The Collected Essays of A. K. Ramanujan

Citation preview

Books in English by A.K. Ramanujan POETRY

The Striders ( 1966) Relations (197 1) Selected Poems ( 1976) Second Sight ( 1986) Collecred Poems, including The Blrlt k Heti (posthumous. 1995)

Tlie Collected Essays of A.K. Ramanujan

TRANSLATIONS

The Interior h n d s c a p e ( 1967) Speaking of ~ i v (a1973) Samskara by U.R. Anantha Murthy (1976) Hymnsfor the Drowning ( 1 98 1 ) Poems of Love and Wor ( 1985) When Cod Is o Customer, with V . Narayuna Rao and David Shulman (posthumous, 1994) CO-AUTHORED AND EGTTED BOOKS

The Literatures ofIndia, with Edward C . Dimock, Jr., and others (1974) Another Harmony, ed. with Stuart Blackburn (1986) Folktales from Indicl (, 1992) TheOxfordAntholog~ofModernIndion Poetty, ed. with Vinay Dharwadker (posthumous, 1994)

Books in Kannada by A.K. Ramanujan Proverbs (1955) Haladi Meenu (~rarislalionof English novel. 1966) Hokkulalli Hrrvillu (,poems, 1969) Mattu lturtl P~dyagolu(poems. 1977) Martobbancl A:rnclkure (novella. 1978) ~b:qfobille( p ~ e m s 1990) ,

GENERALEDITOR Vinay Dharwadker CONTRIBUTORS

Stuart Blackburn J o h n B. Carrnan Edward C . Dirnock, J r W e n d y Doniger Alan Dundes Krishna Rarnanujan Milton B. Singer

OXFORD I'SIVERSITY PRESS

OXFORD U N I V E R S I T Y I'RESS

Contents

YMCALibrary Building. Jai Singh Road. New Delhi 110001 xford University press is a departnlent of the University of Oxford. It fi~rthersthe University's objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishiilg worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dares Salaam Hoilg Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Dellli Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Cllile Czecll Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam

General Editor's Preface

Oxford is a registered tradenlark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in India by Oxford University Press, New Delhi O Selection and ~ditorialmatter

Oxford University Press 1999 Copyright illformatioil on individual essays is included in the Copyright Statenlent at the end of the book The moral rights of the author have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) First published 1999 Second impression 2001 Oxford India Paperbacks 2004 Third ilnpression 2006 Line illustration based on traditional South Indian kolan~ by Ruknliili Krishnamurti

All rights reserved. No part of this publication inay be reproduced. or transmitted in any forill or by any means, electronic or mechanical. including photocopying, recording or by any infornlation storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from Oxford University Press. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book ill any other binding or cover and you must impose this sanle condition on any acquirer ISBN-13: 978-0-19-566896-4 ISBN-10: 0-19-566896-0 Typeset ill Garalllond by Gun1 Typograph Technology, New Delhi 110 045 Printed in India by Saurabh Printers Pvt.Ltd.. Noida, UP Published by Manzar Khan, Oxford University Press YMCA Library Building, Jai Sing11 Road, New Delhi 110 001

I.

VINAY DHARWADKER

vii

Introduction: Two Tributes fo A.K. Ramanujan MILTONB. SINGER EDWARD C. DIMOCK, JR., A N D KRISHNA RAMANUJAN

xii xiv

General Essays on Literature and Culture INTRODUCTION BY WENDY DON~GER 1 Where Mirrors Are Windows: Towards dn Anthology of Reflections

2 I s There an Indian Way of Thinking? An Informal Essay

3 Towards an Anthology of City Images 4 Food for Thought: Towards an Anthology of Hindu Food-images

5 Language and Social Change: T h e Tamil Example 6 S o m e Thoughts on 'Non-Western' Classics: With Indian Examples

11. Essays on Classical Literatures INTRODUCTION BY VINAY DHARWADKER 7 Three Hundred Ratnayanas: Five Examples and

8 9 10 II 12

Three Thoughts on Translation Repetition in the Mahlihharatu Classics Lost and Found Form in Classical Tamil Poetry On Translating a Tamil Poem From Classicism to Bhukti (with Norman Cutler)

vi / T h f Collected Es.says o f A . K . Ramanu;cln

111. Essays on Bhakti and Modern Poetry INTRODUCTION B Y JOHNB. CARMAN 13 On Women Saints 14 Men, Women, and Saints 15 The Myths of Bhakti: Images of ~ i v in a ~ a i v Poetry a 16 Why an Allama Poem I s Not a Riddle: An Anthological Essay 17 Varieties of Bhakti 18 On Bharati and His Prose Poems

N. Essays on Folklore INTRODUCTION B Y STUART BLACKBURN A N D ALAN DUNDES 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

The Clay Mother-in-law: A South Indian Folktale Some Folktales from India Hanchi: A Kannada Cinderella The Indian Oedipus The Prince Who Married His Own Left Half A Flowering Tree: A Woman's Tale Towards a Counter-system: Women's Tales Telling Tales Tell It to the Walls: On Folktales in Indian Culture Two Realms of Kannada Folklore On Folk Mythologies and Folk Pursnas Who Needs Folklore?

Notes and References Chronology of Select Books and Essays by A. K. Rarnanujun Contributors Copyright Statement Index

General Editor's Preface

In the last three or four years of his life, A.K. Ramanujan made a series of notes on the various essays on literature and culture that he had been writing for about four decades. He had delivered most of the essays in earlier forms a s lectures to audiences in the United States, Europe, and India. He had also published early and late versions of many of them in scholarly journals and edited books since the 1950s. But some of them were still no more than outlines for talks or incomplete working drafts that needed substantial recasting and rewriting. The papers he left behind at his death on 13 July 1993 suggest that he intended to complete some of the unfinished pieces, revise the finished ones that were in print or in typescript, and bring together about thirty-five of them in a thematic arrangement for a possible volume of collected essays. Late in 1993, Molly Daniels-Ramanujan invited a number of Ramanujan's colleagues, collaborators and friends to complete what he had contemplated. The present volume is a result of that collaboration, and comes a s close a s possible to the design he had revealed posthumously in his fragmentary notes. Wendy Doniger reviewed the material for Section I, 'General Ess;~yson Literature and Culture', wrote a short introduction to it, and recommended other pieces for inclusion in the book. John Carman wrote an introduction to the essays on Ohakti in Section 111, 'Essays on Bhctkti andModern Poetry', while Stuart Blackburn and Alan Dundes selected. re-arranged and introduced the contents of Section IV, 'Es~aysonFolklore'.Milton Singer, working independently, and Edward Dimock and Krishna Ramanujan, working together, produced two different accounts of Raman~1jan.scareer h a t serve a s a composite introduction to his writing and as tributes to his memory. As the general editor of the book, 1 coordinated the work of.these colleagues, assembled all the essays, prepared the editorial mutter, revised the notes and references for

viii I 7'170 C'ollcc.ic~rlEs.srr~~.s of'i4.K. Ktrrntrr~ujtrrl u n i f o r ~ n ~of: ~style, and also provided the introduction to Section 11, 'Essays 011 Classical Literatures'. This volume now contains thirty essays altogether, six each on genera] aspects of Indian literature and culture. classical literatures, and the literatures of the hlzukti movement and the modern period, and twelve on the study of Indian folklore. It excludes the essays that are already famous as part of Ramanujan's books in print: the Afterwords to T11eIntc~rior Landscape ( 1967) U.R. Anantha Murthy ' s Sumskuru ( 1976). Hyn~ns for the Drowning (1 98 1 ), and Poems cfLove and Wcrr.( 1985), and the Introductions to Spmking of ~ i v (n1 973) and Folktcrlesfrom Indirr ( 1992).The volume also excludes the lecture-texts and interview-transcripts that are forthcoming in The Uncollected Poetq orld Prose. and the drafts and outlines of several lectures and essays on topics in Indian linguistics that are too technical to be of interest to general readers. This edition of his Collected Essuys thus brings together all the finished scholarly pieces that Ramanujan left behind in typescript or in print, that are not available in his other book-length works, and that he had contemplated including in such a volume. Of the essays that have appeared in print earlier, we have reproduced the last published versions, incorporating all the further changes that Ramanujan had marked-in keeping with a lifelong habit-on his filecopies of the publications. In the case of the four essays that were not published in his lifetime, we have closely followed the last typescript versions in his files, silently correcting obvious typographical errors. For the essays that contain notes and references. we have modified the styles of annotation and citation used in our copy-texts for consistency, and have consolidated all the notes and references at the end of this volume for the reader's convenience. As the general editor, I have added clear1y designated notes in brackets. identifying the copy-texts of the essays and commenting briefly, when necessary, on their textual 'evolution'. Ramanujan often published an essay many years after he had first drafted or delivered it as a lecture, and since the complex sequence in which these pieces were written, revised and first published affects our response to them and to him now, I have constructed a general chronology of his books and essays at the end of this volume:My observations in the chronology may help us decipher how Ramanujan's mind revolved around certain themes over a long period of time, how ~t moved from one set of interests or switched from one angle of vision to another, and how it circled back to olderconcernsafterthinkingthrouglicr-uc~al niattersof methodand Interpretation in the light of his mol-e Irecent tliscoveries.

(;c>r~enil Editor's Prcqcice I i x Repetition and variation were persisten1 Ceatures of Ramanujan's style a s a thinker, teacher, poet, and essayist. He embraced strong ideas passionately and held on to them for great lengths of time (until he could replace them with other powerful ideas), even a s he constantly sought out new concepts, new locations, new insights. When he found an intellectuaI position that sustained all his interests-such as Anglo-American New Criticism in the 1950s, French structuralism, Russian formalism and German critical theory in the 1960s and 1970s, and some aspects of French deconstruction and American and Indian feminism in the 1980s-he used it as vigorously and comprehensively a s possible to elucidate many different texts, genres, and themes. Whenever he discovered the shortcomings of a particular method or perspective (as he did with the structuralist logic of binary oppositions in the early 1980s, for example), he approached his material all over again with a new understanding of their values and meanings. But just as he rarely adopted others' theories and principles without important modifications of his own, he rarely repeated himself without ringing changes, or producing significant variations, on what he had thought and said earIier. His explications of Indian literature and culture thus were always in motion, constantly energising familiar patterns with unexpected new alignments and rearrangements. The combination of movement and recurrence that gives a critical edge to the essays in this volume is linked closely to the multidisciplinary and interdisciplinary dimensions of Ramanujan's scholarship. He approached his topic, no matter what it was, with instruments of analysis from several different disciplines, and the arguments he developed could not be reduced to the standard arguments in any one of them. His explications of poems, for example, drew as much on the protocols of formalist literary criticism as on the contextual concerns of ethnography, history, and folklore studies, while his explanations of social codes depended equally on social theory, linguistics, poetics, and comparative cultural studies. He negotiated the difficult terrain of multiple, intersecting, and sometimes potentially conflicting disciplines by traversing a helix-like path through them, circling around a central axis but never returning to exactly the same position. Ramanujan moved effortlessly through different disciplines and different types of material (poems, stories, forms, conventions, religions, histories, cultures) by fashioning a distinctive scholarly style. He designed and wrote his essays so that they would work upon his readers a s much by allusion, echo, and suggestion, as by the force of explicit

x I The ('ollrc.tpd Es.str~,so f A.K. Ktrt?itinl!icrn argument. While each piece was structured simply. so that it never strayed far from its stated theme. i t was alsosurrounded by a field of multiple resonances, leading the reader outward in several directions at once. This 'ripple efrect' was a function of Ramanujan's poetic sty le a s a writer ofcritical prose. in which wit, irony, humour and polyphony enabled him to condense several perspectives or insights into a few aphoristic phrases. Itwas also the result of his pursuit of obliqueness or indirection-the classical Sanskrit device orvakrokti, 'crooked speech'-under the mask of lightness and simplicity. Ramanujan, in fact, constructed an essay much like a poem, which shows more than it tells, suggests more than it reveals, and echoes more than it acknowledges. Ramanujan succeeded in combining direct topicalisation with indirect articulation because he thought and wrote intertextually. His essays are full of explicit and implicit quotations, and many of them reproduce large portions of other texts, often whole poems and even entire stories. In this proliferation of quoted material, Ramanujan's own commentary frequently takes a back seat, running like a tour-guide's voice in the background, while the objects he discusses keep us fascinated in the foreground. This sort of apparently self-effacing critical intertextuality was central to his scholarly practice because he believed that literary and cultural texts can 'speak for themselves', and speak especially effectively when they are unfamiliar or have been cunningly 'defamiliarised'. For him, the ideal critical essay was the one proposed by Walter Benjamin, where a scholar-critic ought to hide behind 'a phalanx of quotations which, like highwaymen, would ambush the passing reader and rob him of hisconvictions.' Particularly in thesecond half of his career, Ramanujan constructed an essay a s an 'anthology of quotations', a phrase that also echoes Jacques Derrida's notion of a text a s a 'tissue of citations'. Any one of the later critical pieces he wrote was therefore likely to be an 'anthological essay'. the text of which emerged out of a series of pretexts. meta-texts, counter-texts, and inter-texts interacting variously with each other. This book would not have been possible without Molly DanielsRamanujan's generosity and patience, and without the promptness and care with which Stuart Blackburn, John Carman, Edward Dimock, Wendy Doniger, Alan Dundes. Krishna Ramanujan. and Milton Singer contributed their expertise at short notice. We regret that Girish Karnad could not join LIS because of the distances that still separate the United Statesand India: and that V. Narayana Rao and David Shulman were un.~bleto add their special skills to this editorial efl'ort. We record wlth deep

Sorrow that our senior-most colleague, M~ltonSinger, passed away at his home in Chicago on 4 December 1994, shortly after revising his tribute to Ramanujan for this volume. I would like to acknowledge a debt of gratitude to the editors and publishers who granted permission to reprint many of these essays; to the University of Oklahoma and its Department of English for their research support; and to Michelle Stie for her diligence and enthusiasm a s my research assistant in 1994-95. Molly Daniels-Ramanujan and I owe many thanks to James Nye, South Asia Bibliographer, and William Alspaugh, both at the Regenstein Library, University of Chicago, for their invaluable bibliographicaland archival help. Our thanks also to Anuradha Roy and Rukun Advani at Oxford University Press, Delhi, for their tact and patience throughout, their close attention to detail and their skilful overall management of not only this project but also the other books to which it is related: The OxfordAnthologv ofModern Indian Poetry (1 994), which Ico-edited with Ramanujan; Ramanujan's CollectedPoems(l995); and his forthcoming Uncollected Poetry and Prose.

Norman, Oklahoma September 1998

Introduction: Two Tributes to A.K. Ramrrnujnn 1 xiii

~ntroduction:Two Tributes to A.K. Ramanujan

A.K. Ramanujan, almost universally known to his associates a s Raman, was for many years my respected and always stimulating colleague and friend at the University of Chicago. The essays collected here testify to many themes of that relationship. Needless to say, his sudden passing in 1993 stunned and deprived us all. I happened to be the Secretary of the Committee on Southern Asian Studies (COSAS) when he first came to the University of Chicago in 1961. At that time, the present Department of South Asian Languages and Civilizations did not exist; COSAS was his first home at the University. As with J.A.B. van Buitenen, a Sanskritist, and Edward C. Dimock, Jr., a specialist in the Bengali language and its literature, both of whom had arrived a couple of years earlier, Raman was given a departmental affiliation (in Linguistics) while he became active in COSAS. In this respect, the South Asia language and literature 'juniors' differed from their counterparts in Anthropology (e.g., Bernard Cohn, Clifford Geertz, McKim Marriott), History (Stephen Hay), and Political Science (Myron Weiner) who were directly appointed lo their respective departments. Both kinds of 'juniors', however, soon became active in the programme of teaching and research about South and Southeast Asia; to develop and co-ordinate which COSAS had been organised in 1955. The unanticipated consequence of this situation was that the 'juniors', with their recent specialised degrees in their fields, soon became the mentors of thosewho had helped to bring them to Chicago. Among these 'elders' were George Bobrinskoy in Sanskrit, Robert Crane and Donald

Lach in History, Fred Eggan in Anthropology, EdwardShils in Sociology and Social Thought, and myself in Social Sciences and Anthropology. Another and more important consequence was that the community of scholars which began to emerge as both 'juniors' and 'elders' talked with one another across departmental, divisional and status boundaries. In 1956, when the College of the University inaugurated three full-year introductions to the civilisations ofChina, Islam and India, with the assistance of a three-year grant from the Carnegie Corporation of New York, the conversations ofCOSAS's community of scholars, including Raman a few years later, became available to undergraduates. According to all accounts of Raman's classes and lectures at which versions of some of these essays were presented, confirmed by my own personai observations, the experience was memorable. Beginning often with aprovocativequestion, such as 'Is there anIndian way of thinking?', Raman would proceed to present such a diversity of texts and contexts, oral and written tales, poems, interviews and conversations, that the answer to the question would become inescapable, not as a dogmatic assertion, but as an invitation to look at the posed question from a fresh perspective. My personal conversations with Raman also often turned on some of the questions raised in these essays. These discussions may not have been typical of those he had with other colleagues, yet his comments were s o surprising that I may be forgiven for repeating several. India's many languages were a frequent subject of our conversations. If I mentioned evidence for India's linguistic diversity from personal observations or reading, he would not only add illustrations from his own personal household (two mother tongues and two father tongues, a s in 'Telling Tales'), but would also counter with examples from the United States. When I once asked him which language in the USA he would consider a s a second language after English, he immediately answered, 'Spanish'. When we compared Western and Indian conceptions of the self, Raman recalled that while he was still at school in Mysore, he noticed a parallel between the Cirri and Walt Whitman's 'Song of Myself' in their conception of 'a double self', as actor and as object. To my question whether Whitman's line 'I am a cosmos' has a parallel in India, he referredme to his translation of apoem by the ninth-century saint, NammBlvBr, the opening poem in Hymns for the Drowning (1981). Raman's essay 'Towards an Anthology of City Images' shows that he

xiv / The Collected Essays of A. K. Ramanu~fln was aware that the University of Chicago's approach to language and area studies owed something to Robert Redfield's proposal to take the great and little traditions of indigenous civilizations a s units of study. Although Raman never met Redfield, the contrast between ancient Puhar and Madurai in this essay evokes Redfield's contrast between a colonial port city and a sacred capital city, as well a s the analogous contrast between modern Madras [Chennai] and modem Madurai. Because this collection of essays embodiessuch a wide range of experience and creative reflections, it will continue to open many windows on India's literatures and cultures, and to remind us of the talented poet, translator, folklorist, linguist and friend it was our privilege to know.

Attipat Krishnaswami Ramanujan, affectionately calledRaman by friends, was known widely a s a great modem poet in India. In America, through his excellent translations, he made classical Tamil and Kannada poetry accessible to Westerners. He had an extremely retentive and diversely curious mind and he loved his work. He was never without a book. For the vast majority of his life, he claimed to have read at least 100 pages every day. Without reference to himself, he thought brilliant Indians had mental capabilities of a peculiar range. But Ramanujan himself possessedan amazing mental wizardry in his depth and diversity a s a scholar, his creativity a s a poet, his unusual ability to relate particulars to universals, his knack for seeing cogent connections in disparate things. It was perhaps more than wit and modesty that brought forth his oft-quoted line about being 'the hyphen in Indian-American'. His unique talents and experience gave him the perspective to fuse the Indian culture embedded in his heart with the Western culture in which he transplanted himself. Born on 16 March 1929, into a 'Tamil brahman family in Karnataka. South India, Ramanujan's upbringing provided the foundation on which he later built an impressive body of work. In the first place, he was raised in a tri-lingual environment. When he spoke to his father on the secondfloor study of the family's three-storey house in Mysore city, he used English. Downstairs, with his mother in the kitchen, Tamil was spoken. And on the streets outside, he communicaled in Kannada. Furthermore, education was a fundamental requirement of his brahman upbringing. His father, Attipat Asuri Krishnaswami, a professor of mathematics a1 Mysore University and an astronomer, had a study

1ntroduc.tzotl: T ~ l Tributes o to A.K. Ramctnujun / xv

crammed with books in English, Kannada. and Sanskrit. The house was alive with ideas. On sulnmer nights, the children gathered on the thirdfloor terrace while their father pointed out and explained the constellations. Sometimes at dinner, the children listened intently as their father translated for their mother the stories of Shakespeare and other Western classics into Tamil. Ramanujan's mother was an orthodox brahman woman of her time, limited by custom in the scope of her movement and control, in this way a typical housewife. Though she was no intellectual practitioner, she was neither typical nor limited in her learning and imagination. She was widely read in Tamil and Kannada, and comfortable in the world of ideas. These were the parents who gave Ramanujan the telling metaphor of father language and mother tongue that enlightens much of the analysis found in the essays of this book. By the time his father died, when Ramanujan was only twenty, the older man had already helped shape his son's devotion to an intellectual life. Ramanujan's parents were with him all his life. He was both embarrassed and amused by the cover of his second book of poetry, Relations (1971), which showed him full-face, with his parents literally on his mind-their portrait was superimposed on the middle of his forehead. The publishers agreed to remove the picture, but then, with his own brand of light-hearted self-mockery, Ramanujan considered that the remaining prospect, that of a cover filled by his own naked face, was an even worse alternative. As a youth, Ramanujan was perplexed by his father's seemingly paradoxical belief in both astrology andastronomy: how could one man blend the rational and irrational in this way? Curiously, Ramanujan chose magic a s his first artistic endeavour. While in his teens, he had the neighbourhood tailor fashion him a coat fitted with hidden pockets and elastic bands in which he concealed rabbits and bouquets offlowers. With added accoutrements of top-hat and wand he performed for local schools, women's groups. and social clubs, The desire to be a magician was perhaps a strange use of the insight he gained from his father's quirky belief in the irrational. Where magic shows are concerned, the interplay between performer and audience requires a suspension of disbelief on the part of the audience and a rational, technical skill on the part of the magician. Ramanujan was always to be decidedly rational, too rational to ascribe to the religion he was raised in, or to believe in astrology. But more than that, we can see here an early love ofperformance. Later in life, a s a lecturer, Ramanujan was magician-like; he enjoyed surprising an audience wjth brillian~unforeseen conclusions, he could pull from [he

xvi / The Collected Esstrys of A.K. Rumunujtrn pockets of his mind a bewildering array of accutnulared knowledge. Still. he was not s o unlike his father: he had his own way of blending paradoxes between the East and the West, between seemingly unrelated things. In this way, we can see how even a partial acceptance of his father gave him an invaluable open-mindedness. Ramanujan had always a wide variety of interests. His father, in fact, after browsing through his son's shelves filled with literature. philosophy, anthropology andzoology, wryly termed him 'intellectually promiscuous'. It was a promiscuity Ramanujan cultivated all his life. By the time of his death in 1993, he was intensely interested in all printed matter-pulp fiction and trash*novels (he loved a good mystery novel), folklore and technical linguistics. At seventeen, a subtly serendipitous event occurred: he overslept for a history final and failed. He did not graduate that year with his class, and his self-esteem was s o low he initially locked himself in his room and vowed never to come out. But that year would later prove to be one of the most important of his life. He passed the extra time by writing his first poems, stories and radio plays. His radio plays were performed by local groups, and on the days they were broadcast he monopolised the one wireless in the house. He read extensively, took long walks with his friends through the beautiful grounds of the palace of the Maharajah of Mysore and talked literature; or he and a few friends would sit in a coffee house, share a cup of coffee and discuss the effects of soliloquy in drama. In college, Ramanujan majored in science in his first year, but his father, who thought him 'not mathematically minded', literally took him by the hand to the Registrar's office and changed his major from science to English. Ramanujan received a BA with honours in English Literature from Mysore University in 1949. That same year, he took a job teaching English in Kerala. His father went with him to the train station. It was the last time they would see each other. Krishnaswami died of a heart attack in 1950. Shortly afterwards, Ramanujan moved to another teaching position in Dharwar, Karnataka. Even in those early days he was developing a local reputation as a brilliant lecturer. People travelled miles to take his classes. His early love was Shakespeare and he never lost it. But in 1957 a new love for linguistics added to his interests. He enrolled at the Deccan College in Poona (as it was then known), in a programme supported by the Rockefeller Foundation and staffed by some of the most eminent linguists in Indla. as well as specialists from the US and Europe. In 1958, he

-

Introduction: Two Tributes to A.K. Rumanujun 1 xvii

came to America on a Fullbrighl grant, to continue in linguistics at Indiana University. His teachers included Voegelin, Householder, and Sebeok. With a dissertation on the generative grammar of Kannada, he received a Ph.D. from Indiana University in 1963. At Indiana, a s in India, Ramanujan's brilliant mind and gentle demeanour drew attention froin many, including the linguist William Bright. In the early 1960s, the South Asian Languages programme at the University of Chicago, nurtured by ~ i l t b Singer, n was expanding to include Dravidian languages. A replacement was neededfor Ronald Asher, who was returning to the UK, and Bright suggested Ramanujan. Ramanujan agreed to teach for the summer qf 1961, protesting modestly that he did not consider Tamil to be his major competence. It was a fortuitous try, for as he taught language and lidguistics his love of literature led him to the classical Tamil anthologies. His first major work of translation, The Interior Landscape: Love Poemsfrom a Classical Tamil Anthology (1967), was a foretaste of his trademark combination of beautiful poetry and careful, incisive scholarship. This collection demonstrated his ability to stay extremely loyal to the Indian qualities of the literature and still make it clear and fascinating to Westerners. His first book of original poetry, The Striders (1966), shared the delicacy, subtlety, and precision of the translated Tamil poems. Within his considerable career, Ramanujan translated and analysed the texts and traditions of the viraiaivas of Kannada (Speaking of ~ i v a [1973]) and the dlvars of Tamil (Hymnsfor the Drowning [1981]). When he died, he was working with John Carman and Vasudha Narayanan on a more definitive version of those classical Tamil poems. His methodology was influenced by de Saussure, LCvi-Strauss, Freud, Jung. Chomsky, and Derrida. but in the way he had of blending the disparate, of use as a result of necessity, he was not bound by any one of them. His thought was never doctrinaire, for he believed strongly that doctrines blinded the observer to the text. All of his work contains a keen attention to detail; his poet's eye focused on particulars in the world around him. He always kept a little pad of paper or a stack of index cards in the pocket of his jacket, and when a thought appealed to him. or when he observed something of special interest, he made a note of it. He narrowed in on the details which related to the ideas most germane to his charac~er.He had the gift of connecting he minutiae of life and the world to larger learned concepts. The Interior Landscape ( 1967) opens with vast spaces:

xviii / TIE Collected E.rsnvs 0fA.K. Riirnanujrin Bigger than earth, certainly. higher than the sky,

and the brief poem ends with the microscopic:

. . . the flowers of the kucirici that has such black stalks.

Still, Ramanujan was a craftsman who was never satisfied with merely the observed. He shaped and polished each poem and essay, cutting facets until the result approached the directness and clarity for which he strove. He is said to have drafted certain poems over many years, up to forty times before he felt they were done. The editorial obituary in The Titnes of lndic~described Ramanujan a s 'full of irresolutions and ancestral fears'. He was an internally complicated man whose identity existed outside of himself. He made subjective the world around him. At the same time, in his poetry, he had the depth to transcend and recognise his own consciousness. Ramanujan speaks to the irresolutions and questions of self-identity in his poem 'SelfPortrait' : I resemble everyone but myself and sometimes s e e in shop-windows despite the well-known laws of optics the portrait of a stranger, date unknown, often signed in a corner by my father.

Ramanujan died on 13 July 1993, with many honours to his name. Most prominent among them were the Padma Shri award of the Government of India, a MacArthur Fellowship, and election to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. He was sought after, all over the world. As his friend and colleague Wendy Doniger has said, no one who has been exposed to the man or to his work will ever look at India-or many other things-in the same way again.

General Essays on Literature and Culture

Introduction by Wendy Doniger

A.K. Ramanujan was one of those thinkers, like Freud (whom he greatly, though not uncritically, admired), who s o transform our way of looking at a subject that we are in danger o r undervaluing theircontribution,since we have come to take for granted precisely what they taught us, a s we view the subject through their eyes. At a time when the American Indological establishment regarded native Indian scholars merely as sources of information about languages and texts, like the raw fibres that were taken from India to be processed in British mills, but seldom as scholars who might have their own ideas about how to process those texts, Raman taught them all how to weave a theory, a folktale, a poem, a book. Long before it was politically respectable, let alone politically correct, to study the works of women, orof 'illiterate' peasants, Raman valued theirpoetry and their stories, their counter-systems, as he taught us to call them. At a time when Indian literature meant Sanskrit. and Sanskrit meant Greek and Latin, Raman arrived in Chicago to join Edward C. Dimock and the other 'founding fathers' in proclaiming to the world the relevanceof Tamil andBengali and the othermother tongues. Without s o much as raising his gentle voice, he blazed a great path through the centre of Indological studies. He gave us s o many new paradigms that no Indologist can now think about India without thinking through his thoughts. The essays in this collection bring together many of these paradigmatic Ramanujan paradigms. 'Where Mirrors Are Windows' sets out the principle of self-reflexivityin way:, thal clarify and transcend the deconstructionists' approach to this important topic. 'IS There an Indian Way of Thinking'?' sets out the paradigm ol.htressing different words in a question to ash ni~~ltiple questions. which in t~lrnestablishes a paradigm for the question 0 1 cultural specil'icity, another central general i s s ~ l ein our

4 / The Collected Essuys 0fA.K. Ramanujan time; it also, in passing, answers its question(s) for the specific case of India. His essay on 'Food for Thought' makes sense of a question raised, in our time, by Mary Douglas, and subsequently asked, and pondered, by many other anthropologists and historians of religion; Ramanujan's essay brings great clarity to this often hypertrophied discussion. Other essays throughout this collection present us with several ideas that, though developed by Ramanujan with a specific focus on India, have been taken out of context by other scholars to apply to other cultures; one of these is, appropriately, the idea of the context-sensitivity of dharmci. Other ideas of this sort, that have provedable, like good wines, to 'travel', include the formulation of the contrast between goddesses of the breast and goddesses of the tooth. intertextuality, the permeable membrane, mother tongues and father languages. There is an irony in the way that Ramanujan, who always insisted on the essential individuality not only of Indian genres but of each specific telling of each version of each tale, has himself proved to be an inspiration for s o many cross-cultural enterprises. But this is not altogether inappropriate. Despite his insistence on the Indianness of Indian cultural forms, Raman could also tell you the Stith-Thompson motif to which any of his stories corresponded, and he was interested in testing Freudian paradigms that extended beyond the bounds of any single culture. He would never have explicitly asked the question, 'Is there a human way of thinking?', but his collected work certainly poses this question, and offers the quintessential Ramanujan answer: yes, and no. This tension between the specifically Indian and the more generally human characterisedall of his workandmade it great. His typically witty, self-deprecating, and much-quoted remark about being the hyphen in 'Indo-American' offers too simple a key to his unique genius as an Indologist. He did indeed combine the very best of both worlds: he was the consummate insider in India, and his Indian sensitivity and experience lent his work a freshness, a depth, and a solidity that those of us who first met India on the printed page could only envy. But here in America, he was the consummate participant-observer, translating his Indian insights for us not merely into English but into the thought-systems of Chomsky, de Saussure, Derrida, Stith-Thompson, Freud. And, passing through this permeable membrane in the other direction, he inaugurated a project in India to train young Indian folklorists to collect Indian stories-with the discipline that he had learned in Bloomington. years ago, with his old friend Alan Dundes. For Rarnan himself, the mother tongue, Kannada or Tamil, the akam

1nrrodut.tion by Wendy Doniger / 5

language, the intimate language, was the language of his own mother. Proudly he brought her, as well a s her words, into his new world, to v i s i t him here in Chicago: she arrived at @'Hare airport, having eaten nothing since leaving her home, with no luggage, carrying one paper bag in which she had one cotton sari and blouse to wear while she washed her other cotton sari and blouse. which she was wearing. His learned father always represented to him the more distant languages, the plrram languages, Sanskrit and English. Mother and father stare proudly at us from that amazing photograph on the cover of Raman's second volume-of poems, Relations ( 197 1 ) : he sitting. she standing, towering above him, both of them firmly embedded in the head of Ramanujan. This double mental life yielded the brilliant academic insights collected in this volume. Performing his great intellectual trapeze act suspended, without a net, between two worlds, Raman sometimes appeared to be free of any cultural gravity, like TriSaiiku, suspended for eternity between earth and heaven, or like the man in the folktale who wanders to another world and returns home to find that everyone has aged when he has not, orthat hehas aged when they have not. The words of Chateaubriand cited by Claude LCvi-Strauss in Tristes Tropiq~res(1955) seem to me to describe Raman: 'Every man carries within him a world which is composed of all that he has seen and loved, and to which he constantly returns, even when he is travelling through, and seems to be living in, some different world' (44).Raman once remarked to David Tracy, our colleague at the University of Chicago, that we can no longer live, like the nineteenth-century British, simultaneously in India and Europe, which they had made into one place by imposing one of their worlds on the other. Now, Raman said, Salman Rushdie and Naipaul express what all of us will soon become: the two places are truly different, and we are at home in neither. This remarkable collection of essays seems to me to prove the contrary: that he was at home in both, and illuminated both for those of us who are condemned to live in one or the other.

Where Mirrors Arc, Windows 1 7

Where Mirrors Are Windows: Toward an Anthology of Reflections

oceans, and the moon and stars. and space itself; and she saw her own village and herself. She became frightened and confused. th~nklng,'Is t h i s a dream or an illusion fabricated by God'? Or is it a delusion rn my own mind? For God's power of delusion inspires in me such false beliefs as, "I exist," "This is my husband," '"This is my son." Bhagcr~~cila Pur&~u (O'Flaherty 1975, 220-1; modified) INTRODUCTION

A snake-charmer and his noseless wife,

snake in hand, walk carefully trying to read omens for a son's wedding, but they meet head-on a noseless woman and her snake-charming husband, and cry 'The omens are bad!' HISown wife has no nose; there's snake in his hand. What shall I call such fools who do not know themselves and see only the others, 0 Lord

of the meeting rivers! Basavanna (Ramanujan 1973, 74) One day when the children were playing, thry reported to Yajoda, 'Krsna has eaten dirt.' Yaioda took Krsna by the hand and scolded him and said, 'You naughty boy, why have you eaten dirt?' 'I haven't,' said Krsna. 'All the boys are lying. If you believe them instead of me, look at my mouth yourself.' 'Then open up,' she said to the god, who had in sport taken the form of a human child; and he opened his mouth. Then she saw in his mouth the whole universe, with the farcorner.; ot the sky. and the wind. and lightning, and the orh of the earth with it5 nlounta~nsand

O n e way o f defining diversity for India i s to say what the Irishman is said to have said about trousers. When asked whether trousers were singular o r plural, he said, 'Singular at the top a n d plural at the bottonl.' This is the view espoused by people w h o believe that Indian traditions are organisedas apa'n-Indian Sanskritic Great Tradition (in the singular) a n d many local Little Traditions (in the plural). Older Indian notions of marga and deSi and modern Indian politicians' rhetoric about unity in diversity fall in line with the s a m e position. T h e official Indian literary academy, the Sahitya Akademi, h a s the motto, 'Indian literature is o n e but written in many languages.' I, for one, would prefer the plural, 'Indian literatures', and would wonder if something would remain the s a m e if it i s written in several languages, knowing a s 1 d o that even in the s a m e language, 'a change of style i s a change of subject,' a s Wallace Stevens would say. Another way of talking about a culture like the Indian is through the analogy of a hologram-that i s to say that any section is a cross-section, any piece of it is a true representation of the whole, a s any cell of the body is supposed to be a true sample of the whole body. Linguists and anthropologists, especially structuralists in general, have operated on this assumption for a while. T o them, any native speaker contains the whole of his language; any informant, any myth o r ritus!, contains the whole of the culture. T o study his or its grammar is to study the grammar of the whole language or culture. Such a holographic view implies uniform texture, the replication of o n e structure in all systems of a culture, without negations, warps o r discontinuities and with no pockets in space o r time. It is a very attractive view, especially to people in a hurry, and I have myself held it for many years, though somewhat uneasily. In this view, the classics of Indian civilization, the Muhabharc~ta,the RiImOana a n d the Purunas, a s well a s the folklore, the so-called Little ( o r a s we say in India, the 'little little') Traditions, are all o f o n e piece. At worst, the latter are garbled versions of the former, siinplified for or by the little man. The Great Traditions for the elite. and the little Little Traditions for the little little folks,

8 1 The Collected Essays of A.K. Rtrrnanujatz that is, semi- or illiterate, rural, regional people who are competent only in a mother tongue-but basically there is no difference in kind, only in quality. At its best, it is a form of monism; at its worst, it is a form of cultural imperialism, an upstairsldownstairs view of India. I would like to suggest the obvious: that cultural traditions in India are indissolubly plural and often conflicting but are organised through at least two principles, (a) context-sensitivity and (b) reflexivity of various sorts, both of which constantly generate new forms out of the old ones. What we call brahmanism, bhakti traditions, Buddhism, Jainism, tantra, tribal traditions and folklore, and lastly, modernity itself, are the most prominent of these systems. They are responses to previous and surrounding traditions, they invert, subvert, and convert their neighbours. Furthermore, each of these terms, like what we call India itself, is 'a verbal tent with three-ring circuses' going on inside them. Further dialogic divisions are continuously in progress. They look like single entities, like neat little tents, only from a distance. Reflexivity takes many forms: awareness of self and other, mirroring, distorted mirroring, parody, family resemblances and rebels, dialectic, antistructure, utopias and dystopias, the many,ironies connected with these responses, and s o on. In this paper on Indian literary texts and their relations to each other ('intertextuality', if you will), I will concentrate on three related kinds of reflexivity. I shall call them (1) responsive, where text A responds to text B in ways that define both A and B; (2) reflexive, where text A reflects on text B, relates itself to it directly or inversely; (3) self-reflexive, where a text reflects on itself or its kind. The parts or texts in relation 1 may be called co-texts, in 2, countertexts, and in 3, metatexts. We could also speak of pretexts, intertexts, subtexts, and s o on. The vast variety of I.ndian literature, oral and written, over the centuries, in hundreds of languages and dialects, offers an intricate but open network of such relations, producing families of texts a s well a s texts that are utterly individual in their effect, detail, and temporal/regional niches. But these relations are perceived by native commentators and by readers. To them, texts do not come in historical stages but form 'a simultaneous order', where every new text within aseries confirms yet alters the whole order ever s o slightly, and not always s o slightly. T.S. Eliot spoke of a simultaneous order for European literature, but the phrase applies even more strongly to Indian literary traditions, especially until the nineteenth century.' Modernity disrupted the whole tradition of reflexivity with new notions of originality and the autonomy of single works. Among other

'

Where Mirrors Are Windows / 9 things, the printing press radically altered the relation of audience to author and of author to work, and it bifurcated the present and the past s o that the pastness of the past is more keenly felt than the presence of the past. Reflexive elements may occur in various sizes: one part of the text may reflect on anotherpart; one text may reflect on another; a whole tradition may invert, negate, rework, and revalue another. Where cultures (like the 'Indian') are stratified yet interconnected, where the different communities communicate but do not commune, the texts of one stratum tend to reflect on those of another: encompassment, mimicry, criticism andconflict, and other powerrelations are expressed by such reflexivities. Self-conscious contrasts and reversals also mark off and individuate the groups-especially if they are closely related, like twins. Closely related sects, like the terikalai (southern) and vatakalai (northern) sects of Tamil ~ rVaiqavism, i serve even food in different orders, and self-consciously list 'eighteen differences' (Govindacarya 1910). The rather grossly conceived Great Tradition and Little Traditions are only two such moieties: a s suggested earlier, bhakti, tantra, and other countertraditions, as well a s Buddhism, Jainism, and, for later times, Islam and Christianity, should be included in this web of intertextuality. I shall draw here only on earlier Indian literatures for my instances. Stereotypes, foreign views, and native self-images on the part of some groups all tend to regard one part (say, the brahmanical texts or folklore) a s the original, and the rest a s variations, derivatives, aberrations, s o we tend to get monolithic conceptions. But the civilisation, if it can be described at all, has to be described in terms of all these dynamic interrelations between different traditions, their texts, ideologies, social arrangements, and s o forth. Reflexivities are crucial to the understanding of both the order and diversity, the openness and the closures, of this civilisation. One may sometimes feel that 'mirror on mirror mirrored is all the s h o w ' . ' ~ u c h an anthology can be made about other aspects of the culture, like ritual, philosophy, food and sociolinguistic patterns, or across them (see chap. 4, 'Food for Thought', below). Let me begin with small-scale examples and move to larger ones. Languages like Tamil have self-reflexive and benefactive elements in their grammatical/lexical systems. 'A killed B': A B-ai kolai cevfdn. 'A killed himself': A zarkolai cevrukon~dn(reflexive). 'A beat B': A B-at alilfiia. ' A beat himself': A 1u~ai1tL7nP ajillukonrdn (reflexive).

W h e r e M1rror.c Arc. Wlntlows / I I

10 T l ~ eC o l l e c t e d E s s a y s of A. K . Rrrrntrnujut7 Tamil has reflexive elements not only in nouns (tu_r-kolai:sui-cide, selfmurder) but in verbs a s well. In (,(,yfdv and r.e.ytu.kon!cl!i,the latter (adverbial participle + kol forms) is reflexive. In fact, many verbs can be made reflexive o r benefactive, orienting the action toward the self o r the other, by the addition of auxiliaries like ko! or k o d u (literally, 'take' o r 'give'): collikkongi~:he said to himself, or he said on his own behalf (reflexive) co/likkotultdn: he said for the sake of another, meaning 'taught' (benefactive).

Similarly, many verbs have forms that convert what is originally selfregarding to other-regarding, transitive, o r causative forms: varuntinan: he grieved (by himself). varuttindn: he made (someone) grieve. cantiisppatkin: he felt happy. cant6sappafuttig~ig:he made (someone) feel happy.

