Finding Radha Read online

  This Purana speaks of an unnamed lady, who is so much like Radha, but she is not called Radha—she actually remains without a name. In his well-researched work, Sumanta Banerjee4 states that she has been called Anyaradhita, or the ‘conciliated one’—which is an appellation, not a proper noun. And she is conciliated by a Krishna-like cowherd called Mayon who frolics with several gopis and disappears, occasionally, with one of them. The Bhagavata Purana, however, mentions that she is usually singled out for special favours. Because the cowherd (not Krishna, by name) is divine, this was his way of teaching humility to all the gopis, and even the special gopi was taught her share, by being abandoned, time and again. Book 10, Chapter 30, Verses 36–38 of this Purana describes it all. This solitary word, ‘Anyaradhita’, is taken by scholars to be the origin of the proper name ‘Radha’, but as we have seen, the name Radha was already known. We see how much time it takes a folk deity (or a popular tale or rhyme) to reach the next, higher, level—of finding some mention in a sacred text.

  Of course, ‘conciliation’ of Radha does form an integral part of the Radha–Krishna love story and, however ‘humiliating’ this act may have appeared to patriarchy, the common people enjoyed it. They could, obviously, identify themselves with the repeated episodes of ‘conciliation’ of the woman—irrespective of the religiously sanctioned prescription of gender domination. These are the subtextual inferences of societal behaviour that copybook historians usually shy away from—as they are more comfortable with indexed hard references to quote from. In any case, it is interesting to note that Brahmanism finally ‘legitimized’ the character through a new Sanskrit Purana. It is worth noting that this bold Purana was composed in deep Tamil country and not in Braj or Mathura, and that also, by this time, all the eighteen Maha-Puranas had either been completed or had reached a stage of maturity. They were all focused on male deities—Vishnu, Shiva, Brahma, Krishna, Agni, Vayu—and the major exception was the Markandeya Purana of the 7th or 8th century, which had ‘legitimized’ Durga. But the Devi Mahatmya episode did not feature in the main body of the Markandeya Purana—it came in through an appendix. We also need to be clear that though the Bhagavata Purana surely introduced a Radha-like character, who hailed from the community of herders and milkmen, and it also described in detail the divine dance, the Raas Leela, it is actually a long eulogy of Krishna. ‘Thou art Brahman, the ancient One, the immortal One, free from all qualities and miseries. Thou art all-bliss . . . the Lord of the Self, Atmesvara . . . who is to be adored’ (VIII.12.7).

  The fact that this Sanskrit Purana was written by Tamil scholars hints at the existence of a tradition where romance and unorthodox dalliances were accepted. We need to appreciate that Tamil poetry, notably, Sangam literature, was quite familiar with the spirit of puranchi—which was not just lovemaking but a sublime experience. The romance described in the Bhagavata Purana was thus in the best traditions of Tamil poetry, especially the aham variety. Let us recall the story of Andal to understand how deep was the yearning for the lord in Tamil Vaishnavism, the Alvar tradition. Andal could just not live without him and thus merged herself physically into his idol. It is, therefore, not surprising that Sanskrit writers in the Tamil country were more comfortable with a long poetic tradition that celebrated a spirited gopi, called Nappinnai in Tamil lore, who drew Mayon into her dance and was thus his favourite.5 It was not only in south India but also in eastern India that we get indications of Radha. In the same 9th century we are intrigued to observe a partner positioned next to a sculpture of Krishna in Paharpur in Pala-ruled Bengal. As we have seen, Jain tradition was more open to Radha, while Brahmanical literature was still reticent or ambiguous about her. Jain scholars like Somadeva Suri and Vikramabhatta, who wrote between the 9th and the 12th centuries, continue mentioning Radha.

