“That (eminent) archer, equal in prowess to Hari {either Indra or Viṣṇu}, seeing the mate of the deer aimed at ( by himself ) stand interposing her body, and being softened with pity through his being himself a lover, withdrew his arrow, though drawn to the ear.
The fist of that king, intent on levelling
his darts against other deer also, though firmly clenched, became loose
(loosened) after having come to the ear, as they (i.e. the deer) reminded him
of the sportive movements of the eyes of his youthful beloveds by means of
their eyes excessively tremulous through fear.”
This poetically inadequate, literarily dowdy translation of a passage from Kālidāsa’s Raghuvaṁśa, contains one of the most touching, charming, & lovely images I have come across, in our literature.
{I do not intend to criticize the translator, per se: translating Sanskrit is very
difficult.}
It appealed especially to me, not that
there aren’t other images of consummate beauty & imaginativeness, probably
more piercing & unforgettable than this.
The verses are the 57th & 58th verse
of the 9th Canto of ... what do we call it? ... epic, poem,
play? ... of Raghuvaṁśa, and
occur in the context of a hunting expedition by the King Daśaratha (the
father of Rāma).
Tenderness towards all
beings is an
all-pervasive “mantra” of Indian literature, yes, Hindu literature,
but ancient Indians knew better than vain, hypocritical idealism & vapid,
unrealistic propagandism, that “slaughter” of living beings – even in the
process of eating, sleeping & walking – is absolutely unavoidable & inescapable
– let alone in the duties of statecraft, kingcraft, and running a kingdom.
This evidently disturbed them – an attitude of mind which
reveals itself in the life of Jain saints who even cover their mouths so as not
to harm invisible creatures in the air.
If you search deeply in our definitive texts, you’ll see
there is no real, or important, conflict between the Brāhmaṇas
& Shūdras,
or Brāhmaṇas or Vaiśyas, but
between Brāhmaṇas & Kṣatriyas.
The two dominant castes clashed often, competing in their
respective powers –brahma-bala versus kṣatra-bala –
and any conflict was invariably {but not necessarily} resolved in favor of Brāhmaṇas.
One of the best examples is that of Paraśurāma’s enmity
with Kṣatriyas {his pride, nevertheless, is overcome by a Kṣatriya,
i.e. Rāma –
though they both are incarnations of Viṣṇu,
which complicates the situation}.
Basically, Brāhmaṇas found
the life of a Kṣatriya cruel.
There are enough references to show that they
considered Kṣatriyas
themselves to be cruel, vehement, & rather hard-hearted.
Although highly glorified, and the constant theme of most
of our legends & tales, a Kṣatriya’s life
was one of violence – of cutting-chopping-hacking-slitting-beheading – of
hurting & inflicting injury – of punishing & imprisoning – of dealing
with crime, espionage, sedition, & infiltration – of handling the nasty
business of the infraction of moral & civil law.
You need
to menace, frighten,
threaten, beat, harass, abuse, and torment, when necessary.
You need to instill fear & terror – you should have
the capability, the inclination, the energy, the mental makeup, and the training to do so – if not actually go ahead & initiate a violent act.
It was a life, and a dharma,
which needed –
which demanded
– ruthlessness, wrath, a certain degree of vindictiveness,
cruelty, & harshness.
Life still does.
There is no politics, no life, no
government, no State, without it.
You cannot extract the state-secrets of an
international spy without torturing him – but what kind of person do you need
to be, to consciously & systematically torture
another human being – and who develops
these forms of torture?
There is, and always been, an entire science to it all.
Who trains a special cadre of men to do
this brutal but unavoidable task?
And what kind of person, finally, has to go
ahead & do it?
These activities & qualities are certainly all non-sāttvika, indeed,
go against becoming sāttvika.
But Indians also understood that this cruelty was
absolutely necessary, that the
world cannot exist without it, that society will shatter to fragments without
it, will rot & atrophy & disintegrate into a chaos of immorality & lawlessness & anarchy – that all ethics, all lawfulness, all order, all goodness, truth itself, were
upheld by it – and that their own safety depended on it.
