Divinizing in South Asian Traditions 9780815357810, 9781351123624

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Divinizing in South Asian Traditions

This book deals with the issue of divinizing in South Asian traditions. It aims at studying cultural questions related to the representations and the mythologizing of the divine. It also explores the human relations to the “divine other.” It studies the interpretations of the divine in religious texts and the embodiment of the “divine other” in ritual practices. The focus is on studying the phenomenon of divinizing in its religious, cultural, and ideological implications. The book comprises eight chapters that explore the question of divinizing from the second century ce up to present­day in North and South India. The chapters discuss the issue both from insider and outsider perspectives, within the framework of textual study as well as ideological and anthropological analysis. All chapters explore various aspects of the cultural phenomenon of being in relation to the divine other, of the process of interpreting and embodying the divine, and of the representation of the divinizing process, as revealed in the literatures and cultures of South Asia. The issue of divinizing in South Asian traditions has not been examined before as a process involving various methods to affect the sociocultural cognition of the community. It is therefore essential to consider the context of “divinizing” and to analyze what groups, institutions, or individuals define the discourse, what are the ideological positions that they represent, and who or what is being divinized. Applying theoretical models of religious and cultural studies to discuss texts written in South Asian languages and engage in critical dialogue with current scholarship, this book is an indispensable study of literary, religious, and cultural production in South Asia. It will be of interest to academics in the fields of South Asian studies, Asian Studies, religious and cultural studies as well as comparative religion. Diana Dimitrova is Professor of Hinduism and South Asian religions at the University of Montreal. She is the author of Western Tradition and Naturalistic Hindi Theatre (2004), Gender, Religion and Modern Hindi Drama (2008), and Hinduism and Hindi Theater (2016). She is also the editor of Religion in Literature and Film in South Asia (2010), The Other in South Asian Religion, Literature and Film: Perspectives on Otherism and Otherness (2014), and of Imagining Indianness: Cultural Identity and Literature (2017, ed. with Thomas de Bruijn).

Tatiana Oranskaia is Professor (retired) in the Department of Culture and History of India and Tibet, Asien-­Afrika-Institut, University of Hamburg. Among her numerous publications are Pronominal Clitics in Indo-­Iranian Languages (1991, in Russian); Goddesses, Heroines and Lady-­Rulers in Asia and Africa (2010, ed. with B. Schuler, in German); ‘Impure Languages’: Linguistic and Literary Hybridity in Contemporary Cultures (2015, ed. with R. K. Agnihotri and C. Benthien).

Routledge Studies in Asian Religion and Philosophy

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Divinizing in South Asian Traditions

Edited by Diana Dimitrova and Tatiana Oranskaia

First published 2018 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2018 selection and editorial matter, Diana Dimitrova and Tatiana Oranskaia; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Diana Dimitrova and Tatiana Oranskaia to be identified as the authors of the editorial matter, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-­in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-­in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-0-8153-5781-0 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-351-12362-4 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

Contents



Notes on the editors Notes on contributors On transliteration



Introduction

ix xi xiv 1

D iana D imitro v a

1

The abducted male: sexual conquest, lineage and divinity in the narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha

6

C hristoph e r A ustin

2

From playmate to guru: poetry, theology, and practice in early Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta

27

A nn e E . M onius

3

The recasting of Krishna’s childhood narrative in the Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa to include the Goddess Radha

38

A ndr é C outur e

4

From warrior queen to Shiva’s consort to political pawn: the genesis and development of a local goddess in Madurai

59

G ita V .   P ai

5

A Bundela prince who became a deity: strands of divinizing

71

T atiana O ranskaia

6

Divinizing “on demand”? Kanyā pūjā in Himachal Pradesh, North India B rigitt e L uch e si

89

viii   Contents 7

Divinizing in the Radhasoami tradition: mythologizing the divine “other”

102

D iana D imitro v a

8

Movement, miracles, and mysticism: apotheosis of Sree Narayana Guru of early twentieth century Kerala

115

G e org e   P ati



Index

131

Editors

Diana Dimitrova obtained her Ph.D. in Modern and Classical Indology at the University of Heidelberg, Germany, in 2000. She is Professor of Hinduism and South Asian Religions at the University of Montreal in Montreal, Canada. Her research interests are: Hindi drama and theatre, Bollywood film, modern and pre-­modern literary and religious cultures of North India, especially sant and bhakti literary and religious traditions. She is the author of Hinduism and Hindi Theater (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), Gender, Religion and Modern Hindi Drama (Montreal: McGill-­Queen’s University Press, 2008), and Western Tradition and Naturalistic Hindi Theatre (New York: Peter Lang, 2004). She is also the editor of Imagining Indianness: Cultural Identity and Literature (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2017, ed. with Thomas de Bruijn), The Other in South Asian Religion, Literature and Film: Perspectives on Otherism and Otherness (New York and London: Routledge, 2014), and Religion in Literature and Film in South Asia (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). Her articles include “The Treatment of Women and Gender in the Plays Asharh ka ek din and Adhe adhure by Mohan Rakesh (1925–1972)” in Toþwa-e-­dil: Festschrift Helmut Nespital (Reinbek: Wezler, 2001); “Of Satis, Sitas, and Miras: Three Female Protagonists in Modern Hindi Drama” in Heroes and Heritage: The Protagonist in Indian Literature and Film (Leiden: Research School CNWS, Leiden University, 2003); “The Indian Character of Modern Hindi Drama: Neo-­Sanskritic, Pro-­Western Naturalistic or Nativistic Dramas?” in Theology and Literature: Rethinking Reader Response (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006); “Upendranath Ashk’s Play Tufan se pahle and Hindu-­Muslim Cultural Hybridity” in Voices from South Asia (Zagreb: Bibliotheca Orientalica of the Croatian Philological Society, 2006); “The Development of Sanatana Dharma in the Twentieth Century: A Radhasoami Perspective,” International Journal of Hindu Studies, Volume 1, Issue 1 (2007) 89–98; “Neo-­Sanskritic and Naturalistic Hindi Drama” in Modern Indian Theatre (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009); “Hinduism and Its Others in Bollywood Film of the 2000s,” Journal of Religion and Film Volume 20, no. 1 (2016), Article 10, 20 pages; “Identité Culturelle et Spiritualité dans la Tradition de Radhasoami en Amérique du Nord,” Théologiques, Volume 25, no. 1 (2018), 22 pages.

x   Editors Tatiana Oranskaia obtained her Ph.D. at the Leningrad/Saint Petersburg State University, Russia. She had taught and carried out research at the same university. Since 1999 she was Professor of Modern South Asian Studies at the University of Hamburg. Her teaching and research activities lie in the areas of historical and descriptive grammar of Indo-­Aryan languages, multilingualism, and media analysis; her special interest is in language and culture of Bundelkhand, India. Among her publications are: Hindi Prosody: a Manual (Leningrad: Leningrad University Press, 1989); Pronominal Clitics in Indo-­Iranian Languages (Moscow: INION/DEP, 1991, in Russian); edited books and volumes (also together with colleagues): Ausschreibung für das Bauprojekt Taj Mahal/The Taj Mahal Tender, Satirical Drama of Ajay Shukla. Trans. into German, ed. and with Introduction by Tatiana Oranskaia (Reinbek: Dr. Inge Wezler Verlag für orientalistische Fachpublikationen, 2003, in German); Göttinnen, Heldinnen und Herrscherinnen in Asien und Afrika/Goddesses/Heroines and Lady-­Rulers in Asia and Africa (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang Internationaler Verlag für Wissenschaften, 2011); New Indo-­Aryan Languages (Moscow: Academia, 2011, in Russian); “Impure Languages”: Linguistic and Literary Hybridity in Contemporary Cultures (New Delhi: Orient Blackswan, 2015); papers: “Indo-­Aryan Words in the Secret Languages of Tajikistan and Uzbekistan,” Annährung an das Fremde, XXVI Deutscher Orientalistentag vom 25. bis 29.9.1995 in Leipzig (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1995, pp.  483–489); “Fivefold Path or Neo-­ Agnihotra in the Houses of Pune,” in Glushkova, I. and Feldhaus, A. (eds.) House and Home in Maharashtra (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998, pp. 195–205); “Conditional Constructions in Hindi,” in Xrakovskij, V. (ed.). Typology of Conditional Constructions, LINCOM Studies in Theoretical Linguistics 25 (München: LINCOM, 2005, pp.  218–245); “Words with the Meaning ‘Fear’ in Indo-­Aryan Languages,” In Masica, C. (ed.). Grammar and Semantics of Indo-­Aryan Languages (Delhi: MLBD, 2007, pp.  24–33); “ ”/ Parya: A Language Related to Hindi and Punjabi in Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, Bahuvachan 46 (Wardha: Mahatman Gandhi International Hindi University, 2015, pp. 65–85, in Hindi).

Contributors

Christopher Austin is an Associate Professor of Religious Studies in the Department of Classics at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia where he teaches the Religions of India, China, Tibet, and Japan. He holds a B.A. and M.A. in Religious Studies from Concordia University and Ph.D. in Religious Studies from McMaster University. His early research, published in the Journal of Indian Philosophy (“Janamejaya’s Last Question”), International Journal of Hindu Studies (“The Sarasvata Yatsattra in Mahabharata 17 and 18”; “Draupadi’s Fall”), and Journal of Vaishnava Studies (“Evaluating the Critical Edition of the Mahabharata”), focused on the great Sanskrit epic the Mahabharata. In more recent years his work has turned to the Mahabharata’s appendix, the Harivaṃśa, the mythic traditions of Krishna’s adult life, and the formative period of Vaishnavism (“The Mystery of the Syamantaka Jewel,” Religions of South Asia; “The Abduction of Sri-­ Rukmini,” Religious Studies and Theology; “The Fructification of the Tale of a Tree,” Journal of the American Oriental Society; “Lifting the Meanings of Govardhana Mountain,” Journal of Vaishnava Studies). He is a contributor to a forthcoming Oxford University Press volume on the history of Vaishnavism and is currently completing a monograph, supported by a grant from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, on Krishna’s semi-­divine son Pradyumna. André Couture obtained his Ph.D. at Paris Sorbonne in 1977. He recently retired from his position there as full professor in the field of Indology and is now affiliate professor at the Faculté de théologie et de sciences religieuses, Université Laval, Québec, Canada. Couture has published on a wide variety of topics. Of special interest in this context are a number of articles on Krishna mythology and the translation of a number of texts including: chapters 30–78 of the Harivaṃśa (L’enfance de Krishna, 1991); Appendix I, no. 41, of the Harivaṃśa (La vision de Markandeya et la manifestation du Lotus, 2007); Bhāsa’s Bālacarita (in Théâtre de l’Inde ancienne, ed. Lyne Bansat-­ Boudon, 2006); and with Christine Chojnacki, Hindu, Buddhist and Jaina texts related to the Harivaṃśa (Krishna et ses métamorphoses dans les traditions indiennes: Récits d’enfance autour du Harivamsha, PUPS, 2014).

xii   Contributors Brigitte Luchesi is a trained sociologist, social anthropologist, and historian of religion. She obtained her Ph.D. at the Free University of Berlin. She has taught at the Institute for Ethnology and the Institute for Jewish Studies in Berlin and from 1989 to 2008 at the Department of Comparative Religion at the University of Bremen, Germany. After her retirement she moved back to Berlin where she continues to work in the fields she always has been most interested in: forms of local religion in North India and the religious practices of Hindu and Christian immigrants from South Asia in Germany. She has published a number of articles on these topics in German and English, among them: “Fighting Enemies and Protecting Territory: Deities as Local Rulers in Kullu, Himachal Pradesh,” European Bulletin of Himalayan Research (EBHR) 29–30 (Summer 2006) 62–81; “Seeking the Blessing of the Consolatrix Afflictorum: The Annual Pilgrimage of Sri Lankan Tamils to the Madonna in Kevelaer, Germany,” in Knut A. Jacobsen and Selva Raj (eds.) South Asian Christian Diasporas (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009, pp. 75–95; “Looking Different: Images of Hindu Deities in Temple and Museum Spaces,” Journal of Religion in Europe, Volume 4 (2011) 175–194; “Jhānkīs: ‘Living Images’ as Objects of Worship in Himachal Pradesh,” in Knut A. Jacobsen, Mikael Aktor, and Kristina Myrvold (eds.) Objects of Worship in South Asian Religions (London/New York: Routledge, 2015, pp. 35–50). Anne E. Monius obtained her Ph.D. at Harvard University. She is currently Professor of South Asian Religions at Harvard Divinity School. Her major publications include: Imagining a Place for Buddhism: Literary Culture and Religious Community in Tamil-­Speaking South India (Oxford University Press, 2001); Kampaṉ’s Irāmāvatāram: War, Book Two (Harvard, forthcoming); “And We Shall Compose a Poem to Establish These Truths: The Power of Narrative Art in South Asian Literary Cultures,” in Narrative, Philosophy, and Life, ed. Allen Speight (Springer, 2015); “Local Literatures: Tamil,” in Brill’s Encyclopedia of Buddhism, Volume 1 (Brill, 2015, pp. 813–818); “ ‘Sanskrit is the Mother of All Tamiḻ Words’: Further Thoughts on the Vīracōḻiyam and its Commentary,” in Buddhism Among Tamils in Tamilakam and Ilam: Part III: Extensions and Conclusions, Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, Historia Religionum, 32 (Uppsala, Sweden: Uppsala University, 2013, pp. 103–129); “Jain Satire and Religious Identity in Tamiḻ-Speaking Literary Culture,” in Indian Satire in the Period of First Modernity, ed. Monika Horstmann and Heidi R. M. Pauwels. Khoj, volume 9 (Harrassowitz, 2012). Her current research interests include examining the practices and products of literary culture to reconstruct the history of religions in South Asia. Her current research project, “Singing the Lives of Śiva’s Saints: History, Aesthetics, and Religious Identity in Tamil-­Speaking South India,” considers the role of aesthetics and moral vision in the articulation of a distinctly Hindu religious identity in twelfth-­century South India. All of the above works point to a larger research focus on the ways in which aesthetics and ethics define religious identity and community in South Asia, as well as to the creative and productive encounters among competing sectarian religious communities.

Contributors   xiii Gita V. Pai is an Assistant Professor of South Asian history at the University of Wisconsin-­La Crosse, a position she began in 2010 after earning a Ph.D. in South Asian Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. Her first manuscript in the final stages of revision focuses on the Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple in Madurai, a religious pilgrimage site in the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu; it analyzes relationships between religion and political sovereignty, transformations of the sacred, encounters and appropriations of religious experience, and contemporary cultural tourism. Her second project, a book-­length study on the history of the Hindu god Shiva in his dancing form, explores the medieval-­period bronze statue as a ritual element and article of devotion in South Asian temples, as an art object and embodiment of Indian culture in museums around the world, and as a bought, sold, and sometimes stolen commodity in international art markets. Her research has been supported by numerous external grants and her referred articles and scholarly essays include: “An Imperial Japanese in Colonial India: Okakura Tenshin Meeting Swami Vivekananda and Sister Nivedita, Forms of Resistance and the Asian Modern” in Prabuddha Bharata (2017); “Producing Heritage: Culture as Commodity in Madurai” in International Journal of Tourism Anthropology (2016); “Re-­Enchantment in the Museum: Gaṇeśa, Hindu Art and the Living Divine” in Journal of Curatorial Studies (2016); “Orwell’s Reflections on Saint Gandhi” in Concentric: Literary and Cultural Studies (2014); “A Review of The Impossible Indian: Gandhi and the Temptation of Violence” in History: A Review of New Books (2014). George Pati obtained his Ph.D. at Boston University. He is currently Surjit S. Patheja Chair in World Religions and Ethics and Associate Professor of Theology and International Studies, College of Arts and Sciences at Valparaiso University, IN. His recent publications include “Nambutiris and Ayyappan Devotees in Kerala” in Contemporary Hinduism edited by P. Pratap Kumar (2014); “Temple and Human Bodies: Representing Hinduism,” in International Journal of Hindu Studies (2011); “Kalari and Kalarippayattu of Kerala, South India: Nexus of the Celestial, the Corporeal, and the Terrestrial” in Contemporary South Asia (2010). His current research interests focus on the mediation of religion in Kerala, South India, through texts, traditions, performances, and discusses the intersection between body and religion.

On transliteration

The system of transliteration in this work follows a standard system for Hindi and Sanskrit, in which long vowels are marked with a macron, for instance ā or ī as in strī, and retroflex consonants with a dot beneath the letter, for example ṭ. Nasalization is indicated by the sign ṃ, which follows the nasalized vocal, for instance bhaṃvar. No special symbol is used for anusvāra (superscript dot denoting homorganic or other nasal consonant) in the transliteration, the appropriate nasal consonant being written to avoid confusion in the pronunciation, for example varṇa. All Sanskrit and Hindi words and titles of works are spelled according to the transliteration system for Sanskrit and Hindi, for example mokṣa. The names of authors, the names of deities, of characters in fiction and scripture, of languages, and of cities and countries, etc., have not been marked with diacritics. The character “c” in the Indian words and names should be read as “ch” in English, for instance cakra (read: chakra).

Introduction Diana Dimitrova

This book deals with the issue of divinizing in South Asian traditions. It aims at studying cultural questions related to the representations and mythologizing of the divine, and the ways in which human beings relate to the “divine other.” The book discusses the process of interpreting the divine in religious texts and embodying the “divine Other” in ritual practices. The focus is on studying the phenomenon of divinizing in its religious, cultural, and ideological implications. The book comprises eight chapters that explore the question of divinizing from the second century ce up to present-­day in both North and South India. The authors discuss the issue both from the perspective of textual study and ideological analysis as well as from the perspective of anthropological analysis. Both insider and outsider perspectives are represented. The common thread that links all the chapters is the issue of mythologizing the divine. All chapters explore various aspects of the cultural phenomenon of being in relation to the divine other, of the process of interpreting and embodying the divine and of the representation of the divinizing process, as revealed in the literature and culture of South Asia. The chapters in this collection respond to one and the same questions: how to interpret the divine and human beings’ relation to it? What is the cultural meaning of the divine, of divinizing, and of mythologizing the divine today? What are the ideological implications of the creation of human embodiments of the divine, such as gurus, kanyās and others with regard to religious and cultural identity and the legitimation of power? How does the representation of the divine reflect the power structures of contemporary societies in South Asia? How are members of the society or religious group marginalized? Finally, how do the mythologized divine figures empower the human beings who represent and embody them? What is their significance for the empowerment of women and other minority groups? What are the responses of those who have been empowered or who have been marginalized through the divinizing process? How are those constructed models of divinized figures shaping and reshaping our collective imagination through religious and literary space? Thus, the chapters approach the questions raised from the perspective of ideological criticism, theories of myth and mythologizing, hybridity, otherism, and gender studies. The chapters are written by scholars from Europe, Canada, and the United States, all of whom are well versed in Indian languages and who have used

2   Diana Dimitrova primary sources in South Asian languages as the basis of their work. Thus, the expertise of the authors, the new topic, and the innovative interdisciplinary approach have made it possible to create a book which offers a well-­thought reflection on important cultural questions as well as a deep insight into the study of religion and the issue of divinizing in South Asian literature, religion, and culture. The issue of divinizing in South Asian traditions has not been examined before as a process involving various methods to affect the sociocultural cognition of the community. This collection is a pioneering project and a desideratum in the field of South Asian Studies, and in the study of South Asian religions, literatures, and cultures. The following section summarizes some of the major themes that each of the chapters undertakes. In Chapter 1 Christopher Austin focuses on the image of the abducted male. He examines a pair of abducted-­male scenarios in the critical text of the Harivaṃśa which form part of the narratives of Krishna’s adult life. In the narratives of Krishna’s son Pradyumna and grandson Aniruddha, a set of inversions of sexual aggression and “conquest” configure these two Vrishni males as “lineage heroes” (vaṃśavīras), and thereby incorporate them into the divine family. The author argues that the “abducted male” motif partakes of a popular and powerful dynamic widely recognized in brahminical myth and storytelling, but is deployed in a unique and inverted way by those seeking to define the identity and significance of Krishna’s descendants. These heroes achieve a divine status within the early Vaiṣṇava tradition through their achievement on and for the human plane. Thus while many saints and heroes are divinized through the denial or strategic erosion of their humanity by their later mythological and devotional traditions, the human and mortal concerns for patriline and posterity are central in the narratives celebrating Pradyumna and Aniruddha, both of whom consequently come to be venerated as deities in pre-­Gupta North India. In Chapter 2 Anne E. Monius studies the earliest of the fourteen Śaiva Siddhānta treatises composed in Tamil that have thus far received relatively little scholarly attention: the Tiruvuntiyār and the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār, both tentatively assigned to the mid- to late-­twelfth century. In particular, she considers the profound conceptual and poetic shift between the two texts in ways of speaking about Shiva, arguing that the specific modes of “divinizing” Shiva and the guru or teacher in the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār would eventually come to dominate the Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta tradition. The chapter argues more specifically that Shiva in the Tiruvuntiyār shares much with the complex theologies of the earlier Tamil Śaiva poetic corpus—the twelve texts of the canonical Tirumuṟai—while the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār focuses exclusively on the incomprehensible Shiva beyond all name-­and-form, accessible only through the figure of the guru who himself becomes divine. Thus, in these two earliest Tamil-­language Śaiva Siddhānta treatises, one witnesses the transformation of Shiva into the ultimate—and ultimately inaccessible, except via the intervention of a teacher— being he becomes for the later philosophical tradition.

Introduction   3 In Chapter 3 André Couture discusses the issue of divinizing in the Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa (thirteenth to fourteenth centuries?) related to the importance of the character of Radha/Radhika. The author studies the consequences of the addition of Radha to the childhood narrative: the inclusion of hereto unknown scenes, a divinizing of the Vrindavana forest, the emphasis on Krishna and Radha’s secret love, and a recasting of the traditional episodes to fit the new overarching presence of both Krishna and Radha. Couture argues that Radha— who is a newcomer in the childhood narratives—should be seen as the personification of the Mūlaprakṛti, the “Root nature”—that original seed from which all material forms evolved. She is said to inhabit the Goloka, a world of cows and cowherds, far above the Vaikuntha, in the company of the puruṣa Krishna. In this divine world, both Krishna and Radha constitute one body (ekāṅga), in the way that body (deha) is to soul (ātman). The chapter explores the episodes that narrate Krishna transferring to Nandagopa’s cow settlement once he was born in Mathura in the house of Vasudeva. Even though Radha was condemned to be born in the house of the cowherd Vrishabhanu and to be considered Rayana’s wife, during their actual lives as cowherds, Krishna and Radha keep on dreaming about their former lives in the Goloka. In Chapter 4 Gita V. Pai focuses on the goddess Minakshi and on the ways she has become an important symbol for Madurai and the Tamil people. It examines the goddess’s genesis and development through an analysis of mythological texts, sculptural reliefs, and religious festivals connected to Minakshi and her Madurai temple. It traces her apotheosis from the soldierly daughter of her royal father to the submissive wife of her god-­husband to the political tool of an opportunistic king. In particular, the author studies the last of these three foci: how Madurai’s seventeenth-­century ruler Tirumala Nāyaka used temple ceremonies dedicated to Minakshi to establish and maintain his own political legitimacy, a necessary maneuver for a monarch whose distant origins and religious affiliations differed from many constituents in his reigning territory. The author argues that a crucial site for this legitimation is the building he had constructed at the Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple site, the Pudu Maṇḍapam (Tamil, “new hall”) situated near the complex’s east gateway. Chapter 5 deals with the relation between a local deity Hardaul and the deified prince of Orchha bearing this name (1608–1631). Tatiana Oranskaia states that Hardaul is worshipped in Bundelkhand as the patron of brides and girls of marriage age who takes care of the wedding ceremony and a happy married life. His further divine functions that obviously have almost vanished from the collective consciousness are as the god of cholera and rainstorm. The study looks specifically into the paths of the divinizing of Hardaul and the ways in which this historical figure, turned into a deity, manifests the ethical attitude toward social responsibilities embedded in the folk consciousness in the region. Thus, in the conceptual mapping of these paths, the focus is on the socio-­ethical strand of the process analyzed. Further issues of the discussion include forms of Hardaul’s worship and connections of his cult to the ancestors’ cult. The author concludes that the present deified image of Hardaul can be seen as a product of a

4   Diana Dimitrova three-­phase spiral evolution, in which the divinizing process involves two main paths. The first one reflects a transition from Hardaul’s worship as an ancestral spirit to his perception as a god acting according to the Kshatriya (or Rajput) masculine dharma. The second one is a gender path that includes an initially gender neutral worship, which is replaced by a cult catering to female objectives and emotions. In Chapter 6 Brigitte Luchesi studies the worship of young females who are said to embody goddesses (devīs). The author examines the forms of kanyā pūjā prevalent in the southern parts of the North Indian state of Himachal Pradesh. She argues that Kanyā pūjā is a type of worship which may be performed on a number of occasions. Its performance is appropriate at all goddess festivals, especially during the two grand ones in autumn and spring called navarātra. Apart from these it can be carried out whenever there is the wish to honor and thank a goddess. The author points out that two types of kanyā pūjā can be distinguished, one taking place in public, the other being a rather private affair. The former can be found at goddess temples where on festival days kanyās make themselves available to visitors who wish to perform this pūjā. Privately done kanyā pūjās may occur at the same festive occasions, but differ from the temple version insofar as the selected girls are usually known to the worshippers. In Chapter 7 Diana Dimitrova studies divinizing in the devotional tradition of Radhasoami and seeks to explore several instances of mythologizing the divine, as represented by the notion of guru-­bhakti and by elements of Radhasoami religiosity which invite the devotee to long for a darśana of the guru and encourage followers to mediate on him. Thus, the teachings of Radhasoami require that a guru be alive and present in a bodily form for the devotee, and the followers to regard the living guru as an incarnate form of the Absolute. The author also discusses the concept of āratī in Radhasoami, which represents an internalizing of ritual worship and of devotees’ longing to unite with the divinized guru during worship. In the process of this internalized āratī the devotee might present to his guru the parts of his inner body. The author observes that these patterns of internalized uniting with the guru are similar to the ways a Hindu devotee might subtly offer to the deity the parts of his/her inner being in uniting with the deity in Hindu contexts. She concludes that the multiple instances of divinizing of the guru in the nirguṇa (of which the divine is without attributes, non-­manifest) Radhasoami tradition may point to an influence from the saguṇa (of which the divine is with attributes, manifest) forms of the Vaishnava bhakti traditions that surround Radhasoami. In this way, the author argues that the divinized human guru seems to make the nirguṇa form of the divine more accessible to the devotees, thus “compensating” for the absolute nirguṇavād of the tradition. In Chapter 8 George Pati discusses the divinizing of Sree Narayana Guru (1856–1928), a member of the Izhava caste (a lower caste), and a product of the colonial time period in Kerala, who critiqued and rejected some of the customary practices within the caste oriented society of early twentieth century Kerala, and pioneered socioreligious reform movements. In 1903, he founded the Sree

Introduction   5 Narayana Dharma Paripalana Yogam (SNDP), based on his manifesto, “One caste, one religion, one God for mankind.” The author argues that though Sree Narayna Guru himself taught the significance of self-­realization and consciousness and dissuaded image worship of Hindu deities, by the early twentieth century, people in the community, mainly Izhavas, recognized him as a spiritual and social leader and a divine person, who performed miracles and taught mysticism, becoming an object of reverence and a unifying force. As a result, he was deified and worshipped (and still is worshipped) throughout Kerala, and wherever Izhavas have migrated. Such an apotheosis of Guru not only provides for Izhavas a distinct religious identity, but also legitimizes their social mobility in caste conscious Kerala society. To conclude, it is important to note that all the chapters in the book have explored different ways of looking at the divine and of inflecting the meaning of divinizing as a powerful ideological discourse which prioritizes or marginalizes or “others” at all levels of the human condition. Thus, it is essential to consider the context of “divinizing” and to analyze what groups, institutions, or individuals divinize and define the discourse, what is the ideological position that they represent, and who or what is being divinized. While it would not be possible to exhaust the vast topic of divinizing in South Asian traditions in this volume, we hope that the book will open an exciting and important discussion on this issue, and that it will prompt scholars to carry out further research on this important subject.

1 The abducted male Sexual conquest, lineage and divinity in the narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha1 Christopher Austin Introduction The chapters collected in this volume reflect on divinizing and on the dynamics which often characterize it in South Asia. “Divinizing” of course can mean any number of things: the ascription of divinity by later generations to a long-­ deceased historical figure,2 the transformation of an adept from mortal to divine through ritual procedures,3 or a religious community’s identification of a contemporary saint as a living manifestation of the divinity she adores.4 Here it need hardly be remarked that divinizing often entails the attenuation, minimization, or erasure of humanity. However in what follows I would like to introduce two figures who seem to arrive at their divine status not through any denial of their nature as mortals, but by means of a very human kind of triumph or achievement. Pradyumna and Aniruddha, the son and grandson of the Hindu deity Krishna, might be said to earn their fame, reputation, and ultimately divinity, by enacting a profoundly human kind of triumph: they become lineage-­heroes (vaṃśavīra) or champions of a patriline. These heroes achieve a divine status within the early Vaishnava tradition through their achievement on and for the human plane. Thus while many saints and heroes are divinized through the denial or strategic erosion of their humanity by their later mythological and devotional traditions, the human and mortal concerns for patriline and posterity are central in the narratives celebrating Pradyumna and Aniruddha, both of whom consequently come to be venerated as deities in pre-­Gupta North India. First: who exactly are Pradyumna and Aniruddha? We are speaking here of the son and grandson of Vasudeva Krishna. Krishna of course is the friend and counsellor of the Pandavas and teacher of the Bhagavad Gītā in the Mahābhārata (MBh).5 He is said to have had many sons, but by far the most important is Pradyumna, born to him of his chief wife Rukmiṇi. Aniruddha is Pradyumna’s son by his wife and first cousin Shubhangi.6 To properly introduce this father–son pair of characters and their narratives, we must begin with a few words about the environment in which their stories were composed, and in which they emerged as objects of devotion. Here our first task is to coordinate and understand the relationship between the textual and physical evidence surviving from this period.

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   7 The texts in question are the MBh―which likely began to take shape in the centuries preceding the common era and emerged to completion by the third to fourth centuries ce7―and its appendix or supplement (khila), the Harivaṃśa (HV) or “Lineage of Hari [Vāsudeva Kṛṣṇa].” This latter text emerged in the second to third centuries ce (Couture 1991: 77; Couture 2015: 67–87) as a complement to the MBh, narrating in full that which is communicated only minimally in the much larger epic, namely the full biography of Vasudeva Krishna and his immediate family. This includes the narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha which we will examine below. Krishna is in these two texts the leader of a tribal consortium usually called the Vrishnis.8 Krishna, his brother Samkarshana (also known as Baladeva, Balarama, or simply Rama),9 son Pradyumna and grandson Aniruddha constitute the four most celebrated heroes of the Vrishni clan. Moreover, in these texts, it is clear that Krishna and Samkarshana, who are certainly venerable as human heroes, are moreover understood to be manifestations of the divine Vishnu-­Narayana and the cosmic serpent Ananta-­ Shesha upon whom Vishnu sleeps, respectively. The status of Pradyumna and Aniruddha as gods on earth is however far less clear from the texts. Are these latter-­generation Vrishnis divinities as well? A first response we can make here is: yes, Pradyumna is assigned a kind of double-­partial divinity. At the start of the MBh (1.61), every major character in the epic is said to be the partial embodiment (aṃśa) of a deity: Arjuna is born from a portion of Indra, Droṇa from Bṛhaspati, and so on. Some of these mythic identifications are of great importance for the epic’s larger theological concerns. Others seem perfunctory and are seldom if ever invoked within the narrative. In this list, Pradyumna is identified as the aṃśa of the ancient sage Sanatkumara (1.61.91). It is difficult to argue that this identification is a deeply meaningful one, particularly given how small a role Pradyumna plays in the MBh itself. This is the first partial-­ divinity association made for Pradyumna; second, he is said to be the rebirth of Kamadeva, the god of love. We will see below that this identification is more important to Pradyumna’s identity and role within the HV than his association with Sanatkumara. As for Aniruddha, no explicit mythic identification is made for him at all in either the MBh’s aṃśāvataraṇa or in the HV (Couture 2006: 577).10 Thus, across these three generations of Vrishnis―Krishna-­Samkarshana, Pradyumna, and Aniruddha―a full and transparent divinity is assigned to the eldest brothers, a certain amount to the middle generation, and none to the latter. Does the Vrishni divinity attenuate every generation? When we look beyond the texts to the physical evidence paralleling the period in which these poems emerged, we see that both Krishna’s son and grandson were indeed venerated as deities in the environment of ancient North-­Central India.11 The Vrishnis appear to have been the object of a cult of devotion from as early as the third century bce. Although Vasudeva and Samkarshana seem to be the chief objects of veneration here, Pradyumna and Aniruddha claim a place in this early cult as well, which is usually referred to as the “Bhāgavata” movement.12 One piece of physical evidence is especially important here, namely the Morā well inscription, discovered in the Mathurā region and dating to

8   Christopher Austin approximately the early first century ce (Jaiswal 1981 [1967]: 70; Srinivasan 1981: 129; Härtel 1987: 575). This inscription makes reference to a shrine (itself no longer extant) in which were installed images (pratimā, also no longer present at the site) of the “bhagavatāṃ vṛṣṇīnāṃ pañcavīrāṇāṃ”―the Bhagavat-­Vrishni hero-­quintet. While this inscription does not actually name the five vīras, Banerjea coordinated this physical evidence with two identical Puraṇic passages which name the five Vrishni heroes as Samkarshana, Vasudeva, Pradyumna, Samba, and Aniruddha (Banerjea 1942: 65): Vāyu Purāṇa II. 35.1–2ab and Brahmāṇḍa Purāṇa 2.72.1–2ab: manuṣyaprakṛtīn devān kīrtyamānān nibodhata | saṃkarṣaṇo vāsudevaḥ pradyumnaḥ sāmba eva ca || 1 aniruddhaś ca pañcaite vaṃśavīrāḥ prakīrtitāḥ | 2ab Understand that the gods should be depicted in human form: Samkarshana, Vasudeva, Pradyumna, Samba, and Aniruddha―these are the celebrated five vaṃśa-heroes. Again, the heroes are not named in the Morā inscription, but Banerjea’s matching of the physical to this textual evidence is widely accepted in scholarship on the Vṛṣṇi cult (Jaiswal 1981 [1967]: 70; Gonda 1970: 51; Härtel 1987: 575; Srinivasan 1991: 211; Schmid 2010: 155). These five heroes, which include Samba (another son of Krishna’s, about whom we know very little from the MBh and HV, and who consequently will not be treated here), were clearly much more than mythic characters in a popular story: they were being worshipped as deities in the period of the MBh’s and HV’s formation. Once again, Krishna and Samkarshana are consistently understood in the texts of this period as the most celebrated heroes of the Vrishni clan and ultimately as aspects of Vishnu-­Narayana and Ananta-­Shesha, and so we are not surprised to find this corroborating physical evidence of their worship on the ground as divinities. But in the same textual sources, it is less immediately obvious why Pradyumna and Aniruddha should have been venerated as deities, except by association with Vasudeva and Samkarshana. Do they simply ride the divine coat-­tails of the older generation of Vrishnis and become Bhāgavata objects of worship thereby? I will argue here that Pradyumna and Aniruddha do not simply enjoy trickle-­ down divinity, but rather “earn their place” as Vrishni gods by means of a particular kind of heroic triumph encoded in their HV narratives―a triumph that celebrates a very mortal and human kind of victory. As we will see in detail presently, both father and son undergo much the same experience: Pradyumna and Aniruddha are both abducted and made to reside in the home of an enemy demon; both sexually conquer a female under the protection of the enemy, following which the enemy is defeated and the male returns home with the conquered female as his new bride. Almost everything the HV wished to say about Pradyumna and Aniruddha is communicated in this “abducted male” scenario and defines the father–son pair for the Vaishnava tradition. My concern in what

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   9 follows is to illustrate how this common geste earns for Pradyumna and son a place in the divine Hari-­vaṃśa or lineage of Hari Krishna. I will argue that, properly understood within its epic context, the abducted male motif communicates a powerful set of social and sexual values, and that by means of the very human triumph encoded within it, Pradyumna and Aniruddha earn their place as divinities in the Vrishni hero cult of the pre-­Gupta period, and consequently are given the designation “vaṃśavīras” or “lineage-­heroes,” by which they are known in the Vayu and Brahmāṇḍa Purāṇa passages quoted by Banerjea.

The “abducted male” motif in Harivaṃśa 99 and 106–108 Let us come now to the narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha. The first of the two scenes occurs at adhyāya 99 of the critical text HV, and follows a portion of the poem in which Krishna’s coastal city of Dvaraka is described in detail and his principal offspring identified. Once the short account of Krishna’s descendants and other family arrangements are defined in chapter 98, the author of chapter 99 returns to the birth of the eldest male, Pradyumna. This begins with a kidnapping: only seven days after he is born, Krishna’s son is abducted by the demon Shambara. Unbeknownst to the newborn (and indeed to everyone except the omniscient Krishna), Pradyumna is in fact Kamadeva the God of Love reborn as Krishna’s son after being burned to ash by Śiva.13 Shambara returns to his home city with the kidnapped infant and gives the baby to his wife Mayavati to raise as her own child. This queen, whose name means “she with māyā,” imparts to the boy all her māyā or magical craft (99.8). As Pradyumna grows to manhood, Mayavati is overcome with desire for her adopted son. Pradyumna is naturally disgusted, thinking that his own mother is making sexual advances upon him, but Mayavati now explains that in fact he is not her child, but was abducted as an infant by her demon husband Shambara. Learning that Krishna and Rukmiṇi are his true parents, Pradyumna angrily summons his foster-­father to confront him. In the battle that ensues, Shambara sends all of his māyā against Pradyumna, but Krishna’s son, endowed with Mayavati’s magic, destroys him. Using his māyā again to fly, he takes his new wife Mayavati back to Dvaraka, where he is soon recognized and identified as the long lost Pradyumna. Krishna welcomes back his son and new daughter-­in-law, explaining that Pradyumna is none other than Kamadeva, reborn after his destruction by Shiva, and Mayavati is Rati, Kamadeva’s wife of yore, reborn so that she may rejoin Kama (99.46). A little later in the critical text of the HV, we have a second expression as it were of this motif, with Pradyumna’s son Aniruddha undergoing a very similar coming-­ of-age experience, although with a few variations. In the case of Aniruddha, a demon is once again involved―Bana or Banasura―although this time not as the chief abductor. Here the seizure and removal of Aniruddha comes about through the machinations of Bana’s daughter Usha. In adhyāyas 106–108, Usha attains young womanhood, and suffers from the physical urges attendant thereto. She has an erotic dream of a mysterious lover visiting her in her bed. This is so intense that she awakens in horror to find she has lost her virginity. An apsaras

10   Christopher Austin named Citralekha (lit. “Drawer of Pictures”) assists her in identifying the young man with whom she made love in her dream. She does this by sketching and presenting to Usha various images of famous young princes from the entire range of divine and human beings. Usha picks out the dreamboat Aniruddha, the Vrishni grandson of Krishna, from among these pictures (107.72) and begs for Citralekha’s help in bringing the two of them together. Citralekha flies to Dvaraka, makes herself invisible, and abducts Aniruddha, bringing him back to the demon Bana’s city Shoṇitapura. Once again the Vrishnis suffer terrible anxiety as yet another of their boys goes missing under mysterious circumstances. Also like his father with Mayavati, Aniruddha now after his abduction enjoys a secret sexual relationship with the demon’s woman, right under the nose of her father. When this impudent playboy and his scandalous conduct is discovered, Bana is naturally outraged, remarking that by raping his daughter Aniruddha has raped his entire clan (uṣāyāṃ dharṣitāyāṃ hi kulaṃ no dharṣitaṃ mahat, 108.16). A battle ensues wherein Aniruddha initially confronts Bana directly, but is then bound in Bana’s prison by snake fetters and is eventually rescued by Krishna, Samkarshana, and Pradyumna.14 I do not mean to suggest here that the two narratives are identical or that one simply duplicates the other. There are several significant differences: Pradyumna is apparently abducted in order for the childless Mayavati to have a son (although the text does not explicitly state that this is the reason for the kidnapping), while Aniruddha is abducted by an almost cupid-­like figure. Unlike Aniruddha, Pradyumna initially does not know he has been abducted. Pradyumna also needs no help in vanquishing Shambara, while Aniruddha is ultimately rescued by his father, grandfather, and grand-­uncle. More differences could be identified. Nonetheless, I wish to underline here the common structure, which we might say follows an “abduction–seduction–destruction” pattern: a young Vrishni male is suddenly and mysteriously snatched away and Krishna’s patriline is thus directly threatened; the male is held captive in the home of a demon enemy of Krishna, and there, right under the nose of the oblivious Asura, the Vrishni seduces a female purportedly under the demon’s protection. The audacious and scandalous sexual conquest is immediately tied to the hostile confrontation in which the male demon is defeated. The young male then returns triumphantly to his true family with a new wife in tow. Once again, nearly all that the authors of the critical HV text wish to say about Krishna’s male offspring is based upon this narrative dynamic, as Pradyumna and Aniruddha are featured only in a small number of scenes in the HV outside of these adhyāya 99 and 106–108 episodes. Consequently, if we wish to understand the meaning of Pradyumna’s and Aniruddha’s inclusion in the early Vrishni cult―again, not being satisfied with the assumption that they are simply included by default association with the older generation―we must interrogate this abducted male motif closely in its proper context. I will argue that it is through their victories as scions and defenders of the Hari-­vaṃśa, encoded in the abducted male motif, that Pradyumna and Aniruddha earn their place as venerable Vrishni deities in the early cult. The driving force of the Pradyumna and

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   11 Aniruddha narratives is a concern to trumpet the virility and potency of Krishna’s human patriline through a reversal or inversion of the social–sexual anxieties that shape the notions of virility and manhood in the epic period. This set of epic social and gender values, which defines the proper context for understanding HV 99 and 106–108, now requires our attention.

