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A History of Sanskrit Literature: Classical Period, Vol. I c4: Introduction

A History of Sanskrit Literature: Classical Period, Vol. I c4

Language
English

Contents

Introduction

c4.1

Winternitz, in Vol. III of his *History of Indian Literature*, German Edition, speaks of "the *Sūtas* as the representatives of the old heroic poetry who lived in the court of the princes and sang to extol them. They also went forth to battle so as to be able to sing of the heroic deeds of the warriors from their own observation. These court bards stood closer to the warriors than to the learned Brahmins. They also acted as charioteers of the warriors in their campaigns and took part in their martial life."

c4.2

But Winternitz does not give any reference from which he draws his views about the *sūta* as the traditional keeper of heroic poetry. The *sūta* occurs along with the *rathakāra* and *karmāra* in the *Atharva Veda* III, 5, 6, 7. We find reference to this *sūta* in *Gautama* (IV. 15), *Baudhāyana* (10. I. 9. 9.), *Vaśiṣṭha* (XVIII. 6), *Manu* (X. II), *Viṣṇu Dh. S.* (XVI. 6), *Yāj*. (I. 3), and the *Sūta-saṃhitā*, where he appears as a *pratiloma* caste born of a Kṣattriya male and a Brahmin female. Kauṭilya says in his *Arthaśāstra* (III. 7) that Romaharṣaṇa, called also *sūta* in the *Purāṇas*, was not born out of a *pratiloma* marriage. The *sūta* has been referred to as sacred in the *Viṣṇupurāṇa* and the *Agnipurāṇa*. The duty of the *sūtas* according to *Manu* (X. 47) was to drive chariots and according to the *Vaikhānasa-smārta-sūtra* (X. 13) it was a part of his livelihood to remind the king of his duties and cook food for him. According to *Karṇaparva* (XXXII. 46. 47), *sūtas* were the servants (*paricārakas*) of the Kṣattriyas. According to *Vāyupurāṇa* (Ch. I.), the *sūtas* used to preserve the pedigrees of kings and great men and also the traditions of learning and books. But nowhere do we find that *sūtas* had any other work than those said above or that they ever played the part of a bard reciting the glories of the kings or were in any sense the depository of heroic poetry. His chief duty was the taming of elephants, driving chariots and riding horses. The difference between *sūta* and *rathakāra* is that the former was born from Kṣattriya male and Brahmin female in wedlock, the other out of wedlock through clandestine union.

c4.3

The theory that these bards were gradually superseded by erudite poets also demands confirmation. It is also doubtful to affirm that the poets always described fights and battles from hearsay. Judging from the *Mahābhārata* and the state of events given in it in terms of *tithis* and *nakṣatras* which synchronise throughout the whole book, one should think that there were either dated notes of events or that the poets themselves according to some definite traditions synchronised the dates. Again, we know so little of the earlier poetry that we have no right to say that in earlier poetry greater stress was laid to form and erudition. The artificial poetry began at a much later date, from the 6th or the 7th century. Neither in the *Rāmāyaṇa* nor in the *Mahābhārata* do we find any influence of artificiality. Whatever may have been said in the *Tantrākhyāyikā* (I. 321), the *Mahābhārata* is regarded as an *itihāsa*, and seldom regarded as a *kāvya* which place is assigned to the *Rāmāyaṇa*. It is also doubtful (at least there is hardly any evidence) that the panegyrics were the first thing of *kāvya*. It is also wrong to hold that the *Kāvya* style means an ornate style.

c4.4

At least none of the rhetoricians hold this view and there is hardly any evidence in its favour. Winternitz, therefore, is entirely wrong when he says, "The more strenuous the effort of the poet, the more 'ornate' his expressions, and the more difficult his work of art, the more did the prince feel flattered by it." The earliest Sanskrit rhetorician Bhāmaha holds a different view regarding *kāvya*. He says that even if *kāvya* requires explanatory interpretation like a *śāstra*; then it would indeed be a matter of great regret for the common man. This signifies that at least Bhāmaha thought that *kāvya* should be written in such a manner that it should be intelligible to all. He says further that there are indeed different types of style but it is only that type of style which is intelligible to the ignorant, to women and children, that is sweet. Thus, in II. 1-3, he says: *mādhuryam abhivāñchantaḥ prasādaṁ ca sumedhasaḥ / samāsavanti bhūyāṁsi na padāni prayuñjate ॥ kecidojo' bhidhitsantaḥ samasyanti bahūnyapi ॥ śravyaṁ nātisamastārthaṁ kāvyaṁ madhuramisyate / āvidvadanganābālapratītārthaṁ prasādavat ॥*

c4.5

It should be noted that this opinion of Bhāmaha is based upon the study of previous good poetry and the opinions of other poets. Thus, he says in the colophon of his work:

c4.6

*avalokya matāni satkavīnām avagamya svadhiyā ca kāvyalakṣma /*
*sujanāvagamāya bhāmahena grathitaṁ rakrilagomi-sūnunedam /*

c4.7

This opinion may be confirmed by reference to the writings of other rhetoricians who followed Bhāmaha. It is a pity that Winternitz should have such an unfounded and uncharitable opinion of Indian poetry. It is also difficult to imagine why Winternitz should render *kāvya* as ornate poetry, which he defines as that in which "the poet makes it his highest ambition to astonish his readers or hearers by as numerous, as original and as elaborate similes as possible." His remarks about ornate poetry apply only to the poets of a degenerate time, when the true ideals of real poetry was lost sight of and when the poets had to pose themselves as great pundits. It is no doubt true that many of the famous poets like Bhaṭṭi, Māgha or Śrīharṣa follow the worst standard of artificial poetry and indeed Bhaṭṭi boasts that his *kāvya* is such that it is not intelligible without explanation; yet it must be pointed ont that this was not the opinion of the critics of literature and that for that reason *kāvya* style should not be confounded with artificiality. During the period that many of these poets flourished there was such an ascendancy of the scholarly philosophers, that the poets often thought that learning was greater than poetry and they tried to pose their learning through their poetry. But I do not see how a poet like Aśvaghoṣa can be regarded as a representative of ornate poetry in the same sense in which Mahākṣattrapa Rudradāman's inscription-texts can be regarded as ornate.

