Trivikrama-bhaṭṭa
Among the ornate campū compositions available in Sanskrit, Nala-campū authored by Trivikrama-bhaṭṭa is the oldest. The author had a penchant for puns, which he justifies in this manner:
वाचः काठिन्यमायान्ति भङ्गश्लेषविशेषतः।
नोद्वेगस्तत्र कर्तव्यो यस्मान्नैको रसः कविः॥ (1.16)
A profusion of puns, especially when words have to be split to yield two meanings, makes speech a tough nut. Readers shouldn’t be put off by this, because poets are many and each has his own taste.
Trivikrama-bhaṭṭa here talks about the personal preferences of poets regarding their craft. Indian aestheticians typically expound a collective poetic norm and rarely take the predilections of poets into consideration, as seen in their expositions of concepts such as guṇa, rīti and mārga. Kuntaka is a rare exception, for he connects style with the disposition of poets. Kṣemendra is yet another honorable exception: in the prosodic manual Suvṛttatilaka, he has discussed poetic metres in connection with poets – who has handled which metre well, the reasons for it, and so on.
Most poets long to develop a distinctive style. Evidently, personality has a strong bearing on it. Critics and connoisseurs should give a generous latitude to poets regarding their style, for otherwise the latter cannot express themselves freely. On the one hand, undermining individuality hurts the poetic fraternity; on the other, it trammels the natural flowering of aesthetic experience and thus disserves connoisseurs. At the same time poets should not misuse their liberty and demand patronage for rough-and-ready works.
Even the most learned of readers cannot breeze through a pun-filled poem. If formal intricacies continually pose problems for connoisseurs, how can they focus on such greater aspects of the poem as aesthetic sentiment? Trivikrama-bhaṭṭa must have had this thought in mind when he penned this ‘apologetic’ verse.
In the next verse the poet talks about a formal aspect named bandhachhāyā:
काव्यस्याम्रफलस्येव कोमलस्येतरस्य च।
बन्धच्छायाविशेषेण रसोऽप्यन्यादृशो भवेत्॥ (1.17)
A poem, like a mango fruit, comes in various hues ranging from soft and tender to hard and coarse. Each configuration rouses rasa differently.
Trivikrama-bhaṭṭa’s love for pun has surfaced even here and has somewhat injured the import of the verse. Let us keep aside the pun at present and analyze the verse for the insight it provides into literary aesthetics. The words soft and hard relate not only to the pulp and nucleus of the mango fruit, but also to the various stages of its evolution: a ripe fruit tasting sweet, and an unripe one tasting sour and astringent. As related to poetry, these words mean a lucid and complicated poem at one level, and the ripeness or otherwise of the composition at a higher level. All these aspects of configuration are governed by the concept of bandhachhāyā. Soft and hard syllables, separate and compound words, metrical rhythm dictated by short and long syllables – all these constitute bandhachhāyā.
In essence, structural aspects of a poem are anchored to rasa but are dependent on the disposition of poets. The latter ripens the structural aspects in varying ways to bring out different flavours of rasa. The verse marks the point of transition where the intention of the poet transforms into the intention of the poem.
Trivikrama-bhaṭṭa’s thoughts on Poetics are few but unique.
Somadevasūri
Somadevasūri, a poet of prodigious learning, has made some remarkable observations on Poetics in his elaborate work, Yaśastilakacampū. Let us examine a few. At the outset he talks about the ability of poets to juggle familiar and unfamiliar ideas:
त एव कवयो लोके येषां वचनगोचरः।
सपूर्वोऽपूर्वतामर्थो यात्यपूर्वः सपूर्वताम्॥ (1.25)
A poet worth his salt uses words to make the ordinary seem exceptional and the alien, common. In other words, true poets are those whose words make familiar things unfamiliar and unfamiliar things familiar.
Every poet wishes to create something new. At the same time, he is aware that a hoary tradition forms the backdrop for his new ideas. To remain within a tradition and yet be original is to hang on a knife-edge. Great poets manage this with aplomb and make it look effortless. What, then, is their secret? The nature of the known and unknown provides the answer. Great poets use familiar ideas to which everybody can relate, to draw readers in; they then introduce unfamiliar ones to keep the readers hooked. The secret lies in managing the two just right. Somadeva has hinted at all these aspects.
Svabhāvokti vs. vakrokti has been a topic of heated debate among aestheticians since the time of Bhāmaha and Daṇḍī. What position do poets take in this debate? Somadeva answers:
न चैकान्तेन वक्रोक्तिः स्वभावाख्यानमेव वा।
बुधानां प्रीतये किन्तु द्वयं कान्ताजनेष्विव॥ (1.27)
By itself, svabhāvokti or vakrokti does not please the wise. A mix of both does the trick – like a woman with winning speech and impressive traits.
Oftentimes poets do not harbour biases as do theorists. Indeed, they shouldn’t. In the realms of science and art, there are two ways of exploration: analysis and synthesis. Analysis is the forte of theorists and synthesis is the forte of poets and artists. (Great theorists also synthesize, but that is beyond the matter.) Poetry is a medium best suited to synthesis, and so it is small wonder that Somadeva has synthesized the concepts of svabhāvokti and vakrokti.
Next, Somadeva takes a generous stand regarding readers:
अवक्तापि स्वयं लोकः कामं काव्यपरीक्षकः।
रसपाकानभिज्ञोऽपि भोक्ता वेत्ति न किं रसम्॥ (1.29)
Laymen can surely evaluate poetry even though they are not poets. A man might know nothing about cooking but he can surely savour the taste of food.
Presumptuous poets typically talk down to unfavourable readers: What do you know about composing poetry, you slandering twaddler! Only a poet gets it: vidvān eva vijānāti vidvajjanapariśramam. If you must really test my work, train yourself to become a poet first! On certain occasions the scales might tip in the favour of the poet; nonetheless, nothing makes up for condescension. Somadeva advises poets against thinking too much of themselves. The aesthetician Mahima-bhaṭṭa has echoed the same sentiment in his treatise, Vyakti-viveka.[1]
Overall, Somadevasūri has given us a wonderful lesson in literary values.
[1] स्वकृतिष्वयन्त्रितः कथमनुशिष्यादन्यमिति न वाच्यम्।
वारयति भिषगपथ्यादितरान् स्वयमाचरन्नपि न तत्॥ (व्यक्तिविवेकः, २.२)
To be continued.
