The difference between a paṇḍit and a wise man: a study of Bengali songs as literature against literature

Carola Erika Lorea IIAS Research Fellow, Netherlands [email protected]

ABSTRACT

From the 18th century until present, Bauls and Fakirs of Bengal composed a rich and variegated literary corpus that has fascinated and inspired several Bengali novelists, poets and intellectuals. Nevertheless, Baul and Fakir practitioners hold written literature in very low esteem: written texts are 'just for paṇḍits', while songs represent the only authoritative transmission of knowledge, together with the gurus' speech. Both Baul songs and their gurus' teachings share a similar language, highly polysemic, humorous and paradoxical, characterized by the literary device known in Tantric literature as sandhyā bhāṣā. How to study religious texts, when these are represented by a fluctuating repertoire of oral literature, composed by ecstatic saint-songwriters and performed by itinerant musicians? In this paper I discuss my methodological contribution to the study of esoteric literature within and beyond the borders of Bengal, based upon a contextual study of the songs' lyrics implemented through an ethnography of oral exegesis. Adopting a performance- centered approach, by which sacred songs are seen as 'events' rather than 'texts', this perspective integrates within the study of South Asian literatures the dimensions of reception and oral literary criticism. The motionless reality of a printed text is thus brought into life, where it interacts with the dynamism of a living culture, the vibrant rhythm of the performers' ankle-bells and the diverging interpretations of the listeners.

