Aiyyo-Ram-a! The joke's on me!!

Growing up in Bangalore, we often had ‘North-Indian’ relatives visit whose constant refrain was a fairly disdainful “अरे इनको हिंदी नहीं बोलनी आती? यह 'रामा रामा' क्या लगा रखा है? यह 'राम' नहीं बोल सकते क्या?" And I did grow up wondering why ‘we’ said Ram and ‘they’ said Rama (which to me sounded like Raamaa). It was only when I began to learn Sanskrit, that I realized that the joke is on me – because in fact Rama (pronounced 'Raam' in Hindi) is actually 'Ram+a' in Sanskrit.

 One of the fundamental challenges I faced as a Hindi speaker learning Sanskrit was to train myself to consciously add the ‘a’ at the end of an ‘a’ ending word. We are hard-wired to drop the ‘a’ when we speak – and if you want to be true to Sanskrit, you will have to make a conscious effort to switch language hats – and not equate Hindi to Sanskrit. It's very difficult, but not impossible.

What makes it even more difficult is the English spellings we are used to – which are geared to the Hindi pronunciation. So, automatically हम आखरी 'अ' खा जाते हैं. In Hindi we pronounce the word like as if it ends on a consonant (Raam) - in the process we drop a complete syllable. In Sanskrit, the 'a' at the end in conjunction with the consonant (म्+अ) counts as a separate syllable. Let me give you some examples:

HINDI	SANSKRIT
कमल - ka+mal 2 syllables	क+म+ल 3 syllables
नाथ - 1 syllable	ना+थ 2 syllables
केशव ke+shav 2 syllables	के+श+व 3 syllables
अर्थ 1 syllable	अर्+थ 2 syllables
शिव 1 syllable	शि+व 2 syllables
नीलकंठ 2 syllables	नी+ल+कण्+ठ 4 syllables

We have no problem with any other vowel, आ, इ, ई, उ, ऊ, ए, ऐ, ओ, औ - there we understand that it is a halanta (not halant :-)) consonant -क् च् ट् etc + the vowel, so क्+ई=की. But in the case of 'अ' we forget, or just slip into the familiar 'Hindified' version.

This will become very important when we proceed to words in Sandhi - for instance सतसत् is not सत+सत् . but सत्+असत् (real and unreal/true and untrue). Likewise धर्मधर्मः is not dharma and dharma as it seems at first glance, but dharm+'adharma' in a copulative compound. So you could get the meaning of a word, a line, a verse completely wrong.

  

So please do make it a habit to look at the end of a word carefully if it ends in 'a' - what are called a-kaarant words - and pronounce the 'a', or at least be aware of it - that'll be a good start!

How do you pronounce Jataka? An appeal for uniformity

When I see the word Jataka - I wonder how it is pronounced. For those of us who are familiar with it, there is no problem. But what if you hadn't met it before? It could be जतक, जातक, जताक, जातका, जाताका, जटाक, जाटक, जाटाका and some more! One way for us to avoid this confusion is to use devanagari but that may not always be possible. Incidentally devanagari itself is not देवनगरी as I once assumed, but देवनागरी! 

And honestly, how confidently can  you say that you will have encountered every Sanskrit word that you come across which is written in English? So I'd like to appeal to you - when we type in English, let us use a standard version of transliteration for our lessons,so that any new words used by any of us are accurately understood by all. This will become very important as we move onto the intermediate and advanced level. 

Of the forms of transliteration, the two most popular are Harvard-Kyoto and IAST (which stands for international alphabet of Sanskrit transliteration). For those who are interested, details can be found here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IAST However, since IAST uses a lot of diacritics, some of which don't appear on sites like Twitter, I suggest we follow the Harvard-Kyoto method, which is as follows:

a A i I u U R RR lR lRR e ai o au M H

k kh g gh G

c ch j jh J

T Th D Dh N

t th d dh n

p ph b bh m

y r l v z S s h

It will take a little bit of work getting used, to, but will make life a lot simpler and the lessons easier to understand.

As the title of this message suggests - this is a request, and you are not obliged to follow it. But I wish you would!

Watch this space for more content before Saturday's class...