The measure of a man: virility and the protection of women in the epic world In the epic world, kill or be killed is the standard on the battlefield, and there is plenty of it. Within this universe, where conflicts between men are resolved openly and directly with decapitations and rivers of blood, kidnapping seems an oddly timid strategy for threatening a kṣatriya warrior. But to understand the dramatic power of the abducted male motif, we must frame it not against other forms of epic male-­against-male aggression, but within the wider context of the epic universe’s gender and sexual values. There exists already a healthy base of research on sexuality and gender in the Sanskrit epics (Goldman 1978; Hiltebeitel 1985; Sutherland Goldman 1992; Goldman 1993; Hiltebeitel 1998; Hess 1999; Brodbeck and Black 2007; Dhand 2008; Pauwels 2008; Sutherland Goldman 2009 to name but a few) and my purpose here is not to challenge or rewrite any of this excellent work, but to emphasize a particular aspect of the epics’ gender dynamics which others have occasionally taken note of. A few examples from the Rāmāyaṇa (Rm) and MBh here will be instructive. All of these examples involve acts of aggression against women, and all of them are typical of the epics’ construction of the masculine. The first and most obvious example of an act of aggression against a female epic character is Sita’s seizure and abduction by Ravana in the Rm. The Rm’s enormous popularity and power today is no doubt due in part to the fact that it is received and celebrated as a romance. But behind Rama’s heart-­felt longings to be reunited with his wife are a whole set of kṣatriya and brahminical values that link a man’s virility, strength, valor, and reputation to his ability to protect the women under his charge from threat of sexual violation. At least in the Valmiki Rm, the protection and rescue of Sita has much more to do with Rama’s reputation as a man and the preservation of his patriline’s purity than it does with a concern for her physical and emotional welfare. In her analysis of the Yuddhakāṇḍa, Sally J. Sutherland Goldman points out that Sita’s abduction and rescue is an occasion for the celebration of distinctly masculine virtues. She demonstrates this particularly at the crucial moment before the war to recover Sita begins in the sixth book of the Rm, which “opens by defining itself as masculine. The feminine, is introduced only as a mechanism through which to articulate fidelity, friendship, devotion, and patronage among Rama’s allies and friends” (Sutherland Goldman 2009: 141). While the romance of Rama’s separation from Sita is certainly not insignificant, Sutherland Goldman underlines the fact that masculine kṣatriya virtues tend to be of more immediate importance to the epic poets, particularly in book six. And so, while

12   Christopher Austin Rama is concerned for Sita’s safety, he is mainly concerned for his patriline’s purity and integrity. Sutherland Goldman points out, for example, that when Hanuman reports to Rama that he has found Sita, Rama is pleased as this means that “Now, with the seeing of Vaidehi, I, and the Raghuvaṃśa, and Lakshmana of great strength, are righteously protected” (dharmataḥ parirakṣitāḥ, Rm 6.1.10). Protecting Sita means protecting the patriline. Once finally rescued, Sita quickly comes to understand the true meaning and importance of the killing of Ravana and her release from captivity in Lanka. Love is not the issue. It is rather the rectification of the insult to Rama’s lineage, and to him as a man, which he is proud to have answered by killing Ravana. In his words of greeting to Sita (6.103), Rama speaks only of his manly triumph and the effort involved in wiping out the insult against him. Rama is proud that his virility has been proven and is visible to all (adya me pauruṣaṃ dṛṣṭam, 6.103.4), and he asks “What is the purpose of the manhood of that man of little tejas (virile power, energy) who does not wipe out, with his tejas, an insult that has come upon him?” (saṃprāptam avamānaṃ yas tejasā na pramārjati | kas tasya puruṣārtho ‘sti puruṣasyālpatejasaḥ, 6.103.6). Rama then articulates in the clearest (and, for Sita, the most painful) possible terms that her rescue, accomplished through the heroism or virility of Rama’s male friends (suhṛdāṃ vīryāt), was not for her sake (na tvadarthaṃ mayā kṛtaḥ), but for the sake of the restoration of Rama’s reputation and that of his lineage (6.103.16). Rama then dismisses her, asking how he could take her back, considering the greatness of his kula or noble family. The honor (yaśas) of his family has been restored, and that is what is important.15 Rama will of course take Sita back after she has proven her purity by fire, but, as Sutherland Goldman points out, “Rama’s [initial] public rejection of his wife assures the priority of the masculine concerns of the narrative and the patriarchy it defends” (Sutherland Goldman 2009: 165). In this infamously harsh scene we see writ large the real concern with the protection of women: a man’s reputation as a warrior and nobleman, and the fame and purity of his lineage stand or fall on the chastity and preservation of the family’s women. If he cannot protect his women, he fails as a man, and more importantly fails as a scion of his patriline. Nearly as famous as Sita’s victimization at the hands of Ravana is Draupadi’s abuse in the gambling hall in book two of the MBh. Here again we see that the measure of a man lies in his capacity to protect the women under his power from sexual violation, and the greatest possible shame falls upon him who cannot prevent it. Staked and lost in the gambling match, the menstruating Draupadi is dragged into the hall by the hair to be derided, humiliated, and enslaved to the Kauravas. This outrageous treatment of course bespeaks the Pandavas’ lamentable impotence and passivity, for Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers are now slaves unable to protect her. When Draupadi is dragged into the hall, “the Pandavas’ manliness was disgraced” (pāṇḍavānāṁ paribhūya vīryaṁ, MBh 2.60.23).16 Later in exile Draupadi tells Krishna of this abuse, asking how she could have been treated thusly while her husbands were still alive (3.13.56), and gives them all an earful, mocking their celebrated manliness and virility (3.13.58–70). They

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   13 merely watched while she was being molested; she calls down shame upon their strength and military might (dhig balaṁ bhīmasenasya dhik pārthasya dhanuṣmatām) and cries out that “this is the eternal way of righteousness, ever praised by the good, that husbands even of little strength protect their wives!” (3.13.60). Later in the MBh, Draupadi, like Sita, is also abducted (MBh 3.248–256). She is quickly rescued, and her would-­be kidnapper Jayadratha flees the Pandavas in terror. The ever-­conciliatory Yudhiṣṭhira pardons him, but not surprisingly this enrages Draupadi who demands his execution (3.255.45–47). Arjuna and Bhīma chase him down. Rather than execute him, he is humiliated by having his head shaved with a crescent-­arrow but for five braids (saṭās tasya pañca cakre vṛkodaraḥ | ardhacandreṇa bāṇena, MBh 3.256.9), which provokes even Yudhiṣṭhira to laughter. This punishment of course suits the crime, and underlines once again that, above and beyond the concern for the welfare of their wife, the Pandavas are concerned to defend their masculinity and power. Yudhiṣṭhira is compassionate (indeed, too much so, as is often asserted by Draupadi, Bhīma, and others), but has no qualms in branding a sexual rival with humiliating and emasculating signs of his subordination.17 Again, the assertion and maintenance of male potency is all important in such scenarios, and there is no better gauge for this than a man’s ability to protect his women. A phrase occurring in the scenes of Sita’s abduction, Draupadi’s abuse in the gambling hall, and elsewhere in the epics, communicates very directly this expectation that the male protects the weaker female: “anāthavat”―lit. “as though having no protector.” This is often used rhetorically when the expectation of protection by a (male) guardian is not met. The phrase may express a sense of disbelief or outrage, it being taken for granted that weaker beings― particularly women―rely upon males for protection. Thus when a threat manifests and the protecting male does not immediately take action, a woman may ask how it is that she can be so tyrannized, as if she had no Lord or master at all. We find the term used when Ravana assails Sita in the forest; there it is said she cries out like one with no protector (vilapantīm anāthavat | abhyadhāvata vaidehīṃ rāvaṇo, Rm 3.50.6). Draupadi is likewise characterized in the dicing hall scene: while she does have husbands (no less than five!), Duḥshasana drags her into the hall as though she had none (duḥśāsano nāthavatīm anāthavac cakarṣa, MBh 2.60.24).18 Elsewhere in the MBh, Nala bemoans the degraded and impoverished state of his wife Damayanti a princess once so well protected that even the wind and sun did not see her, but who is now lying on the ground almost naked, anāthavat (MBh 3.59.19). In the epic world, the mere possibility that a woman should be threatened “as though she had no Lord” is a devastating condemnation of her husband’s impotence.19 For a final example we may turn to an even more explicit case of kṣatriya failure in order to illustrate this dynamic: the downfall of Arjuna. This occurs in MBh 16 not long after the Vrishnis’ self-­slaughter and the deaths of Krishna and Samkarshana. Arjuna becomes the protector of the remaining women in Dvaraka―the 16,000 or so wives of Krishna―and sets out to accompany them

14   Christopher Austin back to Indraprastha. Once arrived at the land of the Panjab, the group is beset by Abhira thieves (dasyu) desirous of the women. They quickly see Arjuna is old and no longer a threat, and have little trouble abducting the women by the thousands. Arjuna has difficulty stringing his great Gāṇḍīva bow and is no longer able to call to mind his celestial weapons (MBh 16.8.52–53). Soon his quiver― once inexhaustible―is depleted. Throughout the episode, the focus is not on the women or the trauma they suffer, but on Arjuna: his failure to protect the women under his charge provides the ultimate humiliation, and the pathos and tragedy of the scene is framed explicitly in terms of the great warrior’s failed strength and virility. This is the end for the once-­invincible Arjuna, who then resolves upon death shortly thereafter. In the world of the Sanskrit epics, protecting women is the very measure of a man’s power, and it is men’s power and virility that the epics are concerned with far more than the physical and emotional well-­being of women. As Custodi has argued, in epic stories “Woman is … perhaps obliquely, implicated in showing that one is a Man” (Custodi 2007: 223–224). In these epic examples, I would argue that there is nothing oblique in the way that the women become stakes in a zero-­sum game of masculine dominance. These epic scenes are not moving because they are romances; rather, their drama and power are linked to a set of social–sexual anxieties surrounding women, their chastity, the potency of their protecting males, and the purity of the family lines that chaste women are meant to ensure.20

Pradyumna and Aniruddha as vīrya exemplars To return now to Pradyumna and Aniruddha: in one sense, these men are much like Sita insofar as both are carried away and held in captivity in the homes of demons while their family grieves and wonders where they have been taken. These abductions constitute a direct attack on Krishna’s patriline and threaten to snuff out his principal line of male descent―the Hari-­vaṃśa itself. However in HV 99 and 106–108 we have a complete inversion or reversal of the sexual anxieties and preoccupations we have just sketched out above. Pradyumna and Aniruddha, initially the victims of abductions, themselves become the conquerors of enemy women while in captivity. What begins as a threat to Krishna’s patriline soon becomes an opportunity for the trumpeting of the Hari-­vaṃśa’s virility and power as the young men surreptitiously seduce the demon women right in the very home of their enemies. These impotent Asura males of course find out the terrible truth only after it is too late, and are soon thereafter conquered in battle. Pradyumna and Aniruddha are of course famously attractive men―Pradyumna as we have seen is said to be a rebirth of Kamadeva himself―and their power to attract and seduce the demon women is constitutive of their heroism (vīrya) and plays into the larger set of social–sexual dynamics of the epic world. Indeed, the Sanskrit term vīra, “hero,” which as we have seen above is used to refer to the Vrishnis in the Morā well inscription and the two Puraṇic passages, is

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   15 cognate with and shares much the same scope of meaning as Latin vir: “man,” whence “virile,” “virility,” and so on (see Whitaker 2011: 4 and Watkins 2000: 101 whom he cites). And so at the hands of these Don Juans, the demons Shambara and Bana suffer the worst kind of defeat a man can experience in the epic world: their women are sexually conquered right under their noses, and thereby―there is almost, I argue, a cause–effect relationship here―the demons themselves are conquered in war. The values communicated so clearly by Rama in his reunion speech to Sita, in Arjuna’s tragic failure in the Mausalaparvan, and elsewhere in the epic world, drive the abducted male scenarios as well, only in a reversed and consequently triumphalist direction: with Pradyumna and Aniruddha, the demons’ emasculation, military defeat, and the ruination of the family line all follow from the surreptitious seduction of the demon females. These, then, are not romances, however much later tradition may have seen them as such.21 Against this reading it might be argued that Usha’s initiative to bring Aniruddha to Shoṇitapura bespeaks a greater parity of agency between man and woman. Could this not be a true romance, with a greater role for the feminine to play than to simply act as a passive stake in a battle for male dominance? Usha certainly does exercise initiative here, although in the end the concern of the poets is not to see Usha’s dreams come true, but to see Bana’s patriline destroyed. This becomes clear when we examine the women’s response to Usha’s dream and the actual tryst itself. In the morning-­scene of Usha’s discovery of the loss of her virginity, the intimate moment between the young woman and her friends of the harem is delivered entirely in the register of the kṣatriya patriarchy: when Usha awakens to find her bedsheets bloodied, the conversation between her and Citralekha centers on Bana and his prowess. The very first thing Citralekha says to Usha to console her (before Usha even says a word), is that she is the granddaughter of Bali and daughter of the powerful Bana, so why should she fear (HV 107.23–26)? Usha’s anxiety, once expressed, concerns what she will say to her deva-­killing father, and expresses her shame in terms of the offense it causes to her father’s lineage (107.28–29): As one who now brings disgrace upon the vaṃśa of great splendour, I think it is better that I die than live! Now that I, a maiden, have been rendered thus (i.e. deflowered), how can I even bear to live? As one causing censure to her kula, as charcoal to her family (kulāṅgāra), destitute, how could a woman [such as I] desire to live, standing foremost before [other] good women? The conversation of the women points clearly to the concerns of the kṣatriya patriarchy driving the entire scene here. Furthermore, once Aniruddha is brought by Citralekha to Usha, the pair immediately consummates their passion in one verse without speaking (Aniruddha speaks to her neither here nor elsewhere), and Aniruddha is then instantly (tasminn eva kṣaṇe prāpte) recognized by Bana’s guards (108.11–12). The single verse devoted to Usha’s and Aniruddha’s

16   Christopher Austin lovemaking is then followed by 87 verses of Aniruddha’s battle with Bana, and thereafter by four entire adhyāyas of war as Krishna, Saṃkarṣaṇa, Pradyumna, and Garuḍa come to the rescue. Aniruddha’s oneiric seduction of Usha, the women’s response thereto, and the actual tryst itself are not, I argue, scenes in a romance between equals but have as their purpose the conquest of Bana and the blackening of his patriline (kulāṅgāra). And so in both the Pradyumna (99) and Aniruddha (106–108) scenarios, what began as a threat to Krishna’s patriline―the abduction of its chief males― becomes opportunity and triumph as the Vrishni family is strengthened by the men’s acquisition of new wives, while the demon patriline is irreparably sullied. When Bana discovers Aniruddha and what he has done, he confesses this total failure openly, naming the offense for what it is when he exclaims that the rape of his daughter means the rape of his family (uṣāyāṃ dharṣitāyāṃ hi kulaṃ no dharṣitaṃ mahat, 108.16). As we have already seen, when subsequently Bana finally gets his hands on Aniruddha, his rage is not expressed in terms of the assault upon his daughter per se, but instructs his counsellor Kumbhanda to execute Aniruddha for having defiled the family and spoiling Bana’s reputation (kumbhāṇḍa vadhyatāṃ śīghram ayaṃ vai kulapāṃsanaḥ | cāritraṃ yena me loke dūṣitaṃ dūṣitātmanā, 108.88). Rama would understand.

Sexual conquest and clan identity Placing the abducted male scenarios within the larger environment of epic social–sexual values, and contrasting them with scenes of abducted and threatened females quickly helps us appreciate the power and purport of this motif, and its relevance in a text whose very title announces its concerns with the lineage of Hari Krishna. Moreover, the scenario permits the placement of Pradyumna and Aniruddha within the Vrishni family group. That is, in both cases the actual identity of the males in question as Vrishnis and offspring of Krishna is not so much given or understood as it is constructed or dramatically revealed through the mechanism of the abduction scenario. Pradyumna of course does not know who he really is when growing up. He is kidnapped when only a few days old, an ugly duckling growing up in Shambara’s demon house, who proves in the end to be a beautiful swan in the godly family of Krishna.22 He suffers under a misunderstanding about who he really is. However, Mayavati’s relinquishing to him of her māyā powers make him a master of―and over―illusory representations, and so thanks to her he comes to understand the truth that touches him most directly (HV 99.17–22): Dear sir, you are not my son, nor is Shambara your father. O Joy of the Vrishnis, by birth you are handsome and heroic, you are the son of Vasudeva by Rukmiṇi … Your father whose banner bears Garuḍa, who is greater even than Shakra, does not recognize you now [since] you were abducted as a child. O my beloved, you are a youth of the Vrishnis, you are not the son of Shambara. O hero, Danavas do not bring forth such sons [as you].

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   17 It is thanks to Mayavati that Pradyumna learns of his true family lineage, and indeed ultimately comes to know of his former identity as Kamadeva in a former life. In a sense HV 99 is about Pradyumna’s identity: the discovery and triumphal announcement of his membership in the divine Vrishni family is made possible through the sexual conquest of the demon female, the acquisition of her power over māyā, and the consequent victory over the baby-­snatching forces which sought to truncate the Vrishni patriline. Pradyumna’s true identity is sealed at the end of adhyāya 99 when, once again thanks to his newfound māyā, he is able to fly home to Dvaraka and be reincorporated into his true family. On his return his identity as Pradyumna is initially suspected by Rukmiṇi (99.38–40) who notices his Krishna-­ esque features, and is finally confirmed by Krishna’s very public recognition of the returned boy as his own son. Pradyumna’s heroic deed thus celebrates him as the defender and champion of the Hari-­vaṃśa even as it dramatically constructs and announces his place within it by first estranging him from the Hari-­vaṃśa and subsequently celebrating his return and reincorporation into it. For Aniruddha as well, identity forms a crucial part of the abduction scenario. As with his father, Aniruddha’s identity as a Vrishni is not assumed but constructed or dramatically revealed. Of course Aniruddha already knows perfectly well who he is, but the question is posed time and again by others in the 106–108 episode as to who exactly he is: after awakening, Usha obsesses over the identity of the man with whom she has made love in her dream. As the women try to figure out who he is, Citralekha observes: “In truth, no one knows his family, O Devī, nor fame nor valour” (na hi tasya kulaṃ devi na kīrtir nāpi pauruṣam | kaścij jānāti tattvena, 107.48). When Citralekha then sets about determining his identity and clan by drawing pictures for Usha to peruse, she first proposes to depict “those [males] among the Devas, the Danavas, the Yakṣas, the Gandharvas, the Uragas [Nagas], and the Rakṣasas who are especially famous on account of their splendour, beauty and notoriety” (107.63), and thereafter presents the painted cloth to Usha upon which are depicted the full spread of beings covering the spectrum from divine to mortal. Usha picks him out from among the mortals painted on the cloth. Her exercise here, I argue, dramatizes or enacts precisely the work of the HV poets who are concerned to define precisely who Aniruddha is. The entire range of wondrous beings is spread out before us in order to announce and direct our attention to the place of Krishna’s grandson within his human vaṃśa.23 The same preoccupation with the nature and identity of Aniruddha is repeated when Bana finally overpowers him in battle and binds him with snake arrows. Here, Bana’s counsellor Kumbhanda (much the same kind of level-­headed counsellor-­demon as Vibhishana in the Rm) advises Bana to determine the identity of the intruder: We should find out who this one is whose courage is equal to Shakra; to whom he belongs, or from where he has come here, or by whom he has been brought here … he is as though [only] playing, and seems to be the son of a deva. (krīḍann iva ca yuddheṣu dṛśyate devasūnuvat, 108.91)

18   Christopher Austin Kumbhanda praises Aniruddha’s virtues and advises Bana to learn who this man is (108.97), convincing Bana to forestall an outright execution. Very soon all of their questions will be answered as Krishna, Samkarshana, and Pradyumna come to Aniruddha’s rescue and defeat Bana in battle. Here, like his father, Aniruddha is triumphally reincorporated into the Vrishni family group from which he has been separated (bringing his new wife with him of course).24 Once again, the other characters’ curiosity about Aniruddha’s identity is not, I argue, a minor detail but part of the work of the HV in constructing a very particular kind of victory and establishing Pradyumna and Aniruddha as vaṃśa-vīras of the Vrishni clan. Krishna’s establishment of a human patriline on earth through Pradyumna and Aniruddha is a matter of conflict, rivalry, violence, and triumph constructed around a very particular model of masculinity and virility. In these accounts of the latter generations, the identity of Pradyumna and Aniruddha as Vrishnis is not merely given but is almost an achievement or victory, something in need of dramatic enunciation. The preservers of Hari’s vaṃśa are thus suitably cast as heroes earning their place in the family, through their sexual and military victories, befouling the vaṃśas of their enemies even as they strengthen their own and announce their place within it. In fact, this kula- or family-­sustaining victory can be ascribed to Krishna as well, for one of the purposes of Vishnu’s incarnation was to sustain the Yadava lineage. The HV specifies that Vishnu-­Narayana took birth as Krishna in order to destroy the evil Kamsa whose adharmic behavior was compromising the patriline, and to himself further that family line (HV 45.17–19). Thus in a sense the venerability and heroism of Krishna lies not solely in his ultimate divine identity but in his supporting function within the human family lineage (Couture 1982: 138–145). As we see here, his son and grandson carry on this work admirably.

Conclusion: human triumph and Vrishni divinity To conclude I return to the matter of the Vrishni quartet and the divinizing of Pradyumna and Aniruddha. Once again, the pre-­Gupta physical evidence indicates that all four of these were objects of devotion. The contemporary literature features a fully divinized Vasudeva—a divinity also explicitly said to have incarnated in order to sustain and protect a family line—and a divine Samkarshana, manifestation of the great cosmic serpent. In the texts alone Pradyumna is only somewhat divine (aṃśa of Sanatkumara and rebirth of Kamadeva), and Aniruddha claims no divinity. Was Pradyumna’s inclusion in the cult on the ground connected with his association with Sanatkumara and Kamadeva? Why was Aniruddha included at all if he is assigned no divine status in the texts? Or do the latter two generations become venerable as divinities merely by association with Krishna and Samkarshana? The critical text HV 99 and 106–108 passages are the oldest extant materials of any substance that cast light on why Pradyumna and Aniruddha might have been important in their own right, and a single narrative motif structures both of these episodes. I have asked here whether this motif

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   19 might not have something to do with their recognition as divinities on a par with Vasudeva and Samkarshana. I have argued that the victory these two Vrishnis achieve through their abduction and reincorporation into Krishna’s family becomes especially meaningful when we read it against the background of the social–sexual values of the epic world. As we have seen, the strength and virility of the epic male is often constructed around the protection and possession of women. To be sure, this is an ugly and brutal zero-­sum game in which women are transacted as a form of wealth― wealth by which the potency of the possessing male is measured. For a man to be defeated in war is one thing, but for his women―and with them his patriline―to be violated by his enemy, is a form of total defeat and emasculation of the gravest order in the epic world. In this light, the Pradyumna and Aniruddha episodes become true table-­turning, triumphalist scenarios which dramatize the virility, power, and durability of Krishna’s patriline against its demon threats. Shambara and Bana are cuckolded and emasculated by Krishna’s son and grandson and suffer the sullying of their family lines, while Krishna’s is strengthened by the acquisition of the new women. And so while Pradyumna and Aniruddha are not significantly constructed as deities in these narratives, they are clearly symbols of virility and patrilineal fortitude. Thus I hope it is now clear that when we speak of Krishna’s offspring as vaṃśavīras (as the Vāyu Purāṇa 97.1–2 and Brahmāṇḍa Purāṇa 272.1–2 call them), this does not mean simply that they are heroic males within Krishna’s clan, but are heroes of the vaṃśa: they embody its irresistible potency and defend and strengthen it manfully. I suggest this is the reason that they became objects of veneration. And once again, Krishna himself is not only venerable as a form of Narayana-­Vihnu, but himself is a vaṃśavīra insofar as he kills Kamsa and restores the Yadava lineage by siring these powerful men. To appreciate how the exemplification of multiple masculine ideals can translate into devotional expression, it will be helpful to take note of some observations of Jarrod Whitaker on the role of Indra and his worship in the ancient Āryan world. Whitaker has argued persuasively that masculine virtues such as physical prowess, wealth, and sexual potency were in Ṛgvedic times understood not as discrete and idiosyncratic qualities, but rather were constructed as a set which Āryan men sought to embody and perform through the ritual veneration of Indra: ritual practitioners deploy Indra to define masculinity in terms of ritual devotion, poetic knowledge, and liturgical power; in terms of martial characteristics such as strength, protection, and victory; and in terms of wealth and generosity. It is through manly gods such as Indra that the Ṛgvedic ritual tradition provides Āryan men with a set of masculine values and roles. While these ideals may represent separate arenas in which men can display their manliness, it is important to restate that Indra embodies and performs all of them as if men in ancient India have little choice but to embrace all aspects of the dominant androcentric ideology at once or at least try. The

20   Christopher Austin image of the ideal Āryan male is one who possesses wealth and offspring, generosity, hospitality, knowledge, ritual devotion, liturgical power, a strong physique, and a tough demeanor. (Whitaker 2011: 50) The veneration of Indra in Ṛgvedic times conduced to the complex expression and construction of masculinity in multivalent terms, whereby a set of virtues were simultaneously encoded and communicated as appropriately male. In our context of roughly second century bce to the fourth century ce, we see Vasudeva and Samkarshana venerated as hero-­deities on the ground where they seem to be depicted in military posture and garb,25 and celebrated in the contemporary texts as hero-­deities and manifestations of Vishnu on earth. But perhaps here as well the cult of devotion celebrated the military might of Krishna and his brother as one of several masculine virtues within the same broad constellation of gender values as were operative in the Indra cult. Pradyumna and Aniruddha, in whose narratives we find such explicit modeling of sexual power and patrilineal heroism, would thus embody a corollary or complementary masculine virtue as members of the Vrishni set. In this reading, it becomes clear that Pradyumna and Aniruddha were not afterthoughts tagged on merely by family association to a cult of devotion to a Vrishni pair, but figures in a devotional cult which, like that of Indra, understood masculinity and power in multivalent terms. Pradyumna and Aniruddha were in their own way venerable and recognized as divinities, indeed perhaps even as figures the veneration of whom was understood to be conducive to the vigor of a man’s vaṃśa. As we noted at the outset, it is perhaps natural to expect that divinizing entails the attenuation or erasure of humanity, and we are perhaps accustomed to the notion that where the one increases, the other must decrease. What I have suggested here is that the son and grandson of Krishna become divinities in the early Bhāgavata cult by enacting a very particular kind of triumph on and for the human plane. In other words, it would seem likely that those who venerated Pradyumna and Aniruddha alongside Krishna and Samkarshana did so not simply because of a divine-­family association, but because these two latter generations of Vrishnis embodied and modeled virtues and forms of masculine potency highly valued in the ancient world.

Notes   1 This chapter forms part of a larger project funded by the Canadian Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. I would like to thank André Couture for his feedback and insights.   2 For an argument in support of this type of divinizing process, see Sheth (1984).   3 For Hindu examples of tantric divinizing of the adept see Davis (1991: 83–111) and Flood (2000).   4 Ānandamayī Mā is perhaps the best known twentieth century example of this: see Hallstrom (1999: 161–197).   5 All references to the Mahābhārata (MBh) and Harivaṃśa (HV) are to the critical editions (CE): Sukthankar 1933–1966 and Vaidya 1969–1971.

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   21   6 Pradyumna marries Shubhangi, the daughter of his uncle Rukmini (HV 89.1–7) of Vidarbha, and it is from this marriage that Aniruddha is born (HV 89.9 and 98.19).   7 It would be more precise to say that the form of the MBh we now have available to us in the critical text of the Bhandarkar or critical edition (Sukthankar 1933–1966) seems to have been complete roughly by the fourth century ce. This dating has been challenged by Hiltebeitel (see for example Hiltebeitel 2001: 1–31) and defended by Fitzgerald (see for example Fitzgerald 2003; Fitzgerald 2004: 52).   8 Krishna’s larger clan group is referred to by a number of names, the most prominent being Vrishni, Andhaka, Bhoja, Yadava (Yadu), Dsdharha, Satvata, and Madhu. Some of these names seem to have at least a loose basis in ancient North Indian tribal groups: already in Panini’s Aṣṭādhyāyī (fourth century bce or earlier) we find associated the names Andhaka, Vrisni, and Kuru (ṛṣy-andhaka-­vṛṣṇi-kurubhyaś ca, 4.1.114). While there can be little doubt that there did exist in North-­Central India, prior to the common era, a clan or consortium of warrior tribes apparently centered on the Vrishnis, we will likely never fully know the nature of the relationship between the Vrishnis and Andhakas, the Bhojas and Satvatas, and so on. Hence I will here use the name Vrishni to refer to Krishna’s clan group, and Yadava to refer to the larger lineage branch of the Somavaṃśa in which the Vrishnis emerged.   9 For an exhaustive list of Samkarshana’s names in the MBh see Bigger (1998: 151–156). 10 All that is said of the Vrishnis in the MBh’s aṃśāvataraṇa list is that Vasudeva is Narayana, Baladeva is Sheṣa, Pradyumna is Sanatkumara, and that many other portions of gods were born in the family of Vasudeva (evam anye manuṣyendra bahavo ‘ṁśā divaukasām | jajñire vasudevasya kule kulavivardhanāḥ, | MBh 1.61.92). 11 There are five major pieces of physical evidence suggesting that Pradyumna and Aniruddha were worshipped on the ground alongside Vasudeva and Samkarshana: (a) the second century bce site of Besnagar (Madhya Pradesh), where we find not only Helio­ dorus’ Garuḍa pillar dedicated to Vasudeva, but a makara or crocodile capital―the makara being the principal animal associated with Pradyumna; (b) the so-­called Bhīṭa pillar (Allahabad, second century bce) identified by Srinivasan as a depiction of Vasudeva, Samkarshana, Pradyumna, and Aniruddha (Srinivasan 1979: 41–42); (c) the Morā well inscription (Mathurā, first century ce) discussed in detail here; (d) the so-­ called “Caturvyūha” image (Mathurā, Kuṣāṇa period), usually thought to depict Samkarshana, Pradyumna, and Aniruddha emanating forth from the body of Vasudeva; (e) the Konḍamotu relief (Andhra Pradesh, fourth century ce), depicting seven figures including Samkarshana, Vasudeva, Pradyumna, Samba, and Aniruddha (Härtel 1987: 576 note 9). 12 There is a complex and as yet not fully understood relationship between the early Bhāgavata cult of devotion to the Vrishnis and the Pāñcarātra movement which seems to emerge in close association with it prior to or possibly during the early Gupta period. For brevity’s sake, I will say only the following on this issue: the quartet of Vasudeva–Samkarshana–Pradyumna–Aniruddha persists, beyond the initial cult of Vrishni-­veneration, as an important theological configuration in the Pāñcarātra system which emerges roughly in the fourth century ce, articulating its vision first in the Nārāyaṇīya section of the MBh (12.321–339) and in later texts such as the Ahirbudhnyasaṃhitā and Jāyākhyāsaṃhitā. To this day, the Śrivaiṣnava tradition of South India, which inherits the Pāñcarātra theology, preserves these four Vrishni names in its cosmogony and understanding of the universe’s creation and reabsorption. To all appearances the Pāñcarātra “vyūha” quartet has its basis in the early Bhāgavata cult of Vrishni hero veneration, or else emerged in parallel with it, inspired by the same devotional currents on the ground in pre-­Gupta North India. 13 The myth is related in many Puraṇic sources; see, for example Vāmana Purāṇa 6 or Śiva Purāṇa, Rudreśvara Saṃhitā, Pārvatīkhaṇḍa section III.19; perhaps better known is Kālidāsa’s Kumārasambhava 3.69–76.

22   Christopher Austin 14 A third episode which repeats this pattern once again occurs in the HV’s appendices (App. I 29F ). Space does not permit a proper treatment here, but in any case this material considerably post-­dates the period with which we are concerned. Referred to in colophons as the Pradyumna-­Prabhavati, this likely twelfth century ce (Brinkhaus 1987: 89–95) episode puts Pradyumna once again in a scenario involving disguise, surreptitious seduction of the demon female, and consequent defeat of the Asura enemy. Its authors were clearly familiar with the material of HV 99 and 106–113, and sought to recast Pradyumna once again in a now very elaborate demon-­female seduction scenario, one that builds upon and develops the same fundamental dynamic of the two episodes we are examining here. It became the basis of Pingali Suranna’s Telugu sixteenth century poem Prabhāvatai-pradyumnamu (Rao 2006: xv). 15 For an exhaustive analysis of 6.103 and insights into its traditional commentaries, see Goldman et al. (2009 pt. II: 1431–1436). 16 The dynamics of this scene are played out a second time in the Virāṭa Parvan while Draupadi and the Panḍavas are in disguise in Upaplavya (MBh 4.15.15–27). Here the disguises make the scene more complex. Suffice it to say there is a replay of the dicing hall scene, with Draupadi being publicly assaulted while her husbands do nothing. She cries out in much the same voice of outrage, asking where her husbands are and how they, like eunuchs (klība, 4.15.21) could tolerate such an offence against their wife. On the wider meanings and context of usage of the term klība see Custodi (2007: 209) and Doniger (1999: 278–280) whom she cites. 17 In the Bhāgavata Purāṇa’s account of Krishna’s abduction of Rukmiṇi we have a similar scenario. What is instructive here is that the humiliated victim is not a rival suitor but Rukmiṇi’s brother Rukmin. The actual rival and seeker of Rukmiṇi’s hand is Shiishupala; his marriage to her is arranged by Rukmiṇi’s brother and is on the point of taking place when Krishna swoops in and steals her away. Rukmin in a rage chases after Krishna but cannot overpower him. Rukmiṇi begs Krishna to spare her brother’s life, and so he renders him unsightly (virūpa) by shaving his hair and beard (saśmaśrukeśaṃ pravapan vyarūpayat, BhP 10.51.33; references are to the critical edition, Shastree 1996–2002). The fact that Rukmin is not in fact a competitor for her hand only goes to show how powerful the impulses are at work here: the victor who takes possession of the woman has proven his virility; the loser must be branded as such and emasculated even if he is her brother rather than a sexual rival. 18 Indeed, already in the “yadāśrauṣaṁ” lament of Dhṛtarāṣṭra in the opening book of the MBh Draupadī’s abuse in book two is foreshadowed with this precise phrase (MBh 1.1.106). The passage (1.1.102–156) summarizes the key events of the Mahābhārata up to the war by placing Dhritarashtra in conversation with Samjaya, the former grieving over the impossibility of victory for his sons, expressed through the refrain “When I heard that, … then, O Saṃjaya, I lost hope of victory” (yadāśrauṣaṁ … tadā nāśaṁse vijayāya saṁjaya). 19 Whitaker (2011: 31) mentions a similar phrase used in the Ṛgveda (10.86.9–10): avīrām iva, “as if I lacked a brave man.” 20 At this point the observation can be made―perhaps overdue and self-­evident―that Western storytelling traditions, no less than South Asian, find great dramatic power in the motif of the abducted and rescued female or “damsel in distress.” Any number of examples could be offered here from Andromeda to Rapunzel to Princess Leia, and of course here as well there is a great deal more going on than simple chivalry and romance. 21 That the episode was perceived or at least re-­handled by later generations as a romance is clear first from some of the HV’s appendix materials, notably App. I. 32 in which Usha’s pining over Aniruddha is greatly developed according to the common motifs of the love-­sick young woman. The “Uṣāniruddha” becomes a popular kāvya theme (e.g., Uṣāniruddha of Rāmapāṇivāda, eighteenth century Prākrit; see Lienhard 1984: 211) and is even celebrated in the Thai literary and dance-­drama traditions

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   23 (Phromsuthirak 1979: 46). Dehejia and Sharma explicitly identify the affair as a romance in the title of their 2010 translation of the Vulgate HV (II. 116–128) rendering of the scene. 22 Couture has remarked on the similarities here between Krishna and Pradyumna who both grow up in disguise as it were and claim their true place and identity after slaying a foe (Couture 2004: 84). 23 The Viṣṇu Purāṇa’s account makes Usha’s identification of Aniruddha even more explicitly a matter of narrowing down through various supernatural classes of being; once they arrive at the Vrishnis, Usha begins to feel shame when she sees Krishna and Samkarshana, diverts her gaze in embarrassment from the image of Pradyumna, and finally casts aside her shame altogether once she sets eyes on the drawing of Aniruddha (kṛṣṇarāmau vilokyāsīt subhrūr lajjājaḍ eva sā | pradyumnadarśane vrīḍādṛṣṭiṃ ninye ‘nyato dvija || dṛṣṭamātre tataḥ kānte pradyumnatanaye dvija | dṛṣṭvātyarthavilāsinyā lajjā kvāpi nirākṛtā, Viṣṇu Purāṇa (ViP ) 5.32.22–23). 24 In this section of the HV we therefore see the most explicit example of the quartet grouping Vasudeva–Samkarshana–Pradyumna–Aniruddha, also exemplified in the Allahabad Bhīṭa column and “Caturvyūha” figure. Again, we cannot enter here into the possible connections between the Vrishni quartet grouping and the four Pāñcarātra vyūhas; see however Couture (2006) for a reflection on how this grouping in HV 109–113 might relate to the later Pāñcarātra configuration. 25 Both the Aï-Khanoum coins (Kunduz province, Afghanistan) of Agathocles and the rock engraving at Chilas II (both second century bce) depict the pair in much the same way, in warrior’s garb and posture. See Srinivasan (1991: 215) and Schmid (2010: 89–93 and 105–112).

References Sanskrit sources Bhāgavata Purāṇa [Critical Edition]. var. ed. 1996–2002. The Bhāgavata [Śrīmad Bhāgavata Mahāpurāṇa] Critical Edition. 1st ed. K. K. Shastree, ed. vol. IV part I: Skandha X (1997). Ahmedabad: B. J. Institute of Learning and Research. Brahmāṇḍa Purāṇa. Sharma, K. V., ed. 2009 [reprint]. Brahmāṇḍa-Mahāpurāṇam: With English Introduction, Verse-­Index and Textual Correction by Dr. K.V. Sharma. Varanasi: Chowkhamba Krishnadas Academy [Krishnadas Sanskrit Series 41]. Harivaṃśa [Critical Edition]. Vaidya, Parashuram Lakshman, ed. 1969–1971. The Harivamśa: Being the Khila, or Supplement to the Mahābhārata. 2 vols. Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research. Kumārasambhava of Kālidāsa. Kale, M. R., ed., trans. 1981. Kumārasambhava of Kālidāsa. Cantos I-­VIII. 7th ed. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. 395p. Mahābhārata [Critical Edition]. Sukthankar, Vishnu Sitaram, ed. 1933–1966. The Mahābhārata. 19 vols. Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute. Rāmāyaṇa [Critical Edition]. Bhatt, G. H., P. L. Vaidya, P. C. Divanji, D. R. Mankad, G. C. Jhala, and U. P. Shah, eds. 1960–1975. The Vālmīki-Rāmāyaṇa: Critically Edited for the First Time. 7 vols. Baroda: Baroda Oriental Institute. Śiva Purāṇa. Shastri, J. L., ed., trans. 1970. The Śiva-Purāṇa. Ancient Indian Tradition and Mythology Series, vol. 2 pt. II. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. Usāṇiruddha of Rāmapāṇivāda. A. N. Upadhye, ed., trans. 1996. Rāmapāṇivāda’s Usāṇiruddhaṃ: With English Translation. 2nd enl. ed. Ahmedabad: Sharadaben Chimanbhai Educational Research Centre.

24   Christopher Austin Vāmana Purāṇa. Joshi, K. L. and O. N. Bimali, eds. 2005. Vāmana Purāṇa (Sanskrit Text, English Translation, An Exhaustive Introduction, Notes and Index of Verses). Delhi: Parimal Publications. 504p. Vāyu Purāṇa. Mitra, Rájendralála, ed. 1880–1888. The Váyu Puráṇa: A System of Hindu Mythology and Tradition. 2 vols. (Bibliotheca Indica: Collection of Oriental Works published by the Asiatic Society of Bengal. New Series, nos. 457, 476, 488, 499, 528, 553 and 681). Calcutta: Kálika Press, T. C. Biswas (1880); Baptist Mission Press, G. H. Rouse (1888). Viṣṇu Purāṇa [Critical Edition]. Pathak, M. M., ed. 1997–1999. The Critical Edition of the Viṣṇupurāṇam. 2 vols. Vadodara: Oriental Institute.

Secondary sources and translations Banerjea, Jitendra Nath. 1942. “The Holy Pancaviras of the Vrishnis.” Journal of the Indian Society of Oriental Art 10: 65–68. Bigger, Andreas. 1998. Balarāma im Mahābhārata: seine Darstellung im Rahmen des Textes und seiner Entwicklung. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 207p. Bock-­Raming, Andreas. 2002. Untersuchung zur Gottesvorstellung in der älteren Anonymliteratur des Pāñcarātra. Beiträge zur Indologie 34 (Konrad Meisig, series ed.). Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 405p. Brinkhaus, Horst. 1987. The Pradyumna-­Prabhāvatī Legend in Nepal: A Study of the Hindu Myth of the Draining of the Nepal Valley. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag. 398p. Brodbeck, Simon and Brian Black, eds. 2007. Gender and Narrative in the Mahābhārata. New York: Routledge. 326p. Couture, André. 1982. “Généalogie et réincarnation dans le mythe d’enfance de Kṛṣṇa.” Studies in Religion/Sciences Religieuses 11 no. 2: 135–147. Couture, André, trans. 1991. L’Enfance de Kṛṣṇa: Traduction des Chapitres 30 à 78 [du Harivaṃśa] (éd. cr.). Laval: Les Éditions du Cerf. 439p. Couture, André. 2004. “Noteworthy Resemblances Between Pradyumna’s Childhood and Kṛṣṇa’s Childhood.” Problems in Vedic and Sanskrit Literature, ed. Maitreyee Deshpande. Delhi: New Bharatiya Book Corporation. 79–86. Couture, André. 2006. “The Emergence of a Group of Four Characters (Vāsudeva, Saṃkarṣaṇa, Pradyumna and Aniruddha) in the Harivaṃśa: Points for Consideration.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 34: 571–585. Couture, André. 2015. Kṛṣṇa in the Harivaṃśa. Vol. 1: The Wonderful Play of a Cosmic Child. New Delhi: DK Printworld. Custodi, Andrea. 2007. “ ‘Show You Are A Man!’: Transexuality and Gender Bending in the Characters of Arjuna/Bṛhannaḍā and Ambā/Śikhaṇḍin(ī).” Gender and Narrative in the Mahābhārata, eds. Simon Brodbeck and Brian Black. New York: Routledge. 208–229. Davis, Richard H. 1991. Ritual in an Oscillating Universe: Worshipping Śiva in Medieval India. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. 200p. Dehejia, Harsha V. and Vijay Sharma. 2010. Pahari Paintings of an Ancient Romance: The Love Story of Usha-­Aniruddha. Delhi: D. K. Printworld. 168p. Dhand, Arti. 2008. Woman as Fire, Woman as Sage: Sexual Ideology in the Mahābhārata. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. 254p. Doniger, Wendy. 1999. Splitting the Difference: Gender and Myth in Ancient Greece and India. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. 376p.

Narratives of Pradyumna and Aniruddha   25 Fitzgerald, James L. 2003. “The Many Voices of the Mahābhārata.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 123 no. 4: 803–818. Fitzgerald, James L. 2004. “Mahābhārata.” The Hindu World, eds. Sushil Mittal and Gene Thursby. New York: Routledge: 52–74. Flood, Gavin. 2000. “The Purification of the Body.” Tantra in Practice, ed. David Gordon White. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press: 509–520. Goldman, Robert P. 1978. “Fathers, Sons and Gurus: Oedipal Conflict in the Sanskrit Epics.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 6: 325–392. Goldman, Robert P. 1993. “Transsexualism, Gender, and Anxiety in Traditional India.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 113 no. 3: 374–401. Goldman, Robert P., Sally J. Sutherland Goldman, and Barend A. van Nooten, trans. 2009. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki: An Epic of Ancient India. vol. VI pt. II. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Gonda, Jan. 1970. Viṣṇuism and Śivaism: A Comparison. London: Athlone Press. 228p. Hallstrom, Lisa Lassell. 1999. Mother of Bliss: Ānandamayī Mā (1896–1982). New York: Oxford University Press. 299p. Härtel, Herbert. 1987. “Archaeological Evidence on the Early Vāsudeva Worship.” Serie Orientale Roma 56 no. 2: 573–587. Hess, Linda. 1999. “Rejecting Sita: Indian Responses to the Ideal Man’s Cruel Treatment of his Ideal Wife.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 67 no. 1: 1–32. Hiltebeitel, Alf. 1985. “Purity and Auspiciousness in the Sanskrit Epics.” Purity and Auspiciousness in Indian Society, eds. John B. Carman and Frédérique Apffel Marglin. Leiden: Brill: 41–54. Hiltebeitel, Alf. 1998. “Hair Like Snakes and Mustached Brides: Crossed Gender in an Indian Folk Cult.” Hair: Its Power and Meaning in Asian Cultures, eds. Alf Hiltebeitel and Barbara D. Miller. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. 297p. Hiltebeitel, Alf. 2001. Rethinking the Mahābhārata: A Reader’s Guide to the Education of the Dharma King. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. 365p. Jaiswal, Suvira. 1981 [1967]. The Origin and Development of Vaiṣṇavism. 2nd revised and enlarged ed. Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal. 290p. Katre, Sumitra M., trans. 1989 [1987]. Aṣṭādhyāyī of Pāṇini. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass [Austin, TX: University of Texas Press]. 1334p. Lienhard, Siegfried. 1984. A History of Classical Poetry: Sanskrit―Pali―Prakrit. Vol. III Fasc. 1, A History of Indian Literature Series, ed. Jan Gonda. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz. 307p. Pauwels, Heidi. 2008. The Goddess as Role Model: Sītā and Rādhā in Scripture and on the Screen. New York: Oxford University Press. 558p. Phromsuthirak, Maneepin. 1979. “Thai Interpolations in the Story of Aniruddha.” Journal of the Siam Society 67 no. 1: 46–53. Rao, Velcheru Narayana, trans. 2006. The Demon’s Daughter: A Love Story from South India. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. 122p. Schmid, Charlotte. 2010. Le Don de Voir: Premières représentations krishnaïtes de la région de Mathurā. Paris: École Française d’Extrême-Orient. 741p. Sheth, Noel. 1984. The Divinity of Krishna. Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal. 180p. Srinivasan, Doris Meth. 1979. “Early Vaiṣṇava Imagery: Caturvyūha and Variant Forms.” Archives of Asian Art 32: 39–54. Srinivasan, Doris Meth. 1981. “Early Krishna Icons: The Case at Mathurā.” Kāladarśana: American Studies in the Art of India, ed. Joanna G. Williams. Leiden: E. J. Brill. 127–136.

26   Christopher Austin Srinivasan, Doris Meth. 1991. Many Heads, Arms and Eyes: Origin, Meaning and Form of Multiplicity in Indian Art. Leiden: Brill [Studies in Asian Art and Archaeology]. 355p. Sutherland Goldman, Sally J. 1992. “Seduction, Counter Seduction, and Sexual Role Models: Bedroom Politics and the Indian Epics.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 20: 243–251. Sutherland Goldman, Sally J. 2009. “Sītā’s War: Gender and Narrative in the Yuddhakāṇḍa of Vālmīki’s Rāmāyaṇa.” Epic Undertakings: Papers of the 12th World Sanskrit Conference vol. 2, eds. Robert P. Goldman and Muneo Tokunaga. New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. 139–168. Watkins, Calvert, ed. 2000. The American Heritage Dictionary of Indo-­European Roots. 2nd ed. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin. 149p. Whitaker, Jarrod L. 2011. Strong Arms and Drinking Strength: Masculinity, Violence, and the Body in Ancient India. New York: Oxford University Press. 229p.

