ACTA ORIENTALIA

ACTA ORIENTALIA

EDIDERUNT

SOCIETATES ORIENTALES DANICA FENNICA

NORVEGIA SVECIA

CURANTIBUS

LEIF LITTRUP, HAVNIÆ HEIKKI PALVA, HELSINGIÆ

ASKO PARPOLA, HELSINGIÆ TORBJÖRN LODÉN, HOLMIÆ

SIEGFRIED LIENHARD, HOLMIÆ SAPHINAZ AMAL NAGUIB, OSLO

PER KVÆRNE, OSLO WOLFGANG-E. SCHARLIPP, HAVNIÆ

REDIGENDA CURAVIT CLAUS PETER ZOLLER

LXXVII

Contents

ARTICLES PER-JOHAN NORELIUS: The Honey-Eating Birds and the Tree of Life: Notes on Ṛgveda 1.164.20-22 .............................................................. 3CLAUS PETER ZOLLER: Outer and Inner Indo-Aryan, and northern India as an ancient linguistic area ....................................................... 71DAVID ROBBINS TIEN: Chinese origin of the term pagoda: Liang Sicheng’s proposed etymology ......................................................... 133PARTHIBAN RAJUKALIDOSS: Nāyaka Chefs-d’œuvre: Structure and Iconography of the Śrīvilliputtūr Tēr ................................................ 145

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CHASHAB, THUPTEN KUNGA AND FILIP MAJKOWSKI. Catalogue of the Tibetan Texts in the Pander Collection: Part A (Complete) and Part B (Partial) Held by the Jagiellonian Library, Cracow, reviewed by Per Kværne……………………………………………………………. 193

Acta Orientalia 2016: 77, 3–70. Printed in India – all rights reserved

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The Honey-Eating Birds and the Tree of Life: Notes on Ṛgveda 1.164.20-22

Per-Johan Norelius Gothenburg

Abstract

The following article is an attempt at interpretation of the oft-discussed “riddle” of the birds (Ṛgveda 1.164.20-22). Recognizing that the riddle, as much of Vedic poetry, operates on several “levels” (cosmic, ritual, etc.) and may be meant to be answered in more than one way, the present approach sees the enigma as drawing on mythical and cosmological imagery current in early Vedic times; imagery that also finds expressions elsewhere in the Ṛgveda and later texts. Following the majority of earlier interpreters, I take the fig-tree on which the birds are perched to be the world-tree, and the “figs” or “honey” on which they feed to be soma or amŕta-. Following Hillebrandt and Kuiper, the two birds in 1.164.20 are interpreted as the sun and the moon. The image of one or more birds (suparṇá-) associated with the drink of immortality is traced through the Vedic literature; in some places it is possible to identify it as Soma (from late Ṛgvedic times equated to the moon). It is further suggested that both the bird and the world-tree are associated with the spring or receptacle of soma in heaven, which, following Witzel, is identified as the Seven

4 Per-Johan Norelius

Seers, the constellation Ursa Maior. The article is concluded by a discussion of the Vedic imagery of a world-tree and a drink of immortality, and its parallels in Indo-European and Eurasian myths and cosmologies. Keywords: riddles, Ṛgveda, Vedic religion, soma, cosmology, myth, axis mundi, tree of life, Indo-European.

The riddle and its interpreters

It is not my intention to provide yet another exegesis of the “riddle-hymn” Ṛgveda 1.164; 1 while there are certainly many unsolved problems in this enigmatic text, the somewhat more modest purpose of the present paper is to shed some new light on the, probably, most oft-discussed stanzas of the hymn: 20-22, the famous “riddle” of the birds.

Linguistically, the stanzas concerned present no great difficulties:

Two birds,2 intimate companions, clasp the same tree;

One of them eats the sweet fig;3 the other watches without eating.

1 Discussions of this particular hymn include Haug 1875 (still very readable); Deussen 1906, pp. 105-19 (who sees the hymn as an early example of Vedic “monism”); Kunhan Raja 1956 (an edition and translation of RV 1.164 with the commentaries of Sāyaṇa and Ātmānanda); Agrawala 1963 (a book-length translation-cum-study, often highly subjective and hazardous in its use of much younger materials); Oldenberg 1909-12: I, pp. 157-60; Renou 1967, pp. 88-93 (both dealing mainly with linguistic issues; the verses discussed here are not treated by Oldenberg); Brown 1968 (interpreting the various images used in the hymn in the light of early Vedic cosmology); Houben 2000 (suggesting a connection of many of the stanzas with the Pravargya rite). Somewhat lengthy discussions can also be found in translations such as Geldner, O’Flaherty, and Jamison & Brereton. Among studies devoted specifically to the stanzas 20-22, mention should be made of Thieme 1949, pp. 55-73 (an original cosmological interpretation which we will have occasion to return to) and Johnson 1980, pp. 42-65 (elaborating on Geldner’s interpretation of the two birds as a learned and an ignorant priest or poet, for which see below). 2 We will return later on to the meaning of suparṇá-. 3 Thieme (1949, p. 63) rightly rejects earlier, imprecise renderings of píppala-, such as Geldner’s “Beere”; “pippala heißt im gesamten indischen Altertum und auch heute noch ein ganz bestimmter Feigenbaum, die Ficus religiosa, und ihre Frucht”. This is the tree mostly known as aśvattha- in Sanskrit literature.

The Honey-Eating Birds and the Tree of Life 5

Where birds unblinkingly shriek4 for a share of the amŕta-,5 for the distributions6 –

here, the mighty guardian of the whole world, the inspired one,7 has entered me, the ignorant.

In that very tree on which all the honey-eating birds settle down and breed,

at its top, they say, is the sweet fig. One who does not know the Father will not attain it.8

4 abhi- svár- means (Böhtlingk & Roth, s.v. svar) “mit Tönen begrüssen, singend einfallen, einstimmen”. 5 In which sense the word is used here – as ”immortality” or as the “food or drink of immortality”, “ambrosia” (amŕta- being etymologically related to the Greek word) – is (as often) difficult to determine. Much speaks, as we shall see, for the latter meaning. 6 The semantic meaning of vidátha- is clear enough: it refers to a congregation, one of the chief functions of which is the distribution of wealth in the form of spoils or rewards. (Cf. Mayrhofer 1986, s.v.: “(festliche) Zuteilung”.) This function is implied in the present verse by the word bhāgá-, “share”. The etymology of vidátha- is a more controversial matter. Thieme’s (op. cit., pp. 35-49) derivation from vi- dhā- and Kuiper’s (1974, 1979) from vi- dā- (connecting it with ví dayate), both meaning “to distribute”, are attractive but suffer from linguistic difficulties; the accent is in the wrong place, and the unaspirated -d- is problematic when it comes to Thieme’s suggestion. Kuiper’s (1979) attempt to save his etymology by postulating a proto-Vedic accentuation on the penultimate syllable in words ending with -atha-, demands too much special pleading. Another, phonetically more plausible, etymology, first proposed by Geldner and endorsed by Oldenberg (1967, pp. 108-11) and Houben (2000, p. 521 n. 113), derives the word from vid- “to know, to find”; the specialized knowledge or wisdom of the participants in the vidátha- would then have given this sort of congregation its name. As will be seen, wisdom or sacerdotal learning is a central theme in the stanzas under discussion. The motif of distribution should, however, not be downplayed, as in Houben’s (loc. cit.) somewhat unprecise rendering “congregation”, or in Johnon’s picture of a “symposium contest” between learned poets (on which cf. Kuiper 1979, p. 273: “… only correct in so far as the distribution of wealth must have been part of a socio-religious contest and, being apparently a kind of potlach, was a contest in itself”). 7 On the meaning of dhīra- in the RV, cf. Gonda 1963, chap. V. 8 dvā suparṇā sayújā sákhāyā samānáṃ vrkṣám pári ṣasvajāte / táyor anyáḥ píppalaṃ svādv átty ánaśnann anyó abhí cākaśīti // yátrā suparṇā amŕtasya bhāgám ánimeṣaṃ vidáthābhisváranti / inó víśvasya bhúvanasya gopāḥ sá mā dhīraḥ pākam átrā viveśa // yásmin vrkṣé madhvádaḥ suparṇā niviśánte súvate cādhi víśve / tásyéd āhuḥ píppalaṃ svādv ágre tán nón naśad yáḥ pitáraṃ ná véda //


Interpretations of the meaning of the two birds in st. 20 abound. Leaving aside the anachronistic native tradition which makes the fig-eating bird the embodied soul foolishly enjoying the ephemeral pleasures of the world, and the non-eating bird, God or the supreme soul,9 the birds have been interpreted variously as sun and moon,10 day and night,11 a learned and an ignorant priest (or a novice),12 the waxing and waning moon,13 the sun and the gharma pot used in the Pravargya rite.14 Of course, it is possible – even likely – that the hymn operates on several levels (cosmological, ritualistic, etc.), and that different meanings are implied in one and the same passage. While the present discussion will deal mainly with possible cosmological associations, it should be made clear that these do not necessarily exclude other interpretations; I do not think, for instance, that the view that makes the tree in the verses a metaphorical “tree of knowledge” (Geldner, Brown, Johnson15), whose fruits are eaten by learned or inspired priests (“birds”), is incompatible with the other main line of interpretation, which holds that it is the “world-tree” or the “tree of life” (Deussen, Thieme, Kuiper, Houben).

Indeed, it is hard to deny the connection of the tree and its fruits to knowledge or wisdom:16 only the one who “knows the Father”17 can reach the fruit at its top; and the poet’s own confession of ignorance (“the inspired one has entered me, the ignorant”) suggests a kinship 9 Muṇḍaka Upaniṣad 3.1.1; Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad 4.6-7; Cūlikā Upaniṣad 8; Mbh 14.47.15 (critical edition). This interpretation is followed by medieval commentators such as Sāyaṇa (on RV 1.164.20). 10 Hillebrandt 1913, p. 104; Kuiper 1983, pp. 126-27. This possibility was first brought up, though ultimately rejected, by Haug (p. 483). 11 Deussen 1906, pp. 112-13. 12 Geldner ad loc.; Brown 1968, p. 208; Johnson, loc. cit. 13 Thieme, loc. cit. 14 Houben 2000, pp. 520-21. 15 Cf. also Kunhan Raja (”the fruits of wisdom”, 1956 p. xxxii). This author’s opinion that “the tree can only be the universe” (p. 37) is perhaps inspired by the inverted tree as an image of the world in Bhagavadgītā 16.1ff. 16 It may be of importance that the birds are referred to as sákhāyā, “companions”, as this term is elsewhere sometimes used to denote members of a learned congregation of poets or priests (cf. Elizarenkova 1997, p. 27, commenting on RV 10.71, a hymn that, like much of 1.164, deals with the theme of vāc- or sacred speech). 17 There exist various suggestions as to the identity of this figure (Agni: Brown, p. 214; Heaven: Haug, p. 285; “der Allvater”: Geldner; the sun: Houben, p. 522). If the “Father”, as cautiously suggested here, is the fig-eating bird in st. 20, then Soma may be the answer (cf. below).


with the birds that do not reach the fruit. This contrast between eating and non-eating has induced some writers (Geldner, Brown, Johnson18) to see a hierarchical relationship between the two birds in st. 20; the bird eating the fig being superior to the one that doesn’t, as opposed to the view of native tradition. This is a tempting conclusion, though it is not certain that the one non-eating bird in st. 20 should be counted among the several birds desiring the “sweet fig” in st. 22.19 In fact, it seems odd that the author of the hymn would speak of only one eating bird in st. 20 if nothing distinguished it from the many birds in the next couple of verses. Any hierarchical relationship in the stanzas would rather, I think – and this view will be supported with comparisons to other passages – be between the one eating bird in st. 20 and the many birds in 21-22. While the bird in st. 20 is already perched on the tree and eating the desirable figs, the other birds are described as anxiously shrieking for these figs, which are hard to obtain – being at the top of the tree, where they can be reached only by one who has the required knowledge. The birds are said to shriek “for a share of the amŕta- (ambrosia), for the distributions”, where the amŕta-, of course, is identical with the “honey” or the “fig”, and the “distributions” (vidátha-) refer to an apportioning of wealth. The birds, then, seek a “share” of that which the bird in st. 20 already is in possession of. It is possible that this bird is identical with the “Father”, on whom the attainment of the figs depends. If so, this bird may be responsible for the apportioning of the figs among the other birds; indeed, there are some analogous passages which support this conclusion, as we shall see.20

Something should be said on the word suparṇá- (lit. the “fair-feathered one”), tentatively translated above as “bird”. In classical Sanskrit, the word means “eagle”, and it has usually been so translated also in the Veda. While it clearly denotes some kind of bird of prey 18 Also Lommel 1978, p. 518. 19 Cf. Thieme’s (pp. 57-8) criticism of Geldner’s view. 20 If the designation “Father” is to be understood literally, the image may be one of a (male) parent bird feeding its young (bi-parental care being predominant among birds); the bird pecks the food, then feeds it to the young from its beak. Johnson (1980, pp. 51-2) thinks the two birds are a male and a female (grammatically possible in the case of dvā suparṇā sayújā sákhāyā, though the masculine anyáḥ … anyó would seem to exclude such a conclusion) or a parent bird and its young, and that the one is feeding the other by regurgitating its food. The “watching” bird would be looking on as the other one swallows the figs, which it will then regurgitate.


already in the RV, it is however not certain that it has the meaning “eagle” here; nor can it be excluded that it may be used to designate a number of birds, rather than a single species.21 In the hymns 4.26 and 27, relating the myth of the theft of the soma by a bird, the avian protagonist is referred to interchangeably as suparṇá- and śyená-, suggesting either an identity or a partial semantic overlap between the meanings of these words. 22 śyená- (Avestan saēna-) is usually rendered either as “falcon”, “eagle”, or “hawk”.23 Ulrich Schneider24 has put forward strong arguments for identifying the bird of RV 4.26-27 as a falcon; arguing, first, that the śyená- – whose speed and courage are praised in these hymns – seizes the soma from its guardians in the way a raptor snatches its prey;25 second, that falconry is described in these hymns. H.-P. Schmidt, while refraining from identifying any particular species as the śyená-/ saēna-, has brought the validity of the latter argument into question, pointing out that other raptors may be used for falconry and that Ktesias actually mentions the Golden Eagle being used for this purpose by the Indians.26 Frits Staal,27 who bases his conclusions on the form of the śyena-shaped fire-altar in the Agnicayana rite (which suggests a bird with a wide wingspan but short tail-feathers), thinks of a vulture, opting for the Himalayan Griffon (Gyps himalayensis).28 None of these suggestions 21 The dictionaries typically list a number of birds of prey as possible candidates; cf. e.g. Böhtlingk & Roth, s.v. suparṇa: “ein best. grosser Vogel, Raubvogel: Adler, Geier”. 22 In later Vedic times, a distinction seems to be made; cf. Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad 4.3.19: śyeno vā suparṇo vā. 23 The dictionaries are inconclusive: ”Raubvogel, Falke” (Mayrhofer); “Adler; auch Falke oder Habicht” (Böhtlingk & Roth); “der grösste und stärkste Raubvogel, wol ursprünglich der nach seiner röthlich-weissen Farbe benannte Lämmergeier, aber auch wol in allgemeinerem Sinne Adler, Falke” (Grassmann). “The later Indo-Iranian languages in which the word is preserved show the meanings ‘falcon’ and ‘hawk’, but also ‘kite’, and in Simhalese we find three meanings: ‘falcon’, ‘eagle’, and ‘kite’ … The Indian evidence, even if it were unambiguous, would not be probative for Iranian since etymologically identical names often refer to different animals in different languages” (Schmidt 1980, p. 16). 24 Schneider 1971, pp. 31-7. 25 In the Middle Vedic śyena rite, a form of black magic (abhicāra-), the sacrificer “seizes” his enemy “like a śyena seizes [its prey]” (yathā śyena ādadīta). (ṢvB 4.2.3.) 26 Schmidt 1980, p. 16. 27 Staal 2010 [1983], pp. 88-90. 28 One might compare Staal’s illustrations showing the outlines of the fire-altar with the vulture’s silhouette in Ali 1955, pl. 67.


is conclusive; the only thing certain is that the word denotes a bird of prey, but it may not refer any single species, nor is it certain that its meaning is identical with that of suparṇá-. “Bird of prey” may then be the best tentative translation of both these words.

However, another interpretation of suparṇá-, based exclusively on RV 1.164.20-22 quoted above, holds that a bird of prey, at least in these verses, cannot be meant, as birds of prey don’t eat fruit. This fact was pointed out by Thieme, who, however, argued that we “dürfen … nun nicht vollständige zoologische Genauigkeit erwarten”,29 and preferred to render suparṇá- as “Adler”. In a lengthy discussion, Johnson30 has attempted to identify the suparṇá- of the riddle as a tree-inhabiting, frugivorous bird with handsome plumage; he opts for the Golden Oriole.

It appears, in conclusion, that suparṇá- does not signify any particular species of birds – being used for raptors as well as fruit-eaters – but rather “may be taken as one of the synonyms for bird, such as ví, garútmat”.31 As it seems futile to try to narrow down its meaning more than that, the word will be rendered simply as “bird” throughout this paper.

29 Thieme 1949, p. 59. In support of his view that the word denotes an eagle, Thieme adduced the beautiful plumage of this bird, and the fact that eagles often hunt and are seen in pairs. 30 Johnson, op. cit., chap. 3. Johnson partly bases his conclusions on a conference paper by K. N. Dave. While this was not accessible to me, a discussion of the word suparṇá- which appears to be pretty much the same as the one referred to by Johnson is included in Dave’s book Birds in Sanskrit Literature (2005 [1985]), pp. 72-5. One of Dave’s arguments is that the word sayújā in 1.164.20 must mean two pairs of birds, which would fit the oriole; this bird often builds its nest in a tree beneath the nest of a bird of prey, whose presence keeps potential attackers away. The two pairs would then be a male and a female oriole and a male and a female eagle or other bird of prey; this latter couple is described as “watching” because they “guard” the tree. Johnson (pp. 50-1) rightly criticizes these arguments, rejecting Dave’s reading of sayújā as two pairs as well as citing ornithologists to the effect that orioles do not, in fact, build their nests beneath eagles’ nests. 31 Houben, op. cit., p. 521 (who sees Johnson’s oriole as the most likely candidate in the case of RV 1.164.20-22).


Thieme’s view: the two birds and the moon

The “riddles” of the Vedic hymns are, as has long been recognized,32 based on poetical images and phrases current in the priestly circles for which the riddles were probably intended; so that the answer to a riddle would quickly suggest itself to someone sufficiently familiar with this phraseology. For a modern researcher, this means that a solution sometimes becomes possible through the recurrence of an image in another hymn, perhaps in a less cryptic context. Using this kind of method, Thieme33 was able to build an impressive case for the tree in RV 1.164.20-22 being the world-tree or axis mundi; the figs, the light of the firmament – identified with soma and the ambrosia (amŕta-) of the gods34 – which is absorbed by the moon and causes it to swell; the two birds, the waxing and waning moon; and the several “unblinking” birds, the stars. (A very similar, though less thoroughly argued, interpretation had in fact been suggested by Hillebrandt.35) Though it is hard to do justice to Thieme’s argument in the limited space at our disposal, the following summary should, I think, bring out the most essential points: the “mighty guardian of the whole world”, who is “wise, inspired” (dhīra-) and is said to “enter” the poet in st. 21, is identified as Soma who, as the sacred beverage, “enters” and inspires the poet; the verb ā- viś- (“to enter”) being typically used in connection with the consumption of Soma (who is also characterized as dhīra-) by gods or men.36 The “honey” on which the

32 Cf. e.g. Gonda 1975, pp. 132-35. 33 Thieme 1949. 34 On the equation of amŕta- and light, see Thieme, op. cit., p. 63ff. 35 Hillebrandt (1913, p. 105) saw the two birds as sun and moon (the latter being identical with Soma); Soma is the one who has “entered” the poet as the sacrificial drink in st. 21; the plurality of birds are the stars, which are identical with the Ancestors who have gone to heaven. No interpretation of the “fig” is given here; elsewhere, (Hillebrandt 1999: I, p. 441 n. 240) he identified it as the soma that is drunk by the Ancestors. This time, however, he had to leave out st. 20 completely from his interpretation; perhaps he ran into difficulties when trying to hold on to his identification of the one fig-eating bird as the moon/Soma, as the image of Soma the bird eating Soma the fig would be a farfetched one. 36 Thieme, op. cit., p. 66. (The “Father” mentioned in st. 22 may likewise be Soma (cf. above); no one who does not know him gets to taste the “sweet fig”.) On the verb ā- viś- used in connection with soma, cf. also Smith 2009, p. 179ff, who notes that it may refer both to the actual beverage entering its consumer, and the divine Soma “possessing” (this being one meaning of ā- viś-) a person through the drink. The poets


many birds feed is likewise the soma, which, of course, is frequently denoted by the word mádhu-, as well as amŕta-.

In post-Ṛgvedic texts, Soma is, of course, identified with the moon; it is said to be gradually consumed by the gods in the dark half of each month, causing the moon to wane.37 In the RV there is, however, only one undisputed occurrence of the identification of Soma with this luminary: the “wedding hymn”, 10.85, which is considered to be one of the very latest texts of the RV. Thieme does not suggest that the moon is already identified with Soma in 1.164.20-22, asserting that the connection between the two is of a different kind here: “Jedenfalls hat der Soma die gleiche Beziehung wie zum Mond in unserm Vers auch zu den Sternen. Auch sie speisen sich von dem lebendigen Himmelslicht, d. h. dem Soma.”38 Yet the waxing of the moon through absorption of the divine liquid, as he depicts it, certainly is a conception that belongs to the later Soma/Moon mythology.

The bird eating the fig is, according to Thieme, the waxing moon, feeding on the light of heaven; the bird that merely looks on is the waning moon. The word suparṇá- is, as Thieme notes, frequently used to denote heavenly luminaries in the RV, and especially the sun; at least in 1.105.1 it is, however, used for the moon: “The moon courses as a bird in the [heavenly] waters” (candrámā apsv àntár ā suparṇó dhāvate diví). More direct evidence can be found in the undeniable similarities between 1.164.20-22 and the stanzas 10.114.3-

inspired by the soma-juice are, in a sense, possessed by the deity Soma. Such a meaning would fit very well to the passage 1.164.21. 37 Reference may be made to Gonda 1985, p. 44ff; Hillebrandt 1999: I, p. 195ff; and especially Wilden 2000, pp. 77-94. Why Soma came to be identified with the moon remains one of the great riddles of early Vedic religion, and is a question that cannot be discussed at length here; see Gonda, op. cit., for a summary of views. In RV 8.82.8, however, soma (i.e., the soma-stalks) soaked in water is compared to the moon in the (heavenly) waters (yó apsú candrámā iva sómaś camūṣu dádrśe); and it is possible that such comparisons eventually led to an identification between the two. The act of swelling (pyā-) is common to them both (the waxing moon; the dried soma-stalks swelling when placed in water), and this analogy (cf. AV 7.81.6; Wilden, p. 76) is perhaps implied already in the image in 8.82.8. The attribution of immortality and the ability of rejuvenation to the moon may also have been a factor, as soma, too, was said to bestow vigor and “immortality”; thus 10.85.19 (discussed below) states that the moon – here identified with Soma – prolongs the life of the gods. 38 Op. cit., p. 66.


5, to which Haug39 was the first to draw attention and which, though any affinity between the passages was promptly dismissed by Geldner,40 were again discussed by Thieme. I provide the following translation, which does not differ in any significant way from those of most translators:

A young woman having four plaits, beautifully adorned, with ghee on her face, clothes herself in coverings (?).41

Two male birds have settled on her, where the gods have received their share.

The one bird has entered the ocean; he surveys this entire world.

With an immature mind, I watched him close by. The mother licks him, and he licks the mother.

The bird, being one, the priests, the seers, arrange with words in many ways;

making verses at the sacrifices, they measure out the twelve cups of soma. 42

The dependence of parts of these verses on 1.164.20-22 is fairly certain, as Thieme makes clear. The image of two birds perched on a young woman seems to be the result of a not completely successful transposition of the image in 1.164.20. Words and phrases from 1.164 are easily recognized, though somewhat modified: the pāka- mánas- (“immature mind”) of the poet, reminiscent of the admission of being an ignorant (pāka-) in 1.164.21; the mention of the “share of the gods” (cf. the “share of amŕta-” in 1.164.21); and the stanza 1.114.5, based on 1.164.46. The reference to the gods’ having received their share suggests a distribution or portioning out, as mentioned in 1.164.21 (vidátha-). The identity of the single bird with Soma is clearly brought out here: the bird is multiplied by the priests, who measure out the

39 Haug, op. cit., pp. 481-82. 40 Note to RV 1.164.20-22: “Etwas anderes sind die beiden suparṇā in 10, 114, 3”. 41 On vayúna- cf. Thieme, op. cit., pp. 13-25. 42 cátuṣkapardā yuvatíḥ supéśā ghrtápratīkā vayúnāni vaste / tásyāṃ suparṇā vŕṣaṇā ní ṣedatur yátra devā dadhiré bhāgadhéyam // ékaḥ suparṇáḥ sá samudrám ā viveśa sá idáṃ víśvam bhúvanaṃ ví caṣṭe / tám pākena mánasāpaśyam ántitas tám mātā reḷhi sá u reḷhi mātáram // suparṇáṃ víprāḥ kaváyo vácobhir ékaṃ sántam bahudhā kalpayanti / chándāṃsi ca dádhato adhvaréṣu gráhān sómasya mimate dvādaśa //


sacred drink in twelve cups. It should be noted that these twelve do not seem to have any factual correspondence in the ritual: rather, they should be understood as the months of the year, which are indeed “measured out” by the moon.43 The “share of the gods” or “share of amŕta-”, located where the birds nest, or at the top of the tree, can also be identified as the sacrificial drink; amŕta-, the “ambrosia” of the gods, is often identified with soma.44 The ocean which the “one bird” has entered is the heavenly waters. The “young woman” is, in Thieme’s interpretation, the night sky; he assigns the same meaning to the crown of the tree in 1.164.20-22. We will take a look at his arguments for this identification later on.

The two birds, then, would in fact be two aspects of one and the same luminary, which would explain why the stanzas 1.114.4-5 go on to speak of the “one bird” as a single entity. The fig-eating bird being the waxing moon, it seems plausible that the waning moon could be described as “non-eating”, in which case its shrinking would perhaps be implied as a result of this fasting. As to the mention of its “watching”, it is not immediately clear in what way this would be a characteristic of the waning moon. Thieme understands the verb abhí cākaśīti to mean that the bird faces and watches the eating bird. The opposed conclaves of the waxing and the waning moon could, though they are not simultaneously seen, conceivably be pictured as two birds facing each other on a tree-branch. It is, however, not certain that the non-eating bird looks at the other bird; and a different line of interpretation is possible.

It was Kuiper 45 who, while agreeing with Thieme’s interpretation of the tree as the “world-tree”, pointed out the similarities between, on the one hand, the stanzas RV 10.85.18-19, and, on the other, 1.164.20-22 and 10.114.3-5, quoted above. The verses may be translated as follows:

43 The moon is frequently said to “measure out” (mā-) the months; the verbal root used in this context recurs in the word for “moon”, māsa- (later candramás-, “the shining más-”), as well as in māḥ, “month”. 44 Cf. Gonda 1985; Lommel 1978, pp. 314-23. On the word amŕta- (lit. “immortality”, but usually in the sense of prolonged, rather than eternal, life), and its relationship to the Greek ambrosia, see Thieme, op. cit., p. 64ff; 1968; and cf. Gonda, op. cit., p. 61ff. 45 Kuiper 1983, p. 126.


These two move, one after the other,46 by means of their wondrous power; two playing children wander about the sacrifice.

One surveys (abhicáṣṭa) all creatures, the other, apportioning the seasons, is born again.

He becomes ever new as he is born; he walks in front of the dawns as the sign of the days.

As he comes, he apportions the share (bhāgáṃ) to the gods. The moon prolongs life, [making it] long.47

This is the only hymn in the RV in which the identification of Soma and the moon is indisputable. The notion that it apportions the “share” of the gods, prolonging life, foreshadows the conception of the moon as a vessel containing the sacred drink; no doubt the moon’s being “reborn” again and again, as mentioned in these verses, was one of the reasons for its identification with the immortality-bestowing drink of the gods. The two birds in 10.114.3 are said to be perching “where the gods receive their share” (yátra devā dadhiré bhāgadhéyam); in 1.164.21, the (many) birds shriek for the “share of amŕta-” (amŕtasya bhāgám), “for the distributions” (vidáthā). As is well known, the amŕta- or ambrosia is often identified with soma, and though the word is not explicitly mentioned in 10.85.18-19, the notion that the “share of the gods” prolongs life is a clear indication of what is meant. In 1.164.22, the birds seeking the amŕta- are described as madhvádaḥ, “honey-eating”, the “honey” (madhu) most likely being soma, which is often referred to by this word. The “sweet fig” (píppalaṃ svādv) at the top of the tree must be the same.

Sun and moon

Kuiper sees the pair described in 10.85.18-19 as the sun and the moon, and though the sun is not expressly named, the same view has been held by most translators (as well as Sāyaṇa).48 There is no indication

46 Following Oldenberg 1909-12: II, p. 288. 47 pūrvāparáṃ carato māyáyaitaú śíśū krīḷantau pári yāto adhvarám / víśvāny anyó bhúvanābhicáṣṭa rtūmr anyó vidádhaj jāyate púnaḥ // návo-navo bhavati jāyamānó 'hnāṃ ketúr uṣásām ety ágram / bhāgáṃ devébhyo ví dadhāty āyán prá candrámās tirate dīrghám āyuḥ //. 48 E.g. Geldner (cautiously), O’Flaherty, Jamison & Brereton.


that the one who “surveys all creatures” would be an aspect of the moon; in fact, omnivision is a typical characteristic of the sun in the Vedic hymns. As already mentioned, suparṇá-, too, is especially often used to denote the sun.49 With this in mind, it is perhaps a bit odd that no one, at least to my knowledge, has ventured to compare the onlooking bird in 1.164.20 with other instances in which a suparṇá- is described as watching or seeing; especially as there are several such occurrences in the RV. One example is 1.35.7, part of a hymn to the solar deity Savitr, which describes the nocturnal movements of the sun:

The bird (suparṇó) has looked across (ví … akhyad) the middle realms of space, the deeply inspired, lordly one, having good guidance.

Where is the sun now? Who has understood it? To what heaven has its ray extended?50

Soma, whose connection with the sun antedates that with the moon,51 is significantly described in very similar words in passages where this identity or connection is stressed:52

Like an ox walking around the herds has he roared, having assumed the brilliance of the sun.

The heavenly bird (divyáḥ suparṇó) looks down (‘va cakṣata) upon the earth; Soma surveys the beings through his power.53 (9.71.9.)

As a heavenly bird, look down (divyáḥ suparṇó ‘va cakṣi), Soma, making the streams swell through your activity at the sacrificial rite of the gods.

Enter, o Indu, the soma-containing vessel; go, roaring, to the ray of the sun.54 (9.97.33.)

49 The RV and AV passages where this or other words for “bird” (e.g., pataṃgá-) denote the sun were collected by Kirfel 1967 [1920], pp. 18-19. 50 ví suparṇó antárikṣāṇy akhyad gabhīrávepā ásuraḥ sunītháḥ / kvèdānīṃ sūryaḥ káś ciketa katamāṃ dyāṃ raśmír asyā tatāna //. 51 Cf. Lüders 1951, pp. 256-68. 52 Cf. the discussion of these passages by Roesler 1997, p. 207 (the soma-juice poured out in the vessel being “macrocosmically” united with the sun). 53 ukṣéva yūthā pariyánn arāvīd ádhi tvíṣīr adhita sūryasya / divyáḥ suparṇó 'va cakṣata kṣāṃ sómaḥ pári krátunā paśyate jāḥ //.


Cf. also AV 13.2.9c-d: “The heavenly bird, the hero, Aditi’s son, has surveyed all beings”;55 and 13.3.1c-d: “… in whom the directions reside, the six wide [regions], along which the bird (pataṅgá-) looks out”.56 Both passages appear in hymns to Rohita, the “ruddy”, rising sun. In AV 7.41.1-2, the “bird of prey surveying mankind, watching the dwelling-places” (śyenó nrcákṣā avasānadarśáḥ, st. 1), the “bird of prey, surveying mankind, the heavenly bird with a thousand feet, a hundred wombs, bestowing strength”57 (st. 2), likewise appears to be the sun.58

If the bird in 1.164.20 is the sun, the mention of its “watching” may, then, refer to its surveying the world from the crown of the cosmic tree (i.e., heaven), rather than looking at the other bird.

In the hymn 1.164 itself, the sun is once characterized by its vision, although it is not called a bird. The passage is st. 44, which, though seemingly obscure, has long been convincingly and more or less unanimously interpreted:

Three long-haired ones appear in season. One of them shaves in the course of a year; one looks out over everything through his powers; of one, the onrush can be seen, not the form.59

The one who “shaves” is Agni, who is elsewhere said to “shave” the “hairs” or “beard” of the earth (i.e., vegetation) in the form of forest-fires during the hot season.60 The one whose onrush can be seen, but not his form, is the Wind, who is described with almost identical words in 10.168.4. The three “long-haired ones” are thus Fire, Wind and Sun, the deities of the three “worlds” (earth, atmosphere, and sky, respectively), who form a triad already in RV but rise to prominence

54 divyáḥ suparṇó 'va cakṣi soma pínvan dhārāḥ kármaṇā devávītau / éndo viśa kaláśaṃ somadhānaṃ krándann ihi sūryasyópa raśmím //. 55 divyáḥ suparṇáḥ sá vīró vy àkhyad áditeḥ putró bhúvanāni víśvā. 56 yásmin kṣiyánti pradíśaḥ ṣáḍ urvīr yāḥ pataṅgó ánu vicākaśīti. 57 śyenó nrcákṣā divyáḥ suparṇáḥ sahásrapāc chatáyonir vayodhāḥ. 58 In 13.2.38, 3.14, Rohita is described as a yellowy goose (haṃsá-) who “goes, surveying all beings” (saṃpáśyan yāti bhúvanāni víśvā). 59 tráyaḥ keśína rtuthā ví cakṣate saṃvatsaré vapata éka eṣām / víśvam éko abhí caṣṭe śácībhir dhrājir ékasya dadrśe ná rūpám //. 60 1.65.8, 10.142.4; cf. TB 1.5.6.5. This is also how Yāska (Nirukta 12.27) and Sāyaṇa explain the passage.


in the speculations of the Middle Vedic ritualists.61 The meaning of the designation “long-haired” (keśín-) is not entirely clear; according to tradition, the “hair” of fire and sun is their flames and rays, that of the wind, lightning.62

We also have a number of mentions of one or several suparṇa-s in this hymn; and though only the one in st. 20 is said to be “watching”, it is obvious that any interpretation of the “two birds” should take these other mentions into consideration.63 The last stanza of the hymn, 52,64 speaks of a single suparṇa-:

The heavenly suparṇa-, the lofty bird (vāyasá-), the beautiful embryo of the waters, of the plants;

Sarasvant, who satisfies with rains … do I invoke for help.65

The bird here is to be sought in heaven, as is clear from the adjective divyá- as well as from its giving rain (which explains the epithet sárasvant-, “rich in pools”). This is well in keeping with the Vedic notion of the sun as the source of rainfall,66 and the bird in this stanza has usually been interpreted either as the sun or Agni, or both.67 The

61 Cf. in general Macdonell 1897, pp. 19, 93. 62 Brhaddevatā 1.94. Agni’s “hair” – flames – is sometimes referred to, and it seems likely that the passage seeks to promote the idea that these deities are three “fires” distributed over the worlds. This idea is frequently met with in the Brāhmaṇas, where we also find attempts at explaining how wind could be a form of fire (Klaus 1986, pp. 89-91). 63 Cf. O’Flaherty 1981, who seems to take them all to be one and the same bird: “The most explicit and developed contrast is between the two birds (20-22), who occur in other forms as well, as an individual bird (7, 46, 52) and a group of birds (21, 47) …” (p. 73); “That the bird in the hymn is the sun or fire is a conjecture supported by many explicit references to the sun-bird in the Rig-Veda (cf. 10.123, 10.177) and by references to the sun in this hymn (14, 26).” (P. 74.) Similarly Houben, op. cit., p. 521: “Elsewhere in our hymn, either the sun (vss. 46, 52) or the sun’s rays (vs. 47) are called suparṇá. Moreover, in 7b ví refers to the sun as a bird …” 64 The stanzas 48-52, which deal with the origins of rainfall, may however be a late addition to the hymn, as appears from the fact that they are not included in the AV, where the riddle-hymn is found (divided in two parts) as hymns 9.9 (corresponding to RV 1.164.1-22) and 9.10 (corresponding to 23-47). Cf. Brown, op. cit., pp. 201-2. 65 divyáṃ suparṇáṃ vāyasám brhántam apāṃ gárbhaṃ darśatám óṣadhīnām / abhīpató vrṣṭíbhis tarpáyantaṃ sárasvantam ávase johavīmi //. 66 Cf. Wilden 2000, chap. I. 67 The sun: Haug, op. cit., p. 514; fire: Macdonell, op, cit., p. 88 (following Bergaigne); sun and fire: Brown, op. cit., p. 218; Geldner ad loc., and cf. O’Flaherty, op. cit., pp. 73-4.


words, “embryo of the waters, of the plants” point to Agni, who is often said to be lodged in the plants or the waters, from which he is “born”;68 indeed, Agni is described with the very same words (apāṃ gárbhaṃ darśatám óṣadhīnāṃ) in 3.1.13. The bird is likely to be both Sun and Fire, which are not infrequently equated. The fact that both are intimately connected with rainfall 69 further supports this interpretation.

The “heavenly feathered bird” (divyáḥ sá suparṇó garútmān), mentioned among a number of other deities in st. 46, is also apparently the sun. In the following stanza (47), several birds are mentioned:

Along the black path, the yellow birds, clothing themselves in waters, fly up to heaven.

When they have returned from the seat of Ṛta, the earth becomes soaked with ghee.70

The birds have been interpreted either as the flames of the sacrificial fire, rising along the “black path” of the smoke, or as the rays of the rising sun extending through the nocturnal darkness.71 I believe a 68 The designation ”embryo of the waters” (apāṃ gárbha-) seems to be exclusive to this god: RV 1.70.3, 3.1.12, 3.5.3, 7.9.3 (Agni Jātavedas as the rising sun). Only once (9.97.41) is it used for another deity, here Soma, who is perhaps compared to Agni; the “waters” here would be the waters with which the soma-juice is mixed, and which correspond to the heavenly waters where the divine Soma dwells. Cf. further Agni as “gárbha- of the plants (óṣadhi-, vīrúdh-)”: 2.1.14, 7.101.1, 102.2. 69 Rain was thought to fall from the sun in the earliest Vedic times (for the RV cf. Lüders 1951, chap. IX); in post-Ṛgvedic times the role as rain-bringer was variously assigned to the sun and to the moon (now identified with Soma). I refer to Wilden’s detailed study of the subject. 70 krṣṇáṃ niyānaṃ hárayaḥ suparṇā apó vásānā dívam út patanti / tá āvavrtran sádanād rtásyād íd ghrténa prthivī vy ùdyate //. On this stanza and its variants in Atharvaveda and the Yajurvedic Saṃhitās, cf. Wilden, op. cit., pp. 95-6. 71 Brown, op. cit., p. 210: “Now the hymn turns to the Sun’s rising. The rays, here called ‘yellow birds,’ clothed in the waters, fly up along the dark path (of night) to the sky.” Geldner ad loc.: “Die schwarze Bahn ist der Rauch, die goldfarbigen Rosse (sic) die zum Himmel fliegenden Flammen.” Haug, op. cit., p. 510: “Der schwarze Pfad ist die Nacht, wie schon Yâska erkannte (Nir. 7, 24 wo der Vers erklärt ist); die gelben Adler … sind die Sonnenstrahlen; sie hüllen sich in Wasser, weil sie die Eigenschaft haben, gerade das Wasser anzuziehen, das dann im Regen, hier ‘zerlassene Butter’ genannt, herabfällt.” Lüders (op. cit., p. 312) likewise follows Yāska, whose interpretation is echoed by later exegetists (cf. Sāyaṇa: the sunrays rising through the darkness of the night). Wilden (loc. cit.) does not pass judgement on the matter.


double meaning is intended, and that the birds can be seen as flames as well as sun-rays; 72 the sun and the sacrificial fire being homologous. The “seat of Ṛta” is, cosmologically, the place whence the Dawn rises each morning; 73 on the terrestrial plane, it may conceivably designate the site of the sacrifice. The “ghee” is, of course, rain, thought to originate in the oblations thrown in the sacrificial fire, from which they rise up to the sun and turn into rainwater.74

If other words with the meaning “bird” should be taken into account, we may also have a look at st. 7, which has been held forth by Houben75 as a key to the understanding of the riddle of the two birds. The one bird (ví-) here is most likely the sun:

Let him speak who here knows the laid-down footprint of this dear bird …76 (1.164.7a-b.)

The “footprint of the bird”77 (padáṃ véḥ) appears elsewhere as, it seems, the highest point of heaven, to which the inspired thoughts of the poets are directed (e.g., 3.5.5-6, 3.7.7, 4.5.8, 10.5.1). That the

72 The suparṇás seated in heaven in 1.105.11 (suparṇā etá āsate mádhya āródhane diváḥ) are likewise taken by most translators to be the rays of the rising sun. 73 4.51.8; compared to 1.164.47 by Kuiper 1983, p. 80 n. 122. 74 Cf. Wilden´s monograph on the Vedic “Kreislauf der Opfergaben”. The conception is described with unusual clarity in the penultimate stanza of the “riddle hymn”, 1.164.51: “This same water travels upward and downward as the days pass; the rainclouds invigorate the earth, the fires invigorate heaven”. (samānám etád udakám úc caíty áva cāhabhiḥ / bhūmim parjányā jínvanti dívaṃ jinvanty agnáyaḥ //.) 75 Op. cit., p. 517. 76 ihá bravītu yá īm aṅgá védāsyá vāmásya níhitam padáṃ véḥ /. 77 The meaning of padá- in “esoteric” contexts like the present one has been a matter of some dispute; it is usually rendered as “footprint”, “track”, “step”, or “place”. Lüders (1951, pp. 303-5), who discussed the matter at length, opted for “Stätte”, rejecting Geldner’s translation “Spur” on the grounds that a bird flying in the air does not leave any footprints. I suspect, however, that this is an intended paradox; the “footprint of the bird”, invisible to the human eye, can only be perceived by the inspired seers in their visions. Renou (1958, p. 21-2) sees a primary meaning “footprint”, which is also to be understood in passages speaking of the padá- of the bird or the “hidden padá- of the cow” (which in some passages explicitly refers to the tracking down of a herd of cattle by means of their footprints). “Padá- est donc d’abord l’empreinte des pieds, la trace au sens propre … La «trace de l’oiseau», au sens propre le trajet solaire, a des implications ésotériques” (ibid.). Mayrhofer (s.v.) rejects the meaning “Stätte” altogether in the RV; cf. however Houben, op. cit., p. 515 n. 87.


