This book presents a close reading of four Indian narratives from different time periods : Ekalavya's story from the MahÄ bhÄ rata, the story of PrajÄ pati, Indra and Virochana from the ChÄ ndogya Upanisad, the story of Åsankara in the King's body from the Åsankaradigvijaya, and A.R. Murugadoss's Hindi film Ghajini, respectively. These stories are thematically juxtaposed with PÄ tañjala-yoga, namely Patañjali's YogasÅ«traand its vast commentarial body. The sÅ«tras reveal hidden philosophical layers. The stories, on the other hand, contribute (...) to the clarification of "philosophical junctions" in the YogasÅ«tra. Through sÅ«tras and stories, the author explores the question of self-identity, with emphasis on the role of memory and the place of body in identity-formation. Each of the stories diagnoses the connection between self-identity and freedom. Employing cutting-edge methodology, crossing the boundaries of literary theory, story-telling, and philosophical reflection, this book presents fresh interpretations of Indian thought. It is useful to specialists in Asian philosophy and culture. (shrink)

Philosophical exploration of the Yogasutra, looking at themes of freedom, self-identity, time and transcendence, and translation - between languages, cultures and eras.

_In his book_ The Yogasūtra of Patañjali: A New Introduction to the Buddhist Roots of the Yoga System_, Pradeep Gokhale reveals a new picture of the Yogasūtra. He shows us, verse after verse, Buddhist influences on this classical text, which is usually seen as rooted in the Sā__ṃ__khya tradition. Gokhale does not merely argue that Patañjali borrows from Buddhist sources; he substantiates his argument with numerous detailed examples, traveling back and forth between Patañjali and Buddhist thinkers such as Asa__ṅ__ga and (...) Vasubandhu. Gokhale further argues that Vyāsa, Patañjali’s most authoritative commentator, makes a __political move in his commentary by distancing Patañjali from the Buddhists and situating him on the “right side” of the philosophical map, namely the __ā__stika side, the side of the loyalists of the Veda. __The implications are __far-reaching. First, __Patañjali and Vyāsa cannot be one and the same person, as claimed by solid Yogasūtra scholars such as Philipp Maas. __Second, the Patañjali of the Yogasūtra cannot be identified with his namesake, the __author of the Mahābhā__ṣ__ya, “The Great Commentary” on some of the themes discussed by Pā__ṇ__ini, the forefather of Indian linguistics. Patañjali, the linguist, is dated to the 2nd or 3rd century BCE; Patañjali of the Yogasūtra would now have to be pushed forward to the 5th century CE as Gokhale implies. Like Daya Krishna before him, Gokhale highlights the contribution of Buddhist texts and thinkers, often undermined or marginalized in the narrative of the history of Indian philosophy, at least as __it is __sketched in India. In this respect, I briefly visit Daya Krishna’s essay “Was Ācārya Śa__ṅ__kara responsible for the disappearance of Buddhist Philosophy from India?” (1999). Finally, I mention Karen O’Brien-Kop’s research. Like Gokhale, she makes an attempt to join the dots between Pātañjala-yoga and the Buddhist Yogācāra._. (shrink)

Daya Krishna, one of the most original voices of contemporary Indian philosophy, writes that “Gandhi is as rare as…a Shakespeare or a Michelangelo” (1999). Mohandas K. Gandhi himself writes that “Jesus was, to my mind, a supreme artist” (1924). And Tridip Suhrud, Gandhian and Gandhi scholar, speaks of “Gandhi’s striving to lead the life of a ‘supreme artist’ ” (2018). The question raised in this article is this: If Gandhi was an artist, then what is his artwork? In reply, the (...) author suggests that Gandhi himself is the artwork of Gandhi the artist. To substantiate this contention, Gandhi is depicted first as a “hunger artist,” in dialogue with Franz Kafka’s 1924 story of the same name, and second as a “death artist” crafting (determining, choosing) his death. Here the author draws on Ramchandra Gandhi, the Mahatma’s grandson and an intriguing philosophical voice, and examines Judah L. Magnes’s 1939 letter to Gandhi. (shrink)

