An elephant in its natural habitat

Here is another alliterative snippet from the Vijayanagara empire – the introductory blessing of the Satyamangalam 'copperplate' inscription of Emperor Deva Raya II. In ancient India, mainly in the South, such inscribed copperplates usually recorded land grants, royal genealogies, and suchlike, and today serve as reliable aids for the reconstruction of history (you can find more information here). Although these were official documents, their language was often no less flowery than that of court poetry! 

भूयस्यै भवतां भूत्यै भूयादाश्चर्यकुञ्जरः|

विहारविपिनं यस्य विदुर्वेदान् पुराविदः||

 Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

bhUyasyai bhavatAM bhUtyai bhUyAdAzcaryakuJjaraH|

vihAravipinaM yasya vidurvedAn purAvidaH||

Loose translation: May the extraordinary elephant bring about a prosperous existence for you all – knowers of the events of yore are aware that the Vedas themselves serve as the grove where this elephant wanders about playfully. 

Notes:

1. The word Aashcharyakunjara (आश्चर्यकुञ्जर), which denotes Ganesha here, is a combination of aashcharya (आश्चर्य) which means 'astonishing/marvelous/extraordinary' and kunjara (कुञ्जर), another word for elephant. The grammarian Panini explains that kunja refers to an elephant's tusk or jaw, and the suffix ra denotes 'laden with' or 'characterized by', hence the name. Instead of taking the usual route of describing Ganesha as an elephant-faced humanoid, our poet insinuates that the god is a sort of super-elephant with a human torso. And, as we shall see later, they are not the only person to have done so.

2. The second half-verse is a roundabout way of asserting that Ganesha is a deity sanctioned by the Vedas – it is as natural for Ganesha to be spoken of in the Vedas as it is for an elephant to roam around in a grove of trees. The word used here in this connection, vihaaravipina (विहारविपिन), is a compound of विहार, which will be explained shortly, and विपिन which means 'grove' or 'forest'.

Vihaara (विहार) originally referred only to walking for amusement but over time came to denote engagement in any recreational activity (usually outdoors). It has been used repeatedly in the literature as a euphemism for amorous dalliance! It also means "a place for walking or making merry", and was adopted by Buddhists and Jains as the name of their sanctuaries where monks could move around freely, meeting each other and carrying out delightful intellectual discourse. And the current Indian state of Bihar derives its name from the large number of Buddhist viharas it used to house.  

A male Indian elephant (Elephas maximus indicus), Bandipur National Park

source: Wikipedia

3. Is Ganesha as we know him today really mentioned in Vedic texts? Well, that is a hard question to answer. Throughout the centuries, several ideological communities have emerged in the Indian Subcontinent that have claimed to be aastika (आस्तिक) or believers in the supremacy of the Vedas, as opposed to naastika (नास्तिक) or repudiators of the Vedas (there is more information here and here), and it is these aastika schools of thought that are the major components of the huge collage of beliefs and practices that we call Hinduism today. And each of these aastika philosophies, no matter how different from each other they appear prima facie, asserts that it is the most accurate interpretation of the Vedas. The samhitaa (संहिता) texts, that constitute the core of the Vedic corpus, are essentially anthologies of 'mystical' poetry, and hence open to interpretation. Even the philosophical treatises – the aaranyakas (आरण्यक) and upanishads (उपनिषद्) – that are said to form the 'concluding' part of the Vedas have been painstakingly interpreted and reinterpreted in unique ways by different scholars over the ages. The scope of Vedic literature is also defined variously: the number of 'canonical' Upanishads varies across traditions, and sometimes even the itihaasas and puraanas are subsumed under "Vedic scriptures"! But what is common to all aastika traditions that believe in a God or a group of divinities is the conviction that the object of their devotion is the entity actually eulogized in the Vedic hymns – a conviction often based on subjective definitions and interesting interpretations. Hence, devotional poetry is replete with such allusions to the Vedas as we have seen in today's quote.

The curious case of Ganesha's grandfathers

Today's quote is a mangalashloka (मङ्गलश्लोक) or couplet of prayer/benediction placed at the beginning of an official land-grant document from the Vijayanagara Empire (14th-17th century). My source is the book Prachina-Lekha-Mala (प्राचीनलेखमाला) Vol. I published by the Nirnaya Sagara press in 1892 (available here; see page 178).

