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Interrogating 'India' - a Dravidian Viewpoint
V.Geetha and S.V.Rajadurai
*
November 1991 [also
in PDF]
[see also
For Province
Read Nation
- Pramatha Chaudhuri,
1920 and
Tamil Nation &
the Unity of India, Nadesan Satyendra - 2001]
"Ethnicity has been characterized as the 'new
spectre haunting the power elites of our times'... It seems to us that this
phenomenon of 'ethnicity' is the most visible symptom of an organic crisis
of that most sacrosanct of all political institutions - the nation-state.
...Endless platitudes abound about 'national unity' and the catholicity and
durability of 'Indian culture'... (but) our national identity has not been
forged through a definitive articulation of a national-popular collective
will as has been claimed... It seems urgent, then, that we pose certain
crucial and important questions about ourselves: How are we a 'nation'? What
are the historical and cultural markers of our 'nation-hood'? Is our
national identity the product of a `national popular will'?... The Indian
state is of course determined to prevent these questions from being asked.
In this context it seems logical that we ask: What is the 'Indian' nation we
seek to preserve?"
Ethnicity has been characterized as the 'new spectre haunting the power
elites of our times', 'variously expressing itself as an assertion of cultures,
of communal upsurges, revival of religions, voices and movements of marginalised
peoples, regions and nationalities'.1
It seems to us that this phenomenon of 'ethnicity' is the most visible
symptom of an organic crisis of that most sacrosanct of all political
institutions - the nation-state.
The disintegration of the Soviet Union, the ethnic strife in Yugoslavia, the
simmering discontent amongst Czechs and Slovaks in Czechoslovakia and the
continuing national liberation struggles in the third world are all responses to
this crisis, which is, in essence, a crisis of political identity. This crisis
manifests itself in its most acute forms in the young nations or the third world
where 'nation-formation' in the classical European sense did not really take
place, and where 'modular' states and decreed nations came into existence.
For us in India, haunted as we are by so-called 'secessionist' phantoms; it
seems particularly important to review and critically examine the history and
process of our nation formation.
Though this critical self-evaluation seems to be the need of the hour, we
find that politicians and, to some extent, political scientists continue to
refer routinely to the 'sovereignty' and 'territorial integrity' of the
'socialist' Republic of India.
Endless platitudes abound about 'national unity' and the catholicity and
durability of 'Indian culture'. On the other hand, we find that spokes-persons
of, for instance, the ULFA or the AKLF consistently mock India's 'pretensions'
to being a 'nation'. It seems urgent, then, that we pose certain crucial and
important questions about ourselves: How are we a 'nation'? What are the
historical and cultural markers of our 'nation-hood'? Is our national identity
the product of a `national popular will'? These questions were posed with
great alacrity and boldness by the ideologues of the Dravidian movement in
Tamilnadu (among others) during the early decades of this century and we intend
examining their contentions by and by.
But, more immediately, we would like to note that despite Nehru's claim of
the 'dream of unity' which, according to him, 'occupied the mind of India since
the dawn of civilisation'2 the
historical and cultural markers of our national identity are more apparent than
real, more constructed than given. Also, our national identity has not been
forged through a definitive articulation of a national-popular collective will
as has been claimed. A people may constitute themselves as a nation on the
basis of a) a common language; b) a common religion (though religion's claim to
be a cementing force has been falsified effectively and recently during the Gulf
War); c) territorial unit and d) a shared economy. Or it may be that a
combination of some or all these aspects or some-times even the absence of one
or two of them (consider the nature of Naga insurgency and the determinants of
Naga nationhood) may constitute the basis of nationhood.
Following Benedict Anderson, we may say that in every instance, nations are
'imagined';3
that is, they are hewn out of popular perceptions and ideologies of community
and shaped by a political will that may, in turn, be a partial or adequate
representative of the collective will. Thus, as with the nation-states of 19th
century Europe, nationalism may, in reality, function as an aspect of ruling
class hegemony (consider Germany and France). Nationalism as a partial and
inadequate expression of the popular-collective will may yet seek to express
itself in terms of collective entities such as language, religion and the
community. But national identity, as deemed by the nation-state, need not always
be co-terminus with national-popular aspirations.
