Our ancients sculpted a language to give perfect expression to their exuberant emotions. It has a well-developed scheme of letters and an inbuilt etymological structure that has endowed it with variety and a rare word-generation power. Being an inflected language, it is not tied down by a linear pattern of word order. It is thus highly flexible[1].
Viśvanātha who wrote Sāhityadarpaṇa starts off by criticizing the attributes of poetry as described by Mammaṭa and others, and ridicules the suggestion that comes from the topic or the object of poetry. Such suggestion, in his opinion, cannot be poetry. From his perspective, sentences filled with emotion make up poetry and nothing else, for:
देवदत्तो ग्रामं याति इति वाक्ये तद्भृत्यस्य तदनुसरणरूपव्यङ्ग्यावगतेरपि काव्यं स्यात्!
(Sāhityadarpaṇa Vṛtti 1.2)
Moving on to one of the greatest masters of all schools of thought and a very creative and gifted genius Abhinavagupta, we see humour sparkling aptly in both his excellent and incomparable commentaries Abhinavabhāratī (on the Nāṭyaśāstra) and Locana (on the Dhvanyāloka). Both his works, along with excellent usage of Sanskrit, portray a beautiful style of writing interspersed with his natural penchant for humour and thus is a source of joy for rasikas.
जगत्सन्दर्भसौन्दर्यसंवित्संस्पन्दसाक्षिणम्।
प्रणमामि सितस्मेरप्रणवं गणनायकम् ॥
The epics, Iliad and Odyssey of Homer, largely complement each other in terms of what they offer to connoisseurs. Using the terminology of the rasas (flavours of emotions), the predominant rasa in the Iliad, which also acts as the sthāyi-bhāva, is valour (vīra). To sustain the undercurrent of valour for over 15,000 lines is a great challenge, which has been met successfully only by poets like Vālmīki, Vyāsa and Homer.
Slaying of the rākṣasa Kabandha is one of the fascinating episodes in Ādikavi Vālmīki's Rāmāyaṇam. This oft-quoted episode appears at the end of the Araṇya-kāṇḍa (cantos 69-73). After Rāvaṇa abducts Sītā, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa move southward in search of her. During their journey, they come across the impassable Krauñca forest, where Kabandha seizes them. Gigantic and grotesque, the rākṣasa had no head, neck, and legs. It was just ruṇḍa without muṇḍa[1].
“ಪಾತುಂ ಶ್ರೋತ್ರರಸಾಯನಂ ರಚಯಿತುಂ ವಾಚಃ ಸತಾಂ ಸಮ್ಮತಾ
ವ್ಯುತ್ಪತ್ತಿಂ ಪರಮಾಮವಾಪ್ತುಮವಧಿಂ ಲಬ್ಧುಂ ರಸಸ್ರೋತಸಃ |
ಭೋಕ್ತುಂ ಸ್ವಾದುಫಲಂ ಚ ಜೀವಿತತರೋರ್ಯದ್ಯಸ್ತಿ ತೇ ಕೌತುಕಂ
ತದ್ಭ್ರಾತಃ ಶೃಣು ರಾಜಶೇಖರಕವೇಃ ಸೂಕ್ತೀಃ ಸುಧಾಸ್ಯಂದಿನೀಃ ||” (ಬಾಲರಾಮಾಯಣ, ೧.೧೫)
“ಕಿವಿಗೆ ಅಮೃತವಾಗಬಲ್ಲ ರಸಪಾಕದ ಆಸೆಯುಂಟೆ? ಸಜ್ಜನರು ತಲೆದೂಗಬಲ್ಲಂಥ ಕಾವ್ಯರಚನೆಯ ಸ್ವಾರಸ್ಯ ತಿಳಿಯಬೇಕೆ? ಉತ್ಕೃಷ್ಟಪಾಂಡಿತ್ಯವನ್ನು ಗಳಿಸಬೇಕೆ? ರಸಸಾಗರದ ಸೀಮೆಯನ್ನು ಕಾಣಬೇಕಾಗಿದೆಯೆ? ಜೀವನತರುವಿನ ಮಧುರಫಲವನ್ನು ಆಸ್ವಾದಿಸಲಾಸೆಯಿದೆಯೆ? ಇದಾವ ಕುತೂಹಲವದ್ದರೂ ಸರಿ, ಸಖನೇ! ಸುಧೆಯನ್ನು ಸೂಸುವ ರಾಜಶೇಖರಕವಿಯ ಸೂಕ್ತಿಗಳನ್ನು ಕೇಳು!”
The events in the Iliad span only a few weeks in the final year of the war and most of them occur outside the city-walls of Troy. In the Odyssey, the events take place over a span of ten years and at different places on the earth and in the netherworld too. While the Iliad gives us microscopic details by zooming in on time, keeping the space constant, the Odyssey gives us a telescopic view of different places at different times. The name ‘Iliad’ suggests constancy in space.
Many people have pointed out our blind emulation of the English language, culture, and people; this tendency of blindly imitating the west has also been ridiculed. Emulation—which has the basis of understanding—is fine; it is the blind emulation that is unpardonable. Yet the demonic cult has been growing, unstoppable.