Six
Krishna's Consuming Passions
Food as Metaphor and Metonym for Emotion at Mount Govardhan
Paul M. Toomey
Here we have a representation of highest an. This beautiful image shows us the principle of nourishment, on which the entire world relies and which penetrates all nature.
—Goethe, "Concerning Myron's Cow"
South Asianists have recently begun to look more closely at categories of emotion and emotional experience in general in Indian bhakti traditions (Lynch, this volume; Hardy 1983). In this chapter I will examine similarities and differences in the way emotions are culturally constructed in three such traditions at Mount Govardhan. Govardhan is a major pilgrimage center in Mathura District, Uttar Pradesh, that area of North India renowned as the birthplace and earthly pastureland of Lord Krishna (hence the name Braj, or "pastureland," which Hindus give to this region). The traditions are the Vallabhite and Chaitanyaite sectarian traditions and the nonsectarian Braj folk tradition.[1] I This discussion will follow in part directions of other anthropologists who have used a cultural constructionist approach to study emotional life in settings outside India (Abu-Lughod 1986; Lutz 1985, 1988; Potter 1988; Rasaldo 1980; Schieffelin 1976).
Bhakti devotionalism presupposes a culturally specific ideology of emotion, one adapted by medieval theologians from the rasa theory of emotion (see Raghavan 1970; Lynch, introduction to this volume; Bennett, Marglin, and Brooks, this volume). Bhakti selects out of rasa emotional theory only those emotions that are patterned after identifiable human relationships (e.g., mother-child, lover-beloved, fraternal love, etc.). Devotees' experience of Krishna is therefore conceived in terms of one or another of several possible dyadic human relationships; each expresses love and reciprocity. Much has been written about the function of these emotions as aesthetic structures in Braj drama and poetry (Bryant 1978), but there are far fewer explanations of their meaning and significance in the everyday lives and social experience of Krishna worshipers (Bennett 1983).
Efforts of South Asianists to account for the historical significance of bhakti emotionalism rely heavily on the motivational explanations of Freud and
other psychoanalytic theorists (Entwistle 1987:96-103; Hein 1982, 1986; O'Connell 1976). In their view emotionalism represented a response by Hindus———a retreat into either collective fantasy or subjective mysticism—to Muslim control of more rational forms of social and political power in North India. This sort of social psychoanalysis overlooks entirely the problem of how the indigenous system of emotions operates in this cultural context. This analysis not only focuses on the latter as a problem for discussion, but also accepts the constructionist view, put forth by Rasaldo (1984) and others (Lutz 1986), that emotions are culturally constituted, shared, generalized in a social network, and reflective of a cultural knowledge system through which actors in a particular cultural milieu interpret experience.
Of particular interest in the following discussion is devotees' use of food as signifier for emotion. In this culture food is closely tied to sociability within religious communities and to devotees' relationship with the deity. Many vocabulary words for emotion are gastronomic terms. Food metaphors and images, which proceed logically from these key words, also conceptualize emotion. These meanings are then produced and reproduced in cultural practices such as the ritual act of offering food to Krishna. This connection between food and emotion is undoubtedly subject to a greater degree of elaboration at Govardhan than at other Braj pilgrimage places because food and food symbolism play central roles in the myth associated with the hill and the practices of pilgrims who visit the site.
The first section of the chapter explores this link between food and emotion in key words for emotion and in metaphors and images common to Krishna stories and legends. Analysis turns to food rituals in the second half of the chapter, most specifically, to the manner in which the emotion favored for worship in each tradition shapes the pragmatic codes and aesthetic parameters of its food rituals. Data presented should indicate that food beliefs and practices objectify emotion and, as such, constitute emotional experience for members of this culture. This premise follows Bruner's (1986) remark that experience structures expression and expressions in turn structure experience. Applying this insight to the present case, I may further conclude that just as culturally constructed emotions act as sensibilities that inform ritual expressions, so, in the final estimate, they cannot be experienced without these same sensorial expressions.
The Setting
Mount Govardhan, whose name literally translated is "increaser of cattle," is a small hillock some five miles long and only one hundred feet high. The hillock is located in the southwest corner of Braj, the pilgrimage region just south of Delhi celebrated as the birthplace of Lord Krishna and the location of his childhood play on earth (lila). The hill is worshiped by pilgrims as
Krishna's natural form (svarupa) and is a central attraction in the 168-mile pilgrimage route (Caurasi Kos Parikrama) that encircles the region. A large number of towns, shrines, and natural sites, arranged along this route, commemorate the deity's miraculous exploits (Lynch 1988; Mital 1966). This proliferation of sites and the active and colorful pilgrimage culture that continues in the 1980s have their beginnings in the devotional resurgence that swept North India in the sixteenth century. As a result of this resurgence, local Braj culture was profoundly influenced by the languages and cultures of distant regions whose saintly representatives came and settled here in the late medieval period.
Because the hill was one of the few identifiable markers of Krishna's divine play on earth, as it was described in textual accounts, it attracted numerous philosopher saints who sought to establish and strengthen Vaishnava sects (sampradaya) by visiting the region. In the sixteenth century, Vallabha from South India and Chaitanya from Bengal came to Govardhan, where they established sectarian enclaves at either end of the hill.