c4.8

Prof. Winternitz conteded that to know of the origin of ornate poetry we must know the origin of the Alaṃkāra literature and he seems to imply that that type of literature may be called ornate in which an acquaintance with the Alaṃkāra literature or its principles may be presupposed. He held further that surely Vālmīki did not as yet know any manual of poetics. But what is the reason for such an assurance? We know that *upamās* were well-known even in Vedic times and Yāska deals with *upamā* in a fairly systematic manner. Pāṇini also seems to be fairly acquainted with some of the fundamental types of *upamā*. We have also reasons to believe that the *alaṁkāra* type of thought had its origin in the Vyākaraṇa school. We do not also know that there were no treatises of *alaṁkāra* written before Vālmīki.

c4.9

The comments that have been made above will show that the theory of ornate poetry (Kunstdichtung) is beset with many difficulties. Though it is needless to trace the origin of Sanskrit Kāvyas to the Vedas or the Brāhmaṇas, it cannot be decided that some of the early Upaniṣads like the *Kaṭha*, *Muṇḍaka* and the *Śvetāśvatara* contain verses in the classical style. Indeed the style of the *Mahābhārata* and the *Gītā* may be regarded as the prolongation of the classical style which had begun already at the time of the Upaniṣads. Among the early literature the *Rāmāyaṇa* and the *Mahābhārata* (though the latter is called *itihāsa*) must be regarded as the earliest literature of the Kāvya form that is available to us. Rhetoricians in a much later time have quoted verses from the *Mahābhārata* to demonstrate the theory of *vyañjanā* and *guṇībhūta-vyañjanā*.¹ Though there is a difference of atmosphere in the *Mahābhārata* which lays greater stress on the practical problems of life and conflict of ideals, yet the atmosphere of *Rāmāyaṇa* is not far removed from that of Kālidāsa. As Dr. De has shown, we can hardly trace the origin of Sanskrit Kāvyas to Prākṛt sources. It has also been pointed out by Dr. De that the theory of Renaissance of Sanskrit Kāvya in the 5th or 6th century A.D., as proposed by Maxmüller, cannot properly be supported. It is true that no extant *kāvyas* of any importance are available before Aśvaghoṣa. But there are plenty of references scattered over which suggest the existence of a fairly good field of Kāvya literature during the 5th to the 1st century B.C. Even Pāṇini is said to have written a work called *Jāmbavatīvijaya* and Patañjali refers to a *kāvya* by Vararuci.

c4.10

¹ See *Mahābhārata*, *Strīparva*, Chap. XXIV, verse 17.—"ayaṁ sa rasanotkarṣī, etc." Also, *Śāntiparva*, *Āpaddharma*, Chap. 103, verses 11 and 12. These have been referred to in the *Kāvyaprakāśa*, Chap. V, verses 45 and 46, as examples of *guṇībhūta vyaṅgya*, and Chap. IV, as example of *prabandha vyañjanā*.

c4.11

Patañjali also refers to three ākhyāyikās, *Vāsavadattā*, *Sumanottarā*, and *Bhaimarathī*, and two dramas called *Kaṃsabadha* and *Balibandha*. He also quotes a number of verses from which the continuity is apparent. *Lalitavistara* also mentions *kāvya-kāraṇa* as a subject which was studied by Buddha. These and various other reasons adduced in the text show fairly conclusively the existence of Kāvya literature from the 2nd century B.C. to the 2nd century A.D. It has already been noticed that many of the verses of the Upaniṣads may well have been included in a classical work of *kāvya* in latter times. But most of the literature has now been lost.

c4.12

Aśvaghoṣa's Kāvya as well as Rudradāmana's inscriptions show an acquaintance with the principles of alaṃkāra. The Prākṛt inscriptions of the first two centuries of the Christian era as well as many texts of the Buddhists or the verses later found in the Pāli Jātakas all reveal the fact that they were written on the model of Sanskrit writings of their time. The writings of Matṛceṭa, Kumāralāta, Ārya-śūra, so far as they have been recovered, and the verses that are found in the *Caraka-saṃhitā* also confirm the view that the Kāvya style was flourishing at the time and this could not have been the case if there were no poetical texts at the time. There is also reason to believe that erotics, dramaturgy, the art of dancing and singing were all keeping pace with the literary development of the time.

c4.13

But definite dates of the poets in the history of Indian literature are difficult to be got. The Aihole inscription of 634 A.D. mentions the names of Kālidāsa and Bhāravi and we know that Bāṇa flourished in the 7th century A.D. They are the two fixed landmarks in the early chronology of Sanskrit poets. The testimony of Bāṇa as well as the other references that we find of the existence of many poets at the time prove fairly conclusively that the 4th and 5th centuries may be regarded as a very prominent period of literary production. This gets further confirmation from the evidence of inscriptions which are written in a fine literary style. Already from the evidence of Bhāmaha we know that many writers on *alaṃkāra* had flourished before him and that he had drawn on them in the composition of his work. The panegyric of Samudragupta by Hariṣeṇa (about 350 A.D.) may be taken as a typical case.

