Talk:Purāṇas: Palm-leaf Manuscripts in Libraries

By Sri Chandrasekharendra Saraswati Swami

In the old days, palm-leaf manuscripts were preserved in almost every house. They contained the texts of the epics, the Purāṇas, Sthala Purāṇas, and so on. When the palm-leaves were in danger of being damaged, their contents would be copied with a stylus on new leaves. The damaged leaves would be consigned to the Kāverī or some other sacred river, or to some pond on the occasion of Paṭiṉeṭṭām Pēr (see next para).

The 18th day of the Tamil month of Āḍi (July–August) has a special significance for the Kāverī. The river would be in spate. The swelling waters on this day are called Paṭiṉeṭṭām Perukku or Paṭiṉeṭṭām Pēr.

Our forefathers went on inscribing on palm-leaves with their stylus until their hands ached. They copied old texts to be preserved for posterity. This tradition lasted until perhaps the time of our fathers. People of our generation have thrown these precious manuscripts into the river without making copies of them. So much so, it is doubtful whether the texts of many Purāṇas will ever be available to us — not only Purāṇas, but also a number of śāstras.

However, some scholars have taken great pains to go from place to place to collect manuscripts and preserve them in libraries. The Sarasvatī Mahāl Library in Tañjāvūr, the Oriental Manuscripts Library and the Adyar Library, Madras, have good collections of manuscripts. The Theosophical Society Library, Adyar, has done commendable work in this respect. Sarabhoji and other rulers of Tañjāvūr took great trouble to collect manuscripts for the Sarasvatī Mahāl.

The palm-leaf is called eḍu in Tamil. It has two sides with a rib in between — either of the two sides after the removal of the rib is called an eḍu. The plantain leaf also has a rib. When it is split across the rib, each part is an eḍu. For long, the palm-leaf was our paper — nature’s paper — which was not easily damaged. The letters had to be inscribed on it with a stylus.

The palm-leaves containing the text of Jñānasambandhar’s Tēvāram compositions went upstream against the current of the river Vaigai and were laid ashore. The spot where the manuscript lodged itself is called Tiruvēḍakam (Tiru + eḍu + akam). Here the deity Lord Śiva is called Pātrikā Parameśvara. Nowadays the word “paper” is understood as a newspaper, magazine, periodical, etc. Pātrikā means a magazine today. The Lord associated with the spot where the palm-leaves — nature’s paper — were laid ashore is Pātrikā Parameśvara, which could be taken to mean “the Lord the journalist.” Pātra and Pātrikā mean the same — a leaf. In the past, letters were written on palm-leaves. That is why a letter also came to be called pātra.

There is an interesting story about the Sarasvatī Mahāl. In olden days, the worst injury an invader thought he could inflict on a country was to burn down its libraries. What the treasury is to the economy of the nation, the library is to its culture; indeed, the library represents its cultural treasury. Since there was no printing press then, there would not be many palm-leaf copies available of works — and of some works, there would be only a single copy.

To destroy the library of the nation, containing rare works, would be a greater outrage than looting its treasury or dishonouring its women. We must be proud of the fact that our śāstras on policy strictly forbid the destruction of an enemy country’s treasures of knowledge and its places of worship, nor do they permit the dishonouring of its women.

When Jainas like Amarasiṁha lost to Hindu religious teachers in argument, they themselves wanted to burn their books. But great men like our Ācārya stopped them from doing so. Holding the hands of their opponents, they requested them not to destroy their books. Their attitude was that no work must be destroyed — whatever the philosophy or religious system it upholds.

Conquerors belonging to other countries took special delight in setting fire to the libraries of the conquered land if it was known to be culturally advanced. They perpetrated such outrages without reflecting for a moment on the fact that knowledge is common to all — even such knowledge as possessed by an enemy. They could cause anguish to the people intellectually superior to them by destroying their books.

It was thus that during the 15th–16th centuries, Muslim invaders set fire to the library in Alexandria in Egypt (it had books collected from the time of Alexander) and the library in Constantinople (Istanbul) which had been built up over the centuries by the Greeks and the Romans.

Once, old Saṅgam works were swept off when the sea rose — it was an act of nature. But it is due to their cultural backwardness that foreign forces destroyed the libraries of the country they invaded.

The Sarasvatī Mahāl of Tañjāvūr was once under threat when Muslim forces had spread all over the South and the Nawāb of Carnatic had the upper hand. For the Muslim invaders, burning down the Sarasvatī Mahāl library was equivalent to destroying the great temple of Tañjāvūr. At that time, there was a Maharashtrian Brāhmaṇa called Dābir Paṇṭ who was a minister to the Marāṭhā Rājā (the Marāṭhā rulers here belonged to Śivājī’s family).

An idea occurred to him just in time to save the library. He said to the vandals: “This library has of course Hindu books. But it also has many copies of the Qurʾān.” “What? The Qurʾān also?” the invaders cried. “We won’t set fire to the library in that case,” so saying they departed.

Then came to India Englishmen, Frenchmen, and others. They had a thirst for knowledge and research and were anxious to learn even from foreign sources. The Germans came to our country and searched for palm-leaf manuscripts to take home with them. We must be grateful to some of these foreigners through whose efforts a number of our śāstras were rediscovered.

There was, for example, Mackenzie who was Surveyor General of India. He went from place to place to collect palm-leaf manuscripts. There was at that time no special department to deal with them, but Mackenzie had them read by experts and took steps to have them preserved. Mackenzie’s men even came to our Maṭha at Kumbhakoṇam to gather information.

It is believed that Westerners took with them some of our science manuscripts from the Sarasvatī Mahāl — especially those pertaining to the art of warfare. It is further claimed that Hitler made some types of weapons and aircraft on the basis of knowledge contained in these texts.

There are palm-leaf manuscripts still with us — like Bhojarājas Samarāṅgaṇa Sūtra. From these we learn that we had long ago not only āstras to be employed with mantras but also śāstras that were product of science. Digests like Varāhamihiras Bṛhatsaṁhitā bring together the various disciplines of our land.

Some of our ancient palm-leaf manuscripts contain texts not only of our religious systems but also of various arts and sciences — also the Purāṇas. But we have lost many of our Sthala Purāṇas. We must do our best to preserve what remains and, at the same time, continue the search for more manuscripts.

The Purāṇas give us instruction, in the form of engrossing stories, on the truth of the Paramātman proclaimed by the Vedas, the dharmas, and the moral and ethical codes of conduct that they lay down. The teaching they impart touches our very hearts.

The lessons of the Purāṇas, the stories of noble men and women contained in them, have shaped our lives. The Purāṇas have indeed served as a source of inspiration for our people from time immemorial. We must no longer be apathetic to them and must make a determined effort to preserve them as a treasure. Let us make a comparative study of puranic literature and take an integrated view. This will be to our own benefit as well as to that of all mankind.