[[Mohan K.V 2013-06-01, 23:19:26 Source]]
सदास्वाद
परोपकारः पुण्याय, पापाय परपीडनम्
(paropakāraḥ puṇyāya, pāpāya parapīḍanam)
Meaning
“Helping others is virtue, harming others is sin”. The use of the dative case (4th vibhakti) gives it a literal meaning closer to, “Helping others leads to virtue”. The alliteration and conciseness are deliberate – as if this was some kind of grand summary or creed.
Where does this surprisingly humanistic idea come from? Read on!
Context
Today’s phrase is taken from the Vikrama-carita. We know nothing of the authorship of this work, except that it underwent so many back-and-forth translations between local languages and Sanskrit that, forget the original writer, even the original text is completely lost. The most comprehensive manuscript available is from the South, where southern scripts extol the virtues of a West-central kingdom thousands of miles away!
We had discussed the enormous Kathā-sarit-sāgara in the last edition, and the Vikrama-carita is an example of how even such a vast ocean can be re-routed to feed a small pleasure-pond. It was likely written a century or so before the Kathā-sarit-sāgara was written (and was still a floating mass of folk stories, possibly captured in a Bṛhat-kathā manuscript), placing it sometime about 1000 years ago. The central portion of the story is the nobility of the same Vikramāditya we had met the last time. But the frame is different, showing a different view of the same exalted character. This means of deviating from the path, and yet staying in the same region, is the quintessential progress of tradition.
The work is mostly in prose, with verse being used only on special occasions. This gives the author a chance to highlight “quotable quotes” and important ideas, and separate them from the general conversation. Indeed, this is one of the greatest advantages of a Campū work – the prose keeps the flow, and the verses mark the highlights. Stephen Fry in The Ode Less Travelled writes, “Verse is one of our last stands against the instant and the infantile”, and a good Campū work uses this to the fullest.
The frame story begins with supernatural origins, and brings along the poet Bhartṛhari for the ride, in the Kingdom of Malwa near modern East Rajasthan. Vikramāditya is cast as his younger brother, and the circumstance of him gracefully accepting the throne from Bhartṛhari gives the poet a chance to link Bhartṛhari’s legendary Śatakas with the Vikramāditya stories. This connection is almost certainly fictitious, but that’s irrelevant, for it is brilliant poetic material. Imaginative connections like these serve to strengthen the bonds between disparate islands of knowledge, and make for a coherent whole. Like an ornate, jeweled frame for a painting, they aim to create an object that survives, and even thrives, in the tides of time. In the words of S. V. Raghavan, “Sāmānya citrakke suvarṇada caukaṭṭu” (A golden frame for an ordinary picture).
The story then suddenly jumps several centuries in time, though it remains fixed in space at Malwa. The wise and benevolent Bhoja is now ruling the land, and one day he goes on a hunt. He finds a Brahmin relaxing on a couch on a mound, and he appears to be behaving very strangely. Whenever he’s on the couch, he appears to be very large-hearted, just and kind; whenever he gets off it, he appears small-minded, mean and cruel. Bhoja is intrigued. Then:
“अहं मञ्चम् आरुह्य पश्यामि” इति यावन् मञ्चम् आरोहति, तावद् भोजराजस्य चेतसि वासना एवम् अभूत् — “ननु विश्वस्य अर्तिः परि-हरणीया, सर्वस्य लोकस्य दारिद्र्य-निवारणं विधेयम्, दुष्टा दण्डनीयाः, सज्जनाः पालनीयाः, प्रजा धर्मेण रक्षणीयाः;…” “अहो एतत्क्षेत्रमाहात्म्यम्, यत् स्वयम् एवंविधां बुद्धिम् उत्पादयति!”
