[[Mohan K.V 2013-08-04, 03:00:56 Source]]
सदास्वादः
ता मज्झिमो विअ वरं / दुज्जण-सुअणेहि दोहि वि ण कज्जं
(तन्मध्यमः एव वरं / दुर्जन-सुजनाभ्यां द्वाभ्याम् अपि न कार्यम्)
(tā majjhimo via varaṃ / dujjaṇa-suaṇehi dohi vi ṇa kajjaṃ)
Meaning
“Someone in between is best. Neither good men nor bad men will do”. This āryā line is in Maharashtri Prakrit, and accompanied here, as is the convention when printing Prakrit lines for a Sanskrit-knowing audience, by a chāyā (“shadow”, 1:1 equivalent) in Sanskrit. Note how the Sanskrit words seem softened and slurred. As for the meaning, what’s happening here?! Average is the new good? Why? How?!
Context
Today’s phrase is taken from the Gāhā Sattasaī (Gāthā-saptaśati). It’s a collection of love-poems in Prakrit. The work is attributed to the Southern Sātavāhana king Hāla. We know nothing about him. It is supposed to have been written between 1500-2000 years ago. Its dialect of Prakrit has distinct Maharashtri references (the region south of the Vindhyas and surrounding the Godāvarī). It is easily the best collection of love-poems in all Indian languages. It can even beat the Amaruśataka in all categories except, of course, the flawless majesty of Sanskrit diction. It is the kind of work that is so good that it makes us want to learn its language just to savor it. Its name ought to be on the lips of every romantic, hopeless or otherwise. It’s shocking how little known it is today. It is … blah blah blah – dear reader, right now, we feel like a crow in love with his own voice, taking too long to introduce a troupe of koels who are waiting patiently to begin a divine concert. Enough with our cawing, in we go!
We start with the first sign of love:
ण्हाण-हलिद्दाभरि अंतराइ जालाइ जालवलअस्स ।
सोहंति किलिंचि अकंटएण कं काहिसि कअत्थं ।80।
ṇhāṇa-haliddābhari aṃtarāi jālāi jālavalaassa |
sohaṃti kiliṃci akaṃṭaeṇa kaṃ kāhisi kaatthaṃ ||
“Who will you make happy by sitting here, removing bits of turmeric from your filigree bracelet with a bamboo needle?”
It takes a real expert to identify the signs of love-shyness. Here, our heroine was sitting by the river with her close (female) friend when the man she’s in love with walks past. She suddenly develops a great interest in cleaning her bracelet very carefully, as if to give an impression that she doesn’t care about who is around her. Her close sakhī sees through this, and tells her that she has no need to be shy with her. Go ahead and talk to him, she implies by the rhetorical question in this verse. We’re sure the dear friend would nod to this line from Victor Hugo:
“The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.”
(Note that the Gāhā itself has no context – we’ll have to notice the rhetorical question, and imagine the setting and scene ourselves)
And that shyness is inevitably followed by:
आअस्स किं णु काहं किं वोच्छं कह णु होहिइ इमं ति ।
पढमुग्ग-असाहस-आरिआइ हिअअं थरहरेइ ।187।
आगतस्य किं नु करिष्यामि किं वक्ष्यामि कथं नु भविष्यति इति ।
प्रथमोद्गत-साहस-कारिकायाः हृदयं थरथरायते ॥
āassa kiṃ ṇu kāhaṃ kiṃ vocchaṃ kaha ṇu hohii imaṃ ti |
paḍhamugga-asāhasa-āriāi hiaaṃ tharaharei ||
“When he comes what shall I do? What shall I say? How will it be?
At her first chance to be reckless, the girl’s heart trembles.”
The first chance to “be herself” – and our poor heroine is completely lost! Don’t we feel this too? The most terrifying question in an interview isn’t a complicated technical brain-twister, it’s the innocuous-sounding, “Tell me about yourself”. When one is stressed – and what could be a bigger stress than meeting with a loved one? – one almost completely loses oneself in fear and worry. “Do you like cats or dogs?” “I don’t know! What’s the right answer?!”
But it’s exactly that confusion, exactly that inability to decide, that makes true recklessness possible. And as someone said, “Wisdom may be much admired. But what really inspires mankind, what quickens the pulse and lifts the spirits, is its opposite: a display of magnificent, reckless impetuosity.” :-)
But as so often, fear gives way to frustration:
दूई ण एइ चंदो वि उग्गओ जामिणी वि बोलेइ ।
सव्वं सव्वत्थो च्चिअ विसंठुलं कस्स किं भणिमो ।854।
dūī ṇa ei caṃdo vi uggao jāmiṇī vi bolei |
savvaṃ savvattho ccia visaṃṭhulaṃ kassa kiṃ bhaṇimo ||
“The messenger is late, The moon is high, And the night is passing.
Everything’s wrong – but to whom can I complain?”
Who could possibly match the standards of perfection set by a lover for his love? Not even himself! Leo Buscaglia wrote,
Perfect love is rare indeed - for to be a lover will require that you continually have the subtlety of the very wise, the flexibility of the child, the sensitivity of the artist, the understanding of the philosopher, the acceptance of the saint, the tolerance of the scholar and the fortitude of the certain.
But our heroine’s tension is finally relieved, thank god! :
मुहपेच्छओ पई से सा वि हु सविसेस-दंसणुम्मईआ ।
दोवि कअत्था पुहईं अमहिलपुरिसं व मण्णंति ।498।
मुखप्रेक्षकः पतिः तस्याः साऽपि खलु सविशेष-दर्शनोन्मत्ता ।
द्वावपि कृतार्थौ पृथिवीम् अमहिलापुरुषाम् इव मन्यन्ते ॥
muhapecchao paī se sā vi hu savisesa-daṃsaṇummaīā |
dovi kaatthā puhaīṃ amahilapurisaṃ va maṇṇaṃti ||
“His eyes are fixed to her face, and she is intoxicated at the sight of him.
So utterly content are these two, there might as well not be another soul on earth!”
Ah, the hallmark of true love – not caring for another thing in the world! A quote by Dinah Craik describes what might be happening between them:
Oh, the comfort — the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person — having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.
After catching a few breaths, an observation:
जं जं करेसि जं जं जंपसि जह तुमं णिअच्छेसि ।
तं तम् अणुसिक्खिरीए दीहो दिअहो ण संपडई ।378।
यद्यद्-करोषि यद्यज्जल्पसि यथा त्वं निरीक्षसे ।
ततद्-अनुशिक्षण-शीलायाः दीर्घो दिवसो न सम्पद्यते ॥
jaṃ jaṃ karesi jaṃ jaṃ jaṃpasi jaha tumaṃ ṇiacchesi |
taṃ tam aṇusikkhirīe dīho diaho ṇa saṃpaḍaī ||
“All that you do, all that you say, even just the way you look –
Even the longest day is too short to take it all in!”
A true lover would of course be violently offended by this verse. “A day?! What are you talking about! That’s not even the right order of magnitude! Try lifetime, and you might start getting closer!”
This insatiable curiosity is another hallmark of love. Dilbert’s Scott Adams:
You can be friends with someone for years without remembering the names of his or her siblings. But if you love someone, you automatically develop a voracious appetite for information about that person. When someone you are not attracted to talks a lot about his or her own life, you get bored to death. When someone you are attracted to talks a lot, you might find that person to be full of life, and fascinating. Attraction and curiosity are inseparable.
As if just made for this occasion, Laurence Sterne wrote a novel called Tristram Shandy. It’s presented as a mock-autobiography of its titular hero. The main theme of the book is that Shandy is so elaborate in his descriptions that it takes him one year to write about what happened in one day. It’s a merry long joke, but to a true lover, even that ratio seems inadequate!
Then, a deeper observation:
विरहे विसं व विसमा अमअमआ होइ संगमे अहिअं ।
किं विहिणा समअं चिअ दोहिं पि पिआ विणिम्मविआ ।235।
विरहे विषम् इव विषमामृतमया भवत सङ्गमेऽधिकम् ।
किं विधिना समम् एव द्वाभ्याम् अपि प्रिया विनिर्मिता ॥
virahe visaṃ va visamā amaamaā hoi saṃgame ahiaṃ |
kiṃ vihiṇā samaaṃ cia dohiṃ pi piā viṇimmaviā ||
“When I’m away from her, she is like poison; When together, she is like nectar.
