Arjuna and the Hunter (also known as Arjuna and the Kirāta) is a 6th century C.E. Sanskrit court epic, which is a retelling/expansion of an episode in the Kirata Parva sub-parva of the third Parva (Aranya Parva, also known as the “Book of the Forest”) of the Mahābhārata (thanks Wikipedia!). It is broken into 18 chapters, and tells of Arjuna’s hermitage and ascetic acts in the Himalayas, his testing by Indra, and his eventual fight with Shiva, through which he obtains the Pashupata/Pashupatastra (or, at least, the mantra which embodies the knowledge and practice of it).
The book shows the signs of being an episode in a larger text as well – and almost certainly expects the reader to approach it with the knowledge of that prior text: it starts almost in media res, but it’s not used as the standard literary form – it really does just sort of drop you immediately into the narrative flow of the Mahābhārata and just moves from there, as if it was simply embeddeded in the larger work. In the Mahābhārata Arjuna and his family are in exile (having gambled away their kingdom), and they are here as well, but I didn’t really come across an explanation for their circumstances (or even an explicit statement on their exile) until the middle of the 11th chapter when Arjuna is speaking with a disguised Indra. As with other texts I’ve been reading from the Murty Library, this speaks both to the expectations of the writers towards their readers in terms of cultural, literary, and religious backgrounds; and to the divide between myself and those expectations.
This is a pretty backloaded book in terms of action – the first three chapters are dedicated to dialogue/counsel, the next few are dedicated to Arjuna hanging out and being all ascetic, a few chapters of lovemaking and seduction, some more chapters of dialogue/asceticism, and, finally, glorious fighting. As with the other books I’ve read in the Murty Library, the language here is extremely high-caliber, so even the more word-driven (less action-driven) first portion of the book is enjoyable and quickly consumed. The middle chapters, dedicated to the attempted seduction of Arjuna, are infused with an almost frantic eroticism (there certainly is a persistently pressing need in the nymphs themselves); and the chapter of conversation with Indra is learned and banter-filled.
The long fight to end the book is awesome and over top (basically what I’m looking for in any epic).
This is another great entry in the Murty Classic Library – it’s precedes all of the other book I’ve read in it by a good 1000 years, so it was nice to get some variety there at the end. I’m kind of torn – I’m not sure if I want to pick up some of the poetry volumes of wait for more from the series. I’m not really crazy about poetry, especially at the price per volume, but I also want to read more of this.
*As before: I'm going to be completely honest that I think putting ratings on these types of books is a bit silly. The rating above is based on the books value as historic artifact, the effort of translation, and the volume itself (not to mention the overall Murty Library mission).*
A canonical Sanskrit epic retelling an episode from early in the Mahābhārata where Arjuna goes to perform austerities in the Himalayas in order to get a magical superweapon from Śiva to use against his cousins. Written somewhere in south India somewhere around the 500s CE. This is a mahākāvya, different genre from the Mahābhārata or the Rāmāyaṇa, which the translator calls "court epic." There is a huge variety of meters, usually one per chapter, though the translation is in prose. The emphasis is on super-ornate description rather than narration. It has the same feel as what little I know about opera. The descriptive intricacy is applied first to rhetoric, as the Pāṇḍavas discuss how to get their kingdom back; then the beauty of nature, as Arjuna sets out for his hermitage; then there's an erotic section, as Indra sends an army of apsaras nymphs to test Arjuna's ascetic chastity; and finally, the last test is a battle with Śiva himself. In that chapter Bhāravi goes all out, with even more variety of meters and with all kinds of untranslatable rhetorical figures pointed out in the translator's notes, like syllable patterns that make a garden-variety palindrome look like nothing, and almost an entire couplet using only the consonant n: na nonanunno nunnono nānā nānānanā nanu / nunno 'nunno nanunneno nānenā nunnanunnanut. Also only in Classical Sanskrit would an epic simile compare a demon boar caught between a warrior and a god to a grammatical marker caught between a root and an affix! Even though this has been canonical literature since it was written, it was never translated into English until last year, as part of the Murty Classical Library of India, a new attempt at being the Loebs of classical Indian literature, which from this looks promising.
"The mountain, with secluded forests of great fruit trees and peaks covered with blossoming creepers, kindled in Indra's son an unshakeable resolve to settle there to practice austerity.
When Arjuna, who had been a sage in the ancient past, steadied his mental flux and took up ascetic practice there, according to the precepts of yoga, he was not fatigued by the rigors of austerity. Hardship cannot weary the man of self-control.
His sole pleasure disciplining the senses, he destroyed dark impurity with his shining virtues. Free of blemish, he flourished day by day with acts of austerity, like the cool-rayed moon, dispeller of darkness, waxing with its digits.
As he controlled vicious thoughts by the virtue of insight, a joyous tranquillity boundlessly spread over him and overcame all harmful passions.
When the self-controlled Arjuna worshipped Indra, king of the gods, with meditation, sacred chants, and ritual prostrations, he displayed two kinds of splendor, one innate, the other acquired, of martial power and of peace.
Shining like an emerald and bearing on his head a mass of tawny hair matted from his ritual baths, he resembled a dark tamalā tree, its top engulfed by the red rays of the morning sun.
Though he bore arms, he bore malice toward none, and because he surpassed sages with his pure conduct, he charmed the beasts of the forest though far beyond pleasure himself. Is there anyone whom virtue cannot win over?"
The original poem is in eighteen Books, and I have been constrained to abridge it in two places. The deecription of the nynmphs and their blandishinenta extends to four Books in the original, and I have com- pressed it into one in the translation, for even celestial charms might cloy if described in the fullness of the original ! And the combat between Siva and Arjuna and its happy sequel, which have been described in six Books in the original, have been compressed into two Books in the translation. Feats of arms have ever been recognised as a fit subject of romance and song, but the shade of the poet must pardon his translator if he hesitates to follow bim in those prolonged flights of poetry in which the poet is sustained only by the sonorous beauty of his language and the incomparable vigour of his expressiun. The Appendix given at the close of the translation will point out to the student of Sanscrit which verses of Books VII. to X. in the original have been rendered in Book VII. of the translation, and which verses of the poet's Books XIII. to XVIII. bave been rendered iu my Booku X. to XII. The remaining Books of the original have been translated in full, verse for verse. https://archive.org/details/laysancie...