“ahaṃ mañcam āruhya paśyāmi” iti yāvan mañcam ārohati, tāvad bhojarājasya cetasi vāsanā evam abhūt: “nanu viśvasya artiḥ pari-haraṇīyā, sarvasya lokasya dāridrya-nivāraṇaṃ vidheyam, duṣṭā daṇḍanīyāḥ, sajjanāḥ pālanīyāḥ, prajā dharmeṇa rakṣaṇīyāḥ;…” – “aho etat kṣetramāhātmyam, yat svayam evaṃvidhāṃ buddhim utpādayati!”
“I’ll climb the couch and see for myself” – just as he mounted it, his very thinking changed. “The pain of all creatures must be removed. Poverty of every corner must be destroyed. Evil men must be punished. Good men must be protected. Subjects must be ruled righteously.” Bhoja thought, “What a wondrous place this is! It naturally produces thoughts as these!”
The poet makes a very apt point here. Good governance, like anything else, is mostly just a matter of wanting to do it. If one’s thoughts tend toward that direction, the details will reveal themselves. It is often found that the greatest abuses of official positions happen because those who occupy them are thinking of something else entirely. Almost no one, not even most of our politicians, have an aim of destroying anything. It is that by the time they get to a position of power, just sustaining the seat is so much of a full-time job that there is not even a thought to what actual responsibilities are. A local body councillor inadvertently summed it up in a supremely poetic manner after a Chairman won a contentious election: “Our only work is to plot how to remove this Chairman”. The poor councillor is simply too overwhelmed by his political duties to even consider why he’s been elected – it is like asking a coal-loader on a steamship what he thinks of the ship’s course. He’s so busy loading coal that the question doesn’t even cross his mind, and the glory of our system is that we hand over the power to answer that question to him, and celebrate the arrangement to boot!
Back to the story now. Bhoja is very impressed and has the mound dug out to investigate. He finds a magnificent crown with 32 steps on it, decorated with all kinds of jewels. Each step has a well-crafted statue carved into it. He has the crown transferred to his capital at Dhārā, and after a grand ritual installation, is all set to climb on it, when suddenly:
यावत् पुत्तलिका-मस्तके पाद-पद्मं निदधाति, तावत् पुत्तलिका मनुष्यवाचा राजानम् अब्रवीत्: “भो राजन्, तव तत्-साद्र्श्यं शौर्य-औदार्य-साहस-सत्त्वादिकं यदि विद्यते, तर्हि अस्मिन् सिंहासने उपविश.”
yāvat puttalikā-mastake pāda-padmaṃ nidadhāti, tāvat puttalikā manuṣyavācā rājānam abravīt: “bho rājan, tava tat-sādrśyaṃ śaurya-audārya-sāhasa-sattvādikaṃ yadi vidyate, tarhi asmin siṃhāsane upaviśa.”
“Just as he stepped on the carved statue’s head, it spoke with a human voice: ‘O King, if you have the same qualities of Valour, Nobility, Daring and Manliness that He did, go ahead and sit on this throne.’”
To Bhoja’s credit, he pauses. He speaks to the statue, and tells it that he thinks he too has these qualities. The statue shoots back that one can’t be a judge of one’s own qualities. Bhoja is taken aback, but still to his credit, agrees with the statue and asks it who was the great king it is talking about. The statue then begins the first story of Vikramāditya.
This is the structure of thirty-two stories that follow (one for each statue). Each story demonstrates the nobility of Vikramāditya, and the end of each story, Bhoja remains quiet and leaves. His thoughts during this silence are a very rare commodity today: the awe and mute respect at the greatness of a predecessor who occupied the same position as one does today.
To get a flavor of what the stories are like, let us jump to the 13th story. After a similar frame, Bhoja asks the statue to tell its story.
एकदा विक्रमार्को राज्य-भारं मन्त्रि-वर्गे निदाय स्वयं योगिवेषेण पृथ्वी-पर्यटनं कर्तुं निर्गतः |
ekadā vikramārko rājya-bhāraṃ mantri-varge nidāya svayaṃ yogiveṣeṇa pṛthvī-paryaṭanaṃ kartuṃ nirgataḥ |
“Once, Vikramārka (Vikramāditya) gave command to his ministers and wore the disguise of a Yogi to travel round his kingdom (to see for himself how his subjects were faring)”.
