1. Highways and Byways of Literary Criticism Kuppuswami Sastri S

HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS

OF

LITERARY CRITICISM

IN SANSKRIT

BY

Mahamahopadhyaya Prof.

S. KUPPUSWAMI SASTRI, M.A., I.E.S.

THE KUPPUSWAMI SASTRI

RESEARCH INSTITUTE

MADRAS

1945

HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS

OF

LITERARY CRITICISM

IN SANSKRIT

BY

MAHAMAHOPADHYAYA PROF.

S. KUPPUSWAMI SASTRI, M.A., I.E.S.

WITH A FOREWORD

BY

THE RT. HON’BLE V.S. SRINIVASA SASTRI

P.C., C.H., LL.D., D.LITT.

THE KUPPUSWAMI SASTRI

RESEARCH INSTITUTE

MADRAS

1945

Copyright]

[Rs. Two

Printed at The Madras Law Journal Press, Mylapore and Published by

The Kuppuswami Sastri Research Institute, Sanskrit College, Mylapore.

MS—394—9-II-1945.

FOREWORD

I knew when I was flattered into acceptance of the high honour of being President of the Kuppuswami Sastri Research Institute, that I should soon be called upon to perform the difficult tasks of the office, and that then would begin the process of wringing the hands. Here I am now, having to present to the world of scholars a booklet of Mm. Kuppuswami Sastri on The Highways and Byways of Literary Criticism in Sanskrit, and not quite knowing how.

The late Mahamahopadhyaya was master of both branches of learning, the Sastras and the Kavyas, and could teach on the highest level the secrets of both. In fact, the great classic on the topic of dhvani, which could be found only in obscure and inaccurate texts, was by him first examined with care and given to the world in a correct edition.

Of the labour that he bestowed on the rescue and elucidation of this authoritative treatise and of kindred labours in the department of poetics, The Highways and Byways may be said to be the ripe fruit. It surveys with the minute and far-going vision of a master all the problems that beset the path of a critic who is bent on reaching the citadel of poetic excellence.

How lucky he must be to be conducted in this exalted quest by a guide of keen insight and rare renown ! And the way he takes you is not monotonous or thorny, but divagates into twenty different branches, giving picturesque views and glorious examples of the noble art of poesy.

To the young adventurer who would learn how to appraise and enjoy the work of a real kavi, I would say with confidence: “Enter here, you shall have reward you never dreamt of.”

V. S. SRINIVASA SASTRI, President, The K. S. R. I., Madras.

THESE Lectures were delivered by Mm. Prof. S. Kuppuswami Sastri under the auspices of the Annamalai University on

23rd, 24th, 25th and 26th January, 1931.

The authorities of the Kuppuswami Sastri Research Institute are thankful to Sri G. K. Seshagiri, son of the late

Professor, for presenting to the Institute the Manuscript Notes and Typescript Copies of these lectures.

The following scholars were in charge of this publication : Prof. M. Hiriyanna, Prof. K. A. Nilakanta Sastri,

Dr. T. R. Chintamani, Prof. T. Chandrasekhara Dikshitar, and Dr. V. Raghavan.

ERRATA

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6 13 attained

9 5-6 Kāvyālā-pāmśca

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29 26 विधौ

Highways and Byways of Literary Criticism in Sanskrit

FIRST LECTURE

Friends—I introduce myself as one who happens to be one of the friends of the Hon’ble Founder of this University and I also introduce myself as a humble votary of Indian culture and the Indian science, and philosophy of literary criticism in Sanskrit. When I was called upon to undertake the academic duty of delivering a short course of lectures under the auspices of this University, I gladly agreed, mainly for the reason that I expected it would afford me an opportunity to meet almost a family of friends with whom I happen to be intimately connected as former colleague or as former teacher.

From the notification, you must have had some idea of the title which I propose to give to this short course—“Highways and Byways of Literary Criticism in Sanskrit”. I cannot more appropriately inaugurate this short course than by quoting myself:-

“ परस्परसमानसवादप्रथमानसतस्वयोः ।

कविताबुध्योर्योङं नमामि शिवयोर्यथा ॥”

"To the Sivā-śiva synthesis, to the mother-father synthesis, to the woman-man synthesis, I pay homage; just in the same spirit and in the same breath, I do homage to the synthesis of poesy and criticism, of charm and response, of genius and taste, of poet and critic, of kavi and sahrdaya."

In this invocation, which I composed and pre-fixed to my Sanskrit work called Upalocana* and which I have introduced at the beginning of this course of lectures, I am not merely following the trodden track of an old-world votary of Indian culture. I am also throwing out some hint in which some of you at least may find the meaning, nature and scope of the theme of the short course of four lectures which I propose to deliver to you. Recently, I happened to mention to one of my friends the title of the course of lectures which I propose to deliver under the auspices of this University; and as I expected, he remarked it seemed to him an intriguing title. I hope it will not be an intriguing title to you and I hope I shall be able to persuade you to believe that it is not only suggestive but it is also appropriate.

Let me make my ideas somewhat clear by saying a word about the two terms 'highways' and 'byways' which I use in the title. I am using them in their ordinary sense. By 'highway' I

• See the beginning of the Upalocana, by Mahāmahōpadhyāya S. Kuppuswami Sastri on Abhinavagupta's Locana—Part I of the edition of Dhvanyāloka, with Locana, Kaumudi and Upalocana, published by the Kuppuswami Sastri Research Institute, Madras.

understand a public way, a well-known way which one might follow in order to reach some definite aim or some fixed goal; and the word 'byway' is used here deliberately in the sense in which it is ordinarily used and you may associate with it all its implications. It refers to something which may be subsidiary, which may be a sort of side-track, which may be a by-road, which may also be in a sense a short route or a secret route,—a route that is always subordinate to the highway. By examining the literature in Sanskrit bearing on the principles of literary criticism, you can easily distinguish some important highways and some important byways.

To understand the theories and ways of literary criticism, one should understand its scope, its aim, its chief function. The popular view of the function of literary criticism, more especially literary criticism in Sanskrit, is very defective. You may feel what Sanskrit writers have called literary criticism cannot at best rise above the level of what one might easily characterise as dogmatic criticism. Alañkāra śāstra is commonly believed to be a branch of knowledge which deals with figures of speech. Understood in this narrow sense, one might easily say that literary criticism in Sanskrit is at best dogmatic criticism which is tradition-ridden and convention-ridden. It does not help you really to get close (to the heart of the work of art which one might desire to reach. That is one way of looking at the matter. But those who are somewhat intimately acquainted with Sanskrit litera-

ture know that this is not the correct view, The word alankāra should be understood in its wider sense. Vāmana explains the term alankāra to mean saundarya, beauty or literary charm in general. In the light of what Vāmana has said* we suggest an amended name for this śāstra, saundarya śāstra, or even in a more technical fashion, rasa śāstra. Could this be all right? But this involves certainly another danger. It involves the danger of associating literary criticism with certain metaphysical aspects of Aesthetics; it involves the danger of making you stray away far into metaphysical speculations on art.

Modern students of literary criticism, with special reference to alien literatures, like the English literature, are familiar with certain methods of literary criticism such as historical criticism and biographical criticism; and we know that, recently, at least in some quarters, these ways of literary criticism have not been received well. Historical criticism is felt to be defective in this way, that it takes you away from the work of art and makes you move along an inartistic path, investigating the artist’s environment, his age, his race and the poetic school to which he belonged. This method is helpful in certain directions; it is fruitful, it is helpful, as a corrective; but it must be kept within certain limits. What is the position of biographical criticism? That also makes you stray away from the

• “ सौन्दर्यमलङ्कार: ”—Vāmana's Kāvyālańkārasūtra I. i, 2.

work of art and forces you to work on the biography of the poet; and sometimes, when you have not got satisfactory details, you have to work on unsatisfactory biographies, and in that way, your judgment is likely to become clouded by many irrelevant considerations.

But there is another way of literary criticism recognised by moders critics, that is sometimes described as the neo-criticism. It does not look upon the critic as a judge who is to pronounce judgments but looks upon him as “ a sensitive soul detailing his adventures among masterpieces of art”. The neo-critics are, in one word, the critics of the impressionistic school. A great writer* remarks that impressionism and dogmatism may be described as the two sexes of criticism. I hope they may not turn out to be the two warring sexes of criticism, as the two sexes happen to be in certain spheres, in these days. The neo-critic’s way may be described thus in the words of Carlyle: “ Criticism has assumed a new form in Germany. It proceeds on other principles and proposes to itself a higher aim. The main question is not now a question concerning the qualities of diction, the coherence of metaphors, the fitness of metaphors, the fitness of sentiments, the general logical truth in a work of art, as it was some half century ago among most critics; neither is it a question mainly of a psychological sort to be answered by discovering

• J. E. Spingarn. See his “The New Criticism”, New York, 1911.

and delineating the peculiar nature of the poet from his poetry, as is usual with the best of our own critics at present; but it is, not indeed exclusively, but inclusively of its two other questions, properly and ultimately a question of the essence and peculiar life of the poetry itself . . . . The problem is not now to determine by what mechanism Addison composed sentences and struck out similitudes, but by what far finer and more mysterious mechanism Shakespeare organised his dramas and gave life and individuality to his Ariel and his Hamlet. Wherein lies that life; how have they attuned that shape and individuality? Whence comes that empyrean fire which irradiates their whole being and appears at least in starry gleams? Are these dramas of his not veri-similar only, but true; nay, truer than reality itself, since the essence of unmixed reality is bodied forth in them under more expressive similes? What is this unity of pleasures; and can our deeper inspection discern it to be indivisible and existing by necessity because each work springs as it were from the general elements of thought and grows up therefrom into form and expansion by its own growth? Not only who was the poet and how did he compose; but what and how was the poem, and why was it a poem and not rhymed eloquence, creation and not figured passion? “These are the questions for the critic”.*

This is the neo-critic’s way and this is recommended enthusiastically in the twentieth century by certain exponents of neo-criticism and it is recommended

• Quoted by J. E. Spingarn in his “ The New Criticism.”

particularly with a view to removing the antipathy

which has come to be accentuated between the expo-

nents of the creative art and art-criticism.

This adverse attitude towards criticism is

mainly due to the divorce which came to be esta-

blished between the two as a result of certain mis-

apprehensions between the creative side of art and

the function of criticism. But there is no real di-

vorce between the creative side of art and criticism

and there is no real ground for any such divorce. If

we remember what Croce has to say with reference

to the fundamental doctrine on which criticism has

been based, it is easy for us to realise why it would

be unreasonable to recognise any sort of divorce

between criticism and creation. “We should de-

throne the concept that all art is expression; we

should come to the conclusion that all expression

is art”.* This is the corner stone of neo-criticism;

this is the main doctrine, the main text of the ser-

mons of the neo-critics; this is the fundamental

doctrine on which neo-criticism is based.

Exponents of neo-criticism in the West are des-

cribed as impressionistic critics, and impressionis-

tic criticism is not without its disadvantages. It

may be said against it that a critic of the impres-

sionistic school thrusts himself, his own personality,

his own ego, more than necessary upon the

view of the readers, and upon the view of

those who would like to appreciate the work of art.

He seeks to substitute himself in place of the poet,

• Cf. Spingarn, ‘The New Criticism’, p. 19.

in place of the work of art. But the neo-critic may say that this is better than substituting history or metaphysics or politics or biography. At least it may be said in favour of the neo-critic's position, in favour of his impressionistic school, that he endeavours to re-dream the poet's dream, to re-live his life and it may be said in his favour that he strives to replace one work of art by another. This is the central idea in neo-criticism:-that “art can find its alter-ego (other self) only in art”*. If one aspect of art, criticism is also art. If creation is one aspect of art, criticism is another aspect or another phase of art. They are different phases of the same, the one being the inner phase, the other, the outer. A misanthropic philosopher, one who had a keen shrewd philosophic insight, I mean the great Schopenhauer, describes criticism as “the feminine aspect of creation”. Students of the impressionistic school of criticism will find in this a somewhat distorted view of the science and art of criticism. It would be more correct to say that genius and taste are inseparable phases of the same art; it may be more correct to say that poetic genius and taste are related to each other as woman and man.

In the history of Sanskrit literature, particularly that portion of Sanskrit literature which deals with the principles of criticism—and this goes back to a distant antiquity—one cannot see anything like a pronounced antipathy against critics nor against poets. Taking the general trend of Sans-

• Springarn, ' The New Criticism ', p. 6.

krit literature at any stage, I believe, one cannot see

anything like an attempt to divorce criticism from

creation or creation from criticism. Like Plato who

banished poetry from his republic, the Mīmāṁsakas

and the orthdox Vaidikas might say—“Kāvyālā

pāṁśca varjayet”. These are but aberrations from

the normal, even though they are great in other

phases of learning. Excepting these very stray

cases, our history does not show any divorce, does

not show any attempt at divorce between critics

and poets.

The oldest phase of literary appreciation may

be traced back to the Ṛgveda. It is not meant to

suggest that the Ṛgvedic bard was conscious of his

position as a critic; yet it is quite possible that the

bards were also critics without being conscious of it.

In a God-filled or God-intoxicated state of mind,

from the pure fountain of their heart, the Ṛks

flowed and some of them suggest certain ideas about

critics almost in the same vein. Compare that Ṛk

उत स्वः पश्यन्न ददृशे वाचमुत स्वः शृण्वन्न शृणोत्येनाम् ।

उतो त्वस्मै तन्वं विसस्रे जायेव पत्य उशती सुवासाः ॥

VIII. ii. 23. 4.

Poesy reveals herself only to him who understands

her. It is not the critic that praises the poet

here, but the poet that praises the critic. What we

may ordinarily expect is that poets, not infrequently,

take such an attitude towards their productions, as

is very similar to that of parents towards their

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children. They do not like their works to be criti-

cised and criticised adversely. Ripe poets are

ripe critics; only such writers are not too many. In

the Rk quoted above, we have the Vedic bard appre-

ciating the critic.

Now we shall take a leap to the Epics, though

the leap is very big. We are told that Vālmīki is

the Ādikavi. Vālmīki is regarded as the first

genuine poet; it was he who first indicated to the

world the lines on which Indian poesy should pro-

ceed and indicated to the world how to appreciate

Indian poetry and to understand the fundamentals

of Indian poetry. The story describing the origin

of the Rāmāyaṇa is known to all.

पादबद्धोडक्षरसमः तन्त्रीलयसमन्वितः ।

शोकार्तस्य प्रवृत्तो मे श्लोको भवतु नान्यथा ॥

Rāmāyaṇa, I. 2. 18.

Read again the chapter that tells us this story and

we shall find that in Vālmīki, the creative artist and

the art-critic were rolled up and harmoniously

blended into one. In a spontaneous way a beautiful

poem emanates from the fountain of his pathos-

filled heart, and he proceeds to bestow some thought

upon the verse and he pauses and appreciates the

verse. One would think that the closing part of

the chapter is prosaic, but it has a clear lesson to

convey to the world. The creative side of his genius

did its work side by side with the critical side and

he played the role of a critic. The spontaneous

emanation of his pathos-filled heart blooms into

sweet poetry. Note Śoka is itself Śloka. The

Śoka-Śloka equation has played a very great part

in the history of Alañkāra literature and in the

theory of literary criticism in Sanskrit; it has formed

a source of inspiration to the poets and authors of

the Dhvani school of criticism. A fruitful doctrine

of literary criticism came to be enunciated as the

result of the inspiration derived from this Śoka-

Śloka equation. It was an equation which attracted

the attention of Kālidāsa, which he did not choose

to ignore.

