EE7.5 - Kabala to Kaḿsári (Discourse 20)

Kabala to Kaḿsári (Discourse 20)

2nd February 1986, Calcutta

Kabala

Ka – meaning “water” or “head”. Ka + bal + ac = kabala. The word’s etymological meaning is “one whose power is in water” or “one who is invigorated in water”; or “one whose power is in the head” or “one whose head invigorates”. Colloquially, kabala means:

1) Mouthful; that is, as much as can be kept in the mouth at one time is a mouthful [grás]. You have perhaps seen in the almanac that an eclipse is sometimes full [púrńagrás] and sometimes partial [ardhagrás]. It is said that in this eclipse Ráhu has completely swallowed it, and in that eclipse Ráhu has partially swallowed it. What happens is that there is an eclipse whenever the moon or the sun is found in one portion of the umbra (in the original umbra) and ketu stands in exactly the seventh sign and concerning degree away from that umbra (“in whichever month, in whichever sign of the zodiac/in the seventh stands the moon/if there is a full moon on that day/ráhu is sure to come devouring”) The type of eclipse – whether complete or partial – is fixed according to which kalá of the sun or moon falls under that umbra. In the annular eclipse of the sun, the sun is considered to fall completely within the original umbra according to mathematical analysis. When the sun or moon passes through that portion of the umbra, it is thought that the sun or moon has come out from the severed portion of the beheaded Ráhu.⁽¹⁾ So now you have understood what the actual meaning of the word grás is. This word grás is derived by adding the suffix ghaiṋ to gran’s (grasi). Ka means “head”. Ráhu has swallowed the head-planet; thus we say that the sun or moon has fallen in the kabala of ráhu.

2) If someone falls within the range of any wicked animal or demon we say – “he has fallen in the tiger’s kabala” or “they have fallen into the demon’s kabala.”

3) The third meaning of kabala is “to keep both cheeks distended by filling the mouth with water”.

4) Another meaning of kabala is “to gargle with the help of the tongue or throat cavity”, that is, instead of saying tini gárgl karchen [he is gargling], proper Bengali will be tini kabala karchen.

5) Ka means “water”. One whose strength is in ka, that is, one whose strength diminishes as they ascend onto dry land is also kabala in the etymological sense. In this case, the colloquial meaning of kabala is bele mách [sand fish].

Kabaliká

There are three feminine forms of the word kabala: kabalii, kabalá and kabaliká. The etymological meaning of the word kabaliká is “that which helps in exerting energy” or “that which saves one from another’s energetic blow”. Colloquially kabaliká means:

1) Imagine that you have prepared a shada in a wok [kaŕái]⁽²⁾ (raw or cooked vegetables are called shada)Now the wok has to be taken down from the stove. You don’t have any tongs, or even if you do the wok is so hot that it will still be difficult to take it down even with the help of the tongs. In this case you will use the two handles of the wok to take it off the stove, but if you grab the two handles with your bare hands then you will get blisters on your hands from the striking of the energy of the handles – from the effect of the heat. In that case, in order to save your hands from the effect of the fire or the heat, you will certainly protect your hands with a towel or cloth or gámchá or non-conductor of heat before grabbing the handles and taking down the wok. This non-conductor of heat we call kabaliká.

2) You are harvesting potatoes in a field. You are digging on this and that side of the partitions separating the fields. You feel pleasure pulling up the new potatoes but a little while later it fades because you get big blisters on your hands. You will certainly wrap some kind of cloth over your hands to protect your hands or fingers from those blisters. This is also kabaliká.

3) Any kind of implement or tool which protects your hands or fingers from blisters or suffering is also called kabaliká. Thus, in this sense, the handle [bánt́] of a knife or chopping knife or hammer is called kabaliká (bánt́ comes from bańt́ika and bant́i comes from bańt́iká⁽³⁾)

4) In ancient times a kind of cotton and cloth pad was used by warriors to protect their hands or fingers from blisters caused by rubbing while using a sword. This pad was called kabaliká.

5) That sheath that was used or is used to protect a sword from moisture in the air is called kabaliká (it was kept in it so that it would not rust).

6) Someone has a carbuncle in some part of their body. The doctor performs surgery on it. Afterwards, of course, he will not leave the operated part open; he will certainly cover it to protect it from external influences. This covering or bandage is also called kabaliká.

7) Living beings take birth over and over again in order to undergo the fruits of their actions, and over and over again they are devoured by death. The reactions in potentiality or reactive momenta that one imbibes by their original actions remain with them. Those reactive momenta draw them back again and again. These reactions in potentiality which are the cause of the next life are called saḿskára or prárabdha. The bondage of this prárabdha is also called kabaliká.

Kavara

Previously it was accepted that the verbal roots br and vr were pronounced differently and had separate meanings, however today many people confuse the two. The meaning of the verbal root br is “to show honour”, “to receive with excellence”, “to welcome”. We get the word bara from this verbal root br. Bara means “excellent”. Although predominantly the átmanepadii verb form barayate is used, the parasmaepadii⁽⁴⁾ is also used. The words bara, barańa, barendra, bárendra come from this root.

The meaning of the verbal root vr is “to be engaged in work”, “to cover”, “to be covered”. If we take the word ka to mean “water”, then the etymological meaning of the word kavara is “that which keeps water covered”. If we take the word ka to mean “head”, then the etymological meaning of the word kavara is “that which keeps the head covered”. There are many colloquial meanings of the word kavara.

1) Many times, when it is not possible to tie the hair into braids, or for those who are unwilling to tie their hair in braids, or for those who for one reason or another are not permitted to make braids, the hair is usually twisted somewhat and tied behind the head. To tie in this way we call jhunt́i bándhá in Bengali. If this jhunt́i is tied on top of the head we call it opar-jhunt́i [upper jhunt́i]. Whether this jhunt́i is tied at the back or on the top, it is called kavara in refined Bengali [and Sanskrit]. In order to tie this kavara there is no need of any káiṋcaná (long hairpin) or kácan (a ribbon for tying the hair).

2) A cap is a covering for the head, so if we take ka to mean “head” then kavara also refers to “cap” or “headdress”. If we say “headdress” it means “cap”, “turban”, “crown” – all of these.

3) Often the hair becomes tangled for want of care. It also becomes tangled if it is not combed properly (Kankatiká: kankatiká → kankaiá → kánkai. Ciruńii is still called kánkai in Rarhi Bengali. In this sense a split [cerá] object is ciruńii. Ciruńii is native Bengali. Kánkai is a Sanskrit-derivative.) There are those who twist and tangle their hair to get oohs and aahs for this show of their own disinterestedness. If the hair remains twisted and tangled for a long time it ends up becoming matted hair.

Whether bound or loose, the word kavara can be used for all kinds of matted hair.

4) If different things are combined in a physical mixture or chemical compound where it becomes difficult to separate one from the other (for example, sugar and sand), then this kind of mixture or compound is called kavara.

5) When a new metal is produced as a result of mixing or intermingling or compounding two or more metals together (such as bell-metal, brass, guinea-gold or gold alloy, bronze, Khágŕa bell-metal), then that new metal is also called kavara or kavaradhátu. To turn this kavara metal back into its original metals is extremely difficult. Most often, then, ornaments of guinea-gold are turned into alloyed gold. High quality, bejewelled ornaments do not carry as much value for their gold as they do as ornaments. Such type of gold is usually turned into alloyed gold.

6) There are a few such plants which have a predominance of salty sap, for example, nune shák (in Sanskrit lonii). We also call them kavara.

7) The salt that is obtained from such plants is also called kavara.

8) Those mineral salts that we find in the water of certain places (such as Bakreshvara, Siitákuńd́a) and in other materials is also called kavara.

9) The thick portion of the leaves (what the people call pet́o in spoken Bengali) attached to that middle portion of the bole of the banana tree which we call t́hoŕ in spoken Bengali is also called kavara.

10) Those fruits which are used as food are collectively known as kavara. The trees of those fruits are also called kavara.

11) The word kavara is also used for a fruit garden or orchard; however in this case the suffix t́á is added to the root word, that is, when we use the word kavara for orchard then we use it in its feminine form, or kavará (like the word latá).

12) Asafoetida is called kavara because it acts as a medicine for head ailments when taken in moderation.⁽⁵⁾ The asafoetida tree is also called kavara. Keep in mind that asafoetida [him’] and hiuṋgul are not the same thing. Asafoetida is a spice that grows mostly in the northwest frontier of India and in Pakistan. However if it is planted in the soil of Bengal it can also grow well in Bengal. Hiuṋgul means “vermilion”. You are aware that there is also a river in the western part of our Birbhum District which goes by the name of Hiuṋgulá (Hiḿlo). The colour of the water of this river is a little reddish so our forefathers named it in this way. The Hiuṋgulá is a tributary of the Ajay River.

13) The leaves of the asafoetida tree are also called kavara, but in this case the word is feminine in gender, that is, one should say kavará rather than kavara.

14) You know that certain aquatic weeds keep the water covered in such a way that from a distance the water can’t be seen. It appears to be a patch of greenery. This is especially true if there are large aquatic weeds in the water like water hyacinth. Although it is a bit off the subject, I will point out that the water hyacinth is not originally from Bengal or India. During British rule, Mr. Lee, the Divisional Commissioner of Dhaka, once went to South America. His wife, Mrs. Lee, felt some attraction when she saw its purple flowers on top of its large green leaves, and when she returned to Bengal she brought it with her and planted it in the lotus pond near their government quarters in Dhaka. In a very short time the water hyacinth spread throughout Dhaka District and thereafter throughout Bengal, and nowadays it has spread throughout almost all of India. Its leaves are quite large, puffed up somewhat like a kacuri [a deep-fried, puffed bread], so the people of Bengal gave that aquatic plant the name kacuri páná. Another meaning of the word kavara is this water hyacinth.

15) A bun (juŕá in north India and Hindi) adorns the head, thus a bun is also called kavara, but on account of its loveliness the word is considered to be feminine, but in this case the feminine iip is added rather than t́á making kavarii rather than kavará.

Tumi alake kusuma ná dio,
Shudhu shithila kavarii bándhio

[Don’t put a flower in your tress; simply tie it loosely in a bun]

16) In the Vedic age there was the customary practice of pulling out grey hair with the help of pincers, so pincers used to be called kavara.

17) Foodstuffs are kept covered to keep out dust, flies and so on, and to protect them from cats and other animals or birds. Such a lid is also called kavara, but in this case the feminine diminutive form of kavara is used, that is, a lid is called kavariká.

