Dewan Rungacharlu (Part 1)
[[Dewan Rungacharlu (Part 1) Source: prekshaa]]
The First Proponent of Democracy in India
I have never seen Chettipunyam Rungacharlu [alternatively, Rangacharlu or Rangacharya.] I was born five or six years after his demise.
I wrote a fairly exhaustive treatise about Rungacharlu’s administration in both English and Kannada. That was fifty-seven or fifty-eight years ago. The aspect of his history that caught my mind and firmly fixed itself in my psyche was his understanding of the democratic system such a long time ago.
Dewan Rungacharlu was the first ever champion of democracy in India. The Representative Assembly that he established in 1881 no longer stands today; it is destroyed. The torrents of time has washed away an innumerable number of states, monarchies, schools of thought, and literary works. It has made many great things seem as if they never happened. The Representative Assembly is one of those things that came in the line of time’s assault and vanished never to be found again.
Representative Assembly
The manner in which the Representative Assembly of Mysore was established will be quite instructive to our generation. Although Rungacharlu pioneered such an extraordinary and unprecedented venture, he did not organize any ceremony for its inauguration. He had no trumpets blown, no pavilions erected, no stages built. During the year when the Mahārāja [Chamarajendra Wodeyar X] took the reins of the kingdom [from the British, in 1881], the Navarātra durbar was a magnificent spectacle. A festival that had not been celebrated for years had started again, so the citizens were, quite naturally, jubilant. To participate in the celebrations, important personage from all across the state had congregated at the capital. To make use of this opportunity for the state’s welfare, Dewan Rungacharlu invited those eminent people to a friendly get-together and discussed the kingdom’s state of affairs with them.
Thus, in a friendly manner, untangled by rules and regulations, the Representative Assembly began functioning. Rungacharlu said that the government had learnt many useful things from the experience of the first, informal meeting and that the state would profit from such regular interactions and knowledge exchanges between the government and people of eminence. This would, he felt, gradually eliminate the gap between the government and the citizens, and strengthen the feeling of co-operation since the government and its citizens were, after all, two limbs supporting the same body. He followed it up by sending out a government hukum for the Representative Assembly to convene once every year regularly.
The idea of a Representative Assembly had been on Rungacharlu’s mind for a very long time. The British Government had come up with a pact that the Mahārāja had to concur with during the handover of the Mysore kingdom to him [as per the Rendition Act of 1881]. The then British Commissioner had to recommend the terms of the pact to be finalized. Rungacharlu used to be the Revenue Secretary and Advisor to Commissioner Gordon. As a result, Rungacharlu got the opportunity to include the previously-mentioned idea along with the list of terms in the pact. It was worded as follows: To learn the opinions of the citizens, a Citizens’ Representative Assembly consisting of prominent farmers, traders, and other people of eminence shall be instituted.
However, the British Government rejected that recommendation. How can a system not implemented in the British India directly ruled by us be brought into effect in a mere Princely State! What would its consequence be in British India! – This was their fear.
Perceiving the intent [behind the rejection], Rungacharlu pretended to have dropped the idea at that point of time and waited for an opportune moment. Right when one such convenient occasion took place, he turned the idea to reality.
No drums beaten, no trumpets blown…
Perhaps, Kālidāsa intended something like this when he said, “…phalānumeyāḥ prārambhāḥ…” (“…it is only from the results do we know that it was ever started…” - Raghu-vaṃśam 1.20) Without any preparation, without attracting anybody’s attention, the Representative Assembly, which started like a sapling that sprouted from the soil in the wild, grew into a giant tree over sixty years.
Engrossed about National Welfare
Rungacharlu served as Dewan for less than two years. He briefly directed the procedure for the state’s progress. All his actions were based on these two rules of thumb – strengthening democracy and improving economic resources by reducing administrative expenditure.
Apparently, the idea of developing national resources struck his mind while he was in the Madras Province. Learning from the experts about different kinds of timber in the forests of Wayanad, he got a square foot of planks chopped from each type of tree as a sample, had it smoothened, and had a ‘bureau’ (cupboard) made from it. I had seen that in his house. Likewise, he had got a wooden box made from a camphor tree. The forests in our country are abundant with resources; putting these resources to use was his desire.
