Discovering the digitized archives on Google of Triveni, the literary journal, has been like opening a time capsule: the pre-independence issues take you on a journey into the past with the best guides you could ask for the thinkers, movers and shakers of those heady times. The first issue appeared in 1928 and the last in 2008. You can now digitally access the issues of Triveni for the entire term of its natural life. The mass of writing from 1928 to 2008, between 30,000- 40,000 pages, is an impressive collection.

The journal celebrated twenty-five years of publication in 1955, its Golden Jubilee in 1997 and its Platinum Jubilee in 2007. In these and other issues, M. Chalapati Rao, Dr. P. Tirumala Rao and D. Anjaneyulu, colleagues and friends of the founder, fondly remembered ‘old Triveni Days’ and much of what follows is based on their writings.

The magazine was the brainchild of K. Ramakotiswara Rao (1894-1970) of Guntur, a lawyer by training and a journalist by inclination. Established in 1927 at Malabari House in Purasawalkam, the first issue set out to dazzle the public in 1928. This was about 150 pages “on fine feather-weight paper, with a number of rare plates for reproduction of sculptures and paintings.”

The name Triveni was chosen because it indicated a ‘triple stream’. In the first issue, the Editor, Ramakotiswara Rao, explained that the three streams were to be ‘Art, Literature and History’ and elaborated that the journal’s “main function (would be)… to interpret the Indian Renaissance in its manifold aspects.” In this respect the journals of the late 1920s, 30s and 40s are especially enlightening. Inevitably for those times, politics became a fourth stream.

In fact, the triple stream swelled to encompass more than the first three or even four. Social commentary, economic analyses, political debate, philosophical musings, personal reflections, stories, poems and much more are found in these pages. The scope is not only pan-Indian, writers ventured further afield to critique world events, review international writers, thinkers and philosophers. There are pieces on the rise of Fascism in Europe, discussions of the Kellog Pact post-World War II and the uncertain future of Czechoslovakia.

K. Ramakotiswara Rao, Founder-Editor, Triveni.

Nilakanta Sastri, doyen of South Indian history, wrote on ‘The Ramayana and Valmiki Abroad’, V.T. Lakshmi on ‘Ancient South Indian Commerce’, Sir S. Radhakrishnan spoke for common sense in ‘Religion: a Plea for Sanity’, and Jawaharlal Nehru flexed his planning muscles on what ‘Social Welfare’ should mean in the Indian context. There were discussions on problems of franchise, linguistic states and federalism in a future post-Independent India.

On a personal note, Khasa Subba Rao, later to be an eminent editor himself, pondered on the meaning of friendship. And B. Pattabhi Sitaramayya recollected the first motorcar in Madras when he was an undergraduate student: “…an alarm was raised following a hoot emanating from … Parry’s Corner.” It was the Hon. A.J. Yorke’s car, who then was the Chamber of Commerce Representative in the Legislative Council. There are also early poems by Harindranath Chattopadhyaya, short stories by Raja Rao, S.K. Chettur, translations of Kalki’s work, critiques of the fine arts, and much, much more.

With great foresight the Editor saw a need to bring together, through translation and publication under one banner, the many cultural flowerings taking place across the linguistic boundaries of India.

“Triveni seeks to interpret the Renaissance movement as reflected in the various linguistic units of India. The Editor is an Andhra, and in close touch with the literary and art movements of Andhra Desa. But he is anxious to publish detailed accounts of similar movements in other parts of India. He makes an earnest appeal to scholars in other linguistic areas to write about the literary and art movements with which they are familiar. Triveni will thus lay the foundations for that inter-provincial harmony and goodwill which is a prelude to a federation of Indian cultures.”

True to this intent there are innumerable translations from regional languages such as Oriya, Gujarati, Marathi, Bengali, Telugu, Tamil and Urdu.

As Anjaneyulu succinctly points out, “His was the role of a one-man academy of art and letters. In the event, he anticipated the work of the national Akademis of free India by a full quarter century or more. He was able to do single-handed what the Sahitya Akademi seeks to do with infinitely larger resources.”

The reproductions of paintings by contemporary artists continued to be a distinctive aspect of Triveni. Looking through the old hard copies one finds exquisite reproductions of paintings by Nandalal Bose, Mukul Dey, Subba Rao and many others. These are not yet in the digitised version although efforts are being made in this regard. O.C. Gangoly and G. Venkatachalam, the eminent art critics who brought the appreciation of Indian art into the public domain, also wrote for Triveni.

In 1928, writing on Mukul Dey, Gangoly lamented the inordinate attention paid to political events by the public, while happenings in the newly resurgent art world were ignored. “The third eye of our artistic vision, it appears, is not destined to open before the auspicious dawn of political autonomy, and the red-letter day of a cultured Swaraj.” G. Venkatachalam’s early essays on Rajput painting first appeared in Triveni. Music was not ignored. Ragini Devi and others wrote on traditions of Indian music and on composers like Tyagaraja.

The triple stream morphed into a wide, all-embracing river, capturing and carrying within it the ebbs and tides, the highs and lows, of that Indian Renaissance that the Editor wanted to reflect, as well as the ups and downs of the politics and social changes sweeping through those historic times.

Even public speaking was undergoing transformation, old style oratory being replaced by new. P.R. Ramachandra Rao begins an article on Jawaharlal Nehru as a speaker with the startling assertion, “The Congress President is not an orator.” He compares him to Chittaranjan Das who “spoke with the voice of a giant.” Nehru, in contrast, insisted on a microphone. “He will not brook the outdated expedient of bellowing to the multitude.” Nehru began slowly. “As he speaks, the thought-sequence opens out for him. It is as if the trickling rills should collect and slowly awaken the avalanche which sweeps with a thundering suddenness. Beneath the surface of his modulous words roars the current of thought. It bubbles, it boils, it overwhelms.”

Words like ‘motherland’, ‘sacrifice’, ‘destiny’, even the weighty term ‘renaissance’ ring true, used in those days with  newfound pride, confidence and genuine idealism. Today to our somewhat cynical ears such grandiose vocabulary might seem passé, even ironical. But they ring true and shine like  newly minted coins when used by these old stalwarts. For this reason alone, if nothing else, dipping into the rarer air of  these journals is as refreshing as a dip in a mountain stream.