कारणं जगतां वन्दे कण्ठादुपरि वारणम्|

मातामहमहाशैलं महस्तदपितामहम्|| 

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

kAraNaM jagatAM vande kaNTHAdupari vAraNam|
mAtAmahamahAzailaM mahastadapitAmaham||

Loose translation: I eulogize the powerful entity that is the origin of all worlds, is an elephant above the throat, has a great mountain for a maternal grandfather, and has no paternal grandfather at all.

Aside: I admit that this is one of those writings that lose their charm in translation. This is because it relies mainly on wordplay for effect :)

Notes:
1.  Anupraasa (the repetition of sounds) appears again: the first half-verse begins and ends with the rhyming words कारणम् and वारणम्, and the second is strewn with copies of the sequence mah (मह्)!  

2. Ganesha's matrilineal connection with Himaalaya -- or more properly Himavat (हिमवत्), the personification of the majestic Himalayas -- has seldom been the subject matter of art, the above composition being an exception, of course. There are also quite a few colonial-era paintings from Bengal depicting Himavat's wife Menakaa, or very rarely the Mountain King himself, receiving Parvati (identified with Durga) with open arms while an infant Ganesha couched in his mother's lap seems eager to jump into the embrace of his grandparent. Called Agamani (Bengali: আগমনী, Devanagari: आगमनी) paintings, they are based on the local belief that Shiva's wife visits her parents along with her children during Durga Puja (I mentioned this in my post White, yellow, and red). In this regard, I am also reminded of a popular yet anonymous Bengali Agamani song, "Giri, Gonesh aamaar shubhokaaree!" ("O Mountain, Ganesha is beneficial to me!") in which Menakaa pours her heart out to her husband in praise of Ganesha. But as in most other songs of this genre, Menakaa here has merged with the common Bengali mother: she goes from admitting to having worshiped the elephant-headed god for her daughter's safe arrival to expressing her grandmotherly yearning for a glimpse of Ganesha!

Himavat in Mughal attire greets daughter Uma and grandson Ganesha in front of his Georgian mansion. Oil on canvas. 
Bengal c. 1890-1900.

source: The British Museum Images, special thanks: Halley Goswami

3. The word used for elephant here -- vaarana (वारण) -- literally means 'warding off', 'preventing' or 'opposing', and is used to refer to the mighty pachyderm for 'its power of resistance' (according to Indologist Monier-Williams). Ironically, vaarana is also another name for the hooked goad, more commonly called an ankusha (अङ्कुश), traditionally used by Indian mahouts to control elephants and carried by Ganesha  in most depictions as one of his attributes! You will be treated to several other Sanskrit words for elephant in future posts, for obvious reasons.

4. Yet again, the deity is not mentioned by name, and is indirectly addressed as 'महस् तत्' or 'that power'!

5. The stanza under consideration captures within its tiny scope the fluid and chaotic notion of divinity that is generally (but debatably) celebrated as the hallmark of Oriental thought. Ganesha is the source of all creation ('कारणं जगतां') but he is also the grandchild of the spirit of a mountain range that is obviously part of creation. On top of that, the reference to the non-existence of Ganesha's paternal forebears implies that the author believes Shiva to be an uncreated (or self-created) primordial being! Such seemingly self-inconsistent snippets are a dime a dozen in Indic religious literature, and date all the way back to the Rigveda itself! 

The renowned philologist Max Müller had to coin the tongue-twister 'kathenotheism' in order to describe the peculiar Vedic practice of extolling one god, say Agni, as all-powerful and supreme in one hymn, and then promptly demoting them while conferring their powers and titles on another god, say Indra, in another hymn. In later ages, it became fashionable for religious encomiasts to equate their object of adulation (whether an established high god or a deified human being) with the all-encompassing mystical entity called Brahman (ब्रह्मन्) that reveals itself in multiple illusory forms in spite of being formless in reality. At the same time, they would also allude to popular myths and beliefs associated with said object of adulation, so that their opuses would often end up being potpourris of inconsistencies, ambiguities, exaggerations, conflations, and other such things with nice big names. 