Antonio Gramsci
in his work on the Italian Risorigimento has indicated that the process of
nation formation in Italy had been inherently flawed and weak since the
constitution of the Italian nation in the 19th century was not premised on a
'national-popular' will but was, instead, articulated as a
'cosmopolitan-abstract' entity. The bourgeois industrialists of the Italian
north and the feudal landlords of southern Italy failed to involve the peasantry
(the largest section of the population) in the national liberation struggle and,
thereby, failed to forge a national identity based on popular perceptions and
practices. For
Gramsci, the absence of a national-popular element in the formation of the
Italian nation served to indicate the structural limits to nationhood and to the
political legitimacy of the Italian nation-state.
The constitution of a national-popular will to nationhood, Gramsci pointed
out, involved, among other things, the forging of links between a society's
intellectuals and the broad masses of the people. intellectuals were to mediate
the political process. disrupt ruling class hegemony and function as 'educators
and elaborators of the intellect and the moral awareness of the people-nation'.4
(Gramsci never lost sight of the fact that nation formation, if it were to
constitute a genuine national (popular) identity, would have to be accompanied
by a radical transformation of the relationships of property ownership and
production). However, even Tilak and Gandhi were, in their own way,
cosmopolitan but they did not seek to identify and coherently articulate a
national-popular will. Though Tilak sought to constitute a Mahratta identity
(already Hindu-national) on the basis of popular religious and cultural
practices, such an identity was meant to confirm and render acceptable Brahmin
hegemony. Likewise, Gandhi's efforts at mobilizing hitherto passive sections
of the populace in the freedom struggle ultimately served to project the
Congress as the arbiter of popular (as opposed to upper class caste
professional) interests. Gandhi not only yoked the popular will onto a partial
collectivity but, by a brilliant ideological sleight-of-hand sought to reshape
popular energies within the terms and conditions of varnashrama dharma. These
nationalist leaders thus quite unproblematically subscribed to the notion of an
already present and unified 'Indian' nation, whose timeless nationhood was
guaranteed either by a common civilisational impulse or by a Hindu religion that
had remained steadfast to its varna and jati principles and resisted
disintegration and decay. If, in Europe, the common civilisational unity of
Christendom gave way to the modern nation-states of I9th century Europe, in
India, the fact of an interlinked but by no means homogeneous civilisation was
sought to be made the basis of a new nation. Thus myth substituted for history
and whether it was
Gandhi or
Tilak,
Nehru
or
Savarkar,
Patel or
Golwalkar,
every one of them was convinced of the myth of a unified and timeless 'Bharat'.
Thus it was that Nehru, in spite of his adumbrations of India's diverse
cultures, failed to interrogate the 'historicity' or other-wise of his notion of
a unitary Indian culture that would simultaneously implicate and transcend all
diversities. It is not surprising that he never really came to terms with the
political limits to 'diversity' in a modern nation-state. The ideological
content of the political rhetoric and practice of the Congress leaders was, of
course, determined and mediated by the complex of material conditions and
interests that had brought the Congress into existence in the first place. The
Congress, since its inception, had remained a forum for bourgeois commercial
interests and bilingual professional elites to come together on matters of
mutual concern. As the freedom struggle got under way, the Congress sought and
won over rural agrarian interests and the zamindars and mirasidars were
'transformed' into 'trustees' of the 'common weal' by the subtleties of Gandhian
politics. These landed interests, together with feudal princelings and big
business (with its impatient `progressive' 'nationalist' sympathisers) thus came
to constitute a complex and structured historical bloc. This bloc laid claims to
'popular' nationhood and its claims were sanctified and rendered consensual by a
set of seemingly conflicting ideologies - Nehruvian socialism, Gandhian
non-violence, Hindu nationalism - that were, however, rationalized into a
singular argument espousing the cause of our independence and unity. It is
important that we understand the principles of cohesion that structured this
historical bloc. The single most dynamic element in this structured whole
comprised the big bourgeoisie. Most of them were Parsis, Banias and Marwaris who
had utilized their far-flung trading networks and the profits made therein to
build enough capital to enter large-scale industrial production. They were
prominent and active not only along the west coast and in Rajasthan but had
spread themselves over the Gangetic plain and made inroads into Calcutta and the
north-eastern region.
