MY FATHER

M. PATTABHIRAM

Six feet and three inches tall. That is by any standards an impressive height. That was what impressed me most about my father, Professor M. Venkatarangaiya, about whom I propose to write. It is indeed difficult, if not impossible, to write about one’s father but what is to be noted is that we in the family, always regarded him not as a father alone but as a Guru–the guide and philosopher that shaped our own character and destiny. By the time I was six, father had reached what could be regarded as a climax in his career. He became Dewan of the premier estate in Madras Presidency at the very young age of 38. The Maharaja of Vizianagaram held him in such high esteem both for his uprightness and scholarship that he had no hesitation in taking him as his mentor and adviser. Several years later, when I visited Vizianagaram–long after the zamindari system was abolished and the Rajahs and Maharajahs had become things of the past–father was remembered with great affection by the people of the town where he strode like a colossus, the sixteen and odd years he spent there. But then that was not indeed the most significant chapter in his long career lasting nearly 70 years. He has seen several generations of students and could claim among his disciples persons who adorned several fields of activity with distinction and who would still visit him to pay their respects. Professor Venkatarangaiya’s educational career was something unique. Hailing from a small hamlet in a distant village of Nellore district where his father was no more than a petty landholder, it is amazing that at the early age of seven he was prepared to leave for Madras for his studies. What has often baffled me and for which I never got an answer was how his father, a fairly orthodox type without being, of course, needlessly fussy about religion, ever made up his mind to send his little child to a distant place like Madras for schooling. I had myself asked father in bewilderment as to how this happened and how even if his father was willing, he himself made up his mind to leave his parents at such an age. It would not be out of place in this context to detail my own experience. After passing the intermediate examination in Vizagapatam, I applied for admission to the Loyola College in Madras for admission to the Economics Honours course without the knowledge of my father. In fact, arrangements were made to admit us in the University College of Arts where father was Head of the Department of Economics, Politics and History. My elder brother, Venkateswarlu, with whom I happened to study in the same class from the very beginning, did not choose to apply to the Madras University. One fine morning, a letter was received from the Principal of the Loyola College regretting that admission could not be granted to me, and my father’s first reaction was that standards in Madras were higher and the first class we obtained was not enough. (In fact, Mrs. A. V. N. College where we studied in all its history till then never had a first class among history students.) I felt a little upset but then there was little we could do. To my surprise, however, the very next day another letter was received that I should ignore the regret card already sent and that I was given a seat. Father was a little surprised but insisted I should take it. Though I was really not prepared to leave the parents and go away to distant Madras which I had scarcely visited, I was finally compelled to opt for it. And soon Venkateswarlu also joined me, having obtained admission in the Presidency College through Prof. Franco, who happened to be an esteemed friend of my father.

All this digression apart, father had a tremendous regard for the Madras University. He knew the limitations of the Andhra University and he himself not having been treated well, he was very keen we should not hesitate to go away to Madras. Father was a student of the Pachaiappas institutions from the very beginning and success came to him as a matter of Course. He was studious in his habits and he had very few wants. He has never revealed what kind of life he led in someone else’s house where he was staying, but he was greatly obliged to them. He took a triple first class in his B. A. examination–First class in English, First class in Telugu and First class first in History. This is no mean achievement and one could count the number of such brilliant scholars without knowing any arithmetic. And for all that, he used to tell us that he never burnt the proverbial midnight oil. He owes his success to his eminent professors who, according to him, were profound scholars and first-class teachers. S.V. Ramamurthi studying at the Presidency College was his contemporary but the latter secured a double first class. There were others too but we know very little about them. Soon after his graduation, several suggestions were made as to what he should do but he chose to be a teacher though he could very well have taken the Indian Civil Service examination in which lesser persons qualified. And that indeed was the beginning of his teaching career from 1908 right up to 1952 when he gave up his job.