c4.14.1

But from the 6th century onwards we find that the poets often manifest a tendency for display of learning and scholarship and skill in the manipulation of words and verbosity and a studied use of *alaṃkāras*. We know that in the 4th century Vasubandhu had written his *Abhidharmakoṣa*. In this great work he mercilessly criticised not only other schools of Buddhism but also the Hindu schools of philosophy, such as *Sāṃkhya*, *Vaiśeṣika* and the like. Diṅnāga and Vātsyāyana flourished about the 5th century A.D. and from this time onward the quarrel of the philosophers and learned scholars of divergent schools began to grow into such importance that it practically influenced every other department of thought. The old simplicity of style which we find in Patañjali and Śavara had now disappeared. Śaṅkara and Jayanta who flourished probably in the 7th and 9th century are indeed noble to India had come to live in a country peopled by aliens having a culture far below their own (excepting probably the Dravidians) whose cultural and other tastes were entirely different. The great problem before them was the problem of the fusion of races. It was the main concern of the leaders of society to protect the purity of the race, its culture and religion as far as possible. They initiated the system of *varṇāśrama* and enunciated rigorous regulations for the respective duties of the four *varṇas*.

c4.14.2

There is ample evidence in the Smṛtis that in spite of the rigorous regulations, these were often violated and as time passed on, rigours increased. Thus marriage with girls of lower *varṇas* which was allowed at one stage was entirely stopped in later times. There is, however, evidence to show that marriages took place not only with the girls of lower *varṇas* but many kings had devoted Greek wives. But still the problem of fusion of races gradually increased when the Huns, the Scythians and the Greeks not only entered the country and lived there, but became Hinduised. So long as many rulers of the country were given to military adventures and the people as a whole entered into commercial negotiations and intercourses with different countries and established settlements in different lands—the balance or the equilibrium of society had a dynamic vigour in it. Intercourse with other people on equal terms expanded the mental vista, but when, for reasons unknown, their came a period of stagnation and peple became more or less narrow and provincial, they lacked vigour and energy of free thought. In society the rigour of social rules increased, and people followed these rules in spite of the fact that obedience to such rules was in direct contradiction to the professed systems of philosophy.

c4.14.3

Philosophy became divested of social life and whatever divergence there might have been in the philosophical speculations of different sects and communities—they became equally loyal to the same *smṛti* laws. When the *smārta* followed the injunctions of *smṛti* on the belief that they all emanated from the Vedas, the Vaiṣṇava followed the same *smṛti* rules on the ground that they were the commandments of God. The maxim of the *Mīmāṃsā* was that no *smṛti* laws would have any validity if they are not supported by the Vedas. But there were really many *smṛti* laws about which no evidence could be found in the Vedas. The legal fiction was invented that where corroborative Vedic texts were not available, one should suppose that they existed but were lost. The whole effort was suicidal. It denied in principle the normal human fact that society is a human institution. With the change of condition and circumstances, material wants and means of production and external influences of diverse kinds, man must change and with the change of man, the social institutions, duties and obligations must also change. The attempt to bind with iron chains all movements of society, so that these must adapt themselves to the conditions that prevailed in Vedic times, was like the attempt of the Chinese to make the feet of the ladies manacled in iron shoes, so that when the lady grew to the adult age, her feet should remain like those of a baby.

c4.14.4

This extereme conservatism of social laws had an extremely depressive effect as regards the freedom of mind and it enslaved the temper of the mind and habituated it to respect the older traditions at the expense of common sense and wisdom. The elasticity of mind that we find in the *Mahābhārata* soon disappeared and people got themselves accustomed to think in terms invented for them by their predecessors. Yet it is not true that they were always faithful and loyal to the customs of Vedic times. Any Brahmin or community of Brahmins of influence could make a *smṛti* law which proved binding to successive generations of people. This may be illustrated by the case of beef-eating. Beef-eating is a recognised Vedic caustom and even to-day when marriage ceremonies are performed, there is a particular *mantra* which signifies that a cow has been brought for the feast of the bridegroom and the bridegroom replies out of pity that the cow need not be butchered for his gratification. But yet according to the later *smṛti*, cow-killing or beef-eating is regarded as one of the major crimes. Again, while sea-voyage was allowed in ancient times and therefore had the sanction of the Vedic literature, it has been prohibited by the later *smṛti*. The list of *kali-varjyas* may all be taken as instances of drawing up a tighter noose at the neck of the society.

c4.14.5

Thus, there was not merely the convenient fiction on behalf of the *smṛti* but even injunctions that were distinctly opposed to the older Vedic practices, which were forced upon the people by the later codifiers of *smṛti* for the guidance of society. It is difficult to understand how the injunctions of the *smṛti* writers derived any authoritative value. Probably in some cases many older instances had gone out of practice or become repugnant to the people, or that the codification of some *smṛti* writers might have had the backing of a ruling prince and was for the matter of that held sacred in his kingdom. But it may also have been that some *smṛti* writers had risen to great eminence and authority and by virtue of the peoples' confidence in him, his decisions became authoritative. In the case of Raghunandana, who lived in Navadwipa about 500 years ago, we find that either by personal influence or by propaganda he succeeded in making his views and interpretation stand supreme in Bengal in preference to the views of older *smṛti* authorities like Yājñavalkya or Vijñāneśvara.

