Temples, sculptors, scripts and scribes:
A Conversation with Prof Shadakshara Settar
Shivanand Kanavi
Prof S Settar at the National Institute of Advanced Studies (NIAS), Bengaluru
Prof. Shadakshara Settar (1935-2020) was Emeritus Professor at NIAS till his last days in 2020. Prof S. Settar published over 27 books on History, Archeology, Anthropology, Art History, Philosophy, Epigraphy and Ancient Kannada. Most of his works from 1970s to 2000 were in English. However towards the end of his long and illustrious career as a historian, researcher and teacher. Prof Settar wrote prolifically in Kannada with new insights into Indian Art History, sculpture, sculptors, the evolution of Kannada scripts, and scribes and Kannada epigraphs of the first millennium from 2002 to 2020.
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Some of his notable later works are:
“Kannada Inscriptions of the First Millennium CE: A Comprehensive Study of 2020 Kannada Inscriptions" (Set of 8 Volumes in Kannada), 2020;
Prakruta Jagadvalaya- Convergence of Kannada, Prakrit and Sanskrit Languages, 2018;
Halagannada Lipi, Lipikara, Lipi Vyavasaya (Ancient Kannada Script, Scribe and Cultivation of Letters) 2014 ; Somanathapura 2008, 2012;
Epigraphical Literature of the time of Chalukyas of Badami: Scribe Poet Aksarameru's Poetry Art and Paleography 740 AD, 2012;
Sangam Tamilagam mattu Kannada Nadu Nudi - Reflections on the early Dravidian Relations, 2007
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Educated in Mysuru, Dharwad and Cambridge he taught at various universities from 1960-96. He was the founder Director of the Indian Art History Institute, Dharwad from 1978-95; President of the Indian Council of Historical Research, New Delhi from 1996-99; Dr. S. Radhakrishnan Professor at the National Institute of Advanced Studies, Bengaluru from 2002-10; Emeritus Professor at NIAS from 2010-2020; Director of the Southern Branch of the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts from 2005 to 2013. He was honoured with many awards in history and literature. His two books “Pursuing Death” and “Welcoming Death” on the Jain tradition of ‘Sallekhana’ were cited in a famous case in the Supreme Court in 2015.
Shivanand Kanavi conversed with him in 2015 on the history of temple architecture, the artisans who built them and the development of scripts and scribes in the stone inscriptions of first the millennium in Karnataka. This conversation was published in Kannada earlier.
Below are excerpts from the conversation translated into English:
Shivanand Kanavi: My first question is related to your earlier work on the history and evolution of temple architecture. Now you have also written about artisans who were scribes, what about the sculptors who built our temples? Is there work done on them, their background, the tools and technology they used, and the texts and Shastras that guided them?
Prof. Shadakshara Settar: There is. Some of it is in my own writings. I have written about scribes only recently. I have written about ancient sculptors earlier. Perhaps there are only two people in our country who have worked on ancient sculptors: myself and S.C. Mishra. He has written about the sculptors of Madhya Pradesh. It seems I might be the only one in our country who has written extensively about ancient sculptors. I had a kind of obsession with it.
I felt that until now, we have written only about art, style, and Shilpashastra, leaving out the sculptors themselves. Even when I was the president of the Indian History Congress, my entire presidential address was about the sculptors of the early period.
Recently, a few people have become interested in sculptors.
Kanavi: What sources are there about sculptors?
Settar: They are not found anywhere else as much as they are in Karnataka. We can say this has been the case since the time of the Badami Chalukyas. It is mentioned in my recent book on Ancient Kannada as well. Not only have I studied the sculptors, but I have also first collected and studied their signatures. I estimate that no one else has done this.
In one book on the Hoysalas alone, there are three chapters on sculptors. Those articles shed light on what kinds of sculptors there were, how they lived, and how they worked. More than anything, the career paths they undertook. Where all did they travel to, how far they went, etc.
The title of my presidential address of the 64th Indian History Congress (2003) was also "The Footprints of the Artisans of India: Some reflections on early artisans of India". That address sheds light on the history of artisans from the time of Emperor Ashoka up to the Kushanas. It doesn't mention Karnataka much. But in all my writings on any style of sculpture, I have written about the sculptors.
Kanavi: Were there schools for sculpture back then?
