The DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e by Vá¹ttavilÄsa, the third-oldest extant DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä, is a defining adaptation because it carved out its own path in the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä textual tradition through its unique embeddedness in southern Indian literary culture.1 The popularity of this text in Kannada literary histories suggests that there must have been a relatively large number of manuscripts made of this particular version in the Kannada regionâwhich accords more or less with present day Karnatakaâmany more so than the handful of manuscripts I have been able to find in the catalogues.2 In what follows, I argue that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs adaptation is indeed the regionalizing version that the title of this chapter indicates, on the basis that it uses a synthetic literary register that identifies itself emphatically with a certain region and its culture, while applying âthe full spectrum of expressive qualities of the [â¦] cosmopolitan codeâ (Pollock 2006, 322). But before I come to that, I should explain what was the regional culture Vá¹ttavilÄsa belonged to.
1 Vá¹ttavilÄsa in Kannada-Land
Vá¹ttavilÄsa is the third author, besides Hariá¹£eá¹a and Amitagati, whose name has been associated with the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä tradition from the earliest studies on this narrative onward. This may be related to the early Indological fascination for antiquity, and more particularly has to do with the fact that his name is canonized in overviews of Kannada literature.3 Raghavendra Raoâs dissertation published by Mysore University in 1986 is the only detailed study about Vá¹ttavilÄsa and his work; Rao has also published an edition of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e by Vá¹ttavilÄsa (1982).4 We have scant knowledge about this Kannada author and what there is comes from three primary sources: the first is the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e itself; the second is the PrÄkkÄvyamÄlika, which refers to Vá¹ttavilÄsa as author of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e and of a work titled ÅÄstrasÄra that is now lost; and the third source is the nineteenth-century RÄjavali Katte by Devacandra, who places Vá¹ttavilÄsa at the time of King BallÄḷa.5 It is likely that the name Vá¹ttavilÄsa is not a given name but rather an âepithetâ that the author has given himself to showcase his skillfulness in writing poetry.6 Scholarly discussions have focused on tracing Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs date based upon the lineage of spiritual predecessors (i.e., guruparaá¹parÄ) that Vá¹ttavilÄsa provides for himself in the introduction of his DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e. I follow Rao and other recent scholars, who place him around 1360 (1982, 3).7 The guruparaá¹parÄ states that Vá¹ttavilÄsa belonged to the BalÄtkÄra Gaá¹a of the MÅ«lasaá¹gha and that his immediate guru was AmarakÄ«rti. Preceding him were: KeÅavendravrati, CÄrukÄ«rti, AbhayukÄ«rti, Vasaá¹takÄ«rti, ViÅÄlakÄ«rti, Bhaá¹á¹Äraka Kumudacaá¹dra, MÄghanaá¹di, ÅubhakÄ«rti, DharmabhÅ«á¹£a, AmarakÄ«rti, BhÄnukÄ«rti, Hemadeva, AbhayasÅ«ri, and Cikkahemadeva. This lineage places him in fourteenth-century Karnataka, where literary developments toward the vernacular had been proceeding fully for a few centuries and where our author seems to have left a notable literary impression.
1.1 Contesting Ideals of Kannada Literature
The Kannada language was one of the first vernaculars to establish a distinct literary culture, and Jain literati spearheaded this establishment. The development of Kannada literary culture was strongly associated with religious and political historical processes, and awareness of this development is clearly visible in Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e, which is why I give an overview here. The Jain authors Pampa, Ponna, and Rannaâall from the tenth centuryâare perceived to be the most prominent authors during the beginning period of Kannada literature. They elevated the classical campÅ« genre to its glory so that it became the dominant genre of Kannada literature until the twelfth or thirteenth century. The emergence of the Kanarese literary vernacular was notably characterized by a literary consciousness, although religion was not shunned from the new poetry.8 After this first period, Kannada literature was influenced by the new religious movements of the Liá¹ gÄyats or VÄ«raÅaivas and by the ÅrÄ«vaiá¹£á¹avas, the latter only really impacting Kannada literary culture from the fifteenth century onward, which is after Vá¹ttavilÄsa. As far as literature is concerned, the VÄ«raÅaivas âexploded the continuum of history,â using a new literary form and literary style, namely that of vacanas (âsimple proseâ), with novel images that contested, for example, the power of the temple and the king (Nagaraj 2003, 336). The aesthetic challenges posed by the vacanakÄras did not go unnoticed by other authors, and even the Jains, who were mostly reluctant regarding these innovations, felt they had to respond. Within Jain circles we can perceive from the thirteenth century a wariness about the old aesthetic mode in their laukika kÄvyas (âworldly poetryâ), described by Nagaraj as the allegorical mode (2003, 344). In particular, the writings of Nemicandra are exemplary, because with him the production of this type of poetry ended.9
The literary conflict between the old campÅ« model of the Jains and the new vacana ideal of the VÄ«raÅaivas went hand in hand with the religious enmity between the two traditions.10 In fact, rivalry between the Jains and the Brahmanical authors in terms of religious identity was already common in the early period of Kannada literature. Around the tenth century we can notice an internal revalidation of the identity of Jainism; this manifested internally in, for example, the disagreements between the reformist movement of the YÄpanÄ«yas and the Digambaras.11 The same concern is expressed in the Jain polemical texts of Nayasena, author of the DharmÄmá¹ta, and of BrahmaÅiva, author of the SamayaparÄ«ká¹£e, who both wrote in the twelfth century.12 By that time, the tension between the Brahmanical and the Jain belief systems had become an important factor in the socio-religious and literary spheres of life, and was increasing because of the rise of the new religious movements. Moreover, these developments confronted Jain authors with the uncertainty of finding political patronage, which was essential in procuring the means for publishing their ideology and poetry. It is thus not surprising that in such a context authors such as Nayasena and BrahmaÅiva voiced their anxiety about influences coming from other religions by means of written critiques. These two authors are usually quoted together with Vá¹ttavilÄsa, and their texts reckoned to be similar Jain polemical narratives.13 Although the compositions by Nayasena, BrahmaÅiva, and Vá¹ttavilÄsa seem to differ in terms of genre, they are indeed all critical of Brahmanical practices. Nevertheless, since Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e was composed in a later period, we must be wary of assuming that his motivations were stimulated by the very same religious tensions.
After the literary conventions had been thoroughly challenged through the introduction of a new style by the vacanakÄras, the literary intelligentsia sought to redefine in their anthologies the nature of literary language as well as of literature itself during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Although they deemed the vacanas not to be literary, they expressed innovations brought about by the vacanakÄra challenge in certain excessive practices (Nagaraj 2003, 364â365). On the Jain side, the works of the thirteenth-century poet Äá¹á¸aiah illustrate this search for a âredefinedâ literature. Whereas up to the twelfth century, within high literary circles (of non-vacanakÄras) the ideal of writing in a Sanskritic style and language (samasaá¹ská¹ta) was the rule, Äá¹á¸aiah vowed to write only in âpure Kannada [â¦] without flashy Sanskritâ (Nagaraj 2003, 366). His writings only used tadbhava (Sanskrit-derived) and deÅÄ« (local) vocabulary, and were written in the allegorical mode, leaving behind the old mode of public poetry. The use of this mode was a way for Äá¹á¸aiah to try to reconcile in his literature a celebration of religiosity with a purely poetic mode. This meant that in his time once again âmythological tales were made to convey the recently intensified conflict between VÄ«raÅaivas and Jainsâ (Nagaraj 2003, 366). Vá¹ttavilÄsa too uses the allegorical modeâthough not in the âpure Kannadaâ described by Äá¹á¸aiah (i.e., he uses tatsamas, loanwords from Sanskrit)âand may thus be influenced by Äá¹á¸aiahâs reinstatement of this kind of mythologically infused literature.
The new mitigating style of Äá¹á¸aiah, unfortunately for the Jain authors, did not put an end to the increasing competition between the Jains and the VÄ«raÅaivas. Although Jains in the Kannada region continued to produce important literary works during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, patronage patterns clearly shifted toward the VÄ«raÅaiva literati along with the upcoming Vaiá¹£á¹ava poets. With the rise of the Vijayanagara period of rule (c. 1340â1565) the production of Kannada literature in the political centers waned. Instead, sponsorship came to be focused around religious centers (Nagaraj 2003, 368). The situation for Jains at the time in which Vá¹ttavilÄsa wrote, therefore, was characterized by a threat both from the VÄ«raÅaivas or other Åaivite groups, and from growing numbers of Vaiá¹£á¹avas not only in the religious but also in the political realm. Just prior to the Vijayanagara empire, the Hoysaḷa dynasty had been more inclusive in their patronage: for example, the rulers Narasiá¹ha and BallÄḷa II (thirteenth century) were known as patrons of both Åaivism and Vaiá¹£á¹avism. The Jains were also influential, especially in the earlier decades of the dynasty, but overall, the Hoysaḷas âkept pace with the liberalizing movements of their timeâ (mostly VÄ«raÅaivas and ÅrÄ«vaiá¹£á¹avas) (Diwakar 1968, 442). This competitive religious environment is evidenced both in inscriptions as well as through temple constructions (see Sangave 1981, 44â46; Banerji 2019; see also Fisher 2017). With regard to the latter, Banerji has reported that Åiva temples from that period are greatest in number (Banerji 2019, 28). In the literary works themselves there is also evidence of this rivalry. For example, Rice mentions that the author RÄghavÄá¹ ka in his SomanÄthacaritra boasts that he has crushed the Jains and compelled them to install a Åiva image in a Jain temple (Rice 1921, 60).14
It is clear that the literary and socio-religious background against which Vá¹ttavilÄsa wrote his DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e was dominated by tensions in which religion, literature, and often politics were linked. These tensions were expressed more fervently than in the context of Amitagati, where intellectual debate defined the dialectic identity of high-culture Jainism, or of ManohardÄs, where Jains expressed themselves as distinct but in terms of a general early modern North Indian culture. It seems therefore logical that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs writing also participated in some way in this competitive environment. Creating an adaptation of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä narrative is per se illustrative of the need to react against literary and religious forces that challenged the status quo. In the following sections of this chapter, I demonstrate that our author neither went along with, nor reformulated, these progressive developments. Vá¹ttavilÄsa was indeed a child of his time, but a conservative one.
2 Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e campÅ«
The DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e by Vá¹ttavilÄsa is an essential part of the textual tradition since it brought the narrative to South India, but it is also probably the version that departs the furthest from the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä as we know it in its âmodelâ form.15 The Kannada DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e tells the story of Manovega and Pavanavega and their encounters with the Brahmins at PÄá¹alÄ«putra in ten ÄÅvÄsas (âchaptersâ).16 These are divided according to the different disguises or transformations of the two vidyÄdhÄras before entering the city from the park on its outskirts. In contrast to the almost identical way in which the frame narrative unfolds, the substories within that narrative undergo considerable changes in comparison with earlier versions. Most of the stories included in the texts by Amitagati and Hariá¹£eá¹a are also told by Vá¹ttavilÄsa, but they occur in a different order. Most notably, the tales of the âten foolsâ are not told one after the other, but are scattered throughout the text, more or less in accordance with a new argument Manovega makes against the beliefs of the Brahmins. Another major point of departure by Vá¹ttavilÄsa is the fact that the main plot ends with the conversion of the Brahmins to Jainism at PÄá¹alÄ«putra, which directly demonstrates the narrativeâs function of religious conversion. Vá¹ttavilÄsa further inserts narratives, adds details to existing ones, or changes certain elements of them. Most of these changes can be linked to the Kannada language and regionality, while some must be motivated by the preferences of the author.
