The Literature of Orissa

The Literature of Orissa^*

Orissa is, as the late Dr. C.F. Andrews remarked, the Cinderella of Provinces. Orissa is beautiful country, but poor. She has a beautiful literature, but most of it is in manuscript, for book-publishing is a hazardous undertaking in such poor surroundings. The language spoken in Orissa–Oriya–is a beautiful language too: it is very closely allied to Bengali and sounds masculine. Indeed, the Oriyas say that Bengali is corrupt Oriya, while the Bengalis say that Oriya is corrupt Bengali. This idea of a corrupt language appears to be silly to us linguists, who are reminded of the remarks of the sixteenth-century writer, Sir Thomas Elyot, author of Gouernour –in which he deprecates the influence of “nourishes and other foolish women.” who he alleges, corrupt the pronunciation of young children put under their care.

In the more cultivated sections, especially in Northern Orissa, Oriya is already beginning to be spoken very much with the sounds of Bengali; and if their influence should persist, ere long the two languages would, become one. Personally, I welcome such coalescence: but I do not wish to raise a controversy about it right here.

The outstanding contribution of Orissa to the literature of India–and, indeed, to the literature of the world–is Jayadeva’s Gitagovinda. Jayadeva is the last great name in Sanskrit poetry. The legend has it that Krishna himself aided Jayadeva in the description of Radha’s beauty when his mortal powers proved inadequate. Goethe has praised the Gitagovinda along with Kalidasa’s Sakuntala and Meghaduta. The form of the poem is strikingly original. Jones calls it a little pastoral drama; Lassen refers to it as a lyric drama; and von Schroeder styles it a “refined yatra”.

Jayadeva’s poem is not a mere sravya-kavya: it is a daring piece of originality. Jayadeva knew beforehand that his work would be recited temples and at festivals. He asks to think of the piece as being performed before the mind’s eye. To this end he uses narrative, recitative, description and song so skillfully that there remains not a trace of monotony anywhere.

Jayadeva has produced a masterpiece. In so far as it presents a single total impression it surpasses any other poem in this world. This is an example of beauty, which, as Aristotle says, springs from magnitude and arrangement. The songs are perfect metrically and display the sheer beauty of words of which Sanskrit alone is capable. As Berriedale Keith has observed:

“There can be no doubt that in their wider range of interests in which love plays apart, important indeed, but not paramount in human affairs, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripedes can attain in their choruses effects more appealing to our minds than Jayadeva, but their medium is not capable of producing so complete a harmony of sound and sense. In the case of Gitagovinda the art of wedding sound and meaning is carried out with such success that it cannot fail to be appreciated even by ears far less sensitive than those of Indian writers on poetics. The result, however, of this a achievement is to render any translation useless as a substitute for the original: if to be untranslatable is a proof of the attainment of the highest poetry, Jayadeva has certainly claim to that rank.”

That is the great constitutional lawyer speaking in his capacity as Regius Professor of Sanskrit in the University of Edinburgh.

Bertrand Russell has said somewhere that Buddhism appeared to him to be a religion only for princes. Buddhism was preached in Orissa by Asoka after the Kalinga War, and spread to the people through the princes. As a result of this, Pali became a popular language in these parts, which blended with the Dravidan language then spoken in Orissa and gave rise
to the language “Odro,” of which Bharata Muni, the authority on Natyasastra, speaks as being the language of the “Odros” and the Savaras. This “Odro” has become the Oriya of today, and is still referred to by the old name in the Telugu country.

Oriya literature may be said to have begun in the 12th century A.D., and was manned mostly by princes. Out of seventy men of letters listed in Mr. Bonomali Misro’s Odisa Sahityoro Itihaso seventeen are princes, most of whom belong to the Bhonjo family. Upendro Bhonjo, the greatest among them all, was also the most prolific. He lived in the 18th century, which is known as the Upendro Age or the Kavya Age. His style shows that he was learned in the Sastras. He is full of figures of speech and of Sanskrit phrases. Twenty of his works have been so far published, and there are at least twenty more which are yet to be published.

One of the highlights in the literature of Orissa is known as the koyili. In Markondo Das’s Kesobo Koyili, Yasoda expresses in straightforward verse replete with karunarasa her grief at the departure of Krishna to Mathura in an address for a koyili or a cuckoo. Some familiar everyday incidents, such as the calling of “Uncle Moon” by children are skillfully woven into this poem:

Nisakale horimage chando
Noyonoteki aw thanku rauththanthi nondo.

Yasoda begins her first verse with ka, the second with kha, the third with ga, and so on until ksha. This convention of Koyili, which is made use of again and again in Oriya literature is evidently borrowed from Sanskrit works like Megha-Duta and Hamsa-Duta, but nowhere else in Indian literature does this convention seem to have been adopted; and with such consummate skill. The Koyili convention in Oriya literature has been as successful as the Pastoral Convention in the West.