  The real credit for bringing Radha into the mainstream of devotional poetry, however, goes to Jayadeva in eastern India. His immortal Gita Govinda, composed in the 12th century, set new trends like the ashtapadi, or ‘groups-of-eight lyrical couplets’. He could portray divine love with such finesse that he became the fountain of inspiration for countless generations of poets, singers and dancers since then. Though Jayadeva mixed his Sanskrit with Apabhramsa, an Eastern sublanguage, Brahmanical tradition not only accepted him and his Radha–Krishna, but several learned Sanskrit commentaries like Kumbha’s Rasikapriya, Shankara Mishra’s Rasamanjari and Tirumala Deva Raya’s Sruti Ranjana were actually written based on Jayadeva’s work. We also have to mention two other later-15th-century poets, Chandidas of Bengal and Vidyapati of Mithila, who elaborated the path-breaking work of Odisha’s Jayadeva very picturesquely. The trio’s poetry could finally establish the Radha–Krishna legend beyond any challenge. We must not forget to mention that it was Vidyapati who was able to successfully express, for the first time, the subtle nuances that personify the feelings of a woman, which earlier male poets had missed. However, the pinnacle was reached a century later by Surdas—who broke totally free from Sanskrit tradition. By composing in simple and lyrical Braj Bhasha, Surdas touched the common man as none else could dream of. However, Surdas was an ashtachap poet and a follower of Vallabhacharya, who did not agree with the questionable marital status that the Radha–Krishna romance represented—so Surdas overcame the distinctly uncomfortable affair by promptly ‘getting them married’. Despite this, Surdas’s language and emotions were so intense and his style so utterly masterly that he could describe Radha’s pangs as a virahini as vividly as a passionate, forlorn lover.

  We have reached the 16th century now, which is when one can safely aver that Radha and Krishna became an inseparable and accepted part of the Indian tradition. This is also the time when Mughal miniature paintings appeared and started circulating the finest polychromatic paper images all over India. The Rajput schools and other schools of miniature painting introduced the much-needed visual component to the story of Radha and Krishna. The Bhakti movement was another factor that significantly propelled the romantic tale, with Chaitanya beautifully portraying Radha as the metaphor for yearning ‘to be one with the Lord’. Along with literature, visual arts and religion came the powerful and immensely popular medium of mass communication—the performing arts. Radha and Krishna were, thus, united forever. We can conclude this brief account of how Krishna arrived nearly one-and-a-half millenniums after the Vedas were first composed, while Radha took another thirteen centuries more, to make it to the top billing position. A bit of history and a minimal sense of sequencing dates and events will easily belie oft-believed, oft-repeated notions of how deities like Radha–Krishna have always been a part of our history and culture since time immemorial—without dates—i.e. sanatan, or eternal. We are not demeaning them—we are only clarifying facts, so that those who know less may not hijack them for their own agenda.

  3

  RADHA AND THE COMPLETION OF KRISHNA

  MEGHNAD DESAI

  OF ALL THE characters, human or otherwise, in Indian lore, none is as natural and as concocted as Radha. She does not have the status of someone with divine—or at least seigneurial—sanction. She is not in Vyasa’s Mahabharata or Harivamsa or even in the later Bhagavata dated around the 8th century.1 Indeed, she is in no classical story. Krishna is described in those earlier stories as playing with innumerable gopis. He marries eight principal queens and 16,100 minor queens. But his name is not associated with any of the 16,108 women. We do not talk of Krishna–Rukmini or Krishna–Satyabhama. We speak only of Radha–Krishna.

  Radha, directly by her name, does not appear in Sanskrit literature till after the 1st century AD. She is created by the imagination of an all too human and mortal poet Jayadeva. Thus, no one can project her truthfully as belonging to the Dwapara Yuga, which ended with the Mahabharata war and heralded the beginning of the Kali Yuga. Krishna may have existed as a historical personality, or not. Swami Vivekananda expressed some doubts about the historicity of Krishna. Kosambi says that the Greeks visiting India around the beginning of the Common
Era report the worship of someone resembling Krishna who, for them, was like Hercules. Krishna worship seems to catch on in the early centuries of the Common Era. (I discuss these matters in my book Who Wrote the Bhagavadgita?, HarperCollins India, 2015.)

  But even if we dismiss all these ideas as mistaken, not to say, blasphemous, and assert that Krishna is as written about in the classics and so pre–Kali Yuga, we have to confess to the later import of Radha as his consort.2

  Why was it necessary to invent or create Radha? Why did she appear so late in the day as an afterthought? But more important than all that, how come, appearing a thousand years after the Mahabharata, she usurps the position of Krishna’s favourite consort? She is generally described as a betrothed—if not married—woman. There is no secret about the passionate lovemaking that the youthful Krishna and this older woman indulge in by the banks of the river in Gokul. She disappears from the later story of Krishna, never to be mentioned again. He leaves her behind but with no recorded farewell meeting. It is as if she does not matter to him. And, yet, it is Radha–Krishna which is the celebrated pair.