“bird” is the sun can hardly be doubted.78 What is unusual with 1.164.7 is the expression “of this dear bird” (asyá vāmásya … véḥ). The occurrence of the words asyá vāmásya elsewhere in the same hymn – in st. 1 – cannot be ignored or considered coincidental, as these are the only two occurrences of these exact words in the RV. The stanza 1.164.1 runs as follows:

This dear grey hotr-priest has a middle brother who is hungry, and a third brother with ghee on his back. I have seen here the leader of the tribe with seven sons.79

The two main lines of interpretation have seen the three brothers either as forms of Agni distributed over the three cosmic regions, or as the three fires of the Vedic sacrifice.80 The latter interpretation, which was put forward by Geldner, seems the most probable; there is nothing in the stanza to suggest a cosmic nature of the three (the word áśnaḥ here meaning “hungry, ravenous”, not “lightning”81), and the designations “grey” (referring to smoke) and “ghee-backed” (elsewhere applied to Agni as the sacrificial fire82) are best taken to refer to actual fires. But as we have seen, the present hymn knows the speculation equating the fires of the sacrifice with the three deities of the cosmic regions (i.e., the three “forms” of Agni), and this identity

78 Cf. Lüders, op. cit., pp. 300, 303-5, 311. 79 asyá vāmásya palitásya hótus tásya bhrātā madhyamó asty áśnaḥ / trtīyo bhrātā ghrtáprṣṭho asyātrāpaśyaṃ viśpátiṃ saptáputram //. 80 The view that they represent sun, lightning, and the terrestrial fire was put forward by Haug, op. cit., p. 466, and was largely accepted by Brown, op. cit., p. 210 (who, however, held the first brother to be “the original form of Agni as ‘firstborn of the rtá’”, rather than the sun). Hillebrandt (1999: I, p. 86; cf. 1913, p. 104 n. 1) takes them to be sun, moon, and fire, represented on earth by the three fires of the sacrifice; the “grey” one is the moon and the “eater” the sun (which is in the Brāhmaṇas said to “devour” the moon at a lunar eclipse). Kunhan Raja, op. cit., p. 7, following Yāska, takes them to be Sun, Wind, and Fire, the deities of the three cosmic spheres. Houben, op. cit., p. 518, suggests Sun, Lightning, and the Gharma pot. Geldner’s view, that the verse refers to the traditional three fires of the sacrifice, has been repeated by O’Flaherty and Witzel, Gotō et al., while Brereton and Jamison (in their introduction to 1.164) recognize that the two lines of interpretation are not mutually exclusive; ritual and macrocosm being mysteriously connected and equated with each other. 81 As it was rendered by Brown, op. cit., p. 210 (on analogy with aśani-, or with aśan-, “stone (used as a projectile)”?). The dictionaries of Grassmann as well as Böhtlingk & Roth give 1.164.1 as the only instance where áśna- (“Gefrässig”) is used “vom Blitzfeuer”; this is of course simply their own interpretation of a difficult passage. 82 E.g. in 5.4.3, 14.5; 7.2.4; 10.122.4.


seems to be implied by referring to the sun (the “dear bird”) with the same words as one of the fires. Now, in Middle Vedic speculations, the gārhapatya fire corresponds to Agni and the earth, the dakṣiṇāgni to Wind and the atmosphere, and the āhavanīya to the Sun and heaven. Whether this system was already developed or not in late Ṛgvedic times, the homology of fire and sun is certainly Ṛgvedic, and it seems likely that an identification of one of the three fires with the sun is implied in st. 7.

Houben83 has put forward the view that, as one of the three “brothers” seems to be the sun described as a bird, it is reasonable to assume that the other two are also birds. He also suggests that the two birds of the riddle in fact belong to this set of three. Houben, whose objective is to demonstrate that a larger part of the hymn than previously thought centers around the Pravargya rite, suggests an identification of the “ghee-backed” brother with the gharma pot, the inside of which was anointed with ghee.84 The “dear, grey” brother is, he suggests, the sun, the cosmic counterpart of the heated pot. The “middle” brother would then have to be situated somewhere in between these two, the terrestrial and the celestial brothers. Houben believes that this must be either wind or lightning, and opts for the latter alternative, taking the word áśna- (“ravenous”) to refer to the violent action and sound of lightning. The two birds are, he further suggests, “the two more immediately perceptible of the three birds of verse 1, viz., the sun and the Gharma pot; lightning, the elusive middle one, is left out”. 85 While noticing that the “hungry” or “ravenous” brother would make an attractive correspondence to the bird that “eats” the fig, Houben ultimately has to reject such a connection in order to maintain his view that the “middle” brother has been excluded in st. 20. Though he briefly notes that seeing or watching is a typical characteristic of the sun,86 he also dismisses the idea that the watching bird would be the sun, instead suggesting that this should be the eating bird, who (here he follows Thieme) feeds on the light of heaven. The non-eating, watching bird, then, is the Gharma pot, the terrestrial counterpart of the sun.

83 Op. cit., p. 521. 84 Op. cit., p. 517. 85 Houben 2000, p. 521; italics in original. 86 Op. cit., p. 521 n. 115.


While some verses of the hymn certainly concern the Pravargya, no such connection is immediately clear in either st. 1, 7, or 20-22.87 As has already been said, the interpretation of the three brothers as the sacrificial fires still seems the most probable one. The question still remains which of the three should be identified with which fire. The “dear” one which, as we have seen, is equated to the sun, would be the Āhavanīya; the “middle” one can hardly be any other than the southern fire, which occupies an intermediate position in relation to the other two. The remaining fire, that with “ghee on his back”, would then be the Gārhapatya or domestic fire. Now, why would the Dakṣiṇāgni be referred to as “hungry, ravenous”, and what would be its connection to the second bird of the riddle, assuming that the other is the sun and corresponds to the Āhavanīya? We have suggested that the two birds are the sun and the moon. The Dakṣiṇāgni is shaped like a half-moon. In the brahmanical system of mystic “correspondences”, it is usually equated to the Wind and the atmosphere; but another tradition makes it the counterpart of the moon.88 Besides its shape, one reason for this identification is the connection between this fire and the cult of the Ancestors, who receive their oblations through it; the world of the Ancestors is in 87 On Houben’s approach, cf. the (generally approving) remarks in Jamison and Brereton’s introduction to RV 1.164; and the harsher comments in Oberlies 2007 (throughout the footnotes). Whatever part the Pravargya may play elsewhere in the hymn, Houben’s interpretation of 20-22 seems to me particularly open to question. Houben maintains (p. 522) that previous renderings of the verb pári ṣasvajāte in st. 20 – commonly taken to mean that the birds “clasp” the tree, i.e., perch on its branches – is incorrect, and a literal translation, “embrace” (from the root svaj-) is to be preferred; this would refer to the Gharma pot “embracing” the base of the world-axis (on earth), and the sun embracing it at its top, in the sky. The image of two birds “embracing” a tree (presumably, with their wings) on the ground and in the crown, respectively, is however an uneasy one. The only natural way to read the passage is to take the verb to refer, in this context, to the perching birds’ clasping the tree’s branches with their talons. 88 Cf. Hillebrandt 1999 I, pp. 67-70. The southern fire is associated with the atmosphere (and the wind) in the vertical cosmic classification of Middle Vedic texts; and with the moon in the horizontal classification of the cardinal directions (proceeding clockwise from the east). The southern fire is hence identified variously with the wind and with the moon. (A good deal of relevant materials can be found in B. K. Smith’s 1994 survey of the Vedic classifications.) The deity of the atmosphere in this system is in fact Vāyu, the Wind, who appears between Agni or Fire and Āditya or the Sun, the deities of the earth and the sky. But occasionally we do find a triad Fire-Moon-Sun.


post-Ṛgvedic times said to be the moon. They are also said to dwell in the south; the Dakṣiṇāgni is the “southern fire”.

But what about the designation áśna- in st. 1? The word is derived from the root áś-, meaning “to eat”, which is also found in ánaśnan, “non-eating”, used of the second bird in st. 20. The meaning “hungry” or perhaps “ravenous” can be established from 1.173.2, where a mighty noise is likened to the roar of “a hungry wild animal” (mrgó nāśno). Now, why would the Dakṣiṇāgni be designated as “hungry”? And does this really connect it with the fig-eating bird of st. 20? Does “hungry” here imply actual hunger resulting from lack of nourishment (which would better fit the “non-eating” bird), or rather voraciousness or gluttony? It has been suggested that the word is applied to the Dakṣiṇāgni because this fire does not receive the same amount of oblations as the two other fires.89 This seems likely; but if so, any connection with the eating bird of the riddle would seem to disappear. One might argue, however, that hunger nonetheless is what unites them (and perhaps what makes the bird eat the fig, while his companion abstains).

If the two birds represent sun and moon, corresponding respectively to the Āhavanīya and the Dakṣiṇāgni, the third member of the triad in st. 1 – the terrestrial Fire, as represented by the Gārhapatya – may have been excluded in st. 20 due to the cosmological context; the sun and the moon belonging to the upper regions of the cosmos, i.e., in the crown of the world-tree, while Agni’s domain is earth.90 89 O’Flaherty 1981, p. 81 n. 1: ”The first brother is the oblation fire [Āhavanīya] with his grey beard of smoke; the second is the southern [Dakṣiṇa] fire, hungry because it seldom receives the oblation; the third is the domestic fire [Gārhapatya] that is ‘fed’ the butter oblation.” 90 It may be pointed out that a triad of suparṇá-s actually appears in st. 4 of the funerary hymn AV 18.4. The verses are obscure on some points: “Three birds … are settled on the back of the lower (?) firmament, on the summit; let the heavenly worlds, pervaded with immortality (or, ambrosia), milk forth food and nourishment to the sacrificer.” (tráyaḥ suparṇā úparasya māyū nākasya prṣṭhé ádhi viṣṭápi śritāḥ / svargā lokā amrtena viṣṭā íṣam ūrjaṃ yájamānāya duhrām //.) According to the commentary, these birds are Sun, Moon, and Fire; though there is nothing in the stanza itself to suggest this. It seems probable that they are the three sacrificial fires, which are referred to by name in 8-9; invoked as the forms of Agni Jātavedas, they are implored to conduct (through the cremation) the dead man to the heavenly world (10ff). This might explain why they are all referred to as birds dwelling in the same heaven, rather than distributed over the regions of the cosmos. This would also


Something should perhaps be said of the adjective palitá-, “grey”, designating the first of the three fires. The word is also used in the sense of “old”, “grey-haired”.91 We find it sometimes applied to Agni;92 and while it is possible to take it to refer to the fire’s grey “hair” of smoke – indeed the adjective is applied to a smoky fire in 10.4.5b (palitó dhūmáketuḥ) – it is not immediately clear why this particular fire, out of the three, would be characterized by its smoke. If the word instead is taken to refer to age, this would raise further questions, as the Gārhapatya, rather than the Āhavanīya, is the “oldest” fire, from which the other two are lighted. Perhaps the adjective is simply a way to indicate that the first brother is, in fact, a (sacrificial) fire, and that the same should be inferred in the case of his two brothers.93

We will now return for a while to 10.114.3, describing two birds settled on a “beautifully adorned” young woman (yuvatí) with four plaits and “ghee on her face”. What may this woman represent? Thieme94 saw in this young woman, as in the tree in 1.164.20-22, a

explain why Agni is here found in heaven together with Soma and the Sun. – As for the tráyaḥ suparṇās in 5.28.8a, it seems futile to try to make out what they may be from the context; the entire hymn playing with triads of various kinds. 91 “[G]rau, ergraut, altersgrau, greis” (Mayrhofer, s.v.). 92 1.144.4, 3.55.9 (where the “grey emissary”, palitó dūtá, is most probably Agni), 10.4.5. 93 If an unexpressed identity between the fires and the deities of the cosmic regions is to be understood – and made clear from the recurrence of words (asyá vāmásya; variants of the root áś-) elsewhere in the hymn – then the adjective, though here simply referring to smoke, may have been chosen in order to make an implicit association with, e.g., a god who may be similarly designated. In this context it may perhaps be of relevance that palitá- refers to the sun in 10.55.5: “The moon (vidhú-), coursing in the company of many, being young, did the aged one (palitá-) swallow. Behold the god’s mastery in its greatness: today he died, yesterday he breathed fully.” (vidhúṃ dadrāṇáṃ sámane bahūnāṃ yúvānaṃ sántam palitó jagāra / devásya paśya kāvyam mahitvādyā mamāra sá hyáḥ sám āna //.) That the young and the aged or grey one are the moon and the sun has been unanimously accepted by everyone from Yāska (Nirukta 14.18) and Śaunaka (Brhaddevatā 7.81) to Geldner. The moon (coursing in the company of the many stars?) is, as we have seen, repeatedly dying and born anew. According to a common view, the new moon (“being young”) is swallowed by the sun, from which it then reemerges. The sun, then, is “old” as compared to the ever rejuvenated moon. This isolated occurrence should, however, be cautiously treated. 94 Thieme 1949, p. 61.


representation of the nocturnal sky; the girl’s dark hair being the darkness, the four plaits the cardinal directions, her ornaments the stars. A somewhat different interpretation was given by Kuiper,95 who saw the young woman as the axis mundi. The four plaits, he suggested, are the four rivers flowing down the slopes of the primordial mountain (which he saw as being interchangeable with the world-tree in the position of axis mundi).96

According to Taittirīya Brāhmaṇa (1.2.1.27; 3.7.6.4 97 ) and Āpastamba Śrautasūtra (4.5.3), where this stanza is quoted,98 the girl is the védi, the “altar” of the sacrifice, the plaits being its four corners. (The “ghee” would then be the actual ghee used in the ritual.) It is a well-known fact that the vedi in later texts is often likened to a woman due to its shape (the word vedi further being feminine). Modern scholars have treated this tradition in different ways. Accepted by Geldner, it was dismissed by Thieme,99 who must have found it incompatible with his own interpretation. Kuiper, however, for whom “it is beyond doubt that the verse refers to the vedi”, notes that,

The vedi mythically represents the whole earth, cf., e.g., MS. III.8.3 (96, 6), KS. XXV.4 (106, 13), XXV.6 (110, 2), XXVIII.1 (152, 9), XXXI.10, (12, 8), XXIX.8 (177, 8), XXXVII.16 (97, 3), TS. VI.2.4.5, ŚB. I.2.5.7, I.3.3.9, III.7.2.1. If the yuvatí, accordingly, here stands for the primordial hill, the two birds can be equated to the wellknown two birds on the cosmic tree in RS. I.164.20 …100

The underlying assumption here seems to be that the cosmic tree or mountain may stand for the entire world. A look at the passages in TB and Āpastamba referred to above suggests, however, another possible interpretation. The Ṛgvedic stanza appears here in a somewhat modified form:

A young woman with four plaits, beautifully adorned, having ghee on her face, in the centre of the world;

95 Kuiper 1983, p. 142 and n. 3. 96 On the four celestial streams, cf. Lüders 1951, chap. VII. 97 Translated by Dumont 1961, p. 30. 98 In a slightly variant form from RV 10.114.3. On the variants of this stanza in Vedic literature, cf. Bloomfield 1906, under catuḥśikhaṇḍā. 99 Op. cit., p. 61 n. 3. 100 Kuiper 1983, pp. 142-43 n.


Upon (?) the two birds who have settled on her is the share of the gods.101

In Āpastamba 4.5.1, furthermore, this vedi is said to be “on the summit of heaven, in the navel of the earth” (varṣman divo nābhā prthivyā). While the Yajurvedic ritualists may have modified the stanza so as to suit their own purposes, it may nonetheless be significant that we here have an ancient tradition that places the yuvatí “in the centre of the world”, which, of course, is where one would first look for an axis mundi or a cosmic tree.

The adjective supéśā, “beautifully adorned”, was taken by Thieme to indicate the stars adorning the nocturnal sky.102 This seems very likely, especially as the verbal root piś- is often found in connection with the star-decorated heaven. 103 The night (rātrī-), sometimes personified as a goddess, is described as having been “decorated” with stars (pépiśat, 10.127.7; “like a decorated bowl”, camasó ná piṣṭó, AV 19.49.8). This use of the verbal root may be very ancient; in the Iranian Yašts we find the compound stəhr.paēsah-, “star-spangled”, applied to the heaven, described as Ahura Mazdāh’s robe (13.3), and to Mithra’s chariot (10.143). Combinations of the same Indo-European verbal root (cf. Latin pingo) and word for “star(s)” are used by ancient Greek and Latin authors.104

But would one expect to find the sun in the nocturnal sky, together with the moon? One answer is: yes, in Vedic cosmological beliefs, one may very well do so. As is well known, the sun was thought to turn its dark backside towards earth after sunset, and return

101 catuḥśikhaṇḍā yuvatiḥ supeśā ghrtapratīkā bhuvanasya madhye / tasyāṃ suparṇāv adhi yau niviṣṭau tayor devānām adhi bhāgadheyam … (Āpastamba Śrautasūtra 4.5.3.) 102 Thieme, p. 61: “Ihr Schmuck und das Butterschmalz, mit dem sie ihr Antlitz gesalbt hat und das durch die auch von vorn sie bedeckenden Haare hindurchleuchtet, sind die Sterne, die Schleier, in die sie sich kleidet, und ihr schwarzes Haar: das Dunkel.” 103 “Piś- signifie en gros «orner, décorer», plus précisément «orner de couleurs vives ou de lumières». Le verbe s’emploie à propos de ciel constellé, en plusieurs passages (l’auteur de X.68, 11 ajoute cette comparaison «comme [on décore] de perles un cheval noir»). D’ailleurs les ténèbres elles-mêmes sont dites pépiśat X.127, 7 «fortement coloriées» … Le Jour et la Nuit sont viśvápeśas, ils ont «toute sorte d’ornements ou de couleurs vives» …” (Renou 1958, pp. 25-6.) Cf. 1.68.10, where Agni is said to have “adorned the firmament with stars” (pipéśa nākaṃ stŕbhir). 104 Jackson 2001; cf. also West 2007, p. 353.


unseen to the east across the night sky.105 We also meet with the idea that the sun travelled eastwards through the ocean of the nocturnal sky;106 whether these are two separate conceptions, or the dark sun and the sun hidden in the waters are different expressions of the same cosmological notion, cannot be discussed here. What is of importance is that the idea of the sun travelling through the night-sky, rather than under the earth, as in other ancient cosmologies, appears to have been the predominant Vedic explanation of the sun’s return to the east during night; and that one of the birds being the sun in the nocturnal sky is not an impossible conjecture.

Another possibility is that the crown of the tree on which the birds are perched – this tree being presumably related to the “young woman” in 10.114.3 – is simply the heaven, the diurnal as well as the nocturnal. A cosmic tree, thought to support the firmament, would likely be associated with both. The root piś-, again, is applied to both Night and her sister Dawn, who may here be taken to represent the nocturnal and the diurnal sky;107 in 6.49.3, for instance, the one is said to have adorned herself with stars, the other “from the sun” (stŕbhir anyā pipiśé sūro anyā). Cf. 2.3.6; 10.110.6. The tree, then, may represent both aspects of the sky; and Thieme’s108 conjecture, that the birds perched on the young woman should be thought of as “niedergesetzt, sicherlich auf jeder Schulter einer, jedenfalls so, daß man jeweils nur einen sieht”, may, though made with the waxing and waning moon in mind, be equally well applied to the sun and the moon.

Thieme thought that the two birds become one in 10.114.4-5, proving that they are, in fact, only two different aspects of the moon. This interpretation may be borne out by the initial words of st. 4, ékaḥ suparṇáḥ sá samudrám ā viveśa, where it would be better to take ékaḥ suparṇáḥ as “the one, the only bird” than as “one bird” (out of the two). (Cf. Thieme’s translation: ”Einer ist der Adler.” 109 ) St. 5 certainly lends support to the assumption that the two birds are actually one: “The bird, being one (ékaṃ sántam), the priests, the seers, arrange with words in many ways; making verses at the 105 Speyer 1906; Sieg 1923; Klaus 1986, pp. 132-42. 106 Lüders 1951, chap. VIII: ”Die Sonne im Wasser”. 107 Cf. Renou 1958, p. 26. 108 Thieme, op. cit., p. 61. 109 Op. cit., p. 62.


sacrifices, they measure out the twelve cups of soma.” The stanza is in fact loosely derived from the famous “monistic” stanza 1.164.46: “They call him Indra, Mitra, Varuṇa, Agni, and he is the heavenly feathered bird. What is one, the priests speak of in many ways: they call it Agni, Yama, Mātariśvan.”110

The bird in 10.114.4 could plausibly enough be taken as the moon; but the sun is equally possible: “The one bird has entered the ocean; he surveys this entire world. With an immature mind, I watched him close by. The mother licks him, and he licks the mother.” Thieme took the last, cryptic sentence to mean that the moon is licked by its “mother”, Night, whereby it diminishes; licking its mother, however, it becomes replenished (by the light of the heaven). Geldner saw here Agni and his “mother”, the fire-stick; Haug, lightning and the earth (its “mother” because clouds arise from the terrestrial waters sucked up by the sun). 111 Prominent especially in Thieme’s interpretation is the notion that the “licking” (rih-) must result in a diminishing of the thing licked, as if it were consumed. This poetic figure (based on the common sight of cows licking their calves) is, however, common in the RV, e.g. in connection with Soma, whose “mothers” (pl.) are the waters in which the soma-stalks are laid down (and, correspondingly, the waters of heaven surrounding the divine Soma). For my part, I suspect that what is meant in 10.114.4 is either the sun or the moon, “licking” the heaven (the word dyaús-, if implied, being feminine) with its rays while at the same time being licked, i.e. touched, by the sky; or moistened by the waters of heaven, which are mentioned in the verse.112 110 índram mitráṃ váruṇam agním āhur átho divyáḥ sá suparṇó garútmān / ékaṃ sád víprā bahudhā vadanty agníṃ yamám mātaríśvānam āhuḥ //. 111 Haug, op. cit., p. 482. 112 Though the personified Dyaús is male, his “womb” is sometimes referred to. Cf. 5.47.3, which shows some similarities with 1.114.4 (e.g., suparṇáḥ … ā viveśa): “The ox, the ocean (samudró), the ruddy bird, has entered the ancient Father’s (= Heaven) womb. A speckled stone (= the sun), laid down in the middle of the sky, he strides out; he guards the ends of space.” (ukṣā samudró aruṣáḥ suparṇáḥ pūrvasya yónim pitúr ā viveśa / mádhye divó níhitaḥ pŕśnir áśmā ví cakrame rájasas pāty ántau //.) The heaven is the “womb” from which the sun (here possibly identified with Soma, who typically carries the epithet samudrá-; cf. Hillebrandt 1999 II, p. 214) is born every morning (from the heavenly waters; cf. Lüders 1951, pp. 294-307), and which it again enters upon sunset. Agni is said to have been born “from the Asura’s belly” (ásurasya jaṭhárād ájāyata, 3.29.14d), while in the first half of the same verse, mention is made of “the mother’s lap” in which he shone forth “at the udder” (arocata


“The one bird has entered the ocean” might refer to the sun as well as the moon. Most commonly located in the samudrá- is, however, the sun.113 As a bird hidden in the ocean (of the nocturnal sky), it is referred to as a great mystery in 10.177.1: “The bird, anointed with the magic of the Asura, the inspired ones see with their hearts, with their mind. The seers behold him within the ocean; the wise ones seek the footprint of the rays”.114 But the moon can also, as we have seen, be called a suparṇá- in the waters (apsú); and it is sometimes found in the heavenly waters.115 The statement that the bird, having entered the ocean, “surveys this entire world” (idáṃ víśvam bhúvanaṃ ví caṣṭe), would however seem to point to the sun, which, as seen, is not only frequently referred to as watching the world or all beings, but is often called a bird when doing so. It is possible, then, that the verses 10.114.4-5, while “mystically” identifying the two birds in st. 3, still describe them separately as two different aspects of the “one bird”: this bird being both the sun (st. 4) and the moon (5).

Soma and the world-tree

We have suggested an identification of the “eating” bird of 1.164.20 with the moon apportioning the “share of the gods” in 10.85.19, and one of the two birds perched “where the gods receive their share” in 10.114.3. Of course, eating and portioning out are not the same thing, although both acts, in these cases, appear to be connected with the soma or the amŕta- of the gods. 1.164.21-22, however, suggest a

mātúr upásthe yád áśocad ūdhani). Lüders (1959, p. 390) recognizes that “der Asura wird Dyaus sein”, and that Agni must here be the heavenly fire, though he is less certain as to what to do with the “mother”: “Die Mutter, in deren Schoß Agni weilt, wird wohl für die „Mütter” stehen, in deren Schoß der himmlische [Agni] öfter erscheint”. (Brackets by Alsdorf.) Another possibility is that we are here faced with an androgynous Dyaus. Cf. also 10.124, where the “Father Asura” inside whom Agni has been dwelling (antár asminn, st. 4) is usually identified as Dyaus. 113 Cf. Lüders 1951, p. 300, who likewise sees the bird here as the sun: “Für die Sonne ist also der Aufenthalt in dem Meere ebenso charakteristisch wie das Überschauen der Welt.” 114 pataṃgám aktám ásurasya māyáyā hrdā paśyanti mánasā vipaścítaḥ / samudré antáḥ kaváyo ví cakṣate márīcīnām padám ichanti vedhásaḥ //. 115 See the passages from RV and AV in Kirfel, op. cit., p. 31 (who, however, wrongly takes Soma in the RV to be the moon).


similar notion of a distribution of divine nourishment, mentioning a plurality of “honey-eating” birds who cry out for a “share of amŕta-”. (An image inspired by the sight of parent birds feeding their young?116) If one of the two birds can be identified as the moon, its “eating” would refer to the moon’s waxing. Thieme, as we have seen, thought that what is “eaten” by the moon must be the light of heaven, which may be designated as amŕta-. Middle Vedic texts, though, often state that the moon, “king Soma”, is the food of the gods (e.g., ŚB 1.6.4.5, 11.2.5.3: somo rājā devānām annaṃ yac candramāḥ), consumed by them during the fortnight of the waning moon. We find the theory already developed in RV 10.85.5: “When they drink you up, o god, then you swell again. Vāyu is the guardian of Soma; the moon (māsa) is the form of the years.”117 One Middle Vedic theory holds that the soma, during the moon’s waning, enters the plants and waters and, after these have been consumed by cattle, the milk of cows; this is then used up by brahmins in the sacrifice, which causes the moon to wax again.118 The waxing of the moon is rarely described in terms of its “eating”;119 rather, the moon itself is consumed and made to wane. It is, however, conceivable that the bird’s eating the “fig” in 1.164.20 is a poet’s way of referring to the moon’s swelling. The plural birds feeding on the same figs in 21-2 may then be the cause of its waning; this would correspond to the gods’ receiving their “share” in 10.85.19 and 10.114.3, and their consuming king Soma in Middle Vedic texts.120 116 Thieme (p. 61 n. 2) brings (cautiously) up the possibility of the two birds in 10.114.3 actually being a couple – a male and a female; the masculine dual in suparṇā and the meaning “male” of vŕṣaṇā being cases of elliptic dual (cf. Delbrück 2009 [1888], p. 98). Nothing seems, however, to speak for this suggestion; the two birds in 1.164.20 are both male (cf. anyáḥ … anyó). The explicit statement that the birds are male (vŕṣaṇā) may be a way of telling us, using the riddle-like style of the poets, that their unspoken names are masculine; all the Vedic names for the sun and the moon are masculine. 117 yát tvā deva prapíbanti táta ā pyāyase púnaḥ / vāyúḥ sómasya rakṣitā sámānām māsa ākrtiḥ //. 118 This theory is often stated in connection with the sāṃnāyya rite, an offering of milk to Indra. Cf. Wilden, op. cit., pp. 79-94. 119 Cf. the late text ŚB 1.6.3.17 (where the swelling Moon/Soma, who is here identified with the slain demon Vrtra, is called a “food-eater”, annāda-). 120 Mention should be made of another passage – 5.54.12a-b – featuring figs (píppala-), which have been interpreted as soma: “You shake, o Maruts, the shining fig from the firmament, whose splendor is ungraspable to the outsider.” (táṃ nākam aryó


Much has been written about the ancient Indian conception of a cosmic tree, and the connection of this tree to the drink of immortality.121 The Vedic world-tree is usually an aśvattha, though in some of the earliest mentions it is not specified what kind of species it belongs to. It is probably the cosmic or celestial tree that is referred to in RV 10.135.1a-b as “the tree of beautiful foliage, under (or ‘in’?) which Yama drinks in company with the gods”,122 and in the much-discussed 1.24.7:

In the bottomless space, king Varuṇa, of purified intellect, holds the tip of the tree upwards. [The branches] stand downwards, the bottom above; may their rays be laid down in us.123

This inverted tree recurs in several younger texts, where it is specified that it is an aśvattha. In Kaṭha Upaniṣad 6.1,124 we are given a famous description of this tree, which is here identified with the cosmos:

This eternal aśvattha-tree has its roots above and its branches downwards. It is the semen, it is brahman, it alone is called amrta. All the worlds rest on it; no one passes beyond it.125

In Taittirīya Āraṇyaka 1.11.5, we are merely told that the one who knows the “tree with its roots above and its branches downwards” (ūrdhvamūlam avākśākhaṃ vrkṣaṃ) overcomes death. The inverted tree as a representation of the cosmos recurs, more or less reduced to an allegory, in MU 6.4 and Bhagavadgītā 15.1ff.

ágrbhītaśociṣaṃ rúśat píppalam maruto ví dhūnutha.) Cf. Viennot 1954, p. 27; Oberlies 2012, p. 433 n. 164, who both make the comparison with 1.164.20-22. The reference would be to the soma descending from heaven with the rain sent by the Maruts. 121 Valuable studies of the Vedic “world-tree” or “tree of life” (as it is variously called) include Kirfel 1967 [1920], p. 7; Thieme 1949; Viennot 1954, p. 25ff, 74ff; Bosch 1990 [1964]; Kuiper 1983, pp. 76ff, 123ff, 143ff; Emeneau 1988; Lommel 1978, pp. 389-400, 512-23; Falk 1994. Cf. now also Oberlies 1998, Index, s.v. “Weltenbaum”, and Parpola 2015, pp. 201-207, 278ff, 310-11. 122 yásmin vrkṣé supalāśé devaíḥ sampíbate yamáḥ. 123 abudhné rājā váruṇo vánasyordhváṃ stūpaṃ dadate pūtádakṣaḥ / nīcīnā sthur upári budhná eṣām asmé antár níhitāḥ ketávaḥ syuḥ //. 124 I have used Olivelle’s (1998) edition for all Upaniṣads, except for the Maitrī and Mahānārāyaṇa Upaniṣads, for which van Buitenen’s (1962) and Varenne’s (1960) editions have been employed. 125 ūrdhvamūlo 'vākśākha eṣo 'śvatthaḥ sanātanaḥ / tad eva śukraṃ tad brahma tad evāmrtam ucyate / tasmiml lokāḥ śritāḥ sarve tad u nātyeti kaścana //.


Early scholars suggested that the image of the inverted aśvattha must have been the result of a conflation with the nyagrodha-tree, with its downward-hanging aerial roots.126 Emeneau, while pointing out the absurdity of the idea that Indians would confuse the two trees, still held that the inverted tree of unspecified species in RV 1.24.7 must have been a nyagrodha, and that a stereotyped image of an upside-down tree eventually was transposed to the more sacred aśvattha.127 At the same time he noted that an inverted tree is a widespread motif that appears in cosmologies and myths throughout Eurasia.128 This latter fact, well-known from ethnology, made Kuiper conclude – rightly, I think – that “[t]he idea that a nyagrodha could have been meant … is no longer discussible”.129 The tree, then, has no naturalistic basis, its invertedness having a purely mythico-cosmological meaning.

An aśvattha, growing in the Himalayas, is also mentioned in a passage occurring in AV 5.4.3, 6.95.1, and 19.39.6 (AVP 7.10.6, 19.11.1, 20.51.8); it is part of a charm dealing with the healing kuṣṭha-plant:

The asvattha-tree is the seat of the gods in the third heaven from here. There the gods procured the kushtha, the visible manifestation of amrita (ambrosia).130 (5.4.3, tr. Bloomfield.)

19.39.6 adds: “The all-healing kuṣṭha stands together with soma.”131 The healing herb is here identified with the amŕta, which, as we

have seen, is also found in the crown of the tree in RV 1.164.20-22. The passage is also the first clear example of a transposition of the

126 Cf. the references to Charpentier, Deussen, Garbe, and Otto in Emeneau, op. cit., p. 24. The view that the nyagrodha must be meant in RV 1.24.7 is still to be found in Bosch, op. cit., p. 69 n. 12; cf. now also Parpola, op. cit., pp. 201-204 (who sees the mythical tree here as derived from the culture of the Indus Civilization). 127 Op. cit., pp. 24-5. On the prominent part played by the aśvattha in Vedic ritual and imagination, see e.g. Krick 1982, Index, s.v. Aśvattha. 128 It appears in the mythologies of various subarctic peoples, as well as in mediaeval Christian, Jewish, and Islamic traditions, where it has taken on an allegorical meaning similar to the one in the Bhagavadgītā (the phenomenal world originating from the divine or celestial sphere, in which it is “rooted”). Studies of the image of the inverted tree include Jacoby 1928; Kagarow 1929; Coomaraswamy 1977; Holmberg 1996, pp. 25, 67; Eliade 1996 [1958], p. 274ff; and, especially, Edsman 1966. 129 Kuiper 1983, pp. 145-46. 130 aśvatthó devasádanas trtīyasyām itó diví / tátrāmrtasya cákṣaṇaṃ devāḥ kúṣṭham avanvata //. 131 sá kúṣṭho viśvábheṣajaḥ sākáṃ sómena tiṣṭhati.


cosmic tree to heaven, as Thieme noted. The words “in the third heaven from here” (trtīyasyām itó diví) recur in Chāndogya Upaniṣad 8.5.3, describing Brahman’s heaven; in this celestial paradise we find, interestingly, an aśvattha-tree called Somasavana, “Flowing with soma”, again suggesting a connection with the drink of immortality. (In the Kauṣītaki Upaniṣad, 1.3, the name of the celestial tree is Ilya, probably from ilā-/irā-, “nourishment, refreshment”.132) It should also be pointed out that there is yet another context in which the words trtīyasyām ito divi occur: in the Middle Vedic myth of the theft of the soma from heaven by a bird of prey (suparṇa-). As Kuiper has remarked, 133 the various versions of this story often include a stereotyped phrase, “The soma was in the third heaven (from here)”;134 it is clearly derived from the AV passage quoted above. Though no celestial tree is mentioned in this story, and it never is made clear whether the soma fetched by the bird is the plant or the liquid, it is clear that the “third heaven from here” in the Black Yajurveda has become a stereotyped expression associated with the heaven where the soma or amŕta was located.135

Elsewhere, mention is made of a tree at the centre of the world, under the name of Plakṣa Prāsravaṇa, the “fig-tree at the spring”.136 It is said to stand at the source of the sacred river Sarasvatī;137 here is the world of heaven (svarga- loka-). This world is reached through the sārasvatasattra-,138 a pilgrimage from the place where the Sarasvatī disappears in the desert to its source in the Himalayas, at the foot of

132 Cf. Thieme 1949, p. 69 n. 4. 133 Kuiper 1996, p. 230ff. 134 trtīyasyāṃ vaí diví sóma āsīt: MS 4.4.1; Kāṭhaka Saṃhitā 30.10; Kapiṣṭhala-Kaṭha Saṃhitā 46; trtīyasyām itó diví sóma āsīt: Kāṭhaka Saṃhitā 23.10; Kapiṣṭhala-Kaṭha Saṃhitā 37.1; TS 3.5.7.1; TB 1.1.3.10, 3.2.1.1. 135 Kuiper himself does not remark on the presence of the ambrosia and soma there already in the AV. 136 Cf. Macdonell & Keith 2007 [1912], s.v.; Kirfel, op. cit., p. 7; Thieme, op. cit., p. 70 (“der Feigenbaum an der Quelle [der Sarasvatī]”; Bharadwaj 1978. 137 The statement, found e.g. in Macdonell & Keith, op. cit., that some sources (notably PB 25.10.16, for which see a later note) locate the tree at the place where the Sarasvatī disappears in the desert, has been shown by Bharadwaja (esp. p. 480ff) to be based on a misunderstanding. 138 See also Krick, op. cit., pp. 496-99. The pilgrimage along the Sarasvatī to the entrance of heaven recurs as a motif in parts of the Mahābhārata: Austin 2008.


the fig-tree.139 As Witzel140 has demonstrated, the celestial Sarasvatī – the Milky Way, seen as the heavenly counterpart of the terrestrial river – is meant. The explicit statement that the tree stands in the middle of the world makes it the clearest Vedic example of the conception of an axis mundi. The notion that it stands at the source of the Sarasvatī further seems to connect it with the celestial tree Somasavana or Ilya, which is said to stand near some body of water – the “pond Airaṃmadīya”141 and two “oceans” in the Chāndogya passage, or the “river Vijarā” and the “lake Āra” in the Kauṣītaki (1.3). These are probably Upaniṣadic incarnations of the heavenly waters of the Vedic hymns.142 In epic and other post-Vedic sources, we find the notion of a gigantic banyan tree (nyagrodha-) standing in the ocean;143 the imposing banyan would here seem to have replaced the aśvattha. 139 “At a distance of a journey of forty[-four] days on horseback from the spot where the Sarasvatī is lost (in the sands of the desert), (is situated) Plakṣa prāsravaṇa. At the same distance from here (from the earth) (is situated) the world of heaven; they go to the world of heaven by a journey commensurate with the Sarasvatī.” (PB 25.10.16, tr. Caland; my brackets. catuścatvāriṃśad āśvīnāni sarasvatyā vinaśanāt plakṣaḥ prāsravaṇas tāvad itaḥ svargo lokaḥ sarasvatīsammitenādhvanā svargaṃ lokaṃ yanti.) In JB 2.298 (not cited by Macdonell & Keith; cf. Caland 1970 [1919], p. 201f, for a translation), we learn: “They walk along the Sarasvatī. Sarasvatī is Speech. The god-travelled path is Speech; they walk there along just the god-travelled path … They walk rising up to just that heavenly world. They walk from the Prakṣa Prāsravaṇa. This Prakṣa Prāsravaṇa is the end of Speech; where the end of Speech is, there is the heavenly world. They go here to just that heavenly world.” (My tr.; sarasvatyā yanti. vāg vai sarasvatī, vāg u devayānaḥ panthā. devayānenaiva tat pathā yanti … svargam eva tal lokaṃ rohanto yanty, ā prakṣāt prāsravaṇād yanty; eṣa u ha vai vāco ‘nto yat prakṣaḥ prāsravaṇo; yatra ha vai vāco ‘ntas tat svargo lokaḥ. svargam evaital lokaṃ gacchanti.) In JUB 4.26.12 (quoted below), the tree is said to stand in the centre of the earth and the sky. 140 Witzel 1984. 141 “Für: *airāmadīya ,Nahrung (irā) und Rauschtrank (mada) (d. h. Milch und Soma) enthaltend?” (Thieme, p. 69 n. 1.) 142 Thieme (p. 69) further compares these trees to the pārijāta-, a flower-bearing celestial tree that grows in Indra’s heaven, according to classical Sanskrit literature. The name, he suggests, is a prākrt word derived from an original *pārejāta-, “growing (lit. ‘born’) on the shore”. In Kālidāsa’s Raghuvaṃśa, 10.11, Viṣṇu, resting on the primeval waters, is said to appear “like another Pārijāta in the midst of the waters” (apāṃ madhye pārijātam ivāparam). (The likeness is due to his (four) bangled arms, which are said to be reminiscent of tree-branches.) The image, then, is one of a celestial tree standing surrounded by water. 143 In the Mārkaṇḍeya episode in the Mbh (3.180-221), the sage Mārkaṇḍeya, drifting about on the surface of the water after the deluge, comes across an enormous banyan (nyagrodhaṃ sumahāntaṃ vai viśālaṃ, 186.81; cf. 186.114) in whose branches a


Comparatively little attention has been paid to the – certainly late – passage Mbh 5.45.9, a part of the Upaniṣadic-style Sanatsujātīya.144 If read together with the two preceding stanzas (7-8), it may, however, shed some important light on the ancient Indian conception of the world-tree.

The powerful ones then travel along the twelvefold stream, the terrible honey guarded by the gods.

[Refrain:] The yogins behold the eternal Lord.

Having collected it, the bee drinks the half-monthly honey. The Lord arranged it as an oblation among all beings. The yogins etc.

Wingless ones have rushed toward the golden-leafed aśvattha; having there become birds, they fly out in their respective directions. The yogins etc.145

The “honey” (madhu), which is said to be twelvefold (dvādaśapūgā-) and “half-monthly” (ardhamāsa-), would be the soma (the “oblation”), being consumed in the fortnight of the waning moon. The bee’s collecting and then drinking the honey would seem to refer to the waxing and waning of the moon, respectively, in which case the image of the moon as a collection or receptacle of soma is implied; or the bee itself may be the moon, and the drinking what causes it to swell for a half month, like the fig-eating bird in Thieme’s interpretation. That the golden-leafed aśvattha is no ordinary tree, but related to the aśvattha in Kaṭha Upaniṣad and other texts, need hardly be said. The birds are reminiscent of those in RV 1.164.21-2, which

divine child (the creator, Nārāyaṇa) is reposing. In a somewhat similar episode in the Kathāsaritsāgara (26.3), a fishing ship happens to come upon the “divine banyan-tree” (devo vaṭadrumaḥ), rising like a mountain in the midst of the sea; under it is a vast maelstrom (sumahāvartaṃ) which drags the ship down to the submarine fire (vaḍavāmukham). (9-10.) The maelstrom may conceivably represent the centre of the ocean. 144 Cf. van Buitenen 1978 for a complete translation. 145 dvādaśapūgāṃ saritaṃ devarakṣitam / madhu īśantas tadā saṃcaranti ghoram / yoginas taṃ prapaśyanti bhagavantaṃ sanātanam // tad ardhamāsaṃ pibati saṃcitya bhramaro madhu / īśānaḥ sarvabhūteṣu havirbhūtam akalpayat / yoginas taṃ prapaśyanti bhagavantaṃ sanātanam // hiraṇyaparṇam aśvattham abhipatya apakṣakāḥ / te tatra pakṣiṇo bhūtvā prapatanti yathādiśam / …


seek the amrta; their getting wings and flying away presumably mean that they attain immortality, or liberation.146

The world-tree, then, is a fig-tree (aśvattha, plakṣa), standing in the centre of the world, or sometimes in heaven; and closely associated with the heavenly waters and the drink of immortality. Sometimes it is said to stand in an inverted position, an image taken up by a later tradition and turned into an allegory of the world. But what may have been the original meaning of this conception? Kuiper put forward an ingenious theory that sought to explain the inverted tree in the light of early Vedic cosmology.147 Attaching special significance to the fact that Varuṇa, the god of the nocturnal sky and the waters (not least the heavenly waters), is in RV 1.24.7 said to hold the inverted tree from above, he went on to compare this passage to 5.85.3:

Varuṇa has poured out the jar, its brim turned downwards, over heaven and earth and the atmosphere. The king of the whole universe moistens the earth with it, like rain (moistens) barley.148

The “jar” (kávandha-) is clearly used by the god for pouring out the heavenly waters over the earth, in the form of fructifying rain or, as seems to be the case here, dew.149 This heavenly jar or pail is, however, not unique to this particular passage; in fact, it figures rather often in the RV and the AV, and is handled by a number of different gods, most often the Maruts or storm-gods, who are closely associated with rainfall.150 They use the “jar” (for which the word kóśa- is most often used) to draw (ā cyāvaya-) water from the heavenly ocean, then 146 Like the post-Vedic descriptions of the inverted tree, these passages probably reflect younger ideological trends. The honey being “terrible” (ghora-) may point to the notion that even the gods are stuck in metempsychosis, and that the prolonged life gained from soma or amrta- is not true immortality. If the tree, as in Bhagavadgītā etc., represents the (physical) world, then the birds’ getting wings and leaving the tree would seem to be an image for final liberation from the chain of rebirths. 147 Kuiper 1983, chap. 6: “The Heavenly Bucket”. 148 nīcīnabāraṃ váruṇaḥ kávandham prá sasarja ródasī antárikṣam / téna víśvasya bhúvanasya rājā yávaṃ ná vrṣṭír vy ùnatti bhūma //. 149 If rainfall were the object of the passage, the words “like rain” (ná vrṣṭír) would make a rather clumsy comparison (rain falling on the earth being likened to rain that falls on barley). If Kuiper’s inference is right, the setting would further be the nocturnal sky; making it likely that the reference is to dew falling on earth during the night. 150 Kuiper, op. cit., p. 147ff.


they tilt it so that the water is poured out as rain. Probably it is the same jar that is referred to in the mahāvrata festival, where young women, in what appears to be a rain-making ritual, walk around the mārjālīya fire with water-filled pitchers (kumbha-) on their heads, chanting, “This is honey!” (idaṃ madhu); the head representing the sky according to JB 2.404.151 Lüders152 recognized that this jar must be identical with what is elsewhere in the RV referred to as the “spring” (útsa-), “well” (avatá-), or “udder”153 (ūdhan-)154 of the sky, from which flow streams of “honey” (mádhu). That this spring is the source of rainfall can be inferred from passages such as: “They who, like drops, blow over heaven and earth with the rains, milking the inexhaustible spring”155 (8.7.16); “… the Maruts, bearing pails, cause the spring to swell, as the mighty ones roared; they moisten the earth with the sap of the honey”156 (5.54.8); “They milk the thundering, inexhaustible spring” 157 (1.64.6); “They who pour out the inexhaustible spring, who constantly sprinkle the sap into the plants”158 (AV 4.27.2), etc.159 That the contents of the jar or spring are 151 etad vai pratyakṣaṃ divo rūpaṃ yan mūrdhā; pointed out by Witzel 1996, p. 535 and n. 19. Cf. transl. by Caland 1970 [1919], pp. 215-16. For the ritual, see e.g. Rolland 1972, esp. p. 18ff; Thite 1975, pp. 100-103. 152 Lüders 1959, pp. 375-95. His conclusions were largely accepted by Kuiper, op. cit., p. 141ff, who however argued that the jar or spring actually belongs to the netherworld, being situated above the earth only at night. On the heavenly spring cf. now also Oberlies 2012, Index, s.v. Soma-Born. 153 Like an udder, the spring is said to have four apertures from which its contents flow (AV 18.4.30a-b: “They milk the vessel, the jar with four openings, this honey-rich cow, for well-being”, kóśaṃ duhanti kaláśaṃ cáturbilam íḍāṃ dhenúṃ mádhumatīṃ svastáye). As Lüders (1951, p. 285; cf. 1959, p. 381) noted, its four streams are the precursors of the four rivers flowing down the slopes of the world-mountain Meru in post-Vedic cosmology. Kuiper (1983, p. 142) suggested, as we have seen, that this image is implied in the young woman with four plaits in RV 10.114.3. 154 In fact, some adjectives used to designate this spring or receptacle (which is frequently said to be “milked” by the gods) occur elsewhere as ways of referring to the udder of a cow: cf. the “udder with four apertures” (ūdhaś cáturbilaṃ) in RVKh 4.12.1, and the “cow with opening(s) downwards” (gávi nīcīnabāre) in RV 10.106.10. In both cases, ordinary cows are described. 155 yé drapsā iva ródasī dhámanty ánu vrṣṭíbhiḥ / útsaṃ duhánto ákṣitam //. 156 … marútaḥ kabandhínaḥ / pínvanty útsaṃ yád ināso ásvaran vy ùndanti prthivīm mádhvo ándhasā //. 157 útsaṃ duhanti stanáyantam ákṣitam. 158 útsam ákṣitaṃ vyácanti yé sádā yá āsiñcánti rásam óṣadhīṣu. 159 I refer to Lüders 1959, p. 385ff.


frequently referred to as “honey” does not speak against this, as water, especially the heavenly waters (divyā apáḥ), is often said to be or to contain honey, ghee, milk, amrta-, or soma. The notion underlying such descriptions is that a heavenly sap or essence (rása-), on which the gods feed and which is concentrated in the soma and other libations, is contained in water, reaching earth through rainfall and entering into plants and the milk of cows.160

Back to the jar with its bottomside up. Kuiper notes that the two passages 1.24.7 and 5.85.3 both treat a situation wherein something is held downwards (nīcīnā-; nīcīnabāra-) by Varuṇa, who must here be envisaged as residing in the night-sky. Seeking to reconcile the god’s seemingly conflicting functions as ruler of both the nocturnal sky (containing the heavenly waters) and the underworld (with the subterranean waters), he posits a conception of a nightly inversion of heaven and underworld, whereby the cosmic tree, connecting heaven and earth (and underworld), is turned upside-down so that its roots, and Varuṇa’s underworld, temporarily appear above the earth. The vessel, standing in Varuṇa’s dwelling at the root of the tree, is then turned downwards, and its contents are emptied out over the earth.

