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Author
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Topic: Hindu Gems
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Webmaster Administrator Posts: 1043 From: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia Registered: Feb 2001
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posted November 17, 2004 12:29 AM
CONTENTS - this page 1. On Education - Purananuru
2. Tiruvarutpa - Ramalingaswami 3. Description of Devi - Abhirami Andadi 4. Pattinattar 5. Suffering - Kanda Puranam/Kacciyappa Sivachariyar 6. Divinity in the Essence of Things - Tirumular 7. Aattichudi - Auvaiyar (the second) 8. Tandi Alankaram 9. Royal Exit - Auvaiyar (the first) in Purananuru 10. Nalavenba - Pugalendi 11. An Upanishadic Insight - Nutrirattu/Attaamalakam 12. Hyperbolic Modesty - Kampan 13. Literacy & Numeracy - Tiruvalluvar 14. The Vedic Nature of Siva Nataraja 15. Some Upanishadic Prayers - Brihadaranyaka 16. More Upanishadic Prayers - Taittiriya 17. The New Shiv-Dharma and Caste Sects 18. Dialogie on a Grand Mystery - Yama & Nachiketas 19. Empiricism in the Upanishads 20. How Many Gods? 21. More Upanishadic Slokas 22. Levels of Consciousness and Om 23. Gargi 24. Truth & Caste - Satyakama 25. Brahman in the Upanishads 26. Infrequently Quoted Passages 27. Some Greek Parallels 28. The Ramayana 29. The Author of the Ramayana 30. Thoughts on Manthara 31. Bharat of Kekaya 32. Urmila - Wife of Lakshmana 33. Shurpanakha 34. Ravana the Rakshasa 35. Dasaratha 36. In the Ashoka Grove 37. Discussions on the Ashoka Grove 38. Is the Ramayana Literature of History? 39. Kumbhakarna 40. Jabali ------------------------------------------------------------- . . On the importance of education
uTRuzi udavium uRuporuL koDuttum piTRai nilai muniyAdu kaTRal nanDRe oru kuDip piRanda pallO ruLLam mUttOn varuga ennAdu avaruL aRivuDai yOnARu aracum cellum With whatever effort, giving however much, It's good to be educated, not regret in days to come. No matter from what tribe, to the man with learning, Even royalty will say, "Oh learned one, welcome!" Reflections Here is a fine example of the value placed on learning in the Tamil world even in ancient times. The verse speaks of the efforts and expenses that might be incurred in acquiring knowledge, and says it is all worth it. It reminds people that caste or no caste, the educated ones will always be preferred to those without any learning, at least when it comes to royal appointments. Replace the word by , and the verse is as applicable today as fifteen hundred years ago when it was composed.As one looks into the works of ancient Indic thinkers one is amazed by the variety and insights that many of them bring. From a work like the PuRanAnURu of the Tamil tradition, wherein this work occurs, we learn much about the social and cultural history of the times. Clearly, somewhere, sometime, something, somehow went wrong. Much of the confusion we confront today is the result of abandoning or not adhering to the wisdom of our sage-poets. There was, in ancient times, a flourishing kingdom in the Tamil country, in the most southern regions of the Indian subcontinent. Its capital was the great city of Madurai, rich since time immemorial in culture and craft, in learning, and literature. The rulers of the land were the PANDiya kings who often engaged in battles with adjoining realms of the Pallavas and the Ceras. The fame of the kingdom had spread not only to the northern regions (both Ashoka and Kautilya mention the city), but went as far as Rome whose writers too referred to it. It has been reckoned that the PANDiya kingdom flourished for more than a millennium, from about the fourth century B.C.E. until the fourteenth century C.E. when it was overrun by a general of Allauddin Khalji, the ruthless plunderer who killed his own father-in-law to become Sultan of Delhi, and severed his allegiance to the caliphate of Baghdad. It was a sad day when Madurai came under a Sultan's sway. The verse above is attributed to the great PANDiyan monarch known as NeDunceziyan (5th century C.E?). The name probably meant one who flourished for a long time. He was one of the contributors to the anthology known as PuRanAnURu. His court poet MAngkuDi MaridanAr wrote a long panegyric on his king who was wise with learning and victorious in battle. Other poets of the classical age also paid homage to this great ruler of the PANDiya realm. One of them tells us that this victorious Ceziyan subdued kings who had elephants adorned with gold, and possesses mounds and mounds of rice. Another poem describes how he was decked in leafy branches from the margosa tree, before he marched to battle. He is said to have had a navy too. He was a martial king for sure, declaring that if he did not keep up his promise to crush his enemies, poets need praise his kingdom no more. This single line reveals the role and importance of poets in those glory days of Tamil kingdoms. In the view of many scholars it was during his reign that the Sanskritization of the south reached a climax, for he is said to have conducted sacrifices under the guidance of Brahmin priests and in meticulous accordance with Vedic injunctions. V. V. Raman January 29, 2004 [This message has been edited by Webmaster (edited June 13, 2006).]
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posted November 17, 2004 12:34 AM
Incompatibility of Caste and God-Knowledge cAdimatam camayamenum canGgaDamviT RaRiyEn cAttirac cERu ADukinDRa ca?amviT TaRiyEn Adiyanda nilaiyRiyEn alaiyaRiyAk kaDalpOl Anandap perumpOkat tamarntiDavum aRiyEn.
As one who doesn't go beyond caste and creed, And who isn't from the constraints of shastras freed, Can I ever know Him who is Without beginning or end, and immersed in bliss! Reflections These lines are from the 19th century mystic sage-poet RAmalinga SwamigaL's TiruvatuTpA. Ramalinga was more than a poet: he was a saint, who not only thought and spoke movingly about the Divine, but felt from the depths of his heart for the poor and the wretched of the world. He was compassion incarnate who could not stand the sight of the hungry. He sought to unite all humankind into a single family. With such all embracing love that transcended race and nation, how could he be in peace with the world of caste and oppression that surrounded him? He saw people praying and singing the praise of God in temples, who also practiced discrimination of the worst sort, based on birth and lineage. In this verse, he asks rhetorically how one who is sullied with the notions of caste hierarchy and outworn Shastras could ever have even a glimpse of the Almighty who is beyond piety and classifications of human societies, and is in essence pure bliss. It is thinkers like Ramalinga who bring luster to the Hindu tradition which has been marred by evil social and superstitious forces over the ages. Sri Ramalingaswami's life spanned a little over half a century: from 1823 to 1874. In this brief period, he became preeminent as poet and philosopher, social reformer and spiritually evolved soul. Through his life and legacy he has become a precious jewel in the treasure chest of Tamil culture. His sensitivities were unique and outstanding. He displayed unusual keenness of mind even in his early years. He was a recluse as a youngster, reflecting and meditating on higher realms, much to the bewilderment of the people around. A couple of years later, he lost all interest in the learning and recitation that went on at school. He often ran to the sanctuary of Lord Murugan, the supreme symbol of Tamil divinity - there to sing the holy hymns of devotion and ecstatic love of God. It appears from what Sri Ramalinga says that this outpouring of love was not one-aided, for in the process he felt he acquired all knowledge, for he sang to the Lord: You taught me all knowledge, through you I could see the illusoriness of this world. Sri Ramalinga was one of the few to have experienced mystical vision when he was still an infant, barely six months old. It has been said that the child displayed clear signs of spiritual ecstasy when it was shown the Chidambara rahasyam in the temple of Lord Nataraja. This is the sacred spot where the divine principle is symbolized in its most abstract and all-pervading aspect, namely AkAsha. The onlookers stood in amazement when they noticed the most unusual reaction in the baby. In his later years, the poet recalled this in a famous verse: When with my mother in my tender age, I beheld the mystic mystery in Thillai (Chidambaram). As the curtain was lifted, the essence of the splendor of the divine was revealed unto me. The corpus of Sri Ramalingaswami's literary output is known as the Tiruvarutpa. The name signifies that these were the result of aruL or divine grace. Here the lines pour like torrents from a majestic source high above, illuminations from the celestial sphere, as it were. The Tiruvarutpa includes some six thousand songs and verses. Not many poets, in India or beyond, have produced such a massive collection. The work includes prose pieces also. Saint Ramalinga composed some glorious verses to the Lord, not simply as the divine Father or Mother, but as the immanent spirit that moves the world. Steeped as he was in Saiva SiddhAnta where complex metaphysical concepts come into play, some of Ramalinga's poetry include mystical elements such as suddha deham, praNava deham, and j? deham, Siva cakram, Siva sorpanam, Siva turyam, etc. which may be incomprehensible to the non-initiate. V. V. Raman February 9, 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:35 AM
Description of Devi poruLe poruLmuDikkum bOkamE arum bOkam ceyyum maruLe maruLil varunyeruLe en manattu vaattutu iruLetum indri oLiveLi yAki irukkum unDRan aruLEtu aRikinDRai lEn ambuyAtanattu ambikaiyE