Intending to establish textile mills near Bangalore or at some other suitable location in the State of Mysore, he had got designed plans of machinery, equipment, and buildings – much later, all these were found in between the pages of his books. Thus, in the matters of the economy, Rungacharlu had a wonderful long-term vision.
Study
He was similar in politics, too. The markings, symbols, and notes he had made in his books show us how well he had studied the Greek philosopher Aristotle’s treatises. And during his lifetime he examined the works written by those who had been social reformers and political thinkers of England. It appears he loved the lectures of the philosopher John Stuart Mill. In his copy of Mill’s Representative Government, Rungacharlu had made a lot of notes. I have seen that book; however, I was not able to read it. That’s how legible his handwriting was. The letters were not clear and appeared as if worms were crawling on the paper!
Rungacharlu never liked his handwriting; he would dictate everything he was meaning to write and make a scribe write it down. Among Rungacharlu’s amanuenses, M Narayana Rao was one. He later rose to the rank of Deputy Commissioner and served the state. Another was Annaji Rao, who rose to the position of Assistant Commissioner.
This is the first part of a three-part English translation of the second chapter of D V Gundappa’s Jnapakachitrashaale – Vol. 4 – Mysurina Diwanaru. Edited by Hari Ravikumar.
Dewan Rungacharlu (Part 2)
[[Dewan Rungacharlu (Part 2) Source: prekshaa]]
Attire
Rungacharlu was extremely careless about his clothing. He was always hasty. He wore baggy coats. Seeing him wrongly buttoned was not a rare sight. He used to roll his turban in whatever way his hand fancied. Unable to bear seeing his clumsiness any further, his wife Alamelamma once asked him, “Can’t you dress properly?”
Rungacharlu replied, “Am I Madhava Rao? At least he has to go about following English women and talk to them. I am not a Sogasugāra Puṭṭasvāmī (‘a man-about-town’).
Alamelamma herself told me this. For some reason, Rungacharlu would always be on his toes. He would set out to Mysore or to some other place after a moment’s thought. Those days, trains were still a novelty. The Dewan used to board the train and settle down, without anything close to a bed or a box of clothes. If somebody cared to notice him, those facilities would be provided for. If not, he would manage without any of it.
This opened up an opportunity for K P Puttanna Chetty, who was then an official [Traffic Manager] at the Bangalore Railway Station. He had brought a roll of bedding and a set of clothes from the Dewan’s residence and kept them ready at the station. In a few instances, when Rungacharlu set out on one of his impromptu journeys, his clothing reached the place of his visit. Surprised, he enquired, “Whose work is this?” and learnt the back-story. He was impressed to know that it was Puttanna Chetty’s doing; subsequently, Chetty went on to obtain a high grade job.*
‘Dynamo’
The British writer G B Malleson, who knew Mysore intimately, had described Rungacharlu’s brain as a ‘dynamo’ – those who knew the Dewan well agreed that it was indeed true. Rungacharlu’s brain used to work tirelessly like a ‘dynamo.’ He was just fifty-two when he died.
Rungacharlu was swift by nature. If ever he witnessed laziness and lethargy, he would instantly fume and give out punishment. Even the Mahārāja knew this temperament of his and would fear him, too.
There is an incident that I heard. Rungacharlu lived in a house by name ‘Satyālaya’ (‘Abode of Truth’), which was located on the Bangalore Palace Road, about two furlongs from the palace. Till recently that house belonged to the Mahārāja of Soṇḍūru. Mahārāja Chamaraja Wodeyar used to camp at the Bangalore Palace for his education and also for training in kingship. Since Rungacharlu’s residence was nearby, the mind of the Mahārāja, who was still young, was filled with fright at the thought of Rungacharlu’s sudden visits to the palace at the most unexpected hours.
And so, an arrangement was made. Just when Rungacharlu was ready to set out from his house after tying the turban on his head, one of the servants signalled to another servant about five to six yards away with a hand gesture. In a similar manner, the second servant would signal to a third servant another five or six yards away. Like this, with the hand gestures of eight to ten such servants, the news would reach the palace and the Mahārāja would immediately wake up, bathe, wear his royal attire, and be seated in his office room. The Dewan would reach the palace within seven or eight minutes, and assuming that the Mahārāja was brisk and studious, he would express his appreciation. It took about a year for Rungacharlu to realize that it was all pretence!
