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¶ The brahmin and the goat

There is in the forest a brahmin. And once, he gets a goat in the village. So he puts the goat on his shoulder and walks on the road. Now, on the road three thieves see the brahmin, but the brahmin doesn’t see the thieves. And the thieves because of greed want the goat. So they say: “How do we steal the goat from the brahmin? We make a plan.” So the thieves think up a plan. First, one thief asks the brahmin: “O brahmin! Why, sir, do you carry a dog on your shoulder?” Then the brahmin says: “Sir, what are you saying? It’s just a goat. I never touch dogs.” So the brahmin again walks on the road. Later, the second thief asks the brahmin: “Why does your honor carry a dog on the shoulder?” So the brahmin puts the goat on the ground and examines it. And the brahmin thinks: “Why does he speak so? Surely it is just a goat.” So the brahmin puts the goat on his shoulder and walks on the road. Later, the third thief asks: “Sir, are you a hunter?” So the brahmin says: “No. I am a brahmin.” The thief says: “Then why does a dog remain on a brahmin’s shoulder?” So the brahmin from foolishness thinks: “Because people say so, surely it is a dog.” So he leaves the goat on the ground and goes again toward home. And because brahmin never touch dogs, he bathes. Thus the thieves by means of a plan get the brahmin’s goat.

–Adapted from Pañcatantra and Hitopadeśa (Killingley: Lesson 16, page 117)

October 22, 2008 · Literature, Quotations, Sanskrit · (No comments)

¶ The blue jackal

A jackal lives in the forest. Now one time, he goes from the forest and enters the city. And there he falls in a vat of indigo. And he thinks: “How do I escape?” But later a man sees the jackal. So he pulls the jackal from the vat and puts him on the ground. Thus the jackal escapes the vat of indigo. Later, he goes to a lake. And in the water he sees his face. And when he sees the color in his face, he is pleased. And he thinks: “I now am the king*.” Then he enters the forest. When they see the color, the jackals think: “He shows the color of a king. Surely he is the king.” So they bow and say: “King, what do you want? We listen.” And the jackal is pleased. And he says: “If you do the king’s command, then you live happily. But if because of foolishness you forget the king’s commend, then I become angry.” So they fear, and do the jackal’s command. Now, the rabbits say to the jackal: “Because we see the king’s color, we bow. Because you surely are king.” Later the deer see the jackal’s color and think: “Surely he is king, and we the king’s servants.” And the elephants do thus. And later even the lions bow and do the jackal’s command. Thus the jackal by the color’s power becomes king of the forest. But one time, the jackals of the forest howl. And when he hears the howl, the king also howls. Then the lions become angry. And they say: “Surely a king he is not. He is only a jackal. Why do we do a jackal’s orders?” So they kill the jackal.

–Adapted from Hitopadeśa, chapter 3 (Killingley: Lesson 15, page 109)

*Sanskrit has no definite article, so this and other instances can be translated as “the king” or “a king.” And the word here translated as king is mahārājaḥ (महाराजः).

October 19, 2008 · Literature, Quotations, Sanskrit · (No comments)

¶ The goose, the crow, and the traveler

There is a city called Ujjain. And in the city’s road grows a tree. Where the tree stands water flows. And a crow builds a nest there. Once, a traveler comes on the road. He holds a bow and arrow. Where the tree stands the traveler sits. The traveler drinks water. Now, a fruit falls from the tree. Then the traveler eats the fruit. And the traveler likes the fruit. And later, he sleeps. Now, the sun heats the traveler’s face. But the goose* thinks: “If the sun heats the traveler’s face, then he does not sleep happily. So what do I do?” So the goose spreads a wing like a sun-shade. And so it protects the traveler from the sun. And the sun does not heat the traveler’s face. But the crow because of wickedness does not like the traveler’s happiness. Now, when the traveler sleeps, he opens his mouth**. And when the crow sees the traveler’s mouth, because of wickedness he shits. And the shit falls in the traveler’s mouth. And the crow flies from the tree. And when the traveler sees the goose in the tree, from anger he takes his bow and kills the goose.

