atha
samañjasā— UN 14.48-51—
patnī-bhāvābhimānātmā guṇādi-śravaṇādijākvacid bhedita-sambhoga-tṛṣṇā sāndrā samañjasā
yathā tatraiva (10.52.38)—kā tvā mukunda mahatī kula-śīla-rūpa-vidyā-vayo-draviṇa-dhāmabhir ātma-tulyamdhīrā patiṁ kulavatī na vṛṇīta kanyākāle nṛ-siṁha nara-loka-mano-’bhirāmam
Now “conventional affection” (samañjasā): The [more] intense love known as samañjasā is occasionally pierced by the desire to enjoy. The essence of this love is the sense of identity and mood of being a wife. It arises from hearing about Krishna’s qualities.
The example is given in Rukmini’s letter to Krishna: “O Mukunda! O lion amongst men! When the time comes, what unmarried maid of great qualities, of clear intelligence and of good breeding would not choose as a husband someone like yourself, who is equal to herself in family, character, physical beauty, knowledge, age, wealth, and influence, and who are a source of joy to the minds of all people in this world?” (10.52.49)
samañjasātaḥ sambhoga-spṛhāyā bhinnatā yadā
tadā tad-utthitair bhāvair vaśyatā duṣkarā hareḥ
tathā hi tatraiva (10.61.4)—
smāyāvaloka-lava-darśita-bhāva-hāri-
bhrū-maṇḍala-prahita-saurata-mantra-śauṇḍaiḥ
patnyas tu ṣoḍaśa-sahasram ananga-bāṇair
yasyendriyaṁ vimathituṁ karaṇair na śekuḥ
Whenever the desire for sexual union becomes separate from the conventional affection, then the various moods [bhāvas, which here means anubhāvas like kila-kiñcita,, etc.] that arise from it have little power to subjugate Krishna.
The example is given in the Bhāgavatam: Krishna’s sixteen thousand wives were unable to disturb his mind and senses through their actions, which were like the arrows of Cupid, their smiles, glances, their various enchanting movements and eyebrow movements, as well as all their verbal enticements. (10.61.4)
Observations: Sri Jiva states
samañjasā rati has elements of concern for what is right by a worldly standard, or of what others think (
loka-dharmāpekṣitā darśitā). This is the implication of the words
patnī-bhāvābhimānātmā.
I have translated
samañjasā by the word “conventional.” I wanted to follow Rupa and have three words that started with the same letters and for common and competent, there is no problem. However, for
samañjasā, there is a bit of a limitation as it does not convey all the senses of the Sanskrit word, which might more correctly be rendered by something like "proper, appropriate." I previously used "compromising" but I think that it goes too far. Both are possibilities.
In the beginning of the discussion of the three ratis, i.e., 14.43-44, Jiva Goswami and Vishwanath present a slight difference of opinion. Both agree that the terms assigned to the three kinds of rati in question are “self-evident” in that the characteristics of each kind of loving attitude (
rati) is revealed in the name itself. Furthermore, Vishwanath says they are mutually exclusive, i.e.,
samarthā-rati is neither common nor compromising.
Sādhāraṇī rati is uncompromising, but it does not possess the characteristics of competence.
Samañjasā rati is not common, but neither is it fully competent.
Jiva, however, says that since
samañjasā (compromising) has a concern for the principles of religion and public opinion, it is not very competent (
nātisamarthā). However, he goes on to say that we should not conclude that because this kind of love is called
samañjasā (here meaning something like “proper” or “appropriate”) that there is no propriety in
samarthā rati. Married love is based on an external concern for religion and public opinion, whereas
samarthā rati is perfectly appropriate when viewed from a transcendental (
pāramārthika) standpoint.
