Jagran Opinion: Remembering SL Bhyrappa, The Most Influential Kannada Novelist Of Our Times

It is with a heavy heart and a profound sense of personal loss that I pen these lines on the passing of Dr Santeshivara Lingannaiah Bhyrappa (1931–2025)---a towering figure of modern Indian literature, and without question, the most influential Kannada novelist of our times. His departure is not merely the end of a literary era; it is the falling of a giant banyan tree whose roots ran deep into the civilisational soil of Bharat and whose shade nourished the cultural and intellectual imagination of millions of readers across languages and generations.

I write these words not merely as a historian or admirer of his genius or the lucky beneficiary of his affection and blessings, but as one among the countless seekers whose understanding of Indian civilisation and the human condition was irrevocably shaped by his words.

Born in 1931 in a humble family in Santeshivara village of Hassan district, Bhyrappa’s life itself reads like a novel---one marked by early hardships, indomitable perseverance, and an unwavering commitment to truth. Tragedy struck Bhyrappa’s life very early. His mother passed away when he was just five years old, leaving a void that would haunt him for much of his life and echo in the maternal figures of many of his novels. After his mother’s death, his father remarried. Bhyrappa’s relationship with his stepmother was difficult and often strained---becoming a source of both emotional alienation and introspection. He has spoken in interviews and autobiographical writings about the lack of affection and warmth in those years, which led to a sense of loneliness and self-reliance from a very young age. The family’s financial struggles deepened, and young Bhyrappa had to work odd jobs, including being a railway porter, to support himself while pursuing his education. There were times when he slept in temples, railway platforms or verandas, or went hungry for days. Despite these hardships, he was determined to educate himself. This theme of perseverance against odds that would also later become a hallmark of many of his protagonists. His passion for learning became both his refuge and his escape. Bhyrappa excelled academically, earning scholarships and eventually completing his education in philosophy. He went on to become a professor of philosophy. But more importantly, those early years of deprivation, alienation, and self-reliance imbued his literary work with a remarkable empathy for human suffering and a deep interest in the philosophical questions of fate, free will, dharma, and human resilience. All of these bitter experiences gave his fiction an authenticity and depth that few modern writers have matched.

Across a literary career spanning more than six decades, Bhyrappa authored over 26 novels, many of which are now considered milestones not just in Kannada literature but in the broader canvas of Indian writing. Works like Parva, Saartha, Tanthu, GrahaNa, Mandra, DaaTu, AavaraNa, and UttarakaanDa are not mere stories, but they are profound explorations of dharma, history, philosophy, music, identity, and the eternal dilemmas of human existence. Other works such as Vamshavriksha, Thabbaliyu Neenaade Magane, Grihabhanga, Matha daana and Naayi NeraLu have been adapted to films and television serials; Parva was recently staged as a mind-blowing theatre production by Prakash Belawadi.

But what set Bhyrappa apart was his fearless willingness to engage with the most uncomfortable questions, be they of religion and reason, tradition and modernity, faith and scepticism, gender and power, nation and civilisation. And he did so without polemic or dogma, but through deeply researched, aesthetically powerful narratives that compelled readers to think, question, and transform. The enormous efforts that he would put into his research was legendary. Even novels, which are otherwise considered fictional works, had hundreds of pages of footnotes, references and bibliography---a trait that I have imbibed from him too! Despite knowing classical music in his time in Hubli, he is supposed to have spent three years revisiting the theories of classical music and interacting with musicians as preparation to write his novel Mandra, which won him the Saraswati Samman in 2010. For his novel Yaana, he even travelled to the Himalayas; for Parva, he made visits to sites associated with the Mahabharata war including Kurkshetra and Dwarka and also read several versions of the epic, right from the original in Sanskrit by Vyasa and later adaptations. This passion for his work defined his literary journey in a very unique manner.

If Indian literature and philosophy in the post-Independence period was largely marked by Western ideologies---Marxist, Freudian, or postcolonial---Bhyrappa was a luminous exception. He reclaimed the Indian civilisational perspective as the lens through which to view our past, present, and future. His novels, while set in varied times and spaces---from Vedic and Pauranic India (Parva, UttarakaanDa) to the height of Buddhist ferment (Saartha), from the colonial encounter (Thanthu) to the present-day socio-political churn that also involved mediaeval excesses by Muslim invaders (AavaraNa), all of these works always asked the same fundamental questions: What does it mean to be Indian? How do we reconcile continuity with change? What is truth, and how does one live by it?

It is no exaggeration to say that Bhyrappa reclaimed the historical novel as a legitimate space for philosophical and civilisational inquiry. Parva, his magnum opus, reinterpreted the Mahabharata not as mythology but as an epic of human psychology and social change, stripped of miraculous interventions yet steeped in dharma. AavaraNa, meanwhile, ignited national debate for its unflinching portrayal of India’s medieval history and for daring to ask why historical truths were being suppressed in the name of secularism and social harmony by the famed Marxist-Nehruvian consensus.