Daya Krishna was easily the most creative and original Indian philosopher of the second half of the 20th century. His thought and philosophical energy dominated academic Indian philosophy and determined the nature of the engagement of Indian philosophy with Western philosophy during that period. He passed away recently, leaving behind an enormous corpus of published work on a wide range of philosophical topics, as well as a great deal of incomplete, nearly-complete and complete-but-as-yet-unpublished work. Daya Krishna's thought and publications address (...) a broad range of philosophical issues, including issues of global philosophical importance that transcend considerations of particular traditions; issues particular to Indian philosophy; and issues at the intersection of Indian and Western philosophy, especially questions about the philosophy of language and ontology that emerge in the context of his Samvada project that brought together Western philosophers and Nyaya pandits to discuss questions in the philosophy of language and metaphysics. The volume editors have organized the volume as a set of ten couplets and triplets. Each draws together papers from different periods in Daya Krishna's life: some take different approaches to the same problem or text; in some cases, the second paper references and takes issue with arguments developed in the first; in still others, Daya Krishna addresses very different topics, but using the same distinctive philosophical methodology. Each set is introduced by one of the editors. These couplets are framed by two of Daya Krishna's finest metaphilosophical essays, one that introduces his approach, and one that draws some of his grand morals about the discipline. Daya Krishna's daughter, Professor Shail Mayaram of the Center for the Study of Developing Societies contributes a preface, and Professor Arindam Chakrabarti, a longtime colleague of Daya Krisha and a collaborator on some of his most important philosophical ventures has written the introduction. (shrink)

Krishnachandra Bhattacharyya’s improvisations, or rather his interpretation as improvisation, inspires my own improvisation on Milan Kundera’s 1996 novel Slowness. Not only do I attempt to improvise, or to “interfere creatively” in Kundera’s work, but moreover, I argue that this is exactly how he himself works in Slowness with Vivant Denon’s 1777 novella No Tomorrow. Reading Kundera, as I do here, with and through Indian theory, from the 7th or 8th century poet Rājaśekhara to contemporary thinkers such as Bhattacharyya, Daya Krishna, (...) Mukund Lath and others, is not a standard move. However, it enables me to contemplate “in action” about the possibilities and impossibilities of a cross-cultural dialogue, as a potent tool of interpretation. (shrink)

This essay highlights Ben-Ami Scharfstein’s major philosophical projects: first, philosophizing that includes nonwestern philosophies, especially Chinese and Indian, and that creates a dialogue between philosophers and philosophical traditions without prioritizing any of them, and without taking western philosophy as the point of departure. Second, a similar, inclusive move in the field of art, art without borders if you wish. Here the inclusivity applies not just to east and west, north and south, but even to animal-made art. Just as he wrote (...) about philosophy in China and India, attempting to say something broader about humanity and humanism, so too does Scharfstein’s argument about animals and art have far-reaching implications, above and beyond the question of the demarcation of art. He aims to tell us something about the human-animal relationship, about lack of solidarity between fellow inhabitants of planet earth, not just humans, and about cruelty and exploitation and blindness to the other, whichever other. And finally, I touch on Scharfstein’s work The Philosophers, beautifully translated into Hebrew as Philosophers as Human Beings, where “he dares to imply that philosophizing is in fact a sublimated expression of the unconscious,” as Yoav Ariel—sinologist and much more—puts it. Such a move, Ariel continues to argue, “dethrones philosophy of its unique position of honor and supremacy, and disperses the atmosphere of conceptual terror that philosophy created generation after generation.”. (shrink)

