15. LOKANATHA CHAKRAVARTIN (C. 1690)

LOKANATHA CHAKRAVARTIN (C. 1690)

Kavikarnapura-Paramanandadasasena Kavikarnapura, to use his full name-was a poet, dramatist, and poetician from Bengal active in the late sixteenth century. He was the son of a direct disciple of the charismatic religious figure Chaitanya (1486-1533), a fact that stamped his creative work profoundly. His poetry and drama as well as his poetics are all concerned directly with Chaitanya or indirectly with the doctrine of Krishna devotionalism that he promulgated. Kavikarnapura's fame rests upon his Divine Jewel of Ornamentation, a full-scale account of literary theory modeled on Mammata's Light on Poetry ("divine jewel," kaustubha, a generic title suffix for comprehensive surveys of knowledge systems in the early modern era, is especially apt in the present case since the word refers to the chest ornament of Vishnu). The ideas about rasa that Kavikarnapura proposes stand in a complicated relationship to the pioneering works of Vaishnava aesthetic theology, those of Rupa Gosvamin and Jiva Gosvamin, examined in the following section. While chronologically a decade or two later and participating in the same religious movement, Kavikarnapura seems to have been influenced by neither. This is most certainly not the case with the author of the sole printed commentary on the Divine Jewel, one Lokanatha Chakravartin (likely late seventeenth century), who goes to considerable lengths to reconcile their divergent views.76 The Divine Jewel is a curious work, occasionally hard to follow owing to apparent inconsistencies. It is also, occasionally, rich with new insights. Kavikarnapura differentiates between "latent" and "patent" rasa,77 terms he invented to account for why (as he believes) the character does not feel rasa-the question of the location of aesthetic emotion being as alive as ever; provides a new typology of semblance of rasa ("commonly acknowledged," "artificial," and "axiomatic") and insists that Krishna's love for the married women of Vraja is not "improper" and hence not a semblance of the erotic; and distinguishes "ordinary" from "extraordinary" rasa.78 These last terms are introduced to address a new problem: how to preserve within a single analytic both secular and religious rasa, so to call it, for now the latter is constituted as a new, complementary category of its own (the Pearls of the Bhgavata had paid no attention to nonreligious poetry, and while subsuming all devotion under rasa implicitly subsumed all rasa under devotion). And there are other innovations Kavikarnapura makes, or perhaps remakes. One is the apparent reduction of the multiplicity of affective states in the rasa experience to one: the "particular property of the mind" that constitutes "the root of the sprout of savoring" is, he declares, "single, but it becomes multiple given the multiplicity of the objective factors." And from reducing all emotions to one, he goes on to reduce all rasas: "In fact, all rasas are contained in the rasa of love."79 This might suggest a knowledge of Bhoja's Light on Passion, and in fact Kavikarnapura mentions Bhoja (as Hemadri did before him) when noting that the king proposed eleven rasas, adding parental affection and love to the canonical nine. But there is no evidence that scholars in late-sixteenth-century Bengal had access to Bhoja's Light, where the singularity doctrine is fully expounded,80 and in any case Kavikarnapura's overall grasp of his views (like Hemadri's) is flawed: Bhoja does add those rasas but does not cap the number at eleven (in fact, all the emotions can become rasa); his notion of love or passion has nothing whatever to do with the love that lies at the root of the Divine Jewel; and most important, his concept of the locus of aesthetic response is at odds with that of Kavikarnapura. Consider for this last point the argument made at the end of the verse just cited: "And this mental property belongs to the audience members." For Kavikarnapura, the stable emotion that is the source of rasa belongs exclusively to the viewer/reader- and it is one and one only because rasa as such must always consist of pleasure, regardless of the specific rasa of the aesthetic object. (This argument, deriving ultimately from Dhanika and/or Abhinavagupta, was long debated, as we have seen, especially in such works at the Mirror of Drama.) It is largely (though not exclusively) because rasa must be pleasurable that it cannot apply to the character-who obviously feels pain as well as pleasure across the various rasa contexts-or does so only in a conventional sense. The author is far from clear here, however, and the new terminology he uses does not always succeed in attaining the requisite

precision. Thus, Kavikarnapura speaks of rasa as being "self-evident" or "given" or "normal" in the case of the characters while at the same time flatly asserting that rasa "cannot be located in the character." With regard to an example of the heroic, contrarily, he

characterizes rasa in the character as "latent" and in the viewer/reader as "patent." The tragic, however, cannot exist in the character even in latent form, since in the character the tragic cannot be a feeling of pleasure and hence cannot be rasa.81 Arjuna's fear at the sight of the cosmic form of Krishna does become rasa in the character (Arjuna), but only because of his joy at the presence of Krishna, the foundational factor. In the end, the many considerable tensions of the exposition reach the breaking point when we learn that eight rasas exist in drama, whereas only a few rasas, such as the erotic, exist in the viewer's world; the macabre is accordingly a rasa in the storyworld though it is not pleasurable, but not a rasa in the viewer's world, though it can be as pleasurable in its own way as any other rasa. We might illuminate some of the obscurities in Kavikarnapura's account by distinguishing between the two analytics at work. Rasa is pleasure; it is felt in a real way by the viewer, across all rasas; it is felt by the character in a "latent" or occluded way, and only in the case of the rasas that are inherently pleasurable or where Krishna himself is present to transform an unpleasant experience into a pleasant one. More generally, a better sense of the challenge Kavikarnapura was facing might produce a more charitable interpretation of his effort. He was poised between two models of aesthetic response. One was the theory, by then dominant, of Bhatta Nayaka/Abhinavagupta, which understands literary rasa as exclusively an experience of the spectator and, crucially, of secular literature. The other was the new Vaishnava theological aesthetics in the air, and taking concrete shape among theorists such as Rupa Gosvamin and especially his nephew Jiva. They regard the rasa of the "character" as predominant, indeed, essential, and religious literature as its only vehicle. For it is the real devotee in the real world, just like the character devotee in the storyworld, who experiences rasa when participating as "characters" in the play of Krishna that is their actual lives. Here, however, we confront the problematic chronological and intellectual-historical relationship earlier noted. Rupa was some forty years senior to Kavikarnapura, while Jiva was almost an exact contemporary, give or take a decade (Jiva is counted an immediate disciple of Chaitanya, while Kavikarnapura as noted was the son of an immediate disciple, Shivanandasena). Kavikarnapura cites none of Rupa's or Jiva's treatises in his Divine Jewel (though he does mention Rupa in his play, the Moonrise of Caitanya, Caitanyacandrodaya), and knows none of their specific doctrines.82 And of course the uncle and nephew lived in Vrindavana, while Kavikarnapura was 1,500 km away in eastern India (probably Puri). Resonances between the Divine Jewel and Rupa and Jiva's theories are superficial and no doubt derive from a common source (perhaps the Bhāgavatapurāna itself).83 It is highly unlikely, then, that Kavikarnapura was aiming to revise Jiva's and Rupa's works, however much his otherwise unmotivated insistence that "in this work on rasa the analysis exclusively concerns literature" might be seen as directed against Jiva, who wants to leave behind the rasa of secular poetry entirely.84 It is more reasonable to hold that he was familiar only indirectly with the remarkable theological-aesthetic innovations they were offering, which were to completely supersede his own, but toward which, in his own way, he was groping.

FROM THE DIVINE JEWEL OF ORNAMENTATION OF KAVIKARNAPURA (K) WITH THE COMMENTARY OF LOKANATHA CHAKRAVARTIN (LC)

(LC) (p. 118) The characterizations of the factors, stable emotions, rasa, and so on that we find in this work differ from those found in the Ambrosial River of the Rasa of Devotion. [119] They are enunciated in deference to the literary-critical tradition and hence on occasion are analytically deficient. Nonetheless, [120] when the author describes the chief rasa, of the "extraordinary" sort, the characterization is identical in both works, and hence nothing is really amiss.85

(K) (5.63) There is a particular property of the mind free from volatility and stolidity and endowed with sensitivity that is the root of the sprout of savoring.86 The learned call this the stable emotion. It is single,87 but it becomes multiple given the multiplicity of the

objective factors. And this mental property belongs to the audience members. The stable emotions of the characters, on the other hand, are inherently88 various: (5.64) Desire in the case of the erotic rasa, determination in the case of the heroic ...: [123] There are, according to some, these eight stable emotions, pertaining to eight associated rasas, in drama. Others, however, argue for a ninth rasa called the peaceful, whose stable emotion is dispassion. Bhoja asserts that there are eleven, adding parental affection and love, for which the stable emotions are possessiveness and tenderness respectively.89 These eleven rasas, in both literature seen and literature heard, are prized by the assembly of sensitive viewers/readers. [124] First, regarding desire: (5.65-67) Desire is a mental state of delight that inclines one to the enjoyment of pleasure. It comprises three additional emotions: affection, friendship, and companionship. Desire strictly speaking pertains to an intimate relation, which must be the relation of a man and a woman. A nonintimate relation is termed affection, such as that between (from the man's viewpoint) the wife of one's friend and (from the woman's) the friend of one's husband, as in the case of Krishna and Draupadi. Friendship pertains to two females or two males for each other. Affection is a purely mental state, whereas friendship allows for physical contact. Companionship is a steady state that manifest no changes. This last pertains to the relationship between male and female friends of the hero and the heroine respectively. (5.68) When this mental state of delight pertains to a deity or the like, it is called "emotion."90 "Or the like" means a guru and so on ....

(LC) Insofar as Krishna is the supreme lord, who is characterized by such traits as omnipresence, the stable emotion of the devotee singing his praises can never not be in intimate relation with him, and hence it must91 be termed "desire." Nonetheless, this stable emotion must be given an independent designation, "emotion" as such .... This "emotion" is what the author will define as the "devotional" rasa, and it has to be distinguished from the emotion that is a transformation of desire, the stable emotion pertaining to intimate relations.92

(K) The author now describes the precise nature of rasa, for whose manifestation the aesthetic elements function as direct and ancillary causes and effects: (5.70) Rasa is a pleasure so rapturous that it occludes all other cognitive functions, internal as well as external, comprising only the causal and related elements.93 Rasa may self-evidently pertain to the high-status characters, but in the case of literature [130] it belongs exclusively to the audience members.94 Theirs is the stable emotion aforementioned, that particular mental property at the root of savoring, which alone is susceptible to the manifestation of any rasa. A logical argument is offered: (5.71) Because rasa consists only of bliss, it must be singular; it is in fact that one stable emotion.95 Rasa seems to be multiple only because of the multiplicity of its conditioning factors, which are desire, amusement, grief, and so on. For example, however much or little water may be contained in a vessel of whatever sort, there is always only a single image of the sun reflected in it. In the same way, any variety that rasa may appear to have in fact relates to its conditioning factors, not to the bliss that rasa consists of.96 The multiple stable emotions earlier listed can be located either in two characters, in one, or in

two and/or one:97 thus, desire must be located in two, disgust in one, whereas anger can be in two or one. But these all pertain to the characters; as already noted, the audience members have only a single stable emotion. (5.72) Rasa is of three types: ordinary, extraordinary, or semblance. Rasa is ordinary, that is, worldly, when it concerns literary characters such as Malati, Madhava, and so on. It is extraordinary when it concerns the divinities Krishna, Radha, and the like.

(LC) The fact of the matter is that rasa in the case of an "ordinary" character does not really exist, and so when the author describes the three types of rasa he is only doing so in conformity with the views of others. Those who believe that rasa can exist in the case of an ordinary character are in error. There can be no rasa in perishable beings like ordinary protagonists, who come to an end in worms, feces, and ash, because we apprehend upon reflection that the foundational factors (like the female protagonist) are degraded beings; on the contrary, what arises is the opposite of rasa, pure aversion. So the description of rasa must be restricted to the extraordinary character. In fact, this is why the author has adduced not a single poem to illustrate the ordinary rasa, and all his illustrative verses pertain to the extraordinary.

(K) The semblance of a rasa is occasioned by such things as social impropriety.98 It too is of three sorts: commonly acknowledged, artificial, and axiomatic. The first is when a relationship between two characters is commonly acknowledged to be deficient from the start and does not attain consummation; and semblance though it may be, it does enhance the rasa. An example in the case of an ordinary rasa is the commonly acknowledged character of the relationship of Malati to Nandana and how this enhances her desire for Madhava; in the case of an extraordinary rasa, the commonly acknowledged character of the relationship of Rukmini and Shishupala, [132] which enhances her desire for Krishna.99 An example of artificial semblance is when Madhava's friend Makaranda disguises himself as Malati and manifests petulance toward Nandana. The axiomatic sort of semblance is occasioned by impropriety as such, as for example if a woman were to have multiple lovers. To quote [133]: "Although a poem may constitute a semblance of rasa by representing desire for a married woman, it can still constitute great poetry if it shows mastery of implicature."100 That is to say,101 in accordance with my earlier statement that "Rasa, emotion, semblance of rasa and emotion, cessation of emotion, and so on are all implicature of the sort that is without succession" (3.10), we may agree that "Although a given rasa may be a semblance, it can participate in implicature at the moment of aesthetic rapture."102 Thus, in the case of the ordinary rasa, what constitutes the limiting condition of a poem's greatness is implicature and that alone, not whether or not it violates propriety.103 For extraordinary rasa, by contrast, it is precisely desire for a married woman that is taught104 as desire's highest form of all. This is not occasioned by impropriety, both because it is proven to be something supermundane-which, as the maxim goes, is not only not a failing but also a strength-and because it is beyond the capacity of reason to understand. [134] To quote: "One cannot grasp by logic entities that are supermundane."105 The daughters-in-law of Vraja were singlemindedly given over to Krishna, and hence were no longer concerned with their husbands; their husbands had physical contact with them only by fixating on the women's shadow form created by cosmic maya.106 For these two reasons, far from there being anything improper, the women's mental state of delight was, on the contrary, completely innocent, since it was conditioned by nothing more than pure love.107

[135] In this work on rasa, the analysis exclusively concerns literature, both the seen and the heard.108 In the former, the aesthetic elements are conveyed both by language and by actors' acting and the things acted out; in the latter, only by language. Now, how could rasa be located in the character? Nor can it be in the actors, for they [136] are only skilled in displaying what they have learned by training and practice, and have no privileged capacity for savoring rasa. Should they too ever appear to be in that state where all objects of cognition have vanished, it would simply mean that they have become members of the audience; that they continue to act is simply a consequence of their innate dispositions, as an adept who is "liberated in life" continues to eat food and engage in worldly affairs. Accordingly, it can only be the audience members who have rasa.

