05/10/2026
Below is the review of our production - ENDARO MAHANUBHAVULU’ from Bombay Chanakya
With Anitha Guha's Bharathanjali
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𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐇Ā𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐇Ā𝐀𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐔…
𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐇𝐀𝐑-𝐊𝐔 𝐊𝐎𝐃𝐈 𝐊𝐎𝐃𝐈 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐔!
At the very outset, 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐫𝐢 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐡𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
Before I proceed further, let me make one thing very clear.
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞.
I possess little or no technical knowledge of dance. I may not be able to dissect a presentation in terms of the jathis, nattuvangam, mudras or the finer nuances of the various dance forms.
But I relish dance. I enjoy it.
And being a theatre person myself, there is one aspect I can certainly respond to — 𝐛𝐡ā𝐯𝐚.
Expression has always meant a great deal to me. When an artiste ceases to be visible as an artiste and only the character remains before you, I believe the purpose of the performance has been achieved.
And that happened to me repeatedly during the three hours of 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐡ā𝐧𝐮𝐛𝐡ā𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐮.
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝟒.𝟎𝟎 𝐏.𝐌. 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝟒.𝟎𝟎 𝐏.𝐌.!
One of the first things that impressed me had nothing to do with dance.
𝐏𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲!
We are all accustomed to programmes beginning a little later than the announced time — for a variety of perfectly understandable reasons. A programme announced for 6.45 p.m. beginning at 7.00 p.m. hardly surprises us anymore.
But here, when they said 4.00 p.m., 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝟒.𝟎𝟎 𝐩.𝐦.!
The proceedings commenced exactly on time. Following the opening formalities and the honouring of the dignitaries, the actual presentation began at around 4.30 p.m. and concluded at about 7.30 p.m.
Three hours.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬!
𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒
The entire 180 minutes was a feast for the eyes.
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐡ā𝐧𝐮𝐛𝐡ā𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐮 brought before us different Mahānubhāvas and episodes drawn from our spiritual and cultural heritage, traversing different regions, languages and traditions of India.
I also understand that the presentation incorporated different dance forms — Bharatanatyam, Kuchipudi, Mohiniyattam, Odissi and Ghoomar, among others.
It would be a futile exercise on my part to attempt to describe every piece individually. For one, I do not possess the technical competence to do so. More importantly, I do not want this account to turn into an essay — or worse, a short story!
So let me restrict myself to a few moments that remain particularly vivid in my mind.
𝐀 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲; 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞.
The presentation included 𝐀𝐝𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚, built around the immortal 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐝𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦.
From there unfolded a vast canvas of Bhakti, history, poetry, music and movement.
One delightful episode was that of 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐢 𝐀𝐳𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐥. The visualisation of the Lord actually rolling up His Adisesha bed and preparing to leave at the command of His devotee — and subsequently returning and spreading it out again — was as charming as it was imaginative.
The episode associated with 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐧 — involving a child stricken by snake venom and the power of the Nāgapāsa verses — was dramatically compelling. The anguish surrounding the apparently lifeless child and what followed made the sequence particularly gripping.
The 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐚–𝐊𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐧𝐚 episode struck an immediate chord.
The cup of poison is placed before Meera.
She knows what it contains.
And yet she drinks it.
Such is her absolute faith, surrender and love for Krishna that the poison is rendered powerless.
The episode was presented with an intensity that made Meera's devotion far more than something merely narrated to us — it became something we could feel.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐒!
The 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐚 segment was something else altogether.
The sheer physicality of the performers — the leaps, somersaults and acrobatic energy — was breathtaking.
It was meticulously planned and perfectly executed. In a sequence of that nature, even one mistimed movement or a single slip could have brought down the entire impact.
But nothing did.
𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭, 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬. 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬.
To me, as a theatre person, that is perhaps the ultimate compliment one can pay a performer — when the artiste disappears and only the character remains.
𝐆𝐀𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌
𝐆𝐚𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦 was yet another segment that gripped me completely — but for an entirely different reason.
There was no elephant to be seen.
There was no crocodile.
Nor did the LED screen resort to showing us literal images of either.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐭, 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.
What was not physically shown became vividly visible in the mind of the spectator.
The thunderous applause that followed said everything that needed to be said.
And I was very much a part of that applause!
𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐋'𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄
Yet another segment that stayed with me was 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, beautifully evoking the world of Vāraṇam Āyiram.
Here was something that essentially existed in the realm of imagination — a wedding visualised within Andal's mind.
To take something so intensely inward, translate it into movement, music and imagery, and make an entire audience enter that world with her could not have been easy.
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞.
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒!
One of the novelties of the presentation was the manner in which the individual segments were linked.
After each piece, Dushyanth Sridhar appeared on screen to introduce and explain what was to follow.
Simultaneously, fascinating 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐭 unfolded alongside him. We could actually watch the artist's fingers move over the sand, gradually bringing to life an image associated with the Mahānubhāva or episode that was about to follow.
It was wonderfully imaginative.
But it left me with one unavoidable problem!
Should I listen to Dushyanth Sridhar?
Or should I watch those fingers magically bringing an image to life?
𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬!
