotions in one's heart that gives rise to glorious works of art.

The churning, however, should be done in a disciplined manner

with absolute thoroughness.

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

To get back to Tagore again, it is in the very scheme of

universal life that the lamp of each race should have a pattern of

its own. For instance if, in a great festival or carnival of

lamps, all the lamps were fashioned into one universal mould

the effect would be ugly and lacks the glory of life.

It is hardly

likely that there would be any race worth the name, that would

not possess a lamp of its own.

If any people however, due to

any cause, allow their lamp to get dim or flicker in a feeble

manner, their duty is quite clear.

As soon as they realize their

condition, they should try to attend to their lamp, trim and

brighten it.

To do this one should at the outset ascertain the

peculiar make of one's lamp and learn the process of reviving

and making it burn for ever and ever with an ever increasing glow

and radiance.

Here begins the difficulty.

Reality Behind Realism

Great masters have preached us in their writings, as well as in

their speeches, about glorious ideals of our ancient Indian art;

about the true aim of Indian art being to establish a communic-

ation channel between the creator and the creation; to suggest

the reality behind realism and so on.

But how to understand

this ideal, make it our own?

When it was known that art and

philosophy and religion were correlated to one another it was

easy to understand that the ideal of art was to join together;

just as the knowledge of religion was to bring together.

Then it

was easy to grasp that the aims of a yogin and a true artist were

one and the same.

At the present day, however,

when religion

has degraded into religiosity, character-building has degraded

into imitation of characteristics and art has sunk into

artificiality, our glorious idea should stand as a far away

glorious star and nothing more.

A picturesque Chinese lamp

cannot be trimmed by pouring kerosene oil on it;

and an Indian

lampstand supported on a brass cobra's hood cannot be fitted

with a Bunsen's burner.

That is the problem before us.

How

to understand that make or mechanism of our own lamp, in other

words, how to understand and interpret the glory of our ancient

ideal and bring it into line with the present day?

44

THE PURPOSE OF ART

The lamp is there but buried under innumerable coal-dust layers of fear, convention and superstition. We have amongst us two distinct types of enthusiasts. One affects unlimited admiration, adoration and worship for everything that is past. To him the source of the river dared not be explored; the origin of a sanyasin dared not be questioned; to him a brahmin can do no wrong and to him even an honest endeavour to turn the cold white light of logic on any ancient institution, system, arrangement or belief, would be an act of sheer sacrilege and blasphemy. The other type would affect unmitigated contempt for everything ancient and Indian and would like to buy a new brand of lamp for the Indian race, ready made from the latest western markets. The one obstructs our progress and the other distorts it. One is blind and ignorant for he has not understood the real and superb strength of our really ancient ideals. The other is shallow and limits his conception of the universal life by a circle of collars, neckties and handkerchiefs. He discords the east and insults the west. It is necessary, therefore, to have a true and clear vision of our ancient ideals and then remember that it is our proud privilege and duty as well to make these ideals living and shining with all splendour and to fashion our progress and work in the light shed by such ideals.

To my mind, the characteristic genius of the ancient Indian culture has been to strive for the eternal, the truly permanent, to attempt to reach the centre of all life and to interpret their realizations to one and all. Fearlessness and love have been the mainsprings of all the ancient endeavours. All possible problems of life and after-life have been fearlessly tackled and tried to be solved. In evolution and progress the subconscious workings of a mind and the reactions on the subconscious mind are important factors to reckon with. A constant, vigorous and watchful look out to notice the subtle workings and movements of the subconscious mind in the building up of one's own character which is the laboratory of one's creative energy.

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Give More than Received

The ancient Indian ideal in art as well as religion was to

fearlessly face all possible problems of life individual and life

universal in the course of obtaining correct concepts; to

mercilessly probe into the very depths of the subconscious mind,

to watch its subtle workings, take a firm hold of it and make its

very tickings resound with the said concepts and then lovingly

place before the world, within easy reach of every one, all such

experiences. To give more than what was received was the ideal

of life. To do so, one should be able to create, become a creator.

Such creative energy is projected only from a perfectly disci-

plined subconscious mind. It is said, that poetry, music and the

fine-arts are the media of expression for the subconscious mind.

The finest music, the finest poetry and the finest art could there-

fore be expressed only by the supremely developed subconscious

mind which alone is the true criterion of culture whether in an

individual or a society. The subconscious mind, as long as it

gave any room for thought which ran counter to the correct

concepts formed, was held to be imperfect and undeveloped.

Religion preached unity behind diversity and therefore it was

necessary to fill the subconscious mind with all love and nothing

but love towards man, beast, or bird to realize the great unity;

and art helped the artist to express the workings of the

subconscious mind, for the benefit of the world as well as

himself.

The stage has another greatness about it. It is the place

where the subconscious mind of the actor as well as of the

spectator is developed and perfected. Yadbhavam tadbhavati is

an oft quoted sanscrit saying and it is true. It is not only the

actor that becomes what he feels but by the wonderful psychic

force he creates in the sacrificial-fire of self-inmolation the

spectator also is made to feel and become what the actor feels

and becomes. A true artist in his endeavour to establish the

connection between the seen and the unseen passionately tries to

interpret the natural as well as the super-natural and attains his

object, seeks the only effective method of identifying himself with

46

THE PURPOSE OF ART

nature in all her aspects, and places himself as the centre of all

situations and all problems of life. He seeks to gain all

experiences. He makes love to the ugly as well as to the

beautiful. Sin and virtue are only ignorance and knowledge to

him, avidya and vidya—failure, success, fame, censure, famine,

plently, suffering, happiness, disappointment, deformity,

perfection—a true artist seeks inspiration from all these human

experiences in his own self—becomes a mahanubhava and then

prays for the Divine Light which will reveal to him the great

fountain of love from which all these currents run for the play

of God's children. A true artist tries to love all and all condi-

tions. For hate is fear and fear is ignorance—ignorance is sin

which kills the true creative energy in man and transforms him

into a sick vehicle in the train of human progress.

Rangasthala is Sacred Ground

A true artist—a true actor—uses the stage, eventually at least,

to discover his own self and help others to discover their true

selves. To him the rangasthala (stage) is sacred ground, where he

should sit in dhyana (meditation), concentrate and try to contact

his self. For ordinary dhyana, a secluded spot and silence are

necessary. For the artist's dhyana, on the stage, the help of the

entire body of the goddesses of fine-arts is essential, because the

actor's dhyana is not confined to himself. It is the dhyana of a

big joint family consisting of the actor as well as the audience.

It is a congregational dhyana, and the congregation is composed

of the high and the low, the lettered and the unlettered, the

cultured and the uncultured, the ignorant as well as the knowing.

The dhyana room or the theatre house should be clean, well-kept

and helpful to concentration. In the surroundings paintings

should be affixed to be the objects of dhyana; you are not

helped to think of Srikrishna by concentrating upon a mutilated

rhinoceros. It is cruel to ask the actor and the audience to

imagine Dwaraka on a canvass which shows the Burma oil tank

on the first line beach in Madras. To mix up a red painted

cylindrical looking receptacle of the G. P. O. with the play

47

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

ground of a Sakuntala is certainly disturbing to one's peace of

mind.

And the music should be real music indeed and not the mew

of a sick cat. I am not one of those who think 'music has no

place on a proper stage'. To the Indian artist-actor it is the

expression of an idea, and the portrayal of a bhava, that are of

paramount importance. There are certain ideas and certain

bhavas which are best expressed only by music. The most power-

ful engine which enables the soul to reach the highest altitudes

is music. The most effective sleeping draught to quiet the

harrowing restlessness of one's mind is music. I mean good

music. The most eloquent poet who can best describe beauty is

music. The Kohinoor on the diadem of love is music. The

alchemist's despair, which can turn dark egoism into gold is

music. The elastic which stretches the individual soul into the

infinite is music. I would not keep music away from the stage

which is a place of worship and a centre of education. But you

want a great musician to equip the stage with proper music. It

is he that will know where to place music in the dramas on the

stage. It is he that will know the exact raga which will correctly

express the rasa required and be in tune with the time and

occasion. Very few people know that there is close affinity

between Indian music and the very working of the solar system.

Morning, noon, evening, night each has its own particular and

kindered raga which lovingly expresses or represents the spirit of

the particular hour in which it is sung. Every second, every minute,

every hour reveals a particular setting of the solar system which

marks a particular rhythm. And any music sung at a particular

time without reckoning the particular rhythm which is the soul

of that time, is positively a discord to the true artist's ear. Still

fewer people know that there is such a thing as time in drama.

The ordinary actor never makes any attempt to study a drama

in complete and ascertain the time of action for each scene.

The result of such ignorance is ludicrous. A king holds his

court in the morning at 7 a.m. but you find the scene fitted up

with strings of electric bulbs to add to the grandeur thereof and

the minister will narrate the impending invasion of a formidable

enemy in a faultless madhyamavati song or verse and receive an

encore. The ignorance of the actor is only outclassed by the

ignorance of the audience. A little careful study would have

brought home to the artist that lights were not required in the

morning and that madhyamavati was untimely. Let us consider

the situations where music would add to the real artistic splen-

dour of the drama. Devotion, ecstasy, expression of love, even

intense thought may afford a place for music; but you would

certainly agree with me that a hunting field where you are hot

and close on the tracks of a tiger, or a battle field when you are

faced by an adversary, are not particularly suitable to let off

bhairavi and kambhoji. I have often wondered if songs are sung

on the hunting fields and battle fields of the stage for the purpose

of annihilating one’s enemies. The music certainly sounded killing

and the discerning critic in the auditorium anyhow easily

succumbed to its death-dealing charm. A true musician could

easily avoid such errors. With a good house, with good

surroundings and equipment, with good music, we require a good

play, a good actor and a good press to complete the picture of a

good stage and theatre, which would really be a sacred institu-

tion for the education of the subconscious mind of humanity.

All under Seventyfive are Young

Now a good play is the first requisite. The great poet

Tagore said in one of his lectures that if the meal is ready there

will be no difficulty in finding the servers and strikers (I mean

the eaters). Likewise if a good play comes out, it will automati-

cally attract a good set of actors. It is here the Herculean task

of unearthing our ancient lamp begins. There should be a band

of young men. All under seventyfive are young and thereafter

middle aged. There is no old age in my dictionary. Indians are

ever young who would assiduously set themselves to the task of

clearing away all the cobwebs and barriers of fear-ejected con-

ventions and superstitions which have so dimmed the lamp of

our nation that today we stand unsaluted, unrecognized and are

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

bundled like slaves into an inglorious corner. We want a band

of young poets and dramatists who would smash the weak and

miserable spirit of unquestioning acceptance and adventurously

drink deep of the spirit of fearlessness which enabled a Visva-

mitra to create new worlds; of the spirit of love which prompted

Yudhishthira to claim equal rights for man and beast even at the

heavenly portals of swarga and which, in recent times, prompted

Tukaram to offer ghee to the dog which stole his only cake.