c4.15

*Dharmaśāstras* were probably in existence before Yāska, but the important *Dharmaśāstras* of Gautama, Baudhāyana and Āpastamba probably flourished between 600 and 300 B. C. Before the *Dharmaśāstras* or the *Dharmasūtras* we have the *Gṛhyasūtras*. The *Hiraṇyakeśi Dharmasūtras* were probably written sometime about the 4th century A. D. The *Vāśiṣṭha Dharmasūtra* was probably in existence in the 1st or the 2nd century of the Christian era. The *Viṣṇu Dharmasūtra* had probably an earlier beginning, but was thoroughly recast in the 8th or the 9th century A. D. The *Hārīta* was probably written somewhere about the 5th century A. D. The versified *Śaṅkha* is probably a work of later date though it may have had an earlier version. We have then the *smṛtis* of Atri, Uśanas, Kaṇva, Kāśyapa, Gārgya, Cyavana, Jātukarṇa, Paithīnasi, Bṛhaspati, Bharadvāja, Śātātapa, Sumanta, of which the dates are uncertain. But most of the *smṛtis* other than the older ones were written during the period 400 to 1000 A. D. In ancient times the number of *smṛtis* must have been very small and the extent of limitations imposed by them was also not so great. Thus, Baudhāyana speaks only of Aupajaṅgham, Kātya, Kāśyapa, Gautama, Prajāpati, Maudgalya, Hārīta. Vaśiṣṭha mentions only Gautama, Prajāpati, Manu, Yama and Hārīta. Āpastamba mentions ten. Manu speaks of only six besides himself, such as Atri, Bhṛgu, Vaśiṣṭha, Vaikhānasa and Śaunaka. But in all their works the writers are mentioned only casually and there is no regular enumeration of writers on *Dharma* in one place. Yājñavalkya is probably the earliest writer who enumerated twenty expounders of *Dharma*. Kumārila who flourished in the 7th and the 8th century speaks of 18 *Dharma Saṃhitās*. We have then the 24 *Dharma Saṃhitās* which in addition to Yājñavalkya's list contains 6 more. There is another *smṛti* called *Ṣaṭtriṃśanmata* quoted by *Mitākṣarā* which contains 36 *smṛtis*. The *Vṛddhagautama Smṛti* gives a list of 57 *dharma-śāstras* and the *Prayoga-pārijāta* gives a list of 18 principal *smṛtis*, 18 *upasmṛtis* and 21 *smṛtikāras*. The *Nirṇayasindhu* and the *Mayūkha* of Nīlakaṇṭha gives a list of 100 *smṛtis*. Thus as time advanced the number of *smṛti* authorities increased and there was gradually more and more tightening. The *Manusmṛti* had probably attained its present form by the 2nd century A.D. and the *Yājñavalkyasmṛti* was probably composed in the 3rd or 4th century A.D. We find that though the *smṛtis* had begun at an early date and were supposed to have been based upon Vedic injunctions and customs, yet new *smṛti* authorities sprang up giving new injunctions which can hardly be traced to Vedic authorities. Many of the older authorities were again and again revised to harmonise the changes made and these revised editions passed off as the old ones as there was no critical apparatus of research for distinguishing the new from the old.

c4.16

The Purāṇas also indulged in the accretions of the many materials of the *Dharma-śāstra*. From the 10th century onwards we have a host of commentators of *smṛtis* and writers of digests or *nibandhas* of *smṛtis*. A peep into the *smṛtiśāstras* and *nibandhas* of later times shows that there was a regular attempt to bind together all possible actions of men of different castes of society by rigorous rules of *smṛtis*. Such an attempt naturally has its repercussions on the mental freedom and spontaneity of the mind of the people.

c4.17

This tendency may also be illustrated by a reference to the development of the philosophical literature.

c4.18

It is curious, however, to note that though the Indian systems of philosophy diverged so diametrically from one another, they all professed to be loyal interpreters of the Upaniṣads. Śaṅkara's own interpretation of the Upaniṣads consists chiefly in showing the purport of the Upaniṣads as condensed in the *sūtras*. The *Brahmasūtra* itself says that there is no end to logical discussions and arguments and no finality can be reached by logical and philosophical debates. It is always possible to employ keener and keener weapons of subtle logic to destroy the older views. The scope and area of the application of logic must always be limited by the textual testimony of the Upaniṣads, which alone is the repository of wisdom. It is curious to note that the same Upaniṣadic text has been interpreted by some writers as rank nihilism, by others as absolutism and by others again as implying dualism, pluralism or theism. But the spirit was still there that the highest wisdom and truth are only available in the Upaniṣadic thought. So great has been the hold of the Upaniṣads on the Indian mind that even after centuries of contact with the Western world, its science and philosophy, Indian mind has not been able to shake off the tight hold of the Upaniṣads on its thought. The late poet Tagore, who happened to be probably the greatest poet and thinker of our age, drew most of his inspiration and ideas from Upaniṣads. In all his writings he largely expandend the Upaniṣadic thought assimilating with it some of the important tendencies of Western biology and philosophy, but always referring to Upaniṣads or interpreting them in that light for final corroboration.

c4.19

The collapse of the Indian genius in formalistic lines and in artificiality in social customs, behaviours and actions, in philosophy and in art, is naturally reflected in the development of the Sanskrit literature of a later age. In the earlier age also the reverence for the past had always its influence on the genius of the poets of succeeding ages. It may be presumed that the court atmosphere of the Hindu kings was always dominated by a regard for the Hindu *Dharmaśāstras* as it was also the general attitude of the people. This tightening of the grip on the mind to follow the past was so much impressed upon the people that when after an age the poetical practice was established, the rhetoricians recorded this practice and made it a pattern for all kinds of literature. Just as the various writers on *Smṛti* had tried to record the customary practice and behaviour of all the daily actions of all class of people, so the rhetoricians also recorded the practice of the past poets and this served as a pattern or guide for the poets of succeeding generations.