(LC) The question in this prima facie statement is this: since the characters, that is, the devotees,109 do not actually exist then and there,110 who is it that experiences rasa on seeing a drama or hearing a poem?

(K) (p. 137) To explain: When viewers/readers see or hear the deeds of the characters being imitated by the actor, an intense rapture is produced, and this rapture is accompanied by a vision wherein all objects of cognition vanish for them, except for the aesthetic elements themselves. By virtue of this, and following upon the experience of rapture, they have an intense vision of the fantastic rasa, whatever other rasa may be at issue, in accordance with the view that "Rapture is the essence of rasa-rasa cannot be rasa without it. Given this, it follows that in every rasa is to be found the fantastic rasa."111 That is, they think, "How fantastic is Rama and Sita's skill in the arts of love," or "How fantastic is this battle of Rama and Ravana," or "How fantastic are the doings of the hungry ghosts." This leads to a special kind of apprehension entirely separate from any that can be said to be either true, false, doubtful, or similar.112 Thereby the aesthetic elements, factitious though they be, are not apprehended as such-they are like images perfectly painted in a picture, so that one thinks, "These two are Rama and Sita"; "This is Rama overwhelmed with grief for Sita"; "These two are Rama and Ravana"; "This is the tiger sowing terror among the people"; "This is the cremation ground, crowded with dancing ghouls drunk on the entrails and flesh of the masses of corpses they have eaten." As a result of this process, the minds of the audience members, their stolidity and volatility cleansed by their innate predispositions for rasa, are rendered as pure as possible, and a self-identical bliss is engendered.113 It is not possible for all the various stable emotions, desire and the rest, to inhabit one and the same mind of the viewer; [138] being mutually dissimilar, they cannot possibly coexist at the same time in the same location. Moreover, desire could not possibly be a stable emotion in the mind of an ascetic, nor fear or grief in those who have achieved inner peace. On the contrary, we are led to posit in the viewer a special mental property, a single root of savoring that allows one to experience the rapture that underlies all rasas. That is why the fearful, the macabre, and the like can be rasas in poetry and drama, and only there and not in the world.114 That is why it has been said [139], "There are held to be eight rasas in drama";115 that is, some rasas exist in drama alone, whereas only a few rasas, the erotic and some others, can be said to be rasas in the viewer's world too, insofar as they are covered by the aforementioned definition of rasa.116 (p. 140) [An example of the heroic, where Krishna fights Jarasandha, an enemy king]: Here the stable emotion is determination, and it is located in both warriors. The foundational factor for Krishna is Jarasandha, and Jarasandha for Krishna. Their threatening each other is the stimulant

factor; the reactions are such things as their handiwork in showering each other with arrows; the transitory emotions are pride, ferocity, vindictiveness, recklessness, and the like. The stable emotion, enhanced by these elements, becomes rasa. The rasa in the character, in the present case Krishna, is latent, but it is patent in the audience member upon hearing the poem. This distinction should be understood to apply everywhere in the following analysis ....

(LC) The rasa in Krishna is "latent" because all his divine play and its objects are at present occluded from our view; for the audience members, however, it is the inconceivable power of their own stable emotion-root of the sprout of aesthetic savoring- that it is able to manifest that play of Krishna's, occluded though it may now really be, when it is presented in a play or poem. And it manifests itself as if right before one's eyes.

(p. 141) [An example of the tragic, where a woman mourns the death of her child in the flooding of Dvaraka, and calls on Krishna for aid:] Here the stable emotion is grief, which is located in a single individual. The foundational factor is the death of her child; the stimulant factor is her possessiveness over the child; the reactions are her breast beating and so on; the transitory emotions are depression, despondency, fatigue, and the like. This rasa is in the audience members alone, not in the character, not even in latent form. And although the rasa is in the audience, it is of the extraordinary type, since it relates to Krishna ....

(LC) The sorrow at the death of her son obstructs in her the manifestation of rasa, which after all is pure bliss.

(p. 144) [An example of the fearful, where Arjuna has just glimpsed the cosmic form of Krishna:] Here the stable emotion is Arjuna's fear, and it is located in the single individual. The foundational factor is Krishna displaying his cosmic form; the stimulant factor the fangs and so on appearing in that form; the reaction the fright indicated by his calls for help, and the transient emotion the despondency in his cry ("I have ceased to be Partha / I have become 'apartha,' " that is, useless). Since all the requisite elements are present, the stable emotion has already attained the state of rasa, even in the character Arjuna, given that Krishna is the foundational factor. Even though the emotion is fear, there is bliss present, connected as it is with the vision of Krishna, and hence it is an entirely "extraordinary" rasa. But in the case of Makaranda117 confronted with the foundational factor of the tiger threatening Malati and the others, there can be no bliss but only fear. If he were to take some heroic action, of course, the stable emotion would then be determination, whereby bliss might perhaps come about-but certainly not from fear. There cannot, accordingly, be any ordinary rasa of the fearful.118 (p. 147) Just as in the case of despair, which, though a transitory emotion, takes on the function of a stable emotion so as to become the peaceful rasa, so desire directed toward a god, which, as earlier noted, is technically termed "emotion" as such, becomes the "devotional rasa" when endowed with the full complement of aesthetic elements. This makes twelve rasas. When the object of the devotional rasa is Krishna, the devotional rasa itself has ten subvarieties, thanks to the ten different stable emotions.119 These can easily be adduced from other works .... [148] Now the rasa of love:

"You love me and I love you," we tell each other, "You are my life and I am yours," we prattle,

"You belong to me and I to you." ... It's just not right, Radha. We should never use "you" and "I" when we talk.120

Here the stable emotion is tenderheartedness,121 which is located in both. The foundational factor is each partner for the other; the stimulant factor is the perfume of each other's excellences; the reaction is the absence of any need to specify these; the transitory emotions are sagacity, longing, and so on. The rasa is latent in Krishna and Radha, it is patent in the audience members. In fact, all rasas are contained in the rasa of love. It would require a very detailed exposition to show this, and I therefore only offer it as a proposition lest the book grow inordinately long.122 [149] Some scholars argue that the rasa of Krishna and Radha is always the erotic, but even on that view the present example is not inapposite: one could say that here the erotic is the dominant and the rasa of love the subordinate, with the subordinate rasa overshadowing, as sometimes happens. But for us, love is actually the dominant rasa here and the erotic is subordinate. To quote: "Rasa is an undivided whole, and all rasas and emotions arise in love and vanish in love, like waves on the ocean."123 [150] Now the devotional rasa.

Victory to you, glorious lord, son of Nanda, who delights Vrindavana; lover of divine women in the form of the village girls, crestjewel of the gods; the nectar of your lotus feet surpasses even the flow of mental bliss. Homage, homage to you, Govinda, great root of all the worlds.

Because this poem pertains to a deity, desire (the mental state of delight) is here "emotion" as such, which now functions as a stable emotion.124 The foundational factor is Krishna; the stimulant, his greatness; the reaction, tenderheartedness; the transitory emotions despair, despondency, and so on. The rasa in the devotees125 is latent, and patent in the audience members.

AMBROSIAL RIVER OF THE RASA OF DEVOTION OF RUPA GOSVAMIN (1541) WITH THE PASSAGE THROUGH THE IMPASSABLE OF JIVA GOSVAMIN (1541), AND TREATISE ON DIVINE LOVE OF JIVA GOSVAMIN (C. 1550)

Rupa Gosvamin (c. 1470-1557) was a remarkable figure whose life and work embodied many of the new social, cultural, and religious possibilities of the early modern era in India. Born in Karnataka, he migrated to Bengal, where he received a traditional Sanskrit education from the celebrated logicians of Navadvip before entering the service of Nawab Husain Shah as private secretary. His encounter with the religious reformer Chaitanya prompted him to leave political life. Along with Sanatana, his elder brother, and later Jiva (b. 1513 or 1523), the son of his younger brother, he eventually settled in Vrindavana, legendary site of Krishna's childhood, and devoted himself to Vaishnava theology.126 Rupa was a leading theoretician of one of the most remarkable religious movements of early modern India, and in particular, a striking innovator in the aesthetic turn in theology. Although he knew Vopadeva's Pearls, he moves far beyond him;127 at the same time, by what is only a superficial contradiction, he hearkens back to a much older conception of rasa at variance with the notions ascendant since the reformulation of Abhinavagupta five centuries earlier. In his works and those of Jiva, many of the complexities of rasa theory achieve their greatest intensification. The system of theological aesthetics that Rupa created is complex, and we must leave aside here many of the finer distinctions

he introduced. (In the taxonomy of rasas, for example, he recognizes twelve, adding to the classical eight the peaceful, the affectionate, the friendly, and the servile. These four and the erotic constitute the five principal rasas, the remaining seven taking on a subordinate status, almost as transitory emotions enlivening the primary five, which are all now considered, as in Vopadeva, species solely of the rasa of devotion.) More consequential for our purposes are the issues that flow from Rupa's definition of rasa: "The stable emotion ... becomes itself the supreme state of rasa through the full development of the full enhancement of the aesthetic elements ... [and] comes to be savored in the hearts of devotees." While the language of savoring may faintly recall Abhinavagupta (it is of course part of the foundational metaphor in the Treatise on Drama), Rupa's overall understanding is decidedly nothing like Abhinava's, in which rasa is "emotion that is grasped [by the spectator] when he is in a state completely unencumbered by the impediments of phenomenal existence (and that remains in essence a process of tasting)." Rupa argues that rasa is nothing other than a stable emotion in a state of full development through the work of the various aesthetic elements, which affiliates him not only with Bhoja but also with the classical tradition, beginning with Bhatta Lollata in the early ninth century, that Bhoja crowned. The recentering in rasa discourse of the stable emotion of the character is fully spelled out later in this selection. "The view of authorities on drama-and it is entirely correct-" Rupa argues, "is that the desire that exists in the characters cannot be rasa, because, among other reasons, it is mundane. But this desire for Krishna is supermundane, and more fantastic than all fantastic things." All interactions of characters with God in the storyworld of the drama or poem are blissful, and hence cannot but satisfy the final definition of rasa. This becomes even clearer in the work of Jiva. Of course, Jiva must first establish, in view of the continuing resistance by "ordinary rasikas"-the discourse of "normal" aesthetics-that devotion can even be a rasa. He does this by arguing that "divine love"128 can be a stable emotion no less than any of the other nine; that Krishna can be a foundational factor in and of himself, without the mediation of poetry; and that the viewer/reader-that is, the devotee-most certainly has a capacity for experiencing such a rasa. Then he must go on to establish the locus of this new rasa, whereby he shows how the discrepant positions reappraised so many times in the past were still very much alive in the mid-sixteenth century. But the 'primary sense of the term 'rasa,' " he concludes, is the oldest one of all: the rasa that arises in the characters. Indeed, how could rasa-defined as a supermundane phenomenon of bliss-not exist in those actually experiencing the full presence of God as Krishna in Vrindavana, Mathura, Dvaraka, and elsewhere? (Whether or not Krishna himself experiences rasa, the way Rama, for example, did, is a theological-aesthetic question of considerable interest to Jiva.) But the most startling conceptual move of this theological aesthetic, though only obliquely expressed in these selections, is that the characters of God's drama are not restricted to the diegetic world; they exist in this world too. People here "imitate" the original characters by participating in the ongoing drama of Krishna. The devotee himself becomes a character, and an "actor" as well, one who really experiences rasa in the primary sense of the term. Accordingly, although only poems of the original source narrative are analyzed in these works, the narrative was now meant to be understood not in the perfect tense of myth, so to speak, but in the future tense of real life: it offers roles that the living disciple could adopt. The Vaishnava devotee who becomes a character in the divine drama of Krishna takes on the role of servant or friend or lover, even entering onto the scene, so to speak, by visiting Mathura;129 indeed, "the entire world becomes a divine stage."130 As is abundantly demonstrated in the history of Bengali Vaishnavism and corroborated in the lives of its greatest exponents-not only Rupa, whom his followers identified as an avatar of Rupamanjari (an attendant on Radha), but also Chaitanya himself, whose multiple roles in the divine play of Krishna are on full display in the classic Bengali biography, Immortal Life of Caitanya (Caitanyacaritāmrta)-a true devotee is no spectator at all, but an actual participant in the drama of Krishna that is life on earth. Rasa thus belongs, as Jiva puts it, to "the original characters and their attendants, whose hearts are ever endowed with absolute rasa," and "transfers over to those who imitate them" or take on their roles in their everyday lives. Abhinavagupta (following Bhatta Nayaka) had drawn an analogy between savoring rasa and savoring supreme being, but this was only an analogy. He forcefully and repeatedly denies that the two experiences could ever be identical. Just as the aesthetic elements exist only in the theater, so rasa exists only in drama, and never in actual reality.131 Rupa and Jiva inhabit a profoundly