Introduction

From pre-modern Bengal, a number of unorthodox and non-institutionalized religious movements arose out of the encounter between Buddhist Sahajiya, Nath, Vaishnava Sahajiya and Sufi practitioners.www.culturalstudies.in The so-called 'Tantric minstrels' and 'mystic troubadours' of contemporary Bengal emerged from this religious substratum, which is antinomian, esoteric, and essentially Tantric. They are commonly known under the umbrella name of Bauls or Fakirs and their religious beliefs as well as body-centered practices provoke scandal and scorn among the conservative Hindu and Muslim establishments. For instance, Bauls do not recognize any artificial discrimination among men, such as caste and religious identity, and they do not apply the rules of pollution and ritual purity prescribed by the orthodoxy. Their practices involve ritualized sexual intercourse, the intake of bodily fluids for both spiritual and medical reasons and the consumption of marijuana. From the 20th century, the enormous corpus of literature produced by Bauls became extremely representative of the Bengali culture within and beyond the Bengal borders. The Nobel prize Rabindranath Tagore took inspiration for several of his songs from Baul images, metaphors, tunes; in one of his plays – Phālgun - he represented himself in the role of an old wise Baul (the artist Abanindranath Tagore made a portrait of Tagore dressed up as a Baul during his performance). The famous novelist Sunil Ganguly, who passed away in 2012, centered one of his most popular novels (Maner Ṃanuṣ, 2008) around the character of Lalon Fakir, the famous composer who is known as the “emperor of Bauls”. As a result of his journeys through West Bengal, also the American Beat poet Allen Ginsberg has been heavily influenced by Bauls and their lyrics.1 Despite the privileged position of honour of Baul literature among writers and scholars, Bauls themselves have a very merciless opinion about printed literature. A verse of the saint-songwriter Bhaba Pagla (1902-1984) who was a Guru to many Bauls and a composer of Baul songs that are still extremely popular among Bauls says: “Yata khuṃjbi hāriẏe yābi / bai pustak Caṇḍī Gīt”, lit. the more you search in books and texts, such as Caṇḍī and Gīta2, the more you lose (or you get lost). The texts he is referring to probably represent the most renowned 'sacred scriptures' among Bengali Hindus: Caṇḍī is the colloquial name of the Devi Mahatmiya and Gīta is the short form of Bhagavad Gīta. This verse is particularly emblematic because it reflects the common approach of Baul and Fakir texts and textreligiouspractitioners towards texts and textreligiouspractitioners - knowledge. In the contemporarybased repertoire of songs transmitted among Baul and Fakir practitioners, there are infinite examples of verses that contest the validity of sacred texts, particularly referring to the Veda and the Quran. Through those verses, the practitioners disseminate their belief in a search for divine knowledge that is attained through sādhanā, the body-centred practice for self- realization that one learns from the Guru and from other experienced disciples. Just to quote one more verse as an example, in a well-known song attributed to Lalon Fakir (?-1890) we hear: “Tiriś pātā Kurānkhāni – lekhā āche Nabijir bāṇi / Ābār sei bāṇi ki mithyā hate pāre re ...” (tr. The Quran made of thirty pages - the message of the Prophet is written on it / again, this message can also be false …). This verse refers to the highly valued concept, among Bauls, that truth cannot be revealed from outside, but it should be experienced internally, hence sacred texts are of no help for the path towards self-realization. Secondly, it refers to the idea, transmitted among esoteric practitioners, that the Quran that is taught by the maulavis, the Islamic theologians, is made of 30000 words, although the real Quran in its entirety is made of 90000 words: the remaining 60000 are secret, they are not available on any written text and should be learned orally from a Guru, or Murśid.3 To this short selection of examples, I add an evidence that comes from my four year field-work experience in West Bengal, where I collected oral texts and oral exegeses from Baul and Fakir practitioners, particularly from the devotees and disciples of Bhaba Pagla. The Murśid from whom I was learning about Islamic esoteric teachings, seeing my propensity towards studying books and spending a lot of time reading, often used to warn me with a common saying among esoteric practitioners: through books, you can become very erudite (paṇḍit), but you cannot become a wise or knowledgeable person (jñānī). A paṇḍit is a high- caste expert in Sanskrit scriptures and doctrinal texts: he knows the mantras and the formulas needed to officiatewww.culturalstudies.in orthodox rituals. But this has nothing to do with wisdom. This attitude reflects a well-known tendency historically mirrored in the literary genres diffused among bhakti movements and in the Siddhas' literature. For instance, in the words of the Telugu poet Dhurjati: “I have recited the Vedas and the Shastras. But my doubts have not been answered, even as much as a mustard seed sat down next to a pumpkin!” (Shelling 2011: 63). If the attitude towards religious texts is so merciless, then which literature is accepted as an authoritative source of religious knowledge by Bauls?4 Regarding this matter, another Baul proverb comes in handy in order to understand the importance accorded to songs as opposed to sacred scriptures: gāne jñān, in songs there is wisdom, or, through songs wisdom is attained. They constitute the oral encyclopedia of Bauls' beliefs and inclinations, a rich assortment that works as a source of learning, teaching, amusing, entertaining, earning and propagating. They reflect a deeply rooted South Asian tradition by which sacred sound (be it the speculation on nāda, the soteriological efficacy of mantra, japā silent recitation or the singing of inspired verses) constitutes “the nucleic substance of salvific activity, and the vital yet inexplicable nexus between temporal life and eternal beatitude” (Beck 1995: 406). Some scholars on Bauls defined Baul songs as śāstras (Jha 1999: 397), because they validate, reiterate and transmit Bauls' principles about cosmology, soteriology, ethics, practice, psycho- physiology and much more. Whereas they do not recognize the authority of any fixed written canon, Bauls consider songs a legitimate source of knowledge (gāne jñān), and a kind of sādhanā in itself:5 equated with the achievements reached by other techniques of sādhanā, such as breath control and emptying of the mind through meditation, singing can lead to the highest degree of self-realization and ecstatic bliss (gāne siddha). In short, while the content of the songs brings the remembrance of the highest truths, the act of singing has a salvific value. I refer to Baul and Fakir songs as 'sacred' because they fulfill three basic requirements of sacred songs: 1) the music that accompanies the songs is a medium to attain ecstasy and bliss, through an intensification of pitch and rhythm that follows the patters of 'intensity'6 which characterizes religious music in India (Henry 2002). 2) The content of the songs reiterates religious tenets, beliefs and practices shared by a group.7 3) The interaction of sacred song performance and the complex realm of sacred ritual makes sacred songs 'religious' (Marini 2003: 7). In order for a song to be considered as a religious expression, this must be presented with sacred intentionality as part of effective ritual action: the song is presented as sacred activity (ibid). Baul songs, when performed in non commercial or 'staged' contexts, are subjected to regulations, religious conventions and taboos. For instance, a song is never interrupted or sang only partially: it has to be performed from the beginning to the end and it is an important requirement that the singer remembers all the lines of the song. Some songs can be performed only in a certain time of the day. Also song sequences follow particular patterns according to themes and successions of questions and answers. Instead of relying upon religious texts, Bauls' masters and preceptors encourage the practitioners to learn through śruti:8 the term conventionally refers to 'that which is heard', revealed texts, i.e. the Veda; but in the Baul speech, it is intended in the sense of listening to what the Gurus say, i.e. participate in sādhu-saṅgas, gatherings of Gurus, disciples and devotees characterized by an exchange of religious knowledge that may take the form of a doctrinal debate, an informal conversation or the spontaneous performance of songs. An interesting feature of the language used in sādhu-saṅgas is that it often reflects the language of the songs, employing exactly the same terms, metaphors, imagery and expressions, sometimes replicating entire verses of one song in colloquial speech. The language of the Gurus and the language of Baul songs represent the same mode of discourse, i.e. a particular use of the language, a communicative modality relative to other modes of discourse used in a culture (Wade 1976: 73). In this light, it is relevant to inquire into the issue of genre and elucidate whether Baul songs have peculiar characteristics and codified conventions that can define their language,www.culturalstudies.in relative to other modalities of communication. As a mode of discourse, the language of Baul songs is closely related to the language and registers of the Gurus' speech and the language, style and figures of speech used in hari kathā, or doctrinal discussion among disciples and practitioners.9

