A tale goes that Sir M Visvesvaraya once sat amidst an eager crowd at the Rameshwara temple in Chamarajpet in Bengaluru. It was, perhaps, the mid-1920s. Venkanna Dasa, a hugely popular and respected Harikatha exponent of the time, was performing to much cheering.
Sir MV apparently approached Venkanna Dasa and asked him: “You have so many people keen to listen to you...why do you waste time narrating hoary tales? Why don’t you take the opportunity to educate them instead and make them better citizens?”
To this, Dasa is said to have replied, “For people to become better citizens, their personality must be moulded — didactic instruction won’t help. If knowledge has to seep in, it has to be through stories — stories matter. It is stories that empower us, shape our identities and build empathy.” Sir MV, it seems, then conceded: “You have a point, I admit!”
Narrating this anecdote, Suresh Moona, a well-known columnist who writes extensively on Bengaluru’s history, says it was these stories, which went beyond being mere ‘tales of god’, that made Harikatha so sought after in its glory days. But in the decades that followed, the art form became part of the city’s ignored history.
Of music, stories and wit
What was once a must-do began to be sniggered at as ‘religious mumbo-jumbo’, fit for oldies. Most of the artistes either gave up out of sheer penury and frustration or branched out into other creative fields. Their art — a singing-dancing-philosophising often irreligious witty extravaganza that effortlessly conjured up flashy kings, snorting demons and love-struck apsaras by the sheer power of narration — was fading fast.
“It is unfortunate that so many Harikatha exponents from Karnataka remain unsung. There was Venkanna Dasa — whose erudition was legendary — and his four sons, who took the art form to a grassroot level with their ability to infuse everyday humour into narration, making it more of a socio-political commentary. Then there was Bhadragiri Achutha Dasa and his brother Keshava Dasa who expanded its reach by visiting several countries and narrating in English. Not to forget the riveting Gururajulu Naidu and his daughters, who were among the most powerful women performers from Bengaluru,” Moona recalls.
Another reason for the art form not being able to sustain itself is its very nature and what it demands from its practitioners. A Harikatha artiste must not only be an arresting orator but must also be well-versed in music, dance, philosophy, mythology, and history, along with being able to grasp socio-political trends and have a sharp sense of humour!
Resurgence of interest
Curiously enough, after decades of languishing in the alleys of south Bengaluru, Harikatha seems to be going through a resurgence of sorts with new, young practitioners expanding its scope and reach. Much of the credit for this revival must go to YouTube, other social media platforms and online performance spaces, which have made life easy for artistes and have attracted viewers from all over the globe.
The fact that the National Education Policy has recommended Harikatha to be included in the curriculum has come as a big shot in the arm for the ancient art form. Bengaluru-based Harikatha performer Dushyanth Sridhar says this is a welcome move. “Unless we give our children credible entertainment alternatives rooted in our culture, how can we expect them to not be lured by violent video games and mindless cartoons?” he asks.
Dushyanth, who renders discourses in English and Tamil, has more than 116,000 subscribers on his YouTube channel. He was earlier working in the corporate sector and began delivering discourses as a hobby. There is a huge demand for Harikatha in English and the supply is low, he says.
Sharath R Prabhath, great-grandson of Venkanna Dasa, believes there certainly has been a spike in interest. The 33-year-old performs often, both online and in physical gatherings. “I obviously cannot narrate the way my forefathers did. I keep the essence of their Harikathas, but tweak them to suit current tastes. For instance, I cannot crack a joke about sandhyavandana like my grandfather used to do. I will instead employ a wisecrack about demonetisation!”
The young performer has experimented with Harikathas on ‘purely social’ topics such as the meaning of rituals in Hindu weddings, which he performed at a sangeet. For him, the only thing missing in online performances is the live energy. “There are more pros than cons — healthwise, performing online is a blessing. I can take breaks and give multiple takes. Moreover, viewers can revisit the video any number of times and read subtitles even if they do not understand the language.” He says he will soon start classes for youngsters, as he keeps getting multiple requests to do so.
For mind and soul
Such classes are already in full swing at the Vijayashree School of Harikatha established by Vishakha Hari, a household name in Harikatha circles today. Started in February 2020, the school is unique in that the classes have no age barrier, and students are grouped together ‘maturity-wise’. A 28-year-old could attend a beginner class, while a 10-year-old could attend senior-level classes if she has the aptitude.
“When we started online classes (during the pandemic), we got students as young as 7 and 8, from all over the world. Their grasping ability, sense of innovation and enthusiasm surprised us,” says Vishakha.
Vishakha believes art forms like Harikatha are akin to mental health counsellors in today’s stress-filled times. She says, “Our stories frame our thoughts; they stir our imagination and serve as our guides. When they are narrated with song, dance and humour, they become us.” Which is really what Venkanna Dasa told Sir MV all those years ago.