Anand Neelakantan's Blog - Posts Tagged "language"
The language tangle
There is a beautiful legend I had heard in my childhood. Melpathoor Narayana Bhattathiri was an erudite Sanskrit scholar of Mediaeval Kerala. He was afflicted with paralysis, but that did not stop him from writing Narayaneeyam, one of the most celebrated compositions in Sanskrit. Miraculously he was cured after writing the same and he became a celebrated Vedic Scholar who was often invited to the courts of mighty kings. Poonthanam, a poet who wrote in Malayalam was his contemporary. Poonthanam had limited knowledge of Sanskrit. One day, at a discourse held at Guruvayoor temple, Poonthanam recited the shloka Padmanabho Amaraprabhu as Padmanabho Maraprabhu. Melpathoor mocked poor Poonthanam as half-poet and said Padmanabha is the lord of immortals and not the lord of the trees, which was what Poonthanam’s misspelling meant. A celestial voice from the sanctum of the temple answered that “I am the lord of trees too,”. However, this did not teach Melpathoor any lesson, and he remained haughty about his knowledge of Sanskrit.
A few days later, Poonthanam submitted Jnanapana, his devotional composition in Malayalam to Melpathoor and pleaded with him to edit the same. Melpathoor scoffed at the idea of editing a book written in Malayalam which was just a Desa Basha, a local language. He was a poet of Deva Basha, the divine language of Sanskrit, and such a task was beneath his stature as a Sanskrit scholar. A broken-hearted Poonthanam returned home. But that night, Melpathoor was stricken by Paralysis again and he heard the divine voice of Narayana, “For me, Poonthanam’s Bhakti (devotion) is more important than your Vibhakti (Grammar or language)”. A repentant Melpathoor begged forgiveness to Poonthanam for his sin of considering style and language more important than the content. To this day, it is the Jnanapana, Poonthanam’s composition in mundane Malayalam that remains popular than the scholarly and deeply philosophical Narayaneeyam of Melpathoor.
For many centuries, Sanskrit was the language of the scholars in India. It is doubtful whether it was the common man’s tongue at any point of time in history, though it continued to be used by erudite scholars from various parts of the country for a long time. Kalhana of Kashmir wrote Rajatarangani, Jayadeva of Orissa wrote Gita Govindam, Mahendravarman of Tamil lands wrote Mattavillasa Prahasana, all in Sanskrit, showing how widespread the language was across the subcontinent. The eighteen Puranas were compiled, rewritten and changed by Scholars from Kerala to Kandhar and Gujarat to Assam. It is said that Adi Shankara’s eloquence in Sanskrit used to keep his rivals in awe. His skill in language is clear in his works and many Sanskrit scholars opine that, had Shankara not been famous as a Saint Philosopher, he would have been as famous as Kalidasa in poetry. Sanskrit was the literary language and lingua Franca for the educated of ancient and medieval India. By the time, other Indian languages were maturing, Sanskrit had ceased to be the language of common people. Even in classical Sanskrit drama, the dramatists were often careful to make women and Shudras speak in Prakrit or local tongues, while the male characters spoke in chaste Sanskrit, much like how drivers or maids are caricatured in modern films with their rustic Indian languages while the upper- class characters speak in American accented English.
Indian elite always had a link language, earlier in Sanskrit and later in Persian, followed by English. However, for the major part of our history, Sanskrit served as the link language. It was the language of religion, philosophy, science and art that linked the country together. Despite this, there was no political unity in India. India might have had a cultural unity, but it was never a politically united country as we know it now. It shows the mirror to those who vociferously argue for a common language for the entire country. If a common language could bring unity, there would have been only one Arabian country and the USA, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and England would have been one nation. If the common religion would have given unity, there would have been only one Islamic superstate. If a common language would have given unity, there would have been no partition of Bengal or Punjab. So, it shows neither a common language, religion or race can ensure a unified nation.
Though India rarely had political unity in its history, culturally it was always united. To understand this miracle, one should look at how Hinduism spread across the continent. Hinduism as we know now has little to do with Vedic rituals or the philosophical speculations in Upanishads. For elite scholars, those may remain fascinating, but the Hinduism of the common man is far removed from such Sanskrit texts. Hinduism spread by assimilating a hundred subcultures, giving respect to each, accepting often contrasting and even contradicting cultures under its broad umbrella. Only a few would have read Valmiki’s Ramayana or Vyasa’s Mahabharata in Sanskrit. Tulsidas, Kambars, Ezhuthachans, Kritibhasa and countless of such Desa Basha poets popularised the epics. Though Sanskrit was a liturgical language, the oral tradition of tales and retellings in Desa Bashas made the religion take roots among people worshipping many million gods in many million ways. Hinduism did not impose the concept of one God, one method of worship, one right way of religion or one common festival. Instead, it celebrated everything, including a few festivals where Gods are questioned. It has a place for festivals like Onam, one that honours an Asura called Mahabali, and it is open enough to accept many tribal gods as the manifestation of the Brahman. The unity was not achieved by imposing anything, but by accepting and assimilating many things. That helped it withstand the shock of mediaeval pogroms and the yoke of colonisation.
