Personal grooming 3: The instrument

One of the most important tools in a napita's kit is the nail-parer – a sharp-edged instrument for trimming, filing, and cleaning fingernails and toenails. Shaped like a thin chisel, it is called narun (নরুন) in Bengali and naharni (नहरनी) in Hindi, the Sanskrit origin of both words being nakhaharani (नखहरणी), "nail-remover"; it also has a slew of other Sanskrit names including nakhashastra (नखशस्त्र), nakhadaarana (नखदारण), nakhakartani (नखकर्तनी), and, last but not least, the somewhat poetic nakharanjani (नखरञ्जनी) / nakharanjini  (नखरञ्जिनी), "nail-delighter"! Below is a delightful little snippet where the pun-loving author elevates this rather humble object to sublime heights – all tongue-in-cheek, of course.

Devanagari script:

अनन्तचरणोपान्तचारिणी मलहारिणी|
पुनर्भवच्छेदकरी गङ्गेव नखरञ्जनी||

– वाणेश्वरविद्यालङ्कार​

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

 anantacaraNopAntacAriNI malahAriNI| 

punarbhavacchedakarI gaGgeva nakharaJjanI||

– Baneswar Vidyalankar

Interpretation: The nail-parer is just like the (holy river) Ganges because the following Sanskrit adjectives apply to either of them:

• anantacaraNopAntacAriNI (अनन्तचरणोपान्तचारिणी): Ananta (अनन्त) literally means "endless", and is an appellation of Vishnu, especially in his capacity as the regent of the nadir. Hence, as a descriptor of the Ganges, anantacaraNopAntacAriNI should be translated as "she who wanders near the feet of Vishnu" – an allusion to one of the several myths that associate this sacred river with the feet of Vishnu or one of his incarnations; when it qualifies the nakharanjani, the same word should be interpreted as "she who attends to countless feet".
• malahAriNI (मलहारिणी): It means "filth-remover"; the river-goddess is said to purge all bathers / worshipers of their spiritual impurity by her grace, whereas the nakharanjani is used to clean out more mundane dirt from under human nails.
• punarbhavacchedakarI (पुनर्भवच्छेदकरी): punarbhava (पुनर्भव) is "regeneration" or "that which is regenerated", and is hence a fancy word for fingernail / toenail; chedakarI (छेदकरी) is literally "cutter" and figuratively "destroyer" / "terminator" / "interruptor". A ritual dip in the Ganges is believed to grant moksha (मोक्ष) or liberation from the cycle of birth, death and rebirth. 

Source: This epigram is found in several works produced in Bengal in the late 19th / early 20th century. The Bengali-language encyclopedia Bishwakosh (विश्वकोष; বিশ্বকোষ) and the Sanskrit-Sanskrit dictionaries Vacaspatya and Shabda-Kalpadruma quote it in their respective entries for the word नखरञ्जनी. It also occurs as Verse 240 of Udbhata Sagara Part II (which is the only source where I found the attribution to the renowned 18th century Bengali Scholar Baneswar Vidyalankar), and Verse 82 of Udbhata Chandrika Volume I.

Notes: To the best of my knowledge, the traditional Indian nail-parer nakharanjani is different from the razor called kSura (क्षुर) or khura (खुर) used by barbers to shave the scalp and facial hair. I am also not sure if the word nakharanjani in this sense occurs in older Sanskrit literature (or in Sanskrit literature produced outside the Bengal region for that matter); I do know that it is found in the compositions of eminent medieval Bengali Vaishnava poets Chandidasa (चण्डीदास; চণ্ডীদাস) and Govindadasa (गोविन्ददास; গোবিন্দদাস).

Personal grooming 2: The man for the job

Today's nugget of humor (sanguine humor, more precisely) comes from the relatively recent farce Hasyarnava (हास्यार्णव), "the ocean of laughter / comedy", penned by Jagadishwara Bhattacharya, which I quoted once in this post. The character from this play that I want you to meet now is Raktakallola (रक्तकल्लोल), "a wave of blood", a member of the napita (नापित) caste; napita is usually translated as "barber" but you should read the previous post for a more detailed account of the professional duties of this caste. As he enters the stage, Raktakallola introduces himself with the bravado of a war hero in the following pair of couplets.

