Everything Is Sacred: Excavating the spiritual diversity of classical India

“IMAGINE THAT DUSK is a farmer who planted the sun, a banana tree, on the shores of the western ocean. The dark evening clouds are its leaves, and its fruit in the east is the glowing moon.” In the second chapter of Theft of a Tree, the 16th-century poet Nandi Timmana dedicates a number of verses to the transition from day to night—as the sun departs and the moon rises “as if the gods were pulling on/ the silver ropes of a crystal bucket filled with the elixir of life/from the ocean of immortality”. In exquisite language, the poet evokes the departure of the sun and the rising of the moon, “scattering light”, in the eastern sky, its dark spot a missing gem on the necklace of dusk; of water lilies, cakora birds and the play of love; of gods and humans, and endless desire. It is a sprawling scene, suffused with desire and longing yet also simmering with tension. For Krishna, “the young cowherd who is Time”, is planning a celestial heist to steal the wish-granting parijata tree from the garden of Indra to please Satyabhama, his favourite wife.

Timmana, who was a poet and one of the legendary ashtadiggajas in the imperial court of Krishnadevaraya, the 16th-century emperor of Vijayanagara, based the Parijatapaharanamu on a widely known tale, though his reason may have been rooted in his present. It is believed that he wrote it at the behest of the emperor’s wife who was trying to win back his favour. Perhaps the poem had this intended effect, but far more enduring was its literary significance—using new aesthetic devices and narrative structure through its five chapters that influenced future storytelling in Telugu literature. Theft of a Tree is the first time the work has been available in English; translated by Harshita Mruthinti Kamath and Velcheru Narayana Rao, and published by the Murty Classical Library of India (MCLI).

Timmana’s narrative poem is one of the books in Nine Jewels, a recently launched box set of classics from various Indian literary traditions drawn from paperbacks published by MCLI in the past. “Our primary publishing activity is to focus on the bilingual editions, featuring the original text in the relevant script on the left side of the book and the modern English translation, commissioned specifically for the series, on the right side,” says Sharmila Sen, editorial director of Harvard University Press (of which MCLI is part). “From time to time, I choose to publish a compact paperback consisting of the translation only in an attractive, colourful package. This is intended to draw in the casual reader who may be a little intimidated by the bilingual editions.” Last year, nine of the paperbacks were compiled into a box set—designed by Gabriele Wilson, creative director at the Harvard University Press—with an eye on “collectors or anyone looking for an appropriate gift for a book lover”.

Nine Jewels’ composition is as diverse as the landscape of Indian literature, a mix of familiar and lesser-known names translated by eminent translators and scholars. In The Sea of Separation, Philip Lutgendorf, professor emeritus of Hindi and Modern Indian Studies at the University of Iowa, translates key episodes from Tulsidas’ iconic Ramcharitamanas. In Sur’s Ocean,

John Stratton Hawley, professor of Religion at Barnard College, Columbia University, translates the ‘Blind Poet’ Surdas’ verses dedicated to Krishna. “At the sight of Hari’s face, my eyes lose their way:/ they’re love-struck bees who are mired in the mud/ beneath a charming lotus, powerless then to fly,” writes Surdas, his poetry in service to the deity.

Dominating the box set are titles dedicated to the spiritual and the divine— the words and works embodying their authors’ exceptional devotion. If Surdas and Tulsidas praise Krishna and Ram, the Sufi lyrics of Bullhe Shah, the 18th-century poet, evoke another spiritual movement in the Indian subcontinent. Translated by Christopher Shackle, emeritus professor at SOAS, University of London, Shah’s poems evoke deep longing and devotion, yet are also framed by the social upheavals of his times. Shackle is also the translator of The Risalo, a classic work of Sindhi literature by the Sufi saint Shah Abdul Latif. Created to be set to music, Latif’s lyrics are wide-ranging, evoking mystical love as well as local allegories and romantic legends including the popular story of Suhini Mehar (Sohni Mahiwal) or Lila Chanesar.

Krishna recurs as inspiration and the object of divine love, across multiple books in the box set. Biharilal’s He Spoke of Love, translated by Rupert Snell, professor emeritus at the Department of Asian Studies at the University of Texas in Austin, offers a selection of poems in the Satsai, an anthology of poems about Krishna and Radha.

Sen herself has a soft spot for Poems from the Sikh Sacred Tradition, Nikky- Guninder Kaur Singh’s translation of Guru Nanak. A Hindu Bengali married to a Sikh man for 31 years, Sen has watched her in-laws often listen to kirtan in the mornings. “But I cannot read or understand Nanak’s writing without this translation by Nikky who is an amazing scholar of Sikhism as well as an accomplished translator who brought her mind and her heart in equal parts to this project.” Another title that was eleased as a paperback for its “exceptionally stunning” translation is the Therigatha. Translated by Charles Hallisey, a senior lecturer on Buddhist Literatures at Harvard University, the Poems of the First Buddhist Women by senior Buddhist women (theris) bring forth a female perspective on the joy of freedom and enlightenment.

What is another common feature among the titles is the emphasis on modern, accessible English that contemporary readers can relate to. Translating every title poses its own challenge, observes Sen. “Sometimes the challenge before the translator is one of being a pioneer. Imagine translating into English a text that has never been translated before,” she says, citing Timmana as an example. “On the other hand, when a poet is wildly popular and translated (sometimes well and sometimes sloppily) by hundreds of others, the real challenge is working in a way that is true to the original, while still retaining (the) feeling of the lines in modern English, and not merely echoing the other existing translations.” Bullhe Shah and Mir Taqi Mir are among the prominent examples. “The reader will have certain expectations, and the translator has to be careful to not pander to those expectations and produce a sloppy version of the Punjabi or Urdu,” Sen adds.

Ghazals, the title dedicated to Mir Taqi Mir, was translated by the late Shamsur Rahman Faruqi whose scholarship in Urdu literature included a four-volume study of Mir. The poet is among the more familiar names in the title—Mir’s poetry, travelling through time, remains popular on social media and among younger audiences. His inclusion in the book set attests to an overall intention. Here are centuries-old masters whose sur and ghazals can still sway people away from their doomscrolling. Nine Jewels is a celebration and an act of preservation—of literary traditions, histories and cultures, and most of all works of extraordinary imagination and conviction. In the words of Mir, “Remember the words I utter—you won’t hear such ever again”.