The subsections below analyze a selection of adaptive changes, which illustrate the religious context of opposition with Åaivas, a Jainism influenced by spiritualistic ideas while still being grounded in folk narrativity, as well as a linguistic ideology that sees Kannada as a quasi-classical language. Together these changes argue for the fact that processes of regionalization lie at the base of this adaptation.
2.1 The Narrative Plot
The opening of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs frame narrative is slightly more detailed than are those of other versions. After introducing the geographical situation from a broad perspective (on JambudvÄ«pa in Bharataká¹£etra), he zooms in on Mount VijayÄrdha with its fifty cities on the southern flank, of which one is the splendorous city of VaijayantÄ«. There is a break in the narrative continuation here, as Vá¹ttavilÄsa, in accordance with the Kannada campÅ« style of the composition, first lists the fifty cities and then goes on to describe VaijayantÄ«âs magnificent characteristics. At this point, just like in other versions, the main characters of the narrative are introduced. The vidyÄdhara King Jitaripu and his wife, VÄyuvege, have a son, Manovega, whose best friend is Pavanavega, the son of King PrabhÄÅaá¹ kaâthis name is not mentioned in other versionsâking of Vijayapura. Except for minor differences in this characterizationâthe city where Pavanavega resides bears the same name as in Hariá¹£eá¹aâs version but differs from the name âPriyÄpurÄ«â in Amitagatiâs DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä, and the two friends are said to have studied with Puá¹£padanta, a famous Jain scholarâthe narrative continues along the same lines. Because Manovega worries about the diverging practices of his dear friend he goes wandering around the human world and suddenly sees a muni, who is named distinctively, VÄsupÅ«jya. This name could be seen as referring to the twelfth tÄ«rthaá¹ kara, whereas the name Jinamati (found in other versions) seems to be a generic name for someone who is devoted to Jainism. Returning back home with the muniâs advice to take his friend to PÄá¹alÄ«putra, Manovega meets Pavanavega and tells him that he has visited the city of PÄá¹alÄ«putra and seen there many wonderous things.
Here, we find a peculiar description that is exclusive to Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs version. Manovega describes having seen ekadaá¹á¸i, dvidaá¹á¸i, tridaá¹á¸i, haá¹sa, paramahaá¹sa, and bhÅ«tikÄ, as well as others like them. These denominations refer to orders of ascetics that one can find, for example, in the MahÄbhÄrata.17 Some of these terms are still in use today. An ekadaá¹á¸i (or just âdaá¹á¸iâ) ascetic is a Åaiva ascetic, recognized by their carrying a single staff, and today is known as a type of monk of the DaÅanÄmi affiliation, founded by the Advaita VedÄnta philosopher Åaá¹ kara. They are contrasted to a Vaiá¹£á¹ava tridaá¹á¸i, who carries a triple staff. A paramahaá¹sa ascetic is, according to the YatidharmaprakÄÅa, the highest type of ascetic in the Brahmin tradition, who has abandoned all objects, while a haá¹sa is one step below that on the ascetic ladder (Olivelle 1977, 63â69).18 However, one should be wary of equating categorizations from distinct historical periods, and discussions on the use of âekadaá¹á¸iâ in Utpalaâs commentary on VarÄhamihiraâs Bá¹hajjÄtaka show how these ascetic categories were sometimes blurred in premodern India.19
Furthermore, the terms âdvidaá¹á¸iâ and âbhÅ«tikÄâ do not clearly refer to renunciatory ranks. I would assume that the denomination âdvidaá¹á¸iâ is added because of the numeric logic of ekaâ, dviâ, and tridaá¹á¸i, while âbhÅ«tikaâ is glossed in a Kannada dictionary (Krishna 2019) as âone who has control over spirits, a sorcerer,â or can be related to âbhautika,â which is glossed as an âepithet of Åivaâ or âa sort of monkâ in Sanskrit dictionaries (see, e.g., Monier Williams). In the latter sense, the ÅaivÄgamaparibhÄá¹£ÄmañjarÄ« (sixteenth century) describes a bhautika as a type of householder (gá¹hastha) who is still attached to material enjoyments (2.42 and 2.112).20 In contrast, a twelfth-century inscription from the region of Mysore suggests that a bhautika represents one of the philosophical traditions, a realist philosophy, besides being a sÄá¹khya, bauddha, vaiá¹£á¹ava, and cÄrvÄka scholar.21
Nevertheless, considering the other ascetic types mentioned, I believe that in the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e all denominations represent a type of Brahmanical ascetic, and that these are not further defined because their primary function is to evoke an image of âimproperâ religious ascetics. Additionally, Jinasena in his ÄdipurÄá¹a mentions that although the ekadaá¹á¸ins and tridaá¹á¸ins were among the first heretical renouncers to follow Jina á¹á¹£abha, they then founded corrupted paths because they were unable to tolerate the hardship of being a true Jain ascetic.22 It is likely that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs mention of these ascetics is a reference to Jinasenaâs text, since Vá¹ttavilÄsa refers to him in the opening of his DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e and presumably later in the narrative as well (DPV 7.34).23
Triggered by the description of PÄá¹alÄ«putra, Pavanavega wishes to see it for himself and the two depart for the city in their vimÄá¹a. After parking the carriage in bushes outside the city, the vidyÄdharas enter PÄá¹alÄ«putra for the first time and commence their discussions with the Brahmins. The text then moves from the frame narrative to the first substory about Madhukara, which closely parallels the earlier DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Äs. After this story, Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs writing starts to genuinely diverge. Whereas at this point Amitagati introduces a new didactic frame within the frame narrative, namely the ten types of fools, Vá¹ttavilÄsa chooses to completely drop this frame and to use a different structure for the substories. Instead of portraying the ten fools one after the other, Vá¹ttavilÄsa narrates only one foolish story and immediately links it to purÄá¹ic precedents. For example, the story of the âloverâ (of Kuraá¹ gÄ« and SundarÄ«) is followed by pointing out the contradictions in the different stories associated with Viá¹£á¹u (DPV 2.66â68).24 The same refutation of the Hindu god Viá¹£á¹u is also present in Amitagatiâs text but happens at a different stage of the plot and is developed at greater length (DPA 10.11â45). This restructuring in the version of Vá¹ttavilÄsa brings the purÄá¹ic identity of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e more to the fore and thus directs its argument with greater strength against Hindu religiosity, whereas the structure of the narrative by Amitagati and others leaves space for the consideration of moral misconduct in its own right. What is important to add here is that at the end of this refutation, in the Kannada text, the defeated Brahmins grant Manovega a jayapatra as recognition of his debating superiority. This jayapatra is a type of written document, associated primarily with issues of law at the royal court,25 but such documents are also mentioned in Jain literature as a certificate of victory in the context of debates between different religious affiliates (see, e.g., Cort 2009a, 24). By referring to a jayapatra, Vá¹ttavilÄsa sets the discussions between the vidyÄdharas and the Brahmins within the context of religious debates, possibly reflecting those that may have occurred at the royal courts in Karnataka.
After this victory, the two friends leave the city to return again in a different guise, namely that of hunters. The frame narrative further unfolds with repeated stories or new stories introduced by Vá¹ttavilÄsa. Among these, there are some interesting adaptive trends to be noticed, which I discuss in the following subsections. The narrative ends with the remarkable conversion of the Brahmin discussants to Jainism. This plot element exclusive to Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs adaptation suggests, first of all, that Manovegaâs argumentation is so persuasive that he can convince ascetics from other traditions (ekadaá¹á¸is, tridaá¹á¸is, paramahaá¹sas, etc.) to change their affiliation. This would have left a strong impression on Jain lay audiences. Secondly, the plot element suggests that interreligious conversions effectuated by such narrative argumentation were also possible outside of the narrative. In my interpretation, we can read this adaptation of Vá¹ttavilÄsa as evidence that his textâmore so than othersâindeed had the purpose of converting Brahmanical affiliates to Jainism. These were not necessarily the ascetics portrayed in the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e themselves, but rather their followers, or, even more importantly, previous Jain converts to Hindu religion.26
Now, before treating the adaptive trends, I include a scheme of the structure of the Dharmaparīkṣe plot so that the reader of this book can easily follow my discussion.
InvocationCosmological situationVÄsupÅ«jyaâs teachingFirst encounter with the BrahminsStory of MadhukaraStory of SundarÄ« and Kuraá¹ gÄ«Arguments against Viá¹£á¹uReturn to the parkExplanation of VÄsudevas and PrativÄsudevasEntering the city, dressed as hunters with a catStory of the frog in the wellStory of Kanda and Vaá¹ ka (Skanda and Vakra)Story of BhÅ«tamatiStory of ChÄyÄReturn homeRe-entering the city, dressed as hunters with a catStory of selling their bow for 12,000 golden coins27Story of Guá¸abhÅ«tiStory of Candavega and the god BaḷÄriStory of ÅatabaliReturn to the parkEntering the city as asceticsStory of the minister, the king, and the singing monkeysStory of King Durdara and his sonStory of the waterpot and the elephantStory of BrahmaStory of RasÄtalaStory of CandraÅekhara of KauÅÄá¹biStory of KÄpilaStory of King PÄpiStory on the origin of lá¹ gaStory on the origin of the GangesStory of Viá¹£á¹u and BrahmÄ competing over Åivaliá¹ gaReturn to the parkRe-entering the city as asceticsStory of the mango-foolStory of Dhanadatta and the baby who stayed in the womb for twelve yearsStory of the birth of BhÄgÄ«rathaStory of the birth of Duryodhana, etc. from GÄndhÄrÄ«Story of muni Maya and MandodariOn the birth of Indrajit, VyÄsa, and Kará¹aReturn to the parkMore about the birth of Kará¹aEntering the city, dressed up as BuddhistsStory of the milky fool *Story of the agarwood *Story of the two Buddhist sonsStory of the Setubandha episode from the RÄmÄyaá¹aReturn homeEntering the city, dressed up as ÅvetÄmbarasStory of the king cured by sandalwoodStory of the four foolsStory of the two brothers and the fruit treeStory of chopping off RÄvaá¹aâs headsStory of DadhimukhaStory of DundubhiExplanation of the Jain teachingsStory of NÄgaÅrÄ« and ÅrÄ«dhara on the vow of not eating after sunsetFurther explanation of the Jain vows and conversion of the Brahmins
2.2 Åaiva Rivalry
The rivalry that existed between the Jains and Åaiva sectsâthe VÄ«raÅaivas or Liá¹ gÄyatsâand that is clearly played out in Kannada literature, is also evident in Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text. It becomes most apparent in several substories that are unique to the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e by Vá¹ttavilÄsa. A first story tells of the origin of the river Gaá¹ gÄ and occurs in a series of stories that seem to focus on the god Åiva. It is narrated in the following way:28
âYou know,â said Manovega, âafter the end of the endless time at the origin of the world when there were no objects yet, an enormous egg grew without any support and split into two. From the upper part of it the heavens arose and from the lower part the earth, the mountains, the seas, etc. In the middle of the two pieces Åiva (SadÄÅiva) was born. Upon his birth, he looked to the eight directions but could not see anyone. After thinking for a while, he looked at his right arm. There BrahmÄ was born. He then looked at his left arm and saw Viá¹£á¹u being born.â (DPV 6.18â21)29
The story refers to the causation of the universe out of the cosmic egg which builds on earlier ideas from the á¹gveda (10.121). Here, it is told in a Åaiva interpretation with Åiva (as SadÄÅiva) as primary god above all other gods. I have not been able to trace the story as told by Vá¹ttavilÄsa to other sources, but the primacy of Åiva is clear, since the two other gods of the traditional trimÅ«rti are in this narrative born from him. The story is reminiscent of some passages from the PrabhÄsakhaá¹á¸a of the SkandapurÄá¹a.30
In Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text the story continues with the actual creation of Gaá¹ gÄ.
Because the three gods were longing for a woman, Viá¹£á¹u drew the picture of a woman and had BrahmÄ give life to her, while Åiva gave her clothes. All three of them lusted for her and began to fight amongst each other. Eventually, they decided that Viá¹£á¹u, who âconceivedâ her, would become her father; BrahmÄ, who gave âbirthâ to her, her mother; and Åiva, who gave her clothes, her husband. BrahmÄ and Viá¹£á¹u could not stand this and tried to grab her, tearing off her clothes. Out of shame she melted and became the river Gaá¹ gÄ. (DPV 6.22â6.24)31
This is another story that I could not find anywhere else, but the idea of Gaá¹ gÄ as manifested by the grace of the three gods is intrinsically linked to her âorthodoxâ birth-story.32 Here again, Åiva appears as superior to the two other gods, since he wins the desired prize, the love of Gaá¹ gÄ. Although these two episodes seem to praise the yogic god, it would be wrong to read them as such. Åiva, contrary to Viá¹£á¹u and BrahmÄ, indeed provides Gaá¹ gÄ with clothes, but he is still involved in a fight fueled by his lust for womenâan urge that seems more characteristic of ordinary humans than of gods. The explicit critique against Åiva follows later in the text. The fact that he is here put in a better light than the two competing gods and emerges from these episodes as primary god, should be seen in light of that later critique: Åivaâs fall from his pedestal is then even greater.
The story is immediately followed by another story about the three gods, which although occurring in Amitagatiâs DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä (17.80), is here told in full. This substory goes as follows:
BrahmÄ and Viá¹£á¹u were once fighting over which of them was superior to the other. Åiva decided to intervene by testing their abilities. He told BrahmÄ to try to reach the top of him, and Viá¹£á¹u to try to reach the bottom. Viá¹£á¹u courageously started his endeavor but soon realized he was unable to do it, so he returned, defeated. BrahmÄ, while climbing up to Åivaâs top, with Ketake.33 They became friends and returned to Åiva. BrahmÄ lied to him, saying that he had reached the top and mentioned Ketake as his witness. However, Åiva knew the truth and cursed him [BrahmÄ] to live as a beggar and be without worshippers. (DPV 6.25â35)34
This story is known as the liá¹ godbhava myth. It occurs in several PurÄá¹as and serves to explain the origins of liá¹ ga worship in mythological terms.35 As with the previous story, we can conclude that this episode is meant to establish Åiva as supreme god out of the three. This renders the critique that immediately follows this storyâand that finally frames this passage of Åiva episodesâall the more critical of him. Manovega questions how we could call Åiva a god, or describe him as omniscient, if he does not already know the abilities of those who were born from him. As such, this critique on the last story refers back to the first story and thus defines the three stories as a unit. The relatively lengthy and unique treatment of Åaiva purÄá¹ic episodes in the three stories should be seen as part of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs adaptive strategy in consideration of his polemic environment. This is one in which the dominant religious strand seems to have been that of Åaivism. It would therefore be logical for our Jain author to want to draw boundaries especially with the Åaiva affiliates, and to tackle the rise of this religion in particular in order to defend the interests of his own Jainism. Furthermore, the fact that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e is written in the classical and more high-culture form of campÅ« may be seen not only as a conservative literary choice, but also as a means to reach court audiences, which were increasingly turning away from new Jain literary achievements. All of these factors lead us to understand that Vá¹ttavilÄsa strategically engaged with purÄá¹ic material in such a way that the gaze was turned toward the primary god of his immediate opponents, namely Åiva. His reorientation signals the significance of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä as a text that facilitated narrative polemics in different historical settings, as well as the fact that for Vá¹ttavilÄsa this significance lay in its purÄá¹ic references.
With the same motivation Vá¹ttavilÄsa has included further stories about Åiva elsewhere in the text. The following one about the liá¹ ga is even more explicit and farcical in its critique of the ascetic god:
Åiva had fallen in love with the young wife of an ascetic and visited her daily. The ascetic was suspicious and came up with a plan. He told his wife that he was going out to take his bath but stayed in the house, hidden. As expected, there came Åiva to enjoy his wife. The ascetic then came out of his hiding place and in anger cursed Åiva that his liá¹ ga may fall off. When that had happened, Åiva was furious and gave a curse that his liá¹ ga would stick to the asceticâs forehead. The ascetic excused himself and begged Åiva to remove the liá¹ ga. Åiva agreed but under the condition that he would first travel to his home on Mount KailÄsa. This he did, and arriving there PÄrvatÄ« laughed loudly at him. The ascetic pleaded to have the liá¹ ga removed, Åiva complied and from then onward the liá¹ ga became an aspect of worship.36
This narrative without doubt is meant to ridicule Åivaliá¹ ga worship. The liá¹ ga object of worship, first of all, is associated clearly with the male organ of Åiva, that part of his body that is essential in the transgression toward the asceticâs wife. This association was common for some worshippers of Åiva, such as the Liá¹ gÄyats, who wore the liá¹ ga around the neck, but it was also problematic for others, mostly worshippers of other gods.37 Vá¹ttavilÄsa seems to play on the âshamefulnessâ of this association of the liá¹ ga with the male sex organ. The âentirely gloriousâ sexual body of Åiva is easily chopped off and becomes a mark of shame and foolishness for the ascetic. The fact that exactly this mark eventually becomes an object of worship is, as Vá¹ttavilÄsa would suggest, remarkable and rather nonsensical. Such a reading requires taking the specific perspective of one who opposes the Åaiva tradition, such as our Jain author. Read from the perspective of a Åaiva, we must entertain the possibility that the liá¹ ga may still be accepted as a devotional object. Perhaps a similar story was told among Åaivas to narratively explain the ritual wearing of the liá¹ ga on the body. This realization could have consequences for conclusions with regard to the intended audience of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text, to which I return later.
A last and notable strategy by Vá¹ttavilÄsa to oppose Åaiva believers is the appropriation of Åaiva characteristics. Not only does he appropriate and adapt purÄá¹ic stories to criticize Hinduism, as the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä in general does, Vá¹ttavilÄsa also appropriates certain of Åivaâs features and attributes them instead to the Jina. In the tenth ÄÅvÄsa of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e, Vá¹ttavilÄsa describes the Jina as omniscient:
He is one that is worshipped by all the beings in the three worlds, he distances himself from old age, affliction, death, infatuation, hunger, thirst, birth, arrogance, worry, disease, joy, sweat, pity, sex, impatience, intoxication, sleep, fear, etc. He is an abode of good qualities and therefore we call him the Arihant.38
These are quite standard descriptions of the Jina, but in the following sentence Vá¹ttavilÄsa presents a less standard characterization:
The Jina can visualize the reality of all objects in the three worlds by means of his third eye, called kevalajñÄna. Because of that he is called Trinetra.39
The third eye is normally associated with Åiva and his destruction of desire. As such, Vá¹ttavilÄsa is here appropriating this âpowerâ of the popular Hindu god. This type of appropriation was not alien to the Jain tradition. Jaini mentions that Jains used several epithets of Hindu gods for their Jinas and especially for á¹á¹£abha.40 In fact, Vá¹ttavilÄsa does not limit himself to using the epithet âtrinetraâ: following this, he also mentions smaravijaya (âconqueror of loveâ), tripurahara (âdestroyer of Tripuraâ), kamalÄsana (âlotus-seated oneâ), and tÄ«rthaá¹ kara paramadeva (DPV 10.32). Except for kamalÄsana, which would be linked to Viá¹£á¹u, these epithets all usually refer to Åiva. The use of these epithets, with the one referring to Åiva in the vanguard, demonstrate Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs knowledge of his surrounding religious culture and his involvement with it.
Appropriation of elements from the Hindu tradition further appears in verses 6.38â40 of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e. There, Manovega argues against the Brahmins that the Jina is described in several ways in their ÅÄstras. To prove this, he cites the following verse, which according to him comes from the Yajurveda and demonstrates that the Jina is known in the Vedas:
arhan bibhará¹£i sÄyakÄni dhanvÄrhan niá¹£kaá¹ yajataá¹ viÅvarÅ«paá¹|arhann idaá¹ dayase viÅvam abhvaá¹ na vÄ ojÄ«yo rudra tvadasti|| (DPV 6.39)
This vedavÄkyam (as it is categorized in the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e) is indeed found in Vedic literature, namely in the MaitrÄyaá¹Ä« saá¹hitÄ 4.9.3, in the Kaá¹ha-Äraá¹yaka 2.7.92, and the VaikhanÄsa-MantrapraÅna 8.1.160.4 of the Ká¹á¹£á¹a Yajurveda. The same hymn is also found in the á¹gveda 2.33.10. It is translated by Jamison and Brereton as follows:
Worthily you bear the arrows and the bow and worthily the sacrificial neck ornament of all forms.Worthily you parcel out the whole formless void. Surely there exists nothing more powerful than you, Rudra. (2014, 449)
The association between the Jina and this specific verse is made possible because of the repetition of the word âarhan,â which is the nominative or vocative form of âarhat,â one of the most common titles for the Jina (Arhat or Arihant). If we retranslate the Vedic verse within such a Jain perspective, we get the following:
You, the Arihant, bear the arrows and the bow and [you], O Arihant, [bear] the adorable neck ornament of all forms.You, O Arihant, protect this extensive world. Surely there exists nothing more powerful than you, O dreadful one.41
Other than the word âarhan,â the association of the Jain omniscient being with this verse that depicts a âcombative superior being,â also follows from the common association of the Jina, the âconqueror,â with warrior properties. Especially in the Karnataka region, martial valor came to be attributed to the image of the fully committed Jain ascetic, who was the true warrior. This would have followed from the fact that Jainism (until at least the tenth century) was sponsored by kings and warrior aristocrats (Dundas 2002, 118).42 The strategy that Vá¹ttavilÄsa pursues in this specific case is similar to the Buddhist approach of absorbing popular Hindu deities by interpreting them as emanations of the Buddha. In fact, were we to translate ârudraâ (âO dreadful oneâ) as âRudra,â a name of Åiva, this verse would demonstrate exactly such a strategy. In summary, the device that Vá¹ttavilÄsa here applies is that of quoting a verse from the Veda and effecting a clever wordplay, in order to convince the Brahmins that their authoritative Vedas are actually praises to the Jina.
