<p>In the early 1980s, a young Manjamma protested against the unequal wages paid to men and women at the farm where she worked. When the mason claimed that men were capable of harder labour, she demanded a contest. The challenge was a race in which participants had to run while carrying a sandbag. Manjamma won.</p><p>Whether she managed to succeed in securing equal wages is uncertain. But the resistance she embodied has endured.</p><p>Her grandson, Naveen Tejaswi (29), now a filmmaker, grew up immersed in this spirit. That legacy of resistance may have inspired him to establish a community centre for children in his village of Hosabale, near Sagara, in Shivamogga district, which he named Bheemashaale<strong> </strong>after Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar.</p><p>The village has about 300 houses, most of which belong to the Deevaru community, including Naveen’s family, a tribal community classified as an Other Backward Class (OBC). The other community is Adi Karnataka. </p><p>Surya Saathi, who led a theatre workshop at Bheemashaale, calls Naveen’s initiative as a key to dreaming and aspiring. Surya, who has known Naveen since his college days, recalls him saying, “Only if you have the opportunity to fly in a plane will you be able to imagine becoming a pilot when you grow up.” Accordingly, Surya says, "Only with access can you dream. I see Bheemashaale as that key for these children." </p>.<p>Through Bheemashaale, Naveen empowers rural children from marginalised communities, helping them learn new skills, explore opportunities and pursue their dreams. The village has a rich folk tradition, with performances and cultural expressions during festivals and fairs. Although there was an artistic environment, there were no formal institutional spaces for children to learn and develop their artistic skills. Through Bheemashaale, Naveen is working to fill that gap.</p><p>Yogeshwari, a seventh-grade student, recalls playing the role of a minister in a comedy play called <em>Kel Kelrappo</em> last summer. “I am now learning music and guitar. I want to learn<em> kolata (stick dance), tamate</em> (frame drum) and <em>dollu </em>(barrel drum) next,” she says.</p><p>Naveen runs workshops on various art and folk forms, believing that art is the highest form of resistance. "Art has helped me understand the world and gain perspective. Art is empowering. That is why I emphasise art at Bheemashaale,” he says. The centre invites artistes and performers from different places to organise workshops for children, focusing on raising awareness, expanding exposure, and exploring and strengthening artistic traditions.</p><p>Naren from Bengaluru’s Adavi Collective, who has been conducting <em>tamate</em> workshops at Bheemashaale for the past two years, says such platforms let children express themselves through art alongside education, thereby fostering change in the village. "In today’s political climate, it is important for children to learn to have a voice," he adds.</p><p>Naveen also teaches spoken English, conducts extracurricular activities, and screens classic films such as Majid Majidi’s <em>Children of Heaven</em> and Steven Spielberg’s <em>E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial</em>. Naveen also invites people from different professions to interact with the children so that they can imagine lives beyond what they see around them. </p><p>“Children are the future,” he believes. “The elders have built too many walls; only children can break them down and use the same bricks to build bridges.”</p><p>As a child, Naveen believed that becoming a government school teacher was the highest goal anyone in his village could aspire to. He was not focused on his studies — until a friend had to drop out in the sixth grade to work alongside his father to repay an inherited debt. Naveen’s family, too, had faced similar hardship. Naveen’s father had to work for 22 years without pay to help repay a Rs 300<strong> </strong>loan that his grandfather had taken.</p><p>“In 1972, a wildfire swept through our village and burned all the houses to the ground. My grandfather had to take a loan to rebuild our home, and my father had to work for years to pay it off. This has been going on for generations; marginalised communities have been trapped in endless debt,” he says.</p><p>"I did not want that life for myself," he says. As a first‑generation graduate, Naveen says he grew up without role models for higher learning. “We didn’t have any examples,” he says. “I don’t want the children in my village to grow up the same way.”</p><p>Naveen is deeply grateful for his experiences in government colleges. “Government colleges may not always have great facilities, and not all teachers teach well, but they offer a thriving atmosphere and are truly inclusive. That is the beauty of publicly owned institutions — there, we can ask for our rights,” he says.</p><p>He fondly recalls his Kannada teacher at the Soraba Government Junior College: “They were socially aware and had a deep knowledge of Kannada literature. Sometimes I wonder — what if they had not taught us Kuvempu and Poornachandra Tejaswi? What would have happened to us? I am grateful to them. They provoked us to think and helped us understand our social realities.”</p>.<p><strong>Filmmaking as priority</strong></p><p>Naveen’s work in community empowerment has fuelled his filmmaking. He involves his entire village in his films — from his <em>ajji</em> to shopkeepers, passersby, children and neighbours. “They say it takes a village to raise a child. It took a village to make a film, in my case,” he laughs.