Hence, glorification of the Kṣatriya code & its inherent heroism: no human society can survive without it.
This value is encoded in various allegorical forms, as it
is in the science of Daṇḍa-nīti or the Science of Chastisement, absolutely essential for statecraft, delineated in various texts.
“For the (king’s) sake Īśvara formerly created his
own son {ātmaja}, Punishment {daṇḍa}, the protector of all creatures {“sarva-bhūtānāṃ goptāraṃ”}, (an incarnation of) the law {dharma}, formed of Brahman’s glory {brahma-tejo-maya}.
Through fear of him all created beings, both the immovable & the movable, allow themselves to be enjoyed {also – “are enabled to enjoy”} & swerve not from their duties {svadharma}.
...
Daṇḍa alone governs all
created beings,
Daṇḍa alone protects them,
Daṇḍa watches over them
while they sleep;
the wise declare Daṇḍa (to be identical
with) Dharma.”
So says the Manusmṛti 7.14-15, and 7.18 – of Daṇḍa, which has “a black hue {śyāma} and red eyes {lohita-akṣa}”, and “stalks about, destroying sinners”.
It is terrible, and needs to instill a severe respect, in people.
That understood, given the perspective of Mokṣa & a
life of adroha or ānṛśaṃsya, hunting
would be the most appalling infraction of a Brāhmaṇa’s
inherent moral-code, but it was allowed
to
a Kṣatriya.
If a man cannot as much as kill a beast, how will he
fight?
How will he kill an enemy?
How will he resist an invasion?
How will he be equal to the bloodshed, slaughter, and
carnage, of war – of raids by rival or covetous kings – of sedition &
insurrection?
Of betrayal by one’s own ministers – by one’s own kith &
kin – by one’s own son – by even one’s own spouse?
How can he conquer his fears, his terror, his cowardice,
his innate desire to cling
to
life – his instinct to run?
If you cannot kill a hog, how will you kill
10,000 men enthused & trained to slit your throat, and those of everyone
whom you love, & those who love you?
You not only need to train
yourself
to engage in what’re normally appalling cruelties – but also train several other
thousand
men to do so – because you cannot exist as a kingdom or state, without doing
so.
The Bhagavad Gītā takes this important value-conflict to a point of extreme dramatic tension, in which an incarnation of the Supreme Being Himself asks the epic’s hero, Arjuna, to slay his kinsmen, his teachers, his extended family, and participate in a universal slaughter.
It is very significant that the most important single
philosophical text of Hinduism, which constantly praises ahiṃsā, revolves
around an event of unprecedented violence & carnage.
The task that needs to be done needs to be done, and
existence has never been possible without the ability & preparedness to fight.
Or without the fight.
Kṣatriyas were
allowed to hunt, I am sure, because of many reasons, but this was undoubtedly
the principal one.
How can a man who is all squeamish & “sensitive”, be
expected to protect his kingdom from bands of robbers or assassins – or even
from common criminals?
Kālidāsa himself thinks it necessary to clarify why must a King like Daśaratha must go for a hunt.
In the same Canto, Verse 49, we’re told:
“It (i.e. the chase) makes one intimate
(lit. produces familiarity) with (the art of) shooting down a moving mark
(game) (“cala-lakṣya-nipātane”);
it gives the knowledge of their gestures in
(moment) of fear & rage;
it makes the body acquire excellent
qualiltes owing to the conquest over fatigue;
being, for these reasons, permitted by his
ministers, he went out (for hunting).”
It’s relevant that the author thinks it necessary to
clarify the point.
It’s relevant that the King is “permitted by his ministers” (“sacivaiḥ anumataḥ”) to go out for
such an expedition.
That issue out of the way, the verses quoted in the
beginning, occur when Daśaratha is pursuing herds of deer.
