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History of Bengali Language and Literature c7.s2: 2. Vidyāpati

History of Bengali Language and Literature c7.s2

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English

2. Vidyāpati

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Vidyāpati is not, strictly speaking, a Bengali poet. He belonged to Mithilā (Dwārbhāṅgā) and composed his songs in the Vernacular of those districts. Yet we include his name in a history of Bengali literature. This will appear anomalous, but our people have established their claims upon this Maithil poet in a manner that leaves no room for disputing our action. Vidyāpati's songs have found a prominent place in all the compilations of the Vaiṣṇavas current in Bengal, and they are sung here by the Vaisnub singers on all occasions. In fact a quarter of a century ago, it was believed by Bengali readers that Vidyāpati was a Bengali poet. Recently, however, when a true account of his life was unearthed by the researches of scholars like Bābu Rāj Kṛiṣṇa Mukherjee and Dr. Grierson, we began to question the propriety of our claim. Vidyāpati's songs, as known to Bengalis, are in many respects different from the versions found in the Maithil language. The days of Vidyāpati were the days of the glory of the Mithila university and at that time there was a great interchange of thought between Mithila and Bengal. Hence Bengali poems dealing with the love of Rādhā and Kriṣṇa found entrance into Mithila and the versions of those poems current there are full of Maithil idioms and expressions. The poems of Govinda Dās, the great Bengali poet, are still known in Behār, although the people there have changed their language by introducing many Maithil words and idioms which sound strange to the Bengali ear. In the same manner, Vidyāpati's poems have passed through changes in the hands of the Bengali poets who recast them. The reader may compare the recensions current in the two countries from a collection of Vidyāpati's poems made by Dr. Grierson. One looks very much like a translation of the other, yet the Bengali recension is sometimes marked by as much genius as the original itself. It not only retains the sweetness but occasionally improves upon it by introducing new sparkling thoughts. Some of the best songs attributed to Vidyāpati—as "জনম অবধি হাম রূপ নেহারিনু" are found only in the Bengali recension and the people of Mithilā have not preserved them in their collection, nor even heard of them. It is the popular belief that Vasanta Rāi, uncle of Rājā Pratāpāditya of Jessore prepared the Bengali recension of Vidyāpati in the 16th century. Vidyāpati's songs in Bengali glow with poetry, colour, and wealth of expression, and, as we have said, are quite equal to their Maithil originals. Under these circumstances Vidyāpati must be counted as Bengali poet, at least in this version, and it would be impossible now to expunge his poems from the compilations current in Bengal, where they have for the last three centuries found a prominent place.

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Vidyāpati was a resident of Visfi—a village in the Sub-division of Sitamari, near Jarail, in the district of Durbhanga. This village he obtained as a grant from Rājā Çiva Simha. Vidyāpati enjoyed the patronage of Çiva Simha, Lacchimā Devī, Viçwās Devī, Narasimha Deva and other sovereigns of Mithilā. The copper-plate grant by which Rājā Çiva Simha is said to have conferred on the poet the title of Nava Jay Deva together with the ownership of the village Visfi is dated 1400 A.D.* Some scholars consider this copper-plate to be forged. The date in the inscription is given in Hijrā era along with other eras, but the Hijrā era was, by the unanimous opinion of historians, introduced at a much later period by the Emperor Ākbar. The characters of the inscription, besides, do not bear the stamp of that early period when the grant is said to have been made. The copper-plate, has been, on these grounds, declared to be unreliable. There is, however, no doubt that the village Visfi was granted by Çiva Simha to Vidyāpati. The poet himself speaks of this grant in one of his poems;† and the descendants of Vidyāpati have for

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† “জনম দাতা মোর, গণপতি ঠাকুর, মৈথিলী দেশে করুবাস। পঞ্চ গৌড়াধিপ শিবসিংহ ভূপ রূপাকরি লেউ নিজ পাশ॥”

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And are now inseparable from Bengali songs.

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The date of the copper-plate grant.

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∗ “অঙ্কে লক্ষ্মণসেন ভূপতিমিতি বহ্নিগ্রহদ্ব্যঙ্কিতে,” In 293 of Lakṣmaṇ Sen’s era.

