THE SCHOLARS Essay of Aravinder

The text of the Veda which we possess has remained uncorrupted for over two
thousand years. It dates, so far as we know, from that great period of
Indian intellectual activity, contemporaneous with the Greek efflorescence,
but earlier in its beginnings, which founded the culture and civilisation
recorded in the classical literature of the land. We cannot say to how much
earlier a date our text may be carried. But there are certain
considerations which justify us in supposing for it an almost enormous
antiquity. An accurate text, accurate in every syllable, accurate in every
accent, was a matter of supreme importance to the Vedic ritualists; for on
scrupulous accuracy depended the effectuality of the sacrifice.

2     Substantially, not in its present written form. Vedic prosody
differed in many respects from the prosody of classical Sanskrit and,
especially, employed a greater freedom in the use of that principle of
euphonic combination of separate words (sandhi) which is so peculiar a
feature of the literary tongue. The Vedic Rishis, as was natural in a
living speech, followed the ear rather than fixed rule; sometimes they
combined the separate words, sometimes they left them uncombine. But when
the Veda came to be written down, the law of euphonic combination had
assumed a much more despotic authority over the language and the ancient
text was written by the grammarians as far as possible in consonance with
its regulations. They were careful, however, to accompany it with another
text, called the Padapatha, in which all euphonic combinations were again
resolved into the original and separate words and even the components of
compound words indicated.

3       It is a notable tribute to the fidelity of the ancient memorisers
that, instead of the confusion to which this system might so easily have
given rise, it is always perfectly easy to resolve the formal text into the
original harmonies of Vedic prosody. And very few are the instances in
which the exactness or the sound judgment of the Padapatha can be called
into question.

4   We have, then, as our basis a text which we can confidently accept and
which, even if we hold it in a few instances doubtful or defective, does
not at any rate call for that often-licentious labour of emendation to
which some of the European classics lend themselves. This is, to start with,
a priceless advantage for which we cannot be too grateful to the
conscientiousness of the old Indian learning.

5     It is when we come to the interpretation of the Veda and seek help
from ancient Indian scholarship that we feel compelled to make the largest
reserves. For even in the earlier days of classical erudition the
ritualistic view of the Veda was already dominant, the original sense of
the words, the lines, the allusions, the clue to the structure of the
thought had been long lost or obscured; nor was there in the erudite that
intuition or that spiritual experience which might have partly recovered
the lost secret. In such a field mere learning, especially when it is
accompanied by an ingenious scholastic mind, is as often a snare as a guide.

6    In Yāska’s lexicon, (KR Yåska was a rishi before Panini, who wrote the
treatise on Vedas with the etymology and grammar; Yåska is widely regarded
as the precursive founder of the discipline of what would become etymology
in both the East and the West. "यास्काचार्यो यस्कस्य अपत्यं स्यात्" The
name Yåska is probably a patronymic name meaning of Yåska यस्क. It is
uncertain however who Yåska यस्क could have been.) our most important help,
we have to distinguish between two elements of very disparate value. When
Yåska gives as a lexicographer the various meanings of Vedic words, his
authority is great and the help he gives is of the first importance. It
does not appear that he possessed all the ancient significances, for many
had been obliterated by Time and Change and in the absence of a scientific
Philology could not be restored. But much also had been preserved by
tradition. Wherever Yåska preserves this tradition and does not use a
grammarian’s ingenuity, the meanings he assigns to words, although not
always applicable to the text to which he refers them, can yet be confirmed
as possible senses by a sound Philology. But Yåska the etymologist does not
rank with Yåska the lexicographer. Scientific grammar was first developed
by Indian learning, but the beginnings of sound philology we owe to modern
research. Nothing can be more fanciful and lawless than the methods of mere
ingenuity used by the old etymologists down even to the nineteenth century,
whether in Europe or India. And when Yåska follows these methods, we are
obliged to part company with him entirely. Nor in his interpretation of
particular texts is he more convincing than the later erudition of Sayana.