Oh Thou who art in every material thing! Oh enjoyment that material things bring! Oh delusion that from enjoyment comes! Oh clarity into which this becomes! Oh darkness that clouds my mind so small! Oh light of knowledge that clears it all! Oh effulgence that shines so bright! I'm unable to fathom your spiritual might! Oh my goddess Ambika. Reflections This verse is from a classical Tamil hymn addressed to the Goddess abirAmi, a manifestation of Shakti (PArvati), the Cosmic Energy. There is a temple dedicated to abirAmi in the town of TirukaTTavUr in TamilnADu. The hymn, consisting of a hundred verses, is know as AbirAmi andAdi. In these stanzas brimming with exquisite devotion, the poet expresses his reverence for the goddess in a variety of ways, extolling her appearance, paying homage to her grace, adoring her, referring to her in various sacred historical contexts, and invokes her in metaphysical modes also: as the essence of everything, a music and space and fire and celestial bodies. Composed in towards the end of the 19th century, this is one of the finest compositions of this kind, and is recited to this day with deep devotion by many at home and in temples. In this verse the poet looks upon the Cosmic Mother as the root of everything in the universe: from gross matter and its illusory modes to the ultimate grace that leads to enlightenment, and recognizes the inadequacy of the fettered ego to fathom it all in its human condition. The author, AbirAmi baTTar was drawn to the deity of his local temple from an early age. He is said to have been a yogi who went into a mystic trance now and again, provoking the ridicule of a few people around. One day he was taunted by a question as to what day it was, to which he said, it was full moon day, when, in fact, it was new moon. For this Calendrical error he was dragged to the local king in whose presence he repeated the error. Legend has it that the king sentenced him to a severe punishment, whereupon the ardent yogi exclaimed to the Goddess that it was all her fault, and proceeded ex tempore to verbalize the andAdi. When he was towards the third quarter of the composition, the deity is said to have appeared in the sky and flung into the air her sparkling earring which shone in the sky like the full moon. There are other interpretations of this legend. There is a genre of Tamil poetry known as andAdi, which literally means beginning-end. It is so called because it consists of a string of lines or verses, each of which begins with the word with which the last one ends, such as, for example, the following set of sentences. An example of andAdi toDai where the formula is followed in a string of lines would be (in English): This is the story of the man. The man was full of goodness. Goodness is a commendable virtue. Virtue is not of a single kind. Kind means being considerate to people. People are not all the same. .... When we have verses rather than lines, we have ceyyuL andAdi, of which abirAmi andAdi is an example. The andAdi format in Tamil poetry dates back to 9th century. Many AzvArs composed poems in the andAdi format. Many poets composed in this format. It was been suggested that this was an effective device for learning poems by heart, and was especially useful in the oral tradition. But it may also be looked upon as an expression of the penchant for word play which has been a characteristic a great many Tamil poets and writers V. V. Raman February 12, 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:37 AM
Advice for the mindonDRenDRiru - deivam unDRenDRiru uyar celvamellAm anDReNDRiru pacittOr muhampAr nallaRamum naTpum naNDRenDRiru naDunInGkAmalE namakkiTTapaDi eNDRenDRiru manamE unakkE upadEcamidE Take Him as the only One Take Him as the existent One. Wealth isn't everything. To hungry faces compassion bring. In friendship and in righteous ways, May all your trust you place always. From the righteous path, not going astray What's been given to you, take you may In all of this, oh my mind May you some good counsel find. Reflections This poem is by an eminent siddha poet by the name of PaTTinattAr (15th century?): an extraordinarily gifted poet who sang of the glories of asceticism, cared little for material life, and exclaimed how the needs of the piety mode are but meager. The siddha poets were generally not sympathetic to canonical modes (the shaAstras), rejected idol worship, and were more interested in yogic exercise than in standard modes of religious practice. As often happened with the spiritually inclined who sought an ascetic life, PaTTinattAr must have been distracted more than once in his early years by the female body, for he writes in the most harsh tones against women. In this he was not unlike other siddha poets who regarded women as Menaka: the temptress who distracted the eminent VishvAmitra from his spiritual path. PaTTinattAr was a deeply compassionate man, and was most sensitive to sight of hungry people. Note how, in this poem, after talking about the Divine, he quickly turns to caring and righteous behavior and to compassion for the hungry. There are several stories associated with this bright star of Tamil poetry. According to one, he was a wealthy merchant who traded with lands overseas. Once, as happened with Shakespeare's Antonio in the Merchant of Venice, his boat laden with gold was reported to have been lost at sea. He was deeply distressed. But then news came that it had been sighted. He rushed to the port to see it arrive. In the meanwhile a hungry mendicant happened to come his door for a morsel of food. PaTTinattA's wife asked the man to wait for her husband's return, whereupon the famished beggar left an earless needle with a note to the effect that wealth improperly acquired, money hidden by the miser, and an earless needle will all be useless in the end. Upon his return, the moneyed merchant saw the note and was so moved by its message that he gave up everything, took to the streets, and began life as a common beggar, singing the songs of his composition which praised the lord, pitied and parodied women, and wept for the hungry. We can see an echo of his reaction in the verse above. The moral of the episode is that pithy pronouncements even by simple people (a beggar in this case) sometimes carry wisdom and inspiration that can touch the heart and mind of sensitive people. His original name was TiruvENGkaDa CheTTiyAr. Since he became an illustrious poet from the famed city of KAverippUm PaTTinam, he came to be called PaTTinattAr which simply means "one from the town." V. V. Raman February 16, 2003
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posted November 17, 2004 12:42 AM
Suffering as MedicinepeTRiDum kuravar AnOr piLLaikaL tampAl nOnonDRu uTRiDiR piRaraik koNDum uRuduuar ceidu tIppAr maTRavar tampAl anpO vankaNO adupOl nampAl paTRiya pavanGkaL tIrppAn paramanum ivaikaL ceitAn When parents find an offspring ill, For cure to another go they will. The treatment may be a bitter pill But the parents' love is there still. So to rid us of the sins we've done We get the pain from the Supreme One. Which He doesn't directly bring. His agents are who do this thing. Reflections These lines are from Kacciyappa CivAcAriyAr's KandapurANam (#455) which is a Tamil recreation of the Sanskrit work ShivapurANam. The author is known to have been a great scholar in Tamil as well as in Sanskrit. Some believe the work dates back to the 17th century; others, that it is much older. A profound theological perspective is presented here to tackle the difficult problem of theodicy: Why does not a loving and merciful God remove promptly the pain and suffering of human beings? These lines express in a poetic way this perennial question. They state the law of karma in an interesting way. The poet says that just as we need to take bitter medicines to be cured of our ailments, we need to suffer to rid ourselves of the sins we have accumulated. And he gives an interesting analogy: Parents are too loving of their children to administer the pills themselves, and so they pass on the unpleasant chore to a physician who does the job. In the same way, though God is loving and merciful, the task of ridding us of the ailment is relegated to another agent, like the law of karma. The context of the verse in KandapurANam is the following. The good people of the world are tormented by the evil personage SUrapadman and his brothers. The people appeal to Lord Shiva who informs them that they are suffering because of their past misdeeds. If so, reason the wise men, why doesn't Shiva punish them Himself? Why does he have to inflict the penalty through a third person? The explanation which Brahma gives for this is that because of the love that Shiva has for humanity, as with parent and child, He cannot Himself give the needed medicine for the disease (of sin) that has been acquired. So he administers the required pain through an agent: SUrapadman in this case. Kacciyappa CivAcAriyAr's KandapurANam is regarded as Shaivism's composition corresponding to Kampan's RAmAyaNam. The work resembles that masterpiece in length (more than 10,000 stanzas), story line (God comes to save humanity from an all-powerful demonic miscreant), and in its bhakti-mode (deep devotional poetry). It is filled with reverence for KandasvAmi or Murugan (and Shiva) exactly as the RAmAyaNa is filled with reverence for RAma (and VishNu). Kandan is a manifestation of the Divine to rid the world of the monster SUrapadman who had acquired enormous prowess by dint of intense meditation: a power he was misusing; exactly as RAma is a manifestation of the Divine to rid the world of the monster RAvaNa who had acquired enormous prowess by dint of meditation: a power he was misusing. Here too there are six cantos. The inspiring verses are rich in similes and imagination. They are colorful in their descriptions, and they also embody a good deal of the philosophy of Shaiva SiddhAnta. However, as sheer poetry the work does not match Kampan's work of genius, in the estimation of many literary critics. The legends sometimes become too fantastic to be taken seriously. There is a widely held belief in the tradition that the very first verse of KandapurANam had been gifted to the author by Lord Murugan Himself who also corrected overnight the first hundred stanzas. Some years ago I began an ambitious project: Of rendering the whole KandapurANam into English. But in the midst of my several other commitments, by the time I got to the 300th of the 10,346 stanzas, I gave up. Maybe some day. V. V. Raman February 19, 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:43 AM
Divinity in the essence of thingsTEnukkuL inbam civappO kaRuppO vAnukkuL IcanaitEDi madiyilIr tEnukkuL inbam ceRindirun dARpOl UnukkuL Ican oLittirun dAnE Is the joy in the honey black or reddish? Searching for God in the sky is as foolish. As abundant is the joy that honey brings, God is shining in the essence of things.