These traders turned-industrialists were, at best, time-servers and practised
a skilful politics of survival. They were hardly 'revolutionary' (in the Marxist
sense of the term) and had not really struggled against feudal power or
imperial/colonial domination. In fact, they had established collusive interests
and relationships with either one or the other. Thus they worked the
stratified caste-bound economy to their advantage; since most of them were
'Vaishyas' (in the Hindi heartland, at least) they managed to control and
dominate local trade and banking operations that were chiefly in the hands of
the 'Shudra' castes. The Marwari-Bania-Parsi combine never really sought to
challenge British commercial hegemony; more often than not they played willing
compradors to the imperialists and even when they found themselves ranged
against the British on account of Congress-led agitations, they attempted to
mediate between imperial and 'national' interests. In fact, the Congress
ideologues' vision of a united free India seemed to the big bourgeoisie a
curious reflection of their own interests: the Marwari-Bania-Parsi combine had
after all, had to curb the resistance of 'regional' commercial interests to
their domination and hence, were convinced of the desirability of forging a
unity of cultures and regions through the agency of a 'common' (read Hindi)
language and through the articulation of the myth of common 'national' origins.
It seemed perfectly natural and rational to the big bourgeoisie that free India
be strong and united and not only were they willing to abide by Congress
ideology on this score but were not averse to forging ahead in realizing this
ideology in concrete terms. Thus,
G D Birla, Gandhi's friend and associate in the freedom struggle, argued
persuasively, in the context of the
Muslim
League's insistence of Pakistan, that rather than accommodate Muslim demands
within the terms of a federal polity and, thereby, unleash communal violence,
India be partitioned for the greater good of its 'unified', 'integral' future!
5 (The Bombay Plan of the bourgeoisie had no use for a federal
polity with concomitant decentralized powers. The plan envisaged a grand and
policing role for the state in the accumulation of capital and in the
establishment of heavy industries. The big bourgeoisie were desirous of a strong
centralized state amenable to their interests and were not willing to be
receptive to the emergence of regional, sectional interests, as would happen
within an authentic federal polity.) In April 1946, Birla and his cohorts
resolved to endorse and support the move for the partition of India and soon set
about convincing the Congress of the 'inevitability' of it all. The Congress
had, from time to time, raised populist demands in favour of provincial
autonomy, but given its cosmopolitan vision of a modern nation-state, it was
only natural that it came to renege on its promises. But at least in 1946, at a
meeting of the Constituent Assembly, Nehru had moved an objective resolution
defining the nature of the Indian Constitution in which provincial autonomy was
assured. Earlier
Azad
and other leaders had also spoken of the need to demarcate power and authority
in a federal polity. Transport, defence and foreign affairs were to be
administered by the central government. Other powers would be vested in the
states to be exercised at their discretion or transferred to the centre if they
so desired.
But by April 1947 Nehru and the Congress were convinced of the `necessity' of
partition! Nehru's volte-face was truly incredible in this instance and only
served to lay bare the ironies at the heart of a nationalist politics that
relied for its effectivity on demagogic skills and a self-deluding ideology
rather on the creation and activation of a popular-collective will. The
partition of India may be considered an emblematic event and one that revealed
the limits, terms and conditions of 'Indian' nationalism for what they were.
However it was not this event but the creation of free
India's
Constitution that duly consecrated at the high altar of legality such
fictions of nationhood as had emerged out of the ideologies and practices of the
Indian National Congress. The Constituent Assembly that represented, in
Bettleheim's words 'a minority of the population, a quarter of whose members
were not elected but claimed their seats by feudal right',6
rationalized Hindu-bourgeois nationalism by several clauses and articles.
Clause 3(C) of Article I in Part I of the Constitution noted that 'The territory
of India shall comprise (a)... (b)... and (c) such other territories as may be
acquired!' In other words, national unity as an instance of expansionist
politics was legitimized by, the Constitution.
Then again, Article 351 of the Constitution enjoined the government to
develop Hindi as 'a medium of expression for all the elements of the composite
culture of India'. National identity, premised on the notion of a composite
culture, was, in effect, to be affirmed and guaranteed by an arbitrarily chosen
language of the Union of India. This Constitutional double-speak has resulted in
the non-inclusion of living languages such as
Khasi and
Garo
(used in administration in
Meghalaya),
Manipuri, the state language of
Manipur,
Santhali with a fine literary tradition, and
Maithili in the Eighth Schedule of the Constitution. 'Indian' nationalism
and the constructions of national identity, as these came into being during the
freedom struggle, thus remained inalienable aspects of a bourgeois creed that
failed to secure popular consent. Though in the years since independence this
creed has sought to grant itself axiomatic status and to an extent even
succeeded in doing so, its claims have, in the past decade or so, come under
relentless scrutiny and interrogation due to the discontent in Nagaland,
Manipur, Punjab, Assam and Kashmir.