तामश्यगच्छदुदितानुसारी कवि: कुशेशधमहारणाय यात: ।

निषादाविद्धाण्डजदर्शनान्तः शोकत्वमापद्यत यस्य शोकः ॥

Raghuvaṁśa, XIV. 70.

It is clear that the great poet was responsible for

advocating a wholesome and harmonious unification

of the two phases of art, namely creation and

criticism.

Then let us come down to a later stage. Let

us see what the prince of Indian poets, what Kāli-

dāsa has to say. In a simple way devoid of all

embellishment, and in his own characteristically

telling manner, in a very appropriate situation, he

makes the same observation and lays down the same

fundamental position; says he:

आ परितोषाद्दिदृक्षां न साधु मन्ये प्रयोगविज्ञानम् ।

बलवदपि शिक्षितानामात्मन्यप्रत्ययं चेतः ॥

Abhijñānaśākuntala, Prastāvanā.

This is a beautiful homage that the greatest artist of India pays to the art-critic. Now by this time, can we not realise that the underlying idea which influenced all these statements was something like this : Art can only find its alter-ego in art-criticism. The creative art can only find its other self in the art of criticism, not in the science of criticism. Let us see what some of the oldest Ālaṅkārikas have to say. It is accepted generally that Bhāmaha is the oldest Ālaṅkārika, the oldest at least among those whose works have come down to us. Says he:

नाकवित्वमधर्मो वा व्याधये दण्डनाय वा । कुकवित्वं पुनरस्साक्षान्मृतिमाहुर्मनीषिणः ॥ Kāvyālaṅkāra, I. 12.

Not to be a poet certainly is not a sin, nor does it make one fall ill or liable to punishment. But what about being a bad poet or bad artist? Not to be an artist, not to make poetry is sufficiently bad; to mar poetry, to injure art, to be a bad artist, it is death itself. As a panacea for kukavitva, Bhāmaha recommends a careful study of the principles of literary criticism. He himself was not merely a great critic, but was also a great poet. The next great figure in the field is Daṇḍin, probably a younger contemporary of Bhāmaha. He also emphasises the same idea in the verse :—

विमन्धस्याधिकारोऽस्ति रूपभेदोपलब्धिषु । Kāvyādarśa, I. 8.

13

It is not only the importance and value of criticism, but the underlying unity of the two aspects of the poetic art that he emphasises. The two aspects are but different phases of the same thing. The same attitude is emphasised by Rājaśekhara, the great poet and critic, who was characterised by a massive intellect and whose writings reveal its massiveness as well as its perversity. He is perhaps a younger contemporary of Ānandavardhana and certainly an elder contemporary of Abhinavagupta. A work of his, Kāvya-mīmāṃsā, published in the Gaekwad Oriental Series, contains some very interesting matter, more especially in his discussion of the nature and value of Pratibhā.

Bhāvakatva represents literary appreciation. Creation and criticism are naturally dependent; they form a single unit which has two phases.

सा (प्रतिभा) च द्विधा कारयित्री भावयित्री च ।

कवेरुपकुर्वाणा कारयित्री ।

भावकस्य उपकुर्वाणा भावयित्री ।

कः पुनर्नयोरभेदो यत्कविर्भावयति,

भावकश्च कविः

इत्याचार्यः । Kāvyamīmāṃsā, pp. 12-13.

We are familiar with gold and the touch-stone. When it so happens that both these are of the same substance, it becomes wonderful. The older names of the science are misleading. One may find appropriate names in such terms as Kāvyāloka, Kāvyādarśa, Kāvyadarpana, etc. These terms also

suggest that creation and criticism do not represent

two distinct things, they are but different phases

of the same thing.

I may at once proceed to draw your attention

to the glorious way in which a synthesis was actually

achieved between these two phases of the poetic art,

namely, creation and criticism. It is the crowning

glory of Indian poets and critics that they have rea-

lised, achieved and established a synthesis between

these two phases. What may be regarded as the ego

and the alter-ego of the same art was synthesised

in a beautiful way and this synthesis was vividly

envisaged both in theory and practice by several

Indian poets and critics like Vālmīki, Kālidāsa,

Bhāmaha, Daṇḍin, Anandavardhana and Abhinava-

gupta. The last of these eminent authors indicates

this beautiful synthesis in the opening verse of his

Dhvanyālokalocana :

अपुर्वं यद्‌द्रस्तु प्रथयति बिना कारणकलां

जगद्‌ग्राह्यप्रशयं निजरसाम्भास्सरयति च ।

क्रमाभद्रद्योःपदाभ्यांप्रसरसुभगं भासयति तत्‌

सरस्वत्यास्तनयं कविसहृदयाह्लादिनयं विजयते ॥

The secret of poetic genius, its full truth, consists

in at once being a poet and a critic, kavi and

sahrdaya, in the synthesis of the creative art and

critical art. Herein lies the great secret.

Who is a sahrdaya? It is not the historical

type of critics, nor the biographical type of critics,

but the type of neo-critics above referred to, that

answers to the sahrdaya described in Alañkāra

śāstra. Sahrdayas are critics whose hearts are

attuned to the work of art and this attunement is

the result of a certain kind of discipline and this

discipline involves constant study and constant

appreciation or criticism and constantly moving in

an atmosphere favourable for the growth of genuine

literature.

येषां काव्यानुशीलनाभ्यासवशाद् विशदीभूते मनोसुकरे

वर्णनीयतन्मयीभावनयोग्यता ते स्वहृदयसंवादभाजः सहृदया:

Dhvanyālokalocana, p. 77, KSRI. edn.

From what has been said so far, it will be found

that Indian poets and critics have achieved a great

synthesis between poesy and criticism, a synthesis

which forms the key to the proper understanding

of the course of Indian poetry and criticism. You

may now be able to appreciate the significance of

the remark which I made at the outset—

कविताबुध्योयोंगं नमामि शिवयोरिव ॥

Now you may proceed to link up this introduction

to the main parts of the subject. I propose to per-

suade you to believe that Sanskrit literature and

literary criticism contain very valuable information

about what I would not hesitate to characterise as

the highway of highways of literary criticism.

What more do you require than this, the synthesis

that I have referred to between the two aspects

of the poetic art under consideration, the creative

side and the critical aspect? In this synthesis you can find not only the key to the scheme of my theme,

but also the greatest highway of highways of literary criticism. I have not hesitated to characterise

it as the highway of highways of literary criticism, because it is a synthesis which is coming to be accepted by the modern critics. To say this, in these

days, would act as a charm, an important charm. For the exponents of neo-criticism in the West,

after so many decades of several thinkers and writers groping in the dark, it was reserved in the twentieth century to emphasise the value of this

synthesis, of following the synthetic method of criticism, and of realising the importance of the unity between the two phases of art—namely crea-

tion and criticism.

In India and in Indian culture, I may at once tell you that the concept of synthesis has always played a very important part. It furnishes you

with the key to so many problems relating to Indian poetry, to Indian philosophy, to Indian religion. The glorious achievement of Indian philosophy

consists in its synthesis. In recent times all speak of the warring creeds and warring religions in

India; particularly politicians of modern times take advantage of a reference to such things. But behind all these apparently warring creeds and reli-

gions, one could easily see that Indian culture always stood for synthesis, which formed as it were a fortress in which our culture

has been securely enshrined and has always kept itself safe. Even sectarian writers and poets are

anxious to emphasise this kind of synthesis every-

where. Take for instance, the great poet Nila-

kanṭha Dīkṣita, who has worked up a beautiful

synthesis between Śaivism and Vaiṣṇavism and

Śaktism.

यदेतद्रामाझं घनजघनकेशासतनभरं

कदाचित्च्च्छम्भोः भवति कमलाकौस्तुभधरम् ।

Nīlakaṇṭhavijayacampū II. 20.

This synthesis then is our great achievement in the

field of religion and philosophy and it is no less such

in the realm of art. In prehistoric times, as also

in historic times, there was always an endeavour to

synthesise the two types of art, Indian and alien, to

accommodate them in the same fold and our his-

torical monuments bear ample testimony to this

spirit. And it is this Indian spirit in favour of

synthesis that is responsible to-day for the tolerant

attitude which India is taking in political matters.

Indian culture is always in favour of synthesis.

If you study the history of Indian culture, you

will always see that its keynote is synthesis, which,

in the realm of spiritual knowledge, was so beauti-

fully worked up by Bhagavān Śrī Kṛṣṇa in his

Bhagavadgītā in expounding the Yoga śāstra of the

Gītā. In the sphere of art and art-criticism you

can similarly see a glorious synthesis of two im-

portant phases of culture, namely, creation and

criticism, creative art and art criticism.

2

18

SECOND LECTURE

Yesterday my endeavour was to persuade you to believe the truth that Art could find its alter-ego in Art itself and the underlying synthesis between creative art and art criticism, between the two phases of pratibhā and how it was achieved both in theory and practice in ancient India by her great poets and critics. It was also there indicated that this synthesis—the glorious synthesis between the kavi and the sahrdaya, which was dimly perceived in this land was first definitely achieved by Vālmīki and later worked up by succeeding generations of poets and critics and allowed to culminate in the master critic Abhinavagupta. To-day it is my endeavour to carry you further and I propose to persuade you to believe that sanskrit literary criticism has achieved still another glorious synthesis in the realm of art. If the synthesis I have already described to you is the highway of highways in the field of literary criticism, to-day I shall speak to you about the synthesis of law and liberty.

I am here tempted to read out a well-known passage from one of the greatest of the modern poets, whose imaginative vision is all-comprehensive and thoroughly Indian—I mean Rabindranath Tagore. “When we come to literature we find that though it conforms to rules of grammar, it is yet a thing of joy, it is freedom itself. The beauty of a poem is bound by strict laws, yet it transcends

them. The laws are its wings, they do not keep it

weighed down, they carry it to freedom. Its form

is in law, but its spirit is in beauty. Law is a first

step towards freedom and beauty is the complete

liberation which stands and shines on the pedestal of

law.”* The passage referred to is prose-poetry and

in a telling and beautiful way, it points out the

synthesis between literary law and literary freedom.

How is this synthesis between law and liberty

achieved? It is achieved through a particular doc-

trine of literary criticism; the achievement of this

synthesis has been rendered possible by the recog-

nition and acceptance of the principle of vyañjanā

—suggestion, though true it is that the acceptance

of this principle has led to a number of wooden

classifications in Sanskrit literature. What is this

vyañjanā? In technical language it may be des-

cribed as an extraordinary significative power

which all works of art possess. In its narrow

sense, what do we understand by it? Yesterday I re-

ferred to the dictum laid down by Benedetto Croce,

the replacement of the concept “ all art is expres-

sion ” by the concept “ all expression is art”. We

have now to remind ourselves of it. In one sense,

even from the point of view of the ordinary speaker,

even an ordinary sentence has some artistic element

in it, and it is the result of the inherent artistic

capacity that every intelligent being possesses.

This idea is developed by a modern scientific writer

• Sādhana, Realisation in Love, pp. 98-9, Macmillan & Co.

Jespersen in a thrilling manner in a recent work of his The Philosophy of Grammar. In all speech, he says there are three distinct things—expression, suppression and impression. It is important to note that impression is often produced by suppression also and suggestion, he says, is impression through suppression. Boredom we have when there is only expression, but it is only a question of degree. You cannot come across any human being of average intelligence, being such a hopeless bore as to express everything. One cannot do it. One has always to suppress something and the greatness of great writers and great speakers is said to lie in the larger or greater degree of suppression. This idea could easily be illustrated by a commonplace example. We go to the railway station and standing at the counter say “Please, a second class ticket to Anna-malainagar”. Even here there is a large amount of suppression. This helps us to realise the full meaning of the definition given by Jespersen that suggestion is impression through suppression.

Vyañjanā is suggestion, that is, suggestion in poetry; and it often means more than that. Poetry comes from a principle of suggestion. Even in ordinary sentences the element of suppression cannot be avoided. This truth was long ago recognised in India by the Naiyāyikas, who in their anxiety to be absolutely precise by expressing everything have become real bores and everywhere they inflict their hopeless boredom. They are precise, they want to measure thought quantitatively and so use

the various and varied formulas* such as avaccheda, avacchinna etc., and in every sentence of theirs these formulas are used to the best of their ability, so that they might express everything they want, and leave no scope for carrying any impression through suppression. Even they, however, cannot escape from the inevitable nature of language. In spite of their formulas, there is yet a residual element in a sentence which refuses to be expressed—the residual element of artistic sense inherently available in every being. Now let us illustrate this position. Taking an ordinary sentence, let us enquire whether it expresses anything which is not expressed by its constituent elements. That is to say, does the sentence express anything over and above the meaning of the words which compose the sentence? The answer is inevitably ‘yes’. The relation between the various words is unexpressed and the question naturally arises, how is this idea conveyed? Samsarga they say is vakyartha. How is this samsarga conveyed? It is mysterious and has not yet been satisfactorily explained. In sentences we have a juxtaposition of words and the element of the relation between the words is conveyed, we have to say, by suppression; in other words, the essential part of every judgment is conveyed by suppression. Now the question is, how is this conveyed? The philosophers are not artists and naturally they have strongly differed from the

• These formed the subject of a course of lectures of Mm* Prof. S. Kuppuswami Sastri—Thought-measuring Devices in Indian Dialectics—delivered under the auspices of the Madras University in 1929.

Ālaṅkārikas and vehemently criticised their principles. They accept samsarga but they say that samsarga is not something suggested and would hide their answer by a technical expression ‘sam-sargamaryādayā avabhāsate’; and this element they later describe as the element of suppression in conveying judgment. The life of speech consists in this suppressed element and the greater the life that art has, the greater is the suppressed element in it. Ālaṅkārikas have developed the scheme of suppression. From all this we come to understand that vyañjanā is not the peculiar discovery of critics, and that it is a principle accepted and recognised by every student of philosophy, of logic and of language. It is a principle raised to the rank of a special principle, an important doctrine in the realm of literary appreciation. Poetic art is a superior kind of art and in this art, this principle is employed to a very large extent and the acceptance of this principle renders possible the synthesis beween law and liberty. In the first place, it is easily seen that this establishes a sort of connection between expression and impression, between the speaker and the hearer. On the other side, this principle can be developed in the light of a second equation. On the one side there is the artist’s mind, the aesthetic sense of artistic expression and on the other there is the art itself. There is also a third equation, the reader or the sahrdaya. And the synthesis may be connected with these three important factors. On the part of the artist, there is much scope for anticipatory imagination, and on the part of the sahrdaya there is scope for antici-

patory realisation. Now what is the connecting

link or relation between the two? It is the poetic

expression and this may be described as a bridge

which carries the art from the kavi to the sahrdaya

and this bridge is composed of the element of sug-

gestion.

Law in the sphere of poetic art reduces itself

to the numerous literary rules. In the same sphere,

liberty is to be understood as the principle which

determines the free play of the artist's genius.