Settar: We keep asking if there were guilds and schools for sculpture. One cannot say that concept existed. In a way, it was an art that was passed down hereditarily from father to son, and from him to his son. I feel they were not literate enough to study the original Vastu and Shilpa texts deeply. But the artisans probably used some manuals, even if not Shastra texts. They might have had skills, which a father might have passed on to his son as a legacy. One cannot say the skill was limited to just one family. It belonged to a community in society. Another point is that then, and even now, these kinds of arts, music, etc., are not learned by everyone from texts and books, but primarily through practice and dedication under the guidance of a guru or elders. There might be texts, but this is a knowledge system learned through direct practice.
Kanavi: Were there Shastras to guide the sculptors and architects ?
Settar: Yes, there were. When I was the chairman of the IGNCA (Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts), South, we conducted a workshop. Its main purpose was to take the Kashyapa Shilpa text, use the same kind of stone they used, bring in sculptors who knew that art traditionally, have them tell me the styles and designs they knew, and then have them carve sculptures using their tools, plumb lines, measurements, etc.
We organized three such workshops. We involved people who knew traditional sculpture. None of them were educated, but they were wonderful artists. At that time, we got 24 Shiva idols carved. They are still placed there in Bengaluru. You can observe the craftsmanship there, at the Kala Grama campus on Kengunte Road, Their work is far superior to the carving work of Chalukya or Hoysala period sculptors. A gallery has also been made there. Each sculpture is about three to five feet tall.
When these sculptors were directed to do this work, they would get up around five every day, follow their daily rituals, and then start sculpting. We collected all related pictures and videos. They are there. My intention was to show the possibility of recreating sculptural art.
They were highly skilled artisans from the core. They weren't very educated, so they lacked the technique to adapt traditional architectural texts to stone. And sometimes they would mix all the styles. In their view, it was good. But Chalukya period sculpture is different. The Chola style is different. They weren't aware of that. While working, they would combine Hoysala and Chola styles.
Now, looking at history, the Vijayanagara Empire’s rule began after the Hoysalas, and the South Indian style began. The Chola style sculptors, who worked on granite, created their own distinct style. Our early Chalukyas used only sandstone. They didn't use anything else. The Chalukyas and Hoysalas used only soft stone. After the Hoysalas, granite became the primary medium used.
Kanavi: There is the Brihadeeswara Temple in Thanjavur, isn't it made of granite?
Settar: All the sculptural work in Tamil Nadu is made from granite. It became somewhat universal during the Vijayanagara rule. That is, the sculptural families of South India completely followed their model. Before that, one could distinguish, saying this is Pandya, this is Chola. This applies to the techniques and tools they used. It can be said that most sculptors learned the art of sculpture based on a manual, under the direction and guidance of their father or the head of their community.
Kanavi: Were they literate ?
Settar: Some sculptors had enough literacy to write their own names; others didn't even have proper literacy to write their names correctly and would make mistakes. They weren’t literate enough use Shastra texts and then design a sculpture.
Kanavi: Then how did they visualize mythological scenes like Kiratarjuna?
Settar: Even if they couldn't read or write, one could say it was through stories they had heard. The element of narrative (Katha-samaya) is common across all ages. It's not that those sculptures emerged solely from texts. What we call 'stories in stone' are of two types. He (the sculptor) used narrative to express his skill. Sometimes a story is in a full panel. But sometimes it is contained within a single frame. For example, Ravana lifting Kailasa, Samudra Manthana, or Mahishasura Mardana, etc. Carving an entire mythological scene into a single stone is a challenge in itself. Hence, these could be monolithic carvings or could be narratives. All these provided them ample opportunity to express their skill. In the story of Bhima's victory, they show the celebration, the band players, the drummers, people coming singing and dancing. In a way, we can see how they filled empty space. That too showed their skill. Sometimes it was wonderfully artistic, sometimes ordinary.
Kanavi: Some texts are sectarian. But the sculptor might not be sectarian and follow all that. For him, Shiva or Vishnu might be the same. How was that?
Settar: Yes, when a sculptor is engrossed in his carving work, in situations where a priest, his superior, comes to guide him and says 'carve this naama here, do this, do that' – poor things, those sculptors might have done just that. They knew they had to listen to and obey the words of their patrons. But they did not completely surrender themselves to the patrons, did not show a sense of submission. In many places, they did what seemed right to them.
We can notice that after the Vijayanagara rule Shaiva-Vaishnava sectarianism increased. But the skill belonged solely to the sculptor.
