A.L. Basham on Indian Prosody

[Ed: In this edition I have included the references and the translations that were in footnotes and the body of the text at the relevant places, added in the metrical markings, and somewhat reformatted the original text.]

Like those of classical Europe the metres of Indian poetry are quantitative, based on the order of long and short syllables, and not, as in English, on stress. As in classical European languages a syllable was counted as long if it contained a long vowel (à, ã, å, ®, e, o, ai or au), or a short vowel followed by two consonants. The favourite stanza form at all times was of four lines or ßquartersû (pàda), usually equal, and varying in length from eight to over twenty syllables each, with a full c˜sura between the second and third quarters. Most of the metres of classical poetry were set in rigid patterns and not divided into feet, but broken only by one or two c˜sur˜ in each quarter. The metres of the Veda, however, and the epic èloka metre, allowed considerable variation.

Though most of the Vedic hymns are in stanzas of four quarters there are some with three or five divisions. Of the former, one, called Gàyatrã, is common, and is that of the famous Gàyatrã verse:

ÜÛÛÜÐÛÜÛÜ
Tƒt Savit£r vƒreõiam

ÜÜÜÜÐÛÜÛÜ
bhƒrgo devƒsya dhãmahi,

ÛÜÜÜÐÛÜÛÜ
dh¡yo y¢ naþ pracodƒyàt.

Let us think on the lovely splendour
of the god SavitÔ,
that he may inspire our minds.

It consists of three sections of eight syllables each, the first four of which are free, while the last four have the cadence ÛÜÛÅ.

The commonest Vedic stanza is Triùñubh, consisting of four quarters of eleven syllables each. The quarter normally has a c˜sura after the fourth or fifth syllable, and is prevailingly iambic. The last four syllables of each quarter have the cadence ÜÛÜÅ.

ÜÜÛÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÜÜ
Índrasya nu vêriàõi prƒ vocam

ÜÛÛÜÛÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
yµni cakµra prathamµni vajrê

ÛÜÛÛÛÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
Áhann Áhim, anu apƒs tatarda,

ÛÜÛÜÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜ
pra vakùƒõà abhinat pƒrvatànàm.

Let me proclaim the valiant deeds of Indra,
the first he did, the wielder of the thunder,
when he slew the dragon and let loose the waters,
and pierced the bellies of the mountains.

Similar to this, but with an extra syllable in each quarter, was the twelve-syllabled Jagatã, with the cadence ÜÛÜÛÅ.

In the later hymns of the »g Veda a stanza of four eight-syllable quarters, called Anuùñubh, became popular. This was much the same as Gàyatrã, with a fourth line added, but there was considerable variation in the final cadence. For example the first verse of the ßHymn of the Primeval Manû (R.V. x. 90) (not translated in the book):

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÜ
Sahƒsra-èãrùà P£ruùaþ,

ÛÜÜÜÐÛÜÛÜ
sahasràkùƒþ, sahƒsrapàt.

ÛÜÜÜÐÛÜÜÜ
Sƒ bh½miü vièvƒto vÔtvµ

ÜÛÜÜÐÛÜÛÜ
ƒty atiùñhad daèàïgulƒü.

From the Anuùñubh of the Vedas developed the øloka, the chief epic metre of later times. This consisted of four quarters of eight syllables each, the first and third normally ending with the cadence ÛÜÜÅ, and the second and fourth with ÛÜÛÅ. Certain specified variations were allowed. As an example we quote the first verse of the account of Damayantã's svayaüvara:

ÛÛÜÜÐÛÜÜÜ
Atha kàle èubhe pràpte,

ÛÜÜÜÐÛÜÛÜ
tithau puõye kùaõe tathà,

ÜÛÜÛÐÛÜÜÜ
àjuhàva mahãpàlàn

ÜÜÜÜÐÛÜÛÜ
Bhãmo ràjà svayaüvare.

Then, when the right time had come,
at the auspicious day and hour,
King Bhãma invited the lords of the earth
to the bride-choice.

The èloka metre was widely used for poetry of all kinds, especially for didactic and narrative verse. The courtly poets, however, favoured longer metres, with their quantities rigidly fixed in complicated rhythmic patterns, some with regular c˜sur˜. Textbooks describe over 100 metres of this kind, many with fanciful names, but only some twenty or thirty were popular. Of these we mention a few of the most common.

ÜÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
Bhàgãrathã-nirjhara-sãkaràõàü

ÜÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
voóhà muhuþ kampita-devadàruþ

ÜÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
yad vàyur anviùñamÔgaiþ kiràtair

ÜÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
àsevyate bhinna-èikhaõói-barhaþ.

And the wind forever shaking the pines
carries the spray from the torrents of the young Ganges
and refreshes the hunting hillman,
blowing among his peacock plumes.

Upendravajra (Secondary Indravajra), a variant of the above, with the first syllable short:

Quarter lines of Indravajra and Upendravajra were often combined in mixed stanzas. Such stanzas of varying metres were called Upajàti.

Vaüèastha and Indravamèa were often combined in an Upajàti metre, e.g. the verses of Kàlidàsa, Kumàra Sambhava:

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
Nirghàta-ghoùo giri-èÔïga-èàtano

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
ghano 'mbaràèà-kuharodarambhariþ

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
babhåva bhåmnà èruti-bhitti-bhedanaþ,

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
prakopi-Kàl'-àrjita-garji-tarjanaþ.

Like the thundered threat of the angry death-god
a great crash broke the walls of the ears,
a shattering sound, tearing the tops of the mountains,
and wholly filling the belly of heaven.

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
Skhalan-mahebhaü prapatat-turaïgamaü

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
parasparàèliùña-janaü samantataþ,

ÜÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
prakùubhyad-ambhodhi-vibhinna-bhåddharàd

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
balaü dviùo 'bhåd avani-prakampàt.

The host of the foe was jostled together.
The great elephants stumbled, the horses fell,
and all the footmen clung together in fear,
as the earth tremblem and the ocean rose to shake the mountains.

ÜÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
ærdhvãkÔtàsyà ravi-datta-dÔùñayaþ

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
sametya sarve sura-vidviùaþ puraþ,

ÜÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
èvànaþ svareõa èravaõànta-èàtinà

ÛÜÛÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÛÜ
mitho rudantaþ karuõena niryayuþ.

And, before the host of the foes of the gods,
dogs lifted their muzzles to gaze on the sun,
then, howling together with cries that rent the eardrums,
they wretchedly slunk away.

ÜÜÛÜÐÛÛÛÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
Adyàpi tàm praõayinãü mÔgaèàvakàkùiü

ÜÜÛÜÐÛÛÛÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
pãyåùa-varõa-kuca-kumbha-yugaü vahantãm

ÜÜÛÜÐÛÛÛÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
paèyàmy ahaü yadi punar divasàvasàne

ÜÜÛÜÐÛÛÛÜÛÛÐÜÛÜÜ
svargàpavarga-vara-ràjya-sukhaü tyajàmi.

Even today, if this evening
I might see my beloved, with eyes like the eyes of a fawn,
with the bowls of her breasts the colour of milk,
I'd leave the joys of kingship and heaven and final bliss.

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
Kim iha bahubhir uktair yukti-èånyaiþ pralàpair?

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
Dvayam api puruùànàü sarvadà sevanãyam Þ

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
abhinava-mada-lãlà-làlasaü sundarãõàü

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
stana-bhara-parikhinnaü yauvanaü và vanaü và.

What is the use of many idle speeches!
Only two things are worth a man's attention Þ
the youth of full-breasted women,
prone to fresh pleasures, and the forest.

ÛÜÛÛÛÜÛÜÛÛÛÜÛÜÜÛÜ
Labheta sikatàsu tailam api yatnataþ pãóayan

ÛÜÛÛÛÜÛÜÛÛÛÜÛÜÜÛÜ
pibec ca mÔgatÔùõikàsu salilaü pipàsàrditaþ

ÛÜÛÛÛÜÛÜÛÛÛÜÛÜÜÛÜ
kadàcid api paryañaÿ chaèa-viùàõam àsàdayen,

ÛÜÛÛÛÜÛÜÛÛÛÜÛÜÜÛÜ
na tu pratiniviùña-mårkha-jana-cittam àràdhayet.

