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The Indian Cultural Influence
The prose romance Kadambari makes a
delightful exclusive specification of the features
of Rishi Jabali’s ashrama, where ‘the killing of
shakuni was confined to the Mahabharata; the expressions
of wind, vayu-pralapitam, to the Puranas;
teeth, dvija, fell [only] in old age; inactivity, jadya,
was seen among sandalwood trees in the woods;
the fires, agnin, [alone] rested on the earth; [only]
the deer, enakah, were addicted to music; peacocks,
shikhandinah, were in favour of dancing; snakes
were possessed of hoods, bhoga; monkeys were fond
of bel fruits—sriphala, “Lakshmi’s fruit”—and
roots had a downward course, adhogati.’
Playing on the multiple meanings of Sanskrit
terms—vultures are called shakuni, a name also
borne by the scheming Kaurava uncle; vayu is both
a deity and the humour responsible for nervous
disorders; dvija refers both to teeth and to initiates—
Banabhatta paints a picturesque image of
an ashrama amidst sylvan settings with disciplined
inmates, healthy in body and mind, living in harmony
with nature and its creatures, and pursuing
supra-mundane goals.
This fictional account is probably not very far
from the actual realities of the ashramas of Vedic
and post-Vedic times—ashramas that were seats of
education and culture, both spiritual and secular.
The hermitages of such rishis as Shaunaka, Vyasa,
and Kanva were virtually forest universities—a
whole concourse of ashramas teaching numerous
disciplines. These far-famed hermitages attracted
scholars, brahmacharins, and rishis from far and
near and were the sites of great intellectual and spiritual
ferment.
Pursuit of knowledge and wisdom was facilitated
by the gurukula system, where the homes and
ashramas of rishis and scholars were open to students
for residential study. The mandatory nature of
upanayana, investiture with a sacred thread from a
guru, with its attendant study, ensured that at least
among the brahmanas, kshatriyas, and vaishyas both
boys and girls received elementary education.
A fundamental principle of Vedic education
was tapas. Control and concentration of mind and
senses was considered the highest tapas. Concentration,
however, is only one component in the training
of the will. The other, and equally important
aspect, is detachment. The Vedic student had the
first lesson in detachment in leaving home to live
with the guru’s family. The brahmacharya code,
which every student abided by, furthered it.
Strict adherence to satya, truth, was another vital
facet of Vedic tapas. According to Satyavacha Rathatari
of the Taittiriya Upanishad, truth is all that
needs to be cultivated. The great fidelity with which
Vedic texts were orally transmitted and their contributing
rishis faithfully acknowledged is one evidence
of the immense stress laid upon truthfulness
and integrity. Honesty in mundane dealings was
recognized as the cornerstone which the pursuit of
higher truths had inevitably to be based upon.
Vedic study was almost exclusively oral. But
mastering the vast corpus of Vedic texts and associated
literature was not merely a feat of memory.
Regular recitation with stress on correct intonation
and phonetic and metrical accuracy provided students
with early deep insights into linguistic laws
and generative grammar, which is best captured in
Panini’s
remarkably comprehensive and succinct
work Ashtadhyayi. Diverse ways of recitation of the
same text—the pada, krama, jata, and ghana pathas,
and the like—not only ensured accuracy of transmission
of texts from teacher to student but also
aided concentration and assisted grasp of metre andmelody. Every Vedic student was thus a poet. But
Vedic poetry was no ordinary poetry, and the mantras
not merely ‘rules without meaning’. Being the
product of the deep insights of Vedic rishis into the
nature of Reality, they provided students with an
orientation to Reality that made values meaningful
and life harmonious and goal-directed.
Vedic study emphasized love of learning. Naka
Maudgalya of the Taittiriya Upanishad asserted
that learning and teaching indeed constituted
tapas. Acharya Shankara elaborates: ‘Learning and
teaching are mentioned in all the contexts in order
to imply that these two are to be carefully practised
even by one who is engaged in all these duties [of
a householder]; for the comprehension of meaning
is dependent on study, and the supreme goal
[emancipation] is dependent on the understanding
of meaning.’
This love of learning took students great distances
in search of suitable teachers and institutions
for study, discussion, and debate. The courts
of kings like Janaka of Mithila, Ajatashatru of
Varanasi, and Pravahana Jaivali of Panchala were
abuzz with discussions on topics ranging from procedures
of daily ritual to the knowledge of supreme
Brahman. Bhujyu Lahyayani, one of the reputed
scholars at Janaka’s court, had travelled along with
fellow students to the far-off country of the Madras
in north-west India. Jivaka, the most reputed Indian
physician of Buddha’s time, also undertook
a similar journey from Rajagriha to Takshashila
to study medicine under a ‘world-renowned physician’.
After having studied for seven years Jivaka
asked his teacher ‘when his studies might be regarded
as completed’. The teacher said, ‘Take this
spade and seek round about Takshashila a yojana
on every side, and whatever plant you see which is
not medicinal, bring it to me.’ Jivaka went about
the task with diligence, but could not find a single
plant that lacked all medicinal properties. When he
mentioned this to his teacher, the latter certified his
eligibility for independent practice.
Medical practitioners of Jivaka’s time were expected
to be ‘well-read in the texts of the medical
Shastras (adhita-shastra); well up in the imports
of the texts studied; skilled in practical work or
surgical operations (like cheda and sneha); full of
resourcefulness and originality (svayamkriti); possessed
of light touch and swift hand (laghu-hasta);
clean; of an optimistic temperament or cheerful
spirits (shura or vishadarahita); ready with all necessaries
and materials for treatment (sajjopaskarabheshaja);
of a resourceful mind; of keen intellect;
possessed of professional experience (vyavasayi);
learned in theory; and devoted to truth and morality.’
That Jivaka amply met all these requirements is
attested by the anecdotes of his remarkable medical,
surgical, and humanitarian accomplishments.
The variety of disciplines available for study is
indicated by the many departments present in a fullfledged
educational institution of the Mahabharata
times. These included: (i) Agni-sthana, for fire worship
and prayers; (ii) Brahma-sthana, for Vedic
studies; (iii) Vishnu-sthana, for study of raja-niti,
politics, artha-niti, economics, and varta, agriculture
and trade; (iv) Vivasvata-sthana, for astronomy; (v)
Soma-sthana, for botany; (vi) Garuda-sthana, for
training in transport and communications; and (vii)
Mahendra-sthana and Kartikeya-sthana, for various
aspects of military training. Primary education in
the late and post-Vedic period was comprehensive.
Xuanzang
noted that after being formally acquainted
with the Sanskrit language through the Siddham ‘children were introduced at the age of seven to the “great Shastras of the Five Sciences”, viz, vyakarana
(grammar), shilpasthana-vidya (the science of arts
and crafts), chikitsa-vidya (science of medicine),
hetu-vidya (Nyaya, logic, science of reasoning), and
adhyatma-
vidya (inner science [spirituality])’.
Here is a picture of a society that valued knowledge.
The greatest of Vedic treasures was, of course,
the knowledge of Brahman, ‘knowing which all else
is known’, gaining which one transcends sorrow, becomes
perfectly contented, goes beyond fear, and
attains immortality. For providing him with this
knowledge, King Janaka gave his entire kingdom
along with himself to Yajnavalkya, his teacher. Vedic
wisdom was priceless. It remains so even today.
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