The Kadambari of Bana Part 1

The Kadambari of Bana.

by Bana and Bhushanabhatta.

INTRODUCTION. [1]

The story of Kadambari is interesting for several reasons. It is a standard example of cla.s.sical prose; it has enjoyed a long popularity as a romance; and it is one of the comparatively few Sanskrit works which can be a.s.signed to a certain date, and so it can serve as a landmark in the history of Indian literature and Indian thought.

THE AUTHOR.

Banabhatta, its author, lived in the reign of Harshavardhana of Thanecar, the great king mentioned in many inscriptions, [2] who extended his rule over the whole of Northern India, and from whose reign (A.D. 606) dates the Harsha era, used in Nepal. Bana, as he tells us, both in the 'Harsha-Carita' and in the introductory verses of 'Kadambari,' was a Vatsyayana Brahman. His mother died while he was yet young, and his father's tender care of him, recorded in the 'Harsha-Carita,' [3] was doubtless in his memory as he recorded the unselfish love of Vaicampayana's father in 'Kadambari' (p. 22). In his youth he travelled much, and for a time 'came into reproach,'

by reason of his unsettled life; but the experience gained in foreign lands turned his thoughts homewards, and he returned to his kin, and lived a life of quiet study in their midst. From this he was summoned to the court of King Harsha, who at first received him coldly, but afterwards attached him to his service; and Bana in the 'Harsha-Carita'

relates his own life as a prelude to that of his master.

The other works attributed to him are the 'Candikacataka,' [4] or verses in honour of Candika; a drama, 'The Parvatiparinaya'; and another, called 'Mukutataditaka,' the existence of which is inferred from Gunavinayagani's commentary on the 'Nalacampu.' Professor Peterson also mentions that a verse of Bana's ('Subhas.h.i.+tavali,'

1087) is quoted by Kshemendra in his 'Aucityavicaracarca,' with a statement that it is part of a description of Kadambari's sorrow in the absence of Candrapida, whence, he adds, 'it would seem that Bana wrote the story of Kadambari in verse as well as in prose,' and he gives some verses which may have come from such a work.

Bana himself died, leaving 'Kadambari' unfinished, and his son Bhushanabhatta took it up in the midst of a speech in which Kadambari's sorrows are told, and continued the speech without a break, save for a few introductory verses in honour of his father, and in apology for his having undertaken the task, 'as its unfinished state was a grief to the good.' He continued the story on the same plan, and with careful, and, indeed, exaggerated, imitation of his father's style.

THE PLOT OF KADAMBARI.

The story of 'Kadambari' is a very complex one, dealing as it does with the lives of two heroes, each of whom is reborn twice on earth.

(1-47) A learned parrot, named Vaicampayana, was brought by a Candala maiden to King cudraka, and told him how it was carried from its birthplace in the Vindhya Forest to the hermitage of the sage Jabali, from whom it learnt the story of its former life.

(47-95) Jabali's story was as follows: Tarapida, King of Ujjayini, won by penance a son, Candrapida, who was brought up with Vaicampayana, son of his minister, cukanasa. In due time Candrapida was anointed as Crown Prince, and started on an expedition of world-conquest. At the end of it he reached Kailasa, and, while resting there, was led one day in a vain chase of a pair of kinnaras to the sh.o.r.es of the Acchoda Lake. (95-141) There he beheld a young ascetic maiden, Mahacveta, who told him how she, being a Gandharva princess, had seen and loved a young Brahman Pundarika; how he, returning her feeling, had died from the torments of a love at variance with his vow; how a divine being had carried his body to the sky, and bidden her not to die, for she should be reunited with him; and how she awaited that time in a life of penance. (141-188) But her friend Kadambari, another Gandharva princess, had vowed not to marry while Mahacveta was in sorrow, and Mahacveta invited the prince to come to help her in dissuading Kadambari from the rash vow. Love sprang up between the prince and Kadambari at first sight; but a sudden summons from his father took him to Ujjayini without farewell, while Kadambari, thinking herself deserted, almost died of grief.

(188-195) Meanwhile news came that his friend Vaicampayana, whom he had left in command of the army, had been strangely affected by the sight of the Acchoda Lake, and refused to leave it. The prince set out to find him, but in vain; and proceeding to the hermitage of Mahacveta, he found her in despair, because, in invoking on a young Brahman, who had rashly approached her, a curse to the effect that he should become a parrot, she learnt that she had slain Vaicampayana. At her words the prince fell dead from grief, and at that moment Kadambari came to the hermitage.

