|
 Linguists
world over concede that all European languages with the exception
of Finish, Estonian, Hungarian, Turkish and Basque have strong
resemblances to Sanskrit. Speaking to the Asiatick Society
way back in 1786 (2 February), the distinguished English Orientalist
and the Chief Justice of India Sir William Jones had this
to remark : "...the Sanskrit language, whatever be its
antiquity is a wonderful structure; more perfect than the
Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined
than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity
(italics mine), both in the roots of verbs and the form of
grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident;
so strong, indeed, that no philologer could examine than all
three, without believing them to have sprung from some common
source, which, perhaps, no longer exists." Besides it
was the discovery of Sanskrit by the West that the "science
of phonetics arose in Europe".
 For
all this and much more, every Indian shall ever remain grateful
to Warren Hastings without whom, possibly, no Western intellectual
curiosity would have bloomed and taken India earnestly. Hastings
partonized some of the greatest minds in Oriental studies.
The singular remarkable achievement of these classical works
is that they had been purely done in the Indian way without
allowing their Western influences. In truth, shortly after
getting Hastings's assurance, these scholars founded the Asiatick
Society of Bengal in 1784, and their works started appearing
in the Society's journal Asiatick Researches. Some of the
seminal works of our ancient "Sanskrit" texts done
by Western men of letters are: Bhagavad Gita and Hitopadesa
by Wilkins published in 1785 and 1789 respectively; Sakuntala
by William Jones in 1789; Gita Govinda by Jones in 1792.
But then
there was also the other side of this apotheosis, which was
equally interesting. James Mill's classic The History of British
India (1817) trampled the whole notion that the Hindus were
civilised people, and yet he had the honesty to maintain the
"literature of the Hindus had always remained in the
first state." Almost hundred years after, in 1917 William
Archer, a literary critic of international standing had said
with some added assertion what his predecessor did. In his
controversial book entitled, India and the Future, he repudiated
that India was civilized in the accepted European sense. Archer's
work had sparked a whale of controversy and among whom who
finally cut him to size was none other than Aurobindo Ghosh.
What all I mean to say is in India we regard our critics no
less. In our bookshelves, we have both : those who admire
us and those who anathematize us. This is because, we are
conscious of the fact that even the denunciation has substantial
historical importance.
But here
I shall also illustrate another interesting ancedote. In late
1854, Macaulay had invited venerable Max Muller, who by then
was a naturalized in England, to discuss with him the new
regulations for the Indian Civil Service, in regard to the
Oriental subjects and languages. But instead of lending his
ears to Muller's words, Macualay indulged in criticising the
native Indians for their "untruthfulness and untrustworthiness".
Behind the hard facade of Macualay, however, was hidden a
degree of admirable honesty. He told Muller admittedly that
he knew nothing of Indian languages and literature and that
he was longing to know from Muller. Today nobody would confess
one's ignorance.
In England
the interest in Sanskrit was revived in the aftermath of the
Indian Mutiny of 1857 and found its outlet in the form of
a series of letters which appeared in The Times. In total,
six letters appeared : Max Muller wrote two letters and so
was Sir Charles Trevelyan, one each from professor Monier
Williams and professor Syed Abdoolah. Of these the most compelling
contribution was indubitably Muller's. It appeared in The
Times edition of 4 January 1858 in which the author underlined
the importance of Sanskrit : "But there are other considerations
of a more subtle nature perhaps, yet of considerable weight
for making an elementary knowledge of Sanskrit an essential
part of a civilian's previous education in England. It has
been said that Sanskrit is a dead language; but, although
Sanskrit is no longer spoken by the people, it is still the
very life-spring of their thoughts, their faith, their feelings,
and prejudices. In most countries the spoken language would
at once be the key to the literature, and through it to the
social, moral, and religious character of a nation. It is
not so in India. There the state of literature at the present
day is about the same as that of Italy at, or rather before,
the time of Dante. The spoken language, il volgare, is Hindustani,
Bengali, or Guzerathi; but the language of literature, law,
and religion is still the classical Sanskrit."
Sanskrit,
for us, is not merely a tool for communication or to put in
the general sense just a language as has been claimed by some,
it is fundamentally speaking an important source of our culture.
To understand India, one should possess at least a working
knowledge of Sanskrit. No wonder we preserve Max Muller's
The Sacred Books of the East running to 49 volumes along with
Ramayana and Mahabharat.
One needs
to get it clarified from Gardner, whether he is aware that
Sanskrit has been part in school curriculum for a long time
-- before and after the British rule in India. I myself read
Sanskrit slokas and grammar in school, along with English,
Oriya (my mother tongue) and Hindi, the national language.
The same pattern is followed in all the states of India, but
only with a degree of difference. Recently, I was going through
"The Undergraduate Prospectus 2001 of the University
of Edinburgh." In it Sanskrit has been prescribed as
one of the honours subjects. The Prospectus introduces the
language as : "Sanskrit is the language of classical
India, one of the oldest and most significant of the civilisations
of the world." There are many universities in the world
where Sanskrit is still read, and on the other Gardner wishes
the unifying language should not be revived in India.
For the
sake of western readers, I shall shed light on a very engrossing
anecdote. There is a village, named Mattur, which lies a few
kilometers away from the city of Shimoga in Karnataka, the
IT hub of India. Situated on the banks of the Tunga river,
the aesthetically pleasing sight of the blue river is offset
by the emerald green orchards of arecanut palms which surround
the village like a shimmering fringe. But it is not the unique
spectacle of Mattur, which I am bringing through words to
those readers, who might have seen a parallel description
of an Indian village in the British museum. It is not. Rather
it is the amazing sound of the common run of mankind conversing
in Sanskrit in Mattur, which is most striking especially to
those who make wishful conclusions that Sanskrit is used by
the upper class in India.. Here, be he a vegetable vendor,
milkman or the person in the grocery shop, everybody speaks
flawless Sanskrit. Even the muslims of Mattur converse in
Sanskrit. Similarly in many villages, which Gandhiji proudly
proclaimed where the real India rests, speak Sanskrit in great
numbers. Of course, Sanskrit cannot be found in discos and
parties in the meteros, which are more westernized than their
counterparts in the West.
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