18) If something is affixed tightly to something else, such as a diamond-set ring, a pearl-studded necklace or pearl-studded earring, then the word kavara is also used in this sense of inlaying or insetting. For example muktá-kavara aunguriiyaka [pearl-studded ring], hiiraka-kavara mańihára [diamond-studded necklace], padmarága-kavara karńapat́t́a [ruby-inlaid gold-earring], and so on.

19) If a metal is coated with something else, or enamelled, or gilded, or plated, then this is also called kavara. For example, we can call a gold-plated wristlet a svarńakavara hastalaohika.

20) The word kavara is also used for all those small aquatic weeds [páná] which cover water. (That which stays in water (pánii) is called páná, “aquatic weeds”. Again, that which is drunk (pán kará) is also called páná; páná means sarvat [a sweet drink made from syrup], for example, bel páná.) However, in this case kavariká will be used as the feminine diminutive form. Dámapáná, t́opá páná, pát́á páná – for all of these the single Bengali word is kavariká.

21) That round fruit whose juice is sweet and sour, and which is originally from Bokhara we call álubokhará in ordinary Bengali. We have been familiar with this álubokhrá fruit for a very long time. Its Sanskrit, as well as refined Bengali, name is kavariká.

Although the word kabr was equally common in ancient times in both Iran and Arabia, the word is Arabic in origin. Kabr means “to bury underground” or “to inter”. This grave or tomb is known as mrtsamádhi in refined Bengali [and Sanskrit]. That place in which someone is buried [kabr deoyá] is called kabrgáh.

Kavi

Ku + i = kavi. The etymological meaning of the word is “one who sees the expressed world, or ku, with the affection felt for one’s child”, that is, one who desires the welfare of the world of living beings. The colloquial meanings of the word kavi are:

1) Tattvadraśt́á [seer of tattva]. The word tattva means “the bháva [essence or existence] of the essential root entity hidden within every entity”. Tattvadraśt́á means “one who sees tattva through supreme knowledge”. It is the old, original meaning of the word kavi [poet]. If there is no inner sight then there is no kavi. A metred composition about cigarettes and grog and snack food cannot be called poetry, and its composer is not considered, and cannot be considered to be a kavi. From this point of view, those past messengers of human civilization, those Vedic sages who came from age to age to supply inspiration for human beings to move along the path of consciousness, those great souls who have taken birth in different countries and at different times, are called kavi – in English, “seer”. The word kavi used to be used with this meaning in the old Vedic language. From the mouth of a Vedic sage has come:

Uttiśt́hata jágrata prápya barán nibodhata;
Kśurasya dhárá nishitá duratyayá durgaḿ pathastat kavayo vadanti.⁽⁶⁾

That is – “Arise, awake, approach a proper ácárya [spiritual teacher]. Get proper teaching from a worthy seer because this path of shreya [virtue] must be trod with the greatest caution. Bear in mind that one will have to move with understanding because the path is as if it were strewn with sharp razors.” Kavi means a tattvadraśt́á sage, not a cigarette-grog-snack food merchant.

2) The second meaning of the word kavi is “one who, inspired by the thought of welfare, searches for the original cause in different spheres”. In this case, kavi does not merely mean “philosopher”; that philosopher is a kavi who has the thought of welfare hidden within them.

3) Another meaning of the word kavi is “highly educated person”. However, this highly educated person will be called kavi if it is seen that they possess the thought of welfare for the world of living beings.

4) Another meaning of the word kavi is “wise or learned persons who have dedicated themselves to the service of living beings”.

5) In modern times kavi refers to a writer of poetry. However, the fundamental strain is the thought of welfare; thus one who writes poetry but is not inspired by the thought of welfare cannot be called kavi according to the prevalent meaning.

6) Yet another meaning of the word kavi is “composer of songs” or “songwriter”. What was said about the composer of poetry is applicable in precisely the same way to the composer of songs, that is, according to the modern meaning we can call a songwriter kavi if karmmaná manasá vácá [through action, thought and vocal expression] is done with welfare in mind.

7) The human being’s sight is attracted by the colourful radiance of Venus in the evening time. For this reason, it is called the “evening star”. It is a planet, not a star, but in spoken Bengali it is mistakenly called a star. This same planet is called shukatárá at the end of the night (shukra → shukka → shuka). Because the human mind is gratified on account of its colourful radiance, one name of this shukatárá is also kavi. In our childhood in Bihar we used to sit in a small village and sing: Ádhii lálii ádhelii nillá/jará saphedii jará sá kálá [Half is red, half is blue, some part is white, the other part is black.]. The planet Venus has attracted human sight since ancient times due to its colourful radiance.

8) In olden times there was a community of people called Asuras who lived in central Asia. Certain branches and subbranches of this Asura community still exist today in India in small numbers in the Gondowana region, especially in the Palamu-Sarguja areas. The Asuras had many qualities, many merits, but they had no one to lead them properly. Shukracharya was the name of a learned and wise man who came forward to help these neglected people despite the abuse that was heaped on his head. Kavi also refers to this Shukracharya. He introduced many kinds of battle tactics and composed many rules and regulations to build a nice society. During the time of the Deva-Asura war, he saved the Asuras from destruction through proper counsel. He also pursued scientific knowledge. According to many people he was the first person to make distilled wine. Devásuraeryuddhakále Shukrena parinirmitam [It was made by Shukracárya during the battle between the gods and the demons].

9) Our little planet earth, one among others in this solar system, derives its vital force from the sun. Its origin was in the sun and its place is in the sun’s light and heat. The sun supplies its vital energy. Within the sun is hidden the source of erudition. The sun’s material energy brings into existence the living being’s inner development through mental clash and spiritual practice. During the flow of pratisaiṋcara⁽⁷⁾ matter is being transformed into consciousness at each and every moment. In the scriptures it has been said:

Súrya yathá sarvalokasya cakśuh
Na lipyate cakśudośena kasyacit.

This sun then is also called kavi, that is, kavi also means “sun”.

10) Maharshi Valmiki is historically famous for his several uncommon qualities. Among these qualities was his unusual firmmindedness. According to tradition, he practised austerities for a long time and his body remained so immobile for many days during this period that an anthill was raised around his body.⁽⁸⁾

Another quality of Maharshi Valmiki was his reputation as the first poet, and with this the rare affection that the people held for him. The history of his poetic works began when he was distressed by seeing the pain of a injured heron. This history took tangible form in the great poetic work, the Ramayana. The reward for his fame was the appellation, Mahákavi [great poet], as the first writer of poetry. Since then kavi has referred to Maharshi Valmiki in Sanskrit.

11) Creation, preservation and destruction together make the world. The creation flows from beginninglessness to endlessness. Within creation is hidden the seed of preservation as well as the thought of nourishing. Within this preservation and nourishing lies the potential of annihilation. After annihilation, the saḿskára-bound living being is created anew within the thoughtwaves of the Great, and the Cosmic imagination, the Cosmic will, moves ahead maintaining a link with this creation. Thus the future prospects of that flow remain merged with this creation right from the outset through otaprota yoga. In the Puranic language, the name that has been given to the director of this creation is Brahmá. The flow of mobility emanates from Him for the welfare of the flow of the living being. Because the thought of welfare is awakened, one name of Brahmá is kavi, that is, kavi also means the Puranic god Brahmá.

The feminine form of the word kavi is kavii or kavyá.

Kasha/Kaśa

We get the word kasha (kaśa) by adding the suffix ac to kash (kaś). The word kasha (kaśa) means “cane-plant” or “rattan-plant”. Its feminine form is kashá/kaśá. Kashá means “cane”. Kashá (kaśá) + ágháta [blow]= kashágháta (kaśágháta). The word means “caning”.

Kashi/Kaśi

Kash (kaś) + i = kashi (kaśi). Kashi (kaśi) means “food” (it can also mean “cooked rice”).

Kashii/Kaśii

Kashii (kaśii) means “seed in immature state” or “the soft, inner part of the seed”.

Kaśt́i

The meaning of the verbal root kaś or kash is “to rub”, “to give pain”, “to hurt”, “to move about or wander about while being thrown in trouble”. The meaning of the verbal root kas is “to handle”, “to move about”, “to be animated with vital force”. By adding the suffix kta to this kaś (kash) we get the word kaśt́a [difficulty]. Its etymological meaning is “to undergo friction, pain, injury, trouble,” etc. The proper spelling of kaś (kash) with the suffix kta was kaśta/kashta but the cerebral śa and the palatal sha belong to the palatal varńa. Their conjunction with the dental ta is contrary to phonetic science. For this reason it must be spelled kaśt́a rather than kaśta/kashta. T́a is a cerebral letter, thus it has a natural conjunction with the cerebral śa.

By adding the suffix ktin to kaś (kash) we get the word kaśt́i. In this case, according to the system of inflections, the spelling should have been kaśti/kashti, but according to phonetic science it is kaśt́i, not kaśti/kashti, because, as I have just said, a dental letter cannot make a conjunction with cerebral or palatal letter.

The etymological meaning of the word kaśt́i is “that which falls into difficulty”. Colloquially kaśt́i means:

1) A great test – what is called “test of fire”. Some people believe that perhaps “test of fire” means to undergo a test by going into a fire. No, it is not that. A “test of fire” means a test whose difficulty is comparable to a burning fire. Those kinds of tests which force a person to struggle to their utmost are called “tests of fire” or kaśt́i. The test of fire that Sita underwent in Valmiki’s poetic work, the Ramayana, was such a kaśt́i.

2) To be tried in court is called kaśt́i because there also a person has to suffer various difficulties, such as economic hardship, mental anguish, and physical and mental labour. “He is to face trial” – its proper Bengali translation would be táke kaśt́ir sammukhiin hate habe. You can use the word kaśt́i with this meaning, and you can also request the court authorities to use the word kaśt́i in this way.

3) Another meaning of the word kaśt́i is “to fall into great trouble or great danger”.

4) Yet another meaning of the word kaśt́i is “to be surrounded by enemies”.

5) Still another meaning of the word kaśt́i is “to suffer mental agony”.

6) The stone on which one rubs gold in order to determine its purity is called kaśt́i or kaśt́iprastara [prastara means “stone”]. One meaning of the word kaśt́i was “to rub”. Gold is rubbed on that stone, thus this stone has been rightly given the name kaśti or kaśt́i-stone.

