Rightly or wrongly, Doniger’s translation captured a renewed sense of immediacy, a feeling that the Kamasutra was about ‘people like us’. She asserted that the book had plenty to teach modern lovers. ‘Americans in particular have made a cult of pleasure without any of the constraints that the Kamasutra teaches,’ she frowned. ‘They have turned sex into pornography and food into an occasion for unhealthy gorging’. Her book’s introduction described pleasure as a ‘legitimate goal’ but one that ‘must not be indulged in a thoughtless, brutal way.’ Or, as the Kamasutra put it (in her own English words), ‘Pleasures are a means of sustaining the body, just like food, and they are rewards for religion and power. But people must be aware of the flaws in pleasures.’
From Arbuthnot and Burton through to Comfort and Daniélou, the West has looked into the book of love and found sexual liberation. Should it now open the Kamasutra and discover sexual discipline instead? Vatsyayana’s final verses conclude, after all, that ‘a man who knows the real meaning of this text’ is ‘ a man who has truly conquered his senses’. This does not mean overcoming the senses by strangling them, however. The Kamasutra is clearly not advocating passionless celibacy. Nor does it mean acquiring control over one’s own and one’s lovers’ orgasms – though this is important. It means cultivating the raw material of sexual desire and, ultimately, turning it into art. Between lovers who have conquered their senses, sex becomes a sophisticated communication, a performance with the partner as the cherished audience. And beyond the act of lovemaking, sex in a wider sense becomes a microcosm of civilization. In the Kamasutra, sex is mannered, moral, social and, above all, civilized – precisely because it is an integral part of civilization.
Vatsyayana wrote his book of love because he feared that sexual learning had become so dangerously fractured it risked being lost. He succeeded in rescuing that learning – the Kamasutra still exists today, after all, as the pre-eminent monument of a civilization that attempted to turn the passions into art. Vatsyayana did not succeed, however, in defending erotic culture from its own tendency to fragment. The monument that is the book of love now stands like a crumbling palace on a faraway hilltop: marvellous but uninhabitable. Even as the Kamasutra’s many translators, publishers and commentators have sought to build new sexual civilizations by quarrying that palace for foundation stones, they have only contributed to its ruin, to the very fragmentation that Vatsyayana struggled against. To seek lessons in the book of love inevitably involves excising them from the context in which they were written; and to take the sex out of a civilization means taking the civilization out of sex.
If a moral must be drawn from the book of love it surely lies not in Vatsyayana’s sutras – no matter how high his meditation when he composed them or how perfect his chastity – but in the story of how they were read. It is the story of how the palace of pleasures that is the Kamasutra was occupied by decadent descendants of the original owners who used its walls as backdrop for their exquisite dramas and cavorted in its bedchambers before abandoning it and leaving it to the jungle; of how, after hundreds of years, it was rediscovered by foreign explorers who fought their way to it through thickets, then stripped its fine interiors, carted off its antiquities to Indological museums, and sold its choicest furnishings on the pornographic black market; of how it is visited today by millions of admiring tourists – most of whom see only its splendid bedroom.
Note on Sanskrit Spelling and Pronunciation
This book follows the usual popular forms for transliterating familiar Sanskrit words and names into English, rather than the scholarly system. It describes, therefore, the god Shiva, not the more technically correct iva, and refers to shastras not astras. Indologists, it is felt, will know where the accents belong.
, the Sanskrit word for ‘desire’ or ‘sexual pleasure’ is given as kama not kma. Sutra, meaning ‘thread’ or ‘aphorism’, is rendered as sutra not stra. (The macron is properly used to indicate a long vowel sound.) It means, confusingly enough, that in BBC English at least kama is pronounced in much the same way as the even better-known Sanskrit word karma, meaning ‘action’ or ‘result’. The first syllable of sutra is pronounced like ‘hoot’, not ‘nut’.
Similarly, the author of the Kamasutra appears as Vatsyayana not Vtsyyana. Note that in spoken English the stresses in the name fall more in the pattern of O’Flaherty than, say, Richard Burton. The two-word English title, Kama Sutra, is used only for the proper name of the 1883 translation – The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana, in full – or for other, later English editions, which also chose to split the word into its two constituent parts.