8. love poems-no names of places or persons 9. Codes of conduct appropriate to c~kani

poetry about war and other than I well^ matched] love. a 'public' poetry, with names of real people and places Codes of conducr appropriate to pucunr

(Ramanujan 1985,262) A s I have written elsewhere at s o m e length about this important and complex pair of terms, I shall concentrate here only on its relevance to our present theme (Ramanujan 1985,229-97). Here are two brief examples of d u r n and purcittl poems: WHAT HE SAID IN THE DESERT

In this long summer wilderness seized and devoured by wildfire, if I should shut my eyes even a wink, I see

S u c h actor-oriented and other-oriented forms occur all over the verbal system and its semantics (Fedson 198 1). I a m wary of leaping from linguistic structures to other cultural structures; such leaps may be n o more than leaps of faith. Yet, the above reflexivehenefactive opposition d o e s call to mind what I consider to be a n.~ central pair of terms in 'Tamil poetry and poetics: a k a m a ~ ~ d ~ u mInr the language of the poems and the commentaries, they signify generally 'interior' and 'exterior', a s they denote a concentric series of paired meanings according to context, each larger in scope than the other. Each set is a 'responsive' correlate of the other. Here is a set of such meanings: A karn

1. interior 2. heart. mind 3. self 4. kin 5 . house, fam~ly 6. ~nland.settlement

Puram

exterior body surfaces and extremities, e.g. back, side, arms others non-k~n houseyard, field areas far from dense human habitation, e.g. jungle. desert farthect ocean

dead of night, a tall house in a cool yard, and the girl with freckles like kino flowers. hair flowing as with honey, her skin a young mango leaf, Otal~ntaiyiir,Airjkucicnuru, 324 (Ramanujan 1985, 51) A YOUNG WARRIOR

0 heart sorrowing for this lad

once scared of a stick lifted in mock anger when he refused a drink of milk, now not content w ~ t hkilling war elephants with spotted trunks,

Where Mirrors Are Windows / 1 3

12 / Tllr Collecfed Essays ($A.K. Raniunujan this son of the strong man who fell yestel-day seems unaware of the arrow in his wound, his head of hair is plumed like a horse's, he has fallen on h ~ shield, s his beard still soft. Ponmutiylr, Purananuru, 3 10 (Ramanujan 1985. 165)

The first poem is an akam or 'interior' poem, the second a pueam or 'exterior' one. The two genres define each other mutually; what one is, the other is not. They differ in structure, effects, and the emotions represented. The first poem moves from the outer (wilderness, heat, the man being far away from home, searching for wealth and education in the external world) toward the inner (the image inside him, the woman at home, her hair and the touch of her skin). It refers to no names-for in the interior world there are no names; archetypes have none. The second poem moves from within the household (akam) to the battlefield @u_ram),from a childhood self to the adolewent killed in battle. Pucam poems (generally) refer to names of persons and places, history, a real society outside the family. Each genre occupies a niche in the literary economy. While the two genres are thus correlative, are responsive to each other, and define each other's limits. they also share the same landscapes and imagery. In the first example given below, a young woman describes her new lover. In the second, a poet laments a death. WHAT SHE SAID

And all those horses our man of the tall hllls comes riding on have tufts of hair :ike the brahman urchins in our town.

The horse of your good man, father in our house to a little son with a tuft of hair like a plume on a steed, it did not come back. Has it fallen now, his horse that bore him through battle. has it fallen like the great tree standing at the meeting place of two rivers? Erumai Veliyanir, Purandgliru, 273 (Ramanujan 1985, 179)

The two poems come from different anthologies, composed by different poets. The similitude connecting the little boy's tuft of hair and the plume on his horse is the same, but the order is reversed. They share the language, the poetic code, use the same structure to make different poems. The two universes,akam andpucam, love and war, correspond to one another. They are classified in symmetric ways. The seven types of akatn poems correspond to seven types ofprrgm poems. They share common imagery, although the correspondences are not strict or mechanical. Here are two examples, the second one a poem quoted above but now viewed in a different context: WHAT HER MOTHER SAID

If a calving cow chewed up her purslane creeper growing near the house, she'd throw the ball to the ground, push away the doll, and beat herself on her pretty tummy, my little girl, who knows now how to do things.

Kapilar. Airiku~unuru,202 (Ramanujan 1985, 9 ) THk: HORSE DID NOT COME BACK

The h o n e d ~ not d come back, h15 horse d ~ not d come back All the other horses have Lome back

With a look tender a s a doe's, she'd refuse the milk mixed with honey her foster-mother and I would bring, she'd sob and cry.

The chaste tree.\. Jal-k-cl~~sterecl blend with the la~rd that know.; ncj d ~ - y n e \ \ ; the colou~-s on the I e ; ~ \ e s mob the e ) , r \ .

0 hrai r

i'o\vltly lad ~iiicehcaleil of :I .;t~ck I~ttedin ~iicrckangelivhen he rel'u.;ed a drink of tilllk. 110w ilot ~ u n t e n twith k ~ l l ~ n g wal- elephant. with spotted trunks.

We've see11 [l-io\e leii\'e\ on jewellecl \\oiIIeri. on their nlciurlcl\ uf love.

\O!

101. llll\

Now the chi15le wreath lies slashed on the ground. \o ch;inged, so mixed with blood. the \ . L I ~ ~ L I I \liiltches .~ it with ~ t beiih. s thinking ~t raw nle'lt. We see this too just because a young man in love witti wat wure ~t for glory.

t h ~ \son of t11e qtrong man w h o l'rll ye.;te~iia:\, seen)\ [Inaware o f the In h ~ \vouncl. \

~ I - ~ O W

Furthermol-e. 111 sucli traditions, p o e m clo not c o m e s ~ n g l y but , in s e q u e n c e s often a r r a n g e d in t e n s , h u n d r e d s , s o n l e t l l n e s r h o u s a n d s : shar-ing t i ~ c ) ~ i l ' \ .imageh. \t~.ucturex.yet p l a \ ' i ~ ~\ ;gI ~ I ~ [ I O I I \that ~ ~ l c l i v ~ i l u ate e a c h p o e m . I.a thr~rsts3 [>ladeol.pr-ax\ Into a ily a s 3 cllild. latel- tie is impaled (111 a st~ihe. PSndu kills 3 a g e engagecl in ill a sexual act, s o he dies ill the act o l \ e x . T h e struct~lrerepeats itself, exceptth:lt the subject ( P i n d u ) oflhe I'isst acl beci~rnesthe object in the .;econd. Curses. hoons. iliid the corlst.clLleli~,es of past 3ctS c311notb e withdrawn-they have all autononly indepentient ofc[iarac[er.Actioll thus becomes prior to actors. Kuowledge of psrcedent anti leyal advice tlo not prevent d i s a t r o u s action-Y~~cihi?th~ra galnhle, aftel hear~llgall the argLirne11tsagain\[ dice c~s3 breeder ol'clihp ~ ~ t eAnd s . the IzSn?avas marry Dranpadi after learrling [hat .;he Iia\ tliten c \;is. horn out 01' ~1 s:~crij'ice to root out the Kaur.1 I

.

~

~

I

~

~

C

I

I

I

~

Yet a s he \\,ercht.\ il1e \ \ : a ~i l l n y bird. Ilie : i c l o ~ : i I l l ~OIIL,. ,;IICI ,LBL,, the s w e r t Ihrlle~~ I C I I - ) as I i l ?

~ l l ~ l l l ~ .

he r i w \ . Srvr from yr~ef'

We s a ~ d e a r l ~tehsa t c t 1 ~ 1 1 1 ~ c t e r ~ ~ il o. et iq~uei t e.fixed3or ' i i r l i t e . , ; ~they ~ are open to pCi\1l i ' e \ :IS \\,ell :I\ ott1t:i- lives aro~lr~cl them. I n another way too t h e i r . t ; ~ t ;I\ ~ ~~ sI I : L ~ : I C ~ ~ I . \ i \ cll:i~iye;~hle: they terld to act a s i~ld!\]duals sometimes. a \ repl-esenti~iyc i ; ~ s \ e saricl value, at other-.;. a11d at other tunes a s part o f 'olie coinpe)sl\e unit. Other-\ (e.g.. Goldmarl 1980) have noticedthecornpohite ch,~r-ac~elol Indian Ileroesljhe R ~ n i d a n t i L a h . ~ m a n a . Inthisepic. the P a ~ ~ ( i ~ai~\ ..;I\ l a one person \ is-;I-vis Kunti. L)r-aupadiand the Kauril\,a C O L I ~ I I I:Is ~ . ~ i o t ~ ~ earlier. .rcl both iri the eal-ly exhibition of skills and in \\-innilis I ) I - ~ L I ~ ? ; I ~~Iriuria ~I. h o o l . \ five arrows into the target. \ the f'ir-.sti n t a n c e and a s s ~ i l t o r sto He repre\ent\ k 1 1 I /'I\ e : I \ \ i . , i r - ~ - i c ~ l - in In viex, ol'tli~,\\:ay ofthinkins, the cast i ~ l c l i a r a c t e r c.;rri s be cli\~icleclInto Draupadi. Tlie l l ~ i / / ~ / h / i ~ / , .\ay\ c i i ( i ttiat Yudl~i?!llirau'cis [lie root and his watchel-4 ; l r ~ t l actors: V i d ~ ~ (the r a stid 01 I>t~arni;iI-ehorn 111 :I \el-\ .III[brothers the I>~~;~ricIie\ O I ' O I ~ V L I . C:~ 2 ~ \ t ~ ~ ~ i o [ I ~ e ~ ~' ~~~I ~e ~\ ~I ie~I s. ~ t i i ~ - : ~ , c e ~ i t r a I I y maid', \ v o ~ i i haricl \ Vy%.s;~. the alivestor [,I'all and ~ h \\.atciler-/narr:~to~.~f c concerned \ \ , i t t ~ etI11c:il i \ \ l l r \ . ~ I , I I ~1.01L I \hr-;rli~iianic;~I balues and the the whole zpli. a~iclS a n J a y ~ i n the b;lt~le\cc!ics. u.:~tctl all tile ac,il~tli. Others fol-tlie Kb;rIr~),a.f3111111;i ac.c.u\r\ l1111l111oretlli111 once ol'acting like i ~I I i . I I i i a I I . ~ i t ~ l e er e 1 1 e lliey abrahnian. no[ ,I h s ; ~ i!r.;~. ~ Till\ ~ ~ , I I14I - tlic I ' ~ I ~ , I I \ ol'a ceniral di\.isiori and can I I I I I > , \v;~!cIithe ilieaorahle ~1111-olli11g 01. e \ r n t s . Such \\;rtc1111iy. I I I ~ \ [ I L . I ~ I > I3liinia aritl A r j ~ ~ ~I'req~iently ia. menu'ltnessiny 1s p;~r.toI'tlre \ ~ l e ~ i caricl e l';i~Iui.eol'the cider.; In c , ~ t a \ t r - ~ ~ t ~ i c conflict i l l classical Intl1:111 I'oned tosettier- . I \ ~ ~ I ~ I I ~ I ; ~ I ~ a1.c L I ~ ;clt>;i~-l> I. ~ ; ~ r r - ~ H~ hl ir~\n. ais 1.~1rtIlel. sc.ene4 like 111e~ I ~ c , e - g ; ~or~ ltlie l e dlsrohiny o I 111-a~~liadi. T h e erilllr #.a\[ hy hi\ 13114~,11;11 p t ~ \ \ e ;u1d , A I . I L I Ihy I ~ h ~ art s and skill. l l I - ~ ~ l - ~ 1 1 1 1 ; 1~ l l~ b e l ~ ~ ~ lsee111\ l l : 1 ? 1 0 illll\ll:lte tI1e ;1llL~lelllcollcep~lolll I 1 , l l 1 1 1 ~ I I S I I I I ~ I I \I I , ; I ( I ~ I CI I I ; I I I ~ ~ ~ I I : 1riell. I I ~ ~ C] h ' e [lie \ili~ ~ l e l ~ e atlie n . ellilllent ..21nerlc.;ln I I I I ~ L I\t~ldlecl I \ ~ . thc I ; ~ n g i ~ a g;~ncl e collec.lecl the \orig\ of tile 'l'od;t\. a p ; ~ \ t o ~l r~~~h el in [he 111~111 ~ l l I \ I I I \o~1111 111(11~1. 111 llie e ; ~ r I I c ) i o \

(Emeneau 1971 I M l1t.11 lie \ ~ \ ~ I r c{lie l ~ ~ ~ ~ l ~ e ' a, ~I'ew g a lyr;il\ li 1;11elto c o n t j n ~ ~Ill\ e work \L 1111 them. t o h l great n q l r l \ e lliey sang l o l i ~ mnew song.: ahour a \r hlte m a n w h o h ~ uollec.tecl d \olig\ arnolig them xe\el-a1 years earlier. l i e liad createcl a Lradit~onh>, \tudying ~ t . The pa\[ I \ . ~ ~ i o t l ~ e r c o ~ ~;I\t i tthe r y .\;1)11iygee\. Wlrh the pa\[. too. one addsonesell'lo 11 < I \ one \tuclie\ ~ t One . I \ ch;~nyeclhy I r and the p ; ~ \ tilself \ b ! o n e ' \ stlldy oi' ~ t . is Sornetirne\ a piece of the past conic\ a l ~ v ein the present. beconies relevant. even ~ , e d i t l o ~h~esc. a ~ ~ ist eseen)\ 10pro\,ide p o ~ e r f ins[ances ~~l for something ]'()I-bitidello r cellsored in the pre\erit. Htrr~llptin Polanci(see Jan Kott's Slltrkr rllctrt-r,0 1 1 t -Cotltrtt~l~~~t.trt;~ ) . or Shakespeare's own history plays In E l i ~ a b e t h ~England. ~n drarii:~ti\iny problenis and fears of succession: or the film I\ltrt? t / ~ Tc'lTihl~ p in R ~ r \ s i a or ; the epic Rrttnrtyunu allover India (and o~lt\ide.in 1ndonesia.Thailand. etc.), conveyingpolitical messages; and In contemporary India Vi.jay Tendulkar's Marathi play GrtSirarn K~ltrr.NI.0 1Glrisli Karnad's Tu,yhltrc/ in Kannada-all are instances of artists Ll.\lng episodes from past history to comment on the present. They give new ~iieaningsto the past in the present. I ~ n y s e l f g o at g l ~ n i p s of e how immediate and dangerous the past could be when I visited northern Sri Lanka in 1983, just after the troubles between the Taniils and the Sinhalese majority had erupted. I was speaking to a Tamil audience innocently about classical Tamil poetry. When I came to talk about the old war poems. especially the elegies on tiead warriors, I choked on them. 1 couldn't read them to the Tamil audience in Jaffna. Several Tamil insurgent\ had been killed in the region recently. and I r e m e ~ n b e r e dsuddenly in the middle vf this somewhat ucadeniic presentation that they liad been adolescents, their beards still soft, lihe the young warrior in this an~.lentpoeni:

I

'

0 heart sorrowing for t h i \ lad

once \cat-rd I)!'a \ ~ l c . h lifted In nl~)c.L; I I I ~ ~ I when he rrtl~\rcl a drlnk ot'11111h.

186 I The Collected Essu?s 0 f A . K . Rurnur~rrlc~n this son of the strong man who fell yesterday seems unaware of the arrow in his wound, his head of hair is plumed like a horse's, he has fallen on his shield, his beard is still soft. (Ramanujan 1985, 165) One of over two thousand poems composed by five hundred poets collected in eight anthologies about two millennia ago, this could have been written (with some changes in detail) yesterday. In a culture like the Indian, the past does not pass. It keeps on providing paradigms and ironies for the present, or at least that's the way it seems. The classicalTamil tradition, such a s the poem above represents. was not always known to the Tamils themselves, or actively present to them. In the eighteenth century, Hindu scholars, devout worshippers of ~ i v and a Visnu, did not wish to read so-called non-religious poems and would not teach them to their pupils. The epics CilappatikGram and ManimCkal~ii were non-Hindu; the latter was clearly Buddhist. S o , even the finest Tamil scholars of the time ignored these breathtaking epics and the anthologies of early Tamil; most didn't even suspect their existence and gave their nights and days to religious and grammatical texts, many of which were of minor importance. The story of the rediscovery of these great classical texts in the nineteenth century is a dramatic one. Even the factual account sounds like a parable and works like a paradigm for the way 'a great tradition modernises.'l The name of U.V. Csminata Aiyar ( 1 855-1942) became a legend in his own lifetime among students 0fTami1.~A young man of vast learning. he met, almost by chance, a liberal-mindedmuns~f(civiljudge), Ramasami Mudaliyar, in a temple town called Kumbakonam. In his autobiography, Aiyar recalls that day a s a Thursday, the 2 1 st of October 1880, and dedicates a whole chapter to this fateful meeting. for it was no less. for him and for Tamil culture." The munsjf. who had just been transferred to the small town, asked Aiyar what he had studied and under whom. Aiyar mentioned his wellknown mentor and listed all the granlmars and religious texts and

C'1tr.ssic.s Lost utld F'ounil I 187 and commentaries he had laboured over and learnt by heart. 'The I( judge was not impressed. 'Is that all? What is the use? Have you studied b e old ~exts'!' He mentioned some. Aiyar, one of the most erudite and boroughgoing of Tamil scholars, had never heard of them. The judge later brought out a handwritten copy of an old poem and asked Aiyar to take it home. The judge told him how he had long ago studied a small part of it in a textbook compiled by a Eurasian of English descent, Rev. Henry Bower, and he could not now make much sense of the whole text. The English language, English-educated Indians like Mudaliyar, and English people are important forces in the discovery of b e Indian past. Indology is an invention and gift of Western scholarship. an ambiguous gift according to some (see Said 1978). Aiyar was confident he could read anything in theTamil of any period. Yet he found that, with all his learning, he could not understand much of the manuscript. It was a lesson in humility. He knew the words but they seemed to mean something he couldn't guess at. He didn't know the stories. Familiar names referred to unfamiliar characters. He read what h e could to the judge, and they struggled with it together for six months. He had by now gathered that it was not a Hindu text at all, but a Jain text, the Civakacintcinluni, and he began to make inquiries about it. Afriend told him oneday that there was a Jaincommunity afew streets away from where Aiyar lived. Why not go there and find out whether anyone in that community knew the text? S o they went to visit a rich and influential Jain gentleman. Even as they entered the house, Aiyar noticed 5mango leaves and decorations on the door frame. signs of a happy ritual occasion. He asked the gentleman, 'Did you have a special feast or holiday today?' The Jain gentleman replied, 'No, sir, we were reading this sacred text, the CivtrkucirztGmani, for the past six months with our teacher. We finished ittoday. S o we are celebrating the end of our reading with a happy ceremony.' This entire community knew the text that Aiyar n g for months. They revered it and lovingly studied had been l a b o ~ ~ r i over it as their forebears had done in earlier times. Such incidents brought home to Aiyar, as they bring home to us, that Indian tradition is not a single street or a one-way street but consists of many connected streets and neighbourhoods like that town itself. Interlocking and coexistent though they are, people of one neighbourhood may never have stepped into another. India does not have one past, but many pasts. Aiyar's little e x c ~ ~ r s i ointo n this fascinating, ever-available but neverentered neighhourhood was an eye-opener. He now recognised what he didn't know. even after years of studying with great Tamil teachers,

188 / Tho C'oll~.c:rctl Es.cuys of A . K . K t r i l ~ ~ r r i ~ ! j t r r r

going from gllru to ,guru in search ol'classics. He decided to Iyaster the Jain text, edit it and publish it. even though he didn't belong to the Jain c o l ~ ~ m ~ n He i t ytravelled . in his spare time seeking copies of the text and found twenty-three of them. f o ~of ~ which r were complete. By working on this text and collating the copies, solving the puzzles they set, he taught himself to become a superb editor and commentator, one of the first of his kind. While he was engaged in this self-education and cultural discovery, everything was grist for his mill. For instance. he once s'aw an English Bible in an acquaintance's home, and, leafing through it (he didn't have enough English to read it), he learned of the concept of concordances, which he used creatively in all his later work. Aiyar alsodiscovered to his astonishment that once before, in the sixteenth century, another brahman scholar had done something very similar. As Aiyar began to look into the commentaries, he found two works by Naccinarkkiniyar, the first skimpy, and the second full and detailed. When he asked his new-found Jain friends about them, they told him the legend they all knew, one that must have seemed like reverse dej'u vu to Aiyar. Naccinarkkiniyar had first written a commentary on the Civukacintdrnani on his own, but the Jains of the time had said in response to it, 'You don't understand a thing about this text or the Jain tradition.' He had taken their criticism to heart, gone to a Jain village and passed himself off as a Jain, to do fieldwork a s anthropologists do these days. After a period of this kind of learning, he wrote a new commentary, full of well-earned detail. Now the text had to be rediscovered again in the nineteenth century and seen in a new light by Aiyar. There is a mythic precedent for this process. too: the Vedas were stolen by a demon and carried off into the ocean, and Lord Visnu himself had to take on the avatar of a boar, enter the ocean, destroy this demon-the demon of Time, truly-and retrieve the V e d a ~ . ~ Naccinarkkiniyar's commentary on the Civakacintamani quoted several texts and authors for whom he gave no names, and this made Aiyar realise that there were many more classical Tamil texts to be found. He devoted the rest of his long life to roaming the villages, rummaging in private attics and the storerooms of monasteries. unearthing, editing and printing them. In fact, soon after he had discovered the Civrckr~c.intcima~i. he returned to the monastery where he had studied for years, and he discovered there a second copy complete with commentary; it had been hand-copied carefully by his own teacher. MinikSisundaram Pillai, who had never mentioned it to his prii.e pupil. He also found a neglected

bundle of palm-leaf 1n;lnuscripts in a corner. thrown together in a basket, and they were the Eight Anthologies of classical Tamil, from which I .have quoted above the elegy on the young warrior. When texts were no longer rare manuscripts that were physically -owned by certain people but were copied from palm-leaf manuscripts ~ n t o p a p e rand , especial1 y when they were put into print, the relationships between authors and audiences were revolutionised. There is of course much more to say about the sociology of knowledge than this-and I have done s o elsewhere (Ramanujan 1985). Because of the lifework of scholars like Aiyar and his contemporaries, the 'Tamil Renaissance' became possible and a 'great tradition' was 'rnoderni~ed'.~ Rut modernity, itself a new attitude to history and tradi'tion, with a new kind of pride in the past, also discovers and includes the 'Indian past, through new techniques of discovery and through a juxtaposition of 'the pastness of the past' and its 'presence'. As Denis Hudson :observes, '[Madras] city's most modern institutions use symbols of Tamil Nadu's most ancient past [especially literary ones]. Maxims from a Tamil text on ethics of the fifth or sixth century are painted near the 'driver's seat of pilblic buses. A statue of the heroine ofa fifth century epic stands on the throughfare on Marina Beach near the University of Madras. Poems of ancient Tamil bards are standard subjects of college syllabi. The names uf kings and heroes of the classical literature are the names of contelnporary politicians' (Hudson 198 1 ). Translators like George Hart and I, almost a century after Aiyar's fateful meeting with the munsif, are now reading and translating the Tamil classics (Ramanujan 1967, 1985; Hart 1980).The word translate, as you know, is only Latin for the Greek word rnrtrcphor. Both mean 'carry across'. People usually praise translators for their labour of love. I must say, though, that one translates not just out of love but also out of envy of the past masters. in order to appropriate and repossess the wonderful classical poems-and. of course. ultimately to publish them in one'sown name. A medieval Sanskrit epigram about the past says, 'If you have no1 read the ancients. how can Y ~ L write'? I If you hccve read the ancients. why do you write'!' One cuts through that dilemma by translating the past. Translation then participates in our dream of making out o1.a historical Past 3 c o t l t e n ~ p ~ r apa.st. ~ - v creating O L Iol'the ~ so-called linear seqi~e~llial Order of hislor-y a \ i ~ n ~ ~ l t a n order. e o ~ ~ asn active presence. One o l the e < ~ r ltexts y Aiyar edited was a poem of ahont the slxth

190 / 7 b e Collrr./ri/Es..sr~,:s

of

Cl~s.$,ic,s Lost a n d F o u n d / 1 9 I

A.K. Rrrt?rrrnulirn

cenLury, the first long devotional or bhlrktr puem to appear in any Indian Ialiguage, the first religious text to appear in any native tongue-until [hen, religious texts had been composed only in Sanskrit. The text was T i r u t ? ~ u r u k d ~ u p p ~a~'Guide t c ~ i , to Lord Murugall'. It tells where to go and how to find Murugan, a n ancient Dravidian god with six faces, twelve eyes, and twelve hands, a Dionysian god of fertility, juy, youth, beauty, love, war, and travel. H e is worshipped in six lamous hilltop shrines in Tamil Nadu; the poem, too, has six parts, a s the devotee's human body h a s six cakrcisor vital centres. T h e poem, the country with its six shrines, the god of six faces, and the devotee's body all correspond to (or with) one another. T h e very day Aiyar finished editing this poem and closed the books, a s it were, he saw, right outside his window, a devotee of Murugan with a kijva&, a bamboo frame with peacock feathers that his worshippers carry on their heads. T h e devotee w a s singing a section of this sixthcentury poem, Tirumuruku~uppatai.Aiyar s a y s h e felt blessed by that good omen. In this instance, and in other realms a s well, the past the scholar w a s just discovering was already present to others in the culture, always had been. T h e scholar w a s editing only the written lext of a poem well known and much loved in the oral recitative tradition. For its form, Tirumurukii~uppatuidepends on a n even older Tamil poetic genre, the war p o e m s (purum, o r 'exterior' poems)--especially the so-called Guide P o e m s ( a r r u ~ p u t a i ) where , o n e poet guides a poorer colleague toward a patron whd would recognise his talent and reward him handsomely. In the Murugan poem, the old secular relation between poet and patron h a s been transposed into the relation between devotee and god. I shall quote here just one section from 'Murugan: His Places'. Where goats are slaughtered, where grains of fine rice are offered in several pots with flowers, and His cock-banner is raised in the festival of festivals for many towns around; wherever devotees praise and move His heart; where His spear-bearing shamans set up yards for t h e ~ rfrenzy dance;

and in forests, parks, lovely islets in rivers. streams, pools, certain spots like four-way crossroads, rneetlng places, cadamba oaks in first flower; in assemblies under the main tree and in town halls: in sacred pillars; and in the awesome vast temple where the daughter of the hill tribe worships raising a banner with His splendid bird on it, patting white mustard seed into ghee, chanting wordlessly her special chants, bowing and scattering flowers. wearing two cloths different in color and kind, threads of crimson on her wrists, scattering parched grain and offering soft white rice m~xedwith the blood of strong fattened large-footed rams in small offerings in several dishes, sprinkling sandal fragrances with yellow turmeric, cutting together red oleander and big cool garlands and lettlng them hang, blessing the towns on the rich hill-slopes, offering the sweet smoke of incense, singing kuririri songs while the roar of waterfalls mixes with the music of instruments. spreading red flowers. spreading fearful blood-smeared millet, where the daughter of the h ~ l tribe l sounds Murugan's favorite instruments and offers worship to Muruyan

Clussic~sLr)st trnd Found 1 193 t i l l He arrives

and comes into her to terrify enemies and deniers: in that place then they sing till the dancing yards echo, [hey blow all the horns at once, ring all the crooked bells, bless HISelephant with a peacock-shield on his forehead who never runs from battle. There the suppliants offer worship, ask and ask as if to ask is to be given already He dwells in all such places and 1 speak what I truly know Nakkiransr Tirumrdrukfi~~dppata~, 6 (Ramanujan 1985,215-17)

I

PRAYERS TO LORD b11:RIJGAN

Lord of new arrivals lovers and rivals: arrive at once with cockfight and bannerdance till on this and the next three hills women's hands and the garlands on the chests of men will turn like chariotwheels

0 where are the cockscombs and where the heaks glinting with new knives at crossroads when will orange banners bum among blue trumpet flowers and the shade of trees waiting for lightnings?

In 1967, Fred Clothey, now a professor of religion at the University of Pittsburgh, studied Murugan, his temples. icons and texts. and wrote a dissertation at the University of Chicago (see Clothey 1978). I w a s one of his readers, and a s I worked with his chapters-I was in Madras that year-a series o i prayers formed themselves in my head. The prayers were addressed to Murugan, with many references to the iconography and history I was steeped in, and also to the sixth-century poem that Aiyar, among others, had edited. I hill close, somewhat immodestly, with theseprayers, 'Prayers toLordMurugan'. My poem, too, talks about some Indian attitudes to the Indian past. with which I was somewhat despondently preoccupied ar the time. 1 had felt that Sanskrit itself and all that i t represented had become an absence, at best a cr~pplingand not an enabling presence, that the future needed a new past. Many things have changed since then and s o have I. Bur the mood, the relation to what the god Murugan means, is a real one, and I hope it speaks not only for rne. Tirumuruknrruppc~,wi1s a poem of faith and strength: mine is one of lack and se1.'-doubt, in which it is like some other religious poems (e.g.. s o m e v i r a i a i ~ ~ a p o e mthat s ) 1 had translated. These prayers are antiprayers they use an old poem in a well-known genre to make a new poem to say new things. The past works through the present ;r,\ the present reworks the past.

Twelve etched arrowheads for eyes and six unforeseen faces. and you were not embarrassed. Unlike other gods you found work for every face. and made eyes at only one Woman. And your arms are like faces with propernames.

Lord of green growing t l i ~ n. ~u~ve(1.; a hand 7~

In our fight t with the f r u ~ fly Tell us.

Clas.sics h s t rrnd Found / 195

194 / The Collected Essuvs of A.K. Kr~nzunuj~~tz will the red flower ever come to the branches of the blueprint city? 4

Lord of great c h a ~ g e and s small cells: exchange our painted grey pottery for iron copper the leap of stone horses our yellow grass and lily seed for rams' flesh and scarlet rice for the carnivals on rivers 0 dawn of nightmare virgins bring u s your white-haired witches who wear three colours even in sleep.

5 Lord of the spoor of the tigress, outside our town hyenas and civet cats live on the kills of leopards and tigers too weak to finish what's begun. Rajahs stand in photographs over ninefoot silken tigresses that sycophants have shot. Sleeping under country fans hearts are worm cans turning over continually for the great shadows of fish in the openwaters. W e eat legends and leavings, remember the ivory, the apes, the peacocks we sent in the Bible to Solomon, the medicines for smallpox, the s ~ m ~ l e s

for muslin: wavering snakeskins. a cloud of steam. Ever-rehearsing astronauts, we purify and return our urine to the circling body and bum our faeces for fuel to reach the moon through the sky behind the navel.

6 Master of red bloodstrains. our blood I S brown; our collars white. Other lives and sixty four rumoured arts tingle, pins and needles at amputees' fingertips in phantom muscle.

7 Lord of the twelve right hands why are we your mirror men with the two left hands capable only of casting reflections? Lord of faces, find u s the face we lost early this morning.

8 Lord of headl~nes. help u s read the small prlnt. Lord of the slvth sense, gtve us h d ~ h our f ~ v e\ e n \ e \

Lord of .;elutions, teach us to dissolve and not to drown.

Form in Classical Tamil Poetry

Deliver us 0 presence from proxies and absences from sanskrit and the mythologies of night and the several roundtable mornings of London and return the future to what it was. 10

Lord, return us. Bring us back to a lltter of six new pigs in a slum and a sudden quarter of harvest. Lord of the last-born give us birth.

II

Carikarn, or early classical Tamil literature, is represented by eight anthologies of lyrics, ten long poems, and a work of grammar and poetics called the Tolkappiynm. The dates of these texts are still in some dispute. At least six of the eight anthologies appear to have been compiled, ifnot composed, during the first three centuries of the common era. The concern of this paper is not Tamil chronology but Tamil poetry and poetics. Our main source for the poetics is the third section of the Tolkrippiynrn which summarised in succinct aphorisms (sutrus) the canons of the c~lrikurntradition. Later commentators on the poems and the Tolkrippiyarn were also very useful. Let me begin with an actual poem (the emphatics in the Tamil text have not been glossed): nilattinuni perilee / vaagigun~uyarntan,-u / nirigum aarala \'i,lree / caara_r karutikoor ku_ririci/~ puukkontu perunreen iraikk~cnzr ~ u u ~ u ~tzu!pee otu

Lord of lost travellers, find us. Hunt us down.

earth-than big(ge1 i, sky-than high(er), water-than hard(el-)-to-fathom.mountainslopeblack-stalk-kuyiic.i-flower(s)-takinp rich-honey-making-country's-101-d with-love

Lord of answers, cure us at once o f prayers.

WHAT S H E SAIL)

Bigger than earth. ce~.tainly. higher than the sky. more unfathomable than the waters is this love f o this ~ Inan of the mountaln slopes where bee.; make rich honey from the flowel-s of the krtr.rric.i that has .;uch hlack stalks. ?'~v;~l;ulattir. Kul-untokai 3 (Ramanu.j;un 1967, 10)

198 / The Collecterl Essays 0fA.K. Rumclnultrn How did the author of the poetics in the Tolkfil)pixon~read this poeln? What would an idea\ Tamil reader bring to this poem'! How did the lirstcentury poet create it? What are the ideas of form relevant to classical Tamil poetry and the particulars of their realisation? Following the Tamil commentators. one could speak of different kinds of form: (a) the metrical form, and its attendant sound-figures, (b) the linguistic form, (c) the rhetorical strategy of conventions. and (d) the poetic form, which relates all these to each other. This poem is in akaval metre, like most classical Tamil poems: four feet to every line (here indicated by spaces) except for the penultimate which has only three, and the lines are not end-stopped (i.e., they do not necessarily coincide with the end of a sentence or clause); the four lines are held together by the second consonant in each line, in a kind of rhyme or chime; they are enriched by various alliterations (n . . . n, k . . . k) and assonances and near-rhymes (naatanotu natpee). One should also notice the grammatical form of the poem, the shifting of all the attributes towards the beginning of the poem ('bigger than earth, higher than sky . . .') and the subject of the sentence a s well as of the poem, 'love' (natpee) to the very end of the piece-a kind of syntactic suspense. Then there are the three simple inequalities (1, 2, 3), and the long compound (carrar . . . naatan) which occupies the entire second half of the poem, enacting syntactically the 'inequality' explicitly stated in the poem. The commentators always note such grammatical matters as the syntactic transposition here, though they may not interpret their function. The Tamil critic would recognise the poem as an akam, not apuram, poem. All carikam poetry is classified by theme into two kinds: poems of akam (the interior) and poems ofpurnm (the exterior). For example, here is a puram poem: KING KILL1 IN COMBAT

The festival hour close at hand his woman in labor the sun setting behind pour~ngrains the needle in the cobbler's hand is in a frenzy of haste stitching thongs for the cot of a king: such was the swiftness of the king's tackles. an nrri garland round his neck.

Form in Clrr.s.sic.~lTomil Poetry / 199 as he wrestled wlth the enemy come all the way to take the land. CBttantaiyZr. Pu~ananu_ru 82; Genre: v6Xtrr Akam poems are love poems; puram poems are all other kinds of poems. vsually purani poems are about good and evil, action, community, kingdom; it is the 'public' poetry of the ancient Tamils, celebrating the ferocity and glory of kings, lamenting the death of heroes, the poverty of poets. Elegy, panegyric, invective, poems on wars and tragic events are purampoems. More significantly, the two kinds of poetry are structurally different. Akam poetry is about experience, not action; it is a poetry of the 'inner world', as the word akam suggests. In Akattinai Iyal, or the chapter on ukam poetry, the Tolkappiyam distinguished aknm and puram conventions as follows: In(the five phasesof)akanl, no names of persons should be mentioned. Particular names are appropriate only In pucarn poetry. (Tolkappiyam 57) The dramatispersonrre for akam are idealised types, such as chieftains representing clans and classes, rather than historical persons. Similarly, landscapes are more important than particular places. The reason for such absence of individuals is given in the word akam: the 'interior' world is inexpressible, there are no names there; it has neither geography nor history. It is a poetry of the inner world. The poem quoted above, Kuruntokai 3, includes no names of people or places; the speaker is merely a 'she'. The love of man and woman is taken as the ideal expression of the 'inner world', and akam poetry is synonyinous with love poetry in the Tamil tradition. Love in all its variety (with important exceptions)-love in separation and in union, before and after marriage, in chastity and in betrayal-this is the theme of akam. There are seven types of love. of which the f i r ~It S kaikkilai or unrequited love, and the last is perurrrinni or m~smatchedlove. (Tolkuppiycrnl I )

Peruntinai, or the 'major type' (as the Tolk(ip11i~amsomewhat cynically calls it) of man-woman relationship is the lorced, loveless relationship: a man and a woman. mismatched in age, coming together for duty, convenience, or lust. At the other extreme IS kaikkilai (literally, the 'base relationship'). the one-sided affair, unrequi[etl love or desire inllrc~edon

200 / The Collected Essays ( ~Af . K Knmtinl!jtrt~

Form in Clu.~siculTamil Poetry / 201

an immature girl who does not ~lrrderstand11. Neither of these extremes is the proper subject of ukllm poetry. They are common, abnormal, undignified,fit only for SerVantS. Servants and workmen are outside the five rrktrrrl types (of t ~ u love), e for they do not have the necessary strength of character. (TolkLiPpivatt~ 75-6) M O S ~of the clkarn anthologies contain no poems of unrequited or mismatched love; only Krrlittokui has a number of examples of both types. Kuikkilui and peruntinai have none of the formal constraints on theme and structure that are characteristic of the rrkom poems (see Figure 1).

Genres Akiln

Love I

I

1

~uiarn Other themes (war. etc.)

well-hatched 'akam proper' CI

A

2

1 00

Five Landscapes Mismatched pemnrinai (the 'major type' )

Unrequited kaikkilai (the 'base relationship')

Figure 1 Of the seven types, only 'the middle five' are the subject of true love poetry .'The hero and heroine should be 'well-matched on ten points' such as beauty. wealth, age. virtue. rank, etc. Oniy such a pair is capable of the full range of love: union and separation, anxiety, pat~ence,betrayal, and forgiveness. The couple [nust be cul~ured;for the uncultured will be rash, ignorant, self-centred, and therefore unfit for rrktrm poetry.

c 2 w

-E

w C M

2

T

THE FIVE LANDSCAPES

In the chapter on nkutn poetry, the TolkCppiym concerns itself mainly w ~ t hthe 'middle five' phases or types of love and outl~nestheir symbolic conventions. The other two types, the mismatched and the one-sided affairs. Llse no special landscapes (see F;gure 2 ) .

Form in Classicr~lTamil Poetry I 2 0 3

202 1 The Collected Essays 0fA.k'. Kur?~unujnn

~u[loicountryis assoc~atedwith the rainy season and evenin,, k~rriiici,with the frost and midnight; ttiarutottr, with the later part of night and the dawn; neylul with the twilight of evening: pLllrli with summer, late frost, and midday (Tolkclppiyam 6-1 2).

When we examine the materials of a poem, only three things appear to be impor. tant: mural (the 'first things'), karu (the 'native elements'), uri (the 'human feelings' appropriately set in mutal and karu) (Tolkul,piyotn 3). What are called mula/ or 'first things' are tlme and place; SO say the people who know (TolkEppiyam 4). There are four kinds of places; each is presided over by adeity and named after a flower or tree characteristic of the region (see Figure 3).

I

I

love in situ

A

union ku~iiici

valley I

uncu1:ivated

forest nlullai

separation

1

infidelity marutam

1

I cultivated

Uri: Phases of Love

elopement search ,; pdlai

the four fertile landscapes I hill kudtici

--

Each of the five regions o r ~ n d s c a p e sis associated further with an appropriate uri o r phase of lo,. Figure 4). I

Landscapes Wasteland pfilai

-

q7.

lldcllly

domesticity patient waiting mullai

coast neytal

anxiety impatient waiting neytal

Figure 3

Figure 4

mullai. a variety ofjasmine, represents the forests overseen by Miiybn, the darkbodied god of herdsmen (Visnu); kurinci, a mountain flower, stands for the mountains overseen by Murukan, the red-speared god of war, youth and beauty; marutam, a tree with red flowers growing near the water, for the pastoral region overseen by Ventan, the rain-god (Indra); neytal, a water-flower, for the sandy sea-shore overseen by Varuna, the wind-god (Tolkfippiyam 5).

Lovers' union is associated with kucifici, the mountains; separation with pdai, the desert; patient waiting, with mullai, the forests; anxious waiting, with neytal, thesea-shore; the lover's infidelity and the beloved's resentment, with marutam, the pastoral region (TolkEppiyam 16).

There i s also a fifth region, pulai or desert waste. PGlai h a s no specific location, for it is thought that any mountain o r forest inay be parched to a wasteland in the heat of summer. The name is taken from pulai, supposedly an evergreen tree that is unaffected by drought.' Time is divided into day. month, and year. The year is divided into six 'large time-units', the six seasons: the rains, the cold season, early frost andlate frost, early summer and late summer. The day is divided into five 'small time-units': sunrise, midday, sunset, nightfall, the dead of night. S o m e would add a sixth, dawn. Particular 'large time-units' and 'small time-units' are associated by convention with particular regions.

Of these five, the first is clandestine, before marriage; the fourth occurs after marriage. 'The other three could be either before or after marriage. The fifth, separation, includes not only the hardships of the lover away from his girl, his search for wealth, fame and learning, but also the elopement of the couple, their hardships on the way, and their separation from their parents.

I

I

Now, each landscape has its natlve elements (!mu): gods, foods, animals, trees, birds, drums, occupations, lutes or musical styles and such others (TolXdppiYam 20).

To these eight, flowers and kinds of running or standing water are also added by later writers, making a total of 14 slots under each landscape. Thus each phase of love gets its characteristic type of imagery from

Form in Classical Tamil Poeily 1205

204 I The Collected Essays 0fA.K. Runltrnujun a particularlandscape. Flower-names like kurikc-i,m u l l a ~etc., , are names not only of the landscape but also of the associated feeling and of the type of poetry devoted to them. Each of these landscapes is now a whole repertoire of images-any.. thing in it, bird or drum, tribal name or dance, may be used to symbolise and evoke a specific feeling. A conventional design thus provides a live vocabulary of symbols; actual objective landscapes of the Tamil country become the interior landscape of Tamil poetry. The following table lists some of these features (Table 1). The TolkGppiyam takes care to add that 'birds and beasts of one landscape inay sometimes appear in others'; artful poets may work with an 'overlap of genres' (_tinairnayakkam);they may even bring in pu_mm imagery to heighten the effects of an nkcm poem. The TolkcTppiyam further states that the above genres are not rigidly separated; the time and place appropriate to one genre may be fused with the time and place appropriate to another.

I

-

V1

2

Z

s

C

0

L

-.

2

2: E

E

n 8

.c? = m

r

=

-u

8

'-

2% m 8

Z

.-

-5

G

,

x

3

U-

M F 't( = m u

~ ~ l z m s u C

vlo E2

G . % ~ : % S $

-Y

u

Anything other than uri or the appropriate mood may be fused or transformed (Tolknppiyam 15). The following poem is a good example of this mixture of landscapes.? WHAT S H E SAID

The bare root of the bean is pink like the leg of a jungle hen. and herds of deer attack its overripe pods. For the harshness of this early frost there is no cure but the breast of my man. Ailiir Nanmullal, Kupintokni 68 (Ramanujan 1967, 46) Thus, for poetry the hierarchy of components is inverted; the human elements (uri),the native elements (karu),and the first elements (ntutal) are in a descending order of importance for a poet. Mere naturedescription or 'imagism' in poetry would be uninteresting to Tamil poets and critics. POETIC DESIGN

The conventions make for many kinds of economy in poetic design. Consider the first poem again (Kuruntokai 3 , above):

u

3,z

DO-

G c 0 .o .s i -02

.C

z- %2 "&g

."