Kasi

Kas + i = kasi. Kasi means “food, boiled rice” (Any kind of cooked rice, regardless of whether it is boiled or sun-heated, is odanam; the rice used to make puffed rice is called kasi).

Kasipu

Kasipu means “food and clothes”.⁽⁹⁾ The word hirańyakasipu means “one whose food and clothes is hirańya, that is, gold”. In other words, one who is extremely wealthy. The name Hirańyakasipu can also carry the meaning of “one who is so miserly that they consider food and clothes to be very costly, like gold, and so spend their days in great difficulty”.

According to the Puranic story, Hirańyakasipu’s brother’s name was Hirańyákśa, which means etymologically “eyes of gold”. Colloquially it means: a) one whose eyes are golden-coloured, or tawny, b) one whose eyes only go out in search of gold, and c) one who was so greedy that they didn’t want to see anything other than gold.

Káka

The verbal root kae means “to shout monstrously” or “to give an ear-splitting cry”. By adding the suffix kan to the verbal root kae we get the word káka whose etymological meaning is “one who shouts in an ugly way”. Bhola Mayra [literary character] has said, has he not? – If the cawing of crows and the beating of drums cease, it is good.

There are many colloquial meanings of the word káka:

1) The ordinary crow that we commonly see. According to biologists, the crow is not a very old bird. This half-carnivorous bird (it has an equal fondness for both vegetarian and non-vegetarian food) is renowned for its intelligence. In Bihar it is said, Manukhme (one writes it manuś but pronounces it manukh) naová, cinŕai me kaová [“Among humans, the barber, and among birds, the crow”] – that is, among human beings the most intelligent are the barbers, and among birds, the crow. Their solidarity is also praiseworthy.

2) The second meaning of the word káka is “brazen” or “shameless”. Shameless people, shouting like a crow, often say such things that courteous people would not say out of modesty. I am not talking about drunkards. Thus, whether one is in normal condition or drunk, a shameless person is called káka. The word beháyá [shameless] is of Farsi origin. Be means “no”; one who has no háyá [shame] is beháyá.

3) Bad-tempered people often start shouting like a crow for no reason. If you ask a peaceable person, “Excuse me, sir, where does the number fifteen bus leave from?” he will give you the right answer, but a bad-tempered person will shout – “Is it my job to keep track of where the number fifteen bus leaves from! Why are you wasting my valuable time by asking me such questions? Why are you bothering me with these questions!” The word káka is used to refer to such bad-tempered people.

4) The custom of performing sacrifices was especially prevalent among the Aryans in olden times in every sphere of life. The yajiṋad́umbar or ud́umbar was among those trees that used to be used as sacred firewood for these sacrifices. For this reason, out of appreciation, respect or necessity, there are thirty-one words for yajiṋad́umbar. Káka also means yajiṋad́umbar.

5) Puṋi shák [a variety of spinach] was a favourite food of both the Aryans and non-Aryans. Of course, red puṋi was shunned as a non-sentient food but white and green puṋi were real favourites. In addition to being good for colic, puṋi’s many qualities have been spoken about in the old scriptures. In the Vedic language, puni shák was called upadiiká or amrtavallarii – in Laokik Sanskrit, potakii, potikii, putiká, kákalatá, and several other words. Thus káka also means puni shák – in English, “spinach”, or “potherb”.

6) If there are large trees then sounds are produced – the sound of the branches, the sound of the leaves, the sound of the birds who live in the tree, and so on. Thus káka also means “large tree”.

7) All varieties of medicinal trees are called káka, for example, beŕelá, ashvagandhá, punarnavá, hogweed, etc.

8) All varieties of venomous trees, such as máchmárá, kalke, nux vomica, datura, are also called káka.

9) Marijuana and the marijuana plant are also called káka.

10) Wealth accumulated or earned through unlawful means is called káka.

11) Earlier I mentioned that the solidarity of crows is praiseworthy. If someone kills a single crow then within a short period of time a great number of crows will gather there and try to collectively harass the killer. When crows gather somewhere in a group, that assembly of crows is also called káka, but the word for this assembly of crows is feminine plural, that is, kákáh (like the plural form of latá).

Bear in mind, the paternal uncle (father’s brother or younger brother) is called káká in Bengali. This is neither a Sanskrit, Sanskrit-derived, nor a native Bengali word. The word is of Farsi origin. Both the pronunciations káká and kaká are correct. A paternal-uncle killer is called kákákush, just as one who kills oneself is called khudkush. The abstract nouns are kákákushii, khudkushii (suicide), etc.

Just as the word káká is prevalent in Bengali for paternal uncle, similarly the word cacá is also prevalent. This cacá is also neither a Sanskrit, Sanskrit-derived, nor a native Bengali word. It is originally Hindustani. It has come into Bengali in its proper form cacá from Urdu. Cácá is both misspelled and mispronounced. Similarly, it is cacii, not cácii. The pure Bengali word for paternal uncle is khuŕá. This is a Sanskrit-derivative; it has come from kśullatáta. Khuŕá/ khuŕii are not used as much nowadays as they were in old Bengali.

12) Anyone who thinks that the vanity bag has only been used by modern folk is greatly mistaken. The fact that women have been attracted to beautiful dress since ancient times is not at all blameworthy, but anything in excess is. Whatever the case may be, in ancient times girls used to have a variety of vanity bags and they used to be called káka. The word is neuter in gender, thus one must say kákaḿ rather than káka. If it is at the end of a sentence, or else before a vowel, one says kákam, otherwise it is kákaḿ.

There is no real need to use such a long word as “vanity bag”; kákaḿ will do.

13) Another meaning of the word káka is nimbaphala [neem-fruit]. To refer to the neem fruit we need to say nimbaphala, but if the word káka is used then there is no need to add the word phala [fruit], that is, the word káka means “neem-fruit”. If we say kákaphala then its meaning becomes “neem-fruit fruit” which is laughable. If one says, káka nimphala khácche [the crow is eating neem-fruit], it becomes kákah kákaḿ bhakśayati in Sanskrit.

14) Many of you perhaps know that a kind of fruit known as káuphala grows in Tripura, Noyakhali, Chittagong, and the Indian-Burmese border. This káuphal is also called kákaphala, that is, the word káuphal has come from the word kákaphala.

15) Any bitter juicy thing is called káka. “Bitter juice” or “bitter taste” is also called káka.

16) Among those persons who want to do harm to others or go out in order to do others harm, those who are especially cunning are called káka.

17) The word káka is used for one branch of measurement. The measurement of gold as well as the measurement of any cheap, bulky object is also called káka. However, for the measurement of cheap, bulky objects the word káhan is better-liked than the word káka. The Bengali word káhan [a unit of measure = 1280] has come from this word kákan. Ka káhan khaŕ becle [How many káhans of straw did you sell?]. Such expressions are often heard in village areas.

18) One name of our well-known vak flower is also kákapuśpa.

19) There is one kind of community which has been around since olden times; they are called “nudists”, that is, this “nudism” is an old doctrine. According to them, remaining naked is a completely natural thing. When all other living creatures remain naked then why should human beings wear clothes! The Jain tiirthauṋkar Varddhamán Maháviira is called nirgrantha⁽¹⁰⁾ which used to refer indirectly to this nudism. He himself also did not use clothes. In Rarh and other parts of India, wherever you find Jain Digambar [an appellation of Shiva] statues in the temples they are all naked. Anyhow, one meaning of káka is “nudist” or “naked”.

20) Káka also means “tilak mark”. One name for that special kind of line which is drawn or imprinted on the forehead, nose, throat, arm or chest – or tilak – is káka.

21) Káka especially refers to the mark (rasakali) which is painted up from the nose [a Vaishnava practice].

22) That particular tilak that was especially marked for kings – or rájatilak – is also called káka.

23) The royal emblem or state emblem is also called káka.

24) The existential emblem of any particular organization or institution is also called káka, for example, the emblem of Darbhanga was the fish. The emblem of Mayurbhaiṋja was the peacock. The old name of this kingdom was Bhaiṋjabhúma, but because the peacock [mayúr] was its emblem, the people used to call it Mayúrbhaiṋja.

25) Another meaning of the word káka is “lame” or “crippled”.

26) Káka also means “disfigured”. For example, one who has no fingers – in spoken Bengali we say nulo; for one who has no hands – in spoken Bengali we say t́hunt́o; one who has no lips – in spoken Bengali, ganná-kát́á; one who has no nose or whose nose is absolutely snub or flat – in spoken Bengali, boncá (Bear in mind, boncá and khándá are not the same. Khándá means “one who is a little snub-nosed”). The word káka has also come to be used for this “disfigured”.

27) Whether out of fear of the cold, or laziness, or out of a fondness for slovenliness – some people will say due to a lack of time – if somebody merely wets their head and washes their face with a little soap, then afterwards dresses themselves smartly, puts some sweet-scented oil in their hair, a little make-up on their face and then goes out, this kind of merely-washing-the-head is called kákasnán [snán means “bath”].

28) If someone, on the instructions of a physician or for some other reason, wets a towel in hot water and scrubs down their body rather than pouring water and taking a proper bath – what is called “sponge bath” – then this kind of half-bath is also called kákasnán. If someone has everything necessary for a bath but for some reason or another simply takes a single dip in the water, then this kind of single-dip bath is also called kákasnán, perhaps because crows also bathe in a similar way. When I was a child I used to hear the older people say:

Ek d́ube kák d́ube
Ek d́ube muci
Dui d́ube shuci
Tin d́ube várań
Cáre avagáhan

[With one dip, with a crow dip/with one dip, a cobbler/with two dips, clean/with three dips, an elephant/with four, a bath.]

Várań means “elephant”. Some people have the conception that at the time of taking a bath elephants dip their head three times, all at the same time. After a short pause they dip their head again three times. Thus this dipping-the-head-three-times-in-succession bath used to be called várań-snán or várańii-snán.

29) Another meaning of the word káka is “jurisdiction”. For example, small trees can’t grow if they come within the káka of a large tree.

30) Another meaning of the word káka is “a receptacle for carrying food and drink”, or “tray”. The kind of container, or tray, which is used in an office or court for keeping files is also called káka.

31) Another meaning of the word káka is “land border”. The line where one state or one person’s land ends and another state or another person’s land begins, is called káka (the word pagár used to be used in old Bengali).

32) Káka also refers to an island situated in a river or sea, especially if that island is not especially large.

