Looking back at my first Bhakti Theology song, it seems disjointed. The last two stanzas don’t align with the first two. Often, as I began with an initial word or sentence, I would continue writing as the thoughts flowed. The song concludes with a plea for bhakti, even though it started with Jnana. I could argue that true Jnana culminates in bhakti, and this was not my intention with the song. However, this approach mirrors how later commentators and followers attempt to reconcile contradictions in the texts or teachings of their gurus and acharyas.
From my experience, I’ve found that we shouldn’t overanalyze poems, especially bhakti and romantic ones, for doctrinal or theological meanings. Exaggeration and imagination are inherent in poetry. As Vairamutthu aptly put it in a film song, “A lie is the beauty of a poem,” akin to how kajal (in Hindi; oil lamp block or corbon in English) enhances the beauty of the eyes (கண்ணுக்கு மையழகு; கவிதைக்குப் பொய்யழகு).
Often, we add words or sentences to fill gaps or to fit a particular format. For example, on April 30th, 2014, I wrote four poems. One had eight lines per stanza, but the first stanza initially had only six lines. To maintain uniformity, I added two lines to the first stanza when editing.
It’s natural to fill gaps in poetry for music, meter, or grammar. This practice is evident in Sanskrit, where extra words are sometimes added to fit a specific poetic meter.1 For example:
asamsayam mahaabaaho mano durnigraham calam
abhyaasena tu kaunteya vairaagyena ca grhyate (6:35)
– Doubtless, O mighty-armed one, the mind is restless and hard to control; but by practice and dispassion, O son of Kunti, it can be controlled.
(Swami Ramsukhadas, Srimad Bhagavadgita: Sadhaka Sanjivani, Gita Press, Gorakhpur, vol. I, p. 549)
In this verse, Arjuna is referred to as both Mahaabaaho and Kaunteya in the first and second lines. Removing one or both would disrupt the meter. The same principle applies to Tamil poetry, where repeating similar sounds at the beginning and end of lines, known as ‘yeduhai’ and ‘monai’, is a mark of poetic skill.
Thus, projecting a doctrine or theology that the author did not intend can lead to misinterpretation. Later interpolations can distort the meaning, and while commentaries help reconcile these issues, they sometimes go beyond the author’s original intent.
For instance, if Mahaabaaho and Kaunteya were swapped in the verse, it would sound unusual. Although I’m not versed in grammar, the placement of Mahaabaaho in the first line and Kaunteya in the second line serves a specific purpose. Overzealous commentary on these names might explore unnecessary details, such as Mahaabaaho indicating strength and Kaunteya relating to Arjuna’s lineage through Kunti’s boon, though Kunti’s children are generally known as Pandavas. Providing this additional information about Arjuna was not the author’s intention.
25-2-2015
Endnotes
1. …{in} Samaveda … we have a series of chants in which the words fit the music in the first instance but less closely, or hardly at all, in those that follow. It shows that the words for the first had been carefully selected to fit the melody; after which others, different in length and number, were forced into the same format as if confined in a straitjacket. When (p. 107) words do not fit, they are changed or transformed and embellishments called stobha are inserted. They are meaningless like the sounds of a lullaby. According to a commentator, the term stobha is used even in daily life to refer to a meaningless string of sounds, something that may be uttered by a joker for killing time….— Frits Staal, Discovering the Vedas,: Origins, Mantras, Rituals, Insights, New Delhi, Penguin Books, 2008. pp. 107-08
…Insertion and transformation may have happened on several levels, as in the Rigveda verse: abhi tvaa suura nonumo ‘dugkhaa iva dhenavah/ iisaanam asya jagatah svardrsam iisaanam indra tasthusah, ‘we cry out for you, hero, like unmilked cows to the lord of this living world, to the lord of the unmoving world whose eye is the sun O Indra!’ It has been turned into a famous chant called Rathantara, ‘Excellent Chariot’. It is one of the two that the Rigveda mentions. Its Samavedic form is: obhitvaasuuranonumovaa/ aadugdhaa iva dhenava iisaanamasya jagatassuvaardrsaam/ iisaanamaa indra / taa sthu saa o vaa haa u vaa/ aas// The stobhas are o vaa haa u vaa and aas. They may occur almost anywhere but have here been put at the end.—ibid. p. 109
Looking back at my first Bhakti Theology song, it seems disjointed. The last two stanzas don’t align with the first two. Often, as I began with an initial word or sentence, I would continue writing as the thoughts flowed. The song concludes with a plea for bhakti, even though it started with Jnana. I could argue that true Jnana culminates in bhakti, and this was not my intention with the song. However, this approach mirrors how later commentators and followers attempt to reconcile contradictions in the texts or teachings of their gurus and acharyas.