Bibliographical Essay
The most accessible English translation of the Kamasutra is the recent one by Wendy Doniger and Sudhir Kakar (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002). The English is clear and nicely phrased, and the notes superb. It also has a very good bibliography. The 1883 Kamasutra, aka the ‘Burton’ edition, is fascinating in its own right; Penguin Popular Classics do a useful, inexpensive edition, The Kama Sutra (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1997). The full 1883 text, including footnotes, can also be viewed online at www.sacred-texts.com/sex/kama/index.htm
Chapters 1 and 2: India
Readers interested in the key texts of ancient India may want to begin at the beginning with translations of the Rig Veda, by Wendy Doniger O’Flaherty (London: Penguin Classics, 1981), and of the major Upanisads, by Patrick Olivelle (Oxford: Oxford World’s Classics, 1996). Arguably a more entertaining read than either is the epic poem, The Mahabharata; the translation of the critical edition begun by J.A.B. Van Buitenen (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1973), and continued by other hands, is a recognized classic. An excellent alternative is the Clay Sanskrit Library’s ongoing Mahabharata project, in which each of the original’s books comes as a separate volume and has a different bibliographical essay translator. The best guide through the maze of myths surrounding Shiva, in the Puranas and the Mahabharata, is undoubtedly Wendy Doniger O’Flaherty’s Asceticism and Eroticism in the Mythology of Siva (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1973), retitled Siva: The Erotic Ascetic (New York: Galaxy, 1981).
The Kamasutra’s siblings make for drier reading. Wendy Doniger and Brian K. Smith’s Laws of Manu (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1991) and Patrick Olivelle’s Manu’s Code of Law (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 2005) are both excellent; the former has a livelier style. Penguin India currently publishes a 900-page paperback of L.N. Rangarajan’s translation of Kautilya’s Arthashastra (New Delhi: Penguin India, 1992), but the most accurate translation is that in the hard-to-find second volume of R.P. Kangle’s three-volume critical edition (Bombay: University of Bombay, 1960–65). As an alternative, the text of the 1925 Shamashastry translation of the Arthashastra can be viewed at www.mssu.edu/projectsouth asia/history/primarydocs/Arthashastra/index.htm
For an overview of ancient Indian history, Daily Life in Ancient India: from 200BC to 700AD, by the French Orientalist Jeannine Auboyer, translated by Simon Watson Taylor (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1961) is a splendidly evocative description of social, religious, political and economic structures of the era. The drawback is that Auboyer conjures a monocultural society from the various sources without too much critical reflection on their contexts. Early India: From the Origins to AD 1300 (Berkeley, Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2002), by Romila Thapar, Professor Emeritus in History at the Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, takes a more nuanced, diachronic view. It is chiefly concerned with the emergence of political and economic structures, however, and as a consequence is a drier read than Auboyer. The best survey of the world of the shastras is found in Shastric Traditions in Indian Arts, edited by Anna Libera Dallapiccola (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1989).
There is surprisingly little specific literature on Indian sexual culture. David Smith’s The Hindu Erotic: Exploring Hinduism and Sexuality (London: I.B. Tauris, 2007) is a fascinating treatment of the topic. Smith is a genuine authority and writes stylishly.
Not counting Wendy Doniger and Sudhir Kakar’s landmark introduction to their Oxford edition of the Kamasutra, there are three key academic essays in English on the Kamasutra: Wendy Doniger, ‘On Translating the Kamasutra: A Gurudakshina for Daniel H. H. Ingalls’, Journal of Indian Philosophy, 29/1–2 (April 2001); Ludo Rocher, ‘The Kamasutra: Vatsyayana’s Attitude toward Dharma and Dharmashastra’, Journal of the American Oriental Society, 105/3 (1985); A.Y. Syrkin, ‘Notes on the Kama Sutra’, Semiotica 11 (1974).
Other work on sex in ancient India is, for the most part, dated and flawed. Johann Jakob Meyer’s magisterial Sexual Life in Ancient India (New York: Barnes and Noble, 1953) is in fact a detailed analysis of attitudes towards women and sexuality as expressed in the Mahabharata. Narendra Nath Bhattacharya’s History of Indian Erotic Literature (New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1975) is a Marxist thesis about how patriarchy displaced what the author imagines to be India’s original matriarchal state – disguised as a survey of erotic literature. Haran Chandra Chakladar’s Social Life in Ancient India: Studies in Vatsyayana’s Kamasutra (Calcutta: Greater India Society, 1929) is a dated but nevertheless thorough analysis of the probable date and location of the Kamasutra’s composition, combined with a somewhat unreflective summary of social attitudes as expressed in the Kamasutra.