</p>.<p>He has made three short films so far —<em> Bidugade, Habba Haridina Suggi Shivaratri </em>and <em>Imana</em>.<em> </em>All three are set in his village and narrate personal stories. Through a poignant narrative, <em>Bidugade</em> explores the innocence of children trapped in caste and social hierarchies. <em>Habba Haridina Suggi Shivaratri </em>tells a heart-wrenching story about the fate of two boys caught in a hoax that spreads across the Western Ghats during the Covid-19 pandemic. With <em>Imana,</em> Naveen brings the story of his maiden flight on an aeroplane to celluloid.</p><p>"I want to prioritise filmmaking, but it is very difficult,” says Naveen. He has completed the script for a feature film. He is also writing a book, an anthology of 10 interconnected stories set in his village. Titled <em>Flower Anthology</em>, each story is named after a flower. He is also interested in making music. His first single, titled <em>Preethiya Gaali, </em>was released last February.</p><p>Naveen works at a media agency, which works exclusively with not-for-profit organisations, specifically on climate change. </p>.<p><strong>Interlinked growth</strong></p><p>Naveen emphasises the importance of telling stories from within a community. "For me, personal and community growth are interlinked. Efforts for my family show immediate results, but community work takes longer to bear fruit, and its impact lasts much longer."</p><p>Most people in his village work in blue-collar jobs. “There is discrimination from a class perspective, too. I was able to break free from multiple forms of discrimination to get here, which gives me more responsibility. Many people leave for the city and distance themselves from their village and community. I think this is what Ambedkar meant when he said, ‘My own people failed me.’”</p>.<p><strong>'Our stories could be films too'</strong></p><p>Naveen describes St Joseph’s College, Bengaluru, where he pursued his degree, as one of his biggest influences. “In English classes, they would show us all kinds of movies. Until then, cinema meant Kannada films to me,” he says. He began writing in college, and his compelling stories reflecting village life won the Toto Award for Creative Writing in Kannada in 2024. The Rs 50,000 prize money became the seed funding for Bheemashaale.</p><p>Watching films at the Bengaluru International Film Festival was transformative for Naveen. "It made me realise that all kinds of lives could make it to the cinema. Mass entertainers made it seem like our stories could never become movies, but international films featured people who looked like me, my family and my village. That is when I realised our stories could be films too," he says.</p>
<p>In the early 1980s, a young Manjamma protested against the unequal wages paid to men and women at the farm where she worked. When the mason claimed that men were capable of harder labour, she demanded a contest. The challenge was a race in which participants had to run while carrying a sandbag. Manjamma won.</p><p>Whether she managed to succeed in securing equal wages is uncertain. But the resistance she embodied has endured.</p><p>Her grandson, Naveen Tejaswi (29), now a filmmaker, grew up immersed in this spirit. That legacy of resistance may have inspired him to establish a community centre for children in his village of Hosabale, near Sagara, in Shivamogga district, which he named Bheemashaale<strong> </strong>after Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar.</p><p>The village has about 300 houses, most of which belong to the Deevaru community, including Naveen’s family, a tribal community classified as an Other Backward Class (OBC). The other community is Adi Karnataka. </p><p>Surya Saathi, who led a theatre workshop at Bheemashaale, calls Naveen’s initiative as a key to dreaming and aspiring. Surya, who has known Naveen since his college days, recalls him saying, “Only if you have the opportunity to fly in a plane will you be able to imagine becoming a pilot when you grow up.” Accordingly, Surya says, "Only with access can you dream. I see Bheemashaale as that key for these children." </p>.<p>Through Bheemashaale, Naveen empowers rural children from marginalised communities, helping them learn new skills, explore opportunities and pursue their dreams. The village has a rich folk tradition, with performances and cultural expressions during festivals and fairs. Although there was an artistic environment, there were no formal institutional spaces for children to learn and develop their artistic skills. Through Bheemashaale, Naveen is working to fill that gap.</p><p>Yogeshwari, a seventh-grade student, recalls playing the role of a minister in a comedy play called <em>Kel Kelrappo</em> last summer. “I am now learning music and guitar. I want to learn<em> kolata (stick dance), tamate</em> (frame drum) and <em>dollu </em>(barrel drum) next,” she says.</p><p>Naveen runs workshops on various art and folk forms, believing that art is the highest form of resistance. "Art has helped me understand the world and gain perspective. Art is empowering. That is why I emphasise art at Bheemashaale,” he says. The centre invites artistes and performers from different places to organise workshops for children, focusing on raising awareness, expanding exposure, and exploring and strengthening artistic traditions.