Ramkrishna Bhattacharya
A recent essay by Karin
Preisendanz (2008) set me thinking about the commentary tradition of the Cārvākasūtra.
In spite of the fact that the mūla-text is lost, we have a number of fragments
of the commentaries written by no fewer than four commentators, namely, Kambalāşvatara,
Purandara, Aviddhakarņa, and Udbhata (Bhattacharya 2009, 65–68). The existence
of other commentators too has been suggested (TS 22. 18568, II: 634), of whom
only one name is mentioned elsewhere: Bhāvivikta (GrBh II: 257). Unfortunately
no extract from his work is quoted anywhere. It is interesting to note that
there is a reference to Pauram: dariya vitti in addition to the Paurandaram sūtram (Pupphadanta, 20. 18.
9). We also read of Purandara as an author of a work on the Cārvāka doctrine (a
marginal note in a ms qutd. in Gune 42).
From the thirty fragments so far
collected we gather that Bhattodbhata or Udbhatabhatta was known as a
commentator who differed from the traditional Cārvākas and broke new grounds in
explaining some of the aphorisms (GrBh I: 100; SVR 764). Purandara too is
claimed to have deviated from his predecessor/s, for he admitted a particular
kind of inference, such as is well-known in the world (or better still,
well-established in the world, lokaprasiddham
anumānam) (TSP II: 528). Kamalaśila while quoting Purandara’s words
(apparently verbatim) adds a tu,
‘‘but’’ (or ‘‘however’’) before the reporting verb, thereby giving birth to an
opinion that the Cārvākas before Purandara accepted only one instrument of
cognition, namely, perception, while Purandara includes such inference as
depended on perception and well known in everyday practice (Franco and
Preisendanz 180 col. 1).
This is open to question, as will
be shown later. At present suffice it to say that while some critics call the Cārvākas
pramānaikavādins, professing the
validity of one and only one instrument of cognition (perception), they quote
Bhartrthari’s Vākyapadīya,1.32–1.34
in support of their contention (Bhattacharya 2009, 117). This is downright
absurd, for Bhartrhari considered scripture, āgama, to be the only valid instrument of cognition whereas the Cārvākas
had nothing to do with it. In the long history of Indian philosophy Bhartrhari
alone held a rigid one-pramāņa position.
All others admitted two, three or four pramānas.
The position of the Cārvākas was nearer the Buddhists (who admitted both
perception and inference) than any other philosophical system. But in order to
brand the Cārvākas as pramānaikavādins
they were made to appear as one with Bhartrhari. Even though the commentators
of the Cārvākasūtra had some differences among themselves concerning the
interpretation of some aphorisms, they seem to have been unanimous in regard to
the number of pramānas to be
admitted. It was perception and inference based on perception. Only in this
sense they were pramānaikavādins.
Here we have to grasp the bhāva
rather than the literal meaning of eka.
How do we know that? This is
where the passages (fragments) from the commentaries of Aviddhakarna (PVSVT:
19) and Purandara (TSP II: 528) quoted by their opponents prove indispensable.
Both of them interpret the aphorism, ‘‘Perception is the (only) instrument of
cognition’’(III.1) in this sense (For details see Bhattacharya 2009, 88–90,
Comms. 3, 4, 18). Udbhata too denied the status of inference as primary and
defended the view of the sūtrakāra by adducing further reason (Comms. 11–13).