—

Adapted from Hitopadeśa, chapter 3. (Killingley:Lesson 14, page 102)

*Goose here is translating haṃsaḥ (हंसः), which doesn’t have quite the inelegant ring of the bird’s name in English. Sometimes this dissonance is avoided by translating it as swan. It carries certain mystical, mythological connotations in India.

**Literally “opens his face.” Face and mouth translate the same Sanskrit word.

October 13, 2008 · Literature, Quotations, Sanskrit · 2 comments

¶ Śakuntalā

My Sanskrit class has recently progressed to translating actual stories adapted from Sanskrit literature rather than piles of disconnected sentences. The stories are often interesting and fun; they often involve talking animals who get killed over misunderstandings. (Fun fact of the day: Aesop — whose existence and biographical details are characteristically sketchy for a man of his vintage — may or may not have actually committed his fables to writing, though they floated around Greece until they were recorded, and he must have had distant sources; several of his stories appear to have come from India, and were recorded there in Sanskrit.) Since these stories constitute a not inconsequential fraction of the time I spend reading every week, and since, relative to the time spent on them, they’re quite short (I’m reading them in Sanskrit, after all!), and since I like them quite a lot, I’ll try to post them here. I hope someone else might enjoy them as much as I do.

Since they are rather off-the-cuff translations made in preparation for a language class, they will be overly literal renderings of the Sanskrit, and perhaps sometimes stilted in English; and since they are adapted for students of the language, they will reflect a degree of simplicity early on, and grow more complex. I’ve already done maybe close to a dozen, but I’ll gradually put them here from the beginning, starting with the first three, which are three parts to a single story.

Lesson and page numbers refer to the Killingley text, which is more fully cited in the flash cards post.

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Śakuntalā (or Shakuntalaa), Part 1

There is a brahmin called Kaṇva. Kaṇva reads and teaches Veda. Now, a girl called Śakuntalā lives with Kaṇva as a student. And when Kaṇva teaches, Śakuntalā listens.

One time, Kaṇva goes from the ashram. Now, after that the king rides from the palace in a chariot. And a charioteer goes with the king. Now, a deer* jumps from [behind?] a tree. And when the charioteer sees the deer, the king says, “Do you see the deer?” So the king pursues the deer in the chariot. And when the deer hears the chariot, it is afraid and runs. But the chariot goes like an arrow. The king holds bow and arrow in hand. The deer fears the arrow, but the arrow doesn’t hit the deer. So the deer goes to the ashram.

(Killingley: Lesson 11, page 82)

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Part 2

Now, Kaṇva doesn’t remain in the ashram but Kaṇva’s student dwells there. When the deer enters into the ashram, it sees the student. The deer fears the king’s arrow. When Kaṇva’s student sees the deer, she says, “Why do you fear?” Then the student hears the king’s chariot. Then she sees the king and charioteer. And when the king sees the brahmin’s student in the ashram, he speaks to the charioteer and descends from the chariot. Then the king bows to the student. The student asks the king, “Why do you pursue the deer like a hunter?” Somehow the student protects the deer from the king. Then the king enters into the ashram.

Now, Śakuntalā remains in the ashram. And when Śakuntalā sees the king, she likes the king. And the king dwells a long time in the ashram with Kaṇva’s student. Sometimes Śakuntalā talks with the king. And out of desire** she remains with the king a long time.

(Killingley: Lesson 12, page 89)

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Part 3

Thereafter Śakuntalā becomes the king’s wife. (Trans.: One assumes this is a euphemism.) Later, the king goes from the ashram to the palace, and Śakuntalā remains in the ashram. Śakuntalā always thinks only of the king.

Now, a traveller comes to the ashram. The traveller is a brahmin. And when the traveller enters the ashram, he asks, “Who’s there?” But because Śakuntalā thinks only of the king, she doesn’t hear the traveller. Then the traveller says, “Why do you not honor a brahmin?” Even now Śakuntalā says nothing. The traveller thinks, “Because the girl out of desire thinks only of a man, therefore she does nothing.” Then out of anger he says, “Because from foolishness you do not honor a brahmin, I pronounce a curse. Now you see a brahmin’s power.”