2 From playmate to guru Poetry, theology, and practice in early Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta Anne E. Monius

Thanks in large part to the work of the French Institute in Pondicherry since its founding in the mid-­twentieth century, the contours of the Śaiva Siddhānta traditions of southern India—with their rich textual materials in both Sanskrit and Tamil—have come increasingly into focus over the past six decades.1 Once a pan-­Indic school of philosophical thought and practice—extending as far, perhaps, as Cambodia (Goodall 2000: 205)—after the thirteenth century, Śaiva Siddhānta flourished as a regionally focused tradition in the Tamil-­speaking south (Davis 1991: 19), where it remains the dominant school of Shaiva thought and practice (Ishimatsu 1999: 571–579). Fourteen works of the Tamil-­language Śaiva Siddhānta (Tamil Caiva Cittāntam)—known collectively as the Meykaṇṭacāttiraṅkaḷ (Sanskrit Meykaṇṭaśāstra) (1994) or “The Learned Treatises of Meykaṇṭār”—constitute the philosophical canon. Uniquely among the great theological traditions of medieval India, these texts are composed in the local language, Tamil, rather than in Sanskrit, the pan-­Indian language of erudition and philosophical inquiry. Named for Meykaṇṭār, the thirteenth-­ century author of the widely influential Civañāṉapōtam, fully eight of the remaining texts are attributed to Meykaṇṭār’s fourteenth-­century successor, Umāpati Civācāriyār. Śaiva Siddhānta philosophy in general is perhaps best known for its vision of a tripartite world, consisting of pati (Lord Shiva, omnipotent and omnipresent), pacu (Sanskrit paśu, the human soul that yearns to be with the lord), and pācam (Sanskrit pāśa, the worldly mire of karma and delusion that keeps the soul from realizing its true relationship to Shiva). As Richard Davis and others have noted, the Tamil-­speaking Śaiva Siddhānta tradition—in both Sanskrit and Tamil—is internally diverse, both doctrinally and ritually (1991: 19–21), and much work remains to be done to map that diversity. Toward that end, this chapter examines the earliest of the fourteen Śaiva Siddhānta treatises composed in Tamil that have thus far received relatively little scholarly attention:2 the Tiruvuntiyār and the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār, both tentatively assigned to the mid- to late-­twelfth century. In particular, this chapter considers the profound conceptual and poetic shift between the two texts in ways of speaking about Shiva, arguing that the specific modes of “divinizing” Shiva and the guru or teacher in the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār would eventually come to dominate the Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta tradition. More specifically, Shiva in the

28   Anne E. Monius Tiruvuntiyār shares much with the complex theologies of the earlier Tamil Shaiva poetic corpus—the twelve texts of the canonical Tirumuṟai—while the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār focuses exclusively on the incomprehensible Shiva beyond all name-­and-form, accessible only through the figure of the guru who himself becomes divine. In short, in these two earliest Tamil-­language Śaiva Siddhānta treatises, one witnesses the transformation of Shiva into the ultimate—and ultimately inaccessible, except via the intervention of a teacher—being he becomes for the later philosophical tradition. Dating and authorship of these two earliest Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta texts are, unfortunately, not entirely clear. The Tiruvuntiyār has long been assigned a date of ce 1147 and the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār a date of 1177, but, as Dominic Goodall (2004: xxxii) rightly notes, the authority for such dating remains elusive. Both are attributed to one Uyyavanta Tēvanāyaṉār, although the author of the Tiruvuntiyār is said to have hailed from Tiruviyalūr and that of the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār from Tirukkaṭavūr. The Tiruvuntiyār consists of forty-­five verses in kalittāḻicai meter3 that echo twenty verses of the same name included in Māṇikkavācakar’s Tiruvācakam (1997: 567–580). Overall, the Tiruvuntiyār expresses basic doctrinal principles of the Śaiva Siddhānta in the context of a verse-­form suggesting a game among young girls or women; the second and third line of each verse ends with the refrain, untī paṟa, meaning “rise up and fly!” The Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār, on the other hand, consists of 100 quatrains in veṇpā meter,4 incorporates references to the nāyaṉmār or earlier poet-­saints of Shiva, and deals explicitly with themes of the guru, yoga, worship, grace, surrender, and release (see Balasubramanian 2007: 18–27). Scholarship has long held these two texts to be intimately related, claiming that the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār expands upon the basic teachings of the shorter (and earlier) Tiruvuntiyār.5 Scholars have also long debated whether these two texts should properly be counted among the Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta Meykaṇṭacāttiraṅkaḷ. Tradition holds that Tiruviyalūr Uyyavanta prostrated before Meykaṇṭar himself and placed the Tiruvuntiyār at the guru’s feet; Meykaṇṭar read the text, saw that it spoke of the Siddhānta, and thus it came to be included among the fourteen canonical works.6 The traditional story surrounding the composition of the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār both suggests a long-­ standing lack of clarity about its inclusion in the canonical fourteen and explains the text’s odd name, “That Which was Placed on the Step by an Elephant”: his work originally not accepted by scholars as authoritative, the author placed it on the first step leading to the hall of Naṭaraja at Citamparam, and a stone elephant to one side lifted its trunk to place the text at the feet of the lord.7 Yet Civañāṉacuvāmikaḷ (1936: 11), the great eighteenth-­century commentator on Meykaṇṭar’s Civañāṉapōtam, unequivocally includes both the Tiruvuntiyār and the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār among the fourteen śāstras. Close reading of these earliest two Śaiva Siddhānta texts in Tamil, however, reveals a critical tension between two distinct Shaiva theologies, a tension that speaks to distinct strands within the Tamil-­language Shaiva corpus, particularly concerning the very character of Shiva himself.

Poetry … in early Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta   29 Turning first to the (perhaps) earlier of the two texts, the Tiruvuntiyār, most striking, perhaps, is the poetic form of the work itself. As noted above, the second and third lines of each of the forty-­five stanzas entreat the audience, in the imperative, to untī paṟa, literally “rise up and fly.” The first verse, for example, reads: “He who is incorporeal, his truth unknown to anyone / came and assumed a form—rise up and fly! / He yielded spontaneously—rise up and fly!”8 Scholars over the past century have debated the precise nature of the game being played here,9 yet all agree that the most basic setting is a joyous amusement among young girls in which Shiva himself presumably participates. Indeed, by the second verse, the wholly feminine cast of the game-­in-play becomes clear: “Without hindering or breaking any habits, / why delay, my daughter—rise up and fly! / With one purpose—rise up and fly!”10 Māṇikkavācakar’s earlier (ninth­century) poetic rendering of the unti game focuses on Shiva’s heroic exploits (1997: 568–579), from the destruction of the three demonic cities (verses 1–4) and the defeat of Daka (verses 5–16) to the vanquishing of the evil king, Ravana (verse 19). Such martial adventures are utterly transformed by the Tiruvuntiyār into a meditation on the nature of the human condition vis-­à-vis the lord. As the poet sings: “Those who have exhausted [their] karma, seizing that which is seen, / will not come [again] to the womb—rise up and fly! / [For them] there is no birth and death—rise up and fly!”11 The Tiruvuntiyār is undeniably rich in philosophical content, particularly when compared to the use of the same genre by Manikkavacakar. Where the earlier poet, as noted above, focuses exclusively on Shiva’s exploits fighting demons and besting his inhospitable father-­in-law, the Tiruvuntiyār anticipates an audience familiar with a sophisticated Śaiva Siddhānta philosophical vocabulary. Verse 9, for example, tells us that the highest truth “is not attained by birth—rise up and fly!” using a technical term— pāvaṇai—to indicate human existence mired in saṃsāra.12 The following verse refers in shorthand form to the five bhūtas or essential elements in the Śaiva Siddhānta system—earth, water, fire, air, and ether—simply as “the five”: “Having realized, unslumbering, the five as the five and knowledge as knowledge, [simply] be—rise up and fly!”13 Verse 8 seemingly anticipates an audience well-­versed in the subtleties of esoteric anatomy, with its reference to “Passing through the place of support and the place without support, travel to the highest region,”14 a reference, according to the traditional (and anonymous) commentary, to the increasingly subtle cakras or regions of the yogic body. Verse 14, to cite one last of many possible examples, rather enigmatically (at first glance) commands its audience: “Pinching and awakening the sleeping woman, stand in union [with her]—rise up and fly!”15 This stanza imagines an audience familiar with Śaiva Siddhānta references to the feminine jñānaśakti—the “power of knowledge”—that lies dormant within each human being as the “sleeping woman” (kiṭanta kiḻavi). The poetic form of the Tiruvuntiyār demands a particular understanding of the nature of the divine, Shiva, who here yields “spontaneously” (verse 1) to a perceptible form. Here we have direct evidence—in the form of the Tiruvuntiyār itself—that the aesthetic experiences generated by poetic expression constitute

30   Anne E. Monius the foundation upon which philosophical inquiry is understood to rest. The Tiruvuntiyār, in borrowing both the title and refrain of Māṇikkavācakar’s poetic homage to Shiva’s mighty exploits, assumes an audience who knows the unti as a primarily devotional genre, to which the Śaiva Siddhānta adds a new layer of philosophical inquiry. This wedding of the poetic and philosophical projects emerges most pointedly in the Tiruvuntiyār’s treatment of līlā (Tamil viḷaiyāṭal), “play,” the pan-­Indian characterization of Shiva’s engagement with the world, and, most particularly, with his most favored earthly devotees. In borrowing from the game-­song genre, the Tiruvuntiyār in effect makes of the human–divine relationship a game of sorts, an ever-­evolving, dynamic process of contact and retreat, of hide-­and-seek, of joyful enticement to “rise up and fly” away from the bonds of earthly existence. Shiva himself is a player, by allusion likened to the innocent young girls of the song form. In verse 12, Shiva, “the great one of artfulness, leads [us] into the courtyard [to play]”;16 in verse 6, the players lose themselves in the flow of Shiva’s līlā: “Having surrendered our agency and ourselves / The lord [offered us] his own actions and self—rise up and fly! / He gave himself [to us]—rise up and fly!17 In this poetic, song-­filled vision of Shiva’s cosmic play, in other words, the members of the poet’s audience are equal partners—team-­mates of the lord— and the experience of the song-­form itself leaves an impression of Shiva’s play as fluid, creative, containing in its rhythms and flows a sense of infinite human possibility. As noted by Nussbaum (1990: 3) and many other contemporary Euro-­American theorists of narrative, “style itself makes claims, expresses its own sense of what matters. Literary form is not separable from philosophical content, but is, itself, a part of content.” Indeed, one can feel something of the līlā or viḷaiyātal of Shiva in the play of the poet’s language. The stanza above, for example (verse 6)—“having surrendered our agency and our selves”—while making a substantial philosophical point about the need to surrender one’s sense of self in order to approach the lord, imbues the weight of self-­surrender with the levity of play, with the joy not only of the refrain but of a rapid-­fire mix of Tamil schemes of alliteration and internal rhyme. Although the complexities of Tamil poetic meter and rhyme lie beyond the scope of this chapter, one can hear something of the poet’s joyful use of language in the lines of stanza 6 translated above: nam ceyal aṟṟinta nām aṟṟapiṉ nātaṉ / taṉ ceyal tāṉē eṉṟu untī paṟa / taṉṉaiyē tantāṉ eṉṟu untī paṟa. Various forms of toṭai, literally the “stringing together” of poetic feet within lines and across lines, are fully on display here. The alliterative pattern known in Tamil as mōṉai, to provide but one brief example, unites nam ceyal aṟṟinta with nām aṟṟapiṉ nātaṉ. Taṉ ceyal that begins line 2 links to the opening of line 3, taṉṉaiyē tantāṉ, with the initial alliteration across lines known as aṭi mōṉai or “line mōṉai.”18 Here the relatively commonplace philosophical notion expressed in various ways by all the Shaiva traditions of India—that Shiva’s grace comes to us when we have “surrendered our agency and our selves,” subjected ourselves to the whims of the lord’s divine play—becomes, to quote Brown (1989: 1), both “profound and profoundly

Poetry … in early Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta   31 moving when caught in the cadences and images of [the poem]. The abstract idea takes on reflective, affective, and indeed moral depth in an aesthetic milieu.” What is so remarkable about this text, specifically in its use of a colloquial style of song, is the remarkable absence of such vividly and fluidly dynamic, indeed, game-­like depictions of the relationship of soul to lord in the later canonical works, beginning with the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār. In the Tiruvuntiyār, both lord and devotee fully share in the play; without both, there can be no game. Indeed, “play” is the only divine function or action that seems to matter throughout the work. As devotees are invited to “pray to the Dancer, following in the bright path of the sound of his holy anklets,”19 to “travel to the highest place—rise up and fly! [To] the abode of the Immaculate One—rise up and fly!”20 the sense of immediate contact, of the sudden bestowal of the lord’s playful grace, is palpable. In the fluid processes of play with the lord—a game of infinite possibilities—the Tiruvuntiyār brings us far from the terror of Shiva’s līlā in the Sanskrit purāṇas,21 far from the awesome exploits of Māṇikkavācakar’s divine player, and—most significantly, perhaps—far from the later Śaiva Siddhānta insistence on the liberative process as a series of gradual steps toward ultimate realization.22 To engage in philosophical speculation in the spirit of innocent girls at play is, as the Tiruvuntiyār declares, “to have realized the truth—rise up and fly!”23 In the Tiruvuntiyār, philosophical speculation is an emotion-­laden, experiential exercise, a discourse not of truth-­statements but of imperatives to think, to see, to engage in the game of the Lord and thus fly upward to his heaven. Indeed, as in verse 6 cited above, the members of the audience—like Shiva himself—are likened to the unti flying aloft: free, yet subject to the winds of processes they do not control, free to be caught up in the spirit of love for the Lord that will send their souls flying upward. Rational, philosophical speculation has its limits, for the way to liberation lies joining in the free-­flowing play of the lord: “In what way shall I explain how it was? / It was that way—rise up and fly! / This is not knowledge to be known—rise up and fly!”24 The text continues, “One cannot search for that place that is Shiva’s, filled with the lord, / with a consciousness that is naturally pure—rise up and fly! / That is a place for which one cannot search—rise up and fly!”25 In the climactic conclusion to this joyous and divinely inspired game, all conceptual thought will be jettisoned in favor of experiential awareness of Shiva’s grace: “Darkness and wisdom will be forgotten, / [but] his grace will never be forgotten—rise up and fly! / That is the secret here—rise up and fly!”26 Not only is this twelfth-­century form of philosophical discourse predicated on an experience of poetic līlā or divinely inspired “play,” but the images of women at that play—both indirectly through the song form itself and directly through the many references to Shiva as lover of a woman in the poem—capture a relatively rare moment in Tamil Shaiva literary history wherein Shiva’s games can be likened to the free-­flowing and joyous play of young girls. The Tiruvuntiyār’s song form explicitly addresses itself to the young women at play as early as verse 2: “Without breaking or hindering habit, / why be confused, oh daughter? Rise up and fly! / With a single purpose, rise up and fly!”27 Numerous are the references to Shiva as

32   Anne E. Monius lover of his consort, Parvati or Uma; he is “the husband of a singular woman” (oru makaḷ kēḷvaṉ) (verse 19), and he is, indeed, defined by his very relationship to that consort: “He who comes together in my heart and my innermost thoughts / lives— rise up and fly! / with a woman—rise up and fly!”28 The tone and poetic style of the second of the Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta treatises, the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār—so close in time and place to the composition of the Tiruvuntiyār—could not be more distinct. Gone are the joyous refrains to rise up and fly aloft, to join in the happy game with Shiva and his female devotees. Such unbridled enthusiasm gives way to profound anxiety, perhaps voiced with greatest clarity in verse 81: “Scriptures say one thing, then they say another / and they say nothing for certain. Now / how can I say anything? Will people ever listen to what / someone like me says?”29 Such frustration and hopelessness regarding the limits of śāstra or philosophical discourse itself thematically caps at least twelve verses scattered earlier throughout the text that directly invoke—often in tones of awe-­struck devotion and complete wonder—the mighty acts of bhakti performed by earlier generations of Shaiva devotees, mighty acts that seem all but impossible to match in the theological present of the text. Verse 12 introduces this envy of the nāyaṉmār (literally, the sixty-­three earlier “leaders” or greatest devotees of Shiva) by gesturing toward two famous “miracles” performed by the seventh-­ century poet-­saints known, respectively, as Campantar and Appar: “[Campantar’s] transformation of barren land into fertile by singing, / [Appar’s] eradication of a poisonous snake bite and entreating / Yama, the god of death, to spare a boy’s life, / were due to their karaṇam which are unlike others.”30 Karaṇam carries a wide range of materially substantive meanings, from the gross physicality of the corporeal body to the more subtle physicality of the mind or intellect (Balasubramanian 2007: 41). In other words, the author introduces his audience to these great poet-­saints of earlier centuries by noting their distinct differences in what one might today call body, mind, and spirit. He quickly follows this by noting the wondrous, even gruesome deeds of the nāyaṉmār as illustrative of the “difficult way” (valviṉai) of loving the lord (as opposed to the “soft way” of pūjā, temple ritual, and the like): Ciṟuttoṇṭar’s killing of his own son to feed a visiting Shaiva ascetic (verse 18), Caṇṭīcar’s amputation of his own father’s legs for interfering with his worship of Shiva (verse 19), and Arivāṭṭa’s attempts to slit his own throat when a pūjā is spoiled (verse 20). At the very heart of the text—in verses 50–54—Tirukkaṭavur Uyyavanta Tevaneyanar catalogues the nāyaṉmārs’ salvific acts as due to their complete and utter surrender to Shiva, rather than to any yogic or ritualistic practices; in rapid succession, he refers to some of the most violent deeds of devotion, even identifying Kannapan—who famously gouges out in his own eyes to stem the blood flowing from the eyes of a Shiva image (verse 52)—by name. Ten verses later, beginning at verse 65, the author enumerates the miraculous deeds—performed in utter surrender to Shiva— of the most famous among the Shaiva poets: Appar, Campantar, Cuntarar, and Manikkavacakar (verses 65, 70–73). Throughout these many stanzas focused on the supremely selfless acts of earlier generations of devotees, the author repeatedly despairs at the impossibility

Poetry … in early Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta   33 of following such a path in the present. Aiyō nām—“poor us!”—he wails at verse 61, for human beings in the present are incapable of emulating such great acts of love. “Tell me why we should bother to eat and live!” (untiruppa teṉṉō urai), he continues his lament in verse 62. Why bother with being a virtuous householder at all, or, for that matter, renouncing that householder life to overcome karmic bondage (verse 63)? The Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār spends roughly one-­fifth of its content—much of it constituting the central core of the text, in verses 50–73—deeply and painfully cognizant that the lessons, no less the experience, of such poetic outpourings of love for Shiva and the human aspirations that produced them lie in the remote past of the great poet-­saints or nāyaṉmār. Such experiences simply cannot be recreated in the present; the days of the truly great devotees are over. The starting-­point, then, of this particular Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta śāstra lies wholly within the realm of human temporal change, with a deeply painful recognition that the “truths”— the ideals, paradigms, and aspirations—of earlier generations have not and simply cannot endure. In this context, perhaps not surprisingly, Shiva himself assumes a particular form. Gone are the poetic games and appeals to the experience of young girls, as in the Tiruvuntiyār. Gone as well are possibilities of free, unmediated experience of the divine. Far from the “spontaneous” (tāṉāka) yielding of Shiva to earthly form that opens the Tiruvuntiyār (verse 1), the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār likens the lord’s assumption of a corporeal form to a duty (kaṭaṉāy; verse 86). Shiva no longer mingles as a player among equals, but serves as both “mother and father to the world” (ammaiyapparē ulakukku; verse 1). In service to this more somber theological view of the world, the lord, and the human being’s humble place therein, the bulk of the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār text attempts to outline a range of options for contemporary practice, deeply aware nonetheless that these are but dim imitations of a long-­lost ideal. Multiple paths to Shiva are described and discussed throughout, focused always on the disjuncture between the “hard” and the “soft” paths, the inner and the outer, the mental and the embodied (see Balasubramanian 2007: 18–27). Particularly notable is the most prominent ray of hope in the valley of darkness from which the text speaks: the teacher as the stand-­in for Shiva in this age gripped by passions and impurity. As early as verse 2, the teacher or guru serves as the intermediary between the present-­day devotee and Shiva in an age when more direct encounter is no longer possible. The author ends his text by praising his own teacher by name—“Āḷuṭaiyāṉ”—and likens him to the lord himself, gathering “slaves” (aṭiyār) and granting them liberation (verse 96). The teacher is likened to a crystal (paḷiṅku) who reflects the brilliance of those around him, not himself (verse 97). In this context, the tremendous powers allotted the teacher—to train, to discipline, to enslave, to grant mokṣa—are the best one can do—the only remaining path to Shiva—at such remove from the paradigmatic age of true bhakti.31 The Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār throughout tacks back and forth between the wondrous displays of devotion possible among the bhaktas of earlier generations and

34   Anne E. Monius the grim realities of the present that constrain in multiple ways the possibility of genuine human contact with Shiva. In so doing, the text offers what the poet himself recognizes as a new argument in the Tamil-­speaking Shaiva tradition for the importance of the guru or teacher and the palette of disciplinary practices that he teaches via Shiva’s grace, an argument that will be taken up and further debated throughout the Tamil śāstras (Pechilis Prentiss 1999: 148–149). How might one account for these very different twelfth-­century approaches to Shiva in these earliest two Śaiva Siddhānta treatises, the Tiruvuntiyār and the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār? How might one best understand these distinct theologies, with the latter text’s “divinizing” of the guru or teacher in light of Shiva’s new role as “mother and father to the world” (verse 1) rather than playmate? As a number of scholars to date have noted, Shaiva thought and practice in the twelfth-­century Tamil-­speaking region of southern-­most India was extremely diverse, incorporating the devotional poetry of the canonical Tirumuṟai, the Sanskrit traditions of the āgamas, and a host of institutions, from temples and royal patrons to maṭam or monastic institutions. Ishimatsu’s (1999) work considers caste competition among Brahmins and (non-­Brahmin) Vēḷāḷa communities in the formation of the Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta, while Pechilis Prentiss (1999: 134–155) focuses on the Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta as a response, of sorts, to Sanskritic āgama-based Shaivism. Increasing Coḻa patronage by kings who deemed Shiva their “family god” or kulanāyakar resulted in the building of new temples and the renovation of older structures (see Davis 2010: 17–21). Amid the diversity of twelfth-­century Shaiva thought and practice, it is possible to read the two earliest Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta texts as simply representing two distinct streams of Tamil Shaiva tradition: the poetic corpus of the Tirumuṟai (carried forward in the poetic līlā of the Tiruvuntiyār) and the concerns with embodied access to a lord beyond name-­and-form that mark the Sanskrit Śaiva Siddhānta and the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār, access made possible by the fact of the guru “who as the embodiment of grace represented the apotheosis of understanding the spiritual significance of human life” (Pechilis Prentiss 1999: 152). Much more work remains to be done to understand the historical context that generated these two earliest works of the Tamil-­language Śaiva Siddhānta tradition and their respective understandings of Shiva as divine lord.

Notes   1 For an update on current and future projects related to the Śaiva Siddhānta, see: www. ifpindia.org/Towards-­an-History-­of-Saivasiddhanta.html.   2 The exception is Balasubramanian (2007), on the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār. Balasubramanian interprets the Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār as  a transitional work moving away from patti (bhakti-­Skt.) literature while, at the same time, not losing the spirit of devotion. … [The text] integrated the philosophy of the TU [Tiruvuntiyār] with the devotion and miracles of the nāyaṉmār as represented by PP [Periyapurāṇam].  (30–31) This chapter will offer an alternative interpretation of both texts.

Poetry … in early Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta   35   3 All verses are drawn from Meykaṇṭa cāttiram eṉa vaḻaṅkum cittānta cāttiram patiṉāṉku mūlamum uraiyum (1994: 656–669), with translations by the author.   4 Meykaṇṭa cāttiram (1994: 670–708), with translations by the author.   5 The Tarumapura Ātīṉam 1942 edition of the Meykaṇṭa cāttiram, for example, provides of list of Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār verses corresponding to the Tiruvuntiyār, as does Balasubramanian (2007: 130–133). Siddhalingaiah (1979: 80) calls the later text “a poetical commentary on the Tiruvundiyār.” Dhavamony (1971: 183) likewise deems the later text “a commentary on the Tiruvuntiyār, for it expands its ideas and explains them more fully.”   6 From the Cantāṉavaralāṟu, quoted in Siddhalingaiah (1979: 86).   7 See Siddhalingaiah (1979: 85–86) for a summation of this traditional story. Pechilis Prentiss (1999: 239–240, fn. 4) briefly discusses the Śaiva Siddhānta tradition’s varying attitudes toward these earliest two texts.   8 akaḷamāy yārum aṟivarita poruḷ / cakaḷamāy vanta eṉṟu untī paṟa / tāṉāka tantatu eṉṟu untī paṟa.   9 Pope, for example, assumes “the players at a game resembling battledore and shuttlecock,” with the untī directed at the shuttlecock (Māṇikkavācakar 1995: 175), while the Tamil Lexicon follows suit in defining unti, further glossing untipaṟa-ttal as “to play the game of unti, an ancient game, consisting prob. in jumping accompanied by singing” (Tamil Lexicon 1982: 1.417). Murugan (1999: 59) defines unti/unti paṟattal as “a game in which girls lift their hands, and standing on toes spin round and sing. Two lines are uttered by one girl and the third is supplied by another girl,” an understanding of the game-­context of the poem echoed by Siddhalingaiah (1979: 80, fn. 36). Dhavamony (1971: 175) understands untipaṟa to indicate a meter “children employ while singing to the butterfly.” The Encyclopedia of Tamil Literature (1992: 2.477) glosses untiyār as a verse form “using the convention of a ball game in which the players standing in a circle, toss a ball.” 10 paḻakkam tavira paḻakuvatu aṉṟi / uḻappuvatu eṉ peṇṇē untī paṟa / oru poruḷālē eṉṟu untī paṟa. 11 kaṇṭattai koṇṭu karumam muṭittavar / piṇṭattu vārār eṉṟu untī paṟa / piṟappiṟappu illai eṉṟu untī paṟa. 12 pāvaṉaikku eytātu eṉṟu untī paṟa. 13 añcē añcāka aṟivē aṟivāka / tuñcātu uṇarntu iruntu untī paṟa. 14 ātārattālē nirātārattē ceṉṟu / mītāṉattē cela. 15 kiṭanta kiḻaviyai kiḷḷi eḻuppi / uṭantai uṭaṉē niṉṟu untī paṟa. 16 mūlai iruntārai muṟṟattē viṭṭavar … cāla periyar. 17 nam ceyal aṟṟinta nām aṟṟapiṉ nātaṉ / taṉ ceyal tāṉē eṉṟu untī paṟa / taṉṉaiyē tantāṉ eṉṟu untī paṟa. 18 For more on the basics of toṭai in Tamil prosody, see Rajam (1992: 190–207) and Zvelebil (1989). 19 Verse 17: tiruccilampu ōcai oli vāḻiyē ceṉṟu niruttaṉai kumpiṭa. 20 Verse 8: mī tāṉattē cela untī paṟa / vimalaṟku iṭam atu eṉṟu untī paṟa. 21 For a brief treatment of Tamil Shaiva poetic images of Shiva in relation to those found in Sanskrit sources, see Peterson (1989: 95–102). 22 For a concise discussion of the five “stages” (avasthā) of the soul, see Soni (1989: 37). 23 Verse 45: uṇmai uṇarntār eṉṟu untī paṟa. 24 Verse 4: iṅṅaṉ iruntatu eṉṟu evvaṇṇam collukēṉ / aṅṅaṉ iruntatu eṉṟu untī paṟa / aṟiyum aṟivatu aṉṟu untī paṟa. 25 Verse 13: ōṭṭaṟṟu niṉṟa uṇarvu pati muṭṭi / tēṭṭaṟṟu iṭam civam untī paṟa / tēṭum iṭam taṉ untī paṟa. 26 Verse 18: maruḷum teruḷum maṟakkum avar kaṇ / aruḷai maṟavātē untī paṟa / atuvē iṅku uḷḷatu eṉṟu untī paṟa.

36   Anne E. Monius 27 paḻakkam tavira paḻakuvatu aṉṟi / uḻappuvatu eṉ peṇṇē untī paṟa / oru poruḷālē eṉṟu untī paṟa. 28 Verse 44: cintaiyil uḷḷum eṉ ceṉṟiyilum cēra / vantavar vāḻka eṉṟu untī paṟa / maṭavāḷ uṭaṉē eṉṟu untī paṟa. 29 oṉṟu uraittatu oṉṟu uraiyā cāttiraṅkaḷ oṉṟāka / niṉṟu uraittu niccayikka māṭṭāvāl iṉṟu uraikka / eṉṉāl iyaṉṟiṭumō eṉpōlvār ētēṉum / coṉṉāltāṉ ēṟumō cōl. 30 pālai neytal pāṭiyatum pāmpu oḻiya pāṭiyatum / kālaṉai aṉṟēvi karām koṇṭa—pālaṉ / maraṇam tavirttatuvum maṟṟavarkku nantam / karaṇam pōl allāmai kāṇ. 31 For a general discussion of the Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta, with a particular focus on Umāpati’s fourteenth-­century efforts to wed Siddhānta theology to Tamil devotional practice, see Pechilis Prentiss (1999: 134–152).

References Balasubramanian, Ranganathan. 2007. “The Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār: Transition from Bhakti to Caiva Cittāntam Philosophy.” MA Thesis, McGill University. Brown, Frank Burch. 1989. Religious Aesthetics: A Theological Study of the Making of Meaning. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Civañāṉacuvāmikaḷ. 1936. Meykaṇṭatēvar aruḷi ceyta Civañāṉapōtamum Civañāṉacuvāmikaḷ aruḷi ceyta Civañāṉapōtiyamum. Ceṉṉai: Caiva Cittānta Makācamājam. Davis, Richard H. 1991. Ritual in an Oscillating Universe: Worshiping Śiva in Medieval India. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Davis, Richard H. 2010. A Priest’s Guide for the Great Festival: Aghoraśiva’s Mahotsavavidhi. New York: Oxford University Press. Dhavamony, Mariasusai. 1971. Love of God According to Śaiva Siddhānta: A Study in the Mysticism and Theology of Śaivism. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Encyclopedia of Tamil Literature, The. 1992. Vol. 2. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies. Goodall, Dominic. 2000. “Problems of Name and Lineage: Relationships Among South Indian Authors of the Śaiva Siddhānta.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Third Series 10 no. 2: 205–216. Goodall, Dominic. 2004. Parākhyatantra: A Scripture of Śaiva Siddhānta. Pondicherry: Institut Français d’Indologie. Ishimatsu, Ginnette. 1999. “The Making of Tamil Shaiva Siddhānta.” Contributions to Indian Sociology 33 no. 3: 571–579. Māṇikkavācakar. 1995. The Tiruvāçagam or “Sacred Utterances” of the Tamil Poet, Saint and Sage Māṇikka-vāçagar. Trans. G. U. Pope. New Delhi: Asian Educational Services. Māṇikkavācakar. 1997. Tiruvācakam eṭṭām tirumuṟai poḻippurai viḷakka kuṟippuraikaḷ uṭaṉ, ed. Caṇmuka Tēcika Ñāṉacampanta. Mayilāṭutuṟai: Tarumai Āṭīṉam. Meykaṇṭa cāttiram eṉa vaḻaṅkum cittānta cāttiram patiṉāṉku mūlamum uraiyum. 1994. Ceṉṉai: Cittānta Perumaṉṟam. Murugan, V. 1999. A Dictionary of Tamil Literary and Critical Terms. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies. Nussbaum, Martha C. 1990. Love’s Knowledge: Essays on Philosophy and Literature. New York: Oxford University Press. Pechilis Prentiss, Karen. 1999. The Embodiment of Bhakti. New York: Oxford University Press. Peterson, Indira Viswanathan. 1989. Poems to Śiva: The Hymns of the Tamil Saints. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Poetry … in early Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta   37 Rajam, V. S. 1992. A Reference Grammar of Classical Tamil Poetry: 150 B. C.–Pre-­ Fifth/Sixth Century A.D. Memoirs of the American Philosophical Society, 199. Philadelphia, PA: American Philosophical Society. Siddhalingaiah, T. B. 1979. Origin and Development of Śaiva Siddhānta up to 14th Century. Madurai: Madurai Kamaraj University. Soni, Jayandra. 1989. Philosophical Anthropology of Śaiva Siddhānta: With Special Reference to Śivāgrayogin. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. Tamil Lexicon. 1982. Madras: University of Madras. Zvelebil, Kamil. 1989. Classical Tamil Prosody: An Introduction. Chennai: New Era Publications.

3 The recasting of Krishna’s childhood narrative in the Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa to include the Goddess Radha André Couture The Kṛṣṇajanmakhaṇḍa [KJKh], or Book 4 of the Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa [BrVP], is usually and rightly considered to be a late version of Krishna’s life (fifteenth or sixteenth century) (Rocher 1986: 160–164). In this Purāṇa, Radha (or Rādhikā), who is inseparable from Krishna, appears as the main character. She is the personification of the Mūlaprakṛti, the “Root nature,” that original seed from which all material forms evolved. In the company of the Puruṣa (“man,” “Spirit,” “Universal Soul”) Krishna, she is said to inhabit the Goloka, Vishnu’s heaven, which is a world of cows and cowherds far above the Vaikuṇṭha. In this divine world, Krishna and Radha relate to one another in the way that body (deha) relates to soul (ātman) (4.6.216). The narrative takes up episodes already known in the Harivaṃśa [HV]—Krishna’s transfer from Mathura to Nandagopa’s cowherd settlement, the killing of Pūtanā, the submission of the snake Kāliya, the uplifting of Mount Govardhana, among others. Other episodes, known only from the Bhāgavata Purāṇa [BhP], are taken up and developed in a novel way—the rescue of the Brahmins’ wives, the abduction of calves and cowherd boys by Brahma, Krishna’s theft of the gopīs’ clothes. Throughout his childhood, Krishna is never alone. Whereas the HV emphasizes the presence of Saṅkarṣaṇa, an elder brother who is closely linked to him, the BrVP narrative stresses the secret presence of Radha, a goddess it presents as Krishna’s secret lover. Radha appears already in the first chapters of KJKh and her importance only seems to grow as Krishna moves through childhood. The narrative is transformed in various ways as it relocates a number of episodes, adds new stories which, at first sight, resemble the long digressions used to assert Krishna’s dominance over all other divinities or to legitimize a specific teaching. This new version of Krishna’s childhood clearly innovates, and this chapter intends to study the consequences of the divinizing of Radha in the context of the childhood narrative and the recasting of the traditional episodes to accommodate the new and continuing presence of both lovers.

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   39

The changes in the sequence of Krishna’s childhood episodes according to the BrVP Forty-­eight chapters are devoted to Krishna’s childhood in the HV (30–78), twenty in the Viṣṇu Purāṇa [ViP] (5, 1–20), and forty-­five in the BhP. In the BrVP, a full ninety-­eight chapters are dedicated to the narrative of Krishna’s early years. In order to understand the changes introduced in the description of his childhood, it will be useful to offer an outline of the main episodes in the HV, which is our oldest witness. The next step will involve a comparison of these episodes with those found in the BhP, and finally with those found in the BrVP. A general survey of this sort will help gauge the distance travelled between the HV and the BhP, and between the BhP and the BrVP, thus affording a better idea of what characterizes the BrVP. Harivaṃśa, chaps. 30–78 Bhāgavata Purāṇa, Book 10, chaps. 1–45 Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa, Book 4 (Kṛṣṇajanmakhaṇḍa), chaps. 1–98 HV 30: King Janamejaya’s questions to Brahmin Vaiśaṃpāyana concerning Vishnu’s manifestation as Krishna in Vasudeva’s family. BhP 10.1.1–13: King Parīkṣit asks Śuka to tell him about Krishna’s doings. BrVP 4.1: Nārada’s question to Narayana concerning Krishna’s and Radha’s passage from the Goloka to the Earth. HV 31: Vaiśaṃpāyana’s survey of Vishnu’s main manifestations. HV 32–38: Description of Vishnu’s/Hari’s victory over the asura Kālanemi and his allies during the Kṛtayuga. After having defeated the arrogant demon who wanted to supersede all deities, Hari reinstates them all into their former functions. BhP 10.1.68: Brief reference to the fact that Kansa was Kālanemi in a former life, and is now surrounded by numerous asuras. HV 39–45: Hari goes back to the Brahmaloka to practice a secret cosmic yoga. Vishnu wakes up at the end of the Dvāparayuga, listens to the Earth’s complaint, and finally decides to manifest himself as Krishna along with his brother Saṅkarṣaṇa and many other deities. They first kill King Kansa in Mathura, then take part in the Mahābhārata war. BhP 10.1.14–25: Śuka tells Parīkṣit that Earth, oppressed by arrogant kings, asked Brahma for help. Vishnu finally promises to go to Earth along with Snake Ananta (Śeṣa) and Goddess Yogamāyā. HV 46–48: The seer Nārada informs Kansa about what is to be expected. The king laughs provocatively, but asks his soldiers to watch Krishna’s parents, Devakī and Vasudeva. With Yoganidrā’s help, Vishnu prepares the births of eight sons in Devakī’s womb. The first six are killed by Kansa, the seventh is transferred into Rohiṇī’s womb, and the last one exchanged for a girl to

40   André Couture whom Yashoda gives birth in the cowherd settlement. This girl appears as a great Goddess before Kansa to announce the king’s death. BhP 10.1.26–69 and chaps. 2–4: Instead of the long introduction found in the HV, the BhP begins with Devakī’s marriage to Vasudeva in Mathura. To please Devakī, Kansa, who is Ugrasena’s son, holds the reins of the chariot. All of a sudden, he hears a voice addressing him and predicting that the eighth child of the woman in his chariot will be his death. Vasudeva comes to the defense of Devakī, who eventually agrees to deliver all her future children to the king. Vasudeva and Devakī are put in chains and confined to their house, while Devakī’s first sons are born and delivered to Kansa. The seventh son is aborted and carried by the Goddess into Rohiṇī’s womb. Krishna is born from Devakī’s womb. The exchange of Krishna for Yashoda’s baby follows, who is revealed to be Goddess Yoganidrā (chaps. 3–4). BrVP 4.7: Devakī’s marriage with Vasudeva is celebrated by the priest Garga (v. 1–35); the first six sons are born (v. 36). Saṅkarṣaṇa is born (v. 37–38; see also 4.8.41–49); Krishna is born and exchanged with Ekānaṃśā, Yashoda’s daughter, whose life is saved and who will be given in marriage to the sage Durvāsas. HV 49: Having gone to Mathura and returned to Kansa’s cowherd settlement located in a forest called Mahāvana, Vasudeva entrusts the custody of his sons to the cowherd Nanda. HV 50–51: Both children receive their names: Saṅkarṣaṇa for the elder and Krishna for the younger one. Three portends occur: a chariot is broken by Krishna’s foot; Pūtanā is mutilated and killed; Krishna, bound to a mortar, uproots two arjuna trees. BhP 10.5–10: Birth rituals in Nanda’s cowherd settlement (chap. 5); Pūtanā is killed and liberated (chap. 6); the chariot broken (7.1–17); Tṛṇāvarta killed (7.18–38). Garga secretly celebrates the children’s nāmakaraṇa “name giving” (8.1–20). Both children play together in the cowherd settlement (8.21–52). Krishna uproots two arjuna trees and liberates two former siddhas condemned to inhabit these trees (chaps. 9–10). BrVP 4.8–14: Description of the observances performed on the occasion of the Janmāṣṭamī (festival celebrating Krishna’s birth) (chap. 8). Rites celebrated for Saṅkarṣaṇa and Krishna (chap. 9). Killing and salvation of Pūtanā (chap. 10); of Tṛṇāvarta (chap. 11); of Śakaṭāsura (chap. 12). Arrival of Garga who reveals secrets about the children; celebration of annaprāśana “first feeding” and nāmakāraṇa for Krishna (chap. 13). Destruction and salvation of an arjuna tree (chap. 14). BrVP 4.15: One day, Nanda happens to go to the Vṛndāvana forest with Krishna. He sits under a tree, while Krishna disappears through his own māyā, provoking a storm. Radha joins Krishna and both of them start kissing passionately. Brahma arrives there and celebrates the marriage of Radha and Krishna.

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   41 BrVP 4.16: Killing of Bakāsura, Pralamba, and Keśin. Explanations concerning the fact that many of these asuras are actually ancient Vaishnavas who were cursed and will return to the Goloka. HV 52–53: When the children reach the age of seven, Krishna tells his brother about the terrible state of the forest where they have been living and describes a marvellous forest where they could move. Krishna is still thinking about the state of the forest when packs of wolves spring from the hairs of his body, spreading havoc in the settlement. Rapidly, the herders decide to move and all of them leave with their cows for the Vṛndāvana forest. BhP 10.11–12: On account of these portends, the cowherds decide to move to the Vṛndāvana forest and build a new settlement there (11.1–29). Killing of a demon having the form of a calf (11.30–33), of Bakāsura (11.34–48), of Snake Aghāsura (chap. 12). BhP 10.13–14: One day, in order to witness Krishna’s greatness, Brahma spirits away the calves and their herders. Krishna turns himself into both calves and herders so that nobody can see the difference (see BrVP 4.20). BrVP 4.16.146–167 and chap. 17: The herders move from their former forest to the Vṛndāvana forest (17.1), transformed by Viśvakarman during the night into a marvellous city (17.14, etc.). BrVP 4.18: Liberation of the Brahmins’ wives (see BhP 10.23). HV 54–56: During the monsoon season, Krishna is walking in the forest without his elder brother. He admires the Yamuna River and finally notices an enormous and unfathomable pool in it, which must be Snake Kāliya’s lair. He decides to punish the snake, climbs to the top of a kadamba tree and dives into the middle of the pool. Alerted by the cowherds, Saṅkarṣaṇa comes back and reminds his brother of his real nature. Krishna dances on the reptile’s coils and brings it into submission. BhP 10.15: Killing of Dhenuka (see HV 57; BrVP 4.22–24). BhP 10.16–17: Snake Kāliya is brought into submission by Krishna (chap. 16). Krishna extinguishes a raging fire (chap. 17). BrVP 4.19: Snake Kālīya (sic!) is brought into submission and killed. Krishna swallows a raging fire. HV 57–58: Immediately after, Saṅkarṣaṇa delivers a Tāla forest from the donkey Dhenuka, who was threatening their lives (chap. 57). As Krishna and Saṅkarṣaṇa are playing with their friends, the great dānava Pralamba comes disguised as a cowherd and is killed by Saṅkarṣaṇa (chap. 58). BhP 10.18 and 19: Saṅkarṣaṇa kills Pralamba, and Krishna swallows a raging fire. BrVP 4.20: In order to witness Krishna’s greatness, Brahma spirits away the calves and their herders. Krishna turns himself into both calves and herders so that nobody can see the difference (see BhP 10.13–14).

42   André Couture HV 59–62: After the monsoon, autumn (śarad) begins. The cowherds prepare Indra’s festival. Krishna opposes a festival devised for kings, proposing instead that the cowherds worship cows, forests, and mountains. All of them agree. At the end of the celebration, Krishna becomes Mount Govardhana and swallows all offerings. Indra immediately generates a seven-­day storm that transforms the Earth into an immense ocean. In order to protect cows and cowherds from Indra’s wrath, Krishna uplifts the mountain, turning it into a sort of immense stable capable of accommodating the triple world (HV 61.55). Ashamed, Indra comes down to the earth and confers the title of Govinda on his opponent. BhP 10.22: Krishna steals away with the clothes of the gopīs who are bathing in the Yamunā, observing a vow in honor of Kātyāyanī (Durgā), forcing them to humble themselves before him. BhP 10.23: Liberation of the Brahmins’ wives (BrVP 4.18). BhP 10.24–27: The season of the rains ends and autumn begins. Krishna disagrees with Indra’s sacrifice. Celebration of a new sacrifice, etc. BhP 10.28: Grasped by a servant of Varuṇa, Nanda is delivered by Krishna. BrVP 4.21: One day, the cowherds in the cowherd settlement are preparing to celebrate the śakrayāga, a sacrifice in honor of Indra. Krishna argues against such a ritual. After a long discussion, Nanda agrees to worship the mountain (v. 130) that appears identical to Krishna. Indra tries to take revenge on the herders, but Krishna lifts up the mountain and protects them. BrVP 4.22–24: Krishna kills Dhenuka with his discus (cakra) and liberates him from his current life (see HV 57; BhP 10.15). BrVP 4.25–26: Shows how King Ambarīṣa was protected by Vishnu’s discus on performing the ekādaśīvrata (observances on the eleventh day [of the lunar phases in a month of the Hindu calendar]). Brahma, Shiva, Parvati, and many other deities celebrate Vishnu’s greatness. BrVP 4.27: Krishna steals away the clothes of the gopīs (see BhP 10.22). HV 63: Questioned by the cowherds, Krishna repeats that he is just an ordinary cowherd. He spends days happily playing with his friends, wrestling with bulls, enjoying moonlit nights and dancing with young female herders. BhP 10.29–33: Description of the rāsalīlā (moonlight games). BrVP 4.28 and chaps. 52–53: Description of the rāsalīlā, and the rāsayātrā (Krishna’s walk from forest to forest to sport about with female herders). BrVP 4.29–51 and chaps. 55–62: Various stories focusing on Krishna shattering the arrogance (darpabhaṅga) of deities. HV 64: One night, Bull Ariṣṭa comes to the settlement where he is killed by Krishna.

