A6 Mandsaur Inscription of the Silk Weavers

Substrate Siddham ID: OB00036

Material stone (sandstone) Object type slab

Dimensions width 80 cm height 44 cm depth 12 cm

Discovery 1884, built into steps by a temple of Śiva in Mandsaur (probably near 24°03’20”N 75°04’23”E) Current location Gujri Mahal Museum, Gwalior (in storage)

Inscription Siddham ID: IN00040

Dimensions width 78 cm height 40 cm Char size 6 mm Line height 15–18 mm Date CE 473 Basis of dating dated Mālava 529 expired, Tapasya śukla 2 (l39)

Topic renovation of a damaged Sun temple by the guild of silk weavers who were also the patrons of the original construction of the temple 36 years earlier

Persons mentioned Kumāragupta, Viśvavarman, Bandhuvarman, Vatsabhaṭṭi Places mentioned Daśapura

Compendia CII3 18; CII3rev 35; Bh List 6 & 8; SI III.24; GKA 352–355; IGE 40 Other editions Fleet 1886a; Bühler 1890, 91–96

Description

The inscribed object is a sandstone slab about 80 centi-metres wide by 44 tall and approximately 12 centicenti-metres thick. The slab is rectangular, but the sides are roughly cut and not quite straight, nor do they meet at exact right angles. It was discovered by J. F. Fleet’s agents sent to Mandsaur to procure a rubbing of the Sondhni pillar inscription (A11, A12) that had been reported earlier, and to look for other objects of interest in the vicinity. At this time it was “built into the wall on the right hand half-way down a small flight of steps leading to the river in front of the mediaeval temple of the god Mahâdêva (Śiva) at the Mahâdêva-Ghât, which is on the south bank of the river, just opposite the fort, and I think, in the limits of the hamlet of Chandrapurâ” (Fleet 1886a, 195). This place is probably the site of the modern Pasupatinath temple at 24°03’20”N 75°04’23”E.

The stone is currently kept in a storeroom at the Gujri Mahal Museum of Gwalior, where I was allowed to see and photograph it in January 2017. Unfortunately, the weight of the slab and the darkness and clutter of the store-room prevented close study or the taking of clear photos.

The inscription was probably moved to this museum by M. B. Garde, and traces of mortar along the bottom edge of the inscribed surface (but outside the inscribed campus) indicate that it was probably exhibited at some point in a manner similar to how other inscriptions are currently exhibited at the museum. In view of its extraordinary importance, I hope that the inscription will once again be displayed to the public in the near future.

The inscribed area covers almost the whole front of the stone, about 78 centimetres in width and 40 centimetres in height, with a slightly wider margin at the bottom. The text comprises 24 lines spaced 1.5 centimetres or a little more apart, with character bodies about 6 millimetres tall. The face of the stone was polished, but is now quite weathered in places which, combined with the shallow-ness of the engraving, impedes reading the text at some points. There are also a number of shallow scratches, mostly horizontal, which may have been caused by objects hauled down to the river along the ghāṭ where the slab was installed. Parts of the surface also appear to have been worn smoother than they should have been when the inscription was fresh, possibly by the hands of the devout touching the inscription over the course of centuries. Finally, some chipping along the edges has caused the loss of a few characters at the beginnings of lines 1 and 11 to 13.

The discovery of the inscription was first reported by Peter Peterson, who mentioned it in his discussion of another epigraph and, admirably, remarked that “I should very much like to publish it in full. But my friend Mr. Fleet … destines the inscription for his forthcoming Gupta volume: and in deference to whatever may be his rights of treasure-trove in the matter I willingly refrain from doing more now than adducing what is necessary to the matter in hand” (Peterson 1885, 380 n. 2). Fleet (1886a) published the edition in the Indian Antiquary before the appearance of the Corpus Inscriptionum. Subsequently Georg Bühler (1890, 91–96) also edited the text and several scholars proposed improvements to its reading, including

Figure 18: Mandsaur inscription of the silk weavers. Inked rubbing from Bhandarkar (CII3rev Plate 35).

A6 Mandsaur Inscription of the Silk Weavers 89

Figure 19: Mandsaur inscription of the silk weavers. Composite digital photo by the author, 2017. Courtesy of Gujri Mahal Museum, Gwalior.

R. G. Bhandarkar (1889, 94–97), Franz Kielhorn (1890a), Pandit Durgaprasad (Durgâprasâd and Parab 1892, 107–12 no. 26), Panna Lall (1918, 15–18) and Jagannath Agrawal (1941, 60, 1986a, 1986a, 79–86).

