Literature, Music and Dance – The Integral Aspects of Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās’ Harikatha ‘Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu’

Dr. K. Savithri Devi

[This research paper was published in the peer reviewed journal "NADAMRUTHAM—The Journal of Music", Volume 12, 2021- 2022 published by the Department of Music, University of Kerala, Thiruvananthapuram.]

ABSTRACT

‘Harikathā Pitāmaha’ Ajjāḍa Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās served Harikatha for six decades (1883-1945) and transported his audience into his world of Harikatha by his multi-faceted personality. Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu, comprising six harikatha-s, is the longest of all harikatha-s of Nārāyaṇa Dās. It is an original work, a treasure house of literary, creative and musical excellence. It brought together the rāga, tāḷa and nṛtya forms in music and literature and lent scope to the limitless forms of prosody. Nārāyaṇa Dās, an expert of classical dance form, adopted the features of classical dance in his harikatha-s and made use of Daruvu-s and jati-s at the end of his kṛti-s and would perform pure nāṭya singing them. Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu is the most renowned of all his yakṣagāna-s portraying all the rasa-s effectively. Tempos in different rhythm cycles create different rasa-s. Adept in laya, Nārāyaṇa Dās’ composed kṛti-s in all tāḷa-s and jāti-s. Besides composing in prominent rāga-s, Nārāyaṇa Dās composed in Bēhāg, Yamunā Kaḷyāṇi, Husēni, Dēśi and other Dēśi rāga-s also. The use of rare tāḷa-s is outstanding in Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyāṇamu which is a testimony of Nārāyaṇa Dās’ literary excellence, musical brilliance and splendour of dance.

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Key Words

Harikatha, yakṣagāna, gēya prabandha, rāga, rasa, daruvu, jati, laya, tāḷa

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‘Saṅgīta Sāhitya Sārvabhauma’, ‘Laya Brahma’, ‘Pancamukhī Paramēsvara’, ‘Āṭa Pāṭala Mēṭi’, ‘Sahaja Pānḍitya Vilāsa’, ‘Pūrṇa Purushuḍu’, ‘Puṁbhāva Sarasvati and ‘Harikathā Pitāmaha’ Ajjāḍa Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās (31.8.1864 – 2.1.1945) did invaluable service to the world of Telugu literature and arts by the creation of the novel art form Harikatha. He served Harikatha for six decades (1883-1945) transporting his audience into his world of Harikatha by his awe- inspiring versatility. The connoisseurs of arts of his time conferred on him the title of ‘Harikathā Pitāmaha’. Tūmāṭi Dōṇappa in his ‘Telugu Harikathā Vāṅgmaya Caritra’ spotlights the illustrious period of six decades in which Nārāyaṇa Dās’ harikatha-s reigned supreme as Nārāyaṇa Dāsa yuga in Telugu Harikathā vāṅgmaya caritra, the years before 1883 as Prāṅ (pre) Nārāyaṇa Dāsa yuga and the years after 1945 as Anantara (post) Nārāyaṇa Dāsa yuga[1]. The artiste carved a niche for himself and became synonymous with the art form he created, Harikatha.

Nārāyaṇa Dās authored twenty-one harikatha-s, which he termed yakṣagāna-s, including three in Sanskrit. Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu is the longest of all harikatha-s of Nārāyaṇa Dās. The best aspects of the various stories of Rāma were considered and the story ‘Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu’ was embellished with all the sentiments. It brought together the rāga, tāḷa and nṛtya forms in music and literature and lent scope to the limitless forms of prosody. The great work of art delighted all and sundry and has established itself as the means of achieving material and spiritual progress.

Nārāyaṇa Dās imbibed the knowledge of literature, music and dance naturally and was a self-taught genius. He was an ardent devotee just as poets like Pōtana and received honours of Maharāja-s in the manner of poets like Śrīnātha. He was a great Vāggēyakāra like Tyāgarāja, an independent litterateur like the poet Rāmakriṣna and had thorough knowledge of eight languages like Nārāyaṇa Bhaṭhu.  He loved to be original in creativity and detested imitation.

Nārāyaṇa Dās composed Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu after the death of his wife, Narasamma. Her death and this Harikatha composition took place in 1915. He dedicated his work to his wife who admired Rāmāyaṇamu very much. He studied various Rāmāyaṇa-s, combined the two Rāmāyaṇa-s (Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa and Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa of Vyāsa) derived some elements of both, discarded a few aspects, added a few of those which he thought might be the truth befitting the characters and authored Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu (in 1915) as a gēya prabandha. This is his original literary and musical treasure. He followed the story-line of Vālmīki and Tulasi Rāmāyaṇa-s and the depiction of Soul of Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa.

Division Of Segments:

The story of Vālmīki’s Bālakānḍa was incorporated in ‘Śrī Rāmajananamu’ and ‘Sītā kalyānamu’. He named Ayōdhya kānḍa as ‘Padukāpaṭṭabhiṣēkamu’. ‘Śrī Rāma Sugrīva Maitri’ was spread through Araṇya kānḍa and Kiṣkinda kānḍa. ‘Hanumat Sandēśamu’ was the story of Kiṣkinda and Sundara kānḍa-s. The whole of Yudha kānḍa was changed as ‘Sāmrājyasiddhi’. At the end of each part there is an ‘Āsvāśanta gadya’ in which he mentions himself as ‘Sahaja pānḍitya vilāśa Brahmaśrīmadajjāḍādibhaṭṭa Nārāyaṇa Dāsa’.

The change was made with the view of bringing the story together to suit the Harikatha art form and the story was adapted to relate to the main characters of the epic. Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu is not meant to be performed in a single day. It was divided into six parts for six days’ performance. Those six parts can also be performed as six Harikatha-s. A capable and skilled performer of Harikatha can perform Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu for thirty days, justifying the musical and literary skills of the composer.

Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu of Nārāyaṇa Dās is an original work, a treasure house of literary, creative and musical excellence.

Nārāyaṇa Dās, an expert of classical dance form, adopted the features of classical dance in his harikatha-s and made use of daruvu-s and jati-s at the end of his kṛti-s and would perform pure nāṭya singing them. He would show mudra-s to explain the meaning of a particular word or sometimes to express the meaning and sometimes to add significance to the abhinaya. After presenting every kṛti with proper abhinaya and dance steps, he would present pure nṛtya on svara prastāra-s. The beauty of presentation of classical dance always depends on the trio of music, literature and laya.  Harikatha-s of Nārāyaṇa Dās follow these norms which make them very much suitable for a dance performance.

Nārāyaṇa Dās’ narration of the story would be very interesting and captivating. Every bit of it was musical. The anecdotes and humorous stories in between the main storyline were narrated by him equally interestingly.

For example: In a story where a tiger tries to get hold of an animal which it sees at a distance, the tiger makes several moves before it achieves its target. Enacting the various facial expressions and movements of the tiger, Nārāyaṇa Dās would render it through a rāga sancāra, befitting the mood of the story.  By the time he concluded the effective rāga sancāra, the tiger would catch the animal. He would express such incidents through svara sancāra-s in hundreds or thousands of varieties[2].

Rāga And Rasa In Śrī Yāthārtha Rāmāyaṇamu

Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās was all in one. He appeared the greatest musician to musicians, the greatest litterateur to litterateurs and the greatest dancer to dancers. All arts flourished and reached their peaks in one person. Harikatha art became the right platform for his multi-faceted personality. Though we can’t now listen to his music and see his spectacular dance, we can perceive his inimitable prowess only through his scholarly works which are only a few rays of the vast light of his genius. For him music and literature were the two facets of an art and deserved equal prominence. They are so closely related to each other that he opined: “Music is scene and Literature vision, Music is world and Literature Soul, Music is Prakṛti and Literature Puruṣa, Music is worldly and Literature spiritual, Music is universe and Literature Īswara, Music is Vikṛti and Literature Prakṛti, Music is Life and Literature Death, Music is saguṇa and Literature nirguṇa.” [3]  They cannot be separated. He observed ‘Poetry is abstract, and Music is concrete. Poetry is theoretical and spiritual, and Music is practical and material. Poetry is the cause and Music is the effect. He believed in the theory of Gāndharva Vēda –‘Gītaṃ vādyaṃca nṛtyaṃca trayam saṅgītamucyatē’. He proved that the combination of gīta, vādya and nṛtya is the characteristic of music. He adored and practiced such true music like Śiva Nārāyaṇa Tīrtha. For him the compound word, ‘Saṅgītōpanyāsa’ had a specific meaning. ‘Saṅgīta’ meant gīta, vādya and nṛtya; and upanyāsa meant ‘dramatic narration, combined with aesthetic experience’.

He reiterated that all arts are God-given and they are meaningful only when they are offered to God. He made Harikatha a unique divine art, an astonishing union of arts appealing to perception in totality. All the characters divine and human, men and women, young and old, rich and poor came alive in him and his narration completed the yakṣagāna prabandham. The skilful coordination of dhātu and mātu, the libretto and the music portrayed the intended rasa or feeling. However, the tradition of Harikatha with a proper blend of sāhitya, nṛtya, gīta and vādya had had its heyday in the tenure of the incomparable versatile genius of Nārāyaṇa Dās.

His yakṣagāna-s are of kīrtana-s in a variety of rāga-s that depict the nine rasa-s which are perceived and felt. Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu is the most renowned of all his yakṣagāna-s portraying all the rasa-s effectively. There are many kīrtana-s which can be sung by all with devotion, taken out of the situation in Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu and many kīrtana-s have all the requisite elements for being sung in musical concerts.

‘Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyaṇamu’ contains kīrtana-s, mañjari-s, vacana-s composed in gait and devotion. Besides composing in prominent rāga-s like Kharahara priya, Śubhapantuvarāḷi, Kāmbhōji, Kēdāragauḷa, Malayamārutamu, Kannaḍa, Nīlāmbari, Śrīrāga, Śahana, Mōhana, Dēvagāndhāri, Nārāyaṇa Dās composed in Bēhāg, Yamunā Kaḷyāṇi, Husēni, Dēśi and other Dēśi rāga-s also.

Rare Tāḷa-s Used

Adept in laya, Nārāyaṇa Dās’ composed kṛti-s in all tāḷa-s and jāti-s. The use of rare tāḷa-s is outstanding in Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyāṇamu. Tempos in different rhythm cycles create different rasa-s. The right tempo has to be chosen to convey the desired emotion. For example : The kṛtis sung by Bhārgava, Virādha turned Tumbura, Śarabhaṅga, Sutīkṣṇa, Hanuma  were set in tāḷa-s Saṅkīrṇajāti Rūpakamu, Sankīrṇa jāti Tripuṭa, Caturasrajātyaṭa tāḷa, Miśrajāti Tripuṭa tāḷa, Tryasrajātyaṭa and Śaṅkīrṇajāti Dhṛva tāḷa.

Śrī Yathārtha Rāmāyāṇamu, comprising six harikatha-s, is a testimony of Nārāyaṇa Dās’ literary excellence, musical brilliance and splendour of dance. Apt rasa-s that suit different situations were depicted through appropriate rāga-s and tāḷa-s.  The essence of the art is aesthetic delight. 

Bibliography

1.  S. V. Jōgā Rao (Ed.), Śrī Ādibhaṭṭa Nārāyaṇa Dāsa Sārasvata Nīrājanamu, Gunṭur: Racayitala Sahakāra Sanghamu, 1974.

2. TūmāṭiDōnappa, Telugu Harikathāsarvasvam, Gunṭūr: Nāgārjuna Viśvavidyālayamu, (1^st print) 1978.

3. Vyzarsu, Bālasubrahmaṇyam, The Musical Genius of ‘Harikathā Pitāmaha’ Śrī Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dāsu, Chennai: Kaḷātapasvi Creations, 2012.

4. Komānḍūri Śēṣhādri, Nārāyaṇa Dāsa vāggēya śilpamu, Rasamayi (cultural monthly magazine), January, 2007

5. Vāsā, Kriṣṇa Mūrthi, “Dāsugāri Sangītagurutvamu” in Śrī Ādibhaṭṭa Nārāyaṇa Dāsa  Sārasvata  Nīrājanamu,  pp. 1151-66.

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Notations For Two Keertanas 

1.  Rāga: Vasanta                           Rāmā nava nava                        Tāḷa: Caturaśrajāti aṭa

Lyric

Pallavi

Rāmā  nava  nava  mēgha  śyāmā   |  Raghukulābdhi   sōma    || 

Anupallavi

Bhūmijā   mānasābhi  Rāma  saṃ  |  pūrṇa sarva kāma   || 

Caraṇamu

Satya  jñānānanda   svarūpa    |   Sajjana   ḥṛddīpa   ||

Stutyaguṇa  kalāpa  drutaharacāpa   |  sura  vinuta  pratāpa     ||

-       Śrī Rāma Sugrīva maitri, p.14.

Pallavi

,   s  M  g  M  ,   d    N   m   D    |  ,  Ṡ     n        ṡ   n   ġ  ṙ    ṙ   ṡ  Ṡ    | 

    Rā .   mā .       na  va  na   va        mē  gha      śyā .  .   .     mā .   .

,  n     Ṡ     n    D    |   m  d         ṡ   n  d  m   ||    g  r

Ra  ghu  ku  lā         .  bdhi     sō  .   .  ma         .  .      Rā .   mā .   

Anupallavi 

,   d     N   ṡ    Ṡ    ,   ṡ    Ṁ   ġ   Ṁ    |   ṁ  ġ     ṙ   ṙ  ṡ   n ġ ṙ   ṙ    ṡ  Ṡ   |

Bhū  .   mi jā        mā  .    na  sā         .   bhi  Ra . ma .  .  .   saṃ .  .

ṡ   n   ġ  ṙ        ṡ   n   D   |   ṡ   n  d  m       g  m  g  r    ||   g  r 

pū .    .   .        rṇa .   .         sa  .   .  rva      kā  .   .  ma       .  .

Caraṇamu

,   ṡ  N ,  D      D   D      |      m   n  d   m     m  g  d  m    g   r  S   |              

Sa .   tya     jñā  nā          nan  .  da sva    rū   .   .   .     pa   .   .

,   s  M  g  M    |     d  m  d   n  ṡ  n    ||    D

Sa .   jja na         ḥṛ  .   ddī  .   .   .         pa

As Anupallavi 

Stutyaguṇa  kalāpa  drutaharacāpa    |   sura  vinuta  pratāpa     ||

2.  Rāga – Bēgaḍa                    Rāmacandra Sītāmanōhara               Tāḷa – Ādi

Lyric

Pallavi

Rāmacandra Sītāmanōharā  |  Raghukula jaladhi śaśī Paramātmā  ||

Anupallavi

Nī mahima deliyanenta vāḍanē  |  nī mudrikadālpa nātaraṃbā  ||

Caraṇamu 1

Nīvu dēvuḍani nēnerigitinī  | nirhētuka kṛpa nī dāsuḍanu  ||

Kēvala dharma svarūpa ninnuṃ  |  gīrtimpani vāri janmamēla  ||

Caraṇamu 2 

Māyāmānuṣa vigrahā nā  |  madi śōdhincedavā  ||  yōdēva  ||

Rātinātigā jēsina nī pada  |  rajameppuḍu dālceda nā śiramuna  ||

              -      Śrī Rāma Pādukāpaṭṭābhiṣēkamu, p. 118.

Pallavi 

; , G   m    P  ;   P  ;  Ṡ  |  Ṡ   ṡ    ṙ   ṡ   n  D   |   P ,  m  d   p  m g   ||

Rā  ma  can   dra   Sī    tā  ma  .  nō  .   .         ha   .   rā   .    .   .

m  r   g     M   d    P   p   p  m  g  R    s  ṇ  |  S ; ; Ṡ  |  ṡ  n  d   P , m  g ||

.    .   Ra   ghu ku  la   ja   .   la   .  dhi  śa .     śī . . pa    ra .  mā  .   tmā .

m  r

Anupallavi

;  n  Ṡ  ġ    Ġ    Ġ     Ġ  Ġ   Ġ   |  Ġ   Ṁ   Ṗ   Ġ  |    Ṙ    Ṡ    Ṡ  ;  ||

Nī  .  ma  hi   ma   de   li   ya    nen  .    ta   vā       .    ḍa   nē

;  d    Ṙ   ṡ     Ṙ  N   N    D   P  |   P     p   d  N  D   |  P,   m  d  p  m  g  ||

Nī   .   mu   .   dri  ka  dā   .       lpa   nā   .   .   ta     raṃ  .   bā .   .    .

m  r

Caraṇamu

; , G   m    P    ;  P    D   P   | ;  p   d   N  D  |    P  p  m  d  p  m  g   ||

Nī  vu   dē   .  vu  ḍa  ni         nē   .    .  ne      ri  gi  .    ti  .   nī  .

m   r   g  M   d    P  g m  dpP   g  r  S   |   ; ṇ   S   G ; ,  r   G   M  P ;  ||

.     .   ni   .    rhē  .   tu .    ka..   kṛ  .  pa       Nī   .   dā .   .    su  ḍa  nu

;  m   P  d    P    Ṡ ;  Ṡ       N   |   Ṡ   Ġ  Ġ  Ġ   |   ṁṗ  ġ  Ṙ ,  ṡ   Ṡ   ||

Kē  .   va  la  dha  rma   sva     rū  pa  ni   .        .  .   nnuṃ   .    .

;   d   Ṙ   ṡ     R  N   N   D ;  |   P  p  d  N  D    |  P ,  m  d   p  m  g   ||

gī   .   rtim  .   pa  ni   vā       ri  ja   .   .   nma   mē  .   la   .    .    .      

m r

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[1] Tūmāṭi Dōṇappa, “Telugu Harikathā Vāṅgmaya Caritra’’,  Ākāśa Bhārati, pp.27-36.

[2] Vāsā, Kriṣṇa Mūrthi, “Dāsugāri Sangītagurutvamu” in Śrī Ādibhaṭṭa Nārāyaṇa Dāsa  Sārasvata  Nīrājanamu,  pp. 1151-66.

[3] Ādibhaṭla, Nārāyaṇa Dās, Jagajjyōti - II volume, p. 370. 

Rubâiyât of Omar Khaiyâm

“It is not my habit to have my works corrected and recast by others!”—Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās 

Adibhatla Narayana Das

Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās learnt Persian when he was about thirty years old. When he was about sixty, he chanced upon a copy of Edward Fitzgerald’s translations of the Rubâiyât of Omar Khaiyâm. As he glanced through it, he felt that Fitzgerald’s translations did not do justice to the eleventh century Persian poet-philosopher’s original verses. Understanding Persian was one thing; but to be able to translate it into Saṃskṛtaṃ and Telugu required a far greater linguistic proficiency. He therefore set about to polish and master the language at the ripe old age of sixty and translated the work c1930. Maharāṇi Lalitā Kumari Dēvi of Vijayanagaram was so impressed with it that she felt it should be presented to the literary public. She sent the manuscript to Sarvēpalli Rādhākṛṣṇan who was then Vice Chancellor of Andhra university with a request to write a foreword to it. The book was published in 1932. In a rare honour, The Hyderabad Bulletin, a British owned newspaper reviewed the book in an editorial entitled A Monument of Scholarship. The Sahitya Akademi published a second edition of the book in its ‘Rare Books’ series in 2012. The Sanskrit Academy, Hyderabad, affiliated to the Central Sanskrit University brought out a special edition of the Sanskrit portion of the book in August 2023.   

The reason that attracted Nārāyaṇa Dās to Omar Khaiyâm could perhaps be a shared worldview towards life and religion. Both of them were Sun-worshippers and polymaths. In his English introduction to the Rubâiyât of Omar Khaiyâm, Nārāyaṇa Dās says “Omar Khaiyâm commences his verses with the word “Khurshīd”, which means the Sun; because I presume, he was a sun worshipper…” 

Omar Khaiyâm’s interests extended from poetry, music, philosophy and theology to mathematics, astronomy, geography, mineralogy and meteorology. Nārāyaṇa Dās’ interests extended from poetry, music and musicology, literature and linguistics, dance and acting, philosophy, theology and Vēdik studies (a conglomeration of various branches of theology, philosophy, arts and sciences) to astrology and medicine (Āyurvēda). 

Neither of them was properly understood by his contemporaries during his life time. Omar Khaiyâm was seen either as an atheist and hedonist or at the other extreme, as a mystical Sufi poet. In the case of Nārāyaṇa Dās although his proclivity to the Bhakti tradition was never in doubt, his philosophy of humanism might not have been fully understood. While Nārāyaṇa Dās devoted his life to the teaching of ‘Bhakti, Jñāna, Mōkṣa’, he condemned with vehemence some prevailing practices of his time, such as animal sacrifice as unacceptable, as he felt they were at variance with the spirit of Vēdik philosophy. 

The Title Page

Nārāyaṇa Dās used to absorb knowledge from his environs just as a sponge absorbed water, and improve upon it. After coming into contact with the Hindustāni musician, Mohabbat Khān at Vijayanagaraṃ, he cultivated the Hindustāni genre of music to develop a Karṇātik-Hindustāni hybrid timbre. Similarly, when he was thirty-seven, he came into contact with a Maulvi, he utilized the opportunity to pick up rudiments of Arabic and Persian from him, obtained books on their teaching and began developing his knowledge of the two languages. His interest in Persian grew when he observed that ‘Old Persian’[1] has some resemblance to Prākṛtaṃ, considered to be the colloquial form of literary Saṃskṛtaṃ. This could well be the case because ‘Old Avestan’, the precursor of the Iranian languages, was closer to what linguists call Indic Saṃskṛtaṃ, whereas ‘Young Avestan’ was closer to Persian. In fact, both ‘Old Persian’ and ‘Middle Persian’ were written left to right like Prākṛtaṃ unlike their modern-day version, which adapted the Perso-Arabic script, written right to left. In his Saṃskṛtaṃ introduction to Rubâiyât of Omar Khaiyâm Nārāyaṇa Dās observed that although there were Yavana[2] terms, much of the Rubâiyât, Omar Khaiyâm wrote was in ‘Old Persian’, which in his view was closer to Prākṛtaṃ. 

Over time, Nārāyaṇa Dās developed a great admiration for the Persian philosopher-poet. When he read Edward Fitzgerald’s English translation of the Persian quatrains, he felt they were not true to the original. It is now known that not only Fitzgerald’s translations were not literal but he also mingled the quatrains. Fitzgerald’s translation has about three hundred verses. Of these Nārāyaṇa Dās selected a hundred and ten and their original Persian quatrains and translated the original and their English translation into Saṃskṛtaṃ and Acca-Telugu. 

Translating from one language to another could be a daunting task because it is not just conveying the meaning of words. A language evolved over time embeds the culture and traditions; beliefs and values; rituals and practices and history and legends of a society in its usages and idioms. If the translator is not proficient in either of the languages, he might miss the meaning altogether or the translation might appear to be artificial like a patchwork quilt. Good translation requires not only proficiency in both the languages but great technical skill to express the idiom of one language in the corresponding idiom of the other. As languages continue to evolve, meanings of words and usages change over time or usages might lose their relevance. Therefore, translating from an ancient language to another classical language requires great scholarship if one were to convey the true intended meaning of the original writer. 

Prayer In Four
Languages

The book opens with a prayer in four languages, Persian, English, Saṃskṛtaṃ and Telugu. The poem was written in the Kaṅdaṃ metre, one of the toughest prosodies in the Telugu language. Writing a poem in difficult prosody, with each line in a different language is an expression of Nārāyaṇa Dās’ penchant for accomplishing the formidable. 

He introduced Omar Khaiyâm, the poet and his poetry in three languages, English, Saṃskṛtaṃ and Telugu. He used the introductions to express his deep admiration for Omar Khaiyâm and his poetry. But the introductions were more than that. Nārāyaṇa Dās used them to express his own worldview about his field of work; poetry and poets; literature and literary criticism and the contemporary socio-political milieu. He begins the Saṃskṛtaṃ introduction by describing the qualities a literary critic should possess. 

Just as the reasons are understood from a deed, so should a poet be judged by his literary work. A critic should not blindly go by what others say of a poet but must be capable of independent thinking and judging the merit of a work. He should be erudite, having read and imbibed many kāvyās and must be proficient in languages like Saṃskṛtaṃ and Prākṛtaṃ. A critic who is himself a poet or writer would be better equipped to judge the work of others.[3]     

On can’t help wonder if he hadn’t read his own qualities (such as an encyclopaedic knowledge of the Vēdās and Śastrās, an exquisite poet, musician, dancer, actor et al.) into the qualities desirable in a critic and in his unstinted praise for Omar Khaiyâm. His description of Nišâpur reflects the literary and cultural milieu of Vijayanagaraṃ. He laments the diminution of ethical and moral standards and corruption of culture, following hundreds of years of alien rule. 

The people of this land which came to be known as ‘karma bhūmi’ have lost their independence. They have had to abandon their traditional education and discipline. Having somehow acquired a degree in an alien language they were able to occupy positions of power. Those who do not have a modicum of knowledge of Saṃskṛtaṃ and are incapable of writing anything in Saṃskṛtaṃ or Prākṛtaṃ have come to be celebrated as litterateurs. Thanks to the ambience created by the unenlightened officials and uneducated rich, a wicked person has come to be seen as virtuous and a mountebank is seen as noble. 

The introductory essay is rich in the philosophy of Sanātana Dharma and explains the nature of human existence and its relationship with godhead. It expostulates on the need for virtuous living. 

The (human) creature is devoid of self-knowledge. Man has no role in determining (his own) weal or woe. It is Īśwara who decides whether he would end up in heaven or hell. A man attains advaita jñānaṃ only by of the grace of Īśwara. It is not possible to realise Viṣṇu without bhakti. 

The synonymous use of Īśwara and Viṣṇu in the passage emphasizes the essence of Advaita philosophy as “[T]he identification of the Self with Brahman and the absolute reality of one and only one existence.”[4] 

Bhakti is jñānaṃ that combines the following qualities: being happy without ego; not looking for rewards; not craving for anything;   

Typical Double Page
Spread In The Book 

In his English introduction, he expresses the view that ‘an original writer’ should take ‘pride in having his works published as they are so that critics might see him in his true colours’. It was for this reason, he says, “It is not my habit to have my works corrected and recast by others”. He laments the propensity of literary critics to judge the work of writers based more on their outward appearance than a true evaluation of their literary work. Could Fitzgerald’s impression of how Omar lived his life have coloured his translations of the poet’s immortal verses? 

Did Nārāyaṇa Dās find a twin soul when he observed that Omar Khaiyâm decried ‘all religious shows and philosophical discussions’ as ‘merely vain and whimsical actions for passing an idle life’? He says Khaiyâm was vexed with the deep chasm between precept and practice of crafty philosophers. He therefore satirized their philosophy. For him pleasing society was true religion and devotion to Almighty was the happiest enjoyment. It was perhaps because of this perception that Nārāyaṇa Dās found in Khaiyâm, a mystic rather than a romantic poet. He feels Khaiyâm’s philosophy was largely misunderstood and his advocacy of ‘wine, woman & music’ should be read as cryptic symbols for ‘divine service, pure mind and meditation’.  

Nārāyaṇa Dās translated Omar Khaiyâm’s Rubâiyât when he was well into his sixties and published the book when he was sixty-eight. This was what Sarvēpalli Rādhākṛṣṇan, former president of India, then Vice-Chancellor of Andhra University, had to say of the translations in his ‘FOREWORD’: 

“[…] was greatly struck by his varied talents, remarkable linguistic equipment, and technical power of versification. […] The Telugu verses are written in what is called Acca Telugu or pure Telugu, which is rather difficult. […] I am tempted to congratulate him on a performance which, taking all things into account, is certainly astounding.”  

In a rare honour, The Hyderabad Bulletin, a British era newspaper published from Hyderabad, reviewed the book in an editorial entitled, “A Monument of Scholarship”. Here are some excerpts: 

“[A] careful perusal of the book fills us with admiration at the astounding scholarship of the learned Paṅdiṭ.

 

“There are, of course dozens of translations of the immortal “Rubâiyât”, the most popular and probably the best known being that of Edward Fitzgerald. Paṅdiṭ Nārāyaṇa Dās, who frankly expresses the opinion that Fitzgerald’s work is not a literal translation, has gone back to the original Persian in order that the letter and the spirit of Omar Khaiyâm may not be missed.

 

“In these degenerate days when scholarship has fallen on evil times, it is incredible to learn that a Hindu, with Telugu as his mother tongue, should have been so filled with admiration for a Persian poet that, after he had passed his sixtieth year, he took the trouble to master so alien a language, and translate the masterpiece not only into Telugu but into another classical language, Saṃskṛtaṃ.

 

“We find in the book that while Fitzgerald’s translation is rendered into Saṃskṛtaṃ and into Telugu of the Kaṅdaṁ metre, the hardest perhaps in the Telugu prosody, Omar Khaiyâm’s original text is again translated into Gīti and the Bhujangi metres.

 

“We are certainly unaware of any recent instance in India where so much learning has been brought to bear on what is no less certainly a labour of love, for it is evident that there are few persons familiar with the Saṃskṛtaṃ language who are anxious to have a rendering of the Persian original.

 

“Paṅdiṭ Nārāyaṇa Dās’ erudition is enhanced by the fact that even in using his own mother tongue, he has selected what is called Acca-Telugu, a language that only a handful can understand. The work therefore is not intended for the masses, and the learned author expects no profits out of his scholarship.

 

“But literature transcends the limitation of language, age and country, and it is most gratifying that a Telugu writer of the twentieth century should have paid the most splendid tribute to a Persian Poet of the twelfth century. He has added a most copious glossary at the end of the book to facilitate an appreciation of the original, its translation by Fitzgerald, and the author’s own translation into Saṃskṛtaṃ and Telugu.

 

“In inviting the attention of H.E.H. the Nizam’s Government to the Paṅdiṭ’s work, we trust that, in consonance with their liberal support of classical scholarship; they will extend their patronage to the Paṅdiṭ, and thus bring about a sympathetic understanding and interpretation between the two classical languages.” 

The first edition of Rubâiyât of Omar Khaiyâm was published in 1932[5] and a second edition by the Sahitya Akademi in 2012. The book in four languages has the original Persian text, its English transliteration with diacritical marks, Fitzgerald’s English translation, Saṃskṛtaṃ and Acca-Telugu translations of Omar Khaiyâm’s original text and Fitzgerald’s translation. It is a veritable collector’s item.[6]

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[1] Old Persian was an Iranian language which was in use from circa 600 B.C.E to 300 B.C.E. The next phase in the evolution of the language between 300 B.C.E. and 800 C.E. has been designated Middle Persian and from 800 C.E. it is known as Modern Persian or Farsi.

[2] By Yavana terms Nārāyaṇa Dās was probably referring to ‘Middle Persian’.

[3] The gist of Nārāyaṇa Dās’ Saṃskṛtaṃ introduction entitled “Umara Kavipraśaṃsā” is based on the Telugu translation of the Saṃskṛtaṃ part of the work by Yāmijāla, Padmanābhaswāmi (1982).

[4] Swami Prabhavananda. (1963). The Spiritual Heritage of India. p. 274

[5] The year of publication was not mentioned in the book, but going by the date of Sarvēpalli Rādhākṛṣṇan’s “Foreword” it can be deduced that it was published in 1932.

[6] A character in Bernard Shaw’s play Saint Joan (Scene IV) soliloquises: “Now this is what I call workmanship. There is nothing on earth more exquisite than a bonny book, with well-placed columns of rich black writing in beautiful borders, and illuminated pictures cunningly inset. But nowadays, instead of looking at books, people read them.” 

Bāṭasāri

Bāṭasāri

‘Bāṭasāri’, as some literary commentators erroneously believed, was not a translation of Oliver Goldsmith’s ‘Traveller’. Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās’ himself dispelled the misconception in his preface to the 1933 edition of the book, which had gone through several editions during his life time: 

“In writing this small poetical work my main object had been to present to the Telugu reading public an attempt at something original as to plot, coupled with vividness of natural descriptions told in easy Telugu devoid of all the artificialities of the usual ornate style.” 

Significantly he did not name the protagonist. He was just Bāṭasāri (traveller), who gets separated from his family in a shipwreck. In fact, none of the characters were named. The author did not find it necessary to name them. He specified that his poem was “an allegory of human life which begins in sheer ignorance and ends in perfect knowledge”. The story was about man’s travails through the sea called life.

Nārāyaṇa Dās wrote Bāṭasāri when he was twenty-four and dedicated it to Panappākkaṃ Anaṅdācāryulu, an advocate and a member of the Madras Legislative Council. Anaṅdācāryulu was a connoisseur of arts and a Sanskrit scholar of repute, who earned the title ‘Vidyāvinōdi’. 

The Story 

The ship in which Bāṭasāri was travelling with his wife and son was wrecked when it hit a mountain. The tides carried them in different directions. Grieving the separation from his wife and son he wandered along the shore to reach a stream flowing by a mountain. Lying down on the bank of the stream he woke up at night to find the moon up. Roaming in search of his wife and son, he walked into a forest, which came to its night life with buzzing insects and roaring tigers. He emerged from the forest to reach a pointed hill. Exhausted, he fell asleep to wake in the midmorning. On waking up he saw a valley on the other side of the mountain. He walked through the valley to find a pond. He bathed in the pond and offered oblation to the Sun god. He found some tubers with which he satisfied his hunger and rested under a beech tree. As a herd of elephants approached the pond, he climbed a banyan tree from where he could see the peak of a tall building. Happy to find a human dwelling in the vicinity at last, he climbed down and walked towards it. Crossing a beautiful garden, he entered a seven-storied palace and marvelled at its resplendence. The palace stood on a single pillar and was in the shape of a lotus and approximately a mile in diameter. It had seven rooms on the first floor, six on the second and so on till just one on the top floor which was used as a prayer room. 

While he was soaking in the beauties of the palace a bell sounded and lights came on in the building. The master of the palace, a king who had just had a bath and his daily ritual prayer, entered along with his female attendants. Seeing the naked Bāṭasāri, who lost his clothes in the shipwreck and his perambulations, the king asked him, “Who are you? How did you reach this palace? Why are you weeping? Where from did you come?” After arranging clothes for him the king listened to his painful story and assured him, “Do not worry. Just as you are alive, your wife and son too must have survived and must be living somewhere.” The king having ordered Bāṭasāri be put up left the place. Women frolicking in the moonlight brought back memories of happier days for Bāṭasāri, memories of days spent with his wife and son and the pain of missing them hit him.

The next day the king invited Bāṭasāri to join him in a hunting expedition for wild boars and tigers. Accompanied by hunting dogs, they rode horses carrying guns, bows and arrows and spears and long spears as their weapons. Impressed by Batakari’s hunting skill, the king invited him to remain in his kingdom. The king asked him to make a round of his capital. Bāṭasāri did so but could not enjoy the sight-seeing. He returned to the king and wailed “Oh noble king, you have been kind to me but your efforts are as in vain as is a feast for a sick man. You are indeed a friend in my hour of grief. How can I survive without your succour. At the same time how can I forget my wife and son?”  

The king replied that he had good news for the Bāṭasāri as the search party he sent out came back to inform him that his wife and son were alive. On hearing this Bāṭasāri was beside himself with joy. The king further informed him that his wife wrote something at the base of the tower clock and took him there. Bāṭasāri was happy to recognize the script and that it was indeed his wife’s, hearing a description of the woman who wrote it. He was again consumed by pain wondering how he could convey his well-being to her. The king consoled him and having spent some time in recreational activities took Bāṭasāri alone to his garden.  

The king said. “Just as a philosopher’s spirits lift when he sees a new treatise, my spirits lifted when I heard your story.” And then narrated the story of his family. He pointed to a man approaching them and said he was his brother’s son. The family had a strange custom. The king’s brother ruled the family for a while and handed it over to him. He would to give it to his brother’s son who would later transfer it to the king’s son. The kingdom where Bāṭasāri’s wife was spotted was ruled by his brother’s brother-in-law. He had a feud with his brother-in-law (the king’s brother) as he did not like the ways of his brother-in-law’s family. The king’s nephew (his brother’s son) loved his uncle’s daughter but because of the family feud, unable to marry her. The young couple pined for each other and were in intense grief because of the obstacles that came in the way of their union. 

The king requested Bāṭasāri to accompany his nephew to the neighbouring kingdom where he planned to meet the princess. The trip would also give Bāṭasāri a chance to meet his wife and son there. There is a hint that the king hoped Bāṭasāri would be able to persuade the girl’s father to agree for the union. He said, “Both of you meet your respective women and come back with them.”  He added that after their return he would hand over the kingdom to his brother’s son as per prior arrangement and asked Bāṭasāri to join him in vānaprasthaṃ—the third phase in a man’s life according to the saṇātana dharma. With that the king saw them off at the port.  

In the ship the young prince told Bāṭasāri about a love letter he received from the princess and grieved about their inability to unite. Bāṭasāri consoled him and as it was approaching midnight suggested they should retire to bed. However, he himself could not sleep as he mused about his wife and son. The ship reached the destination at daybreak. As they came off the ship, the princess’ lady in waiting met them. She brought a ring as an identification and informed that the princess wanted her cousin to stay in the (two-storied) building in the flower garden. As the ladies in waiting served the prince, it was the turn of Bāṭasāri to agonize over his own separation from his wife and son. The prince consoled him. As they moved to the building the sky turned overcast with clouds and started to rain. In the meantime, a woman clutching a boy to her bosom approached them.  Bāṭasāri and the woman recognized each other. The boy was his son and the woman the boy’s nanny. She informed him that his wife was consumed with grief and not being able to bear their separation was considering suicide. She took the boy on a stroll and ran to the building because of the sudden rain. Bāṭasāri cuddled his son, showed him to the prince and expressed his joy about the coming reunion with his family. He asked the nanny to rush back to inform his wife about his arrival and told the prince “[For me the separation was like] a drowning man losing his breath but thanks to you and your uncle, I feel like the man floating on the water to regain his breath.” As he was saying this, the nanny returned with his wife. The prince discreetly moved aside to let them enjoy their reunion. 