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   43 BhP 10.36.1–15: Death of Bull Ariṣṭa who is threatening the cowherd settlement. HV 65–66: King Kansa gathers his relatives and counselors and expresses his concern about the young cowherd named Krishna. He even makes accusations against his father Vasudeva. He finally asks Akrūra to go to the settlement, invites the herders to a Bow festival, and brings back both brothers; all this, without taking into account the comments Andhaka makes in defense of Vasudeva. BhP 10.36.16–40: Kansa gathers his friends and speculates on the best way of getting rid of both brothers. BrVP 4.54: Conversation between Radha and Krishna about Krishna’s return to Mathura. HV 67: Krishna fights against a last enemy: the horse Keśin. BhP 10.37: Krishna fights against Keśin (v. 1–24) (BrVP 4.16), as well as the great wizard Vyoma (v. 25–34). HV 68–70: Akrūra goes to the cowherd settlement, discovers Vishnu dressed in the garb of a cowherd, and invites the cowherds to Kansa’s festival. The next morning, all leave for Mathura. At midday, they stop on the bank of the Yamunā River while Akrūra performs his ritual ablutions. While submerged in the waters, Akrūra sees Ananta (Śeṣa), the lord of snakes, living in the rasātala (netherworld beneath the earth’s surface) with Vishnu sitting on his lap. When he gets out of the water, he realizes that these deities are actually identical to the brothers who are waiting for him in the chariot. BhP 10.38–39: Akrūra goes to the cowherd settlement, and so on. BrVP 4.63–65: Kansa gathers his friends and allies and tells them of the bad dream he had. His priest Satyaka advises him to celebrate a Dhanurmakha (Bow Festival). After first planning to send Vasudeva, Uddhava, and Akrūra to the cowherd settlement, he finally sends Akrūra alone in order to bring back the main cowherds to Mathura. BrVP 4.66–69: Despairing, Radha is awakened through the ādhyātmika yoga. Love games between Krishna and Radha. BrVP 4.70–71: The state of mind of Akrūra is revealed. Krishna journeys to Mathura on a divine chariot. HV 71–76: After coming back from the forest, Krishna and his elder brother visit the city incognito. Krishna kills a launderer and rewards a garland maker; straightens the hunched back of a servant; and finally breaks Kansa’s bow. On the next morning, Krishna kills the elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa, which was voluntarily posted at the arena’s entrance. Then both brothers kill the wrestlers opposed to them, and finally Krishna kills Kansa as well as his brother Sunāman. BhP 10.41 to 44.32: Krishna and his elder brother visit the city. They visit the same persons (the garland maker is called Sudāman, and the hunchbacked servant falls in love with Krishna). Krishna finally kills Kansa.

44   André Couture BrVP 4.72: Krishna visits Mathura, sees a hunchbacked servant who falls in love with him, rewards a garland-­maker and punishes a launderer, makes love with the now healed hunchbacked servant, kills an elephant and a wrestler, and then kills Kansa who had another bad dream. He gives wealth to the Brahmins, frees his parents and reinstalls Ugrasena on the throne. HV 77–78: Kansa’s wives mourn their husband’s fate. Krishna explains his reasons for killing Kansa, orders Kansa’s funeral rites, and asks Ugrasena to resume his kingship. BhP 10.44.43–51: The same. BrVP 4.73–98: Krishna gives Nanda a lengthy instruction on ādhyātmika yoga, and encourages him to go back to the cowherd settlement. At the end, Devakī and Vasudeva speak to Nanda, and Radha joins in the conversation. This survey demonstrates that the BrVP borrows from the BhP, the latter being constructed on a simpler model than that found in the HV (probably via the ViP). At the same time, the BrVP has a different orientation since Krishna and Radha appear here as eternal lovers, despite the fact that they are forced to live separately for 100 years due to a curse laid on them during their former existences in the Goloka. Of course, the various versions of each episode should be compared and studied separately, in order to get a detailed understanding of the overall transformation of the story as found in the BrVP. For the moment, suffice it to say that the remainder of this chapter will focus on the most obvious aspects of this transformation, that is, the mysterious nature of Radha’s presence in the Vrindavan, and the divine character which it gives to the entire narrative.

A note on the words used to talk about cowherd settlements and distinguish them from those used for specific geographical spaces English translators of the BrVP are faced with a number of challenges as they try to find equivalents for the words vraja or gokula (the latter means literally “cow settlement”). In 1982, I published a paper on the terminology used in the HV, ViP and BhP to designate the settlements of herders and the specific geographical spaces in which they are to be found (Couture 1982). The survey of these texts clearly demonstrates that the words vraja and gokula, as well as ghoṣa and goṣṭha, designate a temporary settlement for cattle raising (even if gokula appears to be a more recent vintage than other terms used in this context). The settlement is made up of the enclosure itself, the cattle, the male (gopa), and female (gopī) herders and all the necessary equipment. The terms also refer to the grazing lands surrounding the enclosure, on which the settlement depends for its existence.1 According to these ancient texts, King Kansa has just such a cowherd settlement in the vicinity of Mathura,2 which was first located in a forest called Mahāvana or Bṛhadvana. After seven years spent in this forest, the settlement had to be moved to another great forest called the Vṛndāvana.

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   45 My reading of the BrVP points to similar conclusions. A few examples should suffice. At Nārada’s request to know more about Krishna and Radha, Narayana answers: Now listen, as I tell you why Hari (Vishnu) came to a cowherd settlement (gokula), dressed in a cowherd costume, and why Radha became a little cowgirl. (4.2.3, adhunā gopaveṣaṃ ca gokulāgamanaṃ hareḥ / rādhā gopālikā yena nibodha kathayāmi te //) Śrīdāmā cursed Radha: “Enter a human womb, and after becoming a cowherd woman in a cowherd settlement (vraja), wander over the earth”. (4.2.6, rādhāṃ śaśāpa śrīdāmā yāhi yoniṃ ca mānavīm / vraje vrajāṅganā bhūtvā vicarasva mahītale //) Krishna goes to nandagokula, that is, to Nanda’s cowherd settlement (4.2.16). A few chapters later, he asks gopas and gopīs to go to nandavraja, a compound word that refers to exactly the same settlement (4.6.63, 125) and which supposes a perfect equivalence between gokula and vraja. In 4.6.225–235, gokula and vraja are also used interchangeably to refer to the cowherd settlement in which Krishna and Radha become incarnate. In 4.13.175, Nanda is said to be vrajeśvara, the lord of the settlement. This use of the terms vraja and gokula corresponds precisely to usage in the BhP.3 Nevertheless, the number of forests around Nanda’s cowherd settlement, whether called vraja or gokula, increases. In chap. 16, before moving to the Vṛndāvana forest, Krishna goes with his friends to specific forests supposedly located within walking distance of the main settlement, first the Śrīvana (4.16.1), and from there, the Madhuvana (4.16.3) where he kills Bakāsura. Then, he reaches a forest of bananas and kadamba trees (kadalīkadambānāṃ kānanam, 4.16.14) where he kills Pralambāsura. Afterwards, he goes up to the banian Bhāṇḍīra (4.16.20) (in the Bhāṇḍīravana, v. 28) where he kills Keśin. Nevertheless, I see no reason to think that the BrVP reflects the period during which the disciples of Vallabhācārya endeavored to locate each and every episode of his childhood with the greatest possible precision. That project will only be launched in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The herder environment, however, seems to be more complex, or perhaps simply more similar to the marvellous Goloka. During the first part of the childhood, the text evokes the Vṛndāvana sporadically. In 4.6.231, Krishna promises Radha that he will enjoy her company in the forest of Vṛndāvana. In chap. 15, Radha and Krishna are mysteriously carried to the Vṛndāvana for their marriage to be celebrated by Brahma. This sort of aside interrupts the flow of the narrative and will be dealt with later. In spite of such early references, it is said clearly in chap. 16 that, after watching Krishna’s marvellous deeds, Nanda becomes panicked (4.16.147). He summons the old cowherds for a counsel that decides that all of them must leave the place where the

46   André Couture vraja is settled and move into the Vṛndāvana forest (4.16.149). All the gopas and gopīs, as well as Radha, joined in this migration. One day, in the cowherd settlement that has been built for the herders (gopavraje, 4.21.1), Nanda announces the annual Indra festival. All the residents of the city (nagaravāsinaḥ, 4.21.8), priests and herders, join the festival.4 After having defeated Indra, Krishna goes back to his own abode in the company of those who live in the settlement (vrajastha, 4.21.203). During his travels in the forest with his elder brother, Krishna happens to go to the Tālavana where he kills the donkey Dhenuka with his discus. Later, Kansa orders Akrūra to go to the cowherd settlement: Go right away to Nanda’s cowherd settlement, and bring back Nanda, Nanda’s son and his brother who is a powerful child immediately. (4.64.29, gaccha nandavrajaṃ śīghraṃ nandaṃ ca nandanandanam / tadbhrātaraṃ ca balinaṃ bālam ānaya sāṃpratam //; see v. 31, 34, 37, 44) Akrūra agrees: Now I go to the cowherd settlement to meet the king of the cowherd settlement, and I will see the one who deserves most to be worshiped and the one who gives enjoyment and liberation. (4.65.6, vrajarājaṃ samāhartuṃ vrajaṃ yāsyāmi sāṃpratam / drakṣyāmi paramaṃ pūjyaṃ bhuktimuktidāyinam //) Up to now, the BrVP fits perfectly well with the pattern found in the HV. The story on earth begins in the city of Mathura where Krishna is born as the eighth son of Devakī and Vasudeva. Immediately after his birth, the baby is carried to the Kansa’s cowherd settlement managed by Nanda. Throughout the narrative, there is only one cowherd settlement that the herders decide to leave, moving from a first forest to a marvellous forest called the Vṛndāvana. At Kansa’s request, Akrūra enters the Nandavraja (4.70.35–37), talks to the herders, and then all the inhabitants of the cowherd settlement (gokulavāsinaḥ, 4.70.90) rejoice. Nevertheless, in the BrVP, the cowherd settlement is gradually transformed. Rather than “huts covered with mats” (kaṭacchannakuṭīmaṭham, HV 49.23), Nanda, Yashoda, their children, all the inhabitants of the cowherd settlement live in mandiras or gṛhas, general terms for the houses usually found in cities (gṛha is already mentioned in BhP 10.5.6). Kansa tells Pūtanā to go to Nanda’s house (nandamandira) located in the cowherd settlement (gokula) (4.10.9). The house of Nanda (svagṛha) where Krishna returns after killing demons, even compared to the abode of Kubera, the god of wealth (kuberabhavanopamam, 4.16.146), becomes a sort of palace. Of course, Krishna’s first deeds take place in the cowherd settlement in or around Nanda’s house. The cowherds move from a first forest to the Vṛndāvana forest (17.1), exactly as in the former texts. But in the new forest, the cowherd settlement takes on a more and more fantastic appearance. The Vrindavan looks like a city with the most

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   47 beautiful houses (gṛha, mandira). It was built by Viśvakarman, exactly as Dvaraka will be in the HV. As the episode takes place at night, it will be examined with other nocturnal episodes. In fact, what characterizes the BrVP is the importance given to the Goloka, a mythical domain whose name means “World of cows,” a sphere already known in the HV childhood narrative and situated at the summit of the world between the Brahmaloka and Krishna’s ascetic and secret refuge (gatis tava tapomayī, HV 62.29). Indra describes it in the following way: “The World of cows is located above [the Brahmaloka] and is protected by sādhyas” (tasyopari gavāṃ lokaḥ sādhyās taṃ pālayanti hi, HV 62.28).5 Whereas this world is merely alluded to in the HV (62.28, 32), the BrVP childhood narrative starts and ends in the Goloka. In this later text, the Goloka is fully described: first in 4.4.79–178 when the gods, beginning with Brahma and Shiva, are granted the favor of visiting it; later in 4.73.15–42 in the beginning of a long passage where Krishna teaches Nanda the ādhyātmika yoga. The world is said to be situated fifty koṭi (“ten millions”) of yojanas above the Vaikuṇṭha (the world of Vishnu), which itself transcends the Brahmaloka. It is made of excellent gems and stands without any props. Everything inside it is conceived for the enjoyment of Krishna’s servants. It is protected by seven gates and seven moats, is made of seven substances. It is surrounded by hundreds of thousands of walls, by great mountains, and the River Virajā flows around it. The Rāsamaṇḍala (the circular field used for rāsa games) is on the top of one of these huge mountains: it is made of gems, is circular like the lunar disc; it contains thousands of wishing trees (kalpavṛkṣa), gardens of flowers, and various plants. Myriad palaces are found there, served by myriad gopīs, as well as a royal residence (śivira, 4.73.26) for Radha. A forest called Vṛndāvana is also found not far from there, which is a lovely place designed for the enjoyment of Kṛṣna and Radha, with fifty koṭi (“ten millions”) of bowers all around (kuñjakuṭīra) to ensure the privacy of lovers, as well as hundreds of forests. Krishna’s and Radha’s myriad attendants live therein, constantly at their service, as well as goddesses, all of them equally beautiful and enticing. When the gods visited the Goloka, they also beheld a huge immortal fig-­tree (akṣayavaṭa) (4.4.148) with young cowherds playing at its base, exactly as they play later under the Bhāṇḍīra tree in the childhood narrative. This description shows that the Vaishnavas imagine the well-­known terrestrial Vrindavan as a small replica of the Goloka sphere with its own Vṛndāvana. To the standard narrative that takes place on earth near Mathura, the BrVP adds a second narrative based on a mysterious exchange between the Goloka, perceived as the true reality, and a fictional world in the vicinity of Mathura. It is the new importance granted to the Goloka that completely transforms the terrestrial Vrindavan.

48   André Couture

A new introduction to the childhood narrative emphasizing the presence of both Krishna and Radha According to the HV, when Vishnu wakes up at the end of the Dvāparayuga, Brahma says that the gods have a message for him from the Earth. Immediately, Vishnu goes to the summit of Mount Meru in order to hear the complaints of the Earth, who is no more able to stand the kings who trample on her back during endless battles. The gods agree to manifest themselves on the Earth and fight against countless incarnations of arrogant asuras; and Brahma encourages them. Then, Vishnu himself explains that everything was organized for him to be born in Mathura as Krishna, the son of Devakī and Vasudeva, in company of an elder brother named Saṅkarṣaṇa, as well as a goddess who was to be born from Nandagopa and Yashoda in the cowherd settlement. The ViP and the BhP also refer briefly to the same scenario. Examining the structure of the narrative of the BrVP, one quickly notices that Krishna’s story has been completely recast. It now begins in the Goloka and ends there, with curses to explain why Krishna and Radha are there for 100 years, first in Nanda’s cowherd settlement, then in Mathura and finally in Dvaraka. The BrVP presents Radha as Krishna’s eternal lover, and foregrounds the theme of her separation from Krishna. The first chapters of the KJKh take place in the Goloka. According to Narayana, who answers Nārada’s question, Krishna was at that time sporting about with Radha in a single forest inside the Rāsamaṇḍala. Completely lost in pleasure and incapable of distinguishing between himself and the other, Krishna leaves Radha for another beautiful cowherd girl called Virajā (4.2.22). Female friends (āli) stir up Radha’s jealousy. Radha becomes angry and promises to punish her lover. Śrīdāman, the best of Krishna’s servants, also acting as gatekeeper (dvārapāla, 4.2.60–61) of the pavilion (maṇḍapa) where Krishna and Virajā are making love, blocks her passage. When Virajā hears Radha’s cries of anger, she commits suicide through yoga (virajā jahau prāṇāṃś ca yogataḥ, 4.2.66) and assumes the form of the Virajā River flowing around the Goloka. Discovering that his beloved was turned into a river, Krishna grants her the favor to emerge from the water with a still more beautiful body (4.3.4–7). Virajā has sons from Krishna who finally abandons her for Radha, promising to visit her regularly. Learning about Krishna’s return to Virajā, Radha once again gets angry (4.3.40). Finally, Krishna arrives with Śrīdāman, and Radha addresses unpleasant words to him (4.3.51). Things get heated and Radha’s friends advise her to leave. Śrīdāman tries to reason with Radha and finally curses her. She will be born on earth in the Vṛndāvana forest in Vṛṣabhānu’s house and become the wife of a vaiśya called Rāyaṇa (4.3.116). In return, Radha curses Śrīdāman to be born as the asura Śaṃkhacūḍa, the future husband of Tulasī (4.3.113). The story continues and Nārada asks Narayana about Krishna’s visit to Earth, even though he has not yet decided to do so. Long ago—he says in a flashback to a sequence already known in older texts—during the Vārāhakalpa, the Earth, afflicted by the wars waged by the gods and the asuras, seeks

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   49 Brahma’s protection. She goes to Brahma’s meeting hall (sabhā) followed by all the deities, muttering the name of Krishna (4.4.18–32). Brahma promises his help (4.4.33–44), but transfers her to the Kailāsa in order to meet Shiva (4.4.42–52). Hereafter, all the deities, as well as Brahma, Shiva, and the Earth, make their way to the Vaikuṇṭha, Vishnu’s heaven. On hearing the prayers of the gods, Hari (Vishnu) says: Gods, you should go to the Goloka and I shall follow you soon with Śrī (Lakṣṃī). Certainly, Nara, Nārāyaṇa, Sarasvatī, Ananta, Māyā, Gaṇeśa, Kārtikeya, and Sāvitrī, the mother of the Vedas, must all go to the Goloka where I will reveal myself as the two-­handed lord Krishna courted by Radha and the gopīs. Here I will dwell with Kamalā, attended by Sunanda and others gopas. (4.4.71–74) Then, all the deities set off, see the Virajā River, various mountains, as well as the Vṛndāvana forest, and finally arrive at the Goloka itself. They reach the palace of Radha, passing through its sixteen gates, one after another, with the permission of each gatekeeper, and arrive at her private quarters. Brahma proceeds with Shiva on his right and Dharma on his left (4.5.92), and recites a hymn in honor of Krishna (4.94–111). The gatekeeper asks permission from Krishna. Then, the gods see a mass of fire (tejas) in front of them, and in the middle of it, the bodies of Krishna and Radha. Krishna tells the gods he already knows the problems faced by the Earth. “I will go to the Earth—Krishna says—you should return to your own abodes and go to the Earth through parts of yourselves” (4.6.61). He adds that gopas and gopīs must go to Nanda’s cowherd settlement and Rādhikā (Radha) to the house of Vṛṣabhānu, whereas Kalāvatī, Vṛṣabhānu’s wife, is already born from a part of Kamalā (Lakshmi) as the result of an ancient curse from the sage Durvāsas. Once more addressing Radha, Krishna concludes: “There, still a boy, I will accept you as my bride, O lotus-­faced (goddess)” (4.6.66, tvām ahaṃ bālarūpeṇa gṛhṇāmi kamalānane). Meanwhile, a marvellous car arrives, with space for the Puruṣa Hari Narayana with all his attendants, goddess Sarasvati on his left, Lakshmi on his right. Hari descends from the car and merges into Krishna’s body. Saṅkarṣaṇa is also there. New cars arrive in order to prepare the various births. According to the BrVP, this is the way the protagonists of the whole HV and Mahābhārata are born on earth. The HV, the ViP, and the BhP knew the importance of the goddess Nidrā, or Yoganidrā, understood to be Vishnu’s eternal wife: she manifests herself as Ekānaṃśā, Nandagopa and Yashoda’s daughter, in order to predict King Kansa’s death. Southern versions of the HV also record the child marriage of Krishna with Nīlā.6 What is really new here is the presence of Radha as Krishna’s wife, eternally residing in the Goloka.

50   André Couture

The mysterious presence of both Krishna and Radha during the childhood narrative Krishna is the Puruṣa or the Spirit, and Radha, the Mūlaprakṛti or the root nature, the primordial matter. Both of them form one and the same body (ekāṅga, 4.6.67). Their unity is also compared to a body (tanu) and its life (prāṇa), or to a body (śarīra) and its shade (chāyā), or the support (ādhāra) and what is supported (ādheya) (see 4.6.198 and 208). During their earthly transit, Krishna and Radha are living through a tragedy. It is repeatedly said in the BrVP that because of the curse that struck Radha, she was condemned to remain separated from Krishna for 100 years. Nevertheless, during their current lives as cowherds, Krishna and Radha continue to dream about their former lives in the Goloka, that is to say, what their real lives would have been. In the BrVP, whereas Krishna is born in the manner usually described in older childhood narratives, Radha is born to the family of Vṛṣabhānu and Kalāvatī and marries Rāyaṇa. Nevertheless, throughout the text, one finds references to the intimate relationships that Krishna and Radha enjoyed in the Goloka. Their secret encounters take place either at night (in contrast to their day life), or in dreams (in contrast to waking time), or deep into the forest of the Vṛndāvana in the Rāsamaṇḍala, which is the most mysterious part of the earthly Vrindavan (in contrast to the cowherd settlement and the grazing lands all around). A few examples will suffice. In chap. 15, Nanda is said to have gone with young Krishna to the Vṛndāvana, grazing the cows under the Bhāṇḍira tree and in the forests around it (upavanabhāṇḍīre, 4.15.1). As he is holding the child on his lap at the base of the tree, Krishna, whose human body is illusory, causes the sky to be covered with clouds through his own māyā (4.15.3). The child clings to his father Nanda (4.15.7). At that very moment, Radha appears before him with her wonderful female body. Nanda is surprised to see her, remembers the words of Garga, the family priest of the Yadus (4.15.24: the reference is to chap. 13.91ff.), and hands over the child to Radha who requests secrecy (4.15.29–30). When Nanda asks to join her in the Goloka (4.15.33), she grants him the favor of total service (dāsya, v. 34), and promises him that at the end of his life he will go to the Goloka. Then, Radha carries Krishna far away, and kisses him passionately, thus remembering the celestial Rāsamaṇḍapa and its love games. She sees an illusory maṇḍapa, and a young man sleeping there. Realizing that the child is no longer with her (kroḍaṃ bālakaśūnyam, 4.15.53) and that he has been replaced by a beautiful young man, she is astonished. Krishna recollects the days of the Goloka, and his own union with that woman. In the meantime, Brahma arrives and praises both Krishna and Radha. He kindles a fire between the lovers and pours an oblation (havana) onto the flame. He makes Radha bow in reverence to Krishna, ties the protective thread on their wrists (kautuma) and makes them circle around the fire seven times. He asks Krishna to hold Radha by the hand, and completes the rites of marriage (4.15.123–130). After Brahma’s departure, Krishna and Radha exchange betel and make love. Afterwards, Krishna sheds

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   51 the body of a young person (kaiśorarūpa) and becomes a baby again (śiśurūpa, 4.15.167). Radha hands over the child to Yashoda. Even if externally Radha busies herself with domestic affairs, every night she enjoys love with Hari in the Vṛndāvana (nityaṃ naktaṃ ratiṃ tatra cakāra hariṇā saha, 4.15.182). The marriage of Krishna with Radha remains a mysterious rite celebrated by Brahma himself as priest (purohita) and Agni as witness (sākṣin) (4.13.113). Because of the presence of so many demons, and the dangers the children have to face, Nanda and all the aged cowherds decide to leave the place (4.16.147–148). On arriving in the Vrindavan, they find no houses and have to take shelter under the trees (4.16.173). Krishna remarks that there are just a few houses built by the gods, but asks the cowherds to worship goddess Caṇḍikā and wait until the next day (4.16.176–178). At night, as everybody is asleep including Krishna who went to sleep with his mother, Viśvakarman, the architect of the gods, comes and builds a real city (nagara, 4.17.14) with marvellous houses for all the cowherds who are there, palaces for Nanda, Vṛṣabhānu, and Kalāvatī, a Rāsamaṇḍala perfectly appropriate for Krishna’s and Radha’s loves, royal streets, marvellous gardens, and so on (4.17.1–28 and 149–190). Finally, having bowed down before Krishna, the Lord of sleep, still sleeping (nidreśaṃ nidritaṃ natvā, v. 189), Viśvakarman returns to his celestial abode. When they wake up, the cowherds marvel at finding such a wondrous city (nagara, 4.17.256), and each of them enters the house designed for him. It is as if the sleep of the Lord of sleep had opened up a window for the Viśvakarman’s nighttime operation and the consequent transformation of the Vṛndāvana forest into a replica of the Goloka. Since it is so well known, the rāsakrīḍā (or rāsalīlā) of the gopīs with Krishna in BhP 10.29–33 needs no introduction here. In the BrVP, the rāsa games begin in chap. 28 and end in chap. 53. Three months after the herders’ arrival in the new forest, on the thirteenth day of the bright fortnight of Caitra month, Krishna spends the night in the Vṛndāvana forest. He walks up to the Rāsamaṇḍala and plays the flute. On hearing the sound of the flute, Radha lays aside all family traditions (kuladharma, 4.28.23), gets out of her house with thirty-­three friends, and 16,000 servants. She reaches a completely secluded place and Krishna makes love to her in all the sexual positions described in the Kāmaśāstra (4.28.114). Simultaneously, he enjoys the company of other gopīs who entertain him. All the gods come to watch the rāsa games. One day, Krishna stops under a huge banyan tree and starts telling ancient stories. Suddenly, the sage Aṣṭāvaktra appears, bows down before Krishna and recites a hymn of praise (stotra) that he formerly received from Shiva. The stories continue up to chap. 52, where Radha discovers Krishna again, having felt separated from her beloved for so long (4.52.8–12). After a whole month of love games with Radha, Krishna, once more qualified as Lord of sleep (4.52.12), goes to various forests secretly (rahasi, 4.53.5) and keeps on enjoying the company of Radha and the other gopīs who are suffering from separation. The repeated recollection of Krishna’s and Radha’s love-­making, which might seem odd during the earthly lives of supposedly separated lovers, should

52   André Couture be seen as the natural sequel to the games of the herder women with Krishna, which took place on moonlit autumn nights just after Krishna’s enthronement as Govinda, the greatest of all sovereigns. The hallīśaka dance described in HV 63.15–35 takes place during these nights. They include sweet songs, amorous and smiling glances of supposedly married gopīs, in a sort of staging that is closer to dream than reality, dream being considered in the Upaniṣads as a doorway to the supernatural world.7 The hallīśaka games become rāsa games8 in the ViP (5.13.14–61). The same rāsa games are more elaborately developed in the BhP (10.29–33) where they include the theme of separation. In this ninth- or tenth-­century text, in addition to the well-­known gopīs, an unnamed favorite gopī is mentioned, while Radha is never mentioned. Krishna is at center stage in this text. Despite this, he disappears, abandoning the women who love him to the suffering of separation, before coming back to them. The BrVP goes further, clearly distinguishing two levels throughout the childhood narrative: the everyday life of married herder women and their dream life with Krishna, the Lord of sleep. Love scenes fill the empty spaces of the narrative. “All these adult women, even if they were intoxicated with love, did not consider Lord (Krishna) as their husband” (atha gopāṅganāḥ sarvāḥ kāmamattatayā mune / atiprauḍhāśca māninyo neśvaraṃ menire patim // 4.29.1), says the BrVP clearly. The narrative does not confuse the two levels: it is organized round the double oppositions of intimate union/separation, waking time/sleeping time. O beautiful, on account of Sudāman’s curse, even if we do not desire it, [even if] we are husband and wife [for ever], we will be separated for 100 years. As a favor from me, you will be separated from me during waking hours, o slender-­waisted, and always united to me during dream-­time. (4.69.85–86, sudāmaśāpād vicchedaḥ śatavarṣam anīpsitaḥ / bhaviṣyaty eva daṃpatyor āvayor eva sundari // bhedo jāgaraṇe ‘syāś ca mayā saha sumadhyame / saṃśleṣaḥ saṃtataṃ svapne madvareṇa bhaviṣati //) The amorous encounters of Krishna with Radha, dramatized through periods of separation (viraha), transform the childhood completely: through a constant mise en abyme within the traditional narrative, the reader (or the bhakta), who also lives separated from Krishna in the terrestrial world, catches glimpses of the Goloka he hopes one day to enter.

Krishna’s sovereignty and teaching The childhood narrative according to the BrVP, with its ninety-­eight chapters, is more than twice as long as the versions of the HV or the BhP. Its length comes, among other things, from the fact that the story includes many episodes demonstrating how various deities have seen their arrogance shattered (darpabhaṅga) and finally surrender to the absolute sovereignty of Krishna and Radha (chaps. 4.29–51 and 55–62). The hymns of praise (stotras) pronounced by the deities

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   53 who agree to bow down to Krishna, already present in the ViP and the BhP, are more numerous in the BrVP.9 One of the consequences of this sort of omnipresence of Krishna and Radha is a levelling down of all the deities, including the greatest ones like Brahma and Shiva, now stripped of their former greatness. It is as if the universal sovereignty of Krishna and Radha crush them all. All devotees can take refuge in Krishna under the condition that they become their slaves (dāsa), and that their devotion be pure, steady, and exclusive (ananya). The BrVP stresses the importance of the rituals necessary for all Vaishnavas. Krishna is born in Mathura at midnight on the eighth day (aṣṭamī) of Bhadrapada month (that overlaps with August and September in the Gregorian calendar). Described in chap. 8, the festival is prepared by special observances called Janmāṣṭamī-vrata. Annaprāśana (first feeding) and nāmakaraṇa (name giving) are rites performed by the priest Garga for Krishna and his elder brother Saṅkarṣaṇa. They provide an occasion for instruction about Krishna’s, Saṅkarṣaṇa’s, and Radha’s names (chap. 13). Radha’s marriage with Krishna is described in chap. 15. The Sudarśana Cakra (Vishnu’s discus) embodies Vishnu’s or Krishna’s sovereignty and is worshipped by the Vaishnavas for their protection. King Ambarīṣa, a great Vaishnava, performs the ekādaśī-vrata (a strict fast performed on the eleventh day of the dark or clear fortnight of each month, important for the Vaishnavas). One day, the sage Durvāsas comes to honor the ritual, but has to leave for purification. When he comes back, he gets angry, and threatens to destroy the ritual, but is immediately stopped by the Vishnu’s discus protecting the king (chaps. 25–26). The childhood period is also an occasion for Narayana to teach about the nature of the relationships between Krishna and Radha, the real meaning of the divine names, the dharma, and the specific yoga to be practiced. In a long passage occurring after Kansa’s death (chaps. 73–98), Krishna encourages Nanda to go back to the cowherd settlement and teaches him the recommended behaviors for the Vaishnavas (daily observances, meritorious acts, auspicious and inauspicious dreams, and in particular what he calls the discipline of self-­knowledge (ādhyātmika yoga)). This mahāyoga is meant to help all understand that Krishna is everyone’s inner self, involved in everyone’s actions—a self being an ādheya “sth. to be placed or joined” that cannot exist without a material basis (ādhāra), and everything existing as part of this supreme self (see chap. 67). Space prevents us here from adequately describing the specific devotions presented in the BrVP (see Brown 1974; 1982).

Possible influence of the Jaina versions of Krishna’s childhood on the BrVP At the time the BrVP was written, various Jaina narratives were known and appear to have been circulating throughout India.10 I believe that their influence must be taken into account in order to explain some of the idiosyncrasies of the BrVP. These idiosyncrasies contribute to the impression that elements of Krishna’s childhood are of a different provenance.

54   André Couture First of all, there is something previously unheard of concerning the uprooting of two arjuna trees. According to HV 51, Krishna, tied to the mortar by his mother Yashoda, drags the big bowl-­shaped vessel behind him, gets stuck between the twin arjuna trees, the highest ones in the whole settlement, and then uproots both trees at the speed of the wind. ViP 5.6.8–21 gives a shorter version of the same episode, whereas BhP 10.9–10 has a longer version. The longer version acknowledges that in their former lives, these trees were two guhyakas. More specifically, they were the two ignorant and arrogant sons of Kubera, Nalakūbara and Maṇigrīva, who were reduced to the state of trees due to a curse uttered by Nārada, and are now liberated from their imprisonment through an encounter with Krishna. What is really intriguing here is that the BrVP speaks of only one son of Kubera called Nalakūbara (4.14.19), who is cursed by the sage Devala, reborn as a tree before being delivered by Krishna’s touch. When one looks at the deeds Krishna performed before moving to the Vṛndāvana forest, another important factor immediately catches the eye: in BrVP 4.16, Baka, Pralamba, and Keśin appear together just before the migration to the Vṛndāvana forest, whereas, in the three older versions, Krishna meets these former asuras after his arrival in the new forest. This takes place in HV 52–53, ViP 5.6.22–31, BhP 10.11.1–29. Unknown before the BhP, Bakāsura is one of the first enemies Krishna has to fight (11.34–48); Pralamba is a demon disguised as a shepherd (gopa) that Saṅkarṣaṇa kills at the request of Krishna (HV 58; ViP 5.9; BhP 10.18), whereas the horse Keśin is the last demon that Krishna kills before going back to Mathura (HV 67; ViP 5.16; BhP 10.37). When looking carefully at the BrVP narrative, it is impossible not to notice (even if the number is not mentioned as such) that, in this text, Nalakūbara as well as Baka, Pralamba, and Keśin are parts of a new group of seven powerful enemies that Krishna defeats before moving to the Vrindavan. The group comprises Pūtanā, Tṛṇāvarta, Śakaṭāsura, Nalakūbara (hidden in an arjuna tree), Bakāsura, Pralamba, and Keśin. Several of these beings were even old Vaishnavas having been cursed and having to be freed from their current situations through an encounter with Krishna in the cowherd settlement. Such a group is already known but only in the Digambara versions of Krishna’s childhood. Jinasena (HPJ 33.75–77), Svayambhu (SRC 5), Guṇabhadra (UP 70.329–331), and Puṣpadanta (PMP 85.8–11) are aware that Kansa succeeded in having seven deities submit to him, who are ready to perform his will. This happens as a result of ascetic practices performed during his life as Vaśiṣṭha and after his conversion to Jaina dharma. At that time, he dismissed them all, telling them to come back whenever he needs them in a later life. After the birth ceremonies were performed for Krishna, the astrologer Varuṇa warned Kansa that someone was born that would be his enemy. He then appeals to these deities for help. According to Jinasena (HPJ 35.33–48), they respectively took the forms of a terrible bird (ugraśakunta), of a bhūta “spirit, ghost,” of the pūtana (a class of spirits) type, of a chariot (śakaṭa), of two deities who hide themselves in two arjuna trees, of a bull (vṛṣabha), and of an

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   55 inauspicious deity (kudeva) who threw a hail of stones on the cows which Krishna protected by uplifting Mount Govardhana. Svayambhu talks about seven goddesses having the forms of Pūtanā, a bird, a car, a bull, a horse, a pair of arjuna trees, and a hail of stones which rains down as Krishna uplifts the Govardhana (SRC 5). The identities of the seven deities differ in the Uttarapurāṇa (UP 412–426; as well as PMP 5.8–11.18): the goddess Pūtanā took Yashoda’s body; a second deity took the shape of a chariot; two goddesses turned into two arjuna trees; a fifth deity took the shape of a tāla tree, and yet another the shape of a she-­ass (rasabhī); and finally a seventh takes the shape of a horse. With a horse (Keśin) as the seventh deity, this version is closer to the BrVP version. Whatever the specific details of the process, it seems obvious that these Jaina versions provide the model being followed in the BrVP, and the reason why the two guhyakas are reduced to only one. There, the asuras Baka, Pralamba, and Keśin are joined to the demons appearing in the first forest (Couture 2009: 437–438; Couture and Chojnacki 2014: 183–184). Ekānaṃśā as a manifestation of the great goddess Nidrā does not exist in Jainism. Elsewhere, she is a manifestation of a many-­sided force related to the supreme Vishnu, who regularly appears on Earth for the maintenance of dharma. In the Jaina texts concerning Krishna’s childhood, she disappears or is diminished in importance. Nidrā’s task related to the conveyance of the fetuses of Devakī’s first six sons has been transferred to a servant of Indra. Yashoda’s daughter, the former Ekānaṃśā, had her nose crushed or a nostril torn off (hence her new name of Ekanāsā, “having only one nostril”), before later becoming an āryā, i.e., a Jaina nun. No doubt this change occasioned shouts of laughter: from Ekānaṃśā to Ekanāsā, there is quite a distance between a beautiful Goddess, “one without parts” (eka-anaṃśā), to a mutilated body. This is not only bricolage, but must certainly correspond to a deep-­seated distinction between the Hindu and Jaina world views (Couture 2009: 442–443; Couture and Chojnacki 2014: 191–192). The BrVP retains the figure of Ekānaṃśā, but is transformed in a way that resembles her status in the Jaina texts. This change may have been done because of the importance Radha assumes as a great goddess alongside her husband Krishna. At the end of chap. 7, it is said that the elder sister of Krishna, born from Yashoda but believed to be Vasudeva’s daughter, was given the name of Ekānaṃśā. Here, she is no more killed by King Kansa. During a visit he makes to Dvaraka, her “father” Vasudeva gives her to the sage Durvāsas (4.7.131–133, 112.40–44).

Conclusion From the preceding analysis, it appears that the BrVP produced an updated version of Krishna’s childhood, adding new color and a fantastic dimension to it. Even if Radha was cursed to live the life of a human woman in the vicinity of Mathura, she secretly continues to live every night on a divine level through the magic of dreams. Consequently, the whole text is interspersed with stereotyped

56   André Couture descriptions of Krishna’s and Radha’s love that is closer to the nocturnal fantasies evoked by the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad than to historical description:  In that place, there are no carriages, there are no tandems, and there are no roads; but he creates for himself carriages, tandems, and roads. In that place, there are no joys, pleasures, or delights; but he creates for himself joys, pleasures, and delights. In that place, there are no pools, ponds, or rivers; but he creates for himself pools, ponds, and rivers—for he is a creator. On this subject, there are these verses : Subduing by sleep the bodily realms Remaining awake, he contemplates the sleeping senses. Taking the light, he returns to this place— The golden person! The single goose! […] Travelling in sleep to places high and low, The god creates many a visible form— now dallying with women, now laughing, now seeing frightful things All they see is his pleasure ground; But him no one sees at all. (Bṛhadāraṇyaka Up. 4.3.10–14, transl. Olivelle 1996)

Notes   1 See Couture (2015: 171). The Bālacarita attributed to Bhāsa uses the term ghoṣa, and sometimes vraja, to designate the “cowherd settlement” where Krishna is carried by his father Vasudeva. See Couture (1992; 2006).   2 Kansa says: “in my cowherd settlement” (vraje mama (HV 65.34); mama … vraje (72.18)).   3

Therefore, the nandavraja (BhP 10.3.51; 10.5.13, 18 (nandasya vrajaḥ), 27 (bhavadvraje); 10.8.1 (vrajaṃ … nandasya) (see 10.6.4 (nandagokulam)) is the cowherd settlement headed by Nandagopa, the settlement of which he is the lord (vrajanātha in BhP 10.26.14; vrajapati in 10.26.20; vrajeśvara in 10.8.42). (Couture 2015: 173)

  4 The word nagara can refer to Mathura, or to the city built by Viśvakarman in the Vṛndāvana after the herders’ migration (see infra).   5 In MBh 13, answering Yudhiṣṭhira concerning the gavāṃ lokaṃ (71.4), Bhīṣma recites an old itihāsa according to which Indra asked Brahma to clarify this very point. The worlds are numerous and depend on the quality of the actions performed during life. For example, there are specific regions for chaste women, for those who have been bound to only one husband (ekapati). Those who do not eat flesh, who worship Brahmans and gurus, and so on, attain the eternal and immutable world of cows (71.10–13), also defined as puṇyakṛtāṃ nivāsam, the abode of those who act

Recasting Krishna’s childhood narrative   57 virtuously (71.14). The story shows also that the one who gives cows reaches eternal worlds, and that it is also possible to enjoy the fruits of giving cows (that is, the Goloka) without giving any cow during one’s life.   6 See Vaidya’s Critical Edition, App. I, no. 12; French transl. in Couture (1991: 375–383).   7 For example Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad 4.3.8ff.   8 The word rāsa is first used in ViP 5.15.23 in the compound rāsārambharasotsukaḥ, “desirous of the taste of the beginning of the rāsa” and the moonlight nights of autumn are the signal triggering such a desire in Krishna. Rasātmakaḥ “consisting of nectar” can refer to the full moon, supposedly filled with ambrosia. Rāsa, the vṛddhi of rasa, can also refer to the moon. This means that rāsa could refer to a lunar dance, or lunar games, or to a dance of all flavors (rasa).   9 Rawal (1982: 323–330) gives a list of these stotras in the BrVP, divided up according to the names of deities. 10 For a survey of the Jaina material concerning Kṛṣṇa’s childhood, see Couture and Chojnacki (2014).

References Abbreviations of references to primary sources BhP BrVP HPJ HV KJKh PMP SRC UP ViP

Bhāgavata Purāṇa Brahma-­Vaivarta Puranam (The); Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa Jinasena I (Punnāṭa saṅgha) Harivaṃśa Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa (Śrīkṛṣṇa-janma-­khaṇḍam) Puṣpadanta Svayambhu Guṇabhadra Viṣṇu Purāṇa

Bhāgavata Purāṇa [BhP]. 1971. Bthāgavatamahāpurāṇa (Śrīmad). Sanskrit text and English translation by C. L. Goswami, 2 vols. Gorakhpur: Gita Press. Brahma-­Vaivarta Puranam (The) [BrVP]. 1974 [1922]. Part 2. Ganesa and Krisna Janma Khandas. Translated into English by Rajendra Nath Sen, New York, AMS Press (The Sacred Books of the Hindus 24.2), 1974 (Allahabad: Panini Office, 1922). Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa (Śrīkṛṣṇa-janma-­khaṇḍam) [KJKh]. 2012 [2001]. Text with English translation. Vol. 2. Translated into English by Shanti Lal Nagar. Delhi, Parimal Publications. Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa [BrVP]. 1935–1936. Śrīmaddvaipāyanamuni praṇītaṃ brahmavaivartapurāṇam. Vols. 1–2 (Skt.). Poona: Ānandāśrama. Brown, Cheever Mackenzie. 1974. God as Mother: A Feminine Theology in India. An Historical and Theological Study of the Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa. Hartford, VT: Claude Stark & Co. Brown, Cheever Mackenzie. 1982. “The Theology of Rādhā in the Purāṇas.” The Divine Consort: Rādhā and the Goddesses of India, eds. J. S. Hawley and D. M. Wulff. Berkeley, CA: Graduate Theological Union. 57–71. Couture, André. 1982. “Campement de bouviers et forêts dans trois versions anciennes du mythe d’enfance de Kṛṣṇa.” Journal Asiatique 270 nos. 3–4: 385–400; translated into English in Couture 2015: 163–179.

58   André Couture Couture, André. 1991. L’enfance de Krishna. Translation of chapters 30–78 [from the Harivaṃśa] (critical edition), with introduction, annotations and index. Paris: Cerf; Québec: Presses de l’Université Laval. Couture, André. 1992. “Le Bālacarita et les enfances hindoues et jaina de Kṛṣṇa.” Bulletin d’Études Indiennes 10: 113–144. Couture, André. 2006. “La Geste du jeune Kṛṣṇa.” Translated and commented by A. Couture, in Théâtre de l’Inde ancienne, ed. Lyne Bansat-­Boudon. Paris: Gallimard (coll. “La Pléiade”). 126–169, 1200–1232. Couture, André. 2009. “The Reception of Kṛṣṇa’s Childhood in Three Jaina Sanskrit Texts.” Parallels and Comparisons, ed. Petteri Koskikallio. Proceedings of the Fourth Dubrovnik International Conference on the Sanskrit Epic and Purāṇas, September 2005. Zagreb: Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts. 423–445. Couture, André. 2015. Kṛṣṇa in the Harivaṃśa. Vol. 1: The Wonderful Play of a Cosmic Child. Delhi: DK Printworld. Couture, André and Christine Chojnacki. 2014. Krishna et ses métamorphoses dans les traditions Indiennes: Récits d’enfance autour du Harivamsha. Paris: Presses de l’Université Paris-­Sorbonne. Guṇabhadra [UP]. 1968 [1954]. Uttarapurāṇa of Ācarya Guṇabhadra. Pt. Pannālāl Jain ed., Varanasi, Bhāratīya Jñānapīṭha Prakāśana. Harivaṃśa [HV] cr. edn., 1969. The Harivaṃśa: Being the Khila or Supplement to the Mahābhārata. For the first time critically edited by P. L. Vaidya, vol. 1: Introduction, Critical Text and Notes. Jinasena I (Punnāṭa saṅgha) [HPJ]. 1994 [1962]. Harivaṁśa Purāṇa of Acharya Jinasena. With Hindi Translation, Introduction and Appendices. Ed. and trans. Dr. Panna Lal Jain. Delhi: Bharatiya Jnanpith Publication. Olivelle, Patrick. 1996. Upaniṣads. Trans. Patrick Olivelle. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Puṣpadanta [PMP]. 1936. Harivaṃśapurāṇa: Ein Abschnitt aus der ApabhraṃśaWelthistorie “Mahāpurāṇa Tisaṭṭhimahāpurisaguṇalaṃkāra” von Puṣpadanta. Hamburg: Friedrichsen, de Gruyter & Co. Rawal, Anantray J. 1982. Indian Society, Religion and Mythology (A Study of the Brahmavaivartapurāṇa. Delhi: D. K. Publication. Rocher, Ludo. 1986. The Purāṇas. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Svayambhu [SRC]. 1993. Svayambhūdeva’s Riṭṭaṇemicariya (Harivaṃśapurāṇa), Part 1. Jāyava-kaṃḍa, Ram Sinh Tomar ed., Ahmedabad. Viṣṇu Purāṇa [ViP]. 1997 and 1999. Viṣṇupurāṇam, vols. I and II, ed. M. M. Pathak. Vadodara (Baroda): Oriental Institute.