The Vallabhite sect, which continues to maintain an active center at Jatipura to the south of the hill, is a householder sect, with no ascetic subbranches. Gosvamis, the sect's preceptors, arc lineal descendants of Vallabha, the founder saint; with few exceptions, most are Tailang Brahmans from Andhra Pradesh. Initiates in the sect arc also householders, many of whom belong to the predominantly mercantile castes of Gujarat and adjacent areas of western India and whose families have had connections with the sect for several generations. The sect has evolved a highly ceremonial style of devotional worship that focuses on iconic images of Krishna housed in special temples (haveli). Haveli are also believed to be the homes of gosvami preceptors, with whose persons temple images arc closely linked in sectarian ideology. Because the sect's preeminent icon, Sri Nathji, appeared to Vallabha at Jatipura, this town is especially sacred in the sect. Even after the icon was removed to Nathdwara in Rajasthan, following the emperor Aurangzeb's sack of Braj in A.D. 1670, Jatipura remained an important center of pilgrimage for members of this sect. A lengthy stop at Jatipura and the presentation of resplendent offerings of food at the side of Mount Govardhan is one highlight of the sect's pilgrimage through the region each year.
By contrast, the Chaitanyaite sect in Braj, and elsewhere in India, exhibits tension in its internal social organization between householder and ascetic ritual specialists in the sect, both of whom can be found at various places around Braj. Although the sect's householder Brahmans, also known as gosvamis, preside over the lavish ceremonial temples in nearby Brindaban, Radhakund, to the north of the hill, had historically been the provenance of the sect's many ascetics and monks, who have lived there in retreat since Chaitanya discovered the town beneath paddy fields. Addressing the issue of structural tensions in a sect with a comparable social organization to
Chaitanyaites, the Swaminarayan sect of Gujarat, Williams (1984:25-57) concludes that it is not uncommon for sects that have both householder and ascetic ritual specialists in their folds to develop different, often competitive, factions over time. Added to this, the presence of an international movement such as ISKCON (International Society for Krishna Consciousness), with links to the Chaitanyaite sect and a large modern temple in Brindaban (Brooks, this volume), makes the Chaitanyaites considerably more heterogeneous than the Vallabhites.
The town of Radhakund clusters on the banks of two holy ponds (kunda[*]) believed to have hosted an aquatic tryst by Krishna and his principal consort, Radha, whose love relationship is the focus of worship in the sect. Pilgrims come to Radhakund for extended periods of time to chant, to listen to textual accounts of Radha and Krishna's love play, and to meditate with the large number of monks and widows who live there. Icon worship and large temples are not noticeable features in the style of worship practiced in this Chaitanyaite center.
Popular, that is nonsectarian, worship of Krishna is carried on by local Brahman priests (panda[*]) and pilgrims in Govardhan town, at the hill's midpoint. This, the largest of the hill's three main towns, with a population of twelve thousand, is conveniently located on the major bus route running from Mathura to Dig. The popular tradition cuts across the sectarian traditions in many respects; thus, neither pilgrims nor local priests formally belong to any sect. According to local tradition, ritual worship of the hill is the exclusive domain of resident Brahmans, and pilgrims who belong to sects, much like other pilgrims, have their own priests in the town for this purpose. The only exception to this are Vallabhites; they prefer to worship the hill down the road at Jatipura where local Brahmans are initiates of their sect.
Food as Metaphor and Metonym for Emotion
On a linguistic analogy, A. K. Ramanujan (1981) describes bhakti as a series of religious shifts that ultimately dominated, crossed, and transformed older linguistic and cultural forms. There were shifts from noniconic to iconic worship; from rituals, in which a plot of ground was cordoned off and made into sacred space by Vedic experts in a consecration rite, to worship in temples localized, named, and open to almost the entire range of Hindu society; from belief in a nonpersonal absolute to the gods of mythology with faces, complexions, families, and feelings; and from passive modes like hearing and watching to active modes like speaking, dancing, touching, singing, and eating. Prema, "other serving love," the final goal of which is rasa, a bliss-filled union with the divine, replaced the earlier maryada, concerned with int llectual knowledge and ritual propriety. In Vaishnava thought and practice, Krishna became the integrative center of an aesthetic world view that called
for devotees' emotional involvement in Krishna's eternal pastimes (lila) recounted in sacred texts. As the focus of worship, Krishna is a personal, absolute being who manifests himself in mythic exploits with other players—his foster parents, friends (gopa), and female consorts (gopi)—in temple images (murti), in the many pilgrimage places that dot the Braj landscape, and in the human heart.
The Vaishnavite theory of emotional religious experience is based on an ingenious adaptation by Rupa Goswami and others (De 1961), of the rasa theory of Sanskrit poetics (Raghavan 1976). Rasa theory, as put forth by Bharata and Abhinavagupta, is a poesis aimed at "emotion recollected": according to this notion, the poetic word has a suggestive power capable of transforming bhava, basic human moods or sentiments, into rasa, emotions evoked in a listener or spectator that are aesthetically distanced and more pristine and rarefied than any feeling derived from direct sensual perception or experience (Masson and Pathwardhan 1969). In Krishna bhakti, bhava, and rasa are reinterpreted, shorn of their aesthetic distance; emphasis is placed, instead, on emotional experience of Krishna and its spontaneous expression (raganugabhakti) in the devotee's life. Bhava then becomes the devotee's worshipful attitude; rasa is the joyful experience of the love relationship between a human being and Krishna. Krishna is conceived of as the fount of rasa: he is the object that is relished (rasa), the subject who relishes, (rasika), the embodiment of all moods, and the giver of the experience of moods to others (Redington 1983:11).