26

0

Y 8 v l

V)

C Z O

2

,,gu

-00

o z

c

E :

~

v

2 ,m

.S a Y 0) ;Ea 8,

mi=

'CI

2

s0"

-

C 0

.m 4

3

2a,%

E S 6%

206 / The ~olle'credEssays 0 f A . K . Rumanuj~in WHAT SHE SAID

Bigger than earth, certainly, higher than the sky, more unfathomable than the waters is this love for this man of the mountain-slopes where bees make rich honey from the flowers of the kuyiiiri that has such black stalks. Like most akam poems, it has a single spare image. The kudEci flower and the mountain-scene clearly mark the poem as a kuriici poem about lovers' union. The union is not described or talked about; it is enacted by the 'inset' scene of the bees making honey from the flowers of the kuriEci. The lover is not only the lord of the mountain, he i s like the mountain he owns. Describing the scene describes his passion. The kuriiici, being a tree that takes twelve years to come to flower, carries a suggestion assimilating the tree to the young heroine who speaks the poem. The Tolkiipplyam calls this technique of using the scene (in Kenneth Burke's terms) to describe act or agent, ullurai, 'inner substance'. The poem opens with large abstractions about her love: her lovl bigger than the earth and higher than the sky. But it moves toward^ concreteness of the black-stalked kuriici, acting out by analogue [he virgin's progress from abstraction to experience. We may remind ourselves that this progression (from the basic cosmic elements to the specific component of a landscape) is also the method of the entire intellectual framework behind the poetry: from mural to karu to uri. Further, in choosing earth, sky, and water forcomparison, she has also chosen nature's constants that make up any particular scene. These constants, however, are always interacting, mingling, changing their states and forms. By implication her love, which is constant through change, is greater than these primal constants. Evocations designed like these may be seen in poem after poem. Ullurais of the natural scene (somewhat like G.M. Hopkins' 'inscape') repeat the total action of the poem. Note the irony of the following poem: WHAT THE CONCUBINE SAID

You know he comes from where the fresh-water sharks in the pools catch with their mouths the mangoes a s they fall, ripe from the trees on the edge of the f~eld

Form it1 Classical Tamil P o r r q 1207 At our place, he talked big. Now, back in his own, when others raise their hands and feet, he will raise his too: like a doll in the mirror he will shadow every last wish of his son's dear mother. Alankuti Vankanar, Kucunrokui 8 (Ramanujan 1967,22) This is a maruram poem, a poem about infidelity; the shark, the pool at the edge of the meadow and the mango are properties of the maruram landscape and define the marutam mood of ironic and sullen comment on a lover's infidelity. The poem moves from the openness of the fields to theclosed indoors of the boudoir. The lover, by ullurai, is the shark in the pool he owns; the fish gets all it wants without any effort. By comparing herself with the mango, the concubine is reproaching herself for being easily accessible. The last line also contrasts his carefree, cavalier treatment of her with the tight-knit family in which he is now hemmed. A word about the theory of ullur-ui. Ullurai, as indicated earlier, is implicit metaphor. All explicit comparison is suppressed. The Tolhppiyam further states that explicit comparison belongs to the ulakavarakku, to worldly usage, whereas ujlurui, or implicit metaphor, belongs to ceyyulvayakku, poetic usage. There are other distinctions to be made. (a) Ullurai is a correlation of karu to uri, of the landscapes and their contents to the human scene. (b) Unlike metaphor in ordinary language, ullurai is a structural concept within the poem. (c) U l l u w i i s essentially a metonymy, an inpresenria relationship, where both terms are present. The man belongs to the scene, the scene represents the man. as in Kuruntokai 3 (above). As Kenneth Burke remarkc in hisA Cr~~mmaroj'Motives, 'There is implicit in the quality of a scene the quality of the action implicit in I t . . . (though) one could not deduce the details of the action from the details of the setting' (1945, 6-7). (d) Ullurrri, unlike metaphor and simile, leaves out all t h e ~ o i n r of'comparison s and all explicit markers of (e.g., 'like,' 'as'), which increases many-fold the power of the figure. This kind of 'metonymou~metaphor' based on an entire f o ~ a scheme l is a special feature of the classical Tamil poetic form. But then ~ ! l u ~ ~are i s not . indiscriminately used: they are specially Preferred only in the ]nost structured of Tamil poetic genres-the deal

m 208 / The Collected Essays

of

Forrn

A.K. K~rrnrrrl~cjrrrr

five-fold akam; they are not used in the p~ruritrrfrri(the mismatched affair), nor preferred in the heroic puctrm poems. T h e Tamil theory of comparison deserves a paper to itsell. I shall content myself here with only one of its features. All comparisons. says the TolkGppiyam, including both metaphor and metonymy. involve sev. era1 terms of comparison. These terms may refer to shape o r colour vr to action o r result (Figure 5). Points of Comparison I

Process

Quality

I

I

r 7

Intrinsic shape

Extrinsic colour

Intrinsic actlon

Extrinsic result

Figure 5 O n e o r more of these may be present in any comparison. For instance, in Ku_runtokui3 the emphasis is on the action of the bee and the resulting honey. In the following poem the comparison is more complex: WHAT HE SAID

As a little white snake with lovely stripes on its young body troubles the jungle elephant this slip of a girl her teeth like sprouts of new rice her wrists stacked with bangles troubles me. Catti Nataniir. K~cptntokai1 19 (Ramanuj:un 1967. 54) The ' s t r i p e s h a ~ ~ g l epair s ' illustrates the 'shape/colour' terms. the '\n;~he/ elephant' pair the 'action/result' ternis. 7hc,/~c~rsonrrr. Little need he zaid . t b o ~ the ~ t c l ~ a ~ - ; ~orc the t e ~s~tuatrons which lhese poems imply. The dr~rnrcrti.~~~or.sor~r~c~ are li~llitedby col1L.c.ntion to a small number: the hero. the h e r o ~ n e .the hero's friencl(s) or messengers, [he heroine's 1'1.iendand Sotes-mother, the c o n c u t , ~ ~ lLeI I ~ J passers-by. Each landscape has it5 \peciaI cl;in c.h~efswho ill-c. the exponents of the mood associated u r t l ~t h ~ tI~nd\c.ape.Yo poel here speaks in his own voice; and no poem IS addrexe,: to 'I re,~cler.The reader

In

(-ltr\\~c (11 Trrrnzl Poetn / 209

bely ~ v e r h e a r swhat the characters say to each other o r to themselves or tothe moon. A poem in this tradition i m p l ~ e sevokes, , enacts a drama In a monologue. The situations when a hero o r heroine o r one of their companions may speak out, and to whom, are also closely defined. For example,

;ihe girl-friend of the heroine may speak out on the following occasions: when the heroine, left behind by her lover, speaks of her loneliness: when she helps them elope; when she begs the hero to take good care of the heroine: when she yies to dissuade the parents from their search for the runaway couple, or to console the grieving mother. . . . (Tolkfippiyam 4 2 ) .

An interesting convention restricts the imagery for different speakers within the poems. The heroine's images are confined to what surrounds her house o r to general notions and hearsay (Kurunrokai 3, above). The concubine o r the heroine's girl-friend o r foster-mother have more ranging images: they are of a lower class, their experience is wider. The man's imagery h a s great range. Apparently there a r e n o limits to his experience, and therefore to his imagery. T h e range of imagery, not only its quality o r content but also its very narrowness o r width of choice, , indirectly characterises the speaker and his class. For instance, Kurunrokui 119 is spoken by the man; it mentions jungle snakes and elephants. T h e next poem, spoken by the girl-friend, ranges over crocodiles, the traffic on the water-ways and poisoned twins. WHAT HER GIRL-FRIEND SAID T O HIM

when he wanted to come by night Man-eaters, Inale crocodiles with crooked legs. cut off the traffic on these waterways. But you. in your love, will come to her swimming through the shoals of fish in the black salt marshes. And she, she will suffer in her s~n~pleness. . And I. what can I do but shudder in my heart like a woman watchlng her po~sonedtwins? Kava~makan,K~r~~tntokai 324 (Ramanujan 1967.93) i fie two proprrrtir.. T h e TolkCppiyirrn speaks of 'two kinds of propri&ties: those of drama and those oS the world.' The conventional p~.oprih i e s outlineC1.;o I.;lr are of the 111odeof drama. The situations of real 1il.e

210 1 The Collected Essa,ys of A.K. Ramanujtrn

in the real world are governed by another set ofproprieties. The strategy of the poet is to deploy both, to keep the tension between the forms of art and the forms of the world. The real land and the vivid particulars of bird, beast, insect, drumbeat, and falling water are brought into the highly formal scheme of idealised landscapes that have neither name nor history. For instance, the botanical observation of the classical Tamil poets is breathtakingly accurate. A recent book in Tamil by a botanist. B.L. Swami, documents what one always suspected. For instance, why did the Tamil poets pick on the kuyiiici a s the one flower that will name the mountain landscape and the mood of first love? Here are a few botanical facts: the kuriiici plant, of the Strobilanthus group, grows only 6,000 feet above seal-level; s o it i s the mountain-flower par excellence. Botanical calendars kept for over a century on south Indian hills like the Nilgiris show that a kuriici tree comes to flower only fromnine to twelve years after it isplanted-this identifies it with the tropical virgin heroine who comes to puberty at the same age. And the kuriiici plants flower all at once on the mountain-slopes, covering them with millions of blossoms, certainly a great symbol for the suddenness and the overwhelming nature of first love. It i s a 'honey' flower, for it is rich in honey and flowers by the million. The bees that frequent it frequent no other, thus making what bee-keepers call the 'unifloral honey', which is a s rich a s it is rare and pure. Furthermore, the kuliiici is fiercely competitive-it permits no other tree to grow in its neighbourhood. Thus is the real world always kept in sight and included in the ideal symbolic. This is especially true of the akam poems, poems of the inner world, whose themes are not explicated by word and deed a s puram poems are. In this view of the relationship of reality to poetry, they seem to anticipate Marianne Moore who suggested that poets ought to be 'literalists of the imagination' and that poems ought to be 'imaginary gardens with real toads in them' ( 1 96 1 , 4 1). In a sense, the tradition of conventions does everything possible to depersonalise the poetry of trkrrm. It gives all that can be given to a poet, and makes of poetry a kind of second language. The poet's language is not only Tamil; the landscapes, the personae, the appropriate moods, all become a language within language. Like a native speaker he makes 'infinite use of finite means'. to say with familiar words what has never been said before; he can say exactly what

he wants 10. filthout e\,en heing aware of the gro~~nd-rules o f his grammar. Ifthe world is a vocabulary of the poet, the conventlolls are his syntax. The lyric poet likes to find ways of saying many things while saying one thing; he would like to suggest an entire astronomy by his specks and flashes Towards this end, the Tamil poets used a set of five landscapes andformalised the world into a sylnbolism. Ry a remarkable consensus, they all spoke this common language of symbols for some five or six generations. Each could make his own poem and by doing s o allude to every other poem which had been. as being, or would be written in this symbolic language. Thus poem became relevant to poem, as if they were all written by a single hand. The spurious name crrrikam ('fraternity', 'community' ) for this poetry was justified not by history but by the poetic practice. But this is only half the story. The scheme should include (a) thepuram poems, and (b) the mismatched and the one-sided love-affairs as well-for they define by contrast the tight structure of akam. Thepuram poems correspond in many respects to the akam poems. A set ofpuramlakam correspondences is displayed in Table 2. Whereas akam poems tend to focus on a single spare image. inpuram poems images rush and tumble over one another. Yet the! \Iten use the same flowers and landscapes with a devastatingly different effect: 1

WHEN THE NEYTAL FLOWERED-IN KING CERALATAN

PRAISE OF

Fish leaping in fields of sheep. Rash unploughed sowing in the haunts of the wild boar. Big-eyed buffalo herds stopped by lilies in sugarcane beds. Ancient cows bend Over water-flowers where once busy dancers did the Devil's Mask. The tall coconut, the sounding mrlr~rtrrrn now feed the mouth of a stream and a flowering pool.

212 1 The Collected Essays 0 f A . K . Ratnanujan Gone are the v~llages sung in song. Faces of terrot instead of beauty, they look like a corpse killed and stood up by Death. For your rage water and village are one: waves of sugarcane blossom are one stalk of grass; the ashen babul of the twisted fruit twined with the giant black babul, the she-devil with the branching crest roams astraddle on the donkey; and the small persistent thorn is spread in the moving dust of battlefields. The dead hearts of public places are filled with dirt and turds and silence, and the ruins chill all courage and desire. But here, the sages have sought your woods. In open spaces the fighters play with their bright-jewelled women. The traveller is safe on the highway. The sellers of grain shelter their dear kin and shelter even the distant kin. The Silver Star will not go near the place of Mars. And it rams on the thirsty fields. Hunger has fled and taken Disease with her. 0 Great One,

I

I I

I

-

N

r ~ 1

cr;

iD

r-

in your land it blossoms everywhere. Kumattur Kannanir. P ~ r i ~ u p p u r tI ?u; Genre: pata,~ (Rarnanujan 1967, 102-3) T h e plant n a m e s a r e the s a m e : s u g a r c a n e , neytal, marutam. But the landscapes a r e c o n f u s e d a s a f t e r the r a v a g e s of w a r . T h e p o e m clearly falls into t w o p a r t s , c e l e b r a t i n g t h e destructive a n d protective functionn of a k i n g T h e flowering is d i f i e r r n t In the t w o parts: tragic in the first,

Form In C l ~ s s i c r i lTamil Poetry 1 21 5

2 14 / The Collected E s s a y s 0fA.K. Rumunujrin with the killing fertility of the wilderness where once the city was;joyous and right in the second part, in the king's own flourishing kingdom. T h e akam/puram correspondences a r e not strict. but still close enough to allow u s to integrate the two genres. (a) All but one of thepurumgenres bear the name of a flower, like the five ukam genres; yet not all the con. tents of the landscape a r e used symbolically a s in ukum. (b) The corresponding a k u d p u r a m genres have many common features, as pointed out by the Tolkiippiyam. S u c h correspondences should not be frozen into an exact taxonomy, for the Tamils never d o so-they always make room for 'overlap of class e s ' (tinaimayakkam) and 'leftover classes' (e.g., potunilai). Taken in the large, the two themes, love a n d war-akum and purum-become metaphors for one another: contrasted in theme and structure but unified by imagery. This is why the s a m e poets could write both akam andpurum poems. S o m e poems explicitly place love and war together: The dark-clustered nocci blends with the land that knows no dryness; the colors on the leaves mob the eyes. We have seen that leaf on jewelled women on their lovely wide-angled mounds of Venus. Now the nocci-wreath lies slashed on the ground, so changed, so mixed with blood the vulture snatches it thinking it raw meat. We see this too just because a young man in love with war wore it for glory. Ve~ipitiyaKiimakkSniyir. PuyancTniyu 27 1 ; Genre: nocci/vetci T h e evergreen leaves of the nocci were used a s leaf-skirts by women and a s laurels by warriors. The nocci leaf is part of kurir7c.i (union) in love and o f urinai (battle) in war; the very juxtaposition brings the irony home sharp1y.

One more contrast should b e noticed before w e leave the subject of lrkam and puram. Akum means 'interior'. pucam 'exterior'. Yet the love poetry, usually taken to b e the most private and personal expression, is the most formally structured type in the Tamil tradition; no names, individuals, o r places a r e allowed here, only classes, ideal types; for in this inner world there are no names o r individuals. Puram, the so-called spublic poetry', i s allowed names, places, expression of personal circumstances in a real society, a real history and freedom from the necessities of poetic convention both in ullurrii and in the landscapes. T h u s it is the 'public' purnm poetry that becomes the vehicle of personal expression and of the celebration of historical personages. Here is a poem p t e d early in this paper: KING KILL1 IN COMBAT

The festival hour close at hand his woman in labor the sun setting behind pouring rains the needle in the cobbler's hand is in a frenzy of haste stitching thongs for the cot of a king: such was the swiftness of the king's tackles, an atti garland round his neck, as he wrestled with the enemy come all the way to take the land. Cittantaiyiir. Purarldniru 82: Genre: vakai Quite in contrast to both akam and purum, especially the tightlystructured, well-formed ukam, stands the mismatched affairorperuntinai. Here is an example from Kalittokui, probably the latest of the eight anthologies:

0 hunchback woman, gentle and crooked as a reflection in the water. what great good deeds did you d o that I should want you so?

Form in Ckt.s.sicai Tamil Poerq / 2 17

21 6 / The Collected E.s.says of A.K. Ramanujan (0 mother! she swore to herself) Some auspicious moment made you a dwarf. s o tiny you're almost invisible, 0 whelp born to a man-faced bird. how dare you stop us to say you want us? Would such midgets ever get to touch such a s us! 0 lovely one, curvaceous, convex a s the blade of a plough, you strike me with a love I cannot bear. I can live only by your grace. (Look at the way this creature works!) 0 dwarf. standing piece of timber, you've yet to learn the right approach to girls. Humans do not copulate at noon: but you come now to hold our hand and ask us to your place. Have you had many women? Good woman, your waist is higher than your head, your face a skinned heron with a digger for a beak, listen to me. If I take you in the front, your hunch juts into my chest; if from the back it'll tickle me in odd places. S o I'll not even try it. Yet come close and let's touch side to side. Chi, you're wlcked. Get lost! You half-man! As creepers hang on only to the crook of a tree there are men who'd love to hold this hunch of a body close, though nothing fits. Yet, you lecher, you ask f o r u s sideways. What's s o wrong with us, you ball, you bush of a man. A gentle hunchback type 1s better far than a stling of black beans. (Look at the walk of thi.; creature!) You stand like a creepy turtle .;toad up by somebody.

I

1

hands .-- flailing in your armpits. We've told you we're not for you. Yet you hang around (Look, he walks now like the Love-God!) The root of this love is Kama, the love-god with arrows, brother to Shiima. ~ ~ othis k ,is how the love-god walks! (Look, look at this love-god!) Come, let's find joy. you in me, me in you: come, let's ask and tell and agree which parts I touch. I swear by the feet of my king. I'll mock you no more. Right, 0 gentle-breasted one. I too will give up mockery. But I don't want this crowd in the temple laughing at us, screaming when we do it, 'Look, look! Look at that dwarf and hunchback, leaping like demon on demon!' 0 shape of unbeaten gold, let's get away from the temple to the wild jasmine bush. Come, let's go. You're now a gob of wax on a parchment made out in a court full of wise men, and stamped to a seal: you're now flat, incomplete. Come, let's touch close and hug hard and finish the unfinished. Let's go. Marutanilanakanar, Kalitfokai 94; Genre: peruntinai Note t h e unheroic, e v e n anti-heroic, mock-heroic quality of the hunchback a n d the d w a r f , looking not for l o v e but frankly for s e x ; the folk-like b a w d y , the earthy humour. T h e r e a r e n o l a n d s c a p e s . T h e metaphors are bold, explicit. T h e t w o p e r s o n s a r e not e v e n young-one of them i s 'a s k i n n e d heron.' T h i s isperuntinai, the ' m a j o r t y p e ' , depicting the c o m m o n h u m a n condition, love a m o n g the misfits, with n o s c r u p l e s regarding the niceties of the time o r o f the l a n d s c a p e ; m o v i n g from mockery to coupling in the c o u r s e of a conversation. T h e i r misfit is evident e v e n in their b o d i e s ' lack of fit. W e h a v e a l s o shifted from the dramatic m o n o l o g u e s o f ~ k c r r nand piirclrn to d r a m a t i c d i a l o g u e a n d interaction, from lyric to d r a m a . As in a d r a m a , the c h a r a c t e r s and their Speech c h a n g e : the h u n c h b a c k begins with a royal wcJin h e r rejection a n d e n d s with an / in yielding; her mocking e x c l a m a t i o n s to h e r s e l l ' d ~ - u poff.

21 8 1 The Collected Essays 0JA.K. Rarnrrr~ujtrn has the most tightly s t r u c t ~ ~ r esymbolic d language, the I f the perrrrltiyui is free and realistic, with real toads in real cesspools. We have not yet spoken of one genre: the ktrikkiiai, one-sided or unrequited love. There are not many classical examples of unrequited love. Here is a possible one, though from Ku_runtoktri:

On Translating a Tamil Poem

WHAT HE SAID

When love is ripe beyond bearing and goes to seed, men will ride even palmyra stems like horses; will wear on their heads the reeking cones of the erukkam bud like flowers; will draw to themselves the gossip of the streets; and will do worse. PEreyin Mugvaliir, Kuruntokai 17 (Ramanujan 1967, 27) The most significant observation on kaikkilai (not found in the TolkcTppiyam but in later commentaries) is that such expression of one-sided love is appropriate only to religion. Post-classical Tamil bhaktas, preoccupied with their unrequited love for god, their cloud of unknowing, created the most poignant poems of kaikkilai. ) Thus the four genres (akam, peruntinai, kaikkijai and p u ~ a m cover and formalise the main possibilities of lyric poetry. They define each other mutually. A great deal of Western love poetry would probably be described by the ancient commentators as the one-sided kaikkilai; a great deal of modem poetry, fiction and black comedy as love among the misfits orperuntinai-exploring the unheroic, the anti-heroic, presenting the ironies of incapacity. As within the five akam landscapes, poem becomes relevant to poem, across the four genres. St.-John Perse ( 1 966. 40) tells the story of a Mongolian conqueror, . . . taker of a bird i n its nest, and of the nest in its tree, who brought back with bird and nest and song the whole natal tree itself, torn from its place with its multitude of roots, its ball of earth and its border of soil. remnant of home territory evoking a field, a province, a country and a n empire. . . .

'How does one translate a poem from another tirpe, another culture, another language? The poems I translate from Tamil were written two thousand years ago in a comer of south India, in a Dravidian language relatively untouched by the other classical language of India, Sanskrit. Of,the literatures of the world at that time, Sanskrit in India, Greek and Latin in Europe, Hebrew in the Middle East, and Chinese in the Far East were Tamil's contemporaries. Over two thousandTamil poems of different lengths, by over four hundred poets, arranged in nine anthologies, have survived the vagaries of politics and wars; changes oftaste and religion; the crumbling of palm leaves; the errors and poverty of scribes; the ravages of insects, heat, cold, water, and fire. The subject of this paper is not the fascinating external history of this literature, but translation, the transport of poems from classical Tamil to modem English; the hazards, the damages in transit, the secret paths, and the lucky bypasses. The chief difficulty of translation is its ~mpossibility.Frost once even identified poetry as that which is lost in translation. Once we accept that as a premise of this art, we can proceed to practise it, or learn (endlessly) todo so. As often a s not, this love, like other loves, seems to be begotten by Despair upon Impossibility, in Marvell's phrase. Let me try to define .this 'impossibility' a little more precisely. Here is a poem from an early Tamil anthology, Airikuruniiru 203, in modern Tamil script (Ramanujan 1985, 230).

To translate the poetry of another age or culture is to be such a Mongolian conqueror, for poetry has its ecology. Poems involve more than poems. What 1s usually called 'content' is really 'form' to the artist. Tamil script

220 The Collected E s s a y s of A.K. Ramanujan

On Translating a Tamil Poem / 22 1

Transcribed in phonemic Roman script, it looks like this: a w a y vd!ivFp fannainam patappait tt?~mayariku pdligu miniya vavarruif fuvalaik kiiva_rki!a mdnun teficiya kalidi nirt?

How shall we divide up and translate this poem? What are the units of translation? W e may begin with the sounds. W e find at once thal the sound system of Tamil is very different from English. For instance, Old Tamil has six nasal consonants: a labial, adental, an alveolar, a retroflex, a palatal and a velar-m, n, n. ii, n , n-three of which are not distinctive in English. How shall we translate a six-way system into a three-way English system (m, n, n)? Tamil has long and short vowels, but English (or most English dialects) have diphthongs and glides. Tamil has double consonants that occur in English only across phrases like 'hot tin' and 'sit tight.' Such features are well illustrated by the above poem in Tamil. Tamil has no initial consonant clusters, but English abounds in them: 'school, scratch, splash, strike', etc. English words may end in stops, as in 'cut, cup, tuck,' etc.; Tamil words do not. When we add up these myriad systemic differences, we cannot escape the fact that phonologies are systems unto themselves (even a s grammatical, syntactic, lexical, semantic systems too are, a s we shall see). Any unit we pick is defined by its relations to other units. S o it is impossible to translate the phonology of one language into thatof another-even in a related, culturally neighbouring language. W e can mapone systemon to another, but never reproduce it. A poem is identical only with itself-if that. If we try and even partially succeed in mimicking the sounds, we may lose everything else, the syntax, the meanings. the poem itself, a s in this delightful example of a French phonological translation of an English nursery rhyme: Humpty Dumpty Sat on a wall Humpty Dumpty Had a great fall And all the king's horses And all the king's men Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty Together again.

Un petif d 'ur~ petit S'etonne aux Halles Un petit d'un petit Ah! degres refallen! Indolent qui ne sorr cesse Indolent qui ne se mene Qu 'imporle un petif d'un perit Tout Gui de Reguennes.

Sometimes it is said that we should translate metrical syslems. Metre is a second-order organisation of the sound system of a language, and partakes of all the above problems and some more. At readings someone in the audience always asks, 'Did you translale the metre?' a s if it is

.

possible to do so. Tamil metre depends on the presence of long vowels anddouble consonants, andon closedandopen syllables defined by such vowels and consonants. For instance. in Lhe first word of the above poem, a ~ a ythe , first syllable is heavy because it is closed ( a n - ) ,the second is heavy because it has a long vowel ( - ~ Z l y )There . is nothing comparable in English to this way of counting feet and combinations (marked in the 'text above by spaces). Even if we take familiar devices like rhyme, they ':do not have the same values in different languages. English has a long !tradition of end-rhymes-but Tamil has a long tradition of second syllable consonant-rhymes. In the above poem the first, second and fourth . ,lines have n a s the second consonant in the line-initial words a m a y , ten "and man. End-rhymes in Tamil are a modern innovation, just a s second syllable rhymes in Engljsh would be considered quite experimental. The 'tradition of one poetry would be the innovation of another. ' Let us look at the grammar briefly. If we separate and display the meaningful units of the above poem, we see the following: a ~ d vyd i v&f[u] a m a i A/ nam pafappai-ttFn-mayariku-pal-igum iniyaB/[v]avar ndft[u] uvalai-k-kival-kila . . . nuin-unf[u]-eficiyakalili nireC / ,

.

' The translation, piece by piece, would be: ~ garden mother, may [you]-live, desire [to listen], m ~ t h e r1, our honey-mixed-with-milk-thansweet[erIB1 [is] his land's, [in-] leaf-holes-low, animals-having-drunk-[and-]leftover. muddied waterCI In my English rendering it becomes the following: WHAT S H E SAID

to her girl friend, when she returned from the hills

Bless you, friend. Listen. Sweeter than milk mixed with honey from our gardens is the leftover water in his land, low In the waterholes covered with leaves and muddied by animals.

Kapilar, Airikunrliiru 203 (Rarnanujan 1985, 10)

Or1 Translating

222 / The Collected Essrrys 0 f A . K . R(tmitnl~jan One can see right away that Tamil has no copula verbs for equationa] sentences in the present tense, as in English, e.g., 'Tom is a teacher'; no degrees of in adjectives a s in English, e.g., 'sweet, sweeter, sweetest7; no articles like 'a, an, the': and SO on. Tamil expresses the semantic equivalents of these grammatical devices by various other means. Grammars constrain what can be said directly and what can be left unsaid. An English friend of mine with a French wife, with whom he spoke French at home, used to complain half-jokingly that he could never tell hiswife, 'I wentout with a friend foradrink last night,' without having to specify the gender of the friend. The constraints of French require you to choose a gender for every noun, but English does not. The lies and ambiguities of one language are not those of another. Evans-Pritchard, the anthropologist, used to say: If you translate all the European arguments for atheism into Azande, they would come out as arguments for God in Azande. Such observations certainly disabuse us ofthe commonly-held notion of 'literal' translation. We know now that no translation can be 'literal,' or 'word for word'. That is where the impossibility lies. The only possible translation is a 'free' one. When we attend to syntax, we see that Tamil syntax is mostly leftbranching. English syntax is, by and large, rightward. Even a date like 'the 19th of June, 1988,' when translated into Tamil, would look like '1988, June, 19.' A phrase like A

B

C

D

E

The man who came from Michigan would be 'Michigan-from come-[past tensel-who man':

micigan-ilirundu var~d-amanidarl.

The Tamil sentence is the mirror image of the English one: what is A B C D E in the one would be (by and large) E D C B A in Tamil. This would also be true of many other Indian languages. Postpositions instead of prepositions, adjectival clauses before nominal phrases, verbs at the end rather than in the middle of sentences-these characterise Tamil, and not only Tamil. (Turkish, Japanese, and Welsh are also left-branching languages). The American English style of T m e magazine, affected by German, Yiddish, or whatever affects Tirne, leans towards the leftbranching-in Alexander Woollcotl's parody, 'Backward run the sentences till boggles [he mind.'

(1

Tarnil Poerrr / 223

Not that English does not have left-branching possibilities, but they a& a bit abnormal, a s Woollcott suggests. There are writers who prefer to use them for special effects. Hopkins and Dylan Thomas used those possibilities stunningly, as we see in Thomas's 'A Refusal to Moum the Death, by Fire, oSa Child in London', for example (Thomas 1953, 1 12); both were Welshmen, and Welsh is a left-branching language. But, in ~ ~ p k i n sand ' s Thomas's poetry the leftward syntax is employed for poetic effects-it alternates with other, more 'normal', types of English sentences. In Tamil poetry the leftward syntax is not eccentric, literary or offbeat. but part of everyday 'natural' speech. One could not use Dylanese to translate Tamil, even though many of the above phrases frornThomas can be translated comfortably with the same word order in Tamil. What is everyday in one language must be translated by what is everyday in the 'target' language also, and what is eccentric must find equally eccentric equivalents. Ifpoetry is made out of, among other things, 'the best words in the best order', and the best orders of the two languages are the mirror images of each other, what is a translator to do? Many of my devices (e.g., indentation, spacing) and compromises are made in order to mimic closely the syntactic suspense of the original, without, I hope, estranging the English. Frequently the poems unify their rich and diverse patterns by using a single, long, marvelously managed sentence. I try to make my translationimitate a similar management, even in the relatively simple examples cited here. The most obvious parts of language cited frequently for their utter untranslatability are the lexicon and the semantics of words. For lexicons are culture-specific. Terms for fauna, flora, caste distinctions, kinship systems, body parts, even the words that denote numbers, are culturally loaded. Words are enmeshed in other words-in collocations, in what can go with what ('a blue moon, a red letter day, a white elephant, purple prose'). Words participate in sets, in contrasts, in mutual recallings. 'Red' is part of a paradigm of colours like green. yellow, etc., with which it contrasts. It is also part of a paradigm of near-terms or hyponyms, 'scarlet, cri~nson.pink, rosy,' etc. These collocations and paradigms make for metonymies and ~netaphors,multiple contextual meanings. clusters special to each language, quile untranslatable into another language like Tamil. Even when the elements of a system may be similar in two languages, like father. mother, brother, mother-in-law, etc., in kinShip, the system of relations (say. who can be a mother-in-law. who can by law or custom marry whom) and the l'eellngs traditionally encouraged

each relative ( e - g . .thr-ouch n ~ o t h r ~ i n - l i ! \ v . i o hxet.e p - n r o ~ l r r ~ - t a l ~ ~ incest taboos) are ali c u l t ~ i r a I yseiixilive and therel'ore p~1r.to r [he expressive repertoire of poets and novelist\. ~ d tod this the entire poetic tradition, it5 iiletor-ic. the ordering of differen[ genres with different I'unctions in ihe culture. \ ~ l ~ l c Iby i . its system ofdifferences. distinguishes this p a r t i c u l ~ poem. ~r 'What S h r Said,' froln all others. Tamil classical poetry uoulti call [he poem arl ' i i ~ t e r l o ~ , ' oraknm poern, a poem about love and i ~ different s phase>. Conira5ted to it are 'exterior' o r p u ~ ( ~poems. m which ;ire usu:~llyp~lblici,oenis ;tbout war, society, the poverty ofpoets. the death ol'heroes and s o o n . ,411example would be Purritifinlrru 310. ;I poelli by Ponmu!~yar. \\hicli I have translated a s 'A'r'oung Warrior' and Iiave t ~ i ~ o i e d ~ ~ n d d i s c uins schaps, ed I and 9 above. Now, the classical Tamil poetic tradition uses a n entire taxonomy. a classification of reality. a s part of its stock-in-trade. The five landscapes of the Tamil area, characterised by hills. seashores, agricultural areas, wastelands, and pastoral fields. each with its forms of life, both narural and cultural. trees, animals, tribes, customs. arts and instrument.\--all these become part of the symbolic code for the poetry. Every landscape, with all its contents, is associated with a mood or phase of love or war. The landscapes provide the signifiers. The five real landscapes o f the Tamil couniry become. through this systern. the interior landscapes of Tamil poetry. And each landscape o r mood is also associated with a time of day and a season. Each landscape, alony with its mood and the Fenre of poetry buili around it, is usually named after a tree o r flower of that region. For instance. the first poem we cited 1s a kuriiici poem-ku~iticiis a plant that grows six thousand to eight thousand feet above sea levelrepresenting the mountains. [he night. the season of' dew. the mood of first love, and the lovers' first secret 4exual union. In the war poems the same landscape is the scene I'or anotller kind or clandesiine actic~n:a night attack on a fort set in the h ~ l l s . The love p o e l n and war poenis are solnewhat ,\lrnilarly cIa,\\iI'ied (th(~)uph the war poeihs use the Iilndscapes tiil'ferentl) and less 5111c.ily). So when we move from one to the other we are struck by the associ:~tions across them. forming u web not only ol' t l ~ rrktrtrl r ancl l)uuim genre\. but also o f t h e five landscape.; with all tI1e11-contents srgnifying moods. and rhe theme5 and rnotils 01' love 21ncl war- ( l o r details, see c h ~ ~ 10. p . .term j ~ i('l;~ssic;~l Tamil Poeil y'. i ~ h o v e ) . I.o\.e arid \Val- Iwcome metaphors lor one a n o i h e ~ ~enme.,i~ . one

another. in p o e m like 'A Yollr~gWal-~ior'(quoted above; R:~man~l.i:~n 19x5. 165) anti the f o I I ~ ) w i r l ~ :

111

c l ~ a ~ 1, ~and . 9

W H A T HEK MOTIiEK SAII)

If a c:~lvingco\v chewed up her punlane L.reeper near the house, she'd throw the ball l o the y r o ~ ~ n d . push away the drill, and beat herself o n her pretty tummy my little gir-I. who knows now how to do thrngs. With a look tender as a doe's. she'd refuse the m~lk mixed with honey her foster-mother and I would brrng she'd sob and cry. Yet today. trusting the lies of a b1ackbe:ird man she's gone through the w~lderness.lauphing, they say, showing her wh~teteeth like new bud, on 3 palm tree.

In the follow~ngpoenl. the s a m e eversreell tree, tinccf, entwines the two themes o f love ulld wal- i l l a n il-onic juxtaposition. A wreath ofnocci is worn by warrior\ in war puenls: a troc,c,ileafshirt is ziven by a lover to his wornan 111 love p o e m .

The cha\rt. tl-ecs dar-h-clustcl-eJ. blend with the lantl that kno\\ s n o di).rle\s: the COIOLII \ (111 the lea\ es nlob the ye\

226 / The Collected Es.sav.s of A.K. Rnmunujan

We've seen those leaves on jewelled women, on the~rmounds of love. Now the chaste wreath lies slashed on the ground. so changed, so m~xed w~thblood, the vulture snatches it with its beak, thinking it raw meat. We see this too just because a young man in love with war wore it for glory. Ve~ipitiyaKBmakkanniyar, P u ~ a n a ~ t27 i ~1u (Ramanujan 1985. 186) Thus a language within a language becomes the second language of Tamil poetry. Not only Tamil, but the landscapes and all their contents, the system of genres, themes, and allusions, become the language of this poetry. Like ordinary language, this art-language too makes possible (in Wilhelm Humboldt's phrase) 'an infinite use of finite means'. When one translates, one is translating not only Tamil, its phonology, grammar and semantics, but this entire intertextual web, this intricate yet lucid second language of landscapes which holds together natural forms with cultural ones in a code, a grammar, a rhetoric, and a poetics.

I would now like to take a closer look at the original of Kapilar's poem, Airikuruneu 203, 'What She Said', and my translation, quoted earlier in

this essay. The word a m a y (in spoken Tamil, ammo), literally 'mother', is a familiar term of address for any woman, here a 'girl friend'. S o I have translated it as 'friend', to make clear that the poem is not addressed to a mother (as some other poems are) but to a girl friend. Note the long, crucial, left-branching phrase in Tamil: '. . . hisland's / lin-1 leaf-ho1e.s low / rrnimc11.s-iirrving-drunk-/at~dJ-leftover, muddi~d ~ ~ c r t e(in r ' a piece-by-piece translation). In niy English, it becomes 'the leftover water in his land, / low in the waterholes / covered with leaves I and muddied by animals.'

O n 71-trr1.clrrrrn,q ( I To~nil Pr~c,ni/ 227

I have omitted their 'drinking', as i t I.$ suggested by 'walerhole' in English I had to expand 'the leaf (covered) holes' in Tamil to 'waterholes overed with leaves', making explicit what is u~~derstood in the original. MYphrase order in English tries to preserve the order and syntax of : themes, not of single words: ( I ) his land's waler, followed by (2) leaf: covered waterholes, and (3) muddied by animals. I still could not bring the word 'sweeter' (iniycr) into the middle of the poem as the original does. That word inijtr is the l'ulcrum (in the original) which balances the twophrases. the one about milkand honey, and theone about themuddied water. It weighs the speaker's entire childhood's milk and honey against the sexual pleasure o f the leaf-covered waterholes muddied by animals. The presence of nineteen nasals in the Tamil poem foregrounds then in this central word iniya--quite untranslatably. Since it is such an important word for the poem's themes. I put it at the head of the sentence in my translation, preferring the inversion (which I usually avoid) to the weaker placing of 'sweeter than' in the middle of the poem. The latter choice would have also forced me to invert the order of themes in English: 'the muddied water is sweeter than the milk and honey.' That would have forfeited the syntactic suspense, the drama of the ending: 'muddied by animals' To enact this effect of balancing and weighing, I also arranged the lines and spaces symmetrically s o that 'is the leftover water in the land' is the midmost line set off by spaces. The poem is a kurinci piece, about the lovers' first union, set in the hillside landscape. My title ('What she said to her girl friend, when she returned from the hills') summarises the whole context (speaker, listener, occasion) from the old colophon that accompanies the poem. The poem speaks of the innocent young woman's discovery of sex, in the hills, with her rrlan. The leaf-covered waterholes that animals muddy with their eager thirst become a tangible way of talking about sex. The contrast between the safe, 'cultured', garden of milk and honey (with overtones in English of the Svtzg of S o n g s ) and the wilder 'natural' hllls with their animals guzzling at the waterholes is also a progression for the virginal speaker. It is a movement from culture to nature. also from innocence toexperience,preferring theexcited muddy waterof adult eroticism to childhood's milk and honey. This prog~.essionis lost if we do not preserve the order of themes s o naturally carried by the left-branching Syntax of Tamil. More could be said about i t frorn the point of view of the old commentaries. Fol illstance, the commentaries summarise the mood (mniplex;psycliologically nuanced. progressive enactnler1tof a given conventional situation. Like 1ndl;ili inusic, architecture. illid much else in Indian cultur-e. these poems develop a nioocl. a situation, a rlu,elling. a niode o r l.ti;.ii. by or-igili;~lrecoriibrrr;~tions.placernetits. and r e l l t ' t l l i 0 ~01.3 ~ g1vt.n set ~ l ' r l i ( ) ~ l ~ \ F ~ l r t h e r ~ n o rthese e. ten l)oe1ii4i l l ti^\ ;i~ltlloloy~ . / \ I I I ~ I O - I O;ire I I ~piirt ~U. oiii li~~ntlsetlon tlie the~rier)l'Xit,-itii.iiIo\,t.r' \ unlcln) h) :I single gre;ll ~lot>l. K ~ I I ~ I ~~~~~~~~~. I : ~ ~ . eve11111O I I I V I okotti : i ~ i ~ l ~ i ~ l olie g ~u eI S\O.I C ~ ~ I ~ ~ I 110 L I OI I ! I ~

landscape. Ancl lie i \ 1 1 0 t tlie or)I> 1x1~1lo Ira\.e \ \ I ~ I I I ~ ahout I ~ i r . !Ill tile p o e n l ~ol'.~1;~idscapesh;ir-e the sairie \el o i i u i ; ~ y e \and tlreine\. 1111~w e [hem to ni;~ke Iruly i l l ~ l ~ \ , i d(~l ei \~i sl ~ i \:ill0 riieii1i111g.s.N O R 1112 I'ive landscapes oi ciktrt11 ('rntel-lor' Io\'e ~ l o e r ~ ide!'i~ie s) each ot1ie1-.,Ill lie okump(jem.\, iri ~ L I I - 1contr-ast 1. u , i t l l / ~ i ~ i~'euterior') (i~t~ ~ ) o e ~ t~l i os ~. ~ gthe) li share the 1aritlxc.apes. The love Ixlelii\ get lxr~-oJiecl.subverted. i111d played will1 in comic, poems :~nclpoenis ahout Ix)elri\. In a l e u centuries. both the love poellix iind [lie u,al- poeliis pro~icle11iocle1.sancl m o t ~ f sfor religi~ poeriis. ~~~ like K I - S I ilrr ~ ~ Ihot11 Io\.ers it1ic1 \\.;ir.rir,rs. Human love as well ;IS llurn:i~i politics arid c c ~ ~ ~ l becorne lict me(apliors for man'.\ relations with [he di\,ilie. The relatioris oi' lu\,er- arid beloved, poet and patron. bard and hero. get t r a n p o s e t l , or translated i f ~ O L Iu.ill, to poetsaint and gorl. Thus any sirigle poenl 1s part o f a set, a Tamil y of sets. a landscape(,one of five), a gelire ((ikl~ttl,/)ugrtti, coniic. or r e l i g i o ~ ~ sThe ) . ititertextualiry is concentrrc. a pattern of niemherships a s well ax neigtiboui.hoocls, of likenesses and unlikenesses. Sonietiow a tran.slatorhas to tr-anslate each poem 111 ways that suggest these interests, dralogues. and iietworks.

If attempting a t~.anslationmeans attempting such an impossibly intricate task, foredoomed to failure. what niakes i t possible at all'? At least four things, maybe even four articles of faith. help the translator.

~

1. Ut~i~~rr,sc~i.s. If there were no ~ ~ n i \ . e r s ain l s which 1angu:iges parlicipate and of which all particular language.\ were selections and combination\, 110 language learning, tratislation. coniparative studies o r cross-cultural uriderstanding of even t l ~ emost meagre k ~ n dwould be poss~ble.I1 such ~ ~ n ~ v e r sdid a l snot exixt, a s Voltaire a i d of God, we would have hacl to invent t h e ~ i iThey . are at I r a t the basic explanatory fictions 01' both 1ing~1istii.sand the x t ~ ~ t l01' y literature. I;niversals of Structure. in both signrl'iers (e.g.. souncl \)xte~iis.g~-ariimar,s e ~ ~ i a ~ r t i c \ . rhetoric. 2nd poetics) : i ~ l c lthe signiSiecls(e.g.,%.hatp o e m a!-e about, .;~rc.li as loveor war. a n d what they Ine;lti w~thrna ~ ~ d a c r ocsusl t ~ ~ r e are s ) . liece\sary f i c t i o n . [he ~lldixpensable' a s 11's' 01' O L I I - l a l l ~ b l eenterprise. 2. ltrrL,t-iot-i.\c~cl iotiri,.t/.s. However culture-\peciSic the cleta~lbo l a poeni are. I X ) C I ~ like I~ [lie o n e s I Iiave Iheen d~scussirlgin~zl.lc11-1se tlie enlire c.ui1~11e. incleecl. we k!io\v ; ~ b o tile ~ ~ Cl L I ~ ~ oLfItIh-ee 'inclent .l-amrl\ only thl-ougli a c.;i~el'uls t u c l b ol'tlir\e ~ ~ c ~ c [iiter ~ i i h .c c ~ l o p l ~ oant1 n c.orii. nient;~rie\e\jllore aritl r\jllii;ilr l I i ~ \kliouleclyr c,il.rslrtl h lllc pilc111\. setting the111111 i.i~ntest.L I \ I I I t~ l ~ e i ~loi 11i:ike le~rc.orih;IIICI C ~ ~ I I I 1I 1 I1 ~I. ~

230 / The Collected Essays of A.K. Ramunujcrn fauna and flora of landscapes. The diagrams and charts I have used to explicate classical Tamil poetry (see Chap. 10. 'Form in Classical Tamil Poetry7,above) are based on the earliest grammar of Tamil. Tolkdppiyum the oldest parts of which are perhaps a s old as the third century. Such grammars draw on the poems themselves and codify their dramatis personae, an alphabet of themes, a set of situations that define where who may say what to whom, a list of favoured figures of thought and figures of speech, and s o on. When one translates a classical Tamil poem, one is translating also this kind of intertextual web. the meaning-making web of colophons and commentaries that surround and contextualise the poem. Even when we disagree with them, they give us the terms in which we construct the argument against them. There is no illusion here of 'the poem itself'. 3. Systernaticity. The systematicity of such bodies of poetry, the way figures, genres, personae, etc., intermesh in a master-code, is a great help in entering this intricate yet lucid world of words. One translates not single poems but bodies of poetry that create and contain their original world. Even if one chooses not to translate all the poems, one chooses poems that clustertogether, that illuminate one another, s o that allusions, contrasts, and collective designs are suggested. One's selection then be-comes a metonymy for their world. re-presenting it. Here intertextuality is not the problern, but the solution. One learns one's lessons here not only from the Tamil arrangements but from Yeats, Blake, and Baudelaire, who all used arrangement as a poetic device. 4. ~ t r u c t u r o mimicry. l Yet, against all this background, the work of translating single poems in their particularity is the chief work of the translator. In this task, I believe, the structures of individual poerns, the unique figures they make out of all the given codes of their language, rhetoric, and poetics, become the points of entry. The poetry and the significance reside in these figures and structures a s much a s in the untranslatable verbal textures. S o one attempts a structural mimicry, to translate relations, not items-not single words but phrases, sequences, sentences; not metrical units but rhythms; not morphology but syntactic patterns. TOtranslate is to 'metaphor', to 'carry across'. Translations are transpositions, re-enactments, interpretations. Soine elements of the original cannot be transposed at all. One can often convey a sense of the original rhythm. but not the language-bound metre: one can mimic levels of diction, but not the actual soundofthe original words. TexLuresare harder

(maybe impossible) to translate than structures, linear order Inore difficult than syntax, lines more difficult than larger patterns. Poetry is made at all these levels-and s o is translation. That is why nothing less than can translate another. y e t 'anything goes' will not do. The translation must not only represent,, but re-present, the original. One walks a tightrope between the ~ ~ - 1 a n g u a hg ed the From-language, in a double loyalty. A translator is an 'artist on oath'. Sometimes one may succeed only in re-presenting a poem, not in closely representing it. At such times one draws consolation from parables like the following. A Chinese emperor ordered a tunnel to be bored through a great mountain. The engineers decided that the best and quickest way to do it would be to begin work on both sides of the mountain, after precise measurements. If the measurements were precise enough, the two tunnels would meet in the middle, making a single one. 'But what happensif they don't meet?' asked the emperor. Thecounsellors, in their wisdom, answered, 'If they don't meet, we will have two tunnels instead of one.' S o too, if the representation in another language is not close enough, but still succeeds in 'carrying' the poem in some sense, we will have two poems instead of one.

Of the various elements mentioned earlier, we shall study in detail only one-the pucmm tradition US Tamil heroic poetry-and the way its were transformed by the Vaisnava hhakti poets. A f ~ e ar few

From Classicism to Bhakti* -

INTRODUCTION

In this paper we attempt some notes toward a chapter ofIndian poetry-the transformation of classical Tamil genres into the genres of hhakti. Early bhmkti movements, whether devoted to ~ i v or a Visnu, used whatever they found at hand, and changed whatever they used-Vedic and Upanisadic notions; mythologies; Buddhism; Jainism; conventions of Tamil and Sanskrit poetry; early Tamil conceptions of love, service, women, and kings; folk religion and folksong; the play of contrasts between Sanskrit and the mother-tongue (see Ramanujan 198 1, 103-69). The Gupta period (fourth to sixth centuries) was not only the great classical period of Sanskrit literature, but also truly prepared the ground for the emergence of bhakti. For instance, the Cupta kings called themselves devotees of god (bhiigavatas). They took the names of the gods; put the figures of Laksmi, Visnu's consort. and VarBha, his incarnation as a Boar, on their coins; made mythology a state concern, enlisting particularly Visnu and his heroic incarnations for theirpolitics. The Guptas sponsored Visnu and believed almost that Visnu sponsored the Guptaempire. Krsna as a god with his own legends and cults emerged in the later Gupta period. Not only were the first Hindu temples built and the first Hindu icons sculpted during this period, but the official forms of Hindu mythology were set down in great syncretic texts called the puriinas. By the fifth century, Visnu, ~ i v atheir , families, minions. and enemies seem to have become as real a s the human dynasties. In South India, the Pallavas had arrived by the sixth century. Their inscriptions record the end of an era in South Indian history and the beginnings of a new one. In the culture of this time, the two 'classicisms' of India. that of the Guptas and that of Tamil classical poetry, seem to have *With Xorman Cutler.

I I

P*liminary remarks on classical Tamil poetry. we shall look at one orthe p o e m m n Visnu in the Pmripfittrl. a late classical anthology (fifthsixth century); we then focus upon the poetry of the first three ~!vfir-.s (,-. sixth century) before we examine the work of NarnmZlvar ( c .eighthninth century), the greatest of the Vaisnava poet-saints; we close with *marks on the use of classical Tamil models in an influentla1 theological work, the Aciirya ~ ~ d a y a(c. r nthirteenth century ).We have narrowed our story to early Tamil Vaisnavapoetry and to only one element of the clasTamil heritage. Similar studies can be undertaken for other Tamil orsanskritic elements and other poets ( ~ a i v or a Vaisnava) of the bhrrkti tradition (see Cutler 1980). I. CLASSICAL TAMIL POETRY

A few elementary reinarks (or reminders) about classical Tamil genres

,

. .

may be appropriate at the outset. Cmrikam or classical Tamil poetry is classified by theme into two kinds: poems of akam (the 'inner part' or the Interior) and poems of pulam (the 'outer part' or the Exterior). Akam poems are love poems; pucam poems are all other kinds of poems, usually about good and evil, action, community, kingdom; it is the 'heroic' and 'public' poetry of the ancient Tamils, celebrating the ferocity and glory of kings. lamenting the death of heroes, the poverty of poets. Elegies, panegyrics, invectives, poems on wars and tragic events arepuranl poems (see Ramanujan 1967 and 1985; also Chaps. 9-1 1 above). The Tolkiippiyatn. the most important expository text for the understanding of early Tamil poetry, distinguishes rikam andpu~amconventions as follows: 'In the five phases of akam. no names of persons should be mentioned. Particular names are appropriate only in purmm poetry.' The dramatis personae for akam are idealized types. such as chieftains representing clans and classes, rather than historical persons. Similarly. landscapes are more important than particular places. The love of man and woman is taken a s the ideal expression of the 'inner world'. and trkam poetry is synonymous with love poetry in the Tamil tradition. 1,ove in all its variety--love in separation and in union, before and al'ter marriage. in chilstity and in betrayal-is the theme of akrim. 'There are seven types ol'love, o f which the first is koikkiltri. unmismatched love.' Neither o l requited love. and the last i 4 pt~r-ur~fintri.

From C'lri.\.sic.ismro Bllukti 1 235 234 I The Collected Essays of A.K. Knmanujarl these extremes is the proper subject of akam poetry. The middle flve represent well-matched love and divide its course, now smooth. now rough, into five kinds, moods, or phases: union, patient wailing, anxious waiting, separation from parents or lover, infidelity. Each mood or phase is paired with a landscape, which provides the imagery: hillside, Wooded pastoral valley, seashore, wasteland, and fertile fields. The Dhukti poets, however, 'revived' the kaikkilui genre in poems that express the anguish of the devotee who is separated from god. Unlike akrrm poems, puram poems may mention explicitly the names of kings and poets and places. The poem is placed ill a real society and given acontext of real history. The Tolkiippiyarn also divided the subject matter of purrlrn poetry into seven types, but in this case all seven are of equal standing. The type calledpgtiiiz (elegy, praise for heroes, for gifts, invective) was very popular among classicalpliram poets, and somewhat transformed, it was equally popular among bhakti poets. Poeticians regarded patan as the puram equivalent of krrikkilai in akam poetry which also is well represented in the poetry of the saints. 11. T H E H Y M N S T O T I R U M ~ L

IN

PARIPATAL

By and large the poets of the carikam anthologies did not compose poems on religious themes. Though we find references to deities and we catch glimpses of ritual practices, rarely do these occur a s the principal subject of a carikam poem.' However, there are two notable exceptions to this generalisation. The Tirumurukii~uppcitui,one of the ten long songs, is a poem in honour of Murukan, the Tamil god who, by the time of this poem, had coalesced with the Sanskrit Skanda, the warrior-son of Siva and parvati. This poem is composed in the form of an iiuuppatai, a genre which accounts for three other long poems among the ten (Ciniptinarrupprrfui, Perumpanii~~ippatai and Poruniiriil-_uppatai) and for a number of shorter poems included in thepurrim anthologies. The setting of an iirruppatrzi is a meeting between two bards, who apparently depended on the patronage of generous kings and chieftains [or their survival. In an arruppatcii one bard praises the liberality of his patron to the other and urges him to seek his livelihood by visiting the court of this generous ruler. In Tirumur~dkdrruppatai the roles of the two bards are taken by an initiate in Murukan's cult and a neophyte. The god is praised as a patron-king would be in other poems of this genre, hut the gift he offers his .suppliants is personal salvation instead of the rood and wealth kings usually gave

to bards who so~lghttheir patronage. In the eleventh century, Tiru~ u r u k i i ~ u p p l ~ !was u i incorporated into the eleventh Tirumlircii ('sacred arrangement') of the Tamil ~ a i v i t ecanon. We also find some moving devotional poems in Prlripatcrl, one of the later ccirikum anthologies. Originally, this anthology, which takes its name from a poetic metre, included seventy poems dedicated to the gods ~ i ~ m (Visnuj, 3 1 Cevvel (Murukanj and the goddess, the river Vaiyai (presently known as Vaikai) and the ancient Pantiya capital Maturai which is situated on its banks. Only twenty-four poems have survived, however: seven to Tirumal, eight to Cevvel, and nine of the Vaiyai poems. The seven poems to Tirum31 included in Pariptital are the only explicitly Vaisnavite poems in the carikarn corpus. Critics have suggested that ParipGtal, Tirumurukdrruppa~aiand Kalittokai, an anthology of akam poems in the knli metre, belong to a later era than most of the other poems of the classical corpus. Zvelebil suggests 400-550 a s a probable date for Paripiital (Zvelebil 1974, 50). According to the Tolktippiyam, love (ktimam) is the proper subject for poems composed in theparipiifal metre, but in reality the poems of Paripara1 deal with both akcim andpuram themes. The theme of love, treated in accord with the rules governing akam poetry, appears primarily in the Vaiyai poems. Many purarn elements appear in the poems dedicated to the gods Cevvel and Tirumal, but there they have been transformed to serve poetry which is simultaneously devotional and heroic. The panegyric genre is the most visible feature shared by the Tirum31 poems in Pariptila1 andpuram poetry. Somewhat artificially, the Tolktippiyam subdivides thepurcim universe into seven sub-genres called tinai, and one of these, patan tinai. is the genre of 'praise'. A large portion of t h e poems included in the puram anthologies are classified under the heading patan, and evenpuram poems classified under other tinais often include wordsof praise for a warrior or a king. Thepur~lmworld is a world of kings, chieftains, and heroic warriors. The classical poets, therefore. praised their patrons for their valour in combat and for their virtuous rule. Most of the Tirum31 poems in PnripLItril are poems of praise for the god, and they display a number of the specific thematic 'situations' or turcii which are characteristic ofpurrim poetry. Thirteen of the eighteen turcii Which are treated in the purrrm anthology Patirruppattu are in one way or another related to the theme of praise, and many have direct counterparts in the poems to Tirumdl (Kailasapathy 1968. 195-96). Here is a list of the airteen turr~i:

236 / The Collected E s . s a ~ sof A . K . Kunznnujtltl centuraippd!d!l @!u iyanrno!i vd!//u vaEcitturaippd/cl~pdtf~c 1~d1uvcllttu

poem in praise of hero's fame: in praise of might, mien and glory theme of extolling a hero by attributing to himall the noble deeds of his ancestors poem In praise of invading warriors: king's wrath and praise of him blessing the country: in praise o f wealth and abundance in the land of the hero

vt?kaitturaippdtdn pdftu

Pralse of victorious hero: victor wears vdkai flowers and rejoices over vanquished battle-ground: the theme of a minstrel praising the spoils of a victorious king in war in praise of conqueror: the bard exalts victory leading to liberality

viralivdyuppa!ai

directing a danseuse: directing a danseuse to a generous patron praise of a sight: reaction on seeing either a great hero or a hero-stone, etc. praise of hero and request for largesse directing a minstrel (lutanist): usually one minstrel directing another to a generous patron hero's victory: praise of the hero including reference to his wife praise of rule: extolling king's rule for providing shelter and security

b l c i vd!//u parici~upippd!dn pa'~!u pdnd_rruppafai mullai bvanmullai

W e c a n a l m o s t s a y t h a t all w e n e e d d o i s s u b s t i t u t e t h e w o r d ' g o d ' where v e r t h e w o r d ' h e r o ' or 'king' o c c u r s in t h i s list, a n d w e e n d u p with a list o f t h e m a t i c e l e m e n t s in t h e Paripcltal h y m n s t o TirumBI. T h e m e s s u c h as p r a i s e o f a h e r o ' s ( g o d ' s ) f a m e , p r a i s e o f a v i c t o r i o u s h e r o ( g o d ) . and p r a i s e o f a k i n g ( g o d ) f o r p r o v i d i n g s h e l t e r a n d s e c u r i t y fall into this c a t e g o r y . In o t h e r i n s t a n c e s w e find e l e m e n t s in t h e p o e m s t o ~ i r u r n s l which a r e a n a l o g u e s o f p u r a r n e l e m e n t s . F o r e x a m p l e , iyanrnoli viilttu is d e f i n e d as t h e situation in w h i c h t h e h e r o i s p r a i s e d b y attributing to him all t h e n o b l e d e e d s o f h i s a n c e s t o r s . R e f e r e n c e s t o the h e r o i c d e e d s Tirum a l - V i ~ n up e r f o r m e d in h i s v a r i o u s a v c ~ t 2 r c function ~s in m u c h t h e s a m e w a y in Paripcltal. T h e g o d ' s crvcrfurrrs, if n o t a n a n c e s t r a l l i n e a g e in a literal s e n s e , c a n b e v i e w e d a s s u c h in a m e t a p h o r i c s e n s e . H e r e t h e nobled e e d s o f t h e g o d ' s ' a n c e s t o r s ' Ilterally a r e h i s o w n d e e d s : h e s e t s h i s own precedents. In his excellent s t u d y of p u g r m poetry K a i l a s a p a t h y a l l a l y s r s a

F'rom C'l~.s.sic~i.srn to Rhukti / 2 3 7 p o e m f r o m o n e o f the c l a s s i c a l a n t h o l o g i e s a n d identifies nine units in t h e p o e m w h i c h , h e tells his r e a d e r . ' a r e traditional a n d o f t h e e n t i r e b a r d i c poetry' ( K a i l a s a p a t h y 1968, 208). K a i l a s a D a t h y ' ~p r o s e translation o f the p o e m a n d h i s nine t h e m a t i c u n i t s a r e ,given b e l o w : worthy scion of those klngs who ruled the whole world with undisputed wheel !ofcommand! The kingdom of your ancestors extended from the Comorin river in the south to the high mountain Himalayas in the north and from sea to sea in east and west. Their subjects wheresoever they lived-in hill, mountain, forest, or town-unanimously praised them. They eschewed evil and their sceptre was '.stainless; they tookonly what wasdue and were just and impartial. 0 warlike lord ~ f T o n t iYour ! town is fenced by mountain; the white sand in its broad beaches .shines like moonlight. There grow tall palms laden with bunches of coconuts. There are also extensive fields; and in the back waters flowers blossom which , are like bright red flames. Even a s a mighty and proud elephant contemptuous of the pit-hole whose mouth is cunningly overlaid, impetuously falls into it, and with its full-grown tusks gores the sides, fills it up with earth it has dug up, steps over and joins its loving herd, s o you escaped because of your irresistible strength and now remain in your realm and among your kindred, who are extremely happy. Those defeated kings whose lands and precious jewels you captured, now feel that they could only regain them if they gained your sympathy; those who retook their lost possessions (while you were in captivity) now live -'in mortal fear of having provoked your fury; they feel certain of losing their forts surrounded by moats, encircling woodsand thick walls atopof which fly theirtall banners. Consequently, all these alien kings hasten to serve you. Such is your might and I come to praise it. 0 great one! The innumerable shields of your warriors vie with the m a s s of rain-clouds; large swarms of bees settle on your war'elephants, mistaking them for huge hills. Your large army-the nightmare of '-your foes-is vast a s the ocean upon which the clouds drink; the sound of your war-drums resembles the roar of thunder which makes venomous snakes tremble : and hang down their hooded heads. But great above all is your unlimited muni, ficence. (Purundpiru 17) 1,.

;. Thematic u n i t s '

'

I .

:.

,

1 . The extent of the klng's domain. 2. Tonti. and its description. 3. Some aspectr of the king's benign rule. 4. Reference to his illustr~ousancestors. 5. The qimile of an elephant escaping from a pit-trap 6 . The reactions of the k ~ n g foes. ' 7. Description o f forts. 8. Descr~ptiono f the k ~ n g ' stroop.;, elephmts. etc 9. HIS boundless mun~ficence

238 I The Collected E.sscrys of A. K. Rumtrrlujun If we were to similarly analyse the hymns to Tirum21 in Pnripu!ril. we should find that they display many of the s a m e thematic units. 1" P a r i p a ~ u l 2which , appears a s an addendum to this paper. we find at least strong hints of six of Kailasapathy's thematic units. The following description of Tirumal's chest appears in the Puripdtcrl poem:

banners break and fall, ears go deaf, r the11heads, crowns s h ~ v e on and the earth loosens under their feet at the thunder of your conch.

Wearing jewels many-coloured as rambows bent across the high heavens on your chest. itself ajewel studded with pearls, you always wear the Red Goddess a s the moon his shadow. Immediately following this passage i s another that makes 'reference to the king's ancestors'. You as the Boar with white tusks, sharp and spotted, washed by the rising waves, lifted and wed the Earth-maiden so not a spot of earth is ever troubled by the sea. T h e recital of the god's mythic history can b e regarded a s a transformation of the thematic unit which appears in thepurnmpoem. Here the god's ancestor, the Boar, i s his own nvatdm. Following this is a n extraordinary depiction of Visnu in battle which brings to mind Kailasapathy's thematic units, the reactions of the king's foes, and description of the king's troops, elephants, etc. (Here it is not troops, but Tirumal's potent weapons, the conch and the discus, that are described.) 0 lord fierce in war, the loud conch you hold sounds like thunder to the enemy rising as one man, unafraid in anger, rising like a hurricane to join battle;

0 lord fierce in war, the discus in your hand cuts the sweet lives of enemies; heads fall and roll, wreaths and all; their stand lost. like the tens of thousands of bunches on the heads of tall black palmyra-trees not stripped yet of root, branch, frond or young fruit, falling to the earth all at once; not one head standing on its body, beheaded all at one stroke, they gather, roll, split. come together and roll apart, and lie dead at last in a mire of blood. That discus that kills at one stroke; Death is its body, its colour the flame of bright fire when gold burns in it. The similarity between this battle scene and another depicted in a

Poem from the p r a m anthology Ptrrr~upptrlluis truly remarkable: beheaded bodies, leftovers, dance about before they fall to the ground:

240 / The Collec.ted Essays qf A. K. Krrtnrrnujritl blood glows, like the sky before nightfall, in the red center of the battlefield from Patiflupj~rrlur35 (translated by A.K. Ramanujan) T h e hymn toTirum21 (Pn,-ij7fitcil2)celebrates the 'king's' benign rule and his boundless munificence. If one looks fol- your magnificent patlence it's there, w ~ d eas earth; your grace. a sky of ra~n-cloud fulfilling everyone.

From Classicism to Bhakti / 241 capital and his forts in purcrm poelry. But these elements appear in other vaisnavite poems in the Prrriputal. T h e fifteenth song is a eulogy of ~2lirulikuI!Lam,'M2l's dark hill', which is located about twelve miles

I '

As soon as your heart thought of ambrosia, food of the gods. the deathless ones received o life without age. a peace without end.

the colours of green fruit and ripe fruit play against one another and bright clusters of buds on the kin0 trees burst into bloom:

T h e poet's meiaphorical description ofTirum2l's grace a s 'a sky of raincloud' h a s many parallels inpurarn poetry where a king's generosity is frequently compared with the rain:

from Pucunficiipr I60 (Hart 1 979) T h e association between generosity and rain is a strong one, especially in the Tamil area where, except for the three months of the unpredictable monsoon, water can be scarce. In the hy~i-lnto Tirunla1 the metaphor is significant in yet another way, for Tirumill's complexion is blue-black; he is often said to resemhle a storm cloud. S o ~ n e ~ i m lie e s is even said to he the cloud that s e n d s life-giving rain.' Ma1 o r rnavfin, literally means 'the dark one'. In Sanskrit he is t l i l t r n l ~ g h r ~ i y f i'dark t ~ l ~ ~a,s a black cloud'. Conspicuously ahsent from P~lt.i/)Ntul2are references to sacred plac e s which c o ~ ~be l dconsidered the coulilerparts of the king's domain. his

This is the place where the lord who wears garments of gold stays with his brother like a halo of cool sunbeams shimmering around a core of darkness: Think about it, mortals, and listenfragrant blue lilies blossom in all ~ t ponds, s the branches of aioka trees growing at their edge are covered with blossoms,

And in another passage.

It was as if rain showered down with thunder whose voice makes men tremble. nourishing the forest whose grass is burnt by the bright rays of the savage sun: he gave rice and ghee and s p ~ c ymeat.

north of Maturai and even today is the sile of a popular V i ~ n utemple known by the name A!akar K6y il.'Unlike theotherTirumB1 poems which are hymns of praise addressed directly to the god, in Parjp@af 15 the poet the glories of MBlirunkumam to a human audience:

I I

i

I

the beauty of this place is like the Black God himself. YOUpeople who have never gone there to worship. gaze on that mountain and bow down: the name Imtikumam has spread far and wide, on this great, bustling earth it boasts fame in ages past for it is the home of the dear lord who eradicates delusions for people who fill their eyes with his image.

242 / Thr Collected Esstrys 0 f A . K Kutntrnu~trn ~h~ poet praises M ~ l i r u r i k u ~ a m the, most praiseworthy ol'all the mountains, because it is the god's abode on earth. (The poem begin5 with an introduction to the many great lnountaills on earth, and then mountain is out a s the most dazzling of all.) T h e eulogy ol'Tirum217s locale reminds u s of the purum poet's eulogy of his patron's country and its capital city. In particulars, however, this loving picture of ~ 2 1 ' dark s mountain is rnore like an akrrm landscape. T h e pucum poet d o e s not usually linger over descriptions of nature. For him, the fertility of the countryside is useful primarily a s a reflection of a hero's glory. But careful description of natural scenes lies a1 the very heart of ukum poetry. Its interior drama of anonymous charactel-s is hodied forth in the details of the scene and is set not in particular places, but in landscapes-the mountains, the forest, the seashore, the cultivated countryside. and the desert. Here, every landscape is a mood. In Prrripatul 15 the poet evokes a mountain landscape by describing mountain pools and flowering plants (in the passage cited above), waterfalls and birds (in other passages), much a s an akampoet would. However, here natural detail is not meliculously coordinated with the human psyche a s in akam poetry. It is probably fair to say that Mgl's dark mountain stands somewhere between the specific locales of pucum poetry and an ukum landscape. T h e thematic units which link the Tirum21 poems in PariprTtul with other classical Tamil poems d o not in themselves constitute a complete profile of these early Tamil hymns to Visnu. The authors of these poems relied a great deal upon classical Tamil sources, but they also received influences from other quarters. Puriputul2 opens with a stirring account of the earth's creation which, but for its language, could have been lifted straight out of a pur2nic cosmology. Later in the s a m e poem we come upon a very striking passage which, detail for detail, identifies Tirum21 with the Vedic sacrifice. In these poems we also finddescriptionsofTirumi31 which are addressed to the god himself. While thepururn panegyric is the Tamil prototype for this element in the Prrripcltul hymns, one is also reminded of Vedic hymns where descriptions ofgods are addressed to the gods themselves. In Puripfitril such descriptions can be divided into two kinds. The first kind is physical and iconographic, a s in ~ a r i ~ a t t1r l where the poet salutes Tirumiil: Lord w ~ t heyes the colour- of flowers red a s fire, with body rhe colour of a n open piivtii blo%.soni.

From Clu.s,sici.sm to Bhakti 1 2 4 3 '

Tiru rests upon your chel;t and fulfills her desire, your chest adorned with a sparkling jewel, clothed in garments of gold, your body is like a dark mountain surrounded by flames. from Paripfi~al1 (Cutler 1980)

The second kind, a quasi-philosophical description of the god, closely follows an Upanisadic pattern. Here philosophy i s grounded not s o much in logic a s in aesthetics; it is both idea and experience, a description of the lord's ubiquity a s well a s its celebration: Your heat and your radiance are found in the sun, your coolness and your beauty in the moon, your graciousness and your generosity are found in the clouds, your protective nature and your patience in the earth. your fragrance and your brightness are found in the pfivai blossom, the form you ~nariifestand your expansiveness appear in the waters, your shape and the sound of your voice in the sky: ,

all these things-near, far, in-between and everything else, detach themselves from you, the source of protection, and rest in your embrace. from Pariprital4 (Cutler 1980)

Such passages s h o w that the authors of the Pciripiitul poems, perhaps the earliest devotional poems in Tamil, were heirs to two classicisms. In these poems Vedic and Tamil bardic traditions meet and interweave to form a distinctly Tamil devotional poetry.

111. P U R A M I N F L U k N C E S I N T H E P O E T R Y O F T H E 'FIKS'I' T H R E E A L V A K S '

Thehymns t o ~ i r u m ain l Pt~rjpfit~ll are devotional poems, but they a r e not Sacred poems 111 the s a m e sense a s the poetry of the twelve Tamil Vaisgavite saints, the Blvfir.~.Plrripfitrrl certainly extends the classical literary universe into the reslrn of devotion-but its classical associat i o n ~have always overshadowed their devotional s ~ ~ h j einc tthe minds of

