Vanitākavitotsavaḥ: Watching Women at Play – 1

Vanitākavitotsavaḥ is a unique Sanskrit play written by Śatāvadhānī Dr. R Ganesh, an eminent contemporary poet. As the title indicates, it is a celebration of poetry composed by women. This work was first written around thirty years ago and was then published in Saṃskṛta-pratibhā, a quarterly journal brought out by Sahitya Akademi. It was recently revised and published as a book.[1]

In the preface the author says he has been inspired to write this play from two sources: (1) Bhuvana-vijaya, an art form presented as a play that recreates the eponymous royal court of the Vijayanagara monarch, Kṛṣṇadevarāya, featuring eight poets renowned as Aṣṭa-diggajas. (2) Prekṣaṇakatrayī, a collection of three playlets written by the illustrious scholar, Dr. V Raghavan, featuring Vijjikā, Vikaṭanitambā and Avantisundarī.

The model that Dr. Raghavan had adopted has served as a guidepost for Dr. Ganesh as well:

“Utilising the verses in the anthologies and the citations and references in the Alaṅkāra works, I have imaginatively worked out the situations; and enriching the text with authentic lines, echoes and ideas from the writings of these ladies and other related writers, I have tried to capture in the presentation the spirit and atmosphere of the old Sanskrit literary circles, the goṣṭhīs in which Kavis and Sahṛdayas mingled and mutually cherished their twin arts of creation and criticism.”[2]

Inspired by these two sources, the playwright has brought together some of the finest verses composed by women in Sanskrit (73)—of which most are preserved in anthologies, and some are part of independent poems—alongside his own compositions (42). The author’s intention is to highlight the poetic qualities of ancient verses, so he has added his own stanzas only to connect unrelated compositions and provide context. Despite being restrained in this manner, these verses of Dr. Ganesh stand out for the novelty in ideas, melody in sound, and aptness overall. Further, the dialogues worded in sparkling, idiomatic prose have shored up the value of the play by revealing the nature of various characters.  

The play is set in Satyaloka and features a literary conclave for women convened by Sarasvatī. We are informed that Indra, the head of deities, organizes a literary goṣṭhī in heaven every year, and because women do not get to participate there in large numbers, Sarasvatī has put together this women-only conclave. In a brilliant exercise of poetic liberty, Dr. Ganesh has presented the characters in a über-mortal or celestial form (divya-rūpa), which has enabled him to steer clear of anachronism and other problems of provenance, for the poetesses come from different ages and hail from different places. This device also provides a window into the lives of the major characters and allays the readers’ apprehension when the poetesses share their life experiences with each other. As for the connoisseurs, we get to savour different literary flavours couched in a variety of styles. What’s more, we are led to believe we are reading a female-only version of Bhojaprabandha!

The play includes thirty-three poetesses. Fifteen of them are presented as characters: Vijjikā, Gaṅgādevī, Tirumalāmbā, Nāgammā, Mārulā, Avantisundarī, Indulekhā, Śīlā, Vidyāvatī, Padmāvatī, Bhāvadevī, Vikaṭanitambā, Madhuravāṇī, Morikā and Phalguhastinī. The rest are mentioned in passing: Sarasvatī, Priyaṃvadā, Kāmākṣī, Madirekṣaṇā, Madālasā, Caṇḍālavidyā, Sītā, Devakumārī, Cinnammā, Keralī, Lakṣmī, Rāṇakanyā, Veṇīdattā, Tribhuvanasarasvatī, Rāmabhadrāmbā, Prabhudevī, Subhadrā and Manoramā.

The main scene of the play opens with the poetesses conversing on the way to Satyaloka, to participate in a session on poetry. This session is presided over by Avantisundarī, who knew the ingredients of a good poem like the back of her hand, and could also use these ingredients deftly to prepare a delectable poetic dish. Although no work of hers has come down to us, we surmise she was a first-rate scholar and poetess going by the observations in her name preserved in Kāvyamīmāṃsā, a manual on Poetics authored by her husband, Rājaśekhara. Evidently, Avantisundarī is a superb choice to lead the proceedings. She is able to resolve many a ticklish issue, as we shall see.  

*             *             *

The play attracts the attention of readers right from the title: Vanitākavitotsavaḥ is a phrase that rings with the rhythm of the Anuṣṭubh metre. The near-neat division of the phrase into three groups, each of the length of four syllabic instants, is as striking as sonorous.

The verses that follow the title are similarly riveting:

वागर्थपत्त्रसौरभ्यस्फारं संविद्रसात्मकम्।

जगत्पङ्केऽपि निर्लिप्तं सेवे सारस्वताम्बुजम्॥1

I exalt the lotus of literature. It has form and content for leaves, rasa (aesthetic experience) for nectar, and remains unsullied by the muck of worldly affairs.

नामजगज्जयलक्ष्म्या

यस्याः प्रेम्णैव रूपजगदारचने।

शक्तिं लभते विधिरपि

तस्याः करुणाविरस्तु मयि भारत्याः॥2

May Sarasvatī bless me with her kindness. She is the residing deity of the world of names, whose love enables Brahmā to create the world of forms.

