Secrecy and Soup: the Esoteric Tradition of Sanskrit Literature

I found this book entertaining to read and at times enlightening. Yet it was also full of contradictions and paradoxes that made me question again and again where the author was coming from and what exactly his intentions were.

Many of the analogies – both his own and quoted from other sources- were wonderfully hilarious. Continuing on with the theme of flavour and food, is the repeated can-opener metaphor. “The rasa-dhvani doctrine bring poetry perilously close to a kind of tomato soup that everybody is conditioned to enjoy.” (50) Smith’s critique of the rasa-dhvani school, and his obviously frustration with its “attempts to leave us with a universal, impersonal experience passing between people who try to be as like each other as possible.” (50) receives some sympathy from me. I wonder how much of the stuff he has had to read – I am sure a lot more than us, which - although it was fascinating for a while – allows me to feel his pain.

The second analogy that really stood out for me will also bring me to my main theme for these week’s blog. “The Vedas belonged to the end of an earlier epoch, and were increasingly venerated the less they were understood, like a dwarf star ceasing to emit light whilst its gravity rapidly increases.” (14)

In our modern tradition of scholarship and academia I often find the veneration of “convolutedness” to be our own form of religion. The harder it is to understand something the more that can be made out of it. Interpretations run wild – you can make some theorists say anything to suit your own agenda. The scholars who really have a cross-discipline drive are generally the hardest to understand (think Derrida, Foucault, Kant etc.).

In regards to the Vedas, the further the Indian people moved away from that time – and the further their language changed - the more gobblygook the passages became. Thus the more mysterious, awesome, and (mis)interpretable they became. The light bulb had been turned off, no longer did they truly hold the way - nor did they make full sense -but their gravitational pull increased. The Vedas were always meant to be secretive – therefore the very fact that they have lost the majority of their understandability (were they ever meant to be understandable?) is perhaps a perfect continuation of the esoteric tradition! The tradition has also continued in other ways, I would argue.

The problem of accessibility and the esoteric nature of the rasa-dhvani tradition has arisen almost every week. Many of the scholars we have looked at have made comments about how only the learned men – the sahrdayas – are classy enough to understand what is going on with rasa – they are the only ones who have had the relevant education and time spent working on the skills in order to truly understand and appreciate the art form. They are the only ones worth writing FOR. As I mentioned above, I believe the esoteric nature is a continuation of the original Sanskrit tradition of limited accessibility. No longer is the Sanskrit language sacred, anybody can write a poem or play and anyone with a small amount of education can read or hear it – initiation based on birth and wealth are no longer the prerequisites. Yet do they understand it? By maintaining a level of secrecy some authors, I would argue, wished to maintain the tradition, and did not want to relinquish Sanskrit up to just anyone.

Again the week, this theme was touched on by Smith. He wrote “There are some striking resemblances between kavya and the Vedic hymns. If the Veda is, in Derrett’s words, an ‘unintelligible, fossilized entity’, so too is kavya! Kingdoms needed clever men to run them; since familiarity with an arcane literature was the cardinal sign of intellect, of aristocratic mind, the new men made themselves a new badge for their authority.” (96) Louis Renou is quoted as saying “one may again wonder if the authors did not systematically avoid whatever could facilitate the understanding of the text. Kavya is not made for those whom Grammar calls mandabuddhi [‘slow witted’], who need those crutches that are particles.” (quoted on 97) For further examples of what led to my discussion on accessibility/esoteric traditions see pgs 98-99 – I have not included a full discussion due to time and space constraints (read: mental constraints!!!!)

On a final note and adding another layer to this topic of secrecy – the need of the learned to preserve their knowledge and thus creating art that is not accessible to all – is the religious affiliation of the Sanskrit author in question – Ratnakara. He belonged to the secret esoteric Kaula path of the tantric Kashmiri Saiva tradition. His writings include details that should only be available to the initiated. Therefore he does not appear to be one who is too worried about secrecy. Yet Smith says Ratnakara’s poetry is full of “obscure references, until the precise and detailed Kaula imagery becomes vague and almost bland.” (265) Is it truly vague and bland? Has Smith opened a bad can of Tomato soup - or are his tastes not yet initiated into the knowledge being presented, possibly in a secretive manner itself?

In kavya there are word plays, puns, allusions, and an abundance of other literary conventions that would only be known to the initiated – someone who has read a great deal of the rasa-dhvani commentaries that Smith critiques in the beginnings of his book. Has the soup can really been opened for us all to enjoy? If so, I don’t think it is Campbell’s soup – maybe some extremely expensive gourmet soup only reserved for a select few. I get the feeling Smith wants in on this soup – and he does not like that others are taking a sip out of his rations.