244 / The Collecred Essuys of A . K . Rrrnl~lnujun

~~~~l audiences. Proofof this is easy enough to find: PtrripMtrrl 1s Counted a s one of the eight anthologies of c.nrikum poetry, and the hymns to Tlru. were not canonised with the cl1var.s' ~ o e r n s . ' By most estimates the first three Gl~,nr.\,, Poykai, Putain and Pey. who are collectively called 'the first three' (mutulmuv~zr) in Tamil, lived some time during the sixth century. They, therefore. lived not much later than the Paripatc~lpoets,but their poems are very different in form and effect. Each of the early iilvars i s credited with an antiti of one hundred verses in the venpii metre, a metre which was also used by the authors of the didactic works often grouped together a s the patinen kilkannakku. the so. called 'eighteen minor works' which date from about the same time, When we turn to the poems of the first three alvtirs after reading curikam poetry, we immediately sense that we are dealing with a different poetic sensibility. Carikam poetry is, by this time, a classical literature, part of a poet's learning. Only an audience well-schooled in classical literary conventions could have understood these poems cornposed in a language far from the language of everyday speech. The bhakti poets, on the other hand. used an idiom which must have been close to the Tamil spoken during their time; they make a point of it. The work which has been accorded the highest place of honour in Tamil Vaisnavite canonical literature, Nammi%!vi%r'sTiruvaymoli, literally means 'the sacred spoken word' (vuy, 'mouth' + moli, 'language'). MBnikkavBcakar's Tiruvacakam, a ~ a i v i t etext of equal renown, bears a name derived from Sanskrit vrlc, 'speech'. Bhaktipoetry is also poetry for performance. Tamil Vaisnavites and ~ a i v i t e regularly s recite the hymns of the saints in their homes. and at least since the tenth century, the hymns have been recited in the major temples of Tamilnadu (Nilakanta Sastri 1955, 637. 639). Unlike classical poetry, the poetry of the saints is a 'personal' poetry, though they too use personae or masks. In akam poetry the personality of the poet is almost completely effaced by internal narrators and a conventional poetic vocabulary. Only inpuram poems do we often understand the narrating voice to be the poet's own, but still only a few of these do the poets ever tell us much about themselves in their Even the Paripntal hyinns to TirumBI, which follow the panegyric model, tell usa great deal about the god, but not much about the poet who eillogises him. were more inclined to leave traces of their personalities The early a_l\~rtrs in their poems, even while following panegyric models One ol~ziris not like another. As Zvelebil points out, the putan genre. or the poem of praise. conti-

Ft i ~ t l i('lei.\ \lc.i.stt~lo Rhrrkti / 745

[

nuedtobe an influential niodel forthe saint-poets (Zveleb~l1974,93--[)4). Be condenses the parallels between (he c l ; ~ \ \ ~ c apanegyric l and tile poetry of the saints in the following scheine:

~h~ bardic poet's pralse of the patron; he asks for gifts; the patron him gold, etc.; rarely, b u t still, the poet scolds the patron fol. his wretched and miserly @ude.

The poet-uint's pralw of S ~ v ao~ V ~ \ r l u ;he a i k i for knowledge of h~rn\elfand of God; God grants h~m knowledge, grace, redemption;rarely, bdt st~ll, the saint blan~esand reproaches God for his misfortunes.

This scheme is a useful one, for it relates two bodies of Tamil poetry, but the saints' poems do not all fit neatly into this scheme. W-e find in the poetry of the saints many poems that are not addressed directly to a god. Not all puram poems are addressed to a patron. Often the bhakti poet speaks about his lord to an audience who is either explicitly invoked or whose presence must be inferred. The voice of the saint is the pivot on which these poems turn, and this voice is given flesh and blood in the saint's sacred biography which is as well known a s his poems: Tamil Vai~navitesand ~ a i v i t e shear the life-stories of the saints in their poems.7 In this poem by Poykai, for example, we overhear the poet talking to Visnu about the best-known event in the composite biography of the first three a l v a r ~ . ~ Lord who lifted a mountain to block the driving ram, in this beloved town of Kiival you neither departed through the gate nor came inside, but chose to stay. together v i ~ t hyour goddess, here in this entrpnce hall. Mutal Tiru~~arlfufi 86 (Cutler 1980) Poykai, Pbtam and Pey were early voices in the evolution of a personal Poetry of devotion in Tarnil. If Pnril~iltcrlrepresents an extension ofclassical Tamil poetry, the ctntcttls or the lirst three Glv2r.s represent the beginning of a new kind of Tamil poetry. Not si~rprisingly,the classic.al influences are not pervailve in the poems ol.the early Vaisilavite saints. Nevertheless, many verse? display or extend classical m o t ~ f sand techniques. Pey eiivislons V I S ~a4 L I;L~niglitywarrior- who looks af'ter h ~ \ devotees7 well-being:

246 / The Collected E s s a v s ofA.K. Ktrrntrn~jtrn

From Classicisnl to Bhtrkti 1247

The victorious lord who wields eight invinc~bleweapons, the eight-armed lord who aimed his wheel and cut down the cl-ocodile-monster in the pond,'

,

is our refuge down to the soles of his feet. Munram TiruvantSiti 99 (Cutler 1980)

'

Whenever Visnu is invoked a s protector and hero we detect resonances of the bards' eulogies of their patrons. Here the heroic mode has become a signifier for devotion, a s in this poem by Poykai:

Crowding each other face to face as the arrows sang and jangled

My mouth praises no one but the lord, my hands worship no one but the lord who bounded over the world, my ears hear no name, my eyes see no form but the name and form of the lord who made a meal of the poison he sucked from the she-devil's breast. Mutal Tiruvantrlti 11 (Cutler 1980)

,

demon-carcasses fell in hundreds rolled over like hills the sea stained with blood backed upstream into the rivers

T h e carikam bard commends himself to the liberality of his patron. and similarly Poykai implies that h e gives himself over to Visnu without reservation. W e s e n s e that Visnu is more than capable of protecting Poykai from his enemies. After all, didn't he destroy the she-demon Putanasura when he w a s only an infant? For the aivcr, devotion takes the form of incessant contemplation of Visnu's heroism.

when our Lord and Fathe] ravaged the island and left it a heap of ash Tiruvaymn/i 7.4.7 (Rarnanujan 1981, 10) Nammiilvar also eulogised places sacred to Visnu in a manner that calls to mind the puccrtn poets' songs of praise for the lands ruled by their patrons. T h e saint c o ~ n p o s e d aset of ten verses in praise of Visnu's abode at Mgliruticolai ('MBl's dark grove'), the same site near Maturai known to the Pm-ipNtol poel a,; M a l i r u n k u ~ a r n('Miil's dark hill'). Nammiilvsr may well h , ~ i\. composed lhese verses a s a hhtrbi equivalent to the classical ii,.rul,l,rrtcri o r 'guide to patrolis'.

IV. P U E A M E L E M E N T S I N N A M M A L V A R ' S POETRY

N a m m ~ l v 3 r ' sposition in Tamil Vaisnavite tradition is a special one. The ~ r i v a i s n a v adcarycrs equated his Tamil poems with the four Vedas, and the poems of the other filv3r.s with the 'limbs' (nrigns) and 'subsidiary limbs' (uparigas) of the Vedas. The other 3lvclr.s are described a s nrigtrs for NarnmBlvar who is their trngi (one who possesses limbs). Tradition also accords Nammalvar a critical role in the story of the canonisation of the d v a r s ' hymns.lOThe personal voice which we begin to hear in the compositions of the early saints comes to m a t ~ ~ r i tiny Nammiilv3r's poems. Narnn~%!v%r was a prolific poet-his greatest work Tirul~tiy~tlo!i alone contains overone thousand verses--and thus there iscon\lderahle scope

for variety in the saint's poems. Multiple strands of influence come top i h e r in Namrn5lviir's poetry, 2s in the hhrrkti tradition a s a whole. In ~ i ~ u v a y m olove l i poetry, mythology. philosophy and heroic poetry alternate with one another and blend together in new ways. A great deal has been written about Nammalvar's use of akam conventions, but commentators on Tiruvavtnoli and N a m m B l ~ i i other ~ ' ~ poems have not paid nearly a s much attention to the significant puram elements in the poetry.' The following poem about Rams's conquest of Larika is asgraphic a s the b a ~ t l escene from Pr1ripatal2 and draws a s freely on the imagery of battle:

Casting off the strong bunt14 o f deeds. wandering In search o f \alvat~on. reaching the rnagl~~t'icetit temple 011 thr I I I O L I ~vr~leil ~ ~ ~ 111 I Icloucl\ I~.

I

kit

V l , Z l ' \ C I ~ I I ~. ~ I O \ ? . o ~ t h iec r r t l who

holnr

I~tlrtl,I gieal

IIIOIIII~;III~

248 / The Collected Es.says of A.K. Kamaraujan To gather strength. turn from evil deeds and travel to the temple on the mountain, surrounded by clear pools at M%l'sdark grove, the temple of the lord who upholds virtue with his wheel, that is real skill

From Cla.~sici.rrnto Bhakti / 249 love poetry. Almost one-third of the verses in Tiruvuymoli take over the and characters of akam poetry, only here the iilvar is traditionally identified with the narrative voices of the heroine, her mother and her girl friend (three of the conventional character-narrators of akam poetry) and the hero, who does not take a speaking role in Namm%!viir's love poems, a s he does in classical akam poetry, is identified as Visnu.13 These two poems, the words of the heroine's mother, include the ubiquitous allusion to Riima's conquest of Lank%.

Tiruviiyrnoli 2.10.4-2.10.4-5 (Cutler 1980) WHAT HER MOTHER SAID

Here Namma!v%r encourages his audience to travel to Visnu's temple at Maliruncolai, much a s the ptrram poet urges other bards to travel to the court of his patron where they are sure to receive food and other gifts. But the bhakti poems differ from the classical ii_nlppatai in at least one ima conversation between two bards portant way. An ii~uppataidocuments at a specific point in time, and the noble deeds of the patron-hero are poems celebrate a god-hero who deemed historical events. Namm%Jv%r's performs noble deeds in mythic time, no less real than historical time; and because they do not particularise their audience, they are immediately relevant to all audiences. The virtue of pilgrimage to Visnu's sacred places is universal in its appeal. Thepuram influences in Namm%!vBr's poetry are not confined solely to poems which are directly descended from puram prototypes. Images of Visnu the warrior-hero appear in many and varied contexts. They often appear as telescoped references to particular incidents in the god's mythology. One favourite episode is the story of RBma's conquest of Lank%. Another is Krsna's betrothal to the cowherd maiden Pimai: Krsna won Pinnai for his bride by subduing seven of her father's bulls in a bull-baiting contest.12Thefollowing poem, which gives us a glimpse of the intimate sparring which the hhakti poet and his lord sometimes engage in, includes allusions to both these incidents: Lord burning bright as a lamp who conquered seven bulls and turned splendid Lank2 to ashes, don't trust me! When I reach your feet of gold don't let me r u n off again. Tiruvavnloli 2.9.10 (Cutler 1980) Pur~lmimages also slip into poems that are directly descended fromakum

Like a bar of lac or wax thrust into fire her mind is in peril and you are heartless What shall I do for you. lord who smashed Lank%, land ruled by the demon? Night and day her peerless eyes swim in tears, lord who turned Lanks's fortune into smoke, don't scorch this simple girl or make her gentle glances wither. TiruvEyn~oli2.4.3, 2.4.10 (Cutler 1980) By virtue of the heroic deed they allude to, the epithets in these poems bring to mind puram themes, but they function within the poems very much like the suggestive insets of nature images in akam poetry. The akam poets devised subtle, implied comparisons (called ullurai: 'inner statement') between events in nature and a drama of human characters, and in the saints' poems my thological allusions sometimes function in a similar manner. In these verses Namm%lv%rimplies that Visnu, the lover, can save the love-lorn heroine a s he saved Sit%from the demon RZvana, or, by neglecting her, he can destroy her utterly as he demolished R ~ v a n a ' skingdom, Lanka. In 2.4.10 the connection is reinforced by the images of burning which join purport and vehicle in the implied simile. V . AKAM T R A D I T I O N A N D B H A K T l P O E T R Y

The two great classical Tamil gods, Ceyon, the Red One (Murukan), and Mayon, the Dark One (Visau-Kysna) are lovers and warriors. One

From Clussic~isnlto Blztrkrr / 25 1

250 / The Collected E s s a v . ~o f A K Knmrrrlultrn presided over the hills. the other over wooded pasture-land. They were the gods of bolh rtkatn and puwln milieus (Zvelebil, 1977).Bhukti poets are direct inheritors of this eroticlheroic ambience and its poetic genres, The aknm tradition runs deep in Tamil hhakti poetry. This is generally recognised by traditional and modern scholars, and if we have mainly attended to pururn threads in the saints' poems, it is only to redress [he balance. A strong akam strain appears in Tamil devotional poetry a little later than the purrim. Tirumurukti~uppatcti.which may be the earliest devotional poem in Tamil, is a direcl outgrowth of apuram genre. As we have seen, the poems to Tirum21 in PuripCi~trlcontain many purunl elements, but ukam and puratn elements are mixed together in the Puripiital poems to Cevvel (another name for Murukan), who appears in this text both as a warrior god and a s the lover of Valli, the mountain-maid who became hisconsort. Murukan's love affairwith Valli evolves in much the same way as the affairs of akanr lovers, beginning with clandestine meetings on the mountain slopes. In these late classical poems the characters, situations and images of akatn poetry are absorbed into Murukan's mythology. In puram poetry the bhtikti poets found an ideal language to express the devotional idiom of master and servant, a s they found in rikam the idiom of lover and beloved. We find touches of aktrm influence in the poems of the early alvars, but in the works of later Vaisnavite poets such a s Tirumankai and Nammiilvar we find poems dominated by an akam vocabulary. Namm%lv%r most clearly displays the imprint of classical Tamil love poetry in his Tiruvirurrtim, a poem of one hundred verses, and in the two hundred and seventy love poems of the Tiruviiymoli, the so-called akapporul portion of the text. These verses are precisely keyed to the conventions of rikum poetry, and in most, Visnu is cast in the role of the ukam hero. It is almost paradoxical that Nammiilvar, a poet who puts s o much of himself into his poems, should draw s o heavily upon the rikatn tradition. because in classical akam poetry the poet is completely concealed from his audience by the veils of internal narrators and an elaborate repertoire of conventional a however, attempted situations and images. ~ r i v a i ~ n a vcommentators, to neutralise the distance separating poet from poem in this genre by identifying Nammalvar with the female character-narrators. especially with the heroine to whom they gave the name Par2nkuSa Niiyaki.14 (And in s o doing they violate one of the fundamental principles of ciktrrn poetry-that its characters are never named.) According to this influential interpretation. Namma!varls love poems document the poet's own

love affair wilh god. Thus in the following poem, which describes a situation which is very familiar to the audience of ukum poetry-the heroine is languishing in separation from the hero-we are said to hear how Namm2lvar suffers when he is left alone without ViSnu's support. WHAT S H E SAID

Evening has come. but not the Dark One Without him here, what shall I say? how shall I survive? The bulls. their bells jingling, have mated with the cows and the cows are frisky. The flutes play cruel songs, bees flutter in the bright white jasmine and the blue-black lily. The sea leaps into the sky and cries aloud. TiruvrTymoii 9.9.10 (Ramanulan 198 1. 32) In bhakri a whole poetic tradition is taken over as a signifier for a new signification. Here bhakri is the new signification. and classical poetry, like Vedic and Upanisadic concepts, puriinri mythologies, folk motifs and the many other sources from which the hhakti poets gathered their materials, is its signifier. An example will make this clear. Here is a classical Tamil poem: These fat k o m i trees are gullible: the season of rains that he spoke of when he went through the stones of the desert is not yet here though these trees mistaking the untimely rains

252 / The Collected Essays

of

A. K. Rumunujun materials, signifiers I'or a new sign~ficution,as a bicycle sea: becomes a bull'shead in Picasso. Often the listenertreader moves between the original material and the work before him-the double vision is part of the poetic effect (Ramanujan 1981).

have put out their long arrangements of flowers on the twigs as if for a proper monsoon. Kovatatta~,Kuruntokai 66 (Ran~anujan1967, 44)

VI

And here is what Namm%!v%rdoes with it. He follows the classical score closely, yet transposes it to a new key:

T H E TAMIL C LASSI('9 AND VAISNAVA THFOLOGY

~ ~ ~ m H ! v %ukapporul r's poems may represent a peak in the history of influence in Tamil Vaisnavite tradition, but they do not represent its end. Srivaisnava commentators developed elaborate allegorical interpretations of the rllvms' love poems." A!akiyamanavHlaperumHldyanHr, the author of AccTrya HMyut?:, a theological work of the late thirteenth or early fourteenth century, develops a theological interpretai . ' ~ the tion for every detail in the cikupporul verses of ~ i r u v c l ~ m o l Even heroine's ornaments carry an allegorical meaning in this interpretation. The commentator's mode of exegesis is a secondary signification system (see Barthes 1968). Jn his discussion of the heroine's physical characteristics, for example, he isolates a number of metaphors which Nammavar and other poets often include in their descriptions of the akam heroine. From the quality which binds purport to vehicle in each of these metaphors, he develops a theological interpretation. In this way, the commentator takes over the poet's metaphorical identification o l the heroine's forehead with the moon a s a signifier lor the purity of the soul. We may envisage the interpretive process a s follows:

They haven't flowered yet, the fat komai trees, nor hung out their garlands and golden circlets in their sensual canopy of leaves along the branches, dear girl, dear as the paradise of our lord who measured the earth girdled by the restless sea: they are waiting with buds for the return of your lover once twined in your arms Tiruviruttam 68 (Ramanujan 1981, 66) In the earlier poem, the flowering tree, the rain, the anxious beloved, etc., were the signifiers for the erotic mood of waiting (mullai). In the later poem, the entire erotic tradition has become a new signifier, with bhukti as the signified. Now the classical tradition is to bhakti what the erotic motifs are to the tradition.

SIGNIFIER,

SIGNIFIED,

(moon)

(forehead)

I

SIGNIFIER,

I

~

E

R

,

I (rain, flowering tree, etc.)

I-I

SIGNIFIED,

(the erotic moodahm)

-

SIGNIFIER,

(the entire erotic tradition)

SIGNIFIED,

(

(bhakli)

I

I

Or, we can speak of 'framing' the erotic poem in a new context of bhakti-in Tiruviruttum 68 above, 'framing' is achieved by the presence of a reference to paradise and the lord who measured the earth. Past traditions and borrowings are thus re-worked into bhukri: they become

I

The commentator thus uses the signs of Ohakti poetry to generate theologicai discourse. The (&am dimension of Nammalvar's poetry receives far more attention in AcaVa Hrduyum than the llurcim, but the latter is not overlooked altogether. The author also develops the idea that Visnu presides over the universe a s a king presides over h i s realm. He equates the traditional five f~~iictions of t!le king with the five aspects of Visnu that are discussed 111 Pancaratra %gamicliterature (Damodaran 1976, 96)." The five functions of the king ;ire equated with the five aspects of Visnu as follows:

k'r-otrr C7cr \..\ i c istrr to Bhukti / 255

254 / The Collected Essays of A.K. Ramclnujun 1. The lord reigns In heaven @aratnapada) in his pun1 his throne surrounded by the insignia of royalty. aspect. 2. The lord dwells within all 2. The king circulates among his creatures in his anlaryatrzir~aspect subjects incognito during the even though they may not be night. aware of his presence. 3, The king consults with advisors 3. The lord reclines upon the snake Ananta in the milk-ocean and and deliberates how best to contemplates how to best sustain maintain the welfare of his his devotees in his vyuha aspect.18 subjects. I . The king reigns in state on

4. The king hunts wild animals.

5 . The king relaxes pleasure garden.

In

his

4. The lord comes to earth in his

vibhava (avarara) aspect and destroys demons. 5. The lord stays in temples on hills and in forested areas such as Tiruvenkatam in his arca aspect.

While it is true that classical Tamil purarn poetry is a poetry of kings, heroes, and warfare, A!akiyamanaviilapperumiilniiya~r's discussion of Visnu's kingly attributes is guided by discussions of a king's duties found in Sanskrit idstras, but blended with classical Tamil conceptions. In this respect ~ r i v a i s ~ a vexegetical a tradition is like the poetry it purports to explain: like the iilvdrs, the acaryas were heirs to two classicisms, Sanskrit and Tamil. The transposition from poetry to theology takes the same form as the earlier transposition from classicism to hhakti. It keeps the signifiers, transposes them to another level, and writes them with new signified elements. In bhakti poetry, both signifierand signified are 'experiential', their relation is poetic. In the theological commentary, the signified has become abstract. and the relation between signifier and signified is allegorical. In this theological allegory, the love-lorn girl's messengerbird is really the RNrU who mediates and relates her to god; her mother is no mother, but the soul's 'conviction in the right means', her hips and breasts are no longer erogenous and of the flesh, they are but the soul's attainment of hhakti and the lord's enjoyment of the soul. With this commentator we are in the thirteenth century. The saints' poems are a permanent part of the Hindu religious scene. They live on, in all their full-bodied beauty and devotional power, subject of sect and temple polilics, of allegory and ingenious commentary, of ritual and festival; they are also the moving resource of singers. thinkers, poets and

'

ordil]ary men. The saint as Inall speak~ngLo god as beloved and protkgk, offering Him his interior ukum and exteriorpurilm, is the same time, in the same words, a poet in a tradition, a 'man speaking to men'. His past gives him a language for the present. APPENDIX

When the sun and the moon, given to alterations from the oldest times went out, and the fresh golden world above and the earthen one were ruined: there were ages of absence even of sky rolling time after time; sound was born first in the first age of sheer skywomb of every growing germ though yet without forms, then the ancient age of winds driving all things before them, the age of red fire in flames, the age of mist and cool rain falling, and when all four elements drowned in the old flood. the particles of earth lay there, recovering their own natures, getting themselves together; then came the age of great earth lying potentla1 in them all;

Frottr C71u.s.sic.i.~m r o Bhokri / 257

256 1 The Collected Essays 0f'A.K. Rumonujarl beyond the times counted in millions. billions, trilllotls quadrillions and ztllions. came the time of the Boar that raised the earth from the waters and let it flourish:

1

O First One, Lord of the Wheel, we bow. we sing your praise.

0 you, to those who say you're younger, and brother to the conch-coloured One, you appear young;

I

I

to those who say you're older than the one dressed in clothes dark a s all-burying darkness with a gold palmyra for banner, you appear older: in the wisdom of the ancients sifted by the high ones with flawless intent, you're in a state of in-between; yet in any search of things one can see in this state o r that. you show only your own, the excellence of your most ancient state. Wearing jewels many-coloured a s rainbows bent across the high heavens o n your chest, itself a jewel studded

'

-

the Red Goddess a s the moon his shadow. Which doesn't agree at all with those who read the Vedas and say. You a s the Boar, with white tusks, sharp and spotted. washed by the rising waves, lifted and wed the Earth-maiden

knowing that it is only one of your Acts, no one really can know the true age of your antiquity;

'

1

so not a spot of earth is ever troubled by the sea.

0 lord fierce in war, the loud conch you hold sounds like thunder to the enemy rising a s one man, unafraid in anger, rising like a hurr~cane to join battle; banners break and fall, ears go deaf, crowns shiver on their heads, and the earth loosens under their feet

I 1

at the thunder of your conch

0 lord fierce in war. the discus in your hand cuts the sweet l ~ v e s of enemies: heads fall and roll. wreaths and all: their stand lost. like the tens of thousands of bunches On the heads of tall black pulniyl-atl-ties not stripped yet

258 / The Collected Essays of A . K . Rnmnnujart of root, branch frond or young fruit, falling to the earth all at once: not one head standing on its body, beheaded all at one stroke, they gather, roll, split, come together and roll apart, and lie dead at last in a mire of blood. That discus that kills at one stroke: Death is its body, its colour the flame of bright fire when gold burns in it. Yours is the lustre of the great dark blue-sapphire; your eyes, a palr of famed lotuses; the truth of your word certain a s the returning day. If one looks for your magnificent patience it's there. wide as earth; your grace, a sky of rain-cloud fulfilling everyone; s o say the sacred texts of the learned brahmans,

0 lord with the red-beak Garuda-bird on your banner, you're like all that and also l ~ k eall else, you're in these, and in all thlngs. As said in the Vedas: In the sacrificer's word.

in the sacrificial pillar built step by step, and also in the seizing of the sacrificial animal strapped to that pillar. the kindling of a raging fire according to charted text and famous tradition, and in the building of that fire to glowing light and prosperous flame is your form, your food: in such. brshmans see (and even aliens agree) your presence. As soon a s your heart thought of ambrosia, food of the gods, the deathless ones received a life without age. a peace without end; 0 lord unfathomable, at your feet we bow, clean of heart, putting our heads to the ground over and over we bow, we praise, we celebrate

and we ask 0 lord with our dear ones around us we ask: May our knowing know only what is. Kiranta~ysr,The Second Song. Pariputul (translated by A.K Ramanujan)

i

I

Essays on B h k t i and Moderii Poetry

Introduction by John B. Carman

introduction to a series of 'introductions'-an impossible task, forRamanujan does not provide a number of abstract generalisations that &in be recounted or further compressed. He introduces by example and like a skilled preacher is able to reflect the whole world of a text within h e 'eye' of a single verse, and sometimes to go beyond the whole text to f &largertradition and even to the global world of many-cultured humanity. Behind the essayist and analyst of religious and linguistic structures is tbe translator, constantly aware of both the elasticity and the fragility of fanguage. I find three strands in Ramanujan's essays on bhakti, at times clearly distinguished and at other times exhibited in their interconnection. The firstis the sharp 'cutting edge' of bhakti, studied primarily in the Kannada free-verse 'utterances' (vacanas) of the ViraSaiva saints. The second is the yearning for and celebration of the ultimate connection with god, studied most intensively in the Tamil Vaisnava hymns of NammBlvBr. The third is the development of a typology ofbhakti saints a s they are presented in a wide range of stories in many languages. In the first two essays included in this Section ('On Women Saints' and 'Men, Women, and Saints'), these strands are clearly distinguished. In the next three essays ('The Myths of Bhakti,' 'Why an Allama Poem Is Not a Riddle,' and 'Varieties of Bhakti'), they are in various ways connected. , In what order should these strands by presented? Ramanujan was Working on all these topics for many years before publishing anything, and a clear logical priority is as unclear a s a chronological one. In arrangingthe essays in the order indicated above, andin reading them alongside the Introduction to Speukin,g of.~ivrc(1 973), the individual introductions to the four poets in that book, and the Afterword to Hymnsfor the L)I.OH~II(198 1). I follow the Indian metaphor of strands of a rope to return at

264 / The Collected Essays 0fA.K. Ramttnujnn the e n d o f m y~ ~ t ~ ~ d u ctot the i o nTirst strand. but lookedatfrom a different perspective. INCISIVE BHAKTI

Ramanujan begins his Introduction to Spetrking o f ~ i v awith his translation of one of Basavanna's poems, which ends with the memorable lines, 'things standing shall fall, / but the moving ever shall stay.' The Kannada verse uses the Sanskrit words for standing (sthiivnra) and moving (jc~rigarnu) which had also become technical terms for the standing temple and the moving ascetic. The translator is able to suggest a paradoxical reversal of our notions of stability and a radical attack on all forms of 'establishment'. The temple establishment is here attacked through one of its own most profound metaphors: the shape of a human body. The revolutionary character of bhakti is expressed in this essay again and again with the striking melaphors of the ViraSaiva saints. The unpleasant sharpness of bhakti a s a personal experience is brought out in another verse of Basavanna's in which bhakti is compared with a saw ('it cuts when it goes N and it cuts again / when it comes') and with a cobra's bite (speakingof ~ i v a79; , Basavanna 212). Not only does it hurt terribly, it may be deadly. The ViraSaiva emphasis on painful change and upheaval may be a metaphor for transformation, but this illuminating wisdom that knocks the props out from under our conventional arrangement of the world around us is not merely spiritual, for it has drastic and often painful effects on the individual person andon the social body. It may, moreover, have shattering effects on the representation and 'housing' of the divine presence. The attack on both elite and popular notions of god's body in image and temple is central to this kind of bhakti, and is a striking contrast to the side of bhakti presented in the Afterword to Hymns for the Drowning. The conclusion of the Introduction to Speaking of Siva provides a wonderful transition to the Afterword to Hymns for the Drowning: not the prose of the editor but the poetry of the translator conveys Dasareswara's 'loving-kindness towards all creation.' Mercy that is 'light / a s a dusting brush of peacock feathers: /I such moving, such awareness / is love that makes us one / with the Lord / DasareSwara' (Speakitlg o f ~ i v r t55). , EMBODIED BHAKTI

With a humorous smile, Ramanujan reported to me once the reaction of an Indian reviewer ofHymns,fiwth(< Dro\i,tling:'He thought the ~ f t e r w o r d an unnecessary addition to the poems.' 1 was appalled at the reviewer's

Intt.odut trot1 by John B. C'trrmttn / 265 fafailure to recognise what 1 consider one of the finest general essays on bhakti, but I suspect Ramanujan was amused and also confirmed in his view that translation of poelry is more important than prose commentary. ~ oonly t does he entitle his comments an 'Afterword', but as in the Introduction to Speakitig d ~ i v c che , speaks as much as possible through the ~ o r d of s the poems theinselves. What he presents restates some of the ~ o i n t made s in the Introduction to Speaking of Siva; it also builds on his earlier studies of the classical Tamil poetry that provided models for the Tamil poet saints, both Vaisnava and ~ a i v aCommenting . on one of the earliest Tamil hhrrktipoe~ns,the invocation ofLord Murukan, Ramanujan says in the Afterword: The poem evokes the primal . . . experience of bhakti . . . an embodiment; neither a shamanic flight. . . nor a yogic autonomy. . . but a partaking of the god . . . [A] bhakta needs to possess him and be possessed by him. He needs also tosing, to dance; to make poetry, painting. shrines, sculpture; to embody him in every possible way. (1 15-16) This is a devotion of image-making rather than image-breaking, inclusion rather than excision, of passionate love towards one of the multiple embodiments of the One. Ramanujan's selection from Namm.3lvBr's verses in Hymns for the Drowning begins with Tiruvaymoli 1.1.4, and in the middle of his Afterword, he gives a brilliant analysis of this verse that shows how he could turn a bewildering collection of Tamil personal pronouns into a succinct poetic summary of early Vaisnava metaphysics. 'The sentencespeaks of the one proliferating into the many; but in the way it begins and ends, the poem moves from the many to the one-as if the two opposite aspects are the same. The enfolding and the unfolding are the same thing seen from differentdirections.' Not all is process, however. 'Within all this teeming process is a central stasis . . . though he has become, and is, all of the things mentioned, he is not them--he "stands there", apart. . . . He is everything, yet the other. He is at hand, easy of access; yet beyond' (123-4). Ramanujan concludes that 'in a poem like 1.1.4, grammar becomes poetry, and poetry becomes theology. . . . Conceptions of god are enacted by word and syntax' ( 126). Only on this hundredth reading did i t suddenly strike me: the first Poem in Hymnsfor ti[(,Drou,ning contrasts in a very specific respect with the poem that starts the Introduction to Spcmthe u ~ o u ~ a l l '(lie s , I ~ I O L ~ ~ ~ I - "poi111 .. \.iew. T~ str l c ~ u ~ .iinalys~s, ;~l we need to atld poir~rc!f ~ , i c l vbelore , we can interpret ]I;l ~ : ~ lOen. e 17,1ay~illi~liately decide that such ~ e v e r s a l s(111i1leto female, ?;ou Fated 10 nlal-1-yniother instead o!'rnothe!- being fated to m:irry son, etc.) are s!i-~rct~lr;~lly or-I,sycliounalyticaliy reducible to a s i ~ l s l epattern. But the psrserlce of .s~icl-!difference.; in point oS view shouid be interpretecl in the light o l other parts of the cullures. The gre;lt !1nportance o f s o n s to nlotiler-s in the politics 01' the lntlian family (Kakar i978, 5 7 ) , the prulongetl period of breast-leeding. the practice in many faniilies of sons sleepirlg liexi to mothers s i n l o t uotil they are adolescent d o e s make the m o t h e r - ~ n a r r e s - s otale significant. It expresses a mother's desire and reai tetuptation to cling to her son. Furthermore, Hindus believe that fathers are reborn a s sons.' The rivalry between fathers anti sons for the m o ~ l i e ir s because the mother loves her son aild t t ~ efather ix left out. Ute shall s e e other aspects of this father-son rivalry in the next section. Here :ire a few lilore supporting examples of the closeness of mother and son, with the father left out. There is a recul-rent motif in folktales in south India and elsewhere (MotiSJ 2 I 2 ) A i:ltlrer returns from a lung exile o r j o ~ r n e ya ~ lenters ~ l his bedroom to find a strange young man s!eeping nexl to hi\ \\ ife. He draws his sword 10 kill them both, when either his waki~lgwile o s a remelnbered precept (,'Don't ;,ci when angry') stays his hand. The young nlan is really his son frown LO~lianhoodduringhis long a h s e l ~ c ebut still sleepin2 ill110cently in [he s a m e bed a s his dear mother. A rare exariil,le r,l niother-sol? 1-elatiolls in niythology is the ~z:-;gaii legend about tlle goddess DurgS, whose iniercourse with her son 1s watched and noi,iily il~lerruptedby a peacock. D ~ i r g 5gets angry ulilh the peacock for heill? .Ipeel>iilgT~ril aild CLISSCS [lie [ ) i d with i ~ i i p u t e r l cand ~ 311 ugly squeal Tor a voice. S h e relents later and , ~ l l o w peacocks s to have offspring by niearlh v ~ l h e ileal-s. r One c o i ~ l d;ilso add the Potiphar's Wife motif (K 21 I I . I ), or which we have nrany examples in India. e.y . the Tamil story o f K11n;llall (Type 7 0 6 ) . A xtep~nolherdesires her te(3son ~ h r.ejects o her advances. S h e acc Llsr.; him ol nuking imp]-opesadvan.es to her and his Satl~erp11111shes hi111by hli~ldinpI l ~ mBlintlin?. . here Or 11 Oetlip~lh.is a well-I-ecogrlised sylnhol 1.01 castration.

I ,

..,

'

-

Relations of Futlirr- rrarl Sori The most slriking difference between the Kannada tale and the Greek myth is the absence of the father and hence of patricide. There are very. very few stories of actual patricide in Hindu myth, literature and folklore. A few marginal instances were listed at the beginning of this essay: Arjuna killed by his son, RBma killed by his sons, both in battle, both revived later. T h e most explicit instance I know is in the sixteenth-century ~ a m i ltext TiruviluivG@lpu~Gnam,cited by Hart (1980). A brahman sleeps with his willing mother again and again. Once his father interrupts him in the act, s o he a x e s his father. From then on, his father's shadowform sticks to him, interrupts with its cries all his daily activities and gives him no rest. His sin is expiated by the grace of Siva and by the penance o f rolling round the corridors of ~ i v a ' temple. s But such stories a r e rare o r little known. Even here, a s Goldman (1978, 370) points out, [the] expiation involves the reconstruction ofthe lost family, the original oedipal triangle, which occurs through the sinner's being adopted by ~ i v and a his wife. The wretch is saved only when he can accept the status of a submissive and devoted son to his divine parents.

But another pattern is very common: the aggression of the father towards the son. In all these stories the son willingly gives up (often .j transfers) his political and sexual potency. In the epic M u h d b h a r a t ~ ~ , : Bhisma, the first son of ~ a n t a n urenounces , both kingdom and his reproductive sexual life s o that his father may marry a fishergirl and continue ;his(father's) sexual/reproductive life. Bhisma, lifelong celibate, liveson to becorlle the most revered old man of the epic, warrior and wise man. YayBti, a king cursed by a sage to suffer senility, wishes to prolong his ' life of pleasure and a s k s his five sons to transfer their youth to him. The elder s o n s refuse and earn his curses. The youngest s o n exchanges his youth for Yayati's age for a thousand years. For his sacrifice, this son re-tceives great honour, and inherits the whole kingdom later. ,4< Amoreexplicit instanceofa father'saggressiverivalry towards a son . -p;-' J

Totvn~dsa Countel--system: Women's Tales / 437

436 / The Collected Essays of A.K. Rnmunulan works out the prophecy, despite the protagonists' struggle to escape it, An Indian Oedipus tale begins this way. A girl i s born and an astrologer prophesies s h e will marry her own son and bear him children. The rest of the story tells of the fulfilment of the prediction. T h e prophecies are seen a s indicators of future events and there is no question of causality (see Chapter 2 2 above). Thus, instead of past karma a s an explanation of present action, exemplified in both epic story and philosophical debate, folktales seem to depend on another s e t of explanatory notions: (1) arbitrary vidhi, or fate, who writes on the newborn's forehead, often personified a s a godd e s s o r Brahms; (2) an offended deity w h o wants a defiant person to toe the line; and (3) a prophecy that cannot be evaded. Even curses are quite rare in these folktales, for they too are often earned by the individual's o w n acts, a s in the classic c a s e of ~ a k u n t a l ~ . T h e overwhelming impression here i s of the mysterious power of a fixed fate, which can only be obeyed and allowed to run its course. K u r m s e e m s to belong to another tradition altogether-with its complex intertwining of individual responsibility, multiple lives, the inexorable chain of ethical judgment and causation. T h e characters of these folktales live in a different ethos. Not that o u r storytellers did not know about karma. Whenever my mother w a s angry with one of us, s h e (and all h e r fellow-mothers) scolde d us with p h r a s e s s u c h a s , 'You a r e my karma, my prctrabdha [accumulated bad deeds] c o m e now to torment m e in this life.' Terms of abuse a s well a s the Sanskrit epics were full of karma and its consequences-so one had to be careful to d o good d e e d s and accumulate punya, o r merit, and avoid bad o n e s which would heap uppEpa, o r sin (for want of a better word), with evil consequences in o u r divine accounts. Wealso believed when w e were children that if anybody w a s thirsty and needed water, we should not refuse that person-if w e did, we would surely be reborn a s lizards. But in the stories Grandmother told u s there was no mention of kurma o r rebirth at all. They confined themselves to a single life-span and s e e m e d to work on a theory of action rather different from the karmic theory. Donald Davidson (1980) and other philosophers s p e a k of the difference between 'actions' and 'events'. I find the distinction useful here. Actions have actors; actions express actors. Actions have reasons* Actors are responsible for what they d o . Here character is destiny But evenls happen to people. They have no reasons. only causes. ~ a r r a t i v ~ ~ motivated by kcrrmcr converl all events into actions: in them everything

has a reason, a s in the M~huhhurrrtrc.But there is much in human reality .