We want a band of poets and dramatists who would not make

heroes of persons who, possessing a hundred wives, would make

love to a 101st and then prepare to kill their sons, to get permis-

sion from the 101st to perform an ekadasi vrata. We want a

band of poets and dramatists, who would make their Sakuntalas

administer wholesome kicks to the caddish Dushyanta and

Savitris who start widow-homes. We want a band of young

poets and dramatists who would sincerely work up to our

ancient ideal of the stage and make it a centre of education,

where problems concerning the relationship between man and

man as well as man and his maker are studied and tried to be

solved. It should portray or represent life as it is and also life

as it should be. Concentration upon the unseen and unknown

without proper discipline and sense of proportion is likely to

loosen our hold of the seen and the known, and make our life's

programme a meaningless and incoherent jumble of inconsistent

items. An undue and lopsided emphasis upon spiritual life leads

one to get crazy and fanatical to the great detriment of material

life and miss the point, where the crossing from matter into

spirit could be easily achieved. Owing to natural causes,

environmental changes and egotistical arrogance, we have lost

sight of the ancient ideal completely and begun to

think of the creator apart from his creation, the maker

apart from his great love, the father and not of his chil-

dren. Consequently we have revelled in bringing gods and

goddesses and their antics on the stage. We love to represent on

the stage gods, goddesses, their loves and sorrows. Problems of

ordinary life are not reckoned as fit subjects for the stage. This

attitude of the mind should be changed quickly.

50

THE PURPOSE OF ART

The future poet and dramatist of young India, should tune

himself to receive inspiration to discuss the relationship between

man and man, as well as the relationship between man and

his maker. There are thousands of problems which present

themselves for solution, in establishing the correct relationship

between man and man. If the stage is to be reckoned as a place

of education, which it is, then drama should not always obsess

itself with portrayals of the unseen life, but also interest itself in

the birth, growth and decay of the life manifested and seen. Our

drama should, on the one hand, reveal to us our ancient culture,

our racial genius and activity which tried to understand and

solve the problems of life universal, and on the other hand it

should vividly portray to us the potentialities of individual

life, its aim and natural tendency to expand into the universal

life, and the present conditions and conventions, which are

rapidly stifling the very life and growth of our society.

Let the Great Masses wake up and Move

We must look around before we look up. We must look

near and then far. Let us take a little more interest in Srirama

as a ruler and king and find out how he solved the problems of

monarchy. That should be the attitude. Let our dramas

portray real life as it is at first so that the great masses may

awaken and move. It is said that the perfect man's life would be

the religion of the masses. The most interesting and useful study

for a human being would be to watch the struggles, failures and

persistence of man in achieving success and perfection. More

than the exploits of a great man, the process of becoming great

would be interesting, instructive and useful. To hold out to

illustrate that the potentialities of greatness in every human being

can become great and perfect, would be one of the best lessons

taught to awakening minds. The chief purpose of education is,

as has been recognized by great thinkers, to manifest the divine

in man. This purpose can best be achieved by the help of arts

and chiefly through the stage and the drama. The burning

problems of current life and how they react on the human mind

(advanced as well as undeveloped) and how the divine urge in

51

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

every human being strives to break through all obstacles to solve

such problems, should be dramatized and represented on the

stage. The lesson that great men are great because they can rise

above mere environments should be taught from the stage. It is

the problems of ordinary life that make all such environments;

and our future dramatists should turn their attention to them.

Religion and Education

I cannot honestly subscribe to the opinion that instruction is

not the purpose of art. The attainment of knowledge is the all

pervading purpose of life and art is the expression of life. The

stage is an emporium of all the fine-arts—the best centre of educ-

ation. It is more useful than the school and more powerful than

the church. For instance, the other day I read a lecture by

somebody that our present day education is defective as our

students have no chance of receiving any religious instruction

any where. This is true. A correct religious basis alone is the

foundation of character which is the source of all creative

energy in a human being. Education without religion is a tank

without water in it. The true essentials of any religion are

universal love and brotherhood. If religious instruction is

attempted in our schools you can imagine the difficulties.

Srivaishnava parents would insist upon Srivaishnava instructors

being appointed, the Advaitins would put up Advaitin instructors,

the Madhvas would put up Madhva instructors and so on, driving

our Directors of Public Instructions into a lunatic asylum. The

stage can step in at this juncture and fearlessly undertake to

place before us the ancient ideals of religion which made us

great. Our dramas must discuss problems of our life and

suggest ways and means for the betterment of our future society.

Politicians, legislators, social reformers and even philosophers

must utilize the stage in their work of educating the great

masses.

Representation of life as it is, on the stage, need not mean

the picturing of commonplaces. Incidents in life which show up

mere characteristics of certain types do not lead us far. They

may at best disclose the manner in which a certain type of mind

reacts to environment; whereas incidents in life which provoke

the experimental and creative urges in man, which enable him to

mould a character for himself above the environment that

surrounds him are of a higher nature. Such incidents, whether

in the lives of our heroes or in the present day life should be

chosen by our young poets and dramatists. One of the chief

functions of such a festival as this would be to find our budding

poets and dramatists who may be loitering unrecognized and

catch them up, encourage them, set proper ideals before them

and provide them with all the sinews to produce plays which are

useful to us.

Overflowing with Natya Simhas

Next we should pay a little more attention to the standard

of histrionic art we possess now. If the basis of all knowledge and

all art is inspiration then the basis of the histrionic art is

pre-eminently so. An inspired actor is the only true actor.As Ashley

Dukes put it, it is not the dress, nor the voice, nor the movement,

nor the gesture, nor even the facial expression that makes the true

actor. It is something beyond all this. It is the representation

of the human mind at a particular stage of its development

crying out for further light and further progress. It is the initial

struggle of the “I” in trying to become “HE”. It is the first

and perhaps an ugly turn of the wheel of self - expansion

and self-effacement. It is the soul's first attempt to free itself

from the clinging folds of the encumbering ego. For plung-

ing into the pure waters of universal love one should take

a mighty pull from the flask of 'love' before one can get warm

to the work in hand. “Fill your heart with love and you will

learn acting” has always been my advice to all aspirants for

fame on the stage. Srikrishna was, and will be, the greatest actor

of all times for his heart is filled with love and nothing but love.

However, the present day heroes and heroines are easily found.

A strong voice and a love of tobacco are the only ingredients we

look to in the making up of most of our actors. We are

supremely satisfied if our heroes sing on the stage jaya jaya

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

gokula bala whether appearing as Subrahman yas or Karnas or Aurangazebs—we do not care. To obtain an ordinary clerk's post in a government office or a teacher's post in a primary school, a school-leaving certificate, a good testimonial and the buffering of a god-father are all necessary; whereas the only test of eligibility for the stage is a powerful voice, passion for pan-supari and Player's cigarettes. The aim of most of our actors is to possess a string of medals and to procure the press to print their photographs. The enormous number of natya-simhas we have will overflow an African forest and the quantity of our 'ranga ratnas' will fill the world's emporium of gems. The other day I read about a jyotirmartanda. It was how the lighting man of the stage was honoured and advertised. In Andhra Desa especially this craze for adjectives is a great malady.

Worse Sinners

I used to tell my student friends that strings of aimless adjectives were the real bonds that enslaved India and if Indian literature, Indian writers and speakers got rid of adjectives, swaraj would be within easy reach. I wonder how many of our actors study the drama as a whole and try to understand the place and purpose of each character and its relationship with the story. In this connection, I must say that the amateurs are worse sinners than the professionals for the responsibilities of the amateurs are greater. I am of the opinion that the life of the amateur association in South India is drawing to a close; because the ancient ideals of Indian art and the modern ideals of South Indian amateur art associations are not exactly one and the same. The ancient ideal of art was to try to interpret the reality behind realism in a way the man in the street may understand, to suggest the unity behind the diversity; whereas most of our associations work absolutely towards diversity and diversity alone. All of them—I mean the amateur associations—enumerate amongst their aims and aspirations a desire to improve the tone of the Indian stage for the development of the histrionic art and so on. The tone of the Indian stage and its development depend mainly upon the tone of the Indian drama. This is lost sight of.

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THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

connected with four important and influential amateur associations for the last 20 years and the course of life for these associations has almost always been the same. A good beginning—an inglorious ending!

It is true that the amateur associations make a mighty contribution to the development of the stage by smashing the absurd conventions and grotesque beliefs of the professional stage. The amateurs do establish a healthy and rich ideal—but they lack the organizing stamina to carry on their good work and develop eventually all the maladies of the professional stage. Money is a potent factor in all constructive work. The new dramas of the amateurs are badly written and do not attract good houses. Eventually chill penury suppresses all their enthusiasm. Some associations die out and others revert to the old dramas and old charms to keep life going. I am afraid this state of things would continue as long as we insist upon an unbearable and unrelenting code of work for love in the amateur associations. In my opinion it is for the amateurs to introduce new ideas and it is the professionals with their resources and discipline who should carry out and stabilize the work of the amateur associations. There should be a sort of comradeship established between the professional and the amateur and each should cooperate with the other in the sacred cause. There should be a system of mutual help. Also the amateur associations should seriously think of finding out talent outside its ring and helping such talent to live.

Responsibilities of the Press

Lastly the press has a serious responsibility in this matter. True art critics should interest themselves in this matter and help to educate public opinion. The stage and the auditorium act and react on each other. The actor should try to plan good works for the public and they should be helped to appreciate such works. Or else the actor would lose enthusiasm. I firmly believe that first class goods would always find a market and a good drama of a true actor would eventually wrest

THE PURPOSE OF ART

homage from even the least advanced amongst the audience,

if only sincere and persistant efforts are made not to swerve

from the ideals. Failure has a distorting effect upon

ordinary human nature. The most ardent supporter of the new

drama and the new ideal finds it hard to survive a continued

famine in the region of the booking office. He could cling to his

life if atleast he could find some one to pat him on the back and

cheer him up. The disturbing element in the work of an art

association is an auditorium of diminishing strength.

The more disastrous effect, however, is from an indifferent

press. The press naturally, as individuals and other human

institutions do, loves free tickets and a liberal disperse of such

tickets would find a liberal place in the press columns. Thus the

association of Artists, faced by the wolf at the door and losing

all enthusiasm by the utterly promiscuous way in which the press

mostly uses its adjectives and columns, either gives up the ghost

or turns cynical and turns to engage itself either in bridge or

newspaper reading. I appeal to the press to shoulder its respon-

sibility fearlessly. The glory of India consists in the glory of its

ancient ideals of art, religion and poetry. It is the press that

can most successfully do the spade work of clearing our ancient

ideals from the thick growth of shrubs and weeds. It is the press

that can successfully open the eyes of the public to the decayed

matter which is stifling our life and art and to the false gods we

are worshipping. The evil demons of loveless conventions and

fear-fraught superstitions should be laid low. Progress depends

upon destructive work also. Obstalces to progress should be

destroyed mercilessly. The press can render this valuable help

to us.