We have institutionalized this fundamental action – of a ruler updating himself about the condition of those he rules – via an indirect mechanism of votes and the Fourth Estate, but we wonder if the elected officials of even the smallest domain care about it. In fact, the desire to engage in political dialogue with one’s constituents appears to wane inversely with position: it appears more natural to expect the Prime Minister, no less, to talk of building roads, while a local body official is barely a visitor to his own constituency!
Vikramārka then comes by a temple situated at the banks of a river, where a Puranic discourse is going on. The Shastri is speaking about the temporality of life, and the poet inserts a series of classic verses. The scene is so typical and so familiar!
अनित्यानि शरीराणि विभवो नैव शाश्वतः ।
नित्यं संनिहितो मृत्युः कर्तव्यो धर्मसंग्रहः ॥13.1॥
anityāni śarīrāṇi vibhavo naiva śāśvataḥ |
nityaṃ saṃnihito mṛtyuḥ kartavyo dharma-saṃgrahaḥ ||13.1||
“These bodies are temporary, riches don’t stay forever, death is always near – (therefore) virtues must be gathered!”
Today’s phrase comes from the second verse in this series:
श्रूयतां धर्मसर्वस्वं, यद् उक्तं शास्त्रकोटिभिः ।
परोपकारः पुण्याय, पापाय परपीडनम् ॥13.2॥
śrūyatāṃ dharmasarvasvaṃ, yad uktaṃ śāstrakoṭibhiḥ |
paropakāraḥ puṇyāya, pāpāya parapīḍanam ||13.2||
“Listen to the entirety of Dharma as spoken by a crore of śāstras: Helping others is virtue, harming others is sin.”
This phrase appears numerous times in a variety of works, but it’s always striking in its brevity and truth. This kind of a summary is seen in a lot of places, most notably in a story about the famous Jewish leader Hillel. A young non-Jew comes to him with an intention to provoke, and asks him to explain all of the holy books of the Torah while standing on one foot. Hillel calmly replies, “That which is hateful to you, do not unto another: this is the whole Torah. The rest is commentary. [Now] go study.”
Just as they were listening to this, the congregation hears a cry. A brahmana and his wife, trying to cross the river, are being swept off by a sudden gush and they cry for help.
जलेन उह्यमानस्य ध्वनिं श्रुत्वा ते महाजनाः सर्वे ऽपि सकौतुकं पश्यन्ति, न को ऽपि तस्य अभयं प्रयच्छति, न प्रवाहाद् अपनेतुं नदीमध्ये प्रविशति.
jalena uhyamānasya dhvaniṃ śrutvā te mahājanāḥ sarve ‘pi sakautukaṃ paśyanti, na ko ‘pi tasya abhayaṃ prayacchati, na pravāhād apanetuṃ nadīmadhye praviśati.
“Even after hearing his cries, everyone just looked on with fear. No one acted, no one even tried to enter the river to save him.”
This is a very famous mass effect called the Bystander effect. The likelihood of anyone intervening to stop a tragedy is almost inversely proportional to the number of onlookers. We see graphic demonstrations of this every few months – a child run over by traffic, suffering and dying a slow death because hundreds of onlookers just look on or drive on as if they didn’t see; a man being beaten in public by rowdies in front of a large crowd which simply doesn’t want to interfere – such examples abound. The only solution appears to be more education, more respect for the law, and a more cohesive feeling of community.
Sometimes, a single person resists this crowd impulse and does the right thing. To anyone who has seen this happen, it is nothing short of a miracle. Vikramāditya acts in that role here, and immediately jumps into the river and saves the Brahmana and his wife. They are so overjoyed and thankful that the Brahmana gives him all the puṇya that he has earned by his pious actions.