You may if you squeeze hard enough, even get oil from sand,
thirsty, you may succeed in drinking the waters of the mirage,
perhaps, if you go far enough, you'll find a rabbit's horn,
but you'll never satisfy a fool who's set in his opinions!

ÜÜÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
Sthitvà tasmin vanacara-vadhå-bhukta-khuÿje muhårtaü,

ÜÜÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
toyotsarga-drutatara-gatis tatparaü vartma tãrõaþ,

ÜÜÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
Revàm drakùyasy upala-viùame Vindhya-pàde vièãrõàm,

ÜÜÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
bhakti-cchedair iva viracitàü bhåtim aïge gajasya.

Stay for a while over the thickets, haunted by the girls of the hill-folk,
then press on with faster pace, having shed your load of water,
and you'll see the Narmadà river, scattered in torrents, by the rugged rocks at the foot of the Vindhyas,
looking like the plastered pattern of stripes on the flank of an elephant.

ÛÜÛÜÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛÛÛÜ
Yad' àsid ajÿànaü smara-timira-saüskàra-janitaü

ÛÜÜÜÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛÛÛÜ
tadà dÔùñaü nàrã-mayam idam aèeùaü jagad api.

ÛÜÜÜÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛÛÛÜ
Idànãü asmàkaü pañutara-vivekàÿjana-juùàü

ÛÜÜÜÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÛÛÛÜ
samãbhåtà dÔùñis tribhuvanam api Brahma manute.

When I was ignorant in the dark night of passion
I thought the world completely made of women,
but now my eyes are cleansed with the salve of wisdom,
and my clear vision sees only God in everything.

example: from a panegyric of King Pulakeèin II Càlukya in an inscription at Aihole, Hyderàbàd, composed by Ravikãrti and dated A.D. 634 (EI vi, 8ff.).

ÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÜÜÜÐÛÜÛÛÜÛÜ
Apara-jaladher Lakùmãü yasmin Purãü Purabhit-prabhe

ÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÜÜÜÐÛÜÛÛÜÛÜ
mada-gaja-ghañàkàrair nàvàü èatair avamÔdnati

ÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÜÜÜÐÛÜÛÛÜÛÜ
jalada-pañalànãkàkãrõaü navotpala-mecakaü

ÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÜÜÜÐÛÜÛÛÜÛÜ
jalanidhir iva vyoma vyomnaþ samo 'bhavad ambudhiþ.

Radiant as the god øiva, he besieged Purã, the fortune of the Western sea,
with hundreds of ships, like elephants in rut,
the dark blue sky, scattered with hosts of heavy clouds,
looked like the sea, and the sea looked like the sky.

ÜÜÜÛÛÜÛÜÛÛÛÜÐÜÜÛÜÜÛÜ
Keèaþ saüyaminaþ, èruter api paraü pàraügate locane,

ÜÜÜÛÛÜÛÜÛÛÛÜÐÜÜÛÜÜÛÜ
càntarvaktram api svabhàva-sucibhiþ kãrõaü dvijànàü gaõaiþ,

ÜÜÜÛÛÜÛÜÛÛÛÜÐÜÜÛÜÜÛÜ
muktànàü satatàdhivàsa-ruciraü vakùoja-kumbhadvayaü

ÜÜÜÛÛÜÛÜÛÛÛÜÐÜÜÛÜÜÛÜ
cetthaü tanvi vapuþ praèàntam api te kùobham karoty eva naþ.

Your hair well-combed, your eyes reaching to your ears,
your mouth filled with ranks of teeth that are white by nature,
your breasts charmingly adorned with a necklace of pearls,
slim girl, your body, though at rest, disturbs me.

ÜÜÜÜÛÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
Pascàd aïghriü prasàrya, trika-nati-vitataü, dràghayitvàïgam uccair,

ÜÜÜÜÛÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
àsajyàbhugna-kaõñho mukham urasi, sañà dhåli-dhåmrà vidhåya,

ÜÜÜÜÛÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
ghàsa-gràsàbhilàùàd anavarata-calat-protha-tuõóas turaïgo,

ÜÜÜÜÛÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
mandaü èabdàyamàno, vilikhati, èayanàd utthitaþ, kùmàü khurena.

