Rajesh Singh
Any suggestion for the revival of Sanskrit is today fraught with political implications. One could be denounced as being a Saffronite or a Hindutva character or a communal element, or all of these, since in the eyes of the secularists, they mean the same. Besides, there are those who see no purpose in expending energy over a language that is ‘dead’ (American philologist and Sanskritist Sheldon Pollock’s conclusion); a language that has collapsed under the weight of the “social monopolisation and discursive ritualisation” it was used for (Pollock again); and a language that was not used by the masses but restricted to the “Place” such as the courts and its high-caste courtiers (in Pollock’s opinion). It is true that Sanskrit has over the decades lost out as a medium of oral communication, with various vernaculars and Hindi taking its place. But the eagerness in some quarters to pronounce it dead is both misplaced and devious.
Pollock should have been the last person to harbour such funereal thoughts, given that he has dedicated a lifetime to the study of Sanskrit and Sanskriti, albeit lending to his interpretations a highly jaundiced, and to many Indians a deeply offensive, opinion. His stance has been further discredited by the overt political positions he has taken and his readiness to mix politics with academia. His willingness to align everything that he finds in ancient Sanskrit works such as the Vedas and the Ramayan with his pre-determined notion of caste- and gender-discrimination prevalent in Indian (or ‘Hindu’, for want of a better term) society, must have eventually given him sadistic pleasure over what he sees as the demise of Sanskrit.
And because he believes that Sanskrit fell by the wayside largely because of the malignant ways of caste-and-patriarchic Hindus, he shows tremendous reluctance in attributing the fall of the language from its preeminent position to the long periods of Mughal and British rules in the country. If he were to hold the monotheistic Muslim kings, and the British regimes (most notably its learned servant, the famous Thomas Babington Macaulay), additionally accountable, he would lessen the burden of guilt on Indians – not a prospect he looked forward to with relish because that would have disturbed his Left-leaning, Western-oriented theory crafted over decades.
But despite his best efforts and the propaganda that Sanskrit is dead – as dead as Latin or Greek – and can, therefore, at best be a subject matter of academic discussion and no more, this ancient language inextricably linked to the Indian cultural ethos, still breathes strong, though not so much in the realm of daily conversation. It was vibrant enough even in post-independent India; and it will come as a surprise to many Indians who have been fed on a contrary belief, that as recent as in the late 1950s, a Government-commissioned panel happily reported on the ‘living-ness’ of the language considered ‘dead’. And yet, if Sanskrit has not gained the traction it ought to have, the blame should lie squarely on the shoulders of successive Governments, and the secularists who played their petty games via the various regimes which did little to implement suggestions the panel made.
The Sanskrit Commission of 1956-1957, which had been commissioned by the Ministry of Education and Culture headed by Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, found to its pleasant surprise that a lot many people than it had expected across the country were tuned in to the language and concerned about its health. Panel Chairman Suniti Kumar Chatterji submitted before the Education Minister: “As Chairman of the Commission, I have nothing specially to bring to the notice of the Government, excepting that Government might give early consideration to our recommendations. As an educationist, who has been connected with linguistic and humanistic studies and research for over 40 years, I can only put in a plea before our national Government for the support of Sanskrit which forms one of the bases of the cultural and political unity of India. In my opinion, as a professor of linguistics who has not cut himself off from public contacts and public affairs, the rehabilitation of Sanskrit in Indian education and Indian public life, apart from the general cultural life of the people, will be a potent factor which the Government may well employ to fight the growing fissiparousness of linguism and to strengthen the bonds of unity…”
The reference to the promotion of Sanskrit to “fight the growing fissiparousness… and to strengthen the bonds of unity” among the Indian people, is contrary to the theory the likes of Pollock and his supporters have forwarded – of Sanskrit having become a means of discrimination and social divide. It also goes against the argument secularists have been pushing that the patronage of this language by a BJP-led Government would tantamount to foisting a Hindutva agenda.
The panel had strongly pitched for a robust education of Sanskrit at the school level (now, remember the massive outcry among secularists when tentative attempts had been made some two years ago to introduce Sanskrit as a subject, instead of German, in certain schools). It told the Government in its report, “The aim of education – particularly of General Education – can never be ‘thorough knowledge or nothing at all’. Provision must certainly be made even in Secondary Schools for a specialised study of Sanskrit. But the Compulsory General Course in Sanskrit would be intended mainly to give a pupil the necessary inkling into his cultural past, to arouse in him an interest in the language and literature of his ancestors, to afford him a wholesome training of mind and character, and to inculcate in him real respect for pure learning. Nobody ever thought of making every schoolboy a miniature Pandit.”
The Sanskrit Commission had gone to the extent of recommending that, barring certain exceptions, Sanskrit should be made a compulsory subject in schools. It said, “One need not fight shy of the element of compulsion involved here. It is indeed wrong to suppose that compulsion invariably breeds distaste and unpopularity. Something has to be made compulsory, because no one would ever think of leaving the choice of subjects to the immature judgement of a child. As Dr Radhakrishnan once said, the aim of education should be not only to teach a boy what he wants but also to make him want what we teach him.”