Distorted and Pig-headed Attitudes

It may be pertinently asked how the unlettered can be helped

to cultivate correct opinions and correct tastes. It is my opinion

that the real obstacles in the path of our progress, politically,

socially and in the field of art, spring from the distorted and pig-

headed attitude of our so-called lettered classes who are half

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made and half developed, and not from the masses who intuitively

appreciate a good reform if only they are not misled by the

opinions of the mere noise-makers of the society. It is quite

necessary therefore that the opinions and concepts of the imper-

fectly educated, lettered classes amongst us should be reformed

and reconstructed. The masses will quickly move along the

path of progress and we will soon have brightened and revived

our ancient lamp of art and culture and taken a prominent

place in the world's festival of fine-arts.

Raghava delivered this address on the 19th November, 1930 while presiding

over the Fifth Arts Conference during the Travancore State Festival of Arts.

58

Girisam looks at Life

I express my thanks to the Vice-Chancellor and members of

the Senate of the Andhra University for affording me this oppor-

tunity. I accepted this invitation with feelings of genuine pleasure.

I consider this a class room.

I am an actor. I have played several roles till now. I have

yet to play many more. The University has given me an oppor-

tunity to pause and consider the effects, the reactions I have felt

in playing my parts; and the experiences I have gained if any.

It is a genuine pleasure for an actor to stand still for a time and

recall to his mind all his experiences and make a list of all the

good and bad points of the theatre he plays in. More often the

list of defects would be a longer one. Every actor has his own

ideas of the defects of the stage on which he is asked to perform,

his own complaints to make about the environment and accom-

paniments and his disappointment at the lack of culture in the

audience to appreciate his talents. Most of the actors are

satisfied with filling the pages in the complaint book and do

nothing more. Some of them go a step further and offer sugges-

tions about improvements to the theatre. The feelings of

dissatisfaction at the state of affairs that exist may reveal the seed

of ambition that would grow upwards and onwards. The striving

after additions, subtractions and improvements in general may

reveal the creative instinct which is necessary for progress all

round.

Foot-lights are in My Blood

As an actor I have my own complaints and my own ideas

about improving the stage and the theatre. What is true of the

little stage is true of the bigger one as well. I like to think of

the defects in and around me and propose to find ways and

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

means of curing such defects. To me it is a luxury to possess

the facilities to think aloud; and I would not mind any audience

to this performance for I am an actor essentially, and the foot-

lights are in my very blood. More than this I have a curious

fascination to be an actor and spectator as well. At times it

becomes impossible for me to find the dividing line between the

performer and the spectator. That which divides the acting on

the stage from the perceiving in the auditorium looks to me to be

artificial. In fact, I cannot get away from the idea of an

invisible audience. In all my performances, at all times, such a

feeling sits on my nerves. I prefer therefore to have a visible

audience, whom I can easily conceive to be my own flesh and

blood, nay, my own self in other forms. Their visible presence

makes me feel fuller, more complete and stronger to the per-

formance. If I fail, I fail only for the moment. I can at once

jump up into the green-room once again where the eternal

conductor stays ready with paint and brush to give me a new rig-

out, and push me down to the stage to perform and perform and

perform, till I myself have grasped the secret of colours which

do not stick to me and the secret of dress which does not cling to

me and feel that I can conduct myself. Then I would arrive at a

stage when I feel like the green room, the conductor, the actor

and the audience all rolled into one. Till that happy stage is

reached, I must play many parts, pass through many experiences

and indulge in thinking aloud for intellection and inspiration.

Resplendent Ratnahara

What I speak today should be taken only as loud thinking

on my part. Oftentimes I have dreamed about Girisam, the

adorable offspring of the late Gurajada Appa Rao who, with

his kanyasulkam, has thrown a resplendent ratnahara over the

shoulders of the Andhra Dramatic muse. This ornament still

shines unmatched. What a darling child is Girisam! To me

Girisam is not an ease-loving, cigar-smoking, muffler-wearing

cane-swinging, curly-headed, gallivanting, crooked-minded adven-

turer. He represents to me the irresponsible youthful Andhra

spirit which dives deep and drags to the surface the grotesque

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GIRISAM LOOKS AT LIFE

and pathetic looking crabs and tadpoles of our society and plays with them. His eleven causes of the degeneration of India are no fanciful bluster to me. I really think that Girisam's eleven causes of the degeneration of India are painfully true. Like the master artist he is, he does not spoil the picture by enumerating them seriatim. He wants us to think about them seriously. Perhaps his own life and exploits disclose to us what the eleven causes are. I have oftentimes wondered about the eleven causes and now I propose to think aloud about them.

Most of you love Girisam--if for nothing else, at least for his fascinating weaknesses. Bear with me for his sake. Girisam says he delivered his lecture in the Poona Deccan College. At once our memory is tingled with the sacred memories of the Great Bala Gangadhar Tilak. The eleven causes should be real and telling indeed for he says that all the professors assembled there became speechless. That one and all the professors should have been affected in such a remarkable manner indicates that the eleven causes should have a direct bearing on the ordinary, everyday life of society and the individual as well. I begin at once to think of such a life.

As a Duck takes to Water

I am reminded of the lantern-lectures (he would always try to impress upon me by the aid of a lantern) of a collegemate of mine. He was a mighty champion of the West, the western life and culture. He would urge that might and right would ordinarily go together. He would point out to me that it was a habit with Indians (most of them) to regard western life focussing its attention more upon matter, material possessions; and that such a view was erroneous and warped. He would charge the Indians with an unhealthy appetite for mere words and words alone. He would go further and preach to me that religion as practised in India was kept away from practical life and the welfare of society. I had a fascination for the theatre even in those days and did appear on the boards and sometimes win recognition as well. My friend would point out that as I was born in a brahmin

61

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

family and to brahmin parents it was no wonder I could act. He

would lay down that to a brahmin acting was like water to a

duck. I would then insist upon an explanation as to why the

histrionic art was so natural to a brahmin. He would point out that

the brahmin boys were, from a very early age, encouraged to pre-

tend–for instance to pretend to perform their sandhyavandanam.

Eventually he would floor me down, with an invincible argument

holding forth that the very fact we were a subject nation stamp-

ed the Indian with a servile mentality and consequently with

spiritual poverty. He would say that pseudo-religiousness is

weakening young India and dragging the elderly Indian into a

mire of impotent, actionless resignation.

The Will to do

I did not like to agree with my friend's extreme views, but I

have always tried to test the truth of such views. I agreed with

him that the fun of life, nay the very purpose of life, consists

in action. Action denotes strength and strength carries with it

the passport for travel onwards to realize the beautiful, which

in its perfection is the Kingdom of Heaven. Is it a fact that our

life is devoted more to an indulgence in mere words and listen-

ing to lectures? Is there a big gap between the realm of thought,

and the realm of action or habit? If so, what is the reason? As

a great master has put it, character is nothing but conviction

automatized; and culture looms bigger as the distance between

the realm of thought and the realm of habit grows lesser. It is

not so much as knowing what to do, but possessing the will to

do it that is the hall-mark of a man and his manhood. The

necessity of all books, all learning and all panditism is merely

to construct a stone-house of convictions and connect it with

the power-house of action. It is a fact that we have lost sight

of the gap between our realm of thought and our realm of action?

If so, is there anything wrong with our conception and standard

of culture? If our cultural attainment is not full is our outlook

of life full and undistorted?

I am reminded of another great man's saying that life is

checking of the waste in the centre. I may be permitted to

62

consider life as consisting of responses to stimuli internal or

external. Then it may be said that the higher the culture is, the

greater the control would be over such responses. An involun-

tary response would be waste of energy. A well controlled and

well regulated response would denote a correct evaluation and

fuller use or enjoyment of life. To have a grip over the levers

that control human energy is to keep the vital forces of life in

full battle array for progress. To slacken the grip would, in all

probability, disorganize the proper functioning of the levers thus

allowing energy to escape and be spent without any need. In the

prime cause, the unit or germ of growth and development in life,

lurks the germ of decay, on the watch to pounce on the levers

that control, and steadily rust and eventually dismantle them.

It is strict discipline alone that can keep the mind's forces mobi-

lized and prevent the germ of decay from attacking the levers

that control the energy. We should always keep ourselves in

fighting order to overcome the thousand and one bandits who

surround us to destroy our vital forces and principles.

Waste-habit

It would therefore look that the waste-habit has got a

tendency to break up the vital forces of life and as a result man

may sink from his natural or original glory—in other words he

may degenerate.

The person who, without a second thought, responds to all

the devitalizing and disintegrating influences in life, weakens

himself absolutely and becomes a sick vehicle and will not only

injure himself but also act as a drag upon the progress of human

society. I am reminded of the sayings of a great social worker

living on the banks of the Tungabhadra in my district. He would

divide the functioning units into three groups. The first is the

Badkar group. The group which would easily respond to all

undesirable influences and waste its energy in no time. The

second group he would call the parhezar group. Parhez in Urdu

means diet. The expression would therefore mean a dietarian,

one who keeps away from unhealthy food or unwholesome food

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

under the instructions of a doctor, but with a strong taste or craving for such food. The desire to respond is not voluntarily under this person's control; but is temporarily held under check owing to an external threat. The third group he called the khddar group, which possesses complete mastery over the responding impulses and avoids all wasteful play.

At once I tried to look upon waste or the habit of waste as being relevant and material to the investigation of Girisam's eleven causes.

I take up his history once again-I would like to call it history and not a story.

Education for the Good of Society

In the very first scene, Girisam refers to the eleven causes of degeneration in impressing upon his dear chela Venkatesam, the basic principles of true education, which he so definitely suggests should be based not so much upon books and examinations as upon direct contact and association with the guru. He cleverly leads us to think over the expression upadesa which is the keynote of the ancient Aryan system of education. What a vista of beautiful pictures and thoughts is at once opened up before us! Education is sitting near your teacher who, like a loving magnent, will draw out the best in you and make you bigger and comelier and the end of education would be to gain access to the proximity of the greatest teacher of all and become absolutely perfect. Again Girisam bursts out with righteous indignation at the lop-sidedness of our system of education which gives a wicked importance to a pass and fail to reckon the chastening influence of a failure in life. He asks Venkatesam pertinently whether his teacher had the command of the language which the pupil had. In other words, he questions whether the teacher could express himself as well as Venkatesam, the student. Now this takes us to a careful consideration of the art of expression which is a very important factor in the scheme of education. It is the power of expression that denotes the

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standard of education, learning by itself would not be discharging

all its obligations, if it cannot express itself clearly and correctly

for the good of society. Correct expression is based upon a good

command of the language and a precise use of the words.

Education which does not lovingly help the student to think out

for himself and bring out the best gift and talent in himself and

which does not equip him with the appropriate form of expres-

sion to serve the needs of society, could be pardonably called a

waste of time.