c4.20

When we read the works on rhetoric by Bhāmaha, Daṇḍin, Vāmana, Udbhaṭa and Rudraṭa, and other writers of earlier times, we find discussions on Kāvya of a structural nature. They discuss what constitutes the essence of Kāvya, the nature of adornments, the relative importance of the style, the adornment and the like, or whether or not suggestivity or rousing of sentiments should be regarded as being of primary importance in good literature. But seldom do we find an enumeration regarding requirements of the various kinds of poetry, *mahākāvya*, *khaṇḍa-kāvya*, etc., or a detailed description of the patterns of the different kinds of characters of heroes and heroines, or an enumeration of the subjects that have or have not to be described in works of poetry. These patterns when enumerated by the rhetoricians, becomes patterns of poetic behaviour which must be followed by the poets and loyalty to these patterns became often the criteria of good or bad poetry, just as the patterns of conduct recorded in the *Smṛti-śāstras* became the criteria of good or bad conduct of the people.

c4.21

It must also be noted that as the number of injunctions increased and as the *Smṛti-śāstra* demanded a complete patternisation of the conduct of all sections of people, freedom of life and behaviour gradually began to disappear. In whatever community or clan of people one may have had a chance of enquiring into, one would find the same pattern of behaviour as was running through the ages. It was an attempt towards a mummification of social life from which all novelty was gone. Even if there was anywhere any violation of the pattern, the poet could hardly utilise it without shocking the sense of decorum and religious tatse of the people. Thus, the poet had hardly any field of new experience. The freer life of older times became gradually encased within the iron casings of the laws of *Smṛti*. Thus Kālidāsa in describing his ideal king Dilīpa, says that his subjects did not deviate even by a line from the course that was followed from the time of Manu. It is thus easy to say that when life is unchangeably patternised and there is no freedom and spontaneity or change or variety in life, poetry cannot reflect any new problems of life and necessarily it must follow artificial patterns which had been current through centuries. This was further enhanced by the fact that the same tendency of working after a pattern out of a reverence for the past also intellectually compelled the poet to look for the pattern of his work to earlier poets or to generalisations made from them as recorded in the Alaṃkāra literature. I wish to affirm here that the reason why the earlier Sanskrit literature like the *Rāmāyaṇa* and the *Mahābhārata* and the works of Śūdraka, Bhāsa, etc., are more human, and the reason why poets of a later period became gradually more and more artificial, is largly due to the stagnation of society and social life. Kālidāsa, however, may be taken as an exception, but it seems that in his time the ideal of old *varṇāśrama-dharma* seemed still to inspire the ideal of the people. For this reason in two of his works, *Raghuvamśa* and *Abhijñana-śakuntala* he had taken a theme of antiquity and of history. Thus in *Raghuvamśa*, which is a history of the kings of Raghu race, he seems to have invented many episodes of the kings of the past about whom practically no record is available in Vālmīki. It is curious to note, however, that though he practically passed off the scenes of Rāma's life depicted by Vālmīki, yet he expressed his gratitude to him to the extent of comparing his work as being merely of the type of passing a thread through pearls through which holes have already been made by Vālmīki. Now, what may be the secret of Kālidāsa's feeling of greatfulness ?

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Now it seems to me that Dilīp, Raghu, Aja, Daśaratha and Rāmacandra are really the pivotal characters of *Raghuvamśa*. If we take the lives of them all and roll them up into one, we can very well have a faithful picture of an ideal king, who is devoted to the rules of *varṇāśrama-dharma*. Throughout the *Rāmāyaṇa*, in the character of Rāma, beginning from the episode of his marriage to the killing of Śambūka, we have the picture of such a king, who is loyal to his father, loyal to his people, who marries for progeny, shows heroism by conquest and carries the fruits of civilisation to other countries. What Kālidāsa meant by threading the pearls is that he has really rolled up into one the great ideas of Vālmīki and manifested them in the character of different kings beginning from Dilīpa. His success with these two Kāvyas was largely due to his natural genius and also because the thing he took up was hallowed with the glory of the past. In *Śakuntalā* he staged his theme in a fairly supernormal manner. It was a prolongation of earth to heaven and as such it was not normal or natural. We find here also the same loyalty on the part of the king to *varṇāśrama-dharma* and the romance with Śakuntalā was also not clearly of the ordinary social order. Śakuntalā was the daughter on the one hand of Viśvāmitra and on the other, of Menakā, of an ascetic Kṣattriya and a heavenly nymph. As such the love was not unsocial. In the other drama *Vikramorvaśī* also, he availed himself of a Vedic story and described the love of the king with a heavenly nymph. Had Kālidāsa been a modern man, he should have probably staged his drama in a different manner. Believer as he was in some amount of free love, the social conditions did not allow him to depict it otherwise than with an Apsarā. According to the older smṛtis and traditions available to us, we find that a love affair with a courtesan's daughter was thoroughly allowable in social practice. In the third love affair described by Kālidāsa, he takes a Yakṣa and his wife. In the fourth love affair in *Mālavikāgnimitra*, which was his maiden work, he was not so daring and took opportunity of the fact that it was the constant practice of the kings to have more than one wife. In that case also, Mālavikā was also a princess. She was brought in the family by circumstances of an unnatural character and though the queen had protected her from the sight of the king, he accidentlly saw her portrait and gradually fell into love with her. The *parivrājikā* performed her part in the manner somewhat foreshadowed in the *Kāmaśāstra*. The other love affair that Kālidāsa describes was that of Śiva and Pārvatī and here also only in the 5th canto, that we find a great ideal depicted in the effort of Pārvatī to attain, through penances, such proper worth as may make her deserving of her great husband, and this is the most important message of the book. Otherwise, the Kāvya, as a whole, falls flat on our ears. The 1st and the 2nd cantos are bores. The 3rd canto attains some vigour and the 4th canto is a mere parody of the tragic consequences following the effort of Kāma to fascinate Śiva. The 6th and 7th cantos can well be read or omitted. We thus see that the divine episode, even when delineated by a master genius like Kālidāsa, really failled because it had not the realities of life. Its value with us is the great idea that physical beauty by itself cannot really win the heart of great souls and also the idea that it is only then when a great souls is wedded with a woman who by her moral austerities can make herself pure and attract her husband through her purity and spiritual greatness and the crucifixion of the baser tendencies of life, that great leaders of nations such as Kārttikeya can be produced.

