What if those who came to assassinate MM Kalburgi or Gauri Lankesh had lived in the homes of these intellectuals for a week? What if they had spent even a couple of hours in conversation with them? Would they still have carried out the killing? What conversations would have unfolded between them? These imaginary scenarios come to a dramatic realisation in the play Bhagavantana Marana.
Based on a story by Malayalam writer KR Meera, the play was earlier adapted into Malayalam and successfully staged by Dr Sam Kutty Pattamkary. It has now been directed in Kannada for Samudaya Bengaluru. The Malayalam story was translated into Kannada by K Prabhakaran, with theatre artist Padma Shivamogga serving as co-director.
Though the title Bhagavantana Marana (The Death of God) may suggest a rejection of divinity, the play in reality exposes the politics of communal hatred carried out in the name of god.
In the play, a professor branded as “anti-Hindu” by communal forces is marked for assassination by a Hindutva organisation, which sends a foot soldier armed with a revolver. As the young assassin engages in dialogue with the professor and his students, he begins to rediscover his humanity.
The professor, facing a gun, responds not with bullets but with questions. The anticipated murder transforms into a dialogue — this is the uniqueness of the play. While in reality there may not be many examples of ideological foot soldiers transforming through conversation, there are examples where the law has facilitated such change.
On January 24, 2009, members of Sri Ram Sene attacked young men and women at Amnesia Pub in Mangaluru. At a subsequent press conference held by the organisation, I posed a few direct questions. As the conference concluded, one of the accused in the pub attack blocked my way and threatened, “If you are finished, Mangaluru will be set right.” I merely smiled and walked away. Later, the police themselves insisted that I file a complaint. An FIR was registered, and a charge sheet was submitted in court.
A few months later, the same accused approached our lawyer, Dinesh Hegde Ulepady, pleading for forgiveness and requesting that the case be withdrawn. When we inquired into his family’s condition, it brought tears to our eyes. A sick mother, unmarried sisters, a household struggling even for daily meals. It was clear that intoxication with religious fanaticism had driven him into such acts. His family had to pawn his mother’s mangalsutra just to attend court hearings.
After speaking directly with his mother, it was impossible not to reconsider. We withdrew the case after securing assurance from both him and his mother that he would never again participate in such attacks. While many accused in the 2009 pub attack were later seen in subsequent incidents like the homestay attack, the man we forgave has not been involved in any such violence since.
Leaders of such organisations often use the sons of the poor as instruments — sending them to kill or to jail. In the hundreds of communal riots and moral policing cases in Mangaluru, thousands of imprisoned activists have predominantly come from backward and economically marginalised communities.
Bhagavantana Marana is a powerful play that questions social distortions and provokes meaningful discussion. Its success lies in the questions it plants in the minds of its audience. It is a noteworthy theatrical experiment that encourages thought and dialogue.
The young man sent to kill a progressive, Basava-inspired professor represents the language of organised hatred, while the professor embodies Basava’s philosophy of love and humanism. As the play unfolds, the slogan of “protecting religion” gradually loses its meaning. The audience ceases to be mere spectators; they become witnesses to a clash of ideas — and at times, judges of conscience.
The strength of the play lies in the vachanas of Basavanna. His philosophy is not merely quoted but shapes the moral compass of the narrative. Communalism and Basava’s egalitarianism are placed face-to-face. The radical social vision of the vachanas deepens the internal conflict within the young assassin. This inner turmoil forms the true climax of the play.
In one real-life instance, an Additional Superintendent of Police questioning young men who had attacked couples in Mangaluru asked them, “Has no one ever loved you?” In the play, when the professor asks the would-be assassin, “Perhaps no one has ever shown you love enough to tell you this is wrong,” humanity itself seems to come alive on stage.
The assassin, who once shouted “All Hindus are one,” loses his beloved because of caste. The girl he intended to marry – being Dalit – is subjected to collective sexual violence. Through this, the play exposes the stark contradiction between the slogan of unity and the lived reality within Hindutva politics.
Some may feel the play leans toward didacticism. But Bhagavantana Marana does not preach — it questions. It presents the possibility of choosing dialogue over violence, introspection over blind obedience, and humanity over hatred. In this play, “god” does not die; what dies is communalism. What survives is the questioning mind.
The play will be staged on March 14 at Mangaluru, on March 15 at Udupi, and on March 28 at Bengaluru.
Naveen Soorinje is a Kannada journalist.
Views expressed are the author's own.