The classic translation of the Natyashastra is Manomohan Ghosh’s The Natyashastra: A Treatise on Ancient Indian Dramaturgy and Histrionics ascribed to Bharata-Muni (Kolkata: Manisha Granthalaya, 1995). It is in two volumes, and not easy to get hold of in print, though it can be read online at www.nadanam.com/general/g_natyashastra.htm. Adya Rangacharya’s translation of The Natyasastra (New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 2003) is easier to find in print, but it leaves a lot of Sanskrit technical terms untranslated and isn’t, therefore, very readable.
To read Sudraka’s superb play Mrcchakatika, or The Little Clay Cart, you’ll have to hunt down a copy of J.A.B. van Buitenen’s Two Plays of Ancient India: The Little Clay Cart; The Minister’s Seal (New York: Columbia University Press, 1968). Two translations of Kalidasa’s wonderful play Shakuntala are currently in print: The Recognition of Sakuntala, translated by W.J. Johnson (Oxford: Oxford University Press: 2001) is clear and well noted; but The Recognition of Shakúntala, Kashmir Recension, translated by Somadeva Vasudeva (New York: New York University Press/JJC Foundation, 2006), perhaps has the edge, as it is underpinned by adventurous scholarship and Vasudeva has a good ear for dialogue.
Key texts on Sanskrit drama include: Robert Goodwin, The Playworld of Sanskrit Drama (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1998); Rachel van M. Baumer and James R. Brandon (eds), Sanskrit Drama in Performance (Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 1981); and Barbara Stoler Miller (ed.) Theater of Memory: The Plays of Kalidasa (New York, Columbia University Press, 1984). Sushil Kumar De’s Ancient Indian Erotics and Erotic Literature (Calcutta: Firma K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1959) may be dated but it is a pithy and elegantly written introduction to the topic, and one of the few works to treat Indian literary eroticism as a subject in its own right.
For translations of Sanskrit poetry (and drama), look no further bibliographical essay than the admirable Clay Sanskrit library, whose volumes come in an attractive, Loeb-style, mini-hardback format, each with a transliteration of the original Sanskrit and an introduction by a leading scholar. The CSL list seems to grow constantly; among the works discussed in this book are: Love Lyrics by Amaru, Bhartri-hari & Bílhana, translated by Greg Bailey and Richard Gombrich (New York: New York University Press/JJC Foundation, 2005); and Kalidasa, The Birth of Kumara, translated by David Smith (New York: New York University Press/JJC Foundation, 2005). For Kalidasa’s Raghuvamsa, the best option currently in print is the worthy but somewhat unwieldy The Raghuvamsa of Kalidas: With the Commentary of Sanjivani of Mllinatha, edited by Moreshwar Ramchandra Kale (New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1998).
For secondary literature on Sanskrit poetry, Lee Siegel’s Fires of Love, Waters of Peace: Passion and Renunciation in Indian Culture (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1983) is a fascinating discussion of the opposing themes of sensuality and asceticism in the poems of Amaru and the works of the eighth-century philosopher Sankara. Neils Hammer’s The Art of Sanskrit Poetry: An Introduction to Language and Poetics, Illustrated by Rasah, Dhvanih and Alankarah Analyses (New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 2003) is a useful essay on the aesthetic theories behind the poetry. Viswanath K. Hampiholi’s Kamashastra in Classical Sanskrit Literature (Delhi: Ajanta Publications, 1988) painstakingly traces the cross-influences between kama shastra literature and Sanskrit poetry and drama.
For books on Tantra, avoid the torrent of nonsense that floods most bookshops and go straight for David Gordon White’s authoritative Kiss of the Yogini: ‘Tantric Sex’ in its South Asian Contexts (Chicago, London: University of Chicago Press, 2003). Gavin Flood’s The Tantric Body: The Secret Tradition of Hindu Religion (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2006) is more of a textbook. The Roots of Tantra, edited by Katherine Anne Harper and Robert L. Brown (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2002), is a good collection of academic essays on Tantra’s earliest manifestations.