All these hold lessons for those who think India needs one common language, one common religion and one common culture and are determined to impose these things with force. If the lesson that Hinduism offers is not enough for them, they might learn from the history of the USSR that tried to impose such forced unity of language, culture, and a newfound intolerant religion called Marxism and what happened to such forced attempts.
Published as a column in the NEW INDIAN EXPRESS (SUNDAY EDITION)
A few days later, Poonthanam submitted Jnanapana, his devotional composition in Malayalam to Melpathoor and pleaded with him to edit the same. Melpathoor scoffed at the idea of editing a book written in Malayalam which was just a Desa Basha, a local language. He was a poet of Deva Basha, the divine language of Sanskrit, and such a task was beneath his stature as a Sanskrit scholar. A broken-hearted Poonthanam returned home. But that night, Melpathoor was stricken by Paralysis again and he heard the divine voice of Narayana, “For me, Poonthanam’s Bhakti (devotion) is more important than your Vibhakti (Grammar or language)”. A repentant Melpathoor begged forgiveness to Poonthanam for his sin of considering style and language more important than the content. To this day, it is the Jnanapana, Poonthanam’s composition in mundane Malayalam that remains popular than the scholarly and deeply philosophical Narayaneeyam of Melpathoor.
For many centuries, Sanskrit was the language of the scholars in India. It is doubtful whether it was the common man’s tongue at any point of time in history, though it continued to be used by erudite scholars from various parts of the country for a long time. Kalhana of Kashmir wrote Rajatarangani, Jayadeva of Orissa wrote Gita Govindam, Mahendravarman of Tamil lands wrote Mattavillasa Prahasana, all in Sanskrit, showing how widespread the language was across the subcontinent. The eighteen Puranas were compiled, rewritten and changed by Scholars from Kerala to Kandhar and Gujarat to Assam. It is said that Adi Shankara’s eloquence in Sanskrit used to keep his rivals in awe. His skill in language is clear in his works and many Sanskrit scholars opine that, had Shankara not been famous as a Saint Philosopher, he would have been as famous as Kalidasa in poetry. Sanskrit was the literary language and lingua Franca for the educated of ancient and medieval India. By the time, other Indian languages were maturing, Sanskrit had ceased to be the language of common people. Even in classical Sanskrit drama, the dramatists were often careful to make women and Shudras speak in Prakrit or local tongues, while the male characters spoke in chaste Sanskrit, much like how drivers or maids are caricatured in modern films with their rustic Indian languages while the upper- class characters speak in American accented English.
Indian elite always had a link language, earlier in Sanskrit and later in Persian, followed by English. However, for the major part of our history, Sanskrit served as the link language. It was the language of religion, philosophy, science and art that linked the country together. Despite this, there was no political unity in India. India might have had a cultural unity, but it was never a politically united country as we know it now. It shows the mirror to those who vociferously argue for a common language for the entire country. If a common language could bring unity, there would have been only one Arabian country and the USA, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and England would have been one nation. If the common religion would have given unity, there would have been only one Islamic superstate. If a common language would have given unity, there would have been no partition of Bengal or Punjab. So, it shows neither a common language, religion or race can ensure a unified nation.
Though India rarely had political unity in its history, culturally it was always united. To understand this miracle, one should look at how Hinduism spread across the continent. Hinduism as we know now has little to do with Vedic rituals or the philosophical speculations in Upanishads. For elite scholars, those may remain fascinating, but the Hinduism of the common man is far removed from such Sanskrit texts. Hinduism spread by assimilating a hundred subcultures, giving respect to each, accepting often contrasting and even contradicting cultures under its broad umbrella. Only a few would have read Valmiki’s Ramayana or Vyasa’s Mahabharata in Sanskrit. Tulsidas, Kambars, Ezhuthachans, Kritibhasa and countless of such Desa Basha poets popularised the epics. Though Sanskrit was a liturgical language, the oral tradition of tales and retellings in Desa Bashas made the religion take roots among people worshipping many million gods in many million ways. Hinduism did not impose the concept of one God, one method of worship, one right way of religion or one common festival. Instead, it celebrated everything, including a few festivals where Gods are questioned. It has a place for festivals like Onam, one that honours an Asura called Mahabali, and it is open enough to accept many tribal gods as the manifestation of the Brahman. The unity was not achieved by imposing anything, but by accepting and assimilating many things. That helped it withstand the shock of mediaeval pogroms and the yoke of colonisation.
All these hold lessons for those who think India needs one common language, one common religion and one common culture and are determined to impose these things with force. If the lesson that Hinduism offers is not enough for them, they might learn from the history of the USSR that tried to impose such forced unity of language, culture, and a newfound intolerant religion called Marxism and what happened to such forced attempts.
Published as a column in the NEW INDIAN EXPRESS (SUNDAY EDITION)