There are other works of intrinsic worth, such as Dinakrishna Das’s Rosokollolo, Upendro Bhonjo’s Kalponik Kabyos, Subhodra Porinoyo, and Kola-koutuko and Jadumoni’s Raghobo Bilaso: but what seems to have been stressed in them all is the verbal dexterity of the poets which bore testimony to their scholarliness. There are whole volumes written without the use of any vowel except the short a, known as abona. Similarly, literary gymnastics known as antarlipi, bohirlipi, srinkhola, etc., are frequently resorted to by the leisured princes in order to sharpen their wits. (People from other communities were all too poor to afford to indulge in literary pursuits, and the brahmins who had the necessary time and leisure, preferred to dabble in Sanskrit literature with questionable results, and looked down upon native Oriya. Until a hundred years ago, therefore, the Oriya princes were the trustees of Oriya literature.) The word srinkhola indicates that the words or letters in the verse are arranged in a chain, being connected to each other by alliterative links. In a simple srinkhola the last letter or word of the first line of the verse becomes the initial letter or word of the second line, and so on: and thus all the lines of a piece are linked together. In a compound srinkhola the arrangement is more complicated.

In the land of Utkal, religion influenced literature a good deal. First, Buddhism and then Vaishnavism–especially through Chaitanya’s Bhakti cult–found many adherents in this Province. A writer called Salobeko, a Muslim, was a worshipper of Vishnu and wrote some Oriya poetry, in the seventeenth century. On account of the religious fevour at the time, many Sanskrit works were translated in the 16th and 17th centuries, and, as such, this period is known as the Translation Age. Mahabharata, Ramayana, Bhagavata, and the eighteen puranas were among the works translated at this time. A Telugu writer called Gopala translated the Adhyatma Ramayana into Oriya, making judicious omissions here and there.

There is a sprinkling of women writers in the literature of Orissa, and one of them is a royal princess. Brindavati Dasi, who lived in the 17th century, wrote Purnotomo Chandrodoyo, under the influence of Chaitanya’s cult and was therefore full of the devotional spirit. Her son, Bhimo Das and grandson, Kripasindhu Das, are prominent among the litterateurs of Orissa.

Nissankoraya Rani, a princess, had an unhappy married life and returned to her parents. She then wrote Padmavati Abhilasho–which, alas, has not yet been published. Her description of the spring season as a bride to whom the trees are giving welcome with their toranam branches and fresh flowers is said to be unique in all literature:

Kusumosomoyo Hoyichchi udoyo
Pollobito torulota
Brikshe daledalo Lagino goholo
Bibhaki borobonita!
Sorbo torugono Borojatipono
Koronti bibhasombharo,
Borokonyanku ki Joutuko debe
Bodhayi ochchonti koro.

Does she not remind you of that poetical daughter of Aurungzeb who spent her life in solitary confinement?

A poet named Bhimo Bhoyi flourished in the nineteenth century, and contributed in no small measure to Orissa’s literature. He was a savara, member of a hill-tribe and had become blind in his boyhood. He was an Alekha and had several followers, some of them learned brahmins. His disciples used to note down his inspired poetry which flowed from his heart like a spring. He was essentially a preacher, and had planned an attack on the Jagannath Temple at Puri, which proved abortive. He believed in the harmony of the Universe and felt it through contemplation. He spoke of a “Life Force,” in the manner of a Samuel Butler.

In the Radhanath Age, or the modern Age, i.e. after 1850, prose began to be written for the first time in Oriya literature. Most of the modern Oriya poets (and poetasters) are Nature-worshippers. Radhanath Roy, who is the national poet of Orissa, was the first to write Nature poetry in Oriya. Orissa paid Radhanath the greatest tribute of which she is capable by bringing out an edition of his complete works.

Madhusudan Rao was a Maharashtrian who lived in Orissa. His guide, philosopher and friend was Radhanath: and out of this close association of the Bengali and the Maharashtrian, much good came to Oriya literature. Like Radhanath he was a schoolmaster and did much to provide suitable text-books for schools in Orissa. It is a favourite saying of Bernard Shaw’s that a man writes a text-book because he is incapable of writing any other kind of book. Oriya text-books are an exception to this: they are literature, for they have been written by men of genius like Radhanath and Madhusudan.

Along with Phakir Mohan Senapati, Radhanath and Madhusudan form the trinity of modern Oriya literature. Phakir Mohan also wrote text-books; and if he has net left bulky volumes to posterity,¹ it might well be said of him that he was a practitioner of the highest form of literature,–journalism. His occasional essays and poems appeared in various journals in the Province from time to time.

Quite a number of young writers have made their appearance in recent years in the firmament of Oriya letters. They are moving with the times. One of them, Sochi Raut Roy, has been translated into English by a well-known master of many trades²; and the volume has been called Boatman Boy and Other Poems. We see in this work the “divine discontent” to which Mr. E. M. Forster was referring only the other day in London.

It is a matter for gratification that Oriya literature which has long been neglected by the rest of India is now coming into its own. There are people who learnt the Oriya language in order to be able to appreciate the points in Abhimanyu Samonto Sinharo’s Bidogdho Chintamoni; of which, it has been said you can never get satiated:

Kabyore triptrio obosado nahin
Jete podhilehen nuan lagu ththayi.

There are signs which lead one to think that there are many more like these whom Oriya literature has interested in recent years.

^* Talk broadcast by All India Radio Madras, in the University series “India’s Literatures” on 25^th July 1943. Slight alterations have been made by the writer. By courtesy A. I. R. Madras.

¹ The words of TRIVENI come to mind: “Scholarship in the west is often measured by the number of books published by a person devoting himself to any branch of learning; but it has always been typical of the East to create traditions of teaching and merge oneself in that labour of love and live in spirit rather than in print.” (Oct. 1943).

² Harindranath Chattopadhyaya.