Piscatory paeans 1

This is a sequel to one of my very early posts dedicated to what is, statistically, the favorite food type of the Bengali community worldwide – fish. In North America, where I currently live, fish is generally subsumed under the term "seafood", which I find a bit unsettling since most varieties of fish commonly eaten in the eastern part of the Indian Subcontinent, where I hail from, come from freshwater bodies.  Historically, the rest of South Asia has had mixed feelings towards the eating of fish as well as towards fish-eating peoples, as evident from scriptural (smriti (स्मृति)) sources and their interpretations. Nevertheless, the vast corpus of Sanskrit belles lettres does include a few snippets celebrating (or humorizing) the consumption of aquatic lifeforms by human beings. In this series, I will share the ones that I have collected thus far.

P.S. I apologize in advance if the glorification of non-vegetarian food offends you (and, if it does, please do not read any further); I promise that I will soon post material on vegetarian delights too!

(1) Whoever accuses Bengalis of being risk-averse has evidently never taken a close look at our meal plates. A regular item on our menu is the climbing perch^{[see this and this]}, Anabas testudineus. This tough, air-breathing, "walking" fish is chock-full of tiny sharp bones that would be enough to deter the most voracious predator.  Suffice it to say, a fancy name for this creature in Sanskrit is krakacapRSThI (क्रकचपृष्ठी), "saw-back"! Its more common appellations are kavayI (कवयी) and kavikA (कविका), both cognate with Bengali kai (কই) [which is not to be confused with the Japanese koi although pronounced the same way], Assamese kawoi (কাৱৈ), Oriya kau (କଉ), Hindustani kavai (कवई) – words that were Anglicized to kay and kavay by Monier-Williams. The Hindustani name sumbhaa (सुंभा) is also recorded in some lexicons. Obsolete scientific names include Cojus (/ Coius) cobojus, Perca scandens (/ vagabunda), and Lutjanus (/ Lutianus) scandens. 

The following couplet suggests that Bengal's love-affair (depending on the definition of "love", of course) with kai maachh goes back at least nine centuries.

Devanagari text:

 अजाजीजम्बाले रजसि मरिचानां च लुठिताः
कटुत्वादुष्णत्वाज्जनितरसनौष्ठव्यतिकराः|
अनिर्वाणोत्थेन प्रबलतरतैलाक्ततनवो 
मया सद्योभृष्टाः कतिपयकवय्यः कवलिताः||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

ajAjIjambAle rajasi maricAnAM ca luThitAH
kaTutvAduSNatvAjjanitarasanauSThavyatikarAH|
anirvANotthena prabalataratailAktatanavo
mayA sadyobhRSTAH katipayakavayyaH kavalitAH||

– Anonymous

Loose translation: Tossed in a paste^{[see notes]} of cumin and (then in) powdered pepper, and thoroughly doused in very strong (cooking) oil, they were spicy and hot enough to twist^{[see notes]} the tongue and the lips – I wolfed these few kavay fish down as soon as they were fried, without even getting up to wash myself^{[see notes]}!

Source: Vidyakara's Subhashita Ratnakosha Verse 1148. It is believed that this Vidyakara was a senior Buddhist monk at the Jagaddala Mahavihara in North Bengal in the 11th-12th centuries. Moreover, to the best of my knowledge, it is the inhabitants of the eastern part of the Subcontinent only (Bengalis, Oriyas, and perhaps the Assamese) who have traditionally had a taste for this species of fish. For these reasons, I conjecture that the verse was written somewhere in this region.

Notes: My interpretation above is influenced by D. H. H. Ingalls' (versified) translation: 

I rolled them in a cumin swamp

and in a heap of pepper dust

till they were spiced and hot enough

to twist your tongue and mouth.

When they were basted well with oil,

I didn't wait to wash or sit;

I gobbled that mess of koyi fish

as soon as they were fried.

जम्बाल → paste: The primary meaning of the word jambAla (जम्बाल), according to the authoritative lexicon Amarakosha, is paGka (पङ्क), "mud"; however, this latter word is often used in compounds to denote a paste, pulp, or mash, e.g. चन्दनपङ्क, "paste made by mixing sandalwood powder with water"; कुङ्कुमपङ्क, "paste made by mixing kumkum with water", etc. Hence, I have translated अजाजीजम्बाल as "cumin paste" rather than as "cumin swamp" (I think Ingalls presumed that the author was exaggerating here, but he probably just replaced पङ्क with a synonym).

व्यतिकर → twisting: The synonyms of the word व्यतिकर, given in Sanskrit thesauruses, translate roughly to either "destruction / calamity" or "mixing / confusion / entanglement"; I decided to go with Ingalls' "twist[ing]" because that, I think, is consistent with the poet's intent.

अनिर्वाणोत्थेन: This obscure word appears here as an adjective of the word मया, and hence describes the author. nirvAna (निर्वाण) literally refers to the act of extinguishing (whence its more popular philosophical sense is derived) but is also used to describe the traditional "bathing of an elephant" by a mahout (गजमज्जन), evidently because bathing lowers body temperature. The author (or perhaps an entire community in some part of South Asia at some point in time) could have generalized the meaning of the word to "bathing / washing", and applied it to human beings as well. In most Indic belief systems, special preprandial ablutions are customary, and eating while standing is frowned upon – this is perhaps why Ingalls ("I didn't wait to wash or sit") has interpreted the adjective under consideration as a combination of अनिर्वाण, "unbathed / unwashed", and उत्थ, "standing up". However, I have only ever seen उत्थ being used as a suffix in compounds, so I have interpreted अ-निर्वाणोत्थ as "not getting up for a wash" (न निर्वाणार्थम् उत्तिष्ठति): although the verse itself is unclear on the topic, I am guessing that the author himself fried his fish on a low traditional oven while sitting / squatting, so that he would need to get up to wash himself prior to the meal. But I am unsure of the grammatical validity of either reading. In any case, it is clear that the poet admits to throwing tradition and decorum to the wind just to convey his sheer eagerness for the deep-fried delicacy. 

(2) Devanagari text:

 अक्षोटशुण्ठिमरिचार्द्रकदाडिमत्व-
क्कुस्तुम्बुरूलवणतैलसंस्कृतान् यः|
मत्स्यान् सुशीतसितभक्ततले दधाति
स ब्रह्मलोकमधिगच्छति पुण्यकर्मा||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

akSoTazuNThimaricArdrakadADimatva-
-kkustumburUlavaNatailasaMskRtAn yaH|
matsyAn suzItasitabhaktatale dadhAti
sa brahmalokamadhigacchati puNyakarmA||

– Anonymous

A. N. D. Haksar's translation: 

Fish prepared with oil and salt,

ginger, pepper, pomegranate peel,

with walnuts garnished, touched with saffron,

and served on a bed of cool, white rice:

the doer of this act of merit

is bound to go to paradise.

Source: 15th century Subhaashitaavali Verse 2357. 

Notes: The words शुण्ठि and आर्द्रक (lit. "moist"), appearing in the list of ingredients, denote the dried and undried varieties of ginger respectively – a nuance completely lost in translation. Evidently, Haksar interprets कुस्तुम्बुरू as "saffron", although all the reliable lexicons I was able to consult define this word (or rather its variants कुस्तुम्बुरु and कुस्तुम्बरी) as "coriander". I was also initially skeptical of his translation of दाडिमत्वक् as "pomegranate peel", but I was able to find at least one South Asian recipe which makes use of this plant part; I must, however, mention that the word दाडिम, which has "pomegranate" as its primary meaning, can also refer to the cardamom, a far more commonly used spice. Garnishing fish with walnut kernels might also seem interesting but, having tasted walnut shrimp myself, I am convinced that there are many palates that such a preparation would suit. 

Given the cultural importance of walnuts in the Kashmiri Pandit way of life (check this out), the prevalence of fish in traditional Kashmiri cuisine, and the fact that Vallabhadeva, the compiler of the above anthology (which, to my knowledge, is the oldest source of this couplet), was from Kashmir, I am comfortable attributing this verse to a Kashmiri epicure.

What is most surprising to me is the glorification of boiled white rice served cold (सुशीतसितभक्त)! Perhaps, it was an early medieval Kashmiri quirk?

In some anthologies such as the Subhashita Ratna Bhandagara, the verse begins with धान्याकनागरनिशार्द्रकदाडिमत्वक्कुस्तुम्बुरीलवण-...: धन्याक = coriander; नागर = dry ginger / (=नागरङ्ग/नारङ्ग) orange (zest?); निशा = turmeric.

Brahmaloka, which Haksar translates as "paradise", is a word with different connotations in different religious / philosophical texts, but is generally seen as a physical realm or a "plane of existence" attainable only by some of the noblest and purest among us. In our poet's worldview, however, treating someone to fish curry over rice is enough to get you a ticket!

---

Each of the above snippets, in addition to being a work of art, is also (almost) a "real working recipe", much like this fellow non-resident Bengali's modern-day masterpiece.

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."

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.

Literary tobacciana 5

Disclaimer: This is not an endorsement of the consumption of tobacco in any form, but the documentation of a lesser-known sub-genre of Indic literature.

Here are a few anonymous snippets that invoke Indic mythology to glorify tobacco.

(1) One of the most celebrated exploits of the infant Krishna is the slaying of the shapeshifting ogress Putana (पूतना). When Kamsa, Krishna's uncle who had usurped the throne of Mathura and was destined to be killed by Krishna, suspected that his future killer had been spirited away to the nearby settlement of traditional dairy farmers, he dispatched Putana to put all children born in that area within a certain window of time to death. The wily murderess changed herself into a graceful and pretty young woman, and charmed the naïve milkmaids into letting her nurse their babies, killing these innocents with her lethal breast-milk. However, Krishna was fully aware of her motives; so, when it was his turn, he sucked all vitality out of her along with her milk until she was forced to resume her true, hideous form and give up her life, screaming and flailing in pain. Our poet has interpolated a clever detail into this well-known narrative to create their own (facetious) etiological myth about tobacco and its use.

Devanagari text:

श्रीकृष्णः पूतनायाः स्तनमलमपिबत्कालकूटेन पूर्णं 
प्रस्कन्नं भूप्रदेशे किमपि च पिबतो यत्तदा तस्य वक्त्रात्|
तस्मादेषा तमाखुः सुरवरपरमोच्छिष्टमेतद्दुरापं
स्तुत्वा नत्वा मिलित्वा ह्यनिशमतिमुदा सेव्यते वैष्णवाग्र्यैः||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

zrIkRSNaH pUtanAyAH stanamalamapibatkAlakUTena pUrNaM
praskannaM bhUpradeze kimapi ca pibato yattadA tasya vaktrAt|

tasmAdeSA tamAkhuH suravaraparamocchiSTametaddurApaM
stutvA natvA militvA hyanizamatimudA sevyate vaiSNavAgryaiH||

Loose translation: As Shri Krishna was suckling the breast of Putana, filled with the deadliest of poisons, to his heart's content, a small amount of the liquid trickled out of his mouth and fell upon the earth, and from it emerged the tobacco plant. This makes tobacco the most sublime of the leftovers of the Great Deity('s meal); hence, the foremost among the Vaishnavas (devotees of Vishnu-Krishna) sing the praises of this rarity, bow down to it, and get together to partake of it with great joy all the time!

Source:  Subhashita Ratna Bhandagara Verse 6 of Chapter on tobacco.

Notes: By describing tobacco as a toxic substance with divine associations, the poet acknowledges both the short-term pleasure it bestows and the long-term ill effects it leaves on its consumers. 

kAlakUTa (कालकूट) is one name given to the potent miasma that emerged from the depths of the Ocean of Milk in the famous mythical episode of the Churning of the Ocean and threatened to destroy all life before Shiva swallowed it and entrapped it in his throat; different treatises identify it with different poisons found in nature.

(2) Devanagari text:

भ्रातः कस्त्वं तमाखुर्गमनमिह कुतो वारिधेः पूर्वपारात्| 
कस्य त्वं दण्डधारी न हि तव विदितं श्रीकलेरेव राज्ञः|
चातुर्वर्ण्यं विधात्रा विविधविरचितं धर्मकर्मप्रभेद-
-मेकीकर्तुं बलात् तन्निखिलजगति तच्छासनादागतोऽस्मि||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

bhrAtaH kastvaM tamAkhurgamanamiha kuto vAridheH pUrvapArAt
kasya tvaM daNDadhArI na hi tava viditaM zrIkalereva rAjJaH| 

cAturvarNyaM vidhAtrA vividhaviracitaM dharmakarmaprabheda-
-mekIkartuM balAt tannikhilajagati tacchAsanAdAgato(a)smi||

Loose translation: 
'Who are you, brother?'
'(I am) Tobacco!'
'Whence did you arrive here?'
'From the eastern shores^{[see notes]} of the ocean!'
'Whose mace-bearer^{[see notes]} are you?'
'Do you not know? Of none other than His Highness Kali! I have come here under (his) orders to unify by force all four varnas, whose different duties and practices were established by Brahma'.

Source:  Udbhata Sagara Part II Verse 235; the third quarter is recorded as चातुर्वर्ण्यं विदित्वा विबुधविरचितं ब्रह्मणा धर्महेतोर् in Udbhata Chandrika Volume II Part 3 Appendix Verse 6 and as चातुर्वर्ण्यं विधात्रा विविधविरचितं ब्रह्मणा धर्महेतोर् in Subhashita Ratna Bhandagara Verse 7 of the chapter on tobacco, and both these versions end in रे शासनादागतोऽस्मि; 17th century Anyokti Muktaavali Section 7 Verse 235 gives the first quarter as भ्रातः कस्त्वं तमाकू सुहृदिह गमनं ते कुतोऽम्भोधिपारात्| and a second half that is metrically different from the first: चातुर्वर्ण्यं विधिविरचितं भिन्नभिन्नैकभूतमेकीकर्तुं जगति सकले शासनादागतोऽस्मि||

Notes:  The language of the verse is a bit problematic. I am not sure if पूर्वपार refers to the coastline of Peninsular India that lies to the east of the author's location (making a port on the Bay of Bengal the point of entry of tobacco into the Subcontinent) or that to the east of the "ocean", i.e. the Arabian sea. The third quarter is also hard to parse but its import is clear: People from all socio-economic groups had become addicted to tobacco when this verse was written. In the worldview of many users of the Sanskrit language, one of the greatest catastrophes unleashed by the present sinful age of Kali (कलि) is the intermixing of the four varnas, and, in the poet's imagination, tobacco addiction is a major tool that is being used to this end.

दण्ड also means "punishment", so दण्डधारी can refer to an administrator of justice on behalf of a higher authority (the monarch or the state).

(3) Devanagari text:

विडौजाः पुरा पृष्टवान् पद्मयोनिं धरित्रीतले सारभूतं किमस्ति|
चतुर्भिर्मुखैरित्यवोचद् विरिञ्चिस्तमाखुस्तमाखुस्तमाखुमाखुः||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

vidaujAH purA pRSTavAn padmayoniM dharitrItale sArabhUtaM kimasti|
caturbhirmukhairityavocad viriJcistamAkhustamAkhustamAkhustamAkhuH||

Loose translation: Once upon a time, Indra (the king of heaven) asked Brahma (the creator of the universe and ordainer of the universal order), seated in his lotus, "What is most excellent on the face of the earth?" The latter, with his four mouths, replied, "Tobacco! Tobacco! Tobacco! Tobacco!" (presumably, each mouth said 'tobacco' once).

Source: Udbhata Chandrika Volume II Part 3 Appendix Verse 6; Subhashita Ratna Bhandagara Verse 3 of Chapter on tobacco gives the third quarter as चतुर्भिर्मुखैरुत्तरं तेन दत्तं.

Notes: This is perhaps a solution to a samasyA (समस्या) where the last quarter was supplied by the examiner. 

Almost every Indic mythological narrative is embedded in a frame story (or several telescoping frame stories, each of) which is styled as a conversation between an authority figure and a knowledge-seeker asking a series of questions – the verse above is evidently a parody of this literary device.

Cupid's pole

I just realized that we have not had anything "naughty" on this blog for a while – this, I think, is an affront to those ancient Indic literary theorists who wrote at length about the emergence of hAsya (हास्य), "comedy", from zRGgAra (शृङ्गार), "eroticism". So, to make things right, here is a selection of totally off-color snippets of "poetry", styled as benedictions, glorifying that which is known by such names as smarastambha (स्मरस्तम्भ: "Cupid's pole"), kandarpamuSala (कन्दर्पमुषल: "Cupid's pestle / bludgeon"), and madanAGkuza / kAmAGkuza (मदनाङ्कुश / कामाङ्कुश: "Cupid's elephant-goad"). 

You might want to check these (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) out too, for somewhat wittier material in the same vein. 

(1) Devanagari text:

कन्दे स्थूलस्तदनु सरलः स्फारभूतोऽग्रदेशे
वारं वारं निपतति पुनर्वारवारं प्रचण्डः|
ईषद्वक्रः करिकरसमो मानिनीमानहन्ता
युष्मद्वक्त्रे प्रविशतु सदा स्वस्तिमान् मारदण्डः||

– शङ्खधर (?)

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

kande sthUlastadanu saralaH sphArabhUto(a)gradeze
vAraM vAraM nipatati punarvAravAraM pracaNDaH|
ISadvakraH karikarasamo mAninImAnahantA
yuSmadvaktre pravizatu sadA svastimAn mAradaNDaH||

– Shankhadhara (?)

Loose translation: Stout at the root, then straight (and slender), and swollen at the apex, it keeps drooping repeatedly, yet never fails to turn aggressive all over again. Slightly curved, like an elephant's trunk, it destroys the ego of (or, mollifies the chagrin of) proud women – May that felicitous scepter of Cupid keep entering your mouth(s) forever!

Source: This stanza is found in only one of the manuscripts of Shankhadhara Kaviraja's famous 12th century farce Latakamelaka (लटकमेलक) that the editors Mahamahopadhyaya Pandit Durga Prasad of Jaipur and Vasudev Sharma Panshikar of Bombay consulted for their 1923 critical edition; they report that this manuscript is a relatively recent copy of a mostly error-free version of the play written in year 1653 of the Vikram Era (1596-1597 CE); hence a later interpolation cannot be ruled out.

Notes: This is one of the "blessings" that Phunkata Mishra (फुङ्कटमिश्र; different forms of the name are found in different versions), a caricature of the wise and scholarly guru character type, utters on entering the stage in the second act of the play, addressing an assemblage of (mostly male) colorful characters at a brothel. I have not read any commentary on or translation of the verse under consideration, so I am not sure if my above interpretation is correct. But if it is, this stanza in the exquisite mAndAkrAntA (मन्दाक्रान्ता) meter, embellished with an end-rhyme, might just be the earliest reference in Indic literature to someone being told to go s*** * ****! Note that, although mAra (मार) is a synonym for kAma (काम), "erotic desire / god of erotic desire", and is the name given in Buddhism to "the personification of the forces antagonistic to enlightenment", its primary meaning is 'death', 'killing', or 'striking', so मारदण्ड could also be read as "deadly rod" or "striking rod". 

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(2) This one is inappropriate on so many levels; you will (hopefully) see why. 

Devanagari text:

बाला क्रन्दति घर्षणेन युवतिः सीत्कारमामुञ्चति
प्रौढा मुञ्चति पुत्रशोकमतुलं पीयूषदण्डाहता|
वृद्धागाधभगोदधिप्रमथने निर्मन्थमन्थाचलो
जीयादिन्द्रकरीन्द्रदन्तमुसलाकारो लकारस्तव||

Harvard-Kyoto transliteration:

bAlA krandati gharSaNena yuvatiH sItkAramAmuJcati
prauDhA muJcati putrazokamatulaM pIyUSadaNDAhatA|
vRddhAgAdhabhagodadhipramathane nirmanthamanthAcalo
jIyAdindrakarIndradantamusalAkAro lakArastava||

– Anonymous

Loose translation: Its grindings make a girl cry out and a young woman hiss softly; pounded by that ambrosial rod, a matronly lady lets go of the incomparable grief of losing a son; in churning the fathomless ocean that is a geriatric pudendum, it is (indistinguishable from) the gyrating Mandara (मन्दार) mountain – Glory to that 'L' of yours, which has the form of the pestle-like tusk of Indra's majestic elephant!

Source: Subhaashitaavali Verse 2401.

Notes: lakAra (लकार), "the letter L", is evidently a euphemistic shortening, along the lines of "the D", of liGga (लिङ्ग), a word for the phallus (although the primary meaning of लिङ्ग is "mark" or "sign"). The churning of the ocean is a reference to the famous episode of Samudra Manthana (समुद्रमन्थन) – described in great detail in several mythological works and depicted in temple art as far east as Cambodia – in which the gods and demons got together to churn the Ocean of Milk, using Mount Mandara as a pole, in order to retrieve certain treasures from its depths. 

A. N. D. Haksar's translation:

Its friction makes the girls cry out,

young women emit squeals of joy;

the more mature, this rod ambrosial,

makes their deepest griefs forget;

it churns the oceanic depths

of old vaginas, like Mandara;

long live this tusk of Indra's elephant,

this mighty club, this prick of yours.