Daya Krishna and Twentieth-Century Indian Philosophy introduces contemporary Indian philosophy as a unique philosophical genre through the writings of one its most significant exponents, Daya Krishna (1924-2007). It surveys Daya Krishna's main intellectual projects: rereading classical Indian sources anew, his famous Samvad Project, and his ardent attempt to formulate a social and political theory that can better fit India's needs and challenges. Conceived as a dialogue with Daya Krishna and contemporaries, including his interlocutors, Krishnachandra Bhattacharyya, Badrinath Shukla, Ramchandra Gandhi and (...) Mukund Lath, this book is an engaging introduction to anyone interested in contemporary Indian philosophy and in the thought-provoking writings of Daya Krishna. (shrink)

The aim of this essay is to (re)introduce D. P. Chattopadhyaya (1931–2022, henceforth DPC), one of the key-players in the field of contemporary Indian philosophy, his main books, his community-building activities, and his unique life-story. A modern Rājar ṣ i, DPC was both a philosopher and a statesman who served both as a minister in the Indian government in the 1970s and as the governor of Rajasthan in the early 1990s. The Śvetāśvatara Upani ṣ ad narrates the famous story of (...) two birds sitting on a single branch, one eating a fig, the other watching-witnessing. DPC’s life-story and writings show that the two birds could be one and the same, namely that action and reflection, or engagement and the detachment needed for reflection, do not necessarily exclude one another but can in fact complement and contribute to one another. Relying primarily on DPC’s chapter “A Short Intellectual Autobiography of D. P. Chattopadhyaya,” written by him in 1999, but not forgetting the next decade of his writing-life, this essay focuses on DPC’s contribution in the fields of phenomenology, philosophy of science and mind, and socio-political philosophy, and on his pivotal role in the ongoing attempt to decolonize knowledge towards the fulfillment of the ideal of Svaraj in Ideas, “independent thinking.” DPC is further depicted in the present essay as a comparative philosopher without borders, drawing on materials from different traditions of thinking, and committed to interdisciplinarity, traveling freely between disciplines, languages, eras, and life-experiences. (shrink)

This paper aims to think or rethink the concept of home as the contemporary avatar of the age-old question of self-identity. In dialogue with Shlomo Biderman, a comparative philosopher without borders who feels at home both in Jewish and Indian sources, the author assembles a philosophical jigsaw-puzzle made of different materials from different thinking traditions in attempt to reveal a new picture of home (and self) compatible with the changing world of immigration, relocation, dislocation and displacement, a world of emigrants, (...) refugees and exiles, in which we live. The puzzle pieces include Plato’s cave, Isaiah Berlin’s “inner citadel”, Shmuel Yosef Agnon’s “Ad Hena”, Herman Melville’s “Bartleby the Scrivener”, Salman Rushdie’s “Imaginary Homelands”, Midrash Bereshit Rabbah, the Bhagavadgītā and Śaṅkara, Paul de Man on translation and Zarina Hashmi’s artwork “Home is a Foreign Place”. The discussion culminates in reflection on translation and the foreignness embedded even in one’s own mother tongue which only the translator (or Rushdie’s “translated man”) can see and feel. If foreignness and alienation are recognized as the common human denominator, and one can sober up from the fantasy of restoring an Edenic past (and language), primordial and complete, then perhaps from within the shards of language, of humanity, a different type of home can be envisioned, based on solidarity and compassion. (shrink)

This paper is a tribute to Rajendra Swaroop Bhatnagar. Bhatnagar Saab was a philosopher of the here and now, of the worldly, of the social, who did not hesitate to look into violence, poverty, pain, and suffering. He was an activist through his writings, and worked to establish social awareness. Metaphysics and the spiritual, considered by many as a central leitmotif of Indian philosophy, he saw as secondary or even marginal. The first part of the paper surveys and contextualizes Bhatnagar (...) Saab’s work as a philosopher and translator of Plato into Hindi. The second part of the paper is a multilingual manifesto, which calls attention to philosophy in Hindi and other modern Indian languages and challenