ప్రముఖ తమిళ చరిత్రకారుడు ప్రొఫెసర్ ఎ ఆర్ వేంకటాచలపతి September 28, 2013 న హిందూ దినపత్రికలో రాసిన ఈ వ్యాసం ఆసక్తి కరమైన విషయాలను ఆవిష్కరించింది. ఇప్పుడు "హైదరాబాద్ మాదే" అంటోన్న ఆంధ్రా సోదరులు అప్పుడు (1950-53లో) "మద్రాస్ మాదే" అని ఎలా చతికిల పడ్డారో ఇందులో రాసారు.
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The Hindu, September 28, 2013
Seeing Madras in Hyderabad
The bitterness that existed in the 1950s between Tamil and Telugu speakers on Chennai parallels the fight for the Andhra Pradesh capital in the Telangana agitation
We learn from history,” we are often told tritely, “that
we do not learn from history!” Perhaps there is more than a grain of
truth in this clichéd observation, and this is evident from the ongoing
Telangana crisis. So what did we fail to learn from the 1950s agitation
that led to the formation of an Andhra province in the first place?
It
is now forgotten history that the city of Chennai was the bone of
contention between the advocates of a separate province of
Telugu-speaking people and the then Madras State (Tamil Nadu) in the
late 1940s and early 1950s.
Though Telugu speakers,
about 15 per cent of the population compared to about 70 per cent of
Tamil speakers (1931 Census), constituted a minority in the city, they
had a high visibility for a variety of historical reasons. With Indian
nationalist politics at the threshold of its mass phase combined with
the emergence of a linguistic and regional consciousness, legitimate
demands were voiced for a separate province of Andhra as early as the
first decade of the 20th century. During the early 1910s, B. Pattabhi
Sitaramayya wrote extensively in the pages of
The Hindu
articulating this demand.
Largest stumbling block
By
the time of its Nagpur session in 1920, the Indian National Congress
had reorganised itself on linguistic lines and the newly-formed Andhra
Pradesh Congress Committee demanded the city of Chennai for its
jurisdiction. Though this demand was articulated intermittently through
the subsequent decades, it came to a head only as independence became
imminent. However the Telugu demand for Chennai got tied to the
formation of a separate Andhra state and turned out to be the single
largest stumbling block to the creation of Andhra state.
In
1938, with the formation of the first Congress ministry, the Madras
Legislative Assembly recommended the formation of ‘separate Provinces
for the Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, and Kerala regions.’ The demand for
Andhra got enmeshed in Congress factional politics with intense rivalry
between C. Rajagopalachari (Rajaji) and T. Prakasam. The fall of the
Prakasam ministry in the Madras Province, largely as a result of
Congress factional politics shortly after Independence, further fuelled
the demand for a separate Andhra province.
In June
1948, the Constituent Assembly of India appointed a commission headed by
S.K. Dar to examine the formation of new provinces. The Dar commission
recommended reorganisation not on “linguistic consideration but rather
upon administrative convenience.” In the wake of the calamitous
Partition, this found support in Nehru.
In its Jaipur
session in December 1948, the Congress appointed a Linguistic Provinces
Committee with Nehru, Vallabhbhai Patel and Pattabhi Sitaramayya (the
JVP Committee), which in its report presented in April 1949, accepted
the Dar Commission’s views by recommending the postponement of
linguistic reorganisation by a few years. But Andhra was an exception.
“In some ways,” the committee observed, “the demand for an Andhra
Province has a larger measure of consent behind it than other similar
demands.” However, it added ominously that, “Yet there is controversy
about certain areas as well as about the city of Madras.”
Therefore
the thinking of the Congress leadership at the top was clear and
unequivocal right from the beginning. In November 1949, the Congress
Working Committee recommended the formation of a separate Andhra
province excluding the city of Madras. Inextricably linked with the
demand for Chennai, the declaration of the Andhra province came to be
delayed by a few more years. It also occasioned the unnecessary and
tragic loss of lives and property, and caused teething problems to the
fledgling nation state.