By using lotus, a symbol of equanimity invoked frequently in Indian philosophy, the poet has subtly suggested the higher reaches of poetry in the first verse. The benedictory verse of a play is typically in praise of the author’s favourite deity; this verse has happily moved away from that beaten track. In the second verse the poet has wonderfully juxtaposed the complementary ideas of nāma (name) and rūpa (form)—which together constitute the world—and has shared the credit for their creation between Sarasvatī and Brahmā! Invoking the deity of learning and language at the beginning of the play is appropriate. Further, the name given to Sarasvatī by the poet, ‘Nāma-jagat-jaya-lakṣmī,’ seizes our interest – it hints the harmony between two female deities who are usually considered rivals.    

*             *             *

Dr. Ganesh is a consummate polymath intimately familiar with a wide array of subjects, ancient and modern. He is also a poet and performing artist with first-rate creative attainments. Armed with such talent, he has skillfully conceived several themes and woven them into the narrative of the play. None of these sticks out. Taken together, they build the bulk of the play and lend it cohesion, without which the work would have appeared as a heterogenous mixture of isolated verses. The themes, inter alia, include the status of women in ancient India, literary aesthetics, originality, plagiarism, feminism and national integration. Additionally, there are memorable interludes that recount the life-stories of characters and present a variety of literary challenges.

Let us take up these themes one by one and examine how the author has developed them.

The prologue of a Sanskrit play typically involves ‘minor’ characters, both men and women, who talk about various things and gradually arrive at a juncture that serves as a springboard for the main scene. While the present play is the same as others in this respect, it differs in one vital aspect – it does not have any male characters.[3] Not just in the prologue but throughout the play. I mention the prologue specifically because Mudrārākṣasa, a classical play that does not feature women in any of the main scenes, includes a ‘minor’ woman character in the prologue. Vanitākavitotsavaḥ does not do even that.   

The initial pages of the play present a scene involving the female lead who dragoons her assistant into readying the stage. The assistant is somewhat hesitant as there is no male character, not even to play the stage manager. The female lead delivers a mini talk to convince her, in which she makes some pointed observations: the earliest epic of our country, Rāmāyaṇa, speaks of a troupe of dramatists consisting entirely of women; the text Kuṭṭinīmata informs us that courtesans had staged the play Ratnāvalī in Vārāṇasī; women have adeptly managed the artistic activities in royal harems and chambers of courtesans since ancient times. An elaborate list of women seers featured in the Vedas follows. Evidently, this spirited defence is intended to silence sticklers who question the validity of a play staged entirely by women.[4]

*             *             *

In one of the shorter interludes Dr. Ganesh waxes eloquent about his motherland. When Marulā, a poetess from Vidarbha, pokes fun at her friends from Karnataka by saying they are good at only gastronomic matters (11), Gaṅgādevī, a proud daughter of Karnataka, changes her mind. She names some of the most illustrious people who were either born here or worked in this land: Śaṅkarācārya, Rāmānujācārya and Madhvācārya, the great philosopher-saints; Vidyāraṇya and Sāyaṇācārya, the brothers who resuscitated Sanātana-dharma at a critical juncture and consolidated our traditionally accumulated fund of knowledge; Someśvara and Basavabhūpala, the authors of the encyclopaedias, Mānasollāsa and Śiva-tattva-ratnākara. Interestingly, Dr. Ganesh also says this is the land where the ‘Speak Sanskrit Movement’ spearheaded by Samskrita Bharati originated! The movement had begun to peak at the time when this play was composed, and so the reference to it seems natural. As we have observed, Gaṅgādevī is able to discuss a topic of the twenty-first century because she is in divya-rūpa – full marks for the poetic device!    

*             *             *

At a couple of places in the play Dr. Ganesh has provided remarkable insights into life and literature, either by presenting his own thoughts, or by explaining old verses in a new light. One such occasion involves a verse composed by Vijjikā:

एकोऽभून्नलिनात्ततश्च पुलिनाद्वल्मीकतश्चापर-

स्ते सर्वे कवयः प्रसन्नमतयस्तेभ्यो महद्भ्यो नमः।

अर्वाञ्चो यदि गद्यपद्यरचनाचातुर्यमातन्वते

तेषां मूर्ध्नि वहामि वामचरणं कर्णाटराजप्रिया॥8

Brahmā, the one born of a lotus, Vyāsa, the one born of sand, and Vālmīki, the one born of an anthill – these are great poets, ones with serene minds. I bow to them. If anyone later shows off their skill in prose and verse, I, the queen of Karṇāṭa, shall stick my left foot on their head.  

This acidulous verse, especially the last line, convincingly communicates Vijjikā’s hauteur. Dr. Ganesh, however, sees something more in it – he changes the word order in the last line and extracts the meaning, ‘I shall carry their left foot on my head’ (pp. 27–28). This brilliant explanation tells us that Vijjikā was not all sting and punch, she had a mellower side as well: if anyone who came later than the three poets mentioned in the verse is really skilled in prose and verse, she has no qualms in celebrating them.