Baul songs as a “sacred scripture”: revisiting assumed notions on religious texts

The conception of 'religious text' that I have outlined in the last section is a reflection of a broader, more ancient, and pan-Indian approach to 'texts'. On the other hand, it is particularly a Bengali feature, and even more particularly, it is a characteristic of the heterodox religious movements that have their roots in pre-modern Bengal and emerged out of the Buddhist – Vaishnava - Sufi confluence (Cashin 1995: 17). About this ancient and pan-Indian attitude towards the written sacred scripture, it is useful to recall a study of Thomas Coburn, where he critiqued the prevailing conception of Hindu “scripture”. Coburn pointed out that the definition of what constitutes Hindu scripture is Christian-biased and literary. Written texts, he argues, should really be considered as a subset of holy verbal phenomena in Hinduism, because in actual practice mystical experience and the oral transmission of religious concepts are emphasized over what is written down. To a disciple, the word of a Guru may acquire the status of śruti”. As we have observed above in the Baul context, “instead of being fixed in a distant past, śruti must be seen as an ongoing and experientially based feature of the Hindu religious tradition" (Coburn 1984: 45). In this sense, we can say that in the South Asian context the revealed word is not singular and relegated to a distant ahistorical past, but it is understood as a continuity. In the Baul context, the 'oral canon' is not only continuously memorized, transmitted and performed, but also it is open and inclusive: new compositions can enter it, while old ones may disappear or persist in one or several variants at the same time. That Indian religious texts can be studied in the form of songs is particularly true in the Bengali context: for its first eight hundred years (10th - 18th century), the history of Bengali literature has actually been a history of Bengali songs, in the form of esoteric, sacred and devotional songs (S. Cakrabarti 1990: 13). The songs of today's Bauls follow this history: style, terminology, images and use of metaphores filées of the contemporary songs of sādhanā can be easily traced back to the Buddhist esoteric songs of the Siddhas known as caryāpada (8th - 12th century), as many scholars have pointed out.10 The common feature of the long history of esoteric songs in Bengali is certainly the use of what in Tantric literature is referred to as sandhyā bhāṣā,11 the enigmatic twilight/intentional language that makes the lyrics as charming as unintelligible. The tradition of the intentional language that involves an entire corpus of texts, such as caryāpad, Sānt sāhitya, Caitanya Caritāmṛta, sahajiyā kaṛcā etc. “has been kept active through the compositions of the Bauls” (Jha 1999: 467); not only this enigmatic style has “an unbroken history” in Indian literature (S. Dasgupta 1962: 424). This uninterrupted history is to be attributed to the continuity of the oral transmission of knowledge within religious lineages (or cluster of lineages). Their language is continuously renovated and updated with new signifiers and symbols drawn from contemporary reality. This is one among the important findings of my research on Bengali esoteric songs (see Lorea 2013, 2014).www.culturalstudies.in When we speak of a religious canon we refer to a system that attempts to achieve closure. To consider an oral and ever-changing, flexible, open repertoire of performed sacred songs as a religious text is a challenging idea for the conventional understanding of 'religious text'. What is a sacred scripture? Let us review these notions in order to formulate an innovative approach that can fit the culture-specific perspective on 'sacred text' that is widespread among Bengali heterodox movements. In its general definition, a sacred scripture is supposedly a revelation of a deity and it is accepted as authoritative by members of a specific religion (Mulder 1970:33). This definition already questions the idea that the concept of 'revelation' is itself culture-specific. In the context of Indic religions, for example, it would be difficult to find an equivalent term in local languages, whether ancient or modern. The Veda is not a revealed word: it is eternal and exists since, and together with, the beginning of times (Raju 1985: 47; Fernhout 1994: 153-156). The songs of Bauls and Fakirs are composed by human beings, and the name of the composer (bhaṇitā) is generally mentioned in the last stanza. Human beings though, from the emic perspective, if fully realized, become one with the divine, and the sādhanā of Bauls is addressed towards this quest. The most revered composers of Baul songs are those practitioners, and Gurus, who accomplished their inner potential (siddha) and share their experience with the listeners. Their message (bāṇi) 'reveals' the truth experienced on their level of accomplishment. Baul songs though are also very human, in the sense that they can be composed by practicing disciples (prabarta and sādhaka) that are struggling with the intricacies of the spiritual path, and share through their lyrics their failures and ineptitude. In modern Western thinking, "Scripture" is generally assumed to refer to "holy writ," "holy writing," or "sacred book." Indeed, the very words 'scripture' (from the Latin scriptura, 'a writing') and 'bible' (from the Latin biblia, 'a collection of writings' or 'book') have led us to think of divine revelation as a written or printed object (Coward 1988:ix). In the Western collective imaginary, a sacred scripture does not generally include the spoken word or the heard word (śruti). It is an important responsibility of scholars to change this mental paradigm and highlight the fact that sacred scriptures as canonical texts revealed by a God are a relatively recent feature of the West, and that this is not the case in numerous world religions. My work supports the idea that it is important to regain the oral experience of a scripture and explore its life in both dimensions, orality and literacy, which often coexist. As many scholars on folklore and verbal arts demonstrated, it is not necessary to see oral tradition in evolutionary perspective as merely a background for the emergence of a written canon, for oral and written canon(s) may exist simultaneously, even within the same tradition (Korom 1996: 18; Finnegan 1998). As pointed out by several scholars (Korom 1996: 18), until quite recently (Coburn 1984; Lutgendorf 1991), written texts have been privileged as markers of canonicity in the academic study of Hinduism and Buddhism12. This has been reinforced by the Indological legacy which has led to an emphasis on text alone, at the expense of performative contexts (Rocher 1986:53-59). Consequently, religious movements were explained with the literary analysis of what was indicated as their religious text, without taking into consideration the oral life of a text, and its significance for performers and audiences. Reacting to this trend, a call for attention on interpretation,13 oral exegesis and oral literary criticism emerged from several disciplines (Dundes 1966; Korom 1997). This focus on the text at the expense of performative and exegetical dimensions affected also the study of Bauls and Fakirs. Both Bengali and Western scholars studied the Baul tradition using written collections and anthologies of Baul songs as their primary source, separated from their living enactment and their role in performers' and practitioners' lives.14 This brought to a series of misperceptions and idealizations about the religious tenets and practices of Bauls. Misperceptions are also due to the fact that Baul songs are composed in a witty, enigmatic 'upsidewww.culturalstudies.in-down language' (ulṭa bhāṣā) that is extremely polysemic and multi- layered. Moreover, printed collections of Baul songs are generally manufactured by scholars non initiated into the practice of a Baul lineage, or by members of an intellectual middle-class whose criteria of selection and omission reflect their imaginary construction of Baul-ness. For example, I showed in my doctoral research that printed collections tend to avoid very explicit songs on objectionable Tantric-yogic practices or more personal compositions on the life of the lyricist. As Openshaw remarked, “The canon of 'Baul songs' [is] compiled and policed by non-Baul educated middle-class. The influence of the latter on the popularity or otherwise of individual 'Bauls' should not be underestimated.” (2010: 208-209). Baul singers do not oppose the use of written media: in fact, unless illiterate, writing is an efficient support for disciples and performers, who often write down on a personal note-book the new songs they learn. Nevertheless, the traditional way to learn a song is through oral transmission from Guru to disciple, a transmission that not only teaches the song's lyrics, rhythm and tune, but also its meaning(s). Present day Bengal is a place where different media coexist with equal rights to transmit Baul songs and teachings. For some aspects, e.g. sādhanā topics, oral medium is preferred, while for some other aspects - e.g. learning songs in view of performances - written and recorded sources are more often utilized. A historical change that I have pointed out in my book (Lorea 2016) has to do with the inversion of the hierarchy between different media. Whereas the oral vehicle of transmission from Guru to disciple was considered of paramount importance over other media, today a different hierarchy is trying to establish itself, supporting modern media (radio, TV, cassettes and CD players) as more prestigious sources of transmitted knowledge. This topic has been taken into consideration only by few scholars. Abhishek Bose noticed it while doing field-work in a remote village in Nadia District. A Baul started singing a song of Lalon Fakir, and after a short while the host began to object to the “incorrect” lyric:

<> (A. Basu 2011: 235-236).

The so-called “scriptist bias” of Western educational systems (Harris 1986: 46), that is, the tendency to assume that information is naturally to be subsumed under the headings of writing and print, found its way within rural lineages and heterodox movements in West Bengal. In some fringes of the Baul tradition, a “boomerang effect” is occurring, by which singers and practitioners accord more authority to the written text and the recorded text, then to the orally transmitted word. The need to collect and write down the songs though did not come from Baul insiders, but from an educated middle-class alienated from the rural and oral culture who perceived the danger of loss, and felt the urge to collect the remnants of a tradition that could have disappeared forever. It is maintained in the history of religious texts in general, that one of the important reasons for the writing down of the oral texts was fear of the loss of the oral scripture. Another concern was the controlling of divergent traditions and disputes. This presupposition can be questioned as in the Indian tradition apparently to construct oral synthetic overviews of a high order was not a problem (Coward 1988:173). More often than not, religions included under the umbrella name 'Hinduism' did not experience the needwww.culturalstudies.in for a standardized and authoritative version of their oral scriptures (Coward 1988:173). Being an open and ever-changing oral canon, Baul songs do not have to deal with the hermeneutic need of sacred scriptures to be able to talk to future audiences, because they already speak, so to say, in the present tense. Sacred texts generally describe events and experiences bound to a specific situation and context, but they pretend to have the capacity to speak beyond their own immediate situation. It becomes the task of the interpreter "to enable the text to speak to future audiences - audiences that are just as significant to the meaning of the text as was the 'original audience'. The rhetorical situation as perceived by the interpreter calls out for response from the text" (Scult 1983:224). The case of Baul songs equally deserves a concentration on the strategies of interpretation and explanation of the song's meaning, but for a different reason: they require authoritative interpreters because they are otherwise unintelligible: they comprise a number of tropes, metaphores filées, allegorical images and paradoxical expressions. The indigenous system of oral exegesis of Baul songs, which has been the focus of my analysis during a four year field-work in West Bengal (Lorea 2015), acts on very different premises. Generally we imagine a text to have one real intended meaning, but many different interpretations, according to its reader. For sacred texts, authoritative interpreters are in charge of revealing the true or legitimate meaning of the text. I found out that Baul songs, instead, are intended to have a multitude of meanings; moreover, polysemy is admired as an aesthetic value. A song of an enlightened composer is said to contain all possible meanings; the listener/interpreter attributes to it one meaning, according to his/her stage of sādhanā. One who can discern and recognize all meanings, the literal and the devotional, the erotic as well as the transcendental, is an authoritative interpreter who has passed through various stages of sādhanā until the achievement of the sahaja nature of a self-realized. In short, there is nothing like a 'correct' exegesis, but rather, a very sophisticated and codified range of possible exegeses, each fitting the requirements of a determined kind of listener. Instead, several scholars who only engaged in textual studies on Bauls tried very hard to attribute a fixed meaning to a particularly recurrent metaphor, or even to compile a dictionary of Baul terminology where for each allegorical term they provide a definite meaning (e.g. Ray and Tat 2006: 24-30). Researchers who engaged in long and empathic field-work with practitioners lament the inaccuracy of such an approach:

“Meaning is thought to be single, or if double, unambiguously so […]. The assumption is that there is a correct interpretation of the songs, just as there is a correct version, even if we and possibly some Bauls are not aware of it. Thus sources engage in combat on the correct interpretation of certain 'symbols'. The possibility that there may be several different or even simultaneous interpretations is often not entertained.” (Openshaw 2004: 65-66).

“Becoming immortal in the battlefield of sādhanā”: the stratified exegetical universe of Baul songs

I offer an example of such a diversity of interpretations and of the way in which the contradictory and simultaneous existence of several interpretations is systematized in an inclusive system of indigenous hermeneutics. During my field-work, I collected a number of oral exegeses of this particular song of the saint-composer Bhaba Pagla, who was a Guru to many Bauls, and whose songs are regularly performed during Baul gatherings and festivals:

On my battlefieldwww.culturalstudies.in of sādhanā I became immortal15 then why do I still fear, Mother? […] Why would you always hide behind a veil? All of your sons are going to see their Mother […] How many times I insulted you Mother, now Mother I will disguise as an enemy (or, I will prepare the ārati)16 my wisdom in meditation is mother and son together they're bound in a fight, hesitation in their mind. Mother, in your hand there is a frightening sword on my lips I keep on repeating “Tārā, Tārā, Tārā...” the body's twangs and tingles resonating in the house when you'll come the rise will happen. You decapitated your son and still your desire is not satiated Consider, oh Mother, whose fault is this This won't appease the Gods in this dark age of Kali so says Bhaba Pagla.17