Reflections This verse is attributed to the eminent TirumUlar (7th century C.E.?), who is regarded as the founder of the Tamil Saiva SiddhAnta school. His Tirumandiram consists of more than 3000 meters, and has been commented upon by a great many scholars. This verse very simply reminds us that academic debates and logical analyses of profound truths often miss the whole point of spiritual experience. Honey contains the essence of sweetness: this one can know only from experience. One can discuss and debate the matter of honey's sweetness endlessly, but that can never give us even an inkling of the taste of honey. Indeed, it would be foolish to be engaging in talks about honey in our efforts to taste it. "Is honey red or black?" is a metaphorical way of referring to the analytical approach. Likewise, says the poet, it is absurd to seek God in particular spaces, for the divine is all-pervasive. It is only when one recognizes and experiences the spiritual light that is inherent in every atom of the physical universe that one is truly enlightened, declares TirumUlar. Clearly, a sage-poet who has achieved that stage finds the customary modes of prayer and worship to be superficial and shallow, and theological discussions to be utterly foolish. He urges us to strive to see the divine in the world around, to experience ecstasy in Nature and its countless manifestations from dust to distant stars. However, it must be remembered that discussions and debates, scholarship and learning, also have their place in culture and civilization. It would be a serious error if society abandons altogether intellectual and scholarly pursuits. What is important is to know the relevance of what we are doing in a given context. It is important to realize that TirumUlar's injunction is valid only in the context of purely spiritual pursuits. V. V. Raman March 18, 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:46 AM
A simple comandmentaRam ceiyya virumbu Desire to do the righteous thing! Reflections The Tamil word aram corresponds to the Sanskrit dharma which may be interpreted as righteous behavior. The above instruction reminds us of the Upanishdaic dhamaM cara: Follow the path of dharma! Here we are not simply asked to follow that path. We are advised to want to do it. The A profiound understanding of psychology is revealed here. Once the desire to do good in implanted in heart and mind, action would follow spontaneously and for sure. This is somewhat like the Chinese saying that it is better to teach a hungry man to fish than to give him the day's portion. The line is from AuvaiyAr, the poetess par excellence of the Tamil-speaking people. There is a legend to the effect that she was a child prodigy who spoke poetry when barely four, and had the blessings of Lord Ganesha. She was fully devoted to the Divine principle from that tender age. When she matured to a good-looking damsel, her father began to negotiate a suitable groom for her. She had no wish to marry and become another housewife. She prayed to the Lord to turn her into an old woman, wrinkles and all, so no youth would want to wed her. All she wanted was to pursue the poetic path. Her wish was granted, and that is how this immortal doyenne of Tamil wisdom is remembered: a grand lady of mature years. We don't know what her real name was. But she came to be called AuvaiyAr, a word which means mother or matron There is probably no Tamil speaker with cultural self-respect who has not heard the name of Auvai, as she is sometimes known affectionately. Few writers in any culture have enjoyed such reputation for more than a millennium. The Tamil world boasts of two AuvaiyArs. The first one whom sacred history regards as the oldest of four sisters of the great TiruvaLLuvar has left two memorable masterpieces in the "A is for Apple, B is for Boy" mode by which children learn the alphabet. Except that in the Auvai-inspired tradition, the letters introduce the young to values and wisdom rather than to apples, cats, and dogs. In the same work she also urges us to cool our temper, and never to give up zest for life. The first of these collections is called AtticcUDi, and is known for its capsules of perennial wisdom. The name means one who is adorned with the flower from the Atti (Bauhinia racemosa) tree, and is one of many epithets for Lord Shiva. Nowhere is the Shakespearean phrase "brevity is the soul of wit (wisdom)" more tellingly illustrated than in this immortal collection which used to be (perhaps still is) learned by rote by youngsters before they learn to read and count. A companion work is called KonDRaivEndan, which is another honorific for Lord Siva. This too is a mound of maxims, each a string of four pithy words. The genius of the Tamil language sparkles in these precious nuggets, all formulated with just four words and in rhythmic meters. The work begins by declaring that Mother and Father are the first Gods to be reckoned. Then we are reminded that it is very beneficial to worship in a house of prayer. In the same work, we are advised to forget promptly an unattainable desire, to dwell in a town where water is readily available, to not keep moping about a loss but to get back to work again, and so on. Many kings were AuvaiyAr's patrons. She traveled from region to region. Among the stories associated with Auvaiyar's life one is that she was once told by a priest not to sit in a place of worship with her legs pointing in the direction of the Almighty. He should have said, the icon. AuvaiyAr asked him to show her a direction which pointed to a place where the Almighty wasn't present. What makes AuvaiyAr an extraordinary poetess is her ability to condense weighty insights in very few words. She was not a pompous pedant quoting scripture, nor a secluded swami, but one devoted to VinAyaka (Lord GaNeSa). Her teachings were not about God, karma, moksha, and such. She was a down-to-earth teacher who spoke with simplicity and intelligence on matters that help us become decent, sharing, and compassionate. She was humble too. "What is has been learned has the measure of a fistful of mud, " she reflected, "what is not learned is as vast as the world." Some three score of Auvai's poem's are extant, enshrined in the Tamil anthologies called PuranAnUru and AganAnUru. AuvaiyAr, who is considered to be an incarnation of Sarasvati, stands tall among the women-poetesses of the world, though she is seldom recognized as such. V. V. Raman March 29, 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:48 AM
Denied MetaphorponGkazakam alla puyalE idu ivaiyum konGkai yiNai alla kOnGkarumbE manGkai nin maiyarikka nalamadar vanDu ivai ivaiyum kai alla kAntaL malar. Not falling hair, but stormy clouds they are. Not a pair of breasts, but silk-cotton buds they are. Oh youthful woman, your dark eyes, beetles they both are And they aren't hands, but kAndaL flowers they are. Reflections In the sophisticated framework of any language there are many figures of speech. One of them is the metaphor in which something is mentioned instead of another by virtue of their close resemblance, and for describing the second thing more effectively. There is also a figure of speech in which one apparently rejects the object/subject which is to be described, and says that it is actually the other one. This is meant to emphasize even more that which one is trying to portray in an effective way. In Tamil rhetoric, this figure of speech is called avanuti (denial of) uruvakam (metaphor). The above verse is an example of this. Here, the poet does not say that the falling hair of the young woman resembles stormy clouds, in which case it would be simile. Nor does he simply refer to the hair as stormy clouds, in which case it would be a metaphor. Rather, he is saying that the hair is not hair, but is itself the stormy cloud. And so on. The metaphors are denied. This is an even more powerful mode of description. To say, "he is not a man, but a beast," is a more forceful way of describing the negative qualities of a person than to simply say that he is like a beast. Poetics had already been well developed in Sanskrit literature when a Tamil poet by the name of TanDi (twelfth century?) wrote a treatise on the principles that should govern epics and poetics. Some scholars believe that he was inspired by a much earlier Sanskrit work called KAvyadarsha, others that it might have been a codification of Tamil works which were already there. TanDi's treatise is entitled TanDi-alanGkAram. The lines above are from that work. It is said that some contemporary writers did not regard with favor such elaborate regulations of artistic creations. Nevertheless TanDi's work had great influence on later Tamil poetry. Whether all the rules set by TanDi added to or diminished the quality of Tamil poetry has been debated by literary critics. At least one history of Tamil literature points out that it was responsible for the "decadent literature of the post-ChOLa period." In any event, as in the religious context and in art appreciation, analysis of what is happening is at least as interesting as what is actually happening. But to be obsessed by such analyses may not always be helpful for a fuller immersion in what is being experienced, nor in the creative process itself. What may be noted here is the impact of a theorist on the literary history of a language. V. V. Raman March 25, 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:50 AM
Royal ExitODan marIiya pIDin mannar nOippAl viLinda yAkkai tazIik kAdan maRandavar tIdumarunG kaRumA raRamburi pacumpuR parappinar kiDappi maRanGgan dAka nallamar vIznda nILkazan maRavar celvic celkena vALpOzn dDakkalum. When a cowardly king from battle flees, And perishes then from disease, Brahmins, versed in sacred writing, Forget the love for their departed king, Place the body on grass powerful To free it from the act disgraceful, They say, "Oh king, May you go on Like the warriors brave who have all gone With the heroic bracelet they would not yield While they were on the battle-field!" Then they cut the body with their swords, And bured it, saying these words.
