काव्ये विश्वासटिप्पन्यः | 2014-04-21__58 - Bāṇa's Kādambarī - The Śukanāsopadeśa

[[Mohan K.V 2014-04-21, 02:15:27 Source]]

सदास्वादः

अद्य अपि आरूढ-मन्दर-परिवर्त-आवर्त-भ्रान्ति-जनित-संस्कारा इव परिभ्रमति ।

(adya api ārūḍha-mandara-parivarta-āvarta-bhrānti-janita-saṃskārā iva paribhramati)

Meaning

“She still seems to be dizzy with the feeling produced by [the churning of the ocean by] Mount Mandara, and roams around in circles.” This is a gross translation of a very complex sentence. The sentence literally is “Even today, she roams around in circles like X”. The dynamite here is the bahuvrīhī compound X,

“ārūḍha-mandara-parivarta-āvarta-bhrānti-janita-saṃskārā” – “[one who has]

elevated-Mandara-twisting-turning-dizziness-born-instinct”, meaning “One whose instinct is born of the dizziness from the twisting and turning of the elevated Mandara mountain”. The Mandara mountain was used as a churning stick during the churning of the ocean, and someone seems to be still dizzy from all that rotation! Who is it, and who is it that crafts such brilliant compounds? Read on to find out. :-)

Context

This line is taken from Bāṇabhaṭṭa’s Kādambarī. We had covered a very brief introduction to the Kadambarī, Sanskrit’s finest prose work, at the very beginning of Sadāsvāda (Chapter 2). Bāṇa thrived around 1400 years ago in the court of King Harṣa, who ruled much of North India from his capital near modern Kannauj. Reading Bāṇa’s mind-blowing descriptions, of everything from the royal court to processions in the city, the reader is wonderstruck at multiple levels. Certainly, there is Bāṇa’s genius itself, which reaches the kind of heights that makes a whole language worth studying — why, our own foray into Sanskrit began with an infatuation with Bāṇa’s style, and we still hold him very dear. But there is also great wonder at the prosperity of his times, which were undoubtedly the raw material for Bāṇa’s magnificent imagination. How rich must the kingdom have been, for the royal palace to be a thousandth as good as he describes; how affluent its cities, for the royal ornaments to have a hundredth of the variety he extols; how advanced the high culture of the times, if a court poet like Bāṇa could speak with such almost supernatural depth and breadth on so many topics that we can relate to to this day?

Trying to create bite-sized excerpts out of the Kādambarī is like trying to take the proverbial drink out of a fire hydrant; no, Bāṇa’s speech is a Brahmaputra in flood, and what’s more, every drop in it can be savored for hours! We even wonder if writing is the right medium to discuss Bāṇa — so much of Indian culture and Sanskrit’s beauty is compressed into each word that his work almost seems like an enormous list of cues in the form of a story, which a skilled expositor can use to launch into discussions of anything from India’s history to culture to philosophy to Sanskrit idioms.

The most famous passage in the Kādambarī is the Śukanāsa-upadeśa. In it, the wise minister Śukanāsa offers his advice on wealth and kingship to the crown-Prince Candrāpīḍa. While the setting of an elder giving advice and talking about the nature of the world is a common one in literature (e.g. the character Mentor in Homer (in whose form Athena guides Telemachus in the Odyssey, and who is the basis for the English word in use today), Shakespeare’s Polonius, Huxley’s Mustapha Mond, Tolkein’s Gandalf, Rowling’s Dumbledore, …), Bāṇa’s volume and eloquence are absolutely unmatched in any literature in any language we know of.

The Śukanāsa-upadeśa is roughly composed of four parts — an introduction, a passage on the nature of wealth, a passage on the nature of power, and a conclusion. To accommodate its enormous size, we’ll cover the first two parts in this chapter, and the last two later. We’ll split most sandhis and also try to see if some creative typography can make the text simpler. With that out of the way, in we go!

एवं समतिक्रामत्सु दिवसेषु राजा चन्द्रापीडस्य यौवराज्य-अभिषेकं चिकीर्षुः प्रतीहारान् उपकरण-संभार-संग्रहार्थम् आदिदेश । समुपस्थित-यौवराज्य-अभिषेकं च तं कदाचित्-दर्शनार्थम्‌ आगतम्, आरूढ-विनयम् अपि विनीततरम् कर्तुम् इच्छन् शुकनासः सविस्तरम् उवाच ।

evaṃ samatikrāmatsu divaseṣu rājā candrāpīḍasya yauvarājya-abhiṣekaṃ cikīrṣuḥ pratīhārān upakaraṇa-saṃbhāra-saṃgrahārtham ādideśa | samupasthita-yauvarājya-abhiṣekaṃ ca taṃ kadācit-darśanārtham āgatam, ārūḍha-vinayam api vinītataram kartum icchan śukanāsaḥ savistaram uvāca |

“As the days thus passed on, the king, eager to anoint Candrāpīḍa as the crown prince, appointed chamberlains to gather together everything necessary for it. Once, when the about-to-be-coronated prince Candrāpīḍa visited him, Śukanāsa, desiring to make the trained prince even more well-cultured, spoke to him at length.”