Kanavi: So, the sculptors translated their imagination onto stone and did wonderful sculpting, right. But back then, did they have architects, master builders who gave them a form, a plan, or a complete design?
Settar: Yes, there were architects even then. Ordinary sculptors didn't have a full estimate of the project and what all they were going to carve. But if they were building a temple, they worked combining immense effort, design, form, and time. Brihadeeswara, Kailasa – these are all works done with great meticulousness. We can see unparalleled technical skill in the carvings of that time. They didn't use cement, etc. And often, they weren't carving into a single stone. Their method of joining two stones and building is very admirable. It can be called a unique, wonderful expertise. What we now call structural engineering, all that existed even then.
Kanavi: Regarding this, have any written documents been found about the equipment, tools, technology, etc., that they used?
Settar: We are currently collecting about present-day artisans. In the past, they might have used palm leaf manuscripts. One was found in Orissa. How beautifully they have collected the complex skills of building a temple on a single palm leaf. And they follow it meticulously too. But, we haven't found such things here in Karnataka. Our people did more carving work than writing.
Kanavi: There are supposed to be references to temples in Agama Shastra. But is it only about worship and rituals, or is there also mention of architecture and design?
Settar: They make more references to worship etc. But they also include how to choose a site, how a temple should be built. Then how to prepare plumb lines, the selection of stone – these are also very important. But I feel mostly all this came from their own experience, not from looking at texts, learning, and following.
In temple construction, there is scale, proportion. Sometimes this scale is even written and built into the temple itself; it's called Devakola, Devakolu. Sometimes they would prepare the scale based on the height of a patron, a yajamana (benefactor), on the size of his limbs. We have many such references.
Kanavi: Was all this knowledge mostly oral?
Settar: No, knowledge came mostly from practice, from doing it themselves. Then they transmitted it orally to others. Disciples learned from gurus.
Another point to note is that many sculptures are not attributed to any specific sculptor's name. Because it was a collaborative, joint effort, not done on a single stone. But they had a leader, a master. If you look at Karnataka's art history now, Mallitamma is identified as one such master.
I have charted his movement from Harihar to Somanathpura. It is noted that he would leave his place every four years and go to another region. This helped me estimate how long it might have taken to build a temple on the average.
Some say it must have taken a hundred years to build this or that temple etc. That is not true. It never took more than four or five years. If for some reason they couldn't finish it within that period, it was abandoned and it was never finished. The process of sculptors migrating helped understand how long a construction project took. Whether they were sectarian or not, whether they built only Vaishnava shrines or also Shaiva shrines – all these aspects become clear.
Some sculptors worked only for a specific community based on their skill. After the Sri Vaishnava community emerged, a new style, design, text, movement, novelty came to Vaishnava sculptures. An artist skilled in only one style would sculpt with more skill than an ordinary sculptor.
There were Shaivas among them too. But overall, these sculptors were like drivers of a model of car. Those who learned to drive a car can drive any car. They were versatile.
Kanavi: So, would you say they were secular or professional sculptors?
Settar: There were two opinions on that. There wasn't any one single opinion. One cannot say they were sectarian, nor can one say they weren't. If you ask if they were devotees of Shiva or Vishnu, you won't get a proper answer. Ananda Coomaraswamy and before him E.B. Havell said that the artist-sculptors preferred to remain anonymous. According to them, expressing their artistry, recreating God's idols, brought them a kind of worshipful feeling.
But I have written contrary to that. Because such a situation, such a feeling, did not exist there at all. They got remuneration for the work done; after it was finished, they would leave. We don't see them staying where there was no reward. That's why we even today see many temple constructions stopped halfway.
Devotion etc – we are just guessing and saying. They did all this for their livelihood. Whenever wages weren't available in one place, they would change their site of work. Some would say, 'I will work only for the shrine being built in our village, I won't go to another village.' Hence, their names are seen by us only locally.
All the sculptors who built our Belur temple were from Lakshmeshwara, Gadag. In their work, they have mentioned the names of those very towns. Because there were no sculptors in Belur at that time. The entire Belur temple was built by sculptors from North Karnataka.
They have even written their names: Talagunda, Gadag, Lakshmeshwara. Even today, they are centers of sculpture. Among them, Gadag was a very famous center. When Hoysala Vishnuvardhana wanted to build a temple, the models were the Chalukya temples themselves. In his view too, the sculptors were Chalukya sculptors. There were no sculptors in Belur at that time.