fiat is not controlled hy individual human beings-accident, social and institutjons, nature itself, especially nature in its most intimate human form, o n e ' s own andothers' bodies. T h i s latter kind of reality, the uncontrollable part of it, cannot be rationalised, especially in the moment of crisis. It can only be accepted, o r watched, laughed at o r sidestepped and bypassed by human ingenuity. In these tales, this reality i s not away, but faced. Here actions, even human actions, a r e seen a s tvents. They have causes, not reasons. By enduring them, and watching for a moment of change that is the apt moment for action, and then acting--~sually by speaking out and telling o n e ' s own story--one comes through. That is why many of these tales end with the heroine telling her itory to 'the significant other' (often through a device, such a s a talking doll or lamp). resolving the crisis, enduring her separation, reuniting her with her husband and her kin. T h e tale has now become h e r story. Till then she had n o story to tell. T h e whole tale is the tale of h e r acquiring her story, making a person of her, making a silent woman a speaking person. This may b e why it i s crucial that stories should be told, and why there are stories about not telling stories and why they should be told. S T O R I E S ABOUT S T O R I E S

fiere is one such story about stories, 'Tell It to the Walls' Apoor widow was living with her two sons and two daughters-in-law. All four ~fthemscoldedand ill-treated her all day. She had no one to whom she could turn lu~dtell her woes. As she kept her tales of woe to herself, she grew fatter and fatter. Her sons and daughters-in-law mocked at her growing fatterby theday and asked her to eat less. One day, she wandered away from home in sheer misery and found herself in a deserted old house outside town. She couldn't bear to keep her miseries to herself any longer. She told all her tales of grievance against her first son to the wall in front of her. As she finished, the wall collapsed under the weight of her Woes and crashed to the ground in a heap. Her body grew lighter as well. Then she turned to the next wall and told it all her grievances against her first Wn's wife. And down came that wall, and she grew lighter still. She brought .down the next wall with her tales against her second son, and the remaining fourth wall too with her complaints against her second daughter-in-law. Standing in the ruins, w ~ t hbricks and rubble all around her, she felt lighter in mood and lighter In body. She looked at herself and found she had actually lost the weight she hat1 galned in her wretchedness. Then she went home.

438 / The CollectedEssuys ( $ A . K .

Knmtitlrrjarl

This Tamil tale begins with a woman beleaguered and enclosed, and ends with her in the open, a11 her [our walls demolished. The old woman tells her stories, her family secrets, only lo lighten herself, not to en_ lighten anyone. Nothing is said about her cruel ranlily being Converted, becoming kinder; only she has changed, unburdened of her sorrows. In our classical literature, too, stories are told perfo~~~natively-they are not merely utterances, they are part of the action, they change its course, but they affect the addressee. In this Tamil folktale, the tale of woe i s told to express and affect the speaker's own mood. tochange one's own state. It is cathartic for the teller in the tale. Such anotion of catharsis i s not part of Indian classical aesthetics. Note also how emotions have weight, literally-not metaphorically-'burdened', 'heavy' o r 'lighthearted'. Tales and dreams take metaphors literally. S u c h literalisation i s not merely a literary device. It implies the sense that emotions and thoughts are substances. Material and non-material things are part of a continuum o f sthuloand suksrna, 'gross' and 'subtle' substance allowing transformations. One may become the other. In another tale, a barber, while he i s shaving the king, discovers that the king has a donkey's ears. The king orders him never to tell anyone about it on pain of death. So he keeps the secret, but the more he keeps it to himself the fatter h e grows. H i s wife is alarmed and, after much trying, wheedles the secret out of him. At once s h e begins to grow round, looking more and more pregnant, till one day, unable to bear the burden any longer, she digs a hole in the ground and tells her secret to the hole and covers it up. Out of the buried secret springs a tree. O n e day the palace drummer breaks a branch of the tree and rnakes drumsticks for his drum. When he beats his drum in the palace assembly, the drum says, 'Durn durn durn, the king durn durn has the ears durn durn of a donkey, durn durn the king has the ears dumdum of a donkey durn durn!' Nothing is lost, only transformed. A STORY AND A SONG

A housewife knew a story. She also knew a song. But she kept them to herself. never told anyone the story nor sang the song. Imprisoned within her, the story and the song wanted I-elease,wanted to lun away. One day. when she was arger temples devoted to their husbands. Even the consort goddesses, L-klhust he noted. are not true mothers; Lakslni has no children in Sanhtrkriticmythology, and P5rvati3sare extrauterine miracles. : notamother.

,

498 / ~h~ CollctcrrdE,ssoy.\ of A . K . Ktrnlrrr~ri~trr~ ~ l ~ eLc.j a brief

t h the ~ contrast" ~ ~ h l ~ o w e \ , ew r e n a m e t h e m . b e t w e e n tile B r e a s t ~ ( L a k s mt i , PBrvati, h e t c .~) a n d the ~ T o o t h~ M o t h e r s ( M g r i y a m m a n , b y n o w well know11 in the literature, it w o u l d be ~ ~ s e f to u lpresent s u m m a r y of t h e m , a s in T a b l e 1 .'?

fol- t h e A l n r n a o - f i g u ~ - who e b e c o m e a c o n s o r t g o d d e s s . w e know little a b o u t t h e lew c a s e s ( s e e n in l o l k t a l e s ) whei-e 1-aksrni, u s ~ ! a l l ya h e n evolellt Breast Mother. a c t s l i k e a'rooth Mo1ht.1-asa n oi'lcnded deity--even then, s h e afflicls a persori o r a h o u s e h o l d . n e v e r a w h o l e village, a s d o e s the A m m a p . ( T h e r e a r e a l s o m a l e Evlh-gods like ~ a n wi h o b e h a v e like ~ m m a ~ . ! W e s ei lel t h e s e c o n l r a s l s t h a ~ t h e c o n s o r t s a r ed i v i n e a n d public in the m y t h s but m a y b e c o m e , in ritual a n d w o r s h i p , patron-deities o f household e v e n t s like birth a n d marriage. T h e y ] n a y m o v e froin plocum to akam. To e x p l i c a t e t h e c o n t r a s t b e t w e e n the g r e a t S a n s k r i t i c c o n s o r t g o d d e s s e s a n d t h e village A n ~ m gao~d d e s s e s , I s h o u l d like to l o o k c l o s e l y at o n e K a n n a d a folk-myth, w h i c h also m o t i v a t e s a sacrificial ritual of buffaloes t o t h e village g o d d e s s . I s h a l l p r e s e n t t h e entire m y t h so that t h e 'reader m a y e x p e r i e n c e t h e a e s t h e t i c i m p a c t o f t h e s e q u e n c e o f events.13

Table 1 T w o T y p e s o f Indian G o d d e s s e s

--

-

Breast Mothers (Consort Goddesses)

Tooth Mothers (Virgin Goddesses. A ~ I I Y J Q )

Married; subordinate to the male consort.

Basically independent; if married, insubordinale or fatal to consort; male couid be consort, brother, servant or guardian.

Related to auspicious, lifecycle rituals; weddings. good fortune.

Crisis-deities. invoked when life-cycles are disrupted: seen a s inflicting a s well as removing epidemics, famine, etc.; leaving one alone is part of their grace.

IIousehold deities; temples within village.

Temples often outside village boundaries; goddess brought into village only on special occasions.

Well-sculpted faces and images.

Rough-hewn, often faceless images; often

Not born of the earth; pure, chaste, with claims to universality.

objects other than icons, like pots. Of the earth, earthy, often literally. Seen often a s lustful, angry, coquettish. Associated. most often, only with a village after which she is named.

Benevolent, unless offended. Laksmi intercedes for mortals with the great god in V alsnava . ;, bhnkri; Piirvi~ti.in folktales.

Amb~valent;dread an intimate part of the devotion. Possession a part of the ritual.

Vegetarian.

Blood sacrifices(orsuhstitutes) demanded> offttretl.

Brahman or brahman~sed priests.

M(tst1y non-brah~nan,often untouchable officiants.

_-

T h e r e a r e m i n o r e x c e p t i o ~ l to r t h e s e c o n t r a s h , ancl in particular cults sorne f e a t u r e s rnay c r o s s o v e r f r o m o n e s i d e t o a n o t h e r , in m y t h . nallle* d e g r e e o l b e n e v o l e n c e o r a l n b i v a l e ~ l c eW . h i l e t h e s e c r o s s i n g s h a v e bee"

!

Along time ago, elders arl-anged marriages for girls befol-e they cameof age. That was the custom. I f a girl menstruated before she was married, they would blind,fold the girl and leave her in a forest. This practice was chiefly among brahmans. e, a hrahman girl did get her p e r ~ o dbefore she could get married. Her father blindfolded her and left her in a jungle. A Liiigayat man watched him abandon hisdaughter in the jungle, and felt compassion. He said, 'Ayy6p@u, poor thing!' cued the girl; he untied the cloth round her eyes, brought her home, and her a s his own daughter. A mddiga [untouchable] saw her one day, and fell in love with her. He vowed irnself, 'I must marry this girl, I must.' He told his noth her. 'Avva,you'd better to dress like a blahman woman. Help me get tliis girl for your daughter-in.' He persuaded her against her will, dressed himself in biahman-style :clothes, went to the Liiigiiyat's house, and asked for his foster-daughter's hand; ingayat agreed, because he too wanted to get this brahman girl married to man. He arranzed the rnarriaze, aud sent the girl to her mother-in-law's tplace. There she did all the housework and cooktd for her husband and mother,@;law. The mother-in-l;iw liked the yonng w o n ~ a n ' xbyahman cuisine, but would p m b l e now and then, .What good is this tasteles5 t u f f ? I s this f i o d ? ~ o wnice 5 4 ! ~ ~ ~bel dto have a leg of mutton!' The b~-ahmand~ughter-in-lawoverheard this ,Afew times and was puzzled by it. But she afraid to tell her husband about ome years passed, and she bore two s o n . Thr children-after all. they were S-were curious to find out what their f a ~ h r l - d all ~ d day. 'What does Appado, e s he go to tile Soot o f t h e hill.;'?' they wondel~ed.One day. they followed hout his k ~ l o ~ . l e d gThey e . obsel.\ed h ~ mas he sat at the foot of the hill. .*hemeasurcd people'sfrrt, and sewed 5aiidGllcfor them. They calne honie a ~ i d ered broad h'irlyun le;~vesand Ir:ive\ of the 111ilk-hedye.A11d they placed Ir ow11 feet o n (he leave\, took ~ l ~ e a < ~ ~ ~ - r iand l ~ e cut r l t soutlilie\ , alorig t t ~ c es of the11 fret. Tl1t.11111otIie1a \ c \vh:~t tlrey Mere doing; she was d i s g ~ ~ s ~ e d .

T ~ t , Krrrlr~l.~~ o r / f K(rt~ntrcltrFolklore / 50 ]

5 0 0 / 7'/1(~(~'ollec,r~d E.\.says of A. K. Ktm~crt~lrjrrrr S h e scoltled them. 'Don't d o such t h ~ n ~children" s. But can hoyx keep quiet? They said prouclly. 'We are doing exactly what Daddy does. He doesjusl th)sall day under tha: hill.' She knew now what her husband was up to. S h e real~sedwhat 'caxte' of man she had gone and married. S h e also underxtood in a flash why her mother-in-law grumbled, and craved for sheep's flesh every day. As she thought of it, anger rose In her. It rose and rose in her body. and became a terrible rage that was all over her. S h e grew bigger and bigger, standing tall, joining earth and heaven in one body, and became a Miiri [terrifying goddess]. S h e put out her tongue and went in search of her husband. He saw her. and knew he had to flee. As he fled, she said, 'I'll first finish off these children who were born to that man. Then 1'11 get him.' The children were terrified by the Marl, their mother. and hid themselvesin a couple of goats that were around. The MZri broke off the goats's heads, drank her children's blood, and went again in search of her husband. The Madiga man saw that the MZri was coming after him. SOhe entered a he-buffalo that was grazing in the field nearby. Miiri saw him hide himself in the animal. and moved toward him, making angry noises, taking dancing steps. And she slit open the he-buffalo, drank her husband's blood, and took a vow standing right there. '1'11 cut you down every year, and get lamps lit from the fat of your body.' Saying that, she came leaping forward saying, 'I've taken my husband a s my ahuti [sacrifice], taken my children a s ahuti. Where shall I settle down?' she moved forward. As she came, midway she met a Dasayya (areligiou'b mendicant). This D6sayya was from Alsandi. He would roam the town all day and sleep in the village chieftain's [gau(iu's] cattle-shed. He had a p i e c e of coconut fron! with him. The village chieftain's daughter-in-law would watch over it in his abd, sence. But one day, when he was asleep, she moved it somewhere. The Dasayya! woke up next mornlng, looked for his cocdnut frond all over and couldn't find it anywhere. .Whoever has taken it, they'd better return it,' he screamed. lease.' he begfed. But nobody came forward to return it to him. He got exasperated. and shouted, 'I'II go get Miiri. She'll get it back for me.' And he went In search ofher. On the way. he saw an old, old woman picking dry c o u t l l ~ n gatt ties and putting them ln her basket. S h e was looking for someone to lift the basket toher head. When she saw theDiisayya walking that way in a hurry. she called himand asked hlnl. 'Corne here, my man. Please helpmeget t h ~ s b a s k e t o nmy head.' 'I've no time to help you with your baskets and things. I'm looking urgently for Man. I've got to get to her soon. Don't interrupt me.' The old woman replied. 'l'mthe village Miiri. Come here.' The Dusayya didn't believe her. He scolded her: 'Hey9 old womarl! Don't tell Ilr.;. 1.11 let it pass, and help you t h ~ s t i n l ewrth basket. Then 1'11 go my way.' But when he went near her and tried to place the basket0" her head. he shuddered with fear-because h e had a coiled seven-headed Serpent oil her head f , ) ~her basket-rest [rilnbi] He knew this was M 2 r 1 and stood thel-e In re~-l-c>r, not knowing which direction he wa\ faclng. Then rlie ML'

comforted himandtold him: 'You walk In fl-onto f ~ n eI .' l l walk heh~rldyou.Y ~ U ' I I hear the jingle of my anklets. You must never turn around and look at me. 11.y"~ do, you'll be nly third uhuti.' The Dasayya agreed to do a s he was told, and walked ahead. B e h ~ n dhit,,, the old woman changed intoMari. stood t;~ll.joiningearth and sky, putout her lolling tongue and started walking. When they came near Alsandi, the Disayya felt he ~ o u l d n ' hear t the anklet sounds any more. S o he turned around and looked. He saw the incamation of MZri, was dumb struck, stood there shivering. Mari was furious. S h e lashed out with her tongue at him. slapped him to the ground, killed him, drank his blood, andcame to Alsdndi. Thereshe wasted [nd.Curncidu] thevil]age chieftain, all the people of the village, destroyed the whole place. and she left untouched only the lane where calves are tethered. Then she came to Beguru, drank the blood of the people there, and finished all the fodder and water the Beguru chieftain had stored for thousands of cows. Her thirst was still not q u e n c h e d . ~ the t boulder [Nerigekailu], she shook the borders [nerige] of her sari, took it off and threw i t at Mailigehalli ['the village of dirty clothes']. S h e struck the rock with her fist. A s Miiri's hand struck the stone, water sprang from it-the Earth Goddess below made it spring from rock. Mari drank from the spring,she went to Antaragatte ['A bund with intervals'] and stayed there, showing her long lolling tongue. This MZri hopped and hopped [nnlarisi] from place to place, and arrived at Antaragatte. That's why she is called Antaragattamma. This story also tells you why goats, sheep and a buffaloare sacrificed to her when she is angry. L e t u s s e t this s t o r y a g a i n s t a locus clccssicus f o r t h e D e v i myth, a p a s s a g e f r o m t h e Msrkandeya Pursna ( s u m r n a r i s e d in S h u l m a n 1980,

178-9): When M a h i ~ athe buffalo-demon was lord of the demons and Indra lord of the . gods, the gods were cast out from heaven by the demon host. From the energy

( h k t i )born from the anger of thegods. Devi became incarnate. Thegods bestowedtheirdivine weapons upon her and sellt her to d o battle with Mahisasura. Ridingon a lion, she fought with the demon and finally placed her foot upon his neck and pierced him with a spear; he half came forth from his own mouth, and the goddess cut off his head and killed him.

T h e c o n t r a s t s b e t w e e n the village story a n d t h e S a n s k r i t purcina should b e n o t e d . T h e folk-myth is not a tale o f w a r . T h e w o m a n is a n o r d i nary h o u s e w i f e w h o . in a n e x c e s s o f lury at d e c e i t a n d defilement, g r o w s ,in physical stature. a n d b e c o m e s a d e m o n i c g o d d e s s . O e s e c r a ~ e dby h e r marriage t o a11 un[ouchable, s h e can n o l o n g e r b e part o f a n y h o u s e h o l d O r C ~ r n r n ~ ~ n so i t ys:h e d e s t r o y s h e r h o ~ i s e ( s e t sfire lo it in s o m e yersions), her children, h u s b a n d a n d m o ~ h r r - ~ a - l ; l wa.n d finally t h e vill;qe. S u c h

502 1 7.he collected E.SS"JJ.S of A . K . Krr~rrtr~l~i/clr~ acts are against every code of the wifely role w h ~ c hshe is now b ~ r r s t l ~ ~ through; violated. she violates in turn. And unlike Kali, she actually has children here, and enact, hotll the loving and the terrible mother in two stages. Her acts give an actual village its name (onturu-h'rrttf7:']>laceof [the goddess'^] leaps'). and in turn, she gets her name from it (Antaragattamma). As the name suggests, by the time we come to the end of the story, she is the goddess or the village. When an epidemic strikes, it is seen as her fury; but only she can protect her village from it; and as she is the village herself. she also suffers her own fury. Thus is she manyphased and multi-vocal. Clearly, there are honlologies between buffalo, untouchable and the epidemic (that occasions the goddess-cult) as forces of intrusion and disorder, as there are homologies between the gardens that buffaloes ravage, the brahman woman and the village in the throes of an epidemic (Brubaker 1978,345). The village story begins in the ilk& mode as a folktale with no names of places or persons, with a household theme of marriage and family. It ends outdoors, as puccim, with dire public consequences-as the poddess's action destroys villages, creates and gives names to new ones. Meanwhile, the protagonist herself gets a local habitation and a name. Theendof the story isdense with names. Wesee a movement froma folktale to a myth in the course of the telling. We see a myth being created before our eyes, even as a goddess grows out of an ordinary mortal, made rage. Such a movement from a household to numinous by ~~ncontrollable a public realm is characteristic also of many classical Tamil p w a m poems: ELEGY O N A YOUNG WARRIOR

0 heart sorrowing for this lad

once scared of a stick lifted in mock-anger when he refused a drink of milk, now not content with kill~ng war-elephants with spotted trunks. this son of the strong lnan who fell yesterday seems unaware of the arrow In 111swound,

I

I

i

Two li(>c~lr~l.+ c?f Ktrnnc~daFolklorr / 503

his head of h a ~ 1s r plurned like a horse's he's fallen on his shield, his beard still soft.

The poem, like the folk myth above, opens with a homely childhood scene and goes swiftly to a battlefied. spanning a lifetime, moving outward. There are many other aspects of this folk myth that deserve comment, but I shall content myself with one-its relation to the classic The emphasis in the Antaragattamnla story is on the self-crecrti of a goddess (unlike the Goddess created hy the great gods in the passage from the classical myth given above). and on her containment by villagers who try both to pacify her and to keep her out by giving her a dwelling-place, a nele, outside the village, by giving her a specific name and a sacrifice (of her husband or buffalo-surrogate) she demanded. All this becomes possible and necessary because a woman is (u) desecrated and (b) by a marriage between brahman and untouchable, representing the two ends of the social and ritual hierarchy. both capable of special powers, one of brahmanical purity, the other of magical sorcery and dan'~ desecration, violence and nliscegenation are gerous p ~ l l u t i o n .Such conditions for the eruption of demonic divinity. There are many other folk-myths depicting these conditions: the birth-stories of AiyanBr; the Renuk-Ellamma myths with the transposed heads of brahman and untouchable; the vil piittu narrative of Muttuppattan. the Tinnevelli culture-hero, a brahman who loves and marries outcaste cobbler women, &comes chieftain of a cobbler village, is killed by robbers in battle and There is no talk of chastity and its powers here, as there is in classical Tamil or Sanskrit epics-where chaste women ~ u t i v r u t u s are ) central figures (see Narayana Rao). Yet the story of Kannaki in the Tamil epic C i l a ~ ~ ( i t ~ r i r (and i s r despite . her becoming a goddess of chastity (pattini), follows a pattern very similar to our folk-myth. She is a quiescent, even ?lourless wire-figure until she hears that her h ~ ~ b a l has l d been falsely ?used and brutally executed, and she herself widowed. She then flies Ultoa fury, flings her breast on the towers of Mat~rraiand bums i t down. 'he becomes a goddess. and people ~nstallher image and propitiate her, nest^, can be yeen rna~nly;IS, story 21 h o ~[he ~ l p~~erofchactity.eclue~,'awilh ~~I,xI.s, 'burning'. because both have pent-up fires of self-control

and a tendency lo start con!-Iagr-alionh.13111the excess o f ~ ~ gthe e . power of an ordinary woman to explode 111loa goddess when she is given sufficienl charge of anger. s e e m s to me t o be the underlyin: pattern. I1 I S as a theory o f e m o t ~ o an s a theology: together they make a special recognisable genre, the folk-myth of [he village goddess. Now, what happens when classical myths are borrowed and retold by fo[k-performers? We d o have. for instance. folk Rdmfinr!lt~sand M[rhGbllaratas (Ragau and Basavay ya 1973). For one thing. in Kannada they appearlnosllp in bits andpieces. 1know oforlly one whole folk R r i ~ ~ i i i y ~ ~ s o far in Kannada. ILis sung in ils entirety by the Tamburi Dasayyas, but even [his is only lhree thousand lines long. Looking at them in the light of thesanskritic epic (eilher in Sanskrit o r in Kannada transposilions like the Torave RGmGyopa), o n e can point to three kinds of striking changes in the folk-form. All three of them tip mythology, a public form, toward a more domestic genre. First of all, the gods and heroes are domesticated. H e r e is an example. When R%ma banishes the pregnant Sila Lo the forest, s h e weeps and wishes for death. Birds and bears and lions feel her misery. Unable to bear it any longer. s h e decides to drown herself in the Ganges. A s she falls into the water, two fish rescue her, hold her by the hand, ant1 bring': her back to dry land. W e learn that the two fish were really born when R%ma in his faraway capital wept over the terrible thing he had done to Sit& and shed tears. and cleared his nose into the Ganges water; his gobs of snot had been transformed into the two fishes. They were his body's unwitting offspring. Sita, though distraught, finally responds lo [he affeclion and concern of these fish, 2nd a s k s [hem their names. They say. 'Kuscala' and 'Avulu' (nonsense words). S h e offers to reward [hem with her necklace, which they refuse. S o she decides to name the [wins in her womb after them. Hence theil- names, KuSca and Lava, which are slightly &arbled versions of KuSa and Lava. the names ofthe twins in [he R(imfij,ti!1t1.S U C ~ folk-etymologies are collrmou in these renderings (and not U ~ L I S ~ ; I Iin the Sanskritic epics either). Not on1 has the folk version added an episode, and connected ~ m a ' s grief with Sit5.i: rehcue. i t glves R5ma a hullran nose and g o b of snot (goppr.).In the SansLrilrc I i\ i112Ii! ; i l l Ilrcii~~ ~ l ~~ \L .I I l t ' \ i i l ( I \ Ihc \ ~ I I I ~ ~ - L ~ O I I I I ~ C I I I I ~ amyth set 111 the ~ ; I \ I \+ 1111 ; I I ~ I I U I , , ~ e>, , -L -LI I II I~I IC111e , p1.ew11t.SLICII COIII~~C. tions are ~ n a d e111 ; i l l [ l ~ l e selli1c1!li e I I I ~ I L I ~ . 1\ 1 1 ~ : \)lnhc)l~c.the Iconic. al~tl & e i n d e ~ ~ cI ~I I t( 'lI ,I ~ I I . I ~ \ I ' ~ I I ~ L . C l' e, i 1 0 , I O L ~ ~ ~ J ~;I.\ ~ 111~ 1 J1 1IR ~ I ~ ~I I~~ ;I I ~I I~; I I / I ~ I pura S I O I ~111~1ke ~ 1 1 ,1 i ~ ( i ( ,(11 ~ iL(O I ~ I I L .I (I O I I 1 \ 1 1 111epi:ice I \ 1 1 1 ~L I I I I L Y X I 1 0 1 [he illc~derl~ . \ I , C>\;III,I,I:O I . I I I C !, O O I ~ \ \ O I I I L I W I I ~ ~IleO I I I I I I ) I \ I ~ I I I I I O fo1 v:i~.\~l;l$i,\ l > L l ~ ~ , l l l \ c I. l l l t > C . I O ~ > ~ . 1 ' 1 :Ill 0111011 I \ Ilkr llle cllll~~ll $11 \ r L ! l t \ l l

5 1 (, / 7./1r C'r,//ei.rrtlt . s . \ / / l ~t!f. ~A.K. I~trr~lct~i~rjoil

v , ~ illld ~ ,anrrthe~. ~ ~ crc~sssectio~iis like 111sdiscus. Another

c l ~ ~ ~ l l i n ~ Purinas is only a nlatter of'degree) we s e e clearly and in extreme forms t r y a s the r l l i : U r ; ~ i ~ p ; ~didn't d i want her husband Ul111n~ the nature of texts. ~>articul:~rly Indian texts. We have been reminded in the last few years by text-tlle~rythat ever to forget hel- sorrow when they l i ~ e dincogn~toin Vira!a's court. S o she r"raved to Kysna. who cl-eated onions and threw [hen>rnlo B h i r n ; ~ ' ~ . any text is a new tissue of past c~tations.Bits of .codes, formulae, ~.hythmic k i ~ c h e n Every . time Ile peeled ;In onion. he would remember l l r a ~ ~ p n d i ; models, fragmentsofsocial languages, etc.. ~ 2 1 into ~ s the text andare redjstl.ibuthis eyes would burn and keep his revenge alive. Folk or false etymolop~es ed within it, and there is always l;~nguageheio~-e and al-oundthe text. Intertextuality, (false from the point of linguistic inquiry), again a favourite feature of the condition of any text whatsoever. cannot of course be reduced to a problem of sources or influences; the intertext is ;I general field of anonyn~ousformulae Sanskritic myths. connect a langnage item or a place name to a mythic whose origin can scarcely ever be located: of unconscious or automatic quotaevent. for example. the etymology for Riimanathapura. tions. given without quotation marks.h In many ofthe features. the folk-myths are similarto the Sanskritic or 'classical' Puriinic myths-except that we see them not in texts but in Folk-texts, especially, never let you forget the intertextual nature of everyday speech. in a collective yet diachronicprocess, the stories being all texts. It also helps to s e e the many narrative genres of a cultural unit varied, reworked, etymologised, informed, o r garbled by successive tel(family, caste, village, and s o forth) in relation to each other in a kind of lers-not really diKeren~.indeed. .from the variant Puranic texts themecological array of genres: folktales and folk-myths, texts in mother selves, except that in the latter the variation is not a s variable and the tongues and in Sanskrit (and other father-tongues), oral and written in ~ r o c e s sis arrested by the fixation of texts. their fixed and fluid forms (for both oral and written have both) and s o on. Out of such shifting materials, such srrr?cCiri (changing) motifs. a Furthermore, motifs, structures, and whole narratives may move though stIr8yi (relatively stable) folk Puriina crystallises around a charismatic different genres and acquire different properties and meanings accordfigure, a combination o f hero, saint, and god, who claims miracles, coling to the ambience of each genre. Contrary to one of the early principles lects devotees, asserts power over evil, becomes the center of a cult in of transformational grammar, we need lo assert that meaning is notconsa 1,)cale. Puriinas, whether Sanskritic or folk, differ from other texts. tant under transformations. Each text has to be read for itself and in conThey've been called 'mosaics' (Bonazzoli). T o know a work of KSlidSsa text to get its meanings. Texts cannot predict contexts, structures cannot is to know his exact words. But few Hindus, if any, know a Pursna a s a predictfunctions, nor motifs and types meanings. Archetypes are empty whole text; they just know the stories. They fit LCvi-Strauss's descripunless cultures, by which I mean sub-cultures, fill them. In the light of all tion of myths a s stories that survive translation (unlike poetry which. acthese remarks, I'd like briefly to characterise folk-Puriinas and present cording toFrost, is what gets lost). Like most Hindus, for instance. 1 know a section from Mnlevn M8tle.41~1rt1. tlie detitiis ol' the trl,crtilr,sol' Visnu. bul I d o not know the Vi.snli P~rr.G!lll. Folk Puriinas in Kannada are distinguished l r o ~ nother folk-narratives (I've argued elsewhere that the Epics are similarly held in Hindu memoby the following characteristics. ries, thouyh parts of noth her-tongue texts tend to be remembered verba-5 1 . They a r e sung, ~naintained.and learnt according to certain ritual tim, especially ifthey are consideredsacred. IikeTulsi's K8ti~ccrritt?1/7r1trs. prescriptions by a group of specialists devoted to a specific god and iniAmong the Pur21,as. [he Hl~fi~crvcrttr may be among the exceptions.) In tiated by, and raised to perform, special observances. spite of repeated eSforts to i n ~ p o s es c h e ~ n e sand canoils on then1 from 2. A musical instrument syrrlbolic (or i c o n ~ co r indexical) of the god time to time. Puranas are open systems. In T a ~ n i Ithe . Ktrntn Pltr.Cirirnr 1s is used in the singi~ig/ct~;~ntinglreciting of'the PurSna, usi~allyin a group called kc~t~iiiipn,rimrm. ~ n e i ~ ~ i ial lPirrina ? o l k o n t r or kcinvrl. o l GIFT.of with foreground (tnutrlrnfltr) and backgl.ound ( I ~ i n l m F l ~performers. ) 'shreds and patches'. I recently Sound references to Christ. Mosey. the When not in use, these instrument\ are worshipped at the g o d ' s ;~ltar. Messiah. Noah and Qlleen Victoria in the appl-opriately up-to-dare ljkcl3. These Puranas are performed 011 special days (pilgrimayes and lmis\.cl P~rvfintr.P~tr8~rtr,~trni h\rrn:ttti. says an olcl Nirrikrtr cornmer~lal.\---lh~ Occasions) and in places sacl-ed to the god. ~ l t 1)ecomes l new. exactly like ally loll\-rext. One may g o I'urthei. ;III(I say 4. These ~ L I I - r a t i va1.e e s Ions. x e v e r ~ nights ~l long. They contain chantlhi~lIn stlch texts a s the Purfini~s( a s \l~yyr\teclabove, the tlill'el-en~ein . ed Prose, verse, song. and rel.r:tins. They are segmented i n scilrr 01- line. r;tllfe 01. variation hetweeli S ~ I I I Y ~W ~ II-~i ~IrL eones n, ancl {lie OI:IIloik L I

s

5 18 / The Co{lecrer( E,s.sny.\' c ~ fA . K . Ktmmtr1~ujcrt7 and kava(t)[uorbranch (section). Scilu represents a night's o r two nights' worth of narrative: krrvolu is a sub-story, a shorter narrative within the main one, not a unit of time. NO single teller (to our knowledge) sings all of them, though he may know ofthem. Ofthe fourteen sdlusof Miidc.h.:lrtr, collected by P.K. RSjaSEkhara from nearly twenty singers in 1973, few singers knew more than a couple. In a sense the entire folk PurFina is known in detail only to a folklorist, who is a modern Vyasa. Folhlore in its nathral state has S u t a s o r reciters, but not Vy3sas o r editors. 5. Like the Sanskritic Puranas, the story begins with acreation-myth (certainly the two major Kannada Puriinas do)-ihough one can find them also without such creation-myths. They also contain a series of 'etiological' episodes that explain the names and epithets of the god/ herofsaint (for he is all three), the holy places he visited, destroyed, blessed, or cursed. T h e criss-cross wanderings of the hero thus m a p his country, inscribing telltale traces of his' miracles, wars, stratagems and so forth on places, many of them ending in the conversion of unwilling or arrogant people into devotee^.^ 6. One last point: in terms of Sanskritic Epics and Puriinas, folklore in general, and folk PurFinas in particular, present an alternative world; they are what we may call 'counter-texts' to their better-known 'classical' analogues. They may use (see earlier discussion of Table 1) many of the s a m e characters, motifs, and s o on ( a s Puriina experts will immediately recognise) but counter and invert them and give them new meanings. I shall present the opening creation-myth from Madeivtrru; to convey the style and tone of the Puriina. Then I shall suggest a few ways in which the folk Puriina u s e s and inverts classical motifs. A CREATION-MYTH IN A FOLK PURANA

~ d i i a k tcame i ~ n t obeing three days before earth, heaven, and the netherworld came into being, three days before Brahma, Visnu, and ~ l v a . As time passed, she attained puberty She looked at the sky and said. 'Ahhu. nothing in sight to satlsfy my pasylon. to please my youth. I've to (belget one myself.'

On Folk AQthologies and gave birth to Brahmi.

.

When Brahn~iiwas born. four faces and eight hands, she said to him: 'My boy, do you know why I've brought you into the world? I'm young and need a man to satisfy me. Look at me and be my husband. I'll give you all my arts and the world will be yours.' BrahmZ heard what h ~ mother s said and let out four sighs. 'Mother, you bring me into the world and ask me to be your husband. Would that be right? Your are my mother.' 'Che, idiot,' she said. 'Is it for this I got you? Bum then for your disobedience.' So saying. she placed her hand on his head. Her hand had an eye of fire and it burned him to ashes.

'I created this four-faced creature to take care of my youth. but he wouldn't. We'll have to get a new one.' said she, and on the second day she (be)got Ma'Isnu (Mahivisnu). He looked beautiful to her, even better than the four-faced one. Her youth overflowed and she giggled and giggled with pleasure. Ma'Isnu asked her. 'Mother, why d o you laugh like that?' She sat hiin next to her and said lovingly, looking at his face: 'My man, do you know why I've got you here') I got one yesterday, but he wouldn't do

clrid

Folk Purrinus 1 5 19

Or7 Folk h1~rhol0,~~ic.s ontl Folk PI(I.(~IIN.Y / 52 1

what I asked h11n to d o him to he nly hushant! and satisfy me. I quench my youth's p;~\sion. Let's live a s ~fwe ;Ire on lhr o c e ~ l n of milk, I said But he wouldn't look at me. he talked back. S o I burned him to ;)shes. I want you to look at rne, h e rny husband and quench my passion,' said the G r e i ~ tMother. T h e hair on M a ' l s n u ' s hody stood on end 'What kind of new talk i s this'?' he said. '1s this dharmu? You give hirth to Ine and ask m e to look at you and be your husband. In the world yet to corlle, in that arrangement of things, would the children born tu the mother g o to the mother'?' T h e Great Mother said, 'Son, shouldn't a s o n g o to the mother?' M a ' l s n u knew all about this. H e said. 'Children g o to the mother to drink her milk, to give her happiness. Would they satisfy the passion of the mother who bore them? W h y did you beget m e ? I can't look at you.' h e said. S h e listened to Isnu. H e r youth n i ; ~ k e sher prance. H e r e y e s are full. H e r body is filling out like a bright yellow lemon. S h e w a s now in a rage. 'Look. I got t11i.s fellow but he won't satisfy me. W h y should I let him live? I'll burn him down just like the other one.' s h e said and turned him to ashes. All s h e had to d o w a s to place her hand with its e y e of flre o n hrs head and he went up in flames. B y the thrrd clay. hrirnmrng wrth youth s h e couldn't bear r t any more

S h e thought, ' I ~ l ' hg r ( a thl.t.e-ryed one for the third clay. What d o e s it matter- if he cIoe\ nc,t s;ltihfy m e ? L e t ' s get a fellow t the w()l.ld.. who will bring I ~ g h to S a y i n g that, with her nliyd [ p o w e r o f illuslonl s h e ( b e ) g r ~ ~t i v a . ' M y boy,' s h e said, 'I got you here to s a t i ~ f vmy youth, to quench Iny passion. I'll be yours, you he mine. R e my husband and give me pleasure.' 'Mother. you didn't w a i t l o n g to s a y such good words, did you? D o s o n s and mothers e v e r get together like that? That's not right. If that's right, dharma will be in ruins, knrnlu will increase. No, mother, this won't do. I won't raise my e y e s and look at you,' said Madeivaara [ ~ i v a ] . a d i ~ a k t replied, i 'If you and I d o n ' t live together a s husband and wife, the world will not sprout, the dark that's around will not clear up, and how will the world s e e light? Where will children corrle from anti f;~niilylife begin? Don't talk like a cowal-d now and ruin yourself. Just listen to me and become my hushand '

'I c a n ' t . I ci~rl'tbe your h u s b ; ~ n d mother. , and I don't want yo^^ to be my wife. If we live ; I \ hushand and wife. the Wishing Cow will g ~ v eI I O rnilk. mothel. earth will h e stunted. clou(ls won't y;rther a n d p o u ~down rain. the fil-e gotltless will turn away. [he G a n g e s w ~ l lvanish.

522 / The C'olicc.teti E.s.stiv.s of A.K. K ~ i t n r i t ~ ~ ~ j t i ~ l In the Kali Age yet to come. those who say Siva w ~ l lforgel Siva. those who say Hara will not know Hara. 1,iriga-less heretics will rule the world, darkness will shroud the world. dhartna will be in ruins, kurmrr will swell. NO, no. I'll not look at you.' ' ~ r ~ b t i imy a , son. You are young, but your talk is neat. You are clever, smooth; your words have colour. But don't you know I'm ~ d i i a k t i ? All three gods are in my hands. Fire, Ganges, gods, anti-gods, the human race, are in these hands. The world IS entirely inside my heart. Who's greater than me? My hands have the power to create worlds, and the power to burn them down. Look at me, and satisfy me, cover my youth.' 'Mother. are you the eldest, the greatest, in the world?' 'Yes, son. I'm Adiiakti.' 'Mother, ~fI don't become your husband, what will you d o to me?' 'I'll burn you down in a minute.' 'Really?' 'Really. I got two more like you before you They refused to satisfy me. said like you that they wouldn't do that to me, their mother S o I thought,.Why should they grow up? and I burned them to ashes.' He listened carefully. He was born w ~ t hlong matted hair; it cascaded down h ~ aforehead He gathered it up and tied it over his head The Great Mother's youth brinlrned over. He asked. 'Mother, where at-e thehe fellows you burned down'?' 'Not far from you. Turn around.' Madeva turned around and saw two heap5 of ash. The hair on his body stood on end. 'She'll do the same to me.' he thouglil and became wary.

017

F o l k M ~ t h ~ and ~ l Folk ~ ~ Pu.rri!ztr.s i ~ . ~ / 523

'Mother, you are the $1-eatest. YOUgot lrle So thi~tI could be your husband. Right? tlon't yo^^ want to see me prow u p and become bigger than you') Don't you think the husband should he stl-onger than the wife?3 S h e agreed. made a pavilion for him to grow up in and saw him grow. Then she said, 'My boy. I've helped you grow from a little man to a big one. You now look taller than me. Come now, satisfy me.' 'Wait, wait a little. mother. You've walked this long. can't you w a ~just t a little bit more?' S h e was happy. She thought, 'Ahhu, he will satisfy me.' S h e asked him. 'What else d o you want?' 'Mother, if you want rne to be your husband, shouldn't I the husband be stronger than the wife? Teach me all your arts,' said Madeva. ' ~ a b d t a my , son. I'll teach you a11 my arts and make you powerful. What do you want? I can give birth, bum, create things.' 'Mother., you give birth. You burn. You make, you break. If I have to be your husband. I must have at least a feather's worth more than your powers.' S h e was amazed at his words. She looked at the sky :tnd then she said, 'But why d o you want these powel.s?' 'Mother, if you want me to be your husband, you must fill me w ~ t hyour eneryy and enterprise. I must light up the woi-Id. I must darken the liyhted world. I must give b ~ r t hto celestral\, I-eal-humans, create Soddesse.; like \?;I-i. Ilurgi, and (~'handi, three hun(1reJ iniIIicln ~ I I C I S , &'~~~~//~tit~l~os, ~ I L . ? ( I>., , ( I ~ I I I ( I I O . \ . K i l i Mihilis,

O n Folk My/Iioluglea 011dFolk PrrMrio.\ / 525 create earth, heaven. and the netherworlds. ten directions all a!-ound, S U I I and moon. Indra and N ~ r a d a b. ~ r d s den:ons. . men, and three crores of creatul-esteach me to d o all that.' boy, I've this ring on my hand. ~ 1 mv 1 power is in it. ~f I take it off and lay it on the ground, 1'11 not have the strength to take a step. And if I lose the eye of fire in my palm, 1'11 have no life at all. Let me keep my eye of fire. Here, take my ring. wear it, you'll see the universe in this diamorrd,' said she, full of love and infatuation. d

~

y

~ i v learned a all her arts from her. MZdeSvara, lord with the eye of fire. H e felt like laughing. but the mother didn't understand his tricks 'What else d o you want to learn?' she asked 'Ammd. I'm expert in all the ails now. I want to ask you something. [ have your rnuyu, your arts, your powers. Now who's greater, you o r me'?'

'My child, what does it rrlatter how many arts you've l e a ~ n e d ? I'm the one who brought you forth, am I not the one who gave you all your powers'?' A s she said 11. he laughed aloud 'You haven't lost your high and mighty ways. mother. Am I not greater than you now? All your powers are in my hands.' 'But my son, I am ~ d i i a k t i the . source of all those arts.

'Am I not then gl-eatel-than

my child,,. 'Anlma. then let.5 do someth~ng.'said

our father.

'What's that?' 'Let's not argue. Let's see who is greater Let's dance,' said he. 'If you and I face each other and dance, you[. passion will increase. When you overflow with it, I'll be your mate.' 'How will you d o that?' 'Let's dance.

If you defeat me, if you win. I'll be your husband.'

,.jabaio, that's my boy. Let's dance, a s you wish.' 'Let's get ready then, mother,' said Madeva and began to dance. When he stamped his foot, s o did she. When he lifted a leg, s o did she. S h e did not s e e through MrideSvara's stratagem. S h e danced better than Madeva, harder and harder. All s h e wanted was to defeat him. Streams of sweat ran down her body. Her hair longer than two arms carne loose Iike a haystack. S h e had no care even fol- her modesty. S h e danced and danced. Then, a s he was getting tired. our father the wizard placed his own right hand on his head. S h e too forgetfully placed her right hand on her head, and at once she went up in t1anle.s. did the Great Mother. Even ;I.\ s h e burned. she came towards him saying, 'My son, I brought you tiir-th. but you are greater than me.