Kuiper’s theory has not met with unanimous acceptance.161 Certainly the cosmological image it describes is fantastic, and its reconstruction rests heavily upon two passages occurring in different hymns. It has, however, received some support from Bodewitz,162 who, while skeptical to parts of Kuiper’s theory, has shown that the waters of heaven and those under the earth are often interchangeable in the cosmological classifications of Middle Vedic texts, suggesting that they are, in fact, identical.

160 See Rönnow 1927, chap. 2: “Das Lebenswasser”; cf. Lüders, op. cit., p. 351ff. 161 Klaus (1986), whose study however deals with younger (Middle Vedic) materials, states (p. 69): “KUIPERs Ansichten lassen sich nach unseren Quellen nicht belegen. Von dem kosmischen Baum wissen diese nichts.” According to Oberlies (2012, p. 421 n. 56), the theory “hat in den Texten keinerlei Stütze, von der bloßen Wahrscheinlichkeit der Existenz einer solchen Konzeption einmal ganz abgesehen”. Wilden (2000), though generally critical of Kuiper’s approach to the texts, does not treat the rain-jar in her monograph on Vedic rain-theories. 162 Bodewitz 1982, 2000.


The heavenly soma-vessel and the stars of Ursa Maior

A connection between the nocturnal sky and the rain-vessel has, however, been definitely established by Kuiper’s disciple, Witzel,163 who has brought the previously neglected passage AV 10.8.9 into the discussion of the heavenly vessel.164 It may be translated as follows:

The bowl (camasá) has its opening sideways and its bottom above. In it, dazzling glory is deposited.

There sit together seven seers, who have become the guardians of the great one.165

The Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad, 2.2.3, has a partly different version:

The bowl has its opening downwards and its bottom above. In it, dazzling glory is deposited. On its rim sit seven seers, with Speech, united with brahman, as the eighth.166

The Upaniṣad goes on to comment upon this stanza, claiming that the overturned bowl is the human body, in which reside seven vital forces (prāṇas).167 At the same time, however, it gives us the proper names of the seven seers sitting on the bowl: they are Gotama, Bharadvāja, Viśvāmitra, Jamadagni, Vasiṣṭha, Kaśyapa, and Atri. (2.2.4.) These are among the most common names assigned to the mythical “seven seers” (saptarṣayaḥ), although they vary. Now, the “Seven Seers” is the name of the constellation Ursa Maior (the Great Wain, the Big Dipper) with its seven stars. 168 Witzel makes the following observations on the shape and movements of this constellation:

163 Witzel 1996. 164 The significance of this passage for Vedic cosmography and starlore had been pointed out by Brereton (1991) in a lengthy discussion. 165 tiryágbilaś camasá ūrdhvábudhnas tásmin yáśo níhitaṃ viśvárūpam / tád āsata rṣayaḥ saptá sākáṃ yé asyá gopā maható babhūvúḥ //. 166 arvāgbilaś camasa ūrdhvabudhnas tasmin yaśo nihitaṃ viśvarūpam / tasyāsata ṛṣayaḥ sapta tīre vāg aṣṭamī brahmaṇā saṃvidāneti /. 167 The localization of the seven seers in the human body is actually not entirely fortuitous, but is found in some other texts: cf. Ehlers 2007 (who posits a parallelism between the body and the stars of Ursa Maior). 168 On this constellation and its designations in ancient India, cf. Mitchiner 2000 [1982]; Witzel 1999; Scherer 1953, pp. 131-41. Cf. now also Parpola 2015, pp. 196-98, 209, 311 (who, of course, posits an Indus Civilization origin).


If one actually observes the movement of Ursa Maior one can easily see that this asterism actually turns upside down every night. […] Observation […] shows that the Great Wain/Wagon/Bear/Ursa Maior has the form of a big ladle that is emptied out every night: it slowly turns around, scooping up the heavenly water and then releasing it over the earth lying beneath it.169

He further notes that this asterism has been called or likened to a water-containing vessel in many cultures.170

These observations certainly support Kuiper’s theory of a connection between the rain-vessel and the nocturnal sky. They also explain why the opening of the vessel is said to be sideways instead of downwards in the AV passage: this is well in keeping with the movements of Ursa Maior.171 But there is more, I think, that can be gleaned from this localization of the vessel. The Seven Seers are mentioned in connection with the cosmic tree, Plakṣa Prāsravaṇa, in JUB 4.26.12:

Just one span to the north of the Plakṣa Prāsravaṇa is the middle of the earth. And where these Seven Seers are, there is the middle of the sky. (Tr. Oertel, slightly modified.)172

Thieme173 translates the last part, “Und wo diese ‘Sieben Seher’ (Ursa major) sich befinden, [um das Maß einer Spanne nördlich davon] da ist die Mitte des Himmels”; justifying, in a footnote, the brackets with the remark that “ja nicht Ursa major sondern der Polarstern (Ursa minor α) die Mitte des Himmels bezeichnet”. It is true that the constellation is situated somewhat to the north of the northern celestial pole, and that the Seven Seers are usually said to be “in the north” in Vedic texts.174 Any polestar proper did, however, probably not exist at the time of the composition of this text (before the middle of the 1st

169 Witzel 1996, p. 540. Cf. the plates on p. 544, showing the movements of the constellation as they would have appeared over Panjab around 1800 B.C.E. 170 Op. cit., pp. 541-42. 171 Op. cit., p. 537 n. 23. 172 plakṣasya prāsravaṇasya prādeśamātrād udak tat prthivyai madhyam. atha yatraite sapta rṣayas tad divo madhyam. Witzel (1984, p. 224) points out that the tree is located at the divo madhyam also in the unpublished Vādhūla Pitṛmedhasūtra. 173 Thieme 1949, p. 70. 174 Cf. Mitchiner, op. cit., p. 107ff.


millennium B.C.E.). 175 The present polestar, Polaris or α Ursae Minoris, did not reach this position until after the 6th century B.C.E.; in ancient India, the polestar (dhruva-, the “fixed one”) is first mentioned in late Vedic texts (TĀ, Gṛhyasūtras) which can be dated to the last few centuries B.C.E.176 It is very possible, then, that the passage quoted lets the Seven Seers represent the centre of the sky, in the absence of a polestar proper. This is the solution suggested by Mitchiner: “Since the constellation of the Seven Ṛṣis or Ursa Major is that closest to the centre-point or ‘pivot’ of the sky, the above passage may be seen as a poetic – if astronomically slightly imprecise – way of expressing their location.”177 In conclusion, it appears that the constellation was associated with the cosmic tree and the centre of the world; as the tree is said to stand in the middle of the earth, we must think of the Seven Seers as situated above it, or in it. In the custody of these seers is the heavenly jar which, according to Kuiper, stands in the tree and is overturned each night.

I would like to draw some attention to the mantra TS 4.2.9.1 (= MNU 370-71), which has so far been neglected in scholarly

175 The problem of the polestar in ancient Indian literature has been treated in detail by Liebert 1968/1969. 176 Liebert’s high date for the Gṛhyasūtras (800-600 B.C.E.) makes him identify the star Kochab (β Ursae Minoris), which was close to the pole at this time, as the “polestar” of the texts. He also thinks that the dhruvadarśana-rite of the Gṛhyasūtras, in which a newly-wedded bride is made to point towards the polestar, “originally” concerned Thuban (α Draconis), which was located at the pole in the early third millennium B.C.E.; and that the ritual originated among the indigenous populations of India, to be taken up by the Indo-Aryans only at a late date. Liebert has recently been followed by Parpola (2015, pp. 200-201), who holds that the origins of the rite must date “from the time of the Indus civilization”. I do not see any reasons for these conjectures. As the earliest Gṛhyasūtras are today dated to the last few centuries B.C.E., the polestar referred to is most likely to have been Polaris; and the dhruvadarśana- may well have originated only at this time (after Polaris had become the polestar), making it unnecessary to assume some pre-Aryan ritual that had survived throughout the millennia to resurface in the literature at this late date. 177 Op .cit., p. 108. He adds: “… the constellation of the Seven Ṛṣis would at this earlier period have been not only perhaps the most easily recognisable constellation in the northern hemisphere, but also unquestionably that closest to what was then the northern celestial pole.” Something similar may be the case in RV 10.82.2, where the blessed departed are said to revel “beyond the Seven Seers” (yátrā saptarṣīn pará); this would seem to designate the highest point of heaven.


treatments of the Seven Seers178 – understandably enough, as the “seers” are not here referred to as such. There can, however, hardly be any doubt as to who are meant. I give the following translation:

The inspired thoughts flow together like streams, becoming purified inside through heart and mind. I look at the streams of ghee. In their midst there is a golden reed.

On it sits a honey-making bird (suparṇá-), nesting, apportioning honey to the deities. On its (the reed’s?) rim sit seven yellow ones, milking forth by their own force the stream of amṛta-.179

The first verse corresponds to RV 4.58.6a-b and 5c-d, although these two half-verses have switched place here. Their meaning in the Ṛgvedic hymn seems to be wholly ritualistic, dealing with the libations poured into the sacrificial fire (which is perhaps the “golden reed”); as is often the case in these hymns, the inspired thoughts of the poet are at the same time “purified” in his heart, like the soma-juice poured through the strainer. In the Yajurvedic mantra, the context seems to be different; the half-verse preceding RV 4.58.6a-b has been placed after it, presumably so that the bird introduced in the next verse could be placed on the “golden reed”.

The seven “yellow ones” sitting on the rim can easily be identified as the Seven Seers; the verse being a variant of the one quoted by the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad (2.2.3) as tasyāsata ṛṣayaḥ sapta tīre. (AV 10.8.9 has tád āsata rṣayaḥ saptá.) They are said to be “milking forth” the “stream of amṛta”, being the ones who pour out the contents of the heavenly jar. The golden reed also appears in AV 10.7.41: “He who knows the golden reed standing in the primordial flood (salilá-), he is the hidden Prajāpati.”180 The passage occurs in a hymn that extols Skambha, the “Support”, a cosmic pillar holding heaven and earth apart (10.7.7, 12, 35 etc.); it is sometimes described as a tree with branches (10.7.21, cf. 38). The golden reed in the

178 It is not referred to either by Mitchiner, Witzel, or Brereton. It is however listed by Bloomfield (1906) as a variant of the mantra tasyāsata rṣayaḥ sapta tīre (for which see above). 179 sám ít sravanti saríto ná dhénāḥ / antár hrdā mánasā pūyámānāḥ / ghrtásya dhārā abhí cākaśīmi / hiraṇyáyo vetasó mádhya āsām // tásmint suparṇó madhukŕt kulāyī bhájann āste mádhu devátābhyaḥ / tásyāsate hárayaḥ saptá tīre svadhāṃ dúhānā amŕtasya dhārām //. 180 yó vetasáṃ hiraṇyáyaṃ tiṣṭhantaṃ salilé véda / sá vái gúhyaḥ prajāpatiḥ //.


Yajurvedic mantra would seem to be the cosmic tree, which, as we have seen, is often said to stand in water, like a reed; as for its being golden, the “golden-leafed aśvattha” of the Sanatsujātīya comes to mind.

Then there is the bird, “apportioning honey to the deities” (bhájann … mádhu devátābhyaḥ), reminiscent of Soma who as the moon “apportions the share to the gods” (bhāgáṃ devébhyo ví dadhāty) in RV 10.85.19; the two birds in 10.114.3, perched “where the gods have received their share” (yátra devā dadhiré bhāgadhéyam), or the birds in 1.164.21, crying out for the “share” (bhāgám) of the amṛta. Of great interest is the word madhukŕt, lit. ”honey-maker”, applied to the bird; this word also has the meaning “bee”. We saw that the Sanatsujātīya speaks of a bee (bhramara-) that collects and drinks the twelvefold, half-monthly “honey”, i.e. soma. Both the bird and the bee are, I think, reflections of the fig-eating bird in RV 1.164.20. The reason why now only one bird is mentioned may be that the other, watching bird was of no significance to the image of the bird that feeds on and distributes the drink of immortality, perched on the world-tree; in other words, the watching bird became obsolete.

In 1.164.21, the “sweet fig” is said to be at the “top” (ágre) of the (world-)tree (where, by implication, the fig-eating bird sits). This would be the highest point of the sky, which is where the honey-yielding jar or spring is to be found; this agrees well with the fact that Ursa Maior, as we have seen, is situated close enough to the celestial pole to be said to mark the “centre of the sky” in one text. We have also seen that the soma is said to originate in the “third heaven”. The ambrosial jar, then, rests at the upper end of the world-axis.181

181 But only at night, as Kuiper suggested? According to him, the ambrosial jar stands among the subterranean roots of the tree in the day, to appear in the sky only at night. The image of the figs may speak against such an interpretation in this case, as we would expect them to grow on the branches. The tree in 1.164.20-22 may rather be an example of the celestial tree, standing in the heavenly waters and extending its branches beneath the firmament. It is clear that both images, that of the world-tree rooted in the earth, supporting the sky, and that of the celestial or paradisiacal tree, existed parallel to each other already in Ṛgvedic, and probably even in Proto-Indo-Iranian, times (Oberlies 1998, p. 245 n. 472; 2012, pp. 76-7, 81, 190-91, 433 n. 164; and cf. discussion below). The “top” of the celestial tree is probably simply the crown, which would be at the summit of the sky; in its inverted, nocturnal position, this crown may be identical with the night-sky (cf. Thieme), while the roots are above


In view of all these celestial and sidereal associations, it does not seem farfetched to interpret the plurality of birds in RV 1.164.21-2 as the stars (Thieme), perhaps being identical with the Ancestors gone to heaven (Hillebrandt). In favor of this latter view speak the well-established beliefs in stars or asterisms as semi-deified ancestors or heroes, in Vedic India as well as among other Indo-European peoples182 – the Seven Seers being one example – and the stress on sacred knowledge in the Ṛgvedic stanzas: no one who “does not know the Father” may reach the sweet fig at the top of the tree. This could hardly refer to the gods. Those who seek to reach, through their knowledge, the top of the tree – the firmament, where the celestial soma is situated – would rather seem to be the priests who desire a celestial existence – perhaps as stars – after death.183 This existence is in the heaven of the pious, “where the Ādityas feed on honey on the third firmament”184 (AV 18.4.3), where Yama drinks in the company of the gods (RV 10.35.1), where god-seeking men inebriate themselves at the “spring of honey” (mádhva útsaḥ) (RV 1.154.5), and the Ancestors venerate the “inexhaustible spring with a thousand streams, with a hundred streams, expanding on the back of the flood”185 (AV 18.4.36).

We mentioned that no actual polestar was in existence in the first half of the first millennium B.C.E., when most of the Middle Vedic literature was composed. In the preceding millennium – at the end of which the Vedic hymns were composed – the star Kochab or β Ursae Minoris may have served starwatchers as a sort of polestar, thanks to its brightness and proximity to the northern celestial pole; it was however not as close to the pole as Polaris would later be. Around 1800 B.C.E. it formed, together with two stars in the constellation Draco, a triangle around the pole.186 Harry Falk, in a study supportive it. This could explain the rays or lights (ketávaḥ) said to extend from the downward-reaching branches in 1.24.7: these would refer to the stars. 182 For India cf. Hillebrandt 1999: I, p. 245; Oldenberg 1894, pp. 564-65; now also Klaus 1986, pp. 156-7 (examples from Middle Vedic texts), Oberlies 1998, p. 471 n. 89; 2012, pp. 170-71, 409-10 n. 365. 183 As we have seen, the birds in the Sanatsujātīya also appear to be the emancipated souls; though this late text cannot be used as evidence here. 184 yátrādityā mádhu bhakṣáyanti trtīye nāke. 185 sahásradhāraṃ śatádhāram útsam ákṣitaṃ vyacyámānaṃ salilásya prṣṭhé / (… úpāsate pitáraḥ). 186 Cf. Müller 1970, p. 137 (with a chart).


of Kuiper’s theory of the inverted tree and the nocturnal sky,187 has suggested that these three stars are referred to in MU 6.4, which talks about the world-tree as the “three-footed brahman with its root above … called the One Aśvattha” (ūrdhvamūlaṃ tripād brahma … eko ‘śvatthanāmā). Of course, this Upaniṣad is much later than the period when these three stars circled the pole; but the possibility that it preserves more ancient traditions is increased when one takes into account that a “three-footed” cosmic being is mentioned already in the Vedic hymns. Falk points out that the Puruṣa or cosmogonic giant of RV 10.90 is said to have risen beyond the earth with “three feet” (tripād ūrdhvá úd ait púruṣaḥ, 10.90.4); this Puruṣa sometimes appears to be assimilated to the world-tree in later texts.188 Falk also identifies him with the obscure cosmogonic being Uttānápad who gave birth to the earth according to RV 10.72.3 and whose name, as Falk shows, means “the one with the soles of the feet turned upwards”. Now, in the Harivaṃśa and some Purāṇas, Kochab is called Uttānapāda, while Polaris in the Mahābhārata is referred to by the patronymic Auttānapāda, indicating that the star that previously was closest to the pole is the “father” of the present polestar.189

187 Falk 1994. 188 E.g. in the Atharvavedic Skambha-hymns, and in Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad 3.9, where the Puruṣa “stands like a tree established in heaven” (vṛkṣa iva stabdho divi tiṣṭhaty). Here I would also like to mention Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad 5.5.3, where the Puruṣa’s head is said to be the earth, his arms, the atmosphere, and his legs (lit. “support”, pratiṣṭhā), the sky. 189 Ibid. p. 12; Liebert, op. cit., p. 165ff; Böhtlingk & Roth, s.v. The notion that night constitutes a temporary inversion of the ordered cosmos is reminiscent of the conception of the underworld of the dead as a topsy-turvy place where everything is the opposite of what we find in the world of the living: day here is night there, cattle eat humans, up is down etc. (On this motif in India and elsewhere, see Lommel 1978, pp. 211-27.) An inversion of up and down is referred to in the Mbh, 1.13.11, where Jaratkāru finds his ancestors hanging upside down in a cave. Oberlies (1998, p. 465 n. 58; 2012, p. 488 n. 2) has briefly commented on the possible connection to the tree held upside down by Varuṇa, but, being skeptical as to Kuiper’s theory of a nocturnal inversion of the cosmos, he has not elaborated on the possibility of an association of night with the world of the dead. Such a connection has, however, been forcefully argued by Kuiper (1977, pp. 67-77; 1983, pp. 68ff, 80ff), who connects Varuṇa’s role as the god of night with his being the ruler of the underworld, sometimes together with Yama, the king of the dead (RV 10.14.7, 123.6). Night and death both constitute deviations from the cosmic order, a notion which may well be expressed through the image of an actual overturning of the cosmos.


If these conjectures are right, they add further support to the theory – forcefully argued by Thieme, Kuiper, and Witzel – of a special association of the world-tree with the nocturnal sky, and the celestial pole. This tree stands at the source of the Milky Way (the celestial Sarasvatī-river); at its top (or upturned bottomside?) stands the heavenly jar amid the Seven Seers, seated close to the pole; in the same tree sits Soma, the Moon, distributing the ambrosia of the gods, and here is perhaps also the night-sun. This association with the night-sky is easy enough to understand: the world-axis is typically believed to be located in the middle of the world, at a point which can only be determined at night, through the movements of the stars. In fact, observation of the rotation of the stars around the fixed celestial pole may well have been what gave rise to the conception of an axis mundi in the first place.190 Among peoples of subarctic Eurasia, where beliefs in a world-axis are especially widespread,191 the axis is conceived of variously as a tree or a pillar or wooden post, the polestar being typically said to be immediately above it, in its crown or as a nail gleaming from the top of the post.

It is difficult to say anything definite concerning the relationship between the Ṛgvedic ambrosial jar, which yields rain192 (containing the soma-juice), and the moon, which later becomes the celestial Soma as well as the source of rainfall.193 (That there is no evidence for the moon being identified with Soma before the late hymn RV 10.85

190 Hultkrantz (1996) has pointed out that the turning of the sky around a fixed point is most clearly visible far up in the northern hemisphere, which would explain the prominence of beliefs in a world-axis among subarctic peoples in Eurasia and North America, as compared to the scarcity of such conceptions in, for instance, the ancient Mediterranean civilizations. Possibly, these circumstances may explain the absence of a world-tree in younger Indian mythology, and the early transposition of the tree to heaven, as the early Indo-Aryans migrated southwards. The presence of conceptions of an inverted world-tree among North and Central Asiatic peoples also suggests that the Vedic Aryans brought the belief in a world-tree with them to the South Asian subcontinent from more northerly regions. 191 Cf. Hultkrantz, op. cit.; Holmberg, op. cit.; Paulson in Paulson, Hultkrantz & Jettmar 1962, pp. 28-32; Eliade 1964, chap. 8. 192 Lüders 1959, p. 372: “Der Regen stammt im letzten Grunde aus dem Somaquell im höchsten Himmel”. 193 The question was raised but left aside by Kuiper 1983, p. 146.


is more or less uncontested.194) Although it is sometimes stated in secondary literature that the moon is a receptacle containing the soma, from which gods or Ancestors drink, this seems in fact to be a post-Vedic conception;195 while Middle Vedic texts frequently state that the moon, king Soma, is “the food of the gods”, no vessel is mentioned.196 The connection between Soma (not yet identified with the moon!) and rainfall is a well-established belief already in the RV;197 and the notion that the sacred juice descends to earth with the rain goes back to Proto-Indo-Iranian times.198 Now, is this conception independent from that of the ambrosial rain-jar? I think not. The soma (PIIr *sáuma-) clearly was thought to originate in heaven, in a spring or receptacle situated in the celestial ocean, whence it reached earth with the rain.199 As the jar or spring becomes obsolete in Middle Vedic beliefs, it would make sense that the moon, now identified with the celestial Soma of the RV, has taken over at least its most important functions (as the source of rainfall and the nourishment of the gods).

194 Criticisms of Hillebrandt’s (1999: I) view that the moon is already identified with Soma throughout the RV include Oldenberg 1967, pp. 49-62; Macdonell 1897, p. 113; Vodskov 1897, pp. 276-87; Keith 2007 [1925], p. 171; Lüders 1959, pp. 698-701; Gonda 1985. 195 Examples from epic and classical Sanskrit texts in Gonda 1985; Hillebrandt 1999: I, pp. 195-97. 196 The question has been dealt with by Klaus, op. cit., pp. 148-51, who notes that the earliest mention of the moon as a receptacle for the soma seems to be JB 1.136, speaking of the “juice” (rasa-) that is collected in the moon. In the rather innovative arrangement of ṢvB, 6.1-2, the earth, atmosphere, and sky are said to be three bowls (pātra-), which are drunk empty successively by the gods for three five-day periods during the fortnight of the waning moon; the remaining “sixteenth part” (the new moon) descends on earth and enters plants, trees, cattle, and brahmins. Here the sixteen-part moon (ṣoḍaśakalo vai candramāḥ) appears to be the content of the three bowls, rather than the receptacle itself. 197 Lommel 1978, pp. 314-23; Lüders, op. cit., pp. 339-441. 198 Oberlies 1998, p. 245 n. 472; 2012, pp. 77, 81, 191. 199 Thus Lüders.


Honey, ambrosia, and soma

The association of both the jar and the moon with night also speaks in favor of this conclusion.200 It is clearly closely connected with the conception of a celestial ocean, which, as has been seen, is located in the nocturnal sky. But rain, of course, does not fall only at night, even in highly speculative ancient cosmologies. The “natural basis” of the notion of a reservoir of rainwater in the moon or in Ursa Maior must be something else. I think Gonda was right in identifying this basis, when he wrote, concerning the moon and rainfall:

This popular belief may no doubt be connected with old and widespread conceptions about the close relations between nectar or ambrosia on the one hand and honey, honey-dew, dew on the other. These moistures were believed to come down from the sky or from the atmosphere (ordinary honey being not rarely conceived of as a sort of dew), or to be sent down by the moon. As ideas concerning the salutary honey and the intoxicating mead were similar to those attached to the ‘draught of immortality’ enjoyed by the gods and as the soma was in all probability the Indo-Iranian substitute for mead or at least its counterpart, the inference that there existed a reservoir of soma in the moon cannot be regarded as far-fetched.201

We noted above (in a footnote) that dew seems to be meant in the passage 5.85.3, where Varuṇa pours out the heavenly jar and moistens the barley “like rain” does the earth (yávaṃ ná vrṣṭír vy ùnatti bhūma). Dew is not seen as it falls, but can be seen lying on grass and plants in the morning; the natural inference would be that it has fallen in the night or shortly before daybreak.202 “Honeydew”203 as a poetical and mythological image is known from ancient Greece 204 and

200 Cf. Bodewitz 1982, p. 48 n. 22, commenting on Kuiper’s theory of the rain-jar in the ocean of the nocturnal sky: “… the connection between rain and the (likewise nocturnal) moon is a well-known theme in Vedic India”. 201 Gonda, op. cit., p. 58. 202 On the moon as the origin of dew in classical literature, cf. Boedeker 1984, pp. 58-9; Roscher 1883, p. 79. 203 “In reality honeydew is the sweet viscid juice exuding from leaves punctured by insects and the sweet excretion of aphids and allied insects.” (Gonda, op. cit., p. 45 n. 49.) In more detail: Roscher, op. cit., pp. 13-16. 204 Roscher, op. cit., pp. 9-10, 13-19; Boedeker, op. cit., pp. 45-9. For beliefs and practices concerning honey in ancient Greece, cf. Roscher, op. cit.; Ransome 2014 [1937], chaps. 9-12.


Scandinavia,205 and, indeed, from Vedic India,206 where the Aśvins, gods associated with the morning twilight and noted for their fondness of honey, are said to sprinkle the earth with honey from their “honey-whip” (káśā mádhumatī) or from a skin-bag (dŕti-) as they arrive in their flying chariot; this bag may conceivably be a duplication of the heavenly jar.207

That the Indo-Iranian *sáuma- more or less succeeded the hydromel, the ancient cult-drink of the Indo-Europeans, is fairly uncontroversial.208 A vestige of more ancient cult-practices has been seen in the frequent designation of soma as mádhu-, honey or mead (Proto-Indo-European *medhu-).209 The use of honey in Vedic ritual has been explored by Hillebrandt210 and, more recently, Oberlies,211 who also compares its use in some domestic rites (notably in the śrāddha or Ancestor worship, and the guest-reception ceremony, argha-) with analogous practices in ancient Greece. Obviously, soma has taken the place of the honey-drink not only in ritual, but in myth and cosmology as well; the well-known myth of the bird stealing the 205 It is mentioned in Gylfaginning, where the honeydew is said to fall from the cosmic tree Yggdrasill. Cf. below, and De Vries 1957, p. 406. 206 Oldenberg 1894, pp. 208-9 n. 4 (followed by Lüders, op. cit., p. 374); Vodskov, op. cit., pp. 519-22. Of interest is a passage in Aelianus, De natura animalium 15.7, which describes how honey (méli) falls on pastures in India in the form of dew (drósos); cattle and sheep are led to these pastures and consume the dew as they graze, and their milk becomes so sweet that there is no need to sweeten it with honey. (Roscher, op. cit., p. 33.) This description is highly reminiscent of the Middle Vedic notion that the moon, king Soma, enters the plants at new moon, to be consumed by cattle and blending with their milk (for which cf. Lommel, loc. cit.; Wilden, op. cit., pp. 77-94). 207 This receptacle is, as mentioned, carried by various gods associated with rain (the Maruts, Parjanya). In 5.83.7 (on which cf. Lüders, op. cit., p. 381), Parjanya carries a rain-yielding dŕti- in his chariot, which in the next verse is, however, designated as kóśa-, the most common word used for the rain-vessel. 208 Cf. e.g. Gonda, op. cit.; Oberlies 1998, pp. 244-46; 2007; 2012, pp. 59, 76 (with references). 209 Oldenberg 1894, pp. 367-68, while considering it beyond doubt that mead was the sacred drink of the Indo-Europeans, rejected the idea that the designation mádhu- for soma would be a survival from older practices, suggesting instead that it is a poetical expression used for any pleasant beverage or substance; he also considered the honey that was mixed with the soma-drink to be a simple sweetener. His complete rejection of any connection with Indo-European cult-practices does not, however, seem to have met with great acceptance (cf. e.g. Oberlies, op. cit., p. 244 n. 468). 210 Hillebrandt 1999: I, pp. 316-27; cf. also Lüders, op. cit., pp. 369-79. 211 Oberlies 2007.


soma from heaven 212 has a number of correspondences in the mythologies of other Indo-European peoples, most notably in the Norse myth of the theft of the mead of poetry, as told in the Prose Edda. 213 I think that the heavenly spring, well, or vessel, too, originally did not contain soma. Although there are some indications that a spring of *sáuma- was envisaged already in Proto-Indo-Iranian times,214 the fact remains that the spring or vessel is very seldom said, in the RV and AV, to contain soma; instead, it yields honey, ghee, and curds, substances which are also said to constitute the streams of heaven.215 While soma is not infrequently referred to as honey or milk, it still seems odd that it is but rarely mentioned under its real name in connection with the spring. In fact, the liquids flowing from the spring correspond to those used in the ancestor worship, where they are poured as libations in furrows, ditches, and streams;216 and this is well in keeping with the fact that the blessed dead are said to feed on the streams flowing from the spring.217 Honey mixed with dairy products and water also plays a role in some of the domestic rites,218 as mentioned above; these rites, like the ancestor worship, are generally of a conservative nature and may be very ancient. It would seem, then, that the image of a spring of honey situated in heaven is part of an ancient, perhaps Indo-European, mythological heritage which predates the soma cult. Originally honey and, probably, milk or its products were thought to originate in the rivers feeding the ocean of heaven,

212 Among the numerous studies of this motif, mention may be made of just a few: Kuhn 1859 (a comparative Indo-European study); Johansson 1910; Charpentier 1920; Knipe 1967 (comparing Indo-European as well as ancient Near Eastern materials); Schneider 1971; Feller 2004, chap. 4; Oberlies 1998, pp. 244-46; 2012, pp. 188-91. For comparative (mainly Indo-European) perspectives, see also Doht 1974; West 2007, pp. 158-60. 213 Cf. Doht, op. cit.; De Vries, op. cit., pp. 180-85. 214 Oberlies 1998, p. 245 n. 472. 215 Cf. Lüders, op. cit., pp. 351-59 (“Vermischungen der Ingredienzien der Himmelsflut”). 216 This was pointed out already by Rönnow (1927, chap. 2). On honey in the ancestral rites, cf. also Oberlies 2007, pp. 148-50. 217 Cf. the examples given above, esp. AV 18.4.35-6 (part of a funerary hymn), where the spring is said to be fed by the oblations offered to the dead; in st. 30, it is called a jar with four apertures (kaláśaṃ cáturbilam). The close association of the Ancestors with the (celestial) Sarasvatī (cf. st. 45-7, and Hillebrandt 1999: II, pp. 211-12) is certainly of relevance here, as this river is fed by the heavenly spring. 218 E.g. in the madhuparka- or “honey-mixture” presented to guests.


flowing from the celestial spring, and to fall to earth with the rain or dew (honeydew!). Eventually, these conceptions came instead to center around the soma.

The Indo-Iranian heavenly tree

While the notion of a celestial mead or honey on which the gods feed is, in all likelihood, Indo-European, the case for an Indo-European cosmic tree is considerably shakier. It is true that there are similarities between the Vedic cosmic aśvattha and the ash Yggdrasill of Old Norse mythology; from the branches of this ash, “honeydew” falls on the earth,219 and under its roots a number of wells are situated: Urdr’s well, containing a white, shiny liquid which nourishes the tree; Hvergelmir, which is the source of a number of rivers; and Mimir’s well, containing wisdom-bestowing mead. A comparison was early on made with the tree Somasavana, “flowing with soma”. 220 Uno Holmberg, however, cast serious doubts on the alleged Indo-European origin of such images, pointing out not only the extreme prominence of beliefs in a world-tree or tree of life among non-Indo-European peoples of North Asia, but also the fact that these trees are often said to be dripping of honey or honeydew, or with a milky fluid, and to be standing at the source of rivers.221 Sometimes, the tree grows in the middle of a mythical ocean which, among some peoples (Yakuts, Altai-Tartars), consists of milk and is situated in a celestial paradise.222 To be sure, the conception of an ambrosial tree may be Proto-Indo-European, but not exclusively so; rather, the elixir-yielding cosmic tree is part of a larger, Eurasian mythological complex.223 219 Cf. Gylfaginning, tr. Faulkes 1987, p. 19: “The dew that falls from it on to the earth, this is what people call honeydew, and from it bees feed.” 220 Cf. e.g. Kuhn, op. cit., p. 130ff; Roscher, op. cit., pp. 20-21; De Vries, op. cit., p. 409; Keith, op. cit., p. 172 n. 2; now also Oberlies 1998, p. 245 n. 472; West, op. cit., p. 346. 221 Holmberg 1996 (originally published 1922). 222 Op. cit., pp. 97-8; Paulson, op. cit., p. 32. We leave aside the possibility (brought up by Holmberg) of pan-Indian influence (cf. the ocean of milk in Purāṇic cosmology and in the myth of the “churning of the ocean”); in the Tatar myth cited by Holmberg, p. 97, such influence may be seen in the name of the eagle (Garuda) perched on the tree, but this image is widespread, as we have seen, and only the name may be of foreign origin. 223 Cf. also the cautious remarks in West, op. cit., p. 345ff.


We stand on safer ground when comparing the Vedic world-tree to similar mythical trees in ancient Iran. In Yašt 12.17 we find mention of “the tree of the saēna bird” (vanąm yąm saēnahe), which stands in the midst of the mythical sea Vourukaša, has “good remedies” and is called “All-remedies” (vīspō.biš). All seeds are deposited in it. The bird reappears in Pahlavi texts,224 where it is called Sēnmurw (Avestan mərəγō saēnō, “the bird saēna-”, where saēna- corresponds to Vedic śyená-). It is said to perch on the “tree of many seeds”, breaking off twigs each time it alights on it; from these, seeds are collected by another bird, Cīnāmrōš, and deposited in the rainwater which is brought down on earth by the star Sirius (Tištar). (Mēnōg ī Xrad 61.37-41;225 cf. Bundahišn 27.3.226) Another tree said to stand in Vourukaša is called Gaokərəna or Gokard, or the tree of “the white hōm (haoma)”;227 all who eat from it become immortal (Bundahišn 18.1; 27.4). The evil spirit, Ahriman, once created a lizard and made it attack the tree, though without success (Bundahišn 18.2ff). Of special interest is the notion that it stands at the source of the river Ardvīsūr (Bundahišn 27.4); this is the Avestan river (and goddess) Arəduuī Sūrā Anāhitā, the reincarnation of the old Indo-Iranian celestial river and the counterpart of the Vedic Sarasvatī.228 Reduplication of motifs may be responsible for the formation of two trees and two birds.

Here too, comparisons have been made with the Norse world-ash, in whose crown an eagle is perched and whose roots are gnawed by the dragon Níðhöggr. 229 Again, however, North Asiatic cosmologies cast doubts over the significance of such comparisons. An eagle is frequently found at the top of the world-tree in these belief-systems;230 eagles being sacred to Siberian peoples, the eagle

224 Cf. Schmidt 1980; Carnoy 1964 [1917], pp. 289-91. 225 Cited by Schmidt, op. cit., p. 6. 226 Tr. West 1880. 227 Compared to the Vedic materials by, e.g., Viennot, op. cit., pp. 29-30; Lommel 1978, pp. 521-22; Oberlies 2012, p. 191. 228 Cf. Lommel 1978, pp. 305-13; Witzel 1984, pp. 218, 226; now also Oberlies 2012, pp. 77-8. 229 Cf. in general West 2007, pp. 346-47. 230 Many examples are given throughout Holmberg’s study. The image is also known from the ancient Near East: Wensinck 1921. Pairs of birds perched on trees occur in art throughout the ancient world (Wilke 1922); however, as the mythical, cosmological, or symbolical contexts are almost always lost, it seems hazardous to bring such evidence into our discussion. (Wilke’s view that the birds represent sun


perched on the cosmic tree often appears as a creator-figure or a weather-divinity.231 If we confine our comparisons to the Indo-Iranian sphere, however, the possibility of a common mythological heritage would seem to increase significantly. The tree called “All-remedies” or the “tree of many seeds”, and the tree of the “white haoma” (Vedic sóma-), both call into mind the tree Somasavana or the celestial aśvattha on which grows the healing kuṣṭha-herb. While the motif of the tree dripping with honey or elixir is a widespread one and not (or not only) Indo-European, a tree associated with soma/haoma would likely be the specifically Indo-Iranian incarnation of this motif. The remedy-bearing tree is also said to stand in the middle of Vourukaša, which is often held to be related to the Vedic celestial ocean. Oberlies has recently sought to reconstruct parts of a Proto-Indo-Iranian cosmology in which *sáuma- originated in heaven, in a spring in the midst of the celestial ocean. This ocean was fed by a river springing from the world-tree.232 Other conceptions which may go back to the time of Indo-Iranian unity locate the *sáuma- in heaven on the top of the world-tree (which is the same as the fig-tree in RV 1.164.20-22), or on a world-mountain which could likewise serve the role of an axis mundi. From its heavenly location, the *sáuma- descended to earth with the rain.233

It seems safe to conclude, especially in consideration of the Iranian parallel, that the honey-eating bird originally had nothing to do with the moon. In Proto-Indo-Iranian times, there existed an image of a supernatural bird settled on the cosmic tree and somehow involved in the descent of the drink of immortality from heaven to the earth. In late Ṛgvedic times, an identification of the moon with the celestial Soma developed; if one of the birds in the riddle is to be identified as the moon, it is not yet identical with Soma, but rather is thought to swell as a result of consuming the celestial beverage. The close connection between the world-tree (and the heavenly jar) and the

and moon is a piece of speculation.) The same holds for the old Bulgarian relief adduced by Thieme (1949, p. 73), which shows two peacocks with a plant between them, on which one of them is pecking. While the peacocks may point to an ultimately Indian origin of this motif, a connection with the Vedic riddle of the two birds is too much of an assumption. 231 Sternberg 1930. 232 Oberlies 1998, p. 245 n. 472; 2012, pp. 76-7, 81, 190-91, 433 n. 164. 233 Ibid.


nocturnal sky may further have facilitated an identification with the moon. In the Iranian corpus, however, neither haoma nor the bird are associated with this luminary.

The honey-eating bird(s) and the soma-stealing eagle

Some scholars have maintained that the fig- or honey-eating birds in the riddle-hymn are closely related to the eagle in the myth of the theft of the soma.234 The same would hold for one or both of the birds in Iranian texts, connected with haoma or celestial remedies. A fair amount of analogous myths exists throughout the Indo-European world; the most famous being the Old Norse tale of Odin’s theft (in the shape of an eagle) of the mead of poetry, which, as Kuhn noted long ago, probably preserves an older form of the original myth than the story of the theft of the soma. In the image of birds flying toward the tree that rises to the sky, seeking the “honey” which is also called amŕta-, we would then have a vestige of the old myth.

There are certain difficulties involved in these comparisons. The image of a bird perched on the cosmic or celestial tree – where he has his perpetual seat, according to the Iranian texts – is not too easily reconcilable with the myth, taking place in remote times, of a bird fetching the drink of immortality from heaven. As mentioned earlier, the image of the eagle on the top of the world-tree is very widespread among North and Central Asiatic peoples, and may very well have been picked up by the Indo-Iranians; if so, it would have no relationship to the Indo-European myth of the mead-stealing eagle. Furthermore, no tree appears either in the Vedic or other Indo-European versions of this myth (although Yggdrasill is closely associated with mead and honey).

It is, however, hard to deny that the association of bird and divine drink in both cases is unlikely to be coincidental. While a single bird is said to have fetched the drink of immortality in ancient times, we also meet with the notion that the elixir is continually brought from some distant location by several birds: thus Yasna 10.10-11, where the birds are said to bring the haoma from the world-mountain Haraitī, where it grows, to adjacent mountains. This has been compared to the famous passage in the Odyssey, 12.63f, telling 234 Kuhn, op. cit., pp. 126-27; Johansson, op. cit., pp. 29-30; Lommel, op. cit., p. 517.


of the doves which bring ambrosia to Zeus through the dangerous passage between the Symplegades or clashing rocks.235 In the Yasna passage, neither the mountains nor the birds seem to be of the ordinary kind; for one mountain is called upāiri.saēna, “above the [flight of the] saēna bird”, corresponding to upariśyena-, which is the name of a “heavenly world” (svarga- loka-) in JB 3.66.236 A rock (ádri-) from which the śyená- brings the soma is referred to in the RV (1.93.6);237 and in the Prose Edda, the mead of poetry is stolen by Odin from inside the mountain Hnitbjörg. These Iranian and Old Norse parallels support the view238 that the “rock” from which the bird steals the soma according to RV is not, as some have suggested, to be identified with the earthly mountains on which the soma-plant grew (the Mūjavant of Vedic texts), but belongs to the realm of mythology. It is the primordial mountain, from which the world-tree rises.239

We have seen that the AV locates the remedy-bearing tree, associated with soma and amŕta-, on a Himalayan mountain-top reaching to the “third heaven”; the words suparṇasúvane giráu (AV 5.4.2), “upon the mountain, the brooding-place of the eagle” (Bloomfield), may possibly refer to some mythical association with eagles, or falcons.240 We have also seen that the words “in the third heaven (from here)” recur in Middle Vedic accounts of the bird’s theft of the soma; and though no tree is mentioned there, an aśvattha-tree called “flowing with soma” is located in this third heaven according to Chāndogya Upaniṣad 8.5.3.