The nine emotions of classical aesthetic theory (Raghavan 1970, 1976) are collapsed into five: where the devotee views Krishna with awe and humility in santa bhava, he is the supreme being; in dasya bhava, a lord and master to be served; in sakhya bhava, cowherder friend and equal; in vatsalya bhava, a child to be adored and cared for by its mother; and, in madhurya bhava (also referred to as srngara[*] bhava, the sweet emotion), a female cowmaiden enraptured by Krishna's seductive beauty. The devotee chooses, in accordance with his emotional capacities and the help of a guru (Haberman 1985), to emulate the emotions of one or another of the characters who participate in Krishna's mythic play. Most worshipers at Govardhan identify with the maternal and erotic sentiments; sentiments of reverential awe and slavish love are more characteristic of Shrivaishnavas and Ramanandis, relatively small sects in Braj. It is difficult to convey through simple and misleading English terms the complex meanings assigned to both the identities of mother, female lover, slave, and so on in this culture and the manner in which each form of person-hood is conceived, constituted, and experienced emotionally. Moreover, a systematic play of differences (or différance, to borrow Derrida's phrase) works in the various interpretations folk and sectarian traditions give to the same set of emotions. To cite but one example of this, in the case of the erotic emotion, the Radhavallabha sect, based primarily in Brindaban, believes
that Radha is Krishna's own wife (svakiya); whereas, for Chaitanyaites, a fundamental aspect of Radha's love stems from the fact that she is married to someone else (parakiya) but is irresistably drawn, against all social conventions, into an amorous liaison with Krishna.
Metaphors and metonyms that allude to food and the sense of taste play an important role in conceptualizing emotion and emotional experience.[2] Many key terms in classical aesthetic theory and medieval devotional theory patterned after it are derived from gastronomy. Lakoff and Johnson's (1980) experientialist theory of metaphor takes the position that many abstract concepts such as time or emotion are grasped by other concepts understood in clearer, more palpable terms, by means of spatial orientations, objects, or, in this case, food.[3] Metaphors, these authors conclude, enable speakers of a linguistic culture to understand one domain in terms of another. Although most of the authors' illustrations are drawn from English and other Western languages, their explanation may nevertheless help us to understand better the use of culinary metaphors and ritual food practices in bhakti to generate emotional experience.[4]
Let me review briefly some culinary metaphors implicit in Krishna ideology and the entailments that follow from them. First, the term rasa itself means juice, sap, or liquid. In the broad semantic sense, rasa refers to the flavor, taste, or essence of something that can be extracted and experienced in various ways. Devotees consistently make statements of the sort, "I hunger after the sweet nectar of devotion." Here a simile likens devotional experience to a fruit filled with nectar (rasa) that is drunk by those connoisseurs (rasika) who have acquired a taste for the beautiful (bhavuka); Krishna himself is often said to be raso vai saha, the consummate experiencer of his own essence, which is rasa. Here, as in gastronomy, whence the terms rasa, ruci (taste or liking, used in this context to refer to a person's spiritual inclination) and rasika (meaning both gourmet and a sensitive person, a connoisseur) derive, experience is in the experiencer.
Vaishnavas also believe that just as hunger is a necessary condition for the enjoyment of delicious food, so is the desire for rasa a necessary condition for its enjoyment. Krishna's ever-growing desire for relishing new forms of rasa—which is believed to set the devotional drama in motion—is not symptomatic of imperfection but flows spontaneously from his full, generous nature. The notion that love is of necessity spontaneous—and cannot be achieved solely through the traditional paths of knowledge or ritual discipline—is expressed through culinary metaphors and images in a number of places in Krishna mythology and folklore. In stories of famous saints, for example, Krishna usually makes initial contact by appearing to the saint in a dream, sharing food, and leaving behind an image or icon. Saints are usually simple people (more often than not of the lower castes), but Krishna prefers their victuals—given in a sincere, straightforward manner—to the offerings
of sanctimonious Brahman priests serving in his temples. Strains of this same antiritualism come through in episodes of Hariray's (1905) Vallabhite chronicle Sri Govardhannathji ke Prakatya[*] ki Varta, where Krishna runs away from the majestic splendor of his temple/palace to eat with cowherders and saints living alone in the wilds of Braj.[5] In stories surrounding the miraculous appearance of Krishna's icons, the whereabouts of images are often signaled to locals by the strange behavior of cows who shed streams of milk on the ground beneath which the images lay hiding.[6] Finally, in Krishna myths and legends the spontaneous outpouring of love between Krishna and his devotees is frequently symbolized by milk, a signifier for rase. However angry Yashoda might be with her foster son, Krishna, she cannot stop her breasts from overflowing with milk at the sight of him; this poignant image is found in much Braj poetry.
The entailments of these and similar metaphors are too numerous to explore here, but I will mention a few salient examples. For example, theologians explain the manner in which Krishna's divine energy is refracted in different basic human emotions, by comparing it to the different tastes rainwater produces when mixed with different substances: "rainwater mixed with milk tastes sweet, with amalaki (a fruit of the tree Emblic Myrobolam) sour, in some vegetables salty, in pepper pungent, with other substances bitter and astringent, and so on" (Kapoor 1977:45). Another more common metaphor likens the devotional path to a churning process, wherein the devotee's constant faith is transformed into sattva (defined as essential spiritual purity), in much the same way that butter and curds are churned from milk.[7] Following along in the same symbolic line, a cluster of metaphors surrounds Krishna in his identity as butter thief (makhancor). This image is a mainstay of popular iconography in Braj, represented in sculpture, painting, music, and poetry. This image makes a metaphor of Krishna stealing butter with his thievery of the human heart in religious devotion. In these terms then, Krishna's pilfering is a metaphoric guise for the unlimited creativity by which he takes back in devotion what is his to begin with: rase, signified in this iconic instance by milk, butter, and curds.[8] Hawley's (1983) study of the butter thief theme in Braj poetry traces this cluster of metaphors back to a basic correspondence in the mythology itself, a correspondence between the milk-based economy of Braj and the "economy of love" that circulates freely between Krishna and his playmates in the Braj lila.
These culinary metaphors have an interpretive function insofar as they provide worshipers with understandings of some complex notions involved in devotion. Key transformations in food ritual, however, have a metonymic rather than metaphoric structure. The same is true of the Govardhan myth, which recounts in distinctly Braj terms how food first came to be offered to Krishna. Thus, both food ritual and the associated food myth establish a metonymy between love, a girl given to devotees through Krishna's grace,
and food, a concrete means of experiencing and reexperiencing this gift, thereby keeping it in circulation (Hyde 1979).
Food offerings are present in nearly all Vaishnavite worshiping, from the intimacy of the household shrine to the more public setting of the temple. The central transformation in food ritual occurs when food, called bhoga (literally, pleasure or sensual enjoyment, anything that can be enjoyed by the senses), is set before Krishna's image and Krishna himself is believed to consume it, usually through the image's eyes.[9] In this act of consumption bhoga is metonymously transformed into more love-laden prasada or consecrated food.[10] Bennett (this volume) draws a homology between this culinary transformation and an equivalent transformation on the emotional level: in his analysis bhoga (food offerings) is to bhava (the devotee's worshipful emotion) as prasada (consecrated food offerings) is to rasa (Krishna's blissful nature). In light of the data presented here, one might go one step further and say that these are metonymic correspondences, not merely homologous ones as Bennett suggests.
In the Govardhan myth Krishna persuades the Braj cowherds to make their annual harvest offering to Govardhan hill instead of to the god, Indra. Once the offerings are mountainously piled in front of the hill, Krishna jumps into the hill, saying, "I am Govardhan; Govardhan is me." He then sucks in the food through a crack in the hill (known locally as mukharavinda, lotus mouth), metonymically linking himself, the hill, and the mountainous pile of food (Annakuta[*]).[11] Pictographs of this mythic event, sold throughout Braj, show this metonym clearly. Krishna appears in two places at once in the illustration: standing within a square niche inside the hill, and outside, kneeling to the left of the hill with hands folded in prayer beside his brother, Balarama, and other cowherds. This iconography represents the processual structure of food ritual and the love relationship it signifies: the gift of food-love moves in a circle, from the cowherds to the hill Krishna-Govardhan, and back to Krishna and the cowherds once more. Thus, the food-love metonymy substantiates the circular process underlying devotional experience: Krishna, it is believed, creates devotees through his grace, in order that he might reflexively experience through their loving feelings his own blissful and loving nature (ananda).[12]
This metonymy is objectively inscribed in ceremonies that mark Govardhan Puja in the Hindu calendar. This festival takes place on the day following Diwali, the "Festival of Lights," associated with the goddess Lakshmi and the start of the new business year for Hindus. On this day, the first day of the second fortnight of Kartika (October-November), at Govardhan and throughout this region of North India, two food rituals take place. The twin rituals arc grounded in contrasting social settings—one public and community oriented, the other private and domestic—and draw on different sorts of experiences in the participants' emotional lives. The first rite, per-
formed in the afternoon in Vaishnavite temples by members of the same sect or, in the cases of the folk tradition, by residents of the Brahman neighborhood, expresses solidarity in these communities; the second, celebrated at twilight in each household courtyard, expresses emotional relationships in the joint or extended family.
In the temple ritual known as Annakuta[*] (the Mountain of Food), a large mound of rice, sometimes numbering thousands of kilos, is constructed in the temple courtyard, facing the sanctum where the deity resides. Sweets and tarts, made from flour and stuffed with raisins and other condiments, and other vegetable and grain dishes are artistically arranged around this central pile. Pilgrims come specially to Govardhan to view these displays. The proceedings often end on a raucous note. In one temple at Jatipura, a Brahman dressed in a cowherd's costume jumps into the rice pile from a balcony above the courtyard; in other temples, pilgrims are permitted to dismantle the display by rushing in and, like the mischievous butter thief, grabbing as much food as they can take away with them. Informants explain that Annakuta departs from normal temple etiquette in several important respects. First, in daily worship boiled rice is usually handled according to strict pollution rules and shielded from public view when offered to the deity; here it is openly displayed, even played with by pilgrims, in the temple's most public area, the courtyard. When asked what they were feeling at the time of the ritual, those present said that the mountainous food offering was Krishna's loving body, free to be enjoyed by all in the spirit of lila. In their words:
After a time temple ritual gets stale, bogged down in repetition and priestly details. Going through the routine of daily worship we sometimes forget the spirit (bhava) behind the offering. In Annakuta we relive the Govardhan lila. Priestly rules are put to one side, and pilgrims play a key role in the joyous festivities. On this day pilgrims arc just like Krishna's friends, able to fool and play with him without the restraint normally called for in the temple. We offer mountains of food to remind ourselves that Krishna is king of Braj (Braj Raja), that he gives us everything we have, and that his love is as vast and never-ending as a mountain. There is plenty of food to go around in Annakuta, and in sharing this food everybody present gets to share all of this love. We never sell food in our temple on this festival. This loving food is free for all who come here. We try to make certain that there is plenty of food and love to go around.[13]
The domestic ritual, celebrated later in the day, contrasts with the boisterousness and spectacle of the temple rite. This rite expresses the family's wishes for prosperity in the year to follow and stirs up feelings of dependency and intimacy within the household. One must remember, as Trawick and Vatuk also point out in this volume, that feelings of dependency and intimacy associated with family relationships, especially those between parents and children, have different meanings in the Indian family, and, thus, make the
emotions categorized by these words quite different in the Indian context. This background cultural meaning itself partly constitutes what participants experience emotionally in the rite. Therefore, sensations or feelings of dependency and intimacy do not dictate these experiences, but rather the culturally constructed emotional categories themselves do (Solomon 1984).