Script and Language

The script of this epigraph is of the rounded variety of Mālavan late Brāhmī, but the ductus seems to have been influenced by the angular style. Characters tend to be quite narrow in comparison to other rounded scripts. There is also a noticeable tendency to transform curves into right angles, for which the flat bottoms of the tripartite ya and the looped ma, and the bent left arms of pa, ba and ṣa (resembling the forms used in the box-headed script of the Deccan) are good illustrations. Acute angles, however only appear in a few characters, notably ca (beaked as in other rounded scripts, but also acute angled at the bottom instead of rounded) and bha (in which the angular left arm attaches to the middle of the slightly right-slanting leg). The triangular headmarks are often flattened, resem-bling serifs.

Other hallmarks of the rounded variety include the long, hooked verticals of a, ka and ra as well as the looped ṇa and the curled tail of la, which can take a gamut of shapes from a high vertical curling left only above the top of the body, to a low vertical curling over the body and down on the left. Ga and śa are rounded at the top; their outline may be barrel-shaped or oblong. Da has a quad-rangular body, from which ḍa is distinguished by a rather triangular or rounded body and a tail pointing down and right. Several specimens of ḍha also occur, which have a flat bottom ending in a large loop so that the character closely resembles pha.¹¹³ According to Bose (1938, 327) the inscription employs two varieties of kha,¹¹⁴ but this does not seem to be the case to me; all instances of kha have a quadrangular base, executed with a slightly varying degree of cursive rounding. Apart from a, which has the standard Gupta form, initial vowels are represented by i, formed of a double arch over a pair of dots. Among dia-critical vowels, ā, e and o are consistently horizontal, bending down at a right angle; only ai and au include a slanted stroke above the body. I is a closed circle, while ī is a circle with a small vertical stroke at the centre of

113 Fleet (1886a, 195–96) points out these forms of ḍa and ḍha as distinctly northern in a script that otherwise has mostly southern characteristics.

114 Namely, one with a square base in lekha (l23) and one with a triangular base in skhalitā° (l2), asukhā° (l3) and lekhaka (l24).

its bottom. U and ū take various forms depending on the character they are attached to. M and ṇ attach their vowel strokes at the body, though ṇ can also take ā at the top, with a dip to separate the vowel mark from the right wing of the character (e.g. vibhūṣaṇāyāḥ, l4). L changes its shape when vowels other than ā attach to it: its tail is cut short if l is combined with i or ī; it is likewise cut short and ends in a serif when combined with e which in this case is a slanting śiromātrā, while lo has the cursive looped form standard in southern scripts.

Jihvāmūlīya (resembling ma) and upadhmānīya (box with a cross) are both used repeatedly, e.g. jagatax kṣayā° and °udayayof pāyāt, both in line 1. Rather than a superscript above the following consonant, they are level with regular characters and force the following con-sonant to a subscript position. Their use is inconsistent and the regular visarga seems to replace them randomly (e.g. bhugnaiḥ kvacit, l5; gabhastibhiḥ pravisṛtaif puṣṇāti, l2. Halanta forms of t, n and m occur and, where clear, they are all reduced subscript forms with a horizontal line above them. Two punctuation marks are used: a short horizontal line (transcribed in the edition below as a single daṇḍa) and a short double vertical (transcribed as a double daṇḍa). Although their use is not entirely con-sistent, most half-verses are closed by the horizontal mark (though it is repeatedly omitted), while most full-verse ends are marked by the double vertical (though some only have the single horizontal and verse 3 has no mark at the end). In fact, this inscription is probably the earli-est known use of this two-tiered verse punctuation that is the norm to this day (Bühler 1896, 85, 1904, 89). Most, but not all, of the half or full verses that lack punctuation end in a visarga or a halanta character, so these may, to some degree, double as punctuation marks. However, actual marks do occur in combination with both (e.g. yogibhiḥ|, l1; āsīt‖ l14). When visarga appears in conjunction with a punctuation dash, the latter may appear between the vis

arga’s dots (yogibhiḥ|, l1) or after them (vakṣaḥ|, l22). The double mark is also used after the brief prose benedictions at the very end of the text.

As regards orthography, consonants are as a rule doubled after r, and this gemination may even take place when the conjunct has an additional member (e.g.

°bhir ddhyānai°, l1; compare harmya, l17). Occasionally, however, consonants remain single after r (e.g. vidur brahma°, l1; °ānyair mṛdubhir, l11; bhūtair mukta, l11).

Conversely, gemination of consonants before r is rare (e.g.

sitābbhra, l6; yattra, l7; vicittra, l9; roddhra, l18; roddhre, l22). Even more rare is gemination before y, which only happens to th and dh (svāddhyāya, l8 and patthyaṃ, l9;

°bhir ddhyānai° in l1 may also be driven by the following y

A6 Mandsaur Inscription of the Silk Weavers 91

rather than by the preceding r). The vowel mark for sonant ṛ alternates randomly with ri, although some or all of the instances of ri where ṛ is expected may in fact consist of the mātrā for ṛ (rather than a subscript r) combined with i (see e.g. prithivīṃ, l13; smritvā, l16).

