During my last visit to Bengaluru, at the invitation of the Karnataka Chitrakala Parishad for an open lecture, I encountered a remarkable repository of Southern India’s material culture. The Parishad houses an extensive leather puppetry gallery, established in 2007, featuring over 3,000 traditional puppets from Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, and Maharashtra. These puppets, known as Togalu Gombeyaata, are crafted from leather—a material I will discuss later.
What makes these puppets especially fascinating is their deep connection to India’s storytelling traditions. The collection was inspired by the institution’s founder, Prof. Nanjunda Rao. Alongside the leather shadow puppets, the gallery also includes string puppets—marionettes—from various regions. Travel within India continually reveals the richness and diversity of such traditions, reminding us of the vast cultural heritage embedded in everyday practices.
Many of us recall seeing puppets in childhood—especially marionettes—bringing local stories to life at village fairs. In North India, these are known as kathputlis, and they often evoke memories of folklore performances that were once integral to community life. Indian cinema of the 1950s and 1960s frequently featured such imagery, and even included a film titled Kathputli.
Looking more closely at the history of puppet-making, particularly leather puppets, raises important questions: how were they made, why were they created, and what functions did they serve?
The craft of kathputli was traditionally practised by the Putli Bhats, a community of itinerant performers who travelled with portable theatres. As their art gained popularity in royal courts, they began to settle in different kingdoms, creating puppets modelled on rulers, queens, court dancers, acrobats, and other figures of courtly life.
Kathputlis are distinct in construction: the head, neck, and face are carved from a single piece of wood, while the torso and hands are made from stuffed cloth. Female puppets typically have no legs and are dressed in long, flowing skirts of leheriya or bandhej adorned with gota work, while male puppets include legs or footwear. The wood is carefully selected based on the character, coated with chalk, and then painted with stylised features, especially elongated eyes.
Leather puppetry, on the other hand, has been practised across Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Maharashtra, Odisha, and Goa. While performance techniques remain broadly similar, regional variations in language, style, and narrative lend each tradition its unique character.
In Karnataka, the shadow puppetry form Togalu Gombeyaata draws on epics, folktales, humour, and drama, often performed through the night. It shares historical and cultural ties with Tholu Bommalata of Andhra Pradesh and Telangana. Regional variations exist even within Karnataka: in Bijapur and Gulbarga, the form is known as katabarata, featuring smaller puppets; in Bellary and Dharwad, it is called kille katarata, with larger figures; and in Bengaluru and Kolar, larger puppets are used in what is commonly known as Togalu Gombeyaata. The visual language reflects both temple and Islamic artistic influences, and the narratives are drawn from the Ramayana, Mahabharata, Puranas, and local folklore (Janapada Kathegalu).
Tholu Bommalata in Andhra Pradesh represents one of the most elaborate shadow puppetry traditions. These puppets, often made from deer, goat, or buffalo hide, can reach heights of up to eight feet. The craft dates back to at least the 12th century, with significant development under the Vijayanagara rulers in the 16th century. Artisans, many of whom migrated from Maharashtra during the Maratha period, created intricately painted and perforated figures. Performances are staged using a white cloth screen, illuminated from behind by oil lamps or bulbs, with puppets mounted on bamboo sticks for movement. Episodes from the Ramayana and Mahabharata remain central to these performances, often accompanied by song.
However, with the advent of television and cinema, traditional leather puppetry has declined. Many puppeteers have adapted by creating smaller decorative items such as miniature puppets and lampshades.
In today’s world of AI and immersive digital experiences, it is worth pausing to reflect on the renewed interest in such traditional forms. During another visit in Bengaluru, to the Indian Music Experience, I saw puppets dressed in regional attire narrating stories from the Bhagavata Purana of Krishna and Yashoda—an elegant reminder that even in a rapidly changing world, these age-old traditions continue to find new life.
What these puppets ultimately do is recreate the magic of storytelling, the beauty of the handmade, and the dexterity of the human hand, as marionettes leap and sway with rhythmic grace. The luminous shadows of leather puppets cast within homes evoke the rich folklore of the Ramayana, Mahabharata, and the Puranic tales, bringing alive not just stories, but enduring ideas of morality and ethical living.
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