different thought world, in which the very idea of aesthetic distance has been obliterated. Furthermore, all rasas other than the devotional have been relegated to the mundane sphere, and hence cannot really be rasa at all, since none, in the end, provides rasa's true bliss. In fact, secular literary experience as such cannot possess the supermundane quality of religious experience. The conclusions to which this logic leads are entirely unanticipated: that divine love is always-already a state of rasa experience, and that literature itself is in the end irrelevant-in fact, Jiva can do away with it entirely: "For one already filled with divine love, anything can cause rasa, even turning one's mind randomly toward the Blessed One-indeed, even hearing the notes of a flute. For such people, accordingly, the emotion of divine love alone suffices to generate the full complement of aesthetic elements." Whereas "mundane" literature had once been thought to produce "supermundane" rasa-Abhinava's great insight-the new theological rasa made an exclusive claim to that status (real rasa existing only in the religious experience of God)132 and thereby demoted the old rasa of nonsacred texts to the mundane.133 In a further irony, religious consciousness, which had once been exiled from the world of rasa-religious works were never considered part of literature, or could only be accommodated as "emotion" poetry and never fully rasa134 eventually succeeded in exiling literature itself, henceforth deemed incapable of producing real rasa. Put differently, "literature" was now redefined to mean exclusively Vaishnava poetry. Whereas many Vaishnava writers, including Jiva, cite only scripture (namely, the Bhāgavatapurāna) in their discussions of theological aesthetics,135 Rupa exemplifies his arguments about the devotional rasa with poetry, but only Vaishnava poetry, whether established classics (Gītagovinda, Śrīkrsnakarnāmrta) or his own compositions. This is true both in the work translated here and in the Blazing Sapphire (or Sapphire of the Erotic, Ujjvalanilamani, on which Jiva wrote a commentary in 1540), an anthology of poetry that provides an exposition of the "erotic" rasa (the term is used here in the most esoteric of senses)136 in reference to Krishna. Yet, the point of Rupa's practice remains uncertain. Is the viewer/reader/devotee/character supposed to experience the devotional rasa through his poetry? Does his poetry only illustrate the kinds of situations and factors that in the real world would give rise to rasa? Are both phenomena meant to occur simultaneously? What is certain is that in these treatises the discourse of rasa is not just being transferred from poetry to theology, it is being restricted to theology. Rupa and Jiva are not arguing for yet another new interpretation of aesthetic response but for a new aesthetics of religion, a new understanding of religion as aesthetic action, which encompasses and transcends what had hitherto been thought of as the aesthetic. Rasa as an aesthetics of literature has been replaced by rasa as an aesthetics of religious life.

FROM AMBROSIAL RIVER OF THE RASA OF DEVOTION OF RUPA GOSVAMIN (R) WITH THE PASSAGE THROUGH THE IMPASSABLE OF JIVA GOSVAMIN (J)

(R) (2.1.4-5) We now describe how the stable emotion of desire-which as defined137 pertains only to Krishna-becomes itself the supreme state of rasa through the full enhancement of the aesthetic elements. Thanks to the foundational and stimulant causes, the psychophysical and physical reactions, and transitory emotions, this stable emotion of desire for Krishna comes to be savored in the hearts of devotees who listen, understand, remember, etc.,138 and thereby becomes the devotional rasa.

(J) "Desire" is meant to stand for all the stable emotions, since it is the dominant one.

(R) (2.1.6-11) This savor of the devotional rasa can arise only in the heart of the person who has predispositions to devotion that have been acquired both in this life and in earlier ones. When devotees have been rendered free of faults by their devotion, and their minds have become clear

and brilliant; when they take delight in the Bhagavatapurana, are keen to associate with other rasikas, enjoy the pleasure of devotion to the feet of Govinda, who is their whole life, and hence do all their duties as subordinated to their love of God-then that desire in the form of bliss blazes forth in their hearts, made brilliant by the two sets of innate dispositions.139 It is brought to the point of becoming rasa by the foundational factors, Krishna and the others, when these have entered into the devotees' experience, and it reaches the highest state of rapture or profound bliss. Love, however,140 when brought even to a minimal state of "factoring" by the foundational factors and so on-and however sparse these may be-can be savored almost instantly.

(J) Here are described the means (ending with "do all their duties"), the accompaniment (the two sets of innate dispositions), and the manner ("It is brought") .... "Entered into the devotees' experience": the idea is that here, in contrast to the case of mundane rasa, there is no actual need for any literary composition, however good it may be.

(R) (2.5.79-85) This desire, in either literal or figurative form, 141 becomes rasa in devotees when Krishna and the others become aesthetic elements as a result of being brought to consciousness in poetry recitation or grasped through dramatic acting. Just as a substance such as yogurt becomes the taste known as lassi by the specific admixture of sugar, pepper, and the like, so here too devotees come to taste the full rapture of bliss, the fantastic rasa142 of experiencing Krishna and the others as if right before their eyes. While one may become conscious of this or that particularity as it comes to manifestation during the course of aesthetic rapture, the rapture itself constitutes a unity of the different stable emotions and aesthetic elements.143 To quote: "First the aesthetic elements are cognized individually, but as they become rasa they are assembled and become a whole. Just as one or the other ingredient of a mixed drink-the pepper, sugar, or whatever-can become individually apparent although they form a unity, so too the aesthetic elements in the whole that is a rasa."144 The causes of desire are Krishna as aesthetic object and his beloveds as aesthetic subjects .... (2.5.90-91ab) The principal factor in making these aesthetic elements what they are, according to connoisseurs of drama and poetry, is constant dedication to poems and plays about the Blessed One. But actually the most important cause is the power of desire for him, with its fantastic wealth of sweetness beyond the reach of reason. For reason cannot negate the fact that this emotion called desire is the play of a cosmic power, and possessed of an inconceivable character.

J) "The play of a cosmic power" is meant to counter the objection that this desire is really like that for any other deity: even if the latter were to be the object of a great poetic composition, let alone anything lesser, it would still be unable to become rasa.145

(2.5.92cd-100) The ancients themselves have cited this statement from the Mahabharata, from the "Book of Effort": "Entities that are in fact inconceivable cannot be grasped by reason. The very definition of the inconceivable is to exist beyond all the elements of nature."146 When this beautiful desire succeeds in turning Krishna and the others into aesthetic elements (the foundational factors and the rest), it dramatically intensifies itself by means of these very elements-just as in the case of the jewel-rich ocean, which, after filling the clouds with its own waters, winds up bearing yet more water when those same clouds rain down. When desire freshly sprouts in a devotee of Hari,

poetry or drama about him becomes a source of the aesthetic elements. Even when simply hearing stories of Hari, devout people can relish rasa. Such is the power of desire to cause this transformation in the aesthetic elements. Desire transforms Krishna and the rest of the characters into a locus of the erotic rasa, and they in turn, as they come to be experienced, heighten the desire all the more. Hence desire and the four aesthetic elements clearly require unabated assistance from each other. But desire's power too can be blunted when there is any deformation-"deformation" in the case of the aesthetic elements being impropriety.

(J) This sort of desire "commonizes" the emotions of today's devotees with those of the devotees of old whereby an identical sort of rasa state can come about. This is the argument of what follows.

(2.5.101-108) It is through some supermundane capacity that rasa attains this improbable state where those emotions appear as perfectly held in common. The inability here to discern any necessary distinction in these emotions between self and other is the "commonality" that has been described by earlier teachers. To quote Bharata:147 "The aesthetic factors have a certain power for 'commonization' whereby the observer comes to think of himself as identical with them." Moreover, although sorrow and the like might appear in the heart as one's own, they really only produce a relishing of profound aesthetic rapture. And pleasures, though they may appear as if present in someone else, will produce the deepest bliss in one's own heart. On those occasions when only some of the aesthetic elements are merely present, they imply the rest and at once achieve plenitude. The view of authorities on drama-and it is entirely correct-is that the desire that exists in the characters cannot be rasa, because, among other reasons, it is mundane. But this desire for Krishna is supermundane, and more fantastic than all fantastic things. When Krishna is present the desire becomes a unique species of rasa in someone filled with love for him.

(J) But Krishna's absence is a source of sorrow, and how can there be any rasa then if rasa is supposed to be pure bliss? To this the author speaks:

(2.5.109) When Krishna is absent, the desire takes on the character of an apparent transmutation of fantastic bliss, and being so intense, it produces the semblance of a profound weight of pain.

(J) The separation will produce a "transmutation of fantastic bliss" because, first, this desire is itself in essence supreme bliss, and second, the foundational factor is the Blessed One, source of all bliss. It is a "semblance ... of pain" because the pain that develops out of the knowledge of separation is superimposed upon the desire. But the actual cause of that pain is the desire, and the pain itself is overpowered by the hope of reunion.

(2.5.110-11) More specifically, where the foundational factor for the desire is Krishna appearing as the son of a cowherd chieftain, we hold that the ultimate horizon of blissful aesthetic rapture is reached. For here,148 however small the drops of pleasure, one becomes a veritable Agastya with the power to drink in the vast ocean of bliss that comes from actually seeing with one's own eyes the sweetness of Shri's husband.149

FROM TREATISE ON DIVINE LOVE OF JIVA GOSVAMIN

Para. 110 (p. 65.17) Now, divine love itself, accordingly, may be called a "stable emotion" since it too becomes rasa-in no way less than the erotic desire or other stable emotion known to students of mundane literature-once it is combined with the principal and ancillary causes and effects, which for their part come in turn to be designated "foundational and stimulant factors," "reactions," and "transitory emotions." Given its very character, divine love must be considered an "emotion," and one that is "stable" in accordance with the definition given in the science of rasa.150 We shall demonstrate in due course that all the remaining components151 that make divine love a rasa become foundational factors and the other aesthetic elements by virtue of their capacity for "factoring" and so on. When conjoined with these components, love for God, with its specific degree of vividness being manifested in dependence on the vividness of the causes, comes to be designated the rasa of divine love. Given that it is a rasa consisting of devotion, it is also referred to as the "devotional rasa." (To quote: "It is the individual emotions themselves, as they present themselves, that become individual rasas.")152 That ordinary rasikas153 do not accept devotion as a rasa, in view of what they see as a lack of the "full complement" of elements required for rasa, could only be true where the object of the rasa is some ordinary deity or other being. For "full complement" in reference to rasa's coming into being has three "capability" requirements: the capability of [1] the stable emotion itself; [2] the participants; [3] the person experiencing the rasa. With respect to [1], whereas desire and the other stable emotions are in themselves capable of producing mundane rasa precisely because they are stable emotions and held to be identical with pleasure, we have already shown not only that divine love is a stable emotion but also that it far transcends even the pleasure of supreme being, an ocean whose waves are all just pleasures of that sort. As for [2], the participants and the causal factors, in the case of mundane rasa, are actually incapable of "factoring" in and of themselves, and become capable only when they are rendered supermundane thanks to the literary craft of a skillful poet; in the case of the rasa of divine love, by contrast, the participants are capable in and of themselves of appearing in a fantastic, supermundane form, and have in fact been seen as such. As for [3], the capability of the person experiencing the rasa consists of his possessing the appropriate predispositions, such as those possessed by Prahlada,154 without which even mundane literature cannot be held to produce rasa.155 ... [66.9] Furthermore, the existence of the devotional rasa accords with the views of ancient scholars of supermundane rasa. This has been demonstrated in a general way by Shridhara, author of the Moonlight Commentary on the Bhagavatapurana, and with particular reference to such verses as BhPu 10.43.17, where he has discussed the five types of rasa, the peaceful and four others, that arose in Mathura when Krishna appeared there: women felt the erotic rasa; his cowherd companions felt the rasa of friendship (the stable emotion in this case being amity consisting of the kind of playfulness indicated by the word "comic" in the designation of the traditional rasa; in Shridharasvamin's view, the cowherds meant here are Shridhama and other friends of Krishna); his mother and father felt the rasa of compassion, or in other words, parental affection; spiritual adepts felt the peaceful rasa consisting of knowledge-devotion; and his Vrishni kinsmen, the rasa of pure devotion.156 Last, men are shown to have felt a rasa consisting of a general divine love; that it is designated in the Bhāgavatapurana verse as the fantastic is due to the fact that all rasas feed off

