THE NEXT PLAY IN DVG’s Prahasana-Trayi is a Lavani or folk ballad titled Mahachunavane or general elections.
Mahachunavane is quite a unique work in DVG’s literary annals. It is rather short, running into about twelve pages. Its opening line declares its subject: the first ever general elections conducted in India in 1951-52. What follows is a raucuous and delightful parody of this great national event. The fact that DVG wrote it in 1965 — a full fifteen years after the event — is quite significant. Because by 1965, DVG was convinced of the lethal direction that Indian democracy was headed towards. But to fully appreciate the subtleties in this ballad, one must read the archival issues of the Public Affairs journal that he edited.
Mahachunavane is imbued with superb Dhvani or suggestion. Almost every verse in this literary wreath of sixty verses drips with suggestion. It comprises five sections titled equally suggestively.
The first section called Varana Prasta sets the tone for the play sardonically. Varana is choice or vote. Prasta is celebration, festival or the wedding night. The unnamed narrator of the ballad describes the 1951 elections as if he is addressing a child. Each verse ends with the refrain, Maguve, meaning, “my child.”
The next section titled Jananayaka or political leader, mercilessly lampoons the character and qualifications of a typical politician. DVG says that this Indian politician is someone who promises the sweetness of jaggery to the ear of the voter. But by now, the hapless voter has seen through the politician’s tricks and prays to the leader: “It is national service if only you stop uttering lies with a straight face.”
Then, DVG begins to trace the origins of this breed of politician in various forces of nature–the sky, the nether world, the ocean, and the world of snakes (which has a special significance in the Indian epic and Puranic lore). He then juxtaposes the merits of each world and concludes that this politician has none of the virtues found in each of these worlds but has imbibed all their worst qualities. This technique of deduction is familiar as the Neti-Krama or the process of systematic negation to arrive at the truth. And the truth that DVG arrives at in this play is this: the average elected political leader is a windbag or balloon.
In the third section titled Jana-Janavarige, meaning “from January to January,” DVG lists out the various political formations of that period. With his typical forthrightness, DVG names and shames each formation and mocks their vote-baiting slogans. These are given in the following order: the Indian National Congress Party, farmer leaders, trade unionists, Dalit champions, welfarists, Sarvodaya leaders, Hindu Mahasabha, Communists, Western-educated elites, and the Rama Rajya daydreamers. At the end, DVG delivers his unstated verdict: that these groups or parties are essentially self-servers with no national or cultural vision.
In the fourth section titled Angaiya Vaikunta or the Heaven in the Palm, DVG contemplates upon the aftermath of the 1951 elections through imaginary conversations occurring among several voters. Although they have all voted, they know in their hearts that nothing will improve. Thus:
Milk supply is a reality on Government paper.
Grains and pulses are securely stored in the black market.
Even the grain that is eaten as food breaks the teeth.
The whole section is harsh, merciless and disturbing in its overall impact. Indeed, a more brutal and a more realistic verdict on our elections and our democracy is hard to find. Towards the end, DVG befittingly invokes Devi Bharati or Mother India in a melancholic verse:
Mother India is beating her womb; the Gods are watching her spectacle with amusement.
Mahachunavane concludes with a prayer to Saraswati, the Goddess of Learning. This is a poignant suggestion. This Saraswati in the independent democratic republic of India is helpless in the clutches of these “democratic” rulers. She in turn prays to Destiny to release her from their clutches. Destiny in Sanskrit is also known as Vidhi, which in turn is a synonym for Brahma, Saraswati’s husband. Her anguish moves us deeply: “O my dear husband, don’t sacrifice me at the altar of trembling lips.”
Another nuance that emerges from this work is the fact that while our country is known as Bharata, its language is known as Bharati, another synonym for Saraswati. Bharati is also another word for Bharata Mata or Mother India. A wealth of such insights and suggestions occur to us as we dig deeper into the play.
IN THE FINAL RECKONING, Mahachunavane is not only a highly underrated work of DVG, but can be regarded as a contemporary literary classic. It is quite unfortunate to have fallen into obscurity and deserves much wider circulation and a deeper study. The work is a profound and plaintive cultural, social and political commentary. It is simultaneously an oblique exposition of Dharma by illustrating the turbid consequences of its decline.
In the next episode, we will explore DVG’s other play, Parashurama.
The Dharma Dispatch is now available on Telegram! For original and insightful narratives on Indian Culture and History, subscribe to us on Telegram.