4 From warrior queen to Shiva’s consort to political pawn The genesis and development of a local goddess in Madurai Gita V. Pai Introduction The Mīnākṣī-Sundareśvara (further Minakshi-­Sundareshvara) temple is located in Madurai, one of India’s oldest living cities and the third most populous city in the South Indian state of Tamil Nadu. The temple is dedicated to Mīnākṣī “the one with the eyes of a fish” (further Minakshi), a historical queen of Madurai’s Pāṇḍyan kingdom who is likewise regarded as an incarnation of the pan-­Indian goddess Parvati. It also houses her consort Sundareśvara “the beautiful lord” (further Sundareshvara), who is similarly understood to be a local version of the pan-­Indian deity Shiva. Every Cittirai month (mid-­April to mid-­May) in the Tamil Hindu calendar, two million devotees descend upon the temple town to witness the re-­enactment of the gods’ sacred union in a twelve-­day celebratory marriage festival. They watch as metal embodiments of the divine couple, arrayed in colorful silks and floral garlands, marry on a flower-­decked stage and commemorate their nuptials by circumambulating the temple in gigantic wooden chariots through Madurai’s streets. Mentioned in ancient Tamil literature dating at least 2000 years ago, the Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple is a historic Tamil site on the flat, fertile plain along the Vaigai River. It occupies the geographic and ritual center of Madurai, which is laid out in the shape of a square with a series of concentric streets radiating from the temple to appear like petals around a lotus flower. Tamil people consider the temple spiritually significant because of Minakshi who is enshrined there: they believe that the fish-­eyed goddess constantly protects them and the town since she never blinks. Minakshi, as an avatar of Parvati, is one of the few Hindu female deities to have a major temple devoted to her, and she maintains ritual dominance over her husband in Madurai. As a major pilgrimage destination, the temple attracts 15,000 visitors on average days, approaching twice that number on Friday, considered the goddess’ sacred day.1 Who is Minakshi? How did she become such an important symbol for Madurai and the Tamil people? In this chapter, I examine the goddess’ genesis and transformations through an analysis of a religious mythological text, sculptural reliefs, and religious festivals connected to Minakshi and her Madurai temple. I trace her apotheosis from the soldierly daughter of her royal father, to

60   Gita V. Pai the submissive wife of her god-­husband, to the political instrument of an opportunistic king. In particular, I concentrate on the last of these three foci to contend that Madurai’s seventeenth-­century ruler Tirumala Nāyaka used temple ceremonies dedicated to Minakshi to establish political legitimacy, a necessary maneuver for a monarch whose distant origins and religious affiliations differed from those of the territory he ruled. A crucial place for this legitimation, I argue, is the building he constructed at the Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple premises, the Pudu Maṇḍapam “new hall,” situated near the complex’s east gateway.

From warrior queen … The Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple is popularly known as the Minakshi temple or Minakshi Ammaṉ (“goddess”) temple. Minakshi’s ritual precedence is unequivocal: all of the various titles for the temple retain the goddess’ name (Fuller 1980: 322). Despite her marriage to Shiva, the goddess maintains supremacy at the temple. Custom dictates that a worshipper enters through the doorway located to the left of the east gōpuram “gateway” and walks directly to the goddess’ shrine; only after praying there, the visitor turns right and strolls toward Shiva’s shrine—a small distance away—to venerate the god before exiting through the grand eastern gateway (Palaniappan 1970: 89). The temple compound is divided into many concentric quadrangular enclosures that comprise some shrines (including those for Minakshi and Sundareshvara), a temple tank, numerous prākārams “large enclosure corridors,” and several columned halls (maṇḍapams). The Pudu Maṇḍapam at the Minakshi temple is one of the largest festival maṇḍapams on the Indian subcontinent, constructed specifically for ritual use: during certain religious functions, the movable metal image of the deity departs the temple’s main shrine for the Pudu Maṇḍapam, situated near the east gateway, to receive devotees. The massive granite pillars of the large rectangular hall include portrait statues of the Nāyaka royal lineage with joined palms in a gesture of reverence, facing the central aisle, and arranged in chronological order—Tirumala Nāyaka, the sponsor of the project, stands at the end of the lineup. The dynastic statues are mounted high; when strong bearers walk in the corridor holding the processional icons of the gods on their shoulders, the deities stand on the same level as the royal statues. This style of structural composition on piers, the ability to liberate the stone carvings from their supports, and the development of formal portraiture into a temple art form are Nāyaka-period innovations (Branfoot 2007: 165–242). The Pudu Maṇḍapam also features sculptures of gods and mythological figures from the founding legend of the Madurai temple, set primarily along the aisle surrounding the central space with the Nāyaka effigies. Every large South Indian temple town has its own textual tradition, telling the story of a specific shrine and explaining why the temple and its deities came to be established at that particular place. Parañcōti Muṉivar’s seventeenth-­century Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam (Story of Shiva’s Sacred Games) contains the local Tamil myths of the Madurai temple; its 3365 verses in continuous narrative is an example of a tala

A local goddess in Madurai   61 purāṇam (Sanskrit, sthala purāṇa) or “place-­history.” Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam is divided into three books named after the city’s three names: I. Madurai Kāṇtam, II. Kūṭal Kāṇtam, and III. Tiruvālavāy Kāṇtam. The most popular etymology of the city name relates Madurai to Sanskrit madhura “sweet” and alludes to the story of Shiva purifying and sanctifying the city by dripping sweet nectar from his hair. “Kūṭal” (“junction”) likely refers to the story of Shiva saving Madurai by forming four tower-­like clouds to protect the city from a disastrous deluge. “Tiruvālavāy” (“snake,” lit. “poisoned-­mouth one”) refers to the serpent Shiva deployed to trace the city’s perimeter. The poetic work praises the city, and its sacred landscape provides the backdrop for Shiva’s sixty-­four divine sports (līlā) centering on themes of protection and aid. The stories of Minakshi’s birth, coronation, battles, and marriage appear in the fourth and fifth chapters of “Madurai Kāṇtam.” Colorfully painted scenes of the Madurai temple’s tala purāṇam, or legendary myths, appear on the long corridor wall that flanks the Poṟṟāmaraikuḷam (“Golden Lily Tank”) and leads to the goddess’ shrine. These contemporary paintings (still unfinished) follow the Tamil pictorial idiom: boxed registers divide the narrow strips crowded with figures, one above the other, with the narrative proceeding in alternating direction from left to right, and then right to left. Within the orange-­red background, the figures are shown in profile, filled with the main colors of white, green, yellow, and blue, and illustrated with projecting eyes, sharp noses, and pointed chins. Thin strokes of black lines detail costume, jewelry, and headdress. The original paintings in this corridor date back to the Nāyaka period (mid-­sixteenth to early eighteenth century). Later pieces commissioned for the 1876 kumbhābhiṣēkam (“temple consecration ceremony”) were removed, retouched, and displayed on wooden boards within the Temple Art Museum during the twentieth century (Jeyechandrun 1985: 89). The Pudu Maṇḍapam contains stone sculptural representations of primary figures from Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam. A life-­size depiction of Taṭātakai2 (the name given to Minakshi at birth) is featured in the hall’s south-­east interior aisle near the main entrance: she is poised for battle, standing with splayed legs and brandishing a lance (vēl). Taṭātakai is shown with three breasts; her curious anatomy is explained by the birth story recounted in Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam I.4. This legend begins with Malayadhvaja, the son of Kulaśēkhara Pāṇḍya, Madurai’s founder and the first Pāṇḍyan king.3 Desiring a son, the childless monarch and his wife Kāñcaṉamālai perform the necessary horse sacrifice (Sanskrit aśvamedha, Tamil acuvamedham); however, to their surprise, a three-­ breasted toddler girl miraculously appears out of the sacrificial fire and lands on the queen’s lap (TVP I.4: 525–535, pp. 124–126). A heavenly voice consoles the distraught parents: the Pāṇḍyan king is told to treat his daughter like a son, and the third breast will vanish when the princess meets her future husband (TVP I.4: 543, p. 128). So, Malayadhvaja trains Taṭātakai as his male heir in such skills as archery and equestrianism (TVP I.4: 553, p. 131) and, when he feels too old to rule, he crowns his daughter as his successor, dying shortly after installing her on the imperial throne (TVP I.4: 559, p. 133).

62   Gita V. Pai Īśāṉa, a form of Shiva, stands opposite Taṭātakai’s image in the Pudu Maṇḍapam’s north-­east section; he is the guardian of the north-­eastern quarter. Taken together, these two sculptures signify the instance when Taṭātakai confronts Īśāṉa in battle, as relayed in Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam I.5. Chapter 5 opens with Kāñcaṉamālai bemoaning her daughter’s unmarried status. Taṭātakai reassures her mother that marriage will happen at the right time; for now, the young and newly crowned queen must embark on a digvijaya (Sanskrit, “tour of victory in all directions”) to conquer the deities who rule the eight quarters of the world (TVP I.5: 602–604, pp. 143–144). After a string of victories that involve plundering vanquished kings, she arrives with her army on Shiva’s abode, Mount Kailāsa, and does battle with his warriors (TVP I.5: 624–639, pp.  148–151). Finally, when Taṭātakai encounters Shiva himself on the battlefield, her third breast disappears (TVP I.5: 640–642, p. 152). His sight renders her a blushing, bashful bride—and, anatomically, a woman.4

To Shiva’s consort … Shiva directs Minakshi to go back to Madurai, where he promises to join her in eight days for their wedding (TVP I.5: 644, p. 153). The most popular story in Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam is Minakshi’s marriage to Shiva. After their Himalayan meeting, Minakshi returns to a jubilant Madurai: the citizens rejoice and prepare for her upcoming nuptials (TVP I.5: 645–670, pp. 153–162). Shiva turns up with his wedding party, including deities Vishnu and Brahma; women swoon when they catch sight of the devastatingly handsome god (TVP I.5: 712–714, p. 176; TVP I.5: 722–742, pp. 179–185). Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam I.5 describes a wedding ceremony celebrated with great pomp. After Kāñcaṉamālai greets the bridegroom with a welcoming ritual, Shiva ascends the jeweled marriage throne and waits for Minakshi as she gets beautified in her bridal wear (TVP I.5: 747–770, pp. 186–191). When she arrives, Vishnu conducts kanyādāna, the initiatory formalities traditionally done by the father, gifting (dān) the daughter (kanyā) to the groom’s family. In place of Minakshi’s father, Vishnu washes the groom’s feet, places the bride’s hand in Shiva’s hand, and pours water from a pot over their cupped palms (TVP I.5: 775–777, p. 193). This episode in Minakshi and Sundareshvara’s marriage appears sculpturally in the Pudu Maṇḍapam. The large depiction near the western entrance shows Minakshi flanked by Sundareshvara and Vishnu, and another similar sculpture is found inside the main temple, within the hall in front of Shiva’s inner sanctum. Kalyāṇasundaram “marriage of the beautiful one” is a pan-­Indian myth; however, Vishnu’s presence points to a regional Tamil version of the story. The people of Madurai consider Vishnu as Minakshi’s sibling: in the matrimonial scene, Vishnu, as the goddess’ brother, officiates by pouring a lustration blessing (abhiṣēkam) from a vessel over the couple’s open hands. Other illustrations of Minakshi’s marriage (kalyāṇam) at the temple compound include the seventeenth-­century painting on the Rāṇi Maṅgammāḷ Maṇḍapam’s temple ceiling (named after

A local goddess in Madurai   63 the Nāyaka queen regent Maṅgammāḷ) and a twentieth-­century painting on the temple wall near Poṟṟāmaraikuḷam. Sages Vyāghrapāda and Patañjali are in attendance when Minakshi and Sundareshvara unite in holy wedlock. Their sculptures are located in the Pudu Maṇḍapam’s central nave and face in the direction of the marriage portrayal. In Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam I.6, these sages would eat food only after seeing Shiva Naṭarāja’s divine dance at his temple home in Chidambaram; therefore, on his wedding day, Shiva danced for them as Naṭarāja “lord of dance” on the silver stage (vĕḷḷiyaṁbalam) at the Madurai temple (TVP I.6: 799–826, pp. 199–206). The western outer end of the pillared hall has a multi-­armed dancing Shiva. Given Shiva’s ūrdhva tāṇḍava (“ferocious dance”) pose with his right leg raised over his head and the sculpture’s placement across the aisle from the eight-­ armed Kali, it could also refer to the story of how he defeated the goddess during a dance competition in Chidambaram (Younger 1995: 168).5 The birth and marriage legends explain how the goddess drew the god to the temple site, becoming “rooted there” by marriage, and how they came to rule and protect Madurai together (Shulman 1980: 139). While Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam presents Minakshi as losing her independence, bellicosity, and—since she no longer rules Madurai single-­handedly—some of her political clout, she also gains by meeting Shiva. Her marriage to the god tames her. She transforms into a mature and complete woman—first as a bride, then as a wife, later as a mother—and gains deific power to become a goddess (Fuller 1980: 344). Shiva, in his local incarnate as Sundareshvara, benefits too: he acquires not only a companion, but also a kingdom and a spot on the Pāṇḍyan throne in Madurai, the royal capital (TVP I.5: 793–795, pp. 197–198). Both Minakshi and Sundareshvara preside over Madurai and share the crown jointly as they reside within their temple home. In the Minakshi temple, as in nearly all Shaiva temples, the god’s mūla mūrti or immovable statue (lit. “root or original image”) housed in the garbhagṛha (lit. “womb chamber”) or sanctum sanctorum is the stone cylindrical pillar or liṅgam, the aniconic symbol of Shiva. Minakshi’s main mūla mūrti is an anthropomorphic figure of the goddess constructed of green stone. Adorned with a crown, jewelry, and sari, she stands by herself with her left hand resting at her side and her upraised right hand holding a lotus bud, on which a green parrot is perched. In certain rituals and processions, the deities appear as metal movable utsava mūrtis “festival images.” Minakshi’s utsava mūrti is a smaller replica of her portrayal in her inner sanctum; Sundareshvara’s processional icon is a bronze Somāskanda (“[Shiva] with Ūmā and Skānda”) where Shiva sits besides his wife with a small figure of their son Skanda in between them. Anthropologist C. J. Fuller (1980: 326) notes that images of Minakshi always show her alone, whereas those of Sundareshvara either incorporate the goddess or are accompanied by her. Fuller (ibid.: 329–330) also notices that only one religious festival involves solely Sundareshvara while several festivals comprise Minakshi on her own or the divine couple together. These disparities reinforce the observation of religious studies scholar William Harman (1989: 64–67):

64   Gita V. Pai Minakshi has ritual dominance in the temple town despite her being subordinate to Shiva in the temple myth.

… to political pawn Minakshi’s life events are depicted in Madurai not only textually (in temple legends) and visually (on temple walls), but also ritually, during temple festivals. Episodes from Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam are re-­enacted in the temple town over twelve days every Cittirai month (mid-­April to mid-­May).6 Tirumala Nāyaka (r. 1623–1659), in addition to extensively renovating and expanding the Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple complex, instituted various changes to temple rituals focused on the goddess (Devakunjari 1979: 302; Jeyechandrun 1985: 225). He expanded the wedding occasion to include a re-­creation of Minakshi’s royal coronation (paṭṭābhīṣēkam) on day eight, and implanted himself in this function. By participating in Minakshi’s paṭṭābhīṣēkam that takes place in front of the goddess’ shrine, he was able to portray himself as the legitimate Pāṇḍyan regent: he would retrieve the royal scepter (cenkōḷ) from Minakshi’s portable embodiment and, in a splendorous procession, take this symbol of her divine rule to his palace and deposit it on his own throne (Devakunjari 1979: 303–305). On the ninth day, Minakshi’s utsava mūrti enacts her conquest of the world (digvijaya): holding a bow and arrow while atop her small chariot pulled by devotees, she journeys outside her temple compound through Madurai’s streets to battle the lords of the eight directions. Once she arrives on North Māci Street, Minakshi, with bow in hand, advances toward a figurine of each deity, as onlookers utter loud and supportive cheers. The directional god retreats before rushing forward while Minakshi flees until she too confronts him again, and he withdraws. After Minakshi successfully subdues her enemies, she goes to where North and East Māci Streets converge. When she meets Shiva (actually Somāskanda) in this north-­east corner, she does not fight him. Instead, priests remove her bow, and the two gods return to the temple together.7 On the tenth day of the Cittirai festival, the sacred marriage (Tirukalyāṇam) of Minakshi and Sundareshvara takes place. Draped in resplendent silks and gold ornaments, metal statues of the god and goddess sit on a decorated stage in the open courtyard near the temple’s west gate that is packed with spectators.8 Priests, wearing Nāyaka-period hats, wave lamps and chant Sanskrit verses. They then exchange the couple’s floral garlands and tie silk scarves on the gods’ behalf. At the auspicious moment, the nādasvaram (“wind instrument”) music9 loudens as a priest, acting as Shiva, ties the matrimonial necklace (tāli) around Minakshi’s neck. Later that evening, Minakshi and Sundareshvara process as a married couple on the four Cittirai Streets that encircle the temple premises. On the eleventh day, utsava mūrtis of the divine pair ride in towering wooden chariots (tēr) on Madurai’s Māci Streets before huge crowds who have thronged the city to catch a glimpse of the Chariot Festival (Tēr Tiruviḻā). Going against explicitly prescribed ritual texts, Tirumala Nāyaka reformulated this annual re-­enactment of Minakshi and Sundareshvara’s celestial

A local goddess in Madurai   65 wedding. He merged the observance of the Shaiva marriage (the union of Shiva, known locally as Sundareshvara, and an avatar of Parvati, known locally as Minakshi) with a Vaishnava festival (the journey of Vishnu, known locally as Aḻagar, to the Vaigai riverbed from his temple twelve miles north, to attend the ceremony) (Hudson 1977: 107–118). Vishnu travels to Madurai for his sister Minakshi’s marriage to Sundareshvara on the twelfth day. Although he does not make it to the nuptials in time, his nonattendance does not prevent him from being represented in the visual renderings of this iconic event, since he does appear in Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam: he is shown standing either between or to the left of the bride and groom. The drama that unified Vishnu and Shiva into one family had important political gains for the Vaishnava Nāyaka king, who was able to postpone the festival from Māci month (mid-­February to mid-­March) to the hot season of Cittirai month; by moving the gods’ marital rites to after the end of the harvest season, he increased the available manpower for pulling the processional images of the royal couple in large chariots during the post-­wedding celebrations on the eleventh day. This maneuver recalls anthropologist Arjun Appadurai’s (1981: 226) comment on ‘authority’ in South India at this period:  10

Authority is the capacity to mobilize collective ritual deference to a sovereign deity in such a way that the mobilizing actor partakes of divine authority in relation to those human beings who are either the instruments or beneficiaries. More simply still, authority is the capacity to command collectivities in the homage of the deity. Religious studies scholar D. Dennis Hudson (1977) suggests crucial reasons for Tirumala Nāyaka’s decision to alter the Shaiva ritual: by linking a festival symbolizing the identity of Kaḷḷars (a caste in South India associated with Aḻagar) with a festival symbolizing the identity of Madurai (ruled by Minakshi and Sundareshvara), Tirumala Nāyaka fulfilled his dharmic role as both a spiritual and material protector of his kingdom. As a foreign ruler with origins from the Telugu-­speaking Andhra country up north, he also strengthened his allegiance and enhanced his political authority by combining both Shaivite and Vaishnavite elements (Hudson 1977: 111–113). Tirumala Nāyaka’s manipulations of the Cittirai-­month marriage festivities often eclipse the significance of his other temple projects. However, it is equally important to consider the Nāyaka king’s involvement in the festival Śrī Mīnākṣī Putu Maṇṭapam Eḻuntaruḻi Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Tirumañjanam Cēvai (translated as “the oil anointing ceremony and bathing ritual for Minakshi in the Pudu Maṇḍapam”) in understanding his political motives in temple-­related matters. The remainder of this chapter addresses this Mārgaḻi month (mid-­December to mid-­January) ritual to the goddess at the Madurai temple—referred hereafter by its shortened name Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam “oil and bathing festival”—and the important implications this particular religious function had for the Nāyaka king. During the first eight days of the nine-­day Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam held annually, the bronze image of goddess Minakshi leaves her stone temple and

66   Gita V. Pai processes to the Pudu Maṇḍapam. A daily ritual for Minakshi occurs within the hall’s central nave where she is oiled, groomed, bathed, fed, and dressed in an elaborate manner before her devotees. On the ninth day, she receives an abhiṣēkam, a ritual in which libations of various special substances are poured on her. Every evening, Minakshi’s utsava mūrti returns to her garbhagṛha: as she journeys outward borne in procession over the shoulders of temple workers, she passes the Nāyaka royal portraits that protrude from granite pillars, their palms pressed in worship. When she arrives near the statue of Tirumala Nāyaka, the priest performs a mariyātai (“public honors”) rite to the Nāyaka king as if Minakshi herself pays tribute to her royal patron. She is then carried out of the hall for the trip back to her temple shrine.11 Madurai temple priests interpret Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam as preparing and beautifying the goddess for her forthcoming marriage to Sundareshvara to happen a few months later during Cittirai.12 The local population, however, has a different explanation: many people in Madurai consider the nine-­day Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam and the one-­day Pŏṉṉūñjal (“golden swing”) festival that follows to commemorate Minakshi’s first menstruation.13 The potential fertility of the goddess is indicated by her initial menstrual flow; a menstruating woman is considered “unclean” in Tamil culture, which may explain why the sacred Shaiva hymns Tēvāram are not sung at the temple during the ten days Minakshi is believed to have her menstrual period. A menstruating woman must also confine herself to a separate, closed room, which could clarify why Minakshi’s Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam takes place not in or near her inner sanctum but in the Pudu Maṇḍapam, situated outside the east gateway of the temple compound. In Tamil culture, the goddess’ first menses is also a harbinger of agricultural success. The Pŏṉṉūñjal ritual illustrates the interconnectedness between fecundity and farming: in Minakshi’s presence, married women (sumaṅgalīs) sow seeds in bowls of sand, and unhusked paddy, raw rice, and a grinding stone mark the stages of rice’s growth, harvest, and preparation. Fuller (1980: 333) sheds some light on the gendered dimensions of these ritual performances: “Agricultural fertility is predicated on the maturation of the goddess. Her maturation— the burgeoning of her sexual powers—is imperative for cultivation, but it is, of course, also dangerous and heating, and must, in the end, be controlled.” Tamil scholar George Hart (1973: 236) states that when women menstruate, they possess a “latent sacred power” called aṇaṅku, which may also be dangerous, and is thus taboo. Anthropologist Brenda Beck (1969: 562) observed that a menarchal girl in a “heated” and impure state is rubbed with clarified butter (ghee) during her saḍaṅgu—a puberty function that marks her first menstrual cycle, an act described as “cooling,” similar to rubbing the body with oil before bathing. These aspects of danger and heat in Tamil culture clarify the significance of applying oil to Minakshi’s metal embodiment prior to her ceremonial bathing during the Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam. The anointment (abhiṣēkam) with turmeric and sandalwood paste that Minakshi receives on the ninth day cools her during her “heated” state, as certain yellow substances are considered “cooling” in

A local goddess in Madurai   67 Tamil tradition (McGilvray 1998: 25, 27, 35). After Minakshi rests in the Pudu Maṇḍapam from morning to evening on the last day of her Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu, she is decked out in extravagant silks and accessories and placed in a special palanquin, before travelling on the streets around her temple. This procession ends her sexual maturation as an adolescent; she is now ready for her upcoming marriage to Sundareshvara in Cittirai month. Minakshi is thus ritually treated as a human girl turning into woman. In Tamil culture, a girl’s first menstruation is an intricate and festive celebration; the formal names for saḍaṅgu—irudu maṅgalasnāṉam “puberty auspicious-­bath” and pūppuppuṉita nīrāttu viḻā “menstruation purity bathing festival”—define the bathing of the pubescent girl. Observances marking female puberty include not only a turmeric bath for the girl, but also her parading through neighborhood streets dressed like a bride to announce publicly that she has come of age and is eligible for marriage (Good 1991: 97–110; Kapadia 1995: 92–123). The Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam itself is actually a Vaishnava affair connected to Āṇḍāḷ, the poet, goddess, and consort of Vishnu in Srivilliputur, a temple town located about 75 kilometers from Madurai. Tirumala Nāyaka, a Vaishnavite and ardent devotee of Āṇḍāḷ, brought the ritual Śrī Āṇḍāḷ Mārgaḻi Nīrāṭṭa Utsavam (lit. “Āṇḍāḷ’s bathing festival during the month of Mārgaḻi”) to the Madurai temple, making it the only Shaivite site to conduct the oil bathing and beautification ceremony to a goddess (Pai 2010: 286–287). This eight-­day festival is performed during the last seven days of Mārgaḻi and the first day of Tai month (mid-­January to mid-­February), which is simultaneously the widely held Tamil harvest festival called Poṅgal. It was Tirumala Nāyaka’s wish to have the ĕṇṇaik kāppu ritual carried out in his Pudu Maṇḍapam for Minakshi in Madurai.14 The question remains however: Why did Tirumala Nāyaka graft a well-­established Vaishnava festival onto a significant Shaiva temple for Mārgaḻi month? Is it like the Cittirai festival discussed earlier, where it was politically judicious for Madurai’s ruler to merge Shaivite and Vaishnavite aspects? Anthropologist Roy Rappaport (1979: 27–42) proposes that ritual actions are implemented in order to produce a practical result on the external or natural world. The ecological possibilities in ritual performance help situate Tirumala Nāyaka’s decision to invoke the Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam in Madurai. In his work on the Maring people of New Guinea, Rappaport theorizes that the Maring maintain balance in their ecosystem through traditional ecological knowledge rooted in ritual regulations.15 For Rappaport (1999: 27) ritual is “the performance of more or less invariant sequences of formal acts and utterances not entirely encoded by the performers,” which nevertheless function to communicate and transmit ideas about ecology, and a community’s relationship to their environment. Rappaport (1999: 459–461) sees the ecosystem as offering a guide of how to act in the world, and the ritual as the earth’s mode of providing balance in social and ecological systems. (These views are shared by Grimes (2004: 41–43).) Therefore, he takes ritual performance to be “the social act basic to humanity” (Rappaport 1999: 138). Similarly, in her work on women’s ritual art tradition in Tamil Nadu called kōlam, religious studies scholar Vijaya R. Nagarajan (1998: 280) proposes the concept of

68   Gita V. Pai “embedded ecologies” as a way of understanding “ecological notions, beliefs, and practices” as “embedded in cultural forms, particularly in religious and aesthetic practices and institutions.” As a monarch, Tirumala Nāyaka needed to ensure the agricultural productivity of his territory, for which plentiful rain was necessary. Hudson (1996: 181) states that Mārgaḻi month “symbolizes the pre-­birth period of the universe, the moment of unmanifest plentitude recapitulated by every pre-­dawn hour.” As the goddess’ fertility is signified by her initial menstrual flow, Tirumala Nāyaka appropriated a ritual from the nearby temple town of Srivilliputur to celebrate in Madurai Minakshi’s first menstruation. The link between the agricultural cycle, the need for rain, and the goddess’ sexual maturity, makes clear the Madurai ruler’s concern for the fecundity of his kingdom—after all, “if rains fail … royalty can be blamed for neglecting the proper relationships with divine powers that would normally promote fertility” (Harman 2000: 35).

Conclusion Minakshi’s apotheosis starts with her supernatural appearance in this world and is based pointedly on her connection to fecundity. In the initial stage she was a three-­ breasted toddler who sprung from the fire of a sacrifice performed by a barren couple, her father being a descendant of the Pāṇḍyan dynastic founders of Madurai. She grew into a single-­minded queen determined to conquer the world through warfare. However, after meeting Shiva on the battlefield, Minakshi promptly abandoned her plan for world domination. She became domesticated as the god’s wife and thus, a goddess. She was made into an especially prominent object of worship due to the actions of the Nāyaka ruler, who embedded the local religiosity of a neighboring Vaishnava site onto the imperial capital of Madurai. Minakshi’s Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam, a ritual that the Nāyaka king brought from Srivilliputur to the Pudu Maṇḍapam in Madurai, and the Pŏṉṉūñjal that follows inside the main temple, demonstrate Tirumala Nāyaka’s need to legitimize his rule as a Vaishnava ruler of Telugu origins reigning over a primarily Shaivite region. This borrowed religious ceremony also reaffirmed his desire for the agricultural prosperity of Madurai and signalled his stewardship of its environs. In this way, the goddess was a necessary political pawn for the ambitious monarch. Today, the Pudu Maṇḍapam at the Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple is a living artefact of this game of sovereignty—connecting the present to the seventeenth century, when the Nāyaka king symbolically married his dynasty to Madurai.

Notes   1 P. Jayaraman, former Joint Commissioner and Executive Officer, Hindu Religious and Charitable Endowments Department, Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple, Madurai, in interview with author, July 25, 2011.   2 A possible translation is: “total power lady, unimaginable or unbelievable power.” Shekhar Bhattar, priest, Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple, Madurai, in interview with author, June 1, 2017.

A local goddess in Madurai   69   3 The Pāṇḍyan dynasty was one of three royal lineages of South India: the Pāṇḍyas, Cōḻas, and Cēras form a triumvirate known as the Mūvĕntar, or “Three Crowned Kings,” in ancient Tamil country. The Pāṇḍyas made Madurai their imperial headquarters.   4 For an analysis of the various interpretations of Minakshi’s transformation, see Harman (1989: 49). Some scholars interpret Minakshi’s extra breast as the male sex organ. Inspired by O’Flaherty (1976: 331–332), Shulman (1980) relates Minakshi’s third breast to the phallus and describes her as a “male-­female hybrid” (209–210). Both O’Flaherty and Shulman draw from Spratt (1966) who equates the goddess’ loss of her breast on the battlefield to castration; however, unlike Shulman, who describes the goddess as an androgyne before her transformation, Spratt sees Minakshi as “a man or amazon” who later becomes a woman when she loses her third breast (1966: 268).   5 Naṭarāja dances on his left foot on a vĕḷḷiyaṁbalam “silver stage” in Madurai and on his right foot on a pŏṇṇaṁbalam “golden stage” at Chidambaram.   6 I observed and documented the Cittirai festival in 2017.   7 Here, the ritual differs from the text: in TVP, Minakshi returns alone.   8 The original Wedding Hall or Tirukalyāṇam Maṇḍapam can no longer hold the thousands of people who now attend the marriage.   9 Played during South Indian weddings. 10 Senthīl Bhaṭṭar, priest, Minakshi-­Sundareshvara temple, Madurai, in interview with author, January 7, 2009. 11 I observed and documented Minakshi’s Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam in 2009. For a detailed description of Minakshi’s Ĕṇṇaik Kāppu Utsavam, see Pai (2010: 283–286). 12 Personal interview with Senthīl Bhaṭṭar, 2009. 13 The temple festival Āṭi Pūram (which coincides with the Tamil festival Āṭippĕrakku that celebrates the monsoons and water’s life-­giving properties) seems to also mark the goddess’ menstruation. It is celebrated during Āṭi month (mid-­July to mid-­August) when the first crop is sown and transplanted, and when the rivers rise in Tamil Nadu. Here, Minakshi is worshipped as the goddess of rivers and the soil. See Fuller (1980: 333). 14 Personal interview with Senthīl Bhaṭṭar, 2009. 15 While the Maring people slaughtered pigs within a ritual framework out of an ecological imperative, it is their belief that rituals regulate the environment, not their swine­killing practice, which is important to this chapter.

References Appadurai, Arjun. 1981. Worship and Conflict under Colonial Rule: A South Indian Case. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Beck, Brenda E. F. 1969. “Colour and Heat in South Indian Ritual.” Man 4 no. 4 (December): 553–572. Branfoot, Crispin. 2007. Gods on the Move: Architecture and Ritual in the South Indian Temple. London: Society for South Asian Studies. Devakunjari, D. 1979. Madurai through the Ages: From the Earliest Times to 1801 a.d. Madras: Society for Archaeological, Historical, and Epigraphical Research. Fuller, C. J. 1980. “The Divine Couple’s Relationship in a South Indian Temple: Mīnākṣi and Sundareśvara at Madurai.” History of Religions 19 no. 4 (May): 321–348. Good, Anthony. 1991. The Female Bridegroom: A Comparative Study of Life-­Crisis Rituals in South India and Sri Lanka. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Grimes, Ronald L. 2004. “Ritual Theory and the Environment.” Nature Performed: Environment, Culture, and Performance, eds. Bronislaw Szerszynski, Wallace Heim, and Claire Waterton. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. 31–45.

70   Gita V. Pai Harman, William P. 1989. The Sacred Marriage of a Hindu Goddess. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Harman, William. 2000. “How the Fearsome Fish-­Eyed Queen Mīṉāṭcī Became a Perfectly Ordinary Goddess.” Goddesses Who Rule, eds. Elisabeth Benard and Beverly Moon. New York: Oxford University Press. 33–50. Hart, George L. 1973. “Women and the Sacred in Ancient Tamilnad.” Journal of Asian Studies XXXII no. 2 (February): 233–250. Hudson, D. Dennis. 1977. “Śiva, Mīnākṣi, Viṣṇu: Reflections on a Popular Myth in Madurai.” Indian Economic and Social History Review 14 no. 1 (January–March): 107–118. Hudson, D. Dennis. 1996. “Āṇḍāḷ’s Desire.” Vaiṣṇavī: Women and the Worship of Krishna, ed. Steven Rosen. New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers. 171–210. Jeyechandrun, A. V. 1985. The Madurai Temple Complex (With Special Reference to Literature and Legends). Madurai: Madurai Kamaraj University. Kapadia, Karin. 1995. Siva and Her Sisters: Gender, Caste, and Class in Rural South India. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. McGilvray, Dennis B. 1998. Symbolic Heat: Gender, Health and Worship among the Tamils of South India and Sri Lanka. Ahmedabad: Mapin Publishing Pvt. Ltd.; Boulder, CO: University of Colorado Museum. Nagarajan, Vijaya Rettakudi. 1998. “The Earth as Goddess Bhū Devī: Towards a Theory of Embedded Ecologies in Folk Hinduism.” Purifying the Earthly Body of God: Religion and Ecology in Hindu India, ed. Lance E. Nelson. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. 269–295. O’Flaherty, Wendy Doniger. 1976. The Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Pai, Gita V. 2010. “Kingship, Images, and Rituals: A Nāyaka Monument in South India, 1635–2009.” PhD dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, CA. Palaniappan, K. 1970 [1963]. The Great Temple of Madurai. Madurai: Sri Meenakshisundareswarar Temple Renovation Committee. Parañcōti Muṉivar. 1973. Tiruviḷaiyāṭar Purāṇam, vol. I. Madurai Kāṇtam (Tamil). Madurai: Mīnākṣi-Sundareśvar Thīrukōyil (abbreviated as TVP). Rappaport, Roy A. 1979. Ecology, Meaning, and Religion. Richmond, CA: North Atlantic Books. Rappaport, Roy A. 1999. Ritual and Religion in the Making of Humanity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Shulman, David Dean. 1980. Tamil Temple Myths: Sacrifice and Divine Marriage in the South Indian Śaiva Tradition. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Spratt, P. 1966. Hindu Culture and Personality: A Psycho-­Analytic Study. Bombay: Manaktalas. Younger, P. 1995. The Home of Dancing Śivaṉ: The Traditions of the Hindi Temple in Citamparam. New York: Oxford University Press.

5 A Bundela prince who became a deity Strands of divinizing Tatiana Oranskaia

Introduction This chapter aims at tracing the reasons and ways of the deification of a prince of Orchha known as Hardaul or Lālā (“darling”) Hardaul, who is said to have lived a short life; according to the local historical tradition, he was born in 1608 and died of poisoning in 1631. His full name is given in the form Hardeo/ Haridev Singh. Hardaul is worshipped in the whole of Bundelkhand as the patron of brides and girls of marriage age who takes care of nuptial arrangements and a happy marriage. The narrative about him includes a hagiography and a myth. The dividing moment between the two parts is the violent death of the hero who was poisoned at the order of his elder brother, the Raja of Orchha Jujhar Singh (r. 1627–1634). The reason for the fratricide was a false accusation of a love affair with the wife of the Raja, and the Rani herself had to administer the poison in order to prove her innocence. After his death Hardaul appeared as a ghost to fulfill his responsibilities of a maternal uncle at the wedding of his sister’s daughter. This plot is clearly connected to his cult of the caretaker of brides. The images of the prince, both in his earthly and transcendental existence, have been undergoing a process of change that reflects various social and political views and serves various interests of generations living after him. The legend of Hardaul has been transmitted in the form of folk songs and an oral narrative, which are not fully extinct yet. Literary and scholarly texts as well as electronic transmission forms based on the oral tradition have been published and produced increasingly since the latter half of the twentieth century, mostly in Bundelkhand. The earliest literary reworking of this plot seems to be a short story by Premchand Rājā Hardaul. The oral tradition does not necessarily reproduce the “original” folklore version; it undoubtedly feeds on published texts as well as on audio and video sources. It is not possible to reliably distinguish between the folklore and literary or audio-­video renderings of the plot, or to capture the scope of the interplay between folklore, literary, and film genres on the one hand and scholarly—or pseudo-­scholarly—writings on the other hand. New episodes, secondary figures,

72   Tatiana Oranskaia and details are being continuously added. They mostly stem from sociopolitical aspirations of and express the views of intellectually and politically influential circles in Bundelkhand, and have an impact on broad social, historical, and political interpretations of the story relevant for the present age. The initially folklore based works contribute, in their turn, to changes in the oral tradition and conception of the cult figure by the local population. In extended versions of the hagiographical part, particularly in the death episode, the Ram Raja Temple in Orchha is an important topos, both as a “place” and a “topic.” It is a significant center of saving, creating, and recreating of Bundelkhand historical knowledge. Ṭhākur Lacchman Siṃh Gaur, a renowned historian of Orchha (died in 2003, information from Dr. Bahadur Singh Parmar, email, January 2016), was closely connected to this temple. At the entrance into its court there is a plague with the genealogical tree of the Bundela Rajas of Orchha compiled by him. It is not seldom that sources considered historical contradict the knowledge transmitted by the folklore tradition. Published texts in non-­literary genres will in the following be considered historical (independent of their reliability) if they provide dates of events and dates of life or rule of figures generally known as historical. I could fully enjoy and profit from oral transmission of stories, facts, and ideas. Many people generously shared with me their rich knowledge of Bundelkhand history, culture, and, particularly, Hardaul story. Among them are Bundelkhand intellectuals and patriots who collect, save, and, at the same time, continuously rework history and cultural history of their land in discussions and writings, both literary and scholarly. Their network is amazingly broad and efficient. I owe endless gratitude to Mr. Janaki Sharan Verma (Jhansi), Mr. Harivishnu Avasthi (Tikamgarh), Dr. Kailash Bihari Dvivedi (Tikamgarh), Dr. Bahadur Singh Parmar (Chhatarpur), and the priests in the Ram Raja Temple for their help and encouragement. I am infinitely grateful to the Maharaja of Orchha, His Highness Maharaja Mahendra Sawai Shri Madhukar Shah Ju Deo Bahadur for giving his valuable time for a talk with me in 2005. It is, unfortunately, impossible to name all those to whom I am deeply obliged for information and patient elucidations, first of all my respondents whose everyday life does not leave them any opportunity to contemplate about their cultural tradition, but to whom it is just part of their existence.

The Hardaul cult The legend of Hardaul The legend of Hardaul includes two parts: about his earthly life and about his posthumous deeds. It was and is still transmitted in the form of folk songs and an oral narrative on which also literary and scholarly works are based. The version given below is the one most commonly known among the general public.