2.3 Adapted Jainism
The adaptation by Vá¹ttavilÄsa of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä does not merely present a Jain tradition that is most fervently opposed to Åaivism, it also presentsârelative to the earlier versions of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Äâa Jain tradition that has undergone subtle internal shifts in reaction to the popularity of yogicâtantric practices, including meditation and mantras. In the tenth ÄÅvÄsa of the text, after the Brahmins have asked Manovega to explain his religious teachings (ÅÄstra), the latter briefly explains what is wrong in the Brahminsâ tradition and then goes on to tell them about the Jain teachings. Note that the questioning party in this version is not Pavanavega, as in the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Äs by Amitagati and Hariá¹£eá¹a, but the Brahmins. Manovega explains that there are two types of souls: bhavya souls, which can reach liberation, and abhavya souls, which cannot. He also explains that there are three types of stupidity: lokamÅ«á¸ha (foolishness with regard to popular customs), devamÅ«á¸ha (misconceptions of the nature of divinity), and samayamÅ«á¸ha (foolishness with regard to which doctrines to follow). This categorization of foolishness is also found in Somadevaâs YaÅastilaka,43 and would be exclusive to the Digambara traditionâalthough it accords with how ÅvetÄmbaras criticize other religions for their kuguru, kudeva, and kuÅÄstra.44
After this, Vá¹ttavilÄsa goes on to explain the different types of dhyÄna (meditation or concentration) (DPV 10.36â39). These are Ärta-dhyÄna, raudra-dhyÄna, dharma-dhyÄna, and Åukla-dhyÄna. The categorization of meditation into these types does not occur in the earlier DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Äs, although they were systematized in the TattvÄrthasÅ«tra of UmÄsvÄti (9.29).45 Vá¹ttavilÄsa explains that one should first understand Ärta-dhyÄna (meditation on something painful) and raudra-dhyÄna (meditation on something cruel), which are inauspicious types of meditation because they lead to an influx of inauspicious karma.46 Only after understanding these should one take up dharmya-dhyÄna (virtuous meditation), through which one is able to attain Åukla-dhyÄna (pure meditation); these last two types cause the destruction of karma, and are normally only accessible to mendicants, Åukla-dhyÄna being only for those who have reached a very high state of spirituality (Johnson 1995, 198). Vá¹ttavilÄsa, indeed, states that the final type of meditation requires the destruction of ghÄti-karman (âdestructive karmaâ), which happens only in the second to last step toward liberation (i.e., guá¹asthÄna),47 and that it is Åukla-dhyÄna that leads to omniscience (DPV 10.29).
Interestingly, Vá¹ttavilÄsa mentions Ätma-dhyÄna (âmeditation on the selfâ) as a synonym for Åukla-dhyÄna (DPV 10.29). This focus on the selfâwe may assume in its pure formâshould be related to the intellectual tradition of Kundakunda, for whom liberation lies in the realization of the self as independent and self-conscious through meditation on the self.48 Such a âmysticalâ perspective also found expression in the works of PÅ«jyapÄda (c. fifth century, particularly in his SamÄdhitantra), whom Vá¹ttavilÄsa praises together with Kundakunda (cf. p. 167), and the parity between Ätma-dhyÄna and Åukla-dhyÄna probably comes from a post-Kundakunda development in the line of PÅ«jyapÄda.49
That this type of spiritually advanced meditation is presented to an unadvanced audience of lay people or to wrong-thinking Brahmins, as we learn in the text, is somewhat surprising. Perhaps Vá¹ttavilÄsa included all four types of meditation for the sake of completeness, or it may be that the explanation of dhyÄna and the focus on the self should be related to the more prominent position meditation came to hold within the Jain soteriological scheme in the medieval period, possibly under the external influence of yogicâtantric Åaivism,50 and under the growing importance of esoteric interpretations of Jainism.51 Notably, Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs outline of Jain meditation does not include the four stha types of meditation that the Jains seem to have adapted from their Åaiva neighbors and that were well-established in Digambara texts by this period.52 We may wonder, therefore, whether his more classical depiction of Jain meditation served also as a deliberate response to the popular yogic-tantric forms of meditation. There is another, narrative element that potentially demonstrates a reaction to yogicâtantric influences in the Jain tradition as it had developed by Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs time. This is the confirmation of the centrality and power of the pañcanamaskÄra mantra. The mantra is mentioned in the story about the virtuous behavior of Princess NÄgaÅrÄ« in contrast to that of her co-wife. The story is told as the aftermath of the story of Dhanavati, which I relate below. NÄgaÅrÄ« finds a dog at her doorstep that is about to die and sings the pañcanamaskÄra mantra to him. The dog dies and is, thanks to the mantra, reborn as vyantara deva.53 The attribution of salvific (or other) powers to the mantra was not original, but gradually evolved, probably first within the Digambara tradition.54 The most illustrative instance of this âmantricizationâ is the JñÄnÄrá¹ava by the supposedly tenth-century Digambara Åubhacandra. This work confirms Jain acceptance of âthe generalized Indian attitude that the careful manipulation of sanctified sound in a ritual or meditative context could ensure accelerated advancement towards a variety of goalsâ (Dundas 1999, 35). This âmantricizationâ would have evolved under Åaiva influence coming originally from the Deccan and the south, if we follow Sandersonâs argument on the Western Transmission of key texts of the Åaiva KÅ«lamÄrga.55 Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs use of a âmantricizingâ narrative element, that emphasizes specifically the ancient and most popular Jain mantra, seems therefore to be especially appropriate to his particular time and location.
Another noteworthy aspect of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs explanation of Jainism is his choice to explain the vow of not eating after sunset, called hÅsavrata (Skt. poá¹£adha), by means of a story. In the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e, Manovega explains to the Brahmins that the mendicant-teacher has initiated him into the twelve vows of Jainism. These are the five aá¹uvratas, the three guá¹avratas, and four ÅÄ«ká¹£Ävratas, as well as the additional hÅsavrata. Repeating the ascetic VÄsupÅ«jya, Manovega then elaborates on this vow alone, by means of the following story:
There was a city called CitrakÅ«á¹a, ruled by King CÄrunareÅvara, who had a wife, Dhanavati. One day, at night, a Caá¹á¸Äla (outcast) woman came to their palace to beg for rice. That night the son of Dhanavati insisted on having his dinner, but Dhanavati did not serve him food. So, the Caá¹á¸Äla woman asked her why she did not want to serve food to her son. Dhanavati replied that Jains are not supposed to eat at night. The outcast wife asked, âWhat is wrong with that?â Then Dhanavati said, âIf Jains eat at night, they will go to hell, they will have a short span of life, they will become deformed, crippled, and be reborn into a low family.â So, the Caá¹á¸Äla woman asked, âWhat can one obtain by performing this hÅsavrata?â To this, Dhanavati replied, âThose who perform this vrata can become a supreme god (varasura) in the realm of gods (suraloka). He will be born in this world as a ká¹£atriya of a great lineage and enjoy all pleasures. Then by doing tapas one can attain the state of [an] all-knowing one.â The outcast woman was gladdened by this and accepted the hÅsavrata and returned home. Later the same night, her husband invited her for food, but she said that she had accepted hÅsavrata that evening and so would not eat her meal. Her husband stabbed her and killed her because she had not followed his order. Since that woman had accepted the vow, after her death she was born as the daughter of Dhanavati. She was given the name NÄgaÅrÄ« and grew in the palace. The outcast husband killed himself with the same sword and was born from the womb of the wife of a night-watcher of the ministers. (DPV 10.63â72)56
The story is interesting not only for the details it provides on city life and the professions one could have at court (e.g., the night-watcher), but also because it articulates a popular Jain view on the prohibition against eating at night. In Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs substory, the vow is obviously framed within popular thinking, while in Amitagatiâs version, eating at night is seen as something associated with animals and not with an honorable person. Vá¹ttavilÄsa stipulates even more clearly what the benefits and negative consequences are of following or not following this vow: one who neglects the vow goes to hell; one who follows it goes to âheaven.â Only after that can one prepare oneself to obtain the even higher status of an omniscient being. The story is clearly directed toward lay people, who require an additional birth to obtain the ultimate goal of Jainism. The folkish way in which this narrative introduces the prohibition against eating at night is easily understood by followers of Hindu traditions and would therefore suggest the inclusion of an audience of non-Jainsâas is the case in the frame narrative. This therefore supports my argument that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs adaptation of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä, more so than others, is meant to convert (or re-convert) non-Jain laity. Further, it is interesting that Vá¹ttavilÄsa clearly sees this rule as a vrata but sets this one apart from the regular aá¹uvratas. By doing so, he seems to follow the view that the Digambara writers CÄmuá¹á¸arÄya and Amá¹tacandra had on this prohibition.57 We may also wonder why Vá¹ttavilÄsa includes a substory on this specific vow, and not on others. Besides treating the hÅsavrata separately from the conventional vows in this way, one of the motivations to include an explanatory story may have been that the nature of this vow stimulated elaboration. The vow of not eating at night is âhands onââit is easily practicedâand is therefore an easy step into following the Jain tradition (for possible Brahmin converts). It is also specific to the Jain tradition (in contrast to, e.g., dÄna) and would thus need some explanation for those not familiar with this vow.
2.4 Folk Infusions
Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs adaptive choices regarding the content of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e convey a particular religious context, but also portray a perspective on narrativity in Karnataka. The following unique substories of the text demonstrate Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs creativity in writing his adaptation and give the âlocal flavorâ of popular stories that circulated in the region. In general, compared with the narratives in Amitagatiâs text, Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs substories are livelier and more detailed. Intuitively, they also involve a more urban setting. The engaging narrations support the entertaining spirit of the campÅ«, but they also counter Nagarajâs opinion that âthere is very little Jain folk literatureâ in Kannada (2003, 338). Although the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e confirms that Jain stories âremain within the confines of high literary cultureâ (Nagaraj 2003, 338), in the sense that they are framed within the high literary form of campÅ«, the existence of folk Jain stories, as the ones I now relate, proves that Jain folk literature was also prevalent.
The first substory tells about a king, a trader, and other townsmen (DPV 6.13â14):
There was a king called PÄpi in the town of KauÅika. He had a minister Duá¹£á¹amati and a swordsman BhÅ«tadroha. Once, a thief came into town and stole from the house of a trader. However, a wall of the house fell down upon the thief, which killed him. The king heard about this and summoned the trader to punish him for causing the death of someone. At the court, the trader explained that he had paid a builder to build this wall and that this one should be punished. So, the king summoned the builder. But the builder replied that while he was building the wall, a prostitute had passed by and distracted him. Then the king summoned the prostitute. She then explained that she had had the time to wander around because a goldsmith did not finish her golden jewels in time. So, the king summoned the goldsmith to ask him why he had not finished the jewels in time. The goldsmith replied that a thief had stolen the jewels while the goldsmith was at a village market. When the kingâs swordsman could not catch the thief that had stolen the jewels, the king went for advice to his minister. He advised the king to punish all the people involved, as this would be as good as punishing the thief. The king followed his advice.58
In the same trend as many Jain narratives the story renders a sketch of different professions in a certain town, called KauÅika. We encounter a trader, who is wealthy as usual, a mason, and a goldsmith, but also less-respectable types including thieves and prostitutes. In the service of the king are soldiers, or guards, as well as ministers. The story can be categorized as a âcumulative tale.â59 This is a type of tale that is built up through repetition of the same action or dialogue over and over, and is characteristic of folk traditions; its inclusion thus illustrates Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs familiarity with these narrative traditions and his conviction that they fit within the frame of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä.
Another story with clear folk characteristics is that of KÄpila (DPV 6.10â12), who as a child once sneezed in the proximity of the king of his region, KÄlakarÄla of the MÄlavÄ country:
The king, who was horseback riding, was startled because of the sneeze and in his anger chopped off the nose of the poor child. As a consequence, the child grew up without a nose. One day, he went to a mirror shop together with a friend. When the shopkeeper showed him his own reflection in one of the mirrors, KÄpila became angry and he smashed the mirror into pieces. The shopkeeper filed a complaint and KÄpila was summoned by the court to justify himself. Questioned by the judge about his actions, KÄpila told him that the mirror was defective because it showed his face without a nose. The judge laughed and decided that KÄpila should pay for the broken mirror. This is how one does not recognize his own faults.60
Besides its setting within an administrative town, similar to the previous story, the narrative element of the mirror recalls many other stories of the world. Typically, the mirror is reflective of what one desires, or what one lacks; it leads to wisdom, but not always to welcome knowledge. When the mirror breaks, KÄpila is not cursed, as one would be according to the ancient superstition well-known in the West. Instead, the Jains uphold some sense of realism within this folkish story. Very tentatively, the narrative could also be related to Åaivism in that the names of the characters in the story are meant to play with Åaiva denominations. The kingâs name, KÄlakarÄla, can be translated as âthe black dreadful one,â which is an image that is linked to Åiva in his terrifying aspect (as the god Bhairava). Moreover, splitting up this name into KÄla and KarÄla, we have two names of the traditional twelve teachers of the Åaiva KapÄlika sect (see White 1996, 98).61 In addition to the kingâs name, the name of the child without a nose, namely KÄpila, is similar to KapÄlika, which would thus support the suggested reference to the yogic KapÄlika Åaivas.62 We may even go as far as to see the image of a face without a nose as referring to the skull that KapÄlikas traditionally carried with them. However evocative these suggestions are, they are difficult to be certain of.
