Kâtchi1, direct experience (Skt. pratyakshä, in front of the eyes), is of five kinds, depending on the pleasant or painful experiences of the five sensory organs. When these come into contact with the vital energies (uyir; Skt. prânä) that serve as a means of communication (vâyil), they are conveyed to the mental faculties (manas), which, in a constant state of activity, become clearly aware of them, without any omissions, or any error or doubt concerning the place, form, type, quality, or effects.
Karudal, inference (Skt. Anumânä). Inference allows knowledge of that which is not directly perceived, but which can be deduced from what is visible. It has three forms:
a. Podu (Skt. sâmânyä), deduction. When two things are by their nature dependent on each other, the reality of one is deduced from the perception of the other, as in the situation where we conclude that there is an elephant in the forest when we hear a sound that resembles trumpeting.
b. Eccham (Skt. sheshavat) is the relationship of effect to cause. We deduce from seeing streams pouring into rivers that it has rained.
c. Mudal (Skt. purvavat) is the relationship of cause to effect. At the sight of clouds, we predict rain.
3. Upamâ is the comparison between things with similar qualities: for example, fast as the wind.
4. gamä, teachings of the ancients. It is on such a basis that we assume that hell and heaven exist.
5. Arthâpatti, indirect indication. When we speak of a village situated on the Ganges, we mean it is situated on the banks of the Ganges. Saying that a fat man does not eat in the daytime implies that he eats at night.
6. Iyalbu, common sense (Skt. svabhâvä). When an elephant herder says, "Pass me the staff," he means the stick that is used to direct the animal.
7. Aitiham, tradition. There is a spirit that lives in the tree.
8. Abhavä, nonexistence. The assertion that something does not exist in one spot does not imply that it does not exist elsewhere. Nonexistence has three forms: one thing in another (pragâbhavä) (there exists no metal in a cotton cloth); by destruction (pradhvansâbhavä); and absolute (atyantâbhavä), never having existed.
9. Mitchi, implication (Skt. Parisheshä). If one says that Rama has won the battle, this implies that Râvanä, his opponent, has lost it.
10. Ullaneri, probability (Skt. Sambhavä). If a piece of iron moves, we deduce from this the presence of a magnet (Manimekhalaï, book 27).
The semblances of proof (pramânä âbhasä) are eight in number:
Suttunarvu, direct experience. Being aware of the existences of things through the experience of the senses, which, however, may be deceptive.
Tiryak kôdal: false appearances. We take mother-of-pearl to be silver.
Aiyam, uncertainty. We are not sure if what we see in the semidarkness is a man or a tree trunk.
Teradu telidal, the arbitrary assertion. We decide that the tree trunk is a man.
Kandu nâramai, evaluative error: not realizing that the approaching animal is a tiger.
Il-valakku, hare's horns. The two elements are real but the combination represented by the words is not.
Unardadai unardal, pretending to demonstrate something obvious, for example, that fire disperses fog.
Ninaippu, faith. You only know that a couple is your father and mother by their assertions or those of others (Manimekhalaï,).
Aphorisms of the Nyâyä
IN his account of Vaïsheshikä, Kanâdä gives a number of aphorisms of the Nyâyä that are famous:
The blind man and the sparrow (andhachataka). A blind man cannot catch a sparrow. A fool cannot achieve what an enlightened man has difficulty in establishing.
"The blind leading the blind" (andhä paramparâ) refers to the disposition of people to follow someone who will lead them to disaster. This is often the case with political leaders.
Finding the polar star (arundhati darshanä). To see the polar star, you first look for a very bright star which is close to it. In the same way, one uses an approximation as a starting point in order to arrive at a more subtle truth.
The ashokä grove (ashokä vanikä). The demon Râvanä held Sita prisoner in a garden full of ashokäs. You cannot assume from this that he had a preference for these trees. In the same way, when a man is faced with various possibilities in which he has equal interest, you cannot assume that his choice corresponds to a preference.