Kanavi: How far back does this tradition of shrine construction go?
Settar: Look, there is a difference between a 'Gudi' (small shrine) and a 'Degula' (temple). A 'Gudi' has a different building pattern. It doesn't require any special architectural design. Here, devotees didn't need an intermediary either. Throughout human history, we can observe the existence and tradition of 'Gudis'. Even today, we see people making a small shrine under a tree and worshipping. A 'Degula', a 'Mandira' (temple) is different from this.
Buddhist temples are different, monastic creations. It can be said that Hindu temples were influenced by the construction of Buddhist shrines. Roughly speaking, we don't find Hindu temples before the 3rd century CE.
There were 'Gudis'. Small mud temples, worshipping by placing a small stone – even today, we can see worship of Maremma, and other such deities. A 'Degula' had its own very important design, plan. Inside it, priests, devotees, artists could all be together.
They started dividing into parts. For example, those in 'Angabhoga' limited themselves to the worship-related duties of the temple, i.e., priesthood. Those in 'Rangabhoga', those in the 'Navaranga', those who sweep, those who do cleaning work, instrumentalists, band players, those who dance, etc. They did not have access to the 'Angabhoga'. All this differences came through the Agamas.
And another thing is that 'Gudis' did not have property. Later, temples had land grants, etc. to manage them. Priests were paid a salary. Even in 'Gudis', that system has started recently based on their income. We don't see it before the 3rd century CE.
Kanavi: So, did these priests belong to a specific community or work like employees of a patron or the King?
Settar: Patrons would appoint priests of their choice. This was generally the case when establishing a temple. But there is some difference between temples located in an 'Agrahara' (Brahmin settlement) and non-Agrahara temples. Families in the Agrahara had land grants. The priesthood was a profession. Even among them, there were hierarchies. If you look at my work on Somnathapura, all these details will be found.
Who were in the 'Rangabhoga', who were in the 'Angabhoga', who brought wood for homa-havana, who brought rice, oil what were their salaries – I have mentioned all that in it. The Somanathapura temple is very unique. I have given a lot of information about it. Such information is not available for all temples. The chief priests' salaries and lifestyles were different. The assistant priests' salaries and lifestyles were different.
When their salaries were fixed, you would know. What comforts and privileges they enjoyed in society. The chief priest's salary was this much. For 'Mani' (a functionary) it was this much, for those who bring water this much, for those who bring oil this much, for those who bring flowers and fruits this much, for those who make 'Naivedya' (food offering) this much. I have given all these details in it.
As for 'Gudis', they are natural and rural. According to whatever devotion or belief existed in the area. They don't all have iconographic rules (Murti lakshana). Usually, they place a stone and call it Durgamma. Those nearby call it Maremma. Or some other name. They put some oil. These are one type.
Temples are a somewhat expensive affair. Temples need patrons, donors. All these expenses had to be borne by these donors.
Kanavi: If you go to any village, there is a Hanuman temple, in many places a Shivalinga temple and also a Devi temple. Why have these become so universal? Are they some ancient cults or worships? Why are there more Hanuman temples than Rama temples? Isn't this prominent in both North and South India?
Settar: It's not as prevalent in the North as it is in South India. In the South it wasn't there from the beginning. It started emerging from the Vijayanagara period. The concept that every village must have a Hanuman temple came from the Vijayanagara period. It didn't exist before that. It is a concept that came from the Madhvas. Now, among these Madhvas, everyone worships the Panchamukhi Anjaneya (five-faced Hanuman). This is not from the Puranas. Then, the idea was to build a Hanuman temple outside the village. There is also a legend that a Madhva guru wanted the King to build 1001 temples. Whether it's a fact or imagination, it appeared during that time. All temples were usually outside the boundary. Outside the village.
The second thing is, in the traditional background, there was also 'Kshetrapaala'. That Kshetrapaala was considered an important power, protecting the fields. It was his duty to protect village fields as well. These Kshetrapaalas were generally Yakshas, which has existed since ancient times. After the 14th century, Hanuman took over this role. He also fulfills the expectations of protection. Thus, Hanuman became popular.
Kanavi: Then, this non-anthropomorphic (not a humanised idol) Shivalinga. Could it be even older?
Settar: Yes.
Kanavi: Many Westerners have said the Linga, or the Linga in the Yonipitha, is a symbol of the act of creation. What do you say?