Next to tales about town life, newly added stories also treat the divine realms of the world according to local understandings. The story of Åatabali illustrates this well (DPV 4.16â22):
There was a demon king named Åatabali who sucked out the blood of the gods. He handed his power over to his son Sahasrabali and took tapas himself. The gods, when they heard about this, decided to kill Sahasrabali before he became too powerful. On their way, the gods first saw Åatabali doing tapas, and they decided to kill him, before killing his son. However, as he was an ascetic, it would have been a sin to kill him with any weapon. So, they created a cow with a tongue as strong as a vajra (thunderbolt) and made the cow lick Åatabali. After Åatabaliâs death, Indra created a weapon out of half of his skull, while the other half became a cakra (disc) for Viá¹£á¹u. Half of the bone of his buttocks became Åivaâs weapon, the other half became the bow of Varuá¹a. This bow was given to Agni, who gave it to Arjuna. With the rest of his skeleton thirty-three crores of gods were created.
With the help of his bow (pinÄka) Åiva was able to win the war between the gods and the demons. Arjuna burned down Devendraâs grove and chopped off the heads of Åalya and Saindhava by use of his bow. To safeguard the sacrifice of his eldest brother, Arjuna brought back his bow from Laá¹ kÄ and defeated VÄsuki, the Naga king. Afterwards he married the Naga girls. Arjuna also defeated Åiva at the IndrakÄ«la-battle, defeated the demon KÄla, and married the Brahmin girl SomanÄ«. When he was about to cut through the wings of Garuá¸a with his arrows, the god NÄrÄyaá¹a intervened. Then Arjuna tied up NÄrÄyaá¹a with the help of his bow and kept him in an underground cellar for seven days. For his motherâs nompi (religious ritual), he constructed a cage of arrows to constrain AirÄvata, the elephant of Devendra. This is how powerful Arjuna is. Nevertheless, he lost everything in the hands of a hunter.63
This episode about the gods and demons is not known in the dominant purÄá¹ic tradition. The name Åatabali is usually associated with one of SugrÄ«vaâs chief monkeys from the RÄmÄyaá¹a, who was sent to the north in order to find SÄ«tÄ, but here denominates a completely unrelated demon. The story treats the common motif of a demon doing tapas and is related to the famous weapons of the gods and heroes from the epicâpurÄá¹ic corpus. I have not found another reference to this exact story, but the idea that the weapons of the gods are made out of the bones of someone does occur in the purÄá¹ic narratives, namely in the story about the ascetic DadhÄ«ci, as told in the MahÄbhÄrata. DadhÄ«ci offers his body to Indra so that the god can make a weapon, the vajra, out of his bones. Today, several popular online sources mention that Åivaâs PinÄka (bow) and Arjunaâs GÄá¹á¸Ä«va (bow) were also created from DadhÄ«ciâs bones.64 This demonstrates that in popular (oral) traditions a narrative in which several of the godsâ weapons were created from the á¹á¹£i DadhÄ«ciâs bones must have circulated. It would thus not be surprising that in an alternative version the motif of the creation of the weapons of the gods was retained but was extended to the weapon of Viá¹£á¹u as well as to those of the thirty-three crores of gods, and that it became associated with a demon. With this in mind, we may say that Vá¹ttavilÄsa draws on localized versions of the purÄá¹ic corpus that must have existed mainly in oral traditions. The infusion of these tales into a classical Kannada campÅ« work makes the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e a truly regionalized piece of literature. It is both local in terms of content, as well as being written in a high literate form that is pan-regional.
2.5 A Traditionalist Language and Style
The opening of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs composition, which usually reflects on the authorâs motivations, starts with the standardized invocation we also find in Amitagatiâs text, namely to the jinas (vardhamÄnÄ), the siddhas, the ÄcÄryas, the upÄdhyÄyas, and the sÄdhus (DPV. 1.1â5). Also standardized is his invocation of SarasvatÄ« (vÄgvanite), the goddess of poetry (DPV 1.9). But whereas Amitagati merely mentions her as goddess of ÅÄstras, Vá¹ttavilÄsa hints at the fact that with his writing he has further ambitions than just adapting a religious narrative. He wants to create a composition that is beautified by words (vacana), with a variety of meters (chaá¹da), and with rhetorical adornments (alaá¹kÄra). His self-reflection as an ascetic poet, in this verse, anticipates 1.37, where Vá¹ttavilÄsa commits to writing poetically according to campÅ« conventions.
Continuing the formulaic opening of the text, the Kannada author praises his intellectual predecessorsâmasters of famous Jain literatureâin a similar way as does Hariá¹£eá¹a; these are Kundakunda, Samantabhadra, Gá¹dhrapiá¹cha, BalÄkapiá¹cha, MayÅ«rapiá¹cha, Akalaá¹ ka, PÅ«jyapÄda, VÄ«rasena, and Jinasena, who are all philosophers of Digambara Jainism (DPV 1.11â15). Samantabhadra, PÅ«jyapÄda (both from the sixth century), and Akalaá¹ ka (eighth century) are all perceived as having played an important part in spreading Digambara Jainism in the Deccan (Glasenapp 1999, 61).65 VÄ«rasena and Jinasena (both from the ninth century) are famous for their commentaries on two central texts of Digambara Jainism, which supposedly contain parts of the extinct PÅ«rvas, namely, VÄ«rasenaâs DhavalÄ on the á¹¢aá¹khaá¹á¸Ägama and Jinasenaâs JayadhavalÄ on the Kaá¹£ÄyaprÄbhá¹ta.66 The names Gá¹dhrapiá¹cha, BalÄkapiá¹cha, and MayÅ«rapiá¹cha are rather generic names of ÄcÄryas, which refer to the type of whisk (piá¹cha) they carried.67
The praiseful verses that reflect on Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs own positionality as author of the text present him as a skillful ascetic. He is a poet and he is an intellectual, just like the Digambara predecessors he mentions. In comparison with Hariá¹£eá¹a, who in his DhammaparikkhÄ also praises famous authors of Apabhraá¹Åa literature and thus emphasizes these authorsâ literary aura, Vá¹ttavilÄsa chooses authors who are famous for their religio-philosophical achievements. His opening of the text, therefore, reflects on himself as an author with the intellectual capacity to advance Jain thought and to express himself in a poetic style that convinces a broad but educated audience. What he wants to achieve with the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e is not merely laughing at Brahmanical stories to point out the faults of Brahminism, but to compete in an ethical and religio-philosophical sense with other Indian thought-systems. Such competition is further highlighted in the verses that mention Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs guruparaá¹parÄ. There, the Jain teachings, from the mouth of DharmabhÅ«á¹£a and AbhayasÅ«ri, are explicitly contrasted with SÄá¹khya, CÄrvÄka, the tradition of Bhaá¹á¹a (i.e., KumÄrila Bhaá¹á¹a of PÅ«rva MÄ«mÄá¹sÄ), and NyÄya.68 In this way, Vá¹ttavilÄsa emphasizes his religio-philosophical and argumentative ambitions.
Besides intellectual and argumentative ambitions, Vá¹ttavilÄsa also has linguistic and poetic motivations in writing his DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e. He expresses clearly his perspective on writing in Kannada, the vernacular language of the South Indian region we now identify as Karnataka. Especially when we take into consideration that it took two centuries for another vernacular version of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä to be composed (by JinadÄsa, in Old Hindi), it is crucial to understand Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs choice to transpose the text into Kannada and how this relates to the general development of vernacular literature in the Kannada region. While I refer mostly to Pollock (2006) to explain the vernacular turn in the Kannada region, I first attend to Vá¹ttavilÄsa and the way in which he describes in his own words the why and how of his vernacular composition (DPV 1.37):
It should not be that there is no one able to read or explain by means of Kannada the Dharmaparīkse [which was composed] in elegant Sanskrit in former times. Thus, I have narrated that [work] as something highly praised in the campū style in Kannada to be understood by everyone. Let good people read and hear it affectionately.69
What catches the eye first in this verse is the fact that Vá¹ttavilÄsa made use of an older DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä written in Sanskrit to make his own version. This explicit acknowledgement tells us that the Kannada author understands his project in terms of translation, that is, transferring the narrative into another language (without the need for faithfulness as the modern reader might presume). Secondly, Vá¹ttavilÄsa explicates his motivation behind rendering the text into Kannada: our authorâor the person who sponsored himâdeems it important that all people are able to understand the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e. This statement suggests that the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä in Sanskrit was known in southern India (at least within Jain circles) and that it had some authority. The statement also suggests a situation in which the literate audience in Karnataka was no longer sufficiently trained in reading Sanskrit and thus was only able to grasp the content of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e through the Kannada language. This motivation is similar to that behind translating Prakrit texts into Sanskrit. It is also why later Old Hindi adaptations were created. To this, a note must be added based upon a preliminary analysis of the actual language of the text. The language of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs work is loaded with Sanskrit words. This was common in Old-Kannada literatureâthe style that Vá¹ttavilÄsa aspires to mimicâand seems to have been modelled on the rules of Prakrit writing.70 We can, therefore, assume that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs audience must have been at least moderately educated in the classical language. Thirdly, Vá¹ttavilÄsa is ambitious of high praise for his composition in Kannada and expects appreciation by good people. With this statement we come closer to Pollockâs (2006) argument about the conscious establishment of a vernacular literary culture.71 The choice for Kannada here seems to be motivated not only by the fact that people would understand the text better, but also by its being praiseworthy to create a version in the regional language, according to regional poetical conventions. In this way, the statement suggests that by the fourteenth century, Kannada literature had fully developed into a âgrown-upâ literary culture.
Indeed, Pollock writes, in accordance with others, that the late ninth century marked a dramatic change in the literary culture of the Kannada country. This was the time that truly inaugurated the emergence of a ânew cultural practice and consciousnessâ of vernacular language aesthetics (Pollock 2006, 338). This emergence was characterized by similar processes as those that had made Sanskrit the cosmopolitan language. Firstly, Pollock recognizes a gulf between literization and literarization. Secondly, he finds a correlation between language innovation and a reconfiguration of the cultureâpower order. The Gaá¹ ga and later Hoysaḷa dynasties played an important role in the elevation of Kannada as a literary language by advancing it as the language of the public domain as well. Thirdly, Kannada literary culture was from its ninth-century beginnings directed toward becoming a wider regional-language literary culture. It was a culture of the court, which is recognized by the co-conception of praÅasti and kÄvya in the regional Kannada language (Pollock 2006, 336â337). The âgame-changingâ work, according to Pollock, was the KavirÄjamÄrgam, which âmay have been the first text in world culture to theorize a vernacular poeticsâ (Pollock 2006, 338). This text claimed itself to be a new venture, and sought to establish a novel literary model based on âscrapsâ of earlier Kannada works, while aspiring to an aesthetics to which Sanskrit and Prakrit had paved the way. The aim was to establish a pan-regional language that was fit for courtly contexts. This was exactly the path followed by Pampa, the Ädikavi (âfirst poetâ) of Kannada, whose work excelled in the political laukika genreâwhich illustrates the shaping role of political agentsâas well as in the religious genre based on Jain moral narratives.72 Pampa became a model poet of Kannada and likely one who Vá¹ttavilÄsa would have wished to follow. Although Pollock stresses Pampaâs importance to the aesthetics and the political level of the processes that establish a regional language culture, I want to emphasize the importance of the fact that Pampa, as well as other early Kannada poets, was Jain. As significant as his legacy was in general to Kannada literary culture, we can imagine that his model function was even more prominent for succeeding Jain authors. It is for that reason interesting to notice that neither Pampa nor any of the early Jain Kannada authors are mentioned in Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs introduction. This may be suggestive of conventions in Jain Kannada literature, or is it, perhaps, telling of the degree to which the literary style of the early Kannada authors had been standardized?