What harmonises the attitude of the poet and the

attitude of the critic is vyañjanā or suggestion; in

the absence of this suggestion either art will groan

under the weight of the doctrines of literary appre-

ciation or it will run riot. In this way, the principle

of suggestion may be understood to establish a

synthesis between law and liberty.

In this connection we may also profitably con-

sider another matter. This principle has also made

it possible to achieve a beautiful synthesis between

the two important factors of life, speech and

thought, sound and sense. In the ancient poetic

literature and in the works of old Ālaṅkārikas, one

could easily see the great importance attributed to

this syuthesis between śabda and artha. The

ancient Indian culture looks upon śabda and artha

as an inseparable pair representing the father and

mother of the world. The simple maṅgala-śloka

with which Kālidāsa opens his immortal epic,

Raghuvamśa, is very significant in this direction,

very forcible and telling. It is not to be misunder-

stood, as the verse of a Vaidika introduced without

a purpose. It suppresses, conceals behind it a very

great truth for artists and critics. Here the

greatest literary artist of India pays homage to the

symbol of śabda and artha in the world and seeks

to obtain that adequate appreciation of that ample

and full synthesis between sound and sense, an

appreciation which every genuine artist must

possess. The phrase “vāgarthapratipattaye” does

not merely connote the acquisition of the words and

their meanings—this is a very small thing which

could easily be acquired through kośas as in olden

days and through dictionaries as in modern days.

Here the poet is seeking to equip himself with that

important synthesis of sound and sense which every

literary artist must have. Without this synthesis,

a genuine artist cannot produce a genuine work of

art.

Genuine poetry is always looked upon as

spontaneous emanation from a rasa-filled heart.

A beautiful thought clothes itself in a beautiful

garb without any conscious effort on the part of

the poet. This is the highest test of true poetry.

Another writer, Bhavabhūti, remarks:

लोकिकान् हि साधूनामर्थ वागनुवर्तते ।

ऋषीणां पुनराद्यानां वाचमर्थोऽनुधावति ॥

Uttararāmacarita, I. 10.

It is an oft-quoted, probably a hackneyed verse, but

it embodies a great truth. Consider this verse in

the light of the point of view we have been empha-

sising. The underlying idea is the complete har-

mony betweeen sound and sense. Sense is always

aggressive; and in the hands of an ordinary man, it

shapes its language. But in the case of gifted

people, gifted artists, sense follows sound. The

term ‘rsi’ is to be understood in the sense of a

gifted artist. Another gifted literary critic who

is said to have been a teacher of Abhinavagupta, I

mean Bhaṭṭa Tauta, remarks that kavi and ṛṣi are

synonyms. " नानुचिः कविरित्युक्तम् ". Prophets and

poets are made of the same stuff and their vision is

identical. Shelley remarks that painters and poets

would not fail to apprehend this vision How is

this effected in poetic expression? It is, as I have

already stated, by the principle of vyañjanā. The

secret is suggestion. Sound and sense cannot be

harmonised except through suppression. Mecha-

nically speaking, that is purely from the linguistic

point of view, it would mean that the two could not

be harmonised. The relation between śabda and

artha has been and is a riddle and the difference

becomes accentuated when this great principle is

forgotten. Articulation is the result of certain ad-

justments of the speech mechanism, and sense is

quite different from this. Thus organically the

two cannot be harmonised. It is the artistic

instinct of suppression that serves as the connecting

link, bridges over the gulf between the two entirely

distinct things, śabda and artha. Thus in this field

also we find that this principle is very important.

This now leads us to a consideration of certain

other principles representing certain other highways

of literary criticism. We are aware of the fact

that literary art or an expression of literary art

involves two important aspects—form and content.

Every artist has to pay special attention to

literary form and literary content. Now what is

literary form, and what is literary content? This

again leads us to the old synthesis of śabda and

artha. What is literary form? Indian critics have

analysed literary form and they have laid down that

this consists of śabda and artha, or śabda and

certain types of artha. Ordinary words grouped in

an artistic way with some ideas, that is,

vākyārtha—primary sense—constitute form. This

alone, of course, will not do. It must be bright,

free from defects etc. The other elements asso-

ciated with form are technically referred to as

gunas, alankāras, ritis etc. The term alankāra

stands for decorative devices. Guna is a term un-

translatable. It is not merely quality or merit, but

something more; a new rūdhi must be established

before these words could be accepted. Riti cannot

again be identified with style merely. This is a

very vague term. Does it refer to ways of group-

ing words or thought? It is not very clear. In a

general way riti may be equated with style, for both

are vague. I have devised a pedantic phrase which

is probably the nearest approximation to the ideas

expressed by the term guna, ways of collocation;

collocation of ideas or sense and of words

approaches guna. It must be remembered that it

is not merely collocation of words and ideas re-

ferred to here but the artistic collocation of artistic

śabda, artha, absence of defects, presence of bright-

ness, riti, guna and alankāra, these constitute lite-

rary form.

27

Now what about content? The sense which

is beautiful, the sense that is charming constitutes

content. A careful examination of our great works

of art and our views and modes of appreciation

would reveal this important fact—on one side the

various aspects of form synthesise, and on the other

the various aspects of content synthesise. And

this has been rendered possible by the doctrine of

dhvani which sums up the synthesis of all con-

ceivable modes of literary appreciation.

औचितीमनुधावन्ति सर्वे ध्वनिरसोदयाः।

गुणालङ्कृतरीतीनां नयाश्वानुजवाड्मया: ॥

Block lent by Dr. V. Raghavan.

28

The above-mentioned graph will form a key to the whole position. Dhvani, rasa and unnaya, these three stand for three important schools of thought in Sanskrit literary criticism. Dhvani is vyanjanā. Rasa is a highway of criticism not only for Indian literature but also for the study of European literature, a sure and certain method. Emphasising rasa, one school accepts dhvani or suggestion, while another school accepts rasa, emphasising unnaya. Dhvani, the latter say, is a sort of inference, a quick anticipatory way of inference. These three run after aucitya. Guṇas, alankāras and rītis, these are emphasised in special ways. Are rītis and guṇas different? They are recognised as different in Alankāra śāstra. Anrjuākā means vakrokti. This also runs after aucitya.

The graph also represents their historical inter-relation. The bigger circle encloses the bigger triangle which stands for aucitya which may be termed as ‘adaptation’ to be understood in its philosophical sense. Adaptation is understood in this sense as standing for the perfect harmony which parts bear to each other and to the whole. Dhvani, rasa and unnaya or anumāna obviously refer to the literary content, i.e., artistic thought, whereas guṇas, alankāras and rītis refer to the literary form.

Now what is vakrokti? Some have translated it as eccentric expression. This is a monstrosity. In a simple way, it may be understood as deviation in expression from the commonplace. This deviation may be due to various causes, but when the deviation is effective, it is termed vakrokti. On

the side of expression, the inner circle refers to vakrokti and guṇas. Alankāras and ritis are comprised within it. Aucitya represents the great synthesis of rasa, dhvani and anumāna and what is more, both form and content. Rasa, dhvani and anumāna, because they deal with a sphere of content, are bigger, more important, more comprehensive than the sphere of form.

If speech fulfils its purpose, there ought to be some amount of suppression. Hence naturally thought is wider than speech. Philosophically also this is true. If one must be thinking, he must think in language. If this be so, and so far as we know it is so, can it be said that thought and speech are co-extensive? We have seen what the answer should be. And Indian metaphysicists hold that thought is always wider, more comprehensive than speech. If this is so in ordinary parlance, it is expressly and definitely so in the field of literary art. As a fiction, they are taken as co-extensive in one field, that is the field of law, both ancient and modern. The Mīmāṃsakas assume that thought and form are co-extensive. But it remains only an assumption; in actual practice this view is always given up. The assumption is that vidhi is straightforward न विष्ठो परः शब्दार्थः : this is an attitude that is totally inimical to literary criticism. In this field, we accept that thought is always wider than form;* if not, the world would have been

• 1. This is signified in the graph by the triangle of rasa-dhvani-unnaya representing content, enclosing within itself vakrokti, rīti, guṇa and alaṅkāra, representing form.

deprived of the pleasure of art; in the field of art,

they are never co-extensive. This great synthesis

of form and content is the greatest of our achieve-

ments in the realm of art and that we have been able

to achieve through the doctrine of vyañjanā.

The graph also helps us to understand the

various highways of literary criticism. Rasa-

paddhati is the oldest and the most permanent; the

most imperial highway of literary appreciation, the

way of the great critic-artists Vālmīki, Kālidāsa,

the way of the great art-critics, Bharata, Ānanda-

vardhana and Abhinavagupta. Historically also

this is true. For if Vālmīki is the father of poetry

and criticism, rasapaddhati becomes the most an-

cient highway of literary appreciation. Dhvani

and anumāna are placed side by side at the base

of the triangle, because one cannot call one older

than the other. The leading exponent of the dhvani

theory presupposes the anumāna theory and criti-

cises it. It appears therefore possible that these

two highways must have existed coevally.

Mahimabhaṭṭa is not the discoverer of anumāna

paddhati. In the inner triangle the same historical

sequence is observed. Bhāmaha, the oldest Ālan-

kārika available emphasises alankāra, while Daṇḍin

and Vāmana emphasise respectively guṇa and rīṭi.

These two authors are not far separated in time

and therefore they are placed in the foot of the

triangle. Further Bhāmaha throws out valuable

hints regarding vakrokti, even though it was re-

served for Kuntaka to systematically develop it.

31

According to Bhāmaha, literary form and thought consist of vakrokti:

सैषा सर्वैव वक्रोक्तिरनयार्थो विभाव्यते ।

Kāvyālankāra, II. 85.

Thus it will be found that the vakrokti-synthesis which is less important only than the aucitya-synthesis is older than the three other literary forms, guṇa, alaṅkāra and rīti.

32

THIRD LECTURE

From my remarks yesterday, you should have easily gathered that we prepared ourselves to move along the highway of vyañjanā. We also equipped ourselves with a graph towards the end of the last lecture which would enable us as a guide, more or less as a typographical guide, on the highway of vyañjanā and would enable us not to miss the prominent things and not to miss particularly the links which connect the byroads or the byways with this highway. Tonight I propose to amplify certain remarks I made about the principles of vyañjanā.

In fact, it may be regarded as the central principle of literary criticism in Sanskrit, it may be regarded as the pivotal doctrine round which the whole scheme of art-criticism in Sanskrit revolves. Now what is the secret of this principle? In a prosaic way, as I told you yesterday, it may be rendered by the term ‘suggestion’; and as to what suggestion is, I would like to remind you of the definition given by Jespersen: “Suggestion is impression through suppression.” It is the suppressive element that is important in suggestion. We should also remind ourselves in this connection of the general principles laid down by Croce that all expression is art, not only poetical expression but all expression is art. One cannot, however low may be one’s civilization or culture, provided one is equipped with some medium of expression, one cannot get away from being an artist in framing sentences. Now the principle of vyañjanā is suggestion in poetry. Is it that

which is not fundamentally different from the principle of suggestion in a sentence, is it merely the

suggestion that we see in ordinary sentences? It is not merely that. It represents the centre of

charm in poetry, the soul of charm in poetry and so it is not merely the suggestion we find in ordinary

sentences. Then what is the secret of the force of vyañjanā as an artistic principle? I refer to

the suppressed element in the case of suggestion. Why should there be a suppressed element at all

even in ordinary sentences? We wish to create a minimum degree of interest possibly in the minds of

hearers. Without interesting the hearers to some extent at least, we cannot create anything like a

desirable impression on the minds of the readers. Even to attract attention, a minimum degree of

interest we should provide, and the element of supression is necessary. Now this element of

supression may be enhanced in its value, this element of suppression may be intensified, may be

improved upon in various ways; in poetic expression, it is this element of suppression and the prin-

ciple of suggestion that rests upon it that prove all important. In fact it was discovered in the 9th

and 10th centuries A.D. by Ānandavardhana and Abhinavagupta that this is the centre, the source

of poetic charm. Well, what is the secret of this attraction? What is the secret of this force? Some

people would say that there is an element of novelty in vyañjanā or suggestion. The suggested idea is

envisaged with a certain degree of novelty. What is suppressed and let out, and what is suppressed

and suggested may appear novel, may appear new

3

or may be envisaged with a certain outlook of freshness for the time being. Is it this element that is the real source of attraction? I do not think it is the real source of attraction. It is suggested by a Sanskrit writer that there is scope for some sort of intellectual quest in the process of vyañjanā, quest provided it leads to conquest; and intellectual quest in vyañjanā certainly leads to some conquest. Now these two things, quest and conquest, are enough to create some interest. Well, is it because of the scope for quest and conquest that we have in vyañjanā that it proves to be attractive? There is some truth in this explanation but it is not the whole truth. The same idea is expressed in some works on Sanskrit poetics in another way. Something is concealed for the time being; and concealing for a moment and withholding from your view might tend to enhance the degree of charm; like distance, concealing and withholding might lead to enhance its charm: gūḍham sat camatkāroti. Like the charms of an attractive beauty which do not obtrude upon notice in an immodest way, but which are presented through a veil and in a properly concealed fashion, like the physical charms of a modest beauty then, the suggested element when it is presented, when it is disclosed after some degree of concealment, proves to be attractive. This is also true to some extent. But it is only a poetic way of presenting the other explanation. There is scope for quest and conquest here. But the fact is, as far as I have been able to gather, that vyañjanā makes it possible for art, for every suggestive art, to re-live its life in itself through a purely

artistic process and to find its fulfilment and con-

summation in a definitely artistic purpose. That

is the secret of the force of the whole charm of

vyañjanā.