(195-202) Her resolve to follow him in death was broken by the promise of a voice from the sky that she and Mahacveta should both be reunited with their lovers, and she stayed to tend the prince's body, from which a divine radiance proceeded; while King Tarapida gave up his kingdom, and lived as a hermit near his son.

(202 to end) Such was Jabali's tale; and the parrot went on to say how, hearing it, the memory of its former love for Mahacveta was reawakened, and, though bidden to stay in the hermitage, it flew away, only to be caught and taken to the Candala princess. It was now brought by her to King cudraka, but knew no more. The Candala maiden thereupon declared to cudraka that she was the G.o.ddess Lakshmi, mother of Pundarika or Vaicampayana, and announced that the curse for him and cudraka was now over. Then cudraka suddenly remembered his love for Kadambari, and wasted away in longing for her, while a sudden touch of Kadambari restored to life the Moon concealed in the body of Candrapida, the form that he still kept, because in it he had won her love. Now the Moon, as Candrapida and cudraka, and Pundarika, in the human and parrot shape of Vaicampayana, having both fulfilled the curse of an unsuccessful love in two births on earth, were at last set free, and, receiving respectively the hands of Kadambari and Mahacveta, lived happily ever afterwards.

The plot is involved, and consists of stories within each other after the fas.h.i.+on long familiar to Europeans in the 'Arabian Nights'; but the author's skill in construction is shown by the fact that each of the minor stories is essential to the development of the plot, and it is not till quite the end that we see that cudraka himself, the hearer of the story, is really the hero, and that his hearing the story is necessary to reawaken his love for Kadambari, and so at the same time fulfil the terms of the curse that he should love in vain during two lives, and bring the second life to an end by his longing for reunion. It may help to make the plot clear if the threads of it are disentangled. The author in person tells all that happens to cudraka (pp. 3-16 and pp. 205 to end). The parrot's tale (pp. 16-205) includes that of Jabali (pp. 47-202) concerning Candrapida, and Vaicampayana the Brahman, with the story told by Mahacveta (pp. 101-136) of her love for Pundarika.

THE STORY AS TOLD IN THE KATHA-SARIT-SAGARA.

The story as told in the Katha-Sarit-Sagara of Somadeva [5] differs in some respects from this. There a Nishada princess brought to King Sumanas a learned parrot, which told its life in the forest, ended by a hunt in which its father was killed, and the story of its past life narrated by the hermit Agastya. In this story a prince, Somaprabha, after an early life resembling that of Candrapida, was led in his pursuit of kinnaras to an ascetic maiden, Manorathaprabha, whose story is that of Mahacveta, and she took him, at his own request, to see the maiden Makarandika, who had vowed not to marry while her friend was unwed. He was borne through the air by a Vidyadhara, and beheld Makarandika. They loved each other, and a marriage was arranged between them. The prince, however, was suddenly recalled by his father, and Makarandika's wild grief brought on her from her parents a curse that she should be born as a Nishada. Too late they repented, and died of grief; and her father became a parrot, keeping from a former birth as a sage his memory of the castras, while her mother became a sow. Pulastya added that the curse would be over when the story was told in a king's court.

The parrot's tale reminded King Sumanas of his former birth, and on the arrival of the ascetic maiden, sent by civa, 'who is merciful to all his wors.h.i.+ppers,' he again became the young hermit she had loved. Somaprabha, too, at civa's bidding, went to the king's court, and at the sight of him the Nishada regained the shape of Makarandika, and became his wife; while the parrot 'left the body of a bird, and went to the home earned by his asceticism.' 'Thus,' the story ends, 'the appointed union of human beings certainly takes place in this world, though vast s.p.a.ces intervene.'

The main difference between the stories is in the persons affected by the curse; and here the artistic superiority of Bana is shown in his not attaching the degrading forms of birth to Kadambari or her parents. The horse is given as a present to the hero by Indra, who sends him a message, saying: 'You are a Vidyadhara, and I give you the horse in memory of our former friends.h.i.+p. When you mount it you will be invincible.' The hero's marriage is arranged before his sudden departure, so that the grief of the heroine is due only to their separation, and not to the doubts on which Bana dwells so long. It appears possible that both this story and 'Kadambari' are taken from a common original now lost, which may be the Brihatkatha of Gunadhya. [6]

In that case the greater refinement of Bana's tale would be the result of genius giving grace to a story already familiar in a humbler guise.

REFERENCES TO KADAMBARI IN THE SAHITYA-DARPANA AND ELSEWHERE.