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A member of the higher caste is to get married the very day he ceases to be a Brahmacārī according to the maxim that one cannot stay even a day without belonging to an *āśram*. Such marriages would naturally be arranged for him by his parents and relations and if after that he remains absolutely loyal to his wife, there is hardly any room for any intrigue or romance. Sanskrit poetry generally holds within it a charm or attraction which is almost inimitable by any other language, but owing to the patternised form of life enjoyed by the *smṛtis*, the scope of life depicted in the Kāvyas became so narrow and limited. The honest life formulated in the codes of duties, fixed once and for all, cannot be the fit atmosphere for the free development of poetic art. Freedom of love to some extent has to be tolerated in society and boys and girls have to remain unmarried up to an adult age in order that love episodes may be possible. Where the girls are married before they attain their puberty and when such marriges are arranged by their relations and when other forms of non-marital love are not recognised, the sphere of love poetry naturally becomes very limited. One has to find some instances of illicit love in royal spheres or one has to deal with heavenly nymphs or carry on with the tales of the *Rāmāyaṇa* or the *Mahābhārata*.

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Taking sex-love by way of illustration, we find that the *Kāmasūtra*, written probably towards the beginning of the Christian era, says (1.5.3) that sex behaviour to girls of lower caste, who are not untouchables, to prostitutes and to widows prepared to marry again, is neither recommended nor prohibited. It is only for pleasure.¹ The institution of prostitution of higher or lower orders was allowed in society without much objection. Thus when Cārudatta in *Mṛcchakaṭika* was challenged that how being an honourable man he had kept a prostitute though he had his wife, he says, "*yauvanamevātrāparāddhaṃ na cāritram*". "It is only the fault of my youth and not of my character". In the *Yājñavalkya* also we find in the *Vyavahāra-adhyāya*, Chap. 24, that primary and secondary sex behaviour was only prohibited in relation to married women, girls of higher castes and also other girls against their wish. There was thus a fair amount of latitude for free love and a study of the *Kuṭṭanīmatam* shows that even prostitutes were sometimes smitten with love though it is their profession to attract young people and deplete them of their riches. The fact that the transgression of young girls with regard to the secondary sex acts such as kissing, embracing and the like by other young men was treated very lightly, is realised by reference to *Yājñavalkya* and *Mitākṣarā*.¹ Again, it seems from *Yājñavalkya* (*Ācārādhyāya—Vivāhaprakaraṇa*) that transgression of married women unless it bore fruit, was treated very lightly. Thus Yājñavalkya (I.3.72) says, *vyabhicārād ṛtau śuddhiḥ*, i.e., in the case of transgression the woman is purified by the next menstruation. The fact also that there were so many kinds of marriages and particularly the existence of a *gāndharva* marriage shows that life was much freer in ancient times than in later days. As the rigours of the Smṛti advanced with time and tried to stifle free social behaviour and as social customs became more and more puritanic and these again reacted upon the writers of the Smṛti and influence them gradually to tighten their noose more and more, the current of social life became gradually more and more stagnant and unfit for free literary productions.

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¹ *avaravarṇāsu aniravasitāsu veśyāsu punarbhūṣu ca na śiṣṭo na prati ṣiddhaḥ sukhārthatvāt.*

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¹ > *somaḥ śaucaṁ dadāvāsaṁ gandharvaśca śubhāṁ giram* । content. It is, therefore, wholly unrelated to any localised object or subject. The aesthetic revelation is thus quite untrammelled by any objective tie.

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This also explains why the poets so often took the theme of their subject from older Kavyas and Purāṇic legends. In itself there may be nothing wrong in taking themes from older legends, provided the poet could rejuvenate the legend with the spirit of his own times. Shakespeare also drew from the legends of Plutarch and other older writers. But though the general scheme of the story is the same, yet the

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*pāvakaḥ sarva-medhyatvaṁ medhyā vai yoṣito hyataḥ* ॥
Yājñavalkya, I. 3. 71.

> *somagandharvavahnayaḥ strīrbhuktvā yathākramaṁ tāsāṁ śauca-madhura-vacana-sarvamedhyatvāni dattavantaḥ tasmāt striyaḥ sarvatra sparśāliṅganādiṣu medhyāḥ śuddhāḥ smṛtāḥ* ॥
> —Mitākṣarā, I. 3. 71.

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characters have become living because Shakespeare lived through these characters in his own imagination and his sparkling genius took the materials of his own life from the social surroundings about him which became rekindled by his emotion and imagination and it was this burning colour of the characters, lived through in the mind of the poet, that was displayed in his dramatic creations. In the case of the Indian poets, the legend was drawn from older Kāvya or Purāṇic myths but the poet himself had but little life to infuse in the story (because in the social surroundings in which he lived, mind was not free to move) lest he might produce any shock on the minds of his readers who used to live a patternised life. The force of this remark will be easily appreciated if we remember that Sanskrit poets who deal with illicit love seldom make it the central theme of any big Kāvya and they utilised the little affairs of illicit love only in drawing little pictures. The writers of Alaṃkāra tell us that wherever such illicit love is described and howsoever beautifully may it be done, it must be taken as *rasābhāsa*, i.e., semblance of literary aesthetic emotion and not real *rasa* or real asthetic amorous sentiments.