How did Brahma manage to combine these both into my dear?”
So many thinkers have noted that centrifuge-like nature of love – there is no middle path, there is only great joy or great pain. The Gāhā itself admits,
जत्थ ण उज्जागरओ जत्थ ण ईसा विसूरणं माणो |
सब्भावचाडुअं जत्थ ण त्थि णेहो तहिं ण त्थि |829|
jattha ṇa ujjāgarao jattha ṇa īsā visūraṇaṃ māṇo |
sabbhāvacāḍuaṃ jattha ṇa tthi ṇeho tahiṃ ṇa tthi ||*
“Where there is no sleeplessness, jealousy, fighting, sulking,
And gentle flattery, there no love is either.”
:-)
Now, a curious twist of confidence:
अण्ण-महिलापसंगं दे देव्व करेसु अम्ह दईअस्स ।
पुरिसा एक्कंतरसा ण हु दोसगुणे विआणंति ।48।
अन्य-महिला-प्रसङ्गं हे देव कुरु अस्माकं दयितस्य
पुरुषा एकान्त-रसा दिष-गुणौ न खलु जानन्ति ॥
aṇṇa-mahilāpasaṃgaṃ de devva karesu amha daīassa |
purisā ekkaṃtarasā ṇa hu dosaguṇe viāṇaṃti ||
“O god, please make my husband go after other women.
Men who know only one person can’t appreciate what’s good and what’s bad.”
This is a hilarious take by a confident girl. She knows she’s the best for him, and isn’t afraid to let him discover that himself! This could possibly capture the spirit of the whole Gāhā – as S. J. Perelman said, “Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin - it’s the triumphant twang of a bedspring!” :-)
But be careful what you wish for:
एअं विअ मह णामं भणभण दे सुहअ किं विलक्खो सि ।
पडिहाइ जं ण तुज्झ वि ममं पि किं देण णामेण |905|
eaṃ via maha ṇāmaṃ bhaṇabhaṇa de suhaa kiṃ vilakkho si |
paḍihāi jaṃ ṇa tujjha vi mamaṃ pi kiṃ deṇa ṇāmeṇa ||*
“Should that be my name? Say it, dear, say it: don’t be shy.
If you don’t like my original name, what use is it to me?”
The hubby inadvertently blurted out another woman’s name when calling our heroine! A short poem by Ella Wilcox outlines a common theme:
There’s one sad truth in life I’ve found
While journeying east and west -
The only folks we really wound
Are those we love the best.
We flatter those we scarcely know,
We please the fleeting guest,
And deal full many a thoughtless blow
To those who love us best.
Things are not going well now:
अवराहेहि वि ण तहा पत्तिअ जह मं इमेहि दुम्मेसि ।
अवहत्थिअसब्भावेहि सुहअ दक्खिण्ण-भणिएहिं ।353।
अपराधैः अपि न तथा प्रति न तथा माम् एभिः दुनोषि ।
अपहस्तित-सद्भावैः सुभग दाक्षिण्य-भणितैः ॥
avarāhehi vi ṇa tahā pattia jaha maṃ imehi dummesi |
avahatthiasabbhāvehi suhaa dakkhiṇṇa-bhaṇiehiṃ ||
“The wrongs you have done me are nowhere as hurtful
As your polite words devoid of feeling.”
A truly moving, tragic idea. Trying to fool the extraordinary sensitivity of love with a laughably thin veil of formal politeness is futile, and hell itself for the lover. But when love goes bad, nothing helps. Here’s Mirza Ghalib, complaining about the reverse transformation:
“Teri mehfil mein aakar bade beaabroo hue/ Aap se tum, aur tum se tu hue”
(I humiliated myself in your company/ From “aap”, I became “tum”, and finally “tu”)
But in spite of all this, just the presence of the beloved, irrespective of what he thinks, says or does, gives joy:
दक्खिण्णेण वि एंतो सुहअ सुहावेसि अंह हिअआइं ।
णिक्कैअवेण जाणं गओ सि का णिव्वुई ताणं ।85।
दाक्षिण्येनापि आगच्छन् सुभग सुखयसि अस्माकं हृदयानि ।
निष्कैतवेन यासां गतोऽसि का निर्वृत्तिः तासाम् ॥
dakkhiṇṇeṇa vi eṃto suhaa suhāvesi aṃha hiaāiṃ |
ṇikkaiaveṇa jāṇaṃ gao si kā ṇivvuī tāṇaṃ ||
“Even though you only give us a courtesy visit, you rejoice our heart.
What delight you must give to those whom you visit with true feeling!”
This verse is arguably more tragic than the last. In spite of knowing that there is absolutely no reciprocation, a soft corner is formed unconsciously. What could be sadder than being vulnerable with someone who doesn’t care?
The actual word used for ‘delight’ is ‘णिव्वुई’ (‘निर्वृति’). This is possibly one of the most beautiful words to describe happiness – it derives from an idea like “not selecting anymore” or “no longer deciding”. The mind is finally at rest, after frenetic deliberation and activity. Is that not what bliss is, the peace of having made the right choice? It’s another matter that a close cousin, but with an entirely different meaning of “joblessness”, निर्वृत्ति, has instead become the choice goal of our rulers. :-)
Slowly though, with enough patience and penitence:
अवराहसहस्साइं भरिमो हिअएण तम्मि अद्दिट्ठे ।
दिट्ठम्मि उण पिअसही एक्कं पि हु णं ण संभरिमो ।903।
avarāhasahassāiṃ bharimo hiaeṇa tammi addiṭṭhe |
diṭṭhammi uṇa piasahī ekkaṃ pi hu ṇaṃ ṇa saṃbharimo ||*
“When he’s not present, I think only of his thousand offenses.
But the moment I see him, my dear friend, I can’t think of a single one.”
How could she! “A true lover always feels in debt to the one he loves” – and who could possibly be angry with someone who seems to be doing an extraordinary favor just by existing?
Then, a long trip away from home comes up. Distance and Time are tremendously effective healers:
फुरिए वामच्छि तए जई एहिइ सो पिओ ज्ज ता सुइरं ।
सम्मीलिअ दाहिणअं तुइ अविअण्हं पुलोइस्सं ।137।
स्फुरिते वामाक्षि! त्वयि यद्येष्यति स प्रियोऽद्य तत्सुचिरम् ।
सम्मील्य दक्षिणं त्वया एव एतं प्रेक्षिष्ये ॥
phurie vāmacchi tae jaī ehii so pio jja tā suiraṃ |
sammīlia dāhiṇaaṃ tui aviaṇhaṃ puloissaṃ ||
“O left eye, if, because of your quivering, my husband comes home today
I will reward you by looking at him with my right eye shut.”
If there’s any use at all to superstition, it is in poetic imagery. There’s a belief that if a woman’s left eye quivers, it bodes good fortune. Our heroine’s hubby is away, and she doesn’t know when he’ll be back. Her left eye quivers, and in fervent anticipation, she makes this pact with it! After all, what could be a greater reward than the first look at a beloved after a long separation?
Kalidasa talks of much the same idea in the beginning of his Meghaduta:
धूमज्योतिःसलिलमरुतां संनिपातः क्व मेघः
सन्देशार्थाः क्व पटुकरणैः प्राणिभिः प्रापणीयाः |
इत्य् औत्सुक्याद् अपरिगणयन् गुह्यकस् तं ययाचे
कामार्ता हि प्रकृतिकृपणाश् चेतनाचेतनेषु ||1.5||
dhūmajyotiḥsalilamarutāṃ saṃnipātaḥ kva meghaḥ
sandeśārthāḥ kva paṭukaraṇaiḥ prāṇibhiḥ prāpaṇīyāḥ |
ity autsukyād aparigaṇayan guhyakas taṃ yayāce
kāmārtā hi prakṛtikṛpaṇāś cetanācetaneṣu ||
“How could a cloud – a dead mass of smoke and lightning and water and wind –
possibly be the medium for a message, that too one that is sent with so much hope?
Not even capable of thinking thus, the poor Yakṣa begged the cloud to help him –
Those in love can’t even seem to tell apart the living and dead!”