In the context of the stubborn claims to the rightness of this creed (which
was reiterated in the White Paper Report on Punjab published in 1984), it seems
important to ask and re-ask certain questions that were posed in the heyday of
Congress hegemony and posed in as effective a manner as the times would allow.
The constructions of 'Indian' national identity were challenged and rendered
illegitimate in the politics and practices of what has since come to be known as
the non-Brahmin Dravidian movement.
The Dravidian movement initially sought to challenge Brahmin hegemony in the
fields of education and administration and subsequently came to pose immense
challenges to Brahmin hegemony on the social terrain.
By a series of complex and extremely interesting mediations, the ideologues
of the movement, prominent among whom was
E V Ramasamy Periyar,
came to identify the problem of hegemony and leadership thus: Brahmin domination
and hegemony ultimately served larger corporate interests (identified with the
Indian National Congress) and were opposed to local, non-Brahmin (essentially
'Tamil-Dravidian' as opposed to 'Sanskritic-Brahmin') interests. Inferences
were drawn from
history and
ancient Tamil literature to indicate the 'foreigness' of the Tamil Brahmins
and it was claimed and 'proved' that Brahmins were actually descendants of Aryan
invaders from the north who had, in the course of time, transformed an
essentially egalitarian Tamil society into the caste-ridden, obscurantist
society that it is in the present. Hindu epics were subjected to extremely
imaginative interpretations and were often 'read' as if they were chronicles of
the conflicts between Dravidians and Aryans.
Periyar, despite the fact that in almost all versions of the Ramayana,
Ravana has been portrayed as a Brahmin, claimed him for the non-Brahmin cause.
In a particularly felicitous interpretation of the epic, Ravana thus became a
Dravidian protagonist, a tragic hero no less, who was the hapless victim of
Aryan duplicity and cunning. Even as Aryan supremacy was shown to be a
sham and a result of control through forced domination, the uniqueness of Tamil
society, and particularly the glories of Tamil language and literature, were
articulated. The Dravidian movement's doctrinal anti-Brahminism had as much to
do with the politics of nation as with the politics of caste. After Periyar
resigned from the Congress over the issue of reservations for the backward
classes (among other things), he came to view the nationalist movement as
represented in the policies and programmes of the Congress as a sectarian,
partisan movement that had no place, either in its organizations or in its
ideologies, for the non-Brahmin (Shudra) castes and their concerns and
interests. Thus, it was Periyar (among the Dravidian ideologues) who articulated
the most radical critique of not merely the upper caste biases in Congress
policies but of 'Indian' nationalism as well. Periyar's efforts at re-defining
political identity in a social context raised fundamental questions about the
nature of 'domination' and 'freedom'. Periyar was insistent that 'freedom' from
imperialist rule did not necessarily mean 'freedom' from the oppressive
stranglehold of the caste system. While he was sensitive to the socialist
argument about the necessity of challenging and transcending the
bourgeois-capitalist mode of production, he did not believe that in a socialist
utopia the caste system would wither away. Like Phule and, later, Ambedkar, he
was acutely conscious that power in Hindu society inhered in and directed and
rationalized everyday behaviour and life and served to perpetuate a hierarchy of
interests. He was, therefore, firmly convinced that political freedom from
foreign rule would be of little or no avail unless and until such molecular
changes as would penetrate and shatter the caste hierarchy were to take place.
Periyar sought to create within the non-Brahmin movement a nucleus for carrying
out social reform and agitating against the inequities of the caste system. He
saw such a movement as strictly non-political (in the initial stages of its
inception at least) and committed to reorganizing the community at large. Thus
was born the self-respect movement.