What kind of a villain was Śakuni mama?

One of the greatest things about the Mahābhārata is its recognition of the complexities of ‘dharma’ and its portrayal of moral dilemmas. That good people can do bad things and vice versa. Popular renditions of the epic have us sympathising with Karṇa – he who suggested that Draupadi be disrobed (MBh 2.68.38). Some of us even empathise with Bhīṣma who was present and powerless to stop the heinous act. We nod understandingly when Arjuna kills the un-armed Karṇa (MBh8.91). And with Kṛṣṇa of course all deviousness and trickery is forgiven, because he is our divine darling¹. We even find it in our hearts to feel sorry for the blind Dhṛtarāṣṭra deprived of the crown, not to mention Duryodhana, who consequently has kingship snatched away from him, which by primogeniture would have been his.

But the one character who is universally reviled is Duryodhana’s maternal uncle Śakuni. Is Śakuni really the villain he is always made out to be? His villainy is chiefly predicated on his role in the game of dice through which Duryodhana wins everything from his cousins, the Pāṇḍavas. In this post, I attempt an alternate portrayal of Śakuni. A loving brother. A concerned uncle. An expert at the game of dice. An upright man, and a warrior who fights as valiantly as any other during the war, and eventually makes the ultimate sacrifice for his beloved nephew.

It would not be completely hazardous to suggest that Śakuni left his own kingdom unattended to be by the side of his sister who had chosen to blindfold herself for life, and that he loved his nephews². That said, our story begins when Duryodhana has just attended the Rājasūya sacrifice of his cousin Yudhiṣṭhira. The homage paid to the Pāṇḍavas by countless kings, the unimaginable wealth brought as tribute, and his humiliation in the magical palace wound Duryodhana deeply. Belittled, and burning with jealousy and envy, he is inconsolable and pretty much suicidal³. Śakuni first reasons with him – reminds him of his own good fortune, his own wealth, his loving brothers, and his powerful loyal friends, saying there is no need for him to be jealous or distraught.⁴ When his nephew doesn’t relent, he suggests a non-violent, expedient way to deprive the Pāṇḍavas of their wealth. Duryodhana jumps at the chance of victory without ‘any danger to our friends and other illustrious men’.

Śakuni explains that he is an expert in the game of dice(akṣakuśalaḥ). There is no one on Earth who can play as well as him.⁵ He has special knowledge of the game and is superior to all in the world in it.⁶ He says that Yudhiṣṭhira is very fond of gambling, but he does not know how to play. And if asked to, he will not be able to refuse. Śakuni doesn't act unilaterally, insisting that King Dhṛtarāṣṭra give his consent. He does, and in turn consults Vidura who reluctantly goes to the Pāṇḍavas with the invite. The one isolated reference to cheating [(kapaṭam)2.49.40] seems to me to be an interpolation – why would Śakuni need to cheat when he is the best player in the world, and can determine the outcome of every throw? A fact, by the way, that everyone knows, including Yudhiṣṭhira.

Of course in the game, the Pāṇḍavas lose everything – their kingdom, their wife and themselves.  But not everyone thinks Śakuni cheated. Prātikāmin, who is sent to summon Draupadi blames her husband. He says – “Yudhiṣṭhira having been intoxicated by dice (dyutamadena mattaḥ) ... you have been won by Duryodhana...”⁷ A critical vote of confidence comes from the un-impeachable grand sire Bhīṣma who says “Śakuni is matchless in dice (dyutena-advitīyaḥ) (and) Yudhiṣṭhira has still wilfully staked with him... (and) Yudhiṣṭhira does not consider that Śakuni played with him deceitfully...(na manyate ...nikṛtim)”⁸ Despite being in a rage, the hot tempered Bhīma in his outburst at Duḥśāsana says - “Crooked-minded wretch...being advanced by the skill of the Gāndhāra king (gāndhāravidyayā) you dare to boast ...”⁹ And Bhīma's mentor Balarāma in the Udyoga Parvan clearly absolves Śakuni of any fault.¹⁰