Original text: 18

,

19

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[ ] 20

The tone of the composer in this song is similar to what is referred to, in śāktapadābalī, as nindāstuti (McDermott 2001: 52; Schelling 2011: 216): a typical pattern of praise through bitter reproach, a mix of outrage and temper. The role enacted by the poet- sādhaka is that of the fierce bīr, the brave hero who goes to war.21 The metaphor of the war is recurrent in a number of songs of sādhanā, where ritual sexual intercourse is referred to as sādhan samare,22 sādhanārwww.culturalstudies.in raṇe23 (both meaning battlefield), or simply yuddha (war).24 Of course this metaphorical theater of war is explained with dramatically different connotations according to the diverse religious orientations of the interpreters. For some interpreters, the composer “became immortal in the battlefield of sādhanā” in the sense that, through gān- sādhanā, and thus through his music and his songs, he is still remembered: his name became immortal.25 Devotees who ascribe to this interpretation are not able to give a full exegesis of the song and, particularly, of more complex paradoxes (e.g. the mother decapitates the son). Gurus that propagate the bhakti-mārg prefer to interpret the battlefield as the mental warfare between good and evil: our mind is constantly struggling between two inclinations, one towards Īśwar and another one towards biṣaẏ, i.e. eagerness for possession. These are represented by devas and asuras and this song is a prayer to remove the latter. The poet recognizes himself as immortal (amar) in the sense of amṛter putra: a son of the eternal. Nevertheless he appears afraid of death because, infatuated by Māyā, the subject still believes in the illusion of the existence of something called “I” and “mine”. In these verses he invokes and worships the Mother (sājbo ārati) so that she brings him some relief. In the devotional- theistic layer of interpretation, the mother is mahiṣāsuramardinī: the Goddess who kills the asura of ignorance (and thus “decapitates the son”: for even the demons are fruit of the Goddess's creation). The bīr-bhāb of the saint-songwriter is paraphrased as such: “What does a mother do when the child is impolite? She slaps him and scolds him so that he grows up like a proper, polite man. But then, if the son is misbehaving, whose fault is it? Here Bhaba is challenging the mother: you're the creator of bad and evil, your creature is misbehaving ultimately because of you; and nevertheless, you punish him”.26 In one of my articles I discuss how the ambiguous and amphibious language of these religious songs can be appropriated and interpreted by middle-class devotees who strive to 'Hinduize' this religious community: to transform the antinomian, non-institutionalised movement represented in Bhaba Pagla's songs into a philanthropic, universalistic more orthodox religion, for successful proselytism among upper classes and among the Hindu diasporic communities abroad (Lorea 2017). Interpreters who have been taught esoteric terminology and doctrines, portray a very different metaphorical scenario: in the battlefield of sexual sādhanā, man and woman (mother and son) have to disguise as rivals (āorati) because polar differentiation is needed in order to perform the union. At the same time, the sādhikā has to be seen and perceived as a mother (her inner potential as a 'procreator') for the success of yugala sādhanā. The sādhaka has to be perceived as a son: as an embodiment of his fundamental substance, his semen, which is an inner potential child. The woman (“yā haraṇ kare”) is the one who dangerously provokes seminal discharge: she eats, from the “lower mouth”, the potential-child-substance. Cutting off the head means depriving the male of the place where his seed is stored.27 In the article titled “Conception and contraception in Baul songs and oral teachings” I specifically discussed the indigenous knowledge transmitted among Baul practitioners about fertility, procreation and the techniques to avoid it, as it is reflected in their esoteric songs and oral narratives (Lorea 2014b). An interesting point of view, which explicitly declares the performer's strategy of balance between revealing and concealing, in oral exegesis, is provided by a well-known performer of Baul songs, himself a disciple of Bhaba Pagla:

The key of the song is bāṃcār kathā: surviving, being alive; he is afraid of dying. It's about keeping śakti so he doesn't die. […] this explanation cannot be given in front of everybody. Every performer has two byākhyā [explanations, interpretations]: one is the meaning that he understands, as he experienced it through his body, as a sādhaka. Another meaning is the one that he will give in the public presentation of songs. Mā and chele here are like the Goddess and Mahādev: they are mother and son.28 At the same time, theywww.culturalstudies.in are husband and wife. Mahādev is in her arms like a child. That is how a relationship between husband and wife should be.29

Insiders' perspectives reveal that among a range of interpretations, the best byākhyā is chosen according to the context. The same verses are subjected to various layers of understandings: one is personal and depends on the individual stage of sādhanā of the listener (and/or performer); one is public and fits any kind of audience. According to varying layers of understanding, the sādhana-war that made Bhaba Pagla immortal is differently understood as his fame as a songwriter (gān-sādhanā), the transcendental struggle between the Creator and the creature, the mental ethical struggle between good and evil, the cosmogonic struggle between masculine and feminine principle, and ultimately, the sexual battlefield where the esoteric practitioner can exercise divine love. The different layers of interpretation are generally systematized by Bauls in four categories, which also reflect the four stages of individual practice (sādhanā) - sthūla, prabarta, sādhaka, siddha – in ascending order from the gross to the most subtle, from the non initiate to the accomplished practitioner. In the uppermost level of exegetical authority, all divergencies disappear and all the interpretations are equally correct: at the top stage of the sahaja hierarchy, all hierarchies disintegrate and all dualities, between nirvana and samsara, between exoteric and esoteric etc., are equated. This theoretical paradox of the Sahajiyā system of songs' composition and exegesis is reflected, in practice, in the content of Baul songs, beautifully adorned with an intricate embroidery of paradoxical images, enigmatic statements, symbols and allegories.

