Sanskrit, English and Dalits

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    Economic and Political Weekly July 24, 1999 2053

    gested (each for different reasons though)that the position of Sanskrit in the Guptaperiod it being the language of the court,the ruling elite compares favourablywith that of English today.

    True, the brahmanical elite during thenationalist movement and in the immedi-ate post-independence phase held a tightEnglish leash over the institutions of power/

    knowledge. But one has to acknowledgethe fact that (western/ colonial) moder-nity that comes with English in some-thing that is not inaccessible to the un-touchables the dalits and bahujans whosemarginalisation has been justified overcenturies by dominant varieties of Hindu-ism. Today, English is a language dalit-bahujans can aspire to, unlike classicalSanskrit which they were kept away from.That the Sanskritic vedas were not sup-posed to be read (or even heard) by thesudras, ati-sudras and women is some-thing that is upheld by authorities like the

    Manusmriti and the Gita.There is no record of Sanskrit (dev

    bhasha, language of the (Aryan) gods, asit is exclusively called) ever being ademocratic language that was accessibleto the masses. It was never the mothertongue, always the father tongue, asRamanujan reminds us when commentingthe poetry of the bhakti movement, whichfor the first time, after the Buddhasdeliberate recourse to Pali, spoke in amother tongue and forged a literature ofand for the masses. The point simply isthat there was a sanction against Sanskritbeing acquired by the dalit-bahujans. Lackof access to Sanskrit (and hence to theagrahara and court) meant lack of spacein what the varna-dharmic forces upheldand celebrated as culture, knowledge,power. In fact, an adjectival form of thevery word Sanskrit comes to connoteculture (sankritiya). This meant thatPrakritic expressions were not recorded inofficial histories as amounting to culture;or sometimes, like bhakti literature, wereco-opted into an all-devouring Hindumainstream.

    Sanskrit, in the glorious, classicalperiod worked like a secret code language,access to which was determined by onesbirth into a certain caste and gender. It wasthe high language in which all the rulesof society (Manu), grammar (Panini), state-craft (Kautilya), mathematics (Aryabhatta),performing arts (Natyashastra), etc, werewritten. Exclusivity was its essence. It wasnever the day-to-day language of emo-tions even for those who used it for spe-cific purposes. It was the language ofmetaphysics. One did not, does not makecasual conversation in it. It was the lan-guage of the intellect, of the intellectuals,of the sacral literati. Why bahujans, even

    THE BJP-led hindutva dispensation,which always seemed to have one footin the grave and one in its mouth, hasbeen given a burial. But despite the un-certainty that surrounded the govern-ments last days in power, it did go aheadwith things which were very dear to itsunhidden agenda. Or rather, since the endseemed inevitable, there was a certainindecent haste in pushing some last-minute policy initiatives. And this re-mained unnoticed in the mainstream mediawhich was more worried about the con-tinuance of the right-wing regime. Forinstance, despite the Vajpayee regimesides of March having begun (literally),the union human resources developmentminister, Murli Manohar Joshi, announcedthat 1999 would be the Year of Sanskrit.And it was declared that the focus of theyear-long celebration would not only bethe popularisation of Sanskrit among thegeneral public but also such programmesthat would lead to the long-term andpermanent development of Sanskrit (The

    HinduMarch 14, 1999).The report mentioned plans such as

    Sanskrit academies in states, childrens

    literature in Sanskrit, Sanskrit conversa-tion camps and seminars on Sanskrit andscience in schools and colleges. This isin keeping with BJPs zeal to put Sanskrithigh on the HRD ministrys agenda. Thesaffronisation of education that wassought to be pushed earlier and the com-pulsory Saraswati Vandana that stillcontinues in Uttar Pradesh have not goneunprotested. However, the declaration of1999 as the Year of Sanskrit has slippedby almost unnoticed.

    In the context of such keenness to pro-mote the study of Sanskrit, it would berelevant to see what this classical lan-guage had connoted and stood for whenit was supposed to have been in its peak(in the Gupta period), and how it is Englishthat largely plays such a role today.