Arjuna suggests that it was kṣatriya dharma to play, and that Yudhiṣṭhira played against his will  because he was upholding that dharma.(2.68.9).  Some scholars have argued that Yudhiṣṭhira was honour-bound to play this game – but that would have been true only if the game was part of the Rājasūya, which had long ended by the time this event takes place. In all honesty later (in the Āraṇyaka Parvan), Yudhiṣṭhira confesses to Draupadi that he had been seized by a desire to play the game of dice. During the exile which follows the game, Yudhiṣṭhira becomes an expert at dice, and spends the 13^th year of exile (incognito), as Kaṅkaḥ, the brahmin, who guides Virāṭa, the Matsya king in his effort to learn the game.

Śakuni in battle: While Śakuni calls his dice his weapons, he is second to none on the battle-field, and no less loyal to Duryodhana than Karṇa. A cursory glance at MBh 8.25.18-43 gives us an idea. Śakuni ...who was acquainted with all sorts of warfare ... most desirous of winning victory ... (he) did not at all feel pain ... to behold arrows (approaching) him like throngs of locusts... Thereupon the son of Sulaba who was possessed of immense prowess ... the very sight of the son of Sulaba wandering most fearlessly on the battlefield ... he continued to slaughter the soldiers of the Pāṇḍava forces ... they were routed by the great-souled (mahātmanā) son of Sulaba.¹¹

Śakuni meets his end in the Śalya parvan (Book 9). In popular depictions of the epic, much is made of Abhimanyu’s death (and rightly so). We even shed a tear for Karṅa – but no one bothers to re-tell the valour of Śakuni who was encircled by a wall of hostile warriors (Mbh 9.23.86-87). He is called mighty (balī), brave (śūraḥ), resplendent (pratāpvān) and invincible in battle. Sahadeva first kills Śakuni’s son (we all remember what happened to Droṅa in similar circumstances) – but  Śakuni battles on regardless, pulling out one weapon after another, as his opponent keeps cutting them down. Despite being struck by arrows ‘in all his vital parts’ he continues to fight back, till Sahadeva finally be-heads him.¹² 

I leave it to you to decide whether or not Śakuni deserves a re-appraisal. At any rate, the key objective of this blog is - if you don't agree with me, if you don't like or believe what I have written, please learn Sanskrit, and find out for yourself!!

  

Footnotes:

All verses quoted in this post are from the translation by M.N Dutt, Parimal Publications, 2008

¹ “The Devious God: Mythological Roots of Krishna’s Trickery in the Mahabharata,” Elaine Fisher, Columbia University

² Wikipedia has a story about why he left his kingdom (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shakuni) – but there is no source quoted. The ref XXXI has nothing to do with the story. 3 of my professors concur that the wiki story is not known to the Sanskrit Mahabharata. It probably comes from a vernacular version. If any of you knows where it comes from – please do let me know. Anyway it doesn’t make sense, because if he wanted the destruction of the Kauravas, why would he die on the battlefield for them??

³(2.47.31) 

⁴(2.48.1-12)

⁵(2.48.20)

 ⁶(2.49.38)

⁷(2.67.4)

⁸(2.67.41)

⁹ (2.77.16)

¹⁰The words of Balarama from Sacred-texts.com Book V section II: “When Yudhishthira had his throne, he forgot himself by being engaged in gambling and was dispossessed by them of his kingdom. This valiant Kuru, this descendant of Ajamida, Yudhishthira, though not skilled in dice and though dissuaded by all his friends, challenged the son of the king of Gandhara, an adept at dice, to the match. There were then at that place thousands of dice-players whom Yudhishthira could defeat in a match. Taking however, no notice of any of them, he challenged Suvala's son of all men to the game, and so he lost. And although the dice constantly went against him, he would still have Sakuni alone for his opponent. Competing with Sakuni in the play, he sustained a crushing defeat. For this, no blame can attach to Sakuni.”

¹¹See also 8.51.55, 9.23.30-32 and many other such descriptions.

¹²(9.28)

If any one is interested in listening to a recitation of the Vedic Samhitas, here is a very useful site. It has the texts in Sanskrit, English and corresponding audio - which is a real boon.

http://www.astrojyoti.com

It's quite easy to navigate - see the right hand side bar. The site has a whole lot more that might interest you.