Visarga before s alternates with s (e.g. gaṇais sid

dhaiś, l1; narais saṃstūyate, l2; compare e.g. hamsaiḥ sva, l5; pariniṣṭhitāḥ sucarita, l9) in addition to its alternation with jihvāmūlīya before velars and upadhmānīya before labials described above. The use of anusvāra is close to standard but there are occasional deviations. Anusvāra may randomly appear where a nasal conjunct is expected (e.g. kṣībāṃganā, l2; siṃduvāra, l21; daṃturakāṃta, l22;

also baṃdhv, l15, but bandhu three times in the same stanza and again baṃdhu in l16). Conversely, homorganic nasals are sometimes used instead of anusvāra before dental and velar consonants (puran tilaka, l4; saṅgatair, l8; saman nayanā°, l17; śāśvatan tāvad, l23), but there are no instances of a nasal consonant before sibilants or h.

The use of anusvāra instead of a halanta m also occurs at the ends of full or half-verses, and this appears to be much more frequent near the end of the inscription (bhāṣituṃ‖, l9; gṛhaṃ‖, l20; dvitīyāyāṃ‖, l21; madayaṃtikānāṃ|, l21;

jaṭānāṃ|, l23). When the anusvāra belongs to an akṣara with an i or ī mātrā, the dot representing the anusvāra is engraved to the right of the vowel mark. Thus viṃśaty (l21) is transcribed as viśaṃty and emended to viṃśaty by all previous editors except Bühler. However, compare siṃdu

vāra a little further on in the same line and prithivīṃ in l13, which only differ from viṃśaty in that the anusvāra is more evidently connected to the akṣara with the i mark.

The language is decent standard Sanskrit. The spelling is unusually neat with very few errors. Interesting among these is saridvayena instead of sariddvayena (l7) which, instead of the omission of a component of the ligature, may be an extension of the non-standard (but epigraph-ically very common) practice of spelling tattva and sattva with a single t (instances in this inscription are found in lines 2 and 11). As for grammar, the text has few downright mistakes (for instance, spṛśann in v38, which should be neuter to agree with gṛham in gender), but there are many spots where the syntax is awkward. Bühler has analysed the poetry at length (1890, 9–29, translated to English in 1913, 137–48) and pointed out specific problems with the grammar (1890, 27–28, = 1913, 146–47). His overall impres-sion (1890, 10, 20, = 1913, 138, 146), with which I agree, is that the author Vatsabhaṭṭi attempted to follow the standards of high kāvya at a level that exceeded his tech-nical skill. His metaphors and similes are in many places forced, and even where his ideas are impressive, they are not elegantly expressed by his language. Sometimes

crucial words are missing and need to be supplied,¹¹⁵ while at other times his phrasing is redundant.¹¹⁶ His imagery is often repetitive, sometimes down to the words expressing those images.¹¹⁷ All that said, there are some saving graces in the composition in the form of creative ideas elegantly expressed.¹¹⁸

Bühler also highlights some points of resemblance to Kālidāsa’s poems. Most particularly, he suggests (1890, 18) that verse 10 of the inscription may be an attempt to outdo Kālidāsa’s Meghadūta 65 where the lofty houses of the city of Alakā with charming women residing in them are likened to the cloud messenger with its lightning, while in Vatsabhaṭṭi’s verse women inside and pennants outside the cloudlike houses of Daśapura are simultane-ously likened to lightning. Bühler also feels that verse 11 recycles all details of Kālidāsa’s verse not used in verse 10, though this claim involves a bit of a stretch.¹¹⁹ Kielhorn (1890a, 253) in turn points to verse 31, describing the com-forts to be enjoyed in winter and the hot-season comcom-forts to be avoided at this time, saying it is based on verses 5.1–2 of the Ṛtusaṃhāra,¹²⁰ which is commonly (though prob-ably incorrectly) attributed to Kālidāsa (Lienhard 1984, 107–8). Bühler (1890, 24) notices this parallelism too, while Basham (1983, 93, 96) goes so far as to say that the inscription’s best stanzas are plagiarised from Kālidāsa, though he does not feel the need to support this claim with specific evidence. The parallelism with the Ṛtusaṃhāra verses, in the choice of words as well as in meaning, is

115 In verse 4, for instance, the only thing that passes for a subject is pṛathitaśilpāḥ, “having a famous craft,” and the verb only comes at the end of the following verse.