    Very often the status of English inmodern-day India has been compared tothat of Sanskrit and Persian of the classicalperiod. Personalities as various asJawaharlal Nehru, P Lal (a pioneeringpublisher who promoted Indian writing inEnglish with a missionary zeal) and A KRamanujan (eminent linguist, translator,social anthropologist and poet) had sug-

    Sanskrit, English and DalitsS Anand

    Unlike Sanskrit, there are no scriptural injunctions against thelearning of English; English is theoretically as accessible to dalitsand women as it is to the dwijas. However, the brahmanical classeshave monopolised the use of English (as also other symbols ofwestern modernity) and have justified the denial of the same to thedalits, sometimes even reading their faulty use of the language asacts of resistance/rejection of colonial modernity.

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    upper caste women were not allowed tospeak Sanskrit in Kalidasas plays,women characters always speak Prakrit,never Sanskrit. (It must be stressed herethat the story of Tamil, another classicallanguage, is very different. Unlike San-skrit, it has been alive as a discourse bothat the high literary level and the day-to-day realm.)

    Sacred Sanskrit has always been a deadlanguage. Even when Kalidasa was writ-ing his classics, Sanskrit was hardly theunderstood language of the day; in hisown times the plays were performed onlyafter being suitably adapted into Prakriticversions that could be intelligible to theviewing public of the day. The dead weightof Sanskrit, however, remains a burden onus even in 1999, in the form of the Yearof Sanskrit.

    The same cannot be said of the statusof English in modern India, even when itscomparison with Sanskrit seems inevi-table at surface level. At least theoretically(if we see the Constitution as a progressivetext that displaces theManusmriti) thereare no injunctions whatsoever against thelearning of English. Socially, there havebeen (and still are) problems in the wayof aspirants from disprivileged back-grounds. But the modern-day Constitu-tion (written in English) and authored bya dalit, B R Ambedkar, opens a range ofpossibilities hitherto unknown in Indiansociety.

    If we were to employ a motif fromShakespeares The Tempest, the dalit-Caliban never got to learn Sanskrit toanswer back his Prospero: You taught melanguage and my profit ont is/ I knowhow to curse you...1In fact, the brahman-Prospero never allowed the dalit-Calibannear his language (Sanskrit). Todays dalit-bahujan, of course, does not find himselfin such an unnegotiable position vis-a-visEnglish.

    We may hence attach a good deal ofsignificance to the symbolism of havinga dalit politician like Ambedkar play acrucial role in shaping what theoreticallyis the most progressive Constitution in theworld. Not only did Ambedkar give shapeto the Constitution, he was also the lawminister in independent Indias first par-liament. All this an avarna who hasno place in the Sanskritic order of thingsplaying a crucial role in shaping the lawsthat govern modern civil society goesagainst the very essence of Sanskriticdiktats. And we may also be glad that ourConstitution has been written in English.Such a work could not have been writtenin Sanskrit.

    The casteist elite quotes memorisedtitbits like the gayatri mantra and cou-plets from Gitashlokas to flaunt its San-

    skrit (= rote learning) and thus hold thespiritual realm under its control. Buttoday, it is English that is used to maintainpower over more day-to-day activities the material realm. And hence controlover English meaning denial of it to others becomes important for the English-speak-ing section of India which amounts to amere 2-3 per cent of the population.

    English, however, has no notion ofsacredness attached to it. It is somethinga person may aspire to, irrespective ofones varna, religion or gender. On thecontrary, the very notion of democracy issomething that Hinduisms sacred San-skrit texts do not account for. English, forwhich we seem to be making a case purelyin the context of the Sanskrit-Englishdebate, is of course a language that animperial power used to enslave a majorpart of the world, including the Indiansubcontinent. But it was something thatthe local Ariel-elite (to use The Tempestmotif again) immediately acquired to helpthe British administer India. From beingcourt gumasthas to civil servants thebrahmanical classes took easy pride in thefact that they could acquire English andserve the new political masters whilenegotiating for themselves a crucial spacein the emerging social order.

    But the coming of English also openedup a new realm of ideas the Europeanenlightenment concepts of liberty, equal-ity, fraternity, and hence justice and ruleof law. Again, it is the Ambedkars of Indiawho become alive to the practicable as-pects of these concepts, while the uppercaste elite represented both by the ShyamaPrasad Mookherjee and the Nehru, T TKrishnamachari kind were and are inter-ested only in the intellectual and textualpossibilities that these western conceptsopen up. They would be eloquent in theiruse of English and apparently understandthe ideals of liberty, equality and frater-nity; some like Nehru would even letthemselves be influenced by events likethe Bolshevik revolution. But when it cameto disturbing the core of Hindu societywith the kind of changes that an Ambedkarwas hoping for as law minister through theHindu Code Bill, which aimed at provid-ing the people of India a new social struc-ture of kinship, marriage and inheritance,a law which aimed to undo the institu-tionalised evils of caste and patriarchyway back in the 1950s the orthodoxHindu elite strongly resisted such a change.

