​​​​​​​The Encounter of Nimai and Keshava Kashmiri # 14

14

Despite his young age, Nimai is recognized in Nadia as a great scholar. The remarkable incident that follows will propel him forward and establish him as the most distinguished man of letters of his time. Indeed, for several days, there has been talk of the imminent arrival of an illustrious pandit, Keshava Kashmiri.

As his name suggests, he hails from Kashmir, a province in northern India. It is said that this brahmana’s fervent devotion to Sarasvati, the goddess of knowledge, has earned him unexpected graces, and consequently, he is endowed with a prodigious literary knowledge coupled with a brilliant skill in using it. A formidable combination. His reputation has spread throughout the peninsula, and his notoriety has earned him the title of Digvijay, the Conqueror.

Unfortunately, he is not one of those who feel the need to conceal their gifts. He is always in search of an intoxicating victory; his quibbles are terrifying, and his dexterity in wielding words thwarts all his opponents. Those who, out of pride or duty, venture to confront him suffer a humiliating defeat, for Keshava Kashmiri knows how to assert his talents to their detriment: he is a relentless critic.

Thus, he arrives at the capital of knowledge. In Nadia, no one knows what to do in the face of this embarrassing situation. Naturally, none of the high officials wish to receive him, and even less to argue with him. A sense of unease spreads throughout the city. At his approach, everyone finds important work to attend to or a visit to pay that can no longer be delayed. It is in this shameful defection, and as a last resort, that they seek the apologist who will dare to lead the last stand. One of the scholars cries out: "I have found it! What if we pitted Nimai against Keshava Kashmiri? After all, he is competent; who else among us could outmaneuver him? Everyone praises his qualities, and people come even from the borders of Bengal to study under his tutelage."

Another adds: "That is a brilliant idea! This way, if the youth is defeated by the pandit, we can preserve Nadia’s honor against the vanity of this walking encyclopedia by invoking the inexperience of youth—for what honor could be gained from such a victory? And at the same time, we would save the city’s prestige!" Everyone cheers the proposal, and they immediately contact our Nimai, who proudly accepts the challenge.

The following day, late in the evening, as Nimai is walking along the banks of the Ganges surrounded by his disciples, he sees Keshava Kashmiri approaching. The latter, after offering his respects to the sacred river, approaches Nimai, who awaits him with joined hands as a sign of respect. From the very first sentence, Nimai detects the mockery: "Are you the famous prodigy everyone is talking about? I have heard that you teach grammar, and that destiny promises you a brilliant future, if the advantages attributed to you are to be believed."

Keshava Kashmiri knows very well that it takes more than twelve years to master Sanskrit and that Nimai, given his young age, can only be in the early stages of his studies. It is therefore difficult for him to hide his sense of superiority—he who is put on a pedestal for his knowledge. He quips: "You teach Kalapa-vyakarana, and your students, according to what is said, are experts in handling the subtleties of this science."

Nimai flatters the pandit’s vanity by responding humbly: "I may be known as a Sanskrit professor, but I have great difficulty impressing my students. I believe rather that I am a poor pedagogue, for they have enormous difficulty understanding me. Swami, after all, I am only a child; in fact, I am still a schoolboy and nothing more. But you, you are a learned man versed in the knowledge of all kinds of scriptures. I would appreciate being able to admire your talents as a poet. My students and I would be delighted to hear you describe, for example… the glories of the Ganges."

These words do not fail to exalt Keshava Kashmiri’s ego, and in the space of an hour, he composes, impromptu, marvelous verses describing the qualities of the sacred river.

Nimai congratulates him: "I have never before heard anyone improvise with such elegance and naturalness." And to answer his earlier sarcasm, he adds subtly: "In fact, no one but you can understand the meaning of your poetry; but if you would be so kind, perhaps you could explain one verse to us, so that we may appreciate it at its true value."

"Why, of course! And which verse would you like me to explain?"

To his great astonishment, Nimai chooses one of the hundred verses just composed and repeats it in one go: "Ganga, our Mother, in her splendor, exists eternally. She is most fortunate, for she emanates from the lotus-like feet of Vishnu. She is like a second goddess of fortune and is consequently worshipped by demigods and humanity. Adorned with all kinds of wonderful qualities, she flourishes upon the head of Shiva."

Keshava, stunned, retorts: "I formulated all those verses like a gust of wind; how were you able to remember even a single one of them?"

"It is by the grace of God that one can become an expert poet, acquire the gift of memory, and instantly memorize anything," Nimai replies. "For the merits He grants us, He has our full gratitude."

In ancient times, before the beginning of this age of Kali-Yuga, books did not exist, and students developed such a memory that, just by listening to their master, they remembered every word. But with time and the degradation of man's innate qualities, this virtue has been almost lost; it will soon become a legend. Fortunately, a few rare examples remain, and Nimai is one of them.

Satisfied with the young man’s answer, Keshava Kashmiri explains the content of the verse. However, Nimai continues to surprise him: "Now, we would be pleased if you could explain the qualities and the defects of this verse."

Nimai had not only chosen one of the verses recited by the brahmana, but more swiftly than the wind, he had noted the good and the bad expressions within it.

The pandit, his pride stung, gets on his high horse: "But there are no faults in this poetry, my boy! The alliterations and comparisons are a model of the craft."

