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Karnataka 2nd PUC Sanskrit Textbook Answers Shevadhi Chapter 6 अनुरागोदयः
अनुरागोदयः Questions and Answers, Notes, Summary
अनुरागोदयः Summary in Kannada
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Introduction: Kavya is divided into sravya (audible) and drsya (visible). Sravya kavya is divided further into padya-kavya and gadyakavya. The great poet Banabhatta, popularly known as the sovereign monarch of the kingdom of prose, wrote two gadyakavyas ‘Harshacharitam’ and ‘Kadambari’. His date is agreed to as the first half of the seventh century A.D. The prescribed lesson is an extract from ‘Mahasveta Vrittanta’ of ‘Kadambari’. Here, the first love between Pundarika and Kadambari’s friend Mahasveta is described beautifully.
(Background: The King of Ujjain, Tarapida, crowned his son Chandrapida as the prince. Thereafter Chandrapida set out on his conquests with his army. One day he w As he wandered in the forest, he reached the foothills of Kailash mountain. There, right in the middle of the grove, was the most delightfully beautiful lake he had ever seen. At the very sight of this beautiful lake, whose name he later learnt was Acchoda, Chandrapida’s weariness fled. Enchanted with the lake, Chandrapida reached the southern shore. There he heard a sweet sound of unearthly music. He moved in the direction of the music and reached an ancient temple of Lord Shiva. Seated in a posture of meditation, Chandrapida beheld a maiden vowed to the service of Shiva, who turned the region to ivory by the brightness of her beauty. Chandrapida bowed reverentially before Shiva and sat down awaiting the end of the song. As soon as the maiden finished her song and welcomed Chandrapida, he rose reverentially and bowed before her. When Chandrapida insisted on knowing why she had, in the dawn of life, undertaken this vow, she narrated her story.
“Oh Prince! Will you hear the story of my ascetic life, that is unfit for your ears? For cruel has been my heart, hard my destiny, and evil my condition, even from my birth. Still, if you desire to know, listen. It is generally known to people who devote themselves to the welfare of the entire world, that in the realm of the immortals are the apsaras, girls who remain unmarried. Now, there are fourteen lineages of apsaras.
In the apsara lineage descended from the rays of the moon was born Gauri, a delight to the eyes of all. Hamsa, the lord of the second line of the gandharvas, took her as his beloved. It was to those great people that I was born, as their only daughter.
Having long remained childless, my father rejoiced in my birth and celebrated the event even more grandly than he would have the birth of a son. On the tenth day, having duly performed all the rites, they named me Mahasveta, a name suitable to my fair appearance. I had indeed a delightful childhood, taking all that love for granted, with no knowledge of friendship and no understanding of sorrow or fatigue.
In time fresh youth came to me as the honey-month to the spring, fresh shoots to the honey-month, flowers to the fresh shoots, bees to the flowers, and honey to the bees. And one day I went down with my mother to the Acchoda lake that truly sparkled with the riotous blooming of white and blue lilies and the red lotuses, to have a bath.
Drawn on by the charms of the wood, I wandered with my companions. And at a certain spot 1 smelt the fragrance of a flower strongly borne on the wind, overpowering that of all the rest, though the wood was in full blossom; it drew near, and by its great sweetness seemed to delight, and to fill the sense of smell. Bees followed it, seeking to make it their own; it was truly a perfume unknown heretofore, and fit for the gods. I, too, eager to learn where it came from, with eyes turned into buds, and drawn on like a bee by that scent, advanced a few steps and beheld a graceful, youthful ascetic coming down to bathe. He was like Spring doing penance in grief, for Love made the fuel of Shiva’s fire, or the crescent on Shiva’s brow performing a vow to win a full orb, or Love restrained in his eagerness to conquer Shiva.
He was adorned with a sacrificial thread like the bent string of Love’s bow, or a filament from the lotus grove of the pool of penance; in one hand he bore a pitcher like a kesara fruit with its stalk; in the other a crystal rosary, strung as it were with the tears of Rati wailing in grief for Love’s (Manmatha’s) death. He was the ornament of ascetic life, the youthful grace of holiness, the delight of Saraswati, the chosen lord of all the sciences, and the meeting-place of all divine tradition. He had, like the summer season, his staff; he had, like, a winter wood, the brightness of opening millet, and he had like the month of honey, a face adorned with white tilaka. With hini there was a youthful ascetic gathering flowers to worship the gods, his equal in age and a friend worthy of himself.