Settar: It could be, there's nothing wrong with that. We see fertility cults all over the world. Not only that, we have an idol called Lajja Gauri, you must have seen it. It is found in many places in our Karnataka. We can see that it has been there since the Kushana period.
Shivanand Kanavi: Now let's come to your recent book on Ancient Kannada script, scribes, and the practice of writing.
While discussing the development of script, you have looked at sources like stone inscriptions (Shilashasana). But writing encompasses far more than that, doesn't it? It could be on palm leaves (Tadpatri or Tadole) or papyrus. What is the oldest manuscript we have?
Prof. S. Settar: It's hard to say definitively for India. Even with a strong oral culture, as you said, people likely wrote on ephemeral materials like clay or sand. But those records haven't survived. We simply don't have them.
If you look globally, the Egyptians used papyrus over 3000 years ago. We don't have early examples like that here.
The idea of inscribing on stone likely came from Persian examples. We never had a strong tradition of it initially. The reason was that knowledge, particularly Vedic knowledge, was intensely protected by Brahmins; it was meant to be exclusive and oral. The revolution in writing came with the Buddhists and Jains. They started writing things down.
That's why the early scripts like Kharoshti are found in places like Afghanistan. Aramaic is even older. When Emperor Ashoka wanted his edicts inscribed, he had to go to the Gandhara region, study those scripts, and bring back scribes because they were the ones skilled in the art of writing. Only they knew how.
Early Brahmi inscriptions remained undeciphered by us until the 19th century. We had forgotten the script entirely. It was thanks to a Western scholar, James Prinsep, who took a bilingual inscription (Greek and Brahmi) and deciphered it letter by letter. Before that, even during Aurangzeb's time, nobody in India could read Ashoka's pillars. We had lost that knowledge.
Kanavi: What script were used for Pali and Prakrit ? Since Nagari and other Sanskrit scripts came later?
Settar: Pali and Prakrit are languages, not scripts. Brahmi is the script. So, the languages Pali and Prakrit were written using the Brahmi script. From the 3rd century BCE to the 3rd century CE, there was no script other than Brahmi and its regional variations for these languages. After the 3rd century CE, Brahmi gradually evolved into various regional scripts. Nagari emerged around the 6th or 7th century CE. Brahmi is the root of all Indian scripts. It is crucial to remember that Brahmi is a script, not a language itself.
The case of Kharoshti, borrowed from the Afghanistan region, is different. It is both a script and had linguistic elements. But Ashoka essentially adopted and promoted Brahmi across his empire for his edicts, leveraging the existing scribal talent in the region influenced by Persian traditions.
So, the romanticized stories about Ashoka are less important than his lasting contribution: the cultivation and spread of writing throughout India.
Though Brahmins were smaller in number, their ideological framework was imposed on the rest of society through texts, and for a long time, it went unquestioned. This connects to a larger point about "Yajamana Sanskruti" (hegemonic culture). That questioning came much later.
Kanavi: But if we call it an elite culture, the elite should be immersed in it. For example, French was used in the Russian Tsarist court, Persian in the Mughal court. I wonder, did our ancient kings truly know Sanskrit?
Settar: No, most did not. The rich and powerful patronized it. Intellectually, Sanskrit established itself as the dominant language of philosophy and high culture, but the kings themselves were often not scholars. The term "Yajamana Sanskruti" reflects that it was a culture propagated by and for the patrons (Yajamana) from various backgrounds, not necessarily created by them.
Literacy was not the monopoly of any single group. In my research, I've found very skilled record writers who belonged to a professional class. Vedic Pandits were performers of rituals and chanters of mantras; the art of professional writing was a different skill, often done by artisans who engraved copper plates. Initially, the composer and the engraver might have been the same educated person, but later they became distinct professions, like calligraphers.
Kanavi: You mentioned that from the 3rd century BCE to the 3rd century CE, Sanskrit did not have dominance, even though this was the time of great Sanskrit texts like the Upanishads?
Settar: I said it did not have dominance in the epigraphical record, in the realm of public, written inscriptions. Its intellectual dominance in philosophical thought is a different matter. The core philosophy of ancient Vedic education was to possess and protect knowledge, not to disseminate it widely. The belief was that knowledge was sacred and should be exclusive. The concept of universal distribution of knowledge never took root in that tradition; it was the Buddhists and Jains who championed that.