"I would not wish to displease you, but I would be grateful if you allowed me to give my opinion, provided you do not get angry with me..."

"Speak then!" he replies, red with suppressed anger.

"There is no doubt your poetry is full of ingenuity, and I am sure our Lord appreciated it. However, upon closer inspection, its qualities and its faults also stand out plainly. Shall we examine them together?"

His interlocutor is flabbergasted! How can this beardless boy correct him with such verve? Struggling to suppress his impulses, he says in an authoritative voice: "From where do you get the audacity to judge this literary work—you, a grammar student? You are certainly not experienced enough to correct this poetry since you know nothing of it at your age! Have you ever even composed any yourself?"

His pride wounded, Keshava Kashmiri tries to intimidate his opponent using this last argument, which is not negligible, as he knows Nimai has not studied the art of poetry. According to logic and etiquette, it is improper to point out faults in another's work if one cannot, or will not, assume the responsibilities of that function.

Seeing that he is difficult to approach in this manner, Nimai adopts another attitude.

"It is with full knowledge of the facts," he tells him humbly, "since I am not your peer, that I asked you to explain the abnormal constructions and the qualities of your poem. I admit I have not studied the art of literary embellishment as such, but I have learned, through the company of competent circles, to appreciate it at its true value."

"Well, so be it!" replies the poet. "Let us hear your critiques!"

"Dear master, above all, I insist that I do not seek to offend you with my remarks; know, however—perfection not belonging to this world—that I have found five faults and five ornamentations. I will state them to you one after the other; but I beg you, listen to me first and judge afterwards. Firstly, I note two major faults called avimrsta-vidheyamsa, then three others, called respectively viruddha-mati, bhagna-krama, and punar-atta. Although this verse is embellished with five literary graces, the entire stanza is spoiled by these five poor constructions. A poem may consist of ten perfectly turned verses, but a single error is enough to ruin the whole, just as a spot of leprosy tarnishes the beauty of a fair woman despite her many jewels. Allow me now to describe the five embellishments that enhance the value of this verse."

For a few minutes, Nimai elaborates on the subject. He concludes by saying: "We have only discussed the five faults and five qualities relative to this verse; yet, if we were to strip it down further, we would find an unlimited quantity. Thanks to the favors of the goddess of learning whom you worship, you are endowed with a prodigious dexterity in poetry, but such creations must be arranged with care because of critics."

The literary champion, whose mind is assailed by conflicting feelings of jealousy, wonder, anger, veneration, surprise, and dejection, stammers a few words that die on his lips. He is as if paralyzed. "This kid has shaken my intelligence," he says to himself. "The explanations he has just provided cannot be the work of an ordinary human being, unless our mother Sarasvati has spoken through his mouth." After a few moments, having recovered from his slump, the pandit finally speaks: "Nimai, my boy, I am amazed! You have barely begun the study of the preliminary stages of the Scriptures; how can you be so judicious on such fine points? Truly, you baffle me!"

Profiting from his embarrassment and confusion, Nimai replied with joy: "My dear friend, to tell the truth, I do not really know what constitutes a good or a bad composition. However, after reflection, I am convinced that all the sensible words that may have come out of my mouth during this conversation were inspired by the goddess Sarasvati."

While he spoke, the dejected brahmana listened only with one ear; he meditated on the words Nimai had just uttered: "Why has Shri Sarasvati, the deity I worship with all my heart, humiliated me through this young boy? Such an affront… I shall abstain from prayer and fasting until she reveals to me why she chose to cover me in ridicule. How can I survive such shame?"

Absorbed in his thoughts, he did not hear the snickering of the students attending the debate. Seeing this, Nimai reprimanded them and, having regained his calm, addressed the poet in these terms: "You are undoubtedly the most learned of all scholars and the most famous of poets; how else to explain that such delicate and sublime poetry could spring from your lips? Your lyrical talent is like the immutable course of the Ganges, and I know no one in the world who can rival you. Console yourself by remembering that even great poets like Bhavaputi, Jayadeva, and Kalidas made mistakes in their masterpieces. One must look past these faults; it is above all the inspiration that animates an author that should be judged. The Vaishnava places more importance on the subject of a work than on its execution. Therefore, do not take seriously the youthful impudence I may have shown, for I do not even consider myself worthy of being your disciple. I pray you, let us part without resentment and meet again tomorrow so that I may hear you discourse on the Holy Scriptures."

It was only at nightfall that the poet understood the true nature of the events. The goddess Sarasvati appeared to him in a dream and revealed Nimai’s identity: this boy, of such modesty, was none other than God Himself, the Supreme Being.

The next morning, at the break of dawn, Keshava Kashmiri rushed to Nimai’s house and threw himself at his feet, which he covered with kisses and tears. Surrendering himself totally to him, he thereafter became his devotee.

This victory, won over a pandit of national renown, along with the conversion of this master of semantics, conferred upon Nimai a reputation that placed him among the most brilliant minds of his era.

Keshava Kashmiri then abandoned his passion for philosophical jousts to join the disciplic succession of Nimbarka, of which he became one of the main pillars, thus attaining the rank of acharya.

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* In Sanskrit, the word Ganges is feminine, as the personification of the Ganges is a woman, which presents certain translation challenges.

Preceding chapter : The Old Banana Leaf Vendor # 13
Next Chapter : The Spiritual Crisis: Chaitanya Meets Ishvara Puri # 15