<p>Short story writer, playwright, and lyricist Jayant Kaikini spent his childhood in the coastal Karnataka town of Gokarna. He studied in Kumta and Dharwad, and worked with two pharma giants in Mumbai before moving to Bengaluru via Hyderabad. Now settled in Bengaluru, he describes his eventful journey through literature and films.</p>.<p><strong>Tell us about your growing up years.</strong></p>.<p>I was born and grew up in Gokarna. My father Gourish Kaikini and mother Shanta Kaikini were high school teachers. My mother quit her job after I was born. Being a temple town and tourist centre, Gokarna was a liberal space that attracted people from Goa, Maharashtra and Kerala. I was fond of watching tourist buses and cars and people with new styles and fashions. Gokarna was full of fairs, festivals, laughing mirrors and tent cinemas and it attracted drama companies and circuses. And Yakshagana, the magical dance-drama, was a regular amateur thing all around the year. All these enriched our sensibilities and took us beyond formal school texts. Whenever a drama company camped, it would perform different plays and we would watch them all. The same artistes would act in all these plays. One actor who played the villain in yesterday’s play would be the hero today and a grandfather tomorrow. So I used to connect them all in my mind. The land where these troupes camped would be lush green paddy field in harvest seasons. So Gokarna naturally became the epicentre of all my explorations.</p>.<p><strong>How have your parents influenced you? </strong></p>.<p>My father Gourish Kaikini was a well-known writer and journalist. Those were the days when a majority of writers were teachers. He was a radical humanist who was open to anything that would help a human being expand his horizons. Science, poetry, music, cinema, socialism or Sanskrit scriptures, he was deeply into all of them. He wrote about Mozart, Edison, Darwin, Keats, Lincoln, Da Ra Bendre and Ezra Pound simultaneously. He used to write and direct plays for students and also penned lyrics and composed tunes. He had a unique sense of humour. He always called me ‘meen’ minded as I was fond of fish and though an atheist, he called himself ‘God’ fearing, as he was diabetic, and in Konkani, ‘god’ means jaggery. If my father was the ‘Man of the match’, my mother was ‘Man of the series’. My father was not at all worldly wise. My mother managed everything. We always had guests and friends from all walks of life who came to chat, seek his advice, or to ask him to write a preface for their books. My mother was an active gram panchayat member and singer of bhajans and light music. Both of them could play the harmonium. In fact, music had brought them together.</p>.<p><strong>Tell us about your life in Mumbai, where you spent 23 years.</strong></p>.<p>I moved to Mumbai for work, soon after my post-graduation in biochemistry from Dharwad. I worked with the pharma production units of Procter and Gamble and Hoechst till 1995. My life in Mumbai was deeply enriching and liberating. Only an outsider can have an unconditional and unbiased view about such a mega city. The theatre movement was vibrant. Stalwarts like Satyadev Dubey, Nana Patekar, Jenifer Kapoor were active. Badal Sarkar, Mohan Rakesh and Vijay Tendulkar’s plays made me thirsty and restless for more. New cinema was enigmatic. But I never had the urge to be a part of it in any way other than as a ‘rasika.’ I wrote poetry and short stories and was always in touch with Yashwant Chittal, Arvind Nadkarni and Vyasaraya Ballal – all senior Kannada writers settled in Mumbai. I published ten books when I was there. </p>.<p><strong>What made you move out? </strong></p>.<p>My factory closed down and I was freelancing as a copywriter for advertising agencies. That’s when ETV Hyderabad wanted to start a channel in Kannada. I was offered an opportunity to be on their programme committee. I was with them in Hyderabad for a year and a little more. I moved to Bengaluru in 2000. Moving to Bengaluru was an important step in my journey. The city helped me harness various skills which I had never thought about earlier. I edited a literary and art monthly magazine in a popular format, ‘Bhavana,’ for two years. It connected me to all writers and emerging new writers across the state. The magazine was short lived. Then ETV approached me to do a morning talk show called ‘Namaskara’. I did more than 200 interviews. What really humbled me was the journey of 30 episodes each on Kuvempu, Da Ra Bendre, Shivaram Karanth and Dr Rajkumar – the four icons who nurtured Kannada language and its sensibility. It was a non-academic human interest peek into their world. </p>.<p><strong>Big break in cinema…</strong></p>.