Father was a nationalist to the core and though he did not participate in the national movement for reasons beyond his control, he took part in the constructive work. Adult education and Khadi were the two aspects which impressed him most. When the Second World War broke out, Dr. C. R. Reddi, as vice-chancellor of the Andhra University, ordered the whole staff to do war propaganda. Father refused to do any such thing and, in fact, the whole family insisted that he quit the university job if Dr. Reddi persisted. Ultimately, Dr. Reddi gave up his attempts and it was a big triumph for father. This, of course, made him a persona non grata in the university and the shabby manner in which he was treated is an offshoot of his independent outlook. When it came to the question of appointing a Principal for the university colleges, first Dr. Reddi brought Mr. Vissa Appa Rao to adorn the post and later when Mr. Appa Rao fell from grace, Dr. Bhagavantam, barely 29 then, was appointed. The whole idea was to humiliate father who could’t care less. Dr. Reddi never forgave him as could be seen from the way he handled his retirement. Though the university rules prescribe 55 as the age of retirement, there were several who continued beyond that age. For full four days orders and counter orders were issued on his retirement. The Andhra Patrika wrote a couple of editorials (1944) on the issue but finally Dr. Reddi retired him by the backdoor. For long, father was a Reader, a professorship having been denied to him because he did not have a doctorate degree! But the simple fact that it was his research piece that was the first publication in the Andhra University series was conveniently forgotten. Dr. Radhakrishnan made an effort to induct Mr. T. K. Doraiswamy Aiyar, then Professor in the Presidency College, as Professor in the university in preference to my father, but the later soon discovered, that it would not be wise for him to be a party to such an act of miscarriage of justice. A year later father was elevated as Professor though the remuneration fixed was scandalously low.

The best period of his life was the years he spent in Bombay as the Pherozeshah Mehta Professor of Politics and Civics. Mahamahopadhyaya P. V. Kane who was the vice-chancellor took a great liking for father. He could clearly see his eminence as a political scientist and offered him the post without hesitation. It was here he came into contact with the country’s best scholars and politicians. Years later when I was working for The Hindu in Delhi, I asked Asoka Mehta, then Congress President, whether he knew father. He for full fifteen minutes spoke eulogising him and of the many discussions he had with him in Bombay. Mr. Bhandare, sometime Governor of Andhra Pradesh, was one of his students. I have been attending the Political Science Conferences during the last three years and I was amazed to find the tremendous regard with which he is held by his colleagues all over the country.

Reading was a passion with him and though he lost one eye because of the cruel negligence and indifference of a local doctor who treated him, he devoted at least 14 hours reading and writing. There is scarcely one letter he wrote to me in which he has not asked for some book or the other. As late as in 1974 he wrote: “In spite of my being bedridden and suffering acute pain, I undertook to write for the Telugu Academy a monograph on Centre-State relations. I have done this in order to escape from the boredom of lying all the 24 hours in bed. I just covered about a third of the book and today (12-6-1974) while dealing with the financial relations and the present set-up of the Planning Commission, my work came to a dead stop as I could not get a copy of the report of the Sixth Finance Commission or a Summary of its recommendations and of the action taken by the Government on them. I have also no book which gives an idea of the set-up of the Planning Commission consequent on the Administrative Reforms Commission’s Report. I request you to send me a copy immediately of the Sixth Finance Commission Report and any reference to the present set-up of the Planning Commission. “Another important aspect is his eagerness to reach out the students and it was in this spirit that he undertook a journey to Mysore in 1967 at the age of 78. Here is what he wrote about it. “My Mysore trip was successful in one way. The programme was gone through as scheduled, instead of being postponed, which would have been the case if I had not gone there. I read the first lecture myself. On the second day, I had two attacks (vertigo) and this disabled me completely. I could not go to the university but Dr. Thotappa read the lecture on my behalf. I was bad on the third day also but due to the pressure of your mother, etc., in the house, I went to the university, read one-fourth of the lecture and requested Dr. Thotappa to continue. I came home after 20 minutes of reading. But as the lectures were of a really high order, the audience listened to them with attention whether they were read by me or by Thotappa. They were all well-received. This gave me much satisfaction.” My brother Venkateswarlu was an Income-Tax Officer in Mysore at that time.