    This largely explains why innumerablethings our Constitution wishes for are notput into practice: to point just one in-stance, untouchability is lego-juridicallya crime, but then most uppercaste Hin-dus would be (unpunished) criminals bythat count.

    In saying all this, one is of course takingfor granted the nationalist belief thenotion that India as a nation is as old asthe vedas and Himalayas, as old and time-less as Hinduism as a faith is claimed tobe. We are not for the moment trying todisturb the imagination, the dream rather,that the Indian national fabric has to beprotected come what may. In other words,

    in talking of English, Sanskrit and evendalits as pan-Indian categories, we tem-porarily accept the belief that we have tonegotiate our identities within the rubricof the nation state (more of a state, lessof a nation till the BJP took over) that Indiais.

    The point here is not whether dalit-bahujans all over the country are usingEnglish to assert their position today. Theyare of course doing this in languages theyare comfortable in. But this again does notmean that a dalit from Andhra Pradesh iscomfortable articulating his problems instandardised Telugu a Sanskritic Teluguthat is prescribed by textbooks. KanchaIlaiah, a dalit-bahujan thinker from AndhraPradesh, theorises, in English of thepurposelessness of dalit children beingforced to acquire a culture that is alien tothem through a language which is farremoved from their social world brahmanical bookish Telugu having noth-ing to do with the production-basedmateriality of the dalits Telugu.

    So, when we look at the intersticesbetween Sanskrit, English and Sanskritisedregional languages (the Prakrit) and whatthese spaces mean in the everyday dis-course of our civil society, we see that thequota candidates tend to look uponEnglish (in which upper caste studentsseem to excel) and a command over it,as a tool that would help them overcometheir perceived inadequacies, and, in fact,look at the brahmanised bhasha, whichthey are forced to identify as their mothertongue, with contempt. This realisation ofthe importance of being articulate inEnglish is particularly felt at the college/university level where the bahujan comesinto contact with the posh, convent-edu-cated urban types.

    Studies conducted by students of socio-logy and linguistics departments at theCentral University of Hyderabad revealthat dalit students from rural, semi-urbanTelugu medium backgrounds tend to at-tribute their poor performance in theacademia in terms of low scores to alack of command over English. But heretoo, the student does not find help forth-coming. Bad English is frowned uponand the disprivileged students sense ofhandicap is reinforced by the systemsindifference typically expressed as, cantdo anything about it at this late stage.

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    Thrown into such a hostile world, the dalitstudent obviously does not perform aswell as his/her upper caste counterparts.The dull dalits forever seem to lackmerit. All the good marks are scored bythe bright English-speaking students.And thus the dalit-bahujans forever seemto be in need of reservations.

    Such a systemic denial of English (taken

    as symbolic of things modern) to the dalit-bahujans in contemporary India some-thing that is not sanctioned by the systemitself shows that it is here that the uppercaste urban Indian uses English like hedid Sanskrit in the imaginary golden,classical era. It is thus that the genuinelydemocratic possibilities that English couldhave otherwise opened up in a castesociety like ours have been nipped in thebud by a casteist elite that does not let goof power by subverting the potential ofeach new challenge here, we see Englishas one such symbolic challenge to serveits own ends.

    Such an argument of English for dalits,we would be told, is uncritical of the factthat English was a colonisers tongue andthe colonisers intentions in imposing hislanguage on the natives were never anoble one. So, why extend it to dalits?Why not, rather, romanticise them as thatsection of society unpolluted by westernaspirations and argue for letting thingsremain as they are? And even perhaps askthem to continue with their hereditarycaste occupations in villages? Also, itwould be pointed out that but for a fractionof dalits, who because of their exposureto higher education aspire to English, thelarger masses share a historical resent-ment towards English and all that it cultur-ally symbolises: modernisation/urbani-sation/and now Americanisation.