Phew, even Bāṇa thinks that what follows is ‘savistaram’ ‘at length’. Thank god for small mercies!

“तात चन्द्रापीड, विदित-वेदितव्यस्य, अधीत-सर्वशास्त्रस्य ते न अल्पम् अपि उपदेष्टव्यम् अस्ति ।

केवलं च निसर्गतः एव अभानु-भेद्यम्, अरत्न-आलोक-उच्छेद्यम् अप्रदीप-प्रभा-अपनेयम् अति-गहनम् तमो यौवन-प्रभवम् ।

अपरिणम-उपशमो दारुणो लक्ष्मी-मदः ।

कष्टम् अनञ्जन-वर्ति-साध्यम् अपटलम् ऐश्वर्य-तिमिर-अन्धत्वम् ।

अशिशिर-उपचार-हार्यो अतितीव्रो दर्प-दाह-ज्वर-उष्मा ।

सततम् अमूल-मन्त्र-गम्यो विषमो विषयविष-आस्वाद-मोह:।

नित्यम् अस्नान-शौच-वध्यो राग-मल-अवलेप: ।

अजस्रम् अक्षप-अवसान-प्रबोधा घोरा च राज्य-सुख-संनिपात-निद्रा भवति –

इति विस्तरेण-अभिधीयसे ।

“tāta Candrāpīḍa, vidita-veditavyasya, adhīta-sarvaśāstrasya te na alpam api upadeṣṭavyam asti |

kevalaṃ ca nisargataḥ eva abhānu-bhedyam, aratna-āloka-ucchedyam apradīpa-prabhā-apaneyam ati-gahanam tamo yauvana-prabhavam |

apariṇama-upaśamo dāruṇo lakṣmī-madaḥ |

kaṣṭam anañjana-varti-sādhyam apaṭalam aiśvarya-timira-andhatvam |

aśiśira-upacāra-hāryo atitīvro darpa-dāha-jvara-uṣmā |

satatam amūla-mantra-gamyo viṣamo viṣayaviṣa-āsvāda-mohaḥ|

nityam asnāna-śauca-vadhyo rāga-mala-avalepaḥ |

ajasram akṣapa-avasāna-prabodhā ghorā ca rājya-sukha-saṃnipāta-nidrā bhavati – iti vistareṇa-abhidhīyase |

“My dear Candrāpīda, you know what is to be known, and have studied all the śāstras. There is not even a little that needs to be taught to you.

It is just that the darkness arising from youth is by its nature very thick, and cannot even be pierced by the sun, nor broken by the radiance of jewels, nor removed by the light of lamps.

The intoxication of wealth is terrible, and does not have any alleviation or cure.

The dark blindness of power is limitless, and cannot to be cured by any salve.

The fever of pride runs high, and no cooling appliances can allay it.

The madness that rises from enjoying the poison of the sense-objects is violent, and not to be calmed by roots or charms.

No bath can wash away the defilement caused by the stain of passion.

Sleep amidst royal pleasures is ever terrible, and the end of night brings no fresh awakening –

all this you know very well.”

Bāṇa here demonstrates his mastery of metaphor — all the bolded phrases are rūpakas; note how compressed they are in the Sanskrit! Bāṇa continues in this vein in the introduction. We’ll note some good lines there and skip a bit.

गर्भेश्वरत्वम् अभिनव-यौवनत्वम् अप्रतिम-रूपत्वम् अमानुष-शक्तित्वम् चेति महती इयम् खलु अनर्थ-परम्परा सर्वा । अविनयानाम् एकैकम् अपि एषाम् आयतनम्, किम् उत समावयः?