Reflections This poem is from AuvaiyAr I who probably lived in the 8th century, some four hundred years before the second Auvai who wrote AtticcUDi. It is in PuRanAnURu (93.II.4.11). [Her works, rather than those of the second Auvai are the ones in PuRanAnURu. I had misspoken in my last note.] This poem reveals an ancient Tamil custom by which a king who had been in battle was not expected to return to his realm while his army was still fighting: that would be an act of cowardice. If this happened, then when the kind died a natural death, there was a ceremony in which priests would place him on the sacred grass (dharba), recite some mantras, and cut the corpse before burying it. It was believed that this way his soul would take the path of the brave chieftains who die on the battle-field. This poem is said to have been addressed to a king by the name of AdiyamAn NeDumAn A? one of the royal patrons of the great poetess. Auvai often urged kings to be good and generous in whatever they did. AdiyamAn had only the greatest respect for Auvai, and she for her. In another poem which she wrote upon his death, she recalls with sadness how the days of his generous giving when she shared meat and beverage with his court were gone for ever. The themes of this poetess have a masculine ring: about wars and weapons, heroism and bravery, about the weakness of enemy kings, and the like. But she has her entries in aham literature too, which speak of love and sensitivity. In one of these she describes the sunset as a time when the sun looks for a hill to hide behind, and becomes all red in face, and the earth turns cool. With Pliny, there was a younger and an elder one. With Bacon there was Roger and Francis. With Johnson, there was Ben and Samuel. With Curie, there was Marie and Irene. With Rama, there was a Sita Rama and Bala Rama. With Gandhi, there was a Mohandas K., an Indira, and more. But with Auvai, there is only one name. It is not surprising that for many centuries, and even now in the popular mind, there was only one Auvai, always pictured as the wise old woman, and composer of children's alphabetical maxims. It is said that some imaginative story teller was responsible for mixing up the two. But now we know that the two are not the same. V. V. Raman 1 April 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:52 AM
Self-blame for a predicamentmunnai vinaiyin valiyAl muDimannan ennaip piriya irunGkAnil - annavanaik kANAdu azukinDREn enDRAL kadir imaikkum pUNAram pUNDAL pularndu. "Because of my previous karma, The prince who is bound to me In the dismal darkness Has abandoned me. Not seeing him, I weep," The bedecked woman said, Who by all this had Like a flower withered. Reflections This is a moving verse from NaLa-veNbA, an epic poem in Tamil literature. The title of the poem means: The (story of) NaLa (told) in the VeNbA (form). VeNbA is one of the six canonical poetic meters in Tamil prosody. Literary critics generally say that this is one of the finest examples of that meter. The story is adapted from the famous episode of NaLa and Damayanti which appears in the MahAbhArata (Nalopakhyana Parva). It is the story of the righteous king NaLa who won the hand of the princess Damayanti of Vidarbha in a svayamvara: a custom by which a princess chose her groom from among many suitors. NaLa's rivals were various Vedic deities. The god Kali (not kALi) grew jealous and contrived to lure him to a gambling game which cost NaLa his kingdom. When he retreated into the forest, Damayanti followed him. There again Kala induced NaLa to leave his wife one night, making him imagine she would go back to her father. When Damayanti woke up in the morning she was shocked not to find her husband. It was then that, when a passer-by asked her why she was in such distress, she spoke as in the verse above. This verse is sometimes cited to show the devotion of Damayanti to her husband. She was not blaming him for leaving her. Rather, she attributes her sorry predicament to some past action of hers in a previous birth. Aside from illustrating the classical wifely virtue of never finding fault with one's husband, the verse also teaches the notion that when we are hurt by no matter whom, it is wiser to consider it as a punishment for a past misdeed than to point the finger at the other person. It is such values that make up a culture. Aside from other messages conveyed in the story-poem, such as love, responsibility, and pernicious effects of gambling, there are also many charming poetic descriptions in the work. The Tamil version of the story (NaLaveNbA) is attributed to the poet PugazEndi (13th century?) whose name literally means The Holder of Fame. He was a court poet in for a ChoLa king, but he had a staunch poet-rival there. Fascinating stories are told about their mutual poetic jealousies. V. V. Raman April 15, 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:54 AM
An Upanishadic insightnaranilan curan iyakkan nAnalan anataNan maTRu aracanum vaNikan cUttiran allan naRpiracAri kirakiyum vAnappirattan kETakal canyAci niraiyinil yArumallEn nicapOta vaTivinAmE A man, a demigod, a dog, I am not; Nor a brahmin am I. A kshatriya, vaishya, shudra, I am not; Nor in one of the four stages am I. Not a bachelor or householder, Not a renunciant or forest-dweller. I am none in any hierarchy. Forms of our consciousness are we. Reflections This verse is from NUTRiraTTu which is attributed to the saint RamaNa who in turn presented this as AttAmalakam, a Tamil version of a Sanskrit philosophical work HastamAlakam. The word literally means "gooseberry in the hand." It is derived from the expression: to have gooseberry in one's hand which meant in the language, to say something that is crystal clear. It is said that once a woman who wished to take a dip in a sacred river left her infant to the care of an ascetic on the bank. Unfortunately, while the saintly man was deep in meditation the child crawled into the waters and drowned. When the mother returned and discovered the tragedy she began to wail. The spiritual man, realizing what had happened, took the body of the dead child from the river, and let his own soul seep into it. The child was revived, but it did not speak. The yogi in the boy's body saw no need to talk. Some years later, the great ShankarAcArya happened to run into the seven-year mute child. The philosopher-saint asked the boy who he was, and who his parents were. Now the lad suddenly spoke, and uttered the above words of wisdom. The life principle manifests itself in a variety of ways. In the traditional worldview they may even be as unearthly beings. Here on earth they could be humans or animals. We as human beings refer to ourselves as of this race or nation, of that creed or caste. Then again we recognize ourselves as being in different stages in life: as child or adult, as spouse or parent or grandparent. In the midst of all these apparent differences and transformations we often forget that at the core we are all but bits of the same cosmic self. This Upanishadic insight is what is conveyed in the poem above. In a society in which one still fights about jAti and VarNa, about Hindu and Jain temples, it is good to recall the wisdom of our sage-poets. But it is far more important to internalize these great truths and translate them into practice. V. V. Raman April 22, 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:57 AM
Hyperbolic Modesty EDRiyEn ezuttaRiyEn ezutum vakai nAnRiyEn pADavakai aRiyEn pATTin payan aRiyEn. nAvilE vandapaDi nAninGge pADukiREn. ARu kuTRam nURupizai aDiyEn yAn ceidAlum aiyA manam poRuttu Adarikka vENDukiREn.
I'm ignorant of pages, ignorant of letters, Ignorant of writing too. I know naught of music, Of the benefits of songs, I don't have a clue. As the words to my tongue, come at random, Here I am going to sing. Even if hundreds of mistakes I make, Sir, Support to me, bring. Reflections Kamban, the greatest of Tamil poets, and one of the greatest in all languages, compares his effort to narrate the story of Rama to a cat trying to drink up the ocean of milk, and he pleads with the great Tamil scholars not to take seriously the words of madmen, fools, and deranged devotees like himself. The poet MANikkavAcakar, in his SivapurANam declares that his previous evil deeds have made him utterly unworthy of composing the work because it is impossible for such a one to engage in pious activities. To people of far lesser genius than such giants, such expressions of modesty may seem grossly exaggerated. We read such statements because in Tamil literary tradition, an author usually presents at the beginning, a formal declaration expressing his/her humility, often stating that he/she is not fully qualified to undertake a work of such significance. This part of the preface is known as avaiaDakkam: The word actually means humility in an assembly. It is an expression of the author's modest self-appraisal. Perhaps the origin for this is the fact that in the ancient Tamil world literary works, especially poetic works, were often presented to a patron or to an academy of first rate scholars. In such contexts it was deemed appropriate to be humble. In that framework (what may strike us as) hyperbolic expressions, whether or love or respect, of humility or praise, were the norm. The truly wise and learned generally tend to be modest since they recognize more deeply than others the intrinsic greatness of similar minds. The verse above is an example of avaiaDakkam. It is usually the opening stanza of popular poems by common poets. V. V. Raman April 26, 2004
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posted November 17, 2004 12:59 AM
Literacy and Numeracy eN enba Enai ezuttu enba ivviraNDum kaN enba vAzum uyirkku.
