The opening scene of Shyam Benegal’s ‘Manthan’ (1976) has Girish Karnad essaying the role of a veterinary doctor who arrives in a train to go to a remote village. He and his team mate are welcomed by the villagers with a garland. There is a horse driven cart to take them to the village, but on seeing the emaciated horse, the doctor refuses to get on to the cart, instead prefers to walk the distance. On the way he throws the garland into a nearby bush and continues his journey. The scene establishes the no-nonsense attitude of the doctor and also reflects, in a way, how Girish Karnad in real life too viewed the accolades poured on him. As noted by many, he must be the only Jnanapith award winning writer who refused special felicitations to honour his achievement. He felt embarrassed when he was introduced at functions as the writer who brought the seventh Jnanapith to Kannada. Once, when he came to participate in a discussion on the Bababudangiri issue organized by Karnataka Communal Harmony Forum, where U. R. Anantha Murthy, another Jnanapith award winner was also present, he jokingly remarked how too many Jnanapithas could turn into ‘Jnana Piththa’ (meaning bile)!
For those who were just opening their eyes and mind to Kannada literary/cultural scene, the 70s were heady days with a variety of new and breathtaking activities happening around. The three plays that were staged in the open air space behind Ravindra Kalakshetra (now Samsa auditorium), set a new trend in Kannada theatre. Girish Karnad was brilliant as Oedipus and his photo as the Greek hero adorned the cover page of Lankesh’s translation. Ananthamurthy’s Samskara had already made waves and the film and the controversy around it made it even more tempting for many to wait for its release. Knowing well that such a film will never be screened in a small town like Kanakapura, some of us bunked classes and went to Bangalore clandestinely to watch the movie, a costly affair at that time! One of my friends who accompanied me in this adventure was so impressed by Karnad’s role as Praneshacharya that he made a pencil sketch of the character. He was desperate to get it signed by Karnad but there was no way we could ever get to meet him. The opportunity came when we learnt that he was shooting for Alanahally’s Kaadu in a village somewhere near our town and with the help of Kanakanahalli Gopi who was assisting Karnad at that time we managed to reach the spot. With great trepidation, he showed his sketch to Karnad who appeared very serious and lost in thought planning his next shot. But he not only obliged him with his signature but also asked our team, all young college students, to stay back and gave us tiny roles as police constables who arrive at midnight to arrest the Gowda, played by Amrish Puri. That was the only ‘art film’ we ever got to act in, and we took an oath that day not to act in any commercial film!
It is much later when I read his autobiography that I learnt that Girish Karnad himself was into sketching famous authors and would send his drawings to get their signature. Perhaps that is why he readily signed his portrait as Praneshacharya though it was an amateurish attempt by a young artist. By late evening he was relaxed, had a brief chat with us and asked us to share the food brought for the film crew. In his autobiography he recalls how he got the idea to shoot the last scene of the film when he went out to relieve himself in the open. He describes how with the pressure of work gone, it is a relaxing moment when ‘thought and imagination merge and roam freely in the landscape of the mind’. It was a Eureka moment when he conceived the idea of depicting the experience of the forest as visualized from a boy’s perspective. In fact, that shot is the most memorable one in the film, providing an apt climax to the narrative of boy’s innocence getting shattered in a climate of fear, desolation and brutishness. Though I followed Karnad through his plays and films, the next personal encounter happened after several decades when he decided to come for a fact finding to Bababudangiri, the Sufi shrine in Chikmagalur. In the wake of the demolition of Babri Masjid, the Hindu right found the place a fertile ground to create a controversy in the name of introducing Hindu modes of worship. For this, they introduced some non-existent rituals like ‘datta mala’ aping the Sabarimala tradition. Soon, there was rhetoric of converting the shrine into another Ayodhya and Karnataka into another Gujarat. The progressive, secular-minded persons started protesting this move asking to protect the essentially syncretic nature of the shrine. It was at that time the Communal Harmony Forum thought of inviting a few eminent writers to hold a press conference on the issue. When we approached Girish Karnad he suggested that the team should visit the place, talk to people and then meet the press. It was he who suggested that we should also take Gauri Lankesh along and personally called her to get her consent. In a way, it provided a turning point in Gauri’s life and opened up a new life of activism. Thus, among other factors, Karnad’s initiative that day in December 2003 made Gauri a staunch activist.
Girish Karnad belonged to that lineage of Kannada writers known for their liberal stance. Like many of his contemporaries he was as much critical of the Left as he was of the Hindutva Right. But what made him stand apart from the rest was his courage to stick his neck out and speak truth to power, face adverse criticism with a good amount of disinterestedness and even laugh it off. One may say that he turned to activism only to criticize the Hindutva Right, but his autobiography provides evidence to show how he remained committed to his belief in creative freedom and refused to obey the orders of the regime during Emergency as well. He was against all kinds of Fascism which reduces every debate into a simple binary. He reacted strongly against the dwindling democratic space which he saw -- as many writers do -- as a threat to creativity. He was a master in weaving complex narratives out of folk, mythology or history which throw light on contemporary concerns.
Talking about his latest play, Rakshasa-Tangadi, he remarked how the time past was enmeshed with the time present.
Apart from the brilliant stage craft he infuses into his plays, it is this quality of speaking to the past from the present that makes his work eminently teachable texts.
The author is a professor of English and a social activist.