Anusha S Rao is a scholar of Sanskrit based in Torontowho likes writing new things about very old things. X/@AnushaSRao2
Credit: DH Illustration
Valentine’s Day just passed, and for the first time in many years, I didn’t hear of moral police threatening to get unwilling couples married! In celebration of this wonderful non-development, why don’t we read about the merriments of the ancient Indian equivalent of Valentine’s Day!
Sanskrit literature abounds with references to spring festivals, including Holi, and more pertinently for us here, Madanotsava and Vasantotsava. Madana or Manmatha, of course, is the god of love, and he is always imagined as a deity with sugarcane for a bow, flowers for arrows, and spring for his friend. Naturally, his festival is celebrated in spring, widely regarded as the most romantic season -- cuckoos singing, fresh mango blossoms sprouting, and fragrant flowers blooming. The idea is that winter causes Madana’s arrows to be destroyed, and in spring, these flowers blossom again and Madana reacquires his arsenal! And so, Madanotsava was usually celebrated a couple of months later than we enjoy Valentine’s Day.
Shriharsha’s twelfth century play Ratnavali mentions in the prologue that it was composed to be performed during the Vasantotsava festival, which lets us know that plays were commonly performed during these festivals spanning several days. The play’s descriptions of the festival dedicated to the love god sound somewhat like Holi -- spraying coloured powder and water on each other, loud music and drums, lots of dancing, and quite a bit of wine. Another thirteenth century text by Sharadatanaya actually mentions the plucking of flowers and drinking games at these festivals.
Add to this, spring rituals with some fun poetic conventions -- it was believed that trees, like pregnant women, have strong cravings and would refuse to flower until those are fulfilled. These longings are always linked to women. The Tilaka tree, it is said, blossoms when a pretty woman glances at it, and the Champaka tree when it hears her tinkling laugh. The Nameru flowers when a woman sings to it, and the Kurabaka when she embraces it. The Bakula tree blossoms when sweet wine from the mouth of a beautiful woman is sprinkled on it, and even stranger, the Ashoka tree blooms when a beautiful woman strikes it with her foot. Women also plucked mango blossoms and offered them to Manmatha, to help arm him with flower arrows to strike some other unsuspecting target.
The king and queen had important ritual roles, too. The queen would perform worship at the Ashoka tree and worship the king as well, and then ceremonially marry the Madhavi vine, entwined around the tree, to the mango tree. And there were other games -- like women holding Palasha twigs and asking each other who their lovers are. The woman so asked would indicate her lover by playfully striking him with the twig! If this was not enough entertainment, there have been several plays written to be performed during the festival -- including Kalidasa’s well-known Malavikagnimitra.
If you are now thinking that Valentine’s Day, with its overpriced flowers and meaningless trinkets, sounds boring in comparison, I agree. Perhaps we should do a retake of V-day in the spring -- and bring the gardens back to the Garden City. Given that Bengaluru has lost over 500 hectares of green cover, what would be a better celebration of Indian culture than renewing our connection with nature?