Let us turn to Udbhat:a again. He
was well-versed in Nyāya terminology and employed them profusely (SVR 265, 270,
764). But what is remarkable is that he had a penchant for explaining aphorisms
in a radically novel way. His interpretation was based on the inbuilt ambiguity
of certain words in the sūtras, such
as iti and tebhyah (GrBh I: 100, II: 257–258; SVR 1087). Consequently his
glosses make the Cārvākasūtra appear
as a kind of a parallel Nyāya text. Moreover some of his interpretations render
the Cārvāka view as almost bordering on immaterialism, if not idealism proper
(GrBh II: 257, 262). What has been said about S. H. Butcher’s Aristotle’s
Theory of Poetry and Fine Art may very well apply to Udbhat:a’s commentary:
‘‘[Butcher] uses Aristotle as a peg on which to hang rather vague and
un-Aristotelian speculations.’’ (Hardy 8)
The question is: once we know, as
Jayantabhat::ta, Vādidevasūri and Cakradhara also knew (GrBh I: 100, II: 257–258; SVR 1087), that Udbhata was intent upon
interpreting the Cārvāka in the light of his personal understanding, not
following the original tradition, and even consciously going against it, how
much credence is to be given to his work as a true exposition of the Cārvāka system?
There is every reason to believe that he had hammered out a philosophical
system of his own but instead of writing a new sūtra work, with or without an auto-commentary, as Purandara (see
above) presumably did, he had manipulated the Cārvāka aphorisms to represent
his singularly distinct point of view. Should we classify his commentary as
‘‘creative’’ (Preisendanz, 609–611)?
It should be borne in mind that
Jayantabhatta and Vādidevasūri controvert the Cārvāka view accepting Udbhata’s
commentary as the exposition of materialism in India . Jayanta refers to Udbhat:a
sarcastically as ‘‘the well-learned Cārvākas’’ (honorific plural or meaning
Udbhata and his followers) (NM I: 52,
II: 257). More derisively he calls him ‘‘the cunning Cārvāka’’ (NM I: 100). Thanks to Cakradhara we now
know that instead of two different persons (as some scholars used to believe)
Jayanta was referring to one and the same person, namely, Udbhata, once calling
him ‘‘the well-learned Cārvākas’’ and then ‘‘the cunning Cārvāka’’. It is to be
noted that in spite of his occasional deviations from the ‘‘orthodox’’ Cārvāka position,
Udbhata is still regarded by Jayanta and others as a Cārvāka.
However, there is an allusion to
one unidentified ascetic (tapasvin) in
NM I: 101, who may be Udbhata or some
other person. Is it also an instance of sarcasm, so typical of Jayanta’s style?
The suśiksitatarāh (NM I: 184), ‘‘the better-learned ones’’,
however, probably refer to some other materialists. The change in the degree of
comparison may not be without significance. They may allude to those who
adhered to the Paurandarīya-vrtti
rather than the Tattvatīkā, the
commentary written by Udbhata.
Although Jayanta and Hemacandra,
the Jain savant, do not hesitate to call the Cārvākas varāka ‘wretched’ (NM I:
9; YS 2.38), Vādidevasūri, another
Jain scholar, mentions Udbhata as ‘‘the respectable veteran twice-born’’ (SVR
764). Vādidevasūri was aware of both the traditional view about the Cārvāka/Lokāyata
(of Bhāvivikta and others) as well as the unconventional view of Udbhata (SVR
764). However, like Jayanta, Vādidevasūri quotes extensively from Udbhata’s
commentary knowing full well that he was a maverick in the Cārvāka tradition.
Paucity of extracts from Udbhata’s
commentary and lack of evidence regarding his identity, particularly the time
he flourished, compel us to stop at this point without offering any conclusion.
Chattopadhyaya and Gangopadhyaya, following Gaurinatha Shastri, identify Udbhata
with the Sabhāpati of King Jayāpīda of Kashmir
(regnal years 779–813 CE), as mentioned in the Rājatarangini (5.495). That would make Udbhata the philosopher
identical with Udbhata the rhetorician. However, there is absolutely no
evidence, internal or external, to justify such a conclusion. The names ending
in -ta (Mammata, Rudrata, etc.)
appear to suggest Kashmirian origin. But there is no harm in having three, or
at least two Udbhatas instead of one. After all we hear of two more Udbhatas (NCC II: 341). In any case, one point is
certain: Udbhata does not represent
the mainstream Cārvāka tradition. By taking him as the true representative of
the materialist doctrine Jayanta has successfully left the traditional Cārvākas
out of consideration, excepting once when he writes that ‘‘the Cārvākas say
that there is only one kind of pramāņa,
which is perception’’ (NM I: 43).
However, after a few pages he writes: ‘‘The well-learned Cārvākas say that it
is really impossible to specifically state the number of pramāņa’’ (NM I: 52).
This goes flatly against the words of the sūtra
(III.1) which says: pratyaksam (ekam)
eva pramāņam, ‘‘Perception indeed is the (only) means of right knowledge’’.
Jayanta was aware of the ancient Cārvākas
like Bhāvivikta and others (as was Cakradhara, his faithful commentator (GrBh II: 257)). Jayanta’s refutation of
the Cārvāka, however, is by and large beside the point. He was controverting
Udbhata’s views, not the traditional views of the Cārvākas.
In this sense we may say that
Udbhata’s commentary was creative in its own way but at the same time
unreliable in reconstructing the original Cārvāka position. Udbhata is relevant
only in relation to Jayanta and Vādidevasuūri but totally irrelevant in
connection with the Cārvāka philosophy as such. Udbhata is out and out a
‘‘revisionist’’ or more probably a Naiyāyika who wears a Cārvāka hat (as my
friend, Prof. Prabal Kumar Sen suggests) and interprets the Cārvāka/Lokāyata in
the most non-Cārvāka-like way conceivable (see GrBh II: 262). I would, however, avoid the expression,
‘‘progressive Cārvāka’’ used by Esther A. Solomon (1977–1978, 990), for Udbhata
seems to have digressed from the original, monist materialist position, taking
a dualist position concerning the body-consciousness relation. Moreover, he
seems to verge on the idealist side in his explication of an aphorism (see
Bhattacharya 2009, 68, 88–90). In this sense he was a reformist or revisionist.
Objections may be raised at this
point: was not the Cārvāka/Lokāyata, like Nyāya and Sāmkhya, open to
development, adopting itself to more advanced standards of philosophical
reasoning and concepts? Why should it be considered absolutely monolithic over
the centuries?
My answer is this: in case of Nyāya
or Sāmkhya we do have evidence of development made by their adherents, or at
least those who claimed to be their adherents for the time being. In case of
the Cārvāka/Lokāyata the case is different. Aviddhakarna and Udbhata were
basically Naiyāyikas. Even if they were converted to the Cārvāka/Lokāyata, they
brought the whole baggage of Nyāya-Vaiśesika terminology when they composed their
commentaries on the Cārvākasūtra.
Such instances are not uncommon even in modern times. Without accepting the Cārvāka/Lokāyata
views as whole, expositions, not altogether unsympathetic, have been written by
traditional Sanskrit scholars. For instance, Pandit Ananta Kumar Bhattacharyya
wrote such an exposition of the Cārvāka/Lokāyata in 1365 Bengali era (1958–1959
CE). An English translation of his essay has been provided by Chattopadhyaya
and Gangopadhyaya (452–473). More recently, in 1984 Acarya Badarinatha Sukla,
former Vice-Chancellor, Sampurnanand Sanskrit University ,
Varanasi ,
defended dehātmavāda, following the
method of Nyāya (121–134). He even extolled dehātmavāda
as an appropriate philosophy for contemporary life.
These developments are of course
quite interesting but whether they mark any significant ‘‘growth’’ is, I am
afraid, a matter of opinion. They do not help us reconstruct the original Cārvāka/Lokāyata
or any other materialist doctrine that had flourished in India right
from the Buddha’s time or even before. That is what we need first. We need more
hard facts. Exploration of Tibetan sources is a desideratum. Such new material
alone can throw more, if not new, light on materialism in India through
the ages.
This essay was first published
in the Journal of Indian Philosophy (Springer
Netherlands) in 2010. Part II of the essay can be accessed here. Bibliography
is available along with the second part.
Ramkrishna Bhattacharya
taught English at the University of Calcutta
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