7     The commentary of Sayana closes the period of original and living
scholastic work on the Veda which Yāska’s Nirukta among other important
authorities may be said to open. The lexicon was compiled in the earlier
vigour of the Indian mind when it was assembling its prehistoric gains as
the materials of a fresh outburst of originality; the Commentary is almost
the last great work of the kind left to us by the classical tradition in
its final refuge and centre in Southern India before the old culture was
dislocated and broken into regional fragments by the shock of the Mahomedan
conquest. Since then we have had jets of strong and original effort,
scattered attempts at new birth and novel combination, but work of quite
this general, massive and monumental character has hardly been possible.

8    The commanding merits of this great legacy of the past are obvious.
Composed by Sayana with the aid of the most learned scholars of his time,
it is a work representing an enormous labour of erudition, more perhaps
than could have been commanded at that time by a single brain. The first
Vedic scholars in Europe admired especially the rationality of Sayana’s
interpretations. Yet, even for the external sense of the Veda, it is not
possible to follow either Sayana’s method or his results without the
largest reservation. It is not only that he admits in his method licences
of language and construction which are unnecessary and sometimes
incredible, nor that he arrives at his results, often, by a surprising
inconsistency in his interpretation of common Vedic terms and even of fixed
Vedic formulae. There are indeed other aspects and elements in the
commentary, but they are subordinate or subservient to the main idea.
Sayana and his helpers had to work upon a great mass of often conflicting
speculation and tradition which still survived from the past. To some of
its elements they had to give a formal adhesion, to others they felt bound
to grant minor concessions. It is possible that to Sayana’s skill in
evolving out of previous uncertainty or even confusion an interpretation
which had firm shape and consistence, is due the great   and
long-unquestioned authority of his work.

9     The first element with which Sayana had to deal, the most interesting
to us, was the remnant of the old spiritual, philosophic or psychological
interpretations of the Sruti which were the true foundation of its
sanctity. So far as these had entered into the current or orthodox4
conception, Sayana admits them; but they form an exceptional element in his
work, insignificant in bulk and in importance. Occasionally he gives a
passing mention or concession to less current psychological renderings. He
mentions, for instance, but not to admit it, an old interpretation of
Vritra as the Coverer who holds back from man the objects of his desire and
his aspirations. For Sayana Vritra is either simply the enemy or the
physical cloud-demon who holds back the waters and has to be pierced by the
Rain-giver.

10       A second element is the mythological, or, as it might almost be
called, the Puranic, —myths and stories of the gods given in their outward
form without that deeper sense and symbolic fact which is the justifying
truth of all Purana. A third element is the legendary and historic, the
stories of old kings and Rishis, given in the Brahmanas or by later
tradition in explanation of the obscure allusions of the Veda. Sayana’s
dealings with this element are marked by some hesitation. Often, he accepts
them as the right interpretation of the hymns; sometimes he gives an
alternative sense with which he has evidently more intellectual sympathy,
but wavers between the two authorities.

11      But it is the ritualistic conception that pervades; that is the
persistent note in which all others lose themselves. In the formula of the
philosophic schools, the hymns, even while standing as a supreme authority
for knowledge, are yet principally and fundamentally concerned with the
Karma Kanda, with works, —and by works was understood, pre-eminently, the
ritualistic observation of the Vedic sacrifices. Sayana labours always in
the light of this idea. Into this mould he moulds the language of the Veda,
turning the mass of its characteristic words into the ritualistic
significances, —food, priest, giver, wealth, praise, prayer, rite,
sacrifice.

12       Wealth and food; —for it is the most egoistic and materialistic
objects that are proposed as the aim of the sacrifice, possessions,
strength, power, children, servants, gold, horses, cows, victory, the
slaughter and the plunder of enemies, the destruction of rival and
malevolent critic. As one reads and finds hymn after hymn interpreted in
this sense, one begins to understand better the apparent inconsistency in
the attitude of the Gita which, regarding always the Veda as divine
knowledge,6 yet censures severely the champions of an exclusive Vedism, all
whose flowery teachings were devoted solely to material wealth, power and
enjoyment.

13      Nevertheless, if Sayana’s work has been a key turned with double
lock on the inner sense of the Veda, it is yet indispensable for opening
the antechambers of Vedic learning. All the vast labour of European
erudition has not been able to replace its utility. At every step we are
obliged to differ from it, but at every step we are obliged to use it. It
is a necessary springing-board, or a stair that we have to use for
entrance, though we must leave it behind if we wish to pass forwards into
the penetralia.

KR IRS   11 8 23

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