Saṃskṛta-nāṭaka - Harṣavardhana (Part 6) - Nāgānanda

Some wonder why and how Harṣa was inspired to write a story connected with the bodhi-sattva; it is not difficult to surmise a possibility. Though there is some flavouring of Buddhism at the beginning and end of the Nāgānanda, the elements of jāti-smaratva and pūrva-janma-vṛttāna (i.e., recollection of past lives) that are part of the original story are not found in the play. Moreover, the references to Gaurī-pūjā and Sūryopāsana are more connected with the smārta[1] tradition rather than the Buddhist one. We find stories that exemplify dāna-vīratva in many purāṇas as well – for instance, the story of King Śibi is found in many smārta texts. There wasn’t that great a divide between smārta and bauddha traditions back in Harṣa’s times. We have mentioned previously that it appears as though Harṣa always had respect for Buddhism, and in the later part of his life, it turned into a sort of fanaticism. It is quite possible that he penned the Nāgānanda towards the end of his life. Buddha has been considered an avatāra of Mahā-viṣṇu. Therefore, it is not necessary that a playwright who writes on a Buddhist theme should be a practitioner of the bauddha tradition.

From the summary of the plot provided above, it is evident that the first three acts are devoted to the life of Jīmūtavāhana – his wedding and the associated fun and frolic; it naturally evokes śṛṅgāra and hāsya rasas; we can say that the actual play begins from the fourth act – nevertheless, this has not diminished its worth or its aesthetic relish. Some may feel that the backdrop of śṛṅgāra to a story that exemplifies detachment and vairagya is quite out of place. However, we must keep in mind the following aspects before jumping to such conclusions –

The original story that occurs in the Kathāsaritsāgara (taraṅga 90), speaks about the love tale of Malayavatī and her pain of separation; it is not impossible to do away with this part of the storyline and interpolate the aspect connected with detachment; it is perhaps quite challenging for the king who penned the two romantic nāṭikās – Ratnāvalī and Priyadarśikā to do away with śṛṅgāra in his other plays; the nāndī that occurs at the beginning of the Nāgānanda is also based in śṛṅgāra just as in the other two nāṭikās. In fact, Kālidāsa has not written that kind of verse for his play Mālavikāgnimitra. It is quite possible that the prosperity and luxury that people enjoyed during Harṣa’s rule made them more inclined towards a materialistic emotion rather than a profound spiritual one. The taste and approach towards Sanskrit literature had changed by Harṣa’s times; it was different from what was seen during the period in which poets such as Bhāsa and Kālidāsa wrote; scholars had started saying “śṛṅgāra eva rasaḥ” – “romantic love is the only (and the best) aesthetic emotion.” Bāṇa and Subandhu were held as ideals. Thus, there is a pardonable defect in the approach and taste of the poets and playwrights of Harṣa’s period, and he too probably succumbed to the same shortcoming. Nevertheless, in the Nāgānanda, the description of śṛṅgāra works as a nice contrast to the dāna-vīra that occurs later in the play. Jīmūtavāhana, who thinks that youthhood is deplorable and detachment is adorable, gives up his kingdom and wealth and stays in the forest taking care of his parents; it appears to the reader that he was engaging in such activities because of the impressions from his past life; however, he becomes deeply interested in Malayavatī; he encounters difficulties in procuring her company and craves for her. Even as those who attended his wedding are frolicking and Jīmūtavāhana is spending private moments with his beloved in the floral garden, he gets called by Mitrāvasu; he follows him without a second thought; it was only about ten days after his wedding; still, he is ready to give up his beloved and his life for the sake of another – he considers serving the other as the highest dharma; he does all this for rescuing a nāga, about whom he hardly knew.

The following verse beautifully captures the qualities of Jīmūtavāhana –

nirādhāraṃ dhairyaṃ kamiva śaraṇaṃ yātu vinayaḥ

kṣamaḥ kṣāntiṃ voḍhuṃ ka iha viratā dāna-paratā|

hataṃ satyaṃ satyaṃ vrajatu ca kṛpā kvādya kṛpaṇā

jagajjātaṃ śūnyaṃ tvayi tanaya lokāntaragate|| (5.30)

The poet has beautifully captured his qualities of humility, generosity, and courage; at the beginning of the play, we see Jīmūtavāhana, who is in the forest taking care of his aged parents; he does not even care for the pleasures of the kingdom; the kingdom only causes him ‘stress.’ He finds the greatest fulfilment in the service to his parents.

This does not mean that he has ignored the welfare of his people; he had donated the kalpavṛkṣa (1.7); as long as his people were well, he was not worried even when his kingdom was attacked by Mataṅga and others; he was, in fact, happy because of that – the burden of managing the kingdom would then go off his head; he felt that a person who was actually desirous of the kingdom would thereby get to rule and he would be relieved of its responsibility; when Mitrāvasu is annoyed with him that he is not taking any action even when his kingdom is surrounded by enemies, Jīmūtavāhana does not budge a bit; instead, he consoles and convinces him. He possessed the virtues of nobility and generosity by birth; he did not display those qualities only to gain name or fame; he felt for the others and ensured their peace; he was even ready to give up his life for the well-being of another individual; he underwent great pain and left his body; he did not fret or lament; he hardly shed a tear for his own sake; he, in fact, always craved for such an occasion. The stay in the forest was a ‘aprārthita-labhya-vibhava’ – a fortune that he got without having to pray for it; however, he did not have an occasion to sacrifice himself for another and that was the only ‘doṣa’ – shortcoming (see verse 4.2); when such an occasion arose, he felt it more worthwhile to sacrifice himself for the cause and it was more pleasurable to him than taking care of his aged parents or wife (verses 4.23-24). He not only gives up his life out of compassion for another but also blames Ādiśeṣa for not coming forward to safe of the life of one of his own kind, i.e., a nāga; he even crticises saying that the two thousand tongues of Ādiśeṣa are useless when not even one tongue came forward to say, ‘take me instead of him!’