The husband eventually returns, and things are fine for a while. But people start having expectations, and drawing conclusions:
आणंदंतेन तुमं पईणो पहएण पडहसद्देण ।
मल्लि ण लज्जसि णच्चसि दोहग्गे पाअडिज्जंते ।687।
आज्ञाप्तं तेन त्वां पत्या प्रहतेन पटह-शब्देन ।
मल्लि न लज्जसे नृत्यसि दौर्भाग्ये प्रकटी-क्रियमाणे ॥
āṇaṃdaṃtena tumaṃ paīṇo pahaeṇa paḍahasaddeṇa |
malli ṇa lajjasi ṇaccasi dohagge pāaḍijjaṃte ||
“The drum that celebrates your husband’s victory in the wrestling match is sounding out aloud.
Instead of dancing for joy, should you not feel shame?”
The pointed poke is that if the husband really loved her, he wouldn’t have any interest in winning wrestling matches!! As a mathematician wrote in the dedication of his book,
“To my wife
and my two children
without whom this book would have
been completed two years earlier”
(Of course, wives have wisened up. Sample this other dedication: “This book is dedicated to my brilliant and beautiful wife without whom I would be nothing. She always comforts and consoles, never complains or interferes, asks nothing, and endures all. She also writes my dedications.” :-) )
But this time though, the girl is wiser. After having gone through all this, she knows better than to respond to idle chatter, and lives happily ever after :-)
(We’ve laid out what seems like a narrative above, but that’s only our way of giving an ordering to our selection. The actual Gāhā is simply an anthology, and has no single narrative)
There’s also some classic poetry amidst all this:
तुह मुहसारिच्छं ण लहई त्ति संपुण्णमंडलो विहिणा ।
अण्णमअं व घडेउं पुणो वि खंडिज्जई मिअंको ।207।
तव मुख-सादृश्यं न लभते इति संपूर्णमण्डलो विधिना ।
अन्यमयम् इव घटयितुम् पुनरपि खण्ड्यते मृगाङ्कः ॥*
tuha muhasāricchaṃ ṇa lahaī tti saṃpuṇṇamaṃḍalo vihiṇā |
aṇṇamaaṃ va ghaḍeuṃ puṇo vi khaṃḍijjaī miaṃko ||
“It still doesn’t match her face”, the Creator thinks looking at the full moon,
and breaks up the moon as if to start over again”
Today’s phrase also comes from one such classic verse:
ता मज्झिमो विअ वरं दुज्जणसुअणेहि दोहि वि ण कज्जं ।
जह दिट्ठो तवई खलो तहेअ सुअणो अईसंतो ।224।
तन्मध्यम एव वरं दुर्जन-सुजनाभ्यां द्वाभ्याम् अपि न कार्यम् ।
यथा दृष्टः तापयति खलः तथैव सुजनो अदृश्यमानः ॥
tā majjhimo via varaṃ dujjaṇasuaṇehi dohi vi ṇa kajjaṃ |
jaha diṭṭho tavaī khalo tahea suaṇo aīsaṃto ||
“Someone in between is best. Neither good men nor bad men will do.
A bad man causes pain by his presence, a good man by his absence.”
Only the genius of the Gāhā could level the single largest distinction drawn in all of Sanskrit poetry with such trivial ease. :-)
Thought for today
We spoke of how when love falls apart, nothing seems to help. A cruel intention seems to be behind every act of the Universe. A similar idea:
जाड्यं ह्रीमाति गण्यते व्रतरुचौ दम्भः शुचौ कैतवं
शूरे निर्घुणता मुनौ विमतिता दैन्यं प्रियालापिनि ।
तेजस्विन्यवलित्पता मुखरता वक्तर्यशक्तिः स्थिरे
तत्को नाम गुणो भवेत्स गुणिनां यो दुर्जनैर्नाङ्कितः ॥
jāḍyaṃ hrīmāti gaṇyate vratarucau dambhaḥ śucau kaitavaṃ
śūre nirghuṇatā munau vimatitā dainyaṃ priyālāpini |
tejasvinyavalitpatā mukharatā vaktaryaśaktiḥ sthire
tatko nāma guṇo bhavetsa guṇināṃ yo durjanairnāṅkitaḥ ||
“A modest man is labelled dull. A devout man, a hypocrite. A pure man, a rogue.
A brave warrior is termed cruel. A quiet man, unintelligent. A kind man, weak.
A confident man is dismissed as arrogant. An orator, as foul-mouthed. A steady man, as impotent.
What virtue is there then that is not derided by the wicked?
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