On F'olk M y t h o l o g i ~ snnd Folk P~rrCnus/ 527 Take my eye of fire.' ~~d $he wanted to give him the Eye, but he thought. burn me down.' 2u1d vanished. ',&d,iakti Maker of Seven Hills, the solitary one. AdiSakti was full of grief. yo! With whom can I share this sorrow? 0 eye of fire, you go now to illy son's forehead and become his third eye,' she crled. Then. even as she turned to ash. she cursed Siva: 'He refused a woinan, s o may his body be stuck with ,the very kind of fertiale he refused.' Who knows what's first? The seed, or is i t the tree? Only Midappa, ~ i v who a is ~ d i i a k t i , only he k n o n s . In t h e n e x t section o r k a v a t l u (branch), ~ i v ma a k e s BrahmH a n d Visnu r i s e f r o m t h e i r a s h e s a n d tells t h e m w h a t h e h a s d o n e , h o w h e h a s burned d o w n AdiSakti, a n d h e s h o w s t h e m t h e h e a p o f a s h . T h e y p r a i s e h i m a s t h e f i r s t g o d of t h e world a n d e m b r a c e h i s f e e t . Then Miideva said, 'We three are Brahnil, Visnu, and Iivara: the Three Gods of the world. W e have to create three million worlds. three inillion gods. human beings, demons, kinnams, ?nk.s.m.c,11ldra.sand Naradas, eighty million beings, plants and trees and tubers; and also the oceans. If all this is to be done, we need women. W e must marry and rule our wives. Kailasa, Vaikuntha, and Brahmaloka are yet to be created. Let's not throw away the ashes of our mothel., but share them.'

The three of the111 went and stood befol-e the ashes. now d ~ v i d e d into three heaps. ~ i v held a out the iring that the Great Mother had given hlrn and placed it once on each of the he;lps. Out of them rose three women: Pirvati who 1s Isnu's si.ster, Sarasvati who is Siva's sister, Laksmi who is Brahmi's sister. ~ i v married a the first. Brahma married the second, and Isnu the third Then each said to the other, 'I've given my sister in marriage to you. and married your sister. We are brothers-in-law to each other in more ways than one. Let's create the worlds.' Then ~ i v created a heaven and three paradises, Vaikuntha, Brahmaloka, and Kailasa the first for Isnu and Laksmi, the second for Brahmi and Sarasvati, the third for ~ i v and a PIrvati. In heaven, he created eighty(?) inlllion beings, gods, men. demons, birds, ants. chameleons, lizards, snakes, scorpions. bushes, reeds, trees, plants, tubers. Then our father the wizard Miideva called all living beings and said to them. 'Children, you will not suffer l suffer hunger old age or death, you w ~ l not or thirst. One thing but: you should not eat the plants. break the trees or pluck the fl.u~t. If you do. you'll be 111 trouble. ' All the eiphty million creatures listened to h ~ m , shook their heads in assent and said. 'We'll do as you wish. YOUilre the lord ol.the wo1.1d.'

On !.olk M\tho/o,ylc)\ tri~tlF o l k Purcinns / 529

Among these eighty ~ i l ~ l l ~ o n . there were cats and hens a s well. O n e d a y , when the hen laid an egg. the s n a k e looked at ~t and wanted to eat it. But he knew i asked them to eat nothing. that ~ i v ; had 'But I want to eat that egg.' he sald to himself and went to the gods. H e tried to persuade them to eat the grain. the plants and tree> and become strong. But they were angry with him. T h e y drove him away. saying, 'This black snake , will not only ruin himself, he will destroy all of us.' Then he went to where the d e m o n s and h u m a n s were sitting around. He called out to them. 'People, this is not fair: W e don't have the strength that the gods have. If w e can eat the grain and the leaves and the fruits here, w e will become strong. T h a t ' s why S i v a has ordered u s not to eat anything T h i s is not good for US. If w e want more strength we must eat. S i v a too deceives. L e t ' s g o against what he said, and eat food.' T h e d e m o n s and Inen felt the d e s ~ r eto eat. T h e y began to pull off and eat seeds, t w ~ g s leaves. , bark. and all. T h e selpent devoured the egg. They .tll 11laJe a n1es.s of heaven. It stank of dil-t and shit. M;ltlev;i hec;lme aw;~l-eot the way men nntl cle111oll\had h e c o ~ ~low ~ ehelng\. Ide cul-sed then): 'Yo11 w~clow\'\on\.

I gave you n o t h ~ r s t .no hunger You went against my ol-ders and you have made heaven a dirty stinking place. You are not f ~ to t live there.' He humnloned Brahmii and said. 'These d e m o n s and men have spoiled heaven. they have 1r;ivaged the plants and eaten them Let u s move them frorn there. Create the earth and cast them down there.' T h e rE!i.\.cr.sas and human beings heard this and c a m e running. They fell on his feet and pleaded. 'Lord, why d o you want to throw 11s out? It is not o u r fault. It is all the fault of that snake that's lylng there.' Madeva said to Brahmii, 'Create a netherworld and send that snake there.' Then the snake woke up and pleaded. 'Why a r e you sending m e to the netherworld? I talked to them but they listened. They a r e the o n e s who ate everything. and now they are carryin: tales against me.' Madeva said, 'You c ; ~ n ' e\cape t punishment You can't s a y it ~ \ n ' t your fault. And I can't take hack Iny cul-se. I'll let you he in two places, in the netherwolld and also round my neck.' Brahmii created the eal-th and sent d e m o n s and humans and many other b e ~ n pthere. When the d e m o n s and humans g r ~ e v e dand cried aloud. S i v a s a ~ t l , 'People. ~fyo11 uenle~nhel-rile w ~ t hdevotion. and behave yourselves. 1'11 protect YOLI In t ~ i i l eof~ trouble.'

O!! l , ~ / ,k\ f \ ~ ~ / 7 , , ~ 0 , y ,(l,,(i 0 , , ~ ~ , ~ F1t,ratr(1.\. ~ l k 53 I

purc?1l:i I . ~ \ \ O I L YI ~ ~ ~ ) I I II.OIII I\ 1 l l V JJ~~~-~.~~~~ ~ o o l'rhr . lrlyth here. like ~ t h e r ~ ( ~ l ~ ~ e l l - c ~~ ~ l l ~~ )r ~ e ~~ 1- ~ ~, I ]I\ o : !~ I ? 1I ~ ~I ~ ~I\cry I ~~ .[emjnjlle ~ ~ 1 , (eifer, felnir~rst)\'ie\v 01'lhe I ~ I I I C I1\ ~I : 1 1 1 1 t 1 ~ 0 1 tile ~: sc,uri.e O ~ . n l l cl-eatlon wa\ a

way.' s~licl.~Dcill.:,Illsol)hrcrrl M(,~liod. Oxtord. C larenrlon. ~ ; ~ ~ ~ ) ~ k ,C..and ~ d w Denise a r d I,evertov.trans. I907. 111/ ' r t r l . \ ~ e ( ! f ' K r i ~ I\;ew /i~~~. York: Doubledtly. ~ l i ~T.S. t . 1951. S(~Iec.rc,tlE.scl,,.\. London: Faher. (Qui~tatlonfl-om the eshay. 'Tladition and the IndiviJual Talent', in this volume.) Fedson, Vijayarani Jotim~lttu.198 1 . The Tan111serial or conlpound verh Ph.1) dissertat~on,University of Chicago. Goldman, Robel-t P.. trans. 1985. Tlze RrTm2yarla nf \'Elrniki. Vol. I . tl2l(tk2r1&1. Princeton. N.J.: Princeton University Press. Govind;lcarya, A. 19 10. The astadaid bhedas, or the elghteerl points of doctrinal differences between the Tengalais (southerllers) and the Vadagalais (northerners) of the Visistadvilita Vaisnava school. south India. Journolof !he Royal Asialic Society ( 19 10): 1 103-1 2. Ingalls, D.H.H., trans. 1965. An An~hologyofSariskri~ Cnurl P o e l n . Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univer-sity Press. Matilal, Bimal K. 1988. Lecture at the University of Chicago (13 April). McGann. Jerome J . 198s. Theory of texts. London Re~iien~oj'Books (18 February 1988): 21. O'Flaherty, Wendy Doniger. 1975. Hindu Myrhs. New York: Penguin Books. . trans. 1981. The Rig Veda. New York: Penguin Books. 1984. Dreorns, ~ l l u s i o n s and , Other Realities. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Ramanujan. A.K., trans. 1967. The It~reriorLnndscape; Love Poems fro~rra Classicrrl Tamil Anthology. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. . 1973. Speaking o f ~ i l ~ New u . York: Penguin Books. . 198 1 . HYrnnsf,r the Drorvnit~g.Princeton. N.J.: Princeton IJniver-slty Press. --- ] 9 8 ~Poems ~ . of'Lor~~ clrtd Wur. New York: Columbia University Press. 1985b. Food for thought: Towards an anthology of Hindu food images. Paper delivered at symposium on food at the Srxth International Conference on Selnlotics and Structural Studies. Central Institute of Indian Languazes. Mysore. 1986. Two realins of Kannada folklore. Pp. 41-75 in Blackbul-II and Kamanujan 1986. 1987. Three hundred Riir,lci!~trrla\~.Paper presented at the Conference on C o n ~ p a r : ~ t ~Clvil17at1ons. ve Ilnlverslty of Pittsburyh. Shulman. David D. 1986. B'11tle ah metaphor In Tam11folk and class~caltext'.. Pp. 105-30 In Blackburn and Rarnanu1;ln 19x6. Siegal. Lee 19S7 krrc,pilrn,q Marfr~-,.:('o~riic. 7'1-c~rlirro~~ in l~i(liti.C h i ~ i l c ~ : University of Chicago Press van Buitenen. J.A.B.,trans. 1073. T/lr M < r h i t l ~ l ~ ~ rVclI a r c ~I ('hrc:~po:I l n ~er'.lt!' \ of ('hlcazo Prei'..

-

Wilson. F r i ~ ~ l c its~. ~ 1 197.5 \ . Tl~t,I,OI.C I]/ KI.~.\/III(I: K ~ . S I ~ ( I ~ I I ~(I/ I II ~ ,j~ / ~I~I ,I.sc~,rcc, r : ~Iricfio. New York: Harcourt BI-ace. Geertz. Clitfi)rd. 197; 7 7 1/~I I I ~ I ~ I I - ~01~('lrlrur-rs. I ~ I / ~ O New , I Yol-k: Basic BOO^^. Harpel. Edward H . 1050 A Il~l>tllr\.~ll;isepa~>theon. S ~ i r l h n ~ c s r ,/OIII-~I(I/ c ~ ~ l 01. Arirhr-r~~)olo,c.\ 15. "7-34. Hegel. ( i r o ~ Wilhrlm c F I I ~ L I I( ~IS771 L I ~ 1.c.r lItrc2,\,(~fl ll~r,Phrlo\r),jl~i o/H~.,rori.. Indell. Konaltl L3 1978. K i l ~ i ~ ii1~itl101.1t~ l a ~ ryv11c ~ i tlnle in Hintiu Ain.\h~p Pp. Z,Y 73 111 ~ ' I I I ~ \ /o11c1 I I / I~ I I T / I I I111I I.SOUI/I ~\ A . \ I ~ed , IOI,II F R~cllii~.(l\

556 / N o t e s trnd References publication series, public;itio~>no. 3. M;~dison:South AsIan Studles. Uill versity of Wisconsin. Levi-Strauss, Claude. 1962. The Savu,?~Mirld. Chicago: IJnivers~tyof Chicago Press. Lingat, Robert. 1973. The Clas.\.ical Lurr c?ilt~dio. Translated by D.M. Derrett Berkeley: Un~versityof California Press. Lyons, John. 1571 Ir~iroductionto Theoretlc.al L2inguistics. Cambridge: Cam bridge Un~versityPress. Mackie. John Leslie. 1977. Erhics: Inventing Righiartd Wrong. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Manu. 1886. The Luws ofManu. Translated by Georg Buhler. Vol. 25. Sacred Books ofthe East. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Marriott, McKim. 1976. Hindu transactions: Diversity without dualism. Pp. 109-42 in Transaction and Meaning: Direriions in the Anthropologv of Exchange and Syn~bolicBehavior, ed. Bruce Kapferer. Philadelphia: Institute for the Study of Hun-ran Issues. . 1980. The open Hindu person and interpersonal fluidity. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Association for Asian Studies, Washington, D.C. Muller, Friedrich Max. 1883. India: What Can It Teach Us? London: Lonpnlans Green. Naipaul, V.S. 1977. Itidia: A Wounded Civilization. New York: Random House. Peirce. Charles Santiago Sanders. 1931-58. Collected Papers. 7 Vols. Can-r bridge Mass.: Harvard University Press. Ramanujan, A.K., trans. 1967. The lr~teriorLandscape: I ~ v ePoems fronr a Classical Tamil Anthology. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. . 1973. Speaking ofSiva. Baltimore: Penguin. . 1980. Hymnsfor the Drowning. Princeton: Princeton University Press. . 1986. Second Sight. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Renou, Louis. 1950a. Un thenie litteraire en sanskrit: les saisons. Pp. 145-54 in Sanskrit et culture. Paris: Payot. . 1950b. Vedique rtu. Archiv orietltaltli 18: 43 1-8. Roland, Alan. 1979. In Search ofthe Se(fin ir~diaarid Japan: Toward a Crossculiurai Psychology. Princeton. Princeton University Press. Said, Edward. 1978. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon. + Shweder, Richard. 1972. Semantic structures and personality assessment. Ph.D. dissertation. Harvard University. Singer, Milton B. 1972. When a Grear Tradition Modernizes. New York: Praeper. Zimmer, Heinrich Robert. 1546. Myths and Symbols in Indian Art and Civilization. New York: Pantheon Zimmermann, Francis B. 1979. Remarks on the body in Ayurvedic med~cine. South Asian Digesr ofRegional Wrrtit~g18: 10-26. . 1980. Rtu-srTtmya: The seasonal cycle and the pr~ncipleof appropriateness. Social Science and Mrdic.tr1r l4B: 99-1 06.

N o t e s (irld h'c~fc~rc~ncc.~ 1557 C H A P T E R 3 . ' I ' O M A R L ) S ;IF ANTHOLOCiY O F CITY I M A G E S

[This essay was puhllshed i n iirl,at~India: Socieq, .ypace and Image, ed. R.G. Fox, monogMph no. 10 (Durham. North Carolina: Duke University Program in Comparative Studies on Southern Asia, 197 1 ), and is reprinted with corrections from that volume.]

I . Mutzu from the root 'man', 'to think'. The progenitor of mankind, created by Brahma. (Translator's footnote.) 2. R~ima-krrths.The recitat~onof the RBt,rQa!la. (Translator's footnote.) 3. Maghavan. A title of the Lord Indra, King of the Celestials. (Translator's footnote.) 4. Amariivati, Lord Indra's Capital. (Translator's footnote.) 5. It is implied that Manu founded the original city on this site, but several cities built by other monarchs succeeded it. (Translator's footnote.) 6. See also Dirnock and Inden on the relative lack of citylcountry opposition in medieval Benpal, though the cultural settings are rather different from Tamilnad. Ayvar. C.P. Venkatarama. [1916.] Town Planning it1 Ancient Dekkan. Madras. Burke, Kenneth. 1962. A Gratnrnar of Motives and a Rhetoric of Mc)tives. Cleveland and New York. Childe. V.G. 1950. The urban revolution. Town Planning R ~ v r e w21: 1. Danielou, Alain, trans. 1965. Shilappadikaram (The Ankle Bracelet) by Prince Ilango Adigal. New York. e. Dirnock, Edward C., trans. 1963. The T h i e f o f h ~ ~Chicago. Dirnock, Edward C., and Ronald B. Inden. 1568. The city in pre-British Bengal, according to the mangala-kavyas. hlin-reographed. Dutt, Binode. 1935. Torvrl Platltling it]Ancient Indiu. Calcutta and Simla. Poets '65, ed. P.L. Ezekiel, Nissim. 1965. In India. In Youtlg Cott~tnotlrr~ealth Brent. London. Ingalls. Daniel H.H. 1965. An Anthology of Sat~skritCourr Poetry. Harvard. Jones. Emry. 1966. Towns and Cities. Cambridge. Lopez, Robert S . 1963. The crossroads within the wall. Pp. 17-43 in The Historian and the C l v , ed. Oscar Handlin and John Buchard. M.I.T. and Harvard. Mardhekar, B.S. 1966. Poems by DilipChitre.Translated Poetry India. Jan.-Mar. Ramanujan. A.K.. trans. 1967. The Interior Land.icape. Indiana. Ramanujan. A.K. 1968. Form in classical Tamil poetry. Proc.eedings of the Symposium on Dravidian Civi1i;trtion. Austin, Texas. Ray, Amita. 1964. Villages, Towt~sanrlSeculcrBuildingsin Ancient India, c. 150 BC-c. AD .350 Calcutta. Redfield. Robert, ar.d Milton B. Singer. 1954. The culturai role o'I cities. Man in ric and Cultural India 36(3): 161-94, first published i n E c o t ~ o ~ ~Developnrertt Change 3( 1 ): 53-73.

558 / Notes and Ref?rc8nces Russell. Ralph, and Khurshidul Islam. 11)h8. Tht-ee M ~ ~ g hPot7i.s. ~ i l Hal-viird. Stein, Burton. 1967. Brahrna~~ and pe;isant in early south Indian history. 7'11~ Adyar Libran Rulleiin 3 1-2. Stern, G.E. 1967. Conversations with McLuhan. Encounter. (June): 52. VHnamSlai. N. 1964. Tamicar Nr7guppiifaika/. Madras. Vatsyayan. S.H. Poems. Translated by the author and L.E. Nathan. Mahfil2(1). Vyas, S.N. 1967. India in ihe Rarnayanlz Age. Delhi. C H A P T E R 4 : F O O D FOR T H O U G H T : T O W A R D S AN A N T H O L O G Y OF HINDU FOOD I M A G E S

[This essay grew out of a paper that Ramanujan wrote in late 1984 and presented in January 1985 at the Sixth International Conference on Semiotics and Structural Studiesat the Central InstituteofIndian Languages, Mysore, Kamataka. He expanded and revised it for publication in a volume of essays edited by Ravindra Khare. The version here is reproduced from a typescript prepared in 1988. Gen. Ed .] Ananthamurthy, U.R. 1976. Sarnskiira. Translated by A.K. Ramanujan. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Beck, Brenda. 1971. Peasarlt Society in Konku: A Study of Right arzd Lefi Subcastes in Sourhlndia. Vancouver: University of BritishColumbiaPress. Eco, Umberto. 1976. A T h e o q of Semiotics. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Ferro-Luzzi, G. Eichinger. 1975. Food avoidances of pregnant women in Tamilnad. In Food. Ecology and Culture, ed. J.R.K. Robinson. Khare, R.S. 1976. Culture und Reality: Essays on [he Hindu System ofMurlagirlg Foods. Simla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study. Marriott. McKim. 1968. Caste ranking and food transactions: A matrix analysis. In Siructure and Change in lrldian Sociec, ed. Milton B. Singer and Bernard Cohn. Chicago: Aldine Publishing Co. O'Flaherty, Wendy Doniger. 1983. ~ i v a Tlw : Erotic Ascetic. Oxford: Oxford University Press. , ed. 198 1 . Karmu and Rebirth in Cla.ss.ica1 Indian Trrtditiorls. Berkele)': University of California Press. Pandya, Vishwajit. 1980.Lnkpaktti:A Studvirz Hindu Ch.'i:~nnandNecronomicorl. M.Phil. thesis. Jawaharlal Nehm University, New Delhi. Peirce. Charles S . 1931-35. Collected Papers. Vol. 3. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Ragelson. Stanley. 1972. Some A.~pectsof Food Beh~lviorin a South Illdian Village. Ph.D. Dissertation, Columbia University. Ramanujan, A.K. 1973. Speuking o f ~ i \ ' a Baltimore: Penguin Books. 1985. Poems o f l o v e and War. New York: Columbia University Pres.; Selwyn, T. 1980. The order of nien and the order of things: An examination of

N o t e s (znd Refrrrt1c.e~1 559

food transact~onsin an Indilir~Village. In~crrzatror~a/Journaloftht~So~io/og~~ ofLaw 8: 297-3 17. van Buitenen, J.A.B. 1959. Ttr1e.c. of Anc.ient India. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Zaehner, R.C. 1969. The Bhagavud-Gitd. Oxford: Clarendon Press. CHAPTER 5: L A N G U A G E A N D S O C I A L C H A N G E : THE T A M I L E X A M P L E

[This essay is reprinted from Problems of Modernization in South hldia, ed. Robert Drake (Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Monograph Series, 1968). It is related to other technical papers in linguistics that Ramanujan published in the 1960s, which are not included in this volume; see especially 'The Structure of Variation: A Study in Caste Dialects', in Structure and Change in Indian Society, ed. Milton Singer and Bernard S . Cohn (Chicago: Aldine Press, 1968): 'Typology of Density Ranges', Intertzational Journal of American Linguistics (1966), co-authored with C.F. Voegelin and F.M. Voegelin; and 'Sociolinguistic Variation and Linguistic Change', Proceedings of the Ninth Iniernational Congress ofLinglristics (1963), co-authored with William Bright. Gen. Ed.] Basham, A.L. 1954. The Wonder That Was India. New York. (Quotations from the Grove Press Paperback, Vol. I of the Evergreen Encyclopedia.) Bbteille, Andre. 1965. Caste, Class, and Power: Changing Parterns ofStratification in a Tanjore Village. Berkeley and Los Angeles. Blom, Jan-PetterandJohn J. Gumperz. 1968. Somesocial determinantsofverbal behavior. In Directions in Sociolit~guistics,ed. John J. Gumperz and Dell Hymes. 40 pages. Bright, William, ed. 1966. Sociolinguistics. Proceedings of the UCLA Sociolinguistics Conference. The Hague. Bright. William and A.K. Ramanujan. 1963. Sociolinguistic variation and language change. Pp. 1107-13 in Proceedings of the 9th International Congress of Linguists. The Hague. Brown, Roger and Albert Gilman. 1960. The pronouns of power and solidarity. In Sebeok. CBrninitaiyar, THktarU. Ve. 1958.En Cariffiram(cumkkam)[M~Stoq(abridgedM. Abridged by Ki. Vii. Jakannatan. Madras. Danie~ou,Ala~n,trans. 1962. Shilappadikaram by Prince Ilango Adigal. New York. Deutsch, Karl W. 1953. Nationalism and Social Communication. Cambridge, Mass. Doob, Leonard W. 1961. Communication irl Africa: A Search for Boundari~c New Haven.

b.

560 / Note.,. trnd R~:fi.r-ctlcc.s L ~ ~ ~ ~suSan . T M. ~ ; 1967. ~ ~ S,i ~ c i o l ~ l l y a i \ l ~%11111cog~.aphed cr. \ J I I I V ? I \ I \of> California, Berkeley. I ; ~ chiNleS ~ A. ~ 196:. ~ T~) I ~ ~ I ~ ~ ~~ LVr~ril S~;~ I .1 5 ,325-40: reprinted in H)mcs 1964,429-37. F ~c h a r l e s ~A . m d J ~o h i I . Gumperz ~ eilx ~ l 9 h O ~Lit~,ylti.sii( ~D i l , t t i ~, i \ ~ ~~ . s~; Stlrtlie.s ~ ~~ : ,irl Kr,,qiot~trl. h Soc.icr/. t i r ~ t fFurrc~iiot~nl Voriariot~.\~. Rloornineton: Research Center for Anthropology, Folklore and Anthropk~logy publicatio:ls 11. IJAL 26 [i]. part 3 . ~ ~Jack and ~ Iand Watt.~1963. ,The conseqllences o f literacy. C o t t ~ / ~ i i ~ c l ~ i v ~ Studies 111 Sor.iel), trrl[i Ifislot-) 3 (April): 304-15. Gumperz. John J . 1964. Speech varl:~tionand the study of Indian civilizat~on.In Hymes. 416-23. GumDerz, . John J. and J. Das Gupta. 1404 1,anguage and modernization In 11orth India. Mimeographed. Gumperz. John J . and Dell Hymes. 'The ethnugl-aphy cjf communication Attlericiln Anfhropo/ogisl Special Publicatiorr h6(6). part 2. Hymes. Dell H. 1962. The ethnography of speaking. In At~~hropolo,eyarrtl Hrrnlun Bzhaviot.. Wasliinpton. D.C. Hymes, Dell. ed. 1964. Lutlguage it1 Cit/lrrre urld Socie!)': A Rcaderrtl Lingrrrvl~t~s anri Atrlhropology. New York. Evanston. and London. Jakobson, Roman. i960. Concluding statement: Linguistics and poetics. Pp. 350-77 in Sebeok. McDonald. Ellen F,. 1967. Vernacular publ~shingand 'mobilization' in nineteenth-century Maharashtra. Mimeogr-aphed. C n ~ t e r s i t yof California. Berkeley. McLuhan. Marshall. 1962. The Gu~enber,?gala.^?: The Mukrt~gof T ~ , ~ o s r c ~ / ) h i c Man. Toronto. Meer~;ikc~1. 1 77tc. Mo[lrrr~ir\.(!I' 7t(11/illl)~l: Po/rrt( (11 /~tl~010/7tt1c.t11 I t 1 ltllli0 ( ~ I ~ I L ' I ~ I Kut,\ch. J l ~ r y e n;. u ~U.e\tlon\ \ Kee, IOih Voti~.c,r-l)tt/ t . i ~ t t ~ t r i r ~ r r i c ~ c ~1\'011'\ fior~ 111(,I'i.\ritr/ Perr.ei,!io/, ,I/ Hlot~arlK~~/oiiort.\ Hrl-kcley and Lo.; Ar;grle\

""

N o t e s a n d Keflfrrenc.cs 1 561 Sapir, Edward. 1921. hngucrgc. N e w York. (Quotation from Harvest Books paperback, 1954.) sebeok, Tholnas A. 1960. ed. Stj~lein Language. Cambridge. Mass. (All quotations in this paper are from the M.I.T. Press paperback edition. 1966.) ~ f i n k a t ~ ~ c i i nMayilai, ii. Cini. 1962. P a r t o p a r d m n f i q ~ n t i ltamir ilakkiyam (1800-1900) [subtitled In English on p. 2 a s HistoryoJTamil Literamre, 19fh Century (1800-1 900)]. .Madr~s. vttanlyakam Pi!!ai. 1879. Piratapa Mutal{v&- Carittiram. 1 s t e d . Mayavaram (?) (Quotations from the Madras 1960 edition). w h o t i Benjamin Lee. 1 956. Language, Thought a n d Renlih: Selected Writings of Benjamin Lee Whorf Edited by John B. Caroll. New York. ~ v e l e b i l ,Kamil. 1964. Spoken language of Tarnilnad. Archiv Orientalni 32: 234-64. C H A P T E R 6: S O M E T H O U G H T S O N ' N O N - W E S T E R N ' CLASSICS: WITH INDIAN EXAMPLES

[This essay is reproduced from the typescript of a lecture-text initially drafted in 199 1. An edited version was published posthumously in World Literalure Today, 68.2 ( 1994): 3 3 1-4, a s the closing piece in a special issue on 'Indian Literatures: In the Fifth Decade of Independence' for which I served a s an advisory editor. Gen. Ed.] Dimock, Edward C., and Denise Levertov, trans. 1967.In Prai.seofkiishna. New York: Doubleday. Menvin, W.S., and J. Moussaieff Masson, trans. 1977. Sunskrit Love P o e t v . New York: Columbia University Press. O'Flaherty, Wendy Doniger. 1975. Hindu Mvths. New York: Penguin Books. Ramanujan, A.K., trans. 1967. The Interior Landscape: Love Poems frnm a Classical Tamil An~hology.Bloomington: Indiana University Press. . 1573. Speaking o f ~ i v a .New York: Penguin Books. . 1981. HvmnsJor the Drowning. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.

-

CHAPTER 7: T H R E E H U N D R E D R A M A Y A N A S : FIVE E X A M P L E S A N D T H R E E T H O U G H T S ON T R A N S L A T I O N

[Ramanujan first wrote this essay a s a lzcture delivered at the Workshop on South Asia at the University of Chicago in 1985-86. In a revised and expanded form it appeared in Many Rdrnayanas: The Diversity of u Narrarive Tradition in S o u t h ~ s i ned. , Paula Richman (Berkeley: University ofCaliforniaPress, 1991), PP. 22-49, from where it is reprinted here. The second section of the essay draws On a short paper on 'The Ahalya Episode in Two RSrnSyanas (Valmiki and b m p a n ) ' , which Raman~rjanpresented at the Association for Asian Studies Conference in Boston in 1968. Gen Ed.]

562 1 N o t e s a n d References was originally wrltten for the Confer-ence on Comparison of hi^ civilizations at the Universrty of 1'1ttshur~h.1;ehrual.y 1987. I am ~ndebtedto the organisers of the conference for the opportun~tyto write and present it anti to co)leagues who have commented on it. especially V. Narayana RkLo, Shulman and Paula Richman. 1. I owe this Hindi folktale to Kirin N;irayan of the University of Wisconsin. 2 , several works and collect~onsof essay s have appeared over the years on the many REmiiyn?las of South and South-east Asla. I shall mentlcln here only a few which were directly useful to me: A.K. Banerjee 1983; P. Banerjee 1986; J.L. Brockington 1984; V. Raghavan 1975 and 1980; Sen 1920: C.R. Sharma 1973; and S . Singaravelu 1968. 3. S e e Bulcke 1950. When I mentioned Bulcke's count of three hundred Rdmiiynnns to a Kannada scholar. he said that he had recently counted over a thousand in Kannada alone; a Telugu scholar also mentioned a thousand in Telugu. Both counts included Rsrna storles i n varlous genres. S o the t ~ t l e of this paper is not to be taken literally. 4. Through the practice of tapas-usually translated 'austerities' or 'penances'-a sage builds up a reserve of spiritual power, often to the point where his potency poses a threat to the gods (notably Indra). Anger or lust, however, immediately negates this power; hence Indra's subsequent claim that by angering Gautama he was doing the gods a favour. 5. The translation in the body of this artlcle contains selected versas from 1.9. the section known in Tamil a s akaliknipa7nlam. The edit~onI cite is Kntrlpar l y a y i y a Iriimiiyanam (Annamalai: Anniimalai Palikalaikkalakam. 1957). Vol. 1. 6. See, for example, the discussion of such views a s summarised in Gold~uan 1984, 15. For a dissenting view, see Pollock 1984. 7. See Desai 1980, 63. In the discuss~onof the Ratnakirtl to follow. I am indebted to the work of Desai and S~ngaravelu.For a translation of the T h a ~ Ramayana, see Puri and Sarahiran 1949. 8. Kan~parlyarri\iaIriinrri).ananl, Vol. I. selected verses from I. 1 , in the sectlon known as tiCr!uppntalam. My translation. c'. 9. One source for Peirce's semiotic tel-mi11010gyis his 'Logic a s S e m ~ o t ~ In Peirce 1940, 88-1 19. 10. Personal communication from V. ~ a r a ~ a Rao. nh I I . I heard the Telugu tale in Hyderabad In July 1988. and I have collected versions in Kannada and Tamil as well. For more examples of tales around s Kannada Folklore', below. the RCmiyntul, see Chapter 28, 'Two R e a l n ~ of Allahahad: Baij Nath. Rai Bahadur Lala, trans. 1913. Thr Adhylirtrru RiirnrTyo,~~. The Pan~niO f f ~ c eReprinted . as extra Vol. I In the Srrcrrd Book.\. o/'llle Hitlr1u.s. New Yol-k: AMS Pre\s, 1974. Banerjee. Asit K.. ed. 19x3. Thv Krittl~~rrt~a in Errsrern India. Calcutta: PI-qna.

I

N o t e s a n d Rgferenres / 563 Bane1;iee. P. 1986. Kottlu rtz Itldirrn Liternrure, Arr atzd Tll~u,qhr.2 Vols. Delhi: Sundeep Prakash;ln. Brock~ngton.J.L. 1984. Ri,qh~eo~c.sKclma: TheEvolurlotrofanEpic.Delhi: Oxford University Press. Bulcke, Camille. 1950. Rnmknrha: Urparri our Vikii.~.Prayag: Hindi Parisad Prakaian. Chandra, K.R. 1970. A C'rrtical Sruciy q~Paumacariyam.Muzaffarpur: Research Institute of Prakr~t,Jainology and Ahimsa. Chatman, Seymour. 1978. Ston: and Discourse: Narrutive Structure irl Fiction and Film. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Desai,SantoshN. 1970. Rii~nSyana-an instrument of historical contact andcultural transrriission between India and Asia. Journal of Asian Srudies 30(1). . 1980. Hitlduisrn in Thai Life. Bombay: Popular Prakashan. Goldman. Robert P., trans. 1984. The Riim@utla ofviilmiki. Vol. 1. Biilakanda. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Gowd5, Riime. P K. RSjaSekhara, and S . Basavaiah. pds. Jat~apadaRdmrfyana. Mysore. [Kampan]. 1957. Kanlpar Iyarriya IrEmayanatn. Vol. I. Anniimalai: Annamalai Palikalaikkalakam. Peirce, Charles Sanders. 1940. Philosophical Writings of Peirce. Edited by Justus Buchler. Reprinted New York: Dover, 1955. Pollock. Sheldon. 1984. The divine king in the Indian epic. Journal of the American Orierlfal Sociefy 104(3): 505-28. Puri. Swam1 Satyananda. and Chhaoen Sarah~ran,trans. 1949. The Ramakirtior Rnmakien: The Thai Version of the Rumcyana. Bangkok: Thai Bharat Cultural Lodge and Satyanand Puri Foundation. Raghavan. V. 1975. The Ramiiyatla in Greater India. Surat: South Gujarat Un~versity. . ed. 1980. TheRiim@atln Trndilion in Asia. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. Ramanujan, A.K.. trans. 198 1 . Hvmtisfor~heDrowning. Princeton. N.J.: Princeton University Press. .The Indian Oedipus. 1983. Pp. 234-6 I in 0edipus:A Folklore Casebook, ed. Alan Dundes and Lowell Edmunds. New York: Garland. -----. 1986. Two realms of Kannada folklore. Pp. 41-75 in AtlolherHarmony: New E.s.sn\,s in Sourh Asian Folklore, ed. Stuart Blackburn and A.K. R a ~ n a n u ~ aBerkeley: n. University of California Press. S a s l r ~ ~ aK. l . Ch~nn;~\wami. and V.H. Subbbrahmanya Sastri, eds. 1958. ~ r i m u d Virlrj~ikir~itrlci\.(~r~(r. Mad1.21c.N.Ramaratnam. (Translation quoted here is by D a v ~ dShulmiin and A.K. Ramanujan.) Sen. D ~ n e shandn~ c Sen 1020. T/w Bet~,yrrliRrimnyotias. Calcutta: University of Calcutta Sharm;~.C K 1073 The R(i~,rrii(itilrit/ 7i,llc,qlr (rllli T~tnriIA C~)ni,~(rrarive Sruh. Madras: L a h s h r n ~ n ; ~ r a (\ ;; I~~ ~I I~I [, ~~; I I I I J ~ ~ I

-

564 / N o t e s and Refererlces Shulman, Uavld D 1979. S ~ t aand Satakanthl-ava~~a in a Tamll folk narr;ltlve, /r)urnal ?[ Folklori.s/ic-s 2(3-4): 1-16. Singaravelu. S. 1968. A comparative study of the Sanskrit. Tamil, That 2nd Malay versions of the story of Rama with special reference to the procrss of acculturation in the South-east Asian versions. Joirrrlnl c!j' ~hc,. Y i o ~ ~ Soc.iety, 56, part 2 (July): 137-85. Tawney, C.H., trans., and N.M. Penzer, ed. 1927. The Ocean oJSlop. 10 Vols. Rev. ed. Reprinted Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1968.

1

)1? ;:

2

CHAPTER 8 : REPETITION IN THE M A H A R H A R A T A [Ramanujan provides a brief genealogy of this essay in the opening note below. T h e title of the original seminar paper on which it is based was 'Towards a Structural Analysis of the Mnha'hhdrata' (unpublished, 1968). The present version, finalised in 1988, appeared in Essays on the M a l ~ a b l ~ a r a red. a , Arvind Sharrna (1.eiden: E.J. Brill 1991).It probably also draws on a paper entitled 'The Mahribha'rata and the RrirnGyana: S o m e Contracts' (unpublished) first presented to an audience at the university of C h ~ c a g oin 1968. Gen. Ed.] This essay on the Maha'bhcrrrta was originally written in 1968 and presented to Victor Turner's Seminar on Comparative Epic at the University of Chicago. 1 had thought that the paper was suggestive but needed extensive reworking, s o Idid not venture to publish it. I venture to do s o now, twenty years later, urged and encouraged by the responses of Mahabhdrala scholars like Alf Hiltebeitel, David Shulman, Narayana Rao and Arvind Shama-to all of whom I'm indebted. I have changed very little in the original paper, except that I've added new references. Other and better scholars have independently anticipated and explored some of the notions expressed in this early essay. Such corroborations are both a pain and a pleasure. I've added several of these references to the essay. I. S e e Dumezil1968,93: van Buitenen 1978,lS-16: and Shulman 1985,262, for discussions regarding the opening chapter of the GitE a s an inversion o f [he Uttara episode, of the Virdfnpun,nn a s a 'carnival'. 2. In t h ~ spassage. a s elsewhere, the repeated epithet ant1 n a m e play a cruc~al role. Arjuna is called Partha (son of Pnhll or Kunti), Kaunteya (son of Kunli). Psndava, son of Pandu, Bharata (.descendant of Bhsrata' ), Kaurava. a scion of the Kurus, etc. Each o f these epithets hirhlights and describes an aspect oi the hero, often ironically. Several play on the irony of this apparent difference and deeper kinship with Karna to whom all the lineage and rnetrono~nicnanres ('Kaunteya') apply a s well, though no one presentknows ~ t The . irony reache< a climax here when Bhima taunts Karrla, laughing a[ h i 5 lou birth: 'Son of a s i l a , you do no have the right to d ~ ien a f ~ g h with t a Partha'! I v e all.ead? commented on Arjuna's recital nt his ten names to Uttara in the acL of \elf' revelation.The (;it* too uses several narnes lor Arjunaand Kryna in slgnificallt ways: e.g., Paramlapa, 'cha\[iseroiOes', r e m i n d him ol'his duLy a s a warrlOrEach of these epithetic name\. here anti in the Purinas. sumrrlartse the hrlo;Y. index the actrons and relat~o~r. 01' the character. The apent hel-e I \ a \uln 01 111'

I

C I C I I Oa Ip0111 ~ ~ . 0 1 inlelrrci~oni'or niultiple relation>hip\. Acls co~irlitulethe ac~or.

3. Four olllsta~idin:! rn>:lge\ recur Ihrouphout to describe the war be~weenthe C ~ L I S( I )~encorrnlrr \: betwee!. the gods and demons: ( 2 ) a forest oftrees I'ellecl by \om? natural calamity: ( 7 ; man ;IS a sacrilicial beast, the war a s a s a c 1 i f . i ~ ~ ~ and the end o l a hattle a s thr dying sacrificial fire; ( 4 ) universal dissolution in the ultimate fire. These irna2es extend the human ti~ne-spaninto mythic time, [nagnify the significance of the action and its terror. Furthermore each is embodled in some important incident within the action: ( I ) K y ~ n abeheading Sisupila; 12) the Khllndava forest decimated by a fire. devouring tree, bird and beast; (3) the sacrifices undertaken (the ASvamedha, the RSjasuya, and the bizarre vengefulness of genocide in the Snake Sacrifice); (4) fires, beginning with the fire-trapset for the Pandavas. the Khandava fire mentioned above, and [he forest fire in which Uhrtarastl.a,G%ndh2riand Kuntidie, and lastly, thefiery terror of Tirne in the Gi~riwhen Krsna is seen a s the agent of universal dissolution. 1 may add that each of these should be seen a s a leitmotiv, subordinated to the total human action, not a s a central overarching theme. Madeleine Biardeau ( I 987) sees the epic a s an extended sacrifice, and Alf I4iltebeitel (1976) sees Krsna a s a form of ' ~ i v adestroyer , of all'. While each of these emphases is truly illuminating, their overemphasis seem to m e to underrate the architectonic conlplexity of the h~cmanaction o l the epic. 4. Folklore and later hfuhu/~hc7r-r1lcrs continue these tests and question D~~aupadi's chastity also. For instance. both the Tamil Bharata of Villipputturar, the Kannada one by Kum51avyZsa. antl a Tamil chapbook tell the episode in the Vanuponiu (third .sa)~dhi).the Forest Book. In the Kannada BhL7ral0, Draupadi sees a beautiful mangoon a rree i n a sage'sgarden and covets it. Bhima fetches it. The brothe1.s soon learn that it is a fruit grown specially for the sage who wakes up from his rtrprrsonly once in six months, when he breaks his fast with this single fruit in the garden. To foc-e\~allIris anger, they wish somehow to restore the fruit to its place in the Lree. As only Krsga can accomplish such a deed contl-arv to nature. they .;urnman him Hedoes arriveand says that the fruit would return to ~ t stalk s only ileach ol'the I'ive brothers antl Dr:rt~padi reveal the~rdeepestdesiresThe f ~ v ebl-othei-.;say nothing surprisingorshameful-for inslance. Bhi~naand Ariun:~de\ire Same ant1 halrle, and Yudhisthira speaks of oneness. With each rekelahon. the fruit riw\ m;tgically toward the stalk from which It was plucked. When 11 IS Draupadi'\ turn, she says that women desire all hantisome men, even brotllel-. farher ant1 son. But the fruit does not go back to the \talk, and Krs~laIn\ts[h I ~ ; I Ih e tell the truth ahout herself. She then reveal\ [hat rhoueh l i e ha\ libe hl~.\bands.she has six in her heart---a suggetion [hat \he d e ~ ~ -hal-na e \ n well. though she doesn't know rhat he is the \~.sth.I n llie Tanril i.h;rphook. P(I!I!(II.LI~ V~~~ov(i.\anr. this desire jor Karna is nladrexplicil. She \a!., \hrh;rd \ren Karnd at h e r b r i d e - c . h o i c e h e f i > r r ~ r . j ~ ~ ~ ~ ; ~ won her with h15 le;i[ ol:~rctiel-\. hail Inistaken him lor Arjuna and desirecl h ~ ~ n f i ~ Iier r li\~rencr.r/ 595 ~ h rSoul11

Press. I I

[This essay is reproduced from Purrina Perennis: Reciprocity and Transformcition in Hindu and Jaina Texts, ed. Wendy Doniger (Albany, New York: State University of New York Press, 1993). pp. 101-20. Gen. Ed.] See Shulman 1980. See Ciiminitaiyar 1982. See Riijaiekhara 1973. See Ramanujan 1986. See Barthes 195 1, 39. See Ramanujan 199 1. In these characterisations, I'm indebted to the researches of Ji. Sam. Paramaiivayya (especially 1979) and P.K. RajaiEkhara (1980).

Barthes, Roland. 198 1 . Theory of the text. In Untying the Text: A Post-Structuralisr Reader, ed. Robert Young. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Ciminitaiyar. U. Ve. 1982. En Carittiram. Chennai: U . Ve. Cii, Niil Nilaiyarn. Paramasivayya. Ji. Sam. 1979.Daksina Karnataka Janapada Kdvyaprakriragalu. Mysore: University of Mysore. Rijaiekhara, P.K. ed. 1973. Janapada MahdkEv)la Maleya Madeivara. 2 Vols. Mysore: Samyukta Prakasna. . 1980. Daksina KarnZ!akada Janapadu PurEnagalu. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Mysore. Ramanujan, A.K. 1986. Two realms of Kannada folklore. Pp. 4 1-75 in Another Harn~onv:New Essavs in South Asian Folklore, ed. Stuart Blackburn and A.K. Ramanujan. Berkeley: University of California Press. . 1991.Repetition in the Mahiibhiirata, fn Essays on rheMahfibharata,ed Arvind Sharma. Leiden: E.J. Brill. Shulman, David D. 1930. Torrril 7trnplr Myth 5 . Sric.rifi,.e and Llil~irleMarria,yr i l l

C H A P T E R 30: WHO N E E D S F O L K L O R E ?

[Ramanujan wrote this essay as the First Rama Watumull Distinguished Lecture on India and delivered it at the University of Hawaiion 3 March 1988.The lecture was published under the present title from Honolulu in 1990, as the first paper in the University of Hawaii's South Asia Occasional Paper Series, and its text is reproduced here without change. Gen. Ed.] I . In this lecture, I rework nrany of the ideas in my recent papers towards a coherent point of view about Indian folklore. 2. I have said little about Indian oral tales, though I end this paper with an example. See Beck (1987) for a recent, wide selection with anthropological notes. and Narayan (1989) for a fresh contextual study of tales in religious teaching. 3. This tale, reproduced here in translation from my forthcoming book of Kannada folktales, is also told in many other regions and languagesof India. The Stith Thompson index of international tale types (1961) identifies it as I534 An Innocent Man Chosen to Fit the Stake. This tale has so far been recorded only for India, and twenty-one variants have been recorded in Kashmiri, Kannada, Tamil, Marathi, Hindi, Garhwali, and so on.

C H A P T E R 29: O N F O L K M Y T H O L O G I E S AND FOLK P U R A N A S

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

lndirrrl Sr~ivrrTrorliriorl. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University

(

I

I ! !

Beck, Brenda E.F. 1987. Folktales of India. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. . 1982. The Three Twins: The Telling of a South Indian Folk Epic. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Blackburn. Stuart. 1988. Singing of Birth and Death: Texts in P e r f o m n c e . Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. et al., eds. 1989. Oral Epics in India. Berkeley: University of California Press. and A.K. Ramanujan, eds 1986. Another Harmony: New Essays on the Folklore oflndia. Berkeley: University of California Press. Brubaker. Richard Lee. 1978. The ambivalent mistress: A study of south Indian village goddesses and their religious meaning. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Chicago. Claus, Peter. 1989. Behind the text: Performances and ideology in a Tulu oral tradition. Pp. 55-74 in Blackbum et al. 1989. Coolingwood, R.G. 1983. An Essay on Philosophical Method. Oxford: The Clarendon Press. (Originally published in 1933.) Dimock, Edward C. 1989. The Sound of Silent Guns and Other Essays. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Dundes, Alan, and Carl R. Pagter. 1978. Work Hard and You Shall be Rewarded: Urban Folklorefrom the Paperwork Empire. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

.

G ~ ~ ~~1968.i M,,the ~ l et, ~Ei~opee. ~P a r ~ sCiallrmard. :~ ~ . i~ u t h 1977. . ~ Oral Poetry: ~ Its Narure, ~ Signifi'c.ut~ce ~ and ~ Social ~Conrr.~r , Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Graham, William A. 1987. Beyond the Wrirtetl Word: Oral Aspects of Scripture in the Histon; of Religion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hiltebeitel, Alf. 1988. The Cult of Draupadi: Mythologies from Gingec. to Kurukserra. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lutgendorf, Philip. 1987. The life of the text: Tulasidis's Riimacaritam5nas in performance. Ph.D. disertation. University of Chicago. Narayan. Kirin. 1989. Stoytellers, Saints, and Scoundrels: Folk Narrative in Hind11Religious Teaching. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Ramanujan, A.K. 1973. Speaking of Siva. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. -. 1983. The Indian Oedipus. Pp. 234-64 in 0edipus:A Folklore Casehook, ed. Alan Dundes and Lowell Edmunds. New York: Garland Press. . 1985. On folk P u r a ~ ~ aConference s. on Puranas. University of Madison Wisconsin. . 1986. Two realms of Kannada folklore. . 1987. Introduction. Pp. xxv-xxxi in Beck 1987. . 1987. The relevance of South Asian folklore. Pp. 79-156 in Indian FolkloreII, ed. Peter Claus, J. Handoo, and D.P. Pattanayak. Mysore: Central Institute of Indian Languages. . 1989. Where mirrors are windows: Toward an anthology of reflections. Histon1 of Religions 28(3): 187-216. Roghair, Geue H. 1982. The Epic ofPalnadu: A Study and Translation ofPalnati Vinula Katha, a Telugu Oral Tradition from Andhra Pradesh, India. New York: Oxford University Press. Shulman, David. 1986. Battle a s metaphor in Tamil folk and classical traditions. Pp. 105-30 in Blackburn and Ramanujan 1986. . 1980. Tamil Tetnple Myths: Sacrifice and Divine Marriage in the South Indian ~ a i v aTradition. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Singer, Milton. 1972. When a Great Tradition Modernizes: An Anthropological Approach to Indian Civilization. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Staal. J.F. 1961. Narnhudri Veda Recitation. Vol. 5 of Disputrrtiones RenoTrujectinue, ed. J Gonda. Hague: Mouton. Taylor, Archer. 19.51. English Riddlesfrorn Oral Tradition. Berkeley: University of California Press. Thompson, S tith, and Antti Amatus Aarne. 196 1. The Types of the Folktale: A Cla.s.sificution and Bibliography. 2nd rev. ed. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia. , and Warren E. Roberts. 1960. Typesof lndicOru1 Tales: India. P ~ k i s r a ~ ~ and Cevlon. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia. ~ ~

~

Chronology of Select Books and Essays by A.K. Ramanujan

1955

a. Publication of Proverbs, a collection of proverbs in Kannada. b. Fieldwork on folktales and proverbs; drafts of 'Some Folktales from India' and 'The Clay Mother-in-Law'.

1956

a. June: Publication of 'Some Folktales from India' in Southern Folklore Quarterly. b. September: Publication of 'The Clay Mother-in-Law' in Southern Folklore Quarterly.

1966