the fantastic, and can therefore be so named when no other specific designation (such as "the peaceful") is used.157 (The violent and remaining rasas that the wrestlers and others are said to have felt and that were accepted by Shridharasvamin158 are in conflict with the rasa of divine love, and so can be ignored here.) Such is the view of the authorities of supermundane rasa. But even some scholars of mundane rasa, such as King Bhoja, have similarly accepted additional rasas, those of love and parental affection.159 ... [67] Another point: the capacity of mundane rasa to offer pleasure is highly inconsistent; indeed, if the matter is carefully considered, this pleasure in fact ends in pain .... 160 And even those who accept mundane rasa reject the very notion that stable emotions like revulsion can produce pleasure. Such rasas are furthermore denounced by the divine sage Narada, who at the same time praises the rasa of the Blessed One.161 ... One should therefore put no credence in the possibility of mundane foundational factors and the rest producing real rasa at all. On the contrary, it is a proven fact that what they do produce is, in every case, sheer repugnance. The rasa of the Blessed One, by contrast, can transform anyone, from the material hedonist to the spiritually liberated- indeed, even those without eyes to see or ears to hear, even the insensate man-so how could it be disbelieved?162 ... It is with the intention of making this clear that the Bhāgavatapurna, which is concerned with manifesting divine love for the Blessed One and nothing else, explicitly characterizes itself as consisting of rasa in the verse that begins "A fruit fallen from the wishing tree of scripture."163 ... Para. 111 [p. 68.25] Thus, we have demonstrated how, through "conjunction" with the aesthetic elements, the rasa of divine love manifests itself. Now, scholars of mundane dramatic rasa have maintained four different positions about it: [1] rasa in the primary sense of the term exists in the characters, that is, the original protagonists, and in them alone; it exists in the actor only in a secondary, figurative, sense; [2] because rasa in the characters is in fact mundane, limited to them alone, and punctuated by fear and the like,164 rasa must exist only in the actor; [3] since actors imitate the original protagonists as it were mindlessly, simply as a result of their training, rasa must exist only in the audience; [4] if, however, actors are conceived of as acting mindfully, there would be no objection to rasa existing in them no less than in the audience. The devotees of the Blessed One, however, hold that the rasa of divine love exists in all of these, since none of the reasons cited-that the rasa in the original character is "mundane" and all the rest-is cogent. This pertains especially to the original characters and their attendants, whose hearts are ever endowed with absolute rasa, a rasa, moreover, that transfers to those who imitate them.165 In the case of those characters it is self-evident that the love of God is supermundane and infinite, and utterly unlike the mundane desire or other stable emotion depicted in worldly literature (something we established earlier when describing the true nature of that love).166 And it is perfectly clear, from the stories of Prahlada and the goddesses of Vraja, that this rasa is never interrupted by fear or other negative emotions, nor even by later rebirth, as the story of Vritra or the elephant king or Bharata shows; indeed [69], the story of Shuka proves that it is not interrupted even by the bliss of supreme being.167 Moreover, the foundational causes of this rasa, its effects, and so on are all supermundane. This is proven in the case of the foundational cause, the Blessed One himself, precisely because he is the Blessed One, incomparable, transcendent, and surpassing; and in the case of his attendants

because they are equal to him, as the constant drumbeat of scripture and ancient lore proclaims. As for their stimulant causes, they are supermundane precisely because they pertain to them.168 And like the clouds and so on that function as stimulant causes, so the effects too, the horripilation and the rest, are supermundane .... Similarly, the ancillary causes, dispassion and the others, must be understood to be supermundane, among which we might cite the madness and other feelings brought about by separation from the Blessed One, despair over him, and so on, that are likewise completely different from their mundane counterparts. In some cases, indeed, the entire assemblage of aesthetic elements is supermundane in their very nature. To quote the Collection of Brahma: "The beloved ones were the goddesses of wealth, the lover the Supreme Person, the trees the wishing trees of heaven, the ground a heap of magic wishing stones, the water the drink of immortality .... "169 When, accordingly, the power is present to make the rasa, even in the characters, truly rasa by virtue of the fact that these elements, the causes of divine love and so on, are all supermundane, unlimited, and unpunctuated, they are given the technical names "foundational factor" and so on -to be sure, that is precisely why they receive this or that new designation.170 Moreover, just as scholars of mundane rasa hold that the causes and the rest, mundane though they may be, acquire a supermundane power through poetry and are given the names "foundational factor" and the like, whereby pleasure arises even from grief and real rasa comes about, we ourselves similarly hold that, given the inherently supermundane character of the elements here, the same thing may be held to occur. This is so even in the case of separation from God: whereas outwardly there may appear to be pain of separation from him, the heart throbs with the Blessed One and deep feeling for him, both rich in ultimate bliss. For neither of these two riches can ever be lost, and hence their existence as rasa can never be annulled-it is like sweet warm milk for those parched with thirst. In the state of separation, this deep feeling for God, though supreme bliss in itself, may become a source of pain, but only the way171 moonlight seems to burn lovers when they are separated. And because the pain is engendered by that blissful feeling and nourishes [70] a sense of pleasure at the coming union, it can be classified172 under pleasure. The same is proven to apply even to the tragic rasa in reference to the Blessed One since, given the hope of attaining the Lord certified by the Omniscient One's own words,173 the tragic must have a residue of reunion. Hence, it is proven that rasa does arise in the characters. And that is in fact the primary sense of the term "rasa," since the passion produced in the characters from actually seeing the Lord is superior to that produced by hearing about him .... In supermundane rasa, the actor too who imitates the Blessed One will understandably be a devotee, because no one else is capable of properly imitating him. Hence, rasa must arise in the actor too. However, when a rasa has as its object a devotee as a result of his or her devotion, that rasa cannot, generally speaking, exist in God himself, since it would be contrary to the logic of devotion. Nor, consequently, can it be imitated. The experience of such rasa occurs only as something related to God, not as actually existing in him. It fulfills its purpose by functioning as a stimulant factor for the devotional rasa. Hence, while it might sometimes occur that especially pure devotees may imitate the Lord's physical reactions, they are "actualizing" it as connected with themselves, not with him-this is how we would reconcile the apparent contradiction. Where there is no contradiction with the logic of devotion, as in the equally shared feelings of people like Gada for

people like Vasudeva,174 rasa can most definitely arise. As for the audience members, they will certainly be devotees, and hence rasa in them is a proven fact. Such is the manner of the actualization of rasa in "literature seen," that is, drama. In the case of "literature heard," or poetry, the manner of actualization must be similarly understood, but here pertaining properly to the object of description, the describing subject, and the listener/reader.175 Moreover, generally speaking, there is a need for one or the other component-the object or the narrator-only for someone still at the early stage of spiritual desire. For one already filled with divine love, anything can cause rasa, even turning one's mind randomly toward the Blessed One- indeed, even hearing the notes of a flute.176 For such people, accordingly, the emotion of divine love alone suffices to generate the full complement of aesthetic elements.177 Even scholars of mundane rasa admit that if one or the other rasa component is lacking it will be extrapolated as a matter of course, in order for rasa to arise .... 178 [71.7] Having now proven that love for the Blessed One has the possibility of becoming rasa, we may conclude that this occurs once it is fully provided with the aesthetic elements.179 This rasa is at once the act of savoring and the thing savored, the former by virtue of the stimulant factor that forms one of its components-here a savoring that may be identified as an experience consonant with180 the Blessed One's sweetness; the latter by virtue of the foundational factors-here the Blessed One himself, his devotees, and so on. This is why the term "rasa" can be used in both senses.

6.4 VEDANTICIZING RASA

The Nectar Ocean of Literary Art of Vishvanathadeva (1592)

Virtually unknown to Indian intellectual history until his principal work was edited and published in 1978, Vishvanathadeva was the son of Trimal[l]adeva and identifies his ancestral town as Dharasura. The name of his father suggests, and that of his village makes likely, that he hailed originally from today's Andhra Pradesh.181 He later migrated to Varanasi and composed, in addition to his Nectar Ocean of Literary Art, a four-act drama (The Moon's Crescent, Mrgānkalekhā). The most striking fact about the Nectar Ocean, from the point of view of intellectual history, is the number of close parallels it shows with Jagannatha's Bearer of the Ganges of Rasa, and sorting out their relationship is therefore necessary. The Nectar Ocean dates itself precisely to VIKRAMASAMVAT 1649, that is, 1592 C.E. As discussed in the next section, Jagannatha's literary activity commenced at least twenty or thirty years after that of Vishvanathadeva; he was a young man at the court of Shah Jahan, where his presence is recorded in imperial chronicles in 1635. Accordingly, either Jagannatha borrowed from Vishvanathadeva, or both borrowed from a common source.182 Neither author refers to a literary treatise presenting the Vedantic epistemology and ontology at issue in both works, and no author prior to Vishvanathadeva is known to have used precisely the philosophical terms he does. The one exception might be the Examination of Literature of Shrivatsalanchana, where Vishvanathadeva's key Vedantic paragraph is repeated nearly verbatim. But Shrivatsa's discussion is manifestly an eclectic assemblage, comprising quotation from and exegesis of other works (Mammata's summary of Abhinavagupta, the Mirror of Literary Art, and so on), which strongly suggests that he borrowed from the Nectar Ocean.183 However improbable the conclusion, then, given their radically unequal reputations today, it seems to have been Jagannatha who took from, though much expanded upon, the work of Vishvanathadeva. In most respects Vishvanathadeva's exposition is conventional, raising all the themes rehearsed so often before (and to a great extent the book is an anthology of his own poetry illustrating the rasas).184 What marks his general theory as important is his

attempt to rethink rasa according to a specifically Vedantic worldview. This is hardly surprising for an era that saw an astonishing proliferation of writings on that philosophical system, which virtually colonized other, previously independent forms of thought (such as Mimamsa).185 Especially important in Vishvanathadeva's revision is the role of the self (atman) in cognition, and the notion of the "bliss component" (ānandamśa) of the self, borrowed from a celebrated passage in the Taittirīya Upanisad describing the last of the forms of the self as "consisting of bliss" (2.5). Rasa was characterized as "the bliss that is the self" as early as the Ten Dramatic Forms,186 but here the idea is worked out more expansively. The true nature of the self is the bliss found in the state of pure consciousness, but the processes of phenomenal life work to obscure it completely. Vishvanathadeva is the first to speak of aesthetic experience as a "removal of the veil of unknowing," followed by a state of pure, joyful awareness. This is the core idea Jagannatha picks up,187 attributing it not to Vishvanathadeva but to Abhinavagupta, though Abhinava's notion of "manifestation" never explicitly refers "to the consciousness of the viewer from which obscuration has been removed."188 Given the conceptual linkage to the Upanishads, it may seem entirely natural to juxtapose the aesthetic process and the nature of scriptural revelation, which is of course central to the Vedanta vision, but Vishvanathadeva is the first to actually do so, and by a striking and entirely original analogy. Both literature and scripture are in the end linguistic phenomena, providing "direct awareness derived from the meanings of words," but both are unlike any other such phenomena in their capacity to confer a supermundane result.189 A useful summary of Vedantic rasa theory to supplement Vishvanathadeva is offered by the eighteenth-century polymath Nagesha Bhatta:

The essence of the matter is as follows. When listening to a poem or seeing a drama, we encounter the aesthetic elements. These are properties of the mind and have an ontological status that is "undecidable"190 as to whether they are real or unreal. A desire for these properties, which is directly apprehended by the witnessing self,191 arises when the elements are artfully presented. When the desire comes to be relished, the obscuration in the bliss component of the self is removed, and the self, whose true nature is the bliss that is pure consciousness, comes to light there. (It should be noted, first, that although the self actually has no parts, a bliss "component" and an awareness "component" may be postulated of it hypothetically; and, second, that the bliss component is hidden by an obscuration.) The seed to all this is hearing a work of poetry or seeing a drama, aided in both cases by the receptivity of the viewer or reader. The end result is rasa, which is the desire or other stable emotion directly apprehended by the witnessing subject in conjunction with the bliss component of the self, commingled with the aesthetic elements. That is why even in the case of rasas like the tragic, which are based on grief and consist of pain, there is no inconsistency in the fact that pure bliss should arise: for the tragic rasa is nothing but the consciousness specific to grief when obscuration is removed in its bliss component.192

FROM THE NECTAR OCEAN OF LITERARY ART OF VISHVANATHADEVA

[3] In this world, literature can produce the kinds of benefits ascribed to it (heaven, spiritual release, and the like)193 only when it has been carefully analyzed by the audience members. It is in service of such an analysis that I have written this book.

[81] The author194 now discusses the nature of rasa, and the means of knowing it. (3.24) Rasa is said to be a stable emotion brought to manifestation by causes, effects, and auxiliaries when used in literature. [85] The causes are beings like Rama, Sita, and so on; they can be mutually causal factors when,

as in the case of the erotic, their passion is mutual; the effects are such things as sidelong glances; the auxiliaries are transitory emotions such as shame, the comic,195 and so on.196 [86] "Used in literature" implies that these elements acquire new designations to distinguish them from their mundane variety: that is, "factors," "reactions," and "transitory emotions." ... [88] One might ask why, given the existence of the terms "cause" and so on, these new designations should be required. My response is as follows. Consider the case of Sita. She is regarded as a being to be worshipped, and thus does not arouse sexual desire in the audience in such a way as to merit the name "cause."197 [89] The aesthetic elements, the foundational factors and the rest, acquire their particular designations by executing a threefold process of what we may call "factoring," "reactionizing," and "emotivizing." These three processes have the effect of making the stable emotion manifest (in the case of the factors), more manifest (in the case of the reactions), and most manifest (in the case of the transitory emotions). The result is a condition in which all other, quotidian objects of knowledge vanish, and there comes into being a sense of rapture before the flashing forth of rasa. Now, a stable emotion like desire is a particular mental state.198 How can the awakening of rasa with its supreme bliss lie precisely in the revelation of that stable emotion? [90] The fundamental idea is this: in literature, the aesthetic elements reveal the stable emotion,199 and in this revelation, which takes the form of a mental state, the self also appears, which is in essence the bliss that is consciousness. According to the Vedantins' view, the self necessarily appears in every cognitive act because the full complement of the self's luminosity-formed of the conjunction of the self and mind-is always present.200 This being the case, under the power of a literary text, when we watch or listen to it, the obscuration of the bliss component of our consciousness is removed by the aforementioned process of revelation. The basic notion, in other words, is that rasa is this consciousness specific to a stable emotion like desire when transformed into bliss with the obscuration of the bliss component removed.201 [91] Scripture speaks to this matter too, in the Taittiriya corpus: "It is verily rasa, for having obtained this rasa one grows blissful," where "one" refers to the individual soul.202 This "obscuration" is nothing but unknowing. But note that there is no other form of cognition that enables the obscuration to be removed, and rasa thereupon to be awakened, for the simple reason that cognition of the aesthetic elements would be lacking there. Hence, we will argue that rasa's life span is set by the aesthetic elements, and that in the revelation of rasa a fusion with the aesthetic elements is as essential as the presence in a syllogism of the middle term (e.g., smoke) for the knowledge of the major term (e.g., fire). [92] This is why Bharata stated that "When there is a fusion of the mind with the meaning of the literary work, there arises the bliss that is supreme being, which constitutes the savoring of rasa."203 Here "meaning," or subject, means the foundational and stimulant factors and the rest, while "fusion" is knowledge. The upshot is that rasa's essence lies in the assemblage of aesthetic elements, which is why the Light on Poetry uses the analogy of the mixed drink to explain it.204 Now, an objection might be raised: rasa is, we agree, the awakening of an emotion, say desire, located in the audience. But how can that come about with reference to someone like Sita, who is known to be related to Rama but with whom the audience itself has no relationship? The answer depends on the essential "commonization" of the aesthetic elements. Commonization refers to the fact of something's being recognized as related to oneself through some particular relationship

despite the fact that it is not recognized as such in actuality. [93] In the case of our recognition of Sita, this sort of commonization means that we recognize her as nothing more than woman as such, eliding, thanks to the power of the aesthetic process, the notion that she is in fact Sita. This is the reason, again, why it makes sense to have different technical terms in aesthetic discourse for causes and the like, and why, furthermore, the causes of rasa elide all particularities, as we have stated. We should also note that the modality205 for the direct visualization of rasa is "manifestation," while the proof for the existence of such revelation is nothing more or less than the heart of the receptive viewer or reader. And for this reason it has been declared, "The phenomenon called rasa is defined as sense of self, or ego, or passion, and it is the presence of rasa that makes literature beautiful."206

