POTHANA, The Poet of God's Story by P.R. Krishnaswamy, M.A., TRIVENI, November 1948

POTANA, THE POET OF GOD’S STORY

By P. R. Krishnaswami, M.A.

IN ancient India the poet was indeed a “maker” in an absolute sense. The words of the true poet were so potent as to shape reality. The story is told of King Bhoja that he was eager to know the epitaph that Kalidasa would write on his death, and he begged the great poet to rehearse the composition of the verse. The poet refused to comply with the request, for if he supposed the king’s death in his verse, the king must be dead in truth. The King’s curiosity was irrepressible. He went in disguise and surprised the poet one day with the news of the king’s death. Kalidasa burst forth with a verse immediately, and the disguised man fell dead to the ground. The King’s identity was immediately known and Kalidasa was shocked. He had however only to resay his verse, changing the original words cleverly so as to indicate that the King was alive on earth, to bring back the King to life.

The highest poetry is the poetry of devotion to God, and the great poet who turns only to God for inspiration scorns earthly and material wealth. He does not resort to kings’ courts, but lives in secluded independence He lives and prospers by his faith in, and entire dependence on, God, and he necessarily undergoes many hardships in life, because of his uncompromising idealism. Potana, the Telugu poet who lived in the fifteenth century was a poet of such an exalted ideal. He translated the Bhagavatam, the stories of God Vishnu, from Sanskrit into Telugu. This translation is of such literary worth that it bears the impress of original work. The Hindu conception of Vishnu and his incarnations is full of splendour and poetic inspiration. “For the protection of the virtuous and the destruction of the wicked, for establishing righteousness, I am born, in age after age,” said the Lord God. God is a knight- errant labouring to establish righteousness in age after age. This splendid conception became naturally a great inspiration to devotees and to poets.

Potana was a farmer holding the plough on his own field. He refused to go to courts. He wrote melodious poetry in which narrative and description were utilised in the service of establishing devotion to Vishnu. The Bhagavatam is the collection of stories describing the life and achievements of each great incarnation of God Vishnu. Each of these stories is told attractively, though Potana’s task was only that of a translator. While preserving his loyalty to the Sanskrit original, improved on it, making it accessible to thousands of readers to whom Sanskrit is a closed door. Potana made his translation explanatory and what was stated too concisely in the original was elaborated clearly in the language of the common people. Telugu, like Malayalam, has cherished the tradition of enriching its language with the incorporation of the beautiful and delicate expressions of Sanskrit. The emotional qualities of Potana’s style draw our fervent admiration. Love, devotion, and heroism are all blended to produce a surpassing effect, to enthrall the mind of the reader or the hearer. The heroic deeds of Sri Krishna, Prahalada’s invincible faith in Vishnu as against the traditional attitude of his family, and the story of “The Elephant-King’s Emancipation are among the extraordinary parts of Potana’s work. Krishna the lover and Krishna the suitor for Rukmini’s hand are delightfully depicted. The beauty of Potana’s poetry goes deeper than melody, racy narrative, and apt description. He has a profound understanding of good and evil. Evil is purely negative and must get absorbed in good sooner or later. The wicked beings who appear as God’s adversaries are so only temporarily, and receive the grace of God soon after. As a creative artist, Potana must claim his place with the greatest of the world. Like Shakespeare he humanizes the villains from whom it is impossible to withhold sympathy on several occasions. Hiranyakasipu, the father of Prahlada is an instance. By family tradition he was opposed to the worship of Vishnu, and yet his son was bursting into ardent devotion for Vishnu in spite of all the efforts to direct his mind another way. The father remonstrates gently with his son about this, but the son is unalterable. The language used by Hiranyakasipu is reflective at once of deep affection and concern for his son, and of sharp disappointment that the son expresses his allegiance to the Enemy of his own race of Asuras. In the story of Bali again, another adversary of God, we are touched by Bali’s high sense of honour. The Lord God Vishnu has chosen to be born on earth as Vamana, the dwarf-Brahmin who approaches Bali to ask for a gift, of just three feet of earth. This is a trick, for in measuring three feet, Vamana means to grow to an infinite stature, so that his three feet cover the upper, the lower and the middle worlds. Sukrachari, Bali’s family priest, utters a note of warning and tries his best to prevent the fulfilment of the gift to Vamana. Though apprised of the peril lying ahead, Bali is unshaken in his generous resolve to make the gift. Was it not a great and coveted privilege to be the giver, with one’s palm held higher while pouring down the ceremonial water of sanctifying a gift, while the palm of the Lord Himself is below, in the role of the recipient of the gift? For the moment Bali speaks the language of the ardent devotee of Vishnu in detailing His greatness. Critics have sometimes said that Bali was actuated by vanity, and this was a weakness on which Vishnu appropriately wrought to achieve His purpose. A better explanation is that Bali retained his gentlemanly sense even in the calamitous hour when the prospect of losing his kingdom faced him.

Potana was a Brahmin born at Vontimitta (the one-hilled) in Cudapah district in the year 1300 of the Salivahan era, corresponding to 1377A.D. One of his works is dated in the reign of the great Devaraya of Vijayanagar who reigned from 1422 to 1447. So Potana’s work belongs to the 15th century. When all other poets lived comfortably under royal patronage, Potana preferred to endure poverty. Srinatha, the brother of Potana’s wife, also a great poet lived in affluence, enjoying the patronage of the Reddi chiefs.