a. Publication of The Striders, book of poems in English. b. Publication of Haladi Meenu. Ramanujan's Kannada translation of an English novel.

1967

a. Publication of The Interior Lnndscape, a book of translations of classical Tamil poems. b. Publication of 'Varieties of Bhakri' in The Yearbook of Comparative

1968

a. Publication of 'Language and Social Change' in Problems o f M o d ernization in South India, ed. Robert Drake. b. Paper on 'The Ahalya Episode In Two RBmiyanas (Valmiki and Kampan)' presented at Association for Asian Studies Conference, Boston, which was incorporated in 'Three Hundred Rimiiyanas' in 1985-9 1 . c. Paper entitled 'Towards a Structural Analysis of the Mahribhdrala3 presented at Victor Turner's seminar, University of Chicago; incorporated in 'Repetition in the Mahibhiik~ta' in 1988-91.. d. Paper on 'The Mahdbhurata and the RiiMyana: Some Contrasts' delivered at the University of Chicagn; probably incorporated in 'Repetition in the Mahabhdrata' In 1988-91.

Chr.onology of Select Book.s rlnrl E.\.\.r~y.\ e. Paper entltled 'On Translat~ngan Indlan Poem' dellvered as a lecture at New YOI-kUnivers~ty;~ncorporatedin 'On T~anslatinga Tamil Poem' in mld-to-late 1980s. Publicatlon of Hokkulalli H171,illa.a book of Kannada poems Publication of 'Towards an Anthology of City Images' In Cirhan India: Society, Space and Image, ed. R.G. Fox. Publication of Relations, a book of poems in English. Publication of 'Form in Classical Tamil Poetry' In Sytnposiutn on Dravidian Civilization, ed. Andree F. Sjoberg. Publication of first version of 'The Indian Oedipus' in Seminar on Indian Literature, ed. A. Potdar; revised and expanded for republication under the same title in 1983. Publication of Speaking of bhakti poems.

S ~ I ~ a I . book

of translations of Kannada

Publication of The Literatures of lndia, co-authored wlth Edward C. Dimock, Jr., and others. Publicatlon of Selected Poems in English. Publication of translation of Samskara, a contemporary Kannada novel by U.R. Anantha Murtby. Lecture on 'Men, Women and Saints' delivered at Harvard University; incorporated in both 'On Women Saints', published In 1987. and 'Men, Women and Saints' (unpublished). Publication of Mattu /taro Padyagalu. a book of Kannada poems. Publication of Mattobbana Arrnakate, a Kannada novella Draft of 'Tale and Teller in South India', delivered a s a paper at the Sixth Meeting of the International Association for the Study of Folknarratives, Edinburgh; incorporated later in 'Telling Tales' In i 989 and 'Tell It to the Walls' in 1992. Draft of 'Is There an I n d ~ a nWay of Thinking?' a s a paper for a 'Workshop on the Hindu Person', Univers~tyof Ch~cago. Publlcation of Hymns Jor the Drowning, a book of translat~onsof Tamil bhakti poems. July: Revised version of 'Is There an Indlan Way of T h ~ n k ~ n g ' ? ' . typescript in circulation. Paper on 'The Myths of Bhaktr' dellvered at a conference on 'The , of Penn5ylvanla. Manifestations of ~ i v a 'Unlverslty Paper on 'Three Cindel-ellas' dellvered a s a lecture at the Cenret. for Psychosocial Studies. C h ~ c ; ~ g~ncorpol-ated o. i n 'Hanchi: A K a ~ ~ n a d a Cinderella' In 1982.

Pulll~cat~on of 'On Women Saints' In ~ / I P / ~ I I , I('orr.\ort. I I ~ ecl John S. Flan,ley ,incl Donna M. Wulf. b. P~~bllcatlon of 'FIanchl: A Kann;~tli~ C'lndel-ella' In Ciridcrrlllr A Folklort~Cr~.sebook,ed. Alan Dundes.

21.

a. Draft of 'Bhal-ati and His Prose Poems'(unpublished). b. Publlcation of the second (revised and expanded) version of 'The Indian O e d ~ p u s in ' Oedipus: A Folklore Casebook. ed. Alan Dundes and Lowell Edmunds. , a. Publication of 'The Myths of Bhakti' in Discourses on ~ i v a ed. Michael W. Meister. b. Draft of portions of 'Food for Thought' presented a s a paper at the Sixth International Conference on Semiotics and Structural Studies, Central Institute of Indian Languages, Mysore. a. Publication of Poems o f Love and War, a book of translations of classical Tamil poems. b. Drafts of some portions of 'Where Mirrors Are Windows'. c. Drafts of 'Three Hundred RrTmayatlas'; delivered a s a lecture at the Workshop on South Asia, University of Chicago. a. Publication of Second Sight. a book of poems in English. b. Publication of Another Harmony, a book of essays on folklore coedited with Stuart Blackburn. c. Publication of 'The Prince Who Married His Own Left Half' in Aspects of lndia: Essays in Honor of Edward Cameron Dimock, Jr., ed. Margaret Case and N. Gerald Barrier. a. Revlsed version of 'Food for Thought' for a book edlted by Ravinder Khare. b. Revised version of 'Where Mirrors Are Windows', delivered in May as a lecture at All Souls' College, Oxford University. c. Publicatlon of 'Classics Lost and Found' in Contemporary India: Essays on the Use of Tradition, ed. Carla Borden. d. Draft of 'Who Needs Folklore?'; delivered in March a s the First Rama Watumull Dlstlnguished Lecture on India, University of Hawaii. a. February: Publication of 'Where Mirrors Are Windows' in Historyof Religions. b. Publlcatlon of 'Is There an Indlan Way of Thinking?' in Contriburions 10lndlan Sociologj~;and in lndia through Hlndu Categories,ed. McKlm Marriott. a. Publ~catlonof Kuntobille, a book of Kannada poems. b. Publication of 'Who Needs Folklore?' in South Asla Occasional Paper Serles, Un~versityof Hawali.

1

1

1993

1994

1995

a . Publication of Folkrtrl~.~./~.orrr lt~tlio.:r hook o f folktales retold and translated from twenty-two 111dianIsnguages. b. Draft of 'Some Thoughts on "Non- wester^^" ('lassies' (published posthumously). c. Publication o t 'Three Hundred Kdnlo\v~t~cr.\'in Marly KdnL~vonas,, The Di~.cr.sit~ I!/ 1.1 Ntrrrulirir Tru(/iliotl iri .You/h Asia. ed, paula Ri-hman. d. Publication of 'Towards a Counter-System: Women's Tales' in Gender. Getlrr, and Power in Soir/h Asiarr E.~.pres.si\,eTradirjons, ed. Arjun Appadurai. Fi-ank Korom, and Margaret Mills.

Contributors

a. Draft of 'Why an Allarna Poem Is Not a Rlddle' (unpublished). b. Publication of 'On Folk Mythologies and Folk Puranas' in Purana Pererinis: Reciprocity orld Trlr~~sforrnariorl it1 Hindu utld.lait~uTexis, ed. Wendy Doniger.

Stuart ~ l a c k b l r teaches n Tamil at the School of Oriental and African Studie University of London. H e is the aulhor of S i n g i r i ~of Birth and Death: Texts in P e r f o m t ~ c e(1988): and the co-editor, with A.K. Ramanujan, of Anorher Harmony: New Essays on /he Folklore of India (1986). With Alan Dundes, he h a s selected and arranged the materials for and written the introduction to Section N,'Essays on Folklore', in this volume.

a. Posthumous publication o f whet^ GO(/I.). u Cltslottler, a book of Telugu bl~akiipoems translated with V. h'alxyana Rao and David Shulnian. b. Posthumous publication of ' S o n ~ eThoughts on "Non-Westernv Classics' in World Li~eraiureToday. c. ~ o s t h u m o u sp u b l i c a t i o ~of ~ The Oxforti Anlholugy of hfodertl Indian Poein, co-edited with Vinay Dharwadker.

John C a r m a n is Parkman Professor of Divinity and Professor of Comparative Religion at the Center for World Religions at Harvard University. He is the coauthor, with Vasudha Narayanan. of The Tamil Veda: Pil1ar1'sInferprefafionof rhe Tiruvaymoli (1989). For this volume, he has contributed the introducticn to Ramanujan's work on bhakfi literature in Section 111, 'Essays on Bhakfi and Modem Poetry'.

a. Publication of Coliecfed Poettls in English, ~ncludingTfle Black Hen (posthumous collection of last poems).

Vinay D h a r w a d k e r is Associate Professor in the Department of English, University of Oklahoma. He has published a book of poems, Sunday oi fhe Lodi Gardens ( 1994); and co-edited, with A.K. Ramanujan, The Oxford At~rhologyof Modem In~iiat~ Poe/ry ( 1994). H e is one of the editors of The Collecred Poems of A.K. Ramntlu/nn (1995), to which he wrote the Introduction. He h a s served a s the general editor of thls project. Edward C. Dimock, Jr., is Distinguished Service Professor E m e r ~ t u sin the Department of South Asian Languages and Civilizations and the College, University of Chicago. He is the co-author, with A.K. Ramanujan and others, of TheLi/rraruresof/tldia ( 1974).H e has contributed. in collaboration with Krishna Ramanujan, a tribute to A.K. Ramanujan in the general introduction to this volume.

;

Divinity School. the Corninittee on Social Thought, and the Department of South Asian Languages and Civili7atlons a1 the University o f Chlcago. Among her recent books 1s the edited volume. Purcigu Pc,,-rt~tli.\.Rrc.iproc.i/y trnd Trtrt~.~.l~rand.Itrjna Tc\-/.s( 1993). to which .A.K. Rainanujan contl-ibuteci malion ~ t !

602 1 Contributors an essay. For this volume, she has written the introduction to Section I, 'General Essays on Literature and Culture'.

Copyright Statement

Alan Dundes is Professor in the Department of Anthl-opology at the Univelsity of California, Berkeley. Among othel- contributions to folklore s t u d ~ e s he , has edited Cinderella: A Folklore Caschook (1982) and co-edited 0eclipu.s: A Folklore Casebook (1983), which contain essays by A.K. Ramanujan. With s t u a r t Blackburn, he has selected and arranged the materials for and written the introduction to Section IV, 'Essays on Folklore', in this volume. Krishna Ramanujan currently lives and works in San Francisco. He has coauthored, with Edward C. Dimock, one of the tributes to A.K. Ramanujan that form the general introduction to this volume.

Thanks are due to the following copyright holders for permission to reprint the essays listed:

Milton B. Singer was Professor Emeritus, Department of Anthropology, and Paul Klapper Professor Emeritus, Social Science Collegiate Division. at the University of Chicago until his death in December 1994. He has contributed one of the tributes to A.K. Ramanujan in the general introduction to this volume.

'Where Mirrors Are Windows: Towards an Anthology of Reflections', from the History of Religions. published by the University of Chicago Press, O 1989 by

The University of Chicago. All rights reserved. 'Is There an Indian Way of Thinking? An Informal Essay', originally published in Contributiot~sto Indian Sociology, Vol. 23, no. I, pp. 41-58, O Institute of Economic Growth, Delhi, 1989. All rights reserved. Reproduced with the permission of the copyright holder and the publisher, S a g e Publications India Pvt. Ltd., New Delhi. 'Towards an Anthology of City Images', from Urban India: Society, Space and Image (Monograph and Occasional Papers Series, Monograph no. 10) edited by Richard G. Fox. pp. 224-44, 0 1970 Duke University Program in Comparative Studies on Southern Asia. Reprinted by permission of Duke University Press. 'Food for Thought: Towards an Anthology of Hindu Food-images', from The Eterrlul Food: Gustrc~nomicIdcas and Experiences of Hindus and Buddhists, edited by R . S . Khare, O 1992 State University o f N e w York Press. Repl-intedby permiss~onof the State University of New York Press. 'Language and Social Change: The Tamil Example'. from Transition in South Asiu: Prob1rni.s of Moderrlization (Monograph and Occasional Papers Series, Monogr-aph no. 9 ) e d ~ t e dby Robert I. Crane. pp. 61 -84, O 197ODuke University Progran~In Cornpalarive Studieb on Southern Asia. Reprinted by pernlission of Duke U n ~ v e l - s ~Press. t) 'Some Thought, un "Non-Westel-n" C l a s s ~ c sWith : Indian Examples', originally published In W o r l d Lilerrrlurr 7i)du.v (Val. 68. no. 2, 1994). Reprinted wlth permiss~ontl-o~nthe Editor

1

'Three Hundred Rtirtici\.ciri~rj F ~ v eExamples and Three Thoughts on Translation'. fl-om Mtrri~Rtiri~ci~~rrltr\ 77ie @ivrr.sil.v(!/'tr Ntrrrutive Traditior~in S o u ~ h

604 / Copyright statement

Cop\lri,~htS/trtc.mrni / 605 'H.d n.~ hA~ Kannada : Cinderella'. fl'onl ('illdef-~//cc ( 1 b-olklor-eC u , s c b ~ , ~ edited k, by Alan Duncies. puhlishetl hy Garland Publishing In'. , 1982, New York, Repl-~ntedby p e ~ - m ~ s s l oofn Garland Publishing Inc. '

AS^^, by paula Richman, O 1991 The Regents of the University of Cal~fornla. ~ ~ ~by permission ~ , ~ of tthe Ilniversity ~ d of California Press.

'Repetition in the Mahdbharata', from Essays on the MahBbhdrala, edited by Arvind Shanna, 1991. Reprinted by permission of E.J. Brill, Leiden. 'Classics Lost and Found', from Confemporary India: Essays in [he lise Tradition edited by Carla Borden, 1988, Oxford University Press, Delhi.

OJ

G ~ o in n ClassicalTamil n Poetry', from the Symposium on Dravidian Civilizufion edited by Andree F. Sjoberg, published by &heJenkins Publishing Company, 1971. Reprinted by permission of the Jenkins Publishing Company, Austin, Texas.. 'On Translating a Tamil Poem', from The Arr of Translation: Voicesfrom the Field, edited by Rosanna Warren, O 1989 Rosanna Warren. Reprinted by permission of Northeastern University Press, Boston, Massachusetts. 'From Classicism to BLlakti', from Essays on Gupta Culture. Reprinted by permission of Motilal Banarsidass. Indological Publishers & Distributors. Delhi. 'On Women Saints', from The Divine Consort. ( ~ e r k e l e yReligious Studies Series) edited by John S . Hawley and Donna M. Wulf, 0by the Graduate Theological Union, 1982, Berkeley, California. Reprinted by permission of the Graduate Theological Union. 'Men, Women, and Saints', ~ n ~ u b l i s h e d . ~ r i nby t e dpermission of the Estate of

A.K. Ramanujan. 'The Myths of Bhakti: Imagesof ~ i v in a ~ a i v Poetry', a from Discourseson ~ i v a . Proceetlings of a Symnposiurr~on the Nature of Religious Inmgery, edited by Michael W. Meister. 0 1984 the Un~versltyof PennsylvaniaPress. Reprinted by permission of the Un~versityof Pennsylvania Press. 'Why an Allama*P_oem is Not a Riddle: An Anthological Essay', unpublished. printed by permission of the Estate of A.K. Ramanujan.

'Varieties of Bhakri', from the Yearbook of Comparative and GeneralLirera~ltr~. no. 15, 1966, O 1966 Comparative I>iteratureCommittee. Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana. Reprinted by permission. 'On B h a r a t ~and His Prose Poems'. unpubl~shed.printed by per~nissionof the Estate of A.K. Ramanu~an. 'The Clay Mother-ln-Law A South Indldn Folktale'. from Southern Folklore Quarterly. no 20, September 1956 Reprinted by perml\slon of the UnlverrltY Press of Kentucky 'Some Folktales from Indld', from Sourh~rtrFolklore Quar/erl\. no 19 June 1956 Reprtnted by perml\oTemples Pillai. CI. Cay. Tamotarani. See Taniotaram Pillai, C I .Cay. Pillai, Minaksisundarain. See Minaksisundaram Pillai Pillai. Shanmugam M. See Shanmugam Pillai, M. Pi!!ai, Va. Cu. Cekalvaraya. See Cekalvaraya Pillai. Va. Cu. Pillai Vetanayakam. .See Vetanayal,tni Pillai Pinnai (Krsna's wife). 248, 57 1 Plato, 41.49, 122,347, 579

Poet-sa~nls.Tamil (u!l,dr.\ and I I ~ ~ \ / ~ I ~ I I ~ L Soe ~ I . . \Saints, ~). Tam11 Poetlcs: f'olk. 508-9; Greek, 591. Indian. 84; Sanskrit. 127, 129. 163. 232, 3 1 1 , 508-9. 510: Tamil, 10, 127, 129, 197-218, 230, 232. 234, 425. See ulso Rnsu Poetry, 73, 123; modem, 342, 343. 541: mythology and, 295, 298. 300. 303. 3 10, 3 13. See crlso Bhtrkii: Ctrriktr~,~ poetry: Tamil: English; Saints, Tarntl: Vtrcclrrtr Polltlcs, 99 Poilock. Sheldon, 562. 563 Pond~cherry.333 Popper. Karl. 440. 588. 589. 590 Possession, 162, 265, 290. 303. 467. 490,496,498,507-9,5 1 1.592. stories inducing, 5 1 1 Pots. magic. See Magic Pound, Ezra, 116 Power. 7, 9, 116, 277, 367, 412,327-8, 469, 504, 5 13, 522, 546, 548: supernaLural, 20, 3 1, 32, 90, 13 1 . 138, 140, 144-5, 165, 386. 388. 470,474-5,48 1,503-4,506, 523-4.530-1,543,545,546,551, 6 2 . See crlso Magic; ~trkir Poykai (Tam11Vaisnava saint), 244-6. 569-70 Prahlada, 280 Praise (genre of poetry. pdifi!? ir~~c'r). 2 12. 234-5, 244 PrqXpatr (creator god), 44.47, 388 Prakrit (language), 70, 144,333. 536 PI-trsfidtr.85-6, 94, 95. See ulso Food: 1-eftovers Pregnancy, 84, 146,390,485,505. Sue trl.\o Women, pregnant Pr~nungp r e u . 9. 35, 49, 101-2, 104--7. 115.466 Prometheus. 396 I'ronouns. 98. I 12-1 3 I'lopp, V l a d ~ n i ~16.3, r . 350. 370. 377. 300, 41 3. 579, 580 f'rosc~tu~es and courtesans. 64-5. (77- 8.

I

$:

.f

92. 274. 304. 320-1. 38 I . 445. 4x1. 549-50 Proust. Marcel, 3 18 Proverbs. 26, 36. 53-4. 73. 77.79. 83 87, 118, 349, 352. 360, 441. 457. 459. 463.467, 470, 485, 492, 497, 533. 534, 536, 537, 538, 540. 541, 585. 589; American, 54; Biblical, 43 1 ; Dravidian, 537; Kannada, 5 3 4 . 83-4. 158,347,427,485, 497. 537, 542-3; MtrlrCblldruicr, 162: Rdmdvunu, 158; riddles and 485: Sanskrit, 189 Provinces of reality, 25, 459 Psychoanalysis, 38, 293, 393, 395, 397,410-1 1 , 4 3 0 , 4 4 5 , 4 5 0 , 4 5 6 ,

459.460, 497, 58 1. See ulso Freud, Sigmund; Oedipal conflict V r i j d , 85, 146, 472 Puklr (city in Tamilnadu), xiv, 54, 59, 62, 63, 64, 65-6, 67, 69 : Punjab. 144 : P u r ~ n r('exterior'), 5, 10, 3 I , 349, 425, 3 459.486.489,490,495,499, 502,

/

51 1,574,592: meaning, 10-1 1 , 458,488,491 P u r ~ mpoetry, 1 1 , 13-18, 190, 198, 204%208, 210, 21 1 , 212. 214, 215. 217, 218, 224, 229, 233, 241, 250, 254, 510; bhrrkri poetry and , 190, 2 3 4 4 2 . 248, 250; conventions. 12, 199-200,233-4,244,488: subgenres, 13, 212, 214, 235; thematic situations, 235-6 Purundnrjru. See Curikum poetry Purclnus (mythological texts), 7, 27. 133. 187. 232, 242. 25 1 . 280. 284. 301, 388. 429. 441. 456. 497, 513. 5 15. 544. 564: B h f i ~ u ~ ~ n7.i u496. , 5 16; counter. 144: 5 16: Bhu~*I'qc~. distinctive features of, 5 16: folk. 5 13- 18, 530-1 ; Jain. 144: Mdr-kondevcr. 90, 501: Sanskrit and Iolk, 514: S I V ~ ,386: Skrrntlu. 403. Tanill. 5 13. 5 16: fir~tv~lrrr\rr/rrl. 560. C',~rrc. 5 16

Purandharadfisa. 276. 574 Purl. Swami Satyananda. 562, 563 Purusa ('primordial person'). 118. 293, 545 Putam (Tamil Vaisnava saint), 244-5, 570 Puttappa, K.V., 162 Radhakrishnan, S.. 50 Radha (Krsna's lover), 122-3, 270, 2 7 7 , 2 8 4 , 2 9 1 , 324, 328. 329 Rdgus, 4 5 , 4 9 , 163,228 Ragau, 390, 504, 583, 593 Ragelson, Stanley, 558 Raghavan, Srinivasa, 570 Raghavan, V., 563 Raglan, Lord, 583 Rain, 16-17. 57, 76, 170-1, 175, 198, 202-3,205, 212-13, 215,237,245, 25 1-2,255,258,325,328,336-7, 41 8. 43 1, 459. 460, 493, 494. 52 1 ; generosity and, 240; Krsna and, 568-9, 570; in Rc7mCyunu, 150-2, 155; Visnu and, 570. See rrlso Water Ra.jagopalachari, C., 16 I-2,566 RqaSekhara, P.K., 146, 387, 390, 504, 5 18, 563.583, 592, 593, 594 Rajasthan, 27 1 Ranla (Hindu god), 21-5, 106, 127-8, 131-60,282. 377,388,390-1, 465-6,481,489,514-15: Ahaly8 and, 1 3 5 4 2 ; Ayodhya and, 61-3, 506-7, 547-8; banishes Sita, 147-50. 504: composite of, 181 ; divinity of. 142. 149, 155; exile of, 2 1 . 70. 143, 386. 506-7; humanity of. 142. 149. 155, 504; in folk Rtimri>.ctnu.$.146-7; Jain view of, 144-5: in Karnban, 134, 1 3 8 4 3 ; kills Vall. 23: kills demons. 142; Krsna and. 24-5; multiplicity of, 133, Nun~~nalvnr on. 142-3, 247-9: Ramanhthapilr;t named after. 506. 5 15- 16. rlng of, 13 I - ~ 3 178-60, , 477. %bar1 and. 84. 87. \on\ 01.

133, 146. 147. l SO. 385-6. 503: story. 134: subordinated lo Sila or Siva, 147, 149. 465. 545: in Thai Rn11l3\.cl!1rr, 148-0: in Valmiki, 134--8. 141-2. 150. See 01.tr1 Sit,i. Rhvann KGinur.rr~-i/rr. 106 Ramac~~vami Mutaliyir. 103 RBrnu-korh~,557 Ramamrutam, La. Ca.. 107 Ramanathapura (city in Karnataka). 506.515-16 Ramanna. Kyatanahalli, 593 Ramanuja (Sanskrit philosopher, Vaisnava theologian), 284. 572 Ramanujan, A.K., vii, 263-5; as hyphen, xiv, 4: awards, xvii-xviii; childhood, xiv-xv, 80, 161, 448-50.456.467: education, xvi-xvii, 161, 347; father of, xiv-xvi, xviii, 5, 35-8, 449-50; interest in folklore, 347; languages spoken by, xiv-xv. xvii, 4-5, 161, 347, 449-50; methodology, xvii: mother of. xv, 5. 80. 352. 358, 436, 449,457 Ramanujan. Krishna, vii, x, xviii. 602 RGrnEytr!~cr,7, 32, 1 17-18, 127-8, 130, 131-60, l85,377,429.465,537, 562; Atlbhutu, 155; Aclh~'Glrnu,2 1 , 143: Annamese. 133; Balinese. 133: beginnings. I5 1-5; Bengali, 133, 144, 149. 157,377: Burmese, 148; Cambodian, 133, 148: Chinese, 133; endings, 150; English. 161-2, 157: exile, 70, 391: first kivytr: 57: folk, 146, 149. 390, 465. 504, 506-7,545,547: frame story, 42; Gujarati. 133; Hanuinan con~posed, 479-80: Hindi, 134, 143,466. 5 16. 542; Indonesian, 148, 185: lam. 21. 128. 144. 145-6, 148-9. 15 1. 155--7;Javanese. 133, 148; Kannada. 133. 146-9, 155, 390. 504-6,562: Kashmiri. 133. 140:

lihol;~nese.133: L~iotian.133. 118: MlrliNhlrfir-(rio and, 22-4:

bl;~layalan~. 143, 480: Malaysian. 131. 143. 148: Maratht. 113: metaKGn1(7\,~1!1rrs, 2 l . 143: multtplicity of, 13 1 . 173, i 34. 539, 562: never read i'or first time. 158: Oriya. 133; Prakrit, 133; recitation. 158-60. 440, 476-7, 542, 557; Sanskrit, 128. 133-8, 147, 150,50&5; Santali, 133, 155; Sinhalese, 133: Tamil, 105, 128, 1 3 3 4 3 , 151-5, 156-7, 44 1 , 480-1, 562; television. 16 1 . 466; tellings. 134; Telugu, 133, 143, 562; Thai, 128, 133, 143, 148-50. 155, 157, 185,562; Tibetan. 133, 148. See ulso Ayodhya: Dasaratha; Hanuman; Kampan; Kumbhakama; KuSa; Laksmana; Lava; Orality and oral traditions; Rain, Rima; Ravana: ~ a b a r iSita: ; ~ i v aSugriva;Tataka: ; VHli, Vllmiki; Vibhisana; Vimalastiri; Yayati Rtirncirriltntincrs (Hindi RGrnciyuntr). 134, 143,466,516.542 Kindas (saint), 289 Ranganatha (name of Visnu). 288 Rao, V. Narayana. See Narayana Rao, V. Rrrsr, (essence, flavour). 22,46-8. 79-82, 127, 544: blicivu and, 70-1, 92, 15 1,508-9: compassion, 5 10; erotic. 329, 510: heroic, 510: nine. 329: peaceful, 80, 163,s 10; six. 79-80 Rationality, 35, 144, 145 Rats. See Animals Kavana (demon, villain of RrirnG~unu). 20, 24-5. 61, 127. 142, 146, 118-52, 155-6.249. 299, 377. 390-1. 505. 507-8, 545, 546, -547. portrayed positively. 144-5. 150. father ofSit3. 147. 377. 505; tragic ligure. 145. .Scz trl.\.o Ravaula

1i I

'

Kavldas (saint), 2x8 Rielf, Philip. 573. 575 Ravu!a (folk name for Ravana), 146, Riesman. Paul, 592 147 Rings. 370, 373. 38. 579; ~ d i i a k t i ' s . Ray. Amita, 557 524: Duhsanta's. 374-5: Rama's, Ray, Punya Sloka. 560 13 1-3. 158-60. 477; Rituals, 44. Kecit, 134 46.6 1.62. 67, 83. 234, 28 1 , 292, Redfield, Robert, xiv, 63, 64, 348, 535. 293, 300. 309, 330, 440, 491; bull, 557 493-5; compcters. 50: folk, 507-9: Reflexivity, 8, 26, 279; verbal. 9-10 funerals, 73. 84, 87. 382, 400, 444, Regelson. Stanley, 80 474.481 ; Sakat. 85-6: i e r l d h ~ , Rekavve (ViraSaiva saint), 272-3 409; storytelling and, 458, 471-5, Rembrandt. 4 10. See also ~n 486, 489-90, 493-6. 507-8, Renou. Louis, 46, 556 5 10-1 1, 5 17, 585; mythology and, Renouncers, 3 1-2-48, 86-7, I 5 I . 280, 512; weddings. 73, 83, 84, 146, 382,409. See ulso Asceticism 147, 155. 157, 363,416,431, Repetition, 128, 163 445-7.454-5,469,490,498,535, Reversals, 403. See ulso Inversion 579, 591; women's, 408. 446. See Reynolds, Holly*290 (11~0Sacrifice Rgvedu. See Vedas Rivers, sleeping, 467-8. See U ~ S O Rhyme, 221 Ganges; Vaikai; Water Rice. 82-7. 89. 91.110. 183.240283. Roberts, Warren, 347, 585. 588,596 300,427, 505,548-9, 55 1 : children Roghair, Gene H., 544.596 smearing, 86; clay mother-in-law Roheim, Geza, 395 and. 354-5; fish-hook in, 454-5; Roland. Alan, 46-7,394,556,583 Hanchi's, 3 6 3 4 , 366-7, 373; stale, Rooth, Anna. 369, 580 358-60; pregnancy and. 149; rituals Ropes, 263,33941,379,399,507 and. 83,85-6. 173, 190-1.472, Rosaldo, M., 574 474, 494; in Sri Vaisnavism, 84-5. Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 410 See also Food Roy, Manisha, 583 Richman, Paula, 561, 562 RSyaSniga (naive ascetic), 143, 151 Ricoeur. Paul, 393, 583 Rudolph, Lloyd, 560 Riddles. 31 1-12.405-8,457. 467, 534, Rudolph, Susanne Hoeber, 560 581, 586: Allama and, 267-8, Rudra (name of ~ i v a )335, . 388. See 3 10-12,3 19-23; coconut, 485: also ~ i v a death of lover, 400-3.405-7; folk Ruesch, Jurgen. 560 genre. 323. 349, 441, 459, 485. 492, Rushdie. Salman. 5 533,536-7,589 ; house, 31 1-1 2: Ruskin, John, 1 16 metaphors and. 3 1 1-1 2, 3 19: Russell, Bertrand. 36 nirgu!~cr/su~ur~cr poets and, 3 12, Russell. Ralph. 59, 558 317: oxymorons and. 31 1-12: panRussia and Russian, 144. 185,333,457 Indian tradition of, 3 10; paradox and. 3 1 1 - 1 2: proverbs and, 349, &bar1 (devotee ol. Rama). 84, 87 459, 463. 485, 492, 534. 591: Sacrifice. 46. 58. 145. 174. 176. I X 3. weddings. 447. 59 1 : wornen and, 242. 475. 503, 507. 5 10. 565. b11trLi1 585. Sra crl.\o Language. twilight and. 27-8. 270: birth Irom. 14').

Index 1 6 3 1

630 I Index

-

179-80; demons and, 90, 306; folk or village, 490,496, 499-501, 507, 51 1 - 1 2 , 5 4 3 4 ; folk compared to Vedic, 496-7; food and. 75-7, 79. 88; goddesses offered, 3 1 , 498-501.503,507.5 1 1-12.543-4; horse, 44, 147: human, 274, 285, 457, 500, 503; in ideal city, 58, 61-3, 66; Jains reject, 149; magic and. 20; snake. 22, 178,565; Vedic. 46, 242, 258-9, 270, 280. See also Animals, sacrificial Sddhirunu dhrrrrnn. See Dhurma, sddhirrincr Sagunu ('wlth form'), 28, 267-8, 295, 310, 3 12, 3 17, 320. See ulso Nirgunu Sahadeva (character in Mu/iribhdrutu). 164-5, 181, 182 Said, Edward, 38, 187, 556, 567 Saints, 270-94; castes of, 284-5; hagiographies, 266, 271, 284, 493, 495, 573; history, 279-84; low-caste and untouchable, 270-1, 273,275,277,279,2845,287-9: others, 293: steam engine, 279; temple entry and. 287-8; typology, 266, 270; upper-caste, 270--1, 273-4, 277, 285, 288,290; words for, 279 Saints, female. 266, 270-8. 284, 287, 288,430, 585; compared to male saints, 276-9, 287-90; conversion experiences unnecessary, 266,272. 274,276-7, 287,289-90; 'flow chart,' 272-3; goddesses and, 276: life stages of, 27 1-6; marriage refused by, 272, 274, 278; marrrage to God, 273-5, 278, 283; social norms defied by, 273-5, 29 1. 302, 327, 328,574. Sre also Anti!; Avvai; Bahinabii; Dalayi; Gauriha~. Goggavve; Janabai; Kara~kkilan~mai ; Kururamma; Lalla: Mahadevyakka: Mjrabai: Rekavve: T l l a k , ~ ve: ~ Viraco!adevl:

Viralocaniidevi; Virasangavve: Women, marr~edto saints Saints, male, 270-1, 279-94; 574; compared to female saints, 276-9. 287: conversion and, 266, 274. 276-7. 285-7,290,293; take on female personae, 30, 250, 270, 277, 290-3, 302, 393, 574; typical, 276-8. See also Appar: Campantar; Ceraman Perumal: Chokhamela; Ci~uttontar;Cuntarar; Devara Dasimayya; EknZth; Gora: Kabir; Kakkayya: Kalavaticarana; Kannappar; Kulacekarar; Lalon Shah; Manikkavacakar; Nammalvar; Nantagir; Narahari: Periyilvar; Ravidas; Sajana; Saints. low-caste and untouchable: Saints, upper-caste; Samvata; Surdas; Tirumankai; Tiruppanalvar; Tukaram; Vidyapati Saints, Tamil (dlviirs and t t ~ u n r n r i r s ) , 130,229,2334,243-50.253-5, 265,279.282-3,290,293, 296. 303-7.3 10,569,570-1,592; castes of, 285; poetry recited, 244. See ulso Anti!; Appar; Campantar; Ceraman Perumd; Ciruttonlar; Cuntarar; Kannappar; Kulacekarar: Manikkavacakar: Namma!var; Nantanar; Periyilvir; Poykai: Putam; Pey; Tirumankai; Tiruppanalviir Salvas and Saivism. 28, 83, 100. 103-5,233,265,279,282-3,332. 573; canon. 235.283 Sajana (saint), 289 ~ a k t a (Hindu s sect), 332 ~ u k t r('power'), 276. 3 14, 335-7. 341. 342,497,50 1 . 5 18-26 Sakuni (character in M u h c i h l ~ ~ r r ~ r t ~ ) , 183: 435 ~;lkunlala(heroine and play hy Kalidasa). 127. 166, 374. 436.446. 570 S'llya (character in Mcrlrril~lrri~~or(i). I Oh

a ; *

i i 1.

I g

X

:

-

8

%

$ 2 i

2,

8

1

576 Samhandar. Tiruiiana (Tamil .$alva saint). .See Campantar

Sutpsir-cr (cycle of death and rebirth), 46,430 Samvata (saint), 288 Sandhyakara (poet), 106 ~crni.See Saturn Sarijaya (character in Mul~db/~ircrtu). 175, 180 ~ a t i k a r a(philosopher, founder of Vedanta school), 3 1, 284, 3 13, 3 17, 43 1.468 Sunnydsi. See Renouncers Sanskrit, 5, 50, 52, 1 16, 192, 196, 284, 429-30, 447, 448, 456-7; bhrrkri and, 326, 330; Dravidian languages and, 79. 1 1 1,219, 254, 264,266, 333, 342, 495; as father-tongue, 50, 449.464; folk myths and, 27. 486, 492-3,496,499,50 1,503-4, 506-7.51 2-18.530-1,536-9, 543-6, 548; Great Tradition and, 26,348,535; language of gods, 481 ; literature, 3,70, 72, 349; local dialects of, 536,479; lyrics, 42; mythology, 543,544; names, 100-1.495,506; poetry and poetlcs, 24, 84, 127, 129, 163, 232. 3 1 1, 326, 508-9, 5 10; Prakrit and, 71; Sanskritisation, 101, 110; South Asian studies and, 5 3 3 4 ; vocabulary, 11 1. 264. 266,375, 423,435.450; women. 441. See ctlso ~nandavardhana;Bhisu; B/~rr~avudgitii ; Bfuhmunus: Cities, Sanskrit descriptions of; Epics, Sanskrit; Goddesses, Sanskrit and village; Kalidasa; Kdmusutrcr: KuthrT.srrritsd~uru;Kdvvu; Mcil~ibhdruru;Puiicutunrru; pan in^; Purincts: Rdrni2vunu,Sanskrit; Vilrniki ~ a n t a n u(character in Muhdbhcircrtu), 164-5, 178.385.394

Sapir. Edward. 98. 56 1 Sarah~ran,Cl~haoen.562, 563 Snr:!svati (Hindu goddess). 527,543. 546 Sarma, C.R.. 505, 594 Sastri, K.A. N~lkanta.See Nilakanta Sastri, K.A. Sastri, S . M . Natesa. See Natesa Sastri, S.M. Sastri, V.H. Subbrahamanya. See Subbrahamanya Sastri, V.H. Sastrigal, K. Chinnaswami. 563 ~ o t u ~ u r hBrdl~rnuntr. tr See Bfuhmu!~us Suti. See Suttee Satire, 28, 322, 467, 506, 548. See also Irony; Jokes and humour; Parody Saturn (Sun;), 435,499 Satyavati (character in Muhdbhiirata), 164-5, 178, 180 Sauda (Urdu poet), 59.64 Savitri (chaste Hlndu woman), 27 1. 278,413,446 Saw, 264,286,306 Sax, William. 162, 566 Scandal, 396 Schomer, Karine, 277 Schumacher, E.F , 5 0 Schutz, Alfred, 50,429 Science, xvi, 35,41, 48.49, 50 Seashore. See Landscapes, seashore Sebeok, Thomas A., xvii. 561 Self-reflexivity. 3, 8 Selwyn, T., 78, 558 Semen, 88, 380,381,410 Semiotics, 44,74, 84, 4 9 3 , 5 15. See also Peirce, Charles Sanders Sen, Dineshchandra, 157,562,563 Senses,79,311.313.316,318,320, 321.322,396. See also Body Serpents. See Animals. Manasa; Sacr~fice Sexual intercourse, 27. 122, 135, 139, 180,217,227, 270,274-5, 307, 3 1 1,327,342-3, 380, 387. 397, 424.427,53 1. See also Incest Shah. Ahmad, 87

Index / 633

632 / I r l r / ~ . x ci:~~ice ot, 105, 307. 525. 545-6. Shakespeare, xvl. I 15. 116. 185. 15 1 . dlurns or. 66. 68: In lolk genre\. 395, 434. 447, 449, 537-40. 541. 94-5. 3 0 1 2 . 440. 442-3. 452. 1 8 1. 586. See rrl.co Hamlet: Lear 456-7.493, 505-6. 5 13-14. 5 18. Stianmuganl Pillai. M., 108, 100. i 2 1-3 1 , 545-6: goddesses and. 560 ,406-7. 544: as labourer. 305: Lord Sharks. See Animals of Caves. 28 1-2.287. 297. 3 1 I . Stiarma, Arv~nd,564 3 13- 16. 3 18-22: in Mtrhfihl~dr-rriri. Shamia, C.R., 562, 563 177. 565: marri'lpe and. 303-5: Sharif Sahib (saint), 289 ~naternalrlature. 298-9: Oed~pal Shaw, George Bernard, 40 conflict and, 385-90; PaSupati, 298; Shelley. Percy B y s h e , 55. 333, 342 146-9, 15 1-2; reviles in Rrirnu'~rl:~tr. Sheep. See Animals h~mself,301; riddles, 285; sacrif~ce Shils, Edward, xiii and, 88; sirkti and, 497; snakes and. Shulman. David D., x , 3 1. 138. 155, 70-1. 301 -2; as storyteller. 478: 299, 305, 307, 322, 501, 505. 513. subordinate to goddess, 3 I ; 543,545,554,562,563,564,566. supremacy of, 21, 149,296-7.23; 576.590.594,595,596,600 t e t s devotees, 306-7: ViraSaiva Shweder, Richard, 46, 556 depiction of, 295-308. See rrlso Siddhas. See Cittars. Allama: Appar: ArdhanariSvara: Siegel. Lee, 3 1, 554 Basavanna; Campantar: Signifiers. 369, 37 1. 372.493, 5 14. C ~ ~ u t t o n t aCuntarar; r; Devara 537 Dasimayya; Mahadevyakka: ~ a ~ v a s ~ i k h a n d i n(character ~nMah~7Dlldr~tci). and Saivis~n 177, 178 Sivrr PurrTnrr. See I'urfinirs Singaravelu. S., 143, 562. 564 S~vakumar,K.Y., 583 Singer. Milton B., vii, x, xi, 50, 63.64. . i ' i ~ ~ ~ i . i t i r r r n o k c i ~ / ~ r T r a r(ViraSa1r.a ~~c~koi~i 348, 535, 556, 557, 559, 566, 596. text), 27 1 602 Sloberg. Andree F., 567 Sinha, Tarun C.. 393,583 Shantla. See Murukan. 234 Sinhalese, 185. See also Sri Lanka Smrti (Lype of Hindu scripture). 41 Soe S i t i (Hindu goddess, w ~ f eof Rama), til.ro H/itqnvtir/gi/ir:M~ihrThhfir.ti/ci: 21-5, 31-2.61. 127, 145-52. 155. M anu: Pirru'trtrs: RdmrTvcr!lrr 158-60.249.27 1,278,390- 1,444, Snakes. SCPAnimals. serpents: 365.477.489. 506-7, 547: argues Sacril-ice with Rama. 21. 143: ban~shed, Snake-charmer,6 147-50: daughter of Ravana, 147-8 Sonia (Hindu god). 88.280 377. 505: Engl~shsultor, 547: In Sophocles. 377, 378, 395. 5 10. 592 folk RtinlNyat1~1,31. 146-8, 1-55. Southeast Asia, 11.5. 117, 133, 133. 390, 465, 504-5, 545; kills Ravana. 148. 155, 158. See ol.\o R r i n i t i ~ t i r ~ ~ l . 155,465, 545; name of. 147. 150. Thai 505 Space, 35-6,48,96.3 12 ~ i v (Hindu a god). 18. 20. 66-8, 105. Si~l~tting. 3 9 8 4 0 3 . 405. 444. 445. 461 186, 293, 310, 537. Dhrikrr. 232. S ~ I ; L P.. I I . 378, 396. 496. 583. 594 245. 270; beauty of. 300-2; becomes ~ a i v a307: . a ( , l i ~ r k i ~ ~ ~ l S r l l-;~nka.63. 112. 144. 147. 148. 150, 185. 237. 248. 249. 377. 546 poet. 303, 569. ~ r e a r ~ oby. n 32:

,,

Sri Valsnavas and ~ r Vi a ~ s n a v l s ~ ( H ~ n d usect), 35, 84-5, 130, 142, 246, 250, 253. 254, 269,475, 570, 57 1 Srikanthayya, B.M., 510 Srinatha (Telugu author), 89 Srlnivasa Raghavan, A,, 572 ~ r i r a n g a m See . Temples. ,$rirarigam ~ r r c t r4, 1 . See also Vedas St Augustine. See Augustine, Saint St John of the Cross. See John o,f the Cross. Saint Staal, Frits, 47, 280, 596 Standing (sihu'vara), 264, 266, 299 Stanislavsky, Konstantin, 34 Stein, Burton, 7 1, 558 Stepmothers, 362,369, 373, 384, 391, 543, 585; evil, 449 Stem. G.E., 558 Stevens. Wallace, 7 Stories: domestic, 448-50, 46 1, 479, 486,488-92,495,504.5 1 1 , 5 91 ; endless, 482-3; necessity of telling, 437-41,454,458,470-2,475; stories about, 21-2, 35 1 , 430, 43740,454,469-70,472,475. 478.482-3, 51 1-12; vengeful, 439, 454-5.457-8. See also Rituals, storytelling and: Tale types Story (sirjet), 128, 134 Strachey, James, 587 Structuralism, I X , 7, 350. See rilso 1-evi-Strauss, Claude Subaltern. 548. See tilso Power; Women; Untouchables Subbrahamanya Sastri. V H., 563 Subbulakshmi, M.S., 50 Subh2sira~arnak~Scr. See Vidyikara Subvers~on,8, 27. 30. 64. See al.so Inversion Sugar, 3 10 Sugriva (character in RZnlZytina). 133 Su~clde.379. 381 -2, 383. 401-3, 407, 432, 444. 447. 474. 504. .See ulso Suttee Sujer. .Sre Story

Sumatra. 144 ~ u n ~ r t s a m ~ u ' d (Virasaiva (~ne text), 3 18,

3 19. 573,576,577 Surdas (saint), 24, 25, 281, 310 ~ u r ~ a n a k(demon, hi character in Ru'mQano), 149 Suttee (Soti), 272, 274,432, 474 Svubhu'va ('given nature'), 4 1. See also Bhu'vas

Swami, B.L., 72,210 Swaminad Aiyzr, U.V. See CHminFitaiyar, U. Ve. Symbols, 44 Tagore, R., 100,333,334, 450 Tale types and motifs. 4. 350, 579, 581; Animal Groom, 579; Captor's Bag, 363; Dream Coming True, 373; Envious Neighbors, 353; Frightened Robbers, 353; Golden Hair, 578; Goose Girl, 362; Innocent Man Chosen to Fit the Stake, 595: Lecherous Holy Man, 365-8, 370, 37 1, 390; Loathly Lady, 362; Magic Objects, 33, 358, 359, 360, 361, 362; Maiden in Box, 366,367,370,37 I; Measuringvessel, 353; Offended Deity, 435; Open Sesame, 353, 540; Potiphar's Wife, 384; Pregnant Father, 390; Srgn Language, 404, 405; trickster, 363. See also Cinderella; Folktales; Oedipus-tales; Thompson, Stith Tamilnadu and Tamil, 37, 80, 84, 96-1 14, 1 16, 189-92.2 19-3 1,384, 534-5,538; bhrikti movement, 26, 232-59,283-4; bow songs (villuppdttrr), 5 10, 544, 592; c l a s s ~ c rediscovered, s 103-5, 186-9: colloqu~al.107-10; diglossia, 99. 107: Dravidian Iang~~age, 2 19: Dylanese and, 223; folktales. 358. 359. 389-90, 391, 433. 438,448,449, 461,470, 532, 595: grammar, 9- 10.22 1-2,303, 568: tolktale and other folk genres.

57, 352. 358. 377. 480-1; leftbranching, 222-3.227; iitetdture, 42-5, 69, 162, 534, 589; metres, 220-1; as mother-tongue, 3. 347. 449-50: mythology, 26. 543: names, 100-1: nature, 44, 72: novels, 102; phonemes, 101, 220; poetry and poetics. xiv, 10. 7 1-2, 121, 127, 129. 197-218, 224,230. 232, 244, 425: politics, 99: pronouns, 112-13: prose. 106-7; Purdnus. 5 13. 5 16: regional dialects. 108-9: religion. 430, 496-7; rhyme. 22 1; Sanskrit and, 1 1 1,219, 333: script. 105-6, l 1 1 . 219; ~ i v and. a 303; standardisation, 109, 110, 112: syntax, 222: vocabulary, 78, 110-12,223,435: women. 290, 423-4. See also Ant%!; Appar; Bards, Tamil; Bhukti; Bharati, Subramania: Buddhism, Tamil; Caminitaiyar. U.Ve.: Campantar; Cutikunz poetry: CilupputikZrum: Ciyuttontar: Cities, Tamil descriptions of; Cittars; Civukucintdmuni; Cuntarar; Epics, Tamil; lainism, Tamil: Kampan: Kannappar; Kings, Tamil views of: Kulocekarar; Muhdbharot(1, Tamil: Manikkavacakar: Maturai; Namm%!vLr; Oedipus-tales, Tamil: Orality and oral traditions, Tamil; PukcTr: Ramanujan, A.K., languages spoken by: RCtnciyr~nu.Tamil; Saints. Tamil: Sri Lanka: Tiruccirappalli; Tirukkuru!: Tirumankal: TirrmzurukC~upp~ltri: Tirupati: TiriippZvni; Tiruppanalvar: Tiruvanliii: Tiruviiymo!i; 'Tolkappiyclln: Vedas: VEtanayakam Pillai: Virasam~ Cettiyar Tarnotaram Pillai. C I .Cay., 104 7'unlru,8,9, 18.27.310.312.329. 536

l'i11~1s. .See Asceticls~n Ta~aka(demon. character in Kfirt~rT\'trnrr).142 7iilli~i?~l [I[)N~?IJ'N~. SFC U ~ ~ l l l i ~ ~ 1 d . S Tawney. C.H.. 404, 457.564 Taylor, Archer. 537, 596 Television. 1 18. l 6 1 . 466. 483, 488. 542 Tellings or variants. 4 , 127. 134. 369, 376, 380-2. 398, 401, 403-4, 408-9.458. 479. 5 16, 539. See ulso RitnrTqrrnrr, television Telugu, 87-9, 148,284,307,465. 562, 588, 59 1 : folktales, 434. 46 1 . 469, 470, 47 1 , 5 1 1 ; religion, 496 Temperatures, 79,80, 82. 84 Temples. 163, 191, 232, 244, 248, 264, 266,267,275, 282,283.287. 290, 297,299,309.310.385,387,439. 442-3,472,475,481,491,493, 497,498, 569; and houses, 84-5: entry into. 287-8: ~ r i r a h ~ a m 275. , 481, 570; myths. 513, 543: Min%ksi.569: Puri, 293: Srisaila, 273,275 Tendulkar. Vijay. 185 Thailand and Thai, 144. See also KcTn~Cyclncr.Thai Thomas, Dylan, 223 Thompson. Stith. 4, 347, 358, 359, 363, 369, 370, 375.402, 403,404, 409.435,457, 580.584, 588. 589, 595,596 Thoreau, Henry David. 1 16 Thoughts and thinking. Indian, 34- 51 Tibet and Tibetan, 144 Tigers. See A ~ ~ i m a l s T~lakavve(Viradaiva saint), 272,274. 573 Time. 45-8,96,202.204,205, 224. 36 I; cyclical and linear. 77 Tiresias (Greek seer). 332 Tiruccirappalli (city in Tamrinadu). 208, 352. 358 Iiriikbir~~rl (l'arnil text). ! 55. I89

Tirum31 l n m e ol isn nu). 234-6, 238. 240-4, '50, 255. See u/.\o Vlsnu Tlrumahkai (Tamil Vaisnava s a i n ~ , 250, 285.286 rirurnurui (Tamil ~ a i v atexts), 375 '-2,

~~run~uruk~~ (Tamil l u p text ~ ~ ton~ i Murukan), 190-2, 234-5, 250 Tirunlakandar ( ~ a i v asaint), 304-5 Tirupati (city in Tamilnadu), 49-50, 465 Tiruppanalvar (Tamil Vaisnava saint), 285,287-8 7iruppdvrri (Tamil text), 568-9 T~ruvdcakarn(Tamil ~ a i v text a by Manikkavacakar), 244 Tiruvannamalai (city in Tamilnadu), 303 Tiruvuntdrl (Tamil Vaisnava text), 245-6 Tiruvlrur (city in Tamilnadu), 303 TiruvCymoli (Tamil Vaisnava text), 244,246-5 1,253,265,475,571. See ulso ~ c u r y firdayurn; c~ Nammllvir Tiruvenkatam, 254 firuviruttum (Tam11Vaisnava text), 250,252,571 Toads. See Animals Tobacco, 33 Todas, 184-5 Tolkuppiytrm (Tamil text on grammar and poetics), 109, 197-214, 218, 230,233-5, 568 Tolstoy. Leo. 1 15, I 1 6, 449. 547 Tool-box. See Bricolage Tooth Goddesses. See Goddesses, tooth Tracy, David, 5 Traditions: Alternative, 9, 2 6 7 , 30: Great, xiv, 7. 9, 26, 27, 34, 63, 348-9, 535-6; Little, xiv. 7, 9, 34, 348-9. 535. 536. See u1.c.o Counter

traditions Tragedy. 145, 150, 177. 199. 2 13, 233,

379, 382. 384. 509. 5 10. 544. See ol.co Wvana Translation, 127-8, 130, 156, 162. 189, 219,226-31, 265, 268, 516; difficulty of, 129, 219, 220, 229; four aids. 229-3 I : iconic. 156-7: indexical, 157: literal, 222; symbolic, 157: tunnel metaphor,

-,. . L3 I

Transvestism, 293.393, 404, 507 Trees, 13-15, 17, 38, 117, 180-1, 191, 201-3, 206, 2 10, 212.2 18, 224-5, 241, 281,287, 304, 315, 318, 334, 353,355-9, 369-70, 373.375, 382-3,438,440,446,452,457-8, 473-5,478,482,506,526-8, 565; banana, 485; banyan, 360-2.406-7, 454-5; cosmic, 380; evergreen, 202,205,225; flowering, 413-23; green bay, 40; k o g ~ i 17, , 18, 251, 252; laurel, 422; mango, 43, 146, 379, 380,382, 565; murutam, 154, 202; neem. 161; palmyra, 239,257; spirits in, 359-62; women and, 4 13-26 Trevor-Roper, Hugh, 467 Tribal traditions. 8 Trichinopoly. See TiruccirHppaIli Trisahku, 5, 32 Trousers, Irishman's, 7 Tukaram (saint), 273, 275 Tulsi (salnt, author of Hindi Rdm@vunn), 143. 155 Tunnels. See Translation Turkish, 222 Turner, Terence, 583 Turner, Victor. 283, 309, 564 Twain, Mark, 35 Twins, 22, 33, 381. 504. See ulso KuSa; Lava Ullurui. See Insets Ulupi. 182 Uma (Hindu goddess, wifeof ~ ~ v a ) . 276, 298. See trl.so Goddesses; Psrvati

van Eultenen. J.A.B., xii, 92. 169, 183, Unity in diversity, 7, 35, 130 409. 554, 559, 564. 585 Universals and Ul1iversalisnl. 39, 4 1 . Vanamlilai, N., 558 47,48, 49. 129. 229. 393,413 Varadarajan, M., 570, 572 untouchable.^, 29, 30, 3 1, 146, 289, Vasanas, 26 290, 498, 499, 501, 502, 503. Vasistha (Hindu sage), 131, 132, 178, 5 11, 543, 592. See ulso Caste and 280. 386. 387 class; Saints, low caste and Vatsyayan, S.H.. 55,558 untouchable Vatsyayana. S e e Kfimushiru Upanisuds. 232, 243, 25 1, 280, 28 1, Vaudeville, Charlotte, 270, 570. 572, 296, 3 LO, 376,545: Brhuclitru~r~uk~~, 575 44,47, 270, 402,468; Mrtn&iku, Vedas, 27.69, 332-5,340-3, 377,385, 18 1; Tuittiriyu. 75, 120; Yogrrttuh,er, 4 10, 464, 530, 57 1 ; bhirkti and. 26, 58 1 309,232, 242-3,296. 25 1,257-9, Urdu, 58-9, 333, 47 I . See also Sauda 270,279-80,296,309-10.3 13; Uri ('phase of love'), 20 I , 203-5,224, cryptic or mystical language of, 234 3 10, 539-40; death ritual, 19-20. IJrvaSi (celestial nymph), 182, 435 26; demons and. 188. 479: folk Utopias, 8 traditions and, 509; infinite, 154: Uttara (character in Mul~dbhitrutu), influence of, 34-5: nlasculine ethos 167-8, 180,564 of. 270; recited or studied by Brahmans, 58-61.63.66, 170, Vacunir (Kannada genre), 2 6 3 , 3 18, 539-40; Tamil and, 101, 1 17,246; 283. See uiso Allama; Basavanna: Visnu and, 188,242-3.246. 257-9. Devara DHsimayya: 479. See ulso Sacrifice, folk Mahadevyakka: ViraSaivas compared to Vedic; Sacrifice, Vedic Vagina dentata, 445.497 Vegetarianism, 80, 83, 306,498, 543 Vaikai (river). 14-15, 235 Vemana (saint), 286 VaikhHnasa, 572 Venkatac%mi.Mayilai Cini, 97. 104--5, Vaiiampayana. 170, 17 1 , 172, 173, 561 I74 Vetanayakam Pillai ( 19th-century Vaisnavas and Vaisnavism (Hindu Tamil novelist). 96, 102-3, 561 sect). 9, 28. 83, 100. 103-5, 233, Vibhi5ana (character in Rdmciytrnc~).24, 235,263,265,279,282-3,295, 133 324, 328. 329, 332, 333, 515. Vic~travirya(character in 572-3; canon. 244. 57 1 . See UISO Mah5l?llrlrcrfo). 165. 183 ~ rVaisnavas: i Visnu Victorla. Queen, 516 Vali (character in Rittnityuntr), 23 Vldura (character in Mrr/~fibl~i,~-nrtr). Vallattol (Vallathol. Malaya11 author), 164-5, 170. 171. 173. 180 333 V~dyiikara(author of Valli (wife at' Murukan), 250 . S ~ r h / ~ ~ s i t c ~ r c r ~ n).u 24 ko.ic~ Valmiki (author o f Sanskrit Vidyiipati (Bengali saint), 291. 293. Rfimfiyun(0. 2 1-2. 64, 127-8. 134. 310. 312 138, 141, 144, 149, 150-1, 155-8, V~etnanl.144 280,505; curses hunter. 15 1: V~llages:and City. 54, cunlpart'd 10 influence of, 1 74. 148. 156. cllles. 53, 62: Seah~.78: on C;;ln$r\ i t 1 ~ R~itir,iwrtrcr 1

o d I vultureb, ~~~d~ R~~ttr(i~'irtru. LIIILI~~ Vyas. S N . . 5511 \'~Ivariia!ig;iI(.s;~lnt). 27.5 Vyasa (Hindu sage, compiler of Vllnal;l