Here, the basic principle is that Brahman is beyond the scope of thought and words, so human logic does not apply to it. Hence, human logic was forgone with complete creative abandon by many a writer of sacred poetry. The useful theory of  absolute and partial incarnations of divinities also provided a convenient justification for such writings which might otherwise be deemed nonsensical. Finally, it is worthwhile to mention here that the display of religious pluralism in the above verse is very much in keeping with the spirit of tolerance that is said to have prevailed in the empire where it was produced. A staunch Shaivite, while revering Ganesha deeply as the chief of Shiva's ganas (गण) or minions, would probably not go to the extent of addressing him as the source of creation!

Regaling repetitions

While the previous quote was notable for the author's deft employment of figurative speech or, to use the words of Sanskrit rhetoricians, for its arthaalankaara (अर्थालङ्कार; literally, "embellishment of the sense"), the couplet I will now present is characterized by a shabdaalankaara (शब्दालङ्कार; literally, "embellishment of the sound") which refers to the use of catchy sounds. This distich occurs as the first stanza of the naandee (नान्दी) or initial lines of benediction of the play Mukundaanandabhaana (मुकुन्दानन्दभाण) penned by one Kaasheepati Kaviraaja (काशीपति कविराज). I have no information on the playwright (ebook can be found here). 

वन्दे वन्दारुमन्दारमिन्दुभूषणनन्दनम्|

     अमन्दानन्दसन्दोहबन्धुरं सिन्धुराननम्|| 

 Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

vande vandArumandAramindubhUSaNanandanam|
amandAnandasandohabandhuraM sindhurAnanam||

Loose translation: I extol the elephant-faced son of the one adorned with the moon -- that son who is like a wish-granting heavenly tree to those respectful of him and is charming on account of bestowing immense happiness. 
N.B. For other valid interpretations of some parts, see below.

Let us take it one word at a time:
(i) Vande (वन्दे) simply means "I praise" or "I eulogize" and is the same vande that occurs in Vande Maataram! (वन्दे मातरम्), "I praise the mother!" All the words that follow are appellations of Ganesha.

(ii) Vandaarumandaara (वन्दारुमन्दार) is a combination of two words. Vandaaru (वन्दारु), derived from the same verbal root vand (वन्द्) as वन्दे, means "one who eulogizes", hence "one who venerates", and obviously refers to the devotees of Ganesha; Mandaara (मन्दार) here denotes one of the five trees that grace Nandana (नन्दन), the garden in Indra's heaven, the other four being Paarijaata (पारिजात), Santaana (सन्तान), Kalpa (कल्प), and Harichandana (हरिचन्दन). Each of these magical plants has the distinguishing property that it can provide anyone with anything they ask for. In Sanskrit, calling someone a mandaara (or a kalpa-tree or a paarijaata) is a clichéd way of glorifying their munificence. वन्दारुमन्दार thus means "generous to his votaries". Mandaara also refers to the very earthly coral tree (Erythrina variegata or E. stricta) and will reappear in a future post. 

(ii) Indubhooshananandana (इन्दुभूषणनन्दन) means "Shiva's son". Indu (इन्दु) is one of the several names of the moon and bhooshana (भूषण) is "ornament"; Shiva is called Indubhooshana (इन्दुभूषण) in the above couplet because of the crescent that famously adorns his head, or his headdress if he is shown wearing one. Recall his more common synonymous epithets Chandramauli (चन्द्रमौलि) and  Chandrashekhara (चन्द्रशेखर) [चन्द्र = "the moon"; मौलि/शेखर = "crest"]. Nandana literally means "one who gladdens" but, when used as a suffix, it often refers to a son or a descendant, obviously because an offspring is supposed to bring joy to the parents. Recall Krishna's metronymic Devakeenandana (देवकीनन्दन), "the son of Devakee". And in case you are wondering, this literary device is by no means sexist since the feminine form nandinee (नन्दिनी) is used similarly to mean "daughter"! 

Chandrashekhara Moorti,

one of the 64 principal forms of Shiva popular in Tamil Shaivism 

source: Wikimedia Commons

  

(iv) Amandaanandasandohabandhura (अमन्दानन्दसन्दोहबन्धुर) can be decomposed as अमन्द+आनन्द+सन्दोह+बन्धुर. The word bandhura (बन्धुर) has many meanings including "bent", "undulating", "curved", and "rounded", and the last couple of meanings probably has something to do with its frequent use in the literature in the sense "pleasant" or "beautiful". Sandoha (सन्दोह) literally refers to the "total milking of an entire herd of cattle" (from the verbal root duh (दुह्) which means "to milk" and the prefix sam (सम्) which signifies "togetherness") but its meaning has been generalized to cover any "mass" or "multitude". Aananda (आनन्द) of course means "happiness" and, interestingly, its connotations include both "spiritual bliss" and "sensual pleasure"! Manda (मन्द) is a highly negative term that can mean "slow", "dull", "feeble", "bad", "evil", or "insignificant", and amanda (अमन्द) is its antonym. Putting these together, we get "charming on account of bestowing immense happiness" (in the loose translation above) as a plausible interpretation of this long word. Another valid exegesis is "rounded on account of possessing immense happiness" or, to put it more simply, "a round bundle of joy" -- an allusion to the plump features and the delightful childlike disposition that are typically attributed to Ganesha.

(v) Sindhuraanana (सिन्धुरानन) is "elephant-faced"; sindhura (सिन्धुर) is a rather uncommon word for an elephant, while the oft-used aanana (आनन) means "face". The word सिन्धुर is particularly interesting since it literally means "a giver of सिन्धु", and it is well-known that सिन्धु refers to the Indus or a river in general. So what is the connection? It turns out that सिन्धु also denotes two different kinds of liquid discharge from an elephant's body: one through the nostrils (also called वमथु or करशीकर), and the other from a male elephant's temporal glands (also called दान or मद). References to these secretions are so common in the Sanskrit literature on Ganesha and elephants that I have decided to devote an entire post to a discussion thereof! 

Notes:

1. The particular type of shabdaalankaara used here (and, in fact, the most fundamental type of phonetic device in Sanskrit poetry) is called anupraasa (अनुप्रास). It simply refers to the repetition of one or more consonantal sounds within the same verse. English terms that come close in meaning are alliteration and consonance. Note that the conjunct consonant न्द् (composed of न् and द्) occurs eight times and the compound न्धु (comprising न्, ध्, and उ) occurs twice in the quoted couplet. There are other repetitions, too. For example,  the sequence वन्द् occurs twice at the very beginning, the consonants म्, न् and द् appear thrice in that order (-मन्दा-,-मिन्दु-, and -मन्दा- again), and there is a total of fifteen instances of न् out of which there are three pairs (in -नन्दनम्, अमन्दानन्द-, and -सिन्धुराननम्). 

Obviously, the most prominent repetitions in this composition are those of  न्, द्, and ध्, all of which belong to the same phonological category -- dantya (दन्त्य) or dental consonants: for the proper utterance of these sounds, the tip of the tongue must touch the palate close to the base of the upper row of teeth. This particular sub-type of anupraasa, characterized by consonant sounds that may not be identical but have a significant similarity in pronunciation, is called shrutyanupraasa (श्रुत्यनुप्रास​). Different rhetoricians provide varying classifications of anupraasa and other sub-types may also be identified in the stanza under consideration but I will stop here since I am not an expert on the subject.

Another observation I made is that the most repeated consonants न् and द् in these opening lines also occur repetitively in the title of the play itself, मुकुन्दानन्द (see above). I would like to believe that this similarity was intentional.

2. All the words used here to describe Ganesha are long compounds; their meanings can be inferred by breaking them down into their constituents, and then combining the meanings of these constituents in accordance with certain rules, often by inserting words that do not occur in the compound itself. For instance, take the word अमन्दानन्दसन्दोहबन्धुर above which, translated verbatim to English, would read something like "not-insignificant-bliss-mass-beautiful"! This hardly makes sense unless you expand it into a phrase or clause that includes certain extraneous words. And as we have already seen, this expansion of the word, and hence the interpretation, is by no means unique. 

The grammatical tool that allows one to string smaller words together to create new words of arbitrary length is called samaasa (समास), literally "throwing together" or "condensation" -- a feature Sanskrit famously shares with German (check this out). Samaasa is definitely a powerful device for it enables a writer to express a complex idea using a single word but it can also make life difficult for the reader! Apart from the obvious problem of a word becoming a bit too long, it can produce words that are ambiguous (sometimes deliberately so), or even completely unintelligible without special training or familiarity with certain cultural elements -- we will hopefully encounter several examples of these in future posts. Nevertheless, it is these very features of Sanskrit that make the language so dear to me; every read is a fresh intellectual adventure, and you never know what a marvelous treasure trove it might be holding in store for you!