At the time of the ritual a small anthropomorphic figure of Krishna-Govardhan, made of cowdung, is built in each house. The figure, with a concave naval at its midriff, is enclosed in rectangular walls, said to represent mountains. Within these walls are placed cowdung figurines of cattle, ploughs, and butter churners. Assisted by women and older children in the family, small youngsters place sweets, sugarcane, and other harvest goodies into the naval of the figure. All circle the figure, joining hands and singing folksongs in praise of Krishna in his form as the holy hill. Folksongs recall the ancient myth and beseech Govardhan, as "King of Hills" (Giriraja Maharaja), to bring good fortune in the year to come. Children delight in the ritual and listen with rapt attention to instructions on correctly sculpting the image and making the offering. After the ritual is completed, the family enjoys a meal of harvest grains. Older family members then entertain the children with local legends of Govardhan's might. Stories tell of treasures and good fortune that befall staunch devotees of Krishna-Govardhan. Even adult males, who usually frequent the bazaars at night, stay at home this evening to enjoy the quiet intimacy of the occasion and the tender bonds it celebrates. According to local tradition, crops harvested in this season cannot be eaten until this ritual is first perfomed. The rite, then, is an act of thanksgiving to Krishna for providing the ecological conditions, symbolized here in the harvest bounty, on which family life depends.
Emotion Objectified in Food Ritual
I turn now to consider sources of variation between traditions. Sects have a different view of emotion than does the popular tradition. In sectarian traditions the five basic emotions of bhakti are sorted out and codified, and one emotion is generally chosen above others for worship in the sect; in the popular view, emotions are fickle and change, depending on where one is in Braj and what the festive occasion might be. Food rituals in each tradition provide a setting that must be culturally comprehended or appraised; that is, comprehension is the experience that constitutes the emotion in question. As I will show in greater detail below, emotion is constructed in food ritual through certain performance codes, which vary from tradition to tradition. Examples of performance codes include foods themselves (their variety and amounts), whether these foods are visually displayed in the temple, the nature of the culinary art in the sect, and the degree of culinary change and elaboration across the festive cycle. Additional factors to be considered are the
identity of cooks (Brahmans or ascetics), the attention given to purity rules in cooking, the presence or absence of food categories based on a scale of purity, and the importance given to food vis-à-vis other forms of sensory expression in the sect.
The Vallabhite Sect and Maternal Emotion
The maternal love (vatsalya bhava) of Krishna's foster mother, Yashoda, is the favored emotion for Vallabhites.[14] Worship centers on icons of two- or four-armed Krishna or of Krishna as a crawling toddler with one arm upraised, butterball in hand. Icons are housed in temples (haveli) whose interiors and ritual artifacts theatrically recreate the Braj of Krishna's childhood down to the most minute detail (see Bennett, this volume). Considerable attention is lavished on cuisine in the sect, and Vallabhites are the undisputed gourmets of Hinduism (Toomey 1986). Sumptuous offerings play oil against other sensory media in worship (e.g., painting, flower arrangement, music, and poetry). This array of ritual and ceremonial forms is thought to manifest outwardly an inner emotion, namely maternal love, and offer an incentive (bhavana) to developing this inner emotion in all who practice devotion.
Conceptions of motherhood and the experience of motherly love in the sect arc modeled on cultural definitions of motherhood in the Indian kinship system. In their analysis of the latter, Vatuk (1982) and Das (1976) explain that biological ties between a mother and her child are backstaged, that is, not given public expression, in the conduct of Indian family life. So as not to seem too possessive of her child, and hence perceived as self-centered by other members of her husband's family, a woman is expected to deindividualize her relationship with her child to the extent that any member of the family can be entrusted with its care.[15] Thus, everyday behavior in Indian families self-consciously recognizes the fact that the process of mothering, unlike the process of childbearing, can involve any number of surrogates in addition to, or instead of, the real mother. In Vatuk's words (1982:95), "In family life the tasks of mothering should be shared, as food and space and intimacy are shared, among all of its members according to their needs and inclinations."
What it means to be a mother in India and to experience motherly love arc clearly constituted by a quite different set of cultural criteria than they arc in the West. What is more, Vallabhites transpose this familial model, in a number of interesting ways, to social and affective relations in the sect. For example, the sect refers to itself as Vallabha's family, Vallabha-kula. Caste and lineage ties are strongly emphasized in the sect's leadership; cooks, for example, must belong to specified Gujarati Brahman castes (jati). Devotees' identification with Yashoda (who is, after all, Krishna's adoptive mother rather than his natural one) metaphorically extends the notion, put forth in
the kinship system, that maternal love is something anyone, male or female, in the family-sect can experience. Lastly, ritual, so central to the sect's ideology, is conceived in terms of a culinary metonym: pusti[*], or nourishing grace (Bennett 1983); another name of the sect is Pusti[*] Marga, the Way of Grace. Pusti refers to a grace that nourishes, supports, and strengthens the souls of devotees. As the transactional focus of Vallabhite ritual practice, food is perhaps the chief means by which emotion is experienced in the sect. In devotees' minds the devotional process consists in nourishing the infant icon in the temple (or in one's personal possession, as the case may be) and being nourished by him in return. Thus, icons, it is believed, return the maternal affection stored up in food offerings, by showering these same offerings with pusti and keeping the ritual process in motion.
