From the past

 

In ancient times, when we lived dharma instead of just identifying with it at theoretical level, like today’s theatrical lip service to religion through rituals, we were so tolerant as to even take harmless puns at Gods. As a satirist in a collection of ancient Sanskrit sayings takes a chutki in Subhashita Ratna Bhandgara:

Sleeps Lakshmi on a lotus flower,

Shiva sleeps on a snow-clad mountain,

Vishnu sleeps on a milky sea,

I think all of them

Are worried about bed bugs.

 

Weren’t our Gods very tolerant? Blind ritualism breeds intolerance and an elitist zealotry, a kind of gratuitous superiority or egotism. The scintillating accessories of faith have turned it into a lucrative business. And where there is business, there is greed. And then you have the resultant mad crackling of fear and insecurities. We have become very stern and strict presently.

The poor are very rich in laughter and the wealthy are very poor in laughing. A tenth century work named Dasarupaka of Dhananjya categorizes degrees of poverty and richness in the laughter of the people of different social strata. High class people are either miser or very poor in laughing quota. They just show a gentle smile (smita) or at the most a chuckle (hasita). The middle class people perform somewhat better and laugh with soft sound (vihasita) or at the most a type of laughter spliced with a bit of shaking of head (uphasita). And the so-called low class people hold rich bank account and enjoy roaring laughter with tears in eyes (apahasita) which usually graduates to a convulsive, uncontrolled laughter (atihasita).

Family discords can take classical shape. Sas and bahu can call each other Kulavyadhi (disease of the family), Kalahapriya (fond of discord), Jatasura (matted hair demon), Ajnanasri (rich in ignorance), Vyadhisindhu (ocean of illness), Aturantaka (killer of the sick).

Here is a dig at unworthy officials in Sukti Muktavali:

Scarcely any understanding, knowledge or learning,

not even any skill except fawning,

Minister, how do you still feel unfortunate and unrewarded?

 

Here is something from a sixteenth century work Subhashitavali (Garland of the Well-said Verses):

He possesses the beauty of full moon,

and sounds honeyed as a cuckoo when he speaks,

His caress and kiss is swooning like a pigeon,

Walks he as if he’s a regal swan,

Almost crushes he a woman in his strong arms

with the raw power of an elephant,

Such is my praiseworthy spouse,

All women and girls worship him,

I can’t see any problem,

except that he is my husband.

 

And in the same work here is an ode to a genius:

Other’s words are meaningless to him,

Nobody can read his script either,

The eccentric thing is that

he hardly can make out

what he himself has jotted down.

 

And here is something my own: Many a time the triumph of law is simply a mockery of justice.

So we writers have had our own peculiar ways of taking digs at even the strong and the mighty.