But unlike most modern literary figures, Bhyrappa was not just a darling of academia. He was a popular phenomenon. Combined sales of his books cross an estimate of over 3 million copies, and some going into more than 50 re-prints. Aavarana reportedly crossing 70 editions by the early 2020s---a rare feat for a writer in Indian languages. Long queues outside bookshops on the day of a new Bhyrappa release became a familiar sight in Karnataka, making the honour of being a “Best-Seller” actually what it is. He achieved what very few Indian writers have managed---to make literature part of the popular public discourse rather than just air-conditioned seminar halls.

Moreover, his appeal transcended linguistic boundaries. He also became the most translated Indian litterateur with many of his works were translated into over 20 Indian and foreign languages, including Hindi, Marathi, Gujarati, Bengali, Tamil, Malayalam, English, and even Russian and Chinese. Each translation found eager readers, testifying to the universal resonance of his themes.

But Bhyrappa’s courage was not confined to the pages of fiction. In an era when ideological conformity often masqueraded as intellectualism, he remained an independent thinker, unafraid of speaking his mind and without a care for controversy or cancellation. He resisted attempts to reduce literature to propaganda or political correctness. For him, writing was a sacred act; an inquiry into satya (truth), dharma (righteousness), and rasa (aesthetic essence). When being part of the NCERT textbook committee in the 1970s during Indira Gandhi’s time, he dissented with the Chairman of the Committee G Parthasarathy on the move to whitewash crimes of Muslim invaders and rulers, for which he was summarily dismissed from the Committee. He constantly picked up ideological fights with other Kannada litterateurs, including UR Ananthamurthy and later Girish Karnad for what he considered was the latter’s fake portrayal of tyrants such as Tipu Sultan and Muhammad bin Tughlaq. Several literary figures in Kannada ganged up often against him, threatening and intimidating him; discrediting his work, organizing seminars against him or even publishing books criticizing him. But for the ajaatashatru all these only added to the readers’ interest in his books and they began to sell even more. His criticism of fashionable but shallow trends in literature, history, and politics were often at the cost of professional recognition.

Till 2016 the Central Governments of India did not even consider him for a Padma award; he was ignored for the prestigious Jnanpeeth, despite all these achievements. The Sahitya Akademi award came only in 2010. It was the Modi Government that decided to honour him with a Padma Shri in 2016 and Padma Bhushan in 2023. While sarkari recognition may or may not come, the true award of an author is the love of his/her readers and in this Bhyrappa not only won the deepest admiration of his readers but also inspired countless younger writers and scholars (including me) to pursue truth over popularity.

His legacy is not just literary, it is civilisational. In a cultural landscape often deracinated from its roots, Bhyrappa’s works reconnected millions with the deeper philosophical foundations of Bharatiya thought. He reminded us that literature is not entertainment alone; it is a mirror to society, a tool of introspection, and a bridge between the past and the future.

For me personally, since childhood, I have binge read his novels in the original language. His sharp and incisive logic, his extensive research and meticulous narration bore a deep impact on my mind and perhaps influenced my research and writing style too. A couple of years ago, I had the good fortune of more deep, personal associations with him and he took an instant liking for me. Despite my first book on Mysore history coming out in 2008, I had struggled to find a suitable Kannada publisher to bring out its translation in the local language. Bhyrappa took it upon himself to have all my books translated into Kannada, ordered his associate Prof GL Shekhar and his publisher Sahitya Prakashana to do this on a mission mode and literally sat on their heads till this work got done. In a record of sorts, in just one year, 4 of my books thus got translated to Kannada---something I had struggled in vain for more than a decade. Additionally, just to launch the book, this old man at the age of 90 would drive down from Mysore where he lived, to come to launch my books in Bangalore, bless me and drive back the same day. How often do we see such selfless and generous gestures from a senior litterateur towards a much younger writer? That is what made Bhyrappa a class apart. It also makes his loss rankle the heart a lot more, as I have lost my guru in literature and a loving grandfather too. But his bold stances and his courage of conviction that allowed him to pay any price for speaking the truth, has been the beacon of my life too and my close association with him and learning from his experiences and struggles for standing for the truth, only made this resolve stronger.

Today, as we bid farewell to this titan of letters, I recall the Sanskrit verse “Yasya nāsti svayaṃ prajñā śāstram tasya karoti kim” “What can the scriptures do for one who has no intellect of his own?” Bhyrappa embodied that prajñā, the self-born intellect and integrity that no award can confer and no authority can diminish.

Dr SL Bhyrappa leaves behind a body of work that will continue to shape minds and stir souls long after our time. His novels will keep asking uncomfortable questions and offering luminous insights. His example will continue to inspire writers, historians, and thinkers to remain fearless in the pursuit of truth.

The flame he lit of an authentic, civilisationally rooted Indian literary consciousness will not be extinguished. It will burn brighter with every reader who turns the pages of Parva, with every seeker who grapples with Aavarana and sheds tears for the characters there, with every young writer who dares to write from a place of truth.

As we bow our heads in homage to this towering figure, we also raise our hearts in gratitude. For in S.L. Bhyrappa’s passing, we might have lost a writer, but we have gained a timeless voice that will echo through the corridors of Indian literature and civilisational memory forever.

(The writer, Dr Vikram Sampath is an author, historian and fellow of the Royal Historical Society. The views expressed are his own.)