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long years held possession of the village. The tradition prevalent in the country also supports the grant. The probable causes of the anomalies found in the copper-plate inscription may be thus explained. The copper-plate would be naturally in the custody of the eldest member of the family, and the other descendants interested in the endowment would, according to custom, be permitted to retain copies of it. Supposing that the original copper-plate was lost, the descendants were no doubt reduced to the necessity of preparing another from the copies they had with them, in order to satisfy Rājāh Todar Mall who surveyed the lands during Akbar's time. If this supposition is correct, it accounts for the introduction of the Hijrā era into it, and also for the comparatively modern style of the characters used in the inscription.

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The court-register, or Rāj Pañji of Mithilā, records the year of Rājāh Çiva Simha's ascent to the throne as 1446 A.D. This, however, is also open to objection, as in a poem of Vidyāpati we have a mention of the date of Rājāh Çiva Simha's coronation as 1400 A.D. There are also other reasons which make the dates given by the court-register of Mithilā of doubtful authenticity. There

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বিসফি গ্রাম, দান করল মঝে, রহতহি রাজ-সন্নিধান।
লছিমা চরণ ধ্যানে, কবিতা নিকসয়ে বিদ্যাপতি ইহভাণ ॥''

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My father's name is Gaṇapati Ṭhākur, and we are natives of Mithilā. Çiva Simha, the Lord of 'five Indies' took me to his court through kindness. He made a gift of the village Visfi to me, and my poetry flows at the contemplation of the feet of Lacchimā Devī (the Queen).

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are conflicting opinions about these dates. But recently there has come to light another document which refers to a date in regard to Vidyāpati and which we believe to be of unquestionable authenticity. The MS. of an annotated copy of Kāvya Prakāça in Sanskrit lately recovered, shows that it was copied by one Deva Çarmā by the orders of the poet Vidyāpati in November 1398 A.D. The MS. of Bhāgavata in Vidyāpati's own handwriting is also preserved; but the date of the copy given on the last page, has not yet been deciphered. The two pundits, deputed by the Asiatic Society of Bengal for the purpose, disagree in their readings.

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From the various evidences which we have come across, we can declare with certainty that Vidyāpati was born towards the end of the 14th century and lived to a good old age, probably covering the whole of the 15th century. He was a contemporary of Chandīdās and was attracted by his great rival's fame to undertake a journey to meet him. Many of the later Vaiṣṇava poets have described the interview between these two eminent men, which is said to have taken place on the banks of the Ganges in the spring season. The talk in which the poets are said to have indulged was appertaining to love and its higher flights. It is said that Chandīdās made an impression on the Maithil poet which is distinctly traceable in his later poems, chiefly about Bhāba Sammilana. In the biography of Adwaitāchāryya of Çantipur—the vetern saint of the Vaiṣṇava community, written by Içān Nāgara in 1560 A.D., it is related that the saint, while touring in Mithilā, saw Vidyāpati there.

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Adwait met Vidyāpati in 1458 A.D.

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The poet is described as a person of handsome appearance, and an excellent singer. This meeting between Adwaita and Vidyāpati took place about the year 1458 or 27 years before Chaitanya Deva was born. Vidyāpati refers to Giāsuddin Toglak in one of his songs and in another to Nasir Sāha. But with very few exceptions his songs as a whole are dedicated to Rājāh Çiva Simha—his great patron and friend.

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His patron.

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Vidyāpati's ancestors.

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Vidyāpati was a scion of a distinguished family of scholars. His father, Gaṇapati Thākur dedicated his celebrated Sanskrit work ‘Gaṅgā Bhakti Taraṅginī’ to the memory of his deceased illustrious patron Mahārāj Gaṇeçwara of Mithilā. Gaṇapati's father, Jaya Datta was not only a great Sanskrit scholar, but was distinguished also for his piety and saintliness of character. He obtained the title of ‘Yogeçwara’ for these qualities. The father of Jaya Datta and the great grandfather of Vidyāpati was the illustrious Vireçwara who compiled a code of rules for the guidance of every day-life of the Maithil Brāhmins. The Vireçwara Paddhati, as his great work is called, is almost as much revered in Mithilā as the Aṣṭaviṃçati Tattva of Raghunandan in Bengal. Another point showing the social rank of our poet is that for several generations, his ancestors had discharged ministerial functions in the court of the Maithil sovereigns.