Just about this time, he wrote another letter as he was then working on an important project concerning Local Government in India. He said in his brief post card: “I am not having the kind of material I need. It is a difficult job which requires the help of much younger people. No one here is anxious to do work of this sort. No research or study in the university. Teachers and students are wasting time on strikes and academic discussions on university autonomy. The future is dark.”

A prolific writer, he took to Telugu quite early in his career. His first book in Telugu was on political economy which is absolutely lucid. Unfortunately, copies of the book are not available but the more significant aspect is that he started writing in the mother-tongue at the time when English was not only a status symbol but a matter of prestige. His translation of Kautilya’s Arthasastra was a splendid work and he learnt Sanskrit to the core to be able to accomplish his work. More recently, he undertook another translation–this time in Telugu that could be understood by the ordinary reader. The Government at the Centre seems to have offered some aid but it was a herculean task to get this money from. As Hindu’s man in New Delhi, I had some access to these officials and it took several months before the, bill could be cleared. Then he wrote three volumes of the Freedom Struggle in India (when he was 87) with an altogether new accent. He spent sleepless nights worrying about their printing. He was not particularly satisfied with the publishers who took their own time to complete the work and with mistakes that could have been easily avoided. He personally organised their sale and it is a pity that not much is known about these volumes written in chaste, simple Telugu. The Sahitya Academy has not even cared to know about them but here again publicity and propaganda are more important than the real worth of the books if recognition is to be given to them. The authoritative works he produced on Federalism and the tens of papers he wrote on this subject are well known at least among political scientists. Prof. K. C. Wheare described father’s book on Federalism as an illuminating study and yet the Andhra University has not cared to make them available in all parts of the country though it is its publication. A reprint of it would suffice for the historical significance of its theme can never wear out. Today there are no scholastic works covering this subject though, of course, several books have come out on Centre-State relations which have some immediate importance.

Professor Venkatarangaiya was one of the earliest to specialise in the field of Local Government. He had an abiding interest in the subject which has caught up in the north Indian universities. In fact he is known all over as an authority in this field. At one of the Political Science Conferences, a modest looking gentleman introduced himself to me as a student of father whom he admired greatly. I just enquired of him as to what he was doing and came the reply that he was the vice-chancellor of the Gujarat University! Dr. Aloo Dastur till recently member of the Minorities Commission and a leading political scientist wondered whether she could introduce me to one of her colleagues as the son of Professor Venkatarangaiya or should she say that I am assistant editor in The Hindu? My reply could not be anything else than that I prefer to be known as she had proposed, much as I valued the job I was doing. It was very satisfying to see the scholars coming and introducing themselves as father’s pupils. At the Conference in December, 1980, just a couple of weeks before his passing, father contributed a 30-page paper on Local Government which I had the honour to read. It was a splendid piece tracing the development of Local Government since independence. In a frank appraisal he said: “There is considerable truth in the complaint that a large number of elected persons are among those who either love power for its own sake or who are interested in using it for private ends and not for the good of the public. It is because of this that many local bodies have become hot beds of corruption….This is the reason why large bodies of citizens heave a sigh of relief when a State Government supersedes an elected local body and appoints a special officer to administer its affairs. Ours is an immature democracy. The electorate is not sufficiently enlightened to take active and continuous interest in local administration....It is only when people give up their apathy and become public spirited that Local Government will show signs of development.”

And towards the last days, he was highly critical of the politicians. He wrote in one of his letters: “I am sick of the political happenings in the country. All the so-called leaders are unprincipled persons with the thirst for power. The country’s future is dark whoever comes to power. Our democracy is an immature one. Our governments did little to educate them after we achieved independence. Men in power concentrate their attention on using power for making money. Corruption is rampant. It has become the way of life.”

There was nothing like a generation gap so far as he was concerned. At 91 he was in tune with the younger generation as well as was with persons like us. He could freely converse with them without getting lost. And the younger set of whom there were quite a few loved to discuss matters with him. He never imposed his views on anyone and his principle had always been that decisions should be taken by those who ought to do the job. Precisely it was this that was his chief characteristic.

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