Devanagari script:

मयि क्षुरं गृह्णति मानुषाणां भवेक्षणाशा तनुतामुपैति|
स्ववृत्तिनिर्वाहपरे च रक्तचयोर्मिमालाकुलिता तनुः स्यात्||

आर्तनादमधिकं प्रकुर्वतां हस्तपादगलबन्धपीडनात्|
यं छिनद्मि नखरं नृणामहं स प्ररोहति पुनर्न जन्मना||

– जगदीश्वरभट्टाचार्य

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

 mayi kSuraM gRhNati mAnuSANAM bhavekSaNAzA tanutAmupaiti| 

svavRttinirvAhapare ca raktacayormimAlAkulitA tanuH syAt||

ArtanAdamadhikaM prakurvatAM hastapAdagalabandhapIDanAt|
yaM chinadmi nakharaM nRNAmahaM sa prarohati punarna janmanA||

– Jagadishwara Bhattacharya

Loose translation: When I grab my razor, the hope of seeing the world (ever again) fades away from (the minds of) human beings (i.e. my customers); and, as I engage in my trade, their bodies are all aquiver with rippling streams of blood.

After I am done "paring" the nails of men, screaming intensely from the pain in their tied hands, feet, and neck, it usually turns out that those nails never grow back in their lifetime.

Source: Verses 38 and 39 of Hasyarnava, which, like most other Sanskrit plays, is partly in prose and partly in verse.

Notes: The playwright describes Raktakallola's entry as follows: 

ततः प्रविशति रक्तलिप्ताङ्गेन पौरजनेन अञ्चलगृहीतो रक्तकल्लोलः 

(Enter Raktakallola with a blood-smeared city-dweller clutching on to the loose end of the former's upper garment.)

It is as if he is carrying hard evidence of the lofty claims about his "skills" he intends to make. It is also interesting that Jagadishwara makes the barber deliver the above lines (and these lines only) in Sanskrit rather than in a Prakrit tongue that would be more appropriate given his social standing (according to the rules of Indic dramaturgy), as if to mimic the pompous self-promoting speech of a Kshatriya warrior.

The first couplet might be a reference to the known practice, prevalent particularly in Bengal, of hiring a napita to make a ritual cut in the body of a high-caste man for a sacrifice of blood (raktabali (रक्तबलि)) to the Mother Goddess and / or her attendant spirits. 

I think the second verse is much funnier than the first: Not only does this barber hold very unconventional views on how to control nail growth but he also has so much confidence in the effect he is going to have on his customers that he makes sure to tie them up well before rendering his services :)

Personal grooming 1: The pain of separation

Who knew that one could squeeze such a huge amount of romance, heartache, and social commentary into a short description of a hair-cut?!

Devanagari script:

एते कूर्चकचाः सकङ्कणरणत्कर्णाटसीमन्तिनी-
-हस्ताकर्षणलालिताः प्रतिदिनं प्राप्ताः परामुन्नतिम्|
तेऽमी सम्प्रति पापिनापितकरभ्राम्यत्क्षुरप्रानन-
-क्षुण्णाः क्षोणितले पतन्ति परितः कॢप्तापराधा इव||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

ete kUrcakacAH sakaGkaNaraNatkarNATasImantinI-
-hastAkarSaNalAlitAH pratidinaM prAptAH parAmunnatim| 

te(a)mI samprati pApinApitakarabhrAmyatkSuraprAnana-
-kSuNNAH kSoNitale patanti paritaH klRptAparAdhA iva||

– Anonymous

Loose translation: These bunches of hair, that used to be caressed every day with (mild) tugs by the hands, adorned with clanking bangles, of (my) Kannada wife and had grown to a great height, are now falling upon the ground all around me after being struck by the razor brandished by (this) sinful barber as if they were guilty of a crime.

Source: 17th century Anyokti Muktaavali Section (परिच्छेद) 8 Verse 29.

Notes: The poet seems to be comparing the act of trimming one's hair to the unjust treatment of exalted souls (प्राप्ताः परामुन्नतिम्) at the hands of the wicked (पापि-) – the kind of treatment that should rightfully be meted out only to criminals (कॢप्तापराधा).

A few comments on my choice of words are in order. 

• kUrca (कूर्च) can refer to a beard in particular or a bunch in general; I have interpreted कूर्चकचाः as the karmadharaya (कर्मधारय) compound "hair-in-bunches" since the poet uses प्राप्ताः पराम् उन्नतिम् to qualify this word, and unnati (उन्नति) literally means "height / elevation"; however, unnati can also denote increase or growth in general (for instance, it is used to describe the development of female breasts), so कूर्चकचाः in this context could also be read as a dvandva (द्वन्द्व) compound meaning "beard and hair of the head".
• Napita (नापित) is the name given to a caste of traditional personal groomers in many parts of South Asia, and is usually translated as "barber". But the professional skills  of these people have included not just shaving and hairdressing but also paring nails, cleaning ears, and perhaps, in earlier times, bloodletting as well. Members of this caste have historically been looked down upon by many, and have often been lampooned by Sanskrit authors for various reasons. You might want to check this out.
• -करभ्राम्यत्क्षुरप्राननक्षुण्णाः is an interesting word choice. करभ्राम्यत् obviously describes the swift movements of the razor-wielding barber's deft hand all around the customer-poet's head. आनन is face or mouth (/ snout / muzzle / beak), and its synonym मुख is also used to denote a tip or even an edge. However, the correct word for razor is क्षुर although our author seems to have used क्षुरप्र which, more appropriately, denotes a razor-sharp weapon (e.g. an arrow-head) or agricultural implement (e.g. a spade). This is perhaps hyperbole or just an instance of using a little poetic license to fit the metrical scheme. Or perhaps, the compound should be split as क्षुर+प्रानन, the latter being a word coined by the poet to denote the front part of an object, inspired by words like प्रमुख and प्रपद.
• Finally, we come to कॢप्तापराधा. The printed version I found has कृप्तापराधा which, I believe, is a scribal or printing error. कृतापराधा would be appropriate and natural except that it would not fit the meter shardulavikridita (शार्दूलविक्रीडित).

Self-sacrifice

In this snippet, the anonymous poet recounts their conversation with a man who was so dedicated to a cause that he was not just willing to give up his life for it but also actively trying to do so, and that too in one of the most gruesome ways imaginable. 

Devanagari script:

कस्त्वं वृद्ध खलेश्वरोऽहमिह किं घोरे वने वर्तसे
सिंहव्याघ्रवृकादिभिः प्रकृतिभिः खाद्योऽहमित्याशयः|
कस्मात् कष्टमिदं त्वयाध्यवसितं मद्देहमांसाशनाः
प्रागुत्पन्ननृमांसभक्षणधियस्तेऽश्नन्तु सर्वानिति||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

kastvaM vRddha khalezvaro(a)hamiha kiM ghore vane vartase
siMhavyAghravRkAdibhiH prakRtibhiH khAdyo(a)hamityAzayaH| 

kasmAt kaSTamidaM tvayAdhyavasitaM maddehamAMsAzanAH
prAgutpannanRmAMsabhakSaNadhiyaste(a)znantu sarvaniti||

Loose translation: 
"Who are you, old man?"
"I am the lord of villains?"
"Why are you here in this frightful forest?"
"My intention is to be eaten by animals such as lions, tigers, and wolves."
"Why are you resolved to undergo such suffering?" 
"So that these (beasts), after eating the flesh of my body, first develop a taste for human flesh, and (then) end up devouring all (other) people."

Source: Udbhata Chandrika (1880) Volume 2 Part 1 Verse 24.

Notes: The editor of the above anthology, Chandramohan Tarkaratna Bhattacharya, expounds on the construct प्रागुत्पन्ननृमांसभक्षणधियः as follows: प्राक् प्रथमम् उत्पन्ना नृमांसभक्षणे मानुषमांसभोजने धीः बुद्धिः प्रवृत्तिरिति यावत् येषां, i.e. प्रागुत्पन्ना is an adjective of धीः inside this bahuvrihi compound. 

Auditory pareidolia 2: Caw!

This is the second installment in my series on non-speech sounds that have been humorously interpreted by poets as messages in a human language (Sanskrit, more often than not). My first offering in this vein was about the crow of a rooster, and today I have for you a couple of snippets on another birdcall that signals the break of dawn – the caw of a corvine bird. 

Human beings have been sharing their living space with crows and ravens for a long time, and attributing supernatural powers to these black-feathered carrion-feeding opportunists who are somehow both familiar and enigmatic at the same time. Their croaking call is often seen as an omen, and is presumably the source of their names in several languages. The call is usually rendered kA kA (का का) in Indic languages, and the Sanskrit verbal root √kai (√कै), whose meaning is generally given simply as "to sound", is applied to these birds' vocalizations in particular. The most commonly used word for crow in Sanskrit is kAka (काक), which has spawned its own (somewhat poetic) synonym dvika (द्विक), "two k's"! A few other onomatopoeic verbal roots that refer to a crow's caw are √drAGkS (√द्राङ्क्ष्), √dhrAGkS (√ध्राङ्क्ष्), √dhvAGkS (√ध्वाङ्क्ष्), and √dhmAGkS (√ध्माङ्क्ष्), each of which has "to crave" as a secondary meaning!

My guess is that each of the following anonymous epigrams was composed extemporaneously by a poet on being requested by a patron to provide a (fanciful) explanation for the ruckus raised by crows at dawn. 

(1)  Devanagari script:

तिमिरारिस्तमो हन्ति तेन शङ्कितमानसाः|
वयं काका वयं काका रटन्तीति प्रगे द्विकाः||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

timirAristamo hanti tena zaGkitamAnasAH| 

vayaM kAkA vayaM kAkA raTantIti prage dvikAH||

Loose translation: As the Sun embarks on the destruction of darkness at daybreak, crows have their minds gripped by fear, and start yelling, "vayaM kAkA! vayaM kAkAH!" ("We are crows! We are crows!").

Notes: The word used for the Sun here is timirAri (तिमिरारि), "the foe of darkness". In the unnamed poet's imagination, the corvids with their dark feather coats are worried that the rampaging monarch of the day might mistake them for remnants of his enemy camp, and are hence declaring their identity in a frantic bid to save their lives.

Source: Udbhata Sagara Part II Verse 82; Udbhata Chandrika (उद्भटचन्द्रिका), "moonlight of epigrams", compiled by Chandramohan Tarkaratna Bhattacharya (चन्द्रमोहन-तर्करत्न-भट्टाचार्य), Professor of Sanskrit at Bethune College, Calcutta, and first published in 1880, contains the slight variant: तिमिरारिस्तमो हन्ति शङ्कातङ्कितमानसाः| वयं काका वयं काका इति जल्पन्ति वायसाः|| (Volume 1 Part (परिच्छेद) 1 Verse 43); Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar gives the first half as तिमिरारिस्तमो हन्तीत्यातङ्कव्याकुलान्तराः|  in his 1890 anthology Shlokamanjari (Verse 159).

(2)  Devanagari script:

का काबला निधुवनश्रमपीडिताङ्गी निद्रां गतोपपतिबाहुलतानिबद्धा|
सा सैव यातु भवनं मिहिरोद्गमोऽयं सङ्केतवाचमिति काकचया वदन्ति||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

kA kAbalA nidhuvanazramapIDitAGgI nidrAM gatopapatibAhulatAnibaddhA| 

sA saiva yAtu bhavanaM mihirodgamo(a)yaM saMketavAcaM||

Loose translation:  "Who are those women that are fast asleep, with limbs fatigued by lovemaking, in the arms of their paramours? Let them all return home, for the sun is rising!" – this is the cryptic message that flocks of crows send out (in the morning).

Notes: In Sanskrit, kA (का) is "who?" or "what?" in the feminine gender, and saying it twice is the correct way to generate the plural form in certain contexts. The poet (presumably) imagines an unholy nexus between these wily birds and human adulteresses, the formers' seemingly inarticulate call being an agreed-upon code word for signaling the hour for these nocturnal adventurers (who would otherwise likely sleep through sunrise) to resume their public lives. And our astute poet has taken it upon themselves to expand on the abbreviation kA kA. 

Source: Udbhata Chandrika Volume 1 Part 1 Verse 44.

The two-timer, owned bigtime!

The full moon day of the month of Kartika is observed as raasayaatraa (रासयात्रा) or raasapoorniman (रासपूर्णिमन्) in parts of Eastern India. This festival commemorates one of the most well-known "pastimes" of Krishna who is regarded as the Supreme Being in many Indic belief systems such as Gaudiya Vaishnavism, and as an incarnation of divinity in others: In order to appease the milkmaids of the Braj area who all wanted him as their lover, he produced several clones of himself, and thus danced with each of them in the moonlight at the same time. The particular rustic dance form that they performed on this occasion is called raasa (रास) which, along with hallishaka (हल्लीशक), appears to have been popular in the cowherd community of Northern India at some point in history; a precursor to dandiya raas, it can be regarded as one of the oldest surviving "mainstream" social dances of the Subcontinent. 

Whatever the spiritual significance of Krishna's amorous dalliances with numerous (mostly married and much older) women might be, they have earned him notoriety in popular culture as everyone's favorite playboy. Literary works abound that humanize this deity, and do not shy away from making him commit a faux pas in one or two of his numerous escapades. The following is a classic example: a benediction styled as a short conversation between Krishna and Chandravali (चन्द्रावली), one of his most favored sweethearts. The paternal first cousin of Radha (राधा) who is Krishna's primary (and eternal) consort, Chandravali is portrayed as her arch-rival for the fickle cowherd's affections in some tellings of the timeless romance, and is conspicuous by her absence in others!

Devanagari text:

राधामोहनमन्दिरं जिगमिषोश्चन्द्रावलीमन्दिराद्
राधे क्षेममिति प्रियस्य वचनं श्रुत्वाह चन्द्रावली|
कंस क्षेममये विमुग्धहृदये कंसः क्व दृष्टस्त्वया
राधा क्वेति विलज्जितो नतमुखः स्मेरो हरिः पातु वः||

– लीलाशुकबिल्वमङ्गलठक्कुर

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

rAdhAmohanamandiraM jigamiSozcandrAvalImadirAd
rAdhe kSemamiti priyasya vacanaM zrutvAha candrAvalI| 

kaMsa kSemamaye vimugdhahRdaye kaMsaH kva dRSTastvayA
rAdhA kveti vilajjito natamukhaH smero hariH pAtu vaH||

– Lilashuka Bilvamangala Thakura

Loose translation: As he was about to leave Chandravali's pleasure-house for that of Radha, (Krishna) blurted out "Farewell, Radha!" 
On hearing her lover say these words, Chandravali retorted, "Farewell, Kamsa!" 
"O lady with a deluded mind!", said Krishna, "Where do you see Kamsa?" 
"Where's Radha?", quipped Chandravali. 
At this, Krishna lowered his head and smiled in embarrassment –  May that Hari protect you.

Notes: In case you did not know, Kamsa, the infamous usurper and tyrant of Mathura, was Krishna's maternal uncle and nemesis whom he was born to kill. And the wily Chandravali, eager to get back at Krishna for bringing up Radha in her presence, knew that nothing would anger him more than someone addressing him as Kamsa and wishing welfare upon the latter. Presumably, Krishna's exhaustion (from you-know-what) was responsible for his Freudian slip as well as for his slowness in picking up on Chandravali's passive-aggressive response.

The piece is attributed to the enigmatic Lilashuka (लीलाशुक), "pleasure-parrot", known mainly for his devotional masterpiece Shri Krishna Karnamrita (श्रीकृष्णकर्णामृत) and generally regarded as one of the greatest Vaishnava poets of all time. And the last time I checked, several states in Southern and Eastern India were still butting heads over where he was from.

Source: Udbhatasagara (1993 edition) Part III Verse 62.  

Baladeva Vidyabhushana's 18th century treatise on literary theory entitled Sahitya Kaumudi (साहित्यकौमुदी), "the moonlight of literature",  gives a slight variant of the above verse (Chapter 4 Verse 6) as a specimen of ईर्ष्यामान, "indignation caused by jealousy"; here, the first half is recorded as

राधामोहनमन्दिरादुपगतश्चन्द्रावलीमूचिवान् राधे क्षेममिहेति तस्य वचनं श्रुत्वाह चन्द्रावली|

(Thus the only difference between this version and the above quote is that the conversation took place when Krishna was entering Chandravali's love shack after spending time with Radha.)

Subhashita Ratna Bhandagara records the second half as follows (with no change in meaning):

क्षेमं कंस ततः प्रियः प्रकुपितः कंस क्व दृष्टस्त्वया राधा क्वेति तयोः प्रसन्नमनसोर्हास्योद्गमः पातु वः||

– Verse 186 of the chapter on Krishna.