Much as I wanted to concentrate on what Dushyanth was saying, my attention inevitably wandered towards the image taking shape in sand.
Perhaps the visual was simply too compelling to ignore!
𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘
Yet another detail that caught my attention was the makeup.
Perhaps my eyes were fooling me, but I felt that some of the artistes had been made up in a manner that gave their faces an almost 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧-𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, quite distinct from some of the other characters.
Was that deliberate?
Was it perhaps intended to distinguish those characters visually from the others?
I really don't know.
But it certainly caught my eye.
𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐀! 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐀!
The concluding 𝐕𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚 segment was, to me, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧.
Vittala did not remain confined to the stage. The Nama Sankirtanam spilled over into the auditorium, with the performers moving amidst the audience chanting:
“𝐕𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚! 𝐕𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚!”
And very soon, the audience ceased to remain mere spectators.
Hands began to clap in rhythm.
Voices joined the chant.
“𝐕𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚! 𝐕𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚!”
For those moments, the dividing line between the stage and the auditorium seemed to disappear.
What a fitting finale!
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓
I can go on and on and on.
But this is a social-media post, not an essay — and certainly not a short story!
So let me restrict myself here.
At the end of the presentation, the entire team received a 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
And it wasn't one of those momentary gestures where people stand, applaud and immediately begin looking for the exit.
The applause continued.
And continued.
For quite a few minutes.
Eventually Dushyanth Sridhar came onto the stage and had to raise his hands, almost requesting the audience to pause for a moment so that he could introduce his artistes.
To me, that moment was perhaps the most eloquent verdict on 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐡ā𝐧𝐮𝐛𝐡ā𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐮.
Standing ovations of this kind do not happen every day.
And therefore, what I have written above is not merely my personal response.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂
A production of this magnitude is not created by what we see on stage alone.
The contribution of 𝐒𝐚𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦, who handled the sound design and musicscape, deserves special mention. So does the lighting design of 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐧𝐚𝐧, which complemented the changing moods and dimensions of the presentation.
And there is the music.
𝐃𝐫. 𝐑𝐚𝐣𝐤𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐁𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢, great-grandson of Mahakavi Subramania Bharati and a Sangeet Natak Akademi Awardee, had the formidable responsibility of providing the musical foundation for this enormous canvas.
Music of this nature cannot merely be composed and arranged.
It has to be invested with passion, dedication and — above everything else — 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
The music was 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐑. 𝐏. 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧, 𝐀𝐛𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐤 𝐑𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐦, 𝐇𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭, 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓
This account would remain incomplete if I did not make special mention of one of the chief architects of this magnificent edifice —
𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐃𝐫. 𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐆𝐮𝐡𝐚.
An architect visualises a structure, draws the plan and ensures that every element eventually falls into place.
In a production of this magnitude, an enormous part of that responsibility rests on the choreographer.
Dr. Anitha Guha needs no introduction. Her contribution to Bharatanatyam over the years speaks for itself.
But for 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐡ā𝐧𝐮𝐛𝐡ā𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐮, I feel she must have gone far beyond merely being its choreographer.
It must have been nothing short of a 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐲𝐚.
A production of this scale cannot emerge merely out of professional competence. It demands time, patience, passion and dedication.
Above all, it demands 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.
And certainly not to be forgotten is that extraordinary ensemble of performers — somewhere around sixty to seventy of them, by my rough count.
It would be impossible for me to call out each one by name, although they were introduced.
But perhaps the greatest compliment I can pay them collectively is this:
𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲.
Every one of them seemed to have surrendered himself or herself completely to the production.
They did not seem merely to be performing a production.
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢 (𝐘𝐚𝐣𝐧𝐚).
Each one making an offering of his or her own.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍
Beyond the extraordinary spectacle of music, dance and devotion, there was something else that came through unmistakably —
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐡𝐚𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝.
The proceedings began with 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦 — 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐲 — followed by 𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐢 𝐕𝐚𝐳𝐡𝐭𝐡𝐮.
The nation was celebrated; the State was not forgotten.
And before the main presentation commenced, we rose for the 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.
There was something deeply satisfying about that completeness.
𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫; 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐇𝐀𝐑?
I have often wondered.
He is a Pravachanakartha.
He travels across the world delivering discourses.
He writes.
He has authored a book on the Ramayana.
There are pravachanams, podcasts and interviews.
You see him participating in debates on national television.
He conducts heritage and spiritual tours, travelling to places of historical and religious significance.
And somewhere amidst all this, he conceives a production of this magnitude, brings together such an enormous team and finds the time and energy to see it through.
Looking at the range and quality of his contribution, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫.
Sometimes I seriously wonder whether Dushyanth Sridhar has been allotted the same twenty-four hours a day that the rest of us have!
And — believe it or not —
𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞!
So, is it any wonder that people admire him and look at him in awe?
Perhaps I can now return to where I began.
𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐇Ā𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐇Ā𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐔…
And to the man who conceived it —
𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐇𝐀𝐑-𝐊𝐔
𝐊𝐎𝐃𝐈 𝐊𝐎𝐃𝐈 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐔!
𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐘𝐀
5 October 2026
Sharing a few moments from “𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐇Ā𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐇Ā𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐔”…