One possible reminiscence of the cosmic tree may be found in the post-Vedic version of the soma-stealing myth found in the Mbh (1.14-30) and the Suparṇākhyāna (Sup.).241 This includes a series of episodes seemingly without connection to the central motif of the theft

235 Oberlies 1998, p. 245 n. 471. 236 Ibid., p. 246 n. 475. 237 Elsewhere (5.85.2), Varuṇa is said to have placed the soma on “the rock” (adadhāt sómam ádrau), much like an unnamed god is said to have fashioned haoma and placed it on Haraitī in Yasna 10.10. 238 Oberlies 2012, p. 190. 239 Ibid. pp. 190-91; cf. Kuiper 1983, Index, s.v. “Cosmic mountain”, “Primordial hill”, “Primordial mountain”. Similarly Knipe, op. cit., p. 357, followed by Feller, op. cit., p. 161 n. (the mountain being the heaven). 240 The same root su- ”to propagate, give birth” occurs in a similar context in RV 1.164.22, where the suparṇás are said to breed (súvate) on the tree (vrkṣé). 241 Ed. Charpentier 1920.


of the soma, in which the eagle, Garuḍa, before his excursion to heaven, first consumes an entire non-Aryan tribe of Niṣādas, then goes on to seize an elephant and a giant tortoise and settle on a gigantic tree, called Rohiṇa or Rauhiṇa, where he intends to eat them (Mbh 1.25.31ff; Sup. 7.3ff). This tree is, interestingly, said to stand in water; in a ford, among the jewel-studded “divine trees”, “washed by sea-water” (devavṛkṣān … sāgarāmbuparikṣiptān, Mbh 1.25.27, 30), or on the shore of the ocean (anūpaṃ sindhurājasya; Rāmāyaṇa 3.33.27, Baroda rec., where the tale is briefly recapitulated; the tree is here specified to be a nyagrodha). As he settles on a “huge branch extending a hundred yojanas” (mahāśākhā śatayojanam āyatā, Mbh 1.25.32), however, the tree shakes and the branch breaks; on the branch dwell (!) the Vālakhilya seers, and in order to save them, Garuḍa has to seize the branch before it hits the ground.

These curious adventures have no bearing on the rest of the story, and it has been suggested that they are mythical residues which were no longer understood when these texts were composed. 242 Garuḍa perched on the branch of the enormous tree has been compared to the eagle or falcon on the celestial tree in Iranian tradition.243 That some elements of the episode are of great antiquity is made likely by the fact that Garuḍa’s devouring the Niṣādas has a parallel in the Bundahišn’s account of the bird Cīnāmrōš’s pecking the enemies of Iran.244 In the breaking of the branch on which Garuḍa alights we may conceivably have a faint echo of a tradition analogous to that of the Sēnmurw’s breaking off a thousand twigs from the tree “of all remedies” each time it alights on it.

We mentioned at the beginning of this article that there is some doubt as to whether the birds in the Ṛgvedic riddle really are raptors. While the fact that suparṇá- is sometimes used interchangeably with śyená- would seem to favor a connection with the saēna on the remedy-bearing tree, the problem remains that raptors don’t eat fruit. One solution is to follow Thieme in dismissing any “vollständige zoologische Genauigkeit” in the riddle; taking it to be composed of more or less stereotyped images from the poet’s repertoire, rather than based on actual observations of the behavior of animals. “Honey” and

242 Johansson, op. cit., p. 29; Lommel 1978, pp. 512-13. 243 Lommel, loc. cit. 244 Schmidt 1980, pp. 6, 80 n. 12.


possibly “fig” were used for denoting soma; and the myth associated a bird of prey with the soma’s descent to earth. When composing the riddle of the birds, the poet may have chosen to use the unspecific suparṇá- throughout for denoting the birds, thus eliminating the difficulties that a fig-eating śyená- would have given rise to. In this way, the soma-snatching raptor of the myth was subtly transformed into a frugivore of ambiguous species.

In conclusion, there are some indications that the motif of the bird of prey perched on the tree of life, and the myth of the soma-stealing eagle, are but two different sides of the same mythologem. The bird sitting on the tree and distributing “honey” does in fact fill the same function as the bird that brought the soma to the gods, even though the latter event is assigned to primordial times. The many birds which continually fetch soma from the cosmic mountain or tree (Yasna 10.11, RV 1.164.21-22) may be the stars, as some scholars have suggested; but as mythologems it is clear that they are simply the original mythical bird in multiplied form. 245 The underlying conception is that the soma is located at an inaccessible point in the sky, in the “third heaven”, at the top of the cosmic tree, whence it can be fetched only after a long and difficult journey through the air. In st. 21-22 of the riddle hymn, this mythical image has been employed as a metaphor for the search for knowledge or wisdom: though the birds all shriek for the “share of the amŕta-”, only he who “knows the Father” may reach the “sweet fig” at the top of the tree.

Conclusion

We have tentatively followed the view of Hillebrandt and Kuiper, who saw the two birds in RV 1.164.20 as sun and moon; the bird that eats the “sweet fig” being the moon swelling from absorbing the ambrosia or celestial soma, while the bird that simply “watches” is the sun, which is characterized by all-penetrating vision and is not infrequently described as a bird (suparṇá-) gazing down upon earth. Support for these conclusions can be found in passages like 10.114.3-5 and 10.85.18-19, which employ imagery and phrasing reminiscent of that

245 The notion of “reduplications” of mythological motifs, which may be produced on different “levels” (etiological, cosmological, epic etc.), is well-known from the structuralist study of myth; cf. e.g. Meletinsky 1998, pp. 211-12.


found in the “riddle” of the birds. The “fig” or “honey” is the amŕta- or soma; the tree on which the birds are perched is the world-tree, which is also in other Vedic texts described as a fig-tree. The many birds in 1.164.21-2 are difficult to identify with any certainty, but they may be the stars (Thieme, Hillebrandt), perhaps as the souls of the blessed dead (Hillebrandt). The motif of a distribution of the amŕta- appears in st. 21 as well as in 10.114.3 and 10.85.19 (where the distributor is the moon, identified with Soma), and in the Yajurvedic mantra TS 4.2.9.1; it is possible to infer that the fig-eating bird in 1.164.20 is not merely eating, but also distributing the amŕta- among the other “birds”, perhaps in the way an adult bird feeds its young. This would be the “Father” and the “mighty guardian” mentioned in the riddle, knowledge of whom is required for a share of the “honey”.

In the heaven there is a spring or a jar containing the celestial waters (Lüders, Kuiper); the soma is within these waters and reaches the earth when the jar is poured out and the waters fall down as rain. Kuiper thought that this jar is situated in the world-tree and is turned upside down and poured out by Varuṇa (RV 5.85.3) in the night, when the tree stands in an inverted position (1.24.7). Leaving aside Kuiper’s conjecture that the jar must be located among the roots of the tree, we suggested that the fig at the “top of the tree” in the riddle of the birds should be connected with the heavenly spring or vessel. Following Witzel’s identification, based on AV 10.8.9 and Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad 2.2.3, of the jar as the asterism called the “Seven Seers” (Ursa Maior), we pointed out that the above-mentioned TS 4.2.9.3 contains a variant form of the Atharvavedic stanza, in which the seven stars of that constellation are associated with the “honey-making bird” nesting on the “golden reed”, presumably the world-tree; again confirming the association of “honey” or ambrosia, jar, bird, and tree. The identification of the jar with the Seven Seers confirm an association of the world-tree with the nocturnal sky, as suggested by Thieme and Kuiper. This would lend support to the view that one of the two birds is the moon; it is harder to reconcile with the identification of the other bird as the sun, though we have seen that the sun, in the RV, is thought to travel unseen through the dark night-sky.

In the rest of the article, we explored the motif of the cosmic or celestial tree in Vedic and later literature, and its parallels in Iranian and other Indo-European, as well as non-Indo-European (North and


Central Asiatic), traditions. We have seen that the motifs of the inverted world-tree, of an eagle perched on top of the tree, and of honey or elixir dropping from the tree or flowing in streams from a spring at its roots, recur throughout the Eurasian world. The notion of a tree standing in the celestial ocean and associated with *sauma-, and with a bird of prey, most likely goes back to Proto-Indo-Iranian times, as several scholars have suggested. As for the relationship between this bird and the falcon or eagle fetching the soma or haoma- from a mythical mountain, according to a tale with parallels especially in Old Norse mythology (Kuhn, Doht, Knipe), we suggested that they may be closely related, being the mythological and cosmological expressions of the same basic idea: that of a supernatural bird bringing the divine beverage from heaven and distributing it among the worthy.

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ISSN 0001-6438

Outer and Inner Indo-Aryan, and northern India as an ancient linguistic area

Claus Peter Zoller University of Oslo

Abstract

The article presents a new approach to the old controversy concerning the veracity of a distinction between Outer and Inner Languages in Indo-Aryan. A number of arguments and data are presented which substantiate the reality of this distinction. This new approach combines this issue with a new interpretation of the history of Indo-Iranian and with the linguistic prehistory of northern India. Data are presented to show that prehistorical northern India was dominated by Munda/Austro-Asiatic languages. Keywords: Indo-Aryan, Indo-Iranian, Nuristani, Munda/Austro-Asiatic history and prehistory.

Introduction

This article gives a summary of the most important arguments contained in my forthcoming book on Outer and Inner languages before and after the arrival of Indo-Aryan in South Asia. The

72 Claus Peter Zoller

traditional version of the hypothesis of Outer and Inner Indo-Aryan purports the idea that the Indo-Aryan Language immigration1 was not a singular event. Yet, even though it is known that the actual historical movements and processes in connection with this immigration were remarkably complex, the concerns of the hypothesis are not to reconstruct the details of these events but merely to show that the original non-singular immigrations have left revealing linguistic traces in the modern Indo-Aryan languages. Actually, this task is challenging enough, as the long-lasting controversy shows.2 Previous and present proponents of the hypothesis have tried to fix the difference between Outer and Inner Languages in terms of language geography (one graphical attempt as an example is shown below p. 106) which, in turn, was explained in terms of different immigration routes (northern vs. southern) and/or in terms of earlier vs. later immigrations.3 But all such conjectures – also the well-founded ones – fail to explain what differentiates Outer Languages essentially from Inner Languages. My answer is that the historical development of the Outer Languages following the Proto-Indo-Iranian stage differed to some extent from the development that led from Proto-Indo-Iranian to Old Indo-Aryan (and, almost needless to say, from the development to Old Iranian). This is a claim otherwise associated only with Nuristani. Nuristani is seen by many, though not by all, as constituting a third branch within Indo-Iranian. I will argue below that this is only partially correct: There is much evidence to show that there continued to exist a linkage

1 Here and in the forthcoming book I mostly speak of language immigration. I thereby bypass the question whether this immigration was primarily due to population movements or primarily due to language adaptation. This question is not essential for my arguments. I will also not argue here with the proponents of the Indigenous Aryans Theory since their arguments have nothing to do with the model proposed here. 2 It needs to be understood that the opponents of the Outer-Inner Language theory (or the agnostics) usually do not doubt that the Indo-Aryan immigration was a non-singular and fairly long process. Meanwhile much evidence has been accumulated to show this (see in the Literature e.g. quoted publications by Michael Witzel or Asko Parpola). There is also evidence that speakers of Indo-Aryan were already in South Asia before the arrival of the Vedic Aryans as has been shown e.g. by Rainer Stuhrmann (2016). But neither Witzel nor Parpola nor others are concerned with modern linguistic reflexes. 3 I will argue below that only the latter paradigm makes sense because today it is impossible to draw clear-cut borders between presumed Outer and Inner Languages.

Outer and Inner Indo-Aryan 73

of languages/dialects4 even after the separation of Proto-Indo-Aryan from Proto-Iranian.

The article consists of four main parts and several sections: Part I recapitulates briefly the scholarly history of the debate from its beginnings in the 19th Century till today. Part II discusses succinctly some linguistic terms and facts concerning the history of Indo-Aryan which have been ignored by the proponents and opponents of the hypothesis but which are crucial for a clear understanding of the model proposed here. I will argue in Part III that from among the many previously proposed arguments, only the one pertaining to the contested historical origin of the Middle IndoAryan (MIA) -alla/ illa/ulla- suffix is of diagnostic value for supporting the hypothesis.5 In Part IV the old hypothesis of Outer and Inner Languages is integrated into a new theory.6 The core of this new theory consists of two propositions the fulfilment or non-fulfilment of which decides on the validity or invalidity of the theory. Here is a summary of the two propositions:

• Especially – but not only – peripheral New Indo-Aryan

languages7 have to show evidence for OIA and PIE features neither found in Vedic nor in Classical Sanskrit.8

4 Following the terminology of Malcolm Ross, I will henceforth use the term ‘lect’ as a cover term for both language and dialect. A linkage of lects arises after lectal differentiation of a language. An example of a linkage of lects are the language varieties found in the Hindi Belt. 5 This suffix is of Proto-Indo-European (PIE) origin, but it is unknown in Old Indo-Aryan (OIA) and only treated by Indian grammarians of MIA from around the 4th or 5th Century CE onwards. On pp. 93ff. I will show that this is a striking example for the gradual penetration of Outer Language (OL) features into the area of the Inner Languages (IL). 6 I use the term not in the Anglo-Saxon but in the traditional German way: A theory is a system of propositions, which is used to describe or explain aspects of reality and make predictions about potential/possible (future) observations. 7 That means especially (but not only) Outer Languages which are by definition peripheral both in geographical and in cultural-linguistic terms, i.e. typically non-written languages spoken by non-dominant populations that have been linguistically influenced only little or only moderately by the Indo-Aryan koinés. I will explain in Part II my understanding of the term koiné. With “especially but not only Outer Languages” I mean that e.g. Braj Bhasha, even though it is the sister language of Hindi and also located in the Madhya deśa, the ancient center of Vedic language and culture, contains significantly more Outer Language features than Hindi. I explain this


• South Asia has long since been recognized as constituting a linguistic area (Sprachbund). Its formation is usually ascribed to interactions between Indo-Aryan and Dravidian. Influence through Munda is regarded as less important and even less important is the influence through Tibeto-Burman. This situation makes it safe to assume that before the advent of Indo-Aryan (and Dravidian?9) northern India was charac-terized by a substantially different type of linguistic land-scape. This is standing to reason vis-à-vis the very long history of human habitation in South Asia. Hence, the second proposition predicts that the earlier immigration – namely of the ancestor of the Outer Languages – must have experienced a strong impact from linguistic features of the prehistoric linguistic area, and which has left clear traces in the modern Outer Languages, whereas the later Vedic language immigration led to a weak impact on Vedic and its follow-up languages.

My contention is that if linguistic data can indeed be presented to support both propositions, this is a definite confirmation of the theory of a distinction between Outer and Inner Languages. Hence, Part III will present (a) some diverse linguistic examples which support the first proposition (i.e. inherited linguistic data not found in OIA but only at later historical stages), and (b) will present other linguistic examples of a completely different nature because they are non-inherited. These latter data are presently predominantly found in

fact by presuming that Proto-Braj Bhasha was stronger influenced by Outer Language features than Proto-Hindi. 8 This proposition entails the prediction that if there were (at least) two different immigrations of two different OIA languages/dialects into South Asia (one of them the Vedic language) then their mutual mingling must have required many centuries before the first Outer Language features surfaced in the MIA phase of the koinés. 9 Whereas some Dravidologists, like Bhadiraju Krishnamurti (2003), are agnostic on the question of the origin of Dravidian, I may also mention G. Uma Maheshwar Rao (University of Hyderabad) who pursues Dravidian and Mongolian comparative studies, and the publication of Jaroslav Vacek (1989). But in any case, this question is not of central relevance for the argumentation of this article because it is most unlikely that early Dravidian was once spoken all over the same area where now Indo-Aryan is spoken.


north-western Indo-Aryan Outer Languages,10 in Tibeto-Burman West Himalayish and in its related, but meanwhile extinct Zhang Zhung language,11 and in the language isolate Burushaski.12

The examples of (b) presented below, which are non-inherited (i.e. not of Indo-Aryan pedigree), show clearly that the linguistic area of northern India, including large stretches of the mountains between Himalayas and Hindu Kush, was in prehistoric times (i.e. before the arrival of Indo-Aryan) deeply influenced by Munda/Austro-Asiatic languages and their typical linguistic features.13 The fact that these Munda/Austro-Asiatic words and features are practically absent from Vedic and Classical Sanskrit, that they are still rare in MIA deśya dialects (see below) but found in impressive number in the just-mentioned modern languages is a clear proof for the correctness of the above-formulated second proposition.14

10 This means mainly Nuristani, Dardic and Pahāṛī languages spoken roughly between Uttarakhand and eastern Afghanistan. 11 West Himalayish is a group of small Tibeto-Burman languages scattered through the high valleys of the Himalayas between Nepal and Kashmir. The Zhang Zhung language was spoken in large parts of Upper Tibet. It died out as a written language in the 8th Century CE. Specialists find the closest relationship between Zhang Zhung language and West Himalayish, forming together a separate branch (different from Tibetan) within the Tibeto-Burman language family. 12 Spoken in the Northern Areas of Pakistan. 13 The expression Munda/Austro-Asiatic is a kind of kludge. The Austro-Asiatic language family comprises around 160 languages which are spoken from eastern India throughout large parts of Southeast Asia and even in some areas of southeast China. They are usually divided into two main branches: Munda and Mon-Khmer. The Munda languages are spoken in Bangladesh and India; in India in West Bengal, Odisha, Jharkhand, Chattisgarh, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and Andhra Pradesh. A western offshoot is Korku spoken in Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra. The linguistic history of Austro-Asiatic is till today much less well understood than the history of Indo-Aryan. Despite the undisputable linguistic kinship between Munda and Mon-Khmer, both branches also differ impressively from each other. There seems to be a tendency among specialists to suggest that Munda is intrusive from Southeast Asia into India, but there have also always been others who have argued the other way round. Due to the many open questions I use the term Munda/Austro-Asiatic (in accordance with Parpola) as a kludge. The conclusions I draw from the findings of clear Munda/Austro-Asiatic languages (language features) mainly in the north-west of South Asia are found towards the end of this article. But already here I want to make clear that I will not make a definite statement with regard to the homeland of Austro-Asiatic. 14 We will see below that nevertheless Munda/Austro-Asiatic was not the only language family of prehistoric northern India.


Part I A short history of the Outer and Inner Indo-Aryan controversy

The hypothesis actually goes back to the 19th Century missionary and linguist August Friedrich Rudolf Hoernle who formulated it the first time in his 1880 publication. However, it only came into prominence through Abraham Grierson (Linguistic Survey of India 1.1: 116-118 and his article 1931-33), but was resolutely rejected by Suniti Kumar Chatterji (1926: 150-169).15 This related to the following arguments regarding the following preservations in northwestern (and eastern) Indo-Aryan: preservation of final -i, -e (and -u); epenthesis; i > e, u > i, ai and au > e and o; c, j > ċ, dz; phonological status of ṅ and ñ; l > r and ḍ > ṛ; d ~ ḍ; d > j; -mb- > -m-; -r- > -0-; -s- > -h-; ś, ṣ, s > ś; tendency for loss of word-medial aspiration; non-occurrence of compensatory vowel-lengthening; feminine -ī; ablative postposition; synthetic declension; pronominal affixation; -l- past and adjectival -l-; lexical evidence. Chatterji rejects all Grierson arguments that the quoted features would reflect a difference between Outer and Inner Languages. I fully agree with Chatterji16 with the exception of three features: the alternation d ~ ḍ,17 the historical process c, j > ċ, (d)z and the historical origin of the -l(l)- past which I discuss below. Chatterji’s rejection of the hypothesis brought the discussion to an effective standstill until it was revived almost hundred years later by Franklin Southworth (2005a).

Besides the ‘-l(l)- past argument’, Southworth suggests in addition the following features as characteristic for Outer Languages as against Inner Languages (2005a: 136ff.): modern reflexes of OIA gerundive -(i)tavya-; unequal geographical distribution of reflexes of OIA r; lack of length contrast in i and u; word accent; change l → n; lexical evidence. The six arguments are unequally persuasive and all in all not really convincing. For instance, quoting a few parallel

15 Chatterji discusses here Grierson’s article from 1920 on Indo-Aryan vernaculars, published in BSOAS I,III. 16 It is impossible to recapitulate here all of Chatterji’s linguistic arguments in detail. The interested reader is advised to read the quoted passages. 17 This is actually a special case of the more general alternation dental ~ palatal ~ retroflex, which is indeed an Outer Language feature because the most likely cause for it is the Munda/Austro-Asiatic linguistic area (it is a Munda, not an Austro-Asiatic feature). It will not be discussed in this article.


lexemes in Marāṭhī, Bengali and Chakma (p. 145f.) is not enough evidence for showing that several thousand years ago two distinct IA immigrations into South Asia took place. But for a discussion of the different values and problems concerning the six arguments I have again to refer to my forthcoming publication. However, I do want to mention here that George Cardona arrived at the following conclusion on Southworth’s attempt (Cardona and Jain 2003: 19):18 “[I]t [is] fair to say that these conclusions are not sufficiently backed up by detailed facts about the chronology of changes to merit their being accepted as established.”

Does this unsatisfying situation mean that the hypothesis of Outer Languages and Inner Languages is passé? Certainly not! As a matter of fact, the weaknesses do not lie in the conceptions of the hypothesis but in the arguments proposed so far to support it. Above I formulated two propositions, but besides them more background information needs to be introduced.

Part II Further background information

Koinés, lingua francas and ‘village dialects’ There exist various definitions for the terms koiné and lingua franca which quite often either differ from each other or simply hold that both terms mean the same. Indeed, the terms seem to overlap; still, it is possible, and necessary for our purpose, to differentiate them from one another even though it is not feasible here to treat this topic in a comprehensive way. It is also obvious that there probably exist only gradual differences between certain real koinés and certain real lingua francas.

I first refer to the definitions given by the German Duden editors: a koiné is ‘a language created by the leveling of dialect differences’ whereas a lingua franca is ‘an interlanguage of a larger multilingual space’. This means, koinés and lingua francas have different forms of genesis. Whereas a koiné is the outcome of a dialect selected, standardized and canonized (through standard grammar, canon of literature, etc.) within a community of speakers of closely

18 Cardona had occasion to read Southworth’s manuscript before its publication in 2005. For a more general critique of the hypothesis see also Masica (1991: Appendix II).


related dialects, a lingua franca must and usually does not undergo this process of selection, standardization and canonization. On the contrary, speakers of a language A can agree with speakers of a language B to use any language C for their communication needs. Whereas a koiné has typically a touch of ‘elite’, like Sanskrit, there are among lingua francas – even though the term is used independently of the history and structure of such a language – also pidgins and creoles with inferior status like Pidgin English spoken in the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu. But koinés and lingua francas share the feature that both can detach themselves from their original contexts. For instance, Sanskrit was and partly still is a koiné in the Dravidian language area. This leads to one more characteristic to be mentioned here: neither a koiné nor a lingua franca must be someone’s mother tongue. But what is about the very many ‘village dialects’ which are so characteristic for South Asia (and many other areas)? I suggest defining them negatively: they are neither koinés nor are they lingua francas, they are – languages. In this function, and under this perspective, a ‘village dialect’ from the Karakorum is, despite lack of detailed knowledge of its history, not necessarily less important for the reconstruction of the history of Indo-Aryan than Sanskrit is. But now I turn to some more concrete facts related to South Asian koinés and ‘village dialects’.

In the textbooks dealing with the history of Indo-Aryan, a linguistic family tree is drawn with OIA on top and ever new ramifications down to the modern languages, even though every specialist can tell that the different MIA languages (e.g. Pali) are not direct descendants of the Vedic corpus. Thomas Oberlies states about Pali and other MIA languages (1990: 39): “These languages are by no means straightforward continuants of the Old Indo-Aryan (= OIA) of the Vedic corpus.” He refers to a complex and much discussed problem; however, I think, one important factor why this is so has not been sufficiently taken into account, namely the continuous and long-lasting formation of ever new koinés. Every ‘normal’ language is characterized by so-called emblematic features which bestow it a regional identity. Koinés are devoid of emblematic features – they have been cleansed of such traits – and it is therefore difficult to identify them with a specific region (see Ross 1997 for more details). The largest part of the history of Indo-Aryan is only known through the succession of one koiné after the other. Without claim for


completeness: Vedic → Sanskrit (“the purified one” as the prototypical koiné) → Pali → Jaina Apabhraṃśa → Sādhukkaṛī → Modern Standard Hindi, Fiji Hindi, Modern Standard Bengali etc. All these koinés came into prominence due to political, cultural and religious factors. Thus, their written documents present a skewed and one-sided picture of the many forms of Indo-Aryan at their time. Even though Sheldon Pollock has observed a movement for vernacularization in the Indian Middle Ages – in short, a slowly growing interest of the elites in demotic language use – he also concludes correctly (2006: 287) that “… nowhere … has literature been coeval with its language, not even with its written form. The histories of vernacular languages in South Asia demonstrate this unequivocally, not least by the temporal gap mentioned earlier that separates the moment of literization,19 or the attainment of literacy, from the moment of literarization, or the attainment of literature – a gap that is often chronologically appreciable and always historically significant.”

Besides these koiné-internal fractures mentioned by Pollock, there must have existed also linguistic incongruences between successive koinés (remember Oberlies’ observation), and there existed also always an asymmetrical relationship between the respective dominant koinés – wearing the ‘emblem’ of literacy – and the many more non-dominant ‘village dialects’, which never achieved literization or literarization and whose emblems consisted of regional peculiarities which also included specific linguistic innovations and archaisms. If we provisionally equate the dominant koinés with the Inner Languages and the non-dominant ‘village dialects’ with the Outer Languages, and if we accept that every koiné was in the beginning not a koiné but a ‘village dialect’, then we can expect that the interfaces between the successive koinés were not only joinings but also breakages where Outer Language features could easily sneak in. Out of a number of examples I give here two to show what I mean:

• It has been known for a long time that MIA Pali and Prakrit

(i)dha ‘here’ and Aśokan (hi)da continue PIE *h1idhₐ ‘here’ (Mallory and Adams 2006: 418) and are thus more archaic than Vedic ihá ‘here’ because of the Vedic loss of -d-. This is

19 Pollock here means literization in the sense of acquiring the ability to write.


just one of around 50 examples discussed by Oberlies (1999) who concludes his article with these words (p. 48): “Some of these forms and words – such as idha … are phonetically older than even Vedic, while some must be the continuations of certain dialectical variations within Old Indo-Aryan.” We should realize that Pali and Prakrit were in use more than a millennium after Vedic and that some of the Pali and Prakrit forms go even back to pre-Vedic even though both koinés got purified of regional emblems similar like Sanskrit.

• Western etymological dictionaries of Old Indo-Aryan contain also quite many words which are tagged with the term ‘lexicographic’. That is, they are not documented in genuinely old Sanskrit texts but only found in lexica written in India.20 In publications dealing with IA etymological matters they are always treated with utmost prudence because of their late attestation and they are frequently suspected to be free concoctions of the lexicographers. But what to do if such words, and not few of them, are actually found in modern, sometimes peripheral, small languages without written heritage? Here a few examples out of many:21 P. kathal ‘a plough; also the main shaft of a plough’ < OIA lex. kuntala- ‘plough’; Bng. kiṇḍūrɔ ‘strong (as a man)’ with metathesis < OIA lex. kuṇḍīra- ‘strong, powerful’; Garh. kujeṛi, kujyaṛu ‘mist, haze; fog’ < OIA lex. kujjhaṭi- ‘a fog or mist’; Pr. čö ‘bribe’ < OIA lex. chāya- ‘bribe’; Kṭg. gəríśṭu ‘small quantity of cow dung’ < OIA lex. gopurīṣa- ‘cow-dung’ plus diminutive suffix, etc. Since it is very unlikely that, at least in peripheral languages like Nuristani22 Prasun and West Pahāṛī Bangāṇī,23 these words were borrowed from Sanskrit thesauri, one possible explanation is that these are words of real Old Indo-Aryan origin even though they are not found in Vedic and Classical Sanskrit. This is clearly so in case of Kṭg. gəríśṭu which is a compound with second component <

20 The oldest extant thesaurus of this type, the Amarakośa, is dated ca. 400 CE, but Sanskrit lexica were produced until the time of the Mughals. 21 Many other examples will be found in my forthcoming publication. 22 The Nuristani languages are spoken in East Afghanistan and North Pakistan. 23 The many varieties of West Pahāṛī are spoken in Himachal Pradesh and parts of Uttarakhand.


documented OIA púrīṣa- ‘ordure’. In other examples mentioned in this paragraph the origin is less clear, and in still other cases the lexicographers simply erred: S. alu ‘young crow’ is not a Sanskrit word deriving < OIA lex. ali- ‘crow’ (Monier-Williams) but both are borrowings from Munda, cf. Sora and Kharia ol- ‘to crow’.24

Despite these complexities, there is no doubt that at the time of the immigration of Old Indo-Aryan into South Asia a whole bunch of Indo-Aryan dialects/variants existed. Parpola arrives at the same conclusion even for a much earlier period of Aryan because he argues (2002: 79): “According to the testimony of the numerous and partly very early Aryan loanwords in the Uralic (Finno-Ugric) languages spoken in the forest zone of eastern Europe … the Aryan proto-language was dialectally differentiated from the start.” However, this is not enough to propose a fundamental difference between Outer and Inner Languages because the above-quoted data can still be accommodated within a model of prolonged language immigration, naturally entailing a whole bunch of dialects/variants. In order to get a clearer and more conclusive point of view, it is helpful to introduce here some principles of the so-called Social Network Model (Ross 1997) which was designed to get to grips with the linguistic history of the Austronesian family of languages. This family is spread over an enormously large part of the Pacific Ocean side of our globe and one of its distinguishing features is its lack of any ancient tradition of written literature.

Language fissure and lectal25 differentiation Ross suggests the following definition (1997: 212): “Fissure is reflected in discrete bunches of innovation, lectal differentiation is reflected in overlapping (bunches of) innovations. These two patterns reflect different SCEs.26 Language fissure is usually the result of a single event which divides one group of speakers into two, whilst 24 What it means to find a Munda word in Sindhī and in a Sanskrit thesaurus but not in Old and Middle Indo-Aryan will be explained below in the last part. 25 As pointed out above in footnote 4, Ross uses the noun ‘lect’ and the adjective ‘lectal’ in order to circumvent the distinction between ‘language’ and ‘dialect’ which indeed is hardly tenable from a linguistic point of view. 26 Speech community events.


lectal differentiation entails the (usually gradual) geographic spread of a group of speakers.” An example for a fissure thus is the division between Old Iranian and Old Indo-Aryan which is characterized by discrete bunches of innovations. An example for a lectal differentiation is the history from Old to New Indo-Aryan. However, I want to direct attention to the fact that sometimes innovations that have come up in one language (area) through a fissure, nevertheless can go across the new border and spread into the other language (area). Below I will give an example for this. But here I want to add that Ross of course follows the well-founded communis opinio that language fissures and differentiations are always the result of innovations and not of preservations.

The language fissure which separated Old Iranian (OIr.) and Old Indo-Aryan had this form (here only a selection of the processes): Proto-Indo-Iranian (PII) *ḱ, *ǵ, *ǵ 27 > OIA *ć > ś, ȷ and *ȷ > h; PII > OIr. > *ć > *ċ28 (preserved in Nuristani) > s (Avestan), *ȷ and *ȷ > (d)z (note Iranian loss of aspiration). We see that Proto-Iranian and Proto-Aryan shared for some time the same process of PIE *ḱ > *ć. But whereas in Proto-Iranian this was followed (a) by depalatalization of *ć > *ċ (= [ʦ] as in Zoller) and then (b) by deaffricatization of *ċ > s, in Proto-Aryan the *ć changed directly into the palatal sibilant ś without undergoing deaffricatisation. Nuristani preserved the stage of the depalatized affricate ċ. Thus we get the following equation for ‘10’: Avestan dasa – modern Nuristani duċ – Vedic dáśa- (modern Dardic daš, Hindi das). This Nuristani archaism (and several other linguistic peculiarities) led Georg Morgenstierne to the postulation of a third branch within Indo-Iranian.29 It also led him to postulate the widely accepted dictum (1961: 139): “There is not a single common feature distinguishing Dardic, as a whole, from the rest of the Indo-Aryan languages … Dardic is simply a convenient cover term to

27 These are so-called palatovelars. 28 A depalatalization change from “tsh” to “ts”. 29 Actually, this idea was also suggested before him, e.g. by Abraham Grierson. However, Morgenstierne’s predecessors allocated the wrong languages to the wrong branches. It was the achievement of Morgenstierne to correct this.


denote a bundle of aberrant Indo-Aryan hill languages.”30 I show now that both claims are questionable.

Nuristani, Dardic and other Outer Languages Nuristani has changed Proto-Indo-Iranian *ć into dental ċ whereas Old Indo-Aryan changed *ć into ś. It seems self-evident that the change *ć > ċ occurred before the change *ć > ś because both in Proto-Nuristani and in Old Iranian no deaffricatization of *ć took place. On the other hand, in Old Indo-Aryan no depalatalization of the fricative took place (OIA ś is still preserved in Dardic and West Pahāṛī). And the Proto-Indo-Iranian palatal affricates going back to Proto-Indo-European labiovelars (e.g. *ć < PIE *ku) were preserved in Old and Middle Indo-Aryan and in many New Indo-Aryan languages, as well as in Iranian as palatal affricates (cf. e.g. Vedic catvāras ‘4’, Hindi cār, New Persian čahār all < PIE *kuétṷor-es). On the other hand, Old Indo-Aryan ś and c, j are relatively frequently in Nuristani and, in case of c, j, very frequently in Dardic reflected with the dental affricates ċ, dz: Nuristani Kāmdeshi ċāċ'am ‘large lizard’ (connected with OIA śiṁśumāra- ‘crocodile’), Dardic Indus Kohistani ċʌur ‘4’ (but Hindi cār), Kāmdeshi zā- and Indus Kohistani zʌṽ both ‘give birth’ (OIA JAN and Hindi jannā ‘to be born’). Even though there is no direct evidence for the antiquity of depalatalization in IA languages, it must be old. MIA Gāndhārī31 had ċ and (d)z sounds, even though their phonological status is unclear, and depalatalization is found in many IA languages between Dardic and Assamese. 32 It is sometimes claimed that depalatalization occurred early in Nuristani and late in Dardic. But this cannot be true because e.g. Nuristani Waigalī ċaṭk'a ‘sharp; clever’ is apparently a fairly recent borrowing from Urdu caṭak ‘quickness; brightness’ which shows that we are dealing here with a long-lasting phonological process. Whereas OIA, and most MIA and NIA have only one series of (palatal) affricates, Nuristani

30 The approximately 27 Dardic languages are spoken in North Pakistan. Kashmiri is usually also counted as a Dardic language but in my opinion it is an interlink between Dardic and West Pahāṛī. 31 Was spoken in northwestern South Asia and in the Oasis towns of Central Asia. 32 Chatterji (1926: 154f.) tries to explain depalatalization in dialects of Bengali, Assamese and Oṛiyā as result of Tibeto-Burman or Dravidian influence. Given the very wide spread of the phenomenon, this is more than unlikely and anyway does not work in case of Nuristani and Dardic.


and Dardic have mostly three (e.g. č, c, ċ)33 and West Pahāṛī two (e.g. ċ, c). This parallels their respective sibilant sub-systems where most Dardic languages have three (š, ṣ, s), and West Pahāṛī and the Chittagong dialect of Bengali have preserved two (ś, s). These are more natural subsystems than the OIA sub-system with three sibilants but only one order of affricates, namely palatals. Therefore, where this standard OIA system prevailed, it later-on swiftly led to a reduction of the three OIA sibilants to only one already before Ashoka. We thus see that the archaism in Nuristani is simply due to the fact that depalatalization occurred before deaffricatization 34 whereas it occurred in Proto-Dardic after deaffricatization. This difference in the relative temporal sequence of two sound changes is hardly sufficient for postulating a separate language branch. If my thoughts are correct, the following conclusion is obvious: the speakers of Vedic must have lost direct contact with speakers of Old Iranian before that contact was lost by the speakers of the Aryan ancestor of the Outer Languages. In fact, there is another sound change discussed below which further supports this assumption.

Note also Cardona’s assessment of the relative position of Nuristani. He writes (in Cardona and Jain 2003) p. 22: “Given that Nuristani lacks spirants f, Ɵ, and x typical of Iranian, which deaspirated voiced aspirates … it is reasonable to conclude that the deaspiration took place independently in Iranian and Nuristani …”35 We have seen above the Nuristani and Iranian change of *ȷ and *ȷ > (d)z whereas aspirated *ȷ is reflected in Old Indo-Aryan as h: Proto-Indo-Iranian *ȷhrd- ‘heart > OIA hrd-, Nuristani Prasun zir, Old Avestan zərəd-. Cardona comments on this theme by discussing some

33 That is, palatal, retroflex, dental. 34 Of course, there are also many words in Nuristani where depalatized affricates got subsequently deaffricatized. 35 It is usually claimed that another important difference between Nuristani and Indo-Aryan is that Nuristani has completely (and early) lost all aspiration. I will not deal with this topic here as it is not of relevance for the discussion of the theory, but mention just two facts. First: Nuristani has not totally lost aspiration, at least in some languages it continues in a similar way as the automatic aspiration of unvoiced stops in most Germanic languages. Second: Rachel Lehr writes about the Darrai Nur dialect of Dardic Pashai (2014: 12): “The loss of aspiration is a feature of some Dardic languages, to differing degrees. Pashai shows no evidence of an aspiration contrast.” Even though this appears to be a rather late development, it shows again the close correlation of Nuristani and Dardic phonological processes.


relevant details concerning Grassmann's Law which would be too complex to reproduce here. But Cardona clearly shows that a Proto-Indo-Aryan *ȷh phoneme can be reconstructed which is reflected both in OIA *jh (> h) and Proto-Nuristani *ǰ/ž, and he arrives at the following conclusion (p. 25): “Thus, the apparently great difference in the treatment of PIE *ḱ and so on cannot serve to demonstrate that Nuristani languages are definitely to be considered a branch separate from Indo-Aryan.”

Above-quoted Nuristani duċ displays the vowel change a > u which is extremely common in Nuristani and Dardic languages as well as in many other Outer Languages. It is also found in Iranian. Here just a few examples from among many dozen collected by me: Avestan puxða- ‘fifth’ and Nuristani Ashkun punċ ‘five’, Dardic Kalasha šuḷá ‘wood’ < OIA śalākā- ‘any small stake or stick’ (12349),36 West Pahāṛī High Rudhārī peṭabhurāī ‘pregnant’ with first component < OIA *peṭṭa- ‘belly’ (8376) and second < OIA bhārin- ‘bearing a load’ (9466), Bengali usti ‘bone’ either borrowed or deriving from OIA ásthi- ‘bone’ (quoted in Bodding 1936 v: 690). The process seems to have started in Avestan (see Hoffmann and Forssman 1996: 64); at least it is there where it is documented for the first time. Thus it is also very common in Middle and New East Iranian languages as in Khotanese mūra- ‘bird’ < Avestan mərəga- and Bartangi ðus ‘10’. If the process started in East Iranian, it crossed a language fissure and entered OL Indo-Aryan. But it is practically absent from Old Indo-Aryan, and Georg Pischel (§ 111) has only a few Prakrit examples for context free a > u. Also this is a fairly strong argument for saying that the speakers of Vedic must have lost direct contact with speakers of Old Iranian before that contact was lost by the speakers of the Aryan ancestor of the Outer Languages. Both depalatalization and context-free change of a > u are already good arguments for supporting the old hypothesis: Besides some inconspicuous dialect variations within Vedic language,37 a presence of other Old Indo-Aryan lects – separated from Vedic through fissures that may turn out to be more consequential – is already likely and will get support from compelling arguments introduced below.

36 Numbers in parenthesis refer to lemmata in the CDIAL. 37 None of these variations (see e.g. publications of Witzel in the Literature) has left traces in the New Indo-Aryan languages.


Here I would like to recall again the linguistic truism that language fissures occur due to innovations whereas preservations/ archaisms are not diagnostic for the identification of branches. This means that the question which innovations distinguish Nuristani from Indo-Aryan (and Iranian?) has not been answered. Richard Strand tries to explain this in an article for the Encyclopedia Iranica with the title “Nurestâni languages.”38 From around the second half of the article he discusses the evolution of these languages. Strand divides this evolution into six phases; 1. Aryan phase, 2. Early Iranian phase, 3. Traditional phase, 4. Indo-Aryan phase, 5. Nurestân phase, 6. Afghan-Islamic phase. I have again to stave off the reader to my forthcoming publication in which I deal with all linguistic features suggested by Strand as characteristic for Nuristani. But I can present already here my summary: There is not a single Nuristani innovation – apart from innovations that have led to inner-Nuristani lectal differentiations – which does not have parallels either in Iranian (a few) or Indo-Aryan (many, i.e. most in Dardic but quite a number also in other IA languages). Here just two randomly selected examples. Within the “Indo-Aryan phase” Strand mentions “Anticipation of r.” This is elsewhere called “Dardic metathesis” (e.g. Kalasha krum ‘work’ < OIA kárman- ‘work’ [also with a > u]) and is widespread in Dardic and West Pahāṛī, and occasionally also found in other western and north-western languages. Within the “Nurestân phase” he mentions “Initial spirants assimilate following occlusion to become affricates.” An example is *šrčil'a ‘slack’ (< OIA *śrthilá-) > Nuristani Prasun čič'il. This is actually a so-called coronal consonant harmony (see Arsenault 2012) and is also found (frequently with aspiration fronting) e.g. in Dardic Indus Kohistani chicʌṽ ‘to learn’ < OIA śíkṣate ‘learns’ or West Pahāṛī Bangāṇī ċhiċɔ ‘lime’ < OIA śvitrá- ‘white’, etc. Already these few examples should make clear that it is useful not only to study the uniqueness of Nuristani but also its deep interconnections with surrounding language families. Thus I suggest concentration on obvious features that show fluid transitions – and not sharply differentiated branches – from East Iranian to Nuristani to Dardic (and some other Outer Languages). Nuristani shares e.g. the following features with its wider surroundings, several of which are likely to be shibboleths of Outer Languages:

38 http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/nurestani-languages


• In Nuristani, or at least in the Waigalī variety of Nišigrām, a

short a is pronounced quite back as [ɑ] as in Pashto and other Iranian languages, but not as in Indo-Aryan where a short a is typically pronounced more centrally like [ʌ]. This is not an Outer Languages feature but simply an example for the influence of Iranian phonology on Nuristani.39

• At least in the Nišigrām variety of Waigalī and in Prasun there exists a pitch accent at the word level. The accent appears usually, but not always, on the last syllable. Whether or not it has a distinctive function is not quite clear, but apparently it can shift its position in a word (Degener 1998: 36ff.). Thus this Nuristani accent system is very similar to accent systems in East Iranian languages like Pashto (see Morgenstierne 1973). This contrasts with many Dard languages which have preserved the older stage of flexible accent positions in the words. Examples (only with initial accent): OIA nīla- ‘dark blue’ — Dardic Kalasha níla but Nuristani Kāmdeshi nilə ‘black’; OIA bhrātr- ‘brother’ — Dardic Kalasha báya but Nuristani Prasun əv'ə (if same derivation); OIA áśru- ‘tear’ — Dardic Shina ããṣo but Nuristani Prasun üč'ǖ.

• In the Nišigrām variety of Waigalī vowel nasalization is contrastive; the language shares this feature with many IA languages, but in Iranian, e.g. in Pashto, vowel nasalization is not contrastive.

• Josef Elfenbein states about Pashto and IA “Lahndā”40 (1997: 745): “There is also, as in Lhd, a spontaneous change of ṇ to ṽṛ, e.g. rūṛ < rūṇṛ < *rūxšna-.” Exactly the same phonetic phenomenon of shift of [+nasal] from a consonant to a preceding vowel – thus VN > ṼC – is known from Nuristani, from Dardic languages like Indus Kohistani, and quite frequently it is also found in other Outer Languages like poetic Ṭihriyāḷī dialect of Gaṛhvālī ɔṛɛ lɛgɛ (Hindi āne lag gaye) ‘(they) started to come’, Braj-Awadhī as in kāṛī ‘a long

39 I heard this [ɑ] many times both when working with a Waigalī language consultant in Oslo and from my Indus Kohistani language consultants in Pakistan whenever they started talking in Pashto. 40 This is actually an outdated term for Hindko and Siraiki.


deep basket’ < OIA káraṇḍa- ‘basket’, Nepālī, Bihārī, Bhojpurī, Bengali as in rāṛ ‘widow’ < OIA raṇḍa-‘maimed’, in Assamese as e.g. in kãr (kār) ‘arrow’ < OIA kāṇḍa- ‘arrow’, and, significantly, in (North) Munda languages as e.g. in Kharia hãṛiya ~ haṇiya ~ haṇḍiya ‘pots for holding rice beer’ which has a parallel in Bengali hāṛī ‘pot’.41 The Kharia and Bengali words are connected with OIA *hāṇḍa- ‘pot’ (14050) and Chatterji wonders (1926: 553) about its possible relationship with OIA bhāṇḍa- ‘pot’ (9440), but loss of word-initial consonants or of word-initial closure is found in various Outer Languages42 and in Munda, but it is almost unknown in OIA. In MIA it is not found in the standard Prakrits but only in Deśya Prakrit, which is significant. This will be discussed below.

