My Breasts at First

rohantau prathamaṃ mamorasi tava prāptau vivṛddhiṃ stanau    saṃllāpās tava vākyabhaṃgimilanānmogdhyaṃ paraṃ tyājitāḥghātrīkaṇṭham apāsya bāhulatike kaṇṭhe tavāsañjite    nirdākṣiṇya karomi kinnu viśikhāpy eṣā na panthās tava

• rohantau. budding

• prathamaṃ. at first

• mamorasi. on (your) chest

• tava. your

• prāptau. against

• vivṛddhiṃ. growing up

• stanau. breasts

• saṃllāpās. conversation

• tava. with you

• vākya. speech

• bhaṃgi. mode, manner

• milanān. coming together

• mogdhyaṃ. innocence, simplicity

• paraṃ. next

• tyājitāḥ. abandoned

• ghātrī. nursemaid’s

• kaṇṭham. neck

• apāsya. having released

• bāhulatike. (these) arms (also creepers)

• kaṇṭhe. on (your) neck

• tava. your

• āsañjite. clung

• nirdākṣiṇya. deceiver, devious one

• karomi kinnu. I can do what?

• viśikhā. road, neighborhood

• api-eṣā. this

• na. is not

• panthās tava. your path

My breasts at firstlittle budsgrew plump under your hands.My speechinstructed by yourslost its native simplicity.What shall I do?These armsleft my old nursemaid’s neckto creep around yours,but you no longer    set foot in the neighborhood.

For centuries the Amaruśataka (Hundred Poems of Amaru, ca. ninth century) has been attributed to a poet named Amaru. However, seventy of the poems appear in Vidyākara’s Subhāṣitaratnakoṣa (see page 5), most of them credited to other poets. Vidyākara compiled his anthology in the eleventh century, so it seems likely the Amaruśataka is also an early anthology. Western scholars have tended to regard it as a collection, but many people in India know it as a single poem-cycle composed by one author.

The legend that accompanies the poems in the Amaruśataka gives them curious metaphysical weight. The renowned religious reformer Shankara (ca. eighth century)—whose philosophical writings loom as large as anyone’s in India—was engaging an opponent in public debate. He was roundly beating his rival when his opponent’s wife stepped in. She silenced Shankara with a series of clever metaphysical questions couched in the language of sexual love. Shankara, celibate and inexperienced in the art of love, could not answer. He asked for a hundred nights to prepare a response. Leaving the stage, he gathered some close students and entrusted them with his body while, through powers of yoga, he projected his spirit-self into the body of Amaru, a recently deceased king of Kashmir. The corpse, lying on the pyre awaiting cremation, wakened to life.

For a hundred nights, Shankara studied love with Amaru’s harem girls. During this time, he memorialized his experiences in lyrics—one for each night of bittersweet pleasure. After the hundredth night had lapsed—and he’d thrown in a few more for luck—Shankara returned to his own body. I suppose he left Amaru’s corpse to its fate. Reentering the hall of debate, he vanquished his female opponent. He later committed to writing the poems that had sealed his victory, signing them with Amaru’s name.

While the Amaru collection has poems of romantic tenderness, humor, tangy eroticism, and playful lovemaking, more poems treat the other side: separation, anguished longing, jealousy, betrayal, searing heartache, and the like.