A National Treasure: S.L. Bhyrappa And The Defence Of Civilisational Truths

We have often heard the popular phrase that a writer is like a magician who turns words into something potent and powerful. In that regard, it would not be mistaken to state that the esteemed Santeshivara Lingannaiah Bhyrappa, who departed the mortal realm on September 24, 2025, cast powerful spells with his pen in defence of civilizational truths that contemporary national discourse still shies away from confronting.

This tribute honours not merely a novelist but someone who was both a seeker and narrator of truth and wisdom.

The Making of a Literary Giant

Born in 1931 in the dusty village of Santeshivara in Hassan district, Bhyrappa's early life was marked by profound tragedy. Plague claimed his mother and elder brother when he was still a child, leaving him to navigate a world of orphanages, charity homes, and manual labour.

Yet, adversity only steeled his resolve. This determination guided his remarkable journey from selling incense sticks and working as a porter at Mumbai railway station to graduating with a gold medal in Philosophy from Mysore University.

As a young man funding his own education, Bhyrappa worked as a traveling salesman of incense sticks during summer breaks. Even in the most trying circumstances (clutching heavy bags while standing in crowded, sweltering buses), he would balance scholarly tomes in his free hand, reading with such concentrated devotion that the chaos around him seemed to vanish. This early discipline of immersive study would become the hallmark of his literary methodology.

His doctoral thesis on "Satya Mattu Soundarya" (Truth and Beauty) at Mysore University laid the philosophical foundation for his entire literary edifice. Instead of treating literature as mere entertainment, Bhyrappa approached fiction as an intellectual excavation, a spiritual inquiry that demanded years of research before the first word was penned. In doing so, he followed in the footsteps of the great bards of this land.

A transformative moment came during his college years when he attended an all-night Hindustani classical music concert by the legendary Gangubai Hangal. The experience left an indelible mark on the young scholar, shaping his aesthetic sensibilities and later inspiring his masterpiece "Mandra," a profound meditation on the spiritual dimensions of music.

The Philosopher-Novelist

The uniqueness of Shri Bhyrappa lay in his refusal to be confined by ideological boundaries. While Kannada literature oscillated between the experimental Navya movement and the protest-oriented Bandaya school, Bhyrappa carved his own path: one that would later be positioned between the Navya and Navodaya traditions. He emerged as a philosopher-novelist whose works functioned as polemical interventions in contemporary debates.

His approach to literature was rooted in a singular philosophy: a writer's only loyalty should be to truth, not to ideology or popularity.

This philosophical approach manifested powerfully in works like Parva and Uttarakanda. In Parva, his magnum opus on the Mahabharata, Bhyrappa stripped away divine halos to present the epic as a profoundly human saga, forcing readers to confront eternal questions of dharma and morality. "Uttarakanda" continued this philosophical exploration, demonstrating how ancient wisdom remains relevant to contemporary dilemmas.

For Parva, he spent a decade germinating the entire plot in his mind while touring the length and breadth of Bharatavarsha, visiting the actual sites where the Mahabharata's cosmic drama unfolded. He thoroughly explored libraries, studying virtually every scholarly work on Vyasa's immortal epic before penning a single line.

A Voice of Cultural Courage

Bhyrappa's contemporary relevance is perhaps most striking in Aavarana, a work that anticipated many of today's cultural battles. The novel's unflinching portrayal of historical Islamic invasions, particularly the destruction of Kashi by figures like Aurangzeb, proved prophetic as contemporary movements like the campaign to restore Kashi Vishwanath gained momentum decades later.

When literary stalwarts like Girish Karnad and U.R. Ananthamurthy painted a romanticised picture of the tyrant Tipu Sultan, Bhyrappa stood firm against such historical revisionism, refusing to bend historical truth to fashionable narratives.

This level of intellectual courage earned him adoration from countless readers along with scorn from so-called liberal literary establishments.

Bhyrappa's cultural vision extended far beyond historical themes. In Tabbaliyu Neenaade Magane, he advocated for cow protection through literature; this was long before such concerns entered mainstream discourse. 

Similarly, Vamshavriksha (The Family Tree), which won him the Sahitya Akademi Award in 1966, dissected the complex dynamics of joint family systems under the pressure of changing times.

Through multiple generations of a single family, Bhyrappa examined how traditional values adapt, survive, or perish in the face of modernity, creating a nuanced portrait that remains strikingly relevant to contemporary Indian families navigating similar tensions.

The Craftsman's Discipline

Those who worked closely with Bhyrappa witnessed his meticulous attention to craft. His editorial process resembled that of an expert sculptor, patiently examining each word and sentence with multiple dictionaries spread across his study desk. He would provide detailed cultural context for rustic idioms and linguistic nuances, opening entire worlds of meaning that were rapidly disappearing from contemporary understanding.

His daily regimen reflected a deep understanding of the connection between physical discipline and creative excellence. Even at the age of 83, while writing Uttarakanda, he maintained a schedule of six hours of daily writing, supported by vigorous exercise and an optimal diet.

At the peak of his powers, he could write for ten continuous hours, a testament to his belief in conserving strength for meaningful creative work rather than dissipating it on trivial pursuits.

Literary Legacy and Human Portraits

His portrayal of women deserves special mention. Characters like Nanjamma in Grihabhanga and Draupadi in Parva were not silent sufferers but complex, resilient beings who embodied quiet heroism. These women, scarred but never broken, reflected his deep understanding of Indian womanhood's struggles and strength.

Bhyrappa possessed an artist's keen eye for human nature. Even in casual social interactions, he would observe people with the detached attention of a novelist, once remarking with characteristic insight that every person he met had the potential to become a character in a future work. This artistic sensibility, combined with his philosophical grounding, enabled him to create characters of enduring psychological complexity.

Despite stirring numerous controversies, Bhyrappa remained committed to his credo: "A writer must be loyal only to truth, not to ideology, not to popularity." His books, selling over half a million copies and translated into every major Indian language, found readership across all social strata: from rural barbers who traveled twelve hours for his autograph to urban intellectuals who debated his ideas in literary circles.

Recognition and Reverence

Awards followed: the Sahitya Akademi Award for Daatu (1975), the Saraswati Samman for Mandra (2010), Sahitya Akademi Fellowship (2015), Padma Shri (2016), and Padma Bhushan (2023). But long before official recognition, he had won readers' hearts through his uncompromising dedication to truth and beauty.

The luminaries he admired (Mahamahopadhyaya P.V. Kane, Ananda Coomaraswamy, Surendranath Dasgupta, D.V. Gundappa, Sir M. Visvesvaraya, and Nani Palkhivala) reflected his own synthesis of traditional wisdom and modern scholarship. His magnanimity extended even to those he disagreed with, provided they maintained scholarly integrity.

A National Treasure

Bhyrappa's significance transcended literature. He represented a cultural consciousness deeply rooted in India's spiritual heritage yet unafraid to engage with contemporary challenges. His work demonstrated how ancient wisdom could illuminate modern dilemmas without compromising artistic excellence.

His concern for India's cultural heritage was not born of helplessness but of strength: the strength that came from withstanding decades of ideological assault while remaining true to its vision. The optimism that characterised his worldview was infectious, rooted in patient perseverance and solid work, much like the life-giving waters of the Ganga he so revered.

His true legacy lies not just in 24 novels but in the courage he gave generations to examine their civilisational past without blinkers, to recognise that literature can be both lyrical and brutal, tender and fierce.

As India grapples with questions of identity, tradition, and modernity, Bhyrappa's voice (now eternal) reminds us that great literature emerges not from comfortable truths but from the willingness to confront uncomfortable realities.