• A velar nasal consonant is articulated in two different ways in northern South Asia: [ŋ] (-ṅ(-)) or [ŋg] (-ṅg(-)). The latter pronunciation is found in Old Indo-Aryan and in an Inner Language like Hindi, e.g. OIA áṅga- and Hindi aṅg ‘limb’ (114). The former pronunciation is found in Nuristani, in some Dardic languages, in Burushaski and at the other end of the IA world, e.g. in Assamese. The former pronunciation is also a typical characteristic of Munda/Austro-Asiatic. Since the phenomenon is found at the western and the eastern fringes of IA (the pronunciation may also be found in some IA languages in-between, but at the moment I am not aware of one), it is most likely an example of the strong impact of Munda/Austro-Asiatic on the first wave of OIA language immigration. Examples: Nuristani aṅust'a ‘finger-ring’ but OIA aṅguṣṭhya- ʻpertaining to thumb or big toe’ (138), Dardic Pashai aṅ ‘arm’ < OIA áṅga- ‘limb’ (114), Burushaski aṅáro ‘Tuesday’ borrowed < OIA aṅgāraka- ‘the planet Mars’ (126), Assamese āṅuli ‘finger’ < OIA aṅgúli- ‘finger’ (135), Munda Santali baṅ baṅ ‘gaping hole’ and aṅ ‘body’ (borrowing of 114).

41 In the Chittagong dialect of Bengali the parallel is àri ‘earthen saucepan’, i.e. here [+nasal] has completely disappeared and initial h- has changed into a tone. 42 Perhaps the most notorious case is Nuristani Prasun.


Word and syllable languages, syncope and sesquisyllables The two topics of ‘word and syllable languages’ and ‘syncope and sesquisyllables’ have normally nothing to do with each other. But in Part IV we will see that a kind of phonological conspiracy appears to have taken place in languages of north-western South Asia: Inherited morphonological word language features characteristic of Indo-Iranian collaborated, so to say, with sesquisyllabic word structures which are one of the most important distinguishing features of the Austro-Asiatic family of languages.

For more details distinguishing word and syllable languages see Auer 2001. Here follows a small selection of important differences:

classification parameters

word languages syllable languages

1) onsets/codas complex simple 2) accent word level phrase level 3) sonority hierarchy little importance important

1) Two examples for complex onsets are given in the next paragraph (Khowar, Prasun).

2) For instance, Hindi has only sentence intonation whereas e.g. Indus Kohistani uses pitch accents at the word level (see examples above).

3) Nuristani Kāmdeshi sk'io ‘fat’ has the more sonorant s- preceding the less sonorant -k- which is not possible in a syllable language. Even more extreme is the situation in Mon-Khmer Khasi (spoken in Meghalaya, more on it below) which not only allows a whole gamut of initial consonant clusters but also clusters of the type bt-, bth-, bs- which seem to violate Greenberg’s universal that in clusters it is the voiced stops which tend to be closer to the vocalic syllable nucleus (Jenny and Sidwell 2014: 284f.).

Syllable languages like Spanish, Munda, Hindi and Dardic Kalam Kohistani are more or less easier pronounceable than word languages like High German, Danish or Old Iranian. Syllable languages are therefore speaker-friendly, but make it more difficult to recognize word and morpheme boundaries, whereas word languages are hearer-friendly, i.e. they facilitate the decoding of morphological structures


and thus of information units. Even though it is clear that the development from OIA to NIA is basically one from a word to syllable languages,43 one needs to be aware that frequently there exist also profound typological differences between genetically closely related languages (e.g. among the varieties of West Pahāṛī). But for us especially interesting is the following observation by Peter Auer:44 “While the transition from syllable-language to word-language is unmarked in language change, the transition from word-language to syllable-language only occurs – top/down processes of language planning and standardization excluded – as a consequence of genetic non-transmission/difficult communication (extensive migration, second language acquisition, etc.).” This observation can be applied to the early history of Indo-Aryan: a main cause for the marked shift (i.e. not naturally language-internal) from the OIA word language to the NIA syllable languages was that in Vedic times speakers of local non-IA languages began in increasing numbers to learn and speak OIA as an L2. This hypothesis is confirmed by Kuiper who states (1991: 96): “The contact [of local people] with the community of Indo-Aryan speakers must primarily have been maintained by bilinguals, particularly among the lower strata of artisans and peasants (an aspect often overlooked by Vedists) and these must have been the essential factor in conforming the Vedic language to foreign patterns of the Indian linguistic area.” And Martin Kümmel (2014: 204) observes: “Most modern Indo-Aryan languages are often considered prototypical syllable languages. In contrast to that, Old and Middle Iranian allow many more consonant clusters and generally show more word-related features, especially in the East: Sogdian, Khwarezmian or modern Pashto may be characterized as quite typical word languages …” Note, however, that in north-western South Asia, even though the area is mixed with regard to word and syllable languages, there are several clear word languages like Dardic Khowar and Nuristani Prasun, cf. Khowar gr'iṣp ‘summer’ and Prasun cn(e)- ‘to

43 According to Martin Kümmel, quoted right below, OIA had already syllable language characteristics which only intensified in later stages of IA. Thus it is actually more correct to say that the process from OIA to NIA was basically one from a language with yet few syllable language features towards languages with more and more syllable language features. 44 http://www.frias.uni-freiburg.de/de/das-institut/archiv-frias/school-of-lili/ veranstaltungen/Dateien_Veranstaltungen/a1 — see there powerpoint page 21.


sneeze’. West Pahāṛī Bangāṇī is a syllable language allowing only few initial clusters but in nearby varieties of West Pahāṛī one finds e.g. rgāṇu ‘to colour’ (cf. H. raṅgānā) or cmār ‘cobbler (Hindi camār) (both forms showing syncope on which more below). We come upon a comparable situation with regard to Munda/Austro-Asiatic in eastern India. Whereas almost all Munda languages are marked syllable languages,45 Mon-Khmer Khasi is known for its enormous amount of consonant clusters (Jenny and Sidwell [2014: 248] mention 127 different two-consonant clusters). Many of them go back to Proto-Mon-Khmer.46 The difference in syllable structure between Mon-Khmer (e.g. Khasic) and Munda is seen in the following table:

PAA Mon-Khmer Munda *bluːʔ ‘thigh’47 Palaung blu Sora bulu- Kharia bhulu *kmuːʔ ‘dirty’ Khmer khmau Mundari humu48 Kuy kmau Kurku kumu *priəl ‘hail’ Bahnar prɛl Gtaʔ bireːl Khasi phria Gorum areːl *ɓaːr ‘two’ Bahnar ɓaːr Mundari bar

It is interesting to see that we have two comparable situations in the north-west and in the east of South Asia: more or less marked word languages are found in the north-west (e.g. Nuristani, Dardic, West Pahāṛī, partly Panjabi and Sindhī), whereas in the east only Khasic is

45 An apparent exception is Gtaʔ with many initial clusters. But according to Anderson (2008), this is an innovation and an isolated case. 46 Indo-Aryan (including Nuristani) and Iranian words are transliterated and transcribed according the common usage of Indologists and Iranianists. Burushaski has been transcribed in different ways by different authors. I follow here the system of Hermann Berger. These practices contrast with those of the Austro-Asianists (including those who work on Munda) who, in the majority of cases, present their data according to the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA). I follow here this tradition although this entails sometimes small complications. Thus IA j corresponds roughly with AA ɟ and y with j. Paul Olav Bodding in his Santali dictionary follows his own system. I have adapted data from him to the majority practice. In a very few cases my graphic presentations deviate slightly from the original because of font problems. 47 For a fuller presentation of this lemma see Sidwell (2010: 124). 48 Here and with Gorum areːl we have a case of deletion or weakening of an initial consonant. This is a characteristic of Munda which has affected Outer Languages to some extent. It will be discussed in more detail in part IV.


found like a rock in turbulent waters. Indeed, Sidwell and Rau write (in Jenny and Sidwell 2014: 283): “…Standard Khasi is important for comparative purposes; it shows a rich inventory of consonant clusters and vestiges of morphology. Also, being isolated geographically from SE Asia the branch has not been under the same areal pressures to restructure phonologically as many other AA groups.” What is true for many other AA groups is also true for Munda and for many IA languages. The massive trend towards syllable languages is not ‘natural’ but, as pointed out above, is linguistically marked. Thus the question arises: were Indo-Aryan and Munda pushed in this direction by a third language family? Without being able to going into detail here, it is known that the MIA and NIA syllable and word structures display many similarities with Dravidian. Yet, I hesitate to accept that the push of Indo-Aryan and Munda in this direction could have been caused by Dravidian (alone).

Part III The first proposition

I have stated above (p. 76) that from among the bundle of distinctive features suggested by Grierson and Southworth as characteristic for the Outer Languages, I regard only three as convincing: d ~ ḍ, the historical process c, j > ċ, dz and the historical origin of the -l(l)- past. The first feature will not be discussed in this article, the second has been dealt with above, and the third is the main topic of Part III here. This will be supplemented by a few examples of words from Outer Languages which are of Proto-Indo-European origin but not found in Vedic and Classical Sanskrit. I repeat here the assertion of the first proposition: the theory has to be accepted as accurate when linguistic data of Proto-Indo-European provenance only surface in Middle Indo-Aryan or later. This must be so because it must have taken centuries of mutual interpenetration of the originally separate Outer and Inner Languages until Outer Language features were registered. This is clearly the case with the -l(l)- past. The dispute about its origin and its cogency of proof stood in the center of the whole controversy. I therefore discuss it in detail.


The historical origin of MIA -alla/illa/ulla- According to Cardona, the state of facts is as follows (in Cardona and Jain 2003: 18). He begins with a truism: “That modern Indo-Aryan languages are divisible into affiliated subgroups is beyond doubt. Thus, it is reasonable to say that there are eastern, northwestern, southwestern, and midlands groups. On the other hand, the precise manner in which a family tree is to be drawn up as well as the exact affiliation of particular languages … are issues which have been not fully settled… Grierson … divided Indo-Aryan into what he termed outer, mediate and inner sub-branches… A major criterion for recognizing an outer sub-branch was the occurrence of -l- in past participle forms … (Grierson 1927: 140) as in Sindhī māryō or māē-l both meaning ‘beaten.’ Grierson did not, however, establish how the formation in question could be a common innovation of all the languages concerned, and Chatterji (1926: 167) was without doubt justified when he denied that an -l-past was a valid criterion for establishing an outer group, noting that it functioned as a past marker only in Eastern languages and Marathi… Moreover, no historical evidence is cited to demonstrate how the use of such participle forms developed in late Prākrit or the earlier stages of languages like Gujarati, for which we have early sources.” — Cardona is not correct here: l-past markers and l-participles are also found in Dardic and West and Central Pahāṛī. For instance Dardic Brokskad gālo ‘(he) went’ and West Pahāṛī Sirājī of Ḍōḍā kĕrī-lō ‘was made up’. It seems also to be found in Nuristani, however not in past function but as agent, modality and ‘future’ marker (Almuth Degener, p.c.).49

Cardona’s quote is the formulation of a dominant point of view that has not substantially changed since Chatterji. However, I disagree with these conclusions. Pischel notes that the Prakrit grammarians teach that MIA -alla/illa/ulla- are used in the sense of Sanskrit suffixes -mat and -vat ‘furnished with’. The oldest among the grammarians who dealt with these suffixes quoted by Pischel is Vararuci who may have lived between the 3rd and 5th Century CE. The difference between -l- and -ll- suffixes has been explained by Pischel as parallel to other Middle Indo-Aryan processes of single consonants 49 Future tense markers with -l- are quite widespread in NIA languages and they may be identical with the -ll- past markers. But this question is somewhat beyond the issues that are of direct relevance right here. I discuss the matter in my forthcoming publication.


getting doubled instead of deleted due to following accentuated vowels (§ 194) (e.g. MIA duritta- < OIA duritá- ‘evil etc.’; more examples are provided in fn. 6 of § 595). With regard to Apabhraṃśa, Ganesh Vasudev Tagare notes (1987: 336) that the primary suffix -illa means ‘agent, doer’ but the secondary suffix -illa (1987: 338) expresses, like the Prakrit suffixes, ‘pertaining to, possessing, having’. But Pischel, after noting that there is an increase of -l- suffixes from OIA to MIA, has also observed additional functions (§ 595). With single -l-: mīsālia- is a preterital passive participle of a denominative *mīsāla- (OIA miśra-) thus probably meaning ‘was mixed’. With double -ll-: a present participle function e.g. in sāsilla- (OIA śvāsin-) ‘breathing’; and -illa is also used in the sense ‘located there’ (‘belonging to’) as in Pali gāmilla- ‘farmer’ (lit. ‘one belonging to a village’); it functions also pleonastic and can have also a passive past participle function e.g. in theṇillia- ‘taken; timid’ (cf. OIA stená- ‘thief’). The -ll- suffixes could combine with other suffixes quite freely with regard to sequencing. This is an important point because it suggests that the -ll- suffixes were, in case of verbal formations, not always automatically added to the past stems of verbs as assumed by Southworth and others.

Besides the few traces of past participle functions observed by Pischel, there are more such cases in Old Marāṭhī (i.e. Marāṭhī in use before the Muslim conquest soon after 1300 CE [Master 1964: v]). Thus it seems likely that the increased use of the -ll- suffixes in past participle constructions led them become tense and aspect markers. Discussing the possible historical origin of the suffixes, Southworth says (2005: 133) that Chatterji “mentions possible OIA origins” but “he also notes (and rejects) the suggestion of a link between the Indo-Aryan -l- pasts and the pasts in -l- found in Slavic and elsewhere in Indo-European.” The relevant passages in Chatterji (volume iii: 943f.) read like this: “Another view about the origin of the NIA. << -l- >> is that it is an independent affix occurring in Indo-European itself, preserved in NIA., but ignored or left unnoticed in OIA… But this connection is not proper. We have seen that the MIA. form of the suffix was << -ll- >> is entirely different…” So it seems that the question regarding the origin of the -ll- suffix is still not known. It cannot have derived from Vedic Sanskrit because, even though also Vedic Sanskrit has quite a number of words showing the presence of a


Proto-Indo-European -l- suffix, this suffix did not possess the morphological and grammatical productivity inherent in the -ll- suffix.

Therefore I suggest that the -ll- suffix is indeed of Proto-Indo-European origin, however, not of Vedic Indo-Aryan ancestry. It originated from one or more Old Indo-Aryan lects that were different from Vedic. And it surfaced in the perception of the Indian grammarians around the same time when also other Outer Language features had begun to influence the Middle Indo-Aryan languages (see Part IV). What do we know about this Proto-Indo-European suffix?

The *l-class of Indo-European adjectives was transformed into verbal forms in, basically, Slavic, Armenian and Tocharian.50 The suffix *-lo- attached to stems that could be nominal, verbal or adjectival; in some cases the suffix had a diminutive or an expressive function, cf. e.g. Old Greek παχυλοζ ‘thickish’ which corresponds with OIA bahulá- ‘thickish’. In Slavic l-participles were combined with the finite forms of the auxiliary verb to create the periphrastic forms of the verb. “… the change from a perfect to a past function is quite a common grammaticalization path” (Igartua 2014: 308) namely by losing the semantic feature of “current relevance of a past action” (ibid.). If the -ll- suffix surfaced between the 3rd and the 5th Century CE in the writings of the Indian grammarians with its various functions outlined above, then it took several more centuries until it developed a past tense function because Southworth notes (2005a: 170) a “… lack of evidence for the -l- past … before about the eighth century CE at the earliest.” This time frame is comparable with the similar developments in Slavic. But now especially important for us is the fact that “… the suffix *-lo- could be extended by means of different preceding vowels, thereby yielding secondary formations…” (Igartua 2014: 306f.). The following forms have been reconstructed for PIE:

*-ulo-, *-elo-, *-ilo-, *-ālo- (< *-ah2-lo-), *-ē-lo- (< *-eh1-lo-)

Only *-ulo- is found in OIA bahulá- (but of course there are more examples for the -l- ending in OIA). However, the reconstructed PIE 50 Tocharian is an extinct ‘kentum’ language formerly spoken in oasis cities on the northern edge of the Tarim Basin (now part of Xinjiang in northwest China). Speakers of Tocharian and speakers of Niya Prakrit, which was spoken on the southern edge of the Tarim Basin, were probably in direct contact.


suffixes resemble strikingly the three MIA suffixes -illa/alla/ulla-.51 In Tocharian, the suffix *-lo- produced verbal adjectives (gerundives), in Tocharian A the suffix was -l and in Tocharian B -lye and -lle. According to Don Ringe (1996: 116), -lle developed from PIE *-lo- plus adjective suffix *-yo-. Instead of Pischel’s suggestion that the doubling of the lateral is due to a following accent, the MIA forms rather seem to go back like in Tocharian B to *-il-ya-, *-al-ya-, *-ul-ya- i.e. extended by the Sanskrit gerund -ya- 52 which makes ‘grammatical sense’ (regarding phonetics cf. e.g. Pa. kulla- ‘winnow-ing basket’ < OIA kulya- and Pischel § 286: “lya wird lla”).53 The fact that in case of the three Middle Indo-Aryan suffixes the preceding vowels -e- and -o- are missing can be explained by two unequally likely reasons: (a) the more unlikely reason is that there was only one ‘archimorpheme’ -alla- whose initial vowel sometimes changed to -i- or -u-. Such changes are well-known from IA history, but as a result one would expect either geographical or grammatical differences which seem not to exist. Moreover, under such a scenario also development of -a- > -e- and -o- should be expected which is also not the case. Therefore more likely is alternative (b), namely that the lack of -e- and -o- is an effect of the common Indo-Iranian merger of PIE *e and *o with a. 51 There is no other Prakrit suffix with three different initial vowels which makes the suggested origin of -illa/alla/ulla- even more likely. 52 Strings of grammatical suffixes are found in MIA, and an NIA language like Bangani has a plurality of suffixes that can be decomposed into separate suffixes. Note also that the OIA rule that -ya- is to be affixed to verbs with prefixes does not hold good in later OIA (see Whitney 1973: 355). 53 As much as I can see, Chatterji does not offer a solution for the historical origin of MIA -illa/alla/ulla-, Ghatake (1948: 336) makes the unlikely suggestion with question mark for derivation < -ra or -la, Pischel’s suggestion would have led to irregular results (sometimes -l- and sometimes -ll- aside from the problem that it is generally assumed that MIA had lost the OIA accent), and Southworth appears quite clueless: he mentions Romani examples with -l- (all of which, of course, go back to -t-), he quotes Geiger who had explained past forms containing l in Sinhala from composite verbs built with the light verb lanu ‘put, place’ (all 2005a: 133), and he even considers borrowing from Dravidian (2005a: 150) where he mentions Malayalam -uḷḷa used to form attributive adjectives. All this does not work: in case of a Dravidian borrowing because of the retroflex laterals, and also the suggestion with lanu is wrong (at least for northern India) for the simple reason that those NIA languages which distinguish phonologically between l and ḷ (e.g. Bangāṇī) the past -l is always dental and thus must go back to an older geminate -ll. Therefore I am sure that my above-presented suggestion offers the most convincing solution.


The l-suffix is also found with Anatolian Hittite adjectives and nouns, producing sometimes agent nouns through substantivization of adjectives with the meaning ‘pertaining to/who deals with …’ (Igartua 2014: 307). Compare this with the before quoted example from Pali: gāmilla- ‘farmer’; and in some cases Hittite forms are kind of l-participles (typologically) closely related to those in Slavic. “This functional development in Hittite seems to anticipate the evolution of l-formations in the other Indo-European languages in which participles and even finite verbal forms arose out of adjectival formations … In Lydian, another Anatolian language, there are infinitival as well as past tense forms in -l, some of which are strikingly parallel in their formal structure to their Slavic correlates: cf. for example Lyd.[ian] esl ‘was’ and OCS [Old Church Slavic] bulъ ‘(has) been’, coming from different roots of the verb ‘to be’” (Igartua 2014: 312). In fact, there is a further parallel to OCS bulъ ‘(has) been’ in the West Pahāṛī variety Kiũthalī bhūlā ‘was’ (LSI ix,iv: 552), in Bihārī bhela ‘became’ (LSI v,ii: 93) and in Dardic Palūla perfective bhíl-u (m.sg.) and bhíl-a (m.pl.) (Liljegren 2008: 84, 127, 148). I may refer here to Cardona regarding the relationship of Indo-Iranian with other IE languages. He writes (2003: 20): “The most definitely established and accepted subgroup within Indo-European is Indo-Iranian, a subgroup adjacent to Slavic…” However, the dialectal Indo-Aryan development of the PIE *-lo- suffix, which resembles more that in Tocharian B, is thus probably an independent development.

Further evidence in support of the first proposition It has long-since been known that the Dardic language name Khowar which means ‘Kho language’, and the Nuristani language name Vasi Veri54 which correspondingly means ‘the Vasi language’ contain the reflex of a Proto-Indo-European verbal root *uer- ‘to speak, talk formally’ (found in English ‘word’) which is not found in Old Indo-Aryan. Thus, Turner reconstructs OIA *vari- ʻspeech’ (11327) and he quotes three modern reflexes from Nuristani languages.55 One reason that this did not raise more curious astonishment may be due to the widespread perception that Nuristani is so much more archaic than the 54 Same language as Prasun. 55 He considers it possible that the lemma is etymologically related with OIA várṇa ‘color’ and/or vāṇá- ‘voice, music’. None of the suggestions has been accepted by Manfred Mayrhofer (EWA).


rest of Indo-Aryan. Above we have seen that this is questionable. Turner probably did not quote ‘Khowar’ because he must have assumed that ‘-war’ is a borrowing from Nuristani. However, the word is also found in Dardic Kalasha var ‘language’ (a borrowing of a borrowing?) and in geographically quite distant Dardic Indus Kohistani as gošvārī ‘the Burushaski language’ (Zoller 2005) with goš- being a shortening of Burushaski guśpúr ‘prince, male member of a Rajah-family’ which itself is a borrowing from Iranian *wisya-puðra ‘son of the community/clan’; gošvārī thus means ‘language of the Burush nobles’. The question comes up, is this an accidental isolated case or not? According to the majority view (see also above Morgenstierne’s dictum p. 83), all later reflexes of ultimately Proto-Indo-European-derived words stem from Old Indo-Aryan (with a few exceptions mentioned above). However, if my first proposition is not completely erroneous it has to be shown that indeed a convincing number of Proto-Indo-European-derived words are found in the Outer Languages without known parallels in Old Indo-Aryan. So far I have gathered much more than hundred lemmata, many of them found in more than one language. Here I can present only a small selection of such words whose derivations are more or less straight forward (in not few other cases complex argumentations are required). Here follow the examples:

• Prasun pul-, āpul- ‘say, speak’ as e.g. in kuk'a polū ‘speak loud!’; cf. PIE *(s)pel- ‘to speak loudly, emphatically’; note also with a- prefix Greek apeiléō ‘hold out in promise or in threat’.

• Kalasha lep ‘flat, smashed’ as in óṇḍrak pe átav hav, lep híu ‘if an egg falls it will become smashed’ and lep nástan ‘flat-nosed, squashed-nosed’ — Sindhī lap ‘the full of one hand open’ < PIE *lēp-, lōp-, ləp- ‘be flat, flat; plane, hand, shovel’.

• Kalasha vi-čái-k ‘to rest from working’ as in adhék vičáio krom kári ‘take a little rest and then work’ with verb root ultimately < PIE *kueih1- ‘rest, quiet’. The word has the same prefix as OIA viśramate ‘rests’ and it has a ‘Nuristani’ shape but I am not aware of Nuristani parallels and it is missing in OIA. But comparable are Old Church Slavic pokojĭ ‘peace,


quiet, rest’ and počijǫ, počiti ‘to rest’, Old Persian šiyāti ‘comfort’, Avestan šyāta-, šāta- ‘pleased, delighted’.

• Kalasha drázik ‘to load (something) onto one’s own back for carrying’ < PIE *dherǵh- ‘bind fast’ (but OIA DARH ‘be firm’ with h < *ǰh).

• Bangāṇī lepṇɔ ‘to peel, skin; to snatch’, lepɔ ‘rag, cloth, shred’, lepiaṇɔ ‘to peel, skin; seize s.th.’, lephṛɔ and Khaśdhārī lepṛa ‘(thin) bark of tree (which can be peeled)’ — perhaps here also Multānī lāpan ‘to cut the ears of jawār, bājhrā, and those tall crops the straw of which is not taken to the threshing-floor’ < PIE *lep- ‘peel’ and ‘to sliver’; cf. e.g. Greek lépo ‘peel!’

• Kati vór ‘any male relative 2 generations above Ego’, Waigalī aveli ‘parent’s mothers agnate’, Kalasha váva ‘grandfather (father of father or mother)’ < PIE *h2euh2os ‘grandfather’ (cf. Latin avus ‘grandfather’).

• Bangāṇī śɔpṇɔ or śɔpkaṇɔ and Deogārī śepṇɔ and śɔpṇɔ all meaning ‘to slurp, swallow (loudly); to harm s.o. magically (as a witch who is swallowing [‘slurping up’] the ‘life-force’ of the victim)’ — Indus Kohistani ṣapʌṽ ‘to lick up (e.g., a spilled liquid, leftovers)’, Burushaski ṣap - t- ‘to slurp (up) (vulgar)’, Khowar šruph ‘slurp’, Kalasha šurúp kárik ‘to sip’, and Kashmiri śrapun ‘to be digested, be soaked up’ < PIE *srebh- ‘slurp; gulp, ingest noisily’ (cf. e.g. Lithuanian sriaubiu, sriaubti ‘to slurp’, Hittite s(a)rap ‘gulp’). The different forms of the Indo-Aryan words are all regular with regard to their respective historical sound changes (e.g. with regard to stem-final devoicing).

Note: The last lemma PIE *srebh- is somewhat complicated: on the one hand, there is regular Proto-Iranian *hrab- ‘to sip’ with modern reflexes having also been borrowed into Burushaski huúp -t- ‘to slurp, devour, inhale (smoke)’ and Sh. huúp th- ‘to pull up s.th.’, on the other hand there are Munda Kharia suruˀb ‘to sip, suck’ and Santali siṛuˀp ‘to sip, suck, to suck in audibly’ (and IA Sadani surp- ‘to sip’) which are possibly of Austro-Asiatic origin. Proto-Mon-Khmer has practically the same root: *srup, sruup ‘to suck, drink’ and even a parallel to the Iranian debuccalization is found in Proto-Palaungic


*hruup ‘to drink’. Do we have before us a mingling of two accidentally similar roots from Indo-European and Austro-Asiatic?

Apart from the last ‘lemma’, which is somewhat complicated, I do not know how the above examples could be explained in terms of slight dialect variations in Old Indo-Aryan. Other examples, not quoted here because too complicated to be explained in a few lines, seem to go back to Indo-Iranian with common reflexes in Nuristani, Dardic and other Indo-Aryan languages. In yet other cases it seems that Outer Languages have preserved the Proto-Indo-European meaning of a lemma which already in Old Indo-Aryan is not any more clearly identifiable. Note e.g. OIA TUL ‘lift up, weigh’ < PIE *telh2- ‘raise, lift’ with modern reflexes mostly meaning ‘weigh, balance, scales’ (see CDIAL). This differs significantly e.g. from Bangāṇī tùlkɛṇɔ and Deogārī tulkōṇɔ and tulkaɔṇɔ (with a -k- suffix) all meaning ‘to swell, rise as water, brim over as water’ which have a close semantic parallel in Nuristani Prasun tol- ‘to swell, bulge, mass together’ as in āv tol'ogso ‘water rose’. Note also that Bangāṇī tùlkɛṇɔ with tone contrasts with e.g. tulṇɔ ‘to be weighed’ without tone which suggests that the latter form is a later borrowing from Hindi or a related language. So how is it possible that West Pahāṛī Bangāṇī and Deogārī can share such an archaic trait with a geographically quite distant language belonging to a different branch of Indo-Iranian?

Incomplete satemization? The following two examples may be suited for a comparison with Balto-Slavic history with regard to possible incomplete satemization:

• PIE *ǵhaisos ‘dart; staff, stick’ is reflected in Bng. gèsɔ, gèslɔ ‘a stick used for driving cattle and for fighting’,56 Jaun. ghesli ‘a stick for killing’, Deog. gesṛi ‘a stick for fighting’; Rj.mev. ghesəlo ‘long stick’ (but OIA héṣas- ‘missile, weapon’ < *ȷheṣas-). In western Garhwal, the word is also used in hero songs, the so-called hārul. Here two lines from such a song about the hero Hāku (Lakshmikant Joshi 2007: 46):

leuśi ri ghesli kāṭe muṭeia ri chīṭi chiṭkāre muṭaia ri lai bheḍa pīṭi

56 A Bangāṇī tone as here on -è- is frequently, but not always, the result of loss of aspiration.


‘(Haku) cuts a fighting-stick from a Leushi tree (and) a stick from a Mutaia tree,

(and) he is killing the sheep with the stick from the Mutaia tree’

In another article (Zoller 2016) I discuss the importance of reflexes of *ǵhaisos in traditional Indo-European pastoral and martial societies and I refer to the Russian Indologist Yaroslav Vassilkov who says (2012: 165): “The attribute of the hero, common to all branches of the ancient Eurasian tradition, is the shepherd’s staff or crook” which is called e.g. in Old Greek tradition khaîos (also transliterated chaion) ‘herdsman’s staff’.57

• a) Mayrhofer suggests (EWA) that OIA HARS ‘get excite, happy’ is reflex of the conjunction of PIE *ǵhers- and *guers- ‘stiffen (of hair), bristle’. The second form is not found in the usual sources, for instance Mallory and Adams (2006) present only the first form. But here relevant is perhaps also PIE *ǵheis- ‘frighten’ which cf. with Bng. gɔisiṇɔ ‘to get frightened’, gɔrs(ɛ)ṇɔ ‘to feel sheer terror, be terrified’ and gɔrsiṇɔ ‘to be bristly, spiny (e.g., as pig or porcupine)’ and gɔsi ‘shocked, frightened, scared; fright, scare’, Deog. gɔisṇɔ and gɔrsioṇɔ ‘to get terribly frightened (with body hair standing upright)’. Whereas the above forms seem to have not undergone satemization, the following words, if they have the same origin, have undergone satemization, however in a ‘Nuristan’ way:

57 The OIA reflex of *ǵhaisos is héṣas- ‘missile, weapon’ but it does not seem to have any associations with martial shepherds and pastoralism, traces of which are still found in the mountains of north-western South Asia. Vassilkov writes about hero stones in India (2011: 198): “The territories with the hero-stones form a kind of belt around the subcontinent. They have something in common: we often find in them cattle-breeding societies with strong vestiges of an archaic social organization and traditions of cattle-raiding. Interestingly, there are no “hero-stones” in Madhyadeša, i.e. the northern part of Uttar Pradesh, the cradle of the Vedic (Brahminic) civilization.” He suggests further (2011: 199) that the tradition of hero stones “… could possibly represent one of the non-Vedic waves of Aryan migration to India.” Not surprisingly, hero stones and associated hero traditions are very common in many parts of the Himalayas (see Zoller 2007, 2016). Unfortunately, here is not the place to deepen further linguistic and cultural parallels characteristic of parts of the Outer Languages.


b) K. zarzar, zarazar ‘fear, apprehension’, Ind. zhʌr ho- ‘to get frightened, frighten, startle’ and zhʌr karʌṽ ‘to frighten or startle s.o’. The two Kal. forms záraš žúni58hik ‘to become frightened’ and zran ‘afraid’ are allomorphs of a form that must have been very similar to Av. zarəšiiamna- (Mallory and Adams zaršayamna- [2006: 347]) ‘feathers upright’. The Av. form is directly reflected e.g. in Iranian Wan. zeráž ‘rough, stiff, rigid’.

This phenomenon – namely the occasional reflex of palatal PIE *ḱ or ǵ as velar k or g instead of palatal ś or ȷ – characterizes a number of words especially in Balto-Slavic, but individual cases seem also to be found in Old Indo-Aryan. Some possible examples from Old Indo-Aryan are: gnā- ‘wife’ ~ jáni- which reflect PIE *guneh2- and *guenh2-, DEH ‘smear’ ~ digdhá-, HAN ‘strike, kill’ ~ intensive jáṅganti ‘strikes, kills’ (reflected in West Pahāṛī [5081]). The above-quoted examples may suggest, although the evidence is perhaps less plain than in Balto-Slavic, that during the Proto-Aryan phase some lects of the linkage underwent only an incomplete satemization and thus preserved some ‘kentum’ characteristics. With regard to Balto-Slavic, Thomas Gamkrelidze writes (1997: 79): “Certain discrepancies among the individual areas of the satem group can be observed in the choice of positions where the opposition of velar and palatovelar phonemes was neutralized.” Gamkrelidze quotes several doublets like Lithuanian akmuõ, ašmuõ both ‘stone’ (OIA áśman-), and he continues “[t]hese pairs reflect, in general form, an ancient Indo-European alternation of palatovelar and velar phonemes within the paradigm under combinatory conditions that cannot be more precisely defined.” Whereas in Balto-Slavic the suggestion that the doublets reflect different dialects has been rejected with the arguments that all doublets have exactly identical meanings, this does not apply to the above examples which definitely are due to language and dialect differences.

58 žúni < OIA yóni- ‘womb, birthplace, abode’, the phrase thus means literally ‘to be (in the) form (of) fear’.


Differences in satemization Whereas labiovelar Proto-Indo-European *gu is reflected in Old Iranian as the palatal affricate ǰ and palatovelar *ǵ reflected as the dental sibilant z, in Old Indo-Aryan the respective reflexes are aspirate h (< *ǰh) and palatal affricate j (see Huld 1997). And whereas Nuristani is known to follow the Iranian type, it has been generally assumed that Dardic has followed the Indo-Aryan type. Both Old Iranian and ‘Old Nuristani’ had two affricate phoneme types ǰ and z (i.e. a palatal order opposing a dental order), but Old Indo-Aryan had only j (i.e. only a palatal order). Obviously, the phoneme z is the result of a depalatalization process. Since, as I have pointed out above, depalatalization is also very common in Dardic, one may wonder about its ‘purport’. And indeed it seems that also ‘Old Dardic’ had two phonemes j and (d)z. Depalatalization of reflexes of PIE *ǵ did, however, not occur in Dardic (and probably also in Nuristani) when j- was followed by a [+back] and/or [-low] vowel, in case of coronal consonant harmony (CCH), and in some cases even phonologically unconditioned.59 An example for non-depalatalization due to CCH is found in Indus Kohistani žhuiṭā ‘defiled’ < OIA juṣṭa- ‘remnants of a meal’ where the retroflex ṭ(h) prevented depalatalization.60 Examples: Proto-Indo-European

Nuristani Dardic Sanskrit

*skuel- Ind. čhʌl ‘deceit’ chala- *gueih3- Ind. žīl ‘life’61 jīvala- *ǵenh1-tú- Ind. zān ‘snake’ jantú- *guhen- Dm. žan- ‘kill’

Pr. žon- HAN

*ǵneh3- Dm. zaan- ‘know’ Shum. zāni62 jānāti

59 Some details are still unclear to me. 60 The Indus Kohistani form goes back to MIA juṭṭha- and shows aspiration fronting which is a typical feature of Outer Languages and never found in Inner Languages. Note therefore also Panjabi jhūṭā, Dardic Phalura jhuṭá, Bengali jhuṭhā and Deśya Prakrit jhuṭṭha, but Hindi jūṭhā. 61 I have found not a single case where PIE *gu turned into a dental phoneme in Dardic. 62 In Kalasha ǰhónik ‘to know’ there is no depalatalization because of following [+back, -low] vowel (?).


The examples prove the inaccuracy of Morgenstierne’s dictum because Dardic shares with Nuristani and Iranian a feature not found in Old Indo-Aryan and its direct daughter languages. The correctness of my above deliberations is also supported by the following fact: we have seen that Old Iranian has a contrast between a palatal affricate ǰ and a dental fricative z. This parallels the fact that in those Dardic languages (and, at least partially in Nuristani languages) which have a similar contrast (to my knowledge found practically everywhere), only the palatal affricate phonemes are phonetically realized as affricates in all word positions whereas the dental and retroflex affricates63 have a more or less clear proclivity for phonetic fricative pronunciation. This leads to the question of how to explain the presence of the retroflex phoneme ẓ in Dardic and Nuristani.

The phoneme must have belonged already to ‘Old Dardic’ and ‘Old Nuristani’ at the time of Old Indo-Aryan. First argument: Indus Kohistani ẓhʌr ‘gushing down’ – which is only used together with vī ‘water’ as in vī ẓhʌr hō t ‘water gushes down’ – is connected with Old Indo-Aryan jhara- ‘waterfall’ and goes back to Pre-Vedic gẓharati ‘oozes, flows’ (Oberlies 1999: 45). Whereas Pre-Vedic *ẓ(h) had disappeared until the Vedic period, as is well-known, it has been preserved in Dardic.64 Second argument: It can be assumed that its unvoiced counterpart c is of comparable antiquity. This is suggested by Nuristani Prasun ṣə ‘cattle’ which, I suggest, derives < Rigvedic kṣú- < *pśu- < Old Indo-Aryan paśú- ‘cattle’ (see EWA) with the well-known change of kṣ > c (> ṣ). Also these examples prove the inaccuracy of Morgenstierne’s dictum and they are yet another example for lectal differentiations between ‘the’ Old Indo-Aryan language and other Old Indo-Aryan lects.

Old and new graphic conceptualizations of the hypothesis We have meanwhile come across several features I regard as characteristic for Outer Languages and as confirming the second proposition. They are different from the features usually quoted as 63 It is obvious that the inherited affricates are phonemically affricates no matter whether they are realized as affricates or fricatives. 64 I am not aware of a comparable parallel in Nuristani. Together with the more authentic preservation of the Proto-Indo-European-inherited accent in Dardic when compared with Nuristani, this is a strong argumentative package against the elevated linguistic status of Nuristani.


defining South Asia as a linguistic area (Sprachbund). The most prominent features are the following: retroflex consonants, echo-word formations, quotative constructions, the so-called absolutive, SOV word order, morphological causatives, a ‘second causative’ construction (see Thomason 2000: 10), and, as a later contact phenomenon, dative subjects (see Hobbs 2016). As I have pointed out above (p. 74), these features are mainly ascribed to contact-induced influence between Dravidian and Indo-Aryan. I do not discuss these features here because they do not reveal anything about the prehistoric linguistic landscape situation before the arrival of the Indo-Aryan speakers and its impact on the Outer Languages. Besides the features already mentioned above, I discuss in my forthcoming book also these: ‘spontaneous’ affricatization of sibilants and conversely also deaffricatization; r and l metatheses; two variants of epenthesis; vowel length opposition limited to a vs. ā; past tense forms built with ta; the auxiliary t- ‘is, was’; 65 a variant of Grassmann’s law;66 SVO-like syntax;67 and, of course, very much lexical evidence. Here, that is in the next section, I discuss voice and aspiration fluctuations, loss of initial consonants and the important so-called sesquisyllabic syllables. Since the second proposition proposes solely a temporal model of language immigration, the previous geographical divisions are regarded as inadequate. Compare the language map of Grierson right below with my following.

As can be seen in the map by Grierson, the first visual presentations of the model were language maps with clear geographical delimitation between what was claimed to be Outer and Inner (and Transitional) Languages.

65 Connected with OIA STHĀ ‘stand’. 66 Many Outer Languages allow only one aspirated consonant in a word. 67 This is geographically limited to some varieties in West Pahāṛī and Dardic.


Figure 1. Grierson 1927.

Figure 2. Zoller.

The above map in three colors is to be read: the small green area in the north-west is the homeland of Nuristani and Dardic. The other Outer


Languages do not have an own homeland because they and the Inner Languages are found in the same geographical area of the northern parts of South Asia. This map is neither a historical family tree nor a synchronic two-dimensional language map. It does not claim to display a specific moment in the history from OIA to NIA but endeavors to convey the underlying idea of the relationship between Outer and Inner Languages. Therefore it is three-dimensional. In the blue areas typical Outer Language features dominate and thus reflect the older OIA layer, whereas in the crimson areas typical Inner Language features dominate and thus reflect the younger OIA layer. Changes of shadings of the blue from darker to lighter are meant to suggest a decrease in the number of Outer Language features from (north-)west to (south-)east. One can see areas where both colors interpenetrate and there are squirts of crimson all over the bluish area intended to illustrate the impact of the Inner Language over the whole Outer Language area. Thus, the map is designed to show that there is no clear distinction between Outer and Inner Languages: an individual language is either more Outer and less Inner Language or vice versa, depending on the amount of typical Outer Language features characterizing that individual language. Thus, when the terms Outer and Inner Languages are quoted they should always be understood as abbreviations for more Outer and more Inner Languages. What the map does not show: for instance, Hindi is a typical Inner Language but Braj Bhasha, whose spread is partially identical with that of Hindi, has many Outer Language features; Standard Bengali has only few Outer Language features, but some of its dialects (like that of Chittagong) have quite many, as Assamese has, etc.

Whereas the above map is ‘non-historic’ the previous historical Indo-Iranian language tree model looked like this (see Degener 2002):

Proto-Indo-Iranian

Iranian Nuristani Indo-Aryan


The revised model can be presented thus:

Proto-Indo-Iranian

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - linkage-line Iranian Nur.(OL1) Dard.(OL2) OL3,4 etc. IL (OIA)

The linkage-line in the above diagram indicates that Nuristani, Dardic and the other Outer Languages are closer connected with Vedic Sanskrit and its descendants (- - -) than with Iranian and its descendants (- - -).

Part IV The second proposition

Old Indo Aryan, New Indo-Aryan and Munda/Austro-Asiatic Southworth (2005a: 67ff.) refers to F.B.J. Kuiper’s claim (on whom more below) that the oldest loanwords in Vedic are of Munda or Austro-Asiatic origin and that therefore there must have been a “… presence of the speakers of these languages in the Panjab as early as the second millennium BCE. The Rigveda alone contains more than 300 such words.” However, this position has been sharply criticized by the Munda specialist Toshiki Osada (2006) who quotes his colleague Norman Zide (p. 1): “The identification of words in Indo-Aryan and Dravidian as Munda loans, even when this has been done by careful scholars, is not often convincing, in the light of newer data.” He himself sums up (p. 2): “… I generally find that the role of Munda languages for the South Asian linguistic area is overemphasized … the Munda or Austroasiatic role for convergence in South Asia including loan words is overestimated.” He then goes on to review the following words: plough, banana, pepper, lemon, cotton, gourd which, as formerly being seen as the clearest evidence, were widely accepted as being of Munda/Austro-Asiatic origin. Osada arrives at the conclusion (p. 17) that “… Mayrhofer has drastically


changed his position on the Austroasiatic origin for Sanskrit words from KEWA to EWA. When I examined the indexes of KEWA and EWA I saw that the number of entries for Austric68 are clearly diminishing; e.g., 278 in KEWA but 30 in EWA. That is to say, Mayrhofer apparently recognizes that both Kuiper and Przyluski works are not reliable at all. I, as a Munda specialist, agree with his basic position. It is no exaggeration to say that simple calculation has been done; i.e., foreign words in Sanskrit minus Dravidian origins equal to Munda origins.” Finally, he remarks (p. 17f.) that Donegan and Stampe (2004: 27) favor a South Asian origin for Munda/Austro-Asiatic whereas he is convinced of a westward movement from Southeast Asia to South Asia. Not surprisingly, Parpola welcomes this quite authoritative verdict (2015: 165). He takes up some examples from Witzel (see Witzel 2005a: 176-180) – who follows Kuiper’s thesis – in order to question their Austro-Asiatic provenance and offer his own ideas of Proto-Dravidian being the language of the Indus Valley Civilisation (IVC) and thus the appropriate candidate as source of borrowings.69

Before the here-sketched background of scholarly contention, which seems to ascribe to Munda a rather moderate role in the linguistic history of South Asia, it is now interesting to see that D.D. Sharma (2003) has claimed that the West Himalayish Tibeto-Burman languages contain a Munda substrate. And that is not all, Roger Blench has recently claimed (2013: 1) the existence of “… an apparent Austroasiatic substrate in Lepcha (Róng) an isolated branch of Tibeto-Burman spoken principally in Sikkim” and Paul Sidwell (2002) has shown an Austro-Asiatic substrate in Chamic70 which leads him to the conclusion that (2002: 120) “… it is quite likely that much of the Indo-Chinese hinterland now or recently occupied by Bahnaric and Katuic speakers was inhabited by speakers of other M[on-]K[hmer] languages.” When I add below additional data from north-

68 Mayrhofer also used the term ‘Austric’ though it is highly hypothetical. 69 Parpola’s book, which is a kind of résumé of the decades of his research on this question, contains indeed a number of quite compelling arguments in favor of Dravidian, and in my eyes it is not unlikely that Dravidian was also spoken in the IVC, perhaps especially or exclusively by religious, political and economic elites. 70 “The Chamic languages are a Malayo-Polynesian sub-grouping, with speakers located today in Vietnam, Cambodia, Hainan Island (China) and Sumatra (Aceh Province of Indonesia)” (Sidwell 2002: 113).


western South Asia (West Himalayish and related Zhang Zhung [spoken in Upper Tibet]), north-western Outer Languages, and Burushaski, then the strong suspicion can hardly be put away that large areas of northern India (including the high mountains) and of Southeast Asia were once dominated by a huge family of Austro-Asiatic languages. That this is to a large extent a matter of prehistory has been confirmed by Blench and others before him who point out that the present-day Austro-Asiatic languages present an image of fragmentation. According to him, a major linguistic factor for this fate was this (p. 3): “The notion that Austroasiatic has been fragmented and assimilated by the expansion of Sino-Tibetan and other language phyla is usually accepted.” Before I can present examples of data, I need to explain what all this has to do with my second proposition.