…

अपहरति च वात्या इव शुष्क-पत्रम् समुद्भृत-रजो-भ्रान्तिः अतिदूरम् आत्मेच्छया यौवनसमये पुरुषम् प्रकृतिः ।

इन्द्रिय-हरिण-हारिणी च सतत-दुरन्ता इयम् उपभोग-मृगतृष्णिका ।

अयम् एव च अनास्वादित-विषय-रसस्य ते कालः उपदेशस्य ।

garbheśvaratvam abhinava-yauvanatvam apratima-rūpatvam amānuṣa-śaktitvam ca iti mahatī iyam khalu anartha-paramparā sarvā | avinayānām ekaikam api eṣām āyatanam, kim uta samāvayaḥ?

…

apaharati ca vātyā-iva śuṣka-patram samudbhṛta-rajo-bhrāntiḥ atidūram ātmecchayā yauvanasamaye puruṣam prakṛtiḥ |

indriya-hariṇa-hāriṇī ca satata-durantā iyam upabhoga-mṛgatṛṣṇikā |

ayam eva ca anāsvādita-viṣaya-rasasya te kālaḥ upadeśasya |

“Lordship inherited from birth, fresh youth, peerless beauty, extreme strength – all this is nothing but a long succession of troubles. Each of these is a home of misbehaviour by itself; how much more then, when they are together!

When the whirlwind of passion arises, natural instinct carries a young man far away at its own will, like a dry leaf borne on the wind.

This mirage of pleasure captivates the senses as if they were deer, and always ends in sorrow. [mṛgatṛṣṇikā ‘mirage’ in Sanskrit is literally ‘deer-thirst’, something which lures thirsty deer by giving the appearance of water. Note how beautifully the etymology of the word fits the analogy, something lost in English because mirages have nothing to do with deer!]

…

This is the right time to advise you, when you have not yet tasted the pleasures of the world.”

Phew! You see what we’re talking about, when we say torrential flood? :-) The introduction has a few more lines about how kings are especially prone to these problems, and how they disregard the words of wise men in their pride. After that, Bāṇa begins one of the greatest prose sections in all of Sanskrit literature, the Lakṣmī-svabhāva-varṇanā, a description of the nature of wealth:

आलोकयतु तावत् कल्याण-अभिनिवेशी लक्ष्मीम् एव प्रथमम् | इयं हि सुभट-खड्ग-मण्डलोत्पल-वन-विभ्रम-भ्रमरी लक्ष्मीः

क्षीर-सागरात् पारिजात-पल्लवेभ्यो रागम्,

इन्दु-शकलात् एकान्त-वक्रताम्,

उच्चैःश्रवसः चञ्चलतां,

कालकूटात् मोहनशक्तिं,

मदिराया मदं,

कौस्तुभमणेः नैष्ठुर्यम्

इत्येतानि सहवास-परिचय-वशात् विरह-विनोद-चिह्नानि गृहीत्वा इव उद्गता ।

ālokayatu tāvat kalyāṇa-abhiniveśī lakṣmīm eva prathamam | iyaṃ hi subhaṭa-khaḍga-maṇḍalotpala-vana-vibhrama-bhramarī lakṣmīḥ

kṣīra-sāgarāt pārijāta-pallavebhyo rāgam,

indu-śakalāt ekānta-vakratām,

uccaiḥśravasaḥ cañcalatāṃ,

kālakūṭāt mohanaśaktiṃ,

madirāyā madaṃ,

kaustubhamaṇeḥ naiṣṭhuryam

ityetāni sahavāsa-paricaya-vaśāt viraha-vinoda-cihnāni gṛhītvā iva udgatā |

“First, let one who strives for good consider Lakṣṃī herself. This Lakṣmī is like a fickle bee hopping around in a pond of lilies, except that her lilies are the bloody swords of battle [i.e, she hops around nonchalantly as battles rage and people are killed].

When she was born of the ocean of milk, as if she was collecting mementos to remember her long friendship with them,

she took passion from the sprouts of the Pārijāta flower [i.e, she always appears in an overly passionate, never calm setting; the sprouts of the Pārijāta flowers are red, and are a symbol for extreme passion],

crookedness from the moon [a whole month is spent in watching a crooked moon waiting for it to attain fullness for just a day],

fickleness and constant motion from the divine horse Uccaiśravas [which was so fast that Lord Indra took it to be his steed],

the power of delusion from the Kālakūṭa poison [which was so powerful that Lord Śiva had to step in to save the world],

the power to intoxicate from Wine,

and inveterate harshness from the Kaustubha jewel [which was so hard that it could stand its own on Lord Viṣṇu’s chest]”

All these objects were also born of the churning of the ocean, and Bāṇabhaṭṭa has brilliantly related all their natures to the nature of wealth. The English translation is really straining at the seams here; there’s no way to capture Bāṇa’s density, be it cultural (like his references) or literal (like his compounds). Note that the ‘collecting mementos’ statement comes last in the Sanskrit, adding a lot more suspense than in English. Bāṇa now shows his hand in constructing beautiful compounds:

न हि एवं विधम् अपरिचितम् इह जगति किञ्चित् अस्ति यथा इयम् अनार्या ।

लब्धा अपि खलु दुःखेन परिपाल्यते ।

दृढ-गुण-सन्दान-निष्पन्दीकृता अपि नश्यति ।

उद्दाम-दर्प-भट-सहस्र-उल्लासित-असि-लता-पञ्जर-विधृता अपि अपक्रामति ।

…

na hi evaṃ vidham aparicitam iha jagati kiñcit asti yathā iyam anāryā |

labdhā api khalu duḥkhena paripālyate |

dṛḍha-guṇa-sandāna-niṣpandīkṛtā api naśyati |

uddāma-darpa-bhaṭa-sahasra-ullāsita-asi-latā-pañjara-vidhṛtā api apakrāmati |

…

“There is nothing in this world that is so little understood as this vile creature.

Even when won, she is hard to keep and gives much misery in her maintenance;

Even when bound by the firm cords of good qualities, she vanishes;

Even when caged by the glittering swords of a thousand mighty champions, she escapes; [glittering, to indicate that the swords are always in use]

….”

Bāṇa is equally competent in simplicity:

न परिचयम् रक्षति । न अभिजनम् ईक्षते । न रूपम् आलोकयते । न कुलक्रमम् अनुवर्तते । न शीलम् पश्यति । न वैदग्ध्यम् गणयति । न श्रुतम् आकर्णयति । न धर्मम् अनुरुध्यते । न त्यागम् आद्रियते । न विशेषज्ञताम् विचारयति । न आचारम् पालयति । न सत्यम् अनुबुध्यते । न लक्षणम् प्रमाणी-करोति । गन्धर्व-नगर-लेखा इव पश्यत एव नश्यति ।

“She doesn’t keep Friendship. She doesn’t care about good upbringing. She doesn’t look at Beauty. She doesn’t follow any lineage. She doesn’t regard Character. She doesn’t count Talent. She doesn’t listen to Wisdom. She doesn’t love Rectitude. She doesn’t honour Charity. She doesn’t ask about Knowledge. She doesn’t guard her conduct. She doesn’t remember Truth. She doesn’t care about any distinguishing mark whatsoever. Like the outline of a heavenly city [a flash of lightning], she vanishes just as one begins to look.”

What metaphorical density! Two lines stand out – when Bāṇa writes ‘na śrutam ākarṇayati’, the modern ‘equivalent’ is something on the lines of “she is blind to someone who has seen the world”. In the ancient Indian tradition, hearing was the primary mode of acquiring knowledge. There has been a lot of anthropology work in this area, and many other cultures have been identified, where when people have learned something – even something visual such as a weaving pattern – they say, ‘it is in my ear’”.

The second is ‘na lakṣaṇam pramāṇī-karoti’ – is a kind of pun on Lakṣṃī’s name. Lakṣṃī literally means ‘She who has a distinguishing mark’, and yet, doesn’t care for any such distinctions in who she courts.

Bāṇa continues, now with a double-scoop of complex samāsas to make up for the simple lines. :-)

अद्य अपि आरूढ-मन्दर-परिवर्त-आवर्त-भ्रान्ति-जनित-संस्कारा इव परिभ्रमति ।

कमलिनी सञ्चरण-व्यतिकर-लग्न-नलिन-नाल-कण्टका इव न क्वचित् अपि निर्भरम् आबध्नाति पदम् ।

…

पारुष्यम् इव उपशिक्षितुम् असिधारासु निवसति ।

…

adya api ārūḍha-mandara-parivarta-āvarta-bhrānti-janita-saṃskārā iva paribhramati |

kamalinī sañcaraṇa-vyatikara-lagna-nalina-nāla-kaṇṭakā iva na kvacit api nirbharam ābadhnāti padam |

…

pāruṣyam iva upaśikṣitum asidhārāsu nivasati |

…

“She still seems to be dizzy with the feeling produced by the churning of the ocean by Mount Mandara, and roams around in circles [i.e., she is very fickle; Bāṇa relates the myth of Lakṣṃī’s birth to her behaviour.]

As if she were a thorn stuck to tip of a lotus-stalk bound to the motion of its shaky base, she has no firm foothold anywhere. [Lakṣṃī is often associated with the lotus, and Bāṇa relates that image again to her fickleness.]

…

She dwells on the sword’s edge as if to learn cruelty. [Bāṇa imagines that Lakṣṃī deliberates lives on a sword’s edge, (i.e. is won by battle), just to learn how to be cruel to everyone else! Today, when the value of the world’s most valuable currencies are held up essentially by their hosts’ military strength, this 1400-year-old essay gives a lot of food for thought!]

…”

Now comes one of Bāṇa’s favourite figures of speech, the Parisaṅkhyā alaṅkāra. A Parisaṅkhyā is a kind of advanced pun, where the form is: “Like X, she is Y1 (Y2)”. X can be described as Y1, but Y can also mean Y2, which applies to the subject of comparison.

गङ्गा इव वसु-जननी अपि तरङ्ग-बुद्बुद-चञ्चला,

दिवस-कर-गतिः इव प्रकटित-विविध-सङ्क्रान्तिः,

पाताल-गुहा इव तमो-बहुला,

हिडिम्बा इव भीम-साहसैक-हार्य-हृदया,

…

स्वल्प-सत्त्वम् उन्मत्तीकरोति ।

gaṅgā iva vasu-jananī api taraṅga-budbuda-cañcalā,

divasa-kara-gatiḥ iva prakaṭita-vividha-saṅkrāntiḥ,

pātāla-guhā iva tamo-bahulā,

hiḍimbā iva bhīma-sāhasaika-hārya-hṛdayā,

…

svalpa-sattvam unmattīkaroti |

“Like Ganga, though producing riches, she is fickle as a bubble on the foam of a wave; [vasu-jananī for Gaṅgā means ‘mother of the eight Vasus’, a reference to mythology. But ‘vasu’ also means riches, so for Lakṣṃī it means ‘mother of riches’. taraṅga-budbuda-cañcalā for Gaṅgā means ‘she whose waves have foamy bubbles’, while for Lakṣṃī it is a comment about her fickleness. The ambiguity in the bahuvrīhi samāsa allows this cleverness to happen.]

Like the sun’s path, she moves on one thing after another; [saṅkrānti for the sun means ‘moving from one constellation to another’; for Lakṣṃī, it simply means movement]

Like the cavity of Pātāla [the netherworld], she is full of tamas; [tamas for pātāla is simply darkness; for Lakṣṃī, it is means the mode Tamas as opposed to Rajas or Sattva]

Like the demon Hiḍimbā, her heart is only won by terrifying courage; [this is a funny one: for Hiḍimbā, Bhīma is the character of the Mahābhārata, so it means simply ‘won only by the courage of Bhīma’; for Lakṣṃī, ‘bhīma’ is the general term, meaning ‘terrifying’]

…

thus, she drives feeble minds to madness.”

Next comes a paragraph that has been copied endlessly by later poets in multiple languages:

सरस्वती-परिगृहीतम् ईर्षया इव न आलिङ्गति । गुणवन्तम् अपवित्रम् इव न स्पृशति । उदार-सत्त्वम् अमङ्गलम् इव न बहु मन्यते । सुजनम् अनिमित्तम् इव न पश्यति । अभिजातम् अहिम् इव लङ्घयति । शूरम् कण्तकम् इव परिहरति । दातारम् दुःस्वप्नम् इव न स्मरति । विनीतम् पातकम् इव न उपसर्पति । मनस्विनम् उन्मत्तम् इव उपहसति ।

“As if out of jealousy, she doesn’t embrace one who has been blessed by Sarasvatī [i.e a learned man]. She doesn’t touch a virtuous man, as if he is impure. She has no regard for a high-minded man, as if he is inauspicious. She doesn’t even look upon a good man, as if he is useless. She leaps over a courteous man, as if he is a snake. She avoids a brave man, as he is a thorn. She rushes to forget a charitable man, as if he is a nightmare. She keeps far away from a decent man, as if he’s a villain. She mocks a wise man, as if he is a fool.”

What raw power! The paragraph continues:

परस्पर-विरुद्धं च इन्द्रजालम् इव दर्शयन्ती प्रकटयति जगति निजं चरितम् ।

तथा हि संततम् ऊष्माणम् उपजनयन्ती अपि जाड्यम् उपजनयति ।

उन्नतिम् आदधाना अपि नीच-स्वभावताम् आविष्करोति ।

तोयराशि-संभवापि तृष्णां सम्वर्धयति ।

ईश्वरताम् आदधाना अपि अशिव-प्रकृतित्वम् आतनोति ।

बलोपचयम् आहरन्ती अपि लघिमानम् आपादयति ।

अमृत-सहोदरा अपि कटुक-विपाका, विग्रहवती अपि अप्रत्यक्ष-दर्शना, पुरुषोत्तम-रता अपि खल-जन-प्रिया, रेणुमयी इव स्वच्छम् अपि कलुषी-करोति ।

यथा यथा च इयम् चपला दीप्यते तथा तथा दीपशिखा-इव कज्जलमलिनम् एव कर्म केवलम् उद्वमति ।

paraspara-viruddhaṃ ca indrajālam iva darśayantī prakaṭayati jagati nijaṃ caritam |

tathā hi saṃtatam ūṣmāṇam upajanayantī api jāḍyam upajanayati |

unnatim ādadhānā api nīca-svabhāvatām āviṣkaroti |

toyarāśi-saṃbhavāpi tṛṣṇāṃ samvardhayati |

īśvaratām ādadhānā api aśivaprakṛtitvam ātanoti |

balopacayam āharantī api laghimānam āpādayati |

amṛtasahodarā api kaṭuka-vipākā,

vigrahavatī api apratyakṣa-darśanā,

puruṣottamaratā api khalajanapriyā,

reṇumayī iva svaccham api kaluṣī-karoti |

yathā yathā ca iyam capalā dīpyate tathā tathā dīpaśikhā-iva kajjalamalinam eva karma kevalam udvamati |

“She manifests herself in this world, bringing together opposites, as if by magic:

For even though she always creates a desire for more, she also creates dullness; [also a pun for hotness/coldness]

Even though she grants high positions, she reveals small-mindedness;

Even though she was born of the water, she increases thirst;

Even though she bestows Lordship, she promotes vice; [Īśvara means ‘Lord’ and ‘Śiva’ means ‘one who does good’; Lakṣṃī bestows the former quality, but the opposite of the latter one. The two words are of course commonly considered synonyms of Śiva, and Bāṇa here deftly distinguishes them. This kind of filigree artistry is everywhere in Bāṇa!]

Even though she loads men with Power, she makes them weak; [lit. makes them light]

Even though a sister of amṛta (ambrosia), she leaves a bitter taste;

even though she is the source of much quarrel, she is invisible [also pun on vigrahavatī – vigraha can mean both ‘body’ and ‘quarrel’];

even though she is the consort of the greatest of beings, Viṣṇu, she loves vile men;

Like a wind of dust, she spoils even someone who is pure.

Like the wick of a lamp, the brighter she glows, the more soot she spews out.”

That last line there is a multi-millennial superhit, with echoes in many regional languages – for example, a famous line of Nāgavarma in Kannada goes, “ಚಪಲೆ ಸೊಡರ ಕುಡಿಯಂ ಪೋಲ್ವಳ್” But at how many levels can we begin to praise this work? About its enormous impact on Indian literature of multiple languages? About the richness of imagination? About the packed, timeless cultural references? About the majesty of the prose? About the cleverness of the puns? About the perfection of grammar? About the beauty of the sound and how smoothly his eloquence flows? There isn’t enough time in the day to even list all that is great about this work!

Alright, we’re at the crescendo! The last paragraph in this section thunders with metaphorical writing:

तथा हि । इयं

वर्धन-वारि-धारा तृष्णा-विषवल्लीनाम्,

व्याध-गीतिः इन्द्रिय-मृगाणाम्,

परामर्श-धूमलेखा सच्चरित-चित्राणाम्,

विभ्रम-शय्या मोह-दीर्घ-निद्राणाम्,

निवास-जीर्ण-वलभी धन-मद-पिशाचिकानाम्,

तिमिरोद्गतिः शास्त्र-दृष्टीनाम्,

पुरःपताका सर्व-अविनयानाम्,

उत्पत्ति-निम्नगा क्रोध-आवेग ग्रहाणाम्,

आपान-भूमिः विषय-मधूनाम्,

संगीत-शाला भ्रू-विकार-नाट्यानाम्,

आवास-दरी दोष-आशीविषाणाम्,

उत्सारण-वेत्र-लता सत्पुरुष-व्यवहाराणाम्,

अकाल-प्रावृड् गुण-कलहंसकानाम्,

विसर्पण-भूमिः लोकापवाद-विस्फोटकानाम्,

प्रस्तावना कपट-नाटकस्य,

कदलिका काम-करिणः,

वध्य-शाला साधु-भावस्य,

राहु-जिह्वा धर्मेन्दुमण्डलस्य ।

tathā hi | iyaṃ

vardhana-vāri-dhārā tṛṣṇā-viṣavallīnām,

vyādhagītiḥ indriya-mṛgāṇām,

parāmarśa-dhūma-lekhā saccarita-citrāṇām,

vibhramaśayyā moha-dīrgha-nidrāṇām,

nivāsa-jīrṇa-valabhī dhana-mada-piśācikānām,

timirodgatiḥ śāstra-dṛṣṭīnām,

puraḥpatākā sarva-avinayānām,

utpatti-nimnagā krodha-āvega grahāṇām,

āpāna-bhūmiḥ viṣaya-madhūnām,

saṃgītaśālā bhrūvikāra-nāṭyānām,

āvāsadarī doṣa-āśīviṣāṇām,

utsāraṇa-vetra-latā satpuruṣa-vyavahārāṇām,

akāla-prāvṛḍ guṇa-kala-haṃsakānām,

visarpaṇa-bhūmiḥ lokāpavāda-visphoṭakānām,

prastāvanā kapaṭa-nāṭakasya,

kadalikā kāma-kariṇaḥ,

vadhya-śālā sādhu-bhāvasya,

rāhu-jihvā dharmendu-maṇḍalasya |

“This Lakṣṃī is

a nourishing rain for the poison-plants of desire,

a luring song for the deer of the senses, [hunters used to capture deer by singing tunes; the senses are compared to deer, as earlier]

a soot-mark in a portrait of virtue,

a luxurious couch for the long sleep of intoxication,

a dilapidated turret residence for the demons of pride and wealth [abandoned turrets are a favorite location for ghosts to haunt],

a cataract for those looking toward the Śāstras for guidance,

a heralding banner of all ill-conduct,

a birth-river of the crocodiles of anger and agitation,

a drinking-house of the wine of the senses,

a music-hall of the dance of arrogance [lit. the dance of the eyebrows, something associated with arrogance and manipulative cleverness],

a lair of the serpents of sin,

a caning stick to drive out good practices,

a untimely rains for the swans of good qualities [it is a poetic belief (kavisamaya) that swans perish when untimely rains occur; good qualities are being compared to swans, and Lakṣṃī to untimely rains],

a virulent patch for the blisters of scandal to spread,

a prologue of the drama of fraud,

a banner of the elephant of lust, [pun on kadalikā, which can also mean a plantain stalk, something that elephants flock to],

a slaughterhouse of goodness,

a usurping tongue of Rāhu for the moon of righteousness [eclipses are explained as Rāhu swallowing the moon].”

Phew! Eighteen metaphors, at the drop of a hat! Just the grammatical dexterity needed to pull this off is mindblowing. For example, in each one of them, the object of comparison is in the feminine gender, to match the gender of Lakṣṃī. This is hard to do in Sanskrit, because every word has a gender, and comparing words of unlike gender gives an uncomfortable feeling. There is no equivalent in English, but a rough approximation may be the discomfort one feels if a flower, a culturally ‘feminine’ thing, is compared to a machine tool, a culturally masculine or neuter thing. Achieving this needs a lot of cleverness! For example, note how Bāṇa clever compares Lakṣṃī to Rāhu’s tongue, not Rāhu himself – this is because jihvā is feminine, whereas Rāhu is not!

Bāṇa continues for a grand closure:

न हि तं पश्यामि यो हि अपरिचितया अनया न निर्भरम् उपगूढः, यो वा न विप्रलब्धः । नियतम् इयम्

आलेख्यगता अपि चलति,

पुस्तकमयी अपि इन्द्रजालम् आचरति,

उत्कीर्णा अपि विप्रलभते,

श्रुता अपि अभिसंधत्ते,

चिन्तिता अपि वञ्चयति |

na hi taṃ paśyāmi yo hi aparicitayā anayā na nirbharam upagūḍha:, yo vā na vipralabdhaḥ | niyatam iyam

ālekhyagatā api calati,

pustakamayī api indrajālam ācarati,

utkīrṇā api vipralabhate,

śrutā api abhisaṃdhatte,

cintitā api vañcayati |

“I see no one who was embraced unaware by her, who was not also ruined. Inevitably,

Even when drawn in a picture she moves away [anyone familiar with the cut-throat market for art would sympathize!],

Even when captured in a book she wreaks her magic [Messrs. Enron, Lehman Brothers, Satyam, … and all accountants in the world would nod in agreement],

Even when cut in a gem she deceives [Just see the fate of the famous cursed diamonds],

even when she’s patiently listened to, she snaps to devour,

and even when contemplated upon, she betrays [Being betrayed after investing effort into something is held as especially painful and disheartening. Sarasvatī would never do that!].”

This is absolutely exhilirating! The Lakṣṃī-svabhāva-varṇanā tapers down here, and the next section on the nature of power begins:

एवं विधया अपि च अनया दुराचारया कथम् अपि दैववशेन परिगृहीता विक्लवा भवन्ति राजानः । सर्व-अविनय-अधिष्टानताम् च गच्छन्ति ।

evaṃ vidhayā api ca anayā durācārayā katham api daivavaśena parigṛhītā viklavā bhavanti rājānaḥ, sarva-avinaya-adhiṣṭānatām ca gacchanti |

“In these ways, this vile creature comes to control kings by the will of destiny, and they become trapped and confused. They become the abodes of every shameful deed.”

We’ll cover this part and the conclusion in a future chapter.

What can we say, gentle reader? If one were to learn Sanskrit only to appreciate Bāṇa, it would still be wholly worth it!

Parting Thought

In this torrent of eloquence, a patch of calm stands out. To many people, the one paragraph consisting of very short metaphorical sentences (‘na paricayam rakṣati | na abhijanam īkṣate | …’) has appealed the most. It seems fitting, then, that there is a verse attributed to Bhartṛhari that seems to be a resounding counterpoint to that very paragraph:

जातिर् यातु रसा-तलं गुण-गणस् तत्राप्यधो गच्छतु

शीलं शैल-तटात् पतत्वभिजनस् सन्दह्यतां वह्निना ।

शौर्ये वैरिणि वज्रम् आशु निपतत्वर्थो ऽस्तु नः केवलं

येनैकेन विना गुणास् तृण-लव-प्रायास् समस्ता इमे ॥

jātir yātu rasā-talaṃ guṇa-gaṇas tatrāpyadho gacchatu

śīlaṃ śaila-taṭāt patatu abhijanas sandahyatāṃ vahninā |

śaurye vairiṇi vajram āśu nipatatu artho ‘stu naḥ kevalaṃ

yenaikena vinā guṇās tṛṇa-lava-prāyās samastā ime ||

“Let Noble Birth go to Rasā-tala [a damned nether region]. Let this mass of Virtue go even lower [to Pātāla].

Let Character fall of a cliff. Let Well-breeding be burnt by fire.

Let enemies sink their weapons into Valour as soon as possible. All we want is Money –

without which this whole collection of fine qualities is not worth a blade of grass!”

This is delicious in a way only Bhartṛhari’s verses can be! He starts by banishing Noble Birth to a nether region, Rasātala. Why Rasātala? Because the next quality, Virtue, can be damned to an even lower realm, Pātāla! :-) (In case you’re curious, the seven nether worlds are Atala, Vitala, Sutala, Talātala, Mahātala, Rasātala and Pātāla; so starting with the penultimate one sets up a satisfying ‘kick’ if someone asks ‘Why?’). ‘śīla’ ‘Character’ and ‘śaila’ ‘Cliff’ are intimately connected – they both ultimate derive from ‘śil’ or ‘śīl’, which means ‘collected gradually’. A cliff forms slowly after collected bits of sand of centuries, and character similarly forms by collecting bits of virtue over a lifetime. How beautiful! But Bhartṛhari seems to looks at them and say, ‘Oh they’re close, are they? Alright, let one fall off the other immediately, just so that we’re done with them!’. What about well-breeding? KILL IT WITH FIRE! How about Valour? Find an enemy – quickly! – and make him sink his weapon into it and be done with all this nonsense! All we want is Money, because if that one thing is missing, all these qualities are worth nothing! ‘tṛṇa-lava-prāyās’ with its 4 short syllables in its beginning surrounded by long syllables rolls off the tongue so quickly, as if mirroring the worthlessness of the qualities it is describing!

In the days of yore of the Indian Parliament – when pepper was only to be found in the canteen, not in the blinded eyes of Democracy; when ‘launching missiles’ was understood to be damaging to enemy bases, not to house furniture; when ‘Baith jaayiye’ was a courtesy heard in respectful tones in private chambers, not an eternal background tanpura drone emitted by an apathetic Speaker to try to control, in vain, a bunch of ill-behaved primary school bullies high on the drug of unaccountability — in those gentlemanly days of yore, ‘an Opposition legislator had ended a debate – whose outcome, [given the huge majority the ruling party enjoyed], was a foregone conclusion – with the words, “We have the arguments. You have the votes.”’

A similar sentiment can be said of Bāṇa and Bhartṛhari. Bāṇa has all the arguments one can imagine against Lakṣṃī, but every single one of them falls flat against Bhartṛhari’s vote-capture of reality.

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