Whatever the answers to the foregoing questions are, it is indeed this âcultural heritageâ that is implied in Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs statement concerning his intention to create a Kannada poem in the appropriate way, in campÅ« style. For Vá¹ttavilÄsa, transforming a Sanskrit Jain polemical work into a truly Kannada literary work and appealing to Kannada literary-cultured people, meant writing in the classical Kannada style of campÅ«, with its mix of prose and verse, elaborate descriptions and figures of speech, and as exemplified by the earlier great Jain Kannada poets such as Pampa, Ponna, and Ranna.73 Through the adaptive transformation, Vá¹ttavilÄsa marks his DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e as a literary work independent of other DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Äs, and as one that further builds the pan-regional Kannada literary culture. Additionally, I interpret his statement regarding the creation of a proper Kannada poem for good people as suggesting a critique of those who prefer to write in the vacana style.74 Since this type of literature is associated predominantly with Åaiva authors, such an interpretation would go hand in hand with my claim that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs adaptation directed its narrative criticisms more toward Åaiva purÄá¹ic views.
Before returning to the last undiscussed aspect of verse 1.37, namely the question of a Sanskrit predecessor, let me here guide the reader back to verse 1.36, where Vá¹ttavilÄsa introduces the importance of poetic writing, which relates directly to the implied criticism of the vacana authors. The verse reads:
After creating good poetry with the apprehension that evil and bad people will dishonor [it], one should not remain with fear; [instead] one should compose [poetry] without hesitation. Out of fear for a mouse will one not live in a house; out of fear of the saliva of a fish will one discard water; out of doubt for flies will one not eat; or out of great fear for smoke will people stop cooking?75
With its beautifying metaphors, this verse reaffirms (or pre-affirms) that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs motivation was indeed that of making poetry. Opposed to this view on literature were portrayed the durjana (bad people), who are suggested to reject poetry. I interpret these durjana to be the vacana writers who indeed discarded ornamented poetic writing. Moreover, the exclamation stands out when we read it in relation to the other DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Äs, because they only refer to their own faults in writingâa common motif in Jain literature. Although Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs style appears less complex than that of the early campÅ« authors (Pampa, Ponna, and Ranna), his literary endeavor was one of a higher literary cultureâprobably in line with the developments of the campÅ« genre under the influence of authors such as Nayasena and Äá¹á¸aiah.76 It appears that by means of verses 1.36 and 1.37, Vá¹ttavilÄsa affirms the existent division between the literati who followed the imperial model of campÅ« and those who preferred writing in deÅÄ« forms of literature.77 This is, in my interpretation, mostly a division of style and literary models, rather than one defined by politics.
Returning to verse 1.37, with its reference to an earlier Sanskrit version, Vá¹ttavilÄsa does not himself mention which Sanskrit text he knew or had before him in making his adaptation. Based on an analysis of existing manuscripts, it seems probable that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text was (partly) an adaptation of Amitagatiâs DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä. Specifically, in southern India I was only able to find attestations of manuscripts of Amitagatiâs version along with Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs work. However, other scholars who have written on the topic make different suggestions. Jayacandra, for example, believes that Vá¹ttavilÄsa used a Sanskrit text that is now lost (1978, 7). Rao instead believes that Vá¹ttavilÄsa used multiple sources in making his adaptation, namely the earlier versions by Amitagati, Hariá¹£eá¹a, and perhaps the lost text by JayarÄma (1986, 91). To evidence the connection of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text with Hariá¹£eá¹a, Rao points out the near identity between several of the verses in the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e and the DhammaparikkhÄ (1986, 102). Out of the parallel verses Rao mentions, I was only able to trace two such sets of verses.78 The first is a Sanskrit Åloka, indicating a quotation, included by Vá¹ttavilÄsa in 3.25, which accords with Hariá¹£eá¹aâs 4.7(.16):
For a sonless person heaven is in no way a prospect. Therefore, only after seeing the face of a son, should one become a mendicant.79
In Amitagati we find a similar, though slightly different verse:
Whereas for a sonless, neither heaven nor asceticism is a prospect, once one has seen the face of oneâs son one can commit to asceticism for bliss.80
This verse is in fact a subhÄá¹£ita that is included in Sternbachâs collection of subhÄá¹£itas. The verse reads:
There is no help (no going to heaven) for a man who has no son; paradise is never, never for him. Therefore, only after seeing his sonâs face should a man become an ascetic.81
The second verse that is the same in Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs and Hariá¹£eá¹aâs texts, also a Sanskrit Åloka, is DPV 5.7, according with DPH 5.10.1. Again, Amitagati has a verse that in the first half is almost the same. The former two authors cite, âOne should not say something that is incredible, even if it has happened before oneâs eyes, such as the singing of monkeys or also that a stone floats in the water.â In Amitagatiâs version, only one word group of the first half stanza is not the same (âOne should not say something that is incredible, even if it is seen before oneâs eyesâ), but the second half stanza is completely different.82 Just like the former verse, this verse is collected by Sternbach, where he cites Amitagatiâs DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä next to the Javanese Tantri-KÄmandaka.83 In all of these texts this subhÄá¹£ita occurs at the end of the story of the singing monkeys and the floating stone. The similarity between the Southeast Asian Pañcatantra and the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä is interesting in itself, as it suggests the intertextuality of each DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä with different South Asian literary sources. But what is noticeable for our purpose here is that within the variances that exist in both quoted verses, Hariá¹£eá¹a and Vá¹ttavilÄsa accord, while Amitagati differs. Taking this into account, Rao might have been correct in saying that Vá¹ttavilÄsa used both Amitagatiâs Sanskrit version and Hariá¹£eá¹aâs Apabhraá¹Åa DhammaparikkhÄ.84 On the other hand, the option raised by Jayacandra, namely that a lost Sanskrit version was used by Vá¹ttavilÄsa, may still be possible on the basis of the mention in the JinaratnakoÅa that Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text is a á¹Ä«kÄ of Devasenaâs DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä/Dharmasaá¹graha.85 Another possible candidate for his theory is the abridged DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä by RÄmacandra discussed in the next chapter with its plot similarities and uncertain date, but I think this is an unlikely model for Vá¹ttavilÄsa. The hypothesis best supported by current material evidence, however problematic the gap of seven centuries is, would be that in making his adaptation Vá¹ttavilÄsa used the work of Amitagati and quoted the subhÄá¹£itas (as those above) in the variant form that he knew from other literature. We find manuscripts of Amitagatiâs text in South India where Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text is also kept (e.g., Moodbidri). This hypothesis is further supported by the fact that Vá¹ttavilÄsa mentions a Sanskrit work, not a work in Apabhraá¹Åa, and also that Amitagatiâs version has clearly been the authoritative one. To sum up my opinion, I believe that Amitagatiâs text was known by Vá¹ttavilÄsa, but, as I reiterate in Chapter Five, that we should not exclude the existence of a variant southern tradition of DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Äs.
Before closing this chapter, I would like to briefly indicate what the foregoing verses from the beginning of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text indicate about the ways in which the audience engaged with the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e. Our author states (DPV 1.37) that audiences may read or hear his DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e. These are the same modes of engagement that we have already encountered in the previous two chapters. Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs campÅ« was directed toward an audience able to appreciate this high literary style of literature. This was an educated audience, fluent in the conventions of Kannada poetry, and also familiar to some extent with Sanskrit culture and appreciative of subhÄá¹£itas. They would perhaps have read the text to study it, to understand its relation to a Sanskrit predecessor, but more likely they took the text at hand to unfold the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä narrative in their Kannada literary style. On other occasions, audiences would taste the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e by listening to it, probably at religious centers, for the purpose of both didacticism and poetic delight.
3 Conclusion
Ending this chapter in a circular mode, let me focus attention back on its title, âCreating a regional(izing) DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e.â Over the course of this chapter, I have denoted several elements as âregional.â I use the idea of âregionalâ or âregionalizingâ in a literary context to refer to textual elements that express the distinctiveness of a regional locale, but which have quasi-cosmopolitan appeal. This is different from the way I understand ManohardÄsâs expression in the Old Hindi vernacular, because he does not use or reflect on his language as belonging to or asserting a regionally authoritative literary culture. A literary object made up of such textual elements can be said to effect regionalization because it strengthens the authority of the regional idiom. It is intended to speak to an audience belonging to the Kannada world, which sees this context as their relevant source of authority.
Vá¹ttavilÄsa very much worked within the regional culture. Not only did he interact with contemporary developments in Karnataka, but he was also indebted to earlier periods. Vá¹ttavilÄsa must have experienced fourteenth-century Karnataka as a period in which everything was uncertain: the identity and power of Jain religion, the authority of the classical poetry, the relation between court and literary circles, and so on; hence, our Kannada author reacted, as did other poets, to this uncertainty through his writing. However, whereas Äá¹á¸aiah reacted innovatively, Vá¹ttavilÄsa was a âconservative author.â In fact, many (if not most) Jain authors kept writing in the imperial campÅ« style, and the Jain compositions from the thirteenth until the fifteenth/sixteenth centuries generally have Jain purÄá¹ic themes.86 With his DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e, Vá¹ttavilÄsa did not break any new ground and the text fitted perfectly in the Jain literary context of his time. Next to arguing against purÄá¹ic religions, our author illustrated the existing literary tensions by explaining why he followed the âold waysâ: by choosing the campÅ« style he affirms the continuation of the earlier (Jain) Kannada poetry; by choosing to adapt a Sanskrit DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä he continues the application of this narrative tradition to complex religious settings.
Another aspect of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs historical embeddedness is his narrative reaction to challenges posed by other religious groups, most importantly Åaiva affiliates. Vá¹ttavilÄsa was opposed both to the literary side of these challenges as well as to their religious threat. In terms of literary discussions, I have pointed out how his explicit commitment to âproper Kannadaâ can be read as a critique on the vacana form of literature, in which Åaiva authors were at the forefront. In terms of religious critique, the choices Vá¹ttavilÄsa makes in adding or diverting subnarratives in his adaptation of the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä illustrate his concern for the rising influence of local Åaivism. In contrast, the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä âin generalâ rather expresses a concern with purÄá¹ic Hinduism at large. The strategy Vá¹ttavilÄsa uses in these criticisms is that of narrative argumentation. By placing Åiva at the center of relatively more stories that refer to the purÄá¹ic myths, Vá¹ttavilÄsa first raises this god to the highest position; in thenceforth ridiculing the subnarratives, Vá¹ttavilÄsa pushes Åiva off of his pedestal, evirating the yogic god by means of laughter. In parenthesis, such a strategy of attacking the religious other is less aggressive than the method used by that religious other themself, in whose texts explicit calls for physical violence against Jains were made.87 For Vá¹ttavilÄsa, sticking to the strategy of ridicule seems to be a way of staying âtrueâ to the Jain interiorization of non-violence. Further, this southern DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e also interacts with its context in a socio-geographical sense. The added substories I have discussed clearly suggest that Vá¹ttavilÄsa was involved with narrative traditions at the local level, and show how Vá¹ttavilÄsa was concerned with creating a literature that engaged local audiences through speaking to their local narrative knowledge.