Eluding Creditors

Again in the same first scene our dear friend Girisam reveals

his remarkable talent for making other people pay for his

pleasures and expenses. The other day I was reading about the

publication of a book which professes to teach the honourable

and ever growing band of impecunious gentlemen in this

country, the excellent art of avoiding one’s creditors. He says

yetu chuchina andariki bakile. He reminds us of the cannons

and the picture is complete. Demands to the right of him,

demands to the left of him, demands in front of him and

demands behind him. Girisam eludes them all like the mysterious

Houdini. In Girisam’s case, an ignorant world could not appreciate

his talents, nay his genius, and he was consequently obliged to

put other people’s money into his purse and laugh at the Bill

Collectors. He could afford to snap his fingers at debts

generally; and he dramatically illustrates to us the advantages of

a brahmin debtor who, with the help of his sacred thread,

can always exorcise the spirit of a dunning agent. All debtors

are not blessed with the resources and nonchalance of a Girisam.

There is also the case of some non-brahmins, who do not possess

the advantage of a sacred thread. There are some brahmins as

well who have discarded the sacred-thread as a mark of their

liberty, independence and high culture. It looks therefore that

all things considered, debts are to be avoided by the average

man. A debt might be the result of either an absence of income

or the waste of income. I think that Girisam was thinking of

the latter cause; for to him, earning of income could not have

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

presented many difficulties. So waste of money as a potent cause of indebtedness should have been prominent in Girisam’s thoughts. We see thus two of the eleven causes of the degeneration of India according to Girisam indicated in the very opening chapter of the play. Is he right ? That is the question. Waste of time and waste of money.

Castles in the Air to Mortgage

To the Western mind both may be one and the same, for time is money to the Western. It is not so with us. Any busy lawyer or medical practitioner will easily bear me out. This point need not be elaborated. I should therefore like to consider the two causes separately. I shall first consider the cause ‘waste of money’ as a factor leading to the degeneration of India.

I do not know how business is done in other worlds; but on our planet money is a very important factor in transacting business-and for peace of mind in life. Generally it might have been so when the growing and flowing beards of the sages swept the land (and would have filled with tears the eyes of barbers if any existed at that time). In olden days it might have been possible to look askance at money. Even now it might be possible for some who pretend to look heavenwards eternally to pretend to look down upon money and call it the base seducer. However for us, who can be counted by hundreds, thousands, nay millions; for those who are always running wild in search of appointments, for those who are always obliged to work like machines; for those who perpetually strive to make both ends meet when the said ends are poles asunder; for those to whom the acceptor of a promissory note is a God in disguise; and for those whose greatest wish is for the invention of some interest-killing balm (nothing in this world grows as quickly as interest-prickly pear is miles behind it) money is the ever eluding great beloved. It is rarely indeed we have enough funds. We need them for all purposes-money for births, we need money for deaths, for birthday celebrations and death observances. We need money for marriages, even for mere thread-

marriages, as they are called. Then there are the tonsure

ceremonies for which all the relations should travel to god-

occupying hill-stations and propitiate not only the said gods but

the entire secretariat establishment including the chaprasies for

the luxury of an inartistic shave. The barber in the plains

demands only 12 pices, whereas the hill-station artist demands

sixteen annas and is still dissatisfied. Then comes the marriages,

consummation ceremonies, for which due publicity should be given

by beat of drums and the play of the brass-band taking no

account of feelings of decency of the happy pair. Then there

are the several little ceremonies to be performed before and after

delivery. There are the innumerable festivals, chiefly those

commencing sometime in September and closing in December,

for which, as one of my friends would put it, the quantity of

ghee required would oblige the grihasta either to sell or mortgage

his land. Last, if not least, there is the item of school and college

education to boys and girls. This item of education involves

not only waste of money but also waste of time, waste of energy,

waste of intellect and waste of talent and waste of breath as

well. I shall think about the said causes under the item of

education. We want money for all things enumerated above and

for many more things left out by me. We want plenty of money

too to keep up the false conventions and false notions of pre-

stige. To spend money on non-essentials and unnecessarily is

foolish even for those who could afford it, whereas it is an

unmitigated crime for those who cannot afford it. I think that

no one in India, at any rate no Hindu in India (including the

Maharajas and Rajas) is rich - for the simple reason that the

nation as a whole has to pay out yearly more than what it gets

in. It is certainly getting poorer every day and when the Indians

as a nation are poor, it is pure fallacy to say that some indivi-

duals in the land are rich. The prosperity of an individual is

the prosperity of the nation and vice versa. This is pure logic.

That we are spending money unnecessarily is true. Consequently

we should not pay out more than what we get in. Our income

is limited and whittled down by various causes; and our expendi-

ture is based on an outlook of life which is fanciful. We will

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not cut down the cost of our marriages and other ceremonies

purely owing to the tyranny of convention and traditions which

are miles away from all notions of sweet reasonableness. The

other day, an insolvent, during examination by court, attributed

his plight to the marriages of seven of his daughters. He

said he had five more to perform for which he had only his

'castles in the air' to mortgage. For a moment, consider the

waste we indulge in the mere issuing of marriage-invitation

cards` by hundreds and thousands. To please some old relations;

to keep up appearances in the eyes of the castemen and friends

and to follow in the wake of traditions which are as relentless as

unmeaning, we borrow and do celebrate marriages. I think the

habit of borrowing by itself plants the first germ of decay in

one's self-respect.

Wasting other People's Money

Can it be said that we are extravagant in spending money on

dress or personal comforts? Travelling for pure pleasure is not

generally a costly factor with us. Our dwelling abodes very often

indicate that money has not been lavishly spent on our comforts. In

fact plain living in ordinary life is in our very blood. Our heritage,

our environmet and our climate—all help us to be simple in our

food, simple in our dress and simple in our desires. If simplicity

is beauty in life, the Indian possesses a decided advantage to

realize and achieve beauty in his every day life. It is doubly

regrettable therefore that we should have taken to extravagant

habits and running into debt. Social conventions and a

deplorably cribbed mentality are inexorably driving us to the

verge of ruin. A grim and steady fight should be started to cut

down our expenses all round. It is a pathetic truth that we do

not hesitate of marrying when we are starving. Our present day

social conventions which stand in the way of our economic

progress must go. Waste not money, should be our mantra. We

should now try to make a rupee go further than a rupee. Of

course, this requires gumtion. Grin and save your first pie and

the subsequent process becomes easy. Andrew Carnegie is

credited with the statement, save your first hundred dollars and

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GIRISAM LOOKS AT LIFE

it is easier to save your next thousand dollars. One who begins

by wasting one's own money always ends by wasting other

people's money and becomes a maker to dodge it. We think of

the gratuitous advice given to us mostly by foreigners that we

Indians are not sufficiently civilized and that we should raise our

standard of living. This may or may not be true; but it can

never countenance the waste of money we indulge in, led by

conventions and superstitions, which are the off-spring of

misconceived achara and sampradaya.

Thirty three Crore Gods to help

Second, let me ponder over the waste of time the average

middle class Indian is guilty of. With this some other kinds of

waste are closely associated. I like to think of all of them

together. Waste of time, waste of energy, waste of power of

intellecction and waste of talent.

I do not possess precise information of how the so called

rich class spends its time in India, if there is any rich class in the

correct sense of the term. Many of the rich spend their time in

getting rid of their riches and a few persist in growing richer. I

suppose it is the same all over the world. I shall leave them alone.

Nor shall I think of the gentlemen at large who are strenuously

employed in finding witnesses for courts, old grooms for young

wives, votes for elections and singers for gramophone records,

actors for talkies and writing newspaper advertisements. They are

beyond my grasp. The case of the agriculturist is easy enough

to understand. It is in very rare cases he finds work enough for

all the year round. He practically wastes all his time not spent

in his agricultural work. Take the case of the working classes.

I think they include the quill drivers, the bazar load-carriers; as

well as the government load-carriers; the moulders of clay as

well as the moulders of young pretties (I mean the teachers); the

hair-dressing profession as well as the hair-splitting profession

(I mean law) and so on and so forth. The ordinary working man

requires all his time to keep the wolf from the door; and the

others require all the skill to keep the bill-collector from the

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

door. Can we say that hundreds and thousands of such people

we have amongst us understand the glory of life? Without such

realization can we say that our time is well spent? We should

live like men and not like creatures to be trodden upon. And

we should live like free men. The desire for freedom should, I

think, be an overflow of the expanding strength of the inward

spirit. That which makes life triumphant is the time we can

devote to watch over the proper functioning of the inward proce-

sses, inward work and inward machinery. The fact however is

that it is the life of the working class; the middle class is

fully engrossed in attending to outwardness.

The best portion of our life is spent in attending schools

and colleges when we are asked to seek, not materials for the

inward growth, but materials mainly, if not entirely, for the

sake of earning rupees, annas and pies. We spend thousands to

earn a pittance which is not enough to pay the interest on the

investments made by our parents. Immediately after, our time

is spent in job hunting, our expenditure being hammered all the

way by wives and children, for we must marry at any cost. The

inevitable result is that by the time the average middle class

Indian finds a job and settles down to enjoy the fruits of life,

he finds he has only tinned fruits round him which he has to

buy at enormous prices, perchance to run the risk of ptomaine

poisoning. He finds life to be a sack and humble race for the

day and a disturbed sleep for the night. All to win the prize of

half-a-loaf of bread when a whole loaf is insufficient to meet his

demands. A brain crammed with odds and ends not very useful

for his work-a-day life; a mind dwarfed and an out look of life

warped by domestic influences, a body weakened by early marriage

and possessed with an unhealthy desire to get on somehow, we

start our lives, racing for work cheerlessly, returning home

cheerlessly, running into debts recklessly, breeding children

fearlessly; calling upon all the thirtythree crores of gods to help

us; and approaching the end with fear of acharas and hell.

Some will get blunted and take things as they are. Some will

worry and feel that all is not well. Some will feel that they

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ought to do something. There is no time however to do anything outside the routine work, much less time to think and

consequently, most of us will take to a sort of 'do-nothing but break-coconut religion' and try to find solace in it. When as a

fact we are weak and cowardly, we imagine we are pious and heaven-bound. We readily find a Sanskrit sloka to convince

ourselves that suffering is the badge of the virtuous and the sesame of the heavenly portals. We cry "thy will be done" not

with a joyous exclamation but with a writhing resignation and with a piety projected by fear. The springs of energy are not

freshened and brightened by dreams of daring ambition; rank weeds of unhealthy fatalism readily coil round the faint heart;

we fall back for support on texts, misinterpret the potent peace of satva into impotent inaction of tamas, keep within doors and

chant ourselves to death with prayers for mercy. Such a philosophy is to reckon pain and suffering as punishment which can

never help one to realize the glory of life. Thus there is a waste of our time and a waste of our energy.