Consonant fluctuations in Munda In Kuiper’s article on consonant variation in Munda (1965), he discusses the notion of ‘sporadic sound laws’, i.e. phonological changes limited to certain words only, which permeate the Munda languages. Kuiper lists the following variations:

• Between voiced and voiceless stops • gh/g : kh/k : h : 0 • b(h) : h : 0 • d(h) : h : 0 • Between dental and retroflex consonants71

For these changes he usually cannot find any explanation (p. 55f. and 59); and “it is impossible to decide with certainty where the domain of variation ends and that of parallel rhyme words derived from etymologically different roots begins” (p. 56). The quoted variations are also typical for Outer Languages but untypical for Old Indo-Aryan and Inner Languages like Hindi, Bhojpuri and Bihari. See the following comparisons:72

71 I have left outside a few items which are either not found in Outer Languages or which are not diagnostic, in my eyes, like the dental versus retroflex examples. 72 I have grouped together Kuiper’s not so systematically ordered types of variation into just two rows.


Variation type

Munda Outer languages

±voice and ±aspiration

baḍaˀj- buḍuˀj ‘bubbling’ = pɔdɔ-pɔdɔ Khas. blup-blup ‘bubbling’ = phlup-phlup Kh. saʔdhay ‘torment’ = H. satānā bhondṛa ‘large’ = phandṛa jıbır jıbır = jhıbır jhıbır ‘drizzle’ = IA Deog. chiṛbiṛ chiṛbiṛ ‘drizzle’

P. bãjhlī ‘flute’ < OIA vaṁśī Phal. ǰhāb ‘be quiet’ = H. cup P. ūt and udh, Sh. uš all ‘otter’ < OIA udrá Wg. grop ‘womb’ < OIA gárbha Klm. khum ‘bottom’ < OIA gambhan-73

Loss of initial closure or consonant74

Kur. kɔn ‘son’ = Sant. hɔn Kur. kākū ‘fish’ = Sant. hako duluduṅ ‘type of snake’ = Or. hulhulıa75 bangam ‘finish’ = hangam

Deśya Prakrit kaṅkelī = aṅkelī ‘Ashoka tree’ < OIA kaṅkeli- ‘the tree Jonesia Asoka’ caviaṁ = aviaṁ ‘said’ < OIA *cavati ‘says’ (4724) jūā = ūā ‘louse76 < OIA yūka- ‘louse’ Nuristani Prasun irí or 'īri ‘horse’ < OIA ghoṭa- ‘horse’ vuč ‘five’ < OIA páñca- ‘five’ uḍyö ‘loom’ < OIA *khaḍḍa- ‘pit’ (3790)77

Regarding the ‘special’ status of Deśya Prakrit vis-à-vis the ‘normal’ Prakrits, Bhayani (1988: 150) writes: “Many of these words are familiar to us from Prakrit and Apabhraṁśa literatures. They form a part of the common stock of the literary vocabulary and there is 73 The change a > u, which is very widespread in Outer Languages, has also many parallels in Munda. 74 This is practically absent in Old Indo-Aryan with the exception of kaikaya- = haihaya- ‘name of a warrior-tribe’ but which does not look at all ‘Aryan’. 75 Cf. also Burushaski tol ‘snake’ and Aslian Jahai dadɔl ‘reed snake’. 76 See 10512 for modern reflexes of the form lacking OIA y-. 77 This refers to such traditional looms where the weaver sits in a hole. This and the preceding example again show the typical Outer Languages change a > u.


nothing regional or dialectal about them.” That means that even deśya ‘indigenous’ words had undergone a process of koinéization! One can only imagine how widespread in Outer ‘village languages’ loss of word-initial consonants and voice and aspiration fluctuations must have been in the north Indian Middle Ages.

Sesquisyllabic words Sesquisyllabic words are a central characteristic of Austro-Asiatic. Their specific structure has left deep marks in all the different language families (perhaps with the exception of Tibetan) in north-western South Asia and perhaps even in Sindhī (for which see further below), and they are an unmistakable sign for the former presence of Munda/Austro-Asiatic. This crucial feature has slipped the attention of previous scholars in the field of Munda and Indo-Aryan studies. Jenny and Sidwell write (2014: 15): “A characteristic feature of many Austroasiatic languages (although less so especially in Munda, Vietnamese, and Nicobarese) are phonological words that consist of two syllables, whereby an initial unstressed syllable (often called ‘minor syllable’ or ‘presyllable’) is followed by a stressed full syllable (‘main syllable’). This word structure has also been called ‘sesquisyllable’ (‘one-and-a-half’ syllables long) since Matisoff … [s]esquisyllabicity has also been postulated for Proto-AA”,78 and (p. 19): “Minor syllables that are created by partial reduplication of the main syllable are also attested in AA.”

The fact that languages in north-west South Asia have many words with sesquisyllabic-like structures does not mean that they can be called sesquisyllabic languages (like many AA languages in Southeast Asia). It is rather a phonotactic feature borrowed from Austro-Asiatic that has influenced these languages which otherwise have also many other types of phonotactic patterns. In case of sesquisyllabic-like bisyllabic words, the first syllable is ‘phonetically subordinate’ and the second syllable is ‘phonetically superordinate’. Or in the words of Becky Ann Butler (2014: 9): “First, prosodic prominence (i.e. stress or tone) must be word-final” and (p. 10): “The second property of sesquisyllables is that non-final syllables are

78 In some of the examples following below, the stress is on the third syllable or on the second syllable followed by a third unstressed syllable, but the mechanism seems to be basically the same as in AA.


phonologically reduced. This includes segmental properties, syllable shape and weight.” Butler’s and my definitions are vaguer than the various standard definitions (see Butler 2014 for different definitions by different authors) which refer e.g. to reduced phoneme inventory (especially a tendency for schwa [ə] as the only vowel) and mono-moric V, CV or VC tendency in the subordinate syllable and ‘fully developed’ syllable structure (whatever this means) in the superordinate syllable.

Here for us important is also the following observation by Jenny and Sidwell (2014 20): “… although it has been recognized that there is a tendency for sesquisyllabic words to become monosyllabic … sesquisyllabic words in AA appear to be diachronically very stable…” This is possibly one condition for the survival of sesquisyllabic structures in north-western South Asia. However, there is probably an additional factor which has supported their survival, namely the presence of stress and pitch accent in the languages of the area. It seems that in the discussions about sesquisyllabic structures in Austo-Asiatic languages the role of pitch accent is not of special relevance. But an important characteristic of the vast majority of the Nuristan, Dard and East Iranian languages, and Burushaski, is that they are pitch accent languages. Apart from the case of Burushaski, the pitch accent is historically frequently an inheritance of the Vedic accent79 (Zoller forthcoming) but the system was generalized and includes now also all non-inherited words (i.e. also words borrowed from English as some examples below show). Even though the position of the Vedic accent was free, as is well-known, my preliminary statistical surveys e.g. of Nuristani Prasun and Dardic Indus Kohistani clearly show that in case of bisyllabic words the pitch accent is much more often on the second than on the first syllable. My guess is, although more research will be necessary, that a phonetic conspiracy took place between the borrowed Austro-Asiatic sesquisyllable structures and the inherited Vedic accent which secured the survival of sesquisyllabic-like word patterns till today. Several examples below also show that originally non-sesquisyllabic words got transformed into sesquisyllabic-like words. I use the term

79 In case of East Iranian, e.g. Pashto, one cannot, of course, speak of a Vedic accent. But even though the conditions regarding inheritance of the Old Iranian accent are less clear than e.g. in Dardic, there do exist some pretty clear examples.


sesquisyllabic-like because the languages in the north-west of South Asia have developed various phonetic strategies for marking the phonetically superordinate syllable in a sesquisyllabic word which are probably not current (or at least common) in Austro-Asiatic. I include here also the phenomenon of syncope of initial syllables which is an indirect way of identifying the former superordinate syllable. Here is a (perhaps incomplete) list of features for marking superordinate syllables:

(a) Syncope of initial syllable (b) Pitch accent on superordinate syllable (c) The north-western pitch accent corresponds frequently with

Munda/Austo-Asiatic glottal stop (or checked consonant) or, more rarely, with a raised vowel (e.g. a > o)

(d) Change of a to ē (only in Baṅgāṇī, but similar to the Munda a > ɔ, o change) in superordinate syllable.

Examples:

(a) Wg. pšík ‘cat’ < OIA *puśśi- (8298); Him. rgāṇu ‘to color’ (cf. H. raṅgānā); Mult. of Afghanistan prešān either ‘operation’ (← English) or ‘troubled’ (← Persian parešān);80 compare the latter variant with Kal. perišán and Ind. pʌrēšān both ‘worried’ where the Persian word did not undergo syncope but got an accent attached to its superordinate syllable in the borrowing process.81

(b) Ind. ekṭár ‘an actor (on stage)’ (← Eng.) and kʌžʌl ‘collyrium’82 < OIA kajjala- ‘lamp-black’ (2622) (but H.

80 The phenomenon is not found in the homeland of Multānī in Pakistan. Multānī in Afghanistan is mainly spoken in Kabul, Kandahar and Jalalabad by Hindus and Sikhs (though most of them meanwhile have fled the country because of growing Islamic fundamentalism). The dialect has been considerably influenced by surrounding Pashto. I have heard the two quoted words and other structurally similar words in quite many talks from speakers now living in Germany. 81 That this phenomenon really has nothing to do with vowel length can be shown e.g. with this example of the borrowing reflexes of Ar. nazar ‘sight’: Dardic Kal. nizér and Ind. nazʌr, Munda Sant. najer. 82 Practically the same pronunciation is widespread all over the north-west and includes also Pashto. The word is possibly of Munda/Austro-Asiatic origin because of Sanskrit lexicographic ajjhala- ‘coal’ with loss of initial consonant; note also Ho


kājal); Pr. üč'ǖ ‘a tear’ < pre-OIA *áčru- (cf. OIA áśru- and note shift of accent).

(c) Bur. ḍaḍaáko ‘severe labor pains; agony, death throes’ — Sant. ɖhaɽaˀk ɖhoɽoˀk ‘jerkingly, joltingly, limpingly; jolt, limp’;83 Bur. ġaḍaġaḍáp ‘sound of horse’s hooves’, Sh. gaṛáp ‘ditto’, Ind. gʌṛʌp-gʌṛʌpʰ ‘sound of clatter (of horses)’ — Sant. kaʈaˀp kaʈaˀp ‘clattering (sound of hoofed animals walking; of wooden clogs)’.

(d) Bng. agēḷ ‘door latch’ < OIA *argaḍa- (629), bamēṇ ‘Brahmin’ < OIA brāhmaṇá- (9327), gɔrēṇ ‘solar or lunar eclipse’ < OIA gráhaṇa- (4364), ṭimaṭēr ‘tomato’ (also Ind. ṭamāṭʌr but H. ṭamāṭar) ← English.

Note: With regard to Bur. ġaḍaġaḍáp ‘sound of horse’s hooves’, a reviewer of the present paper has pointed out that the ‘clattering’ words are ideophones which resemble e.g. the kantapper kantapper ideophone found in a Grimm’s fairy tale that is related with the English tale of the Gingerbread Man but in which a pancake is ‘cantering’ along its way. The objection seems to imply that ideophones are not very useful for etymological comparisons. I will deal with this question in detail in my forthcoming publication where I present arguments to show that this conjecture is widespread but not well-founded. Here just the following points: Ideophones are understood to evoke an idea in sound, e.g. movement, color, shape, sound, or action. They are understood as realizations of elementary sound gestures, whereby it remains unclear what ‘elementary’ means. For instance in Bengali, all following words mean ‘to hum’: guñjarā, gunaguna, jhaṅkāra, ḍāka, bhanabhana, bhāṁjā, sura. But Palaungic Riang has ˉrɔʔ, Katic Ngeq parwɛw, etc. And several of the Bengali ideophones have IA etymologies, which means, they are not beyond the reach of historical reconstruction. Another obvious characteristic

kajɔr ‘lampblack’ suggesting second vowel as marked ( Sant. kaɟal, kaɟar ‘collyrium’ is, on the other hand, apparently not sesquisyllabic) and PMK *kcaas, kcas, kcah ‘charcoal’, Katuic Ngeq kaɟah ‘charcoal’, Monic Nyah Kur kəcáh ‘charcoal’. 83 There does not seem to exist a PMU or PMK reconstruction for this lemma. But since the Burushaski word shows partial reduplication resulting in a subordinate syllable and since both Burushaski and Santali have stress respectively checked pronunciation with the superordinate syllable (the second in case of Burushaski) it is clear that the words are of Munda origin.


of many ideophones is reduplication. The gaṛáp lemma has the additional feature of accent on the superordinate syllable. It is thus sesquisyllabic. I found association of the sound gaṛáp with the gait of a horse or hoofed animal only in Burushaski, Dardic and Munda. And even though one can always overlook something, I did not find convincing parallels in Mon-Khmer, Dravidian, Tibeto-Burman or Iranian. The somewhat similar ideophone M. gaḍagaḍaṇēṃ ‘to clatter’ seems not to be associated with horse gait. Munda languages are well-known for their enormous wealth in onomatopoeia, ideophones, etc. and it is standing to reason to assume that at the time of the arrival of Old Indo-Aryan in South Asia, the prehistoric linguistic landscape of North India was also characterized by an abundance of onomatopoeic, ideophonic etc. modes of word formation. Here follows a small example of how this linguistic ‘pre-givenness’ may have affected further developments of Indo-Aryan. Whereas gaṛáp has a sesquisyllabic structure CVCVC, Marāṭhī gaḍagaḍa- does not have this; there is instead CVCV. Nevertheless, that sesquisyllabic word structures, which are a characteristic of Austro-Asiatic, must have had their impact on Indo-Aryan also in the field of ideophones, is demonstrated by the following example: Hindi and Panjābī dapaṭ mean also ‘gallop’ besides ‘rush; attack (commonly used in compounds with dauṛ- ‘run’)’ but, of course, their second syllable is not superordinate. They have a morphological near-parallel in Prasun dǝp'ak, ḍəp'ak ‘hustling with force and vehemence’, here with sesquisyllabic structure because of the accent. Hindi dapaṭ is derived by Platts < Pk. dabaḍī84 < OIA DRAV ‘run, hasten’ (cf. also Pa. davo- ‘quick motion’, Pk. davadavā- ‘veg vālī gati – swift motion’ [Sheth: A comprehensive Prakrit-Hindi dictionary] and Old G. davadavāe ʻwith speed’ [6623 dravá- ‘quick motion’], and S. ḍrokaṇu ʻto gallop’ [6624 drávati ‘runs’]).85 The Hindi word is not found in the CDIAL because Turner must have thought that Platts’ derivation < OIA drava- + -ṭa- could not be correct because of the -p- instead of expected -b-. But we have seen above that both in Munda and in different Outer Languages voice fluctuations are quite common (cf. e.g. Kt. tapip ‘doctor’ ← Ar. tabīb). Therefore the Hindi and Panjābī 84 But I cannot locate this form in my Prakrit dictionary. 85 The dental-retroflex alternation in Pr. dǝpˈak, ḍəp'ak is, I think, not a problem because there are many cases found in Outer Languages for OIA dr > ḍ. Thus also Pr. (v)uṭ'us ‘avalanche’ < OIA uttrāsa- `fear, terror’ (see CDIAL 6013).


word must be a borrowing from an Outer Language – cf. here again Prasun dǝpˈak, ḍəp'ak – which had used an Indo-Aryan lexeme to which an ‘ideophoneme’ -ṭ 86 was suffixed in order to form an ideophone based on the very common Munda/ Austro-Asiatic morphological pattern of sesquisyllabicity. The morphological relationship between Bur. ġaḍaġaḍáp and M. gaḍagaḍaṇēṃ parallels the morphological relationship between Prasun dǝpˈak, ḍəp'ak and Prasun ḍǝbǝḍǝbǝ ‘rumbling’ with regard to ± sesquisyllabicity. The latter word appears in the text published by Buddruss and Degener (2016) together with a verb of motion: ḍǝbǝḍǝbǝ tī amˈaso ‘(he) comes rumbling’. Tellingly, Prasun ḍǝbǝḍǝbǝ has also a sesquisyllabic-like allomorph ḍubeḍobˈi ‘rumbling’ which also qualifies in the text a verb of motion. We thus observe that an IA verb of motion (DRU) has been ‘ideophonized’ by using a Munda/Austro-Asiatic pattern of sesquisyllabicity created with the help of ‘ideophoneme’ suffixes so that it then can qualify other verbs of motion. The remaining question is, whether a similar historical development can be discovered in case of Santali kaʈaˀp kaʈaˀp ‘clattering’. I provisionally suggest derivation < Proto-Kherwarian (North.Munda) *kaʈa ‘leg’ (see SEAlang Munda Languages Project) which is , so to say, a noun of motion, and which is typically used e.g. in Sant. mɛrɔm kaʈa ‘goat’s trotters’, sukri kaʈa ‘pig’s trotters’, both of which are hoofed animals. So there can hardly be any more a doubt that the Bur., Sh. and Ind. words are direct borrowings from Munda/Austro-Asiatic. Last of all, this is seemingly further supported by Bur. gaṭál ‘by foot’ as in gaṭál bulá ‘polo by foot (played by children)’ and kaṭál ‘on foot’ (Willson), which also seems to be a borrowing of Munda kaʈa ‘leg’, and where also the second word bulá shows the typical tendency in Burushaski for voicing of unvoiced stops in borrowings.

Additional lexical evidence The equations with languages in north-west South Asia can be divided into the following three types: (i) parallels with Munda without Proto-Munda reconstruction; 87 (ii) parallels with Munda with Proto- 86 Other ‘ideophonemes’ found in the here-discussed words are -p and -k. 87 Parallels of this group are only clearly of Munda origin if they display a sequisyllabic structure. Otherwise they may be simply of unknown origin in which case I call them “North Indian.”


Munda/Proto-Austro-Asiatic reconstruction; (iii) parallels with Austro-Asiatic languages (and no parallels in Munda) with or without Proto-Mon-Khmer reconstruction. The following examples are classified according to the following principle: (a) parallels only found in Burushaski; (b) parallels only found in West Himalayish including Zhang Zhung language; (c) parallels found in other languages of west and north-west South Asia and sometimes including Burushaski; (d) Sindhi and Munda.88 (a) Parallels only found in Burushaski

i. Bur. hará- ‘to pee, urinate’ — Kh. haɖa ‘to urinate; urin’, Sant. aɖo, Mu. ɖɔɖɔ, aɽu ‘to urinate’, etc., see Pinnow (1959: 153).

ii. Bur. ha ‘house’ — Kh. hoʔ ‘house’ (also without initial aspiration oʔ) — the lemma seems to be of PAA origin, cf. e.g. PMK *[j]aa[ʔ] ‘house’, Bahnaric Mnong hih ‘house’, Mon hɑɛʔ ‘house’.

iii. Bur. ċhoċhóq - t- ‘to pound, crush with a stone; to castrate’ — Sant. chɔˀk chɔˀk ‘the sound heard when rice is stamped in a dhiṅki’ (husking machine) — the lemma may have further AA parallels, cf. PMK *[k]ɓok ‘to pound; mortar’, Katuic Ngeq coːk ‘to pound (in small motor)’ (sic) and Kui cuʔ ‘to pound (vegetables, fruits) with mortar and pestle’.

(b) Parallels only found in West Himalayish and Zhang Zhung language

i. Zz. mang ‘red’, West Himalayish Darma mangnu ‘red’ and Rp. məṅd ‘red’ — cf. Proto-South-Bahnaric *broːŋ and Proto-Bahnaric *ɓroːŋ ‘red’, Bahnaric Mnong mbroːŋ ‘red’,

88 As in the previous section, only a few of the actually found parallels are presented here. The special relationship between Sindhī and Munda consists in the fact that in a few cases a Sindhī word-medial implosive corresponds in the Munda parallel with a glottal stop. I have described the details in Zoller 2016.


Bahnaric Halang məhaŋ ‘red pepper’, Monic Nyah Kur mlɤɤŋ ‘bright red’.89

ii. Zz. sam ‘cold’ — PMK *ksaam ‘(to catch) cold’, Khas. sàm sàm ‘bitter (cold)’.

iii. Zz. rtsa ‘a cubit, the distance from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger’ — cf. Palaungic Danaw ʔəʦhɑʔ1 ‘cubit’.

(c) Parallels found in other languages of north-west South Asia

i. Bur. ćamáaṭ ét- ‘to bestir oneself, make an effort, endeavor’, Sh. ćamáaṭ ‘ditto’, Ind. čʌmāṭh ‘effort’ — Khmer cɑmʔaət ‘to try to reach (something), make an effort to stretch up in order to see better; to try to look taller.’

ii. Ind. khín ‘a blanket made of rags’ (formerly worn in winter) also in khinpṑš ‘the black dress of a Faqir’ with second element ← Pers. pošāk, K. khüñu ‘a kind of warm woolen blanket’ — cf. Bahnar khan ‘blanket, especially the bahnar type’.

iii. Pr. √kud ‘to vomit’90 — Surin Khmer kɁʊːt ‘to vomit, throw up, puke’, Khmer kʔuət ‘to vomit’.

(d) Sindhī, West Pahāṛī, West Himalayish and Munda91

i. Ralf Turner has shown (1924) that – put in a simplified way – in Sindhī inherited voiced initial consonants changed into implosives (injectives) whereas the same happened word-medially with voiced double consonants inherited from Prakrit which themselves derived from Sanskrit consonant clusters:92 ɠambhīru ‘sedate’ < OIA gambhīrá- ʻdeep’ (4031), uɓāraṇu ‘to save’ < Pk. uvvārēi ʻreleases’ < OIA *udvārayati ʻopens’ (2082). Some Indo-Europeanists tried to show that reconstructed PIE glottalized stops are reflected in Sindhī

89 In my eyes, the Zz. and Darma forms are clearly of Austro-Asiatic origin but note also the unconvincing attempt for a Tibeto-Burman etymology by James Matisoff (2001: 15); STEDT database mentions the form but without etymological suggestion. 90 According to Degener (p.c.), the basic meaning seems to be ‘squirt’ which would not match completely with the AA forms. 91 The following section is also found in Zoller in press. 92 There are also a few exceptions.


implosives. However, this is very unlikely for good reasons named by Kümmel (2012). However, besides the many IA inherited words displaying this sound change in Sindhī, there is also a small number of non-inherited words (I have so far collected only a handful) with word-medial implosive corresponding with a Munda glottal stop. Examples: Sindhī aɖaṇu ‘to build’ < OIA *aḍḍ- ‘obstruct, stop’ (mentioned by Turner sub 188) — Kharia aʔḍe ‘to stay, stand firm; block someone’s way’, Sindhī guɖaṇu ‘to pound, thrash’ < OIA *guḍḍ- ‘dig’ (3934.6) — Bonda guʔ ‘to dig (earth, etc.)’. It seems that the prolonged delay in the release of the double consonant facilitated the development of implosives and glottal stops. Both are also articulatory similar in that for the articulation of an implosive a glottalic ingressive airstream is required. Note also that very many Austro-Asiatic languages have glottal stop phonemes, and also implosives are a feature of many languages of Mainland Southeast Asia (Jenny and Sidwell 2014: 23) even though they have largely disappeared from Munda. Yet, I think it is worth considering that the historical development of the Sindhī implosives was perhaps influenced by Austro-Asiatic languages once existing in its vicinity which still had implosives in their phoneme inventories. Conversely, it seems also possible that word-medial double consonants changed in Proto-Sindhī first into glottal stops and only later into implosives also because glottal stops and related phonetic phenomena like checked consonants or creaky voice are quite widespread in Outer Languages of north-western South Asia (Zoller forthcoming).

ii. West Himalayish Kinnauri gaʔḍ ‘rivulet’ (Sharma 2003: 14) has an almost exact phonetic parallel in Munda Kharia gaˀɽha ‘river’ (Pinnow 1959) respectively gaʔɖha ɖhoʈha ‘ravine; ravine in which a river flows; stream, brook’ (Peterson 2009) and further corresponds with the West Pahāṛī varieties Kōṭgaṛhī gāhṛ ‘brook’ and Inner Sirājī gāhḍ ‘depth’ (see Hendriksen 1976: 39). They are perhaps connected with OIA *gaḍḍa- ʻhole, pit’ (3981) but Pinnow (1959: 351) considers the possibility of contamination of two different lemmata ‘river’ and ‘hole’. In any case, he regards Kharia gaˀɽha to be a genuine Munda word. Glottal stop (respectively checked


consonant) and aspiration stand phonetically in a mirror image relation to each other with regard to the laryngeal features ‘space between the focal cords’ and ‘tension in the folds’: aspiration has the features [-constricted] [+spread] and glottal(ized) articulation has [+constricted] [-spread]. In the West Pahāṛī variety between the towns of Jubbal and Shimla one finds gōʔṛo ‘horse’ (Hendriksen 1986: 23f.) which compares with gohā ‘horse’ in the Chinali variety of West Pahāṛī. Both words derive < OIA ghoṭaka- ‘horse’ (4516) and both display right-shift of the initial aspiration which is a common phenomenon in a number of West Pahāṛī varieties. The two examples quoted here indicate an occasional oscillation of ʔ ↔ h in West Pahāṛī. This can be compared with the above Sindhī examples and thus again old Austro-Asiatic influence as ultimate cause seems possible (which is anyway likely because of the form of the Kinnauri word).

Conclusions

I have presented a series of different, yet interrelated arguments that in my opinion confirm the linguistic reality of the old hypothesis of Outer and Inner Languages, however with arguments and linguistic data that differ notably from previous attempts. I have shown that at the time of Old Indo-Aryan there must have existed a linkage of lects, with Vedic just one of them. These lectal differentiations seem to suggest that the standard model of the three branches of Indo-Iranian is in need of a revision. Their existence also supports the idea of the earlier immigration of the ancestor(s) of the Outer Language which led to a strong encounter with Munda/Austro-Asiatic languages (but to a weak encounter in case of Vedic and Classical Sanskrit) which must have dominated the prehistoric linguistic area of northern India. This dominance must have extended far into prehistory because of the many parallels in the language isolate Burushaski.


General abbreviations

< historically deriving from > historically developing into → borrowed from another language ← borrowed into another language CDIAL A Comparative Dictionary of the Indo-Aryan Languages (Turner) IPA International Phonetic Alphabet IVC Indus Valley Civilization

Languages and language abbreviations93

AA – Austro-Asiatic Ar. Arabic Aslian – Austro-Asiatic: spoken on Malay Peninsula Av. Avestan Bahnar – Austro-Asiatic: spoken in southern Viet Nam Bahnaric – Austro-Asiatic: the languages of this group are spoken in Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos Bahnaric Halang – Austro-Asiatic: spoken in the southern Laotian province of Attapu Bahnaric Mnong – Austro-Asiatic: spoken in Vietnam and Cambodia Bng. – Baṅgāṇī (West Pahāṛī) Bonda – Munda Bur. – Burushaski (isolate?) Chinali – West Pahāṛī Deog. – Deogārī (West Pahāṛī) Garh. – Gaṛhwālī Gtaʔ – Munda Him.– Himachali (West Pahāṛī)94 Ho – Munda IA – Indo-Aryan IL – Inner Languages Ind. – Indus Kohistani (Dardic)

93 Mon-Khmer languages are left without abbreviations as they are less familiar to South Asianists than languages from South Asia. 94 Actually cover term for the West Pahāṛī varieties spoken in Himachal Pradesh.


Inner Sirājī – West Pahāṛī K. – Kashmiri Kal. – Kalasha (Dardic) Katuic – Austro-Asiatic: Katuic languages are spoken in the border-lands of Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam Katuic Ngeq – Austro-Asiatic: spoken in Laos Kh. – Kharia (Munda) Khas. – Khasic, Khasian Austro-Asiatic: group of languages in Meghalaya and surroundings Khmer – Austro-Asiatic: spoken in Cambodia Kt. – Kati (Nuristani) Kṭg. – Kōṭgaṛhī variety of West Pahāṛī Kur. – Kurku (Munda) M. – Marāṭhī Mon – Austro-Asiatic: spoken in Myanmar and Thailand Monic Nyah Kur – Austro-Asiatic: spoken in north-eastern Thailand MIA – Middle Indo-Aryan Mu. – Mundari (Munda) Mult. – Multānī NIA – New Indo-Aryan Nur. – Nuristani OIA – Old Indo-Aryan OIr. – Old Iranian OL – Outer Languages P. – Panjābī PAA – Proto-Austro-Asiatic95 Palaungic – Austro-Asiatic: spoken in mountainous areas of Myanmar, southern Yunnan Province (China), and northern Thailand Palaungic Danaw – Austro-Asiatic: spoken in Myanmar PIE – Proto-Indo-European PII – Proto-Indo-Iranian PMK – Proto-Mon-Khmer PMU – Proto-Munda Pr. – Prasun (Nuristani) Rj.mev. – the Mēvātī dialect of Rājasthānī Rp. – Raṅ-pɔ bhāsa (West Himalayish) 95 PAA comprises PMK plus PMU but some authors make a difference between Munda and Austro-Asiatic (Mon-Khmer).


S. – Sindhī Sant. – Santali (Munda) Sh. – Shina (Dardic) So. – Sora (Munda) Surin Khmer – Austro-Asiatic: a variety of Khmer spoken in north-eastern Thailand Wan. – Wanetsi (Iranian) Wg. – Waigalī (Nuristani) Werchikwar dialect of Burushaski Zz. – Zhang Zhung an extinct Tibeto-Burman language formerly spoken in Upper Tibet

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Witzel, Michael. 1999. Early sources for South Asian substrate languages. In: Mother Tongue (extra number), pp. 1–70.

——— 2005. Central Asian roots and acculturation in South Asia: Linguistic and archaeological evidence from western Central Asia, the Hindukush and northwestern South Asia for early Indo-Aryan language and religion. In: Toshiki Osada (ed.), Linguistics, Archaeology and the human past: Occasional Paper 1. Kyoto: Indus Project, Research Institute for Humanity and Nature.

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——— Forthcoming: Origins and developments of Indo-Aryan: An exploratory study.



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Chinese origin of the term pagoda: Liang Sicheng’s proposed etymology1

David Robbins Tien Providence, Rhode Island

Abstract

Western reference works regard the architectural term pagoda as being of uncertain origin, but an overlooked etymology proposed by Liang Sicheng convincingly solves the mystery: The word is Chinese, with the literal meaning “eight” (pa) “cornered” (ko) “tower” (t’a). As Liang Sicheng (who together with his wife pioneered the serious study of classical Chinese architecture) pointed out: “The octagonal pagoda, which first appeared in the Tomb Pagoda of Ching-tsang in 746, was the first “pa-go-da” in the real sense of the term.” This 746 date is of course centuries before the first appearance of pagoda in a European language, viz. 1516 in Portuguese, so the chronology presents no

1 This article was developed as a Comments on Etymology working paper (Tien 2014, 2015). My professional title is Clinical Associate Professor of Ophthalmology at Brown Medical School, and I also chair the International Affairs Committee for the American Association for Pediatric Ophthalmology and Strabismus. I frequently visit China on medical-related work. I studied at Peking University from 1978-1979 as one of the first groups of Americans admitted before diplomatic relations were restored between the US and China.

134 David Robbins Tien

problems. In a speculative vein I would add that a specific pagoda constructed later (be-tween 1597 and 1600) probably played an important role in helping the term to become entrenched in English and other European languages: the Pazhouta, standing in the Pearl River Estuary. Also, besides the architectural term pagoda in China, there are similar sounding words used elsewhere (pa-god, pagotha, pagoda, etc.) pertaining to pagan deities or idols – very possibly homonymous with the Chinese architectural word but not its source. Keywords: pagoda, Chinese etymology. Of the various English words with an origin in the Chinese language, the word pagoda has been surprisingly overlooked. Indeed, some have gone so far to assert that ‘no such word is known in the [non–Western] native languages’ (NQ 1852: 415).

The modern word pagoda almost certainly comes from Chinese. The word pagode, which apparently refers to an architectural structure, first appears in a European language, Portuguese, in 1516, contemporaneous with the first contacts between Portuguese seafarers and China. The spelling pagoda, in the modern sense of a multitiered tower of East Asian origin, first appears in Spanish and received wide exposure throughout literate Europe at the end of the sixteenth century, after the publication and translation of Mendoza’s History of the Kingdome of China in 1588, which was largely sourced from Spanish and Portuguese missionary reports from China.

Present etymologies for pagoda are unconvincing, with Persian, Sanskrit, or Tamil usually advanced as the likely source. Besides tending to be convoluted and forced, these suggested etymologies face the problem that architecture with the form of the pagoda did not exist in those areas where any of the above languages were spoken. The uncertainty voiced by OED3 in its pagoda entry is therefore well justified: “The native form imitated by the Portuguese pagode is disputed: whatever it was, the Portuguese appears to have been a very imperfect echo of it.”

Further confusion arises from the mixing-up of the terms pa-god, pagotha, pagode, etc., (pagão is Portuguese for pagan) which are archaic European words for sculptures of pagan deities or idols sometimes found in temples, with the architectural structure known today as the pagoda. The earliest attestations of ‘pagode’, are

Chinese origin of the term pagoda 135

ambiguous as to whether they are referring to a general place for or the activity of making offerings to pagan idols, or an actual building. It seems likely that there are two etymologies of ‘pagoda’, the first probably of mixed European/ South Asian origin and referring to pagan idols or god-images or the activity of making offerings to the same, and the second one, of Chinese origin, referring to the architectural structure and the modern sense of ‘pagoda’. The third sense of ‘pagoda’, that is a gold or silver coin used in India, clearly is connected to the sense of ‘pagode’ or payments to gods. It is late in the 16th century, with the appearance of the spelling ‘pagoda’, and after prolonged European contact with China, that pagoda clearly begins to be used in the modern sense (Yule & Burnell 1968).

In weighing current etymologies of English words of Asian origin, we should be mindful of potential Anglo-Indian bias given that the Indian subcontinent was formally a British colony for centuries and many English etymologists, not sur-prisingly, were India-centric. The suggestion of a Chinese origin for ‘pagoda,’ is overlooked in OED3 and most or all standard dictionaries. But at least one early sinologist, Herbert Giles, proposed a Chinese etymology (Poh-Ku-T’a,, 白骨塔， “tower of the white bones”) in his 1878 Glossary of Reference on Subjects Conn-ected with the Far East; and F. Hirth endorsed it in his 1882 Loan Words from Chinese (written in German). It is striking that the common and modern meaning of pagoda immediately conjures up China rather than India, except in standard etymologies.

The likelihood of a Chinese origin for the word pagoda was also raised by the 20th century scholar of classical Chinese architecture, Liang Sicheng (1901-1972), although he differed from Giles’ and Hirth’s interpretation. In his 1984 book Pic-torial History of Chinese Architecture, Liang wrote (p. 140): “The octagonal pagoda, which first appeared in the Tomb Pagoda of Ching-tsang in 746, was the first “pa-go-da” in the real sense of the term. The origin of this peculiar word has always been a mystery [emphasis added].” Perhaps the most plausible explanation is that it is simply the southern [Chinese] pronunciation of the three characters pa chiao t’a [八角塔, characters added by D.R. Tien] ----pa-ko-ta meaning “eight cornered pagoda”.

“The word pagoda instead of t’a is deliberately used in this book because it is accepted in all the European languages as the name


for such a monument. The very fact that the word finds its way into almost every European dictionary as the name for the Chinese t’a may reflect the popularity of the octagonal plan at the opening of Western contact.”

As a native speaker of Chinese, who was also fluent in English, Mr. Liang clearly had no difficulty finding a plausible etymology for the word pagoda from a transliteration of Chinese. Thus, eight-sided (in Chinese numerology the number eight is auspicious) ‘Pa-Ko-Tas’ existed centuries before the appearance of the first Portuguese mariner, Jorge Alvares, in Canton in 1513, and were widespread and almost the standard design of pagodas by the time of sustained Western contact with China. It is also possible that the term had been transmitted to India along with other Asian regions even earlier by non-Europeans.

The structure of the Chinese language makes it easy for someone unfamiliar with Chinese to conclude that pagoda is not a Chinese word. Some linguists with a superficial knowledge of Chinese classify Chinese as a monosyllabic language because each written ideograph or character represents a single syllable. Therefore, since pagoda is a three-syllable word, how could it be Chinese? In fact, many Chinese words are composed of combinations of characters and, therefore, syllables. For example, the word Beijing (北京 ), literally, ‘northern capital’ or feijichang (飞机场), the word for airport, demonstrate this. (Feijichang is composed of three characters, three syllables: fei for flying, ji for machine, and chang for field.) The Chinese character for ‘pagoda’ is 塔 , Ta (pinyin*), Da (Wade-Gilles**), and first appeared in Chinese in the first century C.E., concurrent with the introduction of Buddhism to China (Ge Hong: Zi Yuan [字原 ])

All Chinese pagodas have their proper names ending either in da (Wade-Gilles), ta (pinyin), 塔, Chinese), or si（寺, si being the Chinese word for temple. ) For example, two of the most famous pagodas in China are the ‘Dayenda’ (大雁塔, Chinese; known in English as the ‘Great Goose Pagoda,’ located in Xian) and the ‘Tianningsida’ (天宁寺塔 , Chinese; known in English as the ‘Heavenly Calm Pagoda’, in Beijing).

Pagodas began to appear throughout China beginning in the sixth century C.E. The pagoda form developed indigenously in China


and later spread to Japan, Korea, and Vietnam, and from these to other Asian countries. Though originally built in connection with Buddhism, later pagodas often lacked specific religious purposes and were built as navigational aides, watchtowers, or simply as fengshui monuments. As noted above, the eight-sided pagoda form [Ba-Jiao-Ta (Mandar-in), Ba-Got-Tap (Cantonese)] were widespread throughout China during the period of early modern Western contact, thereby cementing and epitomizing the pagoda as the stereotypical Chinese building in the Western mind. The ‘Porcelain Pagoda’ in Nanking is such an eight-sided pagoda encountered by early Western visitors, and was widely discussed and pictured in engravings published in Europe in the early seventeenth century (Conner, 1979: Chapter 2).

While the nearly homonymous Chinese term for ‘pagoda’ pre-dates its con-struction by centuries, the modern meaning of pagoda likely became firmly entrenched in English and other European languages coincidentally, through the name of a specific pagoda standing in the Pearl River Estuary. Displaying the now standard eight-sided pagoda form, the ‘Pa-Zhou-Ta’ (Pazhouta, pronounced ‘pa-joe-ta’) Pagoda was built between 1597 and 1600, towards the end of the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644 C.E.), during the reign of Emperor Wanli [Guangzhou International (Internet website): English.gz.gov.cn. See entry on ancient pagoda.]

The Pazhouta, which still stands today, is an octagonal pagoda of nine stories standing over 150 feet high. An important navigational landmark in the age of sail, it is sited on a knoll near the banks of the Pearl River on Whampoa (now called Huangpu) Island, located in the Pearl River Estuary approximately ten miles south of the old city of Canton (now known as Guangzhou). The waters adjacent to Whampoa Island were the nearest to Canton navigable by large sailing ships, and thus the area became known as the Whampoa Anchorage, as ocean-going ships visiting Canton from the sixteenth through late nineteenth century would be forced to anchor there.

From the Whampoa Anchorage the Pazhouta Pagoda was easily visible to Eur-opean travelers, and was the first pagoda most would see. For centuries after its construction, it was the most conspicuous man-made structure on Whampoa, and its distinctively Chinese building design increased its exotic appeal. It is variously referred to in the English literature as the ‘Nine Stage’ or ‘Nine-story Pagoda’, the ‘Whampoa Pagoda, or the ‘Half-way Pagoda’ (Elliot 1833,


Crossman 1991: 138) owing to its location on the riverine route up from the sea to Canton. To the Chin-ese it was always called ‘Pazhouta’, one of the traditional ‘eight beautiful scenes’

(Sargent and Palmer 2002) of Canton during the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911 C.E). Its name was derived from its location on one of two hills that resembled the shape of a ‘pipa’, or Chinese lute. The Pazhouta Pagoda was likely built, at least in part, for fengshui, as well as a navigational aid for the burgeoning “maritime silk road”, something suggested strongly by the motif of a European figure carved into the stone base of the pagoda. The Pazhouta Pagoda is depicted in countless China Trade paintings, porcelain pieces, and various objets d’art brought back to the West by China Trade merchants beginning in the seventeenth century.

This wide exposure made the Pazhouta Pagoda likely the pagoda most familiar to Westerners. The response from a local Chinese person to a query about the name of the structure would surely have been ‘Pazhouta’, and transliterated by the curious foreigner as ‘pagoda’.

Sir William Chambers (1723-1796), a major figure in English architecture and design, spent two extended sojourns in Canton in 1740 and 1749 and was the man most responsible for the chinoiserie craze that swept Europe in the mid-18th century. In his 1757 book, based on drawings he did in and around Canton, he mentions either the Pazhouta or the nearly identical Chigangta Pagoda and included an architectural drawing of it in his book. In his chapter on Chinese towers, he notes that ‘The towers the Chinese call Taa, Europeans, likewise, call these pagodas’ (ibid., plate V).. He built the first pagoda (almost a copy of the Pazhouta) in the West at Kew Gardens, Surrey, in 1761 as a folly for the mother of King George III (Connor, 1979:78-82).

Most Chinese words that have found their way into English date from the period of the old seaborne China Trade when Westerners were largely restricted to Canton. Words such as tea, chow, china, coolie, kowtow, ketchup, mandarin, typhoon, even ‘pidgin’ English, can be traced to the age of the Canton System, which lasted from roughly 1600-1860, making the early Western experience with China overwhelmingly limited to Canton, and absolutely limited to Canton after the Imperial edict of 1757. This edict meant that virtually every foreign visitor to China had to stop at the Whampoa Anchorage, and –


except for the supercargoes and top officers of the ship who could stay in the foreign buildings or ‘hongs’ at Canton – most sailors were required to remain with their ships at Whampoa during the months-long trading season. It is likely that many, if not most, sailors visited the Pazhouta during their stay.

That the word pagoda is found in identical form in disparate European lang-uages also raises the possibility of a common source in Canton. Beginning in the century following the construction of the Pazhouta Pagoda, traders and sailors from Sweden, Denmark, France, Holland, Austria, Hungary, Prussia, Spain, Portugal, England, and, lastly, America, all began frequenting Canton, and therefore anchoring their ships at Whampoa. An alternative interpretation, of course, is that all the Western languages borrowed the term from the Portuguese, the language of the first Europeans to make maritime contact with China. But with people of varied nationalities all visiting Canton and no doubt finding the Pazhouta pagoda of particular local interest, at least many of them would have come across the term ‘pagoda’ independent of Portuguese influence. Sailing home to make their fortunes in ships heavy with tea, silk, or porcelain, some would also bring souvenirs from their exotic travels; and among the souvenirs were very likely landscape paintings containing a distinctive multitiered tower. This powerful linguistic, historical and artistic evidence points us to China, source of the word pagoda.

• *Pinyin is the contemporary Romanization method used in China today.

• **Wade-Gilles is an earlier, widely used Romanization system for Chinese. Many traditional English names of Chinese places, personages, and things are based on the Wade-Gilles Romanization system.