What are called numbers and letters: these two things Are (like) the eyes for all living things. Reflections Writing is one of the greatest inventions in human culture because it conquers space and time. Through it, knowledge and information can be transmitted across great distances and from generation to generation. Ultimately, all knowledge is made permanent for humanity through scripts and books. Counting and numbers are at the basis of civilization too. Not a day passes when for some practical purpose or other one does not use numbers, consciously or unknowingly. Handling numbers (and mathematics, more generally) enables us to accomplish many things. Francis Bacon said that knowledge is power. TiruvaLLuvar goes even beyond: His insight is that letters and numbers are power. He mentions not only writing which is related to knowledge but also numbers which relate to the more abstract capacities of the mind. It is remarkable that long before the modern age Valluvar recognized the importance of both literacy and numeracy. Indeed, he places numeracy (ease with numbers) before literacy (ease with written words). It may be pointed out that in the Tamil language, as in few others) the word for counting and the word for thinking are the same (eNNudal). The poet compares literacy and numeracy to the eyes: perhaps the most important faculty of perception. We use the expression: mind's eye. In a sense, letters and numbers are the mind's more potent eyes, for through them the mind acquires knowledge and information that would be difficult to access, if not shut off, from us. To be illiterate or innumerate is truly being blind in many ways. With poetic license he says "for all living things" meaning just human beings. In this, as in many other couplets, Tirukkural enshrines values and wisdom that go beyond religion and ethics. V. V. Raman April 29, 2004
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Pathmarajah Member Posts: 275 From: Penang Registered: Jul 2004
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posted January 31, 2005 11:27 AM
Originally posted by Srinivasan Kalyanaraman in AkandabarathamNataraja and Vedic concepts as revealed by Sekkilar by R.Nagaswamy Excerpt: The Vedic Nature of Siva Nataraja The Saiva system of Tamilnadu is based on the lives of the 63 Saiva saints as told by Sekkilar The account of Sekkilar is based on Saint Sundara-murti's Thirut-tondat-tokai followed by Nambi Andar Nambi's Thiru-antati. Sundarar sang the Thiru-Tondar-tokai at Thiru-varur and according to Sekkilar the first line tillai vaz antanar, was revealed to Sundarar by Lord Siva of Thiruvarur. Narrating this account Sekkilar says Siva taught these words by the same mouth that taught the Vedas to Sundarar. It is a poetic way of suggesting that the thiru-tondat-tokai has the same validity as the Vedas. This hymn consists of eleven verses. We have seen that at every stage, Sekkialr who also connects Vedas with the Thiru-tondar-tokai mentions the role of Vedas. The most sacred part of the Veda, containing the Pancakshara-Namasivaya is found in Sri-rudram-the Satarudriya hymn. The Satarudriya hymn consists of eleven verses, called anuvakas. It is in all probability that influenced Sundarar to sing the Thiru-tondar-tokai also in eleven verses. The identical number could not be considered accidental. The Tamil Saivam, which has been dynamic, through out, is based on the Vedas and the Vedic tradition and is therefore rightly claimed by all the saints as Vaidika Saivam. The foremost temple that comes in for praise in this system is Tillai-Chidambaram and the worshippers of Chidambaram are the Dikshitars, the followers of Vedas. The God of Chidambaram is the Dancing God. Tamil Saivam and Siva Nataraja are identical and that the concepts of Siva Nataraja are rooted in the Vedas. [URL=http://tamilartsacademy.com/journals/volume3/articles/ Vedas%20and%20Vedic%20Saiv\as%20in%20TN.html] http://tamilartsacademy.com/journals/volume3/articles/ Vedas%20and%20Vedic%20Saiv\as%20in%20TN.html[/URL] See also: http://tamilartsacademy.com/thirumuraikal/thirumurai_intro.html[/URL] (Tirumurai 1 to 7 with transliteration in English). [This message has been edited by Pathmarajah (edited June 09, 2006).]
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posted February 14, 2005 03:26 PM
On some Upanishadic prayersPeople who grow up in the Hindu tradition hear many sacred stanzas: the so-called shlokas and mantras of the tradition. There was a time when these were uttered only by the initiated at appropriate times occasions. Today, though there are still controversies about privileges as regards sacred thread and priestly roles, any Hindu may learn and recite any of the canonical prayers. But not all who do this may be familiar with the sources or meanings of the prayers which have acquired sanctity over the centuries. Consider, for example, the following: asatom sad gamaya; tamasom jyotir gamaya; mrityom amritam gamaya From the unreal, lead me to the real; from darkness, lead me to light; from death, lead me to non-death. Few who have grown up in the tradition have not heard this. This prayer is from Yajus verses in the Brihadranyaka Upanishad which is regarded as the oldest of all the extant Upanishads. The lines are from the last part of the Satapatha Brhmana. It is prescribed that while the priest is chanting the mantras during a sacrifice, one who is performing the sacrifice should be reciting this. In our own times this has become one of the most widely repeated shlokas in the Hindu world, recited in temples. Sometimes it is used as an invocation prior to dinner in homes. In the Upanishad it is explained that unreal and darkness mean death; real and light mean immortality. The prayer is to seek release from death and attain immortality. But I prefer to interpret asad or the unreal as an illusory understanding of the true nature of reality, as occurs when the ephemeral is taken for the eternal and the perishable for the never-decaying. Viewed thus, the prayer enables us to understand the deeper aspects of this passing world of experience, for in that recognition we become wiser and more balanced in our perspectives. Likewise, I take tamas or darkness to mean here ignorance, not just of the nature of physical reality but of moral rightness as well. The joyoti or light that one seeks is not just the physical light that helps us see things, but enlightenment: a vision of life and society that respects others, that is caring and compassionate, that is guided by reason and understanding, not by unthinking adherence of outworn practices. The plea to be taken from death to immortality is asking to be released from the cycle of birth and death, and merge with the Cosmic Whole. As I see it, the wisdom of sacred texts is to be sought not in their literal interpretations, nor even in the commentaries given to them by revered thinkers of distant eras, but in the meaningful interpretations that are relevant in this day and age. Here is where tensions sometimes arise between traditional theology and evolving worldviews. In dynamic cultures, both retro-looking and forward-looking forces are always there. What is interesting in the Hindu world is that the sacred verses have an intrinsic spiritual appeal which gives fulfillment to the faithful even when one does not fully understand the message they convey. This is the reason why people often recite them with reverence, even while ignoring their meanings. Another oft-repeated Upanishadic prayer is: p? adaH p? idam, p? p? udatcyate p?ya p? d?, p? eva vashishyate. Complete is that; Complete is this. Out of the Complete, the Complete emerges. From the Complete, (when) the Complete taken, The Complete still remains. Priests recite this on auspicious occasions and worshipers recite it collectively after the rati. These lines form the opening reflection of s?panishad, also known as svasya Upanishad. This prayer also occurs in Brihadrayaka Upanishad. The shloka sounds like the exclamation of one who has had a mystical experience in which the seer recognized perfection (p?) all around: here, there, and everywhere. In that experience, the mystic sees the entire cosmos as a manifestation of Fullness, Completeness, Perfection. Though this vast universe has emerged from the boundless Supreme, the latter remains unaffected by it. If we replace the term complete/full (p?) by infinity, the shloka expresses the idea that infinity can emerge from infinity, and that infinity minus infinity is again infinity: an insight with which mathematicians would resonate. Hindu thinkers envisioned the Divine as That which is without end (ananta) and without beginning (andi), like the number system (positive and negative). They also considered various categories of infinity, like nominal infinity (referring to extraordinary greatness), epistemic infinity (referring to boundless knowledge), one dimensional infinity (observation along an uninterrupted line of sight), numeric infinity (fraction with zero in the denominator) and temporal infinity (eternity). These prayers transcend sects and religions. People of all faiths can recite them. V. V. Raman February 11, 2005 [This message has been edited by Webmaster (edited February 28, 2005).]