The author of the Sahitya-Darpana [7] speaks of the Katha as follows: 'In the Katha (tale), which is one of the species of poetical composition in prose, a poetical matter is represented in verse, and sometimes the Arya, and sometimes the Vaktra and Apavaktraka are the metres employed in it. It begins with stanzas in salutation to some divinity, as also descriptive of the behaviour of bad men and others.' To this the commentary adds: 'The "Kadambari" of Banabhatta is an example.' Professor Peterson corrects the translation of the words 'Kathayam sarasam vastu padyair eva vinirmitam,' giving as their sense, 'A narration in prose, with here and there a stray verse or two, of matter already existing in a metrical form.' [8] According to his rendering, the Katha is in its essence a story claiming to be based on previous works in verse, whether in this case the original were Bana's own metrical version of 'Kadambari,' [9] or the work which was also the original of the Katha-Sarit-Sagara story.

The story of Pundarika and Mahacveta receives mention, firstly, for the introduction of death, contrary to the canon; secondly, for the determination of the nature of their sorrow, and its poetic quality, and consequent appeal to the feelings of the reader. Firstly: (-- 215) 'Death, which is a condition to which one may be brought by love, is not described in poetry and the drama, where the other conditions, such as anxiety, etc., are constantly described, because it, instead of enhancing, causes the destruction of "Flavour." [10] But it may be spoken of (1) as having nearly taken place, or (2) as being mentally wished for; and it is with propriety described (3) if there is to be, at no distant date, a restoration to life.' The commentary takes the story of Pundarika as an example of the third condition, and describes it as a 'case of pathetic separation.' Secondly: (-- 224) 'Either of two young lovers being dead, and being yet to be regained through some supernatural interposition, when the one left behind is sorrowful, then let it be called the separation of tender sadness'

(karunavipralamhha). The commentary gives Mahacveta as the instance, and continues: 'But if the lost one be not regainable, or regainable only after transmigration in another body, the flavour is called the "Pathetic" simply, there being in this case no room for any admixture of the "Erotic"; but in the case just mentioned--of Pundarika and Mahacveta--immediately on Sarasvati's declaration from the sky that the lovers should be reunited, there is the "Erotic in its form of tender sadness," for desire arises on the expectation of reunion, but PREVIOUSLY to Sarasvati's promise there was the "Pathetic"; such is the opinion of the competent authorities. And as for what some say in regard to the case of Pundarika and Mahacveta, that "moreover AFTER the expectation of reunion, excited by Sarasvati's promise to that effect, there is merely your honour's variety of "love in absence," (-- 222) the one which you call "being abroad"

(-- 221)--others hold it to be distinct, because of the presence of that distinction, DEATH, which is something else than merely being abroad.' These are the pa.s.sages in which direct mention is made of 'Kadambari,' and in -- 735, which defines special mention (parisamkhya) as taking place 'when something is affirmed for the denial, expressed or understood, of something else similar to it,' the commentary adds: 'When founded upon a Paronomasia, it is peculiarly striking, e.g., "When that king, the conqueror of the world, was protecting the earth, the mixture of colours (or castes) was in painting, etc.,"--a pa.s.sage from the description of cudraka in "Kadambari" (P. 5).'

References to Bana in other works are given by Professor Peterson, so that three only need be mentioned here. The first I owe to the kindness of Professor C. Bendall. In a collection of ma.n.u.scripts at the British Museum (Or., 445-447) 'consisting chiefly of law-books transcribed (perhaps for some European) on European paper in the Telugu-Canarese character,' one, Or., 446 c., the Kamandakiya-Niti-castra, contains on folios 128-131 a pa.s.sage from 'Kadambari' (pp. 76-84, infra) [11]

on the consecration of a crown-prince, and the duties and dangers of a king. It forms part of an introduction to the Kamandakiya-Niti-castra and occurs without any hint of its being a quotation from another work. The author of the Nalacampu not only writes a verse in honour of Bana, [12] but models his whole style upon him. A curious instance of the long popularity of 'Kadambari' is that in the 'Durgecanandini'

by Chattaji, an historical novel, published in 1871, and treating of the time of Akbar, the heroine is represented as reading in her boudoir the romance of 'Kadambari.' [13]

THE INTEREST OF 'KADAMBARI.'

