How the thamate drum is finding a new beat | Bengaluru News

It starts as a rumble—a deep, cellular pulse that vibrates through the floorboards and into the chest before it reaches the ears. This is the sound of the thamate, the ancient drum of Karnataka‘s Dalit communities. More than an instrument, it is a living archive, its drumhead holding stories centuries old. In the digital age, its organic voice cuts through the noise, a resonant reminder of how rhythm weaves the very fabric of culture, identity, and spirit.Thamate, Karnataka’s ancient drum once bound to oppression, is being reclaimed as a powerful symbol of Dalit identity, resistance and cultural pride through workshops and performances. By reframing the drum as a storyteller and instrument of protest, a new generation of artistes and learners is bringing Dalit folk heritage into contemporary and mainstream cultural spacesReturn to thamateBut for Bharath Dingri, a theatre practitioner from Ashapura village in Raichur district, the instrument was at first a source of pain. “My father Dingri Narasappa, a Dalit activist, had trained me to play thamate early on,” he says. “When I was in Class 8, I was teaching a young boy to play. His uncle saw us, dragged me out, and forbade me from their home. Humiliated, I broke my drum that night and vowed never to touch it again.“That vow led him to tabla, then to theatre and journalism, but a void remained. It wasn’t until theatre director Lakshman KP invited him to join ‘Daklakatha Devikavya’ that Bharath reconnected with his roots. “That production changed me forever. I embraced thamate again.”Now, through his collective ‘Halagi Culture’, Bharath facilitates thamate workshops for the curious. “People join to learn a drum,” he observes. “They leave with newfound respect. They learn its history, the voices it represents, and begin to understand Dalit aesthetics. We reframe it from an object to a storyteller.”Sixteen-year-old Suvvi, a workshop participant, echoes this transformation. “My mother pushed me to enrol. Until then, I had seen and heard thamate, but it was my first time playing one. We were taught everything about thamate – its known history as well as the craft that goes into making it and how to play it. We took notes, witnessed demonstrations and got hands-on classes. Now I have basic knowledge of how to play it and I haven’t forgotten a thing!”In his productions, theatre personality Lakshman KP amplifies Dalit and folk voices using instruments like thamate and aarey (another musical instrument), alongside oral literature. He also serves as a resource person for Halagi Culture’s thamate workshops. “I view thamate as a doorway to a vast bank of knowledge and heritage. It is an ecosystem holding far more than mere resistance — it conveys cultural histories enduring throughout time,” says Lakshman. He points out that thamate is a legacy that gave voice to countless generations of indigenous people.“We must understand that Dalit musicians and artistes were never honoured for their craft. They lacked the luxury of time to refine their art, unlike classical musicians. They laboured to survive, played as societal demands required, and handed over it to subsequent generations amid their hardships,” adds Lakshman.The reclamationBut why do a workshop for a drum so historically prevalent? “For ages, Dalits played thamate at festivals, funerals, and for announcements,” says Bharath. “It was imposed, then associated with oppression. Now, we have reclaimed it. It’s a mark of our resistance as well as of our identity.”This reclamation is multifaceted: the drum is now a badge of honour, transforming stigma into strength. It has become an instrument of protest; its unsettling beat is the soundtrack to rallies, symbolising a community demanding to be heard. And it serves as a powerful counter-narrative, asserting the validity of Dalit folk art in mainstream spaces.Bharath continues to innovate, creating performances like ‘Thousand River Blues’ and planning drum-making workshops. His journey mirrors the Thamate’s own evolution—from a conduit of folk religion to keeper of social memory, to an unapologetic symbol of justice.Author and academic Hulikunte Murthy notes the shift: “There was a time during the Dalit movement that youngsters refused to play the drum on socio-religious occasions, in protest. Now, thamate is part of musical bands. It is used in film scores. We even have fibre versions of Thamate that have found ‘acceptance’.”“While true mainstream credit is still evolving, growth is undeniable. As we see through Bharath’s diverse workshops, a mind that comprehends rhythm is oblivious to bias,” he says.The beat, once meant to mark duty, now drums a defiant, proud, and ever-evolving future.An essential workKotiganahalli Ramaiah is a renowned author, poet and cultural activist. He founded Buddi Deepa, a cultural space at Therahalli Betta near Kolar, devoted to propagating folk arts, practices and literature. “We hosted the most recent thamate workshop conducted by Halagi Culture in early December. I participated and addressed the attendees that included lawyers and academicians. In a way, the work by Bharath and his friends to elevate thamate, considered ‘untouchable,’ is an essential, revolutionary work,” says Ramaiah.“Thamate is organic to Dalit culture and must reach wider audiences,” he says. Following the success of the workshop, Ramaiah is considering expanding such efforts to revive more instruments and bring them into the mainstream.Geetha M, 36, a research scholar from Karnataka currently based out of Mumbai, says the power of thamate beats drew her to sign up for a workshop in April this year. “It was my first instrument, so I was nervous. But the experience was powerful, and an eye-opener.”