Ask a random student of Sanskrit to recite a poem—chances are you will hear a verse from Bhartṛhari’s Nīti-śatakam. Go to an Acharya seeking wise counsel—chances are you will hear a verse from Bhartṛhari’s Vairāgya-śatakam. Suppose you are interested in love as it is depicted in Sanskrit literature and consult a book—chances are you will come across a verse from Bhartṛhari’s Śṛṅgāra-śatakam. Such is our poet’s popularity.
This group of literary and musical connoisseurs made it a routine to take turns and meet in one of the houses every day after work, once they freshened up. H Nagesh Rao was a tenant at Mirmira Rama Rao’s house on Arcot Srinivasacharya Road. I’ve been a part of this group meeting many times. Venkatakrishnappa would usually sing something. Someone else would chant a Śloka. Bindu Rao would recite the Bhārata. I still wasn’t acquainted with Bindu Rao back then.
In the corpus of Dr. S.L. Bhyrappa’s twenty-three novels, seven stand out as Himalayan peaks in the order of their publication: Vamsha Vruksha, Daatu, Parva, Sakshi, Tantu, Sartha and Mandra. Of these, two share a basic and apparent similarity in the sense that they are the fine artistic and literary specimens of Dr. Bhyrappa’s profound meditations over nearly half a lifetime. These are Sakshi (1986) and Mandra (2002).
The culture of Greater India has its roots in śruti, smṛti, itihāsa, and purāṇa. Śruti means ‘Vedas.’ The Upaniṣads, which form a part of the Vedas, are the basis of Vedānta and other darśanas. Smṛti refers to dharma-śāstras.
After Sir K Seshadri Iyer, Rayalu Arokiaswamy Thumboo Chetty of Tiruchirapalli (Trichinopoly) became the Diwan of Mysore. His tenure as Diwan was for a mere seven-month-period.
Rājadharmapravīṇa[1] T R A Thumboo Chetty was a Christian of the Roman Catholic denomination. He was a person well-known for his integrity and non-deceitful nature. I have heard many people praise his benevolence and upright character.
Yudhiṣṭhira made his way into the enemy ranks and walked straight to Bhīṣma. He bowed down to the grandsire, touched his feet, and said with great humility, “Grandfather, I am going to fight against you in this war; please give me permission. I seek your blessings.”
Does the ancient Hindu religion have the life-essence to survive, giving answers to the questions posed by the new world?
Does that hallowed and sacred culture have the spine and bones to stand upright, head held high, in the face of Western knowledge and astounding feats [of modern science]?
Does Veda-Vedānta possess that elevated spirit of inherent goodness to remain afloat in the torrent of scientific powers, striking with belligerence, wave upon wave?
One day, at about three in the afternoon, Bindu Rao visited my house. I asked him, “When did you arrive?”
He said, “I left Chitradurga this morning and came here at around eleven, freshened up and had lunch at my younger brother’s place, then I came to see you. I’m now ninety-two years old. I felt like sharing that with you!”
Me: “How did you come here? In a vehicle[1]?”
BR: (pointing towards his legs) “What’s the need for a vehicle when I have these?”