Vishwanath says that the first example verse (10.52.49) shows the more positive aspects of
samañjasā, while the second example shows its shortcomings. Even so, some of the things that are considered positive about this married love, when looked at from the point of view of
samarthā rati, are negatives. In
samarthā rati, there was love as a response to pleasure. In
samañjasā, there is love in response to calculations of potential pleasure. Love is not a spontaneous, all-conquering force. The very fact that
loka and
dharma are a consideration means that a mental calculation is being made, one that calculates in terms of one's personal losses and gains.
Vishnudas kind of nails it on the head when he says
patnī-bhāvābhimānātmā means
ātmany āropita-sambandha-viśeṣaḥ: "A specific kind of relationship is projected onto the self." This is a kind of contractual thing mentioned in the commentaries. Vishwanath, for instance, says that even though the gopis were "married" to Krishna according to the Gandharva "rite" (i.e., making love without any officially sanctioned sacrifice witnessed by Agni and the brahmins), they do not count as having
samañjasā rati. I think what they are getting at here is the legalistic aspect of marriage as a way of tying oneself into a relationship where the rules are drawn up, expectations are clear, and responsibilities and protections are written in. In other words, it is jumping, but with a safety net. Nowadays we could say that takes the form of a prenuptial agreement.
I have said before that the idea of
samañjasā must primarily be considered in the Indian context of arranged marriages. So immediately it takes a bit of a leap for most westerners to try to come to an understanding, though of course, it is still something of a living reality for Indians, even very modern ones.
In that respect, Rukmini is in a class by herself, even though we might say that she has internalized the mentality. Rather than stand by and let others make the calculations on her behalf she is making them herself. She rejects the choices offered her by her brother and father, bucking social convention and making a choice based on her own personal values and so on. But the basic compromise is one of reason and heart. She is pulled by the heart to Krishna, but at the same time, it has to be reasonable—she is assessing whether they are suitable for one another. This is how the other meaning of
samañjasā is applicable.
The interesting question here, which is ultimately the theme of the three types of love, comes in the definition of love as either being distinct from or one with sexual desire. The inferior kind of love (
sādhāraṇī) is said to be completely separable from desire (
kāma), while in
samañjasā rati, it is only sometimes distinct, in which case Krishna becomes aloof from his wives.
The valuing of
pārakīyā love in Inda would not have been possible if all satisfactions were present in the system of arranged marriages. We could also put it this way: If marriage as an institution were meant to lead to the death of eros, then it could generally be considered successful.
Usually married love is regarded as inferior because it becomes boring, lacks the excitement of new loves, presents no danger or obstacles, etc. On the surface of it, none of these things is being considered in the definitions given here. Nevertheless, we must speculate that there is a connection. Generally speaking, the value of marriage is that a couple keeps its contractual obligation, recognizing that love is ephemeral in this world and that through all the ups and downs, there must be a commitment to a higher principle, namely
dharma, the contractual obligation to support and serve one another in sickness and in health, in wealth or poverty, happiness or distress, or even with the abatement of passion. There is also often, in the material situation, a question of children and other extended obligations that arise from such a union.
By the same token, there is a fear of public opinion (
loka), which tends to keep one captive in a situation that may have become unbearable. These are external constraints that serve as a protection for the institution of marriage, and in this world, they are justified to a great extent. One of the criticisms that arose about John McCain, for instance, in the recent elections, was that he divorced his first wife on returning from Vietnam, apparently because she had been crippled in a car accident. Since she no longer served his interests, having lost much of her sexual appeal, he abandoned her for another woman. This could be given as an example of the
sādhāraṇī mentality.
The need for
dharmāpekṣā and
lokapekṣā to restrain baser impulses of this sort--the kind of thing we might call licentiousness or womanizing--certainly have a role to play in society, and religion has typically served this role. You could say that the cost to society of abandoning religious restraints of this type in order to allow the possibility of higher individual freedom and fulfillment means running the risk of people acting according to their lower propensities. This is the danger or risk, and the debate over whether the direction in which modern society has moved by loosening the social and religious hold over individual behavior in the matter of sexuality has had an overall positive or negative effect. I personally think that the movement in favor of freedom and choice are ultimately beneficial. We shall return to this matter in discussing
samarthā rati.