The lion and the elephant

On the ninth (lunar) day of the fortnight of the waxing moon in the month of Kartika (कार्तिक), Bengali Shakta Hindus observe Jagaddhatri Puja, a condensed version of Durga Puja. The deity at the center of the festivities is Jagaddhatri (जगद्धात्री), a four-armed form of Durga, mounted on a lion that is crushing an elephant (or just the severed head of an elephant) under its feet. In fact, the motif of a lion (or leogryph) subduing an elephant is centuries old and ubiquitous in Indic statuary. In literature, the lion is portrayed as an arch-enemy of the elephant and the only beast capable of taking down the otherwise invincible giant – and poets have used the lion-and-elephant trope again and again to describe valor and victory. The following is a somewhat fresh take on this banalized literary device.

Devanagari text:

बालाया नवसङ्गमे निपुणतां प्रेक्ष्यान्यथाशङ्किनो
भर्तुश्चित्तमवेक्ष्य पङ्कजमुखी तत्पार्श्वकुड्येऽलिखत्|
एकं भद्रमतङ्गजं तदुपरि क्रोधात् पतन्तं शिशुं
सिंहीगर्भविनिःसृतार्धवपुषं दृष्ट्वा स हृष्टोऽभवत्||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

bAlAyA navasaGgame nipuNatAM prekSyAnyathAzaGkino
bhartuzcittamavekSya paGkajamukhI tatpArzvakuDye(a)likhat| 

ekaM bhadramataGgajaMtadupari krodhAt patantaM zizuM
siMhIgarbhaviniHsRtArdhavapuSaM dRSTvA sa hRSTo(a)bhavat||

– Anonymous

Loose translation: On their first night of lovemaking, the husband saw how skilled his young bride was, and started suspecting (that she might not be a virgin); realizing what was on his mind, the lotus-faced girl sketched on the wall beside (the bed) an imposing elephant and then, pouncing furiously upon the animal, a cub that had only half emerged from the womb of a lioness. He was gladdened by what he saw.

Source: 17th century Anyokti Muktaavali Section (परिच्छेद) 2 Verse 21.

I also found a slight variant of this snippet here along with its Telugu version. According to the editor, it is Verse 71 of cATu-dhArA-camatkAra-sAra (चाटुधाराचमत्कारसार), compiled by Allamaraju Subrahmanyakavi (Rajamundry: Sri-sujana-ranjani-mudraksara-sala (श्रीसुजनरञ्जनीमुद्राक्षरशाला), 1931).

Notes: The elephant is presumably a metaphor for the "eros" that the girl has mastered or the husband who is in the process of being "conquered", and the lion-cub is the girl herself. The whole scene is meant to assure the distressed husband that his wife's prowess in bed is not the outcome of training or experience but is just as natural to her as hostility towards pachyderms is to a maned feline, even when the latter is in its infancy. 

Here is one of several examples from Anyokti Muktaavali Section 2 of an infant (or fetal) lion, eager to take on a full-grown elephant, being used to metaphorize the innate heroism of a youth of royal descent:

सिंहः शिशुरपि निपतति मदमलिनकपोलभित्तिषु गजेषु|

प्रकृतिरियं सत्त्ववतां न खलु वयस्तेजसो हेतुः|| 8 || 

"A lion, even when he is a cub, leaps upon elephants that have cheeks wet with temporin – such is the nature of the high-spirited, prowess has nothing to do with age."

The word bhadramataGgaja (भद्रमतङ्गज) used here may or may not refer to the foremost of the three primary categories of elephants recognized in Indic elephant lore: bhadra (भद्र), mandra (मन्द्र) or manda (मन्द), and mRga (मृग); bhadra simply means "good". The reading mattagaja (मत्तगज) is found in the second variant mentioned above – this word describes a bull elephant in musth.

Why does the lamplight flicker?

Lesser mortals might say that it is just the wind. But the poet knows best :)

(1) Devanagari text:

बालां कृशाङ्गीं सुरतानभिज्ञां गाढं नवोढामुपगूढवन्तम्|
विलोक्य जामातरमेष दीपो वातायने कम्पमुपैति भीतः||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

bAlAM kRzAGgIM suratAnabhijJAM gADhaM navoDhAMupagUDhavantam| 

vilokya jAmAtarameSa dIpo vAtAyane kampamupaiti bhItaH||

– Anonymous

Loose translation: (The flame of) this lamp in the window shudders in fright as it witnesses the son-in-law wrapping himself tightly around (his) young and petite new bride inexperienced in the art of lovemaking.