The movement articulated and developed a discourse (and practice) of
'self-respect' wherein every individual in society was enjoined to refer her/his
everyday living to normative standards of rationality and good sense and-
thereby abjure and reject obscurantist and repressive religious, social and.
cultural practices. The discovery of one's self-respect was to be the basis on
which a new identity would be constituted, outside the confines of the caste
system. The discovery and articulation of self-respect involved not only the
breaking and shattering of caste taboos and codes that had, traditionally,
upheld the `purity' of the upper castes, but also meant that inter-caste
relationships be reconstituted on the basis of a new collectivity - the
non-Brahmin collectivity. For even as Periyar identified 'casteism' as a general
ideology of exclusion, subordination and repression, he was at pains to indicate
that caste-ism was but the structural logic of a system whose ideological
strengths derived from Brahminism. The assumption of a refurbished non-Brahmin
identity also meant that women were drawn - into practices of self-respect and
acquired a sense of personal worth. The self respect movement addressed
the gender question at some length and Periyar was insistent that a non-Brahmin
identity could not be assumed without a concomitant change in the status of
women. Women were to be seen as persons in their own right and marriage and
sexuality were proclaimed as choices to be made rather than conditions to be
endured. Periyar was particularly sensitive to the politics of, reproduction and
argued that women ought to take control of their bodies and not submit to the
rigorous reproductive logic of the patriarchal family. Further, he was acutely
aware of the fact that women were often burdened with the task of transmitting
traditional practices and rituals of religion and culture and that they
performed significant mediatory roles in preserving and perpetuating the caste
system. Thus, he stated with great perspicacity that the liberation of women was
a pre-requisite of a self-respecting society where the iniquitous hierarchies of
caste would no more obtain. Even though the sell-respect movement started out
as a social reform movement, the implications of its achievements were bound to
acquire political significance sooner or later.
The Indian National Congress was slowly but surely emerging as the legitimate
and authoritative representative of the 'common weal', and in the 1930s a
pronounced anti-Congressism was voiced in Tamilnadu during the anti-Hindi
agitations of this period.
A self-conscious `Dravidian' identity was proclaimed, and this proved to be
the spark that ignited the torch of the 'Dravidian' cause in the years to come.
The self-respect movement that had envisaged a rational community of
self-respecters as an alternative to the Hindu caste system provided the
ideological arguments that would bolster the Dravidian cause.
Gradually Periyar himself came to identify the transformed caste-space of the
self-respect movement with 'Dravidastan'. (Dravidastan in essence meant only the
Tamil areas of the erstwhile Madras Presidency.) Periyar's Dravidianisin,
which was but Tamil nationalism, has to be seen as a response to the
homogenising drives of the Brahmin-Bania combine which, Periyar judged rightly,
would shape the new Indian nation-state. Periyar opposed to the coopting logic
of Brahminism and the centralizing dynamic of the modern nation-state the notion
of a free and rational Tamil society that would in time evolve into a Tamil
nation.
He did not propose an alternate theory of the nation-state, nor did he seek
to transform the structural relations of economic production that granted
material power and political legitimacy to the ritual and social hegemony of the
Brahmins and the upper castes. But Periyar managed to forge a national-popular
will that has until recently overtly challenged Brahmin hegemony and covertly
remained a comment on the politics of nation formation in India. His outstanding
contribution in this respect was to insert caste as a significant factor in the
constructions of national identity and to this day this question has not been
adequately posed, let alone solved. However, though the Dravidian movement
managed to evolve a consensus on the question of a broad Tamil, non-Brahmin
identity as opposed to an Indian, Brahmin-Bania one, it did not effectively
articulate a national-popular political theory or strategy to challenge the
representative claims of the Indian state. The political consensus evolved by
the non-Brahmin movement degenerated into a vacuous rhetoric about the Tamil
nation with the entry of the DMK into mainstream politics. The DMK attempted to
substitute political consensus with one that derived from cinematic glitz and
simulated glory. It lost sight of the interlinked nature of caste and gender
oppressions and, more importantly, delinked issues of caste From those of
gender. Women were 'restored' to the domestic sphere and their political
function was to henceforth sustain and transmit the 'mother-tongue'. They
became, as it were fecund mothers to the Tamil nation and were asked to
mediate social and cultural practices that indicated and affirmed the honour of
the Tamil male and, by implication, their own and that of the Tamil nation.