Then I saw a wondrous spray of flowers which decked his ear, like the bright smile of woodland joying in the sight of spring and gazing at the youthful ascetic, the thought arose in my mind : “Ah, how lavish is the Creator who has skill to produce the highest perfection of form, for he has compounded Kama of all miraculous beauty, excelling the universe, and yet has created this ascetic even more fair, surpassing him, like a second love-god, born of enchantment. I think that when Brahma made the moon’s orb to gladden the world, and the lotuses to be Lakshmi’s palace of delight, he was but practising to gain skill for the creation of this ascetic’s face; why else should such things be created? Thus having resolved, I was eager to depart, but, remembering that holy men should be revered by all, I made an obeisance to him with eyes turned to his face, eyelashes motionless, not glancing downwards, my cheek uncaressed by the flowers dancing in my ears, my garland tossing on my waving hair, and my jewelled earrings swinging on my shoulders.
He too was visibly thrilled, as if to welcome the newly-entering Love; his sighs went before him to show the way to his mind which was hastening towards me; the rosary in his hand trembled and shook, fearing the breaking of his vow; drops of perspiration rose on his cheek, like a second garland hanging from his ear; his eyes, as his pupils dilated and his glance widened in the joy of beholding me, turned the spot to a very lotus-grove. By the manifest change in him my love was redoubled, and I fell that moment into a state I cannot describe.
I advanced, and bowing to the second young ascetic, his companion, I asked: “What is the name of his Reverence? Whose son is he? From what tree is this garland woven? For its scent, hitherto unknown, and of rare sweetness, kindles great curiosity in me.”
With a slight smile, he replied : “Maiden, why do you want to know? But I will enlighten your curiosity. Listen!”
“There dwells in the world of gods a great sage, Svetaketu; his noble character is famed through the universe; his feet are honoured by bands of siddhas, gods, and demons; his beauty is dear to the three worlds, and gladdens the hearts of goddesses. Once upon a time, when seeking lotuses for the worship of the gods, he went down to the Heavenly Ganges, which lay white as Shiva’s smile. Straightaway Lakshmi, enthroned on a thousand-petalled white lotus close by, beheid him coming down among the flowers, and looking on him, she drank in his beauty with eyes half closed by love, and quivering with the weight of joyous tears, and with her slender fingers laid on her softly-opening lips; and her heart was disturbed by Love; by her glance alone she won his affection. A son was born to her right then and there, and taking him in her arms with the words, ‘Take him, for he is yours’, she gave him to Svetaketu, who performed all the rites of a son’s birth, and called him Pundarika, because he was born in a Pundarika lotus. This is Pundarika whom you see. And this smell comes from the parijata tree, which rose when the Milky Ocean was churned by gods and demons.
When he had thus spoken, Pundarika said to me with a slight smile: “Ah, curious maiden, why did you take the trouble to ask this? If the flower, with its sweet scent, has pleased you, do accept it,” and advancing, he took it from his own ear and placed it in mine, as though, with the soft murmur of the bees on it, it were a prayer for love. At once, in my eagerness to touch his hand, a thrill arose in me, like a second parijata flower, where the garland lay; while he, in the pleasure of touching my cheek, did not see that from his tremulous fingers he had dropped his rosary at the same time as his timidity; but before it reached the ground I seized it, and playfully placed it on my neck, where it wore the grace of a necklace unlike all others, while I learnt the joy of having my neck clasped, as it were, by his arm.
Meanwhile, the second young ascetic, seeing that Pundarika was losing his self-control, gently upbraided him : “Dear Pundarika, this is unworthy of thee. This is the way trodden by common men. For the good are rich in self-control. Why do you fail to restrain the turmoil of your soul? From where has this hitherto unknown assault of the senses come, which so transforms thee? Where is your old firmness? Where is your conquest of the senses? Where is your selfcontrol? Where is your calm of mind, your inherited holiness, your carelessness of earthly things? Where are the teachings of your guru, your learning of the Vedas, your resolves of asceticism, your hatred of pleasure, your aversion to vain delights, your passion for penance, your distaste for enjoyments, your rule over the impulses of youth? Verily all knowledge is fruitless, study of holy books is useless, initiation has lost its meaning, pondering the teaching of gurus avails not, proficiency is worthless, learning leads to nought, since even men like thee are stained by the touch of passion, and overcome by folly. You do not even sec that your rosary has fallen from your hand, and has been carried away. Alas! how good sense fails in men thus struck down. Hold back this heart of yours, for this worthless girl is seeking to carry it away.”
To these words he replied, with some shame: “Dear Kapinjala, why do you thus misunderstand me? I am not the one to endure this reckless girl’s offence in taking my rosary!” and with his moonlike face beautiful in its feigned wrath, and adorned more by the dread frown he tried to assume, while his lip trembled with longing to kiss me, he said to me, “Playful maiden, you shall not move a step from this place without giving back my rosary.” Thereupon I loosened from my neck a single row of pearls and placed it in his outstretched hand, while his eyes were fixed on my face, and his mind was far away. I started to bathe in sweat, but how I started I know not, for my mother and my companions could hardly lead me away by force, like a river driven backwards, and I went home thinking only of him.