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posted February 15, 2005 03:08 PM
More Upanishadic ShlokasSome more shlokas come to mind from the Taittirîya Upanishad. The first that had an impression on me is part of its invocatory shloka. After paying homage to the Vedic deities Mitra, Varuna, Âryamân, Indra, Brihaspati, Vishnu, and Brahmâ, it declares Vâyu (Air) to be the perceptible Brahman, recognizing that it is the most fundamental element for the sustenance of life. References to Vedic gods also remind us that the Upanishads are extrapolations of the Vedas. Indeed, most Upanishads are offshoots of Vedic literature, and are linked to the Âranyakas and the Brâhmanas. The invocation continues: ritam vadishyâmi; satyaM vadishyâmi; tan mâm avatu; tad vaktâram avatu; avatu mâm, avatu vaktâram. I will speak about what is right; I will speak the truth. May that protect me! May that protect the speaker! Let that protect me! Let that protect the speaker! We note here the insight that ultimately what matters in life are right conduct and truthfulness. Our highest ideals should be adherence to ethical principles and to truth. That would keep us safe and sound in life, no matter what. In history there are forward and backward steps on two planes: the conduct plane and the knowledge plane. Positive steps along the conduct plane is what enlightenment is all about: the kind of actions, whether by individuals or by nations, that are kindled by caring, compassion, and kindness, and are beneficial to others. Positive steps on the knowledge plane lead us to a better understanding of the world. We acquire this knowledge from dispassionate inquiry and science. Its pursuit is often colored by emotional factors and past misconceptions. When one rids oneself of such constraining factors, the resulting apprehension of truth would be clear and mind-freeing. Uttering this prayer daily is a mode of reminding ourselves of these values on a regular basis. This can help even those who don't attach importance to routine rituals, visiting temples, or fasting on appropriate days. The next shlokas I have in mind is also a widely known prayer: sa ha nâv avatu - saha nau bhunaktu - saha vîryam karavâvahai tejaswi nav adhîtam astu - mâ vidvishâvahai May He protect us! May he be pleased with us! May we labor together with vigor! May our studies bring us enlightenment! May there be no discord among us! Actually, this is a prayer that a master and pupil are supposed to offer together, so that the us stands for the two of them. But it is also pronounced by a group. Knowing the meaning, one would never recite it when one is alone in a worship mode. This prayer starts with the customary appeal for security which is a motivation for prayer, but it quickly expresses the wish that the Divine must be pleased with us. This is a poetic way of saying that we need to act responsibly, righteously, and in non-hurting ways. These are to be defined, not by what we think, but by universal standards. This is implied by the statement that the Divine must be pleased by our actions. The prayer reminds us of the work we must do. The idea of working together reflects as sense of community, of working for the common good. Furthermore, the prayer distinguishes between the acquisition of knowledge and the wisdom that must accompany it. All the knowledge in the world would be useless if it is not nourished with enlightenment. Most of all, the prayer seeks peace and harmony in the world. During my years as a professor at the university I used to recall the following lines from the Tattirîya Upanishad: â mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ, vi mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ, pra mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ, da mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ, sa mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ. I used to have my own rough translation of this, making it relevant to my situation. The word brahmacârin traditionally refers to an unmarried male student and seeker of spiritual knowledge. The term svâhâ is a ritual invocation at the altar of a sacrifice. For my purposes, however, I took the lines to mean: May students come to me from everywhere! Amen. May students come to me in different ways! Amen. May students come to me well prepared! Amen. May students come to me with self discipline! Amen. May students come to me in peace! Amen. I cannot say that my prayers were always granted, or rather that my wish was always fulfilled. But I felt good I was starting the academic semesters with a quote from an Upanishad which, in my translation, seemed very meaningful. Traditionally one utters these prayers in their rhythmic Sanskrit meters in religious contexts in a worshiping mode. This is fine. But when reflects on their meanings also, they become so much more beautiful. At least has been so for me. V. V. Raman February 14, 2005
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posted February 18, 2005 12:51 PM
On the new Shiv-Dharma All through India's long cultural/religious history, there have been many different sects and cults, affiliated to different deities and philosophical systems, differing doctrines, various swamis/gurus/saints, etc. Of these, the Vedic-Sanskritic, Shaivite-Tamil, and Shakta-Tantric were major pillars. Only the first of these was predominantly caste-constrained.
As most of us know, it was the British who coined the word Hinduism to bring all these under a single religious umbrella. In the process, they unwittingly unified the religious streams under a single name, as they unified the intellectual streams on India through the English language. New movements, affiliated to new swamis and Babas or to past historical personages (Sri Ramakrishna, and now Shivaji) are nothing new in Indian history, sprouting like mushrooms on a damp soil, except that in this new one there seems to be an overt repudiation of the caste system. [The Buddha and Guru Nanak had done this centuries earlier.] Practically all overseas Hindus have been doing this for more than a century, without deifying the mother of a historical hero. If Shiv Dharma brings psychological and spiritual fulfillment to the members of this new cult, I wish them the very best, especially since they are moving away from the most serious persistent flaw in the Hindu world: caste hierarchy. However, I suspect that when Ganapati chaturti comes around, most Marathis will come together and celebrate, no matter what schism seems to be occurring now. Personally, I don't regard these movements as Brahmin-bashing, but as inevitable rebellions against a social/religious system that is conceptually dehumanizing, and should have been erased by responsible (Hindu) religious leaders long ago. V. V. Raman February 15, 2005 [This message has been edited by Webmaster (edited February 18, 2005).]
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posted February 19, 2005 03:56 PM
Dialogue on a Grand MysteryAs we live through life we learn many things, and our knowledge is steadily increasing. But there are matters about which we know but nothing. There are questions which stand our impressively as questions, but they have no definite answers. One such question pertains to death. It is a grand mystery hanging as a backdrop in life. There is a famous passage in the Kathopanishad where this mystery is presented as a story. Vajashrava performs a sacrifice, offering all his possessions to the gods. His son Nachiketas asks the father, "To whom will you offer me?" Vajashrava is upset and says he would offer the son to the God of Death. Whereupon Nachiketas goes to the abode of Yama (God of Death), waits there for three days, and confronts the Death-God. Upon his return Yama, realizing that the young brahmin had been waiting for three days, promises him three boons to compensate. Nachiketas wants his father not to be not any more, and wishes to return home. This is granted. Then he seeks the secret of the altar of a particular fire-sacrifice that leads men directly to heaven. This too is revealed to him. Finally, for his third boon, Nachiketas asks: "According to some, a person continues to exist after death, but others don't believe this. I wish to know, what happens when a person who dies." To this, Yama says: "Ask for cattle and horses, for elephants and gold. Ask for progeny that will live a hundred years. Ask for lands and possessions, kingdoms and power, beautiful damsels and perennial pleasures, but don't ask for the secret of Death." This insightful passage declares in simple terms that while there are no limits to human knowledge and achievements, we can never know what will happen to the individual experience after the last breath is heaved. But the human spirit is not satisfied when boundaries are drawn on its quest. So Nachiketas does not accept Yama's answer and he persists. He refuses to take any other boon. The implication is that ultimate knowledge about the hereafter is of such significance that it is preferable to every conceivable possession or experience. Finally Yama, instead of answering the question directly, explains to Nachiketas that our actions could be for achieving one of two things: fleeting satisfactions, or what is intrinsically good. Work for attaining passing pleasures, and you will get nowhere. Work towards the greater good, and you are on the right track to immortality. Yama goes on to say that the foolish and the short-sighted imagine this world to be the only and the total reality. They think that the world will dissolve from their field of experience when they die. This is because they don't understand the true nature of the atman. For this, one must have a master who has himself realized the Truth, for higher spiritual knowledge cannot be attained by mere reading and reasoning. This is a crucial idea in the tradition. In order to fully grasp the significance of the truths implicit in the sacred texts, one needs a guru. It is through the guru that occult meanings become clear to the seeker. Those who read and study on their own can learn much in many fields, but not in the spiritual. Here, intellectual knowledge is inadequate, and may even be unsatisfying. For example, the non-spiritual reader may find this story to be interesting, but not quite revelatory about the mystery of death itself. However, a guru might explain that the episode does give an answer to the question: Nachiketas' return to his father symbolically refers to reincarnation. The reference to the sacrificial fire which enables one to go to heaven means that by leading a proper life, one obtains liberation. In other words, both re-birth and moksha are possible for one who dies. Yama also explains to Nachiketas the importance of the mystical mantra om whose apprehension reveals the nature of Brahman. He states that the atman is smaller than the smallest imaginable unit, and grander than all of physical space. Yama compares the physical body to a chariot, our reasoning to the charioteer, and the mind to the reins. The senses are the horses that take the charioteer here and there. As the good charioteer controls the horses with the reins, and does not let them drag him where they will, our reasoning mind should control our senses and not let us go astray. Nachiketas learns many spiritual truths from Yama and becomes immortal, having attained the knowledge of Brahman. Though Nachiketas is a student in this exchange, in the Upanishadic tradition he is regarded as a teacher of esoteric wisdom. Shankaracharya called him an acharya of brahmavidya. This is because of his earnestness, sincerity, and determination in the quest for higher truths. One thinks that these are characteristics of a student. Actually, they should be of a teacher no less. V. V. Raman February 18, 2005
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posted February 28, 2005 04:55 PM
Empiricism in the Upanishads The route to ideas, knowledge, and convictions about the world is through three paths: revelation, speculation, and observation. Traditional religious scriptures offer us revealed knowledge. Thus, the truths proclaimed in the Vedas, the Bible, and the Koran are taken as truths by the adherents of the respective religions. Faith is fundamental in the acceptance of revealed knowledge. Philosophers engage in insightful speculations which are discussed and debated by other analytical thinkers. Such are the views of Plato and Kant, Shankara and Ramanuja, for example. Intuition plays a role in the elaboration of speculative knowledge. Finally, we have the modern scientific methodology where empiricism is fundamental. Here nothing is accepted as valid unless it is supported by extensive observation, experimentation, and verification. This is the hallmark of science.