Intellectual Vision blurred

Surely there is an enormous waste of our powers of intellection as well. I do think of the real handicap that hampers

the freedom of movement in this direction. It is true, our field of action is limited by causes which are unavoidable at present.

The gymnasium for exercise is limited. However are we giving enough exercise, such as we can within the limited space, to our

powers of intellection? Whether it is our defective training or our unnatural environment or the misconception of our true

religious ideals, whatever the cause may be, the fact is fairly clear that we are sternly kept away from the realm of doubt.

We are strictly enjoined not to question, much less to doubt certain things, fear of Sanskrit slokas on the one hand and fear

of proving the wrath of relentless social tyranny on the other hand set unbreakable and unremovable blinkers on our intellectual vision and we are obliged to run only in one rut. The

blinkers grow more and more obstructive as age advances; for

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the fear of Yama, his clerk and his registers looms bigger and

bigger.

Nervousness to consider the present and future in a fearless

manner, a dread to cast aside the blinkers set by religious

exploiters, a desire to shut ones eyes to naked realities; a growing

fear of a clinch with the hard and ugly facts of our present day

existence; a complacent belief that unthinking obedience to some

old saying is saintliness, all these prove that something is rotten

in one's kingdom of intellect. Even our powers of observation

are consequently ill-developed.

Wasting our money, wasting our time, dissipating our bodily

energy by wasting our powers of intellection and observation-

can it be said that we are really enjoying life?

Poking Noses

When he says "think annadaya inglishwadu," I think

Girisam is right. We are not encouraged to think from the

beginning. As children our instincts of curiosity are severely

snubbed and as students our opportunities for observation are

severely cut. Our spiritual preceptors are deadily against our

liberty of thought. The result is apparent. Our brain power is

wasted. Conclusions are arrived at hastily and opinions are

expressed without any ascertainment of facts. I should like to

think of two dire evils which arise from this waste of our

thinking faculties and the consequent anaemia of brain-power it

brings on. One makes us uncharitable and the other makes us

unmanly. Let me try to explain myself. There is a tendency in

the uneducated man to find a peculiar occupation for his nose-

to poke into other people's affairs and to imagine odours at the

faintest atmosphere. It is regrettable but it is a fact that the

uneducated mind jumps to pick holes in others and strain its ears

to believe ill of others. A little thought, a little reckoning, a

little consideration of the pros and cons, a little judicious feeling,

would certainly clean the atmosphere of a society from the

petrifying influences of scandal. Gossiping, which unfortunately

GIRISAM LOOKS AT LIFE

is seeking to enter the portals of schools and colleges and tends to

ruin the young mind, is unsportsmanly and uncharitable. I need

not waste your time, by elaborating over the far-reaching evil

consequences (to the society as well as to the individuals) which

result from a habit of indulging in thoughtless talk and careless

opinions.

The other evil I referred to is graver still. I referred to a

tendency in the uneducated man to find a peculiar occupation

for his nose. I shall now refer to a tendency in the so-called

educated man, which is also connected with the same organ, the

nose. It is the occupation of boring holes in it to pass a strip

through, for being lead by others. To submit to be lead by

others is to make life a made-easy series. An unused sound box

cannot produce full and far-reaching notes and similarly an

unused thinking box cannot have fearless and far reaching ideas.

In the one case the music lacks melody and continuity. In the

other case, the ideas lack daring and perservance. The sound in

one shakes with weakness; and the projections of the other quake

with fear. They quake with fear to enter the field of daring

enterprise and adventure, which enabled a Visvamitra of old, our

own Visvamitra, to create new worlds for us (our municipalities

do not allow us to create new latrines at least). Look at that

picture and the present picture. Our ancestors revelled in free

and fearless thinking. Even the very gods were defied. The

gods of those days rose to the occasion, were very noble and

encouraged a fighting man. The then God said: my son, fight

on, fight me and I shall embrace you more quickly, than I would

one who stands at the door, breaks coconuts and spanks his own

cheeks. God loves a chap who knows not, when he is beaten.

That is the ancient Aryan picture. Look at the present picture.

Our gods have taken to a life of ease. Their occupation appears

to be perpetually listening to their time-worn exploits and

preening themselves about and occasionally rewarding their

devotees by sending them droughts, famines, epidemics and such

like favours. Our spiritual ordinances are such that we are not

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

even allowed to think fearlessly. What wonder is there that our

powers of intellection are wasted most pathetically.

Self is dead - Long Live the Self

The next kind of waste that Girisam must have thought

about is of wasting of talents.

There is one talent, faculty or gift that is common to all

human beings; and that is the greatest talent which is implanted

in us by supreme force, out of its infinite mercy. It is the latent

talent of self-forgetfulness or self-effacement. The greatest triumph

of all knowledge is self-discovery or self-realization. I think self-

effacement and self-realization are so closely connected together

that one leads to the other. This latent talent should be grown

and developed to its fullest extent. That is the key note of our anci-

ent Aryan culture. That is the key note of our sanatana dharma. I

mean the real stuff - not the camouflage which recently failed

to get an entry into the Legislative Assembly at Delhi. Charles

Landford in his book ‘India: The Land of Regrets’ refers to

Mahatma Gandhi as follows; “He is so difficult to deal with

because he is so deeply, so sincerely self-effacing. He seeks

nothing for himself. He really does love his enemies. He is so

ready to die for his faith and his people.” This talent of self-

effacement helps us to cry out hastily, “The self is dead. Long

live the self.” The lower and touch-me-not self is dead; and

long lives the higher and all-embracing self. Real life shines

only after the lower and touch-me-not self is burnt up. The

spark which kindles the fire to burn up the doer is also within

us. The greatest of Indian poetic conceptions is the personi-

fication of this divine spark in us as Narada who always forces

the lower self to enter into a contact with the greater self and

burn itself up. This burning up process is created by external

as well as internal stimuli. Narada represents the concentrated

essence of the internal stimuli which, like Frankensteins, attach

themselves to their parent and, by constant friction, generate the

fire which burns up the lower self. This faculty of

self-effacement is within us; the spark is within us; Narada

GIRISAM LOOKS AT LIFE

is with us, but Narada is a great artist and the easiest way to get at him is through the development of artistic sense or

faculty. Drama is, without challenge, the king of fine-arts. It is instinctive in its inception. It is essentially human and uni-

versal. The dramatic instinct when properly developed helps one to discover the secret of real joy and enjoyment. Real joy

has no reaction of fatigue or regret in it. That is the ananda which sublimates both the body and the mind. Such real

pleasure comes only when one rises above the ordinary functioning of the mind, which limits our vision, perception and con-

ception. The conception of the limitless and the infinite is impossible for a mind which functions always within a limited

space. The dramatic instinct is implanted in each and every one of us to gently slip out of the mind's confines--out into the

limitless zone of infinite beauty and bliss. The dramatic instinct aims at developing one's ability to remove one's own paint and

dress of prarabdha--to destroy one's vasanas. It is the dramatic instinct which enables one to glimpse the ray of real enjoyment

by leading one through the rain and sunshine of enjoyment which is unreal. It is the actor, who, if sincere, can easily

realize the talent of enjoying the unreal that is in him. An actor will be sorrowful but not sorry. He will experience the sensa-

tion of pain, sorrow and yet enjoy them. Subjectively he is full of joy for the discovery of a wonderful gift in him, which opens

the gates of a new world for him, just as a child feels when suddenly the power of articulation is within its reach. Objecti-

vely an actor feels he can, if he is sincere, take the audience along with him through all his feelings of sorrowing, pain,

sympathy, heroism and so forth. True and correct expression is necessary for the service of society as I said before.

True and correct expression is not easy until one dwells in the part he chooses to play and yet holds oneself detached

from the dwelling. This great dramatic instinct in human nature finally leads one on to the glorious heights when true life shines

resplendent. It is very necessary that this instinct should be allowed to grow freely and fearlessly. The instinct should be

exercised properly. The child should be asked to don and doff

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coats constantly so that the art of removing the congenital coat

and congenital grease-paint may be quickly learned.

Art beautifies Creation

Side by side with this histrionic instinct, there is the instinct

of song, the faculty of music, implanted in us. We should

develop this faculty and not waste it. The most powerful engine

which enables the soul to reach the highest altitude is music.

The most effective soothing draught to quieten the horrowing

restlessness of one's mind is music. The most eloquent poet who

can describe beauty is music. The Kohinoor on the diadem of

love is music. The philosophic stone which can transmute

any hard egoism into flexible gold of self-effacement is music.

The lure which can draw the individual soul into the infinite is

music. This instinct of music should be found and encouraged.

Girisam should have deplored the Indian's indifference to

the development of his artistic sense and artistic temperment.

The dreadful waste of such faculties should have shocked him.

It is art that beautifies and strengthens creation. It is art that

discovers in nature the wonderful mother who blesses all. It is

art that destroys the artificial barriers between man and man. It

is art that leads self-expression into self-expansion and finally

into self-effacement. It is art that trains our ears to catch the

strains of Krishna's murali. Art is the stroke of chisel that

knocks off the excrescences in our composition and makes us

perfect to deserve the love of Krishna. It is art which helps us

to cast off our load of garments and appendages and blitholes to

fall in step with the mighty Sankara in his glorious dance of

death - full of life. What a calamity, Girisam should have

thought, that one should neglect the development of fine-arts

(which reveal to us the glory and strength of life) and waste the

faculty of fine-arts implanted in us. Can we consciously say

that our centres of education whether it be our houses, schools

or colleges, afford us the necessary opportunities to foster and

develop the latent faculties for arts in our young men. There is

marked inclination on the other hand, to discountenance such

76

instincts and waste the talents. This kind of waste is one of the

potent causes of the degeneration of India and her culture.

Along with the waste of our thinking or reasoning faculties,

Girisam must have thought of the habit of one's waste of emotion

as a probable fifth cuase of the degeneration of our society. The

Andhras are said to be very emotional. As a matter of fact, I

am afraid, all Indians are emotional; also commotional and

unnecessarily so. To be emotional without any real progressive

motion or moment is not a great virtue. I am reminded of

Mr. S. V. Ramamurti's presidential speech on the occasion of

the fourth Andhra Nataka Kala Parishad held in Madras during

last December. He said that Andhras were very enthusiastic in

starting works; but it was the Tamil genius that kept up the

works going. This is a matter for consideration. Mr. Ramamurti's

observation upsets a text which often been quoted by my

father arambhasuraha khalu dakshinityaha. However Mr. Rama-

murti's opinion cannot but be a carefully considered one. If he

is true, (I am inclined to agree with him) our emotions which

effervesce without any practical results are sheer waste. Girisam

must have noticed this habit of waste with great regret.

For Favours in Higher Worlds

To be emotional is to raise oneself into a higher and nobler

zone of life where currents of sympathy, charity-and self-sacrifice

have full play. Such feelings however should get beyond ideas

of self-complacency and self-exaltation. They should not be

prompted by fear of society or a crying for individual glorifi-

cation. The objective should be the greatest good to society.