Later, Śakuntalā leaves the ashram and seeks the king’s palace. And in the palace she seeks the king. When she sees the king, she says, “I am the king’s wife.” But by the curse’s power the king remembers nothing. Then Śakuntalā asks, “O king, you don’t remember?” But even now the king doesn’t remember. Then Śakuntalā remembers the brahmin’s curse. When she sees the curse’s power, she thinks, “What do I do? I am the king’s wife but the king remembers nothing.” Then Śakuntalā goes from the palace.

(Killingley: Lesson 13, page 97)

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* The word translated here as deer – mṛgaḥ (मृगः) — can refer to any sort of deer, or generically to any wild animal.

** The word translated here (and again below) as desire – kāmaḥ (कामः) – could also be translated as love, though it seems to be a particularly sensual sort, maybe something like eros. It is the same word as in Kama Sutra, and apparently is related through Indo-European root to both whore and caress.

Note from Killingley: “The story continues with the king remembering Śakuntalā later, and eventually finding her after she has borne him a son, Bharata. Bharata becomes the ancestor of the principal heroes of the Mahābhārata.” (Also, his name provides the indigenous name of India; India, which has been used since before Herodotus, apparently comes from Old Persian Hindu, which comes from Sanskrit Sindhu, which names what we call the Indus River.)

Killingley: “This story is told in the Mahābhārata, and in the play Abhijñāna-śākuntala, commonly known as Śakuntalā, by Kālidāsa.”

(The latter, I hear, was a favorite of Goethe.)

October 9, 2008 · Literature, Quotations, Sanskrit · 1 comment

¶ Approaches to texts

One of the more annoying and unhelpful tics one sometimes encounters in discussing books is the unrestrained urge to fight with them. This seems to be especially common in discussions of ancient books, of religious books, and of Marx. (All three of which are required reading at St. John’s College.) Thankfully, after a while of having conversations about books in every class every day, most people at St. John’s do eventually realize that this way of approaching texts rarely leads anywhere interesting, and that other ways do, or else they at least absorb as a kind of local cultural etiquette that they ought to go easy on it.

Over the years I’ve heard a few bits of advice, or assertions, or aphorisms, that seem aimed at ameliorating these tendencies. Sometimes they seem exaggerated, or not clearly true, or even intellectually risky in some way or other, but always formulated as ways of improving conversation and consideration, and I’ve generally found them to be of some use.

One popular one is alleged to have been said by Emerson about a paper criticizing Plato (though perhaps an invention of a biographer — and paraphrased by Omar on The Wire): If you shoot at a king, you had better kill him. Another one that gets around is that, when reading a book that is truly great, you should read it as though you agreed with it completely, as though its author were right about everything, give yourself over to it, and then feel free to change your mind once you’ve made it through to the end. Another was said by some religious figure, perhaps a rabbi, to David Daube — a legal scholar who wrote extensively on the Bible — when, as a young man, Daube left a religious Jewish community to study the Bible in a secular university: if you must study the Bible in this way, do it like a surgeon who must operate on his father. I find that this can be a helpful perspective with many other books besides the Biblical ones.

We students in the Graduate Institute at St. John’s were recently given a helpful letter by Mr. Venkatesh on writing St. John’s essays, which several people new to the College understandably feel some trepidation about. I find one piece of his advice especially helpful, on the subject of fighting with texts. I hope he doesn’t mind my reproducing it here:

Picking Bones. If you plan on picking a fight with a book, I would recommend to you the following tripartite scheme: a) First get clear what the book is saying, and see why it would be compelling to an intelligent person; b) then articulate your dissatisfaction with it, and argue against a); then c) return to the book, and ask how it would respond to your objection. This way of picking bones with an author helps you to see a question more fully.

September 21, 2008 · Education, Friction, Literature · (No comments)