From my experience, I’ve found that we shouldn’t overanalyze poems, especially bhakti and romantic ones, for doctrinal or theological meanings. Exaggeration and imagination are inherent in poetry. As Vairamutthu aptly put it in a film song, “A lie is the beauty of a poem,” akin to how kajal (in Hindi; oil lamp block or corbon in English) enhances the beauty of the eyes (கண்ணுக்கு மையழகு; கவிதைக்குப் பொய்யழகு).
Often, we add words or sentences to fill gaps or to fit a particular format. For example, on April 30th, 2014, I wrote four poems. One had eight lines per stanza, but the first stanza initially had only six lines. To maintain uniformity, I added two lines to the first stanza when editing.
It’s natural to fill gaps in poetry for music, meter, or grammar. This practice is evident in Sanskrit, where extra words are sometimes added to fit a specific poetic meter.1 For example:
asamsayam mahaabaaho mano durnigraham calam
abhyaasena tu kaunteya vairaagyena ca grhyate (6:35)
– Doubtless, O mighty-armed one, the mind is restless and hard to control; but by practice and dispassion, O son of Kunti, it can be controlled.
(Swami Ramsukhadas, Srimad Bhagavadgita: Sadhaka Sanjivani, Gita Press, Gorakhpur, vol. I, p. 549)
In this verse, Arjuna is referred to as both Mahaabaaho and Kaunteya in the first and second lines. Removing one or both would disrupt the meter. The same principle applies to Tamil poetry, where repeating similar sounds at the beginning and end of lines, known as ‘yeduhai’ and ‘monai’, is a mark of poetic skill.
Thus, projecting a doctrine or theology that the author did not intend can lead to misinterpretation. Later interpolations can distort the meaning, and while commentaries help reconcile these issues, they sometimes go beyond the author’s original intent.
For instance, if Mahaabaaho and Kaunteya were swapped in the verse, it would sound unusual. Although I’m not versed in grammar, the placement of Mahaabaaho in the first line and Kaunteya in the second line serves a specific purpose. Overzealous commentary on these names might explore unnecessary details, such as Mahaabaaho indicating strength and Kaunteya relating to Arjuna’s lineage through Kunti’s boon, though Kunti’s children are generally known as Pandavas. Providing this additional information about Arjuna was not the author’s intention.
25-2-2015
Endnotes
1. …{in} Samaveda … we have a series of chants in which the words fit the music in the first instance but less closely, or hardly at all, in those that follow. It shows that the words for the first had been carefully selected to fit the melody; after which others, different in length and number, were forced into the same format as if confined in a straitjacket. When (p. 107) words do not fit, they are changed or transformed and embellishments called stobha are inserted. They are meaningless like the sounds of a lullaby. According to a commentator, the term stobha is used even in daily life to refer to a meaningless string of sounds, something that may be uttered by a joker for killing time….— Frits Staal, Discovering the Vedas,: Origins, Mantras, Rituals, Insights, New Delhi, Penguin Books, 2008. pp. 107-08
…Insertion and transformation may have happened on several levels, as in the Rigveda verse: abhi tvaa suura nonumo ‘dugkhaa iva dhenavah/ iisaanam asya jagatah svardrsam iisaanam indra tasthusah, ‘we cry out for you, hero, like unmilked cows to the lord of this living world, to the lord of the unmoving world whose eye is the sun O Indra!’ It has been turned into a famous chant called Rathantara, ‘Excellent Chariot’. It is one of the two that the Rigveda mentions. Its Samavedic form is: obhitvaasuuranonumovaa/ aadugdhaa iva dhenava iisaanamasya jagatassuvaardrsaam/ iisaanamaa indra / taa sthu saa o vaa haa u vaa/ aas// The stobhas are o vaa haa u vaa and aas. They may occur almost anywhere but have here been put at the end.—ibid. p. 109
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