[98] Rasa is not some thing that can be said to be made, since it is essentially a mental event. Nor is it some thing that can be said to be made known, the way a pot, for instance, is made known, because rasa is not some thing illuminated by some other consciousness.207 [100] Rasa can be said to be made known only insofar as it is something invariably registered through a cognitive process. As was said in another context: "Although consciousness is self-illuminating, it is subject to a cognitive process like any other thing. What the teachers have denied is that it is objectivized .... But a cognitive process is indeed required to destroy ignorance regarding the identity of one's consciousness with supreme being."208 [101] In literature, recall, this cognitive process is grounded in manifestation. Precisely as happens in scripture, with the statement "That art Thou," for example, the process in literature too has the form of a direct awareness derived from the meanings of words.209 [102] And like the "supreme being that is directly known and not hidden, "210 it is something of which we are directly aware in the consciousness portion of our self.

THE BEARER OF THE GANGES OF RASA OF JAGANNATHA (C. 1650)

We know, relatively speaking, more about Jagannatha than about almost any other author in this sourcebook aside from Abhinavagupta. Jagannatha was a Brahman from Telangana, the son and student of Peru Bhatta, who had himself been trained by the greatest scholars of early seventeenth-century Varanasi. From this community Jagannatha acquired not just learning but also something of his style, which echoes the precise but often rebarbative idiom of the New Logic (a strident "banging of pots in the halls of debate," as one contemporary observer put it).211 Jagannatha "passed his youth," he says of himself, "under the care of the emperor of Delhi," Shah Jahan (r. 1627-1658), where a Persian-language history places him in 1635. This and other data make it reasonable to accept the dates of 1620-1665 for Jagannatha's literary activity.212 Jagannatha is remembered in royal chronicles of the time as a singer (other Hindi-language accounts associate him closely with the celebrated musician Tan Sen), and also as the "Emperor of Poets" (mahākavirāy); he claims to have received the title "King of Scholars" (panditaraja) from the emperor himself. He was patronized by several princely houses, for whom he wrote political praise poetry, and according to a historical account attributed to a grandnephew, married a Muslim woman. He was a poet of renown, whose Ways of a Lovely Woman (Bhāminīvilāsa) circulated widely and from which he took many of the illustrations for his literary treatise. Unlike most other Sanskrit authors, but again resembling Abhinava, something of Jagannatha's highly opinionated, highly distinctive personality comes through in his writing. The Bearer of the Ganges of Rasa, composed later in his life and left incomplete, is his most important work and, while predominantly concerned with rhetoric, is at the same time an important contribution to aesthetic theory-in fact, the tradition's last creative contribution.213

In his work as in his life, Jagannatha was a curious mixture of modernity and tradition. He was a man of his times in adopting Vedanta as the new-old explanatory framework of his aesthetics. By contrast, he was a traditionalist in reasserting the authority of the discipline of aesthetics against the revolutionary innovations of aesthetic theologians like Rupa and Jiva Gosvamin. This would seem to be the case too-though the claim is more speculative-in his discussion of the "semblance of rasa." The category, invented by Udbhata (4.5, 4.7, above), comprised narratives that violated (through "impropriety") core features of the definition of rasa; in the case of the erotic, for example, the requirement of mutual affection would be violated by the use of force. Such narratives were not only not themselves improper, they were essential to literature-without Ravana's forcible abduction of Sita there could be no Rāmāyana. Jagannatha, however, seems to be using the rubric almost as a mark of censure, and to be intent on proscribing, almost as if they would be aesthetic failures (and perhaps thereby shaping the later, negative understanding of "semblance") narratives concerning such things as "martial determination on the part of a lowborn man," or "laughter directed at one's father." It was precisely such transgressive material that elsewhere in the world-and not in Sanskritic India-would move to the very center of literary creativity and help make modern literature modern (for example, Jagannatha's near contemporary in France, Corneille, with his Cid). Jagannatha's view of rasa is basically that of Abhinavagupta, but now inflected by Vedanta epistemology. In this he very likely borrowed from his predecessor (and fellow Andhra Brahman) Vishvanathadeva. The core idea is the Upanishadic notion that the self is in essence bliss, which is "veiled" or obscured by the phenomena of quotidian life. The aesthetic is the only human experience, aside from spiritual liberation, that offers the opportunity for glimpsing this quality of the self, when the spatio- temporal constraints of life are eliminated, the obscuration is removed, and the joy of pure unadulterated consciousness emerges. Like many earlier thinkers, Jagannatha situates his theory within an intellectual history of the discipline, much of it derived from Abhinavagupta, though Jagannatha abandons, or no longer grasps, its chronological order. Several aspects of his account merit particular notice. His extended examination of the views of Bhatta Nayaka is marked by several mischaracterizations, several inherited from earlier scholarship. For example, one of Bhatta Nayaka's principal objectives had been to overturn the new paradigm of Anandavardhana, which postulated the linguistic notion of "manifestation" as the explanation of rasa. Jagannatha, however, simply accepts Abhinava's critique, or better, misappropriation, and argues that what Bhatta Nayaka offers instead- namely, "experience" or "experientialization"-is "really ... indistinguishable" from manifestation.214 What Jagannatha, like others, failed to grasp is the historical transformation that the language of aesthetics had undergone between Anandavardhana and Abhinavagupta, which had turned the former's linguistic phenomenon into the latter's psychological phenomenon. This becomes especially clear when Jagannatha characterizes the "manifestation" that pertains to the rasa experience as a removal of "the veil," or obscuration, of the viewer's consciousness. More interesting than Jagannatha's inherited errors and what they say about the historical accuracy of his survey is his report on the view of the "New Scholars."215 Thinkers who identified themselves (or were branded by others) as "new" (navya) have only recently become the object of scholarly research, and as yet no other information has come to light about those discussed by Jagannatha. But their notion of rasa is indeed new and noteworthy. In the eyes of the tradition beginning with Abhinavagupta and reaffirmed (and Vedanticized) by Vishvanathadeva and Jagannatha, rasa is a positive revelation of the true nature of the self. For the New Scholars, by contrast, rasa depends upon cognitive error, misidentification with the hero. Whereas many of the other positions Jagannatha reports were almost certainly never actually defended by anybody, but just extrapolations generated to fill out every conceptual possibility, this seems unlikely in the case of the New Scholars, and it remains a mystery that their works should have vanished without a trace. Also notable is Jagannatha's attempt to refute the postulation of a rasa of devotion, rather odd in a scholar who (if the biography previously mentioned is authentic) was a committed Vaishnava by confession. However, the claims he advances against the new rasa were based on the disciplinary authority of aesthetics, and the coherence of that system-indeed, preserving the traditional framework of literary analysis is an overriding feature of his work. In the mid-seventeenth century this may well have constituted a new move,216 but in historical terms, Jagannatha's attempt at closure was to prove no match for the brilliance of such

expositors as Rupa and Jiva Gosvamin, let alone for the actual experience of countless devotees in the presence of Vaishnava poetry. The domain of rasa, as Bhoja had shown in the past and as history was to show in the following centuries, is inherently expandable, no less so than the domain of literature itself.

FROM THE BEARER OF THE GANGES OF RASA OF JAGANNATHA

(p. 25) There are five different sorts of implicature, but the most beautiful of them all is the implicature of rasa. For this reason rasa, the very soul of implicature, will be treated first. A well-constructed literary work, one that is graceful in its aesthetic appropriateness, is able to convey the aesthetic elements in such a way that they enter the heart of a receptive viewer or reader. By the power of a special kind of "actualization" aided by the viewer's own receptivity, the individual characteristics of these elements-being the beloved of King Dushyanta,217 for example- vanish. The elements, accordingly, come to be referred to by the supermundane terms "foundational and stimulant factors," "reactions," and "transitory emotions," which represent, respectively, foundational causes such as Shakuntala and stimulant causes such as moonlight; effects such as weeping; ancillary causes such as anxiety. When these are experienced in combination, a supermundane process unfolds whereby the unknowing that obscures the bliss component of the self is, for the time being, removed from the cognizing subject, who thereby finds himself freed from all personal characteristics such as the normal spatiotemporal limitations on his cognitive agency.218 Thereupon, along with the bliss that constitutes his true nature-the ultimate real, insofar as it reveals itself directly-[26] the subject brings into his sphere of awareness the stable emotion (desire or one of the others) in the form of a predisposition long implanted in him.219 It is this emotion that constitutes rasa. [1] This view is in agreement with the following formulation:220 "The stable emotion, manifested by the aesthetic elements, is known as rasa." "Manifested," or being made an object of manifestation, refers to the consciousness of the viewer221 from which obscuration has been removed.222 When a lamp has been hidden under a bowl and the bowl is removed, the lamp brings to light the objects within range as well as itself. In the same way, the self's consciousness, when its obscuration is removed, brings to light the viewer's desire (or other stable emotion) that is commingled with the aesthetic elements, as well as itself.223 For it is acknowledged that the aesthetic elements are in reality properties of the mind that can be "directly apprehended by the witnessing subject."224 This fact of direct apprehension is no more incompatible in the case of the aesthetic elements than in the case of a horse seen in a dream or silver perceived where there is actually only tin.225 Given that both the viewer's stable emotion and the bliss that is the self are permanent,226 when we refer to the appearance and disappearance of rasa we are doing so in a figurative sense, in view of the appearance and disappearance of either the relishing of the aesthetic elements that manifest the rasa, or the obscuration's removal. (Analogously, despite the fact that phonemes exist permanently, we refer figuratively to the appearance and disappearance of, say, [27] the phoneme g227 from the appearance and disappearance of the articulatory processes of the palate and so on that manifest it.) The obscuration's removal lasts only as long as the relishing of the aesthetic elements; when the relishing ends, the illumination is extinguished, and so even though the stable emotion of course continues to exist in the viewer, it is not illuminated.