</p><p>Naren from Bengaluru’s Adavi Collective, who has been conducting <em>tamate</em> workshops at Bheemashaale for the past two years, says such platforms let children express themselves through art alongside education, thereby fostering change in the village. "In today’s political climate, it is important for children to learn to have a voice," he adds.</p><p>Naveen also teaches spoken English, conducts extracurricular activities, and screens classic films such as Majid Majidi’s <em>Children of Heaven</em> and Steven Spielberg’s <em>E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial</em>. Naveen also invites people from different professions to interact with the children so that they can imagine lives beyond what they see around them. </p><p>“Children are the future,” he believes. “The elders have built too many walls; only children can break them down and use the same bricks to build bridges.”</p><p>As a child, Naveen believed that becoming a government school teacher was the highest goal anyone in his village could aspire to. He was not focused on his studies — until a friend had to drop out in the sixth grade to work alongside his father to repay an inherited debt. Naveen’s family, too, had faced similar hardship. Naveen’s father had to work for 22 years without pay to help repay a Rs 300<strong> </strong>loan that his grandfather had taken.</p><p>“In 1972, a wildfire swept through our village and burned all the houses to the ground. My grandfather had to take a loan to rebuild our home, and my father had to work for years to pay it off. This has been going on for generations; marginalised communities have been trapped in endless debt,” he says.</p><p>"I did not want that life for myself," he says. As a first‑generation graduate, Naveen says he grew up without role models for higher learning. “We didn’t have any examples,” he says. “I don’t want the children in my village to grow up the same way.”</p><p>Naveen is deeply grateful for his experiences in government colleges. “Government colleges may not always have great facilities, and not all teachers teach well, but they offer a thriving atmosphere and are truly inclusive. That is the beauty of publicly owned institutions — there, we can ask for our rights,” he says.</p><p>He fondly recalls his Kannada teacher at the Soraba Government Junior College: “They were socially aware and had a deep knowledge of Kannada literature. Sometimes I wonder — what if they had not taught us Kuvempu and Poornachandra Tejaswi? What would have happened to us? I am grateful to them. They provoked us to think and helped us understand our social realities.”</p>.<p><strong>Filmmaking as priority</strong></p><p>Naveen’s work in community empowerment has fuelled his filmmaking. He involves his entire village in his films — from his <em>ajji</em> to shopkeepers, passersby, children and neighbours. “They say it takes a village to raise a child. It took a village to make a film, in my case,” he laughs.</p>.<p>He has made three short films so far —<em> Bidugade, Habba Haridina Suggi Shivaratri </em>and <em>Imana</em>.<em> </em>All three are set in his village and narrate personal stories. Through a poignant narrative, <em>Bidugade</em> explores the innocence of children trapped in caste and social hierarchies. <em>Habba Haridina Suggi Shivaratri </em>tells a heart-wrenching story about the fate of two boys caught in a hoax that spreads across the Western Ghats during the Covid-19 pandemic. With <em>Imana,</em> Naveen brings the story of his maiden flight on an aeroplane to celluloid.</p><p>"I want to prioritise filmmaking, but it is very difficult,” says Naveen. He has completed the script for a feature film. He is also writing a book, an anthology of 10 interconnected stories set in his village. Titled <em>Flower Anthology</em>, each story is named after a flower. He is also interested in making music. His first single, titled <em>Preethiya Gaali, </em>was released last February.</p><p>Naveen works at a media agency, which works exclusively with not-for-profit organisations, specifically on climate change. </p>.<p><strong>Interlinked growth</strong></p><p>Naveen emphasises the importance of telling stories from within a community. "For me, personal and community growth are interlinked. Efforts for my family show immediate results, but community work takes longer to bear fruit, and its impact lasts much longer."</p><p>Most people in his village work in blue-collar jobs. “There is discrimination from a class perspective, too. I was able to break free from multiple forms of discrimination to get here, which gives me more responsibility. Many people leave for the city and distance themselves from their village and community. I think this is what Ambedkar meant when he said, ‘My own people failed me.’”</p>.<p><strong>'Our stories could be films too'</strong></p><p>Naveen describes St Joseph’s College, Bengaluru, where he pursued his degree, as one of his biggest influences. “In English classes, they would show us all kinds of movies. Until then, cinema meant Kannada films to me,” he says. He began writing in college, and his compelling stories reflecting village life won the Toto Award for Creative Writing in Kannada in 2024. The Rs 50,000 prize money became the seed funding for Bheemashaale.</p><p>Watching films at the Bengaluru International Film Festival was transformative for Naveen. "It made me realise that all kinds of lives could make it to the cinema. Mass entertainers made it seem like our stories could never become movies, but international films featured people who looked like me, my family and my village. That is when I realised our stories could be films too," he says.</p>