Rabindra-Sangeet

In an apparent departure from the theme of this blog I'd like you to listen to this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3IeLtOjlQE&feature=relmfu

That Rabindra-Sangeet is world-renowned needs no emphasis. Truth be told, I can't really understand what's he's trying to say, a problem apparently not shared by the farming women of Bengal according to W.B Yeats...

But this combination of Tagore, melody, and Hemant Kumar would convert a stone, and want it to know more. I think.

Meanwhile I'm working on the expected.

The shoulder of Shiva: Tungnath Temple, Garhwal

Continuing the Pañc-Kedār Yātrā,  Nardeep Dahiya walks us to Tungnath, which at 12,073 feet above mean sea-level, is the highest Hindu temple in the world. Far from the madding crowd of the Char-Dham*, you'll find a bracing trek (a picture of the writer gives a good idea of the gradient!); and an enduring if not very elaborate example of a 'Nagara' style of temple architecture, with its characteristic curvilinear shikhara (tower). 
Readers may recall the legend of Pañc-Kedār: Seeking absolution for fratricidal genocide, the Pānḍavās come looking for Shiva. He, keen to avoid them, disguises himself as a bull and melts into the mountain, whereupon Bhima grabs his tail to stop him. Shiva subsequently re-emerges in five different spots across Garhwal. Tungnath is where his shoulder is said to have appeared. 

My very first trip to Garhwal got me to Tungnath at noon, after a nonstop drive from Delhi. Chopta, the base of the walk, was no more than a bus stop on a very pretty mountain road, with a couple of rough eateries and their attached shacks. Starting early was important - to get to the summit before the weather packed up. Fortified by a breakfast of hot parathas and tangy pickle washed down with a tall steel tumbler of sweet, steaming tea, one began the ascent to the Shoulder of Lord Shiva. 

Then as now, a cobblestone path leads off the road, a decaying concrete arch announcing guardianship of the way to Tungnath. The cheh-footiya, (6-footer bridle path), rises gently at first, deceptively dealing optimism by the lung-full to those taking their first steps on it. This is quite all right, one thinks, secretly relieved by the easiness of the grade.

Some 100 m. into the path, at a point where it enters thick alpine forest sweetly redolent with the smell of living pine and fir, one literally staggers upon the truth. The gradient of the path becomes punishing, rising to eye level only a few steps away at times. You're in a world of green now, an impenetrable canopy above, the ground a springy pine needle mattress bursting with tiny flowers all around. 


The silence is eerie, the bustle of the big city not 18 hours behind you, and the last sound you heard was a solitary bus groaning its way in first gear up the mountain road. It stuns you at first, then distances itself as your city-calibrated ears sing an electronic whine in numbed protest. Finally it leaves you to your great peace at these great heights, as you adjust to the crunch of your footsteps on the pine needles, the buzz of crickets, the odd trill of a birdsong.  And the cleansing mountain air you are gulping in.

Before you know it, the trees have yielded to rhododendron shrubs carpeting the mountainside in shades of crimson and violet. It's like God splashed the mountain with a divine tsunami of flowers. On your left the mountain rolls away into a patchwork of meadows (bugyals) dotted with the semi-permanent camps of seasonal shepherds. Beyond the mountain, the mighty four-cornered massif of Chaukhamba looms large in magnificent permanence. The air is crystal clear; every ridge, every cornice visible. Don’t be too harsh on yourself if you go camera-mad from this point on, just short of halfway to the top.

Soon, even the shrubs and bushes are gone. You have climbed above the Himalayan tree-line, 3000-odd metres here. A teashop provides a welcome break. Reckoned the halfway point, a couple with leathery faces and cheery smiles sell biscuits and tea. It's a great place to just stand and drink Chaukhamba in with your mind, as well as the more distant Kedarnath range. But don't waste too much time, for the afternoon cloudiness will wreck the Great Himalayan views you duly earned with the climb thus far. You must get to the top well before noon.

