Introduction: More Than a Symbolic Gesture

In 2015, one of India’s most respected literary scholars, Professor Ganesh Devy, returned his Sahitya Akademi Award. He was not alone—dozens of writers, poets, and artists across India did the same in what came to be known as the “Award Wapsi” (return of awards) movement. But for Devy, this was not merely a symbolic act of protest. It was the beginning of a deeper, more personal journey—one that would redefine his life and work, and underscore what it truly means to defend intellectual freedom in times of intolerance.

This post explores Devy’s “Award Wapsi” not as an isolated event, but as a continuum of resistance—a protest that moved from returning an award to relocating his life in solidarity with the families of murdered thinkers. It is a story about the cost of silence, the courage of conscience, and the enduring spirit of those who refuse to let ideas die with their creators.

The Trigger: A Season of Silenced Voices

The backdrop to Devy’s decision was a chilling sequence of events in 2013–2015, now referred to as the “murder of rationalists.” Three prominent Indian thinkers—all engaged in advocating for social reform, scientific temper, and inclusive values—were assassinated:

1. Dr. Narendra Dabholkar (August 2013) – Anti-superstition activist.
2. Comrade Govind Pansare (February 2015) – Leftist thinker and author.
3. Dr. M. M. Kalburgi (August 2015) – Scholar of Kannada literature and outspoken critic of religious orthodoxy.

Each murder sent shockwaves through India’s intellectual community. But for Devy, Kalburgi’s killing struck particularly close. Kalburgi was not just a fellow scholar—he was a Sahitya Akademi Award winner, like Devy. Yet, after his murder, the Akademi—India’s premier literary institution—remained conspicuously silent. No official condemnation, no solidarity with the family, no statement defending the very values of free expression it was meant to uphold.

“When Dr. Kalburgi got killed… the academy had not expressed condolence the way it should for the killing of a writer who had received such an award.”

— Ganesh Devy

This institutional silence, Devy felt, was a betrayal of the social contract between the state and its intellectuals. The award was not just an honor—it was a recognition of one’s contribution to the nation’s cultural and intellectual life. If the institution could not stand by its awardees in their darkest hour, what was the award worth?

The Protest: From Returning Awards to “Dakshinayana”

Devy returned his award, but he didn’t stop there. He understood that symbolic protests could easily be ignored or politicized. True solidarity required presence, effort, and collective action.

He organized what he called “Dakshinayana”—a journey of writers from Gujarat to Karnataka, gathering voices along the way from Maharashtra, Goa, Andhra Pradesh, and Telangana. This was not a march or a rally, but a moving congregation of conscience—writers of different languages, regions, and ideologies speaking in one voice for tolerance, inclusion, and freedom of expression.

“It was not award wapsi… it was actually insisting on certain values—such as freedom of expression, tolerance, inclusive society.”

— Ganesh Devy

This journey was significant for two reasons:

1. It reclaimed the narrative from being merely about “returning awards” to being about affirming foundational democratic values.
2. It built a pan-Indian coalition of writers, demonstrating that the threat to free speech was not a regional or isolated issue, but a national concern.

The Pledge: Moving to Dharwad

But even this was not enough for Devy. He noticed a troubling disparity: while Dabholkar had his organization (the Anti-Superstition Committee) and Pansare had his political party to advocate for justice, Kalburgi’s family felt “left alone.” There was no institution, no movement, to ensure his case was pursued.

So Devy and his wife, Surekha, did something extraordinary: they left their home in Gujarat and moved to Dharwad, Kalburgi’s hometown. Their mission was simple yet profound: to help Kalburgi’s family and ensure the investigation into his murder did not fade away.

“We decided to move to Dharwad… help the family and manage this case till the point it reaches investigation and trial.”

— Ganesh Devy

This was protest translated into personal sacrifice and sustained solidarity. It was no longer about what Devy gave up (the award), but what he took on—a responsibility to a fallen colleague, a commitment to justice, and a stand against the climate of fear.

The Historical Parallel: Tagore and the Colonial Knighthood

When questioned about the parliamentary panel’s suggestion that awardees should give an undertaking not to return their awards, Devy invoked a powerful historical precedent: Rabindranath Tagore.

In 1919, after the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, Tagore renounced his British knighthood. The colonial government did not demand an undertaking beforehand—they understood, even in an oppressive regime, that an award was an honor, not a contract of silence.

“If the colonial government did not have such a regulation… it does not look very good for a democratic nation.”

— Ganesh Devy

By recalling Tagore, Devy accomplished two things:

1. He placed the “Award Wapsi” within a long tradition of intellectual dissent in India.
2. He shamed the contemporary democratic state for considering measures more authoritarian than those of a colonial power.

The Larger Message: What Is Intellectual Freedom?

Through his actions, Devy redefined intellectual freedom not merely as the right to speak, but as the responsibility to act in defense of others’ voices. His protest highlighted several key principles:

1. Institutional Accountability: Cultural institutions must defend their members, especially when they are under threat.
2. Solidarity Beyond Symbolism: Real solidarity means sharing the burden of risk and grief.
3. The Moral Authority of the Intellectual: Awards and honors come with moral obligations—to truth, justice, and the community of thinkers.
4. The Cost of Silence: When intellectuals are killed and institutions stay silent, democracy itself is wounded.

Conclusion: A Protest That Continues

Ganesh Devy’s “Award Wapsi” was never just about returning a medal. It was the starting point of a lifelong stance—one that continues in his work with endangered languages, tribal communities, and historical scholarship. His journey from award-returner to dweller-in-solidarity reminds us that intellectual freedom is not a passive privilege, but an active, often costly, commitment.

In an era where dissent is increasingly criminalized and voices are silenced through violence or intimidation, Devy’s example stands as a powerful testament to what it means to live one’s convictions. He didn’t just give back an award—he stepped forward into the gap left by a murdered colleague, and in doing so, he kept alive the very idea of a thinking, caring, courageous India.

“The test of time is a very fickle-minded personage… but history is the past as it was—and nobody can change what has already happened. But its representation can become a weapon if it decides to look at purities against impurities… That should not happen again.”

— Ganesh Devy

In the end, Devy’s protest is a call to all who value freedom: to not just mourn the fallen, but to walk with them—in memory, in action, and in relentless hope.

Further Reading / References:

1. Ganesh Devy’s interview with The Federal on moving to Dharwad.
2. His comments on Tagore and colonial awards.
3. His broader philosophy of resistance as seen in his Nehru Memorial Lecture (2025).
4. The People’s Linguistic Survey of India as an extension of his activist scholarship.