In the Western tradition, Aristotle was one of the earliest to insist that everything we know about the world comes from what we observe. But it was not until many centuries later - from the 17th century - that this came to be adopted as a systematic criterion in the acquisition of knowledge about the world. Thus, in modern science empiricism (observational, verification route to knowledge) is crucial. It was long believed that Indian thinkers - like their counterparts in other great cultures - relied primarily on revelation and speculation in forming their worldviews. To a large extent this seems to be the case: at least, this is the impression one gets from many ancient Hindu writings. However, there is a passage in the Chndogya Upanishad - dating back to the sixth century B.C.E. or earlier - which talks about a sage who understood very well the significance of empirical knowledge. This Upanishad speaks about ritual chants and the primordial significance of the sun, of breath and food, of the genesis of Vedic hymns and much more. In the midst of all this, we encounter a personage by the name of Uddlaka runi. His son Shvetaketu returns home after twelve years of intense study under a guru. The youth now displays the conceit of a fresh graduate who thinks he has learned everything. The father detects this, and tells him that with all his guru-given knowledge, Shvetaketu had not learned about the essence of perceived reality. As I see it, the point here is that the traditional wisdom one learns from gurus which one repeats parrot-like is often only superficial knowledge. It does not reflect any depth of understanding. There is too much of this in the religious context. Then Uddlaka teaches his son about the ultimate. He explains that beyond the pot which has form and name is the clay which is its essence. Beyond the golden articles, there is gold which is the essence. Beyond rain and grain there is water, which is the essence. From the minutest of seed arises the mammoth tree. Recognizing the hidden truth behind appearances is true enlightenment. Next Uddlaka asks his son to sprinkle salt in some water. The next day the son returns, and he can see no salt in the water, but he is able to taste it. We cannot see or touch the salt in the water, but we can experience it. So it is with Brahman, explains the father. Then Uddlaka tells Shvetaketu that a person is made up of sixteen entities. He asks him not to eat solid food for fifteen days. His breath, which consists of water, will not be affected, he says. The son does just that and returns, only to discover that he cannot recall any of the Vedic chants he had he learnt. Then the sage asks the young man to eat for fifteen days and return. The son obeys, and now he is able to recall the chants. The father explains: "Just as, in a huge lighted fire, if a single ember small as a firefly is left, and it can be made to blaze by enclosing it in a heap of straw, the little fire that was left in you, when covered with food, blazed again. So you remember the Vedas now. The mind consists of food, the breath consists of water, and speech of heat." The story shows that Uddlaka runi experimentally proved to his son what he had stated. This interesting episode is extremely important in the history of science in its unusual empirical methodology. In no contemporary writing elsewhere does one find such a dramatic illustration of the observational verification of a theory. Because episode is buried in a mountain of metaphysical musings in a work that is regarded as of primarily spiritual significance, its scientific relevance had escaped detection until a few decades ago. Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya, a historian of Indic science, drew attention to its scientific import. He argued that this exchange between father and son entitles Uddlaka, rather than Thales of Miletus, to be reckoned as the first scientific thinker in history. Uddlaka runi, he said, "did in fact boldly knock at the gates of natural science to be opened," for which effort he deserves to be called "the first rational natural scientist in the history of the Indian subcontinent, if not in global history." V. V. Raman February 21, 2005 [This message has been edited by Webmaster (edited February 28, 2005).]
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Pathmarajah Member Posts: 275 From: Penang Registered: Jul 2004
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posted February 28, 2005 04:59 PM
How Many Gods? Once I was in a friend's home for dinner. The guests included some Americans. One of them asked during a conversation if it was true that Hindus believed there are millions of gods. The host gave a polite smile which suggested how ignorant the questioner was, but another lady guest, who was a physician, lashed out, saying that most ignorant Westerners think Hindus are all fools. The gentleman apologized profusely for his question, saying he had read it somewhere, and was quite sure it was a mischievous distortion, but just wanted to know what Hindus thought of this.
I asked the lady why, in her opinion, people get such impressions about Hinduism. I heard the usual answer: The British and the Christian propagandists. Then I asked if anywhere in Hindu sacred works it was mentioned that there are thousands of deities. They rather doubted it. Maybe in some puranas, someone said. I told them that the origin of that perception may be found in statements from within the tradition. In fact, in the Vedic framework, there are eight Vasus, namely: Prithvî (Earth), Agni (Fire), antariksha (Intermediary Space), Vâyu (Air, Life Breath), Dyaus (Sky), Sűrya (Sun), Nakshatra (Stars), Soma (Moon); eleven Rudras; twelve Âdityas, Indra (Thunderbolt), and Prajâpati (Lord of Progeny). They add up to 33. Each of these is regarded as a manifestation of the Divine. But ultimately, they are all manifestations of the same single Divine principle. This view is articulated in the Brihadâranyaka Upanishad in the following conversation between the sage Viddagdha Shakalya (VS) and Yâjńavalkya (Y). VS: kati devâh, Yâjńavalkya? (How many gods are there, T)? Y: As many as are mentioned in the invocatory hymns of the scriptures, which is three hundred and three, and three thousand and three. (trayas ca trî ca shatâ, trayas ca trî ca sahasreti). VS: Yes, but how many Gods are really there, Y? Y: Thirty-three VS: Yes, but how many Gods are really there, Y? Y: Six. VS: Yes, but how many Gods are really there, Y? Y: Three. VS: Yes, but how many Gods are really there, Y? Y: Two. VS: Yes, but how many Gods are really there, Y? Y: One and a half. VS: Yes, but how many Gods are really there, Y? Y: One. (eka iti.) VS: Yes, but which are those three hundred and three and three thousand and three (which you mentioned earlier)? At this point Yâjńavalkya goes on to say that those are all manifestations of the thirty-three primary gods of the Vedic framework., and then he explains who the Rudras, the Âdityas, etc. are. What is interesting in this dialogue is that when Yâjńavalkya comes up with large numbers for Shakalya's question, though the answer is based on Vedic statements, the latter does not to take him seriously. This suggests that it is not always wise to take what we read in the scriptures literally. The persistent questioning by Shakalya means that one needs to probe more and more to fully understand what the core meaning of it all is. The final answer, there is but one God, is as true as the initial one that there are more than three thousand gods, because the one God is manifest in countless different forms in air and water, in earth and sky, in sun and moon and stars, with countless different names. That is the meaning of saying that God is omnipresent: The Divine is implicit in every aspect of the perceived universe. This vision of a unity behind the multiplicity is at the core of the Hindu vision of the Divine. God, in the Hindu framework, is too grand and magnificent to be declared as One, and just left at that. To say that the Divine has only one Prophet is even more restrictive of the capacity of the Divine for self-expression. If anything, every single manifestation of God, whether as minute atoms or as mammoth stars, as mindless animals or as thinking humans, needs to be vast in numbers. Or else, God can be only a finite entity. Thus it is quite true to say that in the Hindu framework there are millions of gods. It is equally true to say that there is only one God. The Divine is like music. There is but one Music, but it finds countless expressions. It is through a particular song or sonata that we experience music. So it is that we get a glimpse of God through every form or name. V. V. Raman February 23, 2005
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Pathmarajah Member Posts: 275 From: Penang Registered: Jul 2004
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posted February 28, 2005 05:51 PM
More Upanishadic shlokas Some more shlokas come to mind from the Taittirîya Upanishad. The first that had an impression on me is part of its invocatory shloka. After paying homage to the Vedic deities Mitra, Varuna, Âryamân, Indra, Brihaspati, Vishnu, and Brahmâ, it declares Vâyu (Air) to be the perceptible Brahman, recognizing that it is the most fundamental element for the sustenance of life. References to Vedic gods also remind us that the Upanishads are extrapolations of the Vedas. Indeed, most Upanishads are offshoots of Vedic literature, and are linked to the Âranyakas and the Brâhmanas. The invocation continues:
ritam vadishyâmi; satyaM vadishyâmi; tan mâm avatu; tad vaktâram avatu; avatu mâm, avatu vaktâram. I will speak about what is right; I will speak the truth. May that protect me! May that protect the speaker! Let that protect me! Let that protect the speaker! We note here the insight that ultimately what matters in life are right conduct and truthfulness. Our highest ideals should be adherence to ethical principles and to truth. That would keep us safe and sound in life, no matter what. In history there are forward and backward steps on two planes: the conduct plane and the knowledge plane. Positive steps along the conduct plane is what enlightenment is all about: the kind of actions, whether by individuals or by nations, that are kindled by caring, compassion, and kindness, and are beneficial to others. Positive steps on the knowledge plane lead us to a better understanding of the world. We acquire this knowledge from dispassionate inquiry and science. Its pursuit is often colored by emotional factors and past misconceptions. When one rids oneself of such constraining factors, the resulting apprehension of truth would be clear and mind-freeing. Uttering this prayer daily is a mode of reminding ourselves of these values on a regular basis. This can help even those who don't attach importance to routine rituals, visiting temples, or fasting on appropriate days. The next shlokas I have in mind is also a widely known prayer: sa ha nâv avatu saha nau bhunaktu saha vîryam karavâvahai tejaswi nav adhîtam astu mâ vidvishâvahai May He protect us! May he be pleased with us! May we labor together with vigor! May our studies bring us enlightenment! May there be no discord among us! Actually, this is a prayer that a master and pupil are supposed to offer together, so that the us stands for the two of them. But it is also pronounced by a group. Knowing the meaning, one would never recite it when one is alone in a worship mode. This prayer starts with the customary appeal for security which is a motivation for prayer, but it quickly expresses the wish that the Divine must be pleased with us. This is a poetic way of saying that we need to act responsibly, righteously, and in non-hurting ways. These are to be defined, not by what we think, but by universal standards. This is implied by the statement that the Divine must be pleased by our actions. The prayer reminds us of the work we must do. The idea of working together reflects as sense of community, of working for the common good. Furthermore, the prayer distinguishes between the acquisition of knowledge and the wisdom that must accompany it. All the knowledge in the world would be useless if it is not nourished with enlightenment. Most of all, the prayer seeks peace and harmony in the world. During my years as a professor at the university I used to recall the following lines from the Tattirîya Upanishad: â mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ, vi mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ, pra mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ, da mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ, sa mâyantu brahmacârinah svâhâ. I used to have my own rough translation of this, making it relevant to my situation. The word brahmacârin traditionally refers to an unmarried male student and seeker of spiritual knowledge. The term svâhâ is a ritual invocation at the altar of a sacrifice. For my purposes, however, I took the lines to mean: May students come to me from everywhere! Amen. May students come to me in different ways! Amen. May students come to me well prepared! Amen. May students come to me with self discipline! Amen. May students come to me in peace! Amen. I cannot say that my prayers were always granted, or rather that my wish was always fulfilled. But I felt good I was starting the academic semesters with a quote from an Upanishad which, in my translation, seemed very meaningful. Traditionally one utters these prayers in their rhythmic Sanskrit meters in religious contexts in a worshiping mode. This is fine. But when reflects on their meanings also, they become so much more beautiful. At least has been so for me. V. V. Raman February 14, 2005
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Pathmarajah Member Posts: 275 From: Penang Registered: Jul 2004
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posted February 28, 2005 06:01 PM
Levels of Consciousness and Om All our awareness of the world recedes into temporary oblivion when we fall asleep. What is the nature of the reality that we experience when we are in the sleep state relative to the one that impresses us in our waking state?
The question has intrigued keen minds since time immemorial. Recall the famous story in Chinese philosophy about Chuang Tzu who is said to have dreamt that he was a carefree butterfly hopping happily from flower to flower. When he woke up suddenly and realized he was Chuang Tzu, he wondered if he was Chuang Tzu who had dreamt he was a butterfly or a butterfly which was dreaming it was Chuang Tzu. The Upanishadic seers had a different view on the matter. The Mândûkya Upanishad offers a theory of the modes of human awareness. Human beings, it says, can be in one of three possible states: the waking state, the dreaming state and the profound dreamless sleep state. It names these as vaishvânara, taijasa and prâjña respectively. While awake, we interact with the external world through sensory organs, feeling pleasure and pain. What we experience in our dreams are not material things. They are subtle, creating the impression of being real. Here, we still have the deep desires in which we are often enmeshed. We are still touched by pseudo-enjoyments and unpleasantness. In the level of deep sleep, all distinctions between experiencer and the experienced are dissolved. There is merger of the separated consciousness with Totality. Though this is bliss, one is not aware that one is a part of the Whole: a case of bliss in ignorance. The Mândûkya Upanishad says that there is a fourth stage. It is known as turîya, and it is the purest state of awareness. This is the true and legitimate state of the self. In this state, consciousness transcends all categories. This is the state of cosmic consciousness, and it defies verbal descriptions. This does not happen with all brains, but only with some. This is the pinnacle of spiritual enlightenment. Turîya-yoga, which the Siddhas are said to have practiced, promises such experiences. All these states belong to the continual changes to which all finite and perishable things are subject. Modern science has revealed two stages in sleep: One involves the rapid eye movement (REM) cycles which occur several times when we dream. The other is the non-rapid eye movement (NREM) stage with which sleep starts. During these phases, different types of brain activities are known to occur. It is interesting that Indic thinkers of ancient times recognized different phases of sleep, and interpreted them as stages of awareness. This translates in current paradigm into different types of brain activity. The insight of Hindu thinkers was in considering the sleep state as another mode of awareness, suggesting that awareness is a function of the type of processes in the brain. Now to a related matter. The most universally recognized sound associated with Indic traditions is om: a prolonged sonorous invocation which is as much Buddhist as it is Hindu. Its representation as a written symbol resembling the number three with a curly appendage with a crescent with a dot is as much a signature of Hinduism as the star of David and the Cross are in other traditions. No one knows the origin of this ancient sacred Vedic sound which has been reverberating in the Hindu world for ages. Many Upanishads speak about this mystical invocation. The Chândogya Upanishad begins by saying that we should meditate on om. It also says that this is a syllable of assent, of agreement. It has been noted that in ancient Tamil, one used to agree to things by repeating om twice: om-om, which later become âmâm (word for yes in current Tamil). In the same Upanishad we read that this sound emerged from Prajâpati, the progenitor of humankind. "As the leaves are all held together by the stalk," it says, "in the same way all spoken words are held together by aum." The Taittirîa Upanishad says that om is Brahman. The Shetâshvatara Upanishad says that using the body to chant om is like using a stick to rub against a surface to generate fire: In this case, the fire of the Divine. The Mândûkya gives another interpretation by relating om with the states of consciousness. Phonetically the sound om may be analyzed into three constituent sounds: A-U-M. Vaishvânara or the waking state corresponds to the A sound; taijasa or the dream state to the U sound, and prâjña or deep sleep to the M sound. And the sacred syllable, taken as a whole, represents the fourth state of turîya. It stands for ultimate realization, for supreme spiritual knowledge, for the transcendental experience of cosmic consciousness. This is why om is invoked on all spiritually significant occasions. Finally, the Mândukya Upanishad also says that all the past, the present, and the future are enshrined in om. In other words, om is a capsule-sound of what was, is, and will be; a transformation, as it were, of temporal eternity into an audible vibration. As much as for their spiritual loftiness, it is in such poetic, profound, and provocative conceptual sweeps, that Upanishadic insights become most interesting. V. V. Raman February 16, 2005
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Pathmarajah Member Posts: 275 From: Penang Registered: Jul 2004
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posted February 28, 2005 06:06 PM
Keen Thinker Gârgî Practically all great civilizations have had their keen women thinkers. The vast majority of them rarely had opportunities to express themselves. But a few did manage to do that, and some of them managed to assert themselves in a normally male-dominated world. In the Hindu tradition, Gârgî Vâcaknavî was such a one. She is known to have argued with the illustrious Yâjñavalkya who is generally regarded as the author of the White Yajurveda.
Gârgî‚s name occurs more than once in the Brihadâranyaka Upanishad. On one occasion she pushes Yajñvâlkya to a logical impasse by asking, if everything is woven, like warp and woof, in water, in what was water thus woven? On air, came the reply. And on what was air woven?, asked Gârgî. On the ethereal world, was the answer. But what about the ethereal world, persisted Gârgî. So on and on the questioning went, even when the master said that Brahman was the ultimate one. Whereupon, Yâjñavalkya replied, in typical guru-mode, "Ask not too many questions, your head may fall off if you do. You are asking too much about Divinity about which we shouldn't be asking so much." Thereupon Gârgî Vâcaknavî remained silent: tato ha gârgî vâcaknavî upararâma. When I read this for the first time, I was most impressed with Gârgî. She was certainly not a yes-woman to even the greatest guru. She made the wise man admit, albeit indirectly, that he could not answer her question. This passage tells us two things: At the deeper level, we learn that questions c |