Now the track stops weaving, there are no more switchbacks as it goes straight across the face of the mountain. There's one long final stretch, a stony gash leading relentlessly higher to what appears to be a little cluster of huts, undefinable yet from this distance. Closer still, and the grey stone cone of the temple is discernable. An old man dressed in ochre overtakes you, mumbling under his breath about being late. He is the priest of the Tungnath temple, a local Rawal Brahmin in contrast to the South Indian Namboodri Brahmins appointed by Adi Shankaracharya as caretakers in perpetuity of all the other Kedar temples in Garhwal. 

At 3,800 m Tungnath is the highest temple in the world. It's above and beyond a straggly line of shops; there's even a 'hotel'. Among the handful of establishments is the residence of a famous sadhu (holy man), who's also the cover model for a popular tourist guidebook. With his matted dreadlocks, piercing eyes, and strong limbs, the Baba is an intimidating personality. But he's pretty cool too; sit with him, be courteous, and soon you'll be sharing his chillum (clay pipe). He lives here, wintering and practicing his austerities in a cave somewhere below in the valley below that he points to vaguely. 

The temple looks very old. Legend says the Pandavas built it, and that makes perfect sense because no-one but Bhima could have moved the stones used in its construction! A more considered view is that it was built by the great Shankara, which would still make it nearly 1,300 years old. The temple is built over a rock that is believed to be the petrified form of the shoulder and upper forelimb of the Lord Shiva's bull form that Bhima had caught by the tail in the days of the Mahabharat.

Behind the temple is a huge rock the size of an apartment block, with long icicles in the shade. A path goes by the rock to the top of the mountain, starting bravely as a cheh-footiya and devolving into a single-file trail and finally vanishing all together. Then there's just the incline, carpeted thickly with grass and the deep blue above. Lammergiers float in the sky, frost crunches underfoot, and within an hour of starting from Tungnath one is at the top of Chandrashila Peak, an even 4,000m ASL.

A small temple honouring the Goddess Ganga sits right in the centre of the small summit area. Everything on the other side of the summit is at a lower elevation except the horizon which is an unbroken Himalayan line, from one end of your field of vision to the other, Nanda Devi and Trisul standing out for their great heights. It's a sight fit for the gods. And that's probably why the two Indian epics intersect here, for this is where Rama, Prince of Ayodhya, is believed to have done his penance for killing Raavan, a Brahmin, in the great war described in the Ramayana.  

A small section of the summit area is reserved for ashes of the departed from nearby villages, which are kept in miniature earthen pots on a stone platform. This highland is the Alaknanda-Mandakini watershed, and is smack in the middle of the Kedarnath Musk Deer Sanctuary. It's a great campsite too, except that there's no fresh water at the top. Watching sunrise from Chandrashila Top is a soul-satisfying experience. 

From Tungnath, a decently paced downhill trot gets you back to Chopta within an hour. In other words, one can climb to 4000m after breakfast and be back for lunch at Chopta after one of greatest Himalayan experiences that can be had in the world. The only thing that compares is the drive to Kibber in Himachal's Spiti district, at 5000m ASL the highest permanently inhabited village in the world. 

To the southwest is an eminently motorable road that leads up from the Kund bifurcation, winding its way through forested hills and sunny villages as it leaves the Mandakini a little behind and far below. On this smooth and winding road, set on the lip of a well-watered bowl some 5 km before Chopta, is the state government guesthouse of Dugalbitta where the adventurous Indira Gandhi once enjoyed a vacation.

To the general northeast of Chopta, the road dips—locals call a descending road "down" road, pronounced 'dawn';— into the Kedarnath Wildlife Sanctuary, immersing itself immediately into that vast protected forestland. I am told Garhwal Mandal Vikas Nigam has made tourist huts at Chopta now; that would be a welcome development, because this area is crying to be explored.

* Badrinath-Kedarnath-Gangotri-Yamunotri


Some of the pictures are Nardeep's, the others are taken from google images.

Supply Side Jesus...

While we are waiting for our next trek into the hills, here is a brilliantly irreverent comic strip sent by a friend. No offence meant - and I hope none taken!!!

Enjoy.

http://www.bobonline.net/progxiansd/ssj/index.html