Although it is not directly káka, the meaning of the word káka is sometimes bound up with the meaning of compound words where the first word is káka. A few examples of such words are also given below:

1) Kákacaiṋcu: If the lips (both the upper and the lower lip) are pursed and air is either drawn in or expelled from those pursed lips it is called kákacaiṋcu mudrá.

2) Kákajyotsná: If the moonlight is really sparkling and brilliant then it seems a little like daytime when you see it. Sometimes when crows see such moonlight they become confused and start crying ká ká. This kind of moonlight is called kákajyotsná [jyotsná means “moonlight”].

3) Kákatáliiya: If two occurrences very nearly coincide and it becomes difficult to determine which happened before and which after, this is called kákatáliiya. For example, there is a ripe palm fruit on the palm tree and there is also a crow sitting on the palm tree. The crow flies away and the palm fruit also drops to the ground with a thud. This circumstance is called kákatáliiya.

4) Kákapuccha: The etymological meaning of the word kákapuccha is “crow’s tail”; its colloquial meaning is “the Indian variety of cuckoo”.

5) Kákabhúśańd́ii: In the Puranic story Kákabhúśańd́ii knew the past, present and future. Thus, in olden times any profoundly wise person used to be called kákabhúśańd́ii out of respect. Nowadays the word kákabhúśańd́ii is mostly used in a joking way.

6) Kákar: The kákar is a medium-sized deer of the Sundarban jungle whose call somewhat resembles the cry of a crow. The word kákar, however, is not like the word kánkar [gravel]. The word kánkar has come from the Sanskrit word kankara. There are kánkar mines in Birbhum, Bankura and Purulia Districts. This gravel needs to be commissioned fairly in industry.

The word kánkan bears no relationship to kákar. The word kánkan has come from kankana. In Rarhi Bengali both kánkan and káḿgan are prevalent. In Sanskrit it is kankana.

7) Kákarúhá: The meaning of the word kákarúha is “that which has been planted by káka”. Its feminine form is kákarúhá. Kákarúhá means “orchid”. The kind of plant that takes shelter on another plant and draws sustenance (chiefly water with salts) from that plant with the help of its own roots, which grows, flowers and in certain cases gives fruit also, that kind of plant is called “orchid” (not “parasite”). In Sanskrit it is kákarúhá; in Rarhi Bengali it is called lat́ká because it hangs [lat́ke] from another plant. In the Chatisgarhi language, this orchid is called kaovájoŕii. A parasite is called bendá (parabhrta [fostered by a stranger]) by some people).

The principal difference between parasite and orchid is that while the parasite is within the shelter of the host plant it procures its vital energy from it and as a result the parasite’s host may lose its life-force. The orchid, on the other hand, takes primarily the liquid portion; most of the rest of its sustenance it gathers from the environment. Thus the growth of the orchid does not cause the host plant so much harm.

The parasite does not have its own roots. It draws vital juices directly from the host plant. The orchid has its own roots and with the help of those roots it draws vital juices. Since the parasite does not have its own roots, if it is pulled from the host it dies, but the orchid does not die if it is pulled from the host. If it is bound to another plant, a brick, some wood, or a stone, and if meanwhile a little water is given, then it survives and blooms.

Compared to ordinary flowers, the orchid’s flower is often much longer lived. On the Bangaon-Calcutta road I once pulled an orchid from a shishu tree and brought it to my Calcutta garden. The plant is still healthy. Its number has increased and it has flowered several times. A single flower remains in full bloom for twenty to twenty-one days at a stretch; it almost seems like a paper flower. I have given the name vauṋgaduhitá to this specific variety of orchid. In Rarhi Bengali it is called lat́ká because although it isn’t part of the tree, it hangs from the tree. Although spices are not part of the food, they “hang” from vegetables and other foods, both in the physical sense and in the olfactory sense as well. Thus, in ancient Rarh spices were called lat́kan. Still in certain parts of Rarh a cooking-spice shop is called a lat́kan shop.

Meghalay, Sikkim (Sukhim), and various other parts of the Himalayas are famous for orchids, or kákarúhá. I also once had the opportunity to become closely acquainted with the Himalayan kákarúhá.

Winter was on its way out and spring was fast approaching. I was on my way from Jammu to Bilaspur in Himachal Pradesh. We left at daybreak and would arrive in the evening, about eight at night. The entire journey was through the Himalayas and on the way I became acquainted with the Himalayas, the soul of the gods, its very essence filling every corner of the human mind, causing human beings to fall ardently in love with its icy crown.

We started from Jammu at dawn. The road was up and down the whole way. This was the Jammu whose history stretches back to the Yajurvedic era. This was the first part of India that the Aryans colonized. One of its names is Jambushilá, or rose-apple coloured stone, for the particles of gold that are scattered here and there in this part of the Himalayas; they look a little like rose-apple, hence the name Jambushilá. From this comes the name of the region, Jambu (jambu → jammu), and from the name Jambu comes the name of all of India, from the ocean to the Himalayas – Jambudviipa.

The northernmost border of the territory of Jambu is the Pamir mountain range; to south, Kanyakumari; to the west, Iran; and to the east, Suvarńadviipa – the name of this vast land expanse is Jambudviipa. When the Aryans came here they chose this region as their first colony. Seeing the abundant potential for procuring food and clothes and so forth, the Aryans gave it the name Bháratakhańd́a. We live, and have been fed and clothed in Jambudviipa’s Bháratakhańd́a.

We were journeying from Jammu to the central part of Himachal Pradesh, that is, Bilaspur. It was a rock-strewn landscape. In the middle of this rocky tract of land were two huge lakes, thus another name for the territory of Jammu was Dvigartabhúmi [land of two cavities], whose derived form in Bengali is Duggardesh (dvigarta → duiggara → duggar). Out of great respect, people have used the adjective d́ográ for the extremely courageous and straightforward people of Jammu, and their Paeshácii Prákrta-descended language has been given the name D́ogrii.

The city of Jammu is quite ancient. There are several other places in India with the name Jammu, so in order to distinguish this Jammu from them the city is called Jammu-Tawi. Tawi is the name of a local river. The Aryans discovered gold in the sand particles of several rivers in this Jammu territory. Since they discovered gold in the rivers of Jammu, they also gave gold the name jámbunada [nada means “river”].

We had now started from this Jammu. Up until the pre-Pathan era, Jammu was an independent kingdom. In olden times Sanskrit, and after that, Dogri, were its local languages. Dogri’s script is a central Indian form of Sáradá script. In ancient India, after the demise of both the Bráhmii and Kharośt́hii scripts, three different scripts sprang up in three different parts of India: (1) The Kut́ilá script in Allahabad and east of there; (2) Sáradá to the northwest of Allahabad; and (3) Náradá or Nágrii in the southwest. Sáradá means “Sarasvatii”, the goddess of knowledge. The Brahmans of this region are known as Sárasvata Brahmans – they are called this for their erudition. These Sárasvata Brahmans used to live principally in southern Russia, Afghanistan, Kashmir, Jammu and the Saptanada Kingdom [Punjab]. The Sáradá script was prevalent in this territory. Just as there were three branches of Sárasvata Brahmans – Kashmir Sárasvata, Dogri Sárasvata and Saptanada (Punjabi) Sárasvata – there were also three branches of Sáradá script – Kashmiri Sáradá, central Indian or Dogri Sáradá, and southern Indian or Punjabi Sáradá. In all of these areas Sanskrit has been written, learned and taught in this Sáradá script since very ancient times.

The people of the kingdom of Kashmir were not familiar with Farsi script until the time of Kashmir’s Queen Didda. The Farsi language, and after that the Urdu language, were introduced here at the time of Queen Didda. Earlier I mentioned that Jammu had been an independent, autonomous kingdom since ancient times. It is true that at the time of Kashmir’s King Shauḿkarvarmá, and at the time of Lalitáditya Muktapiida,⁽¹¹⁾ that is, every once in a while, Jammu was incorporated into Kashmir. During the time of Akbar, Jammu and Kashmir were under the sovereignty of the Mughal court, but in name only. Kashmir, along with Jammu and Afghanistan, fell under the control of the Punjabi chief, Ranjit Singh. After the last Sikh war, that is, after the fall of Queen Jhindan when Punjab came under British control, the British did not take upon themselves the burden of ruling all of Afghanistan. Rather they kept some part of Afghanistan in their own hands for military reasons. That portion they joined to India and gave it the name Northwest Frontier Territory with its capital at Peshawar (its old name was Puruśapura). The major portion of Afghanistan, however, they returned to the local Muslim Kings of that time; for example, they returned the kingdom of Mahiishúr to the descendants of the former king of that region.

The British did not want to retain rule over Kashmir and Jammu themselves. Since the old royal house of Kashmir had died out, it was not possible to return it to the descendants of that dynasty. Thus they sold Kashmir and Jammu to a certain D́ográ chieftain – Golap Singh. After that Jammu became a native kingdom of India. The kingdom’s name became Jammu and Kashmir; its summer capital was Srinagar and its winter capital was Jammu. The Kashmir that is spoken about in Kalhan’s Rájataraunginii is not the old land of Kashmir. It is about Kashmir without Jammu.

Sáradámat́hamárabhya kunkumádritat́ántakah
Távat Kashmiiradeshasyat paiṋcáshat yojanátmakah

[The entire area, fifty yojanas in all, lying between the Sáradá Mát́ha and Kumkum Mountain was known as Kashmiira.]

Maharaja Ranjit Singh made efforts to develop the Dogri language along with trying to make it the official government language. However, by that time Urdu and Farsi had become so thoroughly intertwined into the social fabric of Kashmir and Jammu that it ended up being impossible to dislodge them and establish the Dogri language and script.

We were heading from west to east, the road passing through an almost completely mountainous area. However, that small portion of the Punjab that we passed through was more or less level. Two districts of the Punjab fell in that part of the road: Pathankot and Hoshiarpur.

We were travelling from west to east. From the land of sunset to the land of sunrise, taking the sunbeam particles of the evening radiance with us into the luminous presence of the rising sun, travelling, travelling, travelling.

Nowadays, both Jammu and Kashmir are inhabited by people belonging to the Aryan community but their ancient inhabitants belonged to the Kash tribe. The meaning of the word kash/kaś is “those who move about or wander a lot”. The members of the Kash tribe never used to remain long in one place. They used to shift from place to place according to the severity of the cold, thus they were called Kash. There were greater numbers of Kash in the north, that is, Kashmir, and less toward Jammu. In this sense the land of the Kash becomes kash + meru, Kashmeru – Kashmir.