Here is another way to state the matter: the power of relishing the aesthetic elements,228 quickened by the receptive viewer's very receptivity, engenders a specific mental state, which is in essence bliss (and the subject's true nature)229 conditioned by this or that stable emotion-in short, a state of identification. This can be likened only to the mental state of a spiritual adept in the course of meditation, for this kind of bliss is not comparable to any other mundane pleasure, because it does not take the form of a normal mental state.230 Such is the position that accords with the most natural interpretation of the texts of Abhinavagupta, Mammata Bhatta, and others, namely, that rasa is a stable emotion qualified by a consciousness from which obscuration has been removed. In truth, however, in accordance with the most natural interpretation of the scriptural passage cited below, rasa is not the stable emotion itself but rather consciousness delimited by a stable emotion when obscuration has been removed.231 But in either case, it is a fact, first, that rasa-the entity ultimately being qualified in all this232-can be considered permanent and self-revealing with reference to its consciousness component, whether consciousness qualifies the stable emotion or is qualified by it; and, second, that rasa can be considered impermanent and revealed by something outside itself with reference to its stable emotion component. As for the relishing of rasa, this is either nothing more than the removal of the obscuration of consciousness, or, as previously stated, a mental state consisting of nothing but rasa itself. And it is to be differentiated from the savoring of supreme being in meditation, first because the bliss of consciousness that is the basis of rasa [28] remains commingled with objects (the aesthetic elements), and second because it is brought into being by purely literary processes. If one were to demand proof for the element of pleasure appearing in aesthetic savoring, one might equally demand proof for the element of pleasure appearing in meditation. And if one can offer as proof for the latter the single statement, "Where one knows absolute pleasure, supersensual, grasped only by the mind,"233 we can offer two sources of proof for the former: both a scriptural statement, "It is verily rasa, for having obtained this rasa one grows blissful,"234 and the actual perception of every receptive viewer. Now, the savoring of rasa that we have posited, which on the second interpretation is defined as a mental state consisting of rasa itself, is a linguistic phenomenon, since it is something brought into being by a verbal process. At the same time, it is a transcendent phenomenon, since it constitutes the basis for a transcendent pleasure. In these two features it may be likened to the notion produced by the Upanishadic statement, "That art Thou. "235 [2] Now the view of Bhatta Nayaka. If the viewer/reader were entirely detached from the aesthetic process, there would be no savoring in the act of apprehending rasa. Yet, it is very difficult to make sense of the contrary, namely, the apprehension of rasa as something happening in the viewer's own self: after all, Shakuntala herself cannot be a foundational factor for the audience members,236 and without such a factor the erotic rasa and the underlying emotion of desire would lack any foundation and hence could not be comprehended. Nor can it be argued that the general trait237 of being a beloved woman could delimit the category of foundational factor even in Shakuntala's case. For what is further required for delimiting it (in the case again of the erotic rasa) is the absence of an awareness that the beloved woman is an illicit sexual partner (there can be no hint of the possibility that this judgment is unwarranted, and the countercorrelate-i.e., the absence of illicitness-must be inherently connected with the woman thus qualified).238 Otherwise,

one's sister would wind up being a foundational factor since she too is beloved. Similarly, in the case of the tragic rasa, we would require a comparable absence of awareness that the foundational factor is a lowly man or someone who has renounced all claim to our grief.239 But it is impossible to deny that such assured awareness must remain unavailable in the absence of some further explanation for restricting the category of foundational factor. To suggest that some sense of identity with the character, Dushyanta say, that arises in the viewer could provide that restriction is absurd: the hero being a resolutely kingly figure [29], the viewer a common man of the present day,240 and other such differences make the distinction between them crystal clear and the notion of their identity impossible to sustain. Moreover, what is this apprehension of rasa241 supposed to be? If it were thought to be normal verbal apprehension, on the grounds that no other cognitive operations apply, then it could sometimes turn out to be disconcerting, like learning about an actual couple's doings through other, ordinary language. But the apprehension of rasa cannot be purely mental, since as we can plainly see, there is a vast difference between it and the mental apprehension of the very same objects when they are conveyed to us in later reflection. And it certainly cannot be memory, since there cannot have been any prior experience of the sort necessary to ground the memory. Therefore, says Bhatta Nayaka, we must conclude that the entities, communicated to us by denotation,242 come to be qualified by properties that are in accordance with rasa (the female protagonist's being a beloved woman, for example) by means of an "actualization" process that blocks any notions contrary to the rasa (such as the female protagonist's being an illicit sexual partner). Thereby Dushyanta, Shakuntala, their time, place, age, and condition of life are all "commonized," the power of the former process of denotation being crippled243 before it could go any further. There then arises a third process, "experientialization," through which the following occurs: with the elimination of the viewer's volatility and stolidity, his sensitivity predominates and engenders a direct awareness that can be defined as "absorption," a state of rapture that is the true nature of one's consciousness. Desire or other stable emotion, which has been presented by "actualization" and thereby in essence turned into something common to the viewer, is rendered the object of this direct awareness, and thus becomes rasa. Rasa can accordingly be considered either the object (like desire) that is being experienced or the cognitive experience of desire, or both. And this experience is said only to "share something of the character of savoring supreme being,"244 because of its being commingled with external objects.245 Thus, according to Bhatta Nayaka, there are three components to the literary text: "denotation, actualization, and experientialization."246 [30] This doctrine, however, differs from the previous one of Abhinavagupta only in accepting the process that he calls "actualization"; his "experience" is really nothing but manifesting, while his "experientialization" is indistinguishable from manifestation.247 In all the rest the approach is the same. [3] The New Scholars, however, argue as follows: when the aesthetic elements are brought to light by the author of a poem or the actor in a drama, and the stable emotion-say, Dushyanta's desire for Shakuntala-is grasped by the process of manifestation, a particular kind of "actualization," which the New Scholars understand as the cognitive error of superimposition, emerges thanks to the viewer's or reader's receptivity, and by virtue of this erroneous superimposition, his self is veiled by the illusion of being Dushyanta. In the self delimited by this kind of unknowing there arises a desire for Shakuntala, apparent only to the witnessing subject

and ontologically undecidable as to its reality,248 just like the illusory appearance of a piece of silver in place of what is actually a shard of mother-of-pearl. This is rasa. It is thus the effect of a certain kind of error, and vanishes when that error vanishes. The New Scholars say the term "pleasure" can be used in reference to rasa because nothing distinguishes rasa249 from the transcendent joy that follows in its wake; and also that rasa can be described as "manifested" and "relished"250 either because no distinction can be grasped between rasa and the desire or other stable emotion that precedes it, or because we identify it as being one and the same thing as that desire. The sense of being Dushyanta too, which veils the self, is likewise ontologically undecidable.251 By this reasoning, the New Scholars resolve the dilemma that, whereas the desire in Dushyanta himself cannot be rasa because it cannot be relished by the viewer/reader, the desire in one's own self, since it has no connection with the actual Shakuntala, [31] cannot be "manifested,"252 since any sense in oneself of identity with Dushyanta is negated at once by the antithetical sense that one is not, in fact, Dushyanta. The "commonality" of the aesthetic elements posited by the ancients, they add, is unwarranted unless we admit some conception of cognitive error in respect to Shakuntala, who after all is communicated to us in a literary work by the word "Shakuntala" that produces, among other ideas, the fact of her being the particular woman of that name. Hence, some conception of error must be admitted, which would make it easy to justify the sense in oneself of identity with Dushyanta. With reference to rasa as pleasure, the objection might be raised that while desire, to be sure, might produce a particular pleasure in the receptive viewer/reader as it does in Dushyanta, in the case of the tragic and some other rasas, stable emotions like grief are known to produce pain, and they could hardly then be a source of joy for the receptive viewer. On the contrary, it is only reasonable that they produce pain in the viewer no less than in the protagonist. Nor can it be argued that only real grief is capable of producing pain, not fictive grief, and hence only the original protagonist feels pain, not the viewer. Accepting such an argument would entail, for one thing, that an illusion like a rope being taken for a snake could never produce fear, trembling, and the like, when in fact it clearly can; or, for another, that the desire in the viewer could never produce pleasure since the desire too would be fictive. Now, all that may be true, say the New Scholars, but if it is proven, as it surely is in the heart of a receptive viewer or reader, that joy pure and simple comes from a predominantly tragic work of literature no less than from a predominantly erotic one, then we would have to conceive of a cause consistent with such an effect. And, accordingly, we would have to postulate that one and the same transcendent literary process blocks pain no less than provides pleasure. One might rejoin that the very same mode of proof establishes the existence of pain no less than joy, and so one cannot postulate such a blocking function; joy and pain must each come about from its appropriate cause. But then it would be unclear why authors would engage in creating such literature and receptive viewers engage in viewing it. It would be only be reasonable for them to refrain from such literature, since it would be a source of something unpleasant. But on the contrary, it makes perfectly good sense to engage in such literature since its pleasant aspects far outweigh its unpleasant ones-in the same way that the pleasant aspects of sandalwood cream far outweigh its unpleasant ones.253 And of course for those who argue that aesthetic experience is one of pure joy, there is nothing whatever to stand in the way of engagement with such literature. [32] The weeping and so on that accompany it are not a result of pain but a natural response to the

blissful experience of one or another rasa. A perfect analogy for this254 is the weeping on the part of devotees of the god Vishnu when hearing a description of his deeds, since that behavior comprises no experience of pain whatever. Still, one might further object that, if one could really feel joy when identifying oneself with the grieving Dasharatha,255 then one should feel joy when making that sort of identification while dreaming or delirious. It is an empirical fact that in those cases one feels only pain, however, and it is reasonable to suppose that precisely the same applies in literature. Such an objection would be incorrect, however, for the greatness of the transcendent literary process lies precisely in the fact that things like grief, however unpleasant in themselves, lead to the production of supermundane joy when used in literature. The exquisite savoring produced by the literary process is altogether different from the experience produced by any other cognitive instrument. And incidentally, there is no harm in saying that the savoring of rasa is "produced" by the literary process, since by "being produced" we actually mean that it has as its object the desire or other stable emotion produced by the "actualization" that is itself produced by literature. As for the idea arising in the viewer that Shakuntala is an illicit sexual partner, it would be blocked by his sense of identity with Dushyanta. [4] Others argue as follows:256 while not admitting either the process of manifestation or the ontological undecidability of the cognitive event, one can agree that there exists cognitive error as previously described.257 By virtue of this error, literary "actualization" gives rise to a purely mental258 sense of nondifference from someone feeling desire for Shakuntala, eventuating in identification with Dushyanta; and it is this sense, with its unique object-directedness, that constitutes rasa. When such a sense occurs in a dream, it cannot be rasa since it is not produced by reflection on the subject matter of the literary work, and for this reason we do not find the same kind of joy in the dream state. And it would be mistaken to still ask how one can possibly experience desire or other stable emotion when it is not present in oneself. For this is not the mundane direct awareness [33] of desire, of the sort that necessarily presupposes the existence of an external object, but rather cognitive error. These scholars also assert that in speaking of this savoring as referring to rasa they are relying on the fact that it refers to desire or another stable emotion. And for them, finally, it is an awareness of one of three different sorts that must be acknowledged as the entity called rasa. It must be an awareness in the viewer/reader's self that eventuates either in a particular kind of desire where the object is Shakuntala and the subject Dushyanta; or in an identification with Dushyanta, who is qualified by a desire for Shakuntala; or in a state of being qualified by being Dushyanta and by desire toward Shakuntala.259 In all three forms of awareness, the desire or other stable emotion that functions as a qualifying property cannot be apprehended through language, whether literal or figurative; and since these scholars do not accept the existence of a third linguistic function known as "manifestation" to enable the apprehension, they say that we must admit from the first, if we are to gain knowledge of the emotion, the role of inference made on the basis of the dramatic gestures or other signs.260 [5] Some261 hold that in the primary sense of the term, "rasa" refers exclusively to the stable emotion in the character, the desire in Dushyanta for Shakuntala, for example; we have direct awareness of this desire when it262 is superimposed upon the actor who is imitating Dushyanta and is skilled at beautifully acting out the aesthetic elements.263 [34] On this view, the direct awareness "This is Dushyanta, who feels desire for Shakuntala" is, as in the previous case, purely mundane with respect to the referent (the actor), but supermundane with respect to the character

superimposed (the desirous Dushyanta). [6] Others264 hold that rasa is desire or another stable emotion in a character like Dushyanta when it is inferred in the actor. The actor becomes the locus of the inferential thesis that he is Dushyanta thanks to the aesthetic elements, which are pure artifice but not grasped as such. In the case of an object cognitively unavailable to us, such as another's emotion, inference is efficacious, whereas perception is not. [7] A few hold rasa to be the three categories of aesthetic elements taken as a whole. [8] Many hold rasa to be the element of aesthetic rapture in the three categories, without which the categories themselves cannot even exist as such. [9] Others hold that rasa is only the factors, foundational and stimulant, when they are being actualized. [10] Others posit this only of the reactions. [11] Yet others, lastly, hold that rasa is only the transitory emotions that transform into rasa.265 The Sutra on Rasa, "Rasa arises from the conjunction of factors, reactions, and transitory emotions," has been interpreted variously so as to support each of these positions. In (1) "conjunction" means "manifestation," "rasa" the stable emotion qualified by the bliss that is consciousness or the bliss that is consciousness conditioned by the stable emotion, and "arises" means bringing to light in its essential form; in (2) the "con" (sam) in "conjunction" (samyoga) means "proper" (samyak), [35] that is to say, in the form of commonality, whereas the "junction" means "actualization" by way of the actualizing process; "rasa" is the bliss that is the true self brought to light by the predominance of sensitivity when conditioned by the stable emotion, and "arises" means made into an object of direct awareness, which is termed "experience"; in (3) "conjunction" means cognitive error in the form of a particular kind of "actualization," "rasa" the ontologically undecidable stable emotion (desire in Dushyanta, say), and "arises" means comes into being; in (4) the "conjunction" of the aesthetic elements means awareness of them, and "rasa" a specific type of awareness, while "arises" means to come into being; in (5) the aesthetic elements are related rather than conjoined,266 "rasa" is the stable emotion, and "arises" means superimposition; in (6) the aesthetic elements, though pure artifice, are not grasped as such; "conjunction" means inference; "rasa" is the stable emotion, and "arises" means "is inferred"; in (7) the "conjunction" of the three categories of aesthetic elements means their totality; "rasa arises" means that it becomes capable of being referred to by the word "rasa"; in (8) the "conjunction" among the aesthetic elements means their correct junction, that is to say, rapture. The remaining three views are in contradiction with the aphorism. Any individual aesthetic element among the three categories can be common to other rasas and so cannot manifest a specific one, which is why all three are referenced collectively in the aphorism. Hence, since it is a valid fact267 that the elements have the capacity for manifesting rasa only as a collectivity, in those few cases where rasa is awakened by an individual element that is exclusive to the rasa, elements from the other two categories will be simultaneously implied. So the general rule remains unconditional. Thus, while according to these heterogeneous lucubrations rasa has been conceived in multifarious ways, what is beyond dispute is that rasa is inseparable from pure joy, as knowledgeable people fully realize, and furnishes the greatest experience of beauty in the world. [36] Rasa is ninefold: The erotic, tragic, peaceful, violent, heroic, marvelous, comic, fearful, and