  Why is this so? Was it not thought of as objectionable that an older (albeit young and attractive) woman was abandoning her husband and indulging in amorous play with a young boy? Were the parents not worried that Radha and Krishna were behaving in a manner that was not a good example to set for their daughters and sons? Even if they were broad-minded and dismissed the behaviour as youthful fancy, why elevate the woman who was indulging in such acts to the status of a divine person or at least the favourite partner of a divine person? Or was it believed that as a god Krishna can break all rules of human decorum? He is to be worshipped, not imitated. The generosity of spirit shown with regard to Radha and Krishna despite their ‘immoral’ behaviour is refreshing.

  There are more subversive aspects to Radha. She is an afterthought, but she also emerges from the periphery of Bharatvarsha rather than the centre of Brahmanical culture. K.M. Munshi—a distinguished Gujarati novelist, the founder of Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, a prominent member of the Constituent Assembly and a minister in Nehru’s cabinet—wrote a seven-volume historical novel about Krishna: Krishnavatar. He prefaces his chapter on Radha by saying that Radha is a popular creation. She appears first in Tamil and Prakrit sources. Silappadikaram, according to him, has a reference to one Nappinnai as Krishna’s wife, who is much like Radha. In the Gatha Saptasati, written in the 2nd century AD, there is a mention of Radha. From then onwards, Radha, according to Munshi, is frequently mentioned in the erotic poetry of Prakrit authors. There is also a mention in the stone pillars of the 10th-century King Munj of Malwa (973–994). Miller, in her translation, cited above, confirms the name ‘Nappinnai’, which comes from the south Indian recession of Harivamsa, as Krishna’s wife.3

  The climax comes, of course, in Jayadeva’s Gita Govinda. Jayadeva was the court poet of Maharaja Lakshman Sen (1179–1203). It became a classic within a century and Radha–Krishna worship spread. Vidyapati and Chaitanya also wrote Radha into their poems.

  Munshi’s own characterization of Radha is interesting. She appears in two chapters in the first volume, which covers Krishna’s childhood. She is said to be betrothed to Ayan who is away from Gokul, fighting as a soldier in Kamsa’s army. Munshi gives Radha’s father’s name as Vrishabhanu, and describes Radha as having lost her mother at a young age, growing up with her grandmother before coming to Vrindavana to stay with her father. She finds the child Krishna fascinating, as he does her. In a later chapter, Krishna shocks his parents by expressing a desire to marry Radha. He is dissuaded by Sandipani and his parents, who tell him that he has been created for a divine mission; Radha disappears from the story.

  The brief encounter between Radha and Krishna takes place in Munshi’s story within Radha’s home, where Krishna’s family has recently arrived as their village is threatened by wolves. In the morning, Radha wakes Krishna up and they go bathing. There is much playing. Radha is infatuated with the boy Krishna and his playing of the flute.4

  The puzzle remains. Why was it necessary to invent or create Radha as Krishna’s consort? My conjecture is that powerful as he was in battle and diplomacy, not to mention as the person who recites the Geeta to Arjuna, Krishna was lacking something. Rama had Sita. Vishnu had Lakshmi. Shiva had Parvati. But who did Krishna have? 16,108 women would hardly qualify as significant in his life. Krishna needed one woman, one he cared about over all others. One who could pine for him and make him miserable if she were to neglect him. Jayadeva’s Radha is sad but proud. She will not go to Krishna where he may be playing with the many gopis. She sends her friend to fetch Krishna, who finally arrives to complete their Union. Without Radha, Krishna is incomplete and hence not fully divine. Radha completes Krishna.

  It is her radiant presence for a short but intense period in Krishna’s life that determines her identity. She does not appear later in his life as he goes on to accomplish many things. She is not a trophy he can show off. She is ephemeral but luminous—a dazzling, beautiful and erotic presence in his life. In her he finds fulfilment and in no other.

