What Kind Of Kalyankari-Rajya Are We Talking About?
[ Hazari Prasad Dwivedi replies to Balraj Sahni. HUG translates from Pahal 93.] Dear Bhai Balraj-ji, Bhisham-ji has sent me your long set of questions and has requested that I write back with my responses. Before I get to my responses it is imperative to say a little by way of a preamble since right in your opening statements you have said something quite intimidating. Soon we shall know each other for 30 years. We must have evolved quite a bit during these years but after going through your questions it appears to me that while you have intellectually come a long way, I have not made much progress. That you have grown intellectually is abundantly clear from the way you have put forth the initial condition: that both of us speak candidly to each other in this exchange, so that we cannot disown our words later. I have noticed this kind of condition being laid by the netas and leaders in various newspapers these days—a distinct sign of their maturity. Before this, we have exchanged ideas quite a few times but never have you laid such a prior condition of honesty or frankness before a conversation. ‘बहु धनु ही तोरयों लरिकाई, कबहुं न अस रिस कीन गुसाई’ But dear Balraj-ji, I still consider that the idea of oath-taking in order to underline honesty is not a good thing in itself. I have my doubts about the intention of that man who needs to make a public pledge once in a while in order to prove his integrity. In fact, I have now come to believe that since the idea of an absolute truth is anyway a chimera, the corresponding idea of absolute candidness, as the oath-taker might like to believe, is also imaginary. Long ago, Vedic rishis had felt that vidhata—the creator—had firmly sealed truth’s aperture with a golden lid. This, when Manu had suggested that truth needs to be valued—which is sanatana dharma. So, even as I reply, you would excuse me if I do not fully disregard sanatana dharma. Right? So, with this prelude, let me get to the matter at hand. When you had arrived at Santiniketan in 1937 with a reference from Agyeyaji, I do not recall what I was doing. But I remember that after a short conversation with you I was very happy and felt that here was a transparent and talented young man standing in front of me. I also felt that you had good literary qualities and wondered how I could help you in some way so that you could blossom as a writer. By then, a few of your stories had been published, which you had given me to go through. I can even recall the title of one such story vividly: Jijaji Ka Snan. I liked it a lot. Later I was even more happy to know that the hero of that story was none other than my dear friend Chandragupt Vidayalankar. I had already imagined an arriving force in literature after reading those stories. So, when you had left all this for the world of films, I was very disappointed, especially since during those days I nurtured the thought that talented people with literary inclinations end up being wasted in the silvery world. So I did not write to you at that point. But you will recall that after watching you act in Do Bigha Zameen I had written you a note saying that though I had been disappointed by your departure from the literary-academic world, Do Bigha Zameen had changed my opinion. Thankfully I had not been honest with you and had not tried to stop you from venturing into films! That would have been a big error. I remember that a senior writer had also dissuaded you from films and that was one reason that you had left Calcutta for Santiniketan. Anyway, these are irrelevancies. True, I was observing you during the initial days in Santiniketan but owing to my own limitations I could not imagine the nature of your future trajectory. During those days, I inevitably ended up visualizing persons with some potential as future a Premchand or Gorky or Tolstoy. I did not have the slightest idea that someone can make a difference just by acting. But I also feel that I had not been mistaken in making the kind of evaluation that I did about you. Actually, I did not have the right kind of work for you. My domain was small; power even more limited. I was dithering about putting you in a BA class, full of juveniles. But seeing you take that work so seriously actually made me feel much more confident. Gurudev would usually agree with my judgment and he was actually very happy to see you. You will be surprised to know with what words I’d recommended you to Gurudev. “This boy,” I told him with some enthusiasm, “is MA in English literature from Punjab University but does help us in every minor and essential work of the department. He is totally oblivious of the traditions of Hindi literature and therefore would be much focussed. If he manages to stay in the ashram for a while, he will most certainly bloom into a fine writer.” Gurudev was ecstatic. “Mature bamboo is of no use to me,” he said, “the unformed one is better; the one which can be dried up and given a shape according to our ways in the ashram.” I used to believe right from the beginning that Hindi needs talented people who have traversed different philosophical and classical traditions. Those who have come from the tradition of Hindi literature are no doubt important assets but they are not the only ones who would be useful for the subject. May I confide in you here that I have begun telling my friends and colleagues to holler and spread a slogan: “Save Hindi from Medievalism.” About this I was not so focussed during