Take the case of charity. The Indian's boast that he is very

charitable, his doors are always open to the street beggars; and

he is even ready to help the needy and the suffering; but there is

no system or organization about it all. People who are really

needier, the cruelly oppressed and the acutely suffering humanity,

do not easily find a place in an Indian's scheme of charity. The

dominant motive is not so much as giving relief to the deaf,

dumb, blind, maimed and destitute as to win favour in some

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

higher worlds for the individual himself. The duty towards

society is given only a corner seat. The consequence is that there

is more of waste than benefit out of such charity. If a common

stone-house should be established in each village or town and if

the daily alms each man and woman gives in money or kind

should be collected in the said stone-house and if there should

be an organized body to distribute such common collections

amongst the really needy in village and town, Indian charity

would be more useful than wasteful.

Do Nothing and Multiply

Take the case of the joint family system. There was need

for the system in the olden days. It is a matter for careful con-

sideration whether the system is necessary in the present days. Is

the system adding to our man-power or detracting from it? Is it

not a common sight that one man is obliged to earn and feed a

number of drones who do nothing but marry and multiply? Is

it not a fact that in a joint family the moment the earning

member passes away his widow is thrown entirely on the tender

mercies of ill-educated, uncultured, pleasure-seeking and selfish

junior members who live mostly by the law of survivorship? Is

it not a fact that most of us are suffering under this system,

swayed by false feelings of sympathy and charity? Our feelings of

sympathy and charity, unless they can be turned into good

account for the good of society, are sheer waste of our emotional

springs and tend certainly to degenerate our strength.

I was reading the other day about fine places during the

winter cold in the Punjab. They have chimneys and the way they

are constructed allows the heat to escape through the chimney.

Instead of distributing heat to the needy people around, the con-

struction takes most of the heat away to the skies through the

chimney. Are our ideas of charity, fellow-feeling and sympathy,

similarly found? Is it a waste? Girisam perhaps thought it was.

Next I am led to think of Girisam's views on man's emotions,

his feelings of charity, self-sacrifice, self-respect and so forth.

They were very sound indeed. Girisam never wasted his emotions.

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He had no sickly sentiment about such feelings. When Venkamma

accidentally fell into a well, he was there to risk his life and

rescue her; but he never cared for Venkamma's feelings, when he

proposed to elope to Gretna Green with the beautiful Buchamma;

for the elopement had a double object in it, the object of

re-stringing the lyre of Buchamma's life and that of averting

the danger of disastrous marriage to Subbamma. I think of

Girisam's relations, first with Putakoolamma, second with

Madhuravani and the third with Buchamma. All three were

good-looking. I think the way Putakoolamma is personated on

the stage is not to my liking. All were attractive and beautiful.

Girisam however knew how to control emotions and use them to

the best advantage of society. Putakoolamma's profession was

to give food for money. Girisam got food without money. There

it ended. Madhuravani's incident is apparent enough. Now

consider his emotions as regards Buchamma. They were used

to undestand a fellow-being and to advance the cause of social-

reform. Emotions which effervesce without any practical results

are sheer waste of human energy.

More Voice than Necessary

Certainly Girisam should have waxed eloquent over the

waste of youth, waste of flesh and blood, waste of breath and

the non-development and (consequently) waste of will power as

some of the other causes of the degeneration of India. We have no

well-known institution or organisation for the education of our

voices. Even our music schools as well as our education

classes do not appear to attach sufficient importance to voice-

training. The ancient Aryan culture paid particular attention to

the art of regulating one's breath. 'The chanting of Vedic hymns,

I consider, as a wonderful lesson in the art of voice education.

I think of the present day South Indian stage and the huge waste

of breath on it. It is only very few actors that can control their

breath, avoid waste and use it to the best advantage. Anger,

grief and love are all pitched in the same key. All sentiments

are more or less shouted out. I am alive to the handicaps in the

ways of the actors. I am alive to the unscientific construction

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

of our theatres. I am alive to the counter-noices caused in the

auditorium by soda-openers and picnic-makers. Nevertheless I

am inclined to think that more voice than necessary is spent on

the stage. This waste is more apparent in court-halls. If

shouting is considered to be an important factor in the histrionic

art it is (by many) considered to be an all important factor in the

demonstration of one's forensic capability. This art of shouting

appears to be infecting the bench as well. If I think of our meet-

ings (especially of the Kala Parishad) and the way we shout at one

another, the way we shout all together, at the Chairman and the

way the Chairman, the proposer, the seconder and the rest-all

join in shouting at the press-reporters present. There is tremen-

dous waste of voice. The art of modulating one's voice and

regulating one's breath, adds to the cultural strength of a human

being and the waste thereof is decidedly a sign of degeneration.

Paucity of Maidens

Next Girisam goes into raptures over the beauties of country

life, dwells lovingly over the luxuries of best tobacco, best curd

and best ghee. At the same time he regrets that our country

does not possess 'maidens' which according to him is a colossal

kalankam. The paucity of maidens in India strikes him as a real

defect and perhaps as a potent cause for the degeneration of our

society. When I read it, I pondered over the question and it

struck me that there was something peculiar about the several

stages of life amongst Indians. Are there many real youths in

India? Dictionaries describe youth as the period between

childhood and manhood. I believe, in practical life, we can

easily conceive what manhood is. I would like to think of youth

as that period, when a human being is afforded opportunities to

imbibe all that is best for his further progress and evolution,

without a care or thought. It is a period when a human being

is supposed to enjoy the best of health, the best of spirits,

without any worry, without any encumbrances or dregs, no sense

of fatigue and looks upon the world as a huge big play-house.

That is the time to develop a sense of robust optimism. That is

the time when sickly germs which breed the superiority complex,

isolation and exclusiveness and mis-appropriation can be more or less successfully knocked out of the system. The period of youth is necessary—absolutely necessary for the growth of the individual himself and also for the benefit of society. The period of youth acts as a blessing to the individual by leading him into these rare and useful experiences and society gets its best entertainment from its youth. Often speakers and orators from the stage and platform proclaim that the youth form the very back-bone of our society; the youth of today becomes the leader of tomorrow and the destinies of poor Mother India are in the hands of the youth. It is all well and good and the said speakers and orators get thunderous claps for expressing such glorious views. The question however is, are there any youths in Hindu Society? Does our system of marriage and our conception of married life recognize any such period of youthful existence in our youngmen?

Life with us is divided into four stages—balya, youana, koumara and vardhakya. Youana, I think, corresponds more or less to the period of youth. Koumara, I am told, is connected with kumaras and kumaries i. e. children. Kumara dasa starts therefore with children. Now comes the difficulty. The average Indian is married between 14 and 16, begets children at 18 and becomes a grandfather between 32 and 34. His koumara dasa therefore starts at 18 or say 20. I hope I shall not be very wrong if I consider that balya dasa will be finished by 14. According to the Madras Children Act of 1920, a child means a person under the age of 14 years. Thus, we have a period of nearly four years or at the most five years to youth or youana avastha. Giving a grace of four years more, this period is only for a term of ten years, seven of which will have to be deducted for sleep, food and other calls. That leaves us a glorious period of three years to gain all the wonderful experiences of youth. Is not Girisam justified in deploring the absence of maidens in our country. His omission to refer to the male denomination, specially, may have been due to his anxiety not to offend the feelings of boys.

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

No Wall between this World and the Other

I believe Girisam has illustrated to us several kinds of waste which may have been reckoned by him in his famous lecture :

(1) waste of money (2) waste of time (3) waste of artistic talents

(4) waste of powers of intellection (5) waste of emotions (6) waste of charity (7) waste of youthful existence (8) waste of breath and

(9) waste of physical energies in general.

I have no doubt whatever that Girisam believed firmly that the prime cause for all this huge waste lay in an unnatural and impracticable conception of life.

I am not at all inclined to perceive any blasphemy in his statement that pleasures in heaven are assured if you have already enjoyed them in this world. It is true to me. I cannot conceive of any Chinese wall dividing this world from the other worlds, including heaven. No truer statement was ever made than the one that the mind is its own place. It makes a heaven of hell and hell of heaven. Turn the kaliedoscope; earth is seen. Turn it again, heaven is visible. No change of places at all. The turning is in our power. I am afraid that as long as one concentrates on a heaven which is far away somewhere, one can never be satisfied with this world, which would be an insult to the impartiality of the maker of these globes. Happiness or joy may be considered as an easementary right. Long open continuous and uninterrupted enjoyment as right establishes a right of way.

Happiness must be openly and continuously enjoyed as of right and in an uninterrupted manner in this world, so that we acquire inviolable rights to enjoy ananda, after we have shuffled off this mortal coil. The key to the definition of such happiness lies in the two words; uninterrupted and as of right. Interruption comes in only when there is a break or cessation. In ananda this cessation is ordinarilly the outcome of fatigue or, may be, regret. Uninterrupted enjoyment of ananda may therefore refer to such ananda as containing no elements of reaction or regret in it. Let me consider the other expression 'as of right'. The sukha or ananda should be enjoyed 'as of right'. That is possible only

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for one who considers ananda as his birth right—as his nature.

In other words one would feel happy always, unconsciously

radiate happiness all round just as a rose which would always

smell sweet and distribute its sweet smell all round. According

to Girisam therefore this world is meant to give such pleasures

and a person who can find and enjoy such pleasures does

establish a right of easement for happiness in the other worlds.

This outlook of life in this world welcomes samsara and does

not condemn it. It is a strongman’s outlook. Fear and weak-

ness dare not approach it. It certainly discourages beggary.

Begging for admissions, begging for appointments, begging for

engagements and begging even to remain yours truly. Conception

of such a life and the determination to live up to it require the

development of one’s will power. Girisam’s series of exploits

indicate that he was a man of great will power and he ever kept

the power in perfect trim. The final scene proves his wonderful

self-possession. To me Girisam was not defeated. In the last

scene, at considerable self-sacrifice, he let us into the secret of

the great Saujanya Rao Pantulu’s weakness. That paragon of

virtues, lover of truth, upholder of justice and friend of the

oppressed cannot after all get over certain sentimental prejudices.

The Pantulu deems as a contamination the very touch and the

very atmosphere of a streetwalker. With great reluctance he

unbends to bestow a kiss upon that noble woman who was pure

and good at heart. Between the Pantulu and Madhuravani I

take my hat off to Madhuravani. I thank Girisam for bringing

about this denouement, for I believe Girisam deliberately

continued to get this effect. If he was sensuous and selfish,

he need not have re-appeared after he eloped with Bachamma. He

would have married her and stayed where he was. Some evil-

minded persons may say that Girisam took the best and coveted

the adoption. I do not believe it. He knew enough law to file

a suit for the stridhanam properties of Buchamma. I am sure

Girisam did not want to marry Buchamma. In his heart of

hearts, he knew that marriage would come in the way of his

service. He carried her away to expose certain dangers which

lurk in our society. And he came back to mock at society by

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showing up that even its great Sanjanya Rao Pantulu was full

of prejudices which breed divisions and stand against the princi-

ples of equality and freedom in society.

