Meenakshi Mukherjee’s last book celebrates the protean R.C. Dutt—administrator, historian, litterateur, beacon
The incident could not be told better and Mukherjee does not attempt to do so. From a celebrated family known as the Dutts of Rambagan, when barely twenty he crept into a boat in Calcutta with two friends. They boarded a ship to Britain to write the ICS examinations in London. Only one Indian, Surendranath Tagore, had cleared the exam till then. Amazingly, all three friends—R.C. Dutt, Bihari Lal Gupta and Surendranath Banerjea—and a brilliant young man from Bombay, Sripad Babaji Thakur, qualified. Hailed by the nation at large, the heroes returned home to join work, though Banerjea famously dropped out to become an eminent political nationalist.
From 1874 to his death in 1909, Dutt worked tirelessly both as an administrator—he climbed to the top rung of the ICS and after retirement was Dewan of Baroda—and as a writer of books, each more renowned than the other. Of these Mukherjee evaluates the first book, The Peasantry of Bengal, very highly, equating its concerns with the Subaltern Studies initiative in its grasp of the grassroots. His most famous work, The Economic History of India, is analysed in detail in the context of contemporary theorists, probing the argument presented in it for its current relevance. Whatever that might be, it leads one to agree with Gandhi, who wrote: “When I read Mr Dutt’s Economic History of India, I wept, and as I think of it again my heart sickens.”
The books on literature and history by R.C. Dutt (The Literature of Bengal; A History of Civilisation in Ancient India) were famous in their time but, as Mukherjee suggests, are largely irrelevant today. The six novels in Bengali, most of them praiseworthy, seem similarly lost to current generations. His famous translations from the Ramayana and Mahabharata and his Lays of Ancient India await re-evaluation by future scholars. Still, one comes away from this biography of a man representative of India’s long nineteenth century of modernity with a sense of the persistence in the Indian identity of some of the contradictions that informed his character and achievements. The legacy of his negotiation between two languages, of his reading of history through literature, and, most importantly, of his ambivalent attitude (ranging from admiration to total condemnation) towards the British colonial project, contain a valuable repository of some of the unique confluences that are formative of the Indian modern.
His most valuable contributions seem to have been his thinking on famine and empire, on political moderation and staunch secularism, on literary value and historical materialism. This is a record of a distinguished life, and Mukherjee is faithful to its contours. We are given two family trees and a list of all the honours accorded to him, which are dazzling enough. Yet it is fair to say that its distinction lay in the works it produced, whose contribution to our idea of India will change shape and colour in the eyes of every generation reading him anew.