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A poet like Kālidāsa made a successful venture in *Abhijñāna-śakuntala*, where though the love was not illicit yet it was going to shock the mind of his audience. In order to prevent such a catastrophe, he had to take his heroine as the daughter of a Kṣatriya and a heavenly nymph and as Duṣyanta was going to repress his emotion because it had no sanction of society—he was at once reminded of the fact that his mind was so much saturated with the proper discipline of the Vedic life that he could trust his passion as directing him to proper action. This very passage has been quoted by Kumārila in defence of actions that may be done even without the sanction of the *śastra* in accordance with the customary behaviour of those whose minds are saturated with Vedic ideas through generations of loyal obedience to older customs. This also explains Manu's injunction of *sadācāra* as being one of the determinants of conduct.

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Kālidāsa also arranged the *gāndharva* marriage which was already becoming out of date at the time. He had however in his mind the instinct of compunction of a man whose mind is surcharged with sentiments of loyalty to the *Smṛti-śāstras* for staging such a romance which was not customary at the time. He therefore introduces a curse of ancient times through the fiery wrath of Durvāsā, creating a tragic episode which he really could not bridge except by the very unreal staging of a drama by making the king travel to heaven and kill demons there and meet Śakuntalā in the heavenly hermitage of Mārīca. For such a king who can travel to heaven and kill demons there, one is prepared to give any license. But Kālidāsa did not realise how unreal was this part of the drama which taken along the natural and normal environment of the first part. Of course Kālidāsa never hesitated to be unreal in his dramatic treatment. Śakuntalā's familiarity with nature in the poetic fancy that nature also loved her is expressed in a technique which is wholly unreal, viz., that of making the trees offer ornaments for Śakuntalā.

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Rabindranath in his criticism of the drama has interpreted it as embodying the conception of Kālidāsa that mere carnal love has a natural curse with it, unless it is chastened by self-mortification and *tapasyā*. I would supplement it with a further additional idea that this was probably Kālidāas's view in the case of such weddings as are to produce great sons like Bharata and Kārttikeya. He is not loyal to this view either in *Vikramorvaśī* or in *Mālavikāgnimitra*. In *Śakuntalā*, however, it may rightly be argued that the conception had taken place through passionate love and Śakuntalā was in fairly advanced state of pregnancy when she was repulsed from Duṣyanta's court. It may further be added that there was no wilful self-mortification and attempt to rouse purity through a sense of value for a great love, as was the case of Pārvatī's *tapasyā* in *Kumārasambhava*, for Śakuntalā lived with her mother in heaven and was nrturally pining through sorrow of separatian from Duṣyanta and wearing garment for lonely ladies as prescribed by the Śāstras. Strictly speaking there was no *tapasyā* for love; it was merely a suffering for separation and as such we cannot apply the norm of *Kumārasambhava* to the drama *Śakuntalā*. From this standpoint Rabindranath's view cannot be strictly justified. For suffering through mere separation may chasten the mind and improve the sterner qualities of love, but it cannot fully affect the nature of the original worth and such occasions of suffering may arise even in normal curcumstances. We cannot also hold that Kālidāsa believed that suffering through separation chastens love, for we do not find it in the case of *Vikramorvaśī* and the *Meghadūta*. It seems therefore more pertinent to hold that the veil of unreality of a heavenly journey and meeting the son there were conceived as improvements on the *Mahābhārata* story because the *gāndharva* form of marriage had become obsolete and to make the issue of such a wedlock a great emperor like Bharata might not have pleased Kālidāsa's audience.

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The unreality of *Vikramorvaśī* is so patent that it needs no stressing. In the *Raghuvaṁśa* also there are many episodes which are wholly of a mythical nature. Why did this happen even with a genius like Kālidāsa? Our simple answer is that life had begun to be patternised even at the time of Kālidāsa. People would swallow anything that was mythical and that was the only place in which there was some latitude for depicting emotions. The normal life had begun to be undramatic and uneventful. Anything beyond the normal would have been resented as not contributing to good taste. But Śūdraka, who flourished centuries before Kālidāsa, did not feel any compunction in making the love of a courtesan the chief theme of his drama. There, for the first and the last time, we find a drama which is surcharged with the normal realities of life.

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But the Sanskrit poets being thwarted in dealing with free passionate love as the chief theme of a glorious Kāvya gave indulgence to the repressed sex-motives in gross descriptions of physical beauty and purely carnal side of love both in long-drawn Kāvyas and also in lyrics. It is for this reason that the genius of Sanskrit writers in their realism of life has found a much better expression in small pictures of lyric poems than in long-drawn epics. The repressed motive probably also explains why we so often find carnal and gross aspects of human love so passionately portrayed.