macabre are the nine rasas. In this matter the sage's declaration is authoritative.268 Some, however, hold that "The peaceful rasa is produced by impassivity, and that stable emotion cannot possibly exist in the actor. Hence there can only be eight rasas in drama; it makes no sense to include the peaceful among them." Others dispute this, arguing as follows: the reason adduced for rejecting the peaceful rasa- namely, that there can be no impassivity in the actor-is irrelevant, since no one admits that rasa is manifested in the actor anyway. But the audience members can feel impassivity, and hence there is nothing standing in the way of the peaceful rasa awakening in them. Nor is it any retort to say that if the actor lacks impassivity himself, he cannot possibly manifest it through acting. He equally lacks anger and the other stable emotions and hence does not produce the effects of anger- murder or other violence-in actuality; but there is nothing stopping him from producing artificial effects of anger through his training and practice. This is perfectly evident, and can be extended to the case at hand. One might argue further that in drama the presence of singing and instrumental music would keep the peaceful rasa from achieving predominance even in the audience members, since after all that rasa consists of turning away from the objects of the senses. But those who admit the possibility of the peaceful rasa in drama do not conceive of music as an impediment to it precisely by virtue of the fact that the rasa does produce its effect. To admit that, as a general rule, preoccupation with sensory objects is an impediment to the peaceful rasa would entail that the foundational factor of the peaceful rasa-the impermanence of life-and its stimulant factors- listening to the recitation of the puranas, [37] religious fellowship, visiting sacred groves or holy rivers, and the like-would all be impediments since they are all sensory objects. This is why in the last chapter of the The Jewel Mine of Symphony the author has concluded that the peaceful rasa exists in drama no less than in literature: "Some have urged that in drama there are only eight rasas. That is unacceptable, since the actor never savors rasa at all anyway."269 Those who hold that the peaceful rasa cannot exist in drama must in any case accept its existence in poetry since there is nothing to hinder its presence, and everyone has experienced the predominance of the peaceful rasa in works like the Mahabharata. It is for this reason that even Mammata Bhatta can say when introducing the rasas, "There are eight rasas in drama," but declare in conclusion, "and also a ninth rasa, the peaceful."270 .. [56] But how, one might ask, can one assert that these are the only rasas that exist? For example, when devotees of Vishnu are listening to the Bhāgavata or other similar purāna, it is difficult, given their reaction, to deny the existence of "the devotional" rasa: its foundational factor is Vishnu, it is shown being reacted to by horripilation, weeping, and so on, and it is enhanced by joy and other transitory emotions. Here the stable emotion would be devotion, or love for Vishnu. Nor can the devotional rasa be subsumed under the peaceful, since love conflicts with dispassion,271 which is the stable emotion of the latter. Our answer is that devotion is only really desire for a deity or other such exceptional being, and hence it must be included among the emotions and cannot reasonably be considered a rasa.272 [57] This is indeed the settled conclusion of the ancients: "When desire is directed toward a deity or comparable figure, or when what is principally manifested is a transitory emotion, we have 'emotion' rather than rasa."273 One might ask why, desire being desire, it should not be held to remain an "emotion" rather than developing into a rasa even when it is directed toward an amorous woman. Or conversely, why devotion itself should not be a "stable emotion" and desire

only an "emotion" even when it is directed toward an amorous woman, given that it is not possible to decide for certain one way or another in any of these cases. This would not do, however, for only the declarations of Bharata and the other sages are capable of differentiating among rasas and emotions and so on; they alone can exercise independent judgment.274 Otherwise, why would desire directed toward a son or the like not be considered a "stable emotion" capable of developing into rasa,275 or revulsion, grief, or other stable emotion not remain a "pure emotion"? In short, the whole scholarly discourse would be thrown into chaos. It is far preferable to follow the authoritative texts and devote oneself276 to the fixed series of nine rasas according to the limitations set by the declarations of the sages.

On Semblance of Rasa

(p. 119) "The property 'semblance of rasa' is caused by there being an inappropriate foundational factor."277 Some critics hold that the impropriety of the foundational factor is something people understand from social practices, the sense that it is wrong. Others disagree, on the grounds that, whereas that definition would cover such cases as desire for the wife of a sage who is an inappropriate love object, it would not include desire for more than one lover or desire not shared by both partners in a relationship. In the latter two cases, there is no impropriety in the foundational factor as such.278 Therefore, for there to be semblance of rasa, it must be the primary emotion itself (in this case, the emotion of desire) that has to be characterized by impropriety. And in this way both desire for an inappropriate object, as well as desire for more than one lover or desire not shared by both partners, would be included. "Impropriety" would remain as defined above.279 ... [123] A father's grief for a son who is querulous and wicked, or grief on the part of ascetic who has given up all attachments; spiritual disenchantment with life on the part of an untouchable, who is not authorized to participate in spiritual Vedic knowledge; martial determination on the part of a lowborn man; anger on the part of a timorous man or directed toward someone like one's father; amazement in response to a mere magic trick; laughter directed at one's father; fear in a hero; disgust felt for the fat or flesh or blood of a sacrificial animal-all these produce the semblance of, respectively, the tragic, the peaceful, the heroic, the violent, the fantastic, the comic, the fearful, and the macabre.

English-Sanskrit Glossary

RASAS, STABLE EMOTIONS, AESTHETIC ELEMENTS

aesthetic elements vibhāvādi the affectionate preyaḥ/preyān amazement vismaya

amusement hāsa

anger krodha

attachment sneha

the comic hāsya desire rati determination utsāha

dispassion nirveda

emotion bhāva the erotic śṛngāra the erotic enjoyed sambhogaśrngāra the erotic thwarted vipralambhaśrngāra factor; "factoring" vibhāva; vibhāvana the fantastic adbhuta

fear bhaya the fearful bhayānaka foundational factor ālambanavibhāva

grief śoka the heroic vīra the heroic in war, munificence, compassion (or morality) yuddha-, dāna-, dayā- (or dharma-) vīra impassivity śama the macabre bībhatsa motherly love (sometimes, parental affection) vātsalya the noble udātta (sometimes ūrjasvin) the peaceful śānta psychophysical responses (sometimes, "sensitivities") sāttvika[anu]bhāva reaction (physical); "reactionizing" anubhāva; anubhāvana

revulsion jugupsā stable emotion sthāyibhāva stimulant factor uddīpanavibhāva the tragic

karuņa

transient (emotion) saņcāri transitory emotion; "emotivizing" vyabhicāribhāva; vyabhicāribhāvana the vainglorious uddhata the violent raudra

THE THIRTY-THREE TRANSITORY EMOTIONS

anxiety cintā attachment sneha1

confusion moha depression vişāda despair nirveda despondency dainya dissimulation avahittham dreaming suptam dying maraņa exhaustion śrama

fatigue glāni ferocity ugratā fright trāsa

intoxication mada jealousy īrsyā2

joy harșa longing autsukya madness unmāda

numbness jaḍatā panic āvega perplexity vitarka possession (sometimes, misrecollection) apasmāra pride garva recklessness capalatā

remembrance smṛti

resentment asūyā

sagacity mati

satisfaction (sometimes, constancy) dhṛti shame vrīḍā sickness vyādhi sleepiness nidrā

torpor ālasya

waking pra(vi)bodha disquiet śaṅkhā

vindictiveness amarșa

THE EIGHT PSYCHOPHYSICAL RESPONSES

broken voice svarabheda (-bhanga) fainting pralaya horripilation romāñca

pallor vaivarņya paralysis stambha

perspiration sveda

trembling vepathu

weeping aśru

THE FOUR KINDS OF LEADING MALE CHARACTER

the dignified dhīrodātta the peaceful dhīrapraśānta the romantic dhīralalita

the vainglorious dhīroddhata

THE TEN FORMS OF CHARMING BEHAVIOR

adornment lalita

coquetry vilāsa

coyness moțțhāyitam disarray vibhrama giving the cold shoulder bibboka

mimicry līlā

negligence vicchitti

reticence vihṛta

saying no when meaning yes kuțțhamitam

turmoil kilakiñcitam

THE TEN STAGES OF THE EROTIC THWARTED3

anxiety cintā

craving abhilāșa death nidhana

distress udvega glorification guņakīrtana

madness unmāda

raving pralāpa remembrance smṛti

sickness vyādhi stupor jaḍatā

OTHER TECHNICAL TERMS

absorption (sometimes, repose) viśrānti

acting abhinaya (its four registers: physical, verbal, psychophysical, costuming- āṅgika, vācika, sāttvika, āhārya makeup) actualization bhāvanā affectionate utterance preyah (preyasvat in Udbhata) cessation (of a rasa or emotion) śānti charming behavior hāva coloration uparañjana "commonize," "commonization" sādhāraņīkr, sādharaņīkaraņa complete identification with anusandhāna (-dhi) (in Bhatta Lollata) conjuncture (of two rasas or emotions) sandhi

connotation lakșaņā costume (sometimes regional customs) pravṛtti denotation abhidhā direct awareness; aesthetic visualization sākșātkāra

distinct comprehension anusandhāna (in Shri Shankuka) dramatic mode vṛtti (bharatī: verbal mode; sāttvatī: serene/sublime mental mode, pertaining to the heroic in particular; ārabhațī: energetic physical mode, pertaining to the violent in particular; kaiśikī: graceful, pertaining to the erotic in particular)

ecstasy laya

ego ahańkāra emergence (of a rasa or emotion) udaya

emotion poetry bhāvakāvya ends of man purușārtha enhance pari + puș experience, experientialization bhoga, bhogakrti, bhogīkrttva, bhogakrttva expression; sometimes, literary language abhidhā (in Bhatta Nayaka) figure of sense or sound; ornament alankāra

full complement (of aesthetic elements) sāmagrī haughty utterance ūrjasvi (in Dandin) heart's concurrence hṛdayasamvāda identification with tanmayībhāva immersion samāveśa implicature dhvani impulsive utterance ūrjasvi (in Udbhata) indirect expression vakrokti innate disposition sam̧skāra instruction in, knowledge of (the ends of man) vyutpatti jealous anger māna language quality guņa leading female character nāyikā leading male character, protagonist nāyaka liberation mokșa love kāma love prema (in Bhoja = śrngāra, passion) manifestation vyakti, vyañjanā, abhivyakti morality dharma

narrative element vastu

natural expression svabhāvokti object (of affect) (rarely, subject) vișaya oscillation (between different rasas or emotions) śabalatā

passion śṛngāra (in Bhoja) "paths" or styles of literature rīti predisposition vāsanā preliminary dance lāsyānga process vyāpāra proper term, actual word svaśabda

propriety aucitya purport tātparya quality (of language) guņa quiescence (of a rasa or emotion) samāhita (in Udbhata; = śānti)

rapture camatkāra

rasa-laden statement rasavat receptive, responsive viewer/reader sahṛdaya, sacetāḥ receptivity sahṛdayatā relishing carvaņā

to savor (ā)svad secondary knowledge, of a knowledge anuvyavasāya

semblance of a rasa, of an emotion rasābhāsa, bhāvābhāsa

sense of self abhimāna

sensitivity (sometimes, psychic sensitivity) sattva

stolidity tamaḥ to strengthen upa + ci subject matter tātparya substratum, subject (of affect) (rarely, object) āśraya supreme being brahma

types of heroine nāyikābheda typological state avasthā vainglorious, proud (sometimes, impetuous) uddhata verbalization vāgārambha viewer/reader bhāvaka (bhāvuka), śrotṛ, anusandhāyaka volatility rajaḥ wealth, power artha

Notes

PREFACE

1. Preeminently Ingalls et al. 1990.

2. In the first category are KM, KD, Bhaktirasāyana; in the second, Agnipurāna (now known to be a late, probably eleventh- century, compilation), and Candraloka, among others. BhP occupies a place apart: unlike the Agnipurāna, it was occasionally cited, but it is both derivative and too diffuse to properly excerpt.

3. The now-standard edition shows these traces everywhere. Chapter 6, for example, ends, "Such are the eight rasas" (6.83); Abhinavagupta had a different text before him ("There are thus nine and only nine rasas," he comments ad loc., ABh 1.335.8).

4. After long clinging to the translation "reproduction," I was convinced by Andrew Ollett of the greater applicability of this term. For an extended consideration (sometimes at odds with the analysis offered here), see Shulman 2012.

5. An onomatopoeic word, "making the sound chamat," a smacking of the lips that seems especially apposite for "aesthetics," or "feeling" (for a Shaiva etymology see IPVV v. 3 p. 251). No one before Ananda had used the term, and he only once (DhĀ 4.16).

6. See Dhanika on DR 4.4cd-4.5ab, below.

7. Literally, "the erotic deceived" (SKĀ 5.56-58; ŚP pp. 1172-73; RAS p. 276).

8. For the eighth-century southerner Dandin, ūrjasvi is slightly deprecatory ("haughty declaration"); for the ninth-century northerner Udbhata, it indicates a moral lapse (the "impulsive").

9. The New Dramatic Art 3.273.

10. For the former see Shridhara on KP 4.30; for the latter, NS 1.111.

11. Nyāyasūtra 1.1.17; for Bhasarvajna see Nyāyasāra p. 12. 12. The rasa raudra exemplifies the difficulty. It is typically translated, vaguely, as "rage" or "the furious"; NŚ 1.313-314 indicates that "the violent" is closer to what is intended (see Abhinava ad loc .: "'Raudra is based on anger,' and the domain of anger is, generally speaking, unlawful action," and RAS 2.131: "The locus of raudra is savages [krūrajana]").

12. The editions of the ŚP and KP principally used here are continuously paginated.

INTRODUCTION

1. Feagin and Maynard 1997, compare Korsmeyer 1998. Many of their questions derive from Beardsley 1981 [1959].

2. Treatises on painting simply list the rasas and their associated colors (see for example Visnudharmottarapurāna 3.30).