The way in which he engages with the locale is, however, different from ManohardÄsâs vernacularization. Vá¹ttavilÄsa infuses his work with popular local stories, but does so in a style that has ambitions toward the âhigh cultureâ of classical Kannada literature. Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs Kannada DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e has greater designs than being used for communal religious practice, and aims at acquiring a place in the Kannada literary corpus.
The e-ending in DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e is the ending for the nominative feminine singular, which has an Ä-ending in Sanskrit.
The catalogues I accessed from North Indian libraries mention three manuscripts. In his dissertation (1986), Rao mentions seven manuscripts that were consulted to make his edition of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text. These concern copies kept at university and private collections in Karnataka. Kittel mentions manuscripts in the temple library at Moodbidri (1875, xlv). These sparse attestations suggest that a systematic search in South India would lead to the discovery of many more copies.
Examples are Riceâs History of Kannada Literature (vol. 2, 1921) and the Samagra Kannaá¸a SÄhitya Caritre (1978) published in ten volumes by Bangalore University.
I thank Prof. Chinnapa Gowda from Mangalore University, who patiently read through Raoâs (1986) thesis in modern Kannada with me. These readings provided the basis of my discussion of Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text and were supplemented by our selected readings of the edited text (1982).
Rao 1982, 2â4. In his âEssay on Canarese Literature,â which prefaces his NÄgavarmaâs Canarese Prosody, Kittel writes the following: âTo this period [around 1193â1199] may further belong two well-known Jaina Canarese treatises: the Sâstrasâra, and the Dharmaparîkshê (by Vá¹ittavilâsa), copies of both of which are met with at Mûá¸abidarâ (1875, xlv). This means that the ÅÄstrasÄra was an actual existing text and that it was also most likely written by Vá¹ttavilÄsa. Supporting their similarity Kittel adds a footnote stating the following: âThey are archaic in style and language; the following Åloka, used against Brahmanical antagonists, occurs in both: [â¦]â (1875, xlv, 4). The manuscripts described by Kittel are as such not necessarily lost (cf. Rao about the ÅÄstrasÄra, supra), but from my own experience it seems that the collection at Moodbidri is not well organized or preserved. The current Bhaá¹á¹Äraka CÄrukÄ«rti has stated their intention toward, and concrete plans for, cataloguing and organizing the collection (personal communication, September 2018). Such an undertaking would be, indeed, most valuable to scholars of Indian literature at large.
The term âvá¹ttaâ refers to a type of meter in Sanskrit poetry.
I discuss in detail in my dissertation how Rao, after Veá¹ kaá¹asubayya (1931, 521; also 1927) and Narasiá¹hÄcÄrya (2005, 491â492), derives Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs date based upon this lineage (De Jonckheere 2020, 214â216).
Pollock discusses the emergence of Kannada vernacular literary culture in detail as the exemplary case for his theory of vernacularization in South Asia (2006, 330â379). He presents Pampa mostly as a âsecularâ (laukika) author based upon his readings of Pampaâs VikramÄrjunavijayam (a Kannada rendering of VyÄsaâs MahÄbhÄrata) (2006, 356â362). As Pierce-Taylor has noted, Pampaâs expressively Jain (jinÄgama) ÄdipurÄá¹a is relegated âto a mere footnoteâ by Pollock (2016, 145). She has argued against Pollock that Pampa saw his âlaukikaâ VikramÄrjunavijayam and his âjinÄgamaâ ÄdipurÄá¹a as âpoetic twins with distinct subject matters equally valid for the purposes of kÄvyaâ (2016, 145).
Nagarajâs (2003) excellent overview of the emergence and consolidation of Kannada literary culture has substantially informed my discussion here. Rice (1921) too remains a good source on the topic. Ramanujan (1973) has compiled an excellent anthology with an English translation of the most important authors among the vacanakÄras. For an introduction to VÄ«raÅaivism, see Michael (2018). The work of Ben-Herut (2020) is insightful in understanding the religious community within its literature and is especially interesting in comprehending the relation between VÄ«raÅaivas and Jains in Karnataka. Although there were influential VÄ«raÅaiva writers from the twelfth century (e.g., around 1160 Basavaá¹á¹a was linked to the court), Kannada literature remained dominated by the mixed prose-verse literary form known as campÅ« throughout the twelfth or even thirteenth century (Nagaraj 2003, 344). The lack of contemporary responses to these innovations may be due to the isolation of literary high culture at the court.
Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs composition confirms this connection (cf. infra).
Knowledge about this branch of Jainism is still clouded and for several authors of the time there are discussions about whether they were YÄpanÄ«ya or Digambara. The YÄpanÄ«yas seem to have disagreed on aspects of female liberation, and they had their own networks of support and followers. The YÄpanÄ«yas did not stand the test of time.
On the SamayaparÄ«ká¹£e by BrahmaÅiva, see Zydenbos (1985).
Vá¹ttavilÄsa is also often mentioned as a twelfth-century author, because of this similarity, but I have shown above that the fourteenth century is a more probable period for his writing. Nagaraj (2003, 335) puts Nayasena in the tenth century and BrahmaÅiva in the eleventh century. I have chosen to follow Lewis Rice (1883) and Edward Rice (1921) who consider them as from the twelfth century, because this is supported by other sources based on epigraphic material (Desai 1957, 136).
See also Gil Ben-Herut 2020.
The introduction of this book summarizes this âmodelâ form. The DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Ä by RÄmacandra, discussed in Chapter Five, diverges in similar ways from the model and seems to be an abridged version of the same plot.
The transliteration of the Kannada names of the two vidyÄdharas is ManÅvÄga and PavanavÄga, but in this chapter I use the Sanskrit forms of their names for convenienceâs sake.
See Klostermaier 2007, 300.
See also Olivelle 1986, 57â65.
See Basham 1951, 166â174.
In arguing why the term âÄjÄ«vikaâ (denoting followers of an extinct religious tradition) is not synonymous with âekadaá¹á¸i,â as the tenth-century scholar Utpala suggests in his commentary on the Bá¹hajjÄtaka by VarÄhamihira, Basham describes how the distinction between the terms âekadaá¹á¸i,â âtridaá¹á¸i,â and also âmaskariâ (âcarrying a staffâ) has been blurred in premodern Indian literature (1951, 166â174). He suggests that âekadaá¹á¸iâ was a term that âembraced a large class of mendicantsâ characterized by carrying a staff (1951, 171).
With regard to considering the DaÅanÄmis at the time of Vá¹ttavilÄsa (fourteenth century), Dazey (2018) writes that although the founding of the order could be placed in the ninth century CE, after the life of its supposed founder Åaá¹ kara (780â822 CE), the actual âorganization of the DaÅanÄmÄ« order began to coalesce centuries later and may not have attained its contemporary organizational structure until the 16th or 17th century.â
Dagens, in his edition and translation of the text (VedajñÄna 1979), translates âbhautikaâ as âattaché aux jouissances,â which should be related to âbhÅ«taâ in the sense of material existence.
See Rice 1973, 391. Cf. p. 46.
Jinasena 18.51â60; see also Jaini 1933, 233.
Vá¹ttavilÄsa writes that Manovega told the narrative of Kará¹aâs birth as it was told in the MahÄpurÄá¹a. Whereas this could refer to the Jain PurÄá¹as in general, I take it to refer to Jinasenaâs text (or rather Guá¹abhadraâs addition, the UttarapurÄá¹a) because of the earlier invocation to Jinasena and the fact that this specific story of Kará¹aâs birth (following from PÄá¹á¸uâs seduction of KuntÄ« by means of a ring; UttarapurÄá¹a 70.104â111) is indeed told there.
Viá¹£á¹u, the lover of Siri (Laká¹£mÄ«), is believed to be the caretaker of the world (as part of the trimÅ«rti). On the other hand, the PurÄá¹as also describe him as a child of Nandana, a charioteer to Nara (Arjuna) and a messenger to the Kauravas. Equally, Viá¹£á¹u is seen as eternal, beyond birth and death, but at the same time as incarnated in ten avaá¹Äras. For the Jain author, both contradictions (Viá¹£á¹u as caretaker vs. child or servant, and Viá¹£á¹u as eternal vs. born) prove the inconsistency of the PurÄá¹as.
See Davis 2017, 182â183.
See Dundas (2002, 129) for a short description of the decline of Jainism in Karnataka with many Jains converting to Hinduism; Ben-Herut (2018, 199â230; 2012; 2020), who talks about Åaiva narratives of violence against Jains and their conversion; or Hegewald (2015), who studied the conversion of Jain to Åaiva temples in Karnataka. Comparable narratives on conversion away from Jainism in the Tamil region have been studied by Peterson (1998) and Monius (2020).
The underlined substories occur neither in Amitagatiâs text, nor in other DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Äs except for the one by RÄmacandra (cf. Chapter Five).
My quotations from the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e by Vá¹ttavilÄsa are paraphrases on the base of Raoâs (1986) paraphrasing in modern Kannada.
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 71.
SkandapurÄá¹a 7.19.49â50.
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 71.
See Alley 2020.
One of the tales about Gaá¹ gÄâs birth explains how, upon BhagÄ«rathaâs request that Gaá¹ gÄ be allowed to descend to earth and purify the burning coals of his ancestors, BrahmÄ pours her out of his jug and onto the locks of Åiva. From there she descends down the Himalayas and across the plains of northern India following BhagÄ«ratha. Another story from the BhÄgavatapurÄá¹a narrates how Viá¹£á¹u, in his incarnation as a dwarf, encompasses the whole world in three steps. In one of his strides he scratches the cosmic egg that contains the world, and from the crack in the egg Gaá¹ gÄ flows over Viá¹£á¹uâs foot and onto Åivaâs head.
Keá¹ake is here the personified Pandanus fascicularis flower that BrahmÄ finds on his way up to Åivaâs top, and that falsely testifies that BrahmÄ has indeed reached the liá¹ gaâs summit. The motif of Keá¹ake is attested in various versions of the liá¹ godbhava narrative and is found at least as early as the ÅivapurÄá¹a (1.7.19â28) (see Wagner-Hohenberger 2014, 837).
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 71â72.
See fn. 50 in Chapter Two.
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 71.
See Doniger 2011.
The terms âLiá¹ gÄyatâ and âVÄ«raÅaivaâ are often used interchangeably, although some scholars and community members prefer to distinguish them, based on reformatory values claimed by those who call themselves distinctively Liá¹ gÄyat (Michael 2018). I here refer to the âLiá¹ gÄyatsâ because the term itself means âbearer of the liá¹ ga,â while not excluding the VÄ«raÅaivas who use the same symbol.
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 82.
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 82. See DPV 10.32.
One of the epithets Jaini lists is âtrinetraâ (2001, 124).
I changed the translation of yajatam because the Jina would not wear a sacrificial ornament, since sacrifices are refuted in the Jain tradition. My translation of idam dayase viÅvaá¹ abhvaá¹ is based on MacDonnellâs note on how SÄyaá¹a interprets this verse (1917, 64). The interpretation by Jamison and Brereton (2014) does not fit a Jain context because it suggests the creation (or at least ordering) of the universe by a god, which Jains would refute. Since SÄyaá¹a was a Vedic scholar of the Vijayanagara empire, who was supposedly a contemporary of Vá¹ttavilÄsa, he might well have provided the inspiration or interpretation of this Vedic verse to Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs understanding.