Similar attitudes are reflected in the sect's food practices. Food offerings are prepared in vast amounts and with such attention to ritual detail that they are said to reflect a mother's watchful eye for her child. "Attention means care," priests remarked, "a mother's care." And the purity rules observed by cooks and priests in this sect are far stricter than those in the other two traditions at Govardhan. Temple cuisine—an amalgam of Gujarati, Rajasthani, South Indian, and Braj cuisines—is sweet or bland, for the most part; salt and spices are kept to a minimum because these are believed injurious to Krishna's sensitive child's palate. Krishna is fed eight times daily in the temple, from the time he is awakened in the morning until he is serenaded to sleep at night. Large food festivals are another specialty in the sect. Best known of these is Ghappan Bhoga (the "Fifty-Six Delicacies"), one showpiece of the festive year at Jatipura (Mital 1975; Sivaji 1936). Fifty-six recipes, prepared five or six ways from items such as chick-pea gram, flour, milk, dry fruits, and other grains, are called for in this offering. Fifty-six baskets of each dish are, in turn, offered, bringing the potential number of offerings to 21,952 (7 × 56 × 56). The sizable offering is displayed in a temporary enclosure at the side of the hill. A theatrical backdrop is set up on the hill, and one Govardhan stone, decorated with enamel eyes and made up to resemble Krishna's face, peers out from a hole in the painted scenery. Symbolism of the number fifty-six directly relates to maternal love, for devotees say that, like Yashoda, they show their untiring love by providing Krishna with round-the-clock nourishment: eight times a day, seven days a week.[16]
In the Vallabhite system, Krishna's experience of his own rasa crystallizes in temple ritual. In this highly metaphoric system material acts of worship are metonyms for the love-filled emotions they express. The central metonym, pusti, makes nourishment a critical quality of the love or grace that flows between devotees and Krishna. In this way, maternal affection is conceived and experienced as a grace-filled emotion that nourishes devotees' hearts in much the same way that food nourishes their bodies. In this sect food offerings objectify the closely welded domains of heart and body, spirit
and matter. To conclude, many features of the Vallabhite system—its ethos of maternal love and the metonymically related realms of the physical-material and the spiritual-emotional, distinctive to the sect's ritual practices—are nicely summarized in the following remarks by a member of this sect. (To savor some implications made in this section, I suggest that the reader go over the statement several times, substituting at appropriate places the word love for the words "wealth," "money," or "food" in the original statement.)
Whenever we visit a place of lila in Braj, we offer Krishna what his cowherd friends (gopa) and cowmaiden consorts (gopi) offered him. In our sampradaya we are admonished not to hoard wealth. Money needs to be in constant circulation, to be shared with as many others as possible. Unfortunately, we can hold on to money, but food cannot be hoarded. It will spoil if it is not shared. A single person can only cat so much food, the rest needs to be shared or it will spoil. Food, then, is the most shareable form of wealth. Food is the best thing that we can offer to god. Whatever we think is best, we offer to Krishna as bhoga. Money is not a form of bhoga. Krishna is a child. If you give him sweets, milk, or other such things, he will be pleased. Bhoga is defined as those things that give pleasure to the lord. Our sect's wealth is concentrated in food. In the Shastras it states that whatever god gives us, we must give back in return, as an offering. Food should never be prepared for its own sake; to do so is a sin. Why? Because everything we see belongs to god—it cannot be enjoyed by us unless it is first offered to him. Prasada or food is the grace by which Krishna helps us to live our lives. Next to air and water, food is the most essential thing in life. All our necessities, luxuries, everything in short, must first be offered to Krishna, as they rightfully belong to him. We use Krishna's things through his grace.[17]
The Chaitanyaite Sect and the Amorous Emotion
If Vallabhites frame the human/divine relationship in familial terms, then Chaitanyaite ascetics at Radhakund can be said to frame devotees' experience of this same relationship in terms of an emotion that violates domestic order: madhurya bhava, the illicit love between Krishna and his consort Radha (Kakar 1986). Icons of Krishna as a comely adolescent flute player, symbolically if not visually linked in some way to Radha, replace icons of the mischievous child in this sect.[18] Radha and Krishna's passionate love disrupts the ordered relations normally expected of men and women in Hindu society. Madhurya bhava is characterized by eroticism and ambiguity, both of which are delineated for devotees in ways specific to this cultural group. Equally critical to our understanding of the love experience in this sect is the notion of viraha (love-in-separation). For devotees the purest form of love is incomplete or frustrated love—the same love experienced in myths by suffering and forlorn gopis who have been separated from Krishna after partnering him in one of his many amorous exploits. Thus, for Chaitanyaites, the frustration of the emotions' desire for immediate union with Krishna (a condition theoreti-
cally impossible in this philosophical system) becomes the closest possible encounter with the divine.