A Partition Committee was
formed in November 1949 and the Madras Cabinet approved its report in
January 1950, but was mired in controversy with T. Prakasam signing a
note of dissent that the apparatus of the new province should reside in
Madras city until a new capital was ready.
Andhra
continued to be on a boil. It all at once came down to one issue: while
the protesters demanded a separate Andhra state and the government was
more than eager to grant it, the claim over Madras city stalled the
issue.
Widening fault lines
As
the agitation for a separate Andhra got protracted, the fault lines
within the Andhra Congress widened. It became obvious that those
advocating the interests of Rayalaseema and the coastal districts of
Andhra did not see eye to eye. To this may be added the view that Madras
city should become a Chief Commissioner’s province, effectively under
the control of the Central government, or a joint capital or even a
Union Territory — reminiscent of the story of Solomon’s justice over the
disputed child.
The first general elections of
January 1952 added further variables. The Congress failed to win a
majority in the Madras Presidency, weakening the hand of K. Kamaraj, its
leader, and paving the way for Rajaji to form a Congress government; T.
Prakasam too lost badly. Despite Rajaji’s view that the cry for
linguistic provinces was a “tribal demand,” he supported the formation
of an Andhra province but without conceding Chennai.
Various
Andhra leaders such as Neelam Sanjiva Reddy and V.V. Giri — the
philosopher Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan not excluded — put pressure on the
Central government. Nehru not only refused the demand for the
appointment of a commission without a general agreement but also ruled
out a plebiscite. By July 1952, Nehru declared that “there ha[d] been so
much argument on this subject that no one can say anything new or
worthwhile.”
This, however, was to change with one
as-yet-unknown Congressman’s fast. The death of Potti Sriramulu on
December 15, 1952 led to large-scale violence in Andhra. Despite Nehru’s
bold statement in Parliament that “we must not mix up various things
because a riotous mob did something,” the Government of India appointed
in December 1952 a committee under Justice K.N. Wanchoo. Wanchoo’s
report, submitted in early February 1953, favoured the creation of the
Andhra state and recommended that, until a new capital was built, the
Andhra government could be lodged in Chennai. Nehru was inclined to
accept this recommendation but was stoutly opposed by Rajaji.
The
popular nationalist writer and journalist, Kalki — the alter ego of
Rajaji — captured the dangers of declaring Chennai the temporary
capital: This move could pave the way for the influx of excited
agitators from outside leading to violence triggering police action. The
ensuing loss of lives would lead to further claims on the ground that
the soil of Chennai had been sanctified by the blood of martyrs. Soon
the city would be termed ‘a disputed area’ and would lead to unending
controversy and agitation, like Kashmir.
In the light
of this premonition Rajaji even went to the extent of threatening to
resign from the premiership finally convincing Nehru this move would
only result in “unseemly agitation, acrimonious controversies and
administrative conflicts.”
By 1953 the question of
Chennai was pretty much settled. The bitterness between Andhra and Tamil
Nadu soon evaporated, as a united Andhra Pradesh was forged over the
decades, and a new and thriving capital built. That this has not lasted
is the present issue.
Issues of identity
What
lessons does this now-forgotten story teach us? Is it a case of history
repeating itself as tragedy? If issues of identity and territorial
claims in so-called more enlightened times could have been so
acrimonious, little needs to be said about the implications for more
cynical times such as ours. The delay in addressing genuine popular
concerns makes them an electoral issue leading to competitive
inter-party and intra-party politics. Decisions taken in the heat of
large-scale violence and bloodshed tend to be not so well thought out.
Appointing commission after commission in the hope that agitations will
dissipate simply doesn’t work. When popular mobilisation gathers force,
fault lines become chasms. Soft-pedalling on implementation confounds
matters. This is amply borne out by the Seemandhra backlash. One hopes
that the Central government will keep in mind the Chennai lesson in
deciding the fate of Hyderabad.
(This essay draws from the author’s earlier contribution to A.R. Venkatachalapathy (ed.)
, Chennai, Not Madras: Perspectives on the City,
Marg, Mumbai, 2006.)
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కామెంట్ను పోస్ట్ చేయండి