The idea is that when the King is going to shoot a deer, that deer’s mate – a female deer – interposes herself between the King’s arrow, and her mate, so as to shield him (vyavadhā) to cover him, to screen him.
This protective gesture of self-sacrificing love,
melts the King’s heart with compassion (“kṛpā-mṛdu-manāḥ”), because he is a
(passionate) lover (“kāmitayā”) himself.
He sees the female deer’s defiant, courageous act of
protection as an deed, & expression, of love – evidently, of a very deep, self-sacrificing
love.
Being a man of love, he can understand love, he can
identify with it, empathize with it.
When the King sees the eyes of the deer menaced by his
bow & arrows, tremulous with fear, he is reminded of the eyes of his
beloveds (his queens, lovers, etc.) – of the sportive & amorous glances of
his passionate & bold lovers (the term
being prauḍha) – for there is an art of seduction & love-making & erotic
dalliance, which involves the enticing & charming movement of the eyes –
and this makes him loosen his grip on his bowstring.
The beautiful eyes of women – big, black, quivering
& liquidly – are often compared to eyes of does or gazelles in Indian
literature.
{For instance, the eyes of Sītā in the Rāmāyaṇa 2.38.9: “utphulla-nayanā-mṛgi-iva”: “eyes
expanded open like those of a gazelle” –
expanded as in widely opened-up like a full-blown blossom.
In the Shrīmad
Bhāgavatam 10.7.37, the eyes of Yaśodā – agitated on seeing a vision of the universe in the
mouth of Kṛṣṇa – are
compared to the eyes of a deer-calf or fawn, mṛgaśāva-akṣī.
In the Saundarya Lahari,
verse 18, the eyes of Apsarās like Urvaśī are compared to the “shy eyes of frightened wild deer”
– “trasyad
vana hariṇa śālīna nayanāḥ”.
One of the names of the Great Goddess, Lalitā
Mahātripurasundarī,
the 561st name, is Mṛgāksī
– She whose eyes are like those of a doe.
This is one of the most beloved similes in
Indian literature, to depict the restlessness, the passion, the timidity, the
unsteadiness, the amorousness – and the sheer beauty of the expansive eyes – of comely women.}
Aren’t these amongst the most tender & “sensitive”
images & ideas?
I found them incredibly poignant.
Very charming, very romantic, even if quite simple.
There is a very deep “humanity” – {to use a now
heavily-abused term} – embedded in these gentle, romantic, & intensely
resonant images.
In the very next verse, the King shifts his attention
to the chase of boars, and the hunt goes on.
He probably leaves the deer alone, because the poet
shows him hunting down boars, wild buffaloes, tigers etc.
It is not as if he gave up hunting.
Daśaratha spares the deer
& his loving mate because he perceived a deep personal connection in their
relationship in that moment, but he doesn’t abandon being a Kṣatriya – because he cannot
afford to – and still be a King wielding the daṇḍa.
He is, & needs to be – as Kalidāsa says – “the king, who knew no fear” {9.63}.
Ancient Indians definitely were partial towards deer.
I wonder if these images are merely flowers of a vivid
poetic imagination, or gleaned from actually observed sights?
I obviously know that animals have strong protective
instincts, but I’ve never heard of/seen, per se, females of a species being
protective of their endangered male mates.
It is likely enough.
It’s quite evident that ancient Indians (and not just
Indians but deep-thinking men across the world) observed animals at very close
quarters, their behavior, their responses & reactions, and evolved their
ideals of compassion based on these observations.
It is significant that the poet draws direct
comparisons between the expressions & behavior of animals, and human beings
– and keeps showing how our behavior, our emotions & our responses – are
reflected in the behavior, emotions & responses of animals.
Well, whatever the case, these two passages had a
particularly strong impact on my imagination, and I remember them after a very
long time, having forgotten many other particulars & details of the same
brilliant work.
P.S.
prauḍha: a woman above
the age of 30, hence, who is no longer timid or bashful in the presence of her
husband.
Also defined as an impetuous woman, a violent woman, a
full-grown woman.