Periyar's notion of self respect, a necessary adjunct of the rational Tamil
society, was transformed into 'maanam' or chivalric honour that sought proofs of
its worth in the protection of women's chastity! Meanwhile, the politics of
caste was subsumed into the politics of vote and Periyar's anti-Brahminism was
affirmed merely on a symbolic level. The Tamil nation came to be 'imagined'
entirely in and through language, and gendered language at that, and even in
this DMK practices belied the claims of their rhetoric. But what is noteworthy
is that inspite of various distortions and travesties, the legacy of the
Dravidian movement nevertheless manages to irk the pan-Indian ruling classes. In
the past decade, these classes have come to display an aggressive nationalism
that is compounded of various elements: there is the self-imaging of the Indian
middle classes who see themselves as the latest and most complete
representatives of a timeless Indian culture. There is the sanctimonious
affirmation of a syncretic Indian identity by a new generation of bilingual
intellectuals, who seek to displace the problematic contradictions of caste,
ethnicity and language as these have arisen in the nation-state on to the
colonial past. Further, there is the vociferous Hindutva ideology of the
BJP-RSS variety that seeks to lay bare the 'lies' at the heart of Nehruvian
secularism. Such a nationalism seems determined to avoid addressing the issue of
the crisis of the nation-state. In fact, as Gramsci remarked in another context:
'It may well be that nobody has the courage to pose the question
exhaustively because it was feared that vital dangers for the unified
life of the nation would immediately result from such a rigorously
critical and consequential formulation.' (emphasis ours).'7
Even those who seek to challenge the claims to unitary power of the Indian
nation-state, such as the left and non-Congress opposition forces, demand
devolution of powers to the states only. In other words, they seek to
merely reproduce the logic of the Indian nation-state at local regional levels.
The structural logic is thus left intact and the financial power, political
hegemony and ideological strengths of the pan-Indian bourgeoisie remain
unquestioned.
In fact, left parties have shown themselves to be as committed to the cause
of the Indian nation-state as the bourgeoisie whom they claim to despise. Not
only have they consistently opposed and denigrated movements for national
self-determination in the subcontinent in the name of `internationalism', they
have also sought to turn the politics of the nation-state to their own account.
Hence we have the bizarre political phenomenon of the left parties in
Tamilnadu endorsing the Tamil cause on the Cauvery issue while their
counterparts in Karnataka lend support to Karnataka's claims! But even if the
left desists from posing certain questions, these are being posed more or less
in a cogent and definitive fashion elsewhere: in Assam, Punjab, Kashmir and
Nagaland. The Indian state is of course determined to prevent these questions
from being asked. In this context it seems logical that we ask: What is the
'Indian' nation we seek to preserve?
* This paper owes a great deal to an
article titled 'Hindu-Hindi-India' by S V Rajadurai that is being serialised in
the Tamil monthly, Kannottam
1. Rajni Kothari in 'Ethnicity' in
Ethnicity: Identity, Conflict and Crisis
(ed. Kumar, David & Santasilan Kadirgamar, Arena Press, Hong Kong ,
1989. p. 15)
2. Jawaharlal Nehru -
The Discovery of India 3.
Benedict
Anderson, Imagined Communities, Verso, London, 1983, p15
4.
Selections from Cultural Writings (ed. David Forgaes and Geoffrey
Nowell-Smith, Lawrence & Wishart London, 1985 p 211)
5. For a detailed analysis of the role of Indian big business in the
partition of India see Claude Markovits Businesmen and the Partition of India,
Ahmedabad 1989
6. Charles Bettleheim,
India Independent 7.
Antonio Gramsci, Ibid., p 199
Further Reading Dr P.
Rajaraman, The Justice Party, a Historical Perspective 1916-37. Poompozhil
Publishers. Madras. 1988. S. Saraswathi, Minorities in
Madras State--Group Interests in Madras Politics. Impex India, Delhi, 1974.
E. Sa. Viswanathan. The Political Career of E. V. Ramaswamy Naicker-A Study in
The Politics of Tamilnadu, 1920 1949. Ravi and Vasanth Publishers. Madras, 1983.
K. Nambi Arooran,
Tamil Renaissance and
Dravidian Nationalism 1903-44. Koodal Publishers, Madurai. 1980.
R. Suntharalingam.
Politics and nationalist awakening in South India, 1852-1891 E. F.
Irschick.
Politics and social conflict in South India: The non-Brahmin movement and Tamil
separatism, 1916-1929, OUP, Bombay, 1969.
D. A. Washbrook,
The Emergence of Provincial Politics, The Madras Presidency 1891-1920
Vikas, New Delhi, 1977.
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