Sunday, March 12, 2017

Auditory pareidolia 5: The harbinger of Spring

All over the Indian Subcontinent, the lilting call of the male koel is one of the surest signs that spring is in the air. The bird's cry is usually rendered kuhu (कुहु) or kuhU (कुहू), and is considered one of the most romantic sounds of nature; and, for this very reason, the koel as well as the spring season is often depicted as a great tormentor of separated lovers. 

The clever use of onomatopoeia in each of the following stanzas is quite amusing, but I must warn you that they both deal with longing and heartache.

(1) In Sanskrit, the word kuhU (कुहू) also refers to the new moon, or the (lunar) day of the new moon – the only day of the month when the moon is completely overpowered by darkness, its natural enemy. This homonymy is used to great poetic effect in the following piece, composed in the melodious drutavilambita (द्रुतविलम्बित) meter . 

Devanagari text:
पिक विधुस्तव हन्ति समं तम-
स्त्वमपि चन्द्रविरोधिकुहूरवः|
तदुभयोरनिशं हि विरोधिता
कथमहो समता मम तापने||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

pika vidhustava hanti samaM tama-
stvamapi candravirodhikuhUravaH|
tadubhayoranizaM hi virodhitA
kathamaho samatA mama tApane||
– Anonymous

Loose translation: O Koel! The Moon destroys darkness, which is comparable to you (in color); you, too, keep yelling "kuhU!", (as if) to defy the Moon. Hence, (it can be concluded that) you two are locked in eternal enmity. Ah! Why then are you two so similar when it comes to making me suffer?

Source
: 
Verse 58 of Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar's collection Shlokamanjari (published in 1890). I also vaguely remember seeing it as an example in some treatise on poetics, although I cannot recall which one it was.

Notes: It is fairly common for poets to speak of the pain that the moon (the full moon, in particular) inflicts on lovesick souls, but this is the only example known to me of the moon and the cuckoo being portrayed as enemies of each other in Indic literature.


(2) Not everyone hears the cuckoo say kuhU, as evidenced by the following specimen of the shikhariNI (शिखरिणी) meter.

Devanagari text:
वसन्तप्रारम्भे चिरविरहखिन्ना सहचरी
यदि प्राणान् मुञ्चेद्वद तदघभागी भवति कः|
वयो वा स्नेहो वा कुसुमविशिखो वेति विमृशंस्-
तुहीति प्रव्यक्तं पिकनिकरझङ्कारमशृणोत्||
– श्रीराजानकलौलक
Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

vasantaprArambhe ciravirahakhinnA sahacarI
yadi prANAn muJcedvada tadaghabhAgI bhavati kaH|
vayo vA sneho vA kusumavizikho veti vimRzan
tuhIti pravyaktaM pikanikarajhaGkAramazRNot||
– Shri Rajanaka Laulaka

Loose translation: "If (my) ladylove[lit. female companion], depressed by (our) prolonged separation, were to give up her life at the advent of Spring, then, pray tell, who is it that incurs sin (for her death)? Is it her (tender) age? Or her feelings[lit. affection]? Or the shooter of flower-tipped arrows (i.e. Kamadeva) himself?" – as these thoughts were going through his mind, he heard the chorus of cuckoos ring out, loud and clear, "tuhi!" ("No one but you!").

Source: 15th century Subhaashitaavali Verse 1688. 
Shlokamanjari Verse 31 has a slightly altered first half:
वसन्ताग्नौ मग्ना चिरविरहरुग्णा प्रियसखी यदि प्राणान् मुञ्चेत्तदिह वधभागी भवतु कः|
"If (my) ladylove, (already) pining away from (our) prolonged separation and (now) plunged into the vernal flames (of passion and pain), were to give up her life, then who must take the blame for her death?"

Notes: Presumably, tuhi (तुहि) is a vernacularism along the lines of Hindustani tU hI (तू ही); tuha (তুহ) and tuhi (তুহি), "you", used in medieval Bengali poetry, etc. This word occurs here only in the compound तुहीति, so that the form tuhI (तुही) would also perhaps be acceptable; however, Monier-Williams includes the form तुहि in his dictionary, where he defines it as "a cuckoo's cry", citing Subhaashitaavali as his source.

I also found out that तुहि is a second-person singular imperative form of the (rather obscure, I think) verbal root tu (√तु); many meanings of this verb are recorded in lexicons, none of which seems applicable here.

About the author of this verse, the editors Peter Peterson and Pandit Durgaprasada of the 1896 critical edition of Subhaashitaavali mention that, "A Laulaka is referred to at the end of the commentary on the Srikanthacharita as the grandfather of Jonaraja."

Friday, March 3, 2017

The lion and the boar

Historically, both the lion and the boar have been used across South Asia as symbols of power and greatness. However, when the two are juxtaposed in allegorical writings, (needless to say) the former is always portrayed as superior. Here is an amusing execution of this trope.

The context of this two-verse piece titled siMhazUkarasaMvAda (सिंहशूकरसंवाद), "a conversation between a lion and a boar", is the following: A boar, roaming about in the wilderness, encounters a lion and, although fully aware of what the majestic feline is capable of doing to him, tries to bluff his way out. And he does manage to leave the scene unscathed, but not by dint of his wits.

Devanagari text:
शूकर उवाच
दश व्याघ्रा जिताः पूर्वं सप्त सिंहास्त्रयो गजाः|
पश्यन्तु देवताः सर्वा अद्य युद्धं त्वया मया*||
variant: *मम

सिंह उवाच
गच्छ शूकर भद्रं ते ब्रूहि सिंहो मया जितः|
पण्डिता एव जानन्ति सिंहशूकरयोर्बलम्||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:
zUkara uvAca
daza vyAghrA jitAH pUrvaM sapta siMhAstrayo gajAH|
pazyantu devatAH sarvA adya yuddhaM tvayA mayA||


siMha uvAca
gaccha zUkara bhadraM te brUhi siMho mayA jitaH|
paNDitA eva jAnanti siMhazUkarayorbalam||


Loose translation: 
Boar: "I have already beaten ten tigers, seven lions, and three elephants! Let all the gods witness[see notes] the fight between you and me today!"

Lion: "You may leave, Boar! I wish you all the best! And feel free to announce that you have defeated the Lion. For the wise are already aware of the relative strengths of a lion and a boar!"

Source: Verses 11-12 of a small collection of epigrams, entitled Nitisara (नीतिसार), "the best of moral precepts", and attributed to the enigmatic Ghatakarpara (घटकर्पर); published by both Jibananda Vidyasagara and Purnachandra De Udbhatasagara.

Notes: A device often employed by Indic authors to glorify an earthly battle is to devote a few lines to celestials crowding the air above the field (invisible to mere mortals, of course) for a ringside view of great acts of heroism, occasionally felicitating select warriors with floral showers and peals of heavenly kettle-drums.