Just as the king starts on his way,
तस्मिन् समये अतिभयंकर-रूपः कश्चिद् ब्रह्म-राक्षसो राजसमीपम् आगतः। राजा ऽपि तं दृष्ट्वा अवदत्: भो महापुरुष, कः त्वम्?
tasmin samaye atibhayaṃkara-rūpaḥ kaścid brahma-rākṣaso rājasamīpam āgataḥ. rājā ‘pi taṃ dṛṣṭvā avadat: bho mahāpuruṣa, kaḥ tvam?
“A creature of terrible form, a Brahma-rākṣasa, came near the king. The king saw that, and calmly asked, ‘O Great one, who are you?’”
The Brahma-rākṣasa says that he was a Brahmin in a past birth, but because of his ill-deeds then, was reborn as a terrible monster constantly in pain. His pain causes him to hurt others. In this peripheral metaphor is a great truth: very often, those who inflict pain are only doing so to cope with their own. W. H. Auden’s words:
“I and the public know,
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done,
Do evil in return.”
A happy man is complete in himself, and feels no desire to cause unhappiness in others. This is reflected in the very word for happy in Sanskrit, Svastha – “Abiding in himself” or “Staying in himself”, because ‘himself’ is a good place to be in.
The Brahma-rākṣasa then asks Vikramāditya to donate the newly-acquired puṇya, in order that he be released from his curse. Vikramāditya doesn’t even think twice, and hands it over. The Brahma-rākṣasa is released from his curse, and the king goes back to his kingdom.
इति कथां कथयित्वा पुत्तलिका राजानम् अवदत् – “भो राजन्, त्वयि एवम् औदार्यं परोपकारो यदि विद्यते, तर्हि अस्मिन् सिंहासने उपविश” तत् श्रुत्वा राजा अपि अधोमुखो बभूव ।
iti kathāṃ kathayitvā puttalikā rājānam avadat – “bho rājan, tvayi evam audāryaṃ paropakāro yadi vidyate, tarhi asmin siṃhāsane upaviśa” tat śrutvā rājā api adhomukho babhūva |
“Having thus told its story, the doll said, ‘O King, if you have the same high-mindedness in helping others, by all means sit on this throne’. Bhoja heard this, and hung his head.”
A character that slowly rises from the background in all these stories is Bhoja himself. His humility and awareness of his limitations, and most importantly, his open acceptance of his faults makes him a very endearing character. In La Rochefoucauld’s words, “Almost all our faults are more pardonable than the methods we resort to to hide them”.
In short, if we cannot be Vikramāditya, let us at least try to be Bhoja – we have no doubt that even the poet himself would have assented to our take-away :-)
Thought for today
One poet took today’s central idea into mythology:
परोपकृति-कैवल्ये तोलयित्वा जनार्दनः ।
गुर्वीम् उपकृतिं मत्वा ह्यवतारान् दशाग्रहीत् ॥
paropakṛti-kaivalye tolayitvā janārdanaḥ |
gurvīm upakṛtiṃ matvā hyavatārān daśāgrahīt ||
“Lord Viṣṇu (Janārdana) weighed Paropakāra and Kaivalya (supreme liberation itself!), and decided Paropakāra is better. That explains his ten avataras.”
Lord Krishna says as much in the Bhagavad-Gita:
न मे पार्थास्ति कर्तव्यम् त्रिषु लोकेषु किञ्चन ।
नानवाप्तम् अवाप्तव्यं वर्त एव च कर्मणि ।3.22।
na me pārthāsti kartavyam triṣu lokeṣu kiñcana |
nānavāptam avāptavyaṃ varta eva ca karmaṇi |3.22|
“Pārtha, I have no ordained duty for myself in all three worlds. There is nothing that I want that I’m striving to get. And yet, I engage in [selfless, righteous] action.”
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