This requires amplification, and an amplification

of this statement may involve a review of the whole

literature on Sanskrit poetics from the point of

view of vyañjanā. We may take a long and com-

prehensive view of the whole literature from this

standpoint. Let us take this statement in parts and

proceed to consider it. Vyañjanā is a wholly sug-

gested, a wholly artistic, process. Can we not say

that it is an intellectual process? Yes, in the

language of the logic-ridden phraseology of the

Ālaṅkārikas. Or can we not say in the technical

sense of the logicians that it has a power attracted

towards it? All these technicalities could be intro-

duced in the course of a discussion of the nature of

vyañjanā and of a discussion of its place in art

criticism. We have to remember in this connection

one important fact. Such a view would enable you

to see how to study in detail the learned criticisms

in the Alaṅkāra śāstras and also how to study in

detail all the discussions of relevant topics of this

principle, namely vyañjanā in art criticism. Many

of you may be familiar with the learned arguments

that are adduced to show that vyañjanā or sugges-

tion is not the ordinary prima facie significatory

power which words possess. It is not the primary

power by virtue of which words or expressions or

phrases or sentences convey their prima facie

meaning. Well, in a majority of instances we are

36

even using expressions in a secondary sense, we are using so many words in a secondary sense. And can we not bring vyañjanā or suggestion under the category of some secondary significatory power? Secondary significatory power is a sort of fiction which we have introduced in the philosophy of interpretation for purposes of convenience, the result of the superimposition of a certain subjective aspect made intentionally and consciously by the subject upon the expression that is used. You find a certain statement made and some phrases are loosely used, some expressions do not admit of strict interpretation, and consistently with the context, consistently with what you know about the intention of the speaker, and consistently also with the general aim that is kept in view, you interpret and you seek to correctly interpret and to interpret him generously and favourably. Hearers are always supposed to be generous, except probably those who are to consider or interpret law. Other hearers are always supposed to be generous. A certain amount of generosity in interpretation is necessary in all inter-communication of thought. Life will not be worth living, if every hearer should insist upon exact precision and exact accuracy in every statement that you make in ordinary conversation. In writing even, it is possible only with due limitations. Now under such circumstances in order to find out the intention of the speaker, we take some of the phrases loosely used by him in a certain sense which those phrases do not primarily possess. Some hackneyed examples are cited in this connection. Take for instance a hamlet on the Ganges—we

interpret it as a hut on the banks of the Ganges. Well, in such cases consistently with the context you reinterpret such phrases in a different way and the interpretation which you put upon them is attributed to some secondary significatory power which the phrase is supposed to possess. Well, can vyañjanā or suggestion be brought under that? No; the reason is this: you deliberately resort to a certain process of interpretation, because you feel some difficulty in understanding the phrase in its literal sense. The phrase used cannot be construed strictly and your conscious experience of some hitch or difficulty is at the root of the secondary interpretation that is adopted. That is what I mean when I say that it is a sort of fiction which you create for purposes of interpretation. That is not suggestion. Behind that, however, there is another element. Well, fancy for a moment that the speaker who uses such a phrase uses it in that way with a purpose and in a deliberate manner, not as a result of some lapse. As it is, he deliberately uses the phrase then in a secondary sense. You are not justified in assuming that the speaker is a fool or thinking loose, that he has not got sufficient control over language to make himself intelligible in a direct and straightforward manner. You assume that he is a master of language. Under these circumstances there must be some object, some purpose the speaker must have in view in adopting this secondary mode of expression. He must have something in view, some purpose or prayojana in view. What is it he wishes to suggest? He wishes to go a step further on the path of suppression. He wishes to conceal

from the point of view for a little while a certain idea and at the same time he wishes that that idea should be understood in an agreeable way. It is in this context you can easily see what the idea might be. As it is, the speaker wishes to suggest that the hut is pure, it is holy because it is situated on the bank of the river Gaṅgā and it is very close to it, As it is, he wishes to emphasise the idea of the proximity to the river and so many other things that may be associated with its close proximity. That element is left to be gathered from the context and that element is left to be suggested; that element is not conveyed for the moment by the expression itself. This is vyañjanā. This gives rise to a furious controversy in the philosophy of Alaṅkāra śāstra between the Ālaṅkārikas and the logicians. Well, why should not this element be brought under inference? It may be the case of an agreeable type of inference. Call it inference or call it suggestion, you cannot say that it is a regular type of syllogising, you cannot say that it is a regular type of syllogistic inference, you may treat it as a sort of immediate inference. A degree of mediacy is an essential feature of inferential process. Mediacy is the characteristic feature of inference and here in suggestion one feels that the degree of mediacy that is necessarily characteristic of inference is wanting, and we feel that there is a certain degree of immediacy which does not entitle us to bring it under inference. As a result, this process is taken to be a process associated with artistic expression itself but not with an ordinary process; it is taken to be an extreme

process and it is described by Ālańkārikas as lokottara. In the course of the technical discussion of the nature of this vrtti, one is apt to forget the essential characteristic of the process called vyañjanā. One is likely to be carried away by the glorifying description of the character of vyañjanā. It is an extraordinary process. Abhinavagupta exalts this process as something extraordinary.* Why is it lokottara? The simple idea behind the phrase lokottara is this—it is essentially an artistic process; it is not a laukika process, it is not a process of the ordinary life, it is not the inartistic process with which we are familiar in this work-a-day world in our every-day task—it is an essentially artistic process. That is why it is described by the Ālańkārikas as a lokottara-vrtti and it is an artistic process for various reasons.

To appreciate adequately why vyañjanā should be regarded as an essentially artistic process, you have to look at it from various points of view, and I propose to help you in looking at it from certain points of view. It is an essentially artistic process as it involves suppression, not of the everyday type but of the agreeable type. It is an essentially artistic process because it gives us an impression, not the ordinary commonplace impression which sentences give, not the impression of the craftsman-like or mechanical type but a delicate impression described as artistic thrill. It is an essentially

• See Locana, KSRI. edn. pp. 105—132.

artistic process because it enables you to feel that you have done with certain matters with which students of Alañkāra śāstra are already familiar. It enables you to feel that you have done with the compartmental slicing of Sanskrit literature into literary genera such as epic, lyric, the material, the non-material and so on. It enables you thus to feel that you have done with this sort of compartmental slicing up of literature and it enables you to take the right view of poetic art and view it as an organic and complete expression and put the right question which you should put to yourself in matters connected with literary production. Well, what is the right question which you should put to yourself? The question to be put is not what is the type under which it should be brought, not whether it conforms to certain time-honoured traditional classifications recognised by the classical school of critics, not whether it conforms to rules deduced from such classification, not whether it conforms to the dead weight of the technique—that is not the right question to put, but the right question to put is what this artistic specimen expresses and how far it expresses it well and artistically? That is the right type of question to put. This point of view was emphasised adequately for the first time by certain Kashmirian critics under the leadership of Anandavardhana, a great exponent of the dhvani school. Prior to Anandavardhana critics were carried away by the excesses of classification in Sanskrit literary criticism. Anandavardhana flourished in the later part of the 9th century. If anybody before Ananda-

vardhana investigated and envisaged the fruitfulness of this principle, namely the principle of

suggestion, and vividly realised the importance of this principle being raised to the rank of the central

principle of literary criticism, it was Vālmīki himself, the father of Sanskrit poetry, and Kālidāsa

who followed Vālmīki in so many respects. Among the professional writers on literary criticism in

Sanskrit, there is sufficient evidence to show that none clearly realised the importance of this principle before Ānandavardhana. This artists realised;

the art critics were unconsciously biased in favour of this principle and they unconsciously

recognised the importance of this principle but they never intentionally did anything

to popularise this principle, to elucidate it and to explain and illustrate it; and we owe this great

contribution to the genius of Anandavardhana, that great artist and art critic.

It was he who inaugurated a certain way of classifying specimens of poetic art on the

basis of this principle; in fact, it was he that was responsible for the re-classification of poetic

expression under three heads. The three heads in Alaṅkāra literature are not very suggestive except to those who are familiar with

the implications behind the names. The names are uttama, madhyama and adhama. Thus anybody

who proceeds to classify, if he wishes to be satisfied with a simple classification, is attracted by the convenience which the three-fold division affords in

every branch of knowledge, in Philosophy, in Logic

and in other branches of knowledge also—the two extremes and something to represent the middling. Well, that is convenient and it’s this convenience that induced Ānandavardhana to adopt this tripartite division. You should understand the implications behind this division of art as uttama, madhyama and adhama. That specimen of poetry should be regarded as the best specimen, uttama, which allows the suggested element to reign supreme; it never lets itself to be subordinated to anything else—that should be regarded as the kāvya of the best type. What about madhyama kāvya? That specimen in which the suggested element is not raised to the supreme rank, is not allowed to reign supreme, and is either co-ordinated with some other element or subordinated to it but is at the same time allowed to preserve its minimum degree of agreeableness and beauty and attractiveness—that is regarded as the madhyama. And then there are certain specimens of art which may be described as the result of amusing diversion in which poetic geniuses indulge either at the stage of practice or even after reaching the stage of perfection as a sort of amusement. They are readily described as lifeless citras in poetry and such specimens give prominence only to certain attractive features of literary form, and under such attractive features the beautiful suggested element is allowed to lie buried. Well, that is regarded as adhama.

Ānandavardhana himself suggests that this re-classification is only a tentative device which he has suggested as a challenge to the traditional

classification of literature into various genera, to

the traditional method of compartmental slicings

and cuttings. He indicates how the unity of poetry

could be preserved by fixing your attention upon

the central principle of vyañjanā. You make it

the leading principle of art criticism, adopt it as

the source of literary charm and you can use it as

a magic wand. If you wish to appraise better you

can do so, you can do so without giving offence to

anybody and you can do so to your own advantage.

In that way, in this scheme he proposes to provide

the world of readers with a convenient and flexible

scheme of classification. It is a scheme which

should not be adopted as a rigid scheme of classifi-

cation by students. Some commentators and some

traditional writers who came after Ānandavardhana

were labouring under the misapprehension that he

intended that this scheme should be adopted as an

inflexible or rigid scheme of classification. Some-

times great masters provide the world with certain

devices, and these devices are misused. Great

artists provide the world with certain devices and

with certain materials, and their followers come to

attach greater importance to the material than to

the purpose itself. In that way, later writers,

in the spirit of cavilling critics, proceeded to

find fault with Ānandavardhana for giving an

elastic or unnecessarily flexible scheme of classifi-

cation which involves a lot of overlapping. It

is not for purposes of a strict classification

that Ānandavardhana provided the world of

readers with this scheme. He never intended it

to be a logical scheme. His scheme of classifi-

cation is not intended to satisfy the demands

of strict logic. It is more a challenge to the tradi-

tional process of slicing and cutting. It is more a

challenge to the tradition-ridden critics. In that

way, we have to understand; and he himself makes

it clear towards the end of his work. He indicates

how this scheme could be re-arranged and could be-

re-exhibited in a slightly different fashion.

Take for instance what is known as the excel-

lent specimen and compare it with what, in a techni-

cal sense, may be brought under madhyama kāvya

or a specimen of the middling type. Compare these

two, you will find that you are likely to feel that

Ānandavardhana has done a grave injustice to these

two types. In this connection I should like to draw

your attention to two specimens.

सुवर्णपुष्पां पृथिवीं चिन्वन्ति पुरुषाश्रयः ।

शूरक्ष कृतविद्यक्ष यक्ष जानाति सेवितुम् ॥

This was brought under the first class. The sug-

gestion is allowed to reign supreme here. Three

classes of people are able to gather gold, as one

would be able to gather flowers wherever they go.

They are in prosperity everywhere. That is the

suggested idea. Who are these three classes of

people? (1) The brave person, the courageous

person, one who is endowed with genuine valour,

(2) the scholar who has stuied well and who has

assimilated what he has studied and (3) one

who knows how to serve one’s master. These

three classes of people, wherever they go, thrive well. Now the simple idea that is suggested is that they meet with prosperity everywhere. That is not expressed in a straightforward way. That is certainly a suggested idea. That is allowed to reign supreme and for that reason it is uttama kāvya and so comes under the first rank. Now place it on one side and compare it for instance with another beautiful specimen which is likely to be brought under the technical madhyama type.

अनुरागवती सन्ध्या दिवसस्तपुपस्सरः ।

अहो दैवगतिः कीदृक् तथापि न समागमः ॥

The evening twilight is endowed with rāga, is endowed with red colour. Her lover, the day, goes before her and quite close to her and love is reciprocated. What a fatality it is that they never come together! They are so anxious to marry each other, they are so anxious to be completely united with each other, but their desire is never allowed to fulfil itself and is never realised. The obvious meaning here is the relation between the Sandhyā and Divasa and behind it there is a suggested idea. The suggested idea is the relation of two lovers who reciprocate each other’s love but who are never allowed to be united with each other. Such a relation is described by the prince of Indian poets, by Kālidāsa, as reaching the supreme moment of the most spiritual aspect of love.* It is that aspect of

• Mālavikāgnimitra III. 15, Anāţurotkanţhitayoh, etc.

coming together and separation, of complete reci-

procation without fulfilment or consummation, it

is this that represents the supreme spiritual moment

of love. The supreme spiritual moment of love

does not consist in the carnal consummation that

follows. And students of rasa know that śṛngāra

or love is essentially spiritual as conceived by

Indians and in Indian culture. It is never carnal,

it may be exhibited in certain external aspects, it

may look like something connected with the carnal

aspect. It is yet always spiritual, and the essential

feature of love is self-effacement and not self-

aggression, not self-aggrandisement. The Indian

conception of love is never to possess and is always

to efface oneself and to forget oneself. That is

why it is raised to the rank of a vehicle which can

freely reach to God. Now in this aspect of love

one could find something very attractive. Those

who are sufficiently responsive to rasa cannot miss

the central idea in the suggested part of this verse.

But still what is the position of that suggested

idea? It is assigned a somewhat subordinate rank.

It appeals certainly far better and with greater

force than the idea on the surface. That

is true. But what is the rank that is assigned to

it? The intention of the poet is to describe Sandhyā

and Divasa; from the context you have to assume

that. In describing Sandhyā and Divasa, he

has produced a work of art. A work of

art, the moment it leaves the artist's hands, is

the property of art-critics. We are not at all bound

to interpret art in the same manner in which the

artist himself intended it to be interpreted. That

is the way of every good work of art, but still when

we pay some attention to the context and so long

as we are alive to the details of the circumstances

under which this particular specimen of art was

produced, we are hopelessly in the grip of historical

criticism; and so long as we are within

the grip of historical criticism, we have to realise

that the position that is assigned to the suggest-

ed element is a subordinate position. Though we

know from the circumstances of the case that the

artist intends to present the idea beautifully, he

seeks to present it by linking it up with some situa-

tion, with some spiritual situation, and it is very

attractive. In that way he uses more or less as a

decorative device the suggested element behind

the prima facie sense. When we review the above

classification, we can legitimately say that some

injustice is done to this specimen. Compare

it with the first verse. It has got a didactic

element in it; it is an ennobling specimen; but ethics

no longer regulates the standards of literature; it

is the moral standard that regulates literary appre-

ciation here. How to meet objections of this type?

How to remove this injustice? Anandavardhana

himself indicates how you might remove this appa-

rent injustice.

There is another way of looking at the

whole matter, and Anandavardhana himself in

this connection was readily understood and inter-

preted by a learned critic, Panditarāja Jagannātha.

He suggests a sort of amendment to this classifi-

cation. In suggesting an innocent amendment, he

does not improve upon this classification but simply

brings out what Ānandavardhana himself sought to

explain towards the end of his work. This divi-

sion recognises four classes instead of three—

uttamottama, uttama, madhyama, and adhama.

Bring it at least under uttama; just for the fault

which the poet has committed in reducing the sug-

gested element to a subordinate rank, he has to pay

some penalty, and instead of calling it uttamottama,

reduce it to the rank of uttama. But we may be

excused when we refuse to take into consideration

the circumstances under which the poet himself

might have produced this specimen from the

aesthetic point of view which the art critic has to

adopt. Now when we proceed to review this and

when we proceed to re-examine its character, it ap-

peals to us and sometimes it appeals to us with

greater force than specimens of the first type.

Ānandavardhana himself towards the close of his

work indicates the reason. The reason which he

gives is this: Behind all this, there is an element

of rasa. On the surface, so long as you are in

the grip of historical criticism, you may be able to

reach only the suggested element. But behind all

this there is an element of rasa and it is this path

of suggestion which leads you to the inner shrine.

When you go there, you forget what you found

outside and you lose yourself in it. Then it is not

madhyama. This idea is again expressed, eluci-

dated and beautifully exemplified by Panditarāja.