<p>The first film that I wrote lyrics was for ‘Chigurida Kanasu’, based on a Shivaram Karanth novel. Dr Rajkumar’s brother Varadappaji wanted a writer familiar with coastal life and director T S Nagabharana roped me in. Before that, I had written the dialogues for ‘Dweepa’, ‘Poorvapara’ and ‘Ramya Chaitra Kaala’. In 2006, Yogaraj Bhat came to me for ‘Mungaaru Male’. I was impressed by his fondness for literature and his restlessness. There was instant bonding. I wrote ‘Anisutide…’ and the song became a phenomenal hit. It opened up another career for me when I was 50 and needed it the most. Out of sheer survival instinct, I accepted all the work that came my way. I feel that each one of us is capable of doing multiple things. If we think we can do only one thing, we undermine ourselves. The last 15 years as lyricist have resulted in about 350 songs with a variety of directors and music composers. And I have been writing short stories, poems and essays simultaneously.</p>.<p><strong>Tell us about your work republished in the US now. </strong></p>.<p>‘No Presents Please: Mumbai Stories’ is a collection of my Mumbai stories, translated into English by Tejaswini Niranjana, and published two years ago. It won the DSC Prize for ‘Best South Asian Literature’ a year ago. Interestingly, it was the only translated book in the contest, along with all original works. I was delighted because I perceive this as an honour for three things together — for Kannada, for the short story form, and for translation. The US edition was released last month and the UK edition will be released in September.</p>.<p><strong>Biochemist and writer</strong></p>.<p>Jayant completed his schooling from Bhadrakali High School in Gokarna and BSc from Baliga College in Kumta. He did his post-graduation in biochemistry from Karnataka University in Dharwad. He has published five books of poetry, seven short stories, four books of essays, three books of plays and one book of lyrics. He has also won the Karnataka State Sahitya Academy Book Award four times and is the first recipient of the Kusumagraj national award for literature from Nashik University. ‘No Presents Please: Mumbai Stories’, a collection of Jayant’s Mumbai stories, translated into English, and published two years ago won the DSC Prize for ‘Best South Asian Literature.’ He is married to Smita. The couple have two children–daughter Srajana and son Ritwik, both fond of literature, art, music and cinema.</p>
<p>Short story writer, playwright, and lyricist Jayant Kaikini spent his childhood in the coastal Karnataka town of Gokarna. He studied in Kumta and Dharwad, and worked with two pharma giants in Mumbai before moving to Bengaluru via Hyderabad. Now settled in Bengaluru, he describes his eventful journey through literature and films.</p>.<p><strong>Tell us about your growing up years.</strong></p>.<p>I was born and grew up in Gokarna. My father Gourish Kaikini and mother Shanta Kaikini were high school teachers. My mother quit her job after I was born. Being a temple town and tourist centre, Gokarna was a liberal space that attracted people from Goa, Maharashtra and Kerala. I was fond of watching tourist buses and cars and people with new styles and fashions. Gokarna was full of fairs, festivals, laughing mirrors and tent cinemas and it attracted drama companies and circuses. And Yakshagana, the magical dance-drama, was a regular amateur thing all around the year. All these enriched our sensibilities and took us beyond formal school texts. Whenever a drama company camped, it would perform different plays and we would watch them all. The same artistes would act in all these plays. One actor who played the villain in yesterday’s play would be the hero today and a grandfather tomorrow. So I used to connect them all in my mind. The land where these troupes camped would be lush green paddy field in harvest seasons. So Gokarna naturally became the epicentre of all my explorations.</p>.<p><strong>How have your parents influenced you? </strong></p>.<p>My father Gourish Kaikini was a well-known writer and journalist. Those were the days when a majority of writers were teachers. He was a radical humanist who was open to anything that would help a human being expand his horizons. Science, poetry, music, cinema, socialism or Sanskrit scriptures, he was deeply into all of them. He wrote about Mozart, Edison, Darwin, Keats, Lincoln, Da Ra Bendre and Ezra Pound simultaneously. He used to write and direct plays for students and also penned lyrics and composed tunes. He had a unique sense of humour. He always called me ‘meen’ minded as I was fond of fish and though an atheist, he called himself ‘God’ fearing, as he was diabetic, and in Konkani, ‘god’ means jaggery. If my father was the ‘Man of the match’, my mother was ‘Man of the series’. My father was not at all worldly wise. My mother managed everything. We always had guests and friends from all walks of life who came to chat, seek his advice, or to ask him to write a preface for their books. My mother was an active gram panchayat member and singer of bhajans and light music. Both of them could play the harmonium. In fact, music had brought them together.