While wandering in the neighbouring town of Vontimitta, Potana, while yet a boy, received the favour of a sage known as Jithananda who initiated him in the mysteries of poetic creation. Actuated by the resolution to render the Bhagavatham into Telugu, Potana journeyed to the Ganges, and meditated on Rama the great incarnation of Vishnu. Sri Rama appeared in person, expressed approval of Potana’s great aim, and disappeared. Though Sri Rama is mentioned at the beginning, Potana names Sri Krishna as the divinity to whom he dedicates his work.

The purity, simplicity, and beauty of Potana’s style are remarkable. How did such chaste writing belong only to the Cudapah district, and not to any other part of the Telugu country? In fact, spoken Telugu is nowhere so free of dialectal eccentricities as in the region long known as the Ceded districts. Could it be due to the fact that the neighbourhood of the two sister languages of the same stock, Kannada and Tamil, helps to check eccentric developments in Telugu?

A number of legends have grown about the life events of Potana, and these invest the name with a perpetual romance. Potana’s story attracted the making of a film picture some years ago, which thousands witnessed eagerly. Fortunately for us, the great scholar Nagapudi Kuppuswami Aiyar has told the story of Potana concisely and clearly in his Preface to the monumental edition of the Bhagavatam published originally by Messrs. V. Venkatakrishriama Chetty and Sons. The legends are of miracles which testify to Potana’s invincible faith in Vishnu, by which God came to his succor every time he was faced with personal danger. Once God descended in the form of a white boar to rid him of the obnoxious messengers of a chieftain, who went to coerce him into dedicating his work to the chieftain. A famous stanza in the story of the Elephant-king is said to have been written by God himself, when Potana had temporarily left his script, feeling quite unable to continue his writing.

The most significant legends are however associated with the attempts made by Srinatha, the poet’s brother-in law, to induce Potana to dedicate his great poem to the ruler of the Carnatic. Srinatha wanted to impress on Potana the splendour of his own life, and the great powers wielded by him. Potana’s son was holding the plough, and Potana sitting by, as Srinatha rode along in his palanquin. With a view to make a demonstration, Srinatha asked the palanquin-bearers in the fore-part to let go their hold, and the palanquin continued to move as before. When Mallana the son reported the wonder to his father, the latter bade his men take off one of the two oxen drawing the plough, and the plough was found to move on as before. Srinatha next asked the bearers of the hind part to go off, and still the palanquin moved on. Potana however retorted by letting go the second ox of the plough, and the plough still moved on as before. The delighted Srinatha stepped down from his vehicle and offered his greetings to Potana.

With a numerous company Srinatha arrived at Potana’s house, as if to put to test his capacity to feed the guests. There were not sufficient provisions at home, and Potana made a vain attempt to borrow, sending out his son for the purpose. He then prayed to the goddess Sarasvati who bade him erect a screen at the end of the dining room. Meanwhile Srinatha arranged his company to sit down for the meal and demanded it of his sister. Plates and basins of food appeared miraculously behind the screen and Potana’s wife was in a position to serve a sumptuous meal to all the guests, according to the story.

Once again Srinatha begged of his brother-in-law to dedicate his Bhagavatam to a royal personage and so earn the means of a comfortable life, giving up his poverty. Potana almost yielded to this when Sarasvati (Goddess of Learning) stood before him with tears flowing from her eyes. Potana put an end to her misery by assuring her that he would not dedicate his work to a mere mortal.

Another story is of a critical exchange between Potana and Srinatha over a stanza which occurs in the narrative of the Elephant-king. Potana tells us the Lord God is upset by the piteous cry of the elephant for protection when attacked by a crocodile, and He rushes forth towards the elephant, without a moment’s preparation. He neither tells his consort Lakshmi nor puts on his divine weapons, Sankha and Chakra. Nor does he requisition his vehicle, Garuda, the king of the birds. He hardly adjusts even his clothes after leaving his couch–such is the haste with which God proceeds to give succour to his devotee. Srinatha mocked at this stanza. Was God so thoughtless as to run to see the elephant without weapons to kill the enemy with? Did he go to see fun? Potana heard the criticism in silence only to wait for an opportunity to give a crushing retort. The next morning Srinatha sat shampooing his head and body with oil, before his bath. Potana hid Srinatha’s son somewhere, and went to the back of the house and pushed a heavy stone into the well, and hastened to tell Srinatha that his son had fallen into the well. Shocked and started, with disarranged hair, dripping oil and wearing scanty clothes on his person, Srinatha hurried to the well, and peeped into it. Potana kept on asking, why this haste? Where is a ladder, and where the ropes with which to rescue the fallen boy? Where are the men who will dive in the water? Did you come to see fun? It was for Potana to explain that the Lord God if as the same anxiety about the safety of his devotees as that which a father owes his son.

The Bhagavatam is an imperishable monument to Potana’s glory. It is a work of beauty, a source of perpetual joy to all who hold the key to the Telugu language, whatever their own mother-tongue may be. The Bhagavatam embodies the most inspiring form of the Hindu faith. The music and melody of the poetry are untranslatable, and it will be worth pains of any Hindu to master the Telugu language, the Italian of India, to be able to enjoy Potana’s Bhagavatam.

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