    Linguistic scholars like Probal Dasgupta(in The Otherness of English)have evenrationalised the bad English of the dalit-bahujans as one form of resistance to andsubversion of colonial modernity by theBharat that is not India. Dasguptamanages to read great philosophical, in-tellectual and political meaning in Bharatsresistance to and discriminatory use ofthe symbols of western/colonial moder-nity, of which English is something hediscusses at length.

    English is still a ticket, but to a job marketthan to a cultural elite. One learns Englishin India on the basis of instrumental ratherthan integrative motivation. This leads toa relatively shallow knowledge of thelanguage. For todays Indians, English isa technical means to personal ends. It isheld at arms length from the mainspringsof their personalities... (1993: 79)

    With this premise, he goes on to arguetowards the end of the book, by when the

    India of page 79 becomes Bharat, andtodays Indians Bharatiyas, that

    This refusal the typical learner in Bharatachieves by focusing in an exaggeratedlyformal fashion on the content of what islearnt, by memorising lists of points, bytreating examination success as a defini-tive correlate of adequate mastery... andthus refusing to engage any personal el-

    ement... in the job of learning (183).This sense of discrimination, whichDasgupta bestows rather patronisingly onan almost castewise unspecified Bharatiya(rural?) learner, results in fragmentarylearning where the learner is seen as beingable to welcome some material and resistthe rest (183). Does this learner occupya dalit position? Dasgupta does not specify;but it seems so. On the whole, what weread as the denial of English (among accessto other symbols of modernity) by a casteistelite, occurs in the linguists account asa form of intelligent (yet romanticised) actof resistance whose roots are mischie-

    vously traced to the bhakti periods resis-tance to Sanskrit and things Sanskritic(p 84, 147).

    In Dasguptas framework, such resis-tance which results in a deliberate faultyand fragmentary acquisition of Englishexplains the mistakes the so-calledBharatiya (as opposed to Indian) makesin his/her use of the language. So theconclusion that we have to draw is thatthe dalit learners if we are forgiven ourunderstandings Dasguptas misrepresentedBharatiya as that have a certain stakein their apparent resistance to not justEnglish but other things modern (as in

    western). So when the typical learnerin Bharat resorts to rote learning (that is,simply memorises lists of points from anexamination point of view using kunjis,guidebooks) we are asked to understandthis as an act of subversion into whichgreat political meaning is sought to beread, and not as an inherent flaw in apatently dalit-unfriendly pedagogy.Dasgupta, of course, points out that thisis a result of the India-based, teacher-centred (as opposed to Bharat-based,learner-centred, in his lexicon) approachof the system, but then again accordingto him, in this learning game the learner

    controls by giving the teacher a lot of longrope; the learner is not fully and emo-tionally involved in the act of learning(English). What in our reading figures asa method that ensures that the dalits andshoshits are not empowered by a systemwhich seeks to produce good speakersof English (apart from scientists, engi-neers, doctors... and, of course, linguists)from among only the upper castes, be-comes for Dasgupta a metaphor forBharats rejection of western modernity.

    If we extend the logic of such a dis-empowering reasoning, it would mean thatwhen a dalit student is awarded less marks(just pass marks, or as in most cases not eventhat) because of his/her faulty Englishit is actually an act of resistance. By thesame logic the fact that a lot of Bharatiyasdrop out of the education system at dif-ferent levels from primary schools to

    university will also be sought to be readas an act of conscious resistance. Such arationale, of course, has another subtextto it: the teachers of English (as a lan-guage) can now draw theoretical solaceby pointing out that when the dalit is beingawarded low scores for his lack of graspof correct English, it cant be really helpedbecause it is an act of wilful Bharatiyaresistance to the hegemonic influence ofEnglish-modernity. At a less obvious level,it is one way of hiding the unwillingnessof the (mostly upper caste) teacher (some-one like Probal Dasgupta himself in aclassroom situation) to devise methodsthat might enable Bharatiya (rural/dalit)learners to be articulated in English on parwith their Indian (urban/upper caste,middle class) counterparts, and at a moreobvious level it is one way of attributingan imagined agency to the reluctant learn-ers and thus escaping the blame of inbredintellectual and professional laziness.2