Of course, when we talk about Krishna and his queens, we make the
a priori assumption that Krishna is the ideal husband in every respect and that his queens are similarly perfect. How then can any blemish at all be applied to their relationship? How can it be said of them that personal sense desire pierces through the veneer of their pure love? The same basic problem that we saw in the Kubja example of
sādhāraṇī rati applies here also.
Vishwanath points out that the two Bhāgavata quotations are related to the positive and negative aspects of
samañjasā. The positive aspect is indicated in the definition when it is said that this rati arises from hearing the qualities, etc. You have to look to the preceding discussion in the chapter to understand why a natural love like that of Rukmini only needs a superficial impetus to be awakened. This is indicated in 10.52.37 as well (
śrutvā guṇān bhuvana-sundara).
The second example is to show how the sexual desire sometimes becomes separated from the love, and when it does it becomes incapable of conquering Krishna. Vishwanath and Vishnudas both point out that only the purest devotion has the characteristic of "controlling Krishna."
=======
I thought quite a bit about this post before putting it up, because it felt unfinished. In fact, there is a problem, which we will have to deal with in the
samarthā section especially, and that is in dealing with the distinction between the reality of love in this world and the transcendent ideal.
Married love is also an archetypal love relationship, as are the two others. What needs to be deciphered is how there can be a limitation in the archetype itself, since by definition, archetypes are ideal. In fact, the ideal nature of the archetypes is dependent on the individual psychology of the person who is in their thrall or "ruled" by them. Thus, a person for whom the
sādhāraṇī archetype is dominant, love has elements of
tamo-guṇa. For a person in whom the
samañjasā archetype is dominant, the
rajo-guṇa elements are present. What we will have to try to unravel is how the
sādhāraṇī and
samarthā archetypes are distinct.
In fact, for the Hindu religious thinkers, there is only
sādhāraṇī and
samañjasā (though they would not have used those terms): vulgar love or dharmic love. They fight, like those who live in the world of "honor killings," against any love that does not fit the strict limitations of the permitted religious definition.
Here, Rupa Goswami is fundamentally stating that there is a serious limitation to the dharmic conception of love and because of it, its power is limited.
Thought there may be many books that deal with the subject of Indian marriage, which Indians themselves tout as being a more successful model than the Western, but I was particularly influenced by Manisha Roy's
Bengali Women, which I read as an undergraduate many years ago. This book was published in the 80's, I believe, and with all the changes in Indian society may no longer give a true picture of life as it is today. Nevertheless, in terms of understanding the nature of samañjasā rati, it was a great help.
I don't have a copy, so I can't quote, but I remember the rather depressing depiction of the average traditional marriage: how a young woman idealizes love, in no small part as a result of hearing tales of Radha and Krishna, and then is thrust into a situation where an entirely different reality confronts her. Whereas sexual desire, etc., no doubt help to cover a multitude of disappointments, and realism forces one to deal with the rest, Roy describes how for so many women, the only outlet for the deep psychological wound that comes from never finding true passionate love is the displacement into religion and devotion to a guru. On the other hand, for the man, it results in a glorification of the pārakīyā ideal and the seemingly universal patriarchal double standard.
Generally speaking, when people talk about "mature love," they are talking about the harmonization of the ideal with the real. Immaturity is a sign that one is still living in a world of impossible expectations; reality means making the best of a situation where human imperfections and disappointments are inevitable. But in this situation, Rupa Goswami seems to be saying that the balance of so-called maturity is too heavily tipped towards disappointment.
How true all this was then or now, I don't know. But it resonated as true with me then after ten years in India, and it resonates with me now.
Anyway, I am going to leave this discussion for the time being, admitting that there are still some holes in it, with the hope that further thoughts will mature and come up in the discussion on
samarthā rati.