The beauty consists in its pathetic appeal to the

sahrdaya. Specimens like this appeal in a pathetic

way to responsive minds. What is the cause of

49

this pathetic appeal? Says he: dāsyam anubhavad rājakalatramiva (Rasagangādhara p. 17). The whole pathos is to be found in the imprisonment of the suggested idea. What is the cause of the pathetic appeal in a queen who is in prison, of a glorious powerful empress who does not deserve to be thrown into prison and who is imprisoned for the moment, who is placed in the wrong place—the whole pathos of the situation, the whole appealing force of the situation, is to be found in that it is a queen that is imprisoned there. It is the suggested idea, it is the suggested element that is imprisoned in the external. The spiritual force of the pathetic appeal of a great person who is thrown into prison can be easily appreciated at this moment, for instance, when we think of the Yerawada Jail. This suggestion or vyañjanā enables you to see that the right question to put is not what rules does the work of art conform to, but what has the work of art expressed, and how is it expressed.

50

FOURTH LECTURE

This will be, friends, the concluding lecture of

the short course which I undertook to deliver under

the auspices of this University. I would request

you to march on, to continue to march on through

the highway of vyañjanā or artistic suggestion.

You will have an opportunity to see its full abiding

promise, and it will enable you to see many more

things. I have to remind you of what I said the

other day about the nature of the artistic process

called vyañjanā. Vyañjanā or artistic suggestion

is a process which makes it possible for art to re-

live itself in a purely artistic way and to find its

fulfilment and consummation in a genuinely artistic

purpose, namely rasa. We were able to consider

certain aspects of this matter yesterday. I would

again repeat that vyañjanā is a superior type of

artistic process because it enables you to feel that

you have, or can very well afford to have, done with

the formal distinctions of guṇas, alainkāras etc.

It enables you to effect a synthesis of all these

formal elements in vakrokti. In one word, it

enables you to synthesise law and liberty.

Now you will see how it enables you to

synthesise law and liberty. In literature, it

is very difficult to unify these two things.

One of the greatest modern Indian literary

men, the greatest of Indian poets, Rabindra-

nath Tagore, indicates the way in which law and

liberty could be synthesised in literature. I quoted

an extract from his writings the other day, and I

would ask you to remember a bit from that extract.

With the true vision of a prophet, with the comprehensive vision, the true insight of a poet, he has indicated the way in which law and liberty could be synthesised; and Indian Ālaṅkārikas, exponents of literary criticism in Sanskrit, have also indicated how law and liberty could be synthesised in literature through the artistic process of vyañjanā.

In this connection I have to ask you not to be carried away by the glowing tribute which I paid the other day to the exponents of the modern impressionistic school of literary criticism. The exponents of this modern school have, indeed, done a great service; but it should be remembered that the leading exponents of the school played the role of iconoclasts in regard to literary traditions and endeavoured to break all the ideals of classicism. One can easily see that they have committed a mistake in going to one extreme. They have committed the mistake of supposing that complete liberty could be achieved by throwing away all laws, all rules, all conventions and all traditional restrictions. The impressionistic critic fails to realise that laws are the wings of poesy, the wings of artistic liberty or artistic beauty. What will be the fate of a bird which seeks to soar higher and higher with full liberty, with unrestricted liberty but which burns its wings? That would be the fate of the school of literary criticism which strives to burn away all traditions and seeks to soar higher and higher and run away from all classical or traditional movements. Indian art critics, with the help of all the

accumulated wisdom of an age-long artistic culture,

endeavoured to synthesise law and liberty and have

successfully effected a synthesis through the artistic or aesthetic process of suggestion, They do not

treat guṇa, alañkāra and rīti as so many inhibitions, they do not treat them as so many astrological

formulae, they do not treat them—as one follower of

the impressionistic school would do—as the prattling

of chambermaids, they do not treat them as the

dull drone and sing-song of school mistresses. They

do not treat them as so many blind alleys, but byways which could be connected and linked up with

the highways of literary criticism. In order to

appreciate the significance of these remarks, you

have necessarily to pay some attention to the conception of guṇa and rīti and alañkāra in Indian

Alaṅkāra literature. There is a comprehensive

statement regarding guṇa and rīti given by Abhinavagupta in his Locana; and this statement is

based upon the vyañjanā theory, the theory of suggestion. Allow me to read a small extract.

द्विविधं चारुत्वम् - स्वरूपमात्रनिष्ठं, संघटनाश्रितं च ।

तत्र शब्दानां स्वरूपमात्रनिष्ठं चारुत्वं शब्दालंकारेषु, संघटनाश्रितं तु

शब्दगुणेष्य: । एवमर्थानां चारुत्वं स्वरूपमात्रनिष्ठमुपमादिषु;;

संघटनापर्यवसितं तु अर्थगुणेष्य: । Locana p. 41. KSRI. Edn.

Gunas are certain features associated with the

collocation of ideas and words; and alañkāras are

allocated to concepts and to words as such, but not

to the collocation of concepts nor to the collo-

cation of words. Alankāras contribute to literary

charm, guṇas also contribute to literary charm, but

they all contribute to literary charm only on this

condition being satisfied, that the artistic process

of vyanjanā or the artistic suggestion is preserved

in tact. Rīti simply represents a collective and

vague name of a group of guṇas, and the equivalent

of rīti in English is style in its broad and compre-

hensive sense.

Now then with the help of the graph which I

explained the other day, it should be possible for

you to see how these aspects of literary form were

emphasised in varying degrees by several critics.

These may be regarded as constituting the byways

of literary criticism, and their existence, or the ex-

cuse for their existence, chiefly consists in

their being correlated to the suggested sense,

or to the suggested element, in an appro-

priate manner. Thus the process of aesthe-

tic and artistic suggestion known as vyanjanā

connects together all the byways and leads

to a synthesis being established between law and

liberty. You may consider a few examples, a few

specimens from Śanskrit literature, and you may

see how in these specimens it is the element of sug-

gested sense or it is the artistic process of sugges-

tion that really represents the vital element of the

life of poetry; and the law, external law, has much

to do with certain rules dealing with guṇas, alañ-

kāras and rītis; but if you are asked to say what

it is that really serves as the source of charm in

these examples you will say that it is not guṇa,

54

alaṅkāra or rīti but the vital element or artistic suggestion. Take, for instance, a beautiful verse which I have selected from one of the pious devotional lyrics produced in India. I am referring to Mūka and his Pañcaśatī. One of the well-known verses describing the charm of the goddess Kāmākṣī of Kāñcī runs thus:

रक्ताचन्द्रमसमान कान्तिवदना नाकाधिराजस्तुतां

मू कानामपि कुर्वती सुरधुनीनाकाशवाणैर्मवम् ।

श्रीकाञ्चीनगरीविहारगमिका शोकापहह्न्री स-

मेका पुण्यपरम्परा! पशुपतेराकारिणी राजते ॥

Stutiśataka 11.

Mūka must have been in a somewhat playful mood when he composed this verse. He uses a good deal of alliteration and you see here some alliterative jingle. But what is the real element of charm? What is it that really constitutes the source of charm? On the surface, in the external form, there is a sort of alliterative jingle, which in lesser hands might have produced a very undesirable effect, namely the repetition of the sound ‘Kā’ which is introduced here with the greatest possible artistic skill. But what is it that really serves as the vital element in this piece? It is the element of bhāva, his devotional attitude that is suggested behind and that is embodied in this apparently alliterative form. And here some aspect of the law relating to form is satisfied; but at the same time,

55

through the help of the artistic process, the poet has allowed himself full liberty to soar as high as possible in a certain direction. Or again you will consider another extract from the same work which cleverly uses the figure of speech, turn of expression:

तव त्रस्तं पादात् किसलयमरण्यान्तरमगात् परं रेखारूपं कमलममुमेवाश्रितमभूत् । जितानां कामाक्षि द्वितयमपि युक्तं परिभवे विदेहे वासो वा शरणगमन् वा- निजरिपोः ॥ Mūkapañcaśatī, Pādāvindaśataka 85.

The tender sprouts that are usually famous have certainly become afraid of your tender feet and have taken shelter in the interior of forests. The lotus, on the other hand, which is equally afraid of the charms of your feet, has not run away but has trans-formed itself into the padma-rekhā and has taken shelter under your feet. Vanquished people will do well to resort to one or the other of these two devices, either running away to some other place or prostrating themselves before the feet of their victorious enemy. The technique of Alaṅkāra śāstra would enable you to use some labels in describing the figures of speech that are employed in this verse. But what is the vital element that serves as the source of life, source of charm? It is the attitude of devotion that is suggested by the artistic process of vyañjanā. Let me give you another instance; it is simpler and it may appeal to all :

56

धनेन न रमामहे खलजनान्न सेवामहे

न चापलमयामहे भवभयान्न दूयामहे ।

स्थिरां तनुमहेतारं मनसि किम्ब काण्ठीमत-

स्मरान्तककुटुम्बिनी चरणपल्लवोपासनाम् ॥

Mūkapañcaśatī, Stutiśataka 85.

It is not merely the attitude of devotion and resultant state of perfect repose, peace and tranquillity that is suggested. “We do not take delight in wealth, we do not care to serve wicked people, we do not allow our minds to stray away from the right path, from the path of rectitude, we are not afraid of saṃsāra, and we need not run away from our house, from society, from the world; we constantly meditate upon the tender feet of the Mother of the world and live upon the permanent sustenance we derive from our devotion to Her feet.” Well, on the surface a suitable form could be seen; it is doubtful whether the idea has clothed itself in the form or the poet intentionally used this form in order to emphasise the idea. In supreme moments of spiritual poetic realisation like this, the poet’s devotion-filled heart would have enabled the idea to find a suitable form for itself, without any conscious effort on his part.

And in another place, the same poet soars far high into the region, into the sphere of literary form, but not intentionally. He simply describes a beautiful smile of the Goddess; at one stage, in one supreme

57

moment of realisation, he fancies that he is given

the privilege of seeing the smile of his Mother, of

the World-Mother, Kāmakṣī.

आलोके तव पन्नसागरकपोतद्रुमांकौतूहल-

प्रेङ्खन्मारुतघट्टनप्रचलितादानन्ददुग्धाम्बुधे: ।

काचिद्र्वादचिरुदस्रति प्रतिनवा संविच्छ्रियोह्लादिका

तां कामाक्षि कवीश्वराः स्मतिमिति व्याकुर्वते सर्वदा ॥

Mūkapañcaśalī, Mandasmitaśataka 98.

"What is your smile? Poets describe your smile

as beautiful; but what is it? At the sight of

Śiva, a breeze of excitement creates a ripple

on the surface of the full ocean of love, bliss and

intelligence which you represent, and from that

immense ocean of blissful love a small ripple comes

out, and that ripple is seen outside as smile. Poets

fancy that as your smile." A turn of expression, a

figure of speech, is employed here. But it is not

wantonly used or intentionally used in a perverse

manner to make a beautiful idea groan under it, to

suffocate a beautiful idea.

It is the poet’s fervour that enables him

to find suitable language for his expression; and

what is it? It is all the result of the process des-

cribed as vyañjanā or suggestion, and it is through

the help of this process that poets have been able

to lose themselves in the central or vital elements

and get at the core of a certain idea and then allow

that idea to clothe itself in a suitable garb. Thus

one can easily see through examples like this that

the artistic, aesthetic process of suggestion called

vyañjanā would enable one to synthesise law and

liberty. Take, for instance, one verse from Kāli-

dāsa's Kumārasambhava:

तां प्राङ्मुखीं तत्र निवेश्य तन्वीं क्षणं ग्यलम्बन्त पुरो निषण्णा: ।

भूतार्थशोभाहिममानेत्रा: प्रसाधने सान्निहितेऽपि नार्य: ॥

VII. 13.

It is easy and appears to be a simple descrip-

tion of svabhāva. You can also bring it under

some turn of expression. What is the idea that is

suggested here? In the simplest fashion possible,

the poet employs certain turns of expression, and

the form is also perfect, and the artistic feature of

ideal beauty called lāvan̄ya is suggested here. The

term lāvan̄ya in Sanskrit literature is a very signi-

ficant term. As compared with that term, I can-

not help feeling that the term ‘beauty’ is prosaic.

Do not connect the term lāvan̄ya with lavana or

salt. It has nothing to do with it. Lāvan̄ya here

means that whole physical frame and all its parts

appear to float as it were on an ocean of brilliant

beauty or brilliant charm.

पुत्रमनेमिवाभाति यदद्ध कान्तिपाथसि ।

मन:प्रहादजननं तल्लावण्यमिति स्मृतम् ॥

It does not require the help of any decorative device,

it does not require the help of alankāras or embel-

lishments. It is that kind of lāvan̄ya that is

suggested here by the poet Kālidāsa in describing

the charms or beauty of Umā.

Let us turn our attention for a while to the technical literature dealing with the byways. The other day in the course of my explanation of the graph with which I provided you, I referred to Daṇḍin, Bhāmaha and Vāmana as the chief exponents of important phases of literary form. Such of you as might have studied the works of Daṇḍin, Bhāmaha and Vāmana can easily see that the various byways which they have developed in their works are all sought to be linked up with the highway of vyañjanā or artistic suggestion. I am not going to enter into the technical details discussing these works, but I am going to concentrate my attention upon the simplest elements that could be chosen from these works. Now let us see what Bhāmaha does. He lays special emphasis upon alaṅkāra; certainly he lays particular emphasis upon alaṅkāra or figure of speech, but at a certain stage he forgets himself. What is it? What is alaṅkāra? After all, it is a turn of expression. Strictly speaking, all alaṅkāras or fiugres of speech or turns of expression should be brought under what is known as vakrokti. Well, when is a turn of expression really beautiful? When it is properly used, when it is used with an eye on propriety in poetry. What is ideal poetry, what is perfect poetry? He gives a very simple definition.

शब्दार्थौ सहितौ काव्यम् ।

Kāvyālaṅkāra I. 16. Sound and sense put together constitute poetry. This idea is further amplified by a later day exponent of the school of vakrokti, Kuntaka. He was

60

himself an eccentric writer, but as a leading exponent of the school of vakrokti, he did a great service. What is meant by sāhitya? Probably the word sāhitya is based upon this use of the word sahitau. The term sāhitya may be freely rendered by the English word composition but it is not all kinds of composition but a particular kind of composition that is referred to here. Kuntaka explains the meaning of the word sāhitya which consists in sound and sense,—he does not say in perfect harmony with each other,—but he says vying with each other. Sound and sense in genuine poetry vie with each other for suppression. He leaves this idea to be gathered from his work. Though he came forward to write his work as an avowed opponent of the dhvani school or the school of suggestion, in an implicit manner in several places in his work, he acknowledges his allegiance to that school; and he gives some instances, in which you can easily see how it is suggestion that is its central idea. If the degree of sāhitya or harmony of sound and sense vying with each other, that should be maintained at a high level, does not sometimes happen to be maintained, the suggested element suffers on that account. And he cites an instance from Mālatīmādhava :-

अस्सारं समारं परिमुसितरत्नं त्रिभुवनं निरालोकं लोके मरणागारणं बान्धवजनम् ।

अदर्पं कन्दर्पं जननयननिर्माणफलं जगज्जीर्णारण्यं कथयसि विधातुं व्यवसितः ॥

V. 30.

The context is that a Kāpālika seeks to do away with the heroine, and that context shows that it is a moment of supreme excitement, for a great treasure, representing the all in all of the hero, is about to be wiped out, and in that connection these phrases are used. “How is it that you have dared to deprive the whole universe of this essence, the three worlds of this most beautiful, most precious gem, the whole world of this life?” And then there is a fall. Is there any consistency? There is bathos, as it were. He has not got up the degree of sāhitya or the vying with each other or the harmony that is necessary to bring out the suggested idea; and the artistic process itself, to that extent, is detracted, and so the whole phrase is spoiled and some amendment is suggested by the critic. We can easily gather from this that Bhāmaha and his followers like Kuntaka, if not explicitly, at least in an implicit manner but in an unmistakable way, seek to link up their methods with the highway of artistic suggestion or vyāñjanā.