He stretches his hind-leg, and, bending his spine, extends his body upwards.
Curving his neck, he rests his muzzle of his chest, and tosses his dust-grey mane.
The steed, his nostrils ceaselessly quivering with desire of fodder,
rises from his bed, gently whinnies, and paws the earth with his hoof.

ÜÜÜÜÛÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
Kurvann àbhugna-pÔùñho mukha-nikaña-katiþ khandaràm à tiraècãm

ÜÜÜÜÛÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÜ
lolenàhanyamànaü tuhina-kaõa-mucà caÿcatà kesareõa

ÜÜÜÜÛÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÛÜÜÛÜÛ
nidrà-kaõóå-kaùàyaü kaùati, nivióita-èrota-èuktis, turaïgas

ÜÜÜÜÛÜÜÐÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÐÜÜÜÜÛÜÜ
tvaïgat-pakùmàgra-lagna-pratanu-busa-kaõam koõaü akùõaþ khureõa.

He bends his back and turns his neck sideways, till his face touches his buttock,
and then the horse, the curls matted about his ears,
rubs with his hoof the red corner of his eye, itching from sleep,
his eye, struck by his dewdrop-scattering mane, waving and tossing,
his eye, to the point of whose quivering eyelash there clings a tiny fragment of chaff.

In a few rather rare metres the first and third quarters differ in length from the second and fourth. The commonest of these was Puùpitàgrà:

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛÜÛÜÜ
ßAham iha nivasàmi. Yàhi Ràdhàm,

ÛÛÛÛÜÛÛÜÛÜÛÜÜ
anunaya madvacanena c' ànayethàþû,

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛÜÛÜÜ
Iti Madhuripuõà sakhã niyuktà,

ÛÛÛÛÜÛÛÜÛÜÛÜÜ
svayam idam etya punar jagàda Ràdhàm.

ßHere I am dwelling. Go now to Ràdhà,
console her with my message, and bring her to me.û
Thus the foe of Madhu commissioned her friend,
who went in person, and spoke to Ràdhà thus...

As well as metres of this type there are others, the scansion of which is based on the number of syllabic instants (màtrà) in each quarter-verse. The most common of these is âryà (ßThe Ladyû). This is divided into feet, each containing four instants, counting a prosodically short syllable as one and a long syllable as two instants (i.e. ÜÜ, ÜÛÛ, ÛÜÛ, ÛÛÜ, or ÛÛÛÛ). The first quarter of the âryà stanza contains three such feet; the second, four and a half; the third, three, and the fourth three and a half, with an extra short syllable after the second foot. The whole of Hàla's Saptaèataka is written in this metre; for example:

ÜÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÜ
Bhaõóantãa tanàiü

ÜÜÐÜÜÐÛÜÛÐÛÛÜÐÜ
sottuü diõõài jài pahiassa.

ÜÜÐÜÛÛÐÜÜ
Tài ccea pahàe

ÜÜÐÜÜÐÛÐÛÛÜÐÜ
ajjà àaóóha‹ ruantã.

Last night with scorn the lady gave the wanderer
straw for his bed.
This morning she gathers it together,
weeping.

The metres employed by Jayadeva in his Gãta Govinda are exceptional, although imitated by later poets. They are no doubt borrowed from popular song. The stanzas of the (following) lyric, excluding the refrain, consist of four quarters of nine, eight, nine and ten syllables respectively, all of which are short except the last rhyming syllable in the first and third quarters and the penultimate in the second and fourth.

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜ
Bhaõati kavi-Jayadeve

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛ
virahi-vilasitena

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜ
manasi rabhasa-vibhàve

ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÛ
Harir udayatu sukÔtena.

ÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÛÛÜÛÜ
Tava virahe vanmàlã sakhi sãdati.

When the poet Jayadeva sings, through this pious description
of the deeds of the parted lover,
may Hari arise in the hearts full of zeal.
He is grieved at seperation from you, decked with his forest garland.

The prosody of Tamil poetry differs considerably from that of Sanskrit. In Tamil the basic unit is the ßmetrical syllableû (aèai), which may be a single syllable or a long syllable preceded by a short one. Two, three or four of these form a foot, of which a line of poetry may contain from two to six or occasionally more. Complicated rules, which cannot be discussed here, much restrict the order of syllables and feet in the line.