[[Mohan K.V 2013-11-04, 19:00:12 Source]]
सदास्वादः
पञ्चत्वं समुपागतं वचनतः ते वेद्मि रक्षोऽधम
(pañcatvaṃ samupāgataṃ vacanataḥ te vedmi rakṣo’dhama )
Meaning
“You vile demon! Your [overly arrogant] words tell me your end is near!” It is a common belief that villains near their end display great audacity – probably that very audacity causes their end. Evidently, the speaker here is quite offended by her interlocutor, and makes a reference to that belief. Quite straightforward, right? …Right? :-) Read on!
Context
Today’s verse is taken from the Sītā-Rāvaṇa-saṃvāda-jharī of Pandit Chamarajanagar Rama Sastri. This extraordinarily ingenious work was composed just over a hundred years ago, and its author was a well-known Sanskrit writer of Mysore. As we have remarked several times before, the Kingdom of Mysore, beginning with the Rendition of 1881 (when the British restored local power to Chama Rajendra Wadiyar) till about the mid 1940s, was widely recognized as one of the best governed states in the world, flourishing in every sphere from literature to music to art to engineering. Pandit Rama Sastri was one of the true gems who flourished in this period.
The Sītā-Rāvaṇa-saṃvāda-jharī is a short work centered around a core of 50 verses that involve a conversation between Sītā and Rāvaṇa during Sītā’s captivity in the Aśokavana. Hanumān hides on a tree and snoops in. He later goes back to Rāma and gives him the good news that Sītā is alive and well, and replays this conversation. This is a classic example of the epic tradition: everyone who’s read the Rāmāyaṇa knows the general gist of this conversation, and can immediately dive into the context; the spotlight then falls on the poet’s skill in taking a diversion and adding coherent detail. Let’s check out a few examples.
“जुष्टो मन्त्रि-जनेन संगतधिया मद्वन् न कश्चित् प्रभुः
प्राप्तात्युज्ज्वल-कीर्ति-संहतिः अहं तैः तैः चरित्रैः निजैः ।
रामो नार्हति तुल्यतां जनकजे संग्रामसिंहस्य मे”
–“सर्वं सत्यम् अरे! त्वनुचितः संन्यास एकः तव!” ॥२२॥
“juṣṭo mantri-janena saṃgatadhiyā madvan na kaścit prabhuḥ
prāptātyujjvala-kīrti-saṃhatiḥ ahaṃ taiḥ taiḥ caritraiḥ nijaiḥ |
rāmo nārhati tulyatāṃ janakaje saṃgrāmasiṃhasya me”
–“sarvaṃ satyam are! tvanucitaḥ saṃnyāsa ekaḥ tava!” ||22||
“There is no other king like me, in one mind with the ablest of my ministers [i.e not only am I wise myself, I can also leverage the wisdom of others – the hallmark of a leader]
The multitude of my glories come from my very own deeds [i.e not leeching off other’s work];
O Sītā, Rāmā can’t possibly match a lion like me in battle!”
– “All you say is true. Probably your only slip was sannyāsa!”
What a sharp rebuke! We know that Rāvaṇa dressed up as a sannyāsi (monk) to lure Sītā away and kidnap her; Sītā hears Rāvaṇa’s boasts, and sarcastically comments that all his boasts are probably true, and that his only slip was taking up sannyāsa. That one slip in fact negates everything he just said – all his well-wishers advised him against abducting Sītā, but he didn’t pay heed; so much for listening to wisdom. Rāvaṇa’s fame from his truly great deeds, such as lifting the Kailāsa mountain, sacrifice to Śiva and dominance over all rivals – all arising from his own efforts, mind you – were washed away by this one misjudgment, which was also his own. And what can we say of the likeness to a lion of a cheat who dresses up as a monk to abduct another man’s wife? With just a gentle deflection, Sītā completely destroys Rāvaṇa’s entire speech!
This is a nice, simple, straightforward verse, right? Nice meter, simple words, proper meaning, a fitting flourish at the end. Quite satisfying.
Now before you read further, please read the Sanskrit again. It feels like you’re smoothly guiding your fingers on a beautiful statue, following the fine contours of design on it till……CLICK! You hit a secret button!
*******
Sītā said, “All you say is true. Probably your only slip was sannyāsa!”. We took ‘Sannyāsa’ to mean ‘renunciation’, like usual. That comes from saṃ-nyāsa, “placing aside”, with the upasarga ‘saṃ’ meaning ‘aside’ here. But if we take the syllable-level meaning of the word, Sītā is saying, “All you say is true. Probably your only slip was to place [the syllable] Saṃ!”. What happens if we remove the ‘saṃ’ upasargas from Rāvaṇa’s words? We get this:
“जुष्टो मन्त्रि-जनेन गतधिया मद्वन् न कश्चित् प्रभुः
प्राप्तात्युज्ज्वल-कीर्ति-हतिः अहं तैः तैः चरित्रैः निजैः ।
रामो नार्हति तुल्यतां जनकजे ग्रामसिंहस्य मे”
“juṣṭo mantri-janena gatadhiyā madvan na kaścit prabhuḥ
prāptātyujjvala-kīrti-hatiḥ ahaṃ taiḥ taiḥ caritraiḥ nijaiḥ |
rāmo nārhati tulyatāṃ janakaje grāmasiṃhasya me”
saṃgatadhī is ‘of one mind’; gatadhī is ‘mindless’! The first line then becomes, “There is no other king like me, mindless in spite of my ablest ministers”! saṁhati means ‘multitude’; hati means ‘fall’; The second line becomes, “The collapse of my glories come from my very own deeds”!! saṃgrāma-siṃha is ‘lion in battle’; grāma-siṃha is ‘village-lion’, a mock term for a dog! The third line becomes, “O Sītā, Rāmā can’t possibly match a dog like me!”!!!