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His Sanskrit works.

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Vidyāpati was a voluminous writer. Besides his ballads in the Vernacular, of which nearly 800 are now recovered, he wrote the following Sanskrit works :—

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1. Puruṣa Parīkṣā. 2. Çaiva Sarvaswasāra. 3. Dāna Vakyāvalī. 4. Vivādasāra. 5. Gaya-Pattan. 6. Gaṅgā Vikṣyāvalī. 7. Durgā Bhakti Taraṅginī. 8. Kīrtilatā.

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My own criticism deals however with his Vernacular poems alone.

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Vidyāpati sang much in the strain of Chandīdās; as a Sanskrit poet of eminence, he was held in great admiration in the court of Rājāh Çiva Siṃha. His own heart, however, was in the songs which he composed in the Vernacular. In the brilliance of his metaphors and similes, in the choice of his expressions, and in the higher flights of his poetic fancy, he over-shadows all Vernacular poets; and Chandīdās, the child of nature, is no match for him. When one reads the songs of both the poets, the ordinary ear is charmed with the elegant expressions of the Maithil bard; but to those who dive deeper into the inner yearnings of the human soul, Chandīdās will seem a far greater apostle of love; his simple words will leave a more lasting impression, than all the literary embellishments and poetic flights of Vidyāpati. Yet Vidyāpati also sometimes scales the heights attained by Chandīdās. In the ‘Pūrvarāga,’ ‘Sambhoga Milana,’ ‘Abhisāra’ and ‘Māna’* Vidyāpati is more of a poet than a prophet. There is not much of spirituality, but a good deal of sensuality, in his earlier love songs. He ransacks the whole classical store to find an apt simile and is never weary of applying as much of these as is within his knowledge, like the sound scholar of rhetoric that he is. To give an example;

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∗ Lover's quarrels.

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Radha's eyes compared to lotus and to bee.

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the eyes of Rādhā are compared to a lotus,—to a bee. These are commonplace and stereotyped similes; but the poet observes for himself in what aspect the comparison holds good and makes his descriptions greatly interesting.

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"The pupil of her eye is like a bee resting on the lotus, the breeze driving it into a corner,"†—this refers to the sidelong glances of Rādhās playful eyes.

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† জনু ইন্দীবর পবনে ঠেলল, অলি-ভরে উলটায় ।

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"The pupil of her eye is like a bee, so intoxicated with the honey of the lotus that it can not fly away,"‡—this refers to the absorbed looks of Rādhā while brooding over her love.

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‡ লোচন জনু থির ভৃঙ্গ আকার, । মধুমাতল কিয়ে উড়ই না পার ॥

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"Her eyes beautified with Kajjala, have assumed a purple hue, they look like the petals of lotus coloured with vermilion,"§—this is a picture of Rādhā just after bathing when the eyes grow reddish. The Indian poets are lavish in using metaphors to indicate the beauty of the eyes,—of those glances which bear messages to lovers, for their subjects can hardly find an opportunity to speak or write to each other. The stolen glances are the only means of intercourse of soul, they are the speech of love, and are minutely watched by the poets—চঞ্চল নয়নে বন্ধ নেহারনী is a significant point in all such stories.

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§ নীরে নিরঞ্জন লোচন রাতা । সিন্দুরে মণ্ডিত জনু পঙ্কজ পাতা ॥

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Vayas Sandhi or Dawn of youth.

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The poet begins with Rādhā's বয়সন্ধি or dawn of youth. This is the time when she is to fall in love with Kṛṣṇa. She has reached an age when one would not mistake her for a child, yet would hesitate to call her a women. If at times she moves with the blithe steps of a child, she immediately mends her motion and walks slowly, with the grace of a maiden. The merry ring of her laughter may remind one of a child's voice, but she controls herself quickly, and a sweet smile such as befits a modest damsel is displayed in the soft curve of her coral lips. The beauty that has come so newly to her person is a surprise to herself. The freedom of childhood is gone; and her eyes become downcast if a whisper is heard. While busy with her toilet, in the company of her maidens, she silently listens to their talk of love; and if any of them notices this, she rebukes her, with mingled smiles and tears.