Those people who were descended from the Aryans and made their home in Kashmir belonged to the Mediterranean community. They have pale white skin, either black or blue eyes and hair, and are of medium stature. The people who made their home in the Jammu part were chiefly Alpine and secondarily Nordic. Their skin colour is pale reddish and they are rather tall. Their similarity to the Punjabi people in appearance, manners and language is especially noteworthy.

The Dogra and Kashmiri communities live nearer each other and in a much closer way in Dora District than around Banihal. The name of the common spoken language of this district is Bhádruvái; it is actually a mixed form of the Dogri and Kashmiri languages. However, Kashmiri is also spoken in the part of the district which borders on Kashmir; Dogri is spoken as well in the remaining portion, near the province of Jammu. From the anthropological point of view, the people of this area are a blending of both. They possess a beautiful combination of valour and intellectuality – the radiance of the diamond with the fragrance of the campak.

The language of the first part of our journey was Dogri. The principal language of Himachal Pradesh’s Kullu valley is Dogri. The language of Himachal Pradesh’s Kangra and the Punjab’s Hoshiarpur and Pathankot is Punjabi. Just behind us lay western Punjab’s Shialkot; its language, however, is Dogri.

The language of western Punjab’s Muzaffarbad is a mixture of Punjabi and Kashmiri. The language of the region that our path took us through after passing the Kangra Valley is Páhaŕi. A little to our north on the left-hand side was Laddak. The language of Laddak is Laddáki. Laddáki is a western dialect of the Tibetan language. The Laddaki script, whose historical name is T́egŕii, is a local edition of Tibetan script. There is some resemblance between this script and Kut́ilá, or Bengali script. I have seen this script in the Buddhist temples in the mountainous regions of Sikkim and Darjeeling. The Buddhist priests recite mantras from scriptures written in this script.

During the time of Kashmir’s King Golap Singh, his commander-in-chief, Jarawar Singh, attacked the Tibetan capital, Lhasa, and finally, according to the stipulations of the treaty, Tibet (Kimpuruśavarśa) ceded the province of Laddak to the King of Kashmir, and along with that made a pledge to send a yearly tribute of gold coins to the Kashmiri court. From then on Laddak became a part of Kashmir.

Kimpuruśavarśa, or Tibet, starts a little to the east of Laddak. The area where Mount Kailash and Manas Sarowar are today was part of Jambudviipa’s Bháratakhańd́a at the time of the composition of the Viśńu Puráńa, that is, it wasn’t Tibet or Kimpuruśavarśa. Later on, Mount Kailash and Manas Sarowar were incorporated into Tibet. The relationship between India and Tibet has been quite cordial since very ancient times.

We were travelling from west to east. Sometimes our car practically passed right over the top of the mountains, sometimes alongside them, and sometimes it skirted the serrated furrows of the cultivated mountain fields. The driver of the car was Shrii Kuldip Sharma. Sharmajii was a child of the Saptasindhu. After the country was partitioned he came over here – the people of that country are refugees in this one. Such a twist of fate!

Driving a car through these serpentine mountain roads is not a trifling affair. Sharmajii was a skilful driver. He drove his vehicle beautifully.

The car kept on, sometimes passing through vast, verdant forests crowded with towering trees, sometimes disturbing the meditative tranquillity of the sparsely wooded, rocky peaks, and sometimes making us completely losing track of our passage in the beautiful greenery.

Between two mountains lay a deep, deep valley, thick with young, green grass. Through it ran a silvery small mountain stream, curved like a scimitar. Migratory birds were flying overhead; the time had come for them to return home. In winter, great flocks of migratory birds abandon the extreme cold of Siberia, Outer Mongolia, western China and Tibet, and head south, crossing over rivers and mountains, in search of warmth. Most of the birds that we could see there were from other countries. Although birds of the flamingo group were in the greatest number, there were also various other kinds of birds, such as dhanuśes, argalas, vultures, black swans, red swans, and eagles as well. Some of them had coloured tufts a little like the cockatoo.

There are crowds of these birds gathered round wherever there are lakes or ponds in the valley. One interesting thing I noticed is that the birds would not approach the edges of those mountain peaks around us that were covered in snow because they had left their own countries and come here in order to escape contact with the snow as well as the snowstorms.

These birds remain here for the winter; they build their nests, lay their eggs and wait for them to hatch, and then teach their young how to fly and how to gather food. Thereafter, when the winter ends and the warm spring breezes begin to blow, they return home along with their young that they have taught to fly. Although they don’t have to face any botheration of passport and visa, they often fall into deep trouble as they travel while trying to protect themselves from the cruel clutches of human beings. Many meet an untimely death due to a cruel bullet or fall injured to the ground. Is this their fate! Is there no way to avoid this devilry! Is there no way that a little benevolence can awaken in the human mind! Does mankind’s Neohumanism teach this!

We continued on. We still had far to go, crossing over the border of many former native kingdoms. Nearly the entire journey that we were making this day was through a former kingdom. The king of Jammu-Kashmir was Hari Singh, the successor of its first Dogra king, Golap Singh. His son, in turn, Karna Singh, was not able to become king. Officially he got the government post as Sadr-i-riyásat. The remaining parts thereafter were smaller or larger kingdoms. Our destination, Bilaspur, was also a middle-sized native kingdom. But Bilaspur was still quite far away – hanaoj Biláspura dúr ast. We continued on and on. It was like the lines: Pathik ámi pathei básá / Ámár jeman jáoyá temani ásá [“I am a traveller and the path is my home / It makes no difference whether I come or go”].

After going a little ways I suddenly noticed a change. Now there was an apple orchard beside us. This place was well above sea-level, but because there were apple orchards on both sides of us we couldn’t tell how high we were. Here and there were some ciir and phár varieties of trees standing in the apple fields. In some trees I saw some rare birds-of-paradise. They rarely come into contact with people so they are not afraid of them. They don’t know what cruel creatures human beings are. Seeing us, they were not afraid, rather they stared at us eagerly. Their simplicity made me feel uneasy and ashamed at the same time. I felt ashamed thinking that they don’t realize how cruel we human beings are, how complex we are from the mental point of view, and how crooked.

After we passed by the apple orchards we came to yet another forest of towering trees. These trees were somewhat similar to oak trees. I noticed that numerous varieties of orchids (kákarúhá) were hanging in the trees. Some of their flowers were in bloom while others were about to bloom. Some of their buds were counting the moments, waiting for the arrival of spring. By judging the amount of warmth in the climate they had guessed that Holi [spring festival] was not far away.

I noticed that most of the orchids here bloomed in the months of Phálgun-Caetra.⁽¹²⁾ It also appeared that there were a small number of orchid varieties that bloomed in the months of August-September. Some of the orchids looked identical to the orchids that grow uncared-for in the trees alongside the Burdwan-Guskara Road. I have seen these varieties of orchids in Birbhum on the way from Mámud Bazaar to Mashánjoŕ, and in areas near the Jonhá waterfall (Gaotamdhárá) on the Jhalda-Ranchi Road. I realized that they didn’t depend on the climate so much, so long as there wasn’t snowfall.

To the left of us, that is, to the north, at a good distance away was the kingdom of Kinnaur, renowned both in history and in the Puranas. This Kinnaur was situated in the northern extremity of India in the Sadashiva mountain range. Some people may not be aware that the Himalayas, stretching from the west until the eastern horizon, are divided north and south into two parts. The Sanskrit name of the part of the Himalayas that touch the northern plains of India is Shivaliuṋga Parvatamálá (Shivalic Range). This part is high, but not so high. There is cultivation wherever there are green forested areas in the valleys lying between two mountains, cutting into the mountains with either step-farming or terracing. This Shivalic range is covered with snow in the wintertime, and its highest peaks remained snowcovered all year long. The fossils of prehistoric animals can be found in this part.

At one time the Himalayas were submerged in the bosom of the sea. Northern India was also then at the bottom of the sea. To the south, only Gondawanaland was above sea level. Approximately three million years ago the Himalayas rose up from the depths as a result of an earthquake. The skeletons of some of those animals who used to wander in these parts of the earth three million years ago can be found packed underneath the rocks in the Shivalic range. In later times when the hippopotamus and giraffe were living here, they used to live in these Lower Himalayas. Some of their fossils have also been found in the Lower Himalayas, and more are bound to be discovered in the future.

The Sadashiva range (Upper Himalayas) run west to east, directly parallel to the Lower Himalayas. We find this mountain range in Kashmir, Laddak, the northern part of Himachal Pradesh, Simla, Kinnaur, toward the north of Garhwal-Kumayun, the north of Nepal, northern Sikkim and Bhutan, and in southern Tibet. This part of the Himalayas is really quite high. The snow remains all year long but in winter it is really heavy. The highest Himalayan peaks are located in this part. The driest, coldest and most elevated area of the Upper Himalayas is Laddak and Kinnaur. During winter nights the temperature can fall below minus one-hundred degrees. While heating water it freezes and turns to ice.

In most parts of this barren mountain land there are snowstorms nearly twelve months of the year. There is virtually no green forest, and hardly any cultivation. I have seen a little barley being grown here in the summertime. People’s primary livelihood is raising livestock. The Indian cow cannot survive here; there are Yaks. Although the ancient land of Kinnaur was some ways from where we were it was not altogether that far. In olden days the people of this region were famed for their beauty, and to some extent they still are. Although their noses are slightly sloping, it does not detract from their loveliness. Seeing their beauty, the people of those days use to think and say that they were not people but angels. Erá ki nara? [Are they really human beings?] Kiḿ nara = kinnara.

The language of the people of Kinnaur is a southwestern dialect of Tibetan, just as Laddaki is a western dialect of Tibetan. The script of the Kinnauri language is also t́egrii or t́egrá (In Sanskrit, triguńii or triguńá script). Although the common religion of the Kinnauri people is the Lamabad branch of Mahayana Buddhism, it is clearly influenced by the Árśa doctrine.⁽¹³⁾ Over the last two thousand years, Arśa-ism and Kinnaur’s Mahayana Buddhism (centring around Avalokiteshvara) have coexisted peacefully because Buddhism has avoided clash. The common people revere both the Buddhist grottoes and the Árśa temples. During hours of worship, the Buddhist lamas place offerings of ground barley, roasted barley powder, etc. before the gods, and these return to the people as prasád [holy remains of the offerings which are then eaten]. In the Hindu [Árśa] temples the priests place offerings of fruits and vegetables. In the same house one person may be Hindu and another Buddhist, however those who wish to become renunciants generally adopt lamaism and cloister themselves in the Buddhist grottoes. Very few local people become Hindu renunciants.

In olden times the number of men in Kinnaur was much greater, by comparison, than the number of women, thus the practice of polygamy was current among women out of social necessity. Some traces of that may still remain today. Some people may consider this strange, but there is nothing to be astonished at, or to think odd. People build their social structure by effecting a suitable harmony between individual and collective necessity, so however this practice of Kinnaur may appear to others, it was perfectly natural.

Ahalyá-Draopadii-Kuntii-Tárá-Mandodarii tathá;
Paiṋcakanyáh smarennityaḿ mahápátakanáshanam.

That is, “If one remembers these five ladies – Ahalyá, Draopadii, Kuntii, Tárá, and Mandodarii – then even the deadly sins are destroyed.” In the opinion of the old followers of certain schools, these five ladies just mentioned were sinners. Ahalyá was turned into stone for her wicked behaviour.⁽¹⁴⁾ Draopadii had five husbands. Karńa was the son of unmarried Kuntii. Tárá, the wife of Bállii, married Sugriiva after Bállii’s death. Ravana’s wife, Mandodarii, married Vibhiiśań after Ravana’s death.

The women of Kinnaur can rightfully say that if, despite the fact that she had five husbands, Draopadii is a memorable women, and if, by remembering her, the deadly sins meet their demise, then what possible sin can there be in this ancient practice of their land. The logic is irrefutable.

It was past midday. We had left Jammu around seven in the morning, and I was starting to feel a bit drowsy. My driver, Kuldip Sharma, said: “Go ahead and lie down. I know the way quite well. It won’t be a problem.”

Sharmajii had just spent six months in Calcutta driving a taxi and he could speak good Bengali. I was riding in the car – now I started to feel as if I was floating, being pulled along by a distant, unknown music towards a faraway meridian. I was floating, crossing over rivers and mountains, forests and oceans and snow-covered peaks, on and on and on.

Suddenly it seemed as if a silvery fountain was cascading down the side of a towering mountain. I felt the desire to get down and drink a palmful of that sacred water.

Jharńá taratariye náce rajata rekháy ráungiye diye
Páháŕ veye baner májhe
Kona mánái máne ná se bándhanete bándhá nay se
Khushii kheyále chut́e cale opar theke kramei niice
Dhúrjat́iri mukto jat́á áveg niye niice chot́á
Pathe pathe práńocchale priitir jale mukti jáce⁽¹⁵⁾

[The spring is dancing along, painting with a silver line
Flowing down the mountain, through the forest
It recognizes no authority, it brooks no obstacle
It rushes on down in a pleasant dream
Shiva’s wild matted locks rush passionately down
Bursting with life along the way and begging for liberation
in the delightful waters.]

So thought, so it was. Keeping the cascade at a little distance I extended my hands to take some water. Just then I heard someone speaking behind me. “Hold it a minute. Don’t drink just yet. First put something in your stomach, then drink.”

What is this! Astonishing! What is a human voice doing here in this rough, difficult to access, thorny mountain ravine? I turned around to find a loving image of motherhood. In the woman’s hands was brass tray with raised sides, and on it some yellow-coloured, puffed-up thing and some green curry. I looked at her questioningly. With a voice full of affection she said: “There wasn’t anything in the house except apple bread so I rushed over here with it. Now, eat, eat, please. Don’t drink on an empty stomach.”

The woman was wearing the typical regional dress – an álkhálla [a kind of loose gown traditionally worn by Muslim women], an oŕná [scarf] wrapped around her, and a great many earrings hanging from both ears. Her face was beaming with a radiant, affectionate humanity. It was like the last word on earthly beauty, the final essence of all human hearts.

The way the lady said it, it was as if she was doing me a great injustice by giving me apple bread, as if it was the kind of food one doesn’t give a guest.

I ate it and greatly enjoyed it. When such a good person feeds you so eagerly you are sure to enjoy it. It was like the pulao and curry that the table servants serve in a wealthy household, better than anything the man of the house has ever seen. While I was eating I looked at some large trees standing here and there. The trees were full of orchids.

In a bashful, modest voice the lady said: “I just received the news a short while ago that you were coming. I knew right then that you loved orchids and that threw me into a quandary. What should I do? Should I first prepare some bread and curry for you, or should I pluck some orchids from the trees? I decided that I should first prepare some bread, and then, if there was enough time, I would pluck some orchids for you from the tree. I’m very good at climbing trees.”

“Why have I hardly seen any men in your village?” I asked.

The lady replied, “There is a great poverty now in our area. The men have all gone down to the plains in search of work. What little there is in the apple orchards the women are doing. Moreover, you well know that the men cannot do so much labour in the mountain areas. They fall sick if too great a burden is placed on their shoulders; they die before their time. So we don’t let our men here work so much. We do much of the work in the apple orchards. We also go and sell in the markets. We only let the men do the packing for those apples which are exported to distant lands. They want to work, but we don’t let them.”

“You are really good people, indeed,” I said. “The boys here are just as good as the girls. I am really pleased to see it.

“Now then, how did you know that I was coming here? And how did you know that I love orchids?”

“By the grace of Lord Shiva,” the lady replied.

I noticed that the lady was standing with a glass of water from the spring. It was there for me should I want it or reach out my hands. I reached out my hands and she put the glass in my hand. What delicious water! As if drawn from a fountain of ambrosia falling from some immortal sphere. Suddenly I felt something push against my elbow. I saw that my right elbow was pressing lightly against the glass of the car window. Hey, where am I? I am inside the car. Had it been a dream all along? Ah yes, I had been dreaming. Kuldip Sharma was speeding along at the wheel, flying with the speed of a comet because there weren’t so many curves in the road here.

Seeing that I was no longer asleep, Sharmajii asked, “Did you have a good sleep?”

“Very good,” I replied.

“While you were sleeping it seemed as if you were talking to someone in Páhári.”

“Yes,” I replied. “It seems that way to me also.”

“I have heard the old people say,” Sharmajii continued, “that this area is the land of the nymphs, so one shouldn’t go alone near any spring. Not even at midday. The nymphs will spread their net of illusion and capture any person who comes along. Look over there, you’ll see a spring in the distance coming down that mountain.”

I looked and yes, in the distance, far away, very far away, the silvery line of a stream was descending from a tall mountain peak. We were travelling from west to east. There was still a little time remaining before we reached the former kingdom of Bilaspur. I asked Kuldip, “Well, can you tell me how this apple⁽¹⁶⁾ bread is prepared?”

“Sure, I’ll tell you,” he replied. “There is very little wheat grown here, however, the people here love wheat bread. It poses no difficulty or inconvenience for the rich people to buy wheat and eat bread made from wheat flour. But how much inconvenience the poor people face! In those years when the price of wheat is high or when there is an excess apple production and they fail to find good markets for their apples, then they dry the apples and grind them into a kind of flour. They spend a lot of time eating bread made from that apple flour.

“The people here consider serving guests to be an especially virtuous act. Those who don’t serve guests properly are frowned on by society. No matter how much trouble it may bring them, they feed their guests wheat bread, either with ghee on it, or if not, then tandooris. It’s a troubling situation for them if they are ever forced to feed any guest apple bread; then there is no end to their shame. They will beg that guest’s forgiveness over and over again. Remember this: the wealthy people’s food here is wheat [gam⁽¹⁷⁾] bread; the poor folk’s food is apple bread.”

“Well,” I asked, “is there any kind of green curry that the people here are especially fond of?”

“Yes,” Kuldip replied, “During the really cold times vegetables don’t grow here. However, in the holes in the ice and in stone hollows clumps of a kind of spinach plant manage to grow. Its leaves are used as a vegetable. The wealthy never suffer any inconvenience. They have vegetables shipped in from outside. In the morning you will see maunds and maunds of milk also arriving here from the Punjab.”

I listened while Kuldip talked. We had come closer to that mountain with its spring but it was still far away. We were still passing through the land of the nymphs, and I began to think about Kinnaur and Tibet.

In the land of Kinnaur there was an unusual harmony between the Buddhist and Hindu religions. This kind of harmony is extremely rare in the annals of human history. The Buddhist religion arrived in Kinnaur and Laddak well after it arrived in the original Tibet, and Buddhism arrived in Laddak a little before it reached Kinnaur.

The Kashmiri pundit, Kumáráyańa, was then world-famous. There is no greater scholar of Buddhist scriptures. He went to China at the invitation of the Chinese Emperor. Before going to China he strengthened the foundations of Buddhism in Laddak and the Kashmir valley. He propagated Buddhism in China and had some Mahayana scriptures translated into Chinese.

Kumáráyańa’s wife was the Chinese royal princess, Jiivá. Kumáráyańa’s son, Kumárajiiva, spent the greater part of his life in China, but he went to Kashmir for some time. He also composed some Mahayana scriptures in Sanskrit. He went to Laddak but he didn’t go to Kinnaur. Still, Buddhism was subsequently introduced into Kinnaur from Laddak. Buddhism was first propagated in the original territory of Tibet (whose name was then Kimpuruśavarśa) by the royal prince of Udayan, Padmasambhava. What we now call Garhwal-Kumayun was known as the kingdom of Udayan in olden times. The palms of the hands and the soles of the feet of the royal prince were bright red so he was given the name Padmasambhava. Due to his influence Tibet accepted Mahayana Buddhism. The religion of Tibet before that was Bonpa or Bonpa-ism. King Sáungt-sen-gámpo, a follower of the Bonpa religion, had two wives. One was the royal Chinese princess, Den Jing, and the other was Trikuti, the daughter of the Nepali King at the time, Aḿshuvarmańa, who was a follower of Mahayana Buddhism. The influence of these two queens was considerable in the kingdom of Tibet. The king was inspired by them to accept the Buddhist religion.

Sáungt-sen-gámpo was a historically renowned personality, a pious emperor. At that time, Magadha was resplendent for its erudition. The two best universities were then Magadha’s Nalanda and Taxila in the land of Kandahar. Taxila was famous for its philosophical thinking and for its spiritual community. Nalanda was successful in all spheres, and spiritually inspired. The chancellor of this Nalanda University was Dharmapála Diipauṋkar. Dharmapála Diipauṋkar came from Vikramańipur (its modern name is Vikrampur). Dhaka District’s Vikrampur subdivision has been perched on the glorious golden summit of learning since very ancient times. In the Buddhist era, it became even more radiant in its keenness for learning and wisdom.