It may be asked What is the value of 'Kadambari' for European readers? and to different persons the answer will doubtless be different. Historical interest, so far as that depends on the narration of historical facts, appears to be entirely lacking, though it may be that at some future time our knowledge from other sources may be so increased that we may recognise portraits and allusions in what seems now purely a work of romance. But in the wider sense in which history claims to deal with the social ideas that belong to any epoch, 'Kadambari' will always have value as representing the ways of thinking and feeling which were either customary or welcome at its own time, and which have continued to charm Indian readers. It is indeed true that it probably in many ways does not give a picture of contemporary manners, just as a mediaeval illuminated ma.n.u.script often represents the dress and surroundings prior to the time of the illuminator, so as to gain the grace of remoteness bestowed by reverence for the past. In India, where change works but slowly, the description of the court and city life, where all the subjects show by outward tokens their sympathy with the joys and sorrows of their ruler, as in a Greek chorus, is vivid in its fidelity. [14]

The quiet yet busy life of the hermits in the forest, where the day is spent in wors.h.i.+p and in peaceful toils, where at eve the sunbeams 'linger like birds on the crest of hill and tree,' and where night 'darkens all save the hearts of the hermits,' is full of charm. [15]

The coronation of the crown prince, the penances performed by the queen to win a son, the reverence paid to Mahakala, also belong to our picture of the time. The description of Ujjayini, surrounded by the Sipra, is too general in its terms to give a vivid notion of what it then was. The site of the temple of Mahakala is still shown outside the ruins of the old town. A point of special interest is the argument against the custom of suicide on the death of a friend. Candrapida consoles Mahacveta that she has not followed her lover in death by saying that one who kills himself at his friend's death makes that friend a sharer in the guilt, and can do no more for him in another world, whereas by living he can give help by sacrifices and offerings. Those, too, who die may not be reunited for thousands of births. In the 'Katha-Koca' [16] a prince is dissuaded from following his wife to death because 'Even the idea of union with your beloved will be impossible when you are dead'; but the occurrence of the idea in a romance is more noteworthy than in a work which ill.u.s.trates Jain doctrines. The question of food as affected by caste is touched on also (p. 205), when the Candala maiden tells the parrot that a Brahman may, in case of need, receive food of any kind, and that water poured on the ground, and fruit, are pure even when brought by the lowest. Another point to be remarked is the mention of followers of many sects as being present at court. civa, especially under the name of Mahakala at Ujjayini, receives special wors.h.i.+p, and Agni and the Matrikas (p. 14) also receive reverence. The zenanas include aged ascetic women (p. 217); followers of the Arhat, Krishna, Vicravasa, Avalokitecvara, and Virinca (p. 162); and the courtyard of cukanasa has caivas and followers of cakyamuni (p. 217), also Kshapanakas (explained by the Commentary as Digambaras). The king, [17] however, is described as having an urna (the hair meeting between the brows), which is one of Buddha's marks; but the Commentary describes the urna as cakravartiprabhritinam eva nanyasya, so probably it only belongs to Buddha as cakravarti, or universal ruler. This shows that the reign of Harsha was one of religious tolerance. Hiouen Thsang, indeed, claims him as a Buddhist at heart, and mentions his building Buddhist stupas, [18] but he describes himself as a caiva in the Madhuban grant, [19]

and the preeminence yielded in 'Kadambari' to civa certainly shows that his was then the popular wors.h.i.+p.

Another source of interest in 'Kadambari' lies in its contribution to folklore. It may perhaps contain nothing not found elsewhere, but the fact of its having a date gives it a value. The love of snakes for the breeze and for sandal-trees, the truth of dreams at the end of night, the magic circles, bathing in snake-ponds to gain a son, the mustard-seed and ghi put in a baby's mouth, may all be familiar ideas, but we have a date at which they were known and not despised. Does the appeal to the truth of her heart by Mahacveta in invoking the curse (p. 193) rest on the idea that fidelity to a husband confers supernatural power, [20] or is it like the 'act of truth' by which Buddha often performs miracles in the 'Jataka'?

THE STYLE OF 'KADAMBARI.'

The unsettled chronology of Indian literature makes it impossible to work out at present Bana's relations with other Sanskrit writers. Professor Peterson, [21] indeed, makes some interesting conjectures as to his connection with other authors of his own country, and also suggests, from similarity of phrase, that he may have fallen indirectly under the influence of Alexandrian literature. Be that as it may, he has been for many centuries a model of style, and it is therefore worth while to consider briefly the characteristics of his style compared with European standards. The first thing that strikes the reader is that the sense of proportion, the very foundation of style as we know it, is entirely absent. No topic is let go till the author can squeeze no more from it. In descriptions every possible minor detail is given in all its fulness; then follows a series of similes, and then a firework of puns. In speeches, be they lamentations or exhortations, grief is not a.s.suaged, nor advice ended, till the same thing has been uttered with every existing variety of synonym. This defect, though it springs from the author's richness of resource and readiness of wit, makes the task of rendering in English the merit of the Sanskrit style an impossible one. It gives also a false impression; for to us a long description, if good, gives the effect of 'sweetness long drawn out,' and, if bad, brings drowsiness; whereas in Sanskrit the unending compounds suggest the impetuous rush of a torrent, and the similes and puns are like the play of light and shade on its waters. Bana, according to Professor Weber, [22]