Selected References

Barnhart, Robert K. 1988. The Barnhart Dictionary of Etymology. 4th printing. Wilson Co.: p. 747: ‘pagoda… Oriental temple, borrowing of Portuguese pagode, perhaps from Tamil pagavadi, from Sanskrit bhágavati goddess, feminine of bhágavant- blessed, from bhága-s good fortune , related to


bhájate receives as his share, enjoys, and Greek phagein to eat, from Indo-European *bhag- apportion (Pok. 107).’

Bartholomae, Christian. 1905. Beiträge zur Etymologie der germanischen Sprachen III. Zeitschrift für Deutsche Wortforschung (1904/1905), vol. 6, pp. 354-356. Lokotsch 1927 (see below in this bibliography) refers to Bartholomae’s article, which (p. 355; Lokotsch incorrectly says p. 354) does not mention pagoda and is only tangentially relevant to this term.

Chambers, William. 1757. Chinese Buildings, Furniture, Dresses, Machines, and Utensils. Later edition, 1968, by B. Blom (New York).

Comments on Etymology – a series of working papers edited by Gerald Cohen (Professor of German and Russian; Missouri University of Science & Technology, Rolla, Missouri, USA), 1971ff.

Conner, Patrick. 1979. Oriental Architecture in the West. London: Thames & Hudson. See chapters two and six.

——— 1986. The China Trade, 1600-1860. Brighton: Royal Pavilion, Art Gallery and Museum.

Corominas, Joan and José A. Pascual. 1981. Diccionario Crítico Etimológico Castellano e Hispánico, vol. 4. Madrid: Gredos. p. 339: ‘Pagoda: del port. pagode “ídolo oriental”, “donde se venera”, del dravídico pagôdi – propriamente nombre de Cali, esposa del dios Çiva–, a su vez del scr. bhagavatī “diosa” …’ –[then further detail about this etymology, relying heavily on Dalgado 1921].

Crossman, Carl. 1991. Decorative Arts of the China Trade: Paintings, Furnishings, and Exotic Curiosities. Woodbridge, Suffolk: Antique Collectors’ Club.

Dalgado, Sebastião Rodolfo. 1921. Glossario Luso-Asiatico, vol. 2, pp. 129-137.

Dauzat, Albert, Jean Dubois, and Henri Mitterand. 1964. Nouveau Dictionnaire Étymologique. Paris: Larousse. – p. 523: ‘pagoda


1553, Grouchy, du port. pagoda; d’un mot hindi, remontant probablement au sanscrit bhagavat “saint, divin.”’

Devic, L., Marcel. 1965. Dictionnaire Étymologique des Mots Français d’Origine Orientale. Amsterdam: Oriental Press. (Reprinting of first, 1876, edition). – p.181: ‘PAGODE. Du

persan boutkedè ou poutkoudè, temple d’idoles, formé de بت bout ou pout, idole, et de kedè ou koudè, maison.

Eironnach (sic: just one name). 1852. See below: NQ (= Notes and Queries).

Elliott, Robert. 1833. Views of the East: Comprising India, Canton, and the Shores of the Red Sea, 2 vols. See vol. 2, opposite p. 1, under “Pagoda”.

Ge Hong. Zi Yuan (字原) [An etymological dictionary of Chinese characters]

Giles, Herbert Allen. 1878. A Glossary of Reference on Subjects Connected With The Far East. (2nd edition: 1886). London: Trübner. p. 101: ‘PAGODA 寶塔 – precious t‘a or pile. A circular or octagonal building always of an odd number of storeys, originally raised over relics of Buddha, bones of Buddhist saints, etc., but now built chiefly in connexion with Fêng-shui. The word has been derived from the Portuguese pagão = Latin paganus; also from the Portuguese pronunciation of the Indian dagoba, in addition to which we commend to our readers a common term in use among the Chinese themselves, viz: 白骨塔 – white bones towers, pronounced poh-kuh-t‘a. See Stûpa.’ p. 136: STÛPA 籔斗婆 – A raised mound or tower for containing relics – originally, the various parts (84,000 in all) of Buddha’s body. The modern pagoda.

Guangzhou International (Internet website): English.gz.gov.cn – (See entry on ancient pagoda).

Hirth, F. 1882. Fremdwörter aus dem Chinesischen. In: Herrigs Archiv (i.e., Archiv für das Studium der Neueren Sprachen und Literaturen), Jahrgang 36, vol. 67, pp. 197-212. – p. 200: ‘Zweifelhaften Ursprungs ist das Wort Pagode. Ich meine hiermit nicht die indischen Götzenbilder, nicht den ewig


nickenden Pagoden, der den Zorn des philosophierenden Narciss erregt, nicht den Pagoden, sondern die Pagode, speciell die chinesische Pagode, jenes turmartige Bauwerk, aus fünf, sieben oder neun Stockwerken bestehend, das der kirchturmlosen chinesischen Landschaft den architektonischen Charakter des Landes aufdrückt. Im Jürgens findet sich dafür ein persisches und hindostanisches but-kadah zu Grunde gelegt, und zwar soll but Götzenbild, kadah “Haus” bedeuten; nach anderen ist Pagoda die portugiesische Verdrehung eines indischen dagoba; noch weniger wahrscheinlich ein portugiesisches Wort pagão, aus dem lateinischen paganus entstanden. Am meisten einleuchtend ist noch die von Giles (im Far East Glossary) vorgeschlagene chinesische Etymologie, wonach eine der verschiedenen chinesischen Bezeichnungen eines solchen, von Haus aus wohl dem buddhistischen Dienste gewidmeten Gebäuden, pai-ku-t’a, d.h. “Turm der weissen Knochen”, ist. Der Sage nach sollen diese Türme als Grabzeichen für Gebeine Buddhas oder buddhistischer Heiliger errichtet worden sein.’ [Translation of the last six lines (starting with: ‘Am meisten einleuchtend’)]: ‘The most plausible etymology is still the one proposed by Giles (in the Far East Glossary), according to which it is one of the various Chinese designations of such a [house], originally dedicated to Buddhist ministry, pai-ku-t’a, i.e., “tower of the white bones.” According to legend, these towers were erected as grave markers for the bones of Buddha or Buddhist saints.’

Kluge, Friedrich and Walther Mitzka. 1963. Etymologisches Wörterbuch der Deutschen Sprache. (19th edition of Kluge’s work). Berlin: De Gruyter. p. 527: ‘Pagode…zu aind. bhagavatī, “die Erhabene”, was in mundartl. Form dt. Entdeckungsreisende und Kaufleute seit 1598 gebrauchen. …’ (The authors cite Lokotsch 1927 and Schulz-Basler 2, 283f.)

Liang, Sicheng. 1984. A Pictorial History of Chinese Architecture. MIT Press.

Littmann, Enno. 1924. Morgenländische Wörter im Deutschen. Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr. Page 128: ‘… die Pagode, ein indisches Wort, das wir in seiner malayischen Form gebrauchen.’


Translation: ‘the Pagode, an Indian [i.e. from India] word which we use in its Malayan form.’

Lokotsch, Karl. 1927. Etymologisches Wörterbuch der Europäischen (Germanischen, Romanischen und Slavischen) Wörter Orientalischen Ursprungs. Heidelberg: Carl Winter. – Pagoda is treated in item #373: ‘Pers. butkädä: “Götzentempel” [aus pers. but “Götzenbild” Horn NpEt S. 42, Nr. 182 und kädä “Haus” ebenda S. 188., Nr. 844; käd, kädä ist der Ort, wo sich etwas dauernd befindet, untergebracht oder aufbewahrt wird, vgl. Bartholomae in ZfdWf VI, 354.’

Mendoza, J.G. 1588. History of the Kingdome of China (R. Parke, trans.). See page 402.

NQ = Notes and Queries, p. 415, May 1852. Brief item by Eironnach (sic: just one name) titled Pagoda, Joss House, Fetiche. The relevant portion is: ‘No such word as Pagoda is known in the native languages: Dewal, according to Mr. Forbes (Orient. Mem. vol. i. p. 25.), is the proper name. I have read somewhere or another that Pagoda is a name invented by the Portuguese from the Persian “Pentgheda,” meaning a temple of idols.’

OED3 = Oxford English Dictionary, 3rd (online) edition: ‘…The ultimate origin of the Portuguese pagode is uncertain and disputed. It was once thought to be < Persian but-kada idol temple < but idol + kada habitation, but now seems more likely to be either < Tamil pākavata devotee of Vishnu (< Sanskrit bhāgavata pertaining to the Lord (Vishnu), worshipper of Vishnu or the goddess Bhagavati: see below), or < Tamil pakavati (name of a) goddess ( < Sanskrit bhagavatī goddess, alternative name of the goddess Kali). Sense 3 arose from the fact that the image of the goddess was stamped on the coin (compare quot. 1598 at sense 3α.).’ [Sense 3a]: ‘A gold or silver coin of higher denomination than the rupee, formerly current in southern India. Now hist. 1598 W. Phillip tr. J. H. van Linschoten Disc. Voy. E. & W. Indies i. xxxv. 69/1 They are Indian and Heathenish money, with the picture of a Diuell upon them, and therefore are called Pagodes [Du. pagodes].’


Sargent, William R. and Margaret Palmer. 2002. Views of the Pearl River Delta: Macau, Canton and Hong Kong. Urban Countil of Hong Kong.

Schulz, Hans und Otto Basler. 1913ff. Deutsches Fremdwörterbuch. Straßburg und Berlin. Pp. 283-284. (See above: Kluge-Mitzka 1963)

Tien, David Robbins. 2015. Chinese origin of the term pagoda. Comments on Etymology (working paper, draft #2), vol. 45, no. 1, Oct. 2014, pp. 2-10.

——— 2014. Chinese origin of the term pagoda. Comments on Etymology (working paper, first draft), vol. 44, no. 1, Oct. 2014, pp. 2-6.

Yule, Henry, A.C. Burnell, William Crooke. 1968. Hobson-Jobson; A Glossary of Colloquial Anglo-Indian Words and Phrases, and of Kindred Terms, Etymological Historical, Geographical and Discursive. (London: Routledge), 2nd edition.



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Nāyaka Chefs-d’œuvre Structure and Iconography of the Śrīvilliputtūr Tēr1

Parthiban Rajukalidoss

Department of Design, IIT, Hyderabad & School of Architecture, Kalasalingam University, Krishṇankōyil

R.K.K. Rajarajan

School of Arts & Aesthetics, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi

Abstract

Śrīvilliputtūr is an important base of Visnuism in the deep south of peninsular India. The area round is full of archaeological monuments relating to Śiva and the folk divinities of the Little Tradition, the

1 The authors are obliged to Prof. Raju Kalidos (The Tamil University of Thanjavur) and Dr. Deepak John Mathew (IIT: Indian Institute of Technology, Hyderabad) for the expertise offered in the present final output of the article. The present article is the outcome of several field-visits to the Āṇṭāḷ-Vaṭapatraśāyī Temple at Śrīvilliputtūr by the authors. It may be of interest for like-minded scholars to know R.K. Parthiban (Parthiban Rajukalidoss) is working on “Architectural and Intangible Cultural Heritage: Significance of Āṇṭāḷ-Vaṭapatraśāyī Temple, Śrīvilliputtūr” (doctoral programme, IIT, Hyderabad). Rajarajan and Parthiban are associated with Prof. Raju Kalidos (to begin with his independent work) on the following two self-financed projects: 1) “Hymns for Cosmic Harmony”, 2) “Comprehensive Dictionary of Viṣṇuism” with reference to the ‘Nālāyiram’. These projects are completed making up a total of 4,500 pages.

146 Parthiban Rajukalidoss & R.K.K. Rajarajan

‘Ciṟukuṭiyōr’. With the advent of Āḻvārs in the 7th-9th centuries CE (e.g. Nammāḻvār, Periyāḻvār, Āṇṭāḷ and Maturakavi), the landscape was thoroughly reset with temples of Viṣṇu; Tiruttaṅkal to the Tāmiraparaṇi basin (Navatiruppatis) being the nodal zone. The present article traces the Vaiṣṇava phase of Śrīvilliputtūr based on literary and epigraphical sources. The major concentration is on the massive wooden vehicle of Āṇṭāḷ and Vaṭapatraśāyī, called tēr. The structure and iconography of the tēr is the main theme for investigation occasionally throwing light on the changing phase of religious culture from the 7th to the 17th century. The chefs-d’œuvre from the tēr are examined in detail as they seem to include rare elements hitherto unreported. The article is appended with a plan of the city to understand the importance that the temple and the ter command within the organization of the Himmelreich. The photographic illustrations present an illuminating peep into the structure and iconography of the temple-car. The present temple-car is a remodeling of an old one that was demolished 100 years ago. Keywords: Śrīvilliputtūr, tēr (temple-car), Nāyaka, Āḻvārs, Periyāḻvār (Viṭṭucittaṉ), Āṇṭāḷ, ‘Nālāyiram’, epigraphy (ARE), wooden monuments, iconography.

Rathaṃ devamayaṃ2 vipra sarvadevamayaṃ tathā

Sarvayajñamayaṃ …

“The car-temple3 is an embodiment of the gods, an embodiment of the multitude of gods; An embodiment of all sacrifices…”

(Viṣṇutattvasaṃhita cited in Smith & Venkatachari 1969: 296, cf. Kalidos 1989: 17)

The temple-car is a significant monument of the Hindu temple in south India, particularly Tamilnāḍu famous for its wooden plinth decorated with a wide variety of sculptures bearing on Hindu

2 Mayaṃ is an affix meaning “made of”, “consisting of”, “full of” (e.g. kanakamayaṃ “full of gold”, tejomayaṃ “full of luster”); mayaḥ denotes a demon, horse, camel, mule (Apte 2012: 426, cf. Monier-Williams 2015: 789). 3 The title of the doctoral thesis of Raju Kalidos (1981, published 1989) was “Temple Cars” that Professor Mario Bussagli, the external expert in his report designated “Car-Temple”.

Structure and Iconography of the Śrīvilliputtūr Tēr 147

iconography (Kalidos 1984: 153-73, fig. 1; 1988: 98-125, 1989: 397-400; Rajarajan 1998: 329-48, 2006: 199-201, Kandan 1999). 4 Research on the temple cars of Tamilnāḍu is a deserving subject that deems encouragement in these days when the centuries-old monuments are withering due to the perishable nature of the material employed, i.e., wood and the perfunctory temple administration. Many of the priceless sculptures in the wood-carved cars had perished due to sheer negligence. It is highly warranted at least the remaining vestiges are properly documented.5 The present authors have examined the architectural vestiges in the temples of Śrīvilliputtūṛ.6 Most of the existing structures are of the Vijayanagara-Nāyaka period (16th-18th century). 7 The present article throws light on the structure and iconographical heritage of the Śrīvilliputtūr tēr (Sanskrit ratha) on which subject the pioneer, Raju Kalidos (1981/1989) did his doctoral thesis and published a number of articles in East and West, Acta Orientalia, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society (London 1988), and Annali dell’ Universita di Napoli “L’Orientale” (AION).8 We are

4 Ragunath (2014) has illustrated a number of temple-car sculptures in the Naṭunāṭu sector of the Tamil county. See also George Michell 1992: 29-52, Dallapiccola 1994: 11-24. These two micro studies follow the patterns set in Kalidos 1989: 397-400. Michell and Dallapiccola visited several temple-cars in the Kāviri delta in the company of Raju Kalidos at the time of commencing their work on “Chariots” (see Kalidos 2006: II, pl. VIII.2). 5 Writing in 1981, Raju Kalidos (1989: 15-16) says the total existing temple-cars are 866. A group of twenty architects would have taken 433 years for construction and the total cost 754-billion of Indian money. Today, it may be ten times higher than what was estimated in 1980. 6 The region round Śrīvilliputtūr is gorged with archaeological vestiges dating from the Early Pāṇḍya period of which R.K.K. Rajarajan’s two articles on Mahiṣamardinī and the Mātṛkās are published in Religions of South Asia (UK 2015, 9.2, 164-85) and AION (Naples 2015, 75, 101-118). 7 The possibilities of Tirumalai Nāyaka’s (c. 1623-59 CE) Palace at Śrīvilliputtūr had been explored by the State Department of Archaeology, Tamilnāḍu (nāḍu and nāṭu are interchangeable, the latter word according to the Tamil Lexicon) on which a separate article is worked out by Parthiban. 8 For detailed history and variety of temple cars and chariots see Kalidos (1989: chaps. I & II). In popular usage a sharp distinction between tēr (temple-car) and ratha (chariot) is understood in Tamil elite tradition. One with a solid wooden plinth rising five to ten meters and temporary superstructure is called tēr and a permanent wooden car from base to finial is ratha (Kalidos 1989: pls. 7-9, 11 & 12-13, 15-21). Most scholars do not differentiate subtleties between the two. Chariot, ratha is not in the sense they appear in the Vedas and Tamil Caṅkam works.


informed the French scholars, Rita Reigner and L’Hernault were interested in the subject (Kalidos 1988: 100).

The Venue

Śrīvilliputtūr is a sacred center of Viṣṇuism that is located in district Virutunakar at the far end of peninsular India. Nearby is found another venue, called [Tirut]Taṅkal (Kalidos 2006: I, pl. V.2, Rajarajan 2012: 80, fig. 5) and away in the Deep South are the Navatiruppatis on the Tāmiraparaṇi basin. Moving further south, the Malanāṭu zone comes to picture of which Vaṇparicāram, Vaṭṭāṟu and Aṉantapuram (Kalidos 2015: 312-18) are set in typical Malaināṭu-Kēraḷa atmosphere of temple culture. The popularization of Viṣṇuism in this zone and Malaināṭu was mainly due to the inspiration of Nammāḻvār (Rajarajan 2013: 49), who had his base at Kurukūr/ Āḻvārtirunakari, one among the Navatiruppartis.

Śrīvilliputtūr is the Sanskritized name of Villiputtūr (Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 2.10) that appears redundantly in the hymns of Periyāḻvār and his adopted daughter, Āṇṭāḷ alias Kōṭai/Godā (c. 8th-9th century).9 The Great (Tamil Periya[var]) Āḻvār hailed from a family of dedicated brāhmaṇa servants of the temple called vēyar or paṭṭar/bhaṭṭa (Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 4.10.10, 5.4.11, cf. Vijaya-bhaskara-bhaṭṭar 2015: 5).10 The hagiography of the mystics is told in the traditional register of Ācāryas such as Guruparamparaprabhāvam, e.g. Āṟāyirappaṭi (for Periyāḻvār and Āṇṭāḷ see pp. 37-50) that profusely cites an early literature, the Divyasūricaritram (Sastri 1984: 106, 295, 636). Periyāḻvār was known as Putuvaiyar-kōṉ (Figs. 21a-b) or Paṭṭarpirāṉ-Viṭṭicittaṉ/ Bhaṭṭanātha-Viṣṇusiddha (cf. Kalidos 2015:

9 The hymnal compilations of their works are Periyāḻvār’s Tirumoḻi, and Tiruppāvai and Nācciyār Tirumoḻi perhaps codified by Nātamuṉi in the 10th century CE (Zvelebil 1974: 91). 10 They are today known as ‘Veda-pirāṉ-bhattar’ and do kaiṅkaryam, including participation in the Veda-viṇṇappam and recital of itihāsa-purāṇas in the temple. They claim their pedigree from Periyāḻvār and say they are dedicated in service of the Lord for the past 225 generations. The living bhaṭṭar is G. Anantarāmakrishṇaṉ and his son, A. Sudarsan (Figs. 21-22). Interview with the Temple Priests by Parthiban.


139), and Godā as Cūṭikkoṭutta-nācciyār.11 The city was known by allied place-names listed below:

Villiputtūr12 (Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 1.1.12, 2.2.11, 2.5.10,2.6.10, 2.7.10, 4.2.11, 4.7.11, 4.10.10)13; Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 6.11)

Villiputuvai (Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 10.10, 13.10)

Putuvai (Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 1.3.10, 1.7.11, 1.8.11, 2.3.13, 2.4.10, 2.10.10, 3.1.11, 3.2.10, 3.4.10, 3.6.11, 3.7.11, 3.10.10, 4.1.10, 5.1.10, 5.3.10; Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 1.10, 3.10, 5.11, 7.10, 8.10, 12.10)

Teṉputuvai (ten “southern” Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 1.2.21, 3.3.10, 3.9.11)

Taṇputuvai, taṇ or kuḷir “cold or watery” 14 (Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 3.8.10, 4.4.11)

Puttūr (Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 3.5.11, 4.5.10)

Oḷiputtūr15 (oḷi/tejas “illuminating” Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 1.4.10)

The above names suggest the place-name was basically Puttūr, Putuvai and Villi-putuvai. Later mythologies link the place with two archers16, villi who are supposed to have discovered the temple of Vaṭapatraśāyī17 on the site (Etirājaṉ 2006: 519 citing the Varāha

11 See Tiruppāvai (v. 30) notes the name, ‘Paṭṭarpirāṉ-Kōtai’; Nācciyār Tirumoḻi (1.10) notes Putuvaiyarkōṉ-Viṭṭucittaṉ-Kōtai “king of Putuvai, Viṣṇusiddha’s (daughter) Godā”. 12 Villi (Tiruccantaviruttam 93, Tiruvāymoḻi 3.6.2) means “expert in archery”, dhanurdhara; may denote Dāśarathi-Rāma, Arjuna, Kāmadeva and Vīrabhadra (Tamil Lexicon VI, 3709). 13 The sacred centers of Viṣṇuism are called tiruppati (in ‘Nālāyiram’) or divyadeśa (in Ācārya commentaries, e.g. Nam Piḷḷai and Periyavāccāṉ Piḷlai 12th-13th century CE). They were the meeting places for the “northern” and “southern” factions (cf. teṉkalai vs. vaṭakalai Kalidos 1976: 159-60) of South Asian Viṣṇuism; teṉ-ṉāṭum vaṭa-nāṭum toḻa niṉṟa (Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 4.9.11). 14 It was surrounded by fertile paddy fields, viḷai-kaḻaṉip-Putuvai (Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 4.1.10). 15 “Hamlet of the shining ant-hill” that is a hint at the origin of a temple on the site of an ant-hill, a common trend in mythological narratives, e.g. Tirumala-Tirupati (Ramesan 2009: 193). 16 The two archers are likely to be metaphors for Nara-Nārāyaṇa (i.e. Arjuna and Kṛṣṇa), alter ego par excellence in Hindu tradition (Williams 1983: pl. 206). 17 Vaṭapatraśāyiī is an iconographical device that shows baby-Kṛṣṇa reclining on a tiny leaf of the banyan tree; vaṭa/āl (Ficus bengalensis), patra “leaf”, śāyī “recliner” (Kalidos 1989: pl. 34). Cf. Periya Tirumoḻi (6.6.1) of Tirumaṅkai Āḻvār: vaṭa-maratti-ṉilai-mēl-paḷḷi-kūṭiṉāṉ (Kalidos 2006: I, 15).


Purāṇa). In any case the temple for Vaṭapatraśāyī was earlier in point of time and later the Āṇṭāḷ shrine was added. This shift over seems to have occurred during the Later Pāṇḍya period in the 12th-13th century (vide, epigraphical attestation below). The architecture and ongoing rituals of the temple would confirm more importance was added to Āṇṭāḷ vis-à-vis Vaṭapatraśāyī18; the Feminine Principle overtaking the Masculine. This is exactly a Vaiṣṇava parallel of the Śaiva-Śākta Mīnākṣī-Sundareśvara temple at Maturai (Rajarajan & Jeyapriya 2013: Annexure IV). The common platforms for the meeting of Vaṭapatraśāyī and Āṇṭāḷ are the various maṇḍapas in the Āṇṭāḷ sector and the temple-car oriented toward festivals, mahotsavas (Kalidos 1989: chap. IX).

The venue, kṣetra or divyadeśa (Rajarajan 2012 & 2013) and temple are closely intertwined in the organization of a city or village (Kalidos ed. 1993-1994). The temple constitutes the central sector from which the city expands as a flower (cf. Figs. 1-2), the streets studded like petals on the four cardinal directions19; cf. a model of the rāyagopura carved in the wooden plinth of the temple-car (Fig. 6). The temple-core plan of the city is true of the tempel-stadt, otherwise Himmelreich of Śrīvilliputtūr (Kalidos 1993-95), Tiruvārūr and Maturai (Rajarajan 1998: figs. 2-3). The focal points of the city are the śrīvimāna (the sacred temple) and the tiruttēr/ratha (the sacred temple-car). This is true of most temple-cities in Tamilnāḍu; the singularly unique other example is Pūri in Oḍisa20. Ancient Tamil literary works such as the Paripāṭal (-tiraṭṭu 7) and Perumpāṇāṟṟuppaṭai (ll. 373-411) eloquently point out this phenomenon pertaining to Maturai and Kāñci’s divyadeśa-Veḥkā (Rajarajan 2007: 41-44, Kalidos 2016). The Paripāṭal-tirattu says:

Māyōṉ koppūḻ malarnta tāmaraip/ Pūvoṭu puraiyuñ cīrūr pūviṉ

Itaḻakattaṉaiya teruvam itaḻakat/ Tarumpokuṭ ṭaṉaittē aṇṇal kōyil

18 The Vijayanagara emperors were patrons of the temple. Kṛṣṇadevarāya (1509-29 CE) is assigned the authorship of the Telugu-kāvya, Āmuktamālyada telling the story of Viṣṇusiddha-Godā, i.e. Periyāḻvār-Āṇṭāḷ (Sastri 1977: 412). 19 In case of Tirupparaṅkuṉṟam the city is to the south of the temple. The granite hill accommodating rock-cut temples and structural maṇḍapas is the nodal point (Rajarajan 2015: 173-77, cf. Kalidos 2016a: 183-184), the Meru round which the temple-car moves. 20 This later place-name is called ‘Puruṣottamam’ in the Āṟāyirappaṭi (p. 116).


Précis: “The city of Maturai is the lotus emanating from the umbilicus of Viṣṇu; the central zone of pollen-grains is reserved for the temple of the Lord, the streets spreading out in all directions as petals”.

Cf. Nīlniṟa uruviṉ Neṭiyōṉ koppūḻ/ Nāṉmuka oruvaṟ payanta palitaḻt

Tāmaraip pokuṭṭiṉ kāṇvarattōṉṟi/ Cuṭumaṇ ōṅkiya neṭunakar

“The city encased within a rampart of burnt-bricks is on the likeness of petals of the lotus emanating from the navel of Neṭiyōṉ-Viṣṇu on which the four-faced Brahmā is seated” (Perumpāṇāṟṟupaṭai, ll. 402-405).

The vast street going round the temple was a hallmark of identification in case of a city, which is noted in the Maṇimēkalai (21.120): koṭittēr vitiyum tēvar kōṭṭamum “chariot moving street and the temple of the God”.

The Venue and the Temple in Epigraphical Sources

The earliest account of the city-temple is based on literary sources, and archaeological remnants (e.g. Mūvaraiveṉṟāṉ rock-cut temple) in the region round within a radius of ten kilometers, datable since the 7th-8th century CE (Rajarajan 2015b). Solid inscriptional evidences21 are traceable since the later Cōḻa period of Kulōttuṅga 11th-12th century CE (ARE 1926: 551), later Pāṇḍya (Empire II22, ARE 1906: 525, 1926, 523, 526, 527, 535, 538, 541, 542, 550) 23 , and Vijayanagara-Nāyaka rulers (16th-17th century CE) of Maturai (ARE 1926: 571, 573, 579, 582, 585, 586, 591)24. Some interesting facets of the epigraphical sources are reflected hereunder (Parthiban 2015). 21 Most of the inscriptions (not less than 100) bearing on Śrīvilliputtūr are unpublished. We have cited the epigraphs numbered by the Epigraphical Survey of India, obtained by R.K. Parthiban from the Office of the Chief Epigraphist, Mysore. 22 The Pāṇḍyas of Empire I are dated during c. 575-920 and Empire II during c. 1190-1311 CE that coincides with the Islamic iconoclasts from the north (Sastri 1972, Kalidos 1976: 305). The Sūltān’s of Mā’bar held charge of Maturai for a brief spell of 75 years which was retrieved by Kumāra Kampaṇa in 1371 CE. 23 The Pāṇḍya kings (Empire II) appearing in inscriptional sources are Vīra (ARE 1906: 525), Vikrama (ibid. 550), Kulaśekhara (ibid. 526), Parākrama (ibid. 527), Sundara (ibid. 541), and Ativīrarāma c. 1573 CE (ibid. 591). 24 Vijayanagara-Nāyaka donors are Sadāśiva-rāya (ARE 1926: 579), Devarāra-mahārāya (ibid. 571), Narasiṃha (ibid. 573), Rāma-rāya (ibid. 585), and the Nāyakas of Maturai (ibid. 582, 586, 591, 585).


The venue in later Cōḻa records was named Vikramacōḻa-caturvedi-maṅkalam in Rājarāja-Pāṇḍināṭu falling within the jurisdiction of Madhurāntaka-vaḷanāṭu in Malli-nāṭu (ARE 1926: 551). Other inscriptions name the place Tirumalli-nāṭu (ibid. 532, 559) and Malli-nāṭu in Vīraviṉōta-caturvedi-maṅkalam (ibid. 558). It was a tiruppati “sacred venue” (cf. Cilappatikāram 20.56, Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 8.9, Kaṇṇinuṇciṟuttāmpu 1, Tiruvāymoḻi 10.9.10) that could be the equal of kṣetra or sthala and divyadeśa. The designation caturvedi-maṅkalam is a clear pointer of the fact that the precinct falling within the bounds of the agrahāra (brāhmaṇical settlement) was meant for the residences of scholars’ proficient in the Caturvedas and that it was a tax-free zone, brahmadeya or iṟaiyiḻi-devadāna (Sastri 1984: 578-80, 536, 540).

The temple was known as Vaṭaperuṅkōyil “Vaṭa[vṛkṣa]patraśāyī (or ‘northern’?) Great Temple” (ARE 1926: 532, 550) and ‘Iṭarkeṭutta-perumāṉ-viṇṇakar’25-Āḻvār-kōyil “temple of the Lord resides in the unearthly temple to protect devotees from iṭar/vigna (obstacle)” (ibid. 557).

The Lord was Vaṭaperuṅkōyil-paḷḷikoṇṭaruḷiya-paramasvāmi “the Eternal Lord who is pleased to repose and bless from his abode at the temple of Vaṭapatraśāyī” (ARE 1926: 556), Vaṭaperuṅkōyil-Āḻvāṉ “His Majesty of the Vaṭapatraśāyī Temple” (ibid. 541) and Aḻakiya-maṇavāḷaṉ “Handsome Groom” (ibid. 541).

The Goddess in her chamber was known as Cūṭikkoṭutta-nācciyār “Mother who decorated herself with a garland and offered it to the Lord” (ARE 1926: 535, 573, 576).

No detailed information relating to the foundation of the Vaṭapatraśāyī and Āṇṭāḷ temples is traceable. However, an inscription of Sadāśiva-rāya (1472 CE) provides endowments for the golden roof of the temple that was called poṟkōyil “Golden Temple” (ARE 1926: 679). The tiruk-kōpuram “Sacred Gateway” was branded the peak of Golden Meru, Axis mundi (ibid. 560). The koṭimaram/dvajastambha and tirut-tēr (sacred temple-car) were the donations of Tiruñāṉacampanta-piḷḷai (ibid. 559) 26 . The nantavaṉam “flower

25 Viṇṇakar “celestial abode” is the place-name suffix of the several divyadeśas; e.g. Tiru-viṇṇakaram (Oppiliyappaṉkōyil), Nantipura-viṇṇakaram, Kāḻiccīrāma-viṇṇakaram, Arimēya-viṇṇakaram, Vaikunta-viṇṇakaram (Nāṅkūr) in the Kāviri delta and Paramēccura-viṇṇakaram in Kāñcīpuram. 26 Cf. the names of donors listed in the Kōyiloḻuku of Tiruvaraṅkam/Śrīrangam and [Tiruvālavāyuṭaiyār]-Tiruppaṇimālai of the Maturai temple (Rajarajan 2006: 23-260).


garden”27 and tirumatil “sacred wall” of the temple are notified (ibid. 556, 561). Separate chapels for Cēṉaimutaliyār/Viśvaksena and Periyāḻvār existed by about the Nāyaka time (ibid. 533).

Most inscriptions pertain to the endowment of perpetual lamps, called n[a]ontāviḷakku, pūjās “daily services”, utsavas “festivals” by way of land or sheep, feeding mendicant-brāhmaṇas or those dedicated to temple service, food offerings to the presiding gods and goddesses, gift of precious jewels and so on.

Few literary expressions in the hymns of Periyāḻvār and Āṇṭāḷ are standardized in inscriptions; e.g. ‘Putuvaiyarkōṉ-Viṭṭucittaṉ’ as Putuvaiyarkōṉ-Viṣṇusiddha (ARE 1926: 575-78) and Āṇṭāḷ ‘Cūṭikkoṭutta-nācciyār’ (ibid. 535, 573, 575-578).

It is evident from the above review of epigraphy the temples, today called Vaṭapatraśāyī and Āṇṭāḷ and the temple-car had got an indelible place in the cultural matrix of the venue by about the Later Pāṇḍya (Empire II) and Vijayanagara-Nāyaka rulers of the Tamil country.

The Temple and Temple-Car

The Hindu temple and temple car are designed analogously in architectural design. The Hindu temple basically consists of three vertical members called plinth (i.e., upapīṭha and adhiṣṭhāna), pada or bhiṭṭi (accommodating kuṃbha and koṣṭhapañjaras) and śikhara standing on prastara, including grīva and kalaśa. These members are naïvely adjusted in designing the structure of the temple-car (cf. Rajarajan 1998: figs. 4-5) and fitted with wheels for ulā “procession” (Fig. 3 as on 2014, for an earlier make-up in 1980 see Kalidos 1984: fig. 19). The wooden plinth of the temple-car includes structural members such as upapīṭha, adhisthāna, nārasana, siṃhāsana, colonnade (Latin pera or pier) standing on tērttaṭṭu, koṭuṅkai, grīva,

The name Ñāṉappirakāca-paṇṭāram is listed in the Tiruppaṇimālai. Most donors listed in these traditional registers are of Vijayanagara-Nāyaka lineage. 27 Within the present temple complex the nantavaṉam falls in between the Svāmi, popularly ‘Emperumāṉ’ in Tamil lore and Pirāṭṭi-Āṇṭāḷ shrines. It is supposed to be venue where Periyāḻvār discovered the baby-Āṇṭāḷ and brought up her brāhmaṇical tradition (see Nantavaṉam in Fig. 2). Cf. the parppaṉac-ciṭṭārkaḷ “brāhmaṇical boys” playing a role in the dream-marriage of Kōtai (Nācciyār Tirumoḻi (6.4).


śikhara and kalaśa (Kalidos 1984: fig. 1).28 The plinth in a temple-car (Fig. 4) is an assembled mass of solid wooden frames outwardly finished with three dimensional sculptures or relief work. Each temple-car accommodates 200-300 sculptures in the massive plinth of which statistics have been presented in Kalidos 1989 (cf. Rajarajan 1998: fig. 1, 2006: 200, fig). The dismantled temple-car of the Rājēndracōḻīśvaram at Periyakuḷam included not less than 300 wooden sculptures (Kalidos 1989: 400) as listed in the following chart:29

Structural part number of images yāḷis horse-riders total Upapīṭha 72 16 4 92 Adhiṣṭhāna 40 56 -nil- 96 Nārāsana 82 36 -nil- 118 Total 194 108 4 306

R.K.K. Rajarajan (1998 & 2006) had ascertained the Kūṭal Aḻakar and Maṉṉārkuṭi temple-cars as early as 1998 consisted of 164 and 212 sustainable images. He adds some sculptures were found lost (Rajarajan 1998, 2006). The Śrīvilliputtūr temple-car is one of the tallest in India (the solid plinth alone measure 7-8 meters (Fig. 4) and the total height +30 meters (Figs. 3-4). The carved wooden plinth accommodates not less than 300 icons.

The present temple-car is said to have been created some 100 years ago on the model of a Nāyaka tēr that was dismantled; cf. image of Tirumalai Nāyaka in the old tēr (Rajarajan 2010: pl. CP XVI-1). The sculptures from the old ter were assembled in the agramaṇḍapa of the Vaṭapatraśāyī temple (ibidem 97-103, figs. CPXVI-XVII). A comparative study of the images in the present tēr and the old one is

28 These architectural components are ingeniously accommodated to suit the structural make-up of the mobile-temple (cf. Kalidos 1989: figs. 2-3). The temple is acala (iyaṅkā “immovable”, sthāvara) and the temple-car is basically cala (iyaṅkum “movable”, jaṅgama), and by function calācala (iyaṅkum-nilaittēr “movable-immovable temple”). Stone chariots or temples, e.g. Mēlaikkaṭampur (Kalidos 1984: 162, fig. 14; Lorenzetti 2008: fig. 3) are known as iyaṅkā-nilaittēr “stationary immobile car”. It is because the temple-car remains immovable all through the year and operated only on occasions of rathotsava (car festival). 29 The old temple-car documented in Kalidos (1989) is dismantled and a new one added. The sculptures of the withered car are heaped in a corner of the temple (cf. Parthiban 2013).


warranted to bring out the changing cultural scenario. Parthiban has thoroughly documented these images that may be reported separately.

The chefs-d’œuvre from the iconographic point of view is discussed hereunder. Though a chariot for Viṣṇu, the images belong to all categories of divinities that include Śiva, Devī and gods of the folk tradition. It is practically impossible to illustrate all the images in a succinct article. We present an overview30 of consolidated list and then proceed with the examination of few select icons.

Viṣṇu: Ādimūrti, Śeṣaśāyī, Nṛsiṃha (in different modes: Hiraṇya-yuddham, Hiraṇya-vadhaṃ, Lakṣmī-Nṛsiṃha, Aṣṭamukhagaṇḍa-bheruṇḍa-Nṛsiṃha), Trivikrama, Mohinī in several modes, Rāma breaking the dhanus, Rāma seated on the shoulder of Hanumat, Garuḍa-Nārāyaṇa, Dancing Kṛṣṇa, Kāḷiyamardana, Gopīvastrapa-haraṇa, Veṇugopāla shielded by the five-hooded Śeṣa, Kṛṣṇa with Rukmiṇī and Satyabhāmā, Churning the Ocean of Milk and so on.

Śiva: Vṛṣabhavāhana (different modes: stated on the bull or standing and with or without Devī), Vīrabhadra as Aghoramūrti, Naṭarāja, Ardhanārīśvara, Harihara (Viṣṇu-Śiva union merged; cf. Rajarajan 2012: fig. 9), Kaṇṇappa-nāyaṉār and so on.

Devī: An important form exclusive of temple-car iconography is Bhū with Ananta and Kūrma appearing at the base of the wooden plinth bearing the weight (Kalidos 1989: pl. 27), suggesting the cosmic symbolism of the temple-car; Sarasvatī seated on haṃsa “swan”.

Gaṇapati: Sthānaka-, Śakti-

Folk divinities: Kālī, Caṅkili-Kaṟuppu

Decorative motifs: Horse-riders, yāḷis (Fig. 17), couchant lions, surasundarīs, instrument players, lady in toilet (Fig. 19) and so on.

Erotic motifs: A number of erotic sculptures appear in between the lines (Fig. 20).

The prospective images are taken up for further examination in the following account. These forms seem to be rooted in Tamil thought as adumbrated by the Āḻvārs, particularly Periyāḻvār and Āṇṭāḷ or the

30 The temple-car documented in 1980 by Raju Kalidos and ten years later by the same author with Gerd J.R. Mevissen (1990s) seems to be altered when we examined the monument during 2014-2015. Some sculptures are missing today. Few fallen images had been refitted with new icons.


canonic mandate stipulated in the āgamas and śilpaśāstras in addition to incorporating folk idioms.

Śeṣaśāyī

The Lord is reclining on the couch provided by a five-hooded snake (pāmpumettai Periyāḻvar-Tirumoḻi 5.1.7, Kalidos 1989: pl. 33). The snake itself is rested on a bhadrapīṭha. A thoroughly decorated figure (Fig. 7), fitted with sakalābharaṇas; the head is decked with a kirīṭamakuṭa, supported by the twisted right-hand. The left-hand is laid up on the body that extends up to the knee. A stalk emanating from the umbilicus blossoms into a lotus in which the four-faced Brahmā is seated. The legs are massaged by Śrīdevī and Bhūdevī. Garuḍapuruṣa appears near the Lord’s shoulder with hands held in añjalibandha, cf. the early Gupta image in Udayagiri-Vidiśā (Parimoo 1983: fig. 9). This is a rare element that is a pointer of his intimacy with the Lord having been placed so close to his śiras “head”. Above the panel appear a kīrtimukha-fitted prabhāvali and two vidyādharas floating in the air holding garlands in hands. North Indian images associate a cavalcade of divinities with Śeṣaśāyī (Parimoo 1983: figs. 26-8, 12, 14-16, 18-20, 22-24; missing in Settar 1991: pls. 132-133a-c). In addition to the Sanskritic lore (Desai 1973: 24-30, Parimoo 1983), the Tamil Periyatirumaṭal of Tirumaṅkai Āḻvār provides a graphic description of the Lord (Kalidos 2006: I 15-16).

Śeṣaśāyī is a coveted theme in early medieval art (c. 550-850), especially when the Lord appears in the garbhagṛha of the rock-cut temples at Tiruttaṅkal, Tirumeyyam, Ciṅkāvaram, Maliyaṭippaṭṭi and Nāmakkal (Kalidos 2006: I, pls. I-III, V.2). The aṣṭāṅga-vimānas of Paramēcura-viṇṇakaram in Kāñci and the Kūṭal Aḻakar temple at Maturai accommodate the sthānaka, āsana and śayana Mūrtis in the three vertical chambers of this unique temple-type, missing in other parts of South India.31 Tiruttaṅkal and Tirumeyyam are divyadeśas extolled in the hymns of the Āḻvārs. The Tamil mystics perceive the nidrā is deceitful, kaḷḷa-nittirai (Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 5.1.7) and that it symbolizes yoga, yōkanittirai (Tiruvāymoḻi 2.6.5). Nammāḻvār is

31 Basically a Buddhist idea, this seems to have been adapted to the format of a Hindu temple; e.g. the dilapidated Temple no. 45 in the Sāñchī hill was meant for the seated, standing and parinirvāṇa (reclining) aspects of the Buddha (Mitra 1978: pl. VIII).


inquisitive and poses the question: “Lord, Thou were sleeping all these days, how long will you pretend to sleep” (Tiruvāymoḻi 9.2.3):

Kiṭantanāḷ kiṭantāy ettaṉai kālam kiṭatti?

This question is apt in application to several hundreds of reclining Mūrtis in South and Southeast Asian art.

Ādimūrti

A canonical form, an aesthetically appealing image of the type may be found in Cave III Badāmī (Kalidos 1996: I, pl. XXXVIII.2; cf. Kumaran 2015: 50, figs. 1-3). The Lord appears in the garbhagṛha of the west-facing chamber of the Tirupparaṅkuṉṟam north group of caves (Rajarajan 2015: 173-77, 182). In the wooden image under study (Fig. 8), Ādimūrti is seated on a bhadrapīṭha. The five hoods of Śeṣa appear behind the Lord’s head (cf. Kalidos 1989: pl. 33). The image is in mahārājalilāsana with the front right hand rested on the erect knee of the right-leg. He holds the śaṅkha and cakra in parahastas. Śrīdevī and Bhūdevī are seated to the right and left.

Three dwarfish divinities that appear below the pedestal are of considerable importance. The divinity with hands folded in añjalibandha is likely to be Garuḍa. Of the remaining two one stands and holds the right hand near the Lord’s suspended leg. She is fitted with a karaṇḍamakuṭa. This icon may be identified with Āṇṭāḷ.32 The seated male figure is likely to be Periyāḻvār. If our conjecture is right, this is a rare image on the subject. Which inducts the Āḻvārs into the realm of iconography. Images of Āṇṭāḷ have been reported in the vimāna of the Vīra-Nārāyaṇa Perumāḷ temple at Kāṭṭumaṉṉārkuṭi (Kalidos 2012: fig. 17), the birth place of Nātamuṉi, and the gopura of the divyadeśa-Nantipura-viṇṇakaram. 33 These are very rare icons unreported in scholarly studies, and also due to the reason that Nappiṉṉai and Āṇṭāḷ came to be equated with Śrī and Bhū in Tamil tradition.

32 Raju Kalidos (2012: figs. 1-3) has reported an image of Garuḍa-Viṣṇu from the grīvakoṣṭha of the Kaḷḷarpirāṉ temple at Vaikuntam in which the Lord is united with three Devīs that are identified with Śrī, Bhū and Nappiṉṉai. 33 Stucco images of the Nāyaka tradition, the twelve Āḻvārs are found in a row in the latter temple. The images are unreported.