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I do not for a moment entertain the idea that Sanskrit poets as a rule had a puritanic temperament or suffered from any sense of prudery. They regarded amorous sentiment to be the first and most important of all *rasas*. Indeed, there have been writers on Alaṃkāra who had held the amorous sentiment to be the only sentiment to be portrayed. But the patternised form of society and the unreal ways of living where every action of life was controlled by the artificial injunction of the *smṛti* which always attempted to shape the mould of a progressive society according to the pattern and model of a society which had long ceased to exist in its natural environments and which was merely a dream or imagination, hampered the poet's fancy to such an extent that it could seldom give a realistic setting to the creation of his muse. We may add to it the fact that Sanskrit poetry grew almost in complete isolation from any other literature of other countries. The great poetry of Rabindranath could not have been created if he were imprisoned only in the Sanskritic tradition. The society of the world and the poetry of the world in all ages are now in our midst. We can therefore be almost as elastic as we like, though it must be admitted that we cannot stage all our ideas in the present social environment of this country. Here again, we live in a time when there are different strata of society standing side by side. The present society has unfurled its wings towards future progress and in such a transitional stage, the actual process of becoming and the various stages of growth are lying one within the other. This may be well illustrated if we take the case of men and women living in the so-called polished and polite society of Chowringhee and the people living in the distant villeges of Bengal. We have now in our midst an immense number of societies having entirely different ideals and perspectives. There must have been some difference between people living in court atmosphere and people living in hermitages far away from the town such that the latter could hardly tolerate the former as is well-expressed in the words of Śārṅgarava and Śāradvata. But on the whole there was a much greater uniformity of society where all people followed the law of *Smṛti*.

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In conclusion I wish to suggest that the cause of the artificiality and unreality of the life depicted in the Kāvyas is due to two facts : one, the gradual depletion of life form society due to the rigour of the *Smṛti* and absence of any intercourse with any foreign literature, and the other, the conservatism for which whatever foreign life was known to India could not in any way influence the character and perspective of the Indians.

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In this connection it is not out of place to mention that the world of poetry was regarded as a new creation different from the world of Nature. The purpose of poetry is to give aesthetic enjoyment and not to give a replica of the hard struggles of life, miseries and sufferings. But I have reasons to think that this does not imply that poetry should be divested from life but it merely shows the spiritual nature of art which even through the depicting of sorrows and sufferings produces aesthetic pleasure. The object of poetry is mainly to rouse our sentiments of joy and everything else is to become its vehicle. This alone distinguishes the material world from the world of art. Thus Mammaṭa says that the world of Nature is uniform as it is produced by the power of destiny and is dependent upon the material atoms, energy and the accessory causes and is of the nature of pleasure, pain and delusion, whereas the world of words is a direct production of the poetic Muse and is through and through interpenetrated with aesthetic joy. It is also thought that poetry must carry with it the delineation of an ideal or ideals not communicated by way of authorisation, injunction or friendly advice, but by rousing our sympathy and interest, our joy and love for them. It was therefore committed to the production of something that would not in any way by shocking to the sense of the good as conceived by the people.

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But the relieving feature of the Sanskrit Kāvyas, in spite of the conventional themes, subjects and ways of description, is to be found in the fact that most of the legends drawn from the Purāṇas or the older Kāvyas, were often such that the people were familiar with them and were used normally and habitually to take interest in the heroes and heroines which were pretty well-known. People did not also miss naturalness and reality because they thought that in literature they were entering into a new world, which was bound to be different from the world of Nature they knew. The majesty and the grandeur of the Sanskrit language, the sonorousness of word-music, the rise and fall of the rhythm rolling in waves, the elasticity of meaning and the conventional atmosphere that appear in it have always made it charming to those for whom it was written. The unreality and conventionality appear only to a modern mind looking at it with modern perspectives. The wealth of imagery, the vividness of description of natural scenes, the underlying suggestiveness of higher ideals and the introduction of imposing personalities often lend great charm to Sanskrit poetry.

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The atmosphere of artistic creation as displayed in a Sanskrit play, as distinguished from the atmosphere of ordinary reality has well been described by Abhinavagupta in his commentary on Bharata's *Nāṭya-Sūtra*. Thus, Abhinavagupta says that the constitutive words of a Kāvya produce in the mind of the proper reader something novel, something that is over and above the meaning of the poem. After the actual meaning of words is comprehended there is an intuition by virtue of which the spatio-temporal relation of particularity that is associated with all material events disappears and a state of universalisation is attained. When in the play of *Śakuntalā* king Duṣyanta appeared on a chariot following a deer for piercing it with his arrows, the deer was running in advance, turning backward its neck from time to time to look at the chariot following it and expecting a stroke of the arrow at every moment, and drawing its hind legs towards the front, twisting the back muscles and rushing forth with open mouth dropping on the way the half-chewed grass, we have a scene of fear ; but our mind does not refer it to the deer of any particular time or place or to the particular king who was hunting the deer, and we have no idea of any fear as being of any particular kind or belonging to a particularly localised animal. The absence of this particularity is manifested in the fact that we have no feeling of sorrow or anxiety associated with it. It is because this fear arises in a special manner in which it is divested of all association of particularity that it does not get mixed up with any of our personal psychological feelings. For this reason the aesthetic experience produced by literature, the sentiment that is realised through delineation in art, is devoid of any association with any particular time, place or person. For this reason the aesthetic representation of fear or any other emotion is entirely different from any real psychological sentiment. And therefore, it is devoid of the ordinary associates that accompany any real psychological sentiment that is felt personally as belonging to a real person in a particular spatio-temporal setting. Abhinava says that in such a fear the self is neither absolutely hidden nor illuminated in its individual personal character (*tathāvidhe hi bhaye nātyantamātmā tiraskṛto na viśeṣataḥ ullikhitaḥ*). The artistic creation and representation then appear in an atmosphere of light and darkness, shadow and illumination in which the reference to the real person and the real time and place is dropped. As when we infer the existence of fire from smoke we do not make any reference to any special fire or any special smoke, so here also the aesthetic sentiment has no localised aspect. When through the gestures of the players different sentiments are aroused in the minds of the observers, then the representation so intuited is divested of the spatio-temporal relations.

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