Now, gentlemen, I have tried my best and I have been able

to imagine 10 causes of waste (including the waste of will power

which I have indicated last) which very probably formed the

subject-matter of Girisam’s lecture. You know Girisam better

than I. Consequently you will be in a position to teach me

something more about him. I am ready to learn.

It is true I could not think of the eleventh cause; but I have

a suspicion what it is.

Girisam is the main character in the play ‘Kanyasulkam’ (Bride’s price)

written by Sri Gurajada Appa Rao (1861-1915). Sri Appa Rao, a champion

of the spoken Telugu, wrote poetry and plays as models. The play

‘Kanyasulkam’, written in 1892, established him as a great playwright in

Telugu.

This lecture was delivered by Raghava at the Andhra University, in 1934.

84

Letters from the West

The Englishman’s table conventions are interesting. They indicate certain principles of maya which is necessary, as you know, for the exercise of the mind. The lessons may be rudimentary, yet are appropriate for the psychology of a child’s mind. Conventions are a part of social life. To such beings as live in society and can see no further than beyond themselves, convention becomes an instrument of fear. Gradually, they would slip down into the shades of superstition, ignorance, cowardice and sin. However, convention by itself is a necessary institution just as image-worship is.

First you have to dress properly for dinner (which is the important meal). This dressing corresponds to the Indian Brahmin’s madi. The difference in style is due to the difference in climate. You have to sit with ease and elegance within the limits of your chair. The forearms and hands should be manipulated dexterously and gracefully; else you will spill things and get into your neighbour’s way. It certainly teaches one an artistic way of displaying one’s movements. You have to know something of the art of cooking, for you have to assort and mix the several ingredients yourself before the dish becomes agreeable. You help yourself when the course is served, which again is a feat of gentle art. You have to do it without disturbing the artistic effect of the service. You should keep its appearance agreeable to your neighbour. You should now and again consult your neighbour’s wants and help him in a pleasant manner, passing the salt, the sugar, the mustard and sauce. Then you have to know the nature and purpose of the several instruments on the table. There are the fish–knife, the butter–knife and the meat–knife. The fish–fork is different from the meat–fork. The fork and knife for eating are different.

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plates themselves are different for different dishes; the spoons are different. Salt should be taken in a particular way; sugar in a different way. Then you have to eat with ease, without making any noise or producing hair-raising sounds. To drink at the table is art again. The glasses are different. Water glass, wine glass and whisky glass are all different. And you should not soil your self or the white table cloth. It is immaculate and so is the waiter who serves you with gloved hands. Your behaviour and opera-tions should be in tune with the colour scheme, so exquisitely arranged, overflowing with the milk of cleanliness. Do you know what concentration of mind it requires? what will-power? what faculties? a knowledge of cutlery, crockery, cookery, jugglery, skill in acrobatic feats, washing, serving, and grace in everything you do. Above all, you have to be pleasant and agreeable to your neighbours. You should engage them in light refined conversa-tion. You cannot shout. You have to modulate your voice to a key which harmonizes with the subdued and gently audible clatter of the knives and forks. You will be styled a ‘drag’ if you cannot make yourself entertaining. What an exercise for the mind? There are people who almost think that ‘eating’ is a necessary ‘evil’ to maintain body and life, and you can eat in any manner you choose as long as you do not overdo the ceremony. It may be so for one who always thinks in terms of the world and not of his own self. To the average man, how-ever, eating is an important factor. The cravings of nature are all intrinsically noble and they should be satisfied in a noble manner. Elegance and art are the bed-rocks of nobility.

I quite realize that this art may eventually become a habit. That is the danger-zone. To those who conform to the code of convention out of fear, habit becomes a positive danger. It leads them to superstition and ignorance. To them the spilling of salt is a bad omen. To those, however, who are not the slaves of habit, convention is an instrument of love. I found quite a useful source of education in the table conventions of the West.

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II

I understand the development of the modern English stage.

It is the painting of life as it is-in its naked beauty and consequently its naked ugliness.

The bogs and marshes which are kept so religiously covered by the cloak of modern society are all ruthlessly betrayed.

The havoc played by unbridled and never-dying primordial passions and desires, are hittingly brought into relief.

The loathsome toiling of modern life, behind an apparently respectable conventional front, is exposed with a callousness which is a blend of a sneer and a twinkle.

The utter helplessness of society, culture and civilization in the face of facts is painted.

The eternal verities are sung to a tragic tune and the vision of a beyond or the idea of eternal justice as unrefined burlesque.

The great problems which are the natural outcome of the necessary existence of inequalities are reckoned in a most scientific and clear headed manner.

So far the Englishman has the advantage over the Indian.

The latter, as you know, instinctively draws his head (like the tortoise) at the hint of any difficulty or any struggle.

Let me come back to the stage.

The bewildering confusion caused in the fashionable and artistically laid-out streets of society's life by the wild careering of the beasts of the lower self, the fierce revolt of all natural instincts against the schemes laid by man's avarice and possessive instinct;

the harsh and triumphant cry of nemesis and retribution drinking the very blood of tyrannical selfishness;

the cynical smile of subterfuge in helping the natural cravings to surreptitiously open the windows and doors of Dame Convention and fly away;

the innocence of crime, the chastity of the prostitute;

the morality of the liar, the injustice of law, the unrighteousness of punishment-all these are attempted to be portrayed with a vividness as true as painful.

It is life as it is - Realism in Excelcis-and then there is nothing beyond-it is nirvana-the audience goes home realizing how hopeless men and women are in the maelstrom of life's currents.

I found the acting good, the plot holds you with a thrill.

The environment is superb; but I felt a vague sense of disap-

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THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

pointment. It is true I had seen life's current. I want to enjoy

my bath and must find a way to swim in the current and not be

drifted by it.

Why does the stage leave the problems unsolved? Why

should it dread to refer its problems to the Great Influence,

which fills all? Is it a shame to believe in a final adjustment?

Is it a weakness to believe in a happy end?

I find that God is reckoned only as a creative principle.

Perhaps the principle of destruction is admitted. But the main-

taining principle, the protecting principle, is only a fairy tale.

To believe in a god who is responsible for order, law and jus-

tice appears to be an old, a very old fashion. The modern

culture has dismissed God.

It may have its advantage and distinguished look; but the

picture presented by the stage is somehow to my mind incom-

plete.

III

There is a very great need at the present day for broad-

casting our ancient Vedic discoveries, truths and culture to the

young Hindu. This is a dire need. The present system of

education is making the young Hindu worse than useless. I came

across a number of Indian students in the West. There are some

who keep to their orthodox ways and talk to you of the great

Indian past without having any the least idea of where the

greatness lay. There are others who are faithful carbon paper

editions of the Western drawing-room etiquette of the class below

the lower middle-class, who are scrupulous about their dress-

suit for dinner, who drink beer, take their landlady's daughter

to see the pictures, cultivate the discarded catch expressions of

the pavements and consider themselves as equal to Europeans.

Their idea of Western culture is a certain kind of swagger furti-

vely peeping into insolence. They must address a friend as an

old man. They will tell you that Indian music is rotten, at the

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same time confess their ignorance of the great masters of India.

They will tell you that the Ayurvedic system of medicine is

ignorance. They will tell you that your system of bathing,

dressing and eating is barbarian. They will refuse to converse

with you in any language but the English. One of them told me

seriously that it is only beef-eating and driving away of all reli-

gions that can make India respectable. I asked him what he

meant by religion. Of course he was confused. I don’t blame

this young man. They have no real Indian education and they

are dazzled by the material glamour and happiness of the West.

The natural result is that the majority honestly believe that

India’s salvation consists in complete westernization. And a few

others instinctively antagonistic to Western influences, good or

bad, are however unable to go farther than proclaiming a blind

abmiration for the ancient past. Is it not time to start a vigorous

campaign for placing the real good of ancient Indian culture

before our young men? It is now high time to tell our young

men that according to our ancients, religion was merely knowl-

edge and realization of the great truth that God is in every

person, working through all hands, walking through all feet,

eating through every mouth and thinking in every mind. With-

out this concept, how can the grand idea of the universal

brotherhood of man (which lies at the root of all progressively

humanitarian movements) be possible? This religious knowledge

is essential for our everyday life, whether engaged in social

functions, politics or playgrounds. Is it not high time to reveal

to our young men the sublime place music occupied in ancient

aryan education and the transcendental reach of its sphere? Is

it not time to disclose to them the strictly scientific and hygenic

principles that are at the bottom of the Indian dress and

Indian food in ancient days?

I can see where the mistake lies. The Western-educated

young man is obsessed by the putrid accretions and excrescenses

which have grown on the Indian skin. It is therefore necessary

and immediately too, to give our young men an insight into the

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original stuff which was, and is, pure gold, and encourage them

to scour away the unwholesome outgrowth.

Originaly Published in ‘Triveni’ in 1928

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Art and the People

People say that the old order has changed. A friend of mine tells me that now he walks with his head thrown back a little, his chest thrown forward a bit, and the air he breathes feels a little more bracing than before. It is true that there appears to be a general bustle of packing and unpacking round about, and a movement which sings the song of “Go ahead.” The chain is still there; but I feel that the orbit of movement is a bit widened. The parole still binds but the ray of freedom is distinctly sighted in the distance. A good deal of struggle is necessary to reach it. Perfect discipline should be maintained, for it is a movement of the millions. Food and strength, endurance and non-violence are required to overcome the side-tracking demons. Plenty of self-confidence is necessary to achieve success.

The millions have been deprived of their freedom of thought and action for centuries. Alien philosophy and alien culture, backed by alien rule, have coloured us with the inferiority complex out and out. Our arts and aspirations have almost ceased to grow for a thousand years or more, owing to lack of proper nourishment. The vile fingers of a degenerate priest-craft started the strangulation game. Sri Krishna used his chakra (discus) to cover the light of the day, and Arjuna might kill Saindhava. Priest-craft hid the light of the day from our masses that they may be bled to feed the high and the mighty. The noose devised by the priest-craft was for obvious reasons taken advantage of by the invaders. It was unfortunate that the narrow-minded puritanism of some of the invaders destroyed our fine-arts. Self-expression was choked. The creative instinct was almost killed. The mind was starved. The multitude walked about without cheer and almost without hope. Slave

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THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

mentality took possession of the people. It is not bread alone

that sustains man. He requires freedom to grow and discover

himself. It is the freedom of the mind that fertilizes the creative

capacity in him and helps him to achieve the glory of unrestricted

self-expression. The bigotry of the priest-craft on one

side, the tyranny of alien philosophy on the second side, the

distortion of educational ideals by the government on the third

side, and the deplorable selfishness of the home-made imperialist

on the fourth, succeeded in extinguishing the fire of freedom.