A Bundela prince who became a deity   73 Hardaul, which is the pet name form of Hardeo Siṃh (Gaur 2006/2007: 106), was the younger brother of the Raja of Orchha Jujhar Singh Deo. They were sons of the greatest Bundela Raja Bir Singh Deo. Jujhar Singh was much older than Hardaul, and, as Hardaul’s mother had died when he was a baby, the elder brother’s wife Campāvatī brought Hardaul up and was like a mother to him, and he loved her as a son loves his mother. The Raja spent most of his time at the services of Shah Jahan. Hardaul as his minister (dimān/dinmān < dīvān), took care of Orchha affairs. In spite of his young age he proved to be a capable and efficient administrator, ruled righteously and justly, the people of Orchha could approach him any time, and loved him dearly. A story about political differences between the brothers portrays Hardaul as the desired ruler who would have been a better Raja than his elder brother. According to Gaur (2006/2007), even their father Bir Singh Deo (r. 1605–1627), whose reign is seen as the golden age of Orchha, was in favor of violating the rule of primo­geniture in order to let Hardaul ascend the throne. The legend proceeds accordingly. Political rivals and enemies of Hardaul spread a rumor of a love affair between Rani Campāvatī and Hardaul to Jujhar Singh who, in a fit of jealousy and anger, told the Rani to poison the prince if she were innocent. This rumor was of course a malevolent slander. As a chaste wife Campāvatī obeyed, invited Hardaul for a meal, but warned him that the food was poisoned. Nevertheless Hardaul ate it in order to save his sister-­inlaw’s (Bundeli bhaujī) honor and, accordingly, the family honor. As the legend recounts, it was exactly the same reason—the necessity to save the family honor—that drove Jujhar Singh to the decision to have his younger brother poisoned. Jujhar Singh blames his wife: nirmal aṃś bundel vaṃś kī taine bāt bigārī (Śrīvāstav s.a.:14) (You have stained the spotless [honor of this] line of the Bundela house). Actually, both brothers pursue one and the same goal, though with different consequences for their life and future repute. In the folk consciousness, an act of self-­sacrifice leads to eternal fame, and Hardaul is fully aware of it: “This proof of your innocence [poisoning me] is of more value than life, and will but immortalise my name” (Orchha Gazetteer 1995: 24). The elder brother obviously does not think of the eternity or he neglects the catastrophic outcome of the fratricide for himself and, as also Hardaul, considers it worth sacrificing a life—of whoever it might be—for the family honor. Hardaul’s violent death is the apotheosis of the first part of the legend. It marks the border line between the stories of his earthly and his transcendental life and is the basis for his apotheosis, in the theological meaning of the word. He died not alone. His 900 (sometimes 1100, the number may vary) comrades-­in-arms, the servant from the Mehtar caste who had taken care of him since his childhood, his horse, and his dog partook of the poisoned food because they did not want to live without Hardaul. The second part of the narrative tells about the marriage of Hardaul’s niece, his and Jujhar Singh’s sister’s daughter. The Raja refused to attend the marriage ceremony because his sister Kuñjāvatī had bitterly bewept Hardaul and accused

74   Tatiana Oranskaia the elder brother of the murder. He mockingly advised her to invite her beloved brother. Kuñjāvatī came to Hardaul’s samādhi, wailed there and lamented that no one was there among the living to fulfill the maternal uncle’s (māmā) role at her daughter’s marriage. She asked Hardaul to take over the responsibilities, and heard his voice telling her not to worry and start with the preparations for the wedding. He appeared at the marriage ceremony, arranged for the feast and gave his niece a magnificent dowry. In doing so he perfectly fulfilled his traditionally prescribed duty of a maternal uncle, and thus saved the honor of his sister’s conjugal family. With regard to Hardaul’s behavior, the second part of the legend is a logical continuation of the first one. Hardaul as a “male affine” (Jain 2002) takes care of his family and of the family related to his own through marital bonds of his sister. As a mortal he fulfills his masculine Rajput dharma, behaving chivalrously toward the First Lady in his family and his Queen, to whom he is not connected by blood relation. His behavior is beneficial for his cognate family. After death, he fulfills a typical ancestral role in relation to his female sibling and her daughter, in which case the situation is opposite to the previous one: the blood relation with the ladies is the reason for patronizing the affine family. The legend extols the virtues of the protagonist, portraying him as a perfect man who falls prey to vicious people. Its multifarious versions throw light on the most prominent aspects of his figure: readiness to self-­sacrifice, protection of the family through chivalrous service to the ladies of the house, and patriotism combined with the talent of a people’s leader and military general. The family honor as the motivation of Hardaul’s actions is, however, the thrust of the core narrative; his utmost suffering for its sake bridges the earthly and the otherworldly dimensions of the legend. The posthumous plot is clearly connected to Hardaul’s main function of the benefactor of brides, which is rooted in the social norms that prescribe arrangement of marriage for girls as a cause of family honor. Literary texts and modern historical works of Bundelkhand writers present Shah Jahan’s rule as a drastic decline in the politics of Hindu–Muslim unity pursued by his father Jahangir and grandfather Akbar. Relations between the Bundelas and the Mughal Padishahs Akbar and Jahangir are portrayed as characterized by common political interests and mutual understanding. A historical novel The Saga of Hardaul (Hardaul kī yaśgāthā) is a good example of this perspective on the historical developments. In it, Raja Jujhar Singh addressing the people of Orchha refers to Shah Jahan as a sectarian person (sāṃpradāyik) influenced by conservative mullahs (kaṭhmullā). Hardaul grasps the opportunity to develop the idea further and, in his capacity as the minister, makes to the people clear that it is necessary to change the political course toward the Mughal rulers and fight for independence (Tripāṭhī 1986: 53–56). The satyāgraha slogans and modern Hindu nationalist rhetoric are reproduced here in connection to Jujhar Singh’s escapades against Shah Jahan and emphasize the ideological role of the protagonist. The same ideas are clearly expressed through similar verbal means in the History of Orchha (Gaur 2006/2007), in which Hardaul is called pūjanīy

A Bundela prince who became a deity   75 vīr bundelā “venerable hero Bundela,” svatantratā senānī “fighter for independence,” mahān puruṣ “a great man,” and devatuly Hardaul “divine (lit. ‘equal to deities’) Hardaul.” Obviously, this image is acceptable to the people. In Jabalpur (a city not far from Bundelkhand) I asked a young man, “Who is Hardaul?”—The answer was “A fighter for Independence” (February 2014). The ideological adaptation of Hardaul to the habitual folk-­historical image of a fighter for Independence may be successful, whereby a reinterpretation from the struggle against the British to the struggle against the Mughal rule would not present difficulties. A historical political reason for the drastic contrast in the attitude toward Jujhar Singh and Hardaul can be suggested. Orchha was strong and rich during the reign of Jujhar Singh’s father Bir Singh Deo. Not only was he a far-­seeing politician and a resourceful general, but he enjoyed strong support from Jahangir, which was of course beneficial for the state. The reason for the Emperor’s benevolence toward Orchha was that Bir Singh Deo had supported Prince Salim, future Jahangir, in his struggle for the Delhi throne. At the instigation of the Prince he killed Abu-­l Fazl, a great scholar and minister of Akbar who had been in opposition to the heir apparent. The meager and unreliable knowledge about Hardaul’s life provides a good ground for constructing multiple versions of his hagiography. A typical politically loaded plot extension given below stems obviously from Gaur’s History of Orchha (2006/2007: 11–20), and it has to a certain extent become a part of the general public knowledge. Hardaul with his troops was on the way to fight against Shah Jahan. Before leaving Orchha he went to the Ram Raja Temple to pray. The wife of his brother Pahar Singh who was involved in a pro-­Muslim conspiracy gave him poisoned prasād (food offering shared among the worshippers after the ritual), which he shared with all who accompanied him. No sooner had the troops crossed the Orchha border than they all died. The place where it is said to have happened is approximately 2 kilometers from the temple. It is marked by a group of shrines, the main of which is Hardaul’s shrine. There are also shrines of his 900 comrades-­in-arms, of his Mehtar servant, of his horse, and of his dog. Further shrines at this place are not connected to Hardaul’s cult. The shrines are of different size and have the typical cabūtrā form of a four-­ corner platform. The smallest cabūtrā is devoted to his dog; it is quadruple in form and has a dog figurine on it. The platforms are said to go back to the time directly after Hardaul’s death; they were radically renovated at the end of the twentieth to the beginning of the twenty-­first century (personal interview with Mr. Je. Pī. Śrīvāstav, Orchā nagar pañcāyat, February 2017). Forms of Hardaul’s worship and his iconography Cabūtrās/cautrās made of clay or, as is usual today, of bricks coated with cement are typical Hardaul shrines, not different from those of other local deities

76   Tatiana Oranskaia or ancestors. They are normally about two square meters in size and on average approximately fifty centimeters high, but can be rather large, as in Orchha. A rare village in Bundelkhand does not have a Hardaul cabūtrā, often with donated clay figurines of horses or horses with riders placed on it. More prominent Hardaul’s cabūtrās, which receive more donations, often have his equestrian statues, presenting the hero canonically: riding a white stallion, in Rajput attire and with a sword. His painted images reproduce such equestrian figures; the portrait in the Ram Raja Temple, which presents the prince as the minister (dīmān), seems to be the only exception. On large cabūtrās, there is usually also a bed for him, with blanket and pillow, a sword lying on it, and a book. Normally it is the Rāmacaritamanas of Tulsidas, but it can also be another Vaishnava text. Hardaul’s main shrine, which is in the garden of his palace, is covered with a roof. Worshippers bind small pieces of cloth on the grid forming the walls of the structure. Hardaul’s temples are rather rare and present a later development, indicative of the growing significance of the cult and its development toward the big Hindu tradition. Sleeman (1915) reports about erecting temples for the cholera god Hardaul after the outbreak of the epidemic in 1817. Some of his temples may be at least 150 years old. Architecturally they strongly vary. There is even a temple in the form of a garden pavilion bāradarī in Chhatarpur (Madhya Pradesh). Marriage ritual As the patron of brides and the god of marriage, Hardaul is the first guest among gods and mortals, and the invitation ritual takes a form of a specific pūjā. Curcuma rice is the indispensable part of the offering and, unlike other gods and goddesses who are also invited to attend marriage ceremonies, he receives an invitation card. These things are normally brought to his nearest shrine or temple. However, the best way to ensure Hardaul’s benevolent presence at the wedding is to bring the invitation to his shrine in the garden of his palace in Orchha, or at least to send there an invitation card by post. It is a must to visit Hardaul’s shrine on the wedding day. The bridal couple prays for a happy married life and leaves their handprints on a cabūtrā or temple walls. (The ritual of leaving handprints by newlyweds on a wall of the bride’s parental house is known elsewhere in India as a part of bidāī, the ceremony in which the bride leaves her father’s home.) Close relatives of the bride and bridegroom also leave their handprints and draw next to them the specific Hardaul signs that are known to bring good luck and wellbeing. Paste of reddish clay with curcuma added to it is applied to the palms of newlyweds for making the handprints and is used for drawing the Hardaul signs. The patterns of the signs are few in number, the by far most frequent of them is similar to a tortoise or a child’s drawing of a house with pitched roof. No one could explain to me the origin and meaning of the forms of these signs, and it took me several years to find out that they reproduce windows and doors of tribal houses, with traditional ornaments around them. The similarity

A Bundela prince who became a deity   77 became evident when I saw these patterns on the exposition in the Rānī Durgāvatī Museum in Jabalpur, Madhya Pradesh. Such houses can still be found in tribal villages. The Museum in Bhopal also displays them, but their window ornaments look somewhat different. Hardaul represented by stones Worship of stones is well known in Hindu religions, suffice it to mention here as an example the identification of śālagrāma with Vishnu. The Hardaul cult also includes stone worship, as a peripheral feature. Its most primitive form is veneration of stones that are usually placed under trees. They are believed to have a magic origin and power. As I could observe in the village Bansari, Khajuraho, Madhya Pradesh, Hardaul is worshipped in the form of stones exactly as his anthropomorphic image. In this village, as in many other places, Hardaul’s cabūtrā is near the Devi temple, and bridal couples leave their handprints first at the temple and then at the cabūtrā. After splitting a coconut at the cabūtrā the bridegroom brings the usual offering to the stones that are conceived as Hardaul (audio recording, February 2010). It is to note that in Vaishnava rituals, coconuts are never split. Hardaul can be represented by stones even in temples, as is the case in Hardaul temple in Dhar (Malwa, Madhya Pradesh, visited in March 2004) and in Jhansi (visited last time in February 2014). In these temples the deity is represented by a mound of stones. In both temples, the priests told one and the same story: five stones appeared overnight and have been slowly but constantly multiplying. This story is reminiscent of the belief in some tribal traditions of Central India that small stones erected at the head of burial places will grow (Sontheimer 2004b: 216). In both temples, there are also images of Hardaul as a rider, in Rajput attire, and with a sword. The Hardaul temple in Purānī Najhāī, an old part of Jhansi, is known as dīmān/dīvān jū kā mandir “Temple of the Chief Minister”; the name reflects Hardaul’s position at the court of Orchha. The temple occupies the entrance room of the priest’s house, which is at least 100 years old. The stones lie in a temple-­like structure erected in the room; on the walls there are pictures of Hardaul and gods and goddesses of the common Hindu pantheon. The temple’s other name is Dūlhā Deo kā mandir. Dūlhā Deo “Bridegroom God” is Hardaul’s counterpart who represents the bridegroom party at the marriage ceremony. The relations between him and Hardaul are controversial. Some people in Bundelkhand do not distinguish between the two, and the name of the temple demonstrates their fusion. Here it should be mentioned in passing that, with regard to his function of the marriage god, Hardaul is also related to the elephant-­headed god Ganesh, as arrangement of happy marriages is one of the responsibilities of the remover of obstacles.

78   Tatiana Oranskaia In 2004, the temple with the stones was (and is, most probably, also today) the only temple in Dhar dedicated to Hardaul. Malwa does not belong to Hardaul worshipping regions. Most people there have never heard about him. The small temple is a place of worship for the local Rajput community. However, Cunningham (1884: 164) recorded in Malwa a song about Hardaul, but the scope of the cult at that time is not known.

The historical narrative about Hardaul Historical information about Hardaul is based on the local oral tradition and is highly contradictory. Strongly varying facts and dates given in different sources indicate the absence of a reliable historical record, providing an unlimited scope for interpretations. These find their way into literary and also scholarly historical works. Thus, two renowned local histories, A History of Bundelkhand (Bundelkhaṇḍ kā itihās) compiled in 1929 by Dīvān Pratipāl Siṃh (2009) and A History of Orchha (Orchā kā itihās) by the Orchha modern historian Ṭhākur Lacchman Siṃh Gaur (2006/2007) differ in a number of issues with regard to this chapter of Bundela history. Even the forms of Hardaul’s name do not coincide in these sources. Siṃh (2009: 40–41, 104) does not give any other name except Haridaul/Haridaur, only once it occurs as Hardhīr (2009: 32), which may be a typo or mistake. Gaur (2006/2007: 106) provides his full name in the form Hardeo (Siṃh). Both sources place Hardaul in terms of age directly after Jujhar Singh, but vary in the dates of his life. According to Siṃh (2009: 41), Haridaul was killed at the order of Jujhar Singh in March 1628, whereas Gaur (2006/2007: figure between pages 12 and 13) gives the dates according to the Vikram calendar: Sāvan 1665 to Kvār (Aśvin) 1688, corresponding to the years 1608–1631 according to the Gregorian calendar. Both sources ascribe to him one son named Bajai Shah/Vijaysiṃh (Siṃh 2009: 104; Gaur 2006/2007: 24) and give the name of one sister, Kuñj Kumārī, who is known in the legend as Kuñjāvatī. Siṃh (2009: 33) mentions, however, that Bir Singh Deo had several daughters and eleven sons, whereas the genealogy compiled by Gaur (2006/2007: 24) includes names of twelve sons. Hardaul’s story itself varies in these two works. Interestingly, Siṃh does not recount the story of poisoning; nor does he mention the rumor about the love affair between Hardaul and Rani Campāvatī, or her role in murdering the prince. Both sources deviate from the song tradition and the folklore narrative, according to which Hardaul, the youngest son of Bir Singh Deo, died unmarried and childless. In songs and poetic texts he is referred to as kuṃvār/kumār “a young unmarried man,” “bachelor,” “prince” (nagar oṛche meṃ hue kumār vīr Hardaul “In the town of Orchha there lived prince Hardaul”), and in the narrative also as brahmacārī “a celibate.” In the songs he is said to have died at the age of sixteen. There is little hope that more scholarly light will be shed on these issues. Maharaja of Orchha, His Highness Mahendra Sawai Shri Madhukar Shah Ju Deo Bahadur whom I had the honor to meet in March 2005 told me that no written

A Bundela prince who became a deity   79 record concerning their genealogy had been preserved in the family. Thus, with regard to the Hardaul story, as also some other persons and events in the Bundela history, we have to depend on late records of what has been preserved “in the memory of the clan” (Kolff 1990: 129). Tradition relates the Orchha royal family since the late seventeenth century directly to Hardaul because the Bundela rulers adopted several of his descendants, starting with Udot (Udyot) Siṃh (1689–1717), as successors to the throne (Gaur 2006/2007: 24–27). In this context, the version that Hardaul was not the youngest, but the second son of Bir Singh Deo acquires a special importance. According to the Rajput code of primogeniture, this position made him next in line to become the Raja of Orchha after the murder of Jujhar Singh, his sons, and grandsons. Some of Jujhar Singh’s descendants were converted to Islam, thus losing their right to the throne. The second place Hardaul has by birth among Bir Singh Deo’s sons strengthens the right of his descendants adopted as heirs to the throne of Orchha and, second, it underpins the version of the legend, according to which the third brother, Pahar Singh (r. 1641–1653), had his own interest in doing away with Hardaul (cf. above “Legend of Hardaul”). Gaur provides further information that should underpin this version. According to him, Bir Singh Deo left a “secret document” in which he announced Hardeo the heir to the throne, the reason being that his eldest son did not have the qualities necessary for a ruler of Orchha (2006/2007: 105–106). It remains to say that rather free interpretations reach into much deeper historical layers, as, e.g., an attempt of Gaur to do away with the doubtful position of the Bundelas among the Rajputs. They do not belong to the thirty-­six royal (Kshatriya) Rajput clans (Tod 1920: table between pp. 98/99), and the adjective “spurious” is used as almost a constant epithet to the name Bundela (Elliot 1845; Cunningham 1884; Kolff 1990). Gaur (2006/2007: 245), however, following a version of the Bundela genealogical legend, puts them on the list as a subgroup of the Gaharwars. “Improvements” in the history of Orchha are evidenced since at least the late sixteenth century, as is the case in the first historical poem about the Bundelas, Ratnabāvanī (“Fifty-­two verses about Ratna”) (Busch 2011: 30–31). That the oral tradition contrastively juxtaposes Hardaul with his ruling brother can be explained most plausibly by the change to worse after the end of the Orchha golden age with the death of Bir Singh Deo. The rapid devastation of the state, increasing dependence on the Mughal court, and later on the Marathas and, finally, British are seen, obviously for a reason, as a result of Jujhar Singh’s false politics. He is characterized as an arrogant and irascible person (Orchha Gazetteer 1995: 24). As the history recounts, already in the very beginning of his rule he squabbled with the new Mughal Padishah, Shah Jahan. When the inquiry into the estate of the late Raja, initiated by Shah Jahan, revealed some dubious practices, and Jujhar Singh faced the royal demand to pay more tribute than his father had paid, he left Agra without permission and, having reached Orchha, started military preparations. As a result, the imperial troops devastated the countryside around the Bundela capital and stormed its fortress. Jujhar Singh surrendered

80   Tatiana Oranskaia and was pardoned, but had to submit himself to an enormous indemnity. Besides, he had to personally serve with his sons and military contingent in the Deccan campaigns of the Mughal armies. Six years later, in 1634, he returned back to Orchha, killed a neighboring Gond Raja and usurped his wealth and part of his territories. He would have been once again pardoned, but in exchange for submitting to hard conditions, which he did not accept. Instead he attempted a resistance, which proved fatal to him and brought endless calamities to Orchha. Jujhar Singh had to flee from the royal troops and was killed together with his son and heir Bikramājit/Vikramāditya (the latter form of the name given in Siṃh 2009: 42–43) as well as other family members by a group of Gonds who did not miss the opportunity to revenge their Raja. The other male descendants of Jujhar Singh were either killed or converted to Islam (Richards 1995: 129–130). According to other sources, Jujhar Singh and prince Bikramājit were executed at the order of Shah Jahan in 1636 (Busch 2011: 148). Bundelkhand writers on history of the region present the rule of Shah Jahan as the period of drastic change in the relations between the Mughal court and the Rajas of Orchha. Shah Jahan is said to have given up the tolerant religious politics of Akbar and Jahangir, thus putting an end to the Hindu–Muslim unity. He is accused of religious intolerance (sāṃpradāyiktā) (Tripāṭhī 1986: 54), which serves as a justification for Jujhar Singh’s revolts against the Padishah and forms the background to Hardaul’s image as a fighter against the Muslim rule.

History of the Hardaul cult: an attempt of reconstruction Origin of the cult in the ancestral worship In the initial stage of his divine existence, the murdered prince was an ancestral spirit in the throng of dead inhabiting the space between the earth and heaven. His initial divine functions of a ruler of storms and diseases are telling signs of his connection to the ancestral cult. Another link between his cult and the cult of ancestors are cabūtrās as places of worship. Their basic form does not differ from the platforms erected by a family to the ancestors or from shrines of the “geniuses of the place,” that is of the dead who for one or another reason occupy an elevated position among the ancestors and are worshipped by a group larger than a family and not necessarily united by blood relation. The platforms are usually erected under trees. Clay horses, sometimes with a rider, and—rarely— bulls are placed upon them. If you cannot offer a horse or a bull figurine, put a stone on the platform. Often small temples are erected on the cabūtrās; their size depends on the size of the platform, and some of them are big enough for two persons to enter. Shrines of this kind can also be dedicated to gods of the big tradition, mostly to Shiva or Devi, but also to Vaishnava gods, such as, e.g., Baldao (Baldev) or Hanuman, but platforms without temples are never dedicated to gods of the big tradition. Shrines in the form of platforms, with horses and temples upon them, form a cultural-­religious isogloss stretching from Central India across Bihar to Nepal.

A Bundela prince who became a deity   81 As any person who died a violent death, Hardaul belongs to the bīr/vīr “hero” group of ancestors (Crooke 1926: 126) in the rural folks-­religious (grāmya) tradition, as categorized by Michaels (2006: 39). Bīrs are malignant, mostly male spirits who are worshipped to prevent the evil they might cause (Crooke 1926: 200). In structural terms, they stand, by virtue of their violent death, in contrast to all other ancestors as the marked member of the opposition. Typically of the bīrs, Hardaul has the power over storms and epidemic diseases (Crooke 1926; Cunningham 1884; Sleeman 1915). Control over these two phenomena was obviously his main function up to the earlier half of the nineteenth century, otherwise Sleeman (first edition 1844) would have mentioned his responsibility for nuptial ceremonies. At present, these ancestral functions of the deity have faded into the background. It seems that most Bundelkhandis do not even know about them, and those who do have this knowledge from written sources. It is, however, not fully lost and comes forth in literary texts, as, e.g., in the episode in a historical novel, in which a Muslim administrator in Orchha gets rid of the agonizing itch only after performing a pūjā to Hardaul (Tripāṭhī 1986). In wedding songs, Hardaul’s capacity to manage storm and rain is related to his present function of the marriage god: he is requested to ensure that no storm breaks on the marriage day, so that the marriage procession (barāt) safely reaches the place of the wedding ceremony. Worship of Hardaul in the form of stones connecting his cult to the tribal hero worship in Deccan is another sign of his initial bīr (“hero”) nature. Cattle-­lifters or cattle-­defenders who sacrificed their lives to ensure the main source of existence, i.e., cattle, for their pastoral communities in Maharashtra are depicted on hero-­stones as the central figures in the scenes of their heroic deeds (Sontheimer 2004a: 246). The hero-­stones may be conceived not just as memorials, but as gods (Sontheimer 2004b: 216). A dead person who during his lifetime was known for his good deeds is believed to fulfill a positive ancestral role for the whole village or the community; such dead person is referred to as ṭhākur. Cunningham (1884: 165) noted that Hardaul’s platforms differ from those of ṭhākurs only in that his figure is always placed on them. This, however, is not an unalienable feature of Hardaul’s cabūtrās, and quite a few of them are indistinguishable from cabūtrās of ṭhākurs. On the next level in the hierarchy of local deities are those whose appellation includes the word bābā “father” or “grandfather” (used also as a term of address to a child), e.g., Goṇḍ Bābā, Mehtar Bābā, and a group of deo/dev (e.g., Kāras Deo, Dūlhā Dev), whereas the bīrs seem to have lost their prestige in comparison to their standing as described in the late nineteenth century (Cunningham 1884). With a few exceptions, these deities have no stories of their own and have in principle the same functions as ṭhākurs, but with a larger geographic spread and a broader circle of worshippers. They are requested to protect from all possible calamities, such as diseases, social and financial difficulties, to help in getting a good job, or passing exams. All these cults are possession cults, and Hardaul cult is no exception. His name can even be used, though rarely, in the

82   Tatiana Oranskaia form Hardaul Bābā, in which case bābā substitutes the usual apposition to his name lālā/lallā “darling.” It has to be mentioned that the same apposition, lālā/ lallā and its variant lāl, is applied also to the name of Shri Ram when the maryādā puruṣ “ideal man” is praised as a child or young man before his marriage. Hardaul occupies an exalted position among numerous local deities of Bundelkhand, which he owes, obviously, not only to the moving and tragic story about the injustice done to him and his violent death, but also to his royal origin. His legend is the most complete of Bundelkhand legends (Jain 2002: 81) and his figure is highly personified. More than that, there are temples dedicated to him, which is not the case with most local deities. The cholera god In Sleeman’s Rambles and Recollections, Hardaul’s rise from a malevolent spirit to the god of cholera is ascribed to a historical event. The Indian official, famous for doing away with thugs, but also for his immense store of knowledge about India, relates the story told by a native: [w]hen Lord Hastings took the field against the Pindhārīs, in 1817, and the division of the grand army was near the grove in Bundelkhand, where repose the ashes of Hardaul Lāla, under a small shrine, a cow was taken into this grove to be converted into beef for the use of the Europeans. The priest in attendance remonstrated, but in vain—the cow was killed and eaten. The priest complained, and from that day the cholera morbus broke out in the camp; and from this central point it was, he said, generally understood to have spread all over India. The story of the cow travelled at the same time, and the spirit of Hardaul Lāla was everywhere supposed to be riding in the whirlwind, and directing the storm [italicized in the original]. Temples were everywhere erected, and offerings made to appease him; and in six years after, he [the narrator] had himself seen them as far as Lahore, and in almost every village throughout the whole course of his journey to that distant capital and back. (Sleeman 1915: 162–164) This story, recorded in December 1835 in the vicinity of Sagar, Bundelkhand (Sleeman 1915: 147), clearly speaks about extending and upgrading of the Hardaul cult, at least in Bundelkhand. The statement that it had spread to the whole extent of North India, from Lahore to “the British capital of Calcutta” (1915: 232), might well be a propagandist exaggeration aimed at the elevation of their local god. He is said to be “the new god” who was propitiated to drive away the influenza from Sagar and whose “medical authority” had broadened to include any epidemic disease (1915: 161–162). A discrepancy in the information provided should be noted. The Raja of Datia, Hardaul’s birth place, told Sleeman (1915: 232) that the outbreak of

A Bundela prince who became a deity   83 cholera had happened in Lord Hastings’ camp pitched on the bank of Sindh (obviously, Choti Kali Sindh). According to the story, it should have been the place where “his ashes repose” (1915: 232). At present, however, it is the cabūtrā in the outskirts of Orchha which is considered his samādhi. It is rather far from the Kali Sindh River. Here two explanations would be possible: either a mistake crept in, and the British camp had been pitched not on the Sindh but on the Betwa River, or Orchha had not acquired yet an unchallengeable position as the center of the Hardaul cult. Hardaul had been worshipped in broader territories of Bundelkhand already before the outbreak of cholera in 1817, a historically recorded event (Nelson 2005: 170). Cunningham (1884: 165) reports about Hardaul’s inscribed cabūtrā dated 1779 that he came across near Gwalior. In any case, in the earlier half of the nineteenth century Hardaul, in his new position of an All-­Bundelkhand god, retained the malicious functions of a bīr, although in a strongly extended geographical and social domain, no longer limited to the family and the place where he lived. With a view to the following discussion it should be noted that his worship in these functions was gender-­ neutral. Hardaul as a guardian of the family The word vīr is applied to Hardaul’s name also today, as it was in olden times. However, it no longer means a species of ancestral spirits but is only used in the meaning “a hero.” This semantics reflects the evolution of the image. The first visible change in the character of this figure was due to the strong emphasis on his role as the protector of the family honor. The acquisition of a broader role of the caretaker of brides and a guardian of marriage coincides in the narrative with the point of his transit from the physical to the transcendental world and marks the starting point of his divinizing story. In an analysis, the family honor protected by Hardaul is reducible to the honor of the ladies of the family. As a mortal he sacrifices himself for his bhaujī and, accordingly, for the benefit of his cognate family. After his death he takes care of the central saṃskāra (ritually demarcated life periods) of his filia sororis, thus behaving as a protector of his affine family. The worship of Hardaul in this role takes on a feminine character (Kolff 1990, Jain 2002). Kolff considers this figure in the context of Indian military history. The “spurious” Bundelas provided high-­quality human force for the Indian military labor market. Those men who stayed at home took care of the families, and women were fully dependent on them. Younger brothers-­in-law (devars) provided protection and partly filled—not necessarily sexually—an emotional void for women who seldom enjoyed their husbands’ company. “To the women of the Bundela recruitment areas the thought of Hardaul must have been consoling” (Kolff 1990: 148). The bhābhī/bhaujī devar relationship, which is a broadly spread folklore subject, builds the socio-­ethnological essence of Hardaul’s hagiography. This

84   Tatiana Oranskaia kind of illegitimate love relation is less sharply condemned socially than adultery outside the woman’s conjugal home (Oranskaia 1996). In our case, it is interesting to compare the reaction of both victims to the false accusation of liaison as it is portrayed in a poetic text closely following the folklore stance. ṭhānī hai ṭhān man meṃ av aihī kar hoṃ / devrā ke saṅg bhojan viṣ khāke mar hoṃ // lālā ke binā kaise dhīraj dhar ho / … Hardaul:  jo mar hai mam saṅg meṃ ai bhojāī hamārī / hatau jarūr dār meṃ kārau haṃs haiṃ nar ur nārī // mere tere bīc meṃ dekhan vāle rām / mar jāūṃ viṣ khāyke amar hoygā nām (Śrīvāstav s.a.:15–16) Campāvatī:  I firmly decided to take poison and die together with my younger brother-­in-law // How can I live without my darling / … Hardaul:  If you die together with me, oh my sister-­in-law, men and women will laugh in their houses // Rām sees [the chastity of] our relation. I will take the poison and die and [thus] make my name immortal. Campāvatī: 

Hardaul’s argumentation is clear: the suicide of his bhojāī would be interpreted as sati, the act of the wife’s utmost loyalty to her husband, thus confirming the suspicion of their criminal intimacy. The people would mock them and the honor of the family would be ruined. On the contrary, his death from her hand, as ordered by the brother Raja, would bring him glory as the saver of the family honor. Kolff (1990: 146) refers to a contrary version of this episode in a local history, according to which the Rani took the deathly poison. Heroic features of the cult Hardaul’s sense of honor, duty to kin, and valor did really bring him eternal glory. However, his generally known heroic image obviously does not fit in neatly with the classical concept of heroism (vīrya), such as soldiers, his fellow Bundelkhandis, displayed on the battlefield. The rather narrow scope of his act of manly bravery some day began to be felt as a deficiency, as if the magnitude of his sacrifice were unproportional to its cause. In a folk song, this feeling is related through Hardaul’s own words: “If my brother wished for my death, why did he not let me die in battle?” (Cunningham 1884: 164–165). Another folk song ascribes to him a military career: “You are a Bundela chief of chiefs, in the south your sword has been busy” (Smith 1875: 391). Under the “south” the Deccan region is meant where at the time of Hardaul the Bundelas fought in the military campaigns of Shah Jahan. As these folklore lines imply, it is military exploits that Hardaul’s life story needs in order to round up his ideal portrait. The family as the benefactor of his self-­sacrifice had to be substituted with a broader body of people. In a historical perspective, the core group is the people of Orchha. However, a still broader dimension is aspired for Hardaul. To this end, the romantic drama of his death has acquired features of a heroic ballad. The local historiography has picked up and further developed the vague folklore hints at his valiant character. The figure

A Bundela prince who became a deity   85 of lālā, “a darling,” a young man, almost a boy, who was the utmost support of his bhaujī and did his best to brighten up her life in the absence of his elder brother, has undergone a basic change. The core plot of the legend is extended through episodes in which Hardaul appears as a political and military leader, ready to fight for Orchha’s independence from the Mughal rule. He is portrayed as the person who in every respect is best qualified to lead his folk in battle for the utmost values of the nation, for the interests of the common people, and protection of the Hindu dharma (Gaur 2006/2007: 20). This bellicose character has masculine features that transgress the contours of the figure worshipped as the guardian of women, the embodiment of power fulfilling the main wish of their life: the wish to have a good husband and a happy married life. The qualities of a political leader and military general neutralize the feminine bias of Hardaul’s worship as the marriage god. In this revised image he is the protector of his people. It is another case in which Hardaul’s cult has crossed the family and village domain to acquire all-­Bundelkhand dimensions. This image is also more appropriate from the point of view of the Kshatriya dharma. The Kshatriya dharma Let us consider Hardaul’s behavior in the light of dharmic ideas. Here, the notion of dharma as expounded by Hacker (2006), distinguishing its moral and religious aspect, would be convenient. Hardaul’s choice of death as the only way to save the family honor presents a case of a fusion of both constituents. The Kshatriya dharma includes the concept of heroism that Michaels (2006: 300) defines as a Kshatriya religious form and implies a strongly developed heroic ethos, code of honor, and emphasis on martyrdom. Military merit is naturally connected to it and rewarded: soldiers who perished on the battlefield go to heaven by the “heroes’ way” (vīr-mārga or vīrya-mārga), which expresses the typical qualities of the Kshatriya (Guénon 2004: 67). Kollf ’s (1990: 149) suggestion that Hardaul was a typical Rajput god according to the denotation of the dharma of young soldiers needs a partial reconsideration. The martial character of vīr Hardaul is a result of a later development. The political will informing Hardaul’s image aims at creating a figure that would symbolize the national idea of independence, as can be easily induced from various modern scenarios of Hardaul’s life as the minister and his death. The most telling among them is Gaur’s version (2006/2007: 11–22; compare above “The legend of Hardaul”). Hardaul’s legendary readiness to self-­sacrifice enrooted in the consciousness of Bundelkhand people provided a perfect ground for the development of this image. The features of the moral code are interconnected with self-­sacrifice, productive, as a sacrificial act, of religious merit (cf. Wezler 2009: 209). Self-­sacrifice plays an immense role not only in Hardaul’s story, but also in the construction of the initial Bundela history. Its beginning is placed in a mythological time, when a young prince, expelled by his elder brothers from the kingdom of their late

86   Tatiana Oranskaia father, decided in despair to sacrifice himself to the goddess Vindhyavāsinī. She, however, did not let him cut his head off and stopped his hand as soon as the first drop (būṃd) of his blood appeared. From this drop of blood she created a boy, the first Bund-­ela (Crooke 1896: 163). The myth thus provides a folk etymology explaining the clan name, which can be translated as “drop-­ler,” and, more importantly, the story of the clan’s genealogical beginning that, according to Elliot (1845: 114), “has been made to cover the disgrace of a humble origin.” The Kshatriya dharma was a strong factor in the political entrepreneurship of the Bundelas (Busch 2011: 31). Personal and family honor (pat/pati) seems to be its most powerful moral component. These noble notions determined the eventually disastrous political and military activities of Jujhar Singh whose utmost goal was “[t]o reassert the position of the Bundela clan in imperial affairs and in particular the primacy of the Orchha gaddī over the upstart gaddīs of his cousin and brother at Chanderi and Datiya” (Kolff 1990: 139). Tribal features of the Hardaul cult Some features of the Hardaul cult point to its connection to tribal cultural and religious forms of Central India and Deccan. Among them are stone worship, the obviously tribal origin of the Hardaul signs, and possession cult as a more general characteristic uniting local (grāmdevatā) and tribal cults (Padma 2013: 195). Balfour (1871: 367) listed Hardal (in this form!) as the cholera god of the Gonds and mentioned that Kurku “style him Lala Hardal.”

Conclusion The analysis along the chronological and the functional axis led to distinguishing three time-­layers in the development of Hardaul’s cult. There is certain continuity between them rooted in the underlying ancestral character of the worship. Hardaul was early enough, if not directly after his death, distinguished from the faceless mass of ancestors through an intensive personalization process. His earliest appearance among the dead was, owing to his violent death, in the form of a bīr. As is typical of this class of ghosts, he controlled storms and diseases. The outbreak of cholera in 1817, for which he was held responsible, seems to have significantly contributed to the spread of his cult. The second period in the worship of Hardaul is marked by a shift in the nature of the cult: strong personification is accompanied by a positive change in his character, which might be a result of a clash between the idea of bīrs as malicious spirits and the drive to deify him. Whatever forces might have desired his further elevation, he has transformed into a benevolent ancestor. There is unfortunately no historical evidence pointing to the time when Hardaul’s chivalrous self-­sacrifice in the name of the family honor became the core plot both in the hagiography and the mythological part of his legend. Both situations revolve around the women of the family who directly benefit from Hardaul’s noble deeds. In the hagiography it is his bhaujī, Rani Campāvatī, in the posthumous

A Bundela prince who became a deity   87 mythological plot these are his sister Kuñjāvatī and her daughter who is to be married off. Hardaul is wholeheartedly ready to sacrifice himself for the moral values; however, he anticipates eternal fame for himself as a reward. The hero’s fame is so important that the folk fantasy lets him attend, as a ghost, Padishah Akbar and tell the greatest Mughal ruler to have Hardaul’s cabūtrās erected, so that people of Bundelkhand worship him. Hardaul’s behavior and its motives reflect the concept of the Kshatriya– Rajput dharma. The ethical thrust of the story is that Hardaul as a devar, a brother of a woman and an uncle of a young bride fulfills his masculine duties prescribed by the social norms. The idealization of Hardaul’s figure was a necessary requisite for his elevation to the role of the marriage god taking care of the central saṃskāra and the main event in the life of a woman. At present, this gender-­loaded worship is the most popular content of the Hardaul cult. The cult has entered and is going through a new phase of development. Hardaul’s mortal image has acquired military and political features that stronger underline the role of the Kshatriya dharma in his portrait. At the same time, they neutralize the female focus of his cult, converting it into a cult of a “hero” in the basic meaning of the word. The hero worship is connected, as also in the first period, to Hardaul’s ancestral functions. Starting, obviously, from the end of the first period (the cholera god), these functions transcend the scope of his family and embrace the whole territory of Bundelkhand. More than that, in the Bundelkhand historical narrative Hardaul is claimed to have been worshipped all over India as the cholera god, whereas modern local historiography ascribes him all-­India fame of a heroic fighter for the country’s Independence. The latter perspective emphasizes his political and military exploits in the earthly life, which can serve as a good ground for a further spread of this cult on the basis of its protective ancestral function. Hardaul’s cult definitely has this potential.

References Balfour, E. ed. 1871. Cyclopaedia of India and of Eastern and Southern Asia, Commercial, Industrial and Scientific. 2nd ed. Vol. II. Madras: Printed at the Asylum, the Scottish and Foster Presses. Busch, A. 2011. Poetry of Kings: The Classical Hindi Literature of Mughal India. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Crooke, W. 1896. The Tribes and Castes of the North-­Western Provinces and Oudh. Vol. II. Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing. Crooke, W. 1926. The Popular Religion and Folk-­Lore of Northern India. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cunningham, A. 1884. Report on a Tour in the Central Provinces and Lower Gangetic Doab in 1881–82. Vol. XVI. Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing.  Elliot, H. M. 1845. Supplement to the Glossary of Indian Terms: A–J. Agra: E. H. Longden, printed at the Secundra Orphan Press. https://archive.org/details/supplement toglo00elligoog.

88   Tatiana Oranskaia Gaur, L. S. 2006/2007/Vikram Samvat 2063. Orchā kā itihās/A History of Orchha. Orchā dhām: Ṭhākur L. S. Gaur. Guénon, R. 2004. Studies in Hinduism. Engl. trans. H. Fohr and C. Bethell. Hillsdale, NY: Sophia Perennis. Hacker, P. 2006 [1965]. “Dharma in Hinduism.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 34 no. 5: 479–496. DOI: 10.1007/s10781-006-9002-4. Jain, R. K. 2002. Between History and Legend: Status and Power in Bundelkhand. Hyderabad: Orient Longman Pvt. Ltd. Kolff, D. H. A. 1990. Naukar, Rajput and Sepoy: The Ethnohistory of the Military Labour Market in Hindustan, 1450–1850. (Oriental Publications). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Michaels, A. 2006. Der Hinduismus: Geschichte und Gegenwart. München: C. H. Beck. Nelson, P. D. 2005. Francis Rawdon-­Hastings, Marquees of Hastings: Soldier, Peer of the Realm, Governor-­General of India. Madison, Teaneck: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press. Oranskaia, T./Оранская, Т. 1996. “Невестки и девери/Brothers’ Wives and Husband’s Brothers.” Indian Wife, ed. I. Glushkova. Moscow: Vostochnaya Literatura. 142–160. Orchha Gazetteer. 1995. Gazetteer of India. Eastern States Gazetteer (Bundel Khand). Orchha State. (Repr. of the first edition 1907). Vol. VI-­A. Bhopal: Gazetteers Unit, Directorate of Rajbhasha and Culture. Padma, S. 2013. Vicissitudes of the Goddess: Reconstructions of the Gramadevata in India’s Religious Traditions. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Richards, J. F. 1995. The Mughal Empire. (The New Cambridge History of India, I.5). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Siṃh, P. 2009. Bundelkhaṇḍ kā itihās/A History of Bundelkhand. sam./Ed. B. S. Parmar. Chatarpur: Siṃh K.P. Sleeman, W. H. 1915 [1844]. Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official. Revised annotated ed. V. A. Smith. London: Oxford University Press. Smith, V. A. 1875. “Popular Songs of the Hamirpur District in Bundelkhand, N. W. Provinces.” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal XLIV no. IV: 389–392. https://archive. org/stream/journalofasiat4411875asia#page/n5/mode/2up. Sontheimer, G.-D. 2004a [1982]. “Hero- and Satī-Stones of Maharashtra.” Essays on Religion, Literature and Law, eds. H. Brückner, A. Feldhaus, and A. Malik. New Delhi: Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts and Manohar. 243–304.  Sontheimer, G.-D. 2004b [1982]. “On the Memorials to the Dead in the Tribal Areas of Central India.” Essays on Religion, Literature and Law, eds. H. Brückner, A. Feldhaus, and A. Malik. New Delhi: Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts and Manohar. 213–242. Śrīvāstav, B. s.a. phāg sundar śikṣā urf hardaul caritr. s.l., s.e. Tod, J. 1920 [1829 (vol. 1), 1832 (vol. 2)]. Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan or the Central and Western Rajpoot States of India, ed. with an Introduction and Notes by William Crooke. In three vols. London: Humphrey Milford Oxford University Press. https://archive.org/stream/annalsantiquitie01todj. Tripāṭhī, Ś. K. 1986. Hardaul kī yaśgāthā/The Story of Hardaul. Jhansi: Ś. K. Tripāṭhī. Wezler, A. 2009. “Dharma in the Veda and the Dharmaśāstras.” Dharma: Studies in its Semantic, Cultural and Religious History, ed. P. Olivelle. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. 207–232.

6 Divinizing “on demand”? Kanyā pūjā in Himachal Pradesh, North India Brigitte Luchesi

In Hinduism there is no clear dividing line between the divine and human realms. Gods may be imagined as looking and behaving like humans and humans may be deified and worshipped like gods. Most widespread is the divinizing of ancestors, in particular women called satīs, who agreed to be cremated along with their deceased husbands. But living persons, too, may be thought of and treated as divine beings. Relevant examples are respected gurus and persons who are believed to be possessed by a deity. Another case in point which I will present in this contribution is the worship of young females who are said to embody goddesses (devīs). This worship, most often called kanyā pūjā, is practiced all over India as well as in neighboring Nepal (see e.g., for Bengal, Foulston and Abott 2009: 166, 225ff.; Rodrigues 2005: 87; for Nepal, Allen 1975). I will restrict myself, however, to the forms prevalent in the southern parts of the North Indian state of Himachal Pradesh, which I have regularly visited during the last three decades. The term kanyā pūjā already indicates to whom the worship (pūjā) is directed: to kanyās. The word kanyā—or kanyak, the local variant—usually refers to an unmarried, prepubescent girl, but has a much wider range of meanings (Khare 1982: 149‒153). Alternatively the word kumārī may be used. In most cases it is not a single kanyā but two, three, and more girls, who on certain occasions are made to represent devīs and to receive the respectful services and gifts intended to please a particular goddess or group of goddesses. Kanyā pūjā is a type of worship which may be performed on a number of occasions. Its performance is appropriate at all goddess festivals, especially during the two grand ones in autumn and spring called Navarātra. Apart from these it can be carried out whenever there is the wish to honor and thank a goddess. As regards the setting, two types of kanyā pūjā can be distinguished, one taking place in public, the other being a rather private affair. The former can be found at goddess temples where on festival days kanyās make themselves available to visitors who wish to perform this pūjā. Privately done kanyā pūjās may occur at the same festive occasions, but differ from the temple version insofar as the selected girls are usually known to the worshippers. Most kanyā pūjās performed outside the Navarātra festivals take place in private.

90   Brigitte Luchesi I will give a short description of both forms, the public and private, before discussing the process of divinizing young girls and other aspects which seem important in this connection. I will start with the public ones because it is comparatively easy to observe and document them. Moreover, the public arena where they take place is often the stage for simultaneous performances or for several performances following each other in rapid succession.

Kanyā pūjā in Himachal Pradesh Public kanyā pūjās at temples As already said, prime days for public kanyā pūjās in Himachal Pradesh are the two last days of Navarātra, the nine days (literally “nights”) of Goddess veneration in March/April (Caitra) and in September/October (Āśvina). The southern part of Himachal Pradesh is the home of several famous Devī temples, among them the Jvālā Mukhī temple in Tehsil Dera Gopipur, the Brajeśvarī temple in the town of Kangra, and the Cāmuṇḍā Mandir near Dadh. Not only do local devotees visit them but they attract masses of pilgrims from Uttar Pradesh, Punjab, and Haryana as well. Especially during the Navarātra great numbers of people attach importance to darśan, the auspicious sight of the image of the presiding Devi in the interior of the temple, and to ending their temple visit with honoring the Goddess in the form of girls. Kanyā pūjā may be performed on each of the nine days, but mahāṣṭamī, the eighth day, and the day following it are usually given preference. After having paid obeisance to the main goddess of the temple, worshippers who wish to perform kanyā pūjā look for suitable girls. Usually a selection of girls is around on these days, ready to participate in the pūjā. Some may be daughters of temple priests, but most are girls from places nearby (cf. Erndl 1993: 73). At the Cāmuṇḍā temple children from the village of Dadh seem to have required first rights. They usually form a group of about ten girls between four and twelve years old, led by the elder girls and accompanied by two or three boys. They are to be found in the temple courtyard, which can be reached without entering the main temple hall, always on the lookout for visitors in search of kanyās. As soon as they spot possible devotees they come running, trying to make them chose all of them. The temple guards usually do not interfere and give them full rein. Beside this group of children there are also individuals accompanied by their mothers. The most auspicious number of girls on the eighth and ninth day is eight or nine—in accordance with the day’s number. In nearly all cases a small boy is chosen in addition. He is called lonkṛu or länkṛa in the local dialect, which may be translated as “very small boy.” Hershman (1977: 279, fn. 17) gives the meaning of Panjabi lankṛā as “male virgin.” People understand him as a sort of protector (rakṣak) or “bodyguard” and compare his role with that of Bhairava or Hanuman, who in Hindu mythology are often described as protectors of a goddess and visually presented in this role, as, for example, on the popular posters of Goddess Vaiṣṇo Devī.

Kanyā pūjā in Himachal Pradesh   91 As soon as the appropriate number of children is chosen they are made to sit in a row or a circle, after which the pūjā will immediately start. The following description is based on a pūjā which took place at the Cāmuṇḍā temple on mahāṣṭamī, April 2014. It was performed by a couple from Sidhpur, a town about 7 kilometers away. The husband, a schoolteacher, was the main worshipper. His wife, who carried their small son, stayed on the side and passed him the various items for the different steps of the worship. The couple chose eight girls and one boy from the Dadh group, allowing several others to join when food and money was distributed. The husband started the pūjā by bringing water from the pond, which he ritually purified by dropping flowers into it and waving incense over it. He then sprinkled the water on the feet of the eight girls and their “protector,” which is the recognized way of ritually washing them. • • • • • •

He continued by spreading a long scarf of thin red cloth (cunnī) over their heads. He then placed a colorful coated paper plate in front of each girl; on this he put a set of red glass bangles, followed in the next round by a red beaded string to be used as a necklace. He continued by applying a dot (ṭīkā) of red powder (sindūr) to the foreheads of the children, after which he fastened a red thread around their wrists. The next step consisted of serving four types of food to the children: homemade cakes of unleavened bread (capātī), a sweet mash (halvā), seasoned chickpeas (canā), and a banana. After having eaten, each of the children received a coin. Finally the man covered his head with a handkerchief, bent down and reverently touched the feet of the girls, who in turn slapped his back with their right hands. His wife followed suit; she also made her small son touch the feet of the girls. Immediately afterwards the children got up and left the place.

