Women are not allowed to study or chant the Vedas. At the same time, you feel a new empathy, because you yourself are struggling as a student, all over again. You cannot teach students without getting ‘ultra-fussy’ about how they are pronouncing even letters of the alphabet, let alone words or verses. You cannot hear a pop Sanskrit recitation without poking holes in it. It reminds me of Vinatā’s instruction to Garuḍa in ‘ Ka’: ‘If you feel a firebrand in your throat, that’s a brahman.’ And you are permanently spoiled for ordinary aurality. I feel a fearful thrill pass through me that I’ve never experienced before. His demeanour, the depth and resonance of his voice, the clarity of his enunciation, his expression - all become semi divine. When he begins chanting after the preliminary greetings, he first closes his eyes and say ‘Om’ – and from that point he is transformed. He keeps picking up the needle and brings it back to the groove where you made your last mistake. Focus on one, and one or more of the others slip! The tutor is relentless. I’ve translated verses from Kālidāsa, from Bāṇa - how much harder could it possibly it get?Īs the Vedic chanting with a ṣṭāvadhana begins, I realize one has to focus simultaneously on Vedic accents, on the length of vowels, on perfectly pronouncing retroflexed and aspirated letters, on clipping a vowel or stressing a consonant when followed by a conjunct…and holding the base musical note. Having memorized tracts of poetry at school, reciting Shakespeare by heart and even having trained a little in classical music, I had quite an inflated opinion of my mental capabilities.
How difficult could that be after eight months of pre-training?Ī 19th century reproduction of the Rig Veda To chant even two words correctly, you need to focus on eight aspects – the a ṣṭāvadhana ( alpapr āṇa ḥ, mahapr āṇa ḥ, anunāsikaḥ, hrasvaḥ, dīrghaḥ, udātaḥ, anudātaḥ, svaritaḥ, parasavarṇaḥ). ‘Attention’ is not even close to what it means. I would not be allowed to utter a word from ‘Vedic’ texts before I had reached some level of purity in speech.īeing his student, avadh āna ceased to be a lexical entry, and became the sine qua non of learning.
In the first eight months, I was put through the paces of proper ucc āra ṇa (pronunciation) on ‘everyday’ mantras. But I had to prove my commitment and aptitude first. After some persuasion, he agreed to train me in Vedic chanting. As part of it, I met my tutor Śrī Narsimhayya Bhat, a Bangalore-based Vedic scholar, a Yajurvedī. In the process of popularizing Sanskrit on Twitter, I conceived of and became part of an initiative called #Sandhaanam, a valuable and highly successful service that connects students anywhere in the world with traditionally trained Sanskrit teachers in India. I imagined happily (and foolishly!) that there could not be a more intense engagement. With the children at University and my husband at work, I never had to think for a moment of what I would ‘do all day.’ There have been times when I began an assignment at 9 a.m., only to realize the day has passed when I heard my husband turn the key in the lock, returning from work. In the last five years I’ve gone from self-study, to passing a school-level exam, to the tutelage of some of the finest scholars in the world at SOAS, University of London. Learning Sanskrit has been the most intense academic experience of my life. Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Share on Linkedin Share on Google+
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