The stone and the clod of earth (ashma loshtä). A clod of earth is hard compared with cotton but soft compared with a stone. An individual always appears important to his inferiors and insignificant to his superiors.
The flowering of buds on a tree (kadambä korakä). When you see buds flowering in one tree, you know that they will also have opened to others of the same species. What happens here also happens elsewhere.
The crow and the coconut (kâkätâliyä). Just when the crow is flying under a tree, it is killed by a coconut. There are possible but improbable coincidences.
Looking for the crow's tooth (kâkädantägaveshanä): wasting time looking for impossible things.
The crow's eye (kâkâkshigolaka). This aphorism is based on the belief that the crow has only one eye, which it transfers from one side to the other. This is used in reference to a word which, in a document, has two possible interpretations.
The motion of the water wheel (kupäyanträghatikâ). The containers fill on one side and empty on the other. The same applies to the trials and tribulations of life.
The customs post and the dawn (ghattkuti prabhâtä). You take an indirect route at night in order to avoid the customs post, and at dawn find yourself right in front of it. You always come face to face with the thing you are trying to avoid.
The worm and the letter (ghunâksharä). A worm can by chance draw the shape of a letter on the page of a book. In court, misleading evidence exists.
The staff and the bread (dandäpupä). When a loaf of bread is tied to a staff and someone says that the staff has been eaten by rats, it is obvious that the bread has been too. When someone has close ties with another, what is said of one applies, in all probability, to the other.
The lamp on the threshold (dehlidîpâ). The lamp lights up the interior and the exterior. One object can serve two purposes at once.
The king and the barber's son (nripanâpiträputrä). The king asks his barber to bring him the most handsome boy in the kingdom. After looking around, the barber brings his own son, who is particularly ugly. Everyone overestimates the value of what is his.
Washing the mud off (pankâprakshâlanä). It is better to avoid mud than to dive in and wash yourself afterward. It is better not to compromise yourself, even if you think you will be able to justify yourself afterward.
Grinding flour (pishtäpeshanä): Making an effort to achieve something that has already been done.
The grain and the seed (bîjânkurä). The grain produces the seed, and the seed the grain. Two things are the mutual cause of each other.
Iron and the magnet (lohächumbakä). One thing attracts another.
Fire and smoke (vahnidhumä). There is no smoke without fire, nor effect without cause.
The worm and the poison (vishäkrimi). The worm bred in poison does not feel its effects. People born in a criminal environment feel at home there.
The poison tree (vishävrikshä). You cannot destroy a tree you have planted which bears poisonous fruits. When you put forward a harmful idea, you cannot then stop it from spreading.
One wave follows another (vîchitârangä). In the end, you are always replaced by someone else. The same applies to social movements.
An old maid's wish (vriddhäkumârîvâkyä). The old woman, whom the god Indra had told to make a wish, asked for a husband, children, wealth, corn, cattle, and gold. He who asks for too much receives nothing.
The branch and the moon (shâkhâchandrä). The ambitious person thinks he can catch the moon by climbing up a tree near it.
The lion's look (simhâvalokä). The lion chases a prey in front of him, but looks back in c
ase there are any others behind him. This applies to those who, while throwing themselves into an undertaking, worry about what they are leaving behind.
The needle and the kettle (sûchîkatah). It is easier to make a needle than a kettle. When you have several things to do, it is better to start with the easiest one.
The rice and the saucepan (sthâlïpulâkä). When one grain is cooked, so are the others. You can judge the whole by looking at a specimen. (This is the principle behind opinion polls.)
Sinking a pillar (sthûnânikhanä). By dint of repeated blows, the pillar becomes stable. The same applies to the spreading of an ideology, even if it is false.
The master and the servant (svâmîbhrityä). The master feeds the servant, the servant feeds the master. This refers to the interdependence of persons and things.