Bāṭasāri and his wife could not contain their joy as they embraced to celebrate their reunion. Chastened by the lessons of life learnt during separation, loneliness and reunion he told his wife, “Let’s forget the unsavoury past and enjoy the moment. Here is the prince that brought us together.” Saying thus he introduced the prince to his wife. The prince in turn had good news of his own to convey. His uncle agreed to marry his daughter to him and also to celebrate the marriage in the prince’s own city. The princess arrived, “glowing like a flowerpot [that sprays silver flower sparkles] amidst wick lamps”. Bāṭasāri with his wife and son, and the prince and princess crossed the sea to return to the prince’s city. The king was joyed to see the to-be-wedded couple, and the reunited couple.  

The Allegory 

The narrative is straight–forward. In fact, the story is so simple that the author summed it up in a single verse at the beginning of the narrative. In order to help readers unravel the philosophical core of the allegory, he provided a guide, also at the beginning. 

The protagonist, Bāṭasāri, wanted to emancipate from the hellish illusion of a previous life. The wife and son were education and wisdom. The sea was the family life of human beings with all its attendant trials and tribulations. The mountain that wrecked the ship represented man’s evil deeds. The pointed hill was nature. The river and its environs were the three states of consciousness, wakefulness, dreamful sleep and dreamless sleep. The seven-storied lotus–shaped palace with twenty-eight rooms represented the seven elements of the human body[i]; the seven techniques used to achieve goals in temporal transactions[ii]; the six enemies of the mind[iii]; the five layers or kōśas of the soul[iv]; the four moral values[v]; the three psychological states[vi]; the two paths to mōkṣa[vii] and attainment of the supreme consciousness[viii]. The pillar supporting the building symbolized meditation; the royal couple symbolised knowledge and renunciation, and the royal attendants symbolised the eight limbs described in the science of yoga[ix]. The first capital city symbolised the present temporal world and the second capital symbolised the ‘other’ world. The tower or pillar in the clock tower symbolised karma[x]; the writing on it śastraṃ[xi]; the new couple bhakti and śraddha; the love letter, the Upanishats; the reunion of Bāṭasāri with his wife and son, the attainment of mōkṣa; the horse, the intellect; the weapons (sword, gun, spear and long spear), the four sequential practices or pillars of knowledge[xii]; the boar and the tiger, rāga and dvēṣa; the hunting dogs, holy practices; the seat, dedication; the nanny, cultural practice; the clock, life; the ring, recognition; the rain, blessing of the gods; the uncle, teacher and the cousin (the prince) the lover. In the philosophy of sanātana dharma, ātma has no death. It wanders, finds a body for a while, is released from it and keeps repeating the process in an endless cycle.  

 

Regaining consciousness after dark after the ship wreck and finding himself on the edge of a mountain near the seashore, Bāṭasāri soliloquises, “Where did I come from? Why am I unable to see anything. What is the roar I hear?” Beyond the context, these questions reflect man’s eternal quest to find his bearings! 

Literary Values 

The kāvyaṃ consists just 195 verses. The storyline is concise. The philosophical meaning of the story is deep. For the general reader, there is nature. Describing the variegated splendour of nature in the universe, and the infinite nuances of human nature are the author’s forte. There are vivid descriptions of the splendours of nature, hot summer (verse 12), sunrays (verse 21), moonlight (verse 14), frolicking in the moonlight (verse 56), dawn (verse 61), midnight (verse 135), pre–monsoon showers (verse 163) etc. It is difficult to combine appreciation of the beauties of nature and the pangs of separation from the loved ones in a single poem but the author did it in long form poetic metre known as sīsaṃ in two verses (35 & 113). The language is both ornate and simple without being highfalutin or pretentious. 

Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās’ penchant for experimentation made him create two new poetic metres which he called cakkera and nattuvu. 

Bāṭasāri marvels at the beauty and structural symmetry of the palace, when he first entered it. He finds nobody and wonders whether it was a dwelling of Gods. Who did the chores? Could it be some mechanical devices rather than living beings? In allowing his poetic imagination to roam did Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās unwittingly presage robots and artificial intelligence as we know them today?  

Ādibhaṭla Nārāyaṇa Dās used to recite poems from Bāṭasāri, which he wrote at a young age, in his Harikatha performances. Probably for the benefit of his non–Telugu–speaking audience, he translated the poems into English prose. The full text is unavailable; a few snippets from the work are quoted by literary commentators.

[i] The seven types of tissues described in Āyurvēda are rasa, rakta, māṃsa, mēda, asthi, majja, śukra.

[ii] The four commonly quoted techniques are sāma, dāna, bhēda, daṃḍa. According to moral philosophers there are three more—māya, upēkṣa, iṅdrajālaṃ―less commonly used techniques.

[iii]The six enemies of the human mind are kāma, krōdha, lōbha, mōha, mada, mātsarya.

[iv] The five layers of the soul are annamaya, prāṇamaya, manōmaya, vijñānamaya, ānaṅdamaya.

[v] The four puruṣārthas are dharma, artha, kāma, mōkṣa.

[vi] The three psychological states also known as triguna vikāras, known as sattva, rajas, tamas.

[vii] The two paths to mōkṣa are pravṛtti and nivṛtti.

[viii] Reaching the ultimate consciousness or attaining Brahma jñanaṃ.

[ix] The eight limbs or aṅgas described by Patañjali are yama, niyama, āsana, prāṇayāma, pratyāhāra, dhāraṇa, dhyāna, and samādhi.

[x] The spiritual principle of cause and effect.

[xi] Any religious or scientific treatise.

[xii] They are vivēka, vairāgya, ṣatsaṃpat, mumukṣutva as described in Jñāna Yōga.