See also Dundas 1991.
The three types of foolishness are part of the twenty-five hindrances to samyaktva according to Somadeva (Handiqui 1949, 257).
See Williams 1963, 49.
In fact, Hariá¹£eá¹a mentions that a lay person should dispense with Ärtaâ and raudra-dhyÄna (DPH 10.15), suggesting that the other forms of meditation, which are not mentioned, are reserved for a more advanced stage.
Qvarnström 1998, 38. Qvarnström mentions that the four types are introduced in the SthÄnÄá¹ gasÅ«tra, but since the Digambaras do not accept the Aá¹ gas, I am here referring primarily to the TattvÄrthasÅ«tra.
See Johnson 1995, 198; also, Williams 1963, 239; and Bronkhorst 1993, 2016.
See Jaini 1979, 133.
See, for example, PravacanasÄra 2.99. For a discussion that does justice to the complexity of his thought, see Johnson 1998.
The dates of Kundakunda and PÅ«jyapÄda are uncertain (see Balcerowicz 2016, 2023).
The mystical perspective inspired by Kundakunda also took off in Central and North India with YogÄ«ndu (date uncertain) and Amá¹tacandra (tenth century) and Jayasena (twelfth century), but it is really Kundakunda who became famous for it. The resonance of his name is illustrated in sectarian lineages referring to Kundakunda, as we find in the denomination KundakundÄnvÄya, which seems to have its earliest mention in an inscription from the fifth century in Karnataka (Singh 2008, 120).
Qvarnström discusses this in relation to Hemacandraâs YogaÅÄstra 1998, 38.
Dundas adds that Hemacandra seems to have been indebted to Åubhacandraâs JñÄnÄrá¹ava (âOcean of Knowledgeâ), which âwas situated very much within the Digambara mystical tradition, stressing the goal as being penetration to the innermost soul, while at the same time insisting on the necessity of faith in basic Jain tenetsâ (2002, 168). The Kashmirian context of Åubhacandra, where Åaiva mystic ritualists held an influential position, is likely to have had an impact on his expansion of the scheme of meditation (2002, 169).
Since Vá¹ttavilÄsa also followed the mystical tradition of Kundakunda, similar concerns may also pertain to his DharmaparÄ«ká¹£e.
These esoteric interpretations can be traced to Kundakunda and were continued in the works of, for example, PÅ«jyapÄda, YogÄ«ndu, and Åubhacandra. Note that Somadeva, who was a South Indian Digambara author in the tenth century, also mentions these four types of meditation in his YaÅastilaka, immediately after an explanation of mantra recitation (Handiqui 1949, 272). This would support the argument for possible yogicâtantric influences.
These stha types of meditation represent the object or support of meditation: piá¹á¸astha (âsituated in a bodyâ), padastha (âsituated in a wordâ), rÅ«pastha (âsituated in a formâ), and rÅ«pÄtÄ«ta (âbeyond formâ) (see Gough 2020c, 130â¯ff.).
A vyantara-deva is one of the three lower types of gods who dwell in the celestial realm of the Jain cosmos (Jaini 1979, 129).
See Dundas 1999, 34â36.
Already in the BhÄgavatÄ« ÄrÄdhanÄ, a Digambara text from about the beginning of the Common Era, there is an episode in which a thief is reborn as a god by reciting this mantra impaled upon a stake (Dundas 2002, 82).
A famous example in the development of a mantric culture in Jainism is Jinasenaâs delineation of a selection of âmantras to be utilized in the sixteen main life-cycle rituals of what he calls âJain brahmansâ and also in fire-rituals (havanapuja)â (Dundas 1999, 35).
See Ellen Gough (2020c, 131).
Ellen Gough explains well the different arguments about âmantricizationâ in Jain literature (2020c, 130â141). She also discusses how Amitagatiâs ÅrÄvakÄcÄra engages with a novel categorization of meditation and points to the efficacy of the pañcanamaskÄra (See fn. 47 in Chapter Two.). We may wonder whether this work had an influence on the Kannada author Vá¹ttavilÄsa.
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 83.
Others place it under different categories. For example, Amitagati (in his ÅrÄvakÄcÄra and ÄrÄdhanÄ) places it under the mÅ«laguá¹as (Williams 1963, 108).
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 70.
The âcumulative taleâ is a category within âformula talesâ of Thompsonâs Motif Index; Thompson 1885â1976, Z20.
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 70.
White (1996) mentions these two teachers in a list from the Åabara Tantra, which is a relatively recent tantra text that is quoted in the Goraká¹£a SiddhÄnta Saá¹graha. The list would contain names that go back to older Åaiva orders.
In terms of morphologic similarity, we can also think of Kapila, the legendary founder of the SÄá¹khya tradition.
Paraphrase of Rao 1986, 66.
An example of such a source is:
For the dating of Samantabhadra and PÅ«jyapÄda I refer to Balcerowiczâs (2016) relative chronology of the two authors (together with DharmakÄ«rti).
Jaini 1979, 50.
The fact that these ÄcÄryas carried different whisks indicates that they belonged to (or formed) different sub-traditions within Digambara Jainism. The name Gá¹dhrapiá¹cha has been understood as an epithet for Kundakunda, but this idea has been rejected by Upadhye on the basis of epigraphic records (Soni 2002, 26). The mention in Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text supports Upadhyeâs opinion. Gá¹dhrapiá¹cha has also been understood as a name for UmÄsvÄti.
Reference to these names is found also in Epigraphia Carnatica (1973).
See DPv 1.24 and 1.29.
I thank Anna Aurelia Esposito for helping me with the translation of this verse and of verse DPV 1.37:
utpalamÄle
munnina cÄru-saá¹ská¹tada dharmaparÄ«ká¹£eyan Åda-ballan-uá¹
kannaá¸adiá¹dal arthavisa-ballavan illadoá¸-Ägad-eá¹d-adaá¹
sannutam Ägiy-ellar aá¹iv-aá¹t-ire caá¹puv-enippa baá¹dhadiá¹
kannaá¸adiá¹de pÄḷden idan Åduge kÄḷuge kÅ«rtu sajjanar
Ollett explains that the Jain grammarian KeÅava described how in âpure Kannada,â Sanskrit words could be mixed into Kannada sentences by following strict rules. As such, by constituting Kannada as âa language categorically distinct from Sanskrit, but at the same time capable of absorbing its lexical resources, KeÅava theorized it in exactly the same way that earlier scholars had theorized Prakritâ (2017, 164).
Because of the way I use the term in a sense that is not exclusively linguistic in the foregoing chapter, and because I find this usage less appropriate to Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs version, I have avoided using âvernacularâ in this chapter. Instead, I prefer the term âregional.â
The same could be said about the authors Ponna and Ranna (Pollock 2006, 357).
See also Pierce-Taylor (2016, 240â308) on Pampaâs ÄdipurÄá¹a as the pinnacle of Jain courtly literature (and note 8).
My dissertation (De Jonckheere 2020, 241)âon which this book is basedâincludes some more detail on Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text as a campÅ«.
I do not hereby mean to express that his choice for campÅ« was a rare one at the time. Gil Ben-Herut has pointed out to me in a personal communication, by email (December 10, 2019), that in the period between 1150 and 1400, according to Mugaḷi (1968), twenty works of campÅ« were composed, with Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs being toward the end of that period.
mattÄbhavikrÄ«á¸ita
duruḷar durjanar eggu geyva bhayadiá¹ sat-kÄvyamaá¹ pÄḷd-aá¹-
j-ira-vÄá¸-aá¹jade pÄḷvud-Äkhu-bhayadiá¹d-ÄvÄsamaá¹ mÄá¸ad-i-
rpar-e mÄ«n-eá¹jalig-aá¹ji nÄ«r-doá¹evar-Ä mÄá¹ maká¹£ikÄ-Åaá¹keg-u-
á¹á¹ar-e dhÅ«makke samaá¹tu berci pacana-vyÄpÄramaá¹ mÄá¹bar-Ä
These two authors are known for avoiding the use of tatsama Sanskrit words (cf. supra). Vá¹ttavilÄsa uses Sanskrit vocabulary and prosody, but he seems to do so to a lesser extent than did the early poets.
For a discussion see Nagaraj 2003.
Reasons for this could be either a mistake on Raoâs part, or differences in the sources used. I have looked at the DhammaparikkhÄ edition by BhÄskar, which has clear editing issues. For the first mention by Rao (DPV 3.25) the kaá¸Ävaka number accords, but the verse number does not. I here quote the verse number of BhÄskarâs edition. I was unable to trace back in Hariá¹£eá¹aâs text the second case mentioned by Rao (DPV 3.62). Rao refers to DPH 4.9(.24), but I have not found the same words in the edition nor in manuscript 483 from the Ämer ÅÄstra Bhaá¹á¸Är.
aputrasya gatir nÄsti svargo naiva ca naiva ca| tasmÄt putramukhaá¹ dá¹á¹£á¹vÄ paÅcÄd bhavati bhiká¹£ukaḥ||
DPA 11.8: aputrasya gatir nÄsti svargo na ca tapo yataḥ| tataḥ purtramukhaá¹ dá¹á¹£á¹vÄ Åreyase kriyate tapaḥ||
MahÄsubhÄá¹£ita-saá¹graha v. 2090 (1976, 468): aputrasya gatir nÄsti svargo naiva ca naiva ca| tasmÄt putramukhaá¹ dá¹á¹£á¹vÄ bhavet paÅcÄddhi tÄpasaḥ|| The translation is by Edgerton in Sternbach 1976, 469. Note that Edgertonâs translation is rather free.
The Sanskrit verse in Hariá¹£eá¹aâs and Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs texts is aÅraddheyaá¹ na vaktavyaá¹ pratyaká¹£am api yad bhavet| yathÄ vÄnarasaá¹gÄ«taá¹ tathaiva plavate ÅilÄ|| Amitagati writes vÄ«ká¹£itam instead of yad bhavet.
v. 3528; 1976, 782.
Sternbach refers to an article in the Indian Historical Quarterly vol. 7 (1931), in which Veá¹ kaá¹asubayya discusses two stories from the Tantri and their similarity with the DharmaparÄ«ká¹£Äs by both Vá¹ttavilÄsa and Amitagati, as well as with a Laotian Pañcatantra. For a more detailed study of the Tantri, see Hooykaas (1929).
It is interesting that Sternbach quotes the verse as it is in Hariá¹£eá¹a and Vá¹ttavilÄsa, whereas the article by Veá¹ kaá¹asubayya quotes it as it is in Amitagatiâs adaptation.
Note that the agreeing verses in Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text and Hariá¹£eá¹aâs text are all Sanskrit verses.
Jayacandra 1978, 7. The JinaratnakoÅa (1942, 190) cites the Kannada section of the Jain SiddhÄnt Bhavan in Arrah, the ÅrÄ« Haá¹savijayajÄ« MaharÄj private library managed by the KÄntivijaya Bhaá¹á¸Är in Baroda, and the Vimala Gaccha UpÄsraya in Ahmedabad for Devasenaâs text. For Vá¹ttavilÄsaâs text, the JinaratnakoÅa (1942, 190) mentions the Jain SiddhÄnt Bhavan in Arrah. Since I did not have access to the cited libraries, I was unfortunately unable to check this.
See Rice 1921, 42.
See Ben-Herut 2020.