    Compared to the usual middle class-upper caste reasoning which says some-thing like the bahujans anyway lack merit,therefore are not good at English, theDasgupta kind of rationalising which seesthe shallow use of the language as a formof resisting modernity seems more politi-cally dangerous. If we were to cut all thecrap of theoretical jargon, both thesepositions emerge as classic justificationsby which the language of power may besought to be denied to the bahujans. Theupper castes and classes fear to have theoppressed learn the language of power anddo what they (the twice-born) are sup-posed to do best. In political terms, suchknowledge would only result in the dalitsgetting ideas: ideas like converting toChristianity or harking back to Buddhism;ideas that will enable them to mount acritique of the knowledge that has beenused to oppress them; ideas that will makean Ambedkar mount a powerful critiqueof Hinduism in his Riddles of HinduismandAnnihilation of Caste; that will resultin an Iyothee Thass claiming an authenticBuddhist past for the Pariars; ideas thatwill result in a category like militantMarathi dalit literature, books like KanchaIlaiahsWhy I am Not a Hinduwhich givesa call for rewriting all history from a dalit-bahujan viewpoint, ideas... ideas some-thing the dalits in the first place are notsupposed to have at all.

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    A few remarks about dalit writings inEnglish would be pertinent in this context.Today, we see a number of intellectualslike Gopal Guru, Kancha Ilaiah, BojjaTarakam, Katti Padma Rao, V T Rajashekarand others articulating the dalit point ofview in English. Of course, B R Ambedkarwas farsighted in realising the importanceof writing all his works in English. On the

    other hand, someone like M K Gandhi, thedarling and holy cow of the Hindu intel-ligentsia, did not have to really botherabout being inaccessible because of hisuse of Gujarati (just like Adi Shankara-charya enjoys an all-India access/ sanc-tion despite his recourse to Sanskrit areactionary gesture especially in the lightof the fact that the choice of Sanskrit wentagainst the then popular democratisinginfluence of non-Sanskritic bhakti).Gandhis iconisation and promptsaintification ensured that all forms ofmedia are used to din in his messages.On the radio, What Gandhi Said (GandhiAnjali) is a regular feature in all lan-guages. His books are made available easilyand cheaply. His quotes adorn publicspaces. He is the subject of venerativebooks, films, art. He is the most accessiblethough also perhaps comparatively lessread. We will be however told that thepost-Mandal period has seen a proli-feration of Ambedkars statues/framedphotographs; but that even today it isextremely difficult to get hold of a copyof Ambedkars work does not bothermany. The government of Maharashtrapublications are there, but that seems tobe the worst possible way of publicisingthe mans work. And given that suchdifficulties have to be contended with,had he not written in English, he wouldcertainly not have become a pan-Indianfigure.

    This would become more clear if welook at the case of another anti-Hinducontemporary of Ambedkar, E V RamsamiPeriyar. The few translations of Periyarsspeeches/writings into English that are oflate becoming available seem to be doingmore of a disservice to him, so much sothat they seem to put off even a prospec-tive non-Tamil reader, especially if he/sheis a stranger to the (much-maligned) non-brahmin movement of the south. The sameis the case with someone like Jotiba Phulewho is virtually unavailable to non-Marathis. During a private conversation,social scientist Gail Omvedt recently toldme that Ambedkars decision to write inEnglish was a conscious and deliberateone.

    Here, we do not contend with profi-ciency in English as much as with the factthat an attempt is being made by dalits toarticulate their viewpoint in the language

    that connotes power, despite the difficul-ties that surround such an effort. We aremore concerned about the social, cultural,economic and intellectual weight that astatement made in English (like IlaiahsWhy I am Not a Hindu) carries and howthe same statement in a bhasha, even ifmade more intelligibly, fails to make muchheadway. And for this very reason, the

    stance taken earlier in this article we maymake much of the fact that our Constitu-tion has been written in English; such awork could not have been written inSanskrit stands.

    Today, if someone like Kancha Ilaiahis being reckoned with, despite typicaldismissals of his being unscholarly, it isbecause for the first time after Ambedkara dalit writer is being packaged and soldin English, if not with the kind of hypethat surrounds Arundhati Roy and SalmanRushdie at least with a fair degree ofsavviness. This underscores two things:the importance of speaking in English, alanguage that has been monopolised bythe brahmanical elite and denied to dalits;and secondly, that it is a myth that dalitsresist English/ modernity. To give anotherexample, the pan-Indian popularity of a

    journal likeDalit Voiceowes to the factof its being published in English.