  All this is imagined by his devotees. They attribute these qualities to Radha. They want to associate Krishna to a unique woman. He cannot have her for himself because she is married. The devotee cannot have God for herself. Krishna is willing to spend intense moments with Radha knowing full well that these moments are precious and limited. So the brief time together has to be enjoyed with great intensity. This is what the devotee will do. S/he will contemplate Radha and Krishna for a short while but intensely. The longing Radha and Krishna had for each other is what they have for their favourite pair. Radha and Krishna together steal a few moments and achieve a happy, perfect Union. That is all the devotee can hope for.

  The significance of Radha’s emergence from the periphery of Hinduism rather than in its core mythology is also worth analysing. My conjecture is that the spread of Bhakti is at the heart of this. The Bhakti movement originates in south India and goes north. Buddhism had inaugurated the cult of a personalized God. The multiple gods in the Rig Veda and later get truncated within Hinduism into a few Gods—Shiva, Vishnu and Kali in their multiple manifestations. Bhakti was all about a personal God whom the devotee could associate with in a human relationship. She could chide, love, get angry with and envelop the God in her devotional feelings, as indeed Radha does with Krishna. Shiva is humanized by Parvati though otherwise he can be destructive. Krishna is made human by Radha. Until the advent of Bhakti, Krishna does not need Radha. It is as a personal God during the rise and growth of the Bhakti movement that Radha comes to the rescue of Krishna and completes him as a God whom people can love.

  Radha was created by the people to make Krishna a more lovable God than he would have been without her.

  4

  GITA GOVINDA: ILLUSTRATED MANUSCRIPTS FROM RAJASTHAN

  KAPILA VATSYAYAN

  ALTHOUGH MUCH HAS been written on the emergence and development of the diverse schools of Rajasthani painting and the characteristics which distinguish one school from the other, the role of the Gita Govinda in shaping the pictorial styles has not been as clearly defined. A perusal of the Gita Govinda–illustrated manuscripts from Rajasthan offers convincing proof of the unique impact of this work on the arts of Rajasthan, particularly music and painting. From the third quarter of the 16th century to the first quarter of the 20th century, at least twenty complete sets must have been executed. Many more may come to light if the unpublished collections of the several private and public libraries are carefully examined. Even from the illustrated manuscripts studied by the author, it should now be possible to place these manuscripts in a chronological order with a rough identification of provenance and sub-school.

  The first Gita Govinda–illustrated manuscripts begin to appear in the late 15th or early 16th century. The illustration of the manuscript discovered by Mazmudar is the earliest belonging to a period roughly from 1485 AD to 1525 AD. The illustrations are restricted to t
he ten avatars1 and stylistically they are a close parallel to the Jain miniatures of the period. Possibly, the manuscript was executed in Gujarat. Their abstract quality without human figurative drawing is a distinguishing feature.

  Thereafter appears the set of the Gita Govinda illustrations executed in the Caurapancasika style, possibly belonging to the period 1525–75 AD. A few folios are in the collections of the Prince of Wales Museum, Mumbai. Judging from these folios, it would appear that the set contained nearly 150 folios and that an attempt was being made to illustrate each verse.2 For the first time in these paintings appear cuckoos, birds and animals, which can be directly related to the verbal imagery of the poem. Unlike the illustrated manuscripts of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, the artist is obliged to discard the straight sequential narrative of events; he adopts, instead, another technique of transforming the verbal imagery and phraseology into pictorial motifs. A detailed reappraisal of this set is essential because it is the commencement of a new pictorial vision which is clearly different from the narrative approach of Indian relief sculpture. The content of the Gita Govinda, thematically, is thin; its strength and power lie in the dramatization of the inner emotional states through a rich and multilayered structure of similes and metaphors. Also, here, the drama of human emotions takes place through the narration, reminiscence and fantasy of two characters: the third (i.e. the sakhi) is the bridge between the two. The painter of the Gita Govinda in the Caurapancasika style presents a pictorial counterpart by dividing his surface through central trees, arches and bowers. This enables him to demarcate areas and also provide continuity. The change from the geometrical segments of the Jain painting is unambiguous: the difference between this treatment of flat surface and the multiple planes of Mughal painting is also clear. This compositional structure of the paintings of the set marks the beginning of a pictorial vision which is quite distinct from that followed in the Bhagavata Purana and Caurapancasika paintings in the same style. This is in no small measure accounted for by the demands made on the painter by the text he was handling.