This complex emotion is open to a wide range of interpretations in different sects and/or regions of India where it appears (see Marglin, this volume, for a discussion of this emotion in the context of Puri), even, in this case, between householder Brahman priests and ascetics in the same sect.[19] Chaitanyaite worship practices at Radhakund reflect a decidedly ascetic view of the erotic emotion (cf. Lynch, this volume). Each asrama (monastic dwelling) in the town has an image of Radha-Krishna in its shrineroom; beside the images are placed bits of Govardhan stone (whose natural coloration is said to represent the divine pair) and votive pictures of Chaitanya and his disciples, Nityanand and the Six Goswamis of Brindaban. But ascetics emphatically state that the amount of attention given to icon worship— relative to chanting and other more aural forms of worship such as listening to readings of sacred texts—is a matter of personal choice. In other words, icon worship is not as central a focus in the worship style followed by ascetics as it is in the householder branch of this sect. Something of this ambivalence toward icons comes across in the following anecdote, told by a sadhu at Radhakund:
If a family is involved in worship, it becomes more elaborate, takes more pleasure in display and other worldly things. As a rule, we sadhus are not interested in the outward show of worship, such as one might find in temples at Brindaban, Mathura, and other places in Braj. A classic case of this involves Sanatana Goswami, himself a renouncer (virakta) and one of the six acarya of our sect, who founded the temple of Madan Mohan in Brindaban. One of his disciples, an elderly lady from Mathura, asked him to take on the worship of her family deity, a splendid image of Madan Mohan, after her death. Sanatana Goswami agreed hesitantly, saying: "I am a sadhu and do not have time to look after this little tyke's every wish. Whatever I beg in the way of food, I will share with Madan Mohan. If he is pleased with this meager amount, then I will take him into my charge." Hearing this, the deity agreed, but after several weeks of dry, stale bread, Madan Mohan called to Sanatana: "You bring roti without so much as salt. Please bring back some salt from your begging rounds, or maybe even a few sweets which I also crave." Sanatana went to his disciples and complained—"This naughty fellow is trying to kill by bhajana. Today he asks for salt and sweets. Next time he will ask for chattisa vyanjana[*] (a large feast calling for thirty-six different dishes, elaborately prepared and offered before the deity)." When Sanatana left Brindaban and retired to Govardhan later in his life, he handed over Madan Mohan to one of his lay followers, in whose family it remains to this day.[20]
According to ascetics, icon worship is a personal, private act conducive to an idiom of purity stressing intimacy and closeness with the deity. These same ascetics define purity as an inner state where intention precedes the
manipulation of physical substances in a controlled ritual environment. Absent entirely are large food displays and the separation of foods into ranked categories during cooking and offering, both characteristic of Brahmanical temple cuisine.[21] Offerings are fairly simple, consisting mostly of rice, spiced pulses and other grains, and stewed vegetables. Sweets, the mainstay of other traditions around the hill, are seldom offered. Lastly, food offerings are not parceled out to devotees, common practice with most temple prasada; rather, they are shared by devotees as a feast or common meal (vaisnava[*] seva, after participating in long hours of group chanting and other strenuous devotional activities. In short, more sensual and visual forms of ritual expression (i.e., changing the image's clothing or food offerings on a seasonal basis) are left unstressed in this tradition, and the food offering itself takes on aspects of a feast, rather than a sweet or other culinary souvenir to be taken away from the temple by pilgrims.
Attitudes toward food offerings at Radhakund are similar in several respects to those described by Audrey Hayley (1980) for Vaishnavas in Assam. First, rice (called anna, life's breath, that on which life depends), which is given high moral evaluation in the eastern states of India, is the food offering par excellence in both religious communities. Second, they share the view that the collective religious experience itself is the living body of Krishna, superior not only to his iconic representation but even to the god himself. This collective experience is embodied in food offerings which have been transformed by sound into the four constituent parts of worship: god, name, guru, and devotee. In this view, the food offering reconstitutes the central importance of the devotional act itself and the devotees who perform it. Food offerings therefore make substantial the spiritual intentions behind devotional acts; concomitantly, consumption of these offerings is believed to sustain devotees in further acts of community worship.
Emotion in the Folk Tradition at Mount Govardhan
In the Braj folk tradition I find not one or two emotions, emphasized over the others, but an amalgam, a medley of emotions playing harmoniously off against one another as one moves across the sacred landscape. Moodiness and sentimentality permeate Braj culture, giving the region an ambience of sweetness and solitude in some places, of boisterousness and prankish good humor in others. Entire towns are said to be saturated with one emotion or another, depending on the emotional tones of the lila that took place there. Residents of certain towns are accorded masculine or feminine qualities by virtue of their association with gopas or gopis who lived there before them. As a key or dominant symbol in Braj cosmology, Mount Govardhan is thought to preside over and enfold within itself the many teeming emotions of Brai lila.[22]
Govardhan hill means many things to many people. To members of the
Vallabhite sect, the hill is especially sacred because their principal icon, Sri Nathji, sprang from one of its cracks at Jatipura; to Chaitanyaites, the hill still resounds with the echo of Krishna's flute and the memories of his afternoon love play with Radha and the other cowmaidens. In the folk conception, shared by sectarian groups as well, the hill connects a wide array of referents: it is alternately Krishna's natural body, a mountain of food (Annakuta), a bestower of boons, and the source of the region's agricultural growth and renewal. The hill is semantically open, capable of exegesis at various levels, from that of sectarian literati to the views of simple peasants who come on pilgrimage here every full moon (purnamasi[*]) to pledge their devotion to the mountain in return for good fortune and prosperity. Devotees of all persuasions agree that Krishna-Govardhan condenses into one ritual object both Krishna's many visual images, referred to by hundreds of thousands of melodious-sounding names or epithets, and the welter of emotions stored up in these images. Depending upon one's perspective, Krishna is seen in the stones in different ways. In just one example, peasants who come to Govardhan regularly see the hill as a folk deity: the "king of hills," the protector of cows, and the provider of boons and Bounty (daniraya).
Food ritual in the folk tradition is relatively fluid and unsystematic when compared to sectarian practices. In Govardhan's main temple—the place where locals say the hill's mouth (mukharavinda) is located—the temple image is comprised of two Govardhan stones, treated half like a temple icon and half not.[23] For most of the day the stones are left unadorned so that pilgrims can enter the temple and feed them directly with their own hands. Local Brahmans act as guides in this process, in contrast to the way officiants might be expected to act in temples that house consecrated icons. Foods offered are simple sweets and milk—not the products of a sophisticated temple cuisine, but foods bought in the marketplace and associated with feelings of pleasure, well-being, and auspiciousness (subha), in the festive and ceremonial cycle of North India (Madan 1987:48-71).[24] Folksongs and pilgrimage ditties, like the Govardhan Calisa (a forty-line prayer sung by pilgrims), mention foods by name and express the idea that Krishna is a simple peasant who shares pilgrims' food in a spirit of joyous, easy reciprocity.
