Pride in your heritage – A Bengaluru story

-- by R. Gopu, writergopu@yahoo.com

A lonely slab in a thick bush – ignored for nearly a hundred years, until Udayakumar came searching for it. The Kannada inscription on this slab had been recorded by B.L. Rice, a British archaeologist a century ago. The inscription stated that a king had gifted village as an agrahara (brahmadeya), during a solar eclipse, about six hundred years ago. B.L. Ricerecorded this inscription in Epigraphica Carnatica, Volume 9, in 1909, with the name of a farmer, and that this slab stood at the edge of his field. Farmer and field had vanished, replaced by small lanes, a few houses and a school.

Gongadipura slab among the bushes.

With only the name of the village, Gongadipura, Udayakumar drove to the village, on the outskirts of Bengaluru, hoping to spot the slab. A Bengaluru resident for several generations, an IIT Madras alumnus, who had worked for Tata and General Electric, Udayakumar was bitten by the history bug a few years ago. He found the slab with the inscription, unrecognized, abandoned, covered with weeds. He thought perhaps the school headmaster may know some people who could clear the shrubbery around the inscription. The headmaster merely observed that the village was a kugramam – a tiny village of no consequence or claim to fame.

“On the contrary, it has great claim to fame,” responded Udayakumar. “A school or college flourished here. Brahmins learnt the Vedas, Dharma Shastras, and probably sciences like astronomy, since the inscription mentions on this slab I am looking for mentions a solar eclipse.”

Perhaps the bemused expression of the headmaster unfamiliar with archaeology inspired him to try a different track. “What do you think of Bangalore University, very near your village?”

It was the correct prod. The headmaster beamed with pride, “What a big university sir! Such great scholars have studied there. The whole city is proud of it, naturally,” he retorted.

“Would you call Bengaluru with this university an insignificant village?” Udayakumar pursued.

The headmaster was shocked out of his senses. “Sir, what are you saying?”

“The government and great philanthropists must have endowed the university with large donations and grants, right? And they would have had a foundation slab with the names of the donors and the inaugaration date, don’t you think?”

“Of course, sir, naturally.”

“Well consider this. Five hundred years before Bengaluru University, an educational institution was founded here, on the orders of a king. And this slab I am looking for has the proof. It is evidence that people of learning lived in Bengaluru that long ago. Can you help me save this slab?”

The inspired headmaster made enquiries, mustered all help he could, and they found the slab forlorn among the bushes. A bulldozer was brought in to clear the bushes. The village became a hubbub of curiosity. The inscription was read again by experts. The villagers proudly realized their heritage as the location of very, very old school in the Bengaluru area. The streets were adorned with banners and bunting and bore a festive look. The slab was honoured with garlands. An eager mother brought her infant child and traced his fingers lovingly on the letters the slab; a Vijayadasami tradition called aksharaabhyasam, where a child’s finger is traced in rice to teach him or her the first letter of the alphabet. The proud headmaster takes a photo of this touching scene and sends it to Udayakumar.

On a recent visit to Bengaluru, I had half a day free and Udayakumar invited me to visit Mythic Society and his inscriptions lab. This is where he narrated this story to me. The Mythic Society in Bengaluru was founded in 1904 by a Britisher, Daly, and some enthusiastic Indians, when Bengaluru was primarily a British cantonment. The founders wanted to write an Indian version of history and not have it written only by foreigners.

A few year ago, Udayakumar learnt about an inscription in a ninth century temple in Begur, a suburb on the far outskirts, which mentioned Bengaluru. Now this contradicted the popular fable, that Kempe Gowda a fifteenth century Kannadiga had founded the city. Suddenly Bengaluru went from being the Silicon Valley of India, with some fabled five hundred year history, into ancient history more than thousand years old. What other surprises awaited the heritage enthusiast with a curiosity for unearthing the truth?

Udayakumar (left), with replica of Begur inscription.

He went to work creating a map of all recorded inscriptions in Bangalore. About one thousand inscriptions are recorded, of which 175 are within the city wards, but they have been able to find only about 110 still intact. These are of varying eras, and chiefly in three different languages, Kannada, Telugu and Tamil. The diversity of Bengaluru didn’t begin with Independence or the British era, even that is a thousand years old, quips Udayakumar.

One such inscription is on a veeragallu, or hero stone. Such hero stones record the memory of some valorous hero who died fighting bandits or wild animals and protecting the village. People offer annual worship to such hero stones. One such hero stone, neglected in a ditch, covered with betel leaf stains, was rescued from being paved over. When dug up it revealed an inscription in the portion under the ground that mentional Perbolal – which means Big Town in Kannada. The script is of the eighth century and is the oldest inscription in Bengaluru. The name Perbolal has morphed over time to Hebbal, the current name of the place.

An awareness campaign, and printing several mementos for sale to heritage enthusiasts, led to some fund raising; the funds were used to build a mandapa in the traditional style and now house the Perbolal inscription.

Udayakumar has built a team, which has created software to scan and photograph all the available inscriptions, allow sophisticated 3D rendering, mark the locations on Google maps, create letter maps of the ancient letters and so on.

As a Madras resident, living in Puliyur, the ancient name of Kodambakkam, I could not resist admiration and a little jealousy at these efforts. Hopefully we can replicate it in Chennai also.

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