Viswanatha Satyanarayana's Srimadramayanakalpavriksham: Aranyakanda

VISWANATHA SATYANARYANA’S
SRIMADRAMAYANAKALPAVRIKSHAM: ARANYAKANDA

Sabari’s Tryst with Rama

Translated from Telugu by
PROF. K. VISWANATHAM
Emeritus Professor, Andhra University, Waltair

[The late Sri Viswanatha Satyanarayana Garu needs no introduction. Not to know him argues ourselves unknown. “The late” is only in a literal or physical sense. He is alive more than most of us. To omit his name is to create a gap in Telugu literature. His Ramayanakalpavriksham is a worthy addition to the epic genre and a votive offering to Rama. None understands Bharatavarsha without reading the Ramayana at least in a translation. The various Ramayanas are attempts to interpret the soul of Hindu life style and world view. The hold of the Ramayana is such that a king of the South shouted for his weapons when he read that Rama marched alone against Khara and others. The devotional songs of Bhakta Thyagayya and of saint Ramadas are immortal variations of the Andhras’ love of Rama. And the various Ramayanas in Telugu are so many prayers in Kavya form at the altar of Ayodhyapati and his consort. It is a well-known fact that many Hindus recite the Sundarakanda daily. Without Rama there is a vacuum in our lives.

The Sabari episode inthe Ramayana is one of the fruitiest in the epic. A devotee’s vigil for her God is over and the devotee shuffles off the mortal coil. There is no more purpose for the body after such a tryst. There is a poem in English which tells of a mother waiting for news of her long-lost son; she gets the news from a ship-wrecked sailor and falls asleep for ever. Sabari’s offering for Rama fruits after tasting them to test if they are sour or ripe untroubled by the thought that partly-tasted foods or fruits should not be offered to a guest and to a guest who is her God shows the purity, the innocence, the unsuspiciousness, the utter devotion of a woman forest-dweller. Perhaps women are capable of greater faith and Devotion than men. The idea of impurity was consumed by devotion. What is good for Sabari is good for Rama. The fruit that does not pass the test of her tooth does not pass the test of her devotion, cannot be offered to her God. Of course there is nothing of this in Valmiki. Sabari says,

“mavaatu vividham vanyam samchitam...pampaayaastirasambhavam.”

Sabari is a Yogini who served a sage, not a mere Aranyika. Why poets invented this is puzzling. Sabari’s story is the undying example of the Bhakti of a woman, a forest-dweller, of a devotee’s unfaltering vigil and a shining example of God’s acceptance of the fruit of that devotion. Sabari and Rama meet and mingle in the fruit as the lover and his lady meet and mingle in the Flea which has sucked the blood of both (in a poem of Donne). The fruit is blessed by the bite of Sabari and Rama–the blessedest example of whole-hearted offer and whole-hearted acceptance. Like mercy it is twice blessed: it blesseth her that gave and him that took.

The relationship between God and the devotee is described as that between master and servant, lover and his beloved, etc. The Sabari episode moves on three planes:

(a) that of the lover and his beloved
(b) that of the individual soul anxious to be one with the Divine
(c) that of the tributary Sabari mixing its waters with those of the ocean.

All the three attitudes are perfumed by Sringaara Rasa. In mystical poetry the eternal bridals are always described in terms of the union of man and woman–the nearest intelligible approximation to that Divine bliss. There is nothing of this again in Valmiki but the poet’s invention is in conformity with the traditional syndrome of Bhakti. The reference to the Godavari and the Sabari should bring the Sabari episode closer to the Andhras and the poet’s Kinnerasanipatalu. Knowing as we do the poet’s love of Telugu (as seen for instance in his novel Dantapu Duvvena: The Ivory Comb) this reference is deliberate, perhaps.

Ill-equipped critics indulge in the meaningless pastime of labelling the poet traditional and reactionary, not modern and progressive. These critics do not understand that “modern” is a matter of critical temper, not a matter of date and that what is modern to one may be reactionary to another. The ideas which a poet uses are his affair; the artistic use to which they are put is the critic’s affair. As Henry James put it “We must grant the artist his subject, his idea, his donnee; our criticism is applied only to what he makes of it.” One of the finest Jacobean plays deals with incest between brother and sister. Shall we label it immoral, reactionary or modern? The critic who prescribes a subject to a poet does not know his limitations. A work of art need not toe the line of contemporaneity. It is foolish to ignore the pastness of the present. If we call our grandfathers fools, they will pay us the same compliment. “Modern,” as applied to literature, is an arrogant word (in the words of C. S. Lewis) to judge others from your point of view, as if it is infallible, is just like deciding that one is beautiful because his nose resembles your nose; but whoever says your nose is beautiful! Critics discuss Greene as a Catholic novelist forgetting that he is a novelist who is a Catholic. In the words of Charles Williams “religious or patriotic or philosophical poetry is poetry first and then religion, patriotism or philosophy.”]

Verses 328-331

As someone called Rama from behind, Rama with diamond-bright eyes saw through the breeze-disturbed leafy greener and, not finding anyone, stood there. His brother looked behind the clumps of mango sprouts, radiant laughter spreading over his cheeks. Sumitra’s son, with this jewel of the Ikshwaku family enshrined in his heart, said: “O Lord! this Logos (Rama) is from the Vedas. We have not missed the way mentioned by that Divine Being. This should be the hermitage of Sabari preceding the region, redolent of merit, of the prince of sages.” As he spoke, the fresh breezes blew thickly from the wave-agitated Pampa lake, strengthened by the beat of the wings of the she-swans on the shore. The flowery Archer, a garland of tulasi leaves round his neck and Vibhuti on his soft body, strung his sugar-cane bow let loose on Rama, benumbed by separation from the daughter of the Earth, a shaft tipped with the loose petals of tummi flower.

Verses 332-343

Then Sriramachandra spoke to Soumitri: “My mind is anxious to see Sabari of the aged and wrinkled and delicate body as if she is stuck in me like a white-lotused arrow.” With flowers like lightnings in the womb of a dense cloud, with fruits of the hue of molten gold and copper in due proportion, with some flowers nectar-wombed like the dugs of a fresh-yeaned cow, with some fruits as if appetisingly rounded by gustatory desires, in a basket on her head came slow-stepping Sabari like a dry tree in bloom at the top. Finding His reflection in the eyes of Sabari, the wife-separated Lord shuffled off the pain of separation. Sabari’s eyes, cleared of tear drops, became bright. Without getting the basket of flowers off her head Sabari queried: “Are there in the streets of Ayodhya people keeping a vigil for you like me?” The Lord laughing loudly said: “Are there people like you? Put your flower basket down.” Speaking smilingly: “I have forgotten, my Lord”, she put down the basket with “Here are the bright flowers and honeyed fruits.” The Lord, saying “where are they?” picked with his fingers a few flowers and sprinkled them on his pair of feet. With apologetic “Alas! Lord”, Sabari strewed palmfuls of flowers on his feet. From her eyes streamed down two rivulets of agitated Ganga waters. She showed him the tasteful fruits with “For you I have brought these. Seeing your shape is like a sight of the sky and the sea and the forests; I have slackened my duty. It has been second nature with me from my teen age to engage myself in the service of the family of hermits by sprinkling flowers. Forgive me for this lapse.” Rama intervened: “In the midst of the forest you buttonhole, me with ‘Rama, Rama eat’. How can I? I have to wash my feet, rinse my eyes, bathe my body. If asked to eat as I am I shall not say nay but why should you get the blame for my breach of the ritual?” Then she said: “In this region every tree is a dwelling place for me. For you where is the need for a bathe? You are the embodiment of purity and the very ocean of Dharma. As I have hands I brought flowers. As there are fruit-bearing trees, I brought fruits. I have come as I am animate, and I have thought of these as I have a mind. I did not bring flowers, I did not bring fruits, O beauteous One, I did not come either. You did not come here like a stranger, O Protector of devotees. There is no need, O mind-born One, to show etiquette to a maid-servant. The fruits in the Ashrama of Agastya and other hermits have not, O Lord of my life, the taste of these fruits. My life is a votive offering to you. You have come of your own accord, my Lord. Here is my offering. Accept. It is as if the smoke of the fire of the great grief because of separation from Sita has assumed your shape.”

Verses 344-353

Then Sriramachandra smilingly said: “Surpanakha (lit. one with nails as broad as a winnowing fan) longed for me even after seeing repeatedly the beauty of Sita. There is no mistake in your longing for me as you have not seen the beauty of the Earth-born one. What of your age? What of your body like the slough of a she-serpent? What of my age? What of my body like a branch of the divine tree, Santana? You term me the God of love and Lord of your life. My mind is likewise affected towards you. Is it good fortune–your loving me suffering from the anguish of separation? Distress follows distress, O joyous one.” Sabari spoke, the corners ofher mouth raised like the crescent tips of the young moon in the deepening evening: “Lord of my life, taste the fruits brought by me and accepted by you.” The Master remarked, the corners ofhis eyes like the sprouts of the creeper of moonlight of the full moon:“How can I taste them not knowing if they are juicy or not unless you taste them and tell me so.” Sabari told him: “O Lord, from each tree it is only after I first tasted them I brought these fruits.” Then Sriramachandra looked at Soumitri laughingly –a soft, slow, good laugh. Sabari observed those smiles and, a bit disturbed, uttered: “O Lord, have I done a wrong thing? How, else can I test the taste of the fruits?” Then Rama spoke: “O well-favoured one, I do not feel like eating alone. Let us eat them–my brother and you and I.” Then Sabari appealed to him with “What I have eaten by way of tasting the slices amounts to a ten or dozen or twenty-five. My stomach is full. There is no spare space. O compassionate one, with difficulty I have procured them. Eat them. Then Rama cutting each fruit, eating the slices, enquiring after Sabari’s story, appeared as if he forgot the abduction of Sita conversing charmingly thus: “This is the fruit of serving the sage by toiling in the forest till the muscles of the legs stiffened, the fruit of procuring kusa and darbha grass and flowers for the sacrificial fire, the fruit of drying the bark garments. Against the wind in the rainy season, the fruit of protecting the fire carefully by covering the dung-cakes with husk, the fruit of attentiveness over a long stretch of time, the fruit of choosing me as her lord, her full-blown lotus eyes shining with eager expectancy.” As the Lord was speaking thus, was eating and speaking, the lotus eyes of the aged Sabari shone as if many Brahmas took their Birth there.

Verses 354-375

Sriramachandra washed his fingers and wiped his lower lip with the water brought by Soumitri. Then Sabari and Ramachandra (conversed thus):

Rama: O grandam, your head is like a basket of chalk white like the spike of barley.
Sabari: Lord, it has ripened into whiteness to draw Rangavalli with at the doorstep of your Atma.

Rama: O grandam, why have you mortified your life and become a hank of cotton?

Sabari: Lord, so that you can make a blazing torch out of it dipped in the fuel of affection.

Rama: O grandam, by severe austerities your life is about to fade away.

Sabari: Lord, because of your intense compassionate attitude it might nest securely.

Rama: O grandam, your words, even deeply pondered, are not denotative merely. They seem to have metaphysical implicates. What are you? My fatigue is removed because of your fabulous service. What else are you, white-haired like the cloud of Aswayuja month?

Sabari: This forest superscribed with the Tapas of sage Matanga is abounding in juicy and tasteful fruits. My name is Sramani and my devoted service to the sage has achieved excellence. When you arrived at Chitrakuta, the Master Journeyed to the heaven in a beautiful chariot brought by Indra sounding with the tintinnabulation of gem-like bells. The sage has entrusted to me the rite of welcoming you informing me that you two brothers, as bright as diamonds, would come to these forests and instructed me to follow him. O giver, by devotedly serving your cloud-like dusky beauty the anguish of separation from the sage is gone. Your sidelong looks are fascinating like lightnings in a cloud. I have given my word to the sage, my God, at his upward journey to follow him helped by the seasonal waters of your compassion. Sir, it is a word (Rama) from the Vedas. The great sage taught the parrots in each tree the divine Word. All over the forest vocal with the sacred logos putting on a divine shape you are made manifest to me. It is the Word which has come in your Form. With no one to bring and hand on to him on time materials like fruit, fuel and flower, with no hope of anyone stitching the torn garment with thread from the lotus stalk, with no spare hand to blow upon the cinders and set right the fire as smoke fills the aged eyes, the great Master, gone far in Indra’s chariot in the direction of Uttarayana, will be disconcerted. I cannot put up with delay in carrying out his instructions. I shall join my body in the fire which is ready and go to him. Favour me, O compassionate one.” The Lord spoke, his eyes suffused with glow like widespread moonlight and radiating smiles: “Your amour for the sage and my amour for you are of varying nature.” Sabari said thus: “The love of the ocean for Gautami is of the same measure as that for Sabari. Sabari shy of the ocean lord hid her amour behind the Godavari.” Rama said thus: “The sage beckons you to go after him. But Kabandhu told us about the sovereign among the sages as an ocean of greatness. I am desirous of seeing the Ashrama of the sage. I wish to see the wonders, the marvels, the merit of that king of sages.”

When Sabari showing the cardinal points said: “O lotus-eyed one, these are the relics of the power of the great sage, the full splendour of the orbed moon shone in the eyes of Sriramachandra. When Sabari added showing the trees: “For our sake a tithe of the power of the sage’s Tapas has filled the inside of these fruits with exceeding sweetness, the taste of the fruits eaten by the Lord revived on the tongue. Walking with her bent body, smeared with fresh Vibhuti, full of many wrinkles dun-complexioned, her arms ornamented with bands of leafless dry creepers, with soft hair near the parting on the head, her eyes peering through white eye-lashes, joyful smiles playing on the cracked lower lip, Sabari spoke thus: “Look at this sacrificial altar of the sage. The flowers are unfading. The sage left this that day. The brightness of the flowers has persisted thus. The seven seas in deference to the wishes of the age-enfeebled one to protect the sacrifice of the best of sages came to his habitation. The rush of the ocean fascinating with massed waters does not stop even after becoming. Ponds which do not leave out of kind nature, in spite of the cessation of serving the departed sage. The sage ties the Valkala garments taut to the branches of the trees. After the meritorious one has gone in the direction of the divine world, the branches of the trees, though buffeted by the wind, do not shake violently. The Valkala garments do not lose their deep ochre shine. The best among the sages embodying the thoughts of my inner heart is gone; you too, the best among men, embodying the thoughts of my inner heart, will be gone. I intend in my mind going after the sage of great excellence if you, best among men, should favour me. I am ripe for heaven. (I hoped to have had) on that side the sage on this side the best of the Raghu line: On that side the best of the Raghu line and on this side the king of the sages. But before your arrival the master of the sages left. Why should I tarry? To welcome you there are the trees, the parrots, the virtues of the Matanga forest. Perhaps it was meant for me that by a sight of your blessedness the very idea of sin should vanish...

Then follow verses 376-382 which are an adoration of the Lord.

Verses 383-385

Sabari thus entered the fire and the buzzing of the bees increasing in loudness sounded like the noise of the aerial car as Raghava gazed at the sky: “On earth creatures grow after birth: in the heavens birth appears after growth. Sabari appeared a divine shape fresh in garlands and unguents. It is only an incredible thought that she and this shape are the same. Between this effulgence of divine form and the ascetic there is no likeness.”

In the verses that follow, 388-390, Rama tells Soumitri how gracious it was of the sage to have left Sabari behind to welcome them in that forest uninhabited by men, how surprising to himself it was to indulge in badinage with Sabari without realising her worth as an ascetic, how he felt elated, to the point of forgetting Janaki, on seeing her, how the seven seas dwindled into ponds because of the sage’s power and stayed there enabling the brothers to offer Tarpana to the manes of the forefathers with the waters of the seven seas at the same time.