This same flexibility is demonstrated in numerous other local food practices. Priests and pilgrims generally admit to a relaxed view of ritual: "Ritual implies a distance of some sort between man and god. This distance has no place at Govardhan, where both man and god are part of nature. Images in this temple are svayam[*] prakat[*], that is, spontaneously manifested in nature, without need of priestly intervention to establish them in the temple or to maintain their sanctity in the future."[25] Practices in the local temple attenuate the daily format followed in iconic worship. Unlike icons, which are dressed first thing in the morning and served eight or so daily meals, the mukharavinda temple's stones are dressed only after four o'clock, when the
heaviest hours of pilgrimage traffic are over. Only then do the stones appear as anthropomorphic likenesses, with enamel eyes and artificial limbs attached, wearing brightly colored clothes, crowns, and silver jewelry. Similarly, the eight meals of standard temple worship are abbreviated to three: sweets in the morning, a noontime meal of grains and pulses, and warm milk and more sweets at night. The temple does not have kitchen facilities per se; meals are purchased from vendors in the market and offered by pandas without any provisions to shield the images from public view.
Pilgrims are allowed considerable latitude in how they choose to worship in the temple. Those, who can afford it, bring clothes and jewelry for the temple images and worship them with large amounts of rich and varied foods, pails full of milk, incense, fresh flowers, and so on. Others, with less means at their disposal, offer small clay thimbles of milk and popcorn-sized bits of pulled sugar with cardamom seed centers. Finally, as I mentioned earlier in connection with the Annakuta celebration, the aesthetic environment in local temples is particularly charged on festival days. For commercial reasons, temples are draped in strings of colored bulbs on these occasions. With their varied and extravagent food displays and the many songs and performances all around, these festivals create, through a pleasant blend of music, food, and pageantry, a savory experience of Lord Krishna for pilgrims.
Conclusion
My approach in this essay accepts the constructionist view that affects correspond with the societies within which actors live and that they can best be explained with reference to cultural scenarios and associations. The foregoing analysis described the overlapping cultural meaning systems through which emotions are constituted in three devotional groups at Mount Govardhan. Such an approach differs, in several important respects, from standard assumptions about emotion in Western academic psychology—that it is possible to identify the essence of emotion, that emotions are universal and hence easily translatable across cultures, and that they are separable from their personal and social contexts (Lutz 1986; Lynch, introduction to this volume). In contrast, here one faces a complex system of symbols, values, and definitions, which are culturally specific, and in terms of which emotions are conceptualized and interpreted by Krishna worshipers. My point is that the culturally appropriate categorization of emotion within a whole context of implicit meaning allows members of each tradition to know what their experience of emotion is and even how to feel it and to know what they ought to experience in it. The task has been to examine what devotees say and do in everyday life to express, enact, and interpret emotions. Findings indicate that emotions such as maternal and erotic love are clearly constituted within a
different framework of social relationships and cultural knowledge than emotions referred to by the same name would be in contemporary American society.
If one accepts, then, that there is no single universal mode of appraisal for such cultural features as emotion, one might want to conclude by making some general remarks about the system of appraisal described in this chapter and how this system differs from certain preconceived Western notions. First, in bhakti, emotion is constituted through interactions and transactions of various sorts: between man and god, between members of the same sect, and so on. At times human/divine relationships are conceived in idioms borrowed from family and social life; at other times, they are conceived in opposition to these same idioms, as in the case of the illicit love of Radha-Krishna. Second, this interactive focus also presupposes an enduring cultural concern with reciprocity as a process that animates life. Love, in these terms, has nothing static about it, nor is it based on fixed bonds; rather, it is effective in the experiential sense only when constantly circulating.
Perhaps the most notable aspect of this cultural system is the way these properties of emotion are objectified or substantialized for devotees through food symbols and practices (Geertz 1983:94-120). In the Western cultural formulation emotion is conceived as an inherently irrational aspect of life and talked about in metaphors that center on ideas of chaos. In contrast, Hindu metaphors for emotion center on food and semantic similarities between emotion as an experience and the bodily experiences of eating and nurturing. Actors' understandings of emotion in Braj are not shaped, as they are in the West, by dichotomies between the head and the heart, between conscious and unconscious mind, or between the psychology of individuals and the shared psychological experience of social groups.
And lastly, can one identify the essence of an emotion: Is there, for example, some identifiable aspect of biological motherhood that can be said to inform the experience of motherly love in all cultures? The data presented here indicates that cultural definitions of emotion are highly variable, even within the confines of a single location or homogeneous religious setting like Govardhan. What makes comparison of these three traditions so exciting—but difficult, alas, to describe with complete coherence—is the quality of distance that underlies the system as a whole. First, the traditions have contrasting social contexts (attitudes toward caste, asceticism, and so on), historical backgrounds, and ties to different regions of India. Second, their views on many finer points of emotional theory, even in regard to emotions bearing the same name, are not parallel in many instances. And finally, though one discerns the same set of culinary metaphors and metonyms (themes derived from rasa theory, for example, and the Govardhan myth) weaving through all three traditions, each tradition is nevertheless equally distinguishable by the model of emotional experience it favors and the stories and rituals it employs
to shape this experience for devotees. In my opinion, anthropologists will better understand the complex phenomenon of emotion, not by searching for universal features as many earlier studies do, but by documenting the diverse means by which emotion is culturally constructed and symbolically mediated to actors in specific social and cultural contexts.
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