Now let us proceed to Daṇḍin, who was one of the younger contemporaries of Bhāmaha. He begins with an eloquent tribute to the best specimens of style and to the guṇas which constitute the vital elements of style. In the course of his exposition of the various guṇas at one stage he waxes eloquent about a particular guṇa, namely samādhi. This guṇa has played a great role in poetic art not only in our country but in other countries as well. What is it, what does it consist in? It is a simple idea. It consists in representing something

62

in the garb of something else, one idea in the garb

of another ; rather in modern phraseology, it can be

taken to stand for what might be described as a

sort of verbal heterophemy ; but, that is not more

expressive than the term samādhi itself. You can

easily find out its nature from an example.

कुमुदानि निमीलन्ति कमलान्युन्मीलन्ति च ।

Kāvyādarśa I. 94.

"Blue lotuses go to sleep, close their eyes and red

lotuses wake up." Waking up and closing their eyes

are features which are usually associated with living

beings, not with flowers. We do not usually speak

of flowers going to sleep. In language it is an

interesting study to see what proportion of our ex-

pression consists of metaphors, conscious or uncon-

cious. Modern linguists have made that study and

have indicated how metaphors play a very large

part in the make-up and development of a language.

It is human instinct in composing a sentence to

resort to the process of artistic suggestion through

the suppressed element; it is equally a human

instinct to use this guṇa called samādhi. It is not

differentiated from metaphor in English books, and,

in a loose manner, it may be brought under meta-

phorical expression. But in Sanskrit literature, you

have got a better and nicer classification, and it is

brought not under metaphor but under a certain

guṇa called samādhi. Well, that is why I say that

the technical word heterophemy is the closest ap-

proach to samādhi. We have to introduce some

technical terms though they might be somewhat

pedantic, to indicate in an accurate manner some of

these corresponding ideas. And with reference to

this guṇa, what does Daṇḍin say?

तदेतत् कार्येस्वरत्वे समाधिनाम यो गुणः ।

कविसार्थः समग्रोडपि तमेनमनुगच्छति ॥

Kāvyādarśa I. 100.

I would even suggest an amendment, it plays a

very large part. To the extent to which we are

all using this, to that extent at least we are all

artists. Daṇḍin lifts this to the highest rank

possible among the guṇas. What is the principle

involved in it? He does not explain that. These

earlier Ālaṅkārikas by their silence towards vyañ-

janā were able to pay a more eloquent tribute to the

artistic process of suggestion than the later

Ālaṅkārikas, and the manner in which they empha-

sised the artistic process is very significant.

कविसार्थः समग्रोडपि तमेनमनुगच्छति ।

The whole world of poets cannot help making use

of this, and not a single poet can avoid using this.

If the vital element in the artistic process of sug-

gestion is concealment and withholding for a while

to make it possible for you to go through some sort

of thrilling exercise of quest and conquest in the

sphere of art, this is certainly a feature which in-

volves the artistic principle of vyañjanā.

64

And then let us come down to Kuntaka himself and his vakrokti. He makes up his mind to take a diverse attitude towards the principle of vyañjanā. He wishes to develop his byway, the byway of vakrokti. What is vyañjanā? Are you not prepared to recognise the process called suggestion? Yes, we have to recognise it but we can bring it under some other category. He is more frank and in his frankness he writes himself down; to the extent to which he has accepted this attitude and temper against the principle of artistic suggestion or vyañjanā, to that extent he has written himself down in the history of literary criticism in Sanskrit; and he proposes to bring vyañjanā or suggestion under upacāra-vakratā, a sort of secondary turn of expression and this secondary turn of expression is used by him in a very elastic way and in a very comprehensive sense. Figures of speech, like metaphor, simile and such others are capable of suggesting rasa through the help of this principle called upacāra-vakratā, some secondary process;

यन्मूला सरसोऽलेखा रूपादिरलङ्कृतिः ।

उपचारप्रधानासौ वकता काचिदच्यते ॥

Vakroktijīvita II. 14.

He is not prepared to extend his vision a little bit further and see whether there is not behind this secondary something, some artistic process called vyañjanā or suggestion.

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So in this way, if you examine the technical literature dealing with these byways, you will easily see that their writers must all have paid a tribute, if not expressly, in an implicit manner, to the principle of vyañjanā or suggestion. And the Dhvanikāra, the leading exponent of the principle of suggestion, has shown how through the help of this principle, you can gather together all the scattered byways and link them up with the highway of suggestion, provided you recognise the broad principle, another broad principle, called aucitya or ‘Adaptation’. What is aucitya? In the Dhvanikāra’s view, aucitya is not moral propriety. As I explained its meaning the other day, it would be better to render it by the philosophical equivalent ‘Adaptation’ which consists in the fitness of parts to each other and to the whole. Not only that; he goes a step further; he would emphasise the idea that aucitya or Adaptation consists in the fitness of parts not only to the whole, but to the inner soul, the vital element, also. He is responsible for the oft-quoted dictum in the Alaṅkāra śāstra:

अनौचित्याद्दते नान्यद्रसभङ्गस्य कारणम् ।

प्रसिद्धौचित्यबन्धस्तु रसस्योपनिषत्परा ॥

Dhvanyāloka III. P. 145.

And proceeding along these lines, it must be possible for you to realise how law and liberty, traditional rules representing byways of literary criticism, and the artistic suggestion to which I have referred as one of the most important high-

5

ways,—how they could be synthesised; and so, I hope that this principle, namely vyāñjanā, has made it possible for the students of Indian literature and the students of literary criticism in Sanskrit not to fall into the error of the impressionistic critic and not to throw overboard all laws, all rules, all restrictions. It will not do to cry down laws, rules and restrictions; we must remember that they all constitute the wings of poetic art. You may refine the wings as far as you can, but you cannot cut away the wings and try to soar high. Any kind of liberty in any sphere which seeks to have a complete abolition of all laws and rules will result in anarchy and will only lead to destruction. That is why the genius of Indian culture is always in favour of equating liberty with law and harmonising liberty with law. Unrestricted liberty. Indian culture is not in favour of allowing in any sphere.

There is another direction in which the highway of vyāñjanā would be particularly helpful; and, if you wish to realise how broad it is and how fruitful your effort will be if you take yourself along this highway to some literary goal, you will have to pay some attention to this aspect of the matter also. You know that there is a great controversy in literature and literary criticism regarding the aim of poetic art and the aim of all art. What is the aim of art? Pleasure-seekers say that pleasure is the aim of art; moralists say that some moral lesson or moral profit is the aim of art; and some seek to combine these two things, pleasure and profit and say that both should be regarded as the aim

of art. What is the aim of poetic art? Is it merely to instruct you, to please you, or to do both? Romantic criticism emphasises the idea that beauty is its own excuse for its being. That is true and that argument must appeal to most of us, students of literature, very strongly. All of us are responsive to the attractions of beauty. We must be prepared to recognise the fact that beauty is its own excuse for its being, and no critic of authority now seriously endeavours to test literature by moral standards, by standards of ethics. It is sometimes stated by some critics that ancient Indian critics did not realise this aspect of literary criticism in an adequate manner. That is not true. What ancient critics have sought to do is this: through the help of the artistic process of the principle called vyañ-janā, they have certainly developed an ideal which is consistent with this attitude, with the attitude just now described, with the attitude of the modern exponents of romantic criticism that beauty is its own excuse for its being. In fact, one of the greatest writers emphasises this idea in a beautiful way. I am referring to Ānandavardhana. In the course of his exposition of the principle of dhvani at a certain stage, he does not hesitate to condemn Kālidāsa in very strong terms for what he considers improper on the moral side. For instance, he condemns Kālidāsa in unmistakable terms for the somewhat frank and open way in which he has described the sambhoga śrngāra of the Mother and Father of the world, Pārvatī and Śiva in the eighth canto of the Kumārasambhava. He should have stopped with seven cantos. Consummation of

love between Pārvatī and Śiva should have simply been indicated, it should not have been described in detail. He considers that the poet forgot himself and committed an outrage, and considers the poet's behaviour outrageous and in so many terms he condemns no less a poet than Kālidāsa himself* and his admiration for Kālidāsa is very great. In one place, he remarks that he would recognise only three poets, Vālmīki, Vyāsa and Kālidāsa.† He refuses to recognise any other poet. This is his attitude towards Kālidāsa but still he does not hesitate to condemn him. Now when he speaks of the importance of the artistic process of suggestion at the very beginning of his work, he gives a number of instances. The first two or three instances which he has given are of a low moral tone. What is his object? He wishes to demonstrate the forces of the principle called vyañjanā. The suggested element may be associated with the greatest depravity, and it may be very bad from the moral point of view; from the moral point of view it may be very objectionable, still beauty is its own excuse for its being and the beautiful suggested element has its own excuse for its being. You cannot help recognising that. You can condemn it, you need not encourage it in society, you can never recommend it, but still it is its own excuse for its being. You cannot avoid recognising it. That is a fact, physical, physiological, psycho-logical fact; and that is an aesthetic fact and you

• See Dhvanyāloka, III. pp. 137-8.

† Ibid. p. 29.

cannot help recognising it. And it is the real reason why he opens his work with such objectionable specimens, specimens which would not bear free rendering or free translation in any other language. Well, that is the way in which he emphasises the importance of vyañjanā. At one stage, he realises a certain type of supreme selflessness, undifferentiated bliss in the form of what he calls rasa. Proceed along the path or along the high way of suggestion, artistic suggestion, you will reach a point at which you can unify pleasure and profit, you can synthesise the two aims of art and you may lose yourself in pure unalloyed bliss. In that way through the process called vyañjanā, a successful endeavour has been made by Ānandavardhana himself and also his followers to synthesise the two aims of art.

This question may be looked at from another point of view. Students of Sanskrit literature are familiar with the analogy that is employed in describing the nature of poetic art. Vedic law is compared to a sovereign master who would only give orders to be obeyed immediately, and purāṇas are compared to friends. They also say good things, and they also persuade you to do good things. But what about good poetry or kāvya? It confesses its chief aim is merely edification, edification not of an ordinary type. An agreeable edification may, in one word, be described as the aim of kāvya; and it is compared to a true loving Hindu wife. She employs only suggestive arts; she does not behave like Bohemian friends; she employs her persuasive art

70

to the fullest extent, the artistic process of sug-

gestion, to suggest to you what is good and what is

wrong. In that way, there is also another direction

in which the highway of vyañjanā enables you to

effect a beautiful synthesis of all the various aims

of poetic art.

If you go near the goal of vyañjanā, you can-

not help considering that as a highway of literary

criticism in Sanskrit, which opens up fresh and

beautiful vistas to poetic or artistic ambition by

immensely widening the bounds of artistic resource-

fulness. This requires some amplification. The

world of poetic art would have been poorer but for

this principle of vyañjanā. As Ānandavardhana

remarks there would have been only two or three

poets in the world; no good poetry could possibly

be produced without in some manner or other using

some phrases, some expressions and some beautiful

ideas in the works of previous writers. In fact,

there is nothing new under the sun. After

Vālmīki, nobody could have written any Sanskrit

kāvya. However resourceful a poet, it would have

been impossible unless he makes use of this principle

of suggestion. And this principle of vyañjanā enables

you to express a single idea in a thousand ways and

in a thousand agreeable ways. And the Dhvanikāra

in the fourth chapter of his work waxes eloquent

about this aspect of vyañjanā:

वाचस्पतिसहस्राणां सहसैरपि यत्नतः ।

निबद्धापि क्षयं नैति प्रकृतिर् जगतामिव ॥

Dhvanyāloka IV. 10.

Though thousands and thousands of poets write poetry, the scope of poetic art would in no way be curtailed by that, and the resources of the poet like the resources of mother nature can never be exhausted. Why, what is all this due to? All this is due to a clever and judicious employment of the artistic process called vyañjanā or suggestion; and for this reason I am saying that it opens up fresh and beautiful vistas to poetic or artistic ambition by immensely widening the bounds of artistic resourcefulness.

And above all, through the aucitya-synthesis or the synthesis of Adaptation, the process of vyañjanā leads you on to what might be called the sanctum sanctorum of poetic art, the inner shrine of rasa. Now the philosophy of rasa in Indian poetics is a big topic. However briefly it may be, I should deal with it in the next few minutes. The philosophy of rasa is an important branch of art criticism. Some people may fancy that what is known as rasa corresponds to what may be described as emotional element in literature. It is not merely that. After a good deal of philosophic speculation and investigation, after several probings and searchings, the exponents of artistic culture in ancient India arrived at a certain well-formulated doctrine of rasa, and it was formulated by Ānandavardhana. It was in a way hinted at by Vālmīki, and adopted by Kālidāsa; and the great poet has also embodied the theory of rasa in a beautiful verse in a beautiful situation in his master-

72

piece, the Śākuntala. Let me remind you of the

verse:

रस्याणि वीक्ष्य मधुरांश निशाम्य शब्दान्

पर्युत्सुकीभवति यत्सुखितोऽपि जन्तुः ।

तच्चेतसा स्मरति नूनमबोधपूर्वं

भावस्थिराणि जननान्तरसौहृदीनि ॥ V. 2.

It is introduced by Kālidāsa in a beautiful situation.

it is a simple verse. Duṣyanta is introduced as the

hero who has cruelly forgotten his love. There

is nothing to make him unhappy and he does not

remember anything unhappy. Still, he feels per-

turbed, agitated on hearing sweet music. He is

not only a king or a sovereign or a lover, but from

the point of view of the aesthetic art he is also per-

fect. That is one of the phases of Duṣyanta’s

character. He is a great moralist and he is a highly

virtuous king, both in theory and practice; he has

mastered all the scriptures and he is a strictly

righteous king. These represent some features of

his character. He is himself a bit of a poet and

also a bit of a critic and he is a great painter. He

combines in himself all artistic excellences and he

makes these remarks. A person is happy to all

outward appearances; still he feels perturbed on

hearing some sweet music. What it is due to? He

feels perturbed and agitated; he falls a victim to

some sort of melancholy on seeing objects

of beauty. He is not able to recollect anything;

perhaps he recalls to his mind without being con-

scious of it the abiding impressions of previous at-

tachments, of attachments of previous births; and

in explaining this verse, Abhinavagupta in his com-

mentary on the Nāṭya śāstra indicates how every

one of us, with a minimum degree of culture, should

be taken to have inherited certain abiding

impressions.

जातमात्र एव हि जन्तुरियतिभिः संविद्रिद्रिः परीतो

भवति । तथा हि ‘दुःखसंस्लेषविविद्रेषि सुखास्वादनसादरः’ इति

न्यायेन सर्वो रिरंसया व्यासः, स्वामनि उत्कर्षमानितया परमुपहसन्,

अभीष्टवियोगसन्तत्‌स्तद्‌दृष्टषु कोपपरवशः;, अशक्तौ च ततो भीरुः,

किश्चिदुजिजीषुरपि अनुचितवस्तुवियवैमुख्यातमकतयाक्रान्तः किश्चिद-

नभीष्टतया अभिमन्यमानः तत्‌तत्त्वपरकर्तव्यदर्शनसमुदितविस्मयः

किश्चिच्च जिहासुरेव जायते । न हेतचित्रवृत्तिवासनाशून्यः प्राणी

भवति ।

Abhinavabhārati, GOS. I. p. 284.