Conclusion

The possibility to study 'sacred texts' in a non-Eurocentric and non-textualist approach, which includes the study of oral canons and the performative dimensions of written, oral, recorded, and even non-verbal religious 'texts', requires the researcher to engage in an ethnography of oral exegeses and metaphorical speech. How are these 'texts' received, understood and interpreted, and by whom? In researching answers to these questions, my methodology aligns to the (relatively) recent attention given to the strand of 'reception studies' and the semiotics of reception. In the domain of literary criticism (Ricoeur 1976, 1981), philosophy (Gadamer 1976) and linguistics (especially applied and cognitive linguistics; Graesser, Singer and Trabasso 1994) attention had shifted from authors' intention to readers' responses, in other words, from production to reception.30 The same shift took place in the realm of folklore scholarship. Alan Dundes had called for “oral literary criticism” in 1966 and a decade later he wrote: "There has been little concrete discussion in the folkloristics literature on precisely what different members of the audience understand by a given item of folklore even though it is clear that the same item may mean very different things to different listeners. [...] One would think that the investigation of audiences and their different understandings (and misunderstandings) of folklore communication events is a likely area for further research." (1976: 80, 90). It is of equal importance to integrate in the study of religious literature the perspective of a “hearer-response” (Coward 1988:182) theory in order to integrate the dimension of orality and reception even within traditions that give the uttermost importance to a written 'sacred scripture'. In this article, such a perspective helped us to clarify two main areas. First, local epistemology: the insider's perspective on what is knowledge and how it is to be attained; especially the emic view on literature and printed texts. Second, the different reception of a same item of literature (one specific song) among the members of a community (disciples, devotees, gurus and performers of the Bhaba Pagla community), its stratification and the existence ofwww.culturalstudies.in a hierarchy of semantic understandings that connects personal practice (sādhanā) and songs' exegesis. The ethnography of oral exegesis and of metaphorical speech represents a fruitful avenue for further studies in the field of contemporary esoteric literature in Bengal and beyond: this is, I hope, one of the methodological contributions that my research has offered to the field. It ensures that the vitality of Baul's oral performance and song texts is not crystallized or made abstract. It highlights its dynamism and the fact that the life of a cultural item is constantly negotiated between readers and listeners, authors and patrons.