Nṛsiṁha

A sthānaka image portrays the yuddham with Hiraṇya (Fig. 9), the face of Nṛsiṁha is terrific with the mouth agape, eyes bulging and the teeth protruding. Multi-armed, he lifts Hiraṇya one hand holding the ankle, one the hip and the other the neck. Hiraṇya is equally dynamic and lifts a sword in the right-hand to strike the Man-Lion. He is a dwarf when compared with the majestic Nṛsiṃha (cf. Tiruppāvai 23, cited in Kalidos 1999: 171). Garuḍa is present near the foot of the Lord to the right. It is a rare element because Garuḍa’s presence in Hiraṇya episode has no mythological or canonical justification (Kalidos 1999: 168-82). Another dwarfish figure, Prahlāda is present on the other side.

Another image illustrates Hiraṇya vadham (Fig. 10). Nṛsiṁha is aghast, the triangular face with the mouth agape. He is seated on a bhadrāsana with Hiraṇya laid upon his thighs. Hiraṇya is in pretāsana mode and inactive. The Lord’s pūrvahastas tear open the demon’s bowels. One hand tightly holds the demon’s leg. Two of the upper hands hold the pulled out entrails. Four of the hands seem to hold the śaṅkha, cakra, khaḍga and kheṭaka. Prahlāda is present below the pedestal. According to mythology Nṛsiṁha is not supposed to carry any weapon.

A miniature carving appearing below the vadham scene illustrates Lakṣmī-Nṛsiṃha that relates to the pacification of the Ugramūrti when the terrorist pest is wiped out. Divinities of the Indian pantheon acquire wrathful forms to annihilate evil-mongers and when the destined job is complete they return to normalcy that is the original ethos. When sattva (manifest destiny) emerges victorious, rājasa (egoism) and tāmasa (saṃhāra “destruction”, vināśāya ca duṣkṛtām) automatically vanish. Therefore, the Nṛsiṃha theme in Indian art is a narrative panel that includes several sub-variables beginning with the emergence of Nṛsiṃha from a pillar to Lakṣmī- or Yoga-Nṛsiṃha (cf. Kalidos 1999: pl. 1, 2006: I, pl. XLVII.1; Desai 1973: fig. 68; Settar fig. 20; Kalidos 1989: pl 54, 1999: pl. VI). The Upaniṣadic dictum is “Peace for the Milky Way” whether it is Pathānkoṭ, Paris or New York: Oṃ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ.


Aṣṭamukhagaṇḍabheruṇḍa-Nṛsiṁha

A very rare theme in Indian iconography, a similar image was discovered in the Gaṇapati tēr of the Tirukkāmeśvara temple at Villiyaṉūr (Kalidos 1989: pl. 77, Ragunath 2014: pl. 112) and subsequently on gopura of the Śrīraṅgam temple and painting in its Nṛsiṁha chapel (Rajarajan 2006: pls. 74, 118). The image under study is already reported (Rajarajan 1993: fig. ii). The ideological disputes among the Śaivas and Vaiṣṇavas during the high Cōḻa period contrived a counter to Nṛsiṁha. He was Śarabhamūrti, combining the features of a man, animal-siṃha and bird-śarabhaḥ (cf. Kalidos ed. 1997: 61-88, figs. 5-6, 8); the earliest images are reported from the Cōḻa temples at Tukkācci, Tārācuram (Sita-Narasimhan 2006: pl. 41) and Tiripuvaṉam, the last enshrined in a separate chapel. An opposite of Śarabhamūrti was discovered by the Vaiṣṇavas that was Aṣṭamukhagaṇḍabheruṇḍa-Nṛsiṁha with eight faces, combining the features of naraḥ, siṃha and gaṇdabheruṇḍaḥ. Śarabha eats a lion (i.e. Nṛsiṁha) and the Gaṇḍabheruṇḍaḥ’s snack included the śarabhaḥ (cf. Rajarajan 2015: 8-15, fig. 1).

The image under study is an aṣṭamukha “eight-faced” Nṛsiṁha. 34 The eight mukhas are supposed to be those of mahāgaṇḍabheruṇḍaḥ (a fabulous mythical bird), siṃha or daṃśṭri “lion”, vyāgra or nakhara “tiger”, aśva or sapti “horse”, kroḍa or kolaṁ “boar”, śakhāmukha or mārutam “monkey”, khagarāṭ or vajrasamānatuṇḍa “kite” and bhallukaḥ or ṛkṣam “bear” (Rajarajan 1993: 177, citing the Śrītattvanidhi 2. 60 based on the Mantrasāra of the Atharvanarahasya). The eight faces, arranged in the horizontal row, could be observed in the cited image. The Lord is seated on a bhadrāsana in sukhāsana. His suspended leg tramples śarabha that is found below the pedestal. It may be casually observed here the Āḻvārs do not talk of sectarian iconic subjects such as the eight-faced Nṛsiṃha but make a note of mythical animals and aquatic creatures such as [y]āḷi (Tiruvantāti III, 71, Nāṉmukaṉ Tiruvantāti 47) and makara[m] (Nāṉmukaṉ Tiruvantāti 64, Tiruvāymoḻi 7.7.6). This is to

34 We are not illustrating images in the present article that are already published. The image under notes was discovered by Gerd J.R. Mevissen in the 1990s when he visited the temple along with Raju Kalidos. Later Vidya Dehejia, Raju Kalidos and Rajarajan visited the temple to observe this unique icon.


confirm the sectarian form under note is a product of the later Cōḻa period.

Trivikrama

A coveted theme in Indian art, perhaps the most vibrant picture of the striding Lord may be found in Badāmī Cave III (Kalidos 2000: I, pl. XLI. 1). The wooden image under study finds the Lord lifting the right leg up to the forehead (Śrīvilliputtūr image illustrated in Kalidos 1983: fig. 3). Four-armed, the front right hand is gracefully extended parallel to the lifted foot. The front left hand is in ūruhasta. Two other hands seem to hold the śaṅkha and cakra. The upper part of the illustration is illegible and seems to portray flying vidyādharas. Mahābali is seated near the Lord’s foot to the right. His wife is found on the other side. Āṇṭāḷ’s hymn on the striding Lord (Tiruppāvai 3) is recited in auspicious domestic rituals of ardent Vaiṣṇava families that promise peace and plenty for the cosmic multitude. To quote:

Ōṅkiyulakaḷanta uttamaṉ pērpāṭi … Tīṅkiṉṟināṭellāmtiṇkaḷ mummāri peytu… Nīṅkāta celvam niṟaitēlōrempāvay

“Praise the Lord who has lifted the leg (to measure the worlds) … The rains shall shower thrice a month without fail in the fields of the country around … Dear girls! Enjoy the munificence of the Lord who offers all the riches.”

This hymn is a pointer of the symbolism of the striding Lord who assures unfailing rains and all the riches that the devotee solicits. Āgamic sources pinpoint three different postures of the lifted leg, i) up to knee, ii) up to hip and iii) up to the shoulder and above, i.e. ūrdhva (Rao 1999: I, 164; for illustrations see Kalidos 1983: figs. 1-3, 5-6).

Ṛṣyaśṛṅga

Ṛṣyaśṛṅga was a celibate ṛṣi who was attracted from his forest-abode to conduct a Vedic sacrifice when Daśaratha wanted to beget children and propagate the Sūryavaṃśa (Rāmāyaṇa, Bālakāṇḍa, Cantos 11-15). The ṛṣi was the son of sage Vibhāṇḍaka of the lineage of Kaśyapa born to a doe (Dowson 1998: 268-69 citing the Rāmāyaṇa and the Mahābhārata, Mani 1996: 652-53) and had a small horn on his


forehead. In the arts Ṛṣyaśṛṅga is endowed with the head of a deer and called Kalaikkōṭṭumuṉivaṉ in Tamil (Irāmāvatāram, Pālakāṇṭam, 5. Tiruavatārappaṭalam). The Rāmāyana of Vālimīki and Kampaṉ do not present iconographic details of the ṛṣi. He had “sprung from the loins of Vibhāṇḍaka”, dvijaśṛeṣṭha “best among the twice-born” and was “resplendent as fire” (Vālmīki-Rāmāyaṇa, ‘Bālakāṇḍa’ Sarga 10: 23, Sarga 11: 13-21).35

The illustration in the Śrīvilliputtūr tēr finds a dwarf buck-headed ṛṣi, and a man and woman in embrace. He is perhaps dallying in his forest abode in the company of amorous couples. Later, he was invited to Ayodhyā to conduct a putrakāmeṣṭi-yajña that may endow Daśaratha with male progeny. The deer-headed ṛṣi is a popular idiom in the Rāmāyaṇa art of Tamilnadu. Nāyaka paintings on the theme (cf. Fig. 11) have been spotted in the Saundararāja Perumāḷ temple at divyadeśa-Māliruñcōlai/Aḻakarkōyil (Rajarajan 2012: 70-75) and Bṛhādāmbāḷ temple at Tirukōkaraṇam, early medieval rock-cut temple expanding into a macro-complex by about the Nāyaka time (Rajarajan 2006: 57-59).36

Rāma seated on Hanumat’s shoulder

Dāśarathi-Rāma is seated in pralambapāda mode on the shoulder of Hanumat (Fig. 12). It is likely to portray one of the events related to the Yuddhakāṇḍam of the Rāmāyaṇa. Another person is found to the left with hands folded in añjalibandha who is likely to be Bhibhīṣaṇa. Such types of narrative sculptures are common in tēr (cf. Kalidos 1991: fig. 3). Hanumat is presented in pratyālīḍha, the archer’s attitude. Dāśarathi-Rāma and vānara-Hanumat is a good example of Emperumāṉ-Aṭiyār “Master-Slave” ethos in Tamil tradition. Emperumāṉ and Āṭiyar/dāsa (Ṛg Vedic “original tribes” [cf. kūli of

35 Raju Kalidos (1989: 349-50) has reported five images of the stag-headed ṛṣi from the temple-cars at Kalliṭaikkuṟicci, Vaṭuvūr, Tiruveḷḷarai, Tirumōkūr and Kaṉṉiyākumari; Mōkūr and Veḷḷarai are divyadeśas. The total of the Rāmāyaṇa images in the catalogue (Annexure V) of the cited book includes 210 from the Bāla to Yuddha-kāṇḍas. 36 The Rāmāyaṇa paintings of the Tirukōkaraṇam Temple were the subject for R.K.K. Rajarajan’s post-doctoral research in the Free University of Berlin under the Alexander von Humboldt Stiftung.


colonial India], variants Pakavar/Bhāgavata, Pattar/bhakta) are profusely cited in the Āḻvārs’ hymns.37

In Tamil tradition, the Aṭiyār, Śrī, Bhū, Nappiṉṉai and Āṇṭāḷ are on the same place (infra. Rukmiṇī-Satyabhāmā below). Therefore, Śrīvaiṣṇavism is only a superfluous ideology adumbrated by the Ācārayas during the post-Āḻvār saga of Viṣṇuism in Tamilnāḍu that was a time of troubles for the Vaiṣṇavas; e.g. Rāmānujācārya vs. Kṛmikaṇṭhacōḻa. In this drama, an egalitarian researcher in Indian religious tradition could find Kūrattāḻvāṉ, a zealot Vaiṣṇava if Kṛmikaṇṭha was a fanatic.

Kṛṣṇa with Devīs

Kṛṣṇa appearing with his beloved mistresses, Rukmiṇī and Satyabhāmā is known as Rājagopāla.38 Rarely the three make their presence felt in the traditional art of Tamilnāḍu. They appear in the temple-car due to the reason there are several Kṛṣṇa temples in the region round the Śrīvilliputtūr city; e.g. one near the Tāhsildār office, one on the Maturai road and few in the villages around (Venkatesan 2010). The presence of Rukmiṇī and Satyabhāmā with Kṛṣṇa is deemed essential in the Dhyānamuktāvalī śloka 6. 51, cited in Caturviṁśatīmūtilakṣaṇam (pp. 38-39):

Satyabhāmāṁratnacelaṁtrinatamabhinavaṁ barhibarhāvacūḍaṁ

Bhāmā rukmiṇyadhīśaṁ viharaṇarasikaṁ śrāvaṇe rohiṇījam/

Yaṣṭiṁ pāṇāvavāme dadhatamitaradoh kūrpare satyabhāmā

Mālambayāsīnamīḍe grathikacabharaṁ Kṛṣṇa madyantaramyam//

“He who is black, wears red garments, stands in tribhaṅga, wears the plumage of the peacock (cf. Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 3.4.1-10*) on his tiara and is present as Lord of Rukmiṇī and Satyabhāmā in their middle, holds a daṇḍa in a hand and has the left elbow rested on the shoulder of Satyabhāmā is the Lord Kṛṣṇa”.

37 See for example; ‘Aṭiyār’: Tirumālai 42, Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 8.10, Tiruvāymoḻi 9.8.7; ‘Pakavar’: Tiruvāymoḻi 4.4.9, 5.2.9; ‘Pattar’: Pallāṇṭu 4, Nāṉmukaṉ Tiruvantāti 55, Tiruvāymoḻi 7.9.3. 38 The presiding God of the Maṉṉārkuṭi temple in the Kāviri delta is Rājagopālasvāmi (Rajarajan 2006: 64-66, 199-201), which temple is endowed with two temple-cars. The figure illustrated in Rajarajan (2006: pl. 140) is a goratha (see note 7 above).


* This tirumoḻi deals with the march-past or parade of Kṛṣṇa and his cowboy-mates at the evening twilight in the streets of Āypāṭi/Gokula decorated with plumages of peacocks and carrying Palmyra-leaf umbrellas to enthuse the damsels of Gokula (cf. Randhawa 1982: pl. 24).

It is also added Rukmiṇī holds a bunch of flowers (infra. kalpaka?) in her hand, and is decorated with gem-fitted sakalābharaṇas. She is called the daughter of Bhīṣma, Bhīṣmakasyā sutayā. The same text (śloka 9. 52) adds Rukmiṇī is to the right, and Satyabhāmā39 and Garuḍa to the left (cf. Cilappatikāram, 17 ‘Āycciyarkuravai’, Eṭuttukkāṭṭu).

Periyāḻvār refers to the mythologies of Rukmiṇī and Satyabhāmā. Rukmiṇī is said to have eloped with Kṛṣṇa unwilling to marry Śiśupāla (TM 3.9.3, 4.3.1). Uruppiṇi is the Tamilized form of Rukmiṇī. Satyabhāmā wanted to possess the Kalpaka-vṛkṣa in the Indra-loka that was accomplished by Kṛṣṇa’s tour de force (TM 1.10.9, PTM 4.6.8). Satyabhāma’s name is not specified. She is called kātali “sweet-heart” for whom the kaṟpakak-kāvu40 was transported from the Intiraṉ-kāvu; kāvu meaning “garden” or “forest”41, lost in Tamil usage but active in Malaiyāḷam, e.g. Āriyaṅ-kāvu on the way to Śabarimala.

39 Mythological equitation would place Rukmiṇī and Satyabhāmā on a par with Śrīdevī and Bhūdevī. Sītā is considered the daughter of Bhūdevī. Later Nappiṉṉai ushers in Tamil lore, and at once stage Āṇṭāḷ comes to the picture, followed by Mīrābāī of Rājasthān (Santhana-Lakshmi-Parthiban 2015). Āṇṭāḷ and Periyāḻvār would say the consorts of Kṛṣṇa are countless; patiṉāṟāmāyiravar-Tēvimār “the Devīs are 16,000” (NT 7.9), pallāyiram-perun-Tēvimār “the chief queens are in several thousands (concubines left out)” (TM 4.1.6). The folk saying in Tamil is: āttumaṇala eṇṇiṉālum Arjuṉan poṇṭāṭṭiya eṇṇa muṭiyātu “even the sands on seashore are counted; the number of the wives of Arjuna is difficult to calculate”. Arjuna (Nara) was the śiṣya of guru-Kṛṣṇa (Nārāyaṇa). As is the teacher so is the student. 40 She followed Kṛṣṇa is an expedition to dislodge Narakāsura. The asura was the son of Bhūdevī who got the boon that he should be killed only by his own mother. For a rare sculptural illustration from the Śārṅgapāṇisvāmi-Kuṃbhakoṇam temple-car see Kalidos (1989: pl. 46). For Narakaṉ/Narakāura see Tiruviruttam 78, Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 1.6.4. 41 The Tamil Lexicon fails to give the meanings “forest or garden”. Kāvu is “sacrifice to inferior deities” (Tamil Lexicon II, 905, cf. Peruñcollakarāti VI, 90). Kāvutal is the elite form of folk kāvaṭi meaning “to carry on the shoulder as a palanquin” or “a pole with a weight at each end” and “to bear or sustain anything heavy on arms or the head” (ibidem).


The image under study partly conforms to the enumeration of Dhyānamuktāvalī. Kṛṣṇa is in the center, resting his left hand on a daṇḍa. Rukmiṇī and Satyabhāmā are to the right and left. Rukmiṇī seems to hold a bunch of flowers in her left hand.42 Up above appear two vidyādharas and kīrtimukha fitted prabhāvali. The love-bound bhakti modes of Rukmiṇī and Satyabhāma are analogies for the two polarities of prapatti in which the devotee prostrates or commands the Lord come to his presence that the Ācāryas epitomized in the philosophies of markaṭa-nyāya and mārjāra-nyāya in which Viṣṇu is cartooned a monkey or cat.

The presiding God, Kṛṣṇa of the divyadeśa-Kāvaḷampāṭi in the Kāviri delta is accompanied by his consorts Rukmiṇī and Satyabhāma (Parthiban & Rajarajan 2016: 243). In Tamil tradition these two goddesses are united with Kṛṣṇa in divyadeśa-Āypāṭi (Gokula) and Rukmiṇī alone in Dvārakā. It is a matter for speculation why Rādhā or Mīrabāīi are not associated with Kṛṣṇa in any of the divyadeśas. It might suggest Rādha and Mīrābāī did not acquire cult value that the Tamils attached to Nappiṉṉai (Srinivasan 1972: 51, Kalidos 2012: fig. 5) and Āṇṭāḷ (Kalidos 2012: figs. 1-3).

Mohinī

An aftermath to Kṣīrābdhimanthana (Kalidos 1986: figs. 1-2) is the incarnation of Mohinī (Fig. 13), one among the twenty-six aṁśāvatāras of Viṣṇu. The gods and demons were in a wrangle to share the amṛta “ambrosia” obtained from the Ocean of Milk, Kṣīrābdhi. Since the participants in the churning process were the asuras and devas, both had legitimate shares. The demons were already powerful by virtue of their brute strength that they deployed in the giant’s way. Therefore, Viṣṇu-Mohinī came as a mediator to distribute the nectar. According to another myth, Mohinī was destined to follow Bhikṣāṭana to the Dārukavana to beguile the ṛṣis (cf. Kalidos 1986: 184-86, figs. 4-9, 11).

42 This is because even though the kalpaka-vṛkṣa was obtained as a prize for Satyabhāma all the flowers on their own flew to the house of Rukmiṇī because she was a meek personality following prapatti that the later Ācāryas propagated. Satyabhāmā was a commanding, rather termagant wife.


The Āḻvārs employ the beautiful word, Aḻakiyār[ṉ] “He-beauty” (Nāṉmukaṉ Tiruvantāti 2, Tiruvaymoḻi 6.2.6, Periya Tirumoḻi 9.2.10, Kalidos 2006: 16) to denote Mohinī. Aḻakiyāṉ is sharply contrasted with Aḻakaṉ “the Handsome” (Tirumālai 16, Periyāḻvār-Tirumoḻi 2.4.4, 2.8.1, 3.3.6, Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 4.10, 11.2); cf. Aḻakar of the Māliruñcōlai temple, an elite epithet (Tiruvāymoḻi 2.10.2) transformed folk in contemporary usage. Interestingly, Cōmacuntaran is Somasundara, popular in folk circles as Cokkanātaṉ (He who makes one swoon by enchanting handsomeness).43 These are very popular personal names in the Maturai circle.

The image under study finds Mohinī stark nude standing gracefully exhibiting here wide pudendum (cf. Comfort 1997: 23, 94). Several dwarfish persons are found round her that might be demons or ṛṣis. The various maṇḍapas in the Āṇṭāḷ enclave of the Śrīvilliputtūr temple accommodate a number of Mohinī images appended to the pillars (cf. Rajarajan 2006: pls. 195-197, 326). The proliferation of Mohinī icons in Nāyaka art may have an idea to convey. It suggests the wanton beauty of woman deluding man; they attract men by their alluring eyes and captivating breasts as the Tamil siddhas believed; viḻiyāl uruṭṭi mulaiyāl kavar, and for the siddhas the yoni is a graveyard, piṇakkuḻi where original sin originates (Rajarajan 2006: pl. 196, Jeyapriya 2009: pls. VI-VII). Therefore, a righteous gentleman is warned against deluding beauties. Devī is māyā both a creative and destructive force; she destroys terrorism and upholds dharma, e.g. Mahiṣāsura (Jeyapriya 2014: 46-47).

Non-Vaiṣṇava Imagery

Śrīvilliputtūr is deep-rooted in Vaiṣṇava tradition. It was to begin with a base of Śaiva and folk religious cults. Many of the early medieval rock-cut temples for Śiva are concentrated in the region round within a radius of 60 kilometers; e.g. Kaḻukumalai, Mūvaraveṉṟāṉ, and so on (Kalidos 2006: I, 90-92, Maps 1, 3-4). Therefore, the Vaiṣṇavas had

43 The Tiruviḷaiyāṭal-ammāṉai, a minor literary work of the folk genre, i.e. ciṟṟilakkiyam calls the Lord Cokkaṉ (v. 16) or Cokkar (v. 2) or Cokkaṉ (v. 16), Cokkēcar (vv. 3, 13, 53), Cokkaliṅkar (vv. 20, 41) and Cuntaraṉ/Sundara (vv. 6, 9). Kṛṣṇa was the black-beauty and Śiva the “golden-hued”, poṉṉār-mēṉiyaṉ (Tēvāram 7.24.2).


no other option but to acclimatize the primitive religious traditions within their fold. 44 Though a typical Vaiṣṇava temple-car, the Śrīvilliputtūr tēr accommodates a number of icons relating to Śiva, Devī and the folk divinities. Another incentive was the catholicity of the Nāyakas’ religious policy. Basically Vaiṣṇavas, most Nāyaka rulers of Maturai took Śaiva names such as Viśvanātha (fons et origio c. 1529), Vīrappa (after Vīrabhadra), Cokkanātha, Muttuliṅga and the femme Mīnākṣī (bout c. 1736). The Tiruvālavāyuṭaiyār-Tiruppaṇimālai adds Tirumalai Nāyaka (1623-59) built the Putumaṇḍapa (cf. the Tirumalai Nāyaka-mahal in Fig. 2) and the vast teppakkuḷam at Vaṇṭiyur in addition to donating several thousands of gold coins every time he visited the Mīnākṣiī-Sundareśvara temple (Rajarajan & Jeyapriya 2013: 115-21, 140-41). Maṭavārviḷakam, close to Śrīvilliputtūr is a vast Śiva temple harmonizing Nāyaka paintings of the Śiva-tiruviḷaiyāṭals on the ceiling of its mahāmaṇḍapa. They promoted religious amity by introducing cosmopolitanism in setting religious iconography. This way few Śaiva, Devī and folk deities had found a pretext to coexist with Viṣṇu in the Śrivilliputtūr tēr (cf. contra in Rajendran 2013: 88-94).

Kaṇṇappa Nāyaṉār

Kaṇṇappa Nāyaṇār was one among the aṟupattumūvar (sixty-three Śaiva devotees) of Tamil tradition whose hagiography is retold in the Tiruttoṇṭar Purāṇam of Cēkkiḻār (12th century CE); earlier noted in Tiruttoṇṭattokai of Cuntarar, kalimalinta-cīr-nampi Kaṇṇapar “Lord Kaṇṇapa that was devoted to Śiva with overflowing excellence” (Tēvāram 7.39.2). Kaṇṇappu (means paste the eyes, appu is folk for appa “father”, also “paste”) is said to have offered his own eyes to the bleeding Mukhaliṅga of Kālatti (modern Kālahasti in Āndhra, cf. Tēvāram 6.282.9). Śiva caused this miracle in order so that the world may understand the finest traits of bhakti taught by a vēṭaṉ/kirāta to a brāhmaṇa-Civakōcariyār. He being the caṇḍālaguru of Śaṅkarācārya

44 This is because Nammāḻvār discourages the worship of paradevatās (mleccha-gods) and animal sacrifices. Cf. Tiruvāymoḻi (5.2.4): Iṭaṅkoḷ camyattai yellām eṭuttuk kalaivaṉa pōlē/ Taṭaṅkaṭaṟ paḷlip perumāṉ … “The Lord is reclining on the snake in the Ocean of Milk in an effort to root out alien religions …” Iṭaṅkoḷ camayam would literally mean the “vāmācāra cults”.


considered the devoted service of an original tribe (infra. tolkuṭi) was much more felicitous than an āgama-bound ācārya professed to Śivaism.

The image under study (Fig. 16) finds the hunter Kaṇṇappa-nāyaṉār (of the tolkuṭi “primeval clan”, maṟakkuṭi “family of heroes”, kāṉavar “foresters” Tiruttoṇṭar Purāṇam, 12, vv. 9, 18, 229) carrying a bow and arrow as he is said to have belonged to the family of forest-hunters, called ciṟukuṭiyīr “Thou of the little Tradition” (cf. Cilappatikāram 24.11-15). Kaṇṇappa is plucking his own eye with an arrow. The toe is fixed on the pupil of the mukha-Liṅga for identification to paste his eye when he becomes blind after the operation. The hunter is carrying a few musical instruments on his shoulder. The purāṇam says Kaṇṇappa was the name given by Śiva (ibid. v. 228). A folk theme, it is elevated to iconographical status by the presence of vidyādharas on top of the panel. Śiva as ‘Kirāta’ is a cherished theme in the later medieval art of Tamilnāḍu, cf. Nagarajan (1993: figs. 1-2) reporting a wooden image and painting.

Aghoramūrti/Vīrabhadra

Vīrabhadra is a terrific manifestation of Śiva. He was created from the matted locks of the Lord to destroy the sacrilegious sacrifice of Dakṣa. The Śrītattvanidhi (3.4-5, 55) presents his iconographical features under the heads Aghoramūrti and Vīrabhadra. The mythological versions leading to Vīra’s creation and activities are summarized in Jeyapriya (2009a: Chap. I, 49-50). The maṇḍapas in the Āṇṭāḷ enclave of Śrīvilliputtūr accommodate a number of images in their sculptural pillars. Interestingly many of these are in dancing mode (Jeyapriya 2009a: 50 cf. the Aparājitapṛccha that talks of dancing Vīra). The maṇḍapas in the Āṇṭāḷ sector of the Śrīvilliputtūr temple house a number of images.45 Vīrabhadra was the war god of the Nāyakas, and the kuladevatā of the Telugu-speaking nāyaka-[Naiḍu] of Tamilnāḍu (Jeyapriya 2009a: 55-57, 97-99); cf. the Nāyakas of Keḻadi erected temples for the Lord at Keḻadi and Ikkēri (Rajarajan 2006: 85-87).

The temple-car under study accommodates an image of the type in partly dancing mode. The Lord is dvibhuja (cf. the dvātriṣatbhuja 45 For illustrations see Jeyapriya (2009: 61 plates, including temples) and Rajarajan (2006: pls. 87, 89-92, 245-47).


and daśabhuja types in the Śrītattvanidhi), lifting a kheṭaka in the left hand and holding a khaḍga in the right hand that is striking a fallen demon, presumably Dakṣa or one among those that participated in the latter’s ignominious yajña.

Devī seated on haṃsavāhana

In Hindu iconography the Goddess seated on the haṃsa-vāhana (haṁsa, haṉsá Monier-Williams 2005:1286, haṅsa Liebert 1986: 99-100) is Sarasvatī 46 or Brāhmī (Panikkar 1997: 66). Ratī’s usual vāhana is a parrot and occasionally she may be mounted on a haṃsa of which images are found in the Śrīvilliputtūr maṇḍapas. The image under note finds the Goddess seated in mahārājalīlāsana on the haṃsa. The objects in the two hands are not visible. Flying divinities appear up above the panel. The heads are not three if to be identified with Brāhmī. Another image of the same mould is found in the car in which case the Goddess is playing the vīnā (Fig. 14), unmistakably Sarasvatī.

Dancing Kālī

A daśabhuja image, it shows Kālī dancing with the legs arranged in ardhamaṇḍalī mode and an awkward doleful face. The hands carry different weapons such as śaṅkha, cakra, khaḍga, śūla and so on. Two instrument players are found on either side. Flying divinities appear up above. This image was part of a ūrdhvatāṇḍavam panel in which Śiva presents an acrobatic karaṇa to defeat Kālī in a dancing contest (Kalidos 1996: figs. 8-10; fig. 10 illustrates dancing Kālī, all these images are from the temple-cars of Tamilnāḍu). The image of ūrdhavatāṇḍava-Śiva is missing in the car. Kālī is the associate of Vīrabhadra in mythology sent on a mission to chastise Dakṣa.47 Images in Karnāṭaka find the goat-headed Dakṣa and Kālī in

46 The Śrītattvanidhi is exhaustive on Śakti iconography making note of Mahā-Sarasvatī (1.5), Brahmī (1.43), Vidyādevī (1.86), Catusṣaṣṭikalādevī (1.91), Sarasvatī (1.102), Vāgīśvarī (1.1.31) and so on (Santhana-Lakshmi-Parthiban 2014: 72-85). 47 For an interesting account of Kālī cult see Ramachandran (1993-95: 177-90). The cited author is no more; he was working in the Asiatic Society, Calcutta and subsequently in the Puduchery Central University.


diminutive form standing to the right and left of Vīrabhadra (Jeyapriya 2009: pl. 23). Independent images of dancing Kālī are reported (Soundararajan 2003: fig. 4) from Amargol in Karnāṭaka.

Nṛtta-Gaṇapati

Gaṇapati in iconographical illustrations is usually presented in the three modes: āsana (seated), sthānaka (standing) and nṛtya (dancing). Mostly the Lord is seated. In the present case, a dancing image finds Śakti seated on his lifted thigh (Fig. 15). It seems the proboscis is touching the vagina of the Goddess. It is a very rare combination of Nṛtta-Śakti-Ucchiṣṭa Gaṇapati (Rawson 1984: fig. 60, Kalidos 1989: pl. 71). The Śrītattvanidhi citing the Mudgala Purāṇa talks of thirty-two forms of Gaṇapati of which Śakti- (3.74), Ucchiṣṭa- (3.77) and Nṛtta- (3.84) are independent forms (Rajarajan 2001: 379).

Symbolic images

The temple cars at the base find wooden bars fitted on axles in cross-wise pattern accommodating images that are supposed to be bearers of cosmic burden of which the temple-car is symbolic (Kalidos 1989: fig. 27). These may be the equals of kumbāṇḍas, kīcakas and kiṅkaras of the Indian artistic tradition (Savalia 2007: 11-31). A number of such images appear in the Śrīvilliputtūr car. Few other images defy identification. These are enumerated in the following account.

i) A four-armed threatening God carries a gadā and iron-chains in four hands. He wears a cannavīra-like ornament. He is likely to be caṅkili-Kaṟuppu (“chained-Black”, folk Kaṟuppaṇa-cāmi) who is supposed to be virulent and always kept under control by being tied by an iron-chain (Fig. 17). It is a rare image. Raju Kalidos told us he had spotted a similar image in the Tirumeyyam temple-car. During a recent visit to Kuṟṟālam, we found a separate chapel for this divinity in the outer prākāra of the temple.

ii) Another divinity of the same mould carries a noose and blows the conch. He is called caṅkupūtam (śaṅkha-bhūta) in folk tradition.

iii) A ṛṣi is endowed with matted locks of hair that are abnormally long (cf. the nāga-sādhus of the Kuṃhamelā). His head is protected by a five-hooded snake that seems to be Śeṣa (Fig. 18).


iv) A lady seems to have emerged from her toilet who is helped by assistants to tide up herself (Fig. 19). It is not clear whether this image could be considered in the context of spinsters undertaking a nōṉpu/vrata in the Tiruppāvai (cf. vv. 2 & 27) to take the hand of Araṅkaṉ-Viṣṇu. However, Periyāḻvār in Tirumoḻi (3.7.8) talks of a love-sick maid, māluṟṟavaḷ who is decorated with a golden necklace and looks at the mirror, tosses her bangles, applies lipstick (?) and waits for the beloved Lord.

v) A number of erotic images are spotted that should form part of a separate study. We have found the image of a virāṭ-puruṣa laid upon a cart whose phallus is abnormally long (Fig. 20). It could not be a portrayal of the Śakaṭāsura myth of the Bhāgavata Purāṇa, and earlier repeatedly told in the hymns of the Āḻvārs (Kalidos & Rajarajan 2015: see under ‘cakaṭam’). The myth of Śakaṭāsura is not associated with erotic symbolism in any of these accounts. A similar image is reported from the museum accommodated in the 1000-pillared hall of the Mīnākṣī-Sundareśvara temple at Maturai (Rajarajan 2006: pl. 320).

vi) A spectacular vision of the erotic imagery in temple-cars is presented in Kalidos (2006: 211-18, 389-96, figs. 93-97). For a review of this phase of the temple-car imagery see Taddei (1994: 557-58). The middle row cross bars at either extremity to the front and back are fitted with yāli-like bearers of burden. In other temple-cars, they are supposed to be supported by the Kūrma. Above the figure of Kūrma Bhūdevī is present (Fig. 5). The head of Bhū is masked by five-hooded Ādiśeṣa. The heads of these appear at the front plinth-base of the temple-car while the tail/legs appear on the rear part of the car. The symbol is that they bear the weight of the cosmic car.

Concluding remarks

The present study is a bird’s eye view of the temple and the temple-car at Śrīvilliputtūr. We have reported the select icons. A significant aspect of the Śrīvilliputtūr temple-car imagery is that the thoughts of the Āḻvārs had played a vital role in the make-up of the general tenor of composition.

A word regarding the methodology for study of Nāyaka art may be added in conclusion (Rajarajan 2015: 169-71). The Hindu temple reached its optimum level of evolution during the Nāyaka period with the core, Brahmasthāna, expanding in concentric squares. There were chapels for Āvaraṇamūrtis (e.g. Āḻvārs and Ācāryapuruṣas), several


maṇḍapas (e.g. kalyāṇa-, vasanta-, 100-pillared, 1000-pillared), gopuras in cardinal directions and above all vāhanas (e.g. Śrīraṅgam). The vāhanas, including the temple-car, tēr were vital to demonstrate gorgeous utsavas. The hero during these festive days is the temple-car. Therefore, a scholar working on Vijayanagara-Nāyaka art is expected to be thorough in his perception of the temple and its art heritage. Scholars of an elder generation disregarded the temple-cars. It is high-time that these monuments are given the due credit they deserve particularly in these days of international piracy of art. If you miss the temple-car you miss the temple, called “car-temple” by Prof. Mario Bussagli and “a temple on wheels” by Raju Kalidos.

Acknowledgement

The city-temple-plan is the work of Vijaya-Raghavan Vira-Visodhana (B.Tech., Department of Rural Technology Center, Gandhigram Rural University, Gandhigram, Tamilnadu).


Figures

Figure 1: View of the city and the temple, Śrīvilliputtūr

Figure 2: Plan of the city and the temple, Śrīvilliputtūr


Figure 3: Full view of the processional temple-car (2014)

Figure 4: Plinth of the temple-car (detail of fig. 3)


Figure 5: Bhūdevī and Kūrma bearing burden of the cosmic-car-temple,

Śrīvilliputtūr Temple Car (hereinafter ŚTC)

Figure 6: Model gopura of the temple. ŚTC


Figure 7: Śeṣaśāyī, ŚTC

Figure 8: Ādimūrti, ŚTC


Figure 9: Nṛsiṃha-Hiraṇya-yuddham, ŚTC


Figure 10: (a) Hiraṇya-vadham & (b) Lakṣmī-Nṛsiṃha, ŚTC


Figure 11: Ṛāyaśṛṅga, Nāyaka Painting, Saundarāja Perumāḷ Temple, Aḻakarkōyil

Figure 12: Dāśarathi-Rāma mounted on Hanumat, ŚTC


Figure 13: Mohinī, ŚTC


Figure 14: Sarasvati on haṃsa-vāhana, ŚTC

Figure 15: Śakti-Gaṇapati, ŚTC


Figure 16: Kaṇṇappa-Nāyaṉār, ŚTC

Figure 17: Caṅkili-Kaṟuppu, ŚTC


Figure 18: Ṛṣi attended by Śeṣa, ŚTC

Figure 19: Lady in toilet, ŚTC


Figure 20: Virāṭpuruṣa on cart, ŚTC

Figure 21: Hereditary Veda-pirāṉ bhaṭṭar G. Anantarāmakrishṇaṉ in his house with

pūjā inheritance


Figure 22: Hereditary Veda-pirāṉ bhaṭṭar performing Veda-viṇṇappam during the

Māṟkaḻi Festival (2015) and his son A. Sudarsan

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* Proceedings of a National Seminar (UGC Sponsored 1986, directed by Raju Kalidos) on “Facets of Temple Cities: their Arts and Culture” in which Pierre & Vasundhara Filliozat, K.V. Soundararajan, S. Settar and R. Champakalakshmi presented papers.

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——— 1996. “Ūrdhvatāṇḍavam in the Art of South India”, East and West, 53: 1-4, 371-413.

——— ed. 1997. Sectarian Rivalry in Art and Literature. Sharada: Delhi.

——— 1999. “Nṛsiṃha in Early Medieval Literature and South Indian Art”, AION, 59: 1-4, 168-82.

——— 2006. Encyclopaedia of Hindu Iconography: Early Medieval, 4 vols. Sharada: Delhi.

——— 2012. “Tamil Literary Traditions and their Relevance in the Study of Indian Arts”, In Lorenzetti and Scialpi eds. 2012: 34-75.

——— 2015. “Bhatkal or Bhaṭkal? Some Thoughts for Consideration”, In J. Soundararajan Glimpses of Vijayanagara-Nāyaka Art, 135-60. Sharada: Delhi.

——— 2015. “Aṉantapuram: An Early Base of Viṣṇuism in Kēraḷa”, In K.K. Naik & E.S.Nagi Reddy eds. Cultural Contours of History & Archaeology* Vol. VII, 312-18. BR.PC: Delhi.

* In ten volumes

——— 2016. “History of the Tamil bhakti Movement: Divyadeśas of Tonṭaināṭu”* (Sir William Meyer Endowment Lecture), University of Madras, Chennai (MS).

* This brief article is elaborated by Rajarajan & Parthiban

——— 2016a. “The Early Pāṇḍya Tirupparaṅkuṉṟam and the Kailāsa of Kāñci”, In J. Soundararajan ed. Silhouette of South Indian History, Archaeology, Epigraphy, Culture & Tourism, 183-184. Preethi: Chennai.


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——— 2016. “Sacred Geography: Divyadeśas of the Kāviri Delta”, In Parthiban, R.K. & R.K.K. Rajarajan eds. Masterpieces of Indian Literature & Art II Bhakti Phase: Samāpti Suprabhātam, 221-76. Sharada: Del;hi.

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* Known as ‘Greater Tamil Lexicon’, this project commenced under the inspiring coordination of Professor V.I. Subrahmoniam, pioneer Vice Chancellor of the Tamil University.

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ISSN 0001-6438

BOOK REVIEWS Chashab, Thupten Kunga and Filip Majkowski. Catalogue of the Tibetan Texts in the Pander Collection: Part A (Complete) and Part B (Partial) Held by the Jagiellonian Library, Cracow. Warsaw (Faculty of Oriental Studies, University of Warsaw), 2015, 418 pp. The so-called ‘Pander Collection’, “one of a few early Western collections of Tibetan literature”,1 is a collection of Tibetan, Mon-golian, Manchu and Chinese Buddhist texts acquired by the German scholar Eugen Pander (1854-1894 (?)) during his stay in Beijing in the 1880s,2 probably from the Yonghegong Monastery.3 Brought to Berlin in 1889, the collection entered the former Prussian State Library around 1906 and, it seems, remained unexplored, apart from a hand-written catalogue prepared in that library, probably by the librarian Wilhelm Grube 4 on the basis of a preliminary catalogue (now

1 Helman-Ważny, Agnieszka, “Recovering a Lost Literary Heritage: Preliminary Research on the Wanli Bka’ ’gyur from Berlin”, Journal of the International Association of Tibetan Studies, 5 (December 2009), pp. 1-27; p. 2. 2 There would seem to be some uncertainty concerning the year of his death, a question which cannot be further discussed here. 3 Helman-Ważny 2009, p. 5. 4 Mejor, Marek et al., A Preliminary Report on the Wanli Kanjur kept in the Jagiellonian Library, Kraków, Warsaw (Research Centre of Buddhist Studies, Faculty of Oriental Studies, University of Warsaw), 2010, p. 17, n. 22. On Grube, see also Walravens, Hartmut, Wilhelm Grube (1855-1908). Leben, Werk und Sammlungen des Sprachwissenschaftlers, Ethonologen und Sinologen, Wiesbaden (Harrassowitz), 2007.

194 Book Reviews

probably lost) drawn up by Pander.5 Towards the end of the Second World War the collection was evacuated to Lower Silesia, and on Silesia being ceded to Poland after the war, it remained there until it was “discovered by a group of researchers from the Jagiellonian University Library, who transported, among others, the Pander Collection to the main Library seat in Krakow”.6 For various reasons it remained, however, in practice inaccessible until recently.

The present volume is a detailed catalogue of a large part of the Pander Collection. The Accession numbers are stated to be those given by Pander himself, but in addition each text has a number, “found on covering paper prepared by Jagiellonian Library” (p. 8) which corresponds to the basic numbering in the Berlin manuscript catalogue, as is clear from the facsimiles of a few pages from that catalogue (pp. 413-418). The editors of the present catalogue have likewise retained the manuscript catalogue’s division of the texts into six categories, labeled Pander A, B, C, E, and F respectively, and “Pander Pantheon”.7 As indicated by the title, the present catalogue describes all 369 texts to be found in Pander A, and the first 104 volumes (of a total of 315) of Pander B, “however volumes 32-50 could not be taken into account as they were … still undergoing conservation” (p. 8). Pander C, totaling 40 volumes only, consists of Tibetan as well “Sino-Tibetan” volumes (referring to bilingual texts), while E and F contain texts in Mongolian, Manchu and Chinese. The “Pander Pantheon” is constituted by 60 volumes of the so-called

5 While the texts are now in Cracow, the hand-written catalogue remained in Berlin and is now preserved in the Orientalabteilung, Staatsbibliothek, Preussischer Kulturbesitz (p. 9). 6 Helman-Ważny, Agnieszka, “Tibetan manuscripts: scientific examination and conservation approaches”, Shulla Jaques (ed.). Edinburgh Conference Papers 2006: Proceedings from the Fifth International Conference of the Institute of Paper Conservation and First International Conference of the Institute of Conservation, Book and Paper Group, London (Institute of Conservation ICON), 2007, pp. 247-256; p. 5. 7 For a description of the arrangement of the collection, see Mejor, Marek et al. 2010, p 17 ff. The group “D” was renamed “Pander Pantheon” for reasons and at a point of time that for the moment are unknown, ibid. pp. 17-18. It should be repeated that the handwritten catalogue is not Pander's original catalogue, which would seem to have been lost, although it probably still exited in 1906, as the manuscript catalogue refers to the entry of certain texts “des Originalkatalogs”, facsimile, p. 415 of the present volume.

Book Reviews 195

“Wanli Kanjur”, the only section of the collection that has been properly studied until now.8

The present catalogue is detailed and functional, providing all the information needed to make it a highly useful tool for scholars, including, wherever relevant, references to the individual texts if found in other catalogues.

Following the actual catalogue, there is an Appendix in two parts. The first, “Text classification based on subject matter”, divides the texts into a number of categories, such as “Philosophical texts”, “Tantric practices”, “Biographies” and so on. By far the largest group is “Ritual texts”. This is quite straightforward, but one is surprised to find “Rnying ma texts” among these categories. This introduces a seemingly incongruous category based on ‘sectarian’ criteria, as one looks in vain for a category styled “Dge lugs pa texts”, in spite of the fact that texts from the Gelugpa School are well represented in the collection, e.g. numerous volumes from the collected works (gsung ’bum) of prominent Gelugpa authors. The second part of the Appendix is an “Index of authors”.

Up to now, there has been no proper catalogue of the Pander Collection, and as pointed out by Helman-Wazny, “the entire collection has probably been untouched for 120 years”.9 With the publication of this catalogue, the situation has changed, and this rich collection has now become accessible to scholars.

Per Kværne

University of Oslo Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages

8 Mejor, Marek et al. 2010; Helman-Ważny 2009. 9 Helman-Ważny 2009, p. 2.

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