All these instincts are inherited; all of us are

pleasure-seekers in varying degrees and our first

impulse is to laugh at our neighbour. One of the

German philosophers, Kant, describes this impulse in

a somewhat peculiar way. Nobody has got an

instinctive liking for another person who is superior

to himself. Every person instinctively dislikes sub-

ordination to somebody else. The human soul is

instinctive with its love of liberty. It is encaged

in a prison; and we are encaged in our environments,

in our own society. There are so many physical,

social, political and academical fetters. We

cannot allow this soul to give vent to its instinct freely and to have full liberty and, as Kant points out, it dislikes subordination. And what is the proof which he gives? Well, carefully observe how a man behaves when he sees a certain person slipping down on a rainy day on the road. His first impulse is to laugh. Of course he may be a very good man. He may be able to exercise a good deal of self-control, and he might have developed also scouting spirit to that extent and run up to that man in distress and help him. But what is his first impulse? Well, this is a proof of the fact that nobody likes subordination and so everybody has got an inherited instinct in favour of the comic element. Then the instinct of sorrow is also implanted in you; the fact of losing something makes you sorry. Well, there is the instinct of disgust. You feel disgusted at the things you do not like. Then there is the instinct of wonder; when something wonderful is presented to your vision, the instinct of vismaya or wonder exhibits itself. There is also the instinct of śānti, that belongs to the God in man; that instinct on the one side and the instinct of love on the other side, these two instincts represent the god in man. Love and śānti or tranquillity, these are also inherited. Well, we are believers in our past existence; we are also believers in post-mortem existence. Our existence is not restricted to the existence of the present physical frame, we do not believe that our physical frame is our soul. If we existed before now, we are going to exist for ever; and it is this belief in the immortality of the personality, in the previous existence

and also in the post-mortem existence of the

personality—it is this that is responsible for the

elimination of the technical tragedy from Indian

literature. There is nothing ending with sorrow.

Sorrow or grief may be the dominating element, but

to end with sorrow is impossible. If your soul

really lives for a time in sorrow, it must come out

of it in a more energetic way. That is responsible

for the elimination of what is known as the technical

tragedy from Indian literature. This idea is very

well expressed by Vālmīki himself, not through pre-

cept but through example. Complete pessimism is

unknown to Indian culture. Sometimes people, in

their mistaken zeal for certain modern ways of

alien philosophy, proceed to condemn Indian systems

of philosophy as being pessimistic in their tone.

Karuna is the dominating element in the Rāmāyana;

Vālmīki develops it in various ways.

Now these instincts referred to are the abiding

impressions which we have all inherited in varying

degrees. Now what does poetic art do? 'Through

the process of suggestion, you are enabled to realise

the development of one or the other of these abiding

impressions; and at a certain stage, these common

instincts are associated with the abiding impression

called love. But at a certain stage, through the

help of the poetic art, it is developed in a certain

fashion; and it comes out envisaged with an artistic

garb which comes to be divested of all its worldly

associations; it comes to be divested of all its indi-

vidualistic connections; at a certain stage you for-

get it is either associated with you or with the ob-

ject of your love, with the hero whose part is repre-

sented on the stage or with the heroine. And at

that supreme moment, your heart, through the

help of the process of vyañjanā or, suggestion, be-

comes attuned completely to this principle, namely

love and you lose yourself in it. You become com-

pletely absorbed in it and, at that stage, a certain

blissful condition is experienced. Now philosophers

and metaphysicians break their heads about this

bliss, whether it is positive in its character or nega-

tive. But for all ordinary purposes it is enough if

you remember that it is a stage of complete blissful

absorption.

Now this theory has got important artistic

implications. It is the result of Indian artists and

art critics proceeding along the highway of vyañ-

janā, and it is the goal which they have reached. In

Indian literature, this has enabled Indian critics to

solve an important and difficult riddle: What is

the real source of appeal, what is the real cause of

appeal in sorrow? That is not yet fully explained;

various explanations are attempted. At that

stage, at that supreme moment, you forget yourself,

and some universal element is revealed. That is

the real secret of the whole affair. It is not only

that. Even in the comic aspect, you forget your-

self. Now in the rasa theory, you find an expla-

nation for this riddle. It is described as a blissful

condition, because at that stage your mind forgets

all its ordinary associations. Now through the

help of a theory of this kind, it has been possible

for Indian art critics to demonstrate all the

77

great possibilities of the highway of vyañjanā.

Now if you follow up a further highway, namely

the highway of rasa, it will lead you to splendid

results. Can it be described as a highway, one may

ask. Once on a certain occasion in the course of a

private talk, one was tempted to remark that if it

was a highway, it might be described as a sub-

terranean highway. That is not a subterranean

highway. If you are prepared to indulge in

exaggeration, it may be described as the empyrean

highway; but without any exaggeration, I may tell

you that rasa is not the empyrean highway but an

essentially human highway, if you can easily

connect it with your own instincts.

In a way, I have come to the end of my task.

If synthesis is the watchword of Hindu religion

and culture, and if synthesis is the watchword of

the Hindu ways of life and ways of thought, and,

if it is the watchword of Hindu civilization, I may

at once tell you that it is the watchword

of Indian art also. As I indicated in my first

lecture, it is the synthesis of the artist and the art

critic, the synthesis of the poet and the responsive

critic, the synthesis of criticism and genius, it is

this synthesis that may be regarded as the high-

way of highways in Indian literary criticism. And

I cannot more appropriately conclude this course

than by repeating the verse with which I began:

परस्परसमास्वादप्रथमानसतत्त्वयोः ।

कविताबुध्योयोगं नमामि शिवयोरिव ॥

78

To the divine synthesis of Śivā and Śiva, to the mother-father synthesis, to the woman-man synthesis, I pay homage, just in the same spirit and in the same breath, I do homage to the synthesis of poesy and criticism, of charm and response, of genius and taste, of poet and critic, of kavi and sahrdaya.

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INDEXES

SANSKRIT PASSAGES CITED.

PAGES

अनुरागवती सन्ध्या .. .. .. 45

अनौचित्याद्दते नान्यत् .. .. .. 65

अपूर्वं यदर्थस्तु .. .. .. 14

असारं संसारम् .. .. .. 60

आलोके तव .. .. .. 57

उत त्वः पश्यन् .. .. .. 57

औचितीमनुधावन्ति .. .. .. 9

कविताबुधयीयोंगम् .. .. .. 27

कविसार्थः समग्रोऽपि .. .. .. 15

Kāvyālāpāṃśca varjayet .. .. .. 63

कुमुदानि निमीलन्ति .. .. .. 62

Gūḍham sat camat karoti .. .. .. 34

जातमात्र एव हि जन्तुः .. .. .. 73

तदेतत् काव्यसर्वस्वम् .. .. .. 63

तव त्रस्तं पादाव् .. .. .. 55

तां प्राहुःसुखीं .. .. .. 58

Dāsyam anubhavad rājakalatram iva .. .. .. 58

द्विविधं चारुत्वम् .. .. .. 52

धनेन न रमामह .. .. .. 56

न विधौ परः शब्दोर्थः .. .. .. 29

नानृषिः कविरित्युक्तम् .. .. .. 25

परस्परसमास्वाद .. .. .. 1. 77

पुवमानमिवाभाति .. .. .. 58

यन्मूला सरसोऽलेखा .. .. .. 64

येषां काव्यानुशीलन .. .. .. 15

रस्याणि वीक्ष्य .. .. .. 72

80

PAGES.

राकाचन्द्र

..

54

लौकिकानां हि साधूनाम्

..

24

वाचस्पतिसहस्राणाम्

..

70

शब्दार्थी सहितौ काव्यम्

..

59

Samsargamaryādā avabhāsate

..

22

सुवर्णपुष्पां पृथिवीम्

..

44

सौन्दर्यमलङ्कार:

..

4n

AUTHORS AND WORKS—SANSKRIT.

Abhinavagupta

2n, 13, 14, 18, 25, 30, 33, 39, 52, 73

Anandavardhana

13, 14, 30, 40, 41, 43, 44, 47, 48, 65, 67, 69, 70, 71

Kālidāsa

11, 14, 23, 39, 41, 45, 58, 67, 68, 71

Kuntaka

30, 59, 61, 64

Jagannātha Paṇḍita

..

47-

Daṇḍin

12, 14, 30, 59, 61-3

Dhvanikāra. See Ānandavardhana.

Nīlakaṇṭha dīkṣita

..

17

Bharata

..

30

Bhavabhūti

12, 14, 30, 31, 59, 61

Bhāmaha

..

30

Mahimabhaṭṭa

..

30

Mūka

..

54

Rājaśekhara

..

13

Vāmana

..

4, 30, 59

Vālmīki

10, 14, 18, 30, 41, 68, 70, 71, 75

Vyāsa

..

68

Abhijñānaśākuntala

..

11, 72

Abhinavabhārati

..

73

Uttararāmacarita

..

24

Upalocana

..

1, 2

Rgveda

..

9

Kāvyadarpana

..

13

Kāvyamīmāṁsā

..

13

Kāvyādarśa

..

12, 13, 62

Kāvyālañkāra

Kāvyālañkārasūtra

Kāvyāloka

Kumārasambhava

Kaumudī

(Bhaṭṭa) Tauta

Dhvanyāloka

Dhvanyālokalocana

Nāṭyaśāstravyākhyā. See Abhinavabhāratī.

Nīlakaṇṭhavijayacampū

Pañcaśatī (of Mūka)

Bhagavadgītā

Mālatīmādhava

Mālavikāgnimitra

Raghuvamśa

Rasagaṅgādhara

Rāmāyaṇa

Vakroktijīvita

ENGLISH.

Addison

Benedetto Croce

Carlyle

Jespersen

Kant

New Criticism, the

Philosophy of Grammar, the

Plato

Rabindranath Tagore

Realisation in Love

Sādhana

Schopenhauer

Shakespeare

Shelley

Spingarn

Thought-Measuring Devices in Indian Dialectics

6

82

SUBJECTS

SANSKRIT

PAGES

Adhama (kāvya)

.. 41, 42, 48

Anumāna

.. 29

Anṛjuvāk,

See Vakrokti

Artha

.. 23-26

Alaṅkāra

4, 26, 28-31, 50, 52, 53, 58, 59

Alaṅkāra śāstra

3, 15, 35, 38, 40, 55, 65

Avaccheda

.. 21

Avacchinna

.. 21

Ādikavi

.. 10

Ālaṅkārika

12, 22, 35, 38, 39, 51

Uttama (kāvya)

41, 42, 45, 48

Unnaya

See Anumāna.

Upacāravakratā

.. 64

Ṛṣi

.. 25

Aucitya

28, 29, 31, 65, 71

Karuna

.. 75

Kavi

2, 14, 18, 23, 25

Kāmākṣī

.. 54-7

Kāvya

.. 42, 69, 70

Kukavitva

.. 12

Kṛṣṇa

.. 17

Kośa

.. 24

Guṇa

26, 28-31, 50, 52, 53, 61-3

Citra (kāvya)

.. 42

Dhvani

11, 27-9, 40, 60

See also Vyañjanā

.. 67

Naiyāyika

.. 20

Purāṇa

.. 69

Pratibhā

.. 13, 18

Bhāva

.. 54

Bhāvakatva

.. 13

Madhyama (kāvya)

41-42, 44, 45, 48

Mīmāṃsaka

.. 9, 29

Yogaśāstra

.. 17

83

Rasa

Rasapaddhati

Rasaśāstra

Rīti

Rūḍhi

Lāvaṇya

Lokottara

Lokottara vṛtti

Laukika

Vakrokti

See also Anṛjuvāk.

Vākyārtha

Vāgarthapratipatti

Vidhi

Vismaya

Vṛtti

Veda

Vaidika (s)

Vyañjanā

Śabda

Śiva

Śivā

Śṛṅgāra

Śoka

Śloka

Samādhi

Sambhoga śṛṅgāra

Samsarga

Saṃśaya

Sāhitya

Saundarya

Saundarya śāstra

Svabhāva

PAGES

24, 28, 29, 46, 48, 50, 64, 69, 71-76

..

30

--

4

26, 28-31, 52, 53

..

26

..

58

..

39

..

39

..

39

28-31, 50, 59, 64

..

21, 26

..

24

..

29

..

74

..

39

..

69

..

9, 23

19, 22, 23, 28, 30, 32-39, 50-53, 55, 57, 59, 61, 63-71

..

23-26

(a) ..

2, 78

..

2, 78

..

46

..

11

..

11

..

61-63

..

67

..

21, 22

2, 15, 18, 22, 23, 48

..

60, 61

..

4

..

4

..

58

ENGLISH

Abiding impressions

Absorption

Adaptation

Aesthetic fact

..

73, 75

..

76

..

28, 65, 71

..

6

—process .. 58

—sense .. 22

—suggestion .. 53

—view point .. 48

'Aesthetics .. 4

Age .. 4

Aim of art .. 66-9

—of poetry .. 66-9

Alaṅkāra literature .. 11, 41, 52

Ālaṅkārikas .. 23, 63

Alliteration .. 54

Alter-ego 8, 12, 14, 18

Anarchy .. 66

Anticipatory imagination .. 22

—realisation .. 23

Appeal .. 49

—in sorrow .. 76

Appreciation .. 9, 15

Art 4, 7, 8, 17, 18, 30, 32, 34, 35

—consummation of .. 50

—critic (s) .. 10, 48, 76

—criticism 7, 17, 43, 71

—re-living itself ..

Articulation .. 25

Artist .. 4, 74

—mind of the .. 22

Artistic ambition .. 70

—beauty .. 51

—capacity .. 19

—culture .. 51

—element .. 19

—expression .. 38

—liberty .. 51

—principle .. 63

—process 35, 39, 50, 52-55, 57, 61, 63, 64, 67, 68

—purpose .. 50

—resourcefulness .. 70, 71

—skill .. 54

85

PAGES

-suggestion 50, 53, 59, 61, 62, 65

-thought .. 28

-thrill .. 39

-way .. 50

Attachments .. 73

Attunement of heart .. 15

Aucitya-synthesis .. 31, 71

Bad poet .. 12

Bathos .. 61

Beauty 4, 19, 34, 58

-its own excuse .. 66-8

Beautiful .. 27

Biography .. 57

Biographical critic .. 14

-criticism .. 4

Bliss .. 25, 68

-positive or negative .. 76

-unalloyed .. 68-9

Blissful condition .. 75-6

Boredom .. 20

Byways 2, 3, 32, 53, 59, 64-5

Charm .. 2, 54

-of concealment .. 34

-of distance .. 34

-of vyañjanā .. 35

-secret of .. 35

Civilization .. 32

Classical school .. 40

Classicism .. 51

Collocation .. 26, 52

Comic aspect, element .. 74, 76

Common-place .. 28

Compartmental slicing of literature .. 40, 43

Composition .. 59

Concealment, charm of .. 34, 63

Concepts .. 52

Conquest, quest and, in art .. 34, 63

Consistency .. 61

86

Content PAGES

Conventions .. 26, 27, 29

Creation .. 3, 51

Creative art .. 6-9, 17

—artist .. 7, 14, 17

Creeds .. 10

Critics .. 16

Critical art .. 2, 5, 6, 22, 24, 53

Criticism .. 1, 2, 7-9, 15

—feminine aspect of creation .. 8

Culture .. 32

Decorative device .. 26, 47, 58

Defects .. 26

Depravity .. 68

Deviation from common-place .. 28

Devotional attitude .. 54-6

—lyrics .. 53-4

Dhvani school .. 11, 40

Diction .. 5

Dictionaries .. 24

Didactic elements .. 47

Discipline .. 15

Disgust .. 74

Dislike .. 73

Diversion .. 42

Dogmatic criticism .. 3

Dogmatism .. 5

Drama .. 6

Dream, poet's .. 8

Edification .. 69

Ego .. 13, 14

—of the critic .. 7

Embellishments .. 11, 58

Emotional element in literature .. 71

English literature .. 4

Environment .. 4, 73

Epic .. 10, 40

Eternal form .. 54

87

Ethics

PAGES

European literature

..