Source: Vidyakara's Subhashita Ratnakosha Verse 757: Verse 4 of Chapter 26 (प्रदीपव्रज्या, "the chapter on the lamp"); Verse 1213 (Verse 3 of Chapter 148, the chapter on the lamp) of Saduktikarnamrita (सदुक्तिकर्णामृत), "good sayings that are ambrosial to the ear", compiled by Shridharadasa (श्रीधरदास) in Bengal in 1205 CE.

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(2) The following verses are uncannily similar, and plagiarism cannot be ruled out.

(2.1) Devanagari text:

तरुण्या नीयमानोऽसौ दीपोऽञ्चलपटावृतः|
न दत्तौ विधिना हस्तौ धुनोतीति मुहुः शिरः||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

taruNyA nIyamAno(a)sau dIpo(a)JcalapaTAvRtaH|
na dattau vidhinA hastau dhunotIti muhuH ziraH||

– Anonymous

Loose translation: As the damsel was carrying this (oil-)lamp, shielded by the loose end of her sari, the lamp started shaking its head again and again (in frustration), as if complaining that it had not been given hands by the Creator.

Source: Vidyakara Sahasraka Verse 612.

Notes: The wordplay works because दीप, the word used for lamp here, has the masculine gender. Why does the lamp want hands so badly? The next verse sheds some light on it. 

(2.2) Devanagari text:

दीपो वातभयान्नीतः कामिन्या वसनान्तरे|
निरीक्ष्य कुचसौन्दर्यमकरः कम्पते शिरः||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

dIpo vAtabhayAnnItaH kAminyA vasanAntare|
nirIkSya kucasaundaryamakaraH kampate* ziraH||
*grammatical error; see notes below

– Anonymous

Loose translation: As the pretty lady shielded the (oil-)lamp with her scarf (or the loose end of her sari) fearing that it might be blown out by the wind, the lamp saw the beauty of her breasts, and started shaking its head (in frustration) for having no hands.

Source: 17th century Anyokti Muktaavali Section (परिच्छेद) 6 Verse 100.

Notes: The early 20th century Subhashita Ratnakara provides a version (Verse 6 of the chapter dedicated to female breasts) in which the second half has its grammar corrected but has no reference to the lack of hands: दृष्ट्वा तु कुचसौन्दर्यं शिरः कम्पयते मुहुः|| (. . . shakes its head repeatedly on seeing the beauty of the breasts). See this post for a less metaphorical snippet in the same vein.

(2.3) Devanagari text:

मन्दानिलहतविलोलशिखः प्रदीपः कक्षान्तरे विनिहितः सभयं तरुण्या|
तस्याः समस्तकुचकुम्भयुगं निरीक्ष्य बाहुं विनेव विदधाति शिरःप्रकम्पम्||

– भानुकर

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

mandAnilahatavilolazikhaH pradIpaH kakSAntare vinihitaH sabhayaM taruNyA|
tasyAH samastakucakumbhayugaM nirIkSya bAhuM vineva vidadhAti ziraHprakampam||

– bhAnukara

Loose translation: As the lamp, the flame of which was flickering in the gentle breeze, was shielded in the bend of her arm (or taken into another room) by a young lady who was afraid (that it might be blown out), it kept shaking its head as if for being devoid of arms, after it got a full view of her pitcher-like breasts.

Source: Padyaracana (पद्यरचना), "compositions in verse", Chapter (व्यापार) 15 Verse 17. This anthology was compiled by Lakshmana Bhatta Ankolakara (आङ्कोलकरश्रीलक्ष्मणभट्ट) between 1625 and 1650 CE.

Notes:  I have quoted the verse just as I found it in the above anthology, but I think the first quarter should read मन्दानिलाहतविलोलशिखः प्रदीपः, assuming that the meter is vasantatilaka (वसन्ततिलक).

The compiler cites this couplet as one of several specimens of Kavya Samasya Purana (काव्यसमस्यापूरण), "solution to a poetic enigma", a recreational exercise in constrained writing that can take on many forms and is one of the sixty-four classically recognized art forms of South Asia; here, I think, the poet was just asked to come up with a fanciful explanation for the quivering of the flame of a lamp, and perhaps versify it in a given meter. I have no information on the author Bhanukara.