At that time there was no other Buddhist pundit on earth as renowned as Dharmapála Diipauṋkar. Sáungt-sen-gámpo invited this Dharmapála Diipauṋkar to come to his kingdom, that is, Kimpuruśavarśa. While Diipauṋkar was there Buddhism became well established in Kimpuruśavarśa (after that time the name of Kimpuruśavarśa became Tibet). Buddhism became the common religion of the people of Laddak and Kinnaur at that time as well. The king gave Dharmapála Diipauṋkar the title of Shriijiṋána Atiisha as a reward for his recognized scholarship. After Dharmapála Diipauṋkar returned to Magadha, Buddhist pundits in good numbers came from Tibet and studied in Magadha, doing research in Buddhism and translating the Súttapit́aka, Vinayapit́aka and Abhidhammapiŕaka into Tibetan.

Tibet’s King Sáungt-sen-gámpo requested Dharmapála Diipauṋkar to come to Tibet once again to honour him. Since he could not avoid it, Dharmapála Diipauṋkar went one more time to Tibet. He was quite aged at the time and was not able to endure Tibet’s cold, dry climate. He passed away in Tibet, not very far from Lhasa.

Thus I have said that India’s, as well as Bengal’s relationship with Tibet has always been cordial. No, no, no, it is not sufficient to say cordial – very cordial. In the middle of the Mughal era we see this cordiality carried over in the letters exchanged between the Maharaja of Coochbihar and the King of Tibet – in them runs the melody of this same heartfelt sincerity. The letters exchanged between the two of them were in Bengali. The king of Tibet (the then Dalai Lama) was bound to India by ties of affection. In the British administration as well, there were no great obstacles to intercourse between India and Tibet. Indian pilgrims used to go to Mount Kailash and Manas Sarowar without any difficulty. Monks and renunciants used to sit and light the sacrificial fires on both sides of the Himalayas. The closest sea to Tibet was the Bay of Bengal and Calcutta was Tibet’s seaport. Tibet used to export primarily wool, animal skins, precious stones, and medicinal ingredients, while Tibet used to import manufactured commodities and small amounts of foodstuffs. Several of Tibet’s post-offices were under the supervision of Bengal’s Postmaster-General.

After Sáungt-sen-gámpo, that is, after Tibet accepted Buddhism, the Lamavad branch of Mahayana Buddhism replaced Bonpa as the state religion of Tibet. The Dalai Lama then came into the role of king.⁽¹⁸⁾ The Tasi Lama and Panchen Lama ran Tibet’s political and social machinery for a long time with a very friendly working relationship. From that time on the Dalai Lama used to be considered to be an incarnation of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara, just as the king of Nepal used to be thought of as an incarnation of Viśńu from the time of Nepal’s first Gorkha king, Prthviiráj Shah.

By now it seemed that we had come somewhat close to that mountain spring. However when one looks suddenly at a mountain it is never as close as it seems to be. In this case also, I experienced that fact once again. I told Kuldip Sharma, “We are still in that nymph kingdom.”

“Yes,” Kuldip replied. “If you look all around doesn’t it seem as if everything is full of illusion and enchantment; as if someone had passed an invisible hand over everything and transformed it into a dreamland?”

“Well then, Kuldip,” I asked, “is there any off-road we might take for a short ways that will take us off the main road and bring us close to that spring?”

“Well, you know,” he replied, “the area near that spring is very rough and full of rocks, so you will hardly find any roads nearby. But let us see what we can find.”

We proceeded forward a ways. We came to a place where there was a mountain path which looked as if it might be headed in the direction of the spring. We stopped the car. Over by the side I noticed a huge tree. Many orchids on broken branches had fallen to the ground below. The tree itself was also full of orchids. Up in the tree it seemed as if someone was moving. Yes, indeed there was. A boy about eighteen or nineteen quickly climbed down from the tree. When he got near the ground he jumped and when he landed he ran up to our car.

When this eighteen or nineteen year-old freckled boy came near me, I asked him, “Who are you? What do you want to say? Why are you running like this?”

“You don’t know me?” the boy replied. “My mother sent me here just a short while ago. She told me that you would pass here by car within a few minutes on your way from Jammu to Bilaspur. Isn’t it so?”

“Yes, indeed!” I said.

“My mother told me that you love orchids. I quickly plucked some orchids from that tree to bring them into your car. So I was breaking them off the tree and keeping watch on the road.”

“How did your mother know that I would be going by this road at this time?” I asked.

“Mother’s mind said so,” he replied. “Mother also wanted to come with me but she is preparing bread for you so she wasn’t able to come.”

“For me? Preparing bread? What are you saying?

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I have heard mother say that I was born at the time of the earthquake here in the mountains many years ago. I asked my school teacher when the earthquake was and he told me that it was nearly nineteen years ago. That’s how I knew that I was nearly nineteen years old.”

“Then you are báhádur,”⁽¹⁹⁾ I said.

“Here everyone is bahadar,” he replied.

“I can see that!” I said. “I can see.”

“Yes,” he went on, “in our village there are seven Bahadar Singhs. My father’s name is also Bahadar Singh.”

“And what is your name?” I asked.

“Nihál Singh. My uncle’s name is Kháján Singh.”

“Very good,” I said. “Very good. Now tell me, Nihál Singh, do you know if it is possible to go near that spring? Can we go that far by car?”

“The road goes on from here for another three miles,” he replied. “After that there is a winding mountain path that goes for another three miles. After that there’s the spring. Our house is right where the road ends. Your car won’t make it all the way to the mountain.”

“Where am I going to find time now to go to your house?” I said.

“What are you saying?” he replied. “You stopped your car here in order to come to my house. It’s time for you to eat breakfast. Mother is preparing bread for you. How would it look if you didn’t come? You have to go, you absolutely have to go.”

Now I was in a jam. What was this I was hearing – “You have to go, you absolutely have to go.”

I had Nihál Singh get in the car. He said: “I heard from my mother’s own lips today that you love orchids. I heard the same thing from Dildar Singh’s lips also a long time ago.”

“And who is Dildar Singh?” I asked.

“That Dildar Singh! – light skinned, very tall. What is this you are saying, you don’t know Dildar Singh? In our village everyone knows Dildar.”

“Certainly everyone in your village knows him,” I said. “But how do you expect me to know him?”

“You are one of us,” he replied. “Why is it that you don’t know him?”

“Have I ever seen Dildar Singh?” I asked.

“Yes, you have seen him. You certainly have. You met Dildar Singh in Náhán, in the kingdom of Sirmaor.”

“Oh, right you are. Right you are. I did meet a Dildar Singh in Náhán.”

It was a long time ago. I was in Sirmaor’s capital then, Náhán. Náhán is a small city, but I liked it very much. The kingdom of Sirmaor was at one time quite huge – nearly half of the present-day Himachal Pradesh was in Sirmaor. Moreover, Garhwal-Kumayunr was once included within Sirmaor. Part of neighbouring Tibet was also within the borders of Sirmaor.

With the passage of time, many small and large kingdoms fell. A large part of present-day Himachal Pradesh left Sirmaor. In accordance with a verbal agreement between the Panchen Lama and the king of Sirmaor, part of Sirmaor came under the rule of the Dalai Lama. Nepal’s Gorkha king took possession of Garhwal-Kumayun. Sirmaor became much smaller area-wise. Among all those native kingdoms who were assembled to make the present-day Himachal Pradesh, Sirmaor was not altogether insignificant as far as area goes.

The language of Sirmaor is Sirmaori (both language and script). It arose from a mixture of Paeshácii Prákrta and Shaorasenii Prákrta. Sirmaori is closely related to the Páhári language of Simla.

Sirmaori has its own script as well, but nowadays it is disappearing. If this situation continues Sirmaori script will soon vanish behind the curtain of oblivion, just as Burma’s Sán-Kácin script has vanished. At one time these Sán-Kácins were close relatives of the Bengali Kukii community and their script was also Bengali script. However, in subsequent times they were ruined by northern Burma’s sub-script, but the Kukii script was unaffected. Sirmaori script is in that same situation. Archaeologists should make efforts to see that this script survives.

I got to thinking about that pre-Pathan era. At that time the influence of Shankaracharya over Sirmaor was quite high. The kings were making ongoing efforts with greater and lesser success to build a “learned society”; the relationship between Sirmaor and Bengal dates from that time. Garhwal-Kumayun was still a part of Sirmaor. Yes, Garhwal-Kumayun also left Sirmaor’s control during Nepali rule. Afterwards, of course, when Nepal was defeated by General Octorloney,⁽²⁰⁾ Garhwal-Kumayun went back to the British in accordance with the treaty of Sugaolii (Champaran District). The British kept Garhwal-Kumayunr in their own hands, rather than return it to Sirmaor, and included it within the then United Province of Agra and Oudh (UP). Garhwal-Kumayun was lost to Sirmaor from then on.

Let us return then to the subject at hand. The kings of Sirmaor brought some pundits from Bengal and Maharastra and settled them in their own kingdom (in Garhwal and Kumayun) with offers of rent-free land grants. The descendants of these pundits are still there today. They differ from the local Yoshi Brahmans in their manners, behaviours, ways of thinking. Among the sixteen branches of Brahmans in those areas, twelve branches have come from Bengal and four are from Maharastra, that is, they belong to the Maharastran Citpávan branch. Those whose forefathers came from Bengal continue to use such surnames as Bhat́t́a, Upádhyáya, Bahuguńá, and so forth.

Maharastra’s Citpávan Brahmans are mostly vegetarian – they don’t eat meat or fish but they don’t have so much aversion to onions. The Bengali Brahmans don’t have any distaste for meat but they do for onions. Those who eat meat, or used to eat meat, used to cook their meat without onions. When they came to this mountainous region, however, the Bengali and Maharastri Brahmans came into close contact with one another. From the point of view of spiritual ideologies, there have been five acknowledged Tantras since ancient times – Shaeva, Shákta, Gáńapatya, Saora, and Vaeśńava. Shaeva Tantra was equally present in this mountain region and its nearby areas. It was a little stronger in the mountains because this area is called “Shiva’s Field”. The name of the mountains is also the Shivalic Range. Shiva used to remain mostly in this area, also in the Mount Kailash region.