116 For example, °ekāgraparair in verse 1 and tulyopamānāni in verse 10 say essentially the same thing twice.

117 Thus trees bent down by the weight of their flowers are men-tioned in verses 4 (kusumabharānatataruvara), 6 (puṣpāvanam

rataru) and 9 (svapuṣpabhārāvanatair nnagendrair), with lotuses bent down by the weight of their filaments added for good measure in verse 8 (svakesarodārabharāvabhugnaiḥ… amburuhaiś). The sentence at the core of both verses 7 and 8 is sarāṃsi … bhānti,

“the lakes … shine;” these two stanzas also mention lotuses no less than three times. Swarms of bees drunk on honey are referred to in stanzas 32 and 41.

118 These, by my subjective taste, include verse 13 comparing Daśapura between two rivers to the god Kāma lying between his two wives; and verse 20, an aphorism that says women need to be dressed in silk to attain their full beauty.

119 See also my translation and the next note for a possible second layer of meaning in verse 11.

120 niruddhavātāyanamandirodaraṃ hutāśano bhānumato gab

hastayaḥ| gurūṇi vāsāṃsy abalāḥ sayauvanāḥ prayānti kāle tra janasya sevyatām‖ na candanaṃ candramarīciśītalaṃ na harmya

pṛṣṭhaṃ śaradindunirmalam| na vāyavaḥ sāndratuṣāraśītalā janasya cittaṃ ramayanti sāmpratam‖

indeed striking enough to indicate that Vatsabhaṭṭi prob-ably drew on that text.¹²¹ In general, however, most of his imagery is commonplace and probably not based on a particular text, though Bühler is clearly right to say that he must have been familiar with many works of classical poetry.

Bühler (1890, 11) further criticises the poet for fre-quently employing “der schwachen Pause,” an in- compound word boundary (rather than a boundary of independent words) at the ends of the odd quarters of some upendravajrā and numerous vasantatilakā stanzas.

I prefer to consider this a permissible licence, and note that although the phenomenon has not, to my knowl-edge, been studied statistically, such “weak caesurae” are in my experience not uncommon after the odd pādas of vasantatilakā and triṣṭubhclass metres. That said, Bühler (ibid.) may be right, along with Sircar (1965b, 300), in flag-ging verse 33 (an āryā stanza) as defective, since it has a compound that carries over from the first half-verse to the second. Note, however, that this does occur occasionally in anuṣṭubh (though I know of no examples in āryā), and that the entire verse is a single compound. Sircar (1965b, 305 n. 5) sees this as yet another score against the poet, though it may in fact be a playful exercise emphasised by the lack of a proper break at the half-verse point. The deliberate transgression of poetic rules or conventions for heightened effect is sadly understudied in Sanskrit poetry. In this particular case, it is perhaps relevant that the stanza is not a conventional (pathyā) āryā but a vipulā one, lacking a caesura after the third foot of the first half.

This variation of the āryā pattern is definitely sanctioned by convention. Vatsabhaṭṭi must have been aware of this and in fact seems to have winked at his reader by using the word vipula in the first half-verse as a hint. Sircar (1965b, 300) also notices a faulty caesura in verse 39, but to me it seems like just another vipulā (this time with the caesura missing in the second half). Moreover, it even adheres to the additional convention that the sixth foot of the first half, when consisting of four short syllables, must contain an extra caesura after the first of those syllables – and the two caesurae in the first half correspond perfectly to the members of the addition required to obtain the date.

To continue with unusual caesurae, verse 16 in the hariṇī metre has a slur at the first caesura of the second pāda,

121 Verse 32 of the inscription, describing berries rattling on a branch shaken by a wintry wind (see note 166 on page 107) is also rather reminiscent of Ṛtusaṃhāra 4.10 (pākaṃ vrajantī hima śīta

pātair ādhūyamānā satataṃ marudbhiḥ| priye priyaṅguḥ priya

viprayuktā vipāṇḍutāṃ yāti vilāsinīva ‖), though the details of the image differ.

while verse 38 (āryā) has an obscured caesura in the second half.¹²²

Commentary

This inscription is frequently referred to as one of Kumāragupta and Bandhuvarman, and it is also known as the inscription of the Mālava years 493 and 529. Both are misleading, since the inscription is a single text com-posed and engraved in ME 529, as Fleet himself empha-sises (1886a, 196, CII3, 80–81). At this time Kumāragupta I was history. The king currently reigning in Daśapura, if there was one, is not named and had no involvement in the inscription (see page 95 below for further discussion), which was commissioned by the guild of the silk weavers.

Its subject is the restoration of a damaged temple to Sūrya, originally commissioned in ME 493 by the same guild.¹²³

After an opening siddham, the first three stanzas praise the sun god (asking for his blessings in the first and third and paying homage to him in the second). Verse 4 introduces a group of men who originally hailed from the country of Lāṭa, while verse 5 relates that they became

Im Dokument Dániel Balogh Inscriptions of the Aulikaras and Their Associates (Seite 109-132)