This has gone on for centuries. We are now in a sorry plight

indeed. The true artistic spark in us is eternal; but it is buried

under heaps and heaps of the ashes of superstition and ignorance.

It is the duty of society and much more so of the government

to discover that spark in our millions and revive the same. That

would pave the way for artistic and cultural progress. Such

progress, however, depends to a large extent on a careful and

scientific disciplining and development of emotional nature. The

true aim of art is to construct a setu (bridge) between the seen

and the unseen, by patiently trying to interpret the natural as

well as the supernatural by the very effective method of identify-

ing oneself with nature in all its aspects. The manhood in man

and the womanhood in woman can be realized only when the

desire for art and beauty is awakened in them. With such

awakening, a raging impetus to rush forward to the portals of

the aesthetic world naturally takes possession of the initiate.

Then a keen desire to travel through the world of emotions is

created.

Bertrand Russell says that it is only through a life of

imagination man becomes aware of what the world might be and

that, without it, progress would become mechanical and trivial.

It is necessary therefore that a human being, in order to rise

above a mechanized existence, should enjoy a life of imagination

and travel through the world of emotions. The fine-arts therefore

assume great importance in the scheme of education. On a

careful analysis of all the several kinds of human urges, it is easy

92

to conclude that the urge to strive after the useful and the urge

to strive after the beautiful do unite to produce the same results,

viz. the growth of man and the progress of society. Both urges

find abundant nourishment in the world of emotions, which

exist to teach people how to assign their proper values to

pleasure and pain and to reach the portals of the higher life.

A travel, therefore, through the world of emotions is

essential for the progress of man. Such a travel, however,

requires careful equipment before the journey starts. Mysterious

are its labyrinthine passages and turnings. It is like the

famous padma vyuha which engulfed Abhimanyu, because he

knew to get into it only, and not how to get out of it. The

physical limitations of a human being easily mislead him to

assign wrong values to the artistic environment which he finds in

this mysterious world. He begins to cling to things. He

should therefore be taught to break away from things before he

starts on his journey through the aesthetic world. It is this

capacity to break away from things that can give him glimpses of

a still higher and spiritual life.

The traveller should consequently be educated by a loving

heart and guided by a firm hand. A correct taste for music,

painting, the stage and such other things should be instilled into

him at the very outset. Love of music and love of the fine-arts

in general are inherent in the make-up of all human beings. It

is quite natural for a human being to turn to music and the stage

for enjoyment as it is natural for him to seek food. Food for

the mind should be more carefully chosen than the food for the

body. Indulgence in bad food for the body results in indigestion

and the weakening of the physical condition. Similarly indulgence

in bad food for the mind impairs its development and

arrests its expansion. A society which cannot provide proper

food for the development of man's mind cannot be said to be

functioning healthily.

The present-day places of amusement, especially the stage

and the cinema, stupefy man's mind instead of developing it.

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THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

Every intelligent Indian feels it; but he is unable to help the

situation. The love of stories from the Mahabharata, Bhagavata

and Ramayana runs in the very blood of the Hindus. Consequently,

the poor villager rushes from far and near to the stage or the

screen, to see his old heroes of the epics. Money is spent for it,

and what is the return he gets for all his pains? Unwholesome

caricatures are served as food. The veriest apology for a human

being appears on the stage or the screen as Vishnu, Siva, Rama,

Narada, Anjaneya or any one of those several mythological

beings connected with the stories of our puranic gods; and at

once the auditorium reaches the boiling point of enthusiasm

with wild cheers and clapping of hands. The man or woman

who presents the mythological part may look like a gargoyle,

may bellow like a bull, or may sing like a cat with catarrah-but

the audience has no eye or ear for such defects. The villager

appears to be satisfied because he is predisposed in favour of

his heroes; and the garb in which the said heroes appear on the

screen cannot shake the villager's love for them. I am reminded

of what a friend of mine once told me, that he could relish any

bad coffee, because he could, while swallowing the bad coffee,

imagine and enjoy the taste of a good cup of coffee he had had

once before. The exploiter, in whose hands the entire business

of the screen and the stage now rests, trades upon this simple yet

glorious element of faith in the poor villager. The exploiter

grows opulent and corpulent, while the villager sticks to his

quagmire of superstition. I am afraid, most of our so-called

educated people as well are sailing in the same boat. Would it

not be worthwhile to give a new interpretation—a more rational

and intelligent interpretation—and thus enlighten the masses to

perceive a better and freer life, free from all shackles of super-

stition and ignorance? In my humble opinion, this could be

easily done and the love of the epics itself be shaped into a

dynamic force for the cultural progress of our masses.

Did I say that it is rumoured that the old order has changed?

Yes, the new order is facing grim facts. Its look is concentrated

on the dumb millions who are ill-clothed, almost nil fed and

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suffering mutely. The first step is undoubtedly to find

food and clothes for them, and to free them, from the

toils of indebtedness. Simultaneously, however, their mental

possessions should be enlarged and they should be taught to

develop a life of imagination to appreciate the glory of life. This

item should be considered in the reorganization scheme. The idea

of education as a means to procure passes—pure and simple—

should be knocked on the head. The present system of education

has played havoc upon the finished product as well. It is so

costly that 95 per cent of the parents must sell their lands like

Rodreigo, to help their sons to win the love of educational

Desdemonas. After the career in the schools and colleges is

finished, the race for appointments starts. This is a veritable

sack and hurdle race. At the winning post stand the com-

missioners of communalism. Even after winning, the educated

young man starts life with starving children clinging to his side,

clamorous creditors clogging his foot-steps and the restless

demon of insecurity prodding him from behind. He finds that

he has no cheer in life. He cannot equip himself with the

requisite mental possession to create an atmosphere of cheer

amidst any surrounings, for the simple reason that the education

he has received is only of the rasam-sadam (Indian equivalent

for bread and butter) type. He runs into debt recklessly, begets

children heedlessly, and cries to all the 33 crores of gods to help

him, in vain. I am afraid this is the type of life which thousands

of our so-called educated young men are obliged to lead. A

thorough reorganization therefore is necessary. A small

digression here may be pardoned. The government will have

to consider not twice but twenty times before the salaries of the

teaching staff are cut. To deny decent food to the very people

who have to provide food (mental, moral and intellectual) for

the young mind may not be a wise policy.

No reorganization scheme however could be complete

without reckoning the factor of the masses. The idea of a mass

contact can become successful only by having institutions for

educating and developing the minds of the masses. The minds

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of the masses should be educated and elevated to shun vulgar superstitions, despise gross habits like drink, cultivate a sense of proportion to avoid waste, and lastly to keep themselves clear from the poisonous contamination of indebtedness. I believe that this can best be done by provoking the real artistic talent which is inherent in the mass-mind.

Art and simplicity go together. Good music and good pictures conduce considerably to plain living and high thinking. There may be exceptional cases. Let us ignore them. Drama teaches the lesson of self-control. Books and schools may give the student glimpses of a beautiful life, but it is the fine-arts that can enable him to enjoy that life and thereby lead him to the heights of a triumphant life, the life of the spirit. Schools are necessary, and so are places of instruction, where the mass-mind can be taught to realize a correct taste for good art. It is a fact that at present our theatres and picture-houses by themselves occupy a prominent place in our world of art. The government could easily obtain facts and figures to discover how much public money is spent on them. It is a considerable amount, though not as big as the amount that is spent on drink. Is it not the duty of the government to ascertain whether these theatres and cinemas are really places for the development of the minds of the masses, or really toddy shops for the stupefaction of them? To take cudgels against such places where the minds of the masses are deliberately stupefied is as necessary as to take cudgels against toddy shops, becuse both the places cater only to the lower half of the human being, not to mention their rousing criminal instincts in him.

It is well known that the original purpose of our drama was to impart knowledge to the masses in a kindergarten fashion, for provoking thoughts in them, for holding up a mirror to society that it may correct its errors and for inculcating principles of detachment in the actor as well as in the spectator. In the ancient days they were veritable halls of instruction and gave strength to the finer threads of the human fabric. The present

96

state of affairs is regrettable. Without fear of any challenge it can be said now that our theatres and picture-halls exist only for the benefit of the exploiter and for obscurantism The toddy producer is a saint compared to most of our drama producers at present. The sooner the government attends to this matter and reforms our theatres and cinema halls for the production of dramas of real artistic and real educational value, the better it will be for the progress of our masses.

The schools and colleges are generally beyond the reach of the masses. Theatres and cinemas can admirably complement such work for the benefit of the masses. The problem of adult education in villages will not then present formidable difficulties. After all, the cost of such a task to the government may not be noticeable.

When the mass-mind wakens to the bugle call of real art, the millions will get ready for the onward march with an ennobled and purified outlook. They will shed all that spelt vulgarity, all that made them heavy and unwieldy. Drink and an inartistic life would be abandoned. Clothes of ignominy would be flung far away, and khaddar and Swadeshi (flowers of artistic toil) would be worn in glory and splendour. All burdens including debts would be avoided, for the hiker trekking forward would choose to throw off the ever-expanding load of debt. Art would teach the marching soldiers to simplify their lives and help them above want. They would regain the courage which lies buried under centuries of poverty and indebtedness. Then the march forward would be a resplendent cultural progress of the Indian nation.

In my humble opinion every Union, every Municipality, and every District Board should encourage a theatre or a cinema-hall which can afford to place goods of real artistic and educational value within the easy reach of our villagers. In short, the government must definitely recognize that our theatres and cinema-halls are regular places of instruction to the masses,

THE SOUTH INDIAN STAGE

and with a firm hand start the work of their reformation. Bad

art must go. No producer should be allowed to take the people's

money by catering to their ignorance and depravity. The globe

is a planet travelling round the sun to our students in schools.

But the play wright insists on demonstrating to the masses that

the earth is flat and rests upon a giant snake. Wholesome

moral precepts are taught in schools, but the student goes to the

theatre and cinema to learn that our very gods and heroes

indulge in acts of indecent behaviour, rape and what not. I

have no hesitation in saying that our present places of entertain-

ment are proving obstacles in the way of the progress of the

masses. I know there is a school of thought, which stands up

for entertainment and recreation for their own sake. It is true

that a human being requires recreation, but be it noticed that

the very word suggests that one should feel re-created after it, i.e.,

re-equipped for better work. The word 'entertainment' is as

misunderstood as the word 'pleasure'. Are we prepared to

accept a tickling of the lower sense as entertainment? Could a

representation of the unnatural and the grotesque be called

real entertainment? They may be funny for a time. The

question, however, is whether our poverty stricken country and

our poor villagers can afford to waste money over such things.

Mahatmaji's eye is now turned towards the race-course and the

gambling hall. Why not our Premier's eye turn towards the

picture palace?

Originally Published in 'Triveni' in 1929

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