Furthermore, many great creative writers later in Sanskrit, like Kalidasa, were perhaps not Brahmins. Sanskrit was a professional skill, like carpentry. A Vaidika (ritualist) had a specific skill taught hereditarily, not necessarily a broad, knowledge-based education.
Kanavi: This leads to a very interesting point about the Varna system. You seem to suggest its practical application was fluid.
Settar: The theoretical system was rigid, but empirical reality was different. Except for the Brahmin as a clearly defined entity, the other Varnas are much harder to identify clearly. The ladder was fluid; a Vaishya could become a Shudra and vice versa based on profession. "Kshatriya" was often a title adopted by ruling tribes who gained political power.
Ultimately, society remunerated people based on their productive participation. In my estimate, after the army, the most essential community for any civilization was the artisans. You can have a kingdom without Brahmins, but you cannot have one without craftsmen. Their skill was paramount.
The Brahmin was always a theoretical entity, but in practice, there was constant compromise. This is how mixed clans like Brahma-Kshatriyas emerged. The idea of purity of blood is largely an afterthought; migration and intermingling were common. Even the Purusha Sukta seems more like a theoretical model or wishful thinking rather than a description of an empirical social reality. Texts that need constant reiteration of hierarchy often expose a weakness, not a strength.
Shivanand Kanavi: This is a fascinating perspective, Professor. It challenges the very rigid, textual understanding of our social history with a more fluid, empirical one. If the artisan was so central, and their skill was so valued, how did the theoretical hierarchy of the Varna system maintain its power for so long?
Prof. S. Settar: That is the key question. The power of the idea, the textual model, was immense. It was perpetuated by the very group that stood at its apex—the Brahmins—who were the literati, the record-keepers, and the ideologues. They controlled the discourse. The king, even if he was from a tribal background, would often seek legitimacy by adopting the rituals and language of this Brahmanical system. He would get a genealogy crafted, linking him to a mythical Suryavansha or Chandravansha (Solar or Lunar dynasty). The system was co-optive.
The artisan, though essential, was often anonymous. Their genius was channeled into creating glory for the patron—the king or the temple—not for themselves. Their names are rarely recorded with the same emphasis as the donor's or the priest's. The theoretical system was a powerful tool for social organization and granting legitimacy, even if it didn't always match the messy, practical reality on the ground.
Kanavi: So, the textual reality and the lived reality existed in parallel, with the former often masking the latter.
Settar: Precisely. The Dharmashastras prescribe a perfect, ordered world. The inscriptions and archaeological findings show us a far more complex and pragmatic world.
For example, inscriptions mention guilds of weavers, potters, and oilers who were powerful, wealthy, and made significant donations to temples. Their economic power did not always translate into the social status prescribed by the texts. This dissonance is where real history lies.
Kanavi: Bringing this back to language and script, would you say that the choice of Sanskrit in inscriptions was part of this search for legitimacy by the ruling elite, whoever they were?
Settar: Without a doubt. For public, royal proclamations—especially those recording grants of land or victories—Sanskrit was the preferred language for centuries. It was the language of authority, of the digvijaya (conquest). It sent a message of power, sophistication, and connection to a pan-Indian elite culture. The local language, whether Kannada, Tamil, or Telugu, was often used for more specific, local records or for the personal signatures of the sculptors and engravers themselves. You see a bilingual reality: the public face of power in Sanskrit, and the private, practical handiwork in the local language.
Kanavi: And this is why the work of people like you, who study these signatures and the local contexts, is so important. It helps us hear the voices behind the grand narrative.
Prof S Settar: That is the endeavor. History is not just the story of kings and battles. It is the story of the anonymous sculptor who carved a perfect salabhanjika, the scribe who carefully formed each letter on copper plates, the farmer whose taxes funded the temple, and the merchant who sponsored a water tank. My work tries to find footprints of these artisans, these common people who truly built our civilization. The texts often ignore them, but the stones, if you know how to look, still whisper their stories.
Shivanand Kanavi: Professor Settar, thank you for these profound insights and for dedicating your life to listening to those whispers. It has been a privilege. Namaskara.
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Shivanand Kanavi :Frequent contributor to Rediff.com is a theoretical physicist, business journalist and former VP at TCS. He has authored award winning book: “Sand to Silicon: The amazing story of digital technology” (2004) and edited “Research by Design: Innovation and TCS” (2007). He blogs at: www.reflections-shivanand.blogspot.in/ and Tweets at @shivanandkanavi and can be reached at skanavi@gmail.com