Thus, by following a hidden clue and changing a single letter, we get a completely opposite meaning, but one which still makes perfect sense in the context!! Everything we had to infer about the verse from our past knowledge was actually present explicitly behind the secret switch!
This is the extraordinary ingenuity of the Sītā-Rāvaṇa-samvāda-jhari. Each one of the 50 core verses possesses an amazing secret switch like this, and it is so well concealed that even an expert won’t notice it without a commentary. Truly great Citra-kāvyatva is like the Devil in the movie The Usual Suspects: its greatest trick is in convincing you that it doesn’t exist!
Let’s look at another flavour!
“लाभात् ते परमाम् अवैमि नियतं सीते ममैमां दशां
तस्मादेव शुभश्रियो मम गृहे पूर्णी-भवन्त्यन्वहं ।
लङ्काश्रीः सकला त्वया ननु मदालम्बाद् इयं पाल्यतां”
– “पञ्चत्वं समुपागतं वचनतः ते वेद्मि रक्षोऽधम” ॥३०॥
“lābhāt te paramām avaimi niyataṃ sīte mamaimāṃ daśāṃ
tasmādeva śubhaśriyo mama gṛhe pūrṇī-bhavantyanvahaṃ |
laṅkāśrīḥ sakalā tvayā nanu madālambād iyaṃ pālyatāṃ”
– “pañcatvaṃ samupāgataṃ vacanataḥ te vedmi rakṣo’dhama” ||30||
“O Sītā! After I got you, my fortunes have taken a great swing upward!
The riches in my house grow fuller and fuller every day!
By my side, enjoy the wealth of Lankā!”
– “You vile demon! Your words tell me your end is near!”
As we mentioned, it is a common belief that villains near their end display great audacity, and Sītā is referring to that. The surface meaning is quite straightforward.
The ‘secret switch’ here is the phrase ‘pañcatvaṃ samupāgataṃ’. ‘Pañcatva’ usually means ‘five-ness’, i.e, the state of being united with the five elements, i.e, death. So this phrase means ‘Your end is near’. But if we look at the syllables, it can also be read as “Paṃ Catvaṃ samupāgataṃ” – “the Pa’s have become Ca’s”. How does this change Rāvaṇa’s words?
“लाभात् ते चरमाम् अवैमि नियतं सीते ममैमां दशां
तस्मादेव शुभश्रियो मम गृहे चूर्णी-भवन्त्यन्वहं ।
लङ्काश्रीः सकला त्वया ननु मदालम्बाद् इयं चाल्यतां”
“lābhāt te caramām avaimi niyataṃ sīte mamaimāṃ daśāṃ
tasmādeva śubhaśriyo mama gṛhe cūrṇī-bhavantyanvahaṃ |
laṅkāśrīḥ sakalā tvayā nanu madālambād iyaṃ cālyatāṃ”
paramā is ‘superior’ or ‘excellent’; caramā is ‘final’; so the first line becomes “O Sītā! After I got you, my fortunes have taken their final turn”! pūrṇi-bhavanti means ‘grow fuller’, cūrṇi-bhavanti means ‘become powdered’, destroyed : “The riches in my house are turning into dust every day”! pālyatām means ‘rule over’; cālyatām means ‘loosen’ or ‘take away’. “From me, take away the wealth of Lankā”!!
Truly brilliant!
The first verse involved the removal of a syllable; this one involved substitution. There’s a third kind, involving addition:
“ईतित्यक् निजबन्धु-पौर-परिषत्-तोष्टूयमानोस्म्यहं
शान्तातङ्क-निमित्त-भूत-चरितः सीते! अस्म्यहं पश्य माम् ।
नित्यं किञ्च धनोपलब्ध्यनुगुण व्यापार एवास्मि” – “रे
स्वैरं जल्प मुहुः निकार-विषयाः प्रागेव तेऽमी गुणाः” ॥४०॥
“ītityak nijabandhu-paura-pariṣat-toṣṭūyamānosmyahaṃ
śāntātaṅka-nimitta-bhūta-caritaḥ sīte! asmyahaṃ paśya mām |
nityaṃ kiñca dhanopalabdhyanuguṇa vyāpāra evāsmi” – “re
svairaṃ jalpa muhuḥ nikāra-viṣayāḥ prāgeva te’mī guṇāḥ” ||40||
“I have won over all calamities. My citizens constantly praise me.
Nothing anybody can do can make me afraid!