Earlier I mentioned that until the time of the Viśńu Puráńa, Mount Kailash and Manas Sarowar were part of Bharatakhańd́a. But from the Shákta and Gáńapatya Tantra point of view, we see that the successors of the Brahmans who came from Bengal principally accepted Shákta Tantra. And the successors of the Maharastra Citpávan Brahman community chiefly followed Gáńpatya Tantra. The influence of Shákta Tantra over the common people was greater, by comparison, than that of Gáńapatya Tantra. The Yoshii Brahmans are close to Shákta Tantra. For related reasons, Shiva and Shiva temples are pre-eminent in this region, but in important places Shákta Tantra, as well, is not neglected.

The presiding goddess of the city of Simla is Tárá – Nayanatárá or Nayanadevii. Just near Simla is Kalka (Káliká). Delhi is in the nearby plains; the name of a large part of it is Kálkájii (Kálikájii). Chandigarh is a little to the west of Simla.⁽²¹⁾ Its presiding goddess is Cańd́ii. The Cańd́ii temple of that place is also quite ancient.

Nihál Singh said to me: “I have a strong desire to go with you to Calcutta, but I am not able to.”

“Why can’t you go?” I asked.

“We are going through a time of scarcity in our land. All the men have gone down to the plains in search of work. I’m the only man left in the entire village. Dildar Singh also went down to the plains, and my father, Bahadar Singh as well. The only people left in the village are the women. We don’t have the wherewithal to buy wheat so now we are eating apple bread. If I go with you to Calcutta at this time then who will look after the village? Still, if my father returns and I get the opportunity, I will go and see Calcutta one time. But you know what? If the people in the village find out that I am going to Calcutta they will all cry when they see me.”

“Why will they cry?” I asked.

“We are cold-country folk, you see. Calcutta is a hot place. Our people generally can’t survive there so no one can go there so easily or wants to go there.”

I listened with astonishment to Nihál Singh’s simplicity-filled words. I started humming mentally –

Apsaráder deshe ese manke jánilám
Aruń áloy bhálabese dinke cinilám
Sabuj pátár raungiin phule niilákásher vediimúle
Mánuś-giri-baner parii ekbháve nilám
Raunger ámej láglo cokhe madhur parash jáglo buke
Marmmapriiti mohangiiti mane ánkilám⁽²²⁾

Was our Nihál Singh then a nymph from the land of the nymphs?

Suddenly Nihál cried out in joy. “Our house has come, our house has come!”

I had to get down from the car; I had to get down. Nihál sat me down in a room. “Breakfast is ready,” he said. “A little while ago mother was able to know mentally that you were coming so she sent me to the side of the road to bring you with me and then sat down to prepare bread and vegetables for you. While I was plucking orchids from the tree and watching the road to see when you were coming, mother was cooking the bread.”

After a few minutes a woman appeared bringing a platter and a glass of water. The water was from the spring. The platter was like the brass tray that I had seen in the dream – why “like”; it was that exact same tray.

The water tasted like the water in the dream. The bread and curry also looked like the bread and curry from my dream.

I was speechless. Can such things really happen? Astonished, I looked at the bread.

The woman was saying in an embarrassed voice: “These are apple breads. There was nothing else in the house; what could I do? I had no alternative but to bring you this for your breakfast.”

What? Even more amazing! The woman’s voice was just like the woman’s in the dream.

More and more amazed, I looked at the woman. What is this? Can you believe it? This woman was the same affectionate image of motherhood I had seen in the dream. To put me at ease Nihál looked at me and said, “This is my mother. I was telling you about her.”

I smiled softly and said, “She is everybody’s mother.”

8) Kákala: The meaning of the word kákala is “jewelled necklace”, that is, a necklace which is set with diamonds and pearls. A pearl necklace is also called kákala. A necklace which has a large, gem-studded locket is also called kákala (for example, Krśńa’s Vaejayantii necklace had a locket with a single large stone). Both the words kákali and kákalii are derived from kákala. Both mean “the sweet sound of a bird call” or “bird’s song”.

9) Kákárii: Káka + ári = kákári. Kákasya arih ityarthe kákárih (śaśt́ii tatpuruśa samása⁽²³⁾). Ari means “enemy”. Thus the etymological meaning of kákári is “owl”. Owls cannot see during the day. If a crow spies an owl during the day it will peck at it. Fearful of crows, the owl hides itself in the dark crevices of trees during the day. Crows cannot see at night, so if an owl sees a crow at night it attacks it. But since crows have more strength in their beaks than owls they save themselves somehow. Thus, it is seen that it is the crow’s young that are generally killed by owls. If an owl is not overly hungry it will not eat crow-meat. Since the crow’s meat is bad-tasting, no bird will eat it apart from the vulture. It is said that the crow eats any kind of meat, but it also will not eat crow-meat.

10) Kákodara: The etymological meaning of the word is “stomach like a crow” and the colloquial meaning is “snake”.

Kaḿsári

Kans + ac = kaḿsa + ari = kaḿsári. Kaḿsasya arih ityarthe kaḿsárih (śaśt́ii tatpuruśa samása). Etymologically kaḿsa means “one who goes on hoping all the time; one whose hope or desire to get goes on gradually increasing”. Thus the etymological meaning of the word kaḿsári is “that which, when obtained, brings about the cessation of all one’s desires”, that is, kámsári means Parama Puruśa. Colloquially:

1) Kaḿsa is particular kind of metal (bell-metal).

2) Kaḿsa was the king of the Shúrasena kingdom; Mathura was his capital. Kaḿsa was Krśńa’s maternal uncle, the brother-in-law of his father, Vasudeva. His mother, Devakii, was the daughter of his [Kaḿsa’s] uncle.⁽²⁴⁾ He was married to the two daughters of Jarásandha, the king of Magadha – Asti and Prápti. This great tyrant, King Kaḿsa, was slain by Krśńa, thus colloquially Kaḿsári means Krśńa.

Footnotes

(1) According to Indian mythology, at the time of an eclipse the demon Ráhu swallows the sun or moon. The story goes like this: Once the gods and the demons undertook a project to churn the ocean. During the churning many precious valuables rose up from the sea-bed. Among these was sudhá or amrta (nectar). The demons claimed half of it but the gods became afraid that if the demons drank their share of the nectar they would become immortal and thus remain a perpetual source of trouble for the gods. So they postponed the division of the nectar and in the meantime they approached Lord Viśńu and implored him to help them get rid of the demons. Thereafter Viśńu assumed the form of a beautiful woman and began distributing the nectar among the gods and the demons. The gods drank the nectar but the demons were too busy staring at the woman. Only one demon drank the nectar but Viśńu slit his throat before it got to his stomach. The severed head of this demon became known as Ráhu and the trunk as Ketu. –Trans.

(2) Kat́áha → kad́áha → kad́ái (kaŕá in Calcutta).

Asmin mahámohamaye kat́áhe súryágniná rátridivendhanena;
Másartudárvii parighat́t́anena bhútáni kálaḿ pacatiiti várttá.
–Mahábhárata

[In the Mahábhárata, Yakśa (Dharma) asks Yudhisthira – ka várthá (What is the eternal question for humans?). In reply Yudhisthira says: “The Mahákála (Time Eternal) is cooking the five fundamental factors in the vast cauldron of the illusory world with the heat of the sun; day and night as used as fuel. Months and seasons are used as ladles.”]

(3) A large cutting knife fixed in a piece of wood which one used to cut while sitting. –Trans.

(4) Terminologies of conjugation in Sanskrit grammar. –Trans.

(5) There is an asafoetida tree in good condition in the author’s garden.

(6) Kat́hopaniśad. –Trans.

(7) In the Cosmic Cycle, the step-by-step introversion and subtlization of consciousness from the state of solid matter to Nucleus Consciousness. Prati means “counter” and saiṋcara means “movement”. –Trans.

(8) Valmiika kiit́a means “white ant” and valmiika means “anthill”. “Valmiiki” means “one around whose body an anthill has grown.”

(9) Kasipu can be written with either cerebral śa or palatal sha, but it is more correct to spell it with dental sa.

(10) Here nirgrantha means “without granthi”. Granthi means “knot”. Nirgrantha means “nothing has been worn around the waist tied with a knot”, that is, “one who stays in a clothesless state”.

(11) In some people’s opinion, Bengal’s King Jayantasúr was his son-in-law.

(12) These are lunar months in the Bengali calendar, roughly mid-February to mid-March, and mid-March to mid-April. –Trans.

(13) In Sanskrit the Hindu religion is called Árśa doctrine. The rśis were the propounders of this doctrine, thus we get the word árśa from rśi. The word “Hindu” came much later.

(14) According to Hindu mythology, Ahalyá was seduced by the god Indra who took the form of her husband and deceived her. As punishment her husband turned her into stone. She attained liberation when her stone figure was touched by Rama. –Trans.

(15) Prabhát Saḿgiita No. 1332

(16) Seruka → serua → seru; sevuka → seua → seo.

(17) The Sanskrit name for wheat is godhúma; in Farsi, gandhúm; in Tamil, gadúmái; in Hindi, gehun; in Bihar, gohum; in Punjabi, kanak; in Rarhi Bengali, gaham; in written Bengali, gam; in English, “wheat”. The abstract noun for “white” is “whiteness” or “wheat”.

(18) As far as I remember, the present Dalai Lama’s name is Jepsam Jampal Nagawang Lobsang Iyesi Tenzin Gyatso.

(19) The word has come from the Vedic bhagadhara. Bhagadhara → bahadara (in Paeshácii Prákrta); in Punjabi, bahadar; in Urdu, bahádar and bahádur; in Hindi, bahádur; in Bengali, báhádur. The meaning of the Vedic word bhagadhara is “fortunate”, “spirited”, “well-educated” – in Farsi, tarviyát-i-áfatá or tálim-i-áfatá. In correct Farsi the two words are used – tarviyát-i-áfatá in the sense of “having gained expertise”, and tálim-i-áfatá in the sense of “having gained knowledge”. However in Sanskrit, the word krtavidya [“well-educated”] means both.

(20) The old name of the monument in the Calcutta maidan was Octorloney Monument. Nowadays it has been given the name Shahiid Minár.

(21) I once stayed in Chandigarh nearly twenty years ago to lend a hand in preparing a history of the Punjabi language and the Punjabi community.

(22) Prabháta Saḿgiita No. 1363.

(23) A rule concerning the formation of Sanskrit compounds. –Trans.

(24) In the Indian system of family relationships the first-cousin of one’s parents is also an uncle or aunt. –Trans.

2nd February 1986, Calcutta

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