3. Shri Shankuka fragment #1a, below; on music and rasa, DhĀ pp. 405, 417; VV p. 100, Anantadasa (p. 72), SRĀ 7.1351 ("The learned hold that the principal element of the triple symphony is rasa"). Thus, while classical Indian aesthetic theory may well apply to all the "fine arts," it never was in fact applied before the modern period (contrast M. Hiriyanna in Raghavan 1975: Xv, among many others).

4. Bhatta Tota's definition of creative imagination would be invoked repeatedly (see fragment #1, below).

5. Pollock 2014.

6. The term rasasastra is found only once (in Jiva Gosvamin p. 110 [65.17], below), and may be peculiar to the Bengali Vaishnava

tradition.

7. For this assessment of what is currently missing in literary theory, see Harpham 2005: 24.

8. For Weber, see Gerth and Mills 1946: 340-43; the ideological reading is found in Eagleton 1990: 3. Hegel's Lectures on Fine Arts (1835) is structured, deeply if with no self-awareness, by the inequity of colonial judgment. For Arnold's assertion a generation before Weber (1880), "Most of what now passes with us for religion and philosophy will be replaced by poetry," see Muldoon 2006: 349.

9. Neill 2003: 423.

10. Additional detail and argument are offered in Pollock 1998a, 2001c, 2010, 2012a, 2012b.

11. See Dhà pp. 87-88.

12. DhĀ p. 498.

13. NŚ 7.2.

14. KĀ 1.51.

15. Bhatta Tota fragment #4; Bhatta Nayaka fragment #5.

16. Especially problematic is the absence in the rasasutra of the key term "stable emotion" (compare Bansat-Boudon 1992a: 109- 11).

17. For the NS it is the sattva of the actor that is at issue, for he cannot weep or sweat without intentionality.

18. Pollock 2012a.

19. NŚ 1.11.

20. Cited in Solomon 2002: 122 (emphasis added).

21. Pollock 2012a: 202.

22. Krishnamoorthy 1968: 45 (few later scholars have appreciated this insight).

23. NŚ 1.282; 6.32-33. A "traditional verse" to the same effect is added.

24. Rudra Bhatta, Śrngāratilaka 1.5. The statement makes better historical sense if the author is identified with Rudrata (early ninth century), rather than another scholar of the late tenth/early eleventh century (on their dates and possible identity, see Kane 1971: 158).

25. RKA 12.2, below.

26. The three mentioned here (rasavat, preyah, and ūrjasvi) are discussed by Dandin, KĀ 2.273, below.

27. Perhaps anticipating Anandavardhana's later distinction between rasa and "subordinate implicature" in his brief remark on the "elevated" figure (Krishnamoorthy 1979b: 305).

28. KASS 4.3-4.

29. Pratiharenduraja p. 50, below.

30. See McCrea 2009.

31. VJ p. 144, below.

32. The Candrāloka (c. 1250) simply adds to the four emotion tropes given by Udbhata the remaining three stages of rasa as tropes in their own right (5.117-118). This conception continued into the seventeenth century (KD p. 291).

33. See Avaloka p. 206, below, for a classic example. "Narrative element" here and passim translates vastu, a fact, situation, or other component of the narrative (see Ingalls et al. 1990: 82).

34. There is dispute over which of the many types of "manifestation" is at work in literature. Contrast Ruyyaka, Kāvyaprakāśasamketa, p. 577, and Vishvanatha, SD 3.1, both given below.

35. Dhà 2.1-2 and DhĀ 3.3; Ekāvalī p. 85, below. Few later thinkers make this categorization an object of analysis; a rare exception is KD p. 149.

36. For Bhatta Nayaka see further below; for Dhanika, Avaloka, p. 211, below; for Mahima Bhatta, VV p. 70, 78, below, and passim.

37. KASS 4.3-4; Pratiharenduraja on 4.2, below.

38. Pollock 2007: 42-44 (inadvertently omitting Udbhata); see also MM 5.28, cited in ŚP p. 625, below.

39. One Chakravartin Bhattacharya cited by Jhalkikar in his edition of KP, p. 434.

40. VJ p. 146; Shri Shankuka, both below.

41. Dhà pp. 80-83, below.

42. See "On Verbal Representation" below.

43. Bhatta Tota fragment #5; SP p. 3, both below.

44. Shridhara in KP p. 77.

45. See Dhanika's introductory remarks on DR 4.36, below.

46. See ŚP vv. 7 and 11, below.

47. Raghavan 1975 charts this expansion (though without explaining it). For the devotional rasa, contrast Hemadri p. 167 and RG p. 56, both given below.

48. Compare RG pp. 35-36, below. At late as the turn of the fifteenth century, Singabhupala was denying the very existence of a peaceful rasa (the idea that spectators could experience such a rasa is like "parrots tasting bananas painted in a picture," RAS p. 206).

49. Some emotions we might expect to see included but are not were evaluated as components of other emotions that are. The absence of hatred, for example, from the canonical list can be explained by the fact that it was thought of as "a mental state of harshness, whereas anger is the manifestation of hatred" (Prajnakaramati on Bodhicaryāvatāra p. 82.15). Darwin himself suggests that hatred expresses itself as anger or terror, whereas Ekman curiously defines it as "non-emotional" (Gross 2010: 51).

50. ABh 1.266.11-15; for the citations see KA 2.279, 281.

51. See Bhatta Lollata fragment #1a, below.

52. Wimsatt and Beardsley 1949: 51.

53. I find no conceptual difference in the distinction upacita/pariposa.

54. Harșacarita v. 8.

55. ŚP p. 616, below. SKĀ is centrally concerned with āśrayaprakrti, the nature of the substratum of rasa, i.e., the main character.

56. Śatapatha Brāhmaņa xiii.5.4.1.

57. The distinction is not drawn in the Sanskrit, and cannot always be captured in translation.

58. Gadamer 2004: 283, and pp. 306-307 for the subtilitas applicandi of Pietistic hermeneutics.

59. A precise analogy works at the micro-level too: literary language, commonization, and pleasure parallel the "means" (sacrifice), "procedure" (recitation of mantras, inter alia), and "outcome" (heaven, inter alia), respectively, of ritual "actualization" (Pollock 2010: 151-57).

60. Avaloka pp. 171, 173; ND p. 160, both below.

61. viśrānti, a concept that was to become central to Abhinavagupta's theory.

62. Bhatta Nayaka fragment #3, below.

63. He had already appropriated his opponent's three-part hermeneutic model (DhĀL p. 189).

64. Hemachandra, a close reader of Abhinava, incorporates this into his definition of rasa: what is "manifested" by the aesthetic elements is the stable emotion existing in the form of the predispositions of the viewer/reader (KA 2.1 vrtti, p. 88).

65. DhĀL p. 188.3 (and compare pp. 52.7-8 and 189.4).

66. Avaloka pp. 212 and 217, and n. 217, below.

67. Ingalls et al. 1990: 37. It may have been Bhatta Nayaka himself who first suggested the enlarged notion of "manifestation," fragment #14, below.

68. See for example PR, ed. Raghavan, introduction p. 27.

69. ABh 1.285.17; DhĀL p. 155.5-6, ABh 1.278.11, 278.20 (alaukika).

70. Bhatta Tota fragment #2, below.

71. Fragment #6, below.

72. Perhaps first with Bhatta Narayana (ninth century); see Stainton 2013: 175-78.

73. The earliest reference in poetics literature, that of KASS, strikes me as an interpolation (chapter 1, n. 131), which is not to say it cannot have been borrowed from a lost work of Udbhata's (compare Krishnamoorthy in NS vol. 1, p. 4). For an exhaustive history of the rasa see Raghavan 1975.

74. See p. 226.

75. Ruyyaka, on KP p. 779, below.

76. Masson and Patwardhan 1969; Gerow 1995.

77. KP 35ab, below.

78. KASS 4.2, below. This is a forerunner to what comes to be called emotion poetry (bhāvakāvya) in contrast to rasa poetry (rasakāvya), though in fact the terminology is rarely used.

79. See especially the commentary of Paramananda Cakravartin on KP p. 793, below.

80. For these three points see, respectively, BhPu 1.1.3 (Vishvanatha Chakravarti and other commentators ad loc. adduce Bhatta Nayaka's theory); BhPu 10.43.17 (Shridharasvamin ad loc. refers to "ancient authorities on supermundane rasa" when analyzing the passage); in his commentary on BhPu 1.1-3, Madhusudhana Sarasvati (c. 1600) calls the work a mahākāvya (Ślokatrayațīkā fol. 14r).

81. ABh 1.335.14 (bhakti is mentioned in connection with rasa nowhere else in the ABh or in the DhÃL), KA p. 106.15. We do not know whose position they were opposing.

82. Others complicate this picture. In his Bhaktirasāyana, Madhusudana Sarasvati uses the language of aesthetics to explain the psychology of actual religious experience; when he reverts in chapter 3 to the standard literary conception, the gap between aesthetic and religious experience remains unbridged (he makes no reference to earlier bhakti rasa theory).

83. PS p. 70, below; for the denial of "secular" rasa, see Lokanatha on AK 5.72, below.

84. Lokanatha Chakravartin on AK 5.72, below.

85. I pass over statements such as Taittirīya Upanisad 27.2 raso vai sah, though cited by later thinkers like Jagannatha.

86. Bhatta Nayaka #1a; DR 4.43 and Avaloka there and on 4.1, below. Abhinava reports on a Vedanta position in ABh 1.37.21.

87. ABh 1.286.1, 37.19, 271.5, 276.7-8. His concept of aesthetic "hindrances," for example (ABh 1.274, below), has little in common with the vighnas of Kashmir Saivism (though compare ABh 1.284 with IPVV v. 2, p. 178), while his formulation of aesthetic awareness as "repose in one's own unhindered consciousness" (1.261.7; compare 273.8, 278.12, 284.20) differs from what was to

come.

88. Vidyaranya's Pañcadaśī (c. 1350).

89. The key term is āvaraņabhanga (or bhagnāvaraņatva). Jagannatha is merely seeking a time-honored lineage for this

innovation when he associates it with Abhinava (RG p. 26, below); it is terminology Abhinava himself never uses (see chapter 6 n. 188).

90. For the first see SSS p. 101, for the second (derivatively), RG p. 27, both given below.

91. SKĀ 5.8; ŚP p. 628 (alankāra is to be taken in the widest possible sense).

92. Dufrenne 1973: 455.

93. Ruyyaka employs the technical term prayoga, analytical operation, used in both grammar and logic, for his dissection of the peaceful rasa (above n. 75).

94. See especially chapter 24 (where "nature," "role," and social status are complexly intertwined); see Abhinava's restatement in ABh 1.276-77, below.

95. On humor, see NS 6.51; Abhinava discusses fear at ABh 1.325.14.

96. If the loved one is not lost forever, we have the "erotic thwarted" (NS 1.304; compare RG p. 32, though contrast Śrngāratilaka 2.1,93).

97. NS 6.62 and 1.311 (ista, istajana), ABh 1.290 (bandhu). Abhinava dismisses (the Buddhist?) Shri Shankuka's idea that karuņa has anything to do with daya, compassion (ABh 1.311). On semblance and the comic, see ABh 1.289.14, below.

98. The same occurs with "heroic perfection" (vīryaparamita), where utsaha is determination not for martial victory but for spiritual merit (kuśalotsāha, Bodhicaryāvatāra 7.2).

99. The standard list of topics is found first in KASS 4.7, below, which provides the model for DhA 2.3 (which, however, only mentions "semblance" in passing and offers no detailed account).

100. KASS 4.5-4.7, below.

101. Narayana Rao and Shulman 2012: 163; see also Ingalls et al. 1990: 37 (contrast, for example, the explicit statement of AK p. 133, given below). As Abhinava notes, Ravana's desire for Sita is not illicit under his own moral regime. It is no less real than Rama's, and a semblance only for us, not for him (ABh 1.289).

102. Implausibility is the first of Abhinava's hindrances (ABh 1.275), and one of the last of Mammata's "flaws" (KP 7.62, below). Someshvara ad loc. discusses revisions in the Rāmāyana required to meet social normativity, see chapter 4 n. 353). Anandavardhana insists on the poet's obligation to alter a narrative in the interests of rasa (DhĀ p. 334, below).

103. RG, p. 123, below. The semblance or otherwise of rasa in animals is another topic heatedly discussed, especially by Vidyadhara (Ekāvalī p. 106, below) and Singabhupala (RAS p. 297, below), and it is not trivial. Abhinava begins his reconstruction of rasa theory with a discussion of the fear in the doe in AŚ (ABh 1.273, below), which Kuntaka adduces to prove the very absence of rasa (chapter 1 n. 308, below).

104. For rasodaya, -śānti, -sandhi, and -śabalatā, see for example RT chapter 8.

105. Dhà 3.17-19; Avaloka pp. 196-201; KP 7.64, all given below.

106. KP 7.62, below. The poem is cited first in this context by Abhinavagupta (DhĀL p. 362). Compare also Arjunavarmadeva on AmŚ v. 30.

107. Elixir for the Rasika, p. 4, below. See also DhĀ p. 195; Avaloka 4.65; ŚP 11.38; KP 7.6 v. 340.

108. Unattested, however, prior to the mid-seventeenth century.

109. In fact, the NS itself alludes to this (1.113).

110. KASS 4.3-4, below

111. DR 1.6; Bhatta Nayaka fragment #7, below.

112. DhĀL pp. 40-41.