I am always engaged in enlarging my wealth!” –
“Blabber all you want! These so called qualities have already felled you!” [i.e. made you arrogant and certain to lose]
The secret phrase is ‘nikāra-viṣayāḥ prāgeva te’mī guṇāḥ’ – ‘nikāra’ means ‘bringing down’, but literally it is ‘the syllable ni’. Placing ‘prāgeva te’mī guṇāḥ’ – ‘before these qualities’ – the syllable ‘ni’ gives us:
“नीतित्यक्-निजबन्धु-पौर-परिषत्-तोष्टूयमानोस्म्यहं
निशान्तातङ्क-निमित्त-भूत-चरितः सीते! अस्म्यहं पश्य माम् ।
नित्यं किञ्च निधनोपलब्ध्यनुगुण व्यापार एवास्मि”
“nītityak-nijabandhu-paura-pariṣat-toṣṭūyamānosmyahaṃ
niśāntātaṅka-nimitta-bhūta-caritaḥ sīte! asmyahaṃ paśya mām |
nityaṃ kiñca nidhanopalabdhyanuguṇa vyāpāra evāsmi”
The meaning now becomes, “My citizens, who have abandoned all morals, constantly praise me. (īti calamity -> nīti moral)
Everything I do causes fear to my harem [i.e wives, who are afraid of widowhood]. (śānta calm -> niśānta harem)
I am always engaged in my own destruction! (dhana money -> nidhana destruction)”
The Pandit writes near the end of his work that he was inspired by the verse ‘Bhavitrī Rambhoru’ that appears in the Hanumannāṭaka (we had covered this a few editions ago). That verse involved a transparent ‘key’, removing the 7th letter of every line. In homage to that, the Pandit composed 9 verses, each one having a double meaning if you remove the corresponding letters (first letter in the first verse, second letter in the second verse, etc.) For example, the eighth verse reads:
“शौर्यं भूतनये! सदाऽमर-भयोन्नेयं न किं मामकम्
कार्तान्तीं नगरीं निरोधन-वशान् नेष्येऽहम् आत्मीयताम् ।
त्वद्-भर्तुः युधि मां विराजितम् अवेह्युद्यत्तमेनौजसा”
– “जल्पेदं पुनरष्टमाक्षर-परित्यक्तं क्षपाटाधम” ॥74॥
“śauryaṃ bhūtanaye! sadā’mara-bhayonneyaṃ na kiṃ māmakam
kārtāntīṃ nagarīṃ nirodhana-vaśān neṣye’ham ātmīyatām |
tvad-bhartuḥ yudhi māṃ virājitam avehyudyattamenaujasā”
– “jalpedaṃ punaraṣṭamākṣara-parityaktaṃ kṣapāṭādhama” ||74||
“Can’t you infer my valour by how afraid the gods are of me?
I can make even the Kingdom of Death (Kārtāntī nagarī) my own by my power!
Know well that your husband will only make my supreme strength shine even brighter!”
– “You vile fiend! Repeat what you said without the eighth syllable!”
Without the eighth syllable, it reads:
“शौर्यं भूतनये! समर-भयोन्नेयं न किं मामकम्
कार्तान्तीं नगरीं निधन-वशान् नेष्येऽहम् आत्मीयताम् ।
त्वद्-भर्तुः युधि मां विजितम् अवेह्युद्यत्तमेनौजसा”
“śauryaṃ bhūtanaye! samara-bhayonneyaṃ na kiṃ māmakam
kārtāntīṃ nagarīṃ nidhana-vaśān neṣye’ham ātmīyatām |
tvad-bhartuḥ yudhi māṃ vijitam avehyudyattamenaujasā”
“Can’t you infer my valour by how afraid I am of battle? [We presume Rāvaṇa wouldn’t boast so much if he wasn’t trying to cover up his insecurity :-)]
I can make the Kingdom of Death my own, by dying. [Ha!]
Know well that your husband will defeat me with his supreme strength.”
Need we elaborate on the mindblowing flexibility of Sanskrit, and the Pandit’s utter mastery of it? :-)
Thought for today
Works of extraordinary erudition like this face their own problems. An unknown poet laments via an allegory:
केनासीनः सुखम् अकरुणेनाकराद् उद्धृतः त्वं
विक्रेतुं वा त्वम् अभिलषितः केन देशान्तरेऽस्मिन् ।
यस्मिन् वित्त-व्यय-भर-सहो ग्राहकः तावद् आस्तां
नास्ति भ्रातः मरकतमणे! त्वत् परीक्षाक्षमोऽपि ॥
kenāsīnaḥ sukham akaruṇenākarād uddhṛtaḥ tvaṃ
vikretuṃ vā tvam abhilaṣitaḥ kena deśāntare’smin |
yasmin vitta-vyaya-bhara-saho grāhakaḥ tāvad āstāṃ
nāsti bhrātaḥ marakatamaṇe! tvat parīkṣākṣamo’pi ||
“Who dug you out from the mine where you were resting happily?
Who then thought of selling you in this faraway land?
O Brother Emerald, forget about a purchaser who could afford the price,
There’s even not a man who knows your worth.”
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