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Vidyāpati's Rādhā is a special creation of beauty. She is a dream seen in the flesh. Where her gentle steps may tread, water-lilies spring up at the touch of her feet. The charms of her person are a revelation; she can hardly hide the joy, that a consciousness of it brings to her mind. Her smile is like the nectar which gives life and immortality. Her glances are Cupid's own arrows, not five, but a hundred thousand—shot forth on all sides!

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When she goes on Abhisāra to meet her lover, the poet creates a wilderness of lavish metaphors. The idea is here overloaded with classical and conventional figures. Yet through this cloud of imagery, appears a vision of beauty. She is, says the poet, like a luminous wand, created by the lightning; like a golden tendril; the rich clusters

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Radha a creation of beauty.

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of her hair fall loose behind, black as the clouds or as the bees, but soft and curling like the tender Çaibala (moss.) Her eye-brows are bent, in the graceful curves of a bow, and her forehead beams with the lustre of the moon. The playfulness of her eyes reminds one of the bird Khañjana; her beautiful nose is like the Tila flower; her lips have the hue of coral, and so on. Rādhā's lovely form glows with shy happiness at the thought of this first meeting. She goes out in the dark night to meet her lover, covering herself with a Sāḍi of dark silk. She trusts to her guides, but when brought to the bower made by the maidens for the interview, she hesitates; she fears to enter; her heart is full of tenderness and love, but a feeling of shyness and delicacy holds her back. The maidens lead her in, inspite of her gentle protests, and she finds herself face to face with Kṛṣṇa. Her eyes droop; she dares not lift them even to see that beautiful face at which she could never be weary of gazing. The tenderness of the meeting is indescribable. The delicate maiden cannot say one word in response to the many, with which she is greeted; and when she comes back she is overwhelmed with remorse at the recollection of her own failure. By degrees, however, all this is changed. In a subsequent canto she is found relating to her maidens the manœuvres adopted by Kṛṣṇa in order to meet her, such as at the moment when her sister-in-law was asleep, resting her head on her lap, and he came gently from behind her, to steal a kiss. In these descriptions, as I have said, there is an exuberance of sensuousness, and songs of Vidyāpati would never have passed for religious writings, if in the last canto he had not suddenly risen high above such sentiments and repeatedly given to the whole story a spiritual interpretation. Of this, I may give a few specimens. Rādhā describes Kṛṣṇa. He is, she says, a flower to be placed upon her head; he is the collyrium (অঞ্জন) that makes her eyes beautiful; he is a precious necklace clinging about the neck; she cannot, she says, conceive of life without him,—he is to her what water is to the fish, or wings to a bird—the very breath of her being and the only object of her life. By a torrent of such similes which arise spontaneously, but are bound to lose their beauty in translation, she describes herself as altogether merged and lost in the consciousness of her love. Alas, she has told all, but, though loving with all her might, she has failed to grasp him; giving all that her soul is capable of offering, she feels that Kṛṣṇa remains unrevealed to her, as ever. In the last line she turns suddenly, with the cry, ‘Tell me, O Kṛṣṇa, what art thou?’ This touching cry “তুঁহুঁ কৈছে মাধব কহবি মোয়” is wholly spiritual and mystic, it is the agonised expression of the infinitely little in presence of the infinitely Great.

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In the songs called Māthurā, Vidyāpati creates tender pathos by describing Kṛṣṇa’s desertion of Gokula. The shepherd has left the groves of his childhood.

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*“Kṛṣṇa has gone to Mathurā. Alas, Gokula is deserted.

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*“হরি কি মথুরাপুর গেল। অব গোকুল শূন্য ভেল। রোদিতু পিঞ্জরে শুকে, ধেনু ধায়ব মাথুর মুখে। “The bird Çuka weeps in its cage.

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“The cows look up wistfully, and all their gestures point to Mathurā.

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“No longer do shepherds and milkmaids meet on the banks of the Jumnā.

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“O maids, how can I go to those banks again and bear to see the pleasant bowers without him!

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“The beloved groves where he and the maidens played amongst the flowers, how do they rise before me and yet I bear to live!”

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The maidens speak of Kṛṣṇa's return, but Rādhā feels that she is about to die, and says:—

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“If the lily has been withered by the cold rays of the winter-moon, what joy can it have in the coming of the spring!