Once, it appears that during Dasara, the festival of Vasantotsava was being celebrated in the Mysore Palace. During this time, while the crimson turmeric water was being splashed on one another in a festive sprit, the children of the royal family were apparently screaming, using language that was befitting the occasion [but inappropriate for their regal bearing]. Rungacharlu was sitting upstairs in the Jaganmohana Bungalow, occupied with some work; on hearing the loud noise, he ran down the stairs, set free his verbal weapons, spanked them once or twice, and had the chaos silenced.
Rungacharlu was not an ill-wisher. He was not someone who was honeyed outside and venomous within. When medicine has to be administered, one has to force-feed piquant and bitter pills. If not, the disease will never heal. This is the subtle secret behind Rungacharlu’s behaviour.
Admiration for Kannada
Dewan Rungacharlu was a native of Madras. The language used in his household was Tamil, not Kannada. And since he lived in the Telugu regions for a long time during his career, he was more familiar with Telugu. He did not come to Mysore of his own volition or efforts. It was the British authorities of that time who brought him here. Whatever and whoever may be the reason behind his coming to Mysore, the moment he realised that the most important duty of his life was in the Kingdom of Mysore, he became a Mysorean [i.e. Kannadiga]. The future of the Mysore Kingdom was his only goal. He wanted to be recognized as a Mysorean amongst the citizens of Mysore and decided to live like a native of Mysore. As long as he lived, Mysore became his homeland.
In Mysore, Rungacharlu strived for the development of Kannada language and literature with all his heart. Had his interest and encouragement been absent, the Kannada version of the Sanskrit play Śākuntalam by Basavappa Shastri would have never seen light of day; the Śākuntala Nāṭaka Company would have never been born; a collection of Sanskrit and Kannada songs titled ‘Bālikā Gīta Muktā Kalāpa,’ written with the excuse of its being valuable to the students of Mysore’s Maharani’s College, would not have been created. In the Bālikā Gīta Muktā Kalāpa anthology, Nañjanagūḍu Subbāśāstrī, Anantanārāyaṇa Śāstrī, Jayarāyācāryā, Giribhaṭṭa Tammayya, Sundara Śāstrī, and many other scholars have created beautiful songs, set to beautiful rāgas with lovely melodies. This is proof enough to demonstrate how Rungacharlu had made Mysore his motherland.
This is the second part of a three-part English translation of the second chapter of D V Gundappa’s Jnapakachitrashaale – Vol. 4 – Mysurina Diwanaru. Edited by Hari Ravikumar.
*Dewan Bahadur Puttanna Chetty served in many important positions including: Deputy Commissioner (1898–1906), Bangalore City Council member (1906–12), Bangalore Municipality President (1913–19), and Mysore Legislative Council member.
Dewan Rungacharlu (Part 3)
[[Dewan Rungacharlu (Part 3) Source: prekshaa]]
Appendix
[A few incidents which highlight Rungacharlu’s nature and character can be seen in an article published in the Deccan Herald dated 7^(th) December 1961. The writer of this article, Sri A S R Chari, was Rungacharlu’s grandson. He worked as a Judge in the Mysore High Court for a brief period before his retirement.]
He [Rungacharlu] was my grandfather on the mother’s side. I am the oldest living member in the family (90). I have no personal knowledge of the incidents narrated, but I can vouch for their authenticity, since I heard them from close relations and friends.
So far as I know, they have not been mentioned in any of his biographies. In those days three brilliant students of Mr. Powell whose statue adorns the Presidency College even to this day, had passed the Public Service Examination instituted by the government. All three of them, viz., Sir Muthuswami Iyer, Sir V. Bashyam Iyengar and Ranagacharlu joined the Government service much coveted like Sub-Registrars etc.
The former two resigned their jobs and took to Law, but Mr. Charlu continued his service rising to the grade of a Deputy Collector. He had a prodigious memory and it is said that on one occasion when working under Mr. Noble Taylor who was planning the railways, he was able to master in one night an intricate problem and place it before his astonished boss the next day. Mr. Charlu served most of his time in the Telugu districts of the Madras Presidency so much so that he was more at home with Telugu than Tamil, his mother-tongue. He used to talk and think in Telugu, though his knowledge of the English language and literature was unmatched.
