Now, what do we do with all those naughty Sanskrit writers!

Sans the sacred

Every new day brings new discoveries; my latest being that actors in masala movies must choose their colours carefully to avoid censorship and ‘hurt sentiments’. Just in case you have been in a digital detox this past week, the movie Pathaan is the subject of controversy, for showing Deepika Padukone in a saffron dress in a steamy song with Shah Rukh Khan. It would have been virtually impossible to perceive any intended slight in the song without the help of our trusty politicians.

The song seems like a total snooze-fest to me, but if it’s controversy we are looking for, I humbly offer a list of more illustrious targets toward whom it should rightly be directed. Let us start with the acclaimed Kashmiri Sanskrit poet Kshemendra, who writes that “hypocrisy comes wearing reddish-robes”. Kshemendra has an elaborate description of hypocrisy personified -- who presents himself with antelope skin, a tuft of sacred grass behind his ears, bearing an empty sacred water pot (kamandalu). So concerned is Mr Hypocrisy with purity that he sprinkles some water on Brahma’s lap to purify it before he sits down on it!

No doubt Sanskrit has rich devotional poetry, dedicated to praising gods and gurus, but holy robes did not give anyone a free ticket. In fact, monks are some of the most common objects of satire in Sanskrit. Take for instance the Bhagavadajjuka, a farce from the seventh century. An old guru is trying his best to teach Buddhist doctrine to a young disciple, who, unfortunately for him, only took up monkhood for the free food. When a courtesan dies of snakebite right in front of the monk-disciple pair, the disciple is distraught about her death. The monk decides that it is the perfect time for a lesson on philosophy. Through his mystical powers, he transfers his soul into the courtesan’s body. In a chain of hilarious events, the courtesan is transferred into the monk’s body, leading to much confusion and inappropriate behaviour before peace is restored.

The Mattavilasa Prahasana, a satire from the seventh century, leaves no stone unturned in mocking monks from various sects, having them fight with each other over a missing begging-bowl, only to realise that a dog stole it. Then we have the Nilakanthavijaya, which asks a different question. What happens to celibate sages who perform years and years of difficult penance and finally reach heaven and obtain their reward? Nilakantha Dikshita, satirist par excellence, imagines the sages trying to romance the apsaras -- inviting them into huts rather than mansions, muttering prayers instead of endearments, and being shocked when they get too frisky, admonishing them to follow Vedic commands and avoid violence!

All of these authors were influential even in their own times -- Nilakantha was a prime minister of the king of Madurai. And the author of Mattavilasa Prahasana is none other than the Pallava king Mahendravarman. It’s rather difficult to imagine him censoring his own work in his kingdom. But let us leave those who are quick to take offence here -- they have a long and arduous task ahead. They must get started with searching for and then banning centuries of Sanskrit satirists before they can get to non-existent offences by Bollywood actors, don’t you think?