</p>.<p><strong>Tell us about your life in Mumbai, where you spent 23 years.</strong></p>.<p>I moved to Mumbai for work, soon after my post-graduation in biochemistry from Dharwad. I worked with the pharma production units of Procter and Gamble and Hoechst till 1995. My life in Mumbai was deeply enriching and liberating. Only an outsider can have an unconditional and unbiased view about such a mega city. The theatre movement was vibrant. Stalwarts like Satyadev Dubey, Nana Patekar, Jenifer Kapoor were active. Badal Sarkar, Mohan Rakesh and Vijay Tendulkar’s plays made me thirsty and restless for more. New cinema was enigmatic. But I never had the urge to be a part of it in any way other than as a ‘rasika.’ I wrote poetry and short stories and was always in touch with Yashwant Chittal, Arvind Nadkarni and Vyasaraya Ballal – all senior Kannada writers settled in Mumbai. I published ten books when I was there. </p>.<p><strong>What made you move out? </strong></p>.<p>My factory closed down and I was freelancing as a copywriter for advertising agencies. That’s when ETV Hyderabad wanted to start a channel in Kannada. I was offered an opportunity to be on their programme committee. I was with them in Hyderabad for a year and a little more. I moved to Bengaluru in 2000. Moving to Bengaluru was an important step in my journey. The city helped me harness various skills which I had never thought about earlier. I edited a literary and art monthly magazine in a popular format, ‘Bhavana,’ for two years. It connected me to all writers and emerging new writers across the state. The magazine was short lived. Then ETV approached me to do a morning talk show called ‘Namaskara’. I did more than 200 interviews. What really humbled me was the journey of 30 episodes each on Kuvempu, Da Ra Bendre, Shivaram Karanth and Dr Rajkumar – the four icons who nurtured Kannada language and its sensibility. It was a non-academic human interest peek into their world. </p>.<p><strong>Big break in cinema…</strong></p>.<p>The first film that I wrote lyrics was for ‘Chigurida Kanasu’, based on a Shivaram Karanth novel. Dr Rajkumar’s brother Varadappaji wanted a writer familiar with coastal life and director T S Nagabharana roped me in. Before that, I had written the dialogues for ‘Dweepa’, ‘Poorvapara’ and ‘Ramya Chaitra Kaala’. In 2006, Yogaraj Bhat came to me for ‘Mungaaru Male’. I was impressed by his fondness for literature and his restlessness. There was instant bonding. I wrote ‘Anisutide…’ and the song became a phenomenal hit. It opened up another career for me when I was 50 and needed it the most. Out of sheer survival instinct, I accepted all the work that came my way. I feel that each one of us is capable of doing multiple things. If we think we can do only one thing, we undermine ourselves. The last 15 years as lyricist have resulted in about 350 songs with a variety of directors and music composers. And I have been writing short stories, poems and essays simultaneously.</p>.<p><strong>Tell us about your work republished in the US now. </strong></p>.<p>‘No Presents Please: Mumbai Stories’ is a collection of my Mumbai stories, translated into English by Tejaswini Niranjana, and published two years ago. It won the DSC Prize for ‘Best South Asian Literature’ a year ago. Interestingly, it was the only translated book in the contest, along with all original works. I was delighted because I perceive this as an honour for three things together — for Kannada, for the short story form, and for translation. The US edition was released last month and the UK edition will be released in September.</p>.<p><strong>Biochemist and writer</strong></p>.<p>Jayant completed his schooling from Bhadrakali High School in Gokarna and BSc from Baliga College in Kumta. He did his post-graduation in biochemistry from Karnataka University in Dharwad. He has published five books of poetry, seven short stories, four books of essays, three books of plays and one book of lyrics. He has also won the Karnataka State Sahitya Academy Book Award four times and is the first recipient of the Kusumagraj national award for literature from Nashik University. ‘No Presents Please: Mumbai Stories’, a collection of Jayant’s Mumbai stories, translated into English, and published two years ago won the DSC Prize for ‘Best South Asian Literature.’ He is married to Smita. The couple have two children–daughter Srajana and son Ritwik, both fond of literature, art, music and cinema.</p>