'pa.s.ses for the special representative of the Pancali style,' [23]

which Bhoja, quoted in the commentary of the 'Sahitya-Darpana,' defines as 'a sweet and soft style characterized by force (ojas) and elegance (kanti), containing compounds of five or six words.' But style, which is to poetic charm as the body to the soul, varies with the sense to be expressed, and Bana in many of his speeches is perfectly simple and direct. Owing to the peacefulness of 'Kadambari,' there is little opportunity for observing the rule that in the 'Katha' letters 'ought not to be too rough, even when the flavour is furious.' [24]

Of the alliteration of initial consonants, the only long pa.s.sage is in the description of cukanasa (p. 50), but in its subtler forms it constantly occurs. Of shorter pa.s.sages there are several examples--e.g., Candra Candala (infra, p. 127); Candrapida Candalo (Sanskrit text, p. 416); Utkantham sotkantham kanthe jagraha (Ibid., p. 367); Kamam sakamam kuryam (Ibid., p. 350); Candrapida pidanaya (Ibid., p. 370). The ornament of clesha, or paronomasia, which seems to arise from the untrained philological instinct of mankind seeking the fundamental ident.i.ty of like sounds with apparently unlike meaning, and which lends dramatic intensity when, as sometimes in Shakespeare, [25] a flash of pa.s.sionate feeling reveals to the speaker an original sameness of meaning in words seemingly far apart, is by Bana used purely as an adornment. He speaks of pleasant stories interwoven with puns 'as jasmine garlands with campak buds,' and they abound in his descriptions. The rasanopama, [26] or girdle of similes, is exemplified (p. 115), 'As youth to beauty, love to youth, spring to love' so was Kapinjala to Pundarika. Vishamam (incongruity) is the figure used in 'the brightness of his glory, free from heat, consumed his foes; constant, ever roamed' (p. 48). It can scarcely be separated from virodha (contradiction)--often used, as in 'I will allay on the funeral pyre the fever which the moon, sandal, and all cool things have increased' (p. 195)--or from vicitram [27]

(strangeness), where an act is contrary to its apparent purpose: 'There lives not the man whom the virtues of the most courteous lady Kadambari do not discourteously enslave' (p. 159). Arthapatti [28] (a fortiori conclusion) is exemplified in 'Even the senseless trees, robed in bark, seem like fellow-ascetics of this holy man. How much more, then, living beings endowed with sense!' (p. 43). Time and s.p.a.ce would alike fail for a.n.a.lysis of Bana's similes according to the rules of the 'Sahitya-Darpana.' [29] The author of the 'Raghavapandaviya' considers Subandhu and Bana as his only equals in vakrokti, or crooked speech, and the fault of a 'meaning to be guessed out' ('Sahitya-Darpana,' -- 574) is not rare. The 'Kavya-Prakaca,' in addition to the references given by Professor Peterson, quotes a stanza describing a horse in the 'Harsha-Carita' (chap. iii.) as an example of svabhavokti.

The hero belongs to the division described as the high-spirited, but temperate and firm ('Sahitya-Darpana,' -- 64), i.e., he who is 'not given to boasting, placable, very profound, with great self-command, resolute, whose self-esteem is concealed, and faithful to his engagements,' and who has the 'eight manly qualities' of 'brilliancy, vivacity, sweetness of temper, depth of character, steadfastness, keen sense of honour, gallantry, and magnanimity'

(Ibid., -- 89). Kadambari is the type of the youthful heroine who feels love for the first time, is shy, and gentle even in indignation (Ibid., -- 98). The companions of each are also those declared in the books of rhetoric to be appropriate.

LITERARY PARALLELS.

The work which most invites comparison with 'Kadambari' is one far removed from it in place and time--Spenser's 'Faerie Queene.' Both have in great measure the same faults and the same virtues. The lack of proportion,--due partly to too large a plan, partly to an imagination wandering at will--the absence of visualization--which in Spenser produces sometimes a line like

'A lovely Ladie rode him faire beside Upon a lowly a.s.se more white then snow, Yet she much whiter,'