After the abdication of Sri Krishnaraj Wodeyar, Mysore State came under the British rule and was administered by a Chief Commissioner originally under the Madras Government but later directly under the Governor-General. At the time of Sri Krishnaraj Wodeyar’s death the Palace affairs were in a chaotic state. There were large debts to be paid and larger claims true and false against the ruler. The Chief Commissioner wanted a Hindu officer of ability and integrity to settle the affairs of the Palace, and he indented upon Madras for the loan of such an officer.
The Madras Government selected Mr. Charlu and sent him on deputation to Mysore. It was a Herculean task to settle the Palace affairs but Mr. Charlu did this with his usual ability, fair-mindedness and humane outlook. The claims of creditors were sifted and paid off in a fair and just manner. The Palace properties were classified and catalogued, a large number of useless servants were pensioned off, a budget of revenue and expenditure prepared and suitable arrangements for the maintenance and education of the young Prince, Sri Chamaraj Wodeyar, made.
Mr. Charlu earned the high commendation of the British Government, which continued to administer the State until 1880. Mr. Charlu became the Revenue Secretary and during that period there occurred an event of some importance. To its credit it must be said that the British Administration that took over from the Native Governments functioned very efficiently for a number of years, but latterly it had deteriorated considerably. Most of the higher officers were British, including the Superintendents of the three divisions into which the State had been divided—viz., Nandidroog, Ashtagram and Nagar. There was a large amount of corruption in the services and efficiency was at a low ebb.
Mr. Charlu thought of bring to the notice of the Governer-General, the Secretary of State and even Parliament this sad state of affairs and he compiled a booklet “Fifty Years of British Administration in Mysore” using the pseudonym of ‘Mysorean’ as the author. He could not get a printer or publisher in India bold enough to bring out the booklet. So he had to send the manuscript to London to get it printed. The book created a great sensation in official circles. It is said that orders for promotion of Mr. Charlu had been passed, and the ink was not yet dry when this bomb exploded and the order was promptly cancelled. The publication of the booklet trouncing the British Administration did not stand in the way of Mr. Charlu later on becoming the Dewan.
Mr. Charlu was a notable enemy of corruption in public service. During his three years’ tenure* as Dewan, corruption was completely eradicated. Many stories are told about his ways of putting down corruption. One such is worth recital. There was a Munsiff notoriously corrupt and Mr. Charlu got to know of this. The Munsiff too on his part learnt that the Dewan had been apprised of his corrupt practices; and with a view to forestall any disciplinary action, he sought an interview with the Dewan.
The interviews granted by the Dewan were quite formal and unconventional. The Dewan sat in one room and the visitors in the adjoining one. Conversations carried on in the Dewans room could easily be heard by the visitors. Knowing that the Munsiff was waiting in the adjoining room waiting for an interview Mr. Charlu started conversation with an imaginary person in a loud voice easily heard by the Munsiff something like this: “Corrupt officials think they can hoodwink me and that I am not aware of their doings. Let them disillusion themselves. I know everything, the amount of bribes taken and the parties who gave the bribes. The corrupt officials cannot escape” etc.
Not a word of this was lost on the Munsiff who sat quaking in his shoes in the adjacent room. He felt discretion was the better part of valour and quietly slipped away without meeting the Dewan and promptly sent in his resignation.
Mr. Charlu was very careless about his dress, one may call it uncouth. On one occasion he was sitting in the verandah where his brother-in-law Sir Bashyam Iyengar, already a leader of the Bar, was meeting his clients among whom were Rajas and big zamindars. Sir V. B. in contrast to Mr. Charlu was a low speaker, partly due to the time taken by him to weigh every word before he spoke. In his usual slow manner he was giving his advice to his client, a big zamindar. Mr. Charlu who watched this for some time lost patience and shouted at Sir V. B. saying “Verri Mundakoduka [this was his favourite abuse which means—mad son of a widow], why don’t you say quickly what you want to say instead of fumbling over it?”
The zamindar was horrified to see this uncouth figure chastising the leader of the Bar until it was explained to him who he was and that that was his mannerism.
*There are many anecdotes of Mr. Charlu, space forbids my quoting them. I have selected only three of them because they have not hitherto seen the light of the day. *
This text is reproduced from the concluding portion of the second chapter of D V Gundappa’s Jnapakachitrashaale – Vol. 4 – Mysurina Diwanaru.
*This appears to be an oversight; Rungacharlu served as Dewan for less than two years – from March 1881 to early 1883.