47, 67

Expression

7, 19, 20, 22, 32, 35, 57

—of an idea in a-variety of ways

..

70

Fall

..

61

Fetters

..

73

Figured passion

..

6

Figure(s) of speech

3, 54, 55, 57, 59, 64

Fitness

..

65

Form

6, 19, 26, 27, 29, 54, 56, 58

Formal distinctions

..

50

Freeplay

..

23

Freshness

..

34

Garb

..

24

Genius

2, 8, 23

Germany

..

5

God

..

9, 74

Good

..

69

Growth

..

6

Harmony

..

60, 61

—of law and liberty

..

66

—of parts and whole

..

28

—of sound and sense

..

24

Hearer (s)

..

22, 33

Heart

..

9

Hero

..

76

Heroine

..

76

Heterophemy

..

62

Highway(s)

2, 15, 16, 25, 28, 30, 32, 50, 52. 61, 65, 66, 70, 76, 77

—of Rasa

..

28, 76

—of vyañjanā

..

76, 77

—synthesis of

..

77

Hindu civilization

..

77

—culture

..

77

—life

..

77

—religion

..

77

—thought

..

77

—wife, kāvya compared to

..

69

History

..

8

88

Historical critic

PAGES

—criticism

..

4, 47, 48

—interpretation of schools of criticism

..

28

—monuments

..

17

Idea(s)

..

52, 56, 57

Imagination

..

22

Immediacy

..

38

Impression

20, 22, 33, 39

Impressions

..

73

Impressionism

..

5

Impressionistic critic

..

7, 66

—criticism

..

7, 51

—school

5, 7, 8, 51, 52

Inartistic path

..

4

—process

..

39

Indian art

..

17, 77

—art critics

..

51, 71, 76

—artists

..

76

—critics

..

26, 67

—culture

1, 2, 16, 17, 66

—history

..

9

—literary criticism

..

77

—literature

28, 66, 75, 76

—love

..

46

—metaphysicists

..

29

—poesy

..

10

—poetry

..

15, 16

—philosophy

..

16, 17

—religion

..

16, 17

—science and philosophy of literary criticism

..

1

—tolerance

..

17

Inspiration

..

11

Insight

..

51

Instinct(s)

..

73, 75

Instruction

..

67

Intellectual process

..

35

—quest

..

34

Interest

..

33

89

AGES

Interpretation of art

..

46

Judge

..

5

Judgment

5, 22

Kashmirian critics

..

40

Language

-and metaphors

22, 25, 29, 62

..

62

Laughter

..

73

Law

18, 22, 23, 29, 50, 51, 53, 65, 66

Liberty

18, 22, 23, 50, 51, 53, 65, 66

Life (poet's)

..

8

-of poetry

..

6, 53

Linguists

..

62

Literary appreciation

22, 47

-art

..

29

-charm

4, 43, 53

-content

..

28

-criticism

3, 4, 5, 11, 51—53, 65, 66

-form

..

42, 53

-genera

..

40, 43

-standards

..

47

-traditions

..

51

Literature

..

47, 50

Logic

22, 41, 44

Logical truth

..

5

Logicians

..

35, 38

Logic-ridden phraseology

..

35

Love

..

74, 75

-as self-effacement

..

46

-as vehicle to reach God

..

46

-consummation of

..

67

-Indian conception of

..

46

-of liberty

..

73

-spiritual aspect of

45—6

Lyric

..

40

Material

..

40

Meaning

..

35

Melancholy

..

72

Metaphor

5, 62, 64

-and Language

..

62

Metaphysicians

Metaphysicists

Modern critics

Modes of appreciation

Modesty

Moral lesson

—side

—standard

—tone

Moralists

Mother—Farther synthesis

Music

Nature

Nature (poet's)

Neo-critic

Neo-criticism

Non-material

Novelty

Objects of beauty

Ordinary associations

Organic expression

Painters

Parts

—harmony of, to whole

Past existence

Pathos

Peace

Perfection

Personality of critic

Phrases

Playful mood

Pleasure

—of art

—seekers of

Philosophers

Philosophy

—of interpretation

Physical fact

90

PAGES

.. 76

.. 7

.. 5

.. 27

.. 34

.. 66

.. 67

.. 47, 66

.. 68

.. 66

.. 2, 78

.. 72

.. 71

.. 6

.. 5—8 14

.. 5—7, 16

.. 40

.. 33

.. 72

.. 76

.. 40

.. 25

.. 65

.. 65

.. 74

.. 10

.. 56

.. 4

.. 2

.. 35

.. 54

.. 66, 68

.. 30

.. 66, 73

.. 21, 76

.. 22, 41

.. 36

.. 68

Poem

Poesy

Poet

Poetic art

—charm

—expression

—genius

—realisation

—school

Poetry

Politicians

Politics

Postmortem existence

Practice

Precise

Previous births

Primary sense

Profit

Prophet (s)

Propriety

Psychological fact

—criticism

Quantitative measurement of thought

Quest and conquest in art

Race

Rasa, empyrean highway

—heart filled with

—human highway

—sanctum sanctorum of poetic art

Readers

Realisation

Reality

Re-living

Repose

Residual element

Resourceful

Resources of a poet

Residual element

Response

Pages

6

2, 9, 15

22, 40, 61, 62, 5, 6, 9, 25

22, 40, 61, 66, 69, 71, 75

33

25

14

56

4

6, 20, 59

16

7

74

18, 42

20

73

26

66‖68

25, 51

59

68

5

20, 21

34, 63

4

77

24

77

71

7, 33, 43

57

6

8, 34

56

21

70

70

21

Restrictions PAGES

Rhymed eloquence .. 66

Ripe (poets and critics) .. 10

Rk (s) 9, 10

Romantic criticism .. 67

Rules 49, 51, 66

Saivism 17

Saktism 17

Sanskrit art criticism .. 32

-literary criticism .. 28, 32, 64

-literature 8, 9, 15, 19, 53, 58, 62, 69

-poetics 34, 35

Santi 74

Scope of poetic art .. 71

Secondary process .. 64

-significatory power .. 36, 37

-turn of expression .. 64

Sectarian writers .. 17

Self-aggrandisement .. 46

Self-aggression .. 46

Self-control .. 74

Self-effacement of love .. 46

Selflessness .. 69

Sense 23, 25, 27, 59, 60

Sentence (s) .. 6, 35

Sentiments .. 5

Sexes, two, of criticism .. 5

Shape .. 6

Significatory power .. 35

Simile .. 6, 64

Similitude

Society .. 6

Sorrow 68, 73

Soul 73, 74, 75

-of poetry 65

Sound 23, 25, 59, 60

Source of appeal .. 76

Speaker .. 22

93

Speech

—mechanism

Spirit

Spiritual knowledge

Spontaneous emanation

—way

Stage

Straightforward way

Study

Style

Suggested element, idea, sense

Suggestion

—of good and wrong

Suggestive art

Suitable form

—language

Subordination, dislike of one's

Superiority, dislike of one's

Suppressed element

Suppression

Syllogising

Synthesis

—of art and critic

—of creation and criticism

—of charm and response

—of father and mother

—of form and content

—of formal elements

—of genius and criticism; taste

—of kavi and sahṛdaya

—of law and liberty

—of man and woman

—of pleasure and profit

—of poet and critic

—of śabda and artha (sound and sense)

—of speech and thought

—through suggestion

—watchwood of Hindu art, culture and religion

Synthetic method

PAGES

.. 20, 23, 29

.. 25

.. 19

.. 17

.. 24

.. 10

.. 76

.. 45

.. 15

38, 42, 45, 46, 48, 49, 53, 58, 61, 68.

20, 23, 32, 33, 38, 41, 48, 52, 57, 60, 63, 64, 69, 75

.. 70

.. 69

.. 56

.. 57

.. 73

.. 73

.. 33, 62

20, 22, 29, 32, 33, 39, 60

.. 38

2, 14, 16, 17, 66

.. 77

14—11, 77, 78

.. 78

.. 78

.. 77

.. 30

.. 50

.. 77, 78

.. 78

18, 50, 51, 53, 58

.. 78

.. 68—69

.. 77, 78

.. 24, 26

.. 23

.. 52

.. 77

.. 19

Taste

..

2, 8

Technique

..

40

Theory

..

18

Thought

6, 23, 24, 26, 29

• quantitative measurement of

..

20, 21

Tradition

..

3, 44

Traditional classifications

..

40

• rules

..

65

Tragedy absent from Indian Literature

..

75

Tranquility

..

56

Turn of expression

..

55, 57-9

Two aims of art

..

69

Undifferentiated bliss

..

69

Unification of creation and criticism

11, 13, 14, 16

• of pleasure and profit

..

69

Unity of pleasures

..

6

• of poetry

..

43

Universal element

..

76

Using previous writers

..

70

Vaiṣṇavism

..

17

Vakrokti-synthesis

..

31

Vedic bard

9, 10

• law, compared to a master

..

69

Verisimilar

..

8

Vision

..

25, 51

Vital element

..

65

Vying of sound and sense

..

60, 61

Whole

..

65

Wonder

..

74

Words

35, 52

3-5, 7, 15, 46

Work of art

..

75

Wordly association

..

70

Wrong

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Mahodadhi

of

Nārāyaṇa

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Kuvalayānanda

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Citra

Mīmāṃsā

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-10-0

The

Candrāloka

of

Jayadeva,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Tattvārthādi

Ratnāvali

of

Kalyāṇa

Mandra,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-6-0

The

Rasika

Sañjīvanī

of

Arunagirinātha,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Sāhitya

Kaumudī

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Ujjvalanīlamaṇi

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Rasa

Gangādhara

of

Panditarāja

Jagannātha,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Bhāminī

Vilāsa

of

Jagannātha

Pandita,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Candrālocana

of

Abhinava

Gupta,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Locana

on

the

Dhvanyāloka

of

Abhinava

Gupta,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Dhvanyāloka

of

Ānandavardhana

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Kāvyaprakāśa

of

Mammata

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-14-0

The

Sāhityadarpaṇa

of

Viśvanātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Kuvalayānanda

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Citra

Mīmāṃsā

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-10-0

The

Candrāloka

of

Jayadeva

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Tattvārthādi

Ratanāvali

of

Kalyāṇa

Mandra

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-6-0

The

Rasika

Sañjīvanī

of

Arunagirinātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Sāhitya

Kaumudī

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Ujjvalanīlamaṇi

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Rasa

Gangādhara

of

Panditarāja

Jagannātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Bhāminī

Vilāsa

of

Jagannātha

Pandita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Candrālocana

of

Abhinava

Gupta

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Locana

on

the

Dhvanyāloka

of

Abhinava

Gupta

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Dhvanyāloka

of

Ānandavardhana

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Kāvyaprakāśa

of

Mammata

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-14-0

The

Sāhityadarpaṇa

of

Viśvanātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Kuvalayānanda

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Citra

Mīmāṃsā

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-10-0

The

Candrāloka

of

Jayadeva

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Tattvārthādi

Ratanāvali

of

Kalyāṇa

Mandra

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-6-0

The

Rasika

Sañjīvanī

of

Arunagirinātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Sāhitya

Kaumudī

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Ujjvalanīlamaṇi

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Rasa

Gangādhara

of

Panditarāja

Jagannātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Bhāminī

Vilāsa

of

Jagannātha

Pandita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Candrālocana

of

Abhinava

Gupta

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Locana

on

the

Dhvanyāloka

of

Abhinava

Gupta

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Dhvanyāloka

of

Ānandavardhana

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

Sarasvatī

College

Members

The

Kāvyaprakāśa

of

Mammata

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-14-0

The

Sāhityadarpaṇa

of

Viśvanātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Kuvalayānanda

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Citra

Mīmāṃsā

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-10-0

The

Candrāloka

of

Jayadeva

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Tattvārthādi

Ratanāvali

of

Kalyāṇa

Mandra

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-6-0

The

Rasika

Sañjīvanī

of

Arunagirinātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Sāhitya

Kaumudī

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Ujjvalanīlamaṇi

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Rasa

Gangādhara

of

Panditarāja

Jagannātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Bhāminī

Vilāsa

of

Jagannātha

Pandita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Candrālocana

of

Abhinava

Gupta

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Locana

on

the

Dhvanyāloka

of

Abhinava

Gupta,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Dhvanyāloka

of

Ānandavardhana

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Kāvyaprakāśa

of

Mammata

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-14-0

The

Sāhityadarpaṇa

of

Viśvanātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Kuvalayānanda

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Citra

Mīmāṃsā

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-10-0

The

Candrāloka

of

Jayadeva

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Tattvārthādi

Ratanāvali

of

Kalyāṇa

Mandra

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-6-0

The

Rasika

Sañjīvanī

of

Arunagirinātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Sāhitya

Kaumudī

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Ujjvalanīlamaṇi

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Rasa

Gangādhara

of

Panditarāja

Jagannātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Bhāminī

Vilāsa

of

Jagannātha

Pandita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Candrālocana

of

Abhinava

Gupta

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Locana

on

the

Dhvanyāloka

of

Abhinava

Gupta,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Dhvanyāloka

of

Ānandavardhana

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Kāvyaprakāśa

of

Mammata

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-14-0

The

Sāhityadarpaṇa

of

Viśvanātha

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Kuvalayānanda

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Citra

Mīmāṃsā

of

Appayya

Dīkṣita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-10-0

The

Candrāloka

of

Jayadeva

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Tattvārthādi

Ratanāvali

of

Kalyāṇa

Mandra

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-6-0

The

Rasika

Sañjīvanī

of

Arunagirinātha,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Sāhitya

Kaumudī

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-8-0

The

Ujjvalanīlamaṇi

of

Rūpa

Gosvāmi

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Rasa

Gangādhara

of

Panditarāja

Jagannātha,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-0-0

The

Bhāminī

Vilāsa

of

Jagannātha

Pandita

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.0-12-0

The

Candrālocana

of

Abhinava

Gupta

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

The

Locana

on

the

Dhvanyāloka

of

Abhinava

Gupta,

in

Sanskrit

Literature.

Re.1-4-0

Sarasvatī

College

Members