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অব সহ যমুনারি কুলে, গোপ গোপী নাহি বুলে।”
“কৈছন যাওব যমুনা তীর, কৈছে নেহারব কুঞ্জকুটীর।
সহচরী সঞে যাঁহা কয়ল ফুল খেরি।
কৈছনে জীয়ব তাহি নেহারি।”

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“হিমকরকিরণে নলিনী যদি জারব, কি করব মাধবী মাসে।
অঙ্কুর তপনতাপে যদি জারব, কি করব বারিদ মেহে।
সিন্ধু নিকটে যদি কণ্ঠ শুখায়ব, কো দূর করব পিয়াসা।
চন্দনতরু যদি সৌরভ ছোড়ব, শশধর বরখিব আগি।
* * * কি মোর করম অভাগী।
শ্রাবণ মাহ ঘন, বিন্দু না বরখব, দুরতর বাঁঝ কি ছান্দে।
গিরিধর সেবি, ঠাম নাহি পাওব, বিদ্যাপতি রহু ধন্দে।”

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“If the seeds have been destroyed by the summer sun, what will it avail that there be showers afterwards!

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“Dying of thirst I came to the ocean. Alas! not a drop had I to quench my thirst!

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“Weary, I came to the sandal tree, but the sweet scent ceased.

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“I came for soothing to the light of the moon, and it began to scorch me with fire.

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“The month of Śrāvaṇa with its raining floods had not a drop for me.

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“The Kalpataru* is barren for me.

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“O Kṛṣṇa, O Lord of my soul! I sought refuge in thee, but found it not.

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“The poet Vidyāpati is silent from wonder.”

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Though Rādhā speaks in the language of despair, she is nevertheless conscious of the all-pervading mercy of God. The images here are all similes for Kṛṣṇa himself. He is the ocean, the sandal-tree, the moon-light &c.

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The mourner is about to die of her longing for the return of Kṛṣṇa. Here are a few beautiful familiar lines :—

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†“I shall surely die, says Rādhā, but to whom can I trust my Kṛṣṇa?

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∗ The Tree of Plenty in Indra’s Heaven.

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† “ মরিব মরিব সখি, নিশ্চয় মরিব, কানু হেন গুণনিধি কারে দিয়ে যাব। তোমরা যতেক সখী আছ মঝু সঙ্গে। মরণ-কালে কৃষ্ণ নাম লিখ আমার অঙ্গে ॥

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The touching appeal when death seems near

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“O ye maidens, my companions, cover me, in my last hour, with the name of Kṛṣṇa (lit., write on me the name of Kṛṣṇa.)

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“O Lalitā, friend of my heart, let the last sound, I hear, be the name of Kṛṣṇa.

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“Burn not my body, O maidens, nor float it on the stream; but bind it on the boughs of a Tamāla-tree; and let me rest for ever in its dark blue colour.

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“If it should sometime chance that Kṛṣṇa come to these groves again, I shall be called back to life at the sight of him.

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“Sing in my ears, O maidens, the name of Kṛṣṇa, that hearing it, I may expire.”

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The writing of the name of Kṛṣṇa on the body may be a strange idea to my foreign readers, but those who have visited India will perhaps have seen the name of Kṛṣṇa inscribed on the forehead, breast and arms of many Vaiṣṇavas. At the

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ললিতা প্রাণের সখি মন্ত্র দিহ কানে। মরা দেহ পড়ি যেন কৃষ্ণ নাম শুনে ॥ না পুড়িও রাধা অঙ্গ না ভাসাইও জলে। মরিলে বাঁধিয়া রেখ তমালের ডালে ॥ সেই ত তমাল তরু কৃষ্ণ বর্ণ হয়। অবিরত তনু মোর তাহে যেন রয় ॥ কবহু সো পিয়া যদি আসে বৃন্দাবনে। পরাণ পায়ব হাম পিয়া দরশনে ॥ শ্রবণহ শ্যাম-নাম করু গান। শুনইতে নিকসউ কঠিন পরাণ ॥ ”

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moment of death, it is a duty always observed by the relatives to recite the name of Kṛṣṇa in the ears of the dying. These love songs, therefore, as I have said, cannot be dissociated from their pervading religious idea.

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