    In such a scenario, the atavistic gestureof saying that Sanskrit academies will beopened up, universities set up, the devbhasha will be popularised all thishopefully without hidden caste riders will not mean a thing as far as empoweringpeople is concerned. The learning ofSanskrit today is not going to materiallyhelp anybody irrespective of caste. Thebrahmanical classes, who know this best,have taken to English and monopolisedit. At such a time, making Sanskrit avail-able to all (irrespective of caste, unlike inthe inglorious ancient times) might soundlike a symbolic progressive move. How-ever, it is clearly at least a good 2,000years late in coming. And even if a newgovernment comes to power, it cannotroll back the declaration of 1999 as theYear of Sanskrit.

    Notes

    1 William Shakespeares play The Tempest

    anticipates the colonial paradigm where the

    duke-in-exile, Prospero, ends up in an island

    that belongs to Sycorax, who is made out to

    be a witch-figure whose magic Prospero

    learns, only to use the same to colonise the

    island and enslave Sycoraxs son Caliban, an

    indigenous inhabitant who is animalised in the

    play (he smells like a fish) and referred to

    as a misshapen monster having no language,

    no culture, despite which he (Caliban) insists:

    This island is mine.... Parallel and in contrast

    to Caliban, who does not mind swearing at

    Prospero and his daughter Miranda in the

    language he learnt from them, is Ariel, a fairy-

    like creature, also a native of the island, who

    is glad to serve Prospero though he too wants

    to be set free one day. The Ariel-Caliban

    contrast had engaged, fascinated and angered

    the intelligentsia of other (post)-colonial

    contexts, especially in Latin America, resulting

    in intellectuals like Retamar and Memmis

    brilliant use of this paradigm, literally and

    metaphorically, to understand their own

    situations. More recently, Caribbean poet Derek

    Walcott reverses The Tempestparadigm in his

    Pantomime. However, English departments in

    India centres dominated by a brahmanical

    crowd even as they swear by Shakespeare

    and his universal greatness never seriously

    discuss the colonial paradigm of The Tempest,

    though it seems that given our immediate

    history of British colonialism such a discussion

    and engagement with the text would be

    politically most meaningful. Rather, English

    department personalities like C D Narsimhaiah

    congratulate themselves over their outright

    rejection of Caliban. Without the slightest

    self-consciousness of intellectual poverty it is

    announced that even In the worst days of our

    national struggle no Indian patriot whoincidentally knew his Shakespeare better than

    some professors of English, brought himself

    to mouth Calibans You taught me language

    and my profit ont is I know how to curse you.

    On the contrary he pined with Miranda

    [Prosperos daughter] for the brave new world

    and our little life is rounded with sleep

    (1990, 174). This assertion, even as late as in

    1990, best captures the spirit of brahmanisation

    that has overseen the trajectory of English in

    India.

    2 It must be made clear that we are limiting our

    discussion here to the non-literary use of

    English in India; the use of English for

    discursive purposes as distinct from

    literature (as defined in the conventionalEnglish department sense of the term). For his

    assessment of the literary output by Indians

    in English, we are totally with Dasguptas

    brilliant demolition of this much hyped and

    celebrated body of writing that goes under the

    guise of Indo-Anglian writing or Indian writing

    in English. See chapter 3 of his The Otherness

    of English, particularly, pp 111-44, which

    makes a case for the non-substantiality of

    Indian English.

    References:

    Dasgupta, P (1993): The Otherness of English:

    Indias Auntie Tongue Syndrome, Sage, Delhi.

    Ilaiah, K (1996): Why I am Not a Hindu, Samya,

    Calcutta.

    Lal, P (ed) (1969): Modern Indian Poetry in

    English : An Anthology and Credo, Writers

    Workshop, Calcutta.

    Narasimhaiah, C D (1990): The Indian Critical

    Scene: Controversial Essays, B R Publishing,

    New Delhi.

    Nehru, J (1974): Discovery of India, Bombay.

    Ramanujan, A K (1990): Is There an Indian Way

    of Thinking?, in M Marriot (ed), India

    Through Hindu Categories, Sage, New Delhi.

    Shakespeare, W (1980): The Tempestin Complete

    Works of Shakespeare, Oxford and IBH, New

    Delhi pp 1-26.