3
The Sâmkhyä: The Study of the Macrocosm
The Quest for Constants (Aksharä)
THE WORD SMKHYÄ MEANS "THE SCIENCE OF THE NUmerable," since the potentials of human knowledge and the mechanisms of thought, like the forms of matter, are linked to what can be expressed in mathematical terms. All the structures of the material or psychic universe are considered to be determined by harmonies, patterns created from numerical relationships that exist between energetic elements. The science of the measurable therefore refers to aspects of knowledge that can be expressed in mathematical or geometric terms. It is, moreover, a generally accepted definition of knowledge.1
We find the mark of the Sâmkhyä in all the aspects of later Hindu thought that deal with works of a philosophical or ritual character, such as the Upanishad(s) and the Tanträ(s), or with scientific and metaphysical investigations such as linguistics, astronomy, physics, mathematics, and physiology.2
We do not have the original texts of the ancient Sâmkhyä, which were not in the Sanskrit language, but we are acquainted with its Dravidian terminology thanks, in particular, to the Manimekhalaï, which is written in the Tamil language. The first texts seem to date from approximately the same period as the Manimekhalaï.
The Texts of the Sâmkhyä
THE teachings of Kapilä, the dark-skinned sage who was the first to teach the Sâmkhyä in the Aryan world, were collected by his spiritual heir, the magus Asuri, in the form of a set of 256 aphorisms called Sâmkhyä Pravachanä Sûträ, which was then summarized into 22 aphorisms under the name Tattvä-Sâmasä.
The practice of expressing knowledge in the form of very concise verses, which can be passed on even by individuals who do not understand their meaning, is one of the fundamental methods of the oral tradition. Proverbs are often vestiges of this traditional form of teaching.
It would have been on the basis of the aphorisms of Asuri that, much later, the philosopher Panchashikhä wrote a great number of works including 60,000 verses, concerning the nature of matter (prakriti), the nature of the self, the faculties of perception and action, and supra normal powers. The work of Panchashikha is mentioned in the Chinese Tripitaka (the Buddhist canon). The Shashti Tanträ, of which fragments remain, was probably part of the work of Panchashikhä. It was Panchashikhä's disciple Ulûkä, humorously nicknamed Kanâdä (the atom-eater), who was the author of the Vaïsheshikä Sûträ and who taught Ishvarä-Krishnä. Toward the third century of our era, this latter summarized the theory of Sâmkhyä in seventy aphorisms called Sâmkhyä-Kârikâ. Commentaries on this text were made by various authors. A Chinese translation has given us the commentary of Vârshaganä. Vasubandhu, a Buddhist, wrote another commentary, called Sâmkhyä-Kârikâ Bhâshyä.
Gaudpada, who taught Sankarâchâryä, also wrote, in about A.D. 700, a commentary on the aphorisms of Ishvarä-Krishnä, based on the commentary of Vârshaganä. Later, the Arab scholar al-Bîrûnî, who lived in India from 1017 to 1030, claimed to have translated a text of Sâmkhyä, probably that of Gaudpadä, into Arabic.
Concepts of the Sâmkhyä
ACCORDING to the concepts of the Sâmkhyä, the universe is made up of two fundamental elements, consciousness and energy, which are complementary and interdependent. Matter is merely organized energy. There is no material element that exists without being inhabited by consciousness. No element of consciousness exists without an energy-giving support.
Space represents pre-matter, the substratum in which energy can be manifested in the form of vibratory waves and magnetic forces which give birth to the elements, to the appearance of matter.
Time is born of consciousness, since measurement only exists through the perception of duration.
Consciousness is present everywhere from the moment that, from an initial point (the bindu or boundary point) an immense mass of energy appears, which gives birth to the universe. The formation and development of the visible world is related to the principle of Time, which is omnipresent and is expressed in the form of rhythms. These determine not only the structures of matter but also the cycles of the history of the world, and the life and death of stars, galaxies, and also life forms, whether they be vegetable or animal species, which includes men or beings of a more subtle form, which we call spirits or gods. The Sâmkhyä envisages 84,000 degrees of the manifestation of consciousness in matter, starting with infinitesimal particles, then atoms, then simple organisms and bacteria, and ending at the higher life forms, animals, men, spirits, and gods.
