“I go for a short walk in the morning,” says the 101-year-old genial lexicographer, G. Venkatasubbiah, pointing to the park which is a few steps away from his home in Jayanagar. Walk followed by a chat with his friends where they discuss “all things under the sun”, breakfast at 9 a.m., lunch at 2.30 p.m., rest till 5 p.m. a snack in the evening, “I don’t eat dinner,” he explains his daily schedule. With a memory and lucidity of thought that is startling, GV as he is fondly called (he tells me that even his two year old great granddaughter calls him GV!), is the embodiment of a Kannada way of life. His life’s journey of a hundred years is also the journey of Kannada language for which he has dedicated most part of his life. The gentle and gracious GV’s mindscape is rich with images of the past – of places that sustained the quintessential Kannada consciousness and of people who epitomized the Kannada character.
A conversation with GV unwinds like the unhurried life of Mysore of the past – slow, measured and treasuring every moment of the past that he cherishes. Every now and then – as he talks of his parents and teachers, the generosity of the Maharajas, the honesty of the common man – his eyes well up, and he pauses over a small hiccup. Even in his muted tones, his passionate attachment to his past, his deep love for Kannada is hard to miss – this is besides his huge body of work.
Excerpts from an interview, which failed in achieving a climactic moment.
The Mysore that you grew up in mirrored the true blue Kannada consciousness. It had a deep engagement with all systems of knowledge, not for worldly gains but simply for the awe ofjnanaitself. Scholars, philosophers, science, arts, music, education – Mysore was remarkable. Can you recall that Mysore?
Mysore was a prominent city in the Mysore State. It was not densely populated; it was a city of palaces, of grandeur. However, this grandeur was not shallow, people were lovely too. It was a place that woke up slowly and came to life at its own pace. The city was sparkling clean. All the roads around the palace and some other important roads were washed everyday. I still remember…when people had to pass by they would lift up the pipes to make way and how fascinated we would be to see water fall from the pipe like an arch!
Music was such an integral part of our life in Mysore. If you went for a morning walk you would invariably hear music emanating from every house that you passed by – they would be practicing or teaching, or at least someone in the house would be humming. If you went up to Kukkarahalli lake you would meet so many people – teachers and students walking with each other, discussing and chatting. The Chamundi Hills was central to our lives. Many of us would walk up its foot, everyday. The St. Philomena’s church was so beautiful – the Mysore kings, in those days itself, had spent Rs. 40,000 on its repairs. The Devaraja Market was a visual treat – fruits, vegetables, and the fragrant Mysore jasmines… the aroma of the food at Indra Bhavan and Chandra Bhavan restaurants, ah! During Mirza Ismail’s period there used to be a vehicle called Shah Pasand , a sophisticated horse-drawn cart – watching it trot on Mysore’s roads was a feast.
The Mysore Maharaja’s college was such a fantastic building! The Maharajas would themselves handpick teachers for the educational institutions. Can you imagine that kind of commitment? We had the best of teachers. The Progress Book Stall and Krishna Book Stall used to stock good books. I have never seen another city like Mysore of those days. In fact, I don’t think there can be another like it…
That’s probably why Gandhiji said Mysore doesn’t need freedom, it is a Rama Rajya…
The heat of the freedom struggle didn’t even touch Mysore. Many great freedom fighters came to Mysore and addressed the people in the Maharaja’s college quadrangle. For instance, Sarojini Naidu, Humayun Kabir, Satyamurthy, V.S. Srinivasa Shastri and others. We used to have goose bumps listening to them.
Did you meet Gandhiji?
When Gandhiji came to Mysore I used to be in Madhugiri. But I had an opportunity seeing him from up-close. My friend Ranga Iyengar who was in Tumkur was going around with the Mahatma collecting the Harijan fund. He brought him to Madhugiri too. They had put him up in the Traveller’s Bungalow and they needed waiters at his door. Ranga Iyengar put me on that job and I stood at his door waiting to do things for him. In those days, they would garland Gandhiji with khaddar thread, and handing it over to me, he said, “go keep it there.”
I have seen with these very eyes how thousands had come in their bullock carts from all the neighbouring villages to listen to Gandhiji. They took the bowl around and people dropped whatever they had in their pockets for the Harijan fund. I have seen women at that gathering donating their ornaments without batting an eyelid… ( he cries )
I was too young and by virtue of living in Mysore I didn’t even have a grasp over the intensity of the freedom struggle in those days… but Gandhiji was a magical personality. His simplicity, the truth of his purpose had touched me very deeply…
The world outside your home was rich and intense. Your father was a lasting influence on you. Did he play a major role in shaping your love of Kannada?
My father was a fine Sanskrit scholar and worked for the palace. At home, my education happened both in Kannada and Sanskrit. Actually, I was always ahead of my class in Kannada. Whatever was being taught in class had already been taught to me at home. The only thing I learnt in Kannada class and that too during my college years was meemamse . My father had exposed me to Shabdamani Darpana , Jagannatha Vijaya and several other glorious texts.
Kuvempu was my teacher. He taught us Raghavanka’s Harischandra Kavya . That year, after our mid-term exams, he was distributing Kannada papers and my name just wouldn’t come. I was getting extremely nervous. He called me in the last and said, ‘You’ve secured the highest marks. You have done extremely well. How did you manage to write so many verses, did you copy?’ I told him, “I have not copied. If you want, just now, I will recite 15 more verses if you are willing to listen.” He was so happy. ‘If you can recite these verses from memory, it will make a great difference to your writing. Keep it up!’ he had said. At that moment, I decided that I would pursue my studies in Kannada.
Your mother…?
She couldn’t read much. With nine children what could she have possibly done? With a meagre salary and such a large family I don’t know how they managed to educate all of us. She was always saddled with so much work in the kitchen. Occasionally, she came to listen to a lecture.
(This is the first part of the interview)