END NOTES

1. An interesting reportage on Caravan Magazine gives an account of the Baul cultural impact in the USA (Deborah Baker, “For the Sake of the Song”, May 2011. URL http://www.caravanmagazine.in/reportage/sake-song last access: 30/05/2017). 2. Caṇḍī is the name by which the Devī Mahātmiya is commonly known in Bengal. Together with Bhagavad Gīta it became one of the most widespread and recognized “scriptures” associated with the Hindu orthopraxy. See Levering (1989: 115-117). 3. See also Lee's study on the Marphati practitioners in Bangladesh (Lee 2008). 4. A little remark needs to be made here: this introduction does not mean to persuade the reader that Baul practitioners do not find valuable knowledge in any written text whatsoever. In fact, in conversations and doctrinal debates, I often heard quotations from books that the practitioners hold in high esteem, i.e. Caitanya Caritāmṛta,Vivarta Vilāsa, Svarup Dāmodarer Kaṛcā, the “Hidden Quran” by Mansur Ali etc. These texts, together with many other less known pamphlets circulated among the devotees, are all respected and often cited as an authoritative source, but one cannot become knowledgeable through their teachings only. 5. An extremely popular song by the saint-composer Bhaba Pagla thus says: gān sarbasreṣṭha sādhanā (singing is the supreme practice for self-realization). 6. Henry made it a characteristic of religion in South Asia: “Music is ubiquitous in religious ritual in India, but in devotional Hindu religion and in South and West Asian Sufism the primary religious activity is music-making. Passionate singing, clapping or playing percussion instruments and dancing serve as the fundamental means of expressing devotion. Explicit religious dogma gives devotional singing in both Sufism and Bhakti an important part of its meaning and reflects the intensity of the music” (Henry 2002: 50). See also Thielemann (2002). 7. In the definition of Marini (2003: 4) apart from a music that brings transcendence and ecstasy, it is the content of songs that sacralizes music: “by naming the sacred powers, articulating the sacred cosmos, and disclosing how sacrality interacts with humanity, verbalized beliefs specify sacred content in a way that music alone cannot. Mythic language supplies a criterion by which musical emotion qualifies to be a carrier of sacred meaning. The harnessing of musical expression to mythic content defines sacred song.” 8. 'That which has been heard': a sacred status of aural revelation such as the one of the Vedas. See, among others, Flood (1996: 11, 36, 40) for an overview and Clooney (2014) for a detailed analysis. 9. For a detailed discussion on hari kathā as “talking about practice” see Openshaw (2004: 233-239). 10. See, for instance, Kvaerne (1977: 8); Capwell (1986: 33, 83-85); Widdess (2004: 12, 33). 11. Per Kvaerne (1977: 37-38) provides a useful summary of four main interpretations of this ambiguous mode of discourse. Sandhyā (lit. evening, twilight) bhāṣā was firstly interpreted as 'twilight speech':www.culturalstudies.in a language of light and darkness, or the language expressed in an ambiguous and unclear manner. This view was offered by Hariprasad Shastri's study in Bauddha Gān o Dohā (translated in Bharati 1975: 166), and further supported by B. Bhattacharya (1932) and A. Wayman (1972). Later, the expression was intended as 'intentional speech'. On the basis of a wide material from older Buddhist sources as well as the Tibetan and Chinese translations of the term, Vidhusekhar Bhattacharya (1928) emended the term to sandhā (possibly an abbreviation of sandhāyā) and suggested that it should be understood as 'intentional' language. This term has been accepted by numerous scholars, including P. C. Bagchi and M. Eliade. A third option is to translate the expression as 'enigmatic speech.' This translation was adopted, more recently, by S. Dasgupta (1962). Finally, some scholars interpreted sandhyā/sandhā bhāṣā as 'secret speech.' For instance, Max Muller (1894) translated as 'hidden saying', and a similar option was adopted by D. L. Snellgrove in connection with the Hevajra Tantra (1959). 12. Korom (1996) collected oral narratives of the local legend of the deity Dharmaraj and explained how these oral narratives are the only 'canonical' source for Dharmaraj's worship in the village of Goalpara (West Bengal), where he conducted field-work. 13. Interpretation has been described as a key concept for human sciences since the 1970s, a turning point for many disciplines in the phase of intellectual history called “post- structuralism” (Ritivoi 2003). Groundbreaking works on the study of interpretation applied to oral traditions and folklore have been authored by Basso (1976) and Tedlock (1983). 