This idea, largely misunderstood, has been interpreted by Buddhists as a reference to 84,000 reincarnations of the individual soul.
For the Sâmkhyä, the laws that govern the formation of atoms, cells, matter, and life are not the result of a stroke of luck, but are the implementation of a preexisting plan. The universe develops in accordance with a code contained in its seed, as a plant develops from its seed. These laws are based on archetypes, formulae which are the same whether they concern the whole universe or its individual elements or parts.3 The galaxies, which are the cells of the body of the universe, behave like the cells that form the living being, independent and yet cooperating with the whole, even when there does not appear to us to be any communication between them. The laws which govern perception, intelligence, and thought cannot be separated from those which rule over the formation of matter.
What we perceive as objects is simply made up of galaxies of atoms, centers of energy separated by enormous spaces. The appearance of objects is merely the result of the limits of our perceptions. The living being, seen as a center of autonomous perception, is a witness whose whole role it is to give a visible reality to the divine dream that is creation. This appearance is illusory since it is formed from combinations of atoms that are nothing but centers of energy lacking substance. An infinitesimal being would see the human body as we see the solar systems and galaxies, which are the atoms of the Purushä, the complete organism that the universe is.
A coherent universe can only develop in accordance with a plan, a system, which comes before it. In the conception of the Sâmkhyä, thought precedes matter, the subtle precedes the concrete, possibility precedes reality, and the laws which govern the universe precede their manifestations or applications. The laws of gravitation precede the birth of the atoms and constellations whose formation results from these laws. This is true for all aspects of the world. The laws that govern the mechanisms of perception, life, thought, and communication, including the principle of language, precede the formation of the organs that make them possible in the living being. This applies to all the physical or sensory functions, individual and collective, as well as to the social laws that govern vegetable, animal, or human groups. The only true science is the search for understanding of these laws, which constitute the permanent aspect (akshara) of the world. Life, perception, and thought are born of the same archetypes as matter, and are strictly coordinated and interdependent aspects of the development of the visible world. The slow development of the states of matter, then of life, in infinitely diversified forms, as well as that of perception, sensation, and the mechanisms of thought, depend on increasingly complex combinations of simple energ
etic forms, whose "signature" we find at all levels. We speak of physical laws, heaviness, density, gravitation, and compounds of elements, all of which science tries to understand, but we sometimes forget that all aspects of life, the structure of individual or collective beings, human or animal, all also obey these laws.
There is no fundamental difference, with precise limits, between what we consider to be inert matter and living cells. It is simply a matter of an additional dimension which we call life, but which is only apparent under certain conditions related to duration and to certain potentials of perception. An element of intelligence and perception is present, in a form that may be more or less latent, in every atom, every cell, every molecule, every astral system, every organism. It is this element of intelligence that guides the logic of their affinities, behavior, and inclinations, and allows them to play a consistent role.
In its conception of the world and its origins, what characterizes the cosmology of the Sâmkhyä is that it does not separate matter from consciousness and perception. The conscious principle, which characterizes the planning of the world and the potential of perception, necessarily precedes the appearance of the energetic material from which the corresponding matter and mechanisms of perception and thought will be made. The plan precedes the formation of the world and is an integral part of it.
Thought and consciousness do not issue from matter as the materialist theory of the Lokâyatä maintains. According to the Sâmkhyä, it is matter which is born of a thought, an organic plan. This is implied in the notion of creation and of a creative principle. A thought, a consciousness, is at the origin of the laws that govern the universe and remains present everywhere in all aspects of its manifestation.
While the Gods Play Page 6