Michael Rabe’s brilliant essay on Khajuraho’s hidden yantras, ‘Secret Yantras and Erotic Display for Hindu Temples’, is found in Tantra in Practice (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), edited by David Gordon White. On the link between Tantra and temples, see Vidya Dehejia, Yogini Cult and Temples: A Tantric Tradition (New Delhi: National Museum, 1986); and Devangana Desai, Khajuraho: Monumental Legacy (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000). Desai’s Erotic Sculpture of India: A Socio-Cultural Study (New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1985) is the key general work on the topic, though a little coyly phrased and now somewhat dated. Alain Daniélou’s The Hindu Temple: Deification of Eroticism, translated by Ken Hurry (Rochester, Vermont: Inner Traditions International, 2001) has a splendidly idiosyncratic over-focus on eroticism and is very readable.
The best translation of the rasa lila from the Bhagavata Purana is Graham M. Schweig’s Dance of Divine Love: The Rasa Lila of Krishna from the Bhagavata Purana, India’s Classic Sacred Love Story (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), which comes with fine explanatory notes. My preferred translation of the Gitagovinda is found in Lee Siegel’s enthralling book Sacred and Profane Dimensions of Love in Indian Tradition as Exemplified in Gita-Govinda of Jayadeva (Delhi, London, New York: Oxford University Press, 1978). A good – and more easily found – alternative is Barbara Stoler Miller’s Gitagovinda of Jayadeva: Love Song of the Dark Lord (New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2003).
For a serious introduction to medieval India, Daud Ali’s Courtly Culture and Political Life in Early Medieval India (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004) is unrivalled; it does a superb job of putting Sanskrit aesthetics in historical context. If only there were books on kama shastra of similar quality. Ram Kumar Rai’s Encyclopedia of Indian Erotics (Varanasi: Prachya Prakasan, Chowkhama Sanskrit Series Office, 1981) is a detailed A–Z of Sanskrit erotic terminology as found in kama shastra texts; it is hardly gripping, but perhaps has curiosity value for the non-specialist.
The model for translations of kama shastra texts ought to be the superb book on rati shastra by Kenneth Zysk, Conjugal Love in India: Ratisastra and Ratiramana (Leiden: Brill, 2002); sadly, no one has yet done a similar job for kama. Alex Comfort’s translation of The Koka Shastra (London: George, Allen & Unwin, 1964) is widely available; an illustrated version of his text, meanwhile, The Illustrated Koka Shastra: Erotic Indian Writings based on the Kama Sutra (London: Mitchell Beazley, 1997), has some of the best reproductions of Indian erotic miniatures you can find and includes notes on lots of other kama shastra texts, with a full translation of the Ratimanjari. ‘Burton’s’ Ananga Ranga is very widely reprinted; scandalously, given its many faults, exaggerations and additions, there is no other original English translation available.
There are endless coffee-table books devoted to Indian erotic art but few have accompanying text of
any quality; the exception is Philip Rawson’s Erotic Art of India (London: Thames & Hudson, 1977). Otherwise, Love in Asian Art & Culture (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 1998) includes excellent essays on Rajput painting, by Annapurna Garimella, and on the Khajuraho erotic sculptures, by Vidya Dehejia. Le Kamasutra de Bikaner, edited by Wendy Doniger (Paris: Gallimard, 2004), includes forty beautiful colour plates from the Fitzwilliam Collection as well as Doniger’s introduction, but isn’t currently published in English. Klaus Ebeling’s excellent Ragamala Painting (Basel, Paris, New Delhi: Basilius Press, 1973) discusses the pre-Mughal tradition, the role of nayakas and nayikas in art as Krishna and Radha, and also the relationship between painting and later literary-erotic texts such as the Rasikapriya.
The only other option is to sift through general works on Indian art – the best are often museums’ descriptive catalogues – for mention of the erotic. Anything edited or written by W.G. Archer is worth reading, but see especially Indian Paintings from the Punjab Hills (London and New York: Sotheby Parke Bernet, 1973). Other good, and more recent, works on Hindu court painting include Pahari Masters: Court Painters of Northern India by B.N. Goswamy and Eberhard Fischer (Switzerland: Artibus Asiae Supplementum XXXVIII, 1992) and Indian Miniature Paintings and Drawings by Linda York Leach (Cleveland Museum of Art, 1986). There are two good, one-volume introductions to Indian art in general: J.C. Harle’s The Art and Architecture of the Indian Subcontinent (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1994); and Vidya Dehejia’s Indian Art (London: Phaidon, 1997).
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