14. Notable exceptions are: Upendranath Bhattacharya (1957), Shakti Nath Jha (1995, 1999), Jeanne Openshaw (2004), Ben Krakauer (2015). 15. In the original language, the first verse is: Mama sādhan samare amar haiẏā āsite kena mā bhaẏ. 16. In the version I transcribed from the personal note-book of a performer, the verse is clearly “sājibo mā āorati” (I will dress up, or disguise, as a rival). Another version of the song is widely reported, in which the word is ārati (the ritual of adoration). 17. Personal collection of digitalized manuscripts from individual performers. A version of this song, performed by Hemonti Shukla, has been recorded in Yār Mā Anandamayī (2010), CD, track n. 12. 18. This song has been collected from the personal note-book of one guru, temple adhikārī and singer of the Bhaba Pa community. He (Kandi,Baturinashramhisinlivesgla Murshidabad district, West Bengal). 19. In one other version of this song, this term is pronounced as ārati. This change obviously affects the interpretation of the song, which will then assume more devotional and theistic connotations. Such was the interpretation offered by the guru and temple adhikārī of the Bhaba Pagla community in Badkulla (Nadia district). 20. This song has been transcribed without any alteration from the hand-written version collected on the field. This is why some spellings do not reflect the orthography more current in standard Bengali. 21. Vīra (in Bengali bīr) is described in Tantric literature as a class of men, corresponding to a stage of Tantric practice (the second in the threefold categorization paśu – vīra – divya) or a mood (bhāva, Bengali bhāb) to adopt during ritual practice. See Avalon (1987: 38-41). 22. See for example the song widely attributed to Bhaba Pagla: “Sādhan samare yeo nā ebāre / bali bāre bāre patan habi re” (Do not enter the battlefield of sādhanā this time, I told you again and again, you will fall). 23. For instance another song of Bhaba Pagla says “Tār ādeśe bīr sāhase sādhan raṇe nāmo” (tr. on his command descend into the sādhanā-battlefield with the courage of a hero. In G. R. Cakrabarti 1995: 128). 24. See Bhaba Pagla's verses “takhan karibe yuddha, sādhan bhajan” (“Lok Giti”, http://www.iopb.res.in/~somen/cgiwww.culturalstudies.in-bin/Flk_sng/gen_pdf.cgi?porbo=Baul&ganernam=728, last visit 15/01/2015). 25. This is especially the interpretation given by devotees who are not interested in esoteric sādhanā and simply ascribe to the most orthodox and Hinduized strand of the community. 26. Bijayananda Giri, interview at Barrackpore (North 24 Parganas), 29/01/2013. Personal collection of field recordings. Similar interpretations are given by disciples and teachers who ascribe to the devotional/theistic strand of the community. 27. This interpretation was provided by many informants who learned theories and practices of dehasādhanā. The equivalence between castration and decapitation is underlined in several psychoanalytic interpretations of the iconography of Kālī, her sickle, and her necklace of skulls (see Doniger O'Flaherty 1980: 85; McDermott and Kripal 2005: 201). The identification of the decapitated head of the male sacrificial victim with procreative seed and virility was also highlighted by Ferrari (2010: 192-193) in the ritual context of Dharma pūjā in rural Bengal. 28. On the secret iconography of the mūrti of Tārāpīṭh representing Śiva as a child breast-fed by Tārā, see Kinsley (1998: 102-104); Monaghan (2011: 92-93); Cantlie (2013: 92). 29. N. S., 10/11/2012. This exegesis was provided only once the voice-recording device was turned off. 30. Reception research is concerned with the audience's use and interpretation of media as a reflection of a particular socio-cultural context (McQuail 1997). According to this approach to textual analysis, meaning is not intrinsic to a text, but rather is created in the relationship between the text and the reader (Jauss 1982). In short, the audience reception tradition (Hall 1980) emphasizes the active role of the reader in decoding and constructing meanings from a text: it stresses that meanings are never fixed or predictable, but negotiated in the semiotic process (Hodge and Kress 1988).

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