Not all of the kanyā pūjās that can be observed at the Devī temples in Kangra and neighboring districts are as detailed as the one described. The simplest form is to distribute some sweets and a few coins followed by the touching of the girl’s feet. Although it takes only a few minutes this short version contains the three most important acts: presenting food and a gift and paying respect. The responding acts on the part of the kanyās, namely slapping the backs of the devotees or touching their heads, are understood as gestures of blessing. This abbreviated form of a kanyā pūjā seems to be chosen when devotees come unprepared and decide on the spot to add it to the other devotional practices in honor of the goddess. Those who have made up their mind in advance are in most cases well equipped with food and gifts. Cooked food is usually prepared at home whereas the gifts are often bought just before entering the temple premises in the adjoining bazaars. Red veils are available in nearly all of the shops there. Aside or instead of bangles various other small items may be chosen: red

92   Brigitte Luchesi ribbons, bindīs (small forehead ornaments), henna, combs, hairclips, a small mirror, handkerchiefs, and all sorts of necklaces. All these things are considered suitable gifts for female deities, especially when they are bright red. It is not even necessary to pick up the different gifts separately as many merchants offer ready assortments in transparent bags, locally called suhāgī. With regard to the way food is served, there are several possibilities. The simplest is to put it directly into the outstretched hands of the children. Often leaf plates and small leaf bowls are used as containers, as it is traditionally done at weddings and communal meals. Lately it has become a fashion to serve the food on paper plates or even fancy colored plastic ones which the children may take home. With regard to the money gifts I observed that in many cases notes have replaced coins, usually ten-­rupee notes. The behavior of the children who are the receivers of the afore-­mentioned gifts and acts of respect is not uniform. Some may sit quietly and submit passively to the wishes and actions of the devotees but not all of them are so compliant. Many kanyā pūjās at temples lack the ceremonial note I would have expected from devotional acts in these surroundings. Some of the girls who hold themselves in readiness—primarily the elder ones and group leaders—display quite a businesslike attitude. They try to get as many “turns” as possible, show signs of restlessness if the procedure takes too long for their taste, check the gifts quite critically, and do not hide the fact that they are mainly interested in the money. This behavior is especially noticeable on the last Navarātra days when the demand for kanyās is highest. These are also the days when mothers or elder brothers bring their small daughters or sisters to the temple and make them sit with the more experienced girls. Privately performed kanyā pūjās The private type of kanyā pūjā is normally less conspicuous than the ones at temples as it is most often performed inside the homes. For many families in Himachal kanyā pūjā plays, as also the temple ritual, an important part on the concluding days of the Navarātra, either on the eighth or the ninth day. In some cases kanyā pūjā is carried out as an adjunct to a full Navarātra pūjā which includes not only special ritual observances for the entire period of the festival days but also food restrictions (vrata) for the main devotee—most often the lady of the house—for the same duration. In this vrata plays a significant role, as also on other occasions of Hindu religious and private life (see Pearson 1996: 138–148). But a full vrata is not the precondition of a private kanyā pūjā. The majority of these pūjās seem to be independent devotional acts. They are performed because these days are believed to be particularly favorable for approaching Goddess Durga. It should be noted, however, that families who recently had a death in their midst and are therefore barred from worship for a certain period have to omit kanyā pūjā too. Menstruating women will also have to refrain from it.

Kanyā pūjā in Himachal Pradesh   93 The sequence of a privately done pūjā is basically the same as the one performed in the temple courtyard. It can be more or less elaborate, and the number of girls may vary between two and eleven. To give an example: on the ninth day of the spring Navarātra 2015 Kusum and her husband, a couple in their thirties, prepared for kanyā pūjā. They called seven children to their house which is near to Kusum’s paternal home. Present were also their twelve­year-old only son Munnu and Kusum’s mother. The eldest kanyā was Kusum’s brother’s daughter, the youngest the small daughter of Kusum’s paternal cousin-­brother. Four other girls and a boy came from Nepali families living close by. The children were assembled on the veranda where Kusum’s husband helped his son wash their feet. Afterwards they were seated in a row on the floor of the front room. Munnu was told to start the pūjā by applying a ṭīkā on their forehead. His father then tied a red thread to the children’s left wrists. The next task of spreading red veils on their heads again fell to Munnu. Kusum and her mother, who had busied themselves in the adjoining kitchen, appeared with fancy paper plates, which they put in front of the children, each filled with food: freshly fried bread, halvā, and chickpeas. There was also a suhāgī bag containing bangles, a handkerchief, red bindīs, and a ten-­rupee note. Kusum’s husband then touched the feet of the children, followed by Munnu, Kusum, and her mother. The children responded by touching the devotees’ heads. Then they finished their meal and left. Inviting children from related or neighboring families is the usual practice in the case of a private kanyā pūjā. When there are not enough girls available, children from a nearby school or similar institution may be called. The shortage of eligible girls in the neighborhood is often the reason for performing the pūjā at a temple with unknown girls. As already mentioned there are a number of occasions other than the Navarātra for privately performed kanyā pūjās, as for instance the inauguration of a newly built house or a shop, the completion of the sequence of marriage ceremonies, or any other life cycle celebrations, including the conclusion of the mourning period for a deceased family member. Generally speaking, all kinds of religious functions on auspicious occasions as well as successfully accomplished wows (vratas) may be finalized by a kanyā pūjā.

The divinizing of young girls The process of divinizing From the above descriptions it will have become clear that kanyā pūjās are devotional acts which cannot take place without young girls. The aim of the pūjā is to please and pay respect to a goddess, most often to Goddess Durga or Lakshmi Devi, the goddess of happiness, prosperity, and wellbeing. Young girls are made to represent these devīs and to receive the material as well as immaterial offerings in lieu of them. Considered to be the representatives of the goddess in question, the girls turn into objects of worship as well. Like other cult images and

94   Brigitte Luchesi objects of worship they are believed to be charged with the presence of the deities which the devotees wish to approach and honor. This understanding is given expression in the various acts and gestures on the part of the worshippers. The ritual services (upacāras), which generally characterize a pujā, are often likened to those found in encounters between servants and their masters or between hosts and high-­ranking guests. They may be interpreted as gestures of humility and respect but also—as Diana Eck (1985: 47) has pointed out—as gestures of affection. The number of upacāras in a pūjā varies according to place and occasion. The sequence of sixteen, which is often given as the number for a complete pūjā (Falk 2005: 83; Bühnemann 1988: 102ff.), includes the invocation (āvāhana) of the deity, the offering of a seat (āsana), the presentation of water for washing the feet (pādya), refreshing (arghya), sipping (ācamanīya), and bathing (snāna), and the offering of garments (vastra), flowers (puṣpa), food (naivedya), and light in the form of a burning lamp (dīpa). Decisive among the final acts is the bowing or prostrating before the image to pay homage (namaskāra/praṇāma), after which the deity is dismissed (visarjana). Looking at the sequences in a kanyā pūja we may discern a number of these upacāras or “honor-­offerings,” as Eck calls them, as well. The children are seated comfortably, in the homes often on special cushions. Their feet are washed, at temples mostly by only sprinkling them with consecrated water, in homes by washing them thoroughly under a tap or in a washbasin. Offering a basin with water and washing the feet of guests and elders is a deferential service still prevalent in traditional peasant houses in the Kangra valley. Spreading a veil over the heads of the girls signifies dressing, and providing necklaces, bangles, bindīs, and various beautifying articles aims at creating an appearance which is considered beautiful and auspicious. Sometimes small flowers or petals are sprinkled on top of the veils, which corresponds to the puṣpa sequence in other pūjās. As already pointed out, the offering of food plays an especially important part. In most cases great care is taken to give a tasty and well-­prepared meal and to serve it in a pleasing way. The whole sequence is concluded by bowing down and touching the feet of the children—a gesture of utmost respect and humility in Indian culture. To accomplish it one has to bend one’s most exalted body part—the head—toward the lowest part of the person opposite and to bring one’s hand in actual contact with this part. Men are supposed to also cover their head, which emphasizes the importance of this act even more. Female devotees normally do not need to remember this rule as most of them adhere to the practice prevalent among North Indian women of covering their head when visiting a temple or doing pūjā. The more traditional among them follow this practice in everyday life, too, especially when in the presence of elders and respected persons. The kanyās correspond to this greeting by slapping the devotee’s back or touching his or her head. Both gestures are understood as forms of blessing. They seem to replace the prasāda (literally “boon,” “blessing”), which is usually distributed at the end of a pūjā and which consists of the food items offered to the deity earlier. This contact with the divine is believed to have beneficial effects on the recipient. All the forms of homage that can be observed in a kanyā

Kanyā pūjā in Himachal Pradesh   95 pūjā resemble those paid to cult images made of stone or other non-­human material. In performing the different steps of the pūjā, respect as well as love for the venerated goddesses find expression: the respect through gestures of humility, the love and desire to please through acts of gift giving. By means of these honor-­offerings the kanyās are divinized. They are perceived to be devīs themselves. While emphasizing the striking similarities in the ways cult images— especially those in temples—and the kanyās in question are treated, it should not be overlooked that there are important differences. Temple images have to be properly installed which implies that they have to undergo extensive consecration ceremonies (see, e.g., Eck 1985: 51–55). Only after these have been completed are they considered appropriate receptacles for divine powers. They usually retain this property until a new consecration is thought necessary. In the case of the kanyās, however, there are no ceremonies of this kind. Once chosen, the girls are immediately eligible for worship. The other difference is that the span of their divine state is limited. It lasts only as long as the pūjā takes place. When the worship is finished the extraordinary temporary state of the kanyās as cult images comes to an end, too. Because of this I would group them with the various temporary cult images or impermanent objects of worship one can find in Hindu religious tradition. (I used the term “temporary cult images” coined by James Preston (1985: 10) in an earlier publication (Luchesi 1995).) Like the Durga images in Bengal which are made exclusively for the Daśahrā celebrations and dismantled afterwards, or the elaborate tableaux vivants (jhāṅkīs) of gods displayed at certain religious festivals in Kangra (Luchesi 2014), kanyās are required only for specific occasions and only for a limited length of time. What distinguishes them from the other impermanent objects of worship is the fact that they can be made use of whenever they are needed. No special preparations are necessary. They are as it were ready on demand—always provided there are girls in reach who consent to participate. The short time span of the actual divinization distinguishes the girls in question from the well-­known royal Kumārīs in Central Nepal who are considered living goddesses as long as they are in a prepubescent state. But apart from the veneration of these living goddesses, the practice of kanyā pūjā in the form described here is also known in Nepal. As Gutschow and Michaels (2008: 152) point out, it is sometimes performed on a very large scale, as for instance in Banepa, where in the month of Śrāvaṇa “hundreds of girls will line up in the main street to receive offerings such as rice, sweets or small gifts.” The choice of young girls Only young girls are chosen to participate in kanyā pūjās. The ideal age given by several informants lies between two and ten to twelve years. This corresponds to the age specifications given in entries on kanyā pūjā to be found on the internet (drik Panchang 2015).

96   Brigitte Luchesi Why is it that girls are considered to be most suited to represent goddesses? Why not, for instance, adolescents or grown-­up women? After all, there is the notion of an inherent connection between the goddess and women in Hindu religious culture, expressed most clearly in the often quoted verses from the eulogy to the goddess, the Devī-Māhātmya: “All the (various) knowledges, O Goddess, are portions of you, (as is) each and every woman in the various worlds” (trans. Coburn 1988: 299). The answers to these questions that I received from various informants living in the Kangra area were unanimous: because the young girls are śuddh. This term has a number of meanings (Malinar 2010). First of all it refers to ritual purity, but it may also emphasize sincerity in the sense of innocence and simplicity. The virginal state of young girls before menarche is seen as intrinsically pure. Being prepubescent and unmarried they are not yet affected by impurity which—so the widespread belief—comes about by menstruation as well as by sexual activities connected with marriage. Both are considered to pollute and render women impure (aśuddh) for certain periods. Pollution of this kind prevents them from entering temples or approaching the deities in private forms of worship. Young virgin girls, however, are at no time inhibited by these restrictions. Neither are they expected to touch the feet of their elders or of the family priest as observed by Jonathan Parry (1979: 147), who also noticed an “aura of sanctity which surrounds all prepubescent girls.” In addition to being pure, young female children are thought of as simple and honest. Particularly very young kanyās who are not yet fully aware whom they are personifying in a pūjā are preferred for worship. People love to have very small girls—between three and five—for a kanyā pūjā. They enjoy adorning and feeding the tiny devīs, and it seems that they derive quite an emotional satisfaction from doing it. Some descriptions of kanyā pūjās to be found on the internet advise devotees with particular requests to choose the girls from a particular caste group (varṇa): if, for instance, knowledge is desired, a Brahman girl should be worshipped, if power is wished for, a Kṣatriya girl, and if wealth and prosperity are the aim, a girl from a Vaiśya family. A Śūdra girl is recommended if someone wants to attain tantrik power (“Kanya Puja”). This sort of caste differentiation seems to be unknown in the Kangra area although considerations of descent and jāti affiliation in the choice of girls are not altogether absent. They come into play in privately performed kanyā pūjās. As explained above, girls are most often chosen from neighboring or related families which—as an outcome of the local settlement pattern—usually belong to the same descent group and jāti as the worshippers or to a jāti which is considered to be of roughly the same standing. The caste background of the kanyās found at the temples, however, does not appear to matter. Priests at the temple in Jvālā Mukhī and the one in the town of Kangra told me that children of all castes but the lowest are eligible for kanyā pūjās in the temple courtyards. To my knowledge children are not asked to which jāti they belong so that no girl belonging to one of the four varṇa is actually barred from taking part. I saw Bihari and Rajasthani women from the work camps near Dharamsala on the last very busy Navarātra days at the Cāmuṇḍā temple who

Kanyā pūjā in Himachal Pradesh   97 made their daughters mingle with the local girls. I mentioned this to several people who suspected the women belonged to a low jāti but said they did not mind. It would be a good thing to give food and presents to these poor people, too. Whether Dalits, previously called Untouchables, take part as kanyās at this temple, I am not able to say. However, kanyās at the famous Haḍimbā temple near Manali belong to the Dalit community of Dhungri where the temple is situated. They receive food and money from visitors of all ranks. In the bazaar lanes leading to the Goddess temple in Kangra town small girls covered with red and golden veils attract attention. Although they are arranged in the posture of a blessing goddess nobody will call them for a kanyā pūjā. The coins they receive are seen as alms given to a needy person.

Reasons for performing kanyā pūjā One of the topics which repeatedly came up in discussions about kanyā pūjā concerned the reasons for performing it. How come it is so popular? Why is it done and what is to be gained by it? Some people simply refer to the antiquity of the practice; they would do it because their forefathers did it. Kanyā pūjā indeed seems quite an old phenomenon. The British administration officer H. A. Rose mentions it in his Glossary of the Tribes and Castes of the Punjab from 1919 (1980: 327): “Devī is personified in a girl under ten years twice a year and offerings are made to her as if to the goddess on these occasions.” In a footnote he then quotes an even older report: “Special feasts are given to little girls twice a year and they are given fees, as if they were Brahmans” (n. 3, referring to Punjab Notes & Queries/P.N.Q., III, § 416). Interested in the more recent past, I asked a number of middle-­aged and elderly women, whether they had been kanyās in their childhood. It turned out that many—especially Brahman and Rājpūt women—participated in or witnessed kanyā pūjās when they were small. Remembering the occasions often brought happy smiles to their faces. Younger women, too, reacted similarly, as for instance twenty-­two-year-­old Priyanka, who said: “I felt wonderful. It was so great having my father touch my feet and giving me nice presents.” But the most frequent answers concerning the reasons for doing this pūjā were that it is a good thing to do. It is śubh “auspicious” and pleases the Goddess, as also Erndl (1993: 73) reports. Moreover, it may have positive effects on those who perform it: “It is good to give.” The auspiciousness of kanyā pūjā There are several possibilities to render śubh into English; all of them have a clearly positive connotation. As a noun it may translate as “auspiciousness,” “good fortune,” “welfare,” “happiness,” “bliss,” “beauty,” “charm,” “prosperity,” and as an adjective as “auspicious,” “lucky,” “favorable,” “good,” whereas its counterpart aśubh indeed connotes the exact opposite: “misfortune,” “calamity,” “evil,” or something being “inauspicious,” “unlucky,” “sinister”

98   Brigitte Luchesi (McGregor 1995: 953, 66; Narayanan 2010: 694). When people call kanyā pūjā “śubh” they want to emphasize that it is a particularly auspicious act which is bound to bring about positive outcomes. The auspiciousness of the act is tightly linked with the effects it is believed to have on the goddess in question. Worshipping her in the form of young girls is thought to be especially pleasing to her; it is certain to make her happy. A happy goddess in turn would be inclined toward the devotee, ready to give her blessings. Positively disposed in this way, she is said to grant whichever wish is brought before her and to remove all the difficulties which burden the devotee. The hoped for final results of the pūjā— happiness, wellbeing, prosperity—are in themselves manifestations of auspiciousness. Doing something auspicious may bring forth auspiciousness. Auspiciousness has to be guarded against its ever-­threatening opponent: inauspiciousness. It therefore needs to be strengthened or “cultivated,” as Vasudha Narayanan calls it, by seizing “the opportunity, when the potential for success and happiness is present, to make it work for the individual or community” (2010: 695). In case of the kanyā pūjās during the spring and autumn Navarātra the preconditions are particularly auspicious. Not only do they take place during the two most important Goddess festivals, the timing of these festivals is equally significant. They are always celebrated during the “bright” part of the lunar months, i.e., in the period of the waning moon, which is considered the positive, favorable part. Regarding the event itself, it is primarily the employment of pure virgins that makes it “śubh.” The things used in worship and presented to the kanyās connote auspiciousness as well. Red scarves stand for the full outfit of a bride, a most “śubh” person, and the different adornments like bindīs, bangles, necklaces, mirrors, and combs are things usually given to or exchanged between married women as tokens of their auspicious marital state (suhāg). Being not only a suhāgin, the wife of a living husband, but also a mother of children is generally considered the most favorable state a woman can acquire. The little gifts exchanged are signifiers of this state and in an extended sense also of auspiciousness as such. In the context of kanyā pujās they seem to serve the latter function. In addition they may be understood as appropriate means to worship the goddess in her familiar two aspects, as virgin and as mother (Hershman 1977). Finally, attention should be paid to the soaked and spiced canā (chickpeas) fed to the kanyās and often to bystanders, too. Chickpeas prepared this way are a specialty distributed among female family members and neighbors at the end of all occasions which are considered śubh, be it a joint singing session of devotional songs or other religious events jointly undertaken. Gift giving and earning merit “It is good to give” or “It makes you feel happy to be able to give” are answers I frequently got in response to my questions why kanyā pūjā is done and why something should be given to the chosen girls. It is obvious that the presenting of gifts plays an important role in this pūjā. Food, money, and a variety of other things change hands. What is interesting in this context is that the things flow in

Kanyā pūjā in Himachal Pradesh   99 only one direction, from devotee to kanyās. The girls do not reciprocate in kind. In this the gifts closely resemble the religiously motivated ones (dāna) given to Brahmans at the end of rituals which they have performed for a donor. Rose must have followed the same train of thought when he included the above quoted sentence about girls, who “are given fees, as if they were Brahmans” into his report published in the 1880s in Punjab Notes and Queries (cited in Rose 1980 [1919]: 327, n. 3). The scholarly literature on the Brahmanic legal theory of the gift is extensive, and a general informative discussion on forms of religious gift giving in South Asia is provided by Heim (2004). As a full discussion would be out of place in this short contribution, I will restrict myself to two quotations from Axel Michaels’ book Hinduism: Past and Present (2003: 197): “The receiver of a Dāna may give nothing in return except religious merit (puṇya)” and “A Dāna should be given mainly in a generous spirit, without regarding or speculating on the advantage or utility” (198). In my understanding the gifts given in kanyā pūjās, especially the money gift at the very end of the worship, are forms of dāna. They are offered to please the receiver, i.e., the goddess in the form of kanyās, but also to acquire puṇya “religious merit.” When people say “It is good to give,” they are referring to the emotional satisfying act of giving as well as to the hoped-­for immaterial outcome. A special reaction and show of gratitude on the part of the girls is not expected; they are understood as the more or less passive receivers of the gifts in lieu of the goddess in whose honor the pūjā is performed. This may also explain the generally lenient attitude toward those business-­minded girls in the public pūjās I mentioned earlier. Looking at the transaction from their point of view, the gifts may appear their rightful share: Is it not true that they render a favor, if not a valuable service, to the givers? More important than their behavior is what they are. Michaels (2003: 298) calls attention to a crucial point: “A Dāna must be given to a worthy recipient, for example to a Vedic scholar or an ascetic. Then, religious merit (puṇya) comes to the giver.” It is not the behavior of the girls but their ritual purity which makes them eligible to represent goddesses, and as representatives of goddesses they are unquestionably worthy recipients of gifts. To conclude: An important feature of the kanyā pūjās presented and discussed in this contribution is the widespread belief that prepubescent, unmarried girls (kanyās) are ritually pure. This purity renders girls between two years and up to the onset of menstruation eligible for the representation of goddesses in kanyā pūjās, that means in all those instances where devotees chose to honor and please a goddess by venerating living girls. The kanyās are then assigned the qualities of a cult image at which various services (upacāras) are directed. They receive the honor offerings as well as the gifts meant to gratify a goddess, be it Goddess Durga during the Navarātra festivals or Goddess Lakshmi on the occasion of opening a new house. In this process they themselves are divinized. They are regarded as a form of the goddess to which the worship is directed. This goddesslike state, however, lasts only for a limited time. It starts with the onset of the pūjā and ends the moment the worship is finished. The girls then return to

100   Brigitte Luchesi their everyday state, they behave and are treated as normal young children again. But they may be called to another kanyā pūjā at any time. As they are not yet affected by what are considered impure conditions they can participate whenever worshippers need them. Not all girls may like to be “devīs on demand,” as I called them, and sometimes parents may not allow their daughters to participate in a kanyā pūjā, but in general girls are quite happy to do so and find the attention of the grown-­ups honorable and the gifts involved pleasant.

References Allen, Michael. 1975. The Cult of Kumari: Virgin Worship in Nepal. Kathmandu, Nepal: Institute of Nepal and Asian Studies, Tribhuvan University. Bose, Mandakranta. 2010. Women in the Hindu Tradition: Rules, Roles and Exceptions. London, New York: Routledge. Bühnemann, Gudrun. 1988. Pūjā: A Study in Smārta Ritual. Vienna: Institute for Indology, University of Vienna. Coburn, Thomas B. 1988. Devī-Māhātmya: The Crystallization of the Goddess Tradition. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. drik Panchang. 2015. www.drikpanchang.com/navratri/durga-­puja/events/kumari-­pujadate-­time.html?year=2015, accessed May 17, 2015. Eck, Diana L. 1985. Darśan: Seeing the Divine Image in India. 2nd revised and enlarged ed. Chambersburg, PA: Anima Publications. Erndl, Kathleen M. 1993. Victory to the Mother: The Hindu Goddess of Northwest India in Myth, Ritual, and Symbol. New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Falk, Nancy Auer. 2005. “Pūjā: Hindu Pūjā.” Encyclopedia of Religion, 2nd ed. Vol. 11, ed. Lindsay Jones (Editor-­in-Chief ). Detroit, MI: Macmillan. 7493‒7495. Foulston, Lynn and Stuart Abbott. 2009. Hindu Goddesses: Beliefs and Practices. Eastbourne, UK: Sussex Academic Press. Gutschow, Niels and Axel Michaels. 2008. Growing Up: Hindu and Buddhist Initiation Rituals among Newar Children in Bhaktapur, Nepal. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Heim, Maria. 2004. Theories of the Gift in South Asia: Hindu, Buddhist, and Jain Reflections on Dānā. New York, London: Routledge. Hershman, Paul. 1977. “Virgin and Mother.” Symbols and Sentiments: Cross-­cultural Studies in Symbolism, ed. Ioan Lewis. London, New York: Academic Press. 269–292. “Kanya Puja.” Wikipedia. http//en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kanya_Puja, accessed May 17, 2015. Khare, R. S. 1982. “From Kanyā to Mātā: Aspects of the Cultural Language of Kinship in Northern India.” Concepts of Person: Kinship, Caste, and Marriage in India, eds. Ákos Östör, Lina Fruzzetti, and Steve Barnett. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 143–171. Luchesi, Brigitte. 1995. “Temporäre Kultbilder hinduistischer Gottheiten.” Lokale Religionsgeschichte, eds. Hans G. Kippenberg and Brigitte Luchesi. Marburg: diagonalVerlag. 223–233. Luchesi, Brigitte. 2014. “Jhāṅkīs: ‘Living Images’ as Objects of Worship in Himachal Pradesh.” Objects of Worship in South Asian Religions: Forms, Practices, and Meanings, eds. Knut A. Jacobsen, Mikael Aktor, and Kristina Myrvold. London, New York: Routledge. 35–50.

Kanyā pūjā in Himachal Pradesh   101 McGregor, R. S. ed. 1995. Hindi-­English Dictionary. Oxford, Delhi: Oxford University Press. Malinar, Angelika. 2010. “Purity and Impurity.” Brill’s Encyclopedia of Hinduism, Vol. II, ed. Knut A. Jacobsen (Editor-­in-Chief ). Brill: Leiden. 435–449. Michaels, Axel. 2003. Hinduism: Past and Present. Trans. Barbara Harshav. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Narayanan, Vasudha. 2010. “Auspiciousness and Inauspiciousness.” Brill’s Encyclopedia of Hinduism, Vol. II, ed. Knut A. Jacobsen (Editor-­in-Chief ). Brill: Leiden. 693–701. Parry, Jonathan. 1979. Caste and Kinship in Kangra. London, Boston, MA: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Pearson, Anne Mackenzie. 1996. Because it Gives me Peace of Mind: Ritual Fasts in the Religious Lives of Hindu Women. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press. Preston, James. 1985. “Creation of the Sacred Image: Apotheosis and Destruction in Hinduism.” Gods of Flesh, Gods of Stone: The Embodiment of Divinity in India, eds. Joanne Punzo Waghorne and Norman Cutler. Chambersburg, PA: Anima Publications. 9‒32. Rodrigues, Hillary. 2005. “Women in the Worship of the Great Goddess.” Goddesses and Women in the Indic Religious Tradition, ed. Arvind Sharma. Leiden: Brill. 72–104. Rose, H. A. 1980 [1919]. Glossary of the Tribes and Castes of the Punjab and N.W.F. Province. Vol. I. Reprint. New Delhi: Amar Prakashan.

7 Divinizing in the Radhasoami tradition Mythologizing the divine “other” Diana Dimitrova

This chapter studies divinizing in the devotional tradition of Radhasoami and seeks to explore several instances of mythologizing the divine, as represented by the notion of guru-­bhakti and by elements of Radhasoami religiosity which invite the devotee to long for a darśana of the guru and encourage followers to mediate on him. First, I study questions related to mythologizing in South Asian traditions. Then I proceed to explore the ways in which Radhasoami has mythologized the divine “other.” I conclude that the multiple instances of divinizing of the guru in the nirguṇa (of which the divine is without attributes, non-­manifest) Radhasoami tradition may point to an influence from the saguṇa (of which the divine is with attributes, manifest) forms of the Vaishnava bhakti traditions that surround Radhasoami. In this way, I argue that the divinized human guru seems to make the nirguṇa form of the divine more reachable and approachable for the devotees, thus making amends for the absolute nirguṇavād of the tradition.

South Asian traditions and mythologizing Myth has been studied by scholars of religion and philosophy since ancient times. Several influential theories have appeared over time giving different interpretations of the connections between knowledge and myth. Prominent theoreticians of myth, such as Eleazar Meletinsky see the rebirth of myth and the process of mythologizing in literature and culture as an expression of modernism and the disillusionment with the demythologizing process of the period of the Enlightenment in the eighteenth century and positivism the nineteenth century. (Dimitrova 2010a: 7) While I fully agree with this statement, I see the main reasons for the potent trend of the mythologizing of society and culture nowadays, both in the West and in South Asia, in the intrinsic links between myth, religion, and ideology and the always-­ present and recurrent need to reflect on the world that surrounds us and on our human condition in various cultural/literary, national, and political discourses. This is where religion, myth, and ideology intersect and produce mythologizing discourses by which one includes and excludes or “others.” Hindu myths have fascinated scholars of South Asia for several centuries now.1 In the wake of the theories of myth proposed by Malinowski and Barth, scholars of South Asia have also explored the importance of myth and

Divinizing in the Radhasoami tradition   103 mythologizing for the religions and politics of contemporary India.2 Thus, the myth of the Hindu god Rama from the ancient epic of the Rāmāyaṇa has been used multiple times by Hindu nationalists to promote a Hindu tradition that is informed by notions of hindutva (Hindudom), which understands Hinduism as a unifying cultural and political reality in modern India (Dimitrova 2008: 87). Similarly, Hindu and Buddhist images of the feminine have been mythologized to reinforce oppressive or liberating notions of the feminine. Sita, Draupadi and Mira are female figures that have been mythologized throughout the centuries in order to promote either submissive or rebellious and independent role-­models for women. (Dimitrova 2008: 15–22)

The notion of the “divine other” This exploration of the study of divinizing, or of mythologizing the divine “other” in Radhasoami would be incomplete without a discussion, albeit brief, on the notion of the “other” in Western and Hindu thought. Several prominent scholars, such as phenomenologist Edmund Husserl (1859–1938), phenomenologist and existentialist Martin Heiddegger (1889–1976), phenomenologist Maurice Merleau-­Ponty (1908–1961), and existentialist Emanuel Lévinas (1906–1995) have explored the notion of the “other.” Many poststructuralist, postmodernist, and feminist thinkers, such as Jacques Derrida (1930–2004), Michel Foucault (1926–1984), and Julia Kristeva (b. 1941) have also reflected on the concept of the “other.”3 Two major interpretations of the concept of the “other” are the phenomenological and post-­phenomenological positions, as revealed in the works of Husserl and Merleau-­Ponty, and of Lévinas respectively (Dimitrova 2014a: 1). Additionally, in this chapter, I will also refer to the work of another important postmodernist thinker, Derrida, and proceed to discuss the concept of the “other” in Hindu thought from a phenomenological and post-­phenomenological perspective. The phenomenological position understands the “other” as always being in a subordinate relation to the “self.” It is the “self ” that “makes,” controls and others the “other.” Scholars have referred to this dominant role of the “self ” toward the other as “the imperialism of the same” (Reynolds 2001: 1). The studies of Husserl and Merleau-­Ponty are of central importance here. Husserl’s concept of the “alter-­ego” has greatly impacted the postmodernist interpretation of the “other” as the other side of the “self.” Similarly, Merleau-­Ponty points out the chiasmic link between the “self ” and the “other” in our embodied existence which makes it impossible to touch someone without feeling touched oneself (Reynolds 2001: 14: Dimitrova 2014a: 1–2). The “post-­phenomenological” position interprets the “other” beyond dialectic, as what cannot be known (Reynolds 2001: 2). Thus, the divine/God stands for the infinite, the transcendent, the “other” that cannot be known. Lévinas has emphasized the positive meaning of “otherness” for human beings. In his view, our relation with the “other” is informed not by confrontation with the other, but

104   Diana Dimitrova by the need to respond to the call of the “Other” (Silberstein and Cohn 1994: 25). As I have argued elsewhere, this is similar to a very positive interpretation of the “other” in Buddhist thought (Dimitrova 2014a: 2). In this chapter, I will focus on the post-­phenomenological position of the “other” and will study the representation of the divine “other” in the Radhasoami tradition.

South Asian traditions and the divine “other” While the following section is far from exhaustive and while it is impossible to discuss all aspects of the interpretation of the “other” in Hindu thought,4 I would like to present here a different non-­Western perspective on the notion of the “other.” It is important to emphasize that I absolutely disagree with the negative and prejudiced position of German idealist philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770–1831) on the notion of “self ” in Hinduism that has influenced uninformed Western views on the concept of “self ” in South Asian thought. Additionally, I do not view Hinduism as “superior” to other South Asian traditions, for example to Buddhism, because of the existence of the concept of “self ” in Hindu thought—a circumstance that according to Hegel renders Hinduism superior to other traditions.5 From a Hindu perspective, a post-­phenomenological interpretation of the “Other,” in Lévinasian sense, would need to take into consideration the notion of brahman (the absolute) and ātman as revealed in the Upaniṣads and then to reflect on the discussions of ātman and brahman according to the different schools of Vedānta.6 The questions would become even more complex when considering that whereas the notion of “brahman” could be understood in the sense of the transcendental “other” of Lévinas and the earlier work of Derrida, Hinduism has also introduced the notion of what ninth-­century Advaitist Shankara calls “lower brahman” or “iśvara,” the theistic concept of the divine, which may correspond more closely to the concept of the “transcendental other” of Lévinas. It appears that we may point to the existence of “double-­ transcendence” of the notion of the “other” in relation to the “self ” in Hindu thought (Dimitrova 2014a: 4). Additionally, the concept of “ātman” (the universal self/the inner breath within/pure consciousness) is not identical with the concept of the Western “self.” The term “jīva,” the individual soul/self would be a better fit for the Western concept of “self.” We would also need to consider here the notion that the jīva that frees itself from prakṛti (“matter/material world/ nature”) becomes the transcendental self or ātman, thus also representing the “transcendence of the self,” for lack of a better term (Dimitrova 2014a: 4). Significantly, in a theistic and devotional interpretation, ātman is always thought of in terms of its union with brahman. Independent of the position of the Vedanta-­ school, advaita (non-­dualistic) or dvaita (dualistic) or viśiṣṭādvaita (qualified non-­ dualistic), it is essential to emphasize that ātman and brahman are always in relation to one another and that the highest aim, mokṣa, or, liberation, is envisioned in terms of their union. This differs from Derrida’s views of “radical singularity of the wholly other” (Derrida 1978: 126; Dimitrova 2014a: 4).

Divinizing in the Radhasoami tradition   105 It is important to point out that the Vedānta system cannot speak for all Hinduism, even though it has often been considered as most representative of Hindu thought in the West. Additional venues for understanding the relations of the “self and other” could be found in the perspectives of the philosophical systems of Sāṃkhya-yoga (Dimitrova 2014a: 4–6).7 A phenomenological interpretation of the “other” in Hindu thought, in the sense of “the imperialism of the same” would imply a reflection on dharma (“moral, religious duty”), varṇa (“class,” “caste”), jāti (“subcaste”), and issues related to purity and pollution. There are numerous layers of “otherness”: one can find oneself outside one varṇa (if one belongs to a different varṇa), outside one jāti (if one belongs to a different jāti), or completely outside the varṇa system, for instance as an untouchable or a non-­Hindu.8 The exclusion can also be related to one’s gender. For instance, strīdharma, the dharma (“moral, religious duty”) of women varies from that of men (Dimitrova 2014a: 4–6). Historically, brahmanical Hinduism had excluded women from many ritual activities, had prohibited initiation (upanayana) for women, and had looked upon women as impure at various occasions linked to womanhood and motherhood, like menstruation, childbirth, and the like. Initiation was prohibited not only for women, but also for men who were not members of the upper three varṇas. Unlike dvijāti (twice-­born) Hindus, they did not wear a sacred thread, yajňopavītam or janëū, which indicated the elevated ritual status of twice-­born Hindu men. We need to state, however, that Hindu traditions are not uniform and that the notions of varṇa, purity, and pollution have come to be interpreted quite differently in bhakti (devotional) Hinduism, in the Sikh tradition and in many reform Hindu movements of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries which either subvert or reinterpret the caste system and the notions of purity and pollution of what we may label “mainstream”/traditional Hinduism (Dimitrova 2014a: 4–5). The case of the Radhasoami tradition is most interesting. While scholars such as Denis Matringe (2008) consider Radhasoami a sect of Sikhism, Gold (1987a, 1987b), Juergensmeyer (1991), and Dimitrova (2007, 2014c) study it as a separate tradition—a manifestation of Hindu reformism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Gold (1987b) and Dimitrova (2007) have pointed also to important aspects of the Hinduization of the tradition. This makes it necessary to emphasize the fluidity of religious boundaries and to explore how the “divine other” has been represented in the Radhasoami tradition.

The divine in Radhasoami9 The founder of Radhasoami, Shiv Dayal (1818–1878), was influenced by Sants Kabir, Nanak, Dadu, Ravi Das, Tulsi Sahib’s eighteenth-­century Ghaṭ Rāmāyaṇa, and by current esoteric teachings. Shiv Dayal’s teachings are revealed in his collection of prose and poetry Sār bachan (Essential Teachings). He described the spiritual journey of the soul through magnificent realms of consciousness until it reaches the highest stage, the realm of Radhasoami. This has

106   Diana Dimitrova been referred to as the realm of ineffably beautiful light and sound (Juergensemeyer 1987: 329–355). Thus, this spiritual journey is a kind of Yoga, where the initiated disciple masters his ascent into different regions of consciousness under the guidance of a guru. The Radhasoamis see their movement as the perfect manifestation of Sant mat (the teachings of the Sants) and consider themselves a part of the Sant paramparā, the nirguṇa bhakti tradition of Sant poets such as Kabir and Nanak. They believe in one non-­manifest formless God, in the supremacy of the guru and in the spiritual community of the sants, the satsaṅg. The theology of the movement is codified under the concept of surat śabda yoga (“the discipline of concentrating on the divine word through one’s inner current”).10 The Radhasoamis hold that the eternal essence of God resides in the form of pure energy, in the highest realm “Radhasoami.” Radha is seen theologically as the energy center, the soul within. Thus, Radhasoami (the swami or master of Radha) implies the control of the soul and one’s spiritual energy. Similar to the other sants, the Radhasoamis hold that external forms of ritual and mūrti (image) worship are irrelevant. Theirs is an interior religion of the heart, and only the interior transformation of the soul matters. Mark Juergensmeyer sees the theology of Radhasoami as drawing upon the intellectual tradition of Kabir and Nanak especially with regard to the realms of consciousness and the concept of guruship.11 While Kabir speaks of an indescribable interior realm, Nanak specifies five distinct levels through which the soul journeys in order to achieve the highest one, sac-­khaṇḍ, the realm of truth. The Radhasoamis have developed the concept of realms further: they elaborate lavishly on a labyrinth of numerous realms and sub-­realms, through which the soul has to go before it reaches the highest stage, Radhasoami. Similarly, for Kabir the satguru is a kind of spiritual conscience, an inner voice that dwells within. By contrast, Nanak’s concept of guruship refers to a lineage of spiritual authority that passes from one guru to another and then on to the scripture. The Radhasoamis develop the notion of the guru further: their teachings require that a guru be alive and present for the devotee, and they regard the living guru as an incarnate form of the Absolute. The devotees long for the sacred sight (darśana) of their guru and believe that it has healing powers. Moreover, the disciples are encouraged to direct their loving devotion to the guru. Thus, Radhasoami can be seen as guru-­bhakti.12 This understanding of the guru is similar to Tulsi Sahib’s teachings in his eighteenth-­century nirguṇa rendering of the Rāmāyaṇa story, the Ghaṭ Rāmāyaṇa. It is important to note here that the notion of the divine guru is very complex in the Radhasoami tradition. Two of Shiv Dayal’s disciples, Rai Saligram and Jaimal Singh, became the masters of the two main branches in Agra and in Beas, Punjab, respectively. The difference is that at Agra, Shiv Dayal is considered Sant of Sants, paramātma guru, and only one name, that of the highest realm, is revealed at initiation. By contrast, the Punjabi branch regards Shiv Dayal in the context of an unbroken chain of satguru manifestations, and reveals five sacred names at initiation. Most significantly, at Beas, if the guru who has initiated the

Divinizing in the Radhasoami tradition   107 devotee has passed away and there is a new guru, the devotee is told to contemplate the form of the deceased guru who initiated him/her. By contrast, at Agra the devotee is taught to contemplate the form of the new guru only. Similarly, at Beas, the gurus are seen as masters in the extended sant tradition to which also Guru Nanak and the early sants Kabir and Ravidas belonged. At Beas, people refer to their traditions as “sant mat” (the teachings of the sants). This tradition remains an open-­ended sant tradition in which holy men from different religious traditions are venerated. Related to this is the concept of the “guru of the age,” which presents the notion of the guru as “an internal office always filled by a living person.” Gold points out that this idea is similar to the Sufi idea of qutb, the pole of the universe, the axis of spiritual authority (Gold, 1987b: 160). It is also believed that the guru himself needs to be initiated into the highest truth. Thus, at Beas, Tulsi Sahib is considered Soamiji’s guru. At Agra, Radhasoami is viewed as a separate tradition, as “Radhasoami faith” (Gold, 1987b: 162). Soamiji is considered the perfect being in which the Radhasoami truth was manifested. Therefore, he is not believed to have had a guru who initiated him in the highest truth. Offshoots of the Agra branch have headquarters at Soamibagh and Peepalmandi near Agra, and also at Hyderabad, Gwalior, and Hoshiarpur.13 In his book Daniel Gold discusses what he calls the Hinduization of the sant gurus and discusses two very interesting cases, the teachings and religious practice of Faqir Chand, Radhasoami guru of Hoshiarpur, Punjab, who has been influenced by Vedanta and sees the Radhasoami reality as māyā (illusion) (1987b: 164). See also my discussion of the views of Faqir Chand regarding the Hindu saṃskāras and the Radhasoami faith as an expression of sanātana dharma (Dimitrova 2007). Similarly, Malik Sahib, Radhasoami guru at Gwalior, Madhya Pradesh, is also a follower of guru-­śakti. As he is both the source of the Radhasoami nām (name) and the śaktipāt initiation, there have been difficulties related to the varṇa (class, “caste”) and āśrama (one of the four stages in life prescribed for men of the upper three varṇa) system, which the Radhasoami reject, but which the Hindu guru-­śakti tradition respects (Gold 1987b: 167). Thus, we see that the notion of the guru in Radhasoami is neither uniform nor static. It has been undergoing different interpretations and many transformations over the past 200 years and it will probably continue to be reinterpreted by gurus and devotees, as part of the extended and open-­ended sant tradition to which Radhasoami belongs.

Ritual and divinizing The importance of the satsaṅg as the central part of ritual also points to a common Sant heritage, and especially to Nanak’s doctrine. In Radhasoami, the satsaṅg refers not only to the community of sants, but also to the event of collective service of worship, in which the devotees listen to readings from the sants and the Radhasoami gurus.14 It is also this blissful moment of the darśana of the

108   Diana Dimitrova divine guru. Sudhir Kakar has rendered a beautiful account of the powerful and intoxicating sensation of mingling with the other fellow satsaṅgīs, while blissfully abandoning oneself to and soaking into the image of the beloved guru to the fullest. The transformation of the disciples’ faces as their eyes looked into his was remarkable. The eyes glazed over as they drank in his visage … The whole transformation was startlingly similar to the nursing infant when he takes the breast into his mouth and the milk begins to spread its soothing warmth, generating those good feelings that gradually obliterate all the earlier unease, the tension and the plain anxiousness. (Kakar 2006: 194) The author also points at an aspect of awe, veneration, and fear toward the guru. This is reminiscent of the bhai or bhau bhakti (devotion mixed with fear and awe) expressed in Nanak’s poetry.15 Similarly, the centrality of guru-­bhakti is of great importance. It invites the devotee to long for a darśana of the guru and encourages followers to perform an internalized āratī, by means of which the devotee might present to his guru the parts of his inner body. We find similar practices of internalized āratī in Hindu contexts, which refer to the devotee offering parts of his or her body to the deity. In his discussion of the appropriation of the image of Radha (the cowherd girl of Braj who was Krishna’s favorite) and the notion of the Hindu āratī (waving of the lights in front of the Hindu deity) in Radhasoami, Daniel Gold points to the fact that Soamiji was born and lived his whole life in Agra, which was the capital of the Mughal empire and in close proximity to Braj (the mythical abode of Krishna and Radha). Thus, Soamiji was well-­versed both in the idiom of Krishna bhakti, on which he draws freely, and in the Indo-­Islamic language and culture that surrounded him in his native Agra. Thus, it is not surprising that Soamiji uses Indo-­Muslim terms to present the Hinduized Sant tradition that he inherited (Gold 1987b: 112). It is important to emphasize that Soamiji reinterprets the notions of Radha and the āratī in a nirguṇa-sense (non-­manifest/without attributes). Thus, Radha is the loving soul longing to dwell with the nirguṇa-god in an abode that is imagined as pure wonder. Similarly, the image of the āratī is a poetic convention that we find in his poetry. Soamiji’s āratīs are an internalization of ritual worship and he often describes his journey through the heavens as āratīs, or a “definitive progression from one well-­marked sign to the next, leading finally to a vision of the ‘inapproachable’ (agam) lord” (Gold 1987b: 143). In the process of this internalized āratī the devotee might offer to his guru the parts of his inner body. As already discussed above and as Daniel Gold points out, these patterns of internalized uniting with the guru are similar to the ways a Hindu devotee might subtly offer to the deity the parts of his/her inner being in uniting with the deity in Hindu contexts (Gold 1987b: 175–182).

Divinizing in the Radhasoami tradition   109

Conclusion In this chapter we studied important questions related to divinizing in the Radhasoami tradition. We reflected on the importance of myth and mythologizing in the South Asian traditions, on the theories of the “other” and the representations of the divine “other” in South Asian religions, and on the questions related to mythologizing the divine in the form of the human guru in Radhasoami. We emphasized the fluidity of religious boundaries and of aspects of the representations of the divine oscillating between Hindu and Sikh nirguṇavād as well as elements of Hindu saguṇavād and different strands of Hinduization of the tradition. In conclusion we may state that the questions of divinizing in Radhasoami are quite complex. Our study showed that there are multiple instances of divinizing the guru in the tradition. Though Radhasoami represents a nirguṇa form of bhakti religiosity, it is surrounded by saguṇa ritual and worship which is present everywhere in the Vaishnava bhakti tradition in North India. While we cannot deny several instances of the Hinduization of the tradition, I argue that the divinized human guru does not point to even greater Hinduization, but rather seems to make the nirguṇa from of the divine more accessible to the devotees and thus seems to “compensate” for the absolute nirguṇavād of the tradition.

Notes   1 There are many works on Vedic mythology, Puranic mythology and the mythology of different deities in most European languages and in Indian languages. To refer to just a few representative works in English, see Callewaert (1995), Doniger (1975), O’Flaherty (1980, 1995), Doniger (1999), Handelman and Shulman (2004); von Stietencron 2005), Vaudeville (1996), Wilkins (1979), Zimmer (1946). There are several outstanding sourcebooks and collections of Indian myths, for instance Hindu Myths: A Sourcebook (1975), Dimmitt and van Buitenen (1978)   2 See Pollock (1993), Lorenzen (1995), especially the essays in part III Political action, Ludden (1996), as well as Thiel-­Horstmann (1991), Richman (1991), and Dalmia and von Stietencron (1995).   3 See Husserl (1960 [1931]), Heidegger (2008). Lévinas (1979), Merleau-­Ponty (2012), Derrida (1978, 1984), Foucault (1965), and Kristeva (1991).   4 I would discuss here only some aspects of Hindu thought, assuming some typological similarities between Sikh thought and the nirguṇa/sant devotional tradition of Hinduism.   5 For more information on Hegel and his views on Hindu thought, see Westphal (1992), especially chapter 8 “Hegel, Hinduism and Freedom,” Stewart (2000: 396–401), and Magnus (2001: 185–187).   6 For a brief introduction to the philosophy of Vedānta, see Flood (1996: 239–249) and Klostermaier (1994: 408–427). The three major schools are Shankara’s Advaita Vedānta, Ramanuja’s Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta, and Madhva’s Dvaita Vedānta.   7 The scope of this study does not allow me to discuss this issue in detail. For an initial exploration of the systems of sāṃkhya-yoga, see Klostermaier (1994: 397–407) and Flood (1996: 232–236).   8 On the concepts of varṇa, jāti, dharma and on purity and pollution, see Klostermaier (1994) and Flood (1996).   9 See also my discussion of the theology of Radhasoami in Dimitrova (2007).

110   Diana Dimitrova 10 I adopt the translation given by Mark Juergensmeyer in his study. See Juergensmeyer (1987: 332). 11 Juergensmeyer (1987: 340–342). 12 Juergensmeyer (1987: 339–341). 13 Juergensmeyer (1987: 334). 14 I observed this phenomenon during my participation in the satsaṅg in Beas, but not in Dayalbagh. I was told, however, that devotees listen to readings from the Radhasoami gurus during certain satsaṅgs in Agra as well. 15 On bhai bhakti in Nanak’s poetry, see Grewal (1990: 36).

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8 Movement, miracles, and mysticism Apotheosis of Sree Narayana Guru of early twentieth century Kerala George Pati I would like to begin by quoting from Elaine Scarry (1985: 209):  the problematic knowledge is not that man has a body; the problematic knowledge is not that God has no body; the problematic knowledge is that man has a body and God has no body—that is, that the unfathomable differ­ ence in power between them in part depends on this difference in embodiedness. Embodiment of the divine continues to be a subject of study in many reli­ gions, more so in the Hindu tradition, primarily because divine and human boundaries are blurred in rituals, performances, and perceptions regarding divine and divine–human interactions. One such case remains, that of Sree Narayana Guru (1856–1928), a member of the Izhava caste (a lower caste), and a product of the colonial time period in Kerala, who critiqued and rejected some of the customary practices within the caste oriented society of early twentieth century Kerala, and pioneered the socioreligious reform movement. In 1903, he founded the Sree Narayana Dharma Paripalana Yogam (SNDP), based on his manifesto “One caste, one religion, one God for mankind.” Though he himself taught the significance of self-­realization and conscious­ ness and dissuaded image worship of Hindu deities, by the early twentieth century, people in the community, mainly Izhavas, recognized him as a spiritual and social leader and a divine person, who performed miracles and taught mysti­ cism, becoming an object of reverence and a unifying force. As a result, he was deified and worshipped (and still is worshipped) throughout Kerala, and wher­ ever Izhavas have migrated. Such an apotheosis of Guru not only provides for Izhavas a distinct religious identity, but also legitimizes their social mobility in caste conscious Kerala society. There are many studies on Sree Narayana Guru, his philosophy, socio­ religious reforms, and literary works (Thomas 1965; Guru 1968; Kumaran 1971; Samuel 1977; Kunhappa 1982; Prashobhan 1988; Sreenivasan 1989; Prasad 1990; Sanoo 1998; Balakrishnan 2000; Joseph 2003; Bhaskaran 2003, 2010; Gitanandaswamikkal 2013), but none addresses how his devotees (primarily from the Izhava caste) perceive him as a divine being or discuss his apotheosis.

116   George Pati Despite his devotees’ claim of his divinity and their performance of rituals to worship him, many in the community accentuate him to be “just” a human. The notion of such a difference echoes Elaine Scarry’s (1985: 209) argument that the “unfathomable difference in power between them [the human and divine] in part depends on this difference in embodiedness.” Studying Guru’s divinizing remains a sensitive issue that can call for critique and remains a conundrum, particularly when the person has a huge following of devotees worshipping on a daily basis. Hence, my intention in this chapter is not to reject Guru’s divinity or humanity, but rather to propose that the “difference in embodiedness” collapses the distinctions that are vital for his devotees. Such is the case in bhakti, devotional attitude in Hinduism. The three tropes worthwhile in exploring the subjective nature are movement, miracles, and mysticism. Understanding the movement, miracles, and rituals remains germane in comprehending Guru’s divinity, as they are the “concrete space of perception” (Foucault 1973: 9). As Schmitz (1999) states, the term “person” itself has roots in the sacred insofar as it displays the association between the obvious and the mysterious. Based on ethnographic research in Kerala since 2008, hagiographies, and histo­ riographies, this chapter discusses the factors contributing toward the apotheosis of Guru. Three significant aspects—movement, miracles, and mysticism—serve as trajectories for understanding this process in early twentieth century Kerala. Guru’s mysticism stemming from Advaita philosophy and the bhakti tradition of Hindu­ ism translated to socioreligious reforms in Kerala, propelling a movement toward the emancipation of Izhavas from the caste discrimination of the then caste ori­ ented society of Kerala. This socioreligious movement serves as a point of depar­ ture for his devotees to consider him as a divine being since the reforms guaranteed social mobility and dignified status in the society; both of which were emancip­ atory. Miracles include an assortment of phenomena. In this chapter, I highlight how “healings” as miracles attribute supernatural power to Guru, and by extension accomplish his apotheosis. The healing power and salvific agency of Guru became central for his apotheosis. Yet another significant aspect of his apotheosis remains rooted in the devotional attitude of his devotees through pūjās and pilgrimage to Sivagiri in Varkala, Kerala, and wherever Izhavas have emigrated. Though Guru’s mystical capabilities and his teaching of “oneness” as the philosophical basis of ethical spirituality remain paramount, his devotees perform daily pūjās (individual and corporate, that I discuss later in this chapter) for him, action which reveals the perception of him as divine and blurs the dis­ tinction between nontheistic and theistic traditions of Hinduism. More impor­ tantly, the apotheosis of Guru, as based on his movement, miracles, and mysticism, obliterates the dichotomy between divine and human, miraculous and mundane, and transcendent and immanent. Nevertheless, the “liminality,” as defined by Turner (1982), indicates the transformed character of space and body in sociocultural and ritual spheres, reinforcing Guru’s own understanding regarding the self and the other, that is, “none of these boundaries were real, each one was seen as a contrivance of ignorance” (Buchanan 1980: 13).

Apotheosis of Sree Narayana Guru   117 Therefore, following the lead of Clifford Geertz (1973), this chapter engages in analyzing the world of meanings and understanding symbols. A word regarding translations: unless mentioned, translations of the hymns and verses are my own.

Sree Narayana Guru: life, works, and philosophy Sree Narayana Guru was born on August 20, 1856, in Chempazhanthi, Kerala to Madan Asan and Kuttiammal. During his early years, he learned Malayalam and Sanskrit under a Nair teacher (Thomas 1965; Samuel 1977). He also learned Tamil very well and acquired extensive knowledge of Tamil literature (Kumaran 1971). From 1876 to 1879 he studied at the Sanskrit school at Puthupalli in Karunagapally taluk. During his education, he also received training in grammar, logic, and Vedanta philosophy. As Nataraja Guru (1968: 256) states,  He soon went beyond even this stage by himself and secrets of Vedantic and Upanishadic wisdom became an open book to him by sheer dint of his straightforward simplicity, his purity of life, and his alert positiveness of mental outlook and discipline. Additionally, he studied kāvya (poetry), nāṭaka (drama), and alaṃkāra (rhetoric), as well as āyurveda and astrology (Parameswaran 1971). Guru’s particular profi­ ciency in Sanskrit literary genres is seen in the way he deploys literary tropes in his own literary works. In 1882, at the age of twenty-­eight, he came back home and married his pater­ nal cousin. Their marriage did not last long, and a few years after their separa­ tion his wife died. In 1884, after the death of his father, he left home and began an itinerant life, wandering to different places seeking advice from holy men and educated persons to attain his goal of self-­realization (Samuel 1977). As an ascetic, he met another mendicant, Kunjanpillai Asan, popularly known as Chat­ tambi Swamikal (1853–1924), and both of them learned hatha yoga under the tutelage of Thaikkattu Ayyavu Sastri in Thiruvananthapuram (Sreenivasan 1989). Guru practiced yoga till he reached a stage of liberation, jīvanmukta, the highest stage one attains in this world (Thomas 1965; Sreenivasan 1989; Bhaskaran 2003). Once he realized he had attained self-­knowledge he returned to his village and went around as an itinerant sannyāsin. The community recognized him as a saint and people from all strata of Kerala society—Nayars, Izhavas, Christians, and Muslims—sought his teachings and blessings (Sreenivasan 1989). After attaining self-­realization, Guru emphasized the concept of “one God,” perceiv­ ing the unity of all being in one God (Samuel 1977). This oneness was rooted in Sankaracarya’s Advaita Vedanta philosophy, and Guru himself directs his readers to the source of his teaching: “What we have to say is what Sankara said” (Guru 1968: 61). In 1903, with the support of Dr. Palpu, a medical doctor and social revolutionary, and Kumaran Asan, one of his disciples and poet, Guru

118   George Pati founded the SNDP, with its manifesto, “One caste, one religion, one God for mankind.” For Guru, one caste means that caste cannot divide humanity. This understanding of one caste was furthered through his perception of one religion and one god (Balaramapanicker 2008). During his life, Guru composed and translated more than sixty works in San­ skrit, Malayalam, and Tamil that can be classified into hymns, philosophical works, moral works, and literary proses, reflecting his poetic genius and aphoris­ tic style that I discuss elsewhere (Pati 2013: 559–565). Though his devotional compositions are recited by many of his devotees, it is his philosophical works which shed much light on his concept of oneness and the impetus behind his movement. His most significant philosophical works include Ātmopadeśa Śatakam (One Hundred Verses of Self-­Instruction) (1917) and Daiva Daśakam (Ten Verses on God) (1914) in Malayalam and Darśanamālā (Garland of Vision) (1916) in Sanskrit. Of primary significance in his philosophical views is the concept arivu “con­ sciousness/knowledge,” which is the ultimate reality (Yati 2013 [1982]; Sreenivasan 1989; Bhaskaran 2003). Even his notion of oneness depends on con­ sciousness of the self in relation to the other. He accentuates that self-­realization is essential for spiritual and social emancipation. In Brahmavidyā Pañcakam, verse 2, Guru succinctly expresses his concept of Brahman: You are Brahman, not senses, not mind, Neither understanding, nor realization, nor body; Even ego and life have no reality, being but conditioned by nescience, superimposed on the prime self. Every remarkable object of perception here is gross outside of your own self. This manifested world, this world is nothing, And Selfhood alone shines in myriad displays like a mirage. Guru emphasizes the Upaniṣadic ideas of tat tvam asi (“you are that [the Abso­ lute]”) and aham brahma asmi (“I am Brahma”) instrumental in gaining con­ sciousness of the oneness. These philosophical ideas are inseparable from his concept of bhakti, as he pointedly defines in Bhakti Darśanam, verse 1: Bhakti is meditation into oneself, for happiness is the content of self, Self-­knower meditatively seeks into oneself with oneself as means. This knowledge of the Absolute Self stems from focused devotion, which results in sat-­cit-ānanda “existence-­consciousness-bliss” and, eventually, mokṣa “liber­ ation.” The latter refers not only to spiritual liberation, but also to social emanci­ pation, leading him to pioneer a socioreligious movement centered on his notion of egalitarianism, that is perceiving humanity without caste, religious, or racial discrimination. Yet another influence on Guru and his works stems from the

Apotheosis of Sree Narayana Guru   119 teachings of the world religions—Islam, Christianity, and Buddhism—as well as Jainism, traditions that he considered “supplementary and not mutually exclu­ sive” (Samuel 1977). This inclusivity is expressed in Ātmopadeśa Śatakam, verse 49: All strive for their own happiness, They always do everything for it, Remember this, the one religion of the universe, Be at peace and do not sorrow. On September 20, 1928, after serious illness Guru passed away at Varkala. His life and philosophy reinforce dharma in action (karma), intertwined with bhakti and jñāna “knowledge.” As Laurie Patton (2008: xxiv) pointedly argues, in the Bhagavad Gītā, “bhaktimārga is a path which involves knowledge, discipline, and the mutual faithfulness between God and those who resort to God.” It is a significant task to understand Guru’s socioreligious movement, miracles, and rituals that operate toward his apotheosis.

Movement, miracles, and mysticism Guru’s socioreligious reform movement directed against inequality and injustice in the caste oriented Kerala society of his days and envisioned a progressive change in perception and praxis of social phenomena. As a reformer who worked toward equality and social mobility of Izhavas, he was seen as a direct messen­ ger of god, which led to his apotheosis. His reforms can be classified into two categories: first, reforms of worship, including establishment of temples and elimination of the ban on temple entry for low castes; second, reforms of cus­ tomary mundane practices among Izhavas. During Guru’s time, caste practices of untouchability and unapproachability in Kerala rigidly prohibited the Izhavas and other lower castes (avarṇas) from entering temples and worshipping deities of the twice born castes (savarṇas). In this line, the temples were considered to be the privilege of the savarṇas, and the avarṇas, including Izhavas, had to maintain “safe distance of 14 feet away from the compound wall of the temple” (Sreenivasan 1989: 48). Based on the notion of unity and employing human bodily images, he states in Jāti Mimāṃsā that caste cannot divide humanity: One of kind, one of faith, and one in God is man; Of one womb, of one form; difference herein none … Of the humans even a Brahmin born, as is the Pariah too, Where is difference then in caste as between man and man? (Jāti Mimāṃsā, translated by Nataraja Guru (1968: 273)) His reforms in modifying rites, establishing temples, and worshipping in them higher deities of the savarṇas stem from this blurring of social and religious

120   George Pati boundaries. Vijayalayam Jayakumar (1999) maintains that Guru’s religious reform of pratiṣṭa “[e]recting [statues of gods]” had two phases: one confined to establishing deities in the religious consciousness of the Izhavas, and the second to installing symbols [murti]. The most noteworthy reform was the Aruvippuram pratiṣṭa, or the consecra­ tion at Aruvippuram town. In 1888, on the day of the Śivarātri festival, he appeared in only a loincloth and consecrated the image of Shiva in Aruvippuram temple (Gopalakrishnan 2000). On the walls of the temple he inscribed: Without differences of caste, Nor enmities of creed All live like brothers at heart Here in this ideal place.

(Guru 1968; Balakrishnan 2000: 203)

When Brahmins questioned his act, Guru replied that he had “consecrated a Īzhava Śiva” (Gopalakrishnan 2000). This first temple established religious orthodoxy and gave “birth to new ways of doing and being” as Tulasi Srinivas notes in the case of Sathya Sai Baba’s personhood (Srinivas 2013, 2011, 2010). Narayana Guru’s appropriation of knowledge and rituals held to be the preroga­ tive of Brahmins was the first daring act in breaking Travancore high caste control on high-­status deities (Osella and Osella 2000: 156). Such “new ways of doing and being” on the one hand validate the revolutionary and charismatic characteristics of his movements subsumed in Max Weber’s notion of a “charis­ matic community” (Weber 1968: 243) where “relationality” (Srinivas 2013: 629) becomes of paramount significance; and on the other hand, they endorse Brah­ manical practices by installing “Īzhava Śiva” and persuading Izhavas to perform rituals as the Brahmins do. The establishment of temples and redefining rituals for Izhavas meant he also reformed some of the indigenous ritual practices of this caste, as he rejected animal sacrifice and singing obscene songs during ritual. Additionally, Guru urged Izhavas, a majority of whom were toddy tappers, to stop drinking, as it was deemed polluting by the savarṇas. Ceasing consump­ tion of alcohol could give them accessibility into temples, as the savarṇas would consider them pure. The emancipatory impetus of his socioreligious reforms projects a movement from pollution to purity. Such reforms endorse the “sanskritization” process as modernizing or reforming, similar to what Bernard Cohn (1958) has observed as modernizing process among the Camārs of North India. This process of “san­ skritization” remains problematic, in my opinion, in two ways. One, it affirms caste distinctions rather than transcending—or eradicating—caste boundaries. Second, defining “purity” and “pollution” and who is “pure” or “polluted” becomes questionable. Arguments for these two points are beyond the scope of this chapter and open up avenues for further research. Following the Aruvippuram pratiṣṭa, Guru established temples and conse­ crated images of the common Hindu gods across Kerala from the south to the

Apotheosis of Sree Narayana Guru   121 north and from the east to the west, as I have elsewhere discussed (Pati 2013). Notable among the temple establishments are the temple at Kalavamkodam in the Alappuzha district, where he installed a mirror instead of the image of any deity, with the words om śānti “Om peace” projected (Jayakumar 1999), and the Murukkumpuzha temple near Thiruvananthapuram, where he installed a lighted lamp with the words “truth, duty, compassion, and love” displayed in the back­ ground (Sreenivasan 1989). Both these installations symbolized arivu, or the “knowledge/consciousness” quintessential to spiritual and social emancipation. The last two establishments of symbols, a mirror and a lighted lamp, can be understood as his conceptual progression in using visual representation from iconic images of deities to aniconic symbols demonstrating his idea of union or oneness with the divine. A temple for the goddess of learning established at Sivagiri is also worth mentioning. In this temple, referred to as Saradamattom, or residence of Sharada Devi, no pūjā of any usual type is performed and devotees have darśan, sing hymns, and silently meditate (Kunhappa 1982; Sreenivasan 1989). As mentioned earlier, temple entry was prohibited for the Izhavas and other lower castes, and Guru’s temple entry movement, the Vaikom Satyāgraha, allowed the avarṇas to walk on the roads around the famous Shiva temple in Vaikom. As a result of Gandhi’s visit to Kerala in 1925, during the nationalistic movement, Guru’s temple entry movement gained momentum and subsequently three roads surrounding the temple were opened to the public. His reforms in the mundane social sphere were directed, among other things, against caste and gender discriminating practices. Those practices were: • •

•

tālikeṭṭu kalyāṇam, a ceremony performed for prepubescent girls (twelve years and below) when a single boy or groups of boys would tie a thread around her neck as in adult marriage; tirandukuḷi, a ritualistic ceremonial bath at puberty for girls who were con­ sidered to be brides—this was followed by a ritual imitating the wedding ceremony, and the garment of investiture was presented to the “new bride” at the “groom’s” house but often in a dark room, which sometimes resulted in offering the garment to a wrong girl; puḷikuṭṭi, performed in the seventh month of pregnancy in which the husband first gave his wife a sour tasting herbal concoction to taste, opening thus an elaborate and extravagant celebration, which was economically cumbersome for the family (Thomas 1965; Kumaran 1971; Samuel 1977; Fuller 1976; Kunhappa 1982; Sanoo 1998; Pati 2013).

Guru changed these customary practices by persuading the community to stop performing these rituals that were discriminatory against the female gender. Instead he urged the Izhava community to conduct marriage with prayer and worship at a temple in the presence of a priest and community (Samuel 1977). Izhavas have resorted to this pattern of marriage, as I observed during my stay at Sivagiri, Varkala, when the groom would tie the tāli (“nuptial string”)

122   George Pati around the bride’s neck in front of the invited community at the temple offici­ ated by a priest. Despite the fact that some aspects of Guru’s socioreligious reform movement remain problematic, as mentioned earlier in this chapter, the impetus was to tran­ scend caste, gender, and religious boundaries and to emphasize egalitarianism grounded in the advaita concept of reality and bhakti traditions. Social emanci­ pation was directly associated with abolishment of discrimination in worship practices seen as conducive to religious liberation. It is important to note that this socioreligious reform movement not only transformed the life of Izhavas, but also elevated Guru to divine status, as Izhavas consider him a messiah, instrumental in their social and sāṃsāric libera­ tion. I see, however, an inward paradox between Guru’s pursuit to make his fol­ lowers transcend all kind of social boundaries and the strategy of introducing Brahmanical god and employing high caste ritual for this purpose. To my mind, at the end of the day it led to reinstating the caste system. Though scholars continue to debate regarding what constitutes a miracle, the majority of them recognize that miracles imply involvement of divine powers and miraculous acts are evidence of control over nature (cf. Oxford English Dictionary, online). Another common point is that miracles serve not only indi­ vidual, but also the public psyche. Robin Rinehart (2008) argues that “Miracle stories remain a powerful rhetorical tool for communicating a swami’s power” (36) and “Religious miracles assert that a miracle serves as evidence of super­ natural or divine power, and the miracle’s power therefore to some extent lies in its very inexplicability” (27). Guru’s devotees attested to his supernatural power, as they were able to experience the act of healing, a demonstration of control over nature. His healing power also adds to his charisma as his devotees estab­ lish a personal relationship with him through their devotion. Robert Bellah (1970: 7–8) accentuates, “[c]harisma is a relational concept that comes into existence only when recognized by a group.” During my research in Kerala, more specifically in Sivagiri, Varkala, many devotees told their miracle stories but for our purpose, I share only two of them, which illustrate the inexplicability of miracle. Miracles cannot be explained, but only considered as outcomes of direct or indirect divine or saintly involvement and containing meaning for humanity (Corner 2005: 5). Moreover, as Corinne Dempsey (2008: 3) pointedly states, “[t]he miracle event must be, for those who identify it as such, a sign that is, in many cases, also a wonder.” In this line, Joyce Burkhalter Flueckiger (2008: 167) maintains that karāmat “miracles” (Hindi/Urdu, from Arabic) posit a danger, “[i]n part, in their position at the boundary between physical and spir­ itual worlds and, in part, in the tension between the secret and revelatory nature of the miracles.” This observation rings true for miracles across religious tradi­ tions and, more particularly, in Hindu traditions, as the distinctions between deity and devotee are permeable: between these two identities the living and dead and deified gurus and saints can be found (Flueckiger 2008). During my fieldwork at Sivagiri, one of Guru’s ardent devotees, Mr. Sandeepan, who annually makes a pilgrimage to Guru’s Samādhi, told me,

Apotheosis of Sree Narayana Guru   123 “I was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was in my twenties. Everybody had given up hope on me. I surrendered and prayed to Guru. As a result, Guru mirac­ ulously healed me” (Personal interview 2014). In Malayalam, he said, “athputhamāyi saukyamāki” “healed me in awe” or “healed me in wonderment” (athputham “wonderment”). For him faith in Guru remains of utmost importance (in Malayalam, guru viśvāsamānn pradhānam). Also in subsequent conversa­ tions, he declared that Guru had healed him from brain cancer. Sandeepan’s “act of faith” remains crucial for his belief and devotion toward Guru. Sandeepan’s belief confirms Scarry’s (1985: 205) assertion that “belief is the act of imagin­ ing.” Here, giving a devotee new life becomes an agency for Guru’s deification, ascribing him divine power. In the religious context, the fact that the expected development and tragic outcome of the disease were avoided, relates to the Tamil concept of putumai translated as “wonderment” (Dempsey 2008; Davis 1998). In fact, in Tamil putumai has the same meaning as arputham, cognate with the Malayalam athputham. Another devotee of Guru, Rajeevan, who attends daily rituals at Guru Samādhi in Sivagiri, recognizes that Guru performed a miracle in his life because he was cured of his stomach illness (Personal interview, 2014). He spoke gener­ ally of his bodily ailments. When I probed deeper, he mentioned that he suffered from gastric illness, and, with his faith in Guru and his healing power, he was healed. With a smile on his face, he responded, “I am not ill anymore.” It is healing as miracle that inspires this devotee to attend daily rituals to mark his relationship with Guru, a relationship that transcends the boundary between divine and human. This seemed to be an account of an everyday phenomenon of a bodily ailment, not a deadly disease, which poses the question: What can be classified as a miracle? Mark Corner (2005: 200) emphasizes that in the modern world sometimes reported miracles are everyday phenomena:  There is nothing observable in an event itself … But just as there is nothing in the event itself to demand that it be explained as a miracle, so also there is nothing in the nature of any event which can stop it from being a miracle. These two miracle stories highlight that miracles remain a space of conun­ drum and contestation in contemporary South Asia, leaving scope for further dialogue between science and religion. Nevertheless, similar miracle narratives are deep-seated in the community’s perception: many accounts of miracles per­ formed by Guru in his life, from an early age until his death, and after his death, appear in numerous biographies and hagiographies, all of which attribute to him divinity or supernatural power to heal. One such episode of miracle from his biography can be helpful in understanding miracles during his lifetime. One day a person, who was unable to walk as he was suffering from rheu­ matism, expressed his desire to be at his mother’s death bed. He decided to go home crawling. With great difficulty, he crawled up to the gate and there,

124   George Pati whom should he see, but Sree Narayana Guru coming that way with three or four disciples! The Guru stopped in front of him, and the patient pleaded with folded hands for succor. After hearing him patiently, Swami [Guru] asked him to get up. He stood up. Taking the staff from one of his disciples, Swami gave it to him and made him walk. The patient walked home! From that year onwards, he became a pious man, wore a sanyasi’s robes and went every year on a pilgrimage to Kadalkarayandi. (Kunhappa 1982: 59) The perception of miracles, no matter how inexplicable they may be as seen in the above-­mentioned cases of Guru and his devotees, remain rooted in faith in him, in his divine healing power. Here, Sandeepan’s statement “faith is every­ thing” (viśvāsam athānn ellām) is significant. Therefore, Guru in such accounts of miracles becomes the threshold between physical and spiritual, a pilgrimage space mediating between the divine and human realms. There are two words, mysticism and devotion, that can be interchangeably used while discussing Guru’s divinizing, as both these concepts are integral to Guru’s deification. His mystical teachings, mentioned earlier in this chapter, serve as a point of departure for both his apotheosis and devotion to him. Evelyn Underhill (1955: 24) asserts that “[i]n mysticism love of truth which we saw as the beginning of all philosophy leaves the merely intellectual sphere, and takes on the assured aspect of a personal passion” and that “the Absolute of the mystics is lovable, attainable, alive.” Guru’s devotees reinforce the mystical and devotional aspects as they begin worshipping him by affirming Guru as the absolute supreme reality in the Gurudhyānam found in the text, Gurupuṣpāñjali (2013: 9): Om gurur Brahmā gurur Viṣṇur Gurur devo Maheśvaraḥ Guruḥ sākṣāt paraṃ brahma Tasmai śrīgurave namaḥ Guru is Brahma, Guru is Vishnu, Guru is Lord Shiva, Guru is the embodiment of the Absolute Supreme Reality [Brahman], My salutation to Guru. This affirmation of Guru as paraṃ brahma results in devotion that necessitates self-­abnegation and self-­surrender vital to bhakti, a Sanskrit noun from the verbal root meaning “to divide, to share with, to grant, to partake of, and to enjoy” (Monier-­Williams 1988: 743). In this line, daily pūjā concludes by samarppannam (“surrender,” “conclusion”) (Gurupuṣpāñjali 2013: 52). The devotional rituals performed by Guru’s devotees demonstrate the blur­ ring of boundaries, not only between divine and human, but also between humans. Such boundary crossing remains rooted in the “inner dynamic exchange of human relationships” (Vail 1985: 129). As an outcome, Guru’s devotees

Apotheosis of Sree Narayana Guru   125 perceive him to be a deity and long to unite with him as expressed in hymns and rituals for him. Such “longing to union” has been an essential content of the medieval bhakti saints literatures in India. Guru viśvāsam translates to Guru bhakti. Though Guru bhakti follows purāṇic theism, including establishment of his image and performance of pūjās accompanied by singing hymns written in Malayalam by Guru and Sanskrit verses, namely Gāyatrī Mantra and Gurustotram, it reveals that rituals are contextually constructed systems that consist of words and actions (Tambiah 1985: 128). In Hinduism, worshipping the image of the deity remains extremely vital. Diana Eck (1998) contends that images are visual theologies and visual scriptures. Images are essential in Hindu saguṇa bhakti, and the establishment of Guru’s image becomes the stepping-­stone for his worship as divine in modern Kerala. In 1927, Professor Tavarelli, an Italian national, was the first to make an image of Guru based on a photograph, and later this sculptured image (mūrti) was established in Jagannāth Temple in Thallassery. Guru did not reject the establishment of his image. Despite his concept of divine image and worship, his devotees worshipped and worship him today in the form of mūrtis as well as printed images. Guru’s images are to be found all over Kerala in temples and roadside shrines and his devotees perform rituals in front of them. Here it becomes imperative to mention that SNDP became suffused with Guru devotion, as many of these temples and shrines have the organizational affiliation displayed. Before the establishment of his shrine and his image, Guru’s photograph was placed at his Samādhi Mandiram and devotees would worship him there. Yet another aspect of devotion can be understood in the adoration of his relics placed in the Vaidhayi Mandiram, his cottage, which is on the way to the Guru Samādhi. Every day one can observe his devotees coming in front of the cottage, prostrating, and paying their respects. One of the devotees, who for privacy did not want his name disclosed, claimed that this was against the will of Guru (Per­ sonal interview, 2014). But another devotee, Mr. Uthaman, the founder of a small group of Guru devotees from the Izhava community, discusses on a regular basis the concept of Guru’s divinity (Uthaman, Personal interview 2013, 2014). When I inquired regarding Guru as divine, Mr. Uthaman affirmed, “When Guru was alive, he never negated being considered divine. It is from Guru’s time that he was considered a divine being. Also, Guru was never against rituals. In fact, he was re-­interpreting ritual.” Rabindranath Tagore, C. F. Andrews and Kumaran Asan wrote about Guru’s charisma, and excerpts from their writings are placed in the Vaidhayi Mandiram. Mr. Uthaman accentuated, “Worship is not conducted according to regular Hindu worship. It is different! It is suṣuptam.” Suṣuptam means here “self-­ realization,” which is defined in the states of consciousness in the Upaniṣads. Here, Guru’s philosophy of arivu gained through self-­realization finds its impetus among his devotees, who employ devotional tropes. Nevertheless, establishment of an image reinforces the significance of the embodiment of divinity in bhakti traditions. More importantly, Guru’s devotees consider him as deity in the same way as any devotee considers other deities of

126   George Pati Hinduism. For Hindus, temple deities are means of active participation in reli­ gious life, and these images are treated as “paradigmatic sovereigns” demanding and receiving respect from devotees (Appadurai and Breckenridge 1976: 187–211). Images play a pivotal role also among Izhavas. Establishment of images foreshadows rituals and worship. These rituals and worship conducted at Sivagiri, Varkala, mecca for Guru devotees, and a place of pilgrimage reveal it to be bhakti, where divine–human relationship is established. Daily at 4:30 a.m., devotees gather at the prārthanāmuri or “prayer room,” where in front of the image of the Guru stands a fire altar. In the space between the image and the fire altar, various elements used during the pūjā are placed, includ­ ing flowers, fruits, ghee (clarified butter), and water, as per the devotional tradition. “The primary impetus of pouring ghee into the fire was symbolic of getting rid of ego,” as the novice monk, who was performing the ritual, explained. Each day different monks of the tradition perform the pūjā. These monks reside within the precincts of Sivagiri mattom, the monastic residence. A typical morning pūjā session begins with the lighting of the fire at the altar and recitation of the Gāyatrī Mantra. Some monks join the main monk, and some devotees from the neighborhood daily participate in the rituals. The prayers, set in metrical patterns, are compiled in a booklet entitled, Gurupuṣpāñjali. During nityahōmam (daily ritual) pūjā, the singing of hymns and recitation of mantras are accompanied by offerings of flowers, fruits, and water at the Guru’s feet. The sequence of the hymns and prayers in the ritual are as follows: Gāyatrī Mantra is followed by Gurudhyānam, Vinayakaṣṭakam, Gurupuṣpāñjali, Guruaṣṭakam, Gurustavam, Brahmavidyāpañcakam, Hōmamantram, Śāntimantram, Daivadaśakam, chapter 15 of the Bhagavad Gītā, Śivaśatakam, Indriyavairāgyam, Nirvr̥ttipañcakam, Kṣamāpana Prārthana, Samarppannam (Sudhananda 2008). For the purpose of this chapter, I highlight verses from the Gurustavam and Samarppannam, as they pointedly demonstrate bhakti, acknowledging Guru as divine and surrendering at Guru’s feet. Gurustavam consists of six stanzas, with a refrain interspersed between the stanzas. For example: Nārāyaṇamurthe Gurunārāyaṇamurthe, Nārāyaṇamurthe, Gurunārāyaṇamurthe, Ārāyukilandatvammozhicādimahāssin Nerām vazhikāttum guruvallo paradaivam Ārādhyannorthidukil njangalavidunnām Nārāyaṇamurthe Gurunārāyaṇamurthe.

(Gurupuṣpāñjali 2013: 17)

O Image of Vishnu, Guru, image of Vishnu, O Image of Vishnu, Guru, image of Vishnu, The one who is ignorant in darkness Guru, the great god (paradaivam) guides in the right direction, Please acknowledge our worship, O Image of Vishnu, Guru, image of Vishnu.

Apotheosis of Sree Narayana Guru   127 Briefly, the Gurustavam retells Guru’s sacrifice for the benefit of others through socioreligious reforms and how he unties the entanglement of caste through love and always his blossoming face to fill the minds of his devotees. Additionally, the nityahōmam, or daily pūjā, at the prayer room concludes with the recitation of the Samarppannam (in Malayalam, “surrender,” “offer,” “conclusion”). Samarppannam consists of two stanzas in which the first stanza begins by invok­ ing Brahma and concludes with: om tat sat Srīnārāyaṇa gururarppannamstu om.

(Gurupuṣpāñjali 2013: 52)

Om, that is truth (lit. “Om, that [the Absolute] exists”), Offer yourself to Sree Narayana Guru. At 5:00 a.m., the pūjā at the prayer room concludes, and worship at Śāradamattom commences. This pūjā lasts for half an hour and is directed toward Sharada, goddess of learning, another name of Sarasvati, who is believed to be residing at this mattom. The pūjā includes singing hymns, paying respect, and silent meditation; no food is offered. As soon as the pūjā concludes at Śāradamattom, pūjā at the Samādhi Mandiram begins at 5:30 and concludes by 6:00 a.m. At the samādhi, Gāyatrī Mantra is not recited, marking a distinction between the pūjā at the samādhi as against the pūjā at the prayer room and Śāradamattom. The pūjā concludes with the ārti and the devotees receiving the flame. For Guru’s devotees, this flame is symbolic of the consciousness that comes from above and transcends all boundaries—religious, social, and sectarian—emphasizing his motto of “one caste, one religion, one God for all humanity.” Once the pūjā concludes, devotees circumambulate the sanctuary of the samādhi of the Guru and receive prasādam, the grace of the Guru. This prac­ tice resonates with the pilgrimage to places related to the samādhis of saints, as, for example, in the case of Ramdev, the Rajput hero-­saint, or Maharashtrian saints Namdev and Cokhamela (Eck 1998: 71). These rituals remain significant in Guru’s apotheosis. Izhavas through such devotional practices negotiate a sense of unifying with other strands of Hindu­ ism where devotional pūjās continue to be central, while maintaining their own distinctive identity. In devotional ritual, the dichotomy between the divine and human becomes loosely homologized, “[c]onstantly differentiating and integ­ rating, establishing and subverting the field of social relations” (Bell 1992: 21, 130). Rituals, then, become an integrative instrument and unifying force within the society and the lived and the imagined world turn out to be similar (Geertz 1973). Such assimilation endorses Guru’s notion of “oneness” and serves as a means of social mobility albeit it digresses to a certain extent from Guru’s own understanding of rituals and reforms as some insist (Chandramohan 1981; Priya­ darshan 2008). As a spiritual leader (swāmījī) claims, “Today, for some devotees it is a fashion statement—it has nothing to do with spirituality; it is about new

128   George Pati clothes and celebration” (Personal interview with a Swami (anonymity main­ tained) 2014). No matter how Guru and his reforms and rituals are perceived inside and outside the Izhava community, for his devotees he is divine as they pray to him, sing to him, remember him, and, finally, surrender at his feet. All of this attests to his apotheosis. Such divinizing can also be perceived among devotees of Sathya Sai Baba and other gurus of modern period in India. Sree Narayana Guru’s deification continues to remain a debatable issue, raising several questions for further consideration. Can a socioreligious reformer be considered a divine person and to what extent is that legitimate? Do the criterion reforms and rituals discussed in this chapter sufficiently argue his apotheosis? Guru’s reforms and rituals dynamically contribute toward his divinizing. For the time being, Guru’s devotees take his anti-­establishment movement liberating the Izhavas from caste oppression of untouchability and unapproachability as central to his deification. In worshipping Guru, transformation happens between humanity and divinity. Thereby Guru’s embodiment is of soteriological signifi­ cance for the devotee. Similar examples of elevation of medieval bhakti poets to sainthood and further, to divinity, remain central to bhakti traditions elsewhere in India. The idea of a human stepping over the threshold between the physical and spiritual world obviously does not present a problem. It is in the “crossing over” between the two realms: physical and spiritual, divine and human, miracu­ lous and mundane, transcendent and immanent, that the divine agency of Guru finds its practical efficacy. His devotees continue to sing Nārāyaṇamurthe, Guru Nārāyaṇamurthe, and surrender at his feet.

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Index

abduction 10–11, 13–14, 16–17, 19, 22n17, 38 ādhyātmika yoga 43–4, 47, 53 agricultural prosperity 68 ancestor(s) 3, 76, 80, 81, 86, 89 Āṇḍāḷ 10, 47–8, 50–1, 66–7, 70, 129 Aniruddha 2, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13–25 apotheosis 3, 5, 34, 59, 68, 73, 115–16, 119, 124, 124–8 arivu 118, 121, 125 auspiciousness 97–8 Bhāgavata Purāṇa [BhP] 22n17, 38–46, 48–9, 51–4, 56n3 bhakti 4, 32–3, 34n2, 102, 105–6, 108–9, 110n15, 116, 118–19, 122, 124–6, 128 bīr 81, 83, 86; see also vīr (a) Brahmavaivarta Purāṇa [BrVP] 3, 38–55, 57n9 Bundela 71–5, 78–9, 83–6 Bundelkhand 3, 71–2, 74–85, 87 cabūtrā(s) 75–7, 80–1, 83, 87; see also shrine(s) charisma 122, 125; charismatic 120 childhood narratives 3, 50 cholera, cholera god 3, 76, 82–3, 86–7 Derrida, Jacques 103–4, 109n3 dharma 4–5, 49, 53–5, 74, 85–7, 105, 107, 109n8, 115, 119 divine other 1, 103, 105 ecology 67 embodiedness 115–16 everyday life/dreamed life 52, 72, 94 fertility 66, 68 gift 62, 89, 91–2, 95, 98–100

gokula (cow settlement) 3, 44–6, 56n3 Goloka 3, 38–9, 41, 44–5, 47–52, 57n5 guru 1–2, 4–5, 27–8, 33–4, 56n5, 89, 102, 106–9, 110n14, 115–28 Hardaul 3–4, 71–87 Harivaṃśa [HV] 2, 7–11, 14–18, 20n5, 21n6, 22n14, 22n21, 23n24, 38–44, 46–9, 52, 54, 56n2 healing 106, 116, 122–4 hero 2, 6–9, 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 21n12, 71, 75–6, 81, 83, 87, 127 hero worship 81, 87 Himachal Pradesh 4, 89–90 Hindu goddess (devī) 4, 17, 77, 80, 89–91, 93, 95–7, 100, 121 Husserl, Edmund 103, 109n3 jaina versions of Kṛṣṇa’s childhood 53 Jujhar Singh (Deo) 71, 73–5, 78–80, 86 Kangra 90–1, 94–7 kanyā 1, 4, 62, 89–100 kanyā pūjā 4, 89–100 knowledge/consciousness 3, 5, 19–20, 29, 31, 53, 67, 72–3, 75, 81–2, 85, 96, 102, 104–6, 115, 117–21, 125, 127 Kṛṣṇa/Krishna 2–3, 6–10, 12–14, 16–20, 21n8, 22n17, 23n22, 23n23, 24, 38–56, 56n1, 57n8, 58, 108 Kumārī 89, 95, 100 Lévinas, Emmanuel 103, 112–13, 109n3 Lévinasian 104 līlā 30–1, 34, 61 Madurai 3, 37, 59–70, 68n1–68n2, 69n3, 69n5, 69n10 Mahābhārata 6, 20n5, 22n18, 23–5, 39, 49, 58

132   Index Māṇikkavācakar 28–31, 35n9, 36; Manikkavacakar 29, 32 marriage 3, 21n6, 22n7, 40, 45, 49–51, 53, 59–67, 69–71, 73–4, 76–7, 81–3, 85, 87, 93, 96, 100, 117, 121 masculinity 13, 18–20, 26 Mayavati 9–10, 16–17 merit 85, 98–9 meritorious 53 Merleau–Ponty, Maurice 103, 109n3, 113 Meykaṇṭaśāstra (Tamil Meykaṇṭacāttiraṅkaḷ) 27 Mīnākṣi/Minakshi 59, 65, 69–70, 69n4, 69n7, 69n11, 69n13 Mīnākṣi-Sundareśvara/MinakshiSundareshvara temple 3, 59–60, 64, 68, 68n1, 68n2, 69, 69n10, 70 miracle 5, 32, 34n2, 115–16, 119, 122–4 Moghul, Mughal 74–5, 79–80, 85, 87, 108 movement 4, 7, 21n12, 105–6, 115–16, 118–22, 128 mysticism 5, 115–16, 119, 124 myth, Hindu 102, 109n1 mythologizing 1, 4, 102–3, 109 Navarātra 4, 89–90, 92–3, 96, 98–9 nāyaṉmār 28, 32–3, 34n2 nirguṇa bhakti 106 nirguṇavād 4, 102, 109 North India 2, 4, 6, 21n8, 21n12, 82, 89, 94, 109, 120 Orchha 3, 71–81, 83–6 otherism 1 Pāṇḍyan dynasty 59, 61, 63–4, 68, 69n3 Parañcōti Muṉivar’s Tiruviḷaiyāṭal Purāṇam 60–5 Parvati 32, 42, 59, 65 patriline 2, 6, 10–12, 14–20 pilgrimage 59, 116, 122, 124, 126–7 poison 71, 73, 84 poisoning 32, 61, 71, 73, 75, 78 political legitimacy 3, 60 Pradyumna 2, 6, 7–10, 14–20, 21n6, 21n10, 21n11, 21n12, 22n14, 23n22, 23n23, 23n24 Pudu Maṇḍapam 3, 60–3, 65–8 pūjā 4, 32, 76, 81, 89–100, 116, 121, 124–7 purity 11–12, 14, 67, 96, 99, 105, 109n8, 117, 120 Rādhā /Radha 3, 38–40, 43–53, 55–6, 106, 108

Radhasoami 4, 102–9, 109n9, 110n14 rāsa 47, 51–2 Rāsamaṇḍala 47–8, 50–1 rituals 40, 53, 63–4, 69n15, 77, 99, 115–16, 119–21, 123–8 Śaiva Siddhānta (Tamil Caiva Cittāntam) 2, 27–34, 34n1, 35n7, 36n30 samarppannam 124, 126, 127 Sant mat 106–7 sant tradition 107–8 secret encounters 50 Shiv Dayal 105–6 shrine(s) 8, 60–1, 64, 66, 75–6, 80, 82, 125 Śiva/Shiva 2, 9, 24, 27–34, 35n21, 36, 42, 47, 49, 51, 53, 59–65, 68, 70, 80, 111, 120–1, 124 sleeping time 52; wake time 50, 52 SNDP (Sree Narayana Dharma Paripalana) 5, 115, 118, 125 spirit 4, 31–2, 34n2, 38, 41, 50, 54, 80–3, 86, 99 Sree Narayana Guru 4, 115, 117, 124, 127–8 Śrīdāman 48 Sundareśvara/Sundareshvara 59, 60–7, 69 surat śabda yoga 106 temple rituals 32, 64, 92 Tirukkaḷiṟṟuppaṭiyār 2, 27–8, 31–4, 34n2, 35n5 Tirumala Nāyaka 3, 60, 64–8 Tirumurai 2, 28, 34 Tiruvuntiyār 2, 27–34, 34n2, 35n5 true reality/fictive world 47 Umāpati Civācāriyār 27 untī paṟa 28–30, 35n8, 35n9, 35n10, 35n11, 35n12, 35n13, 35n15, 35n17, 35n20, 35n23, 35n24, 35n25, 35n26, 36n27, 36n28 Usha 9–10, 15–17, 22n21, 23n23 Uyyavanta Tēvanāyaṉār 28, 32 viḷaiyātal 30 vīr 15, 75, 78, 81, 83, 85 viraha 52 Virajā 47, 48, 49 vraja 44–6, 56n1 vrata 92, 93 Vrindavan (settlement) 44, 46–7, 50–1, 54 Vrishni heroes 2, 7–10, 13–14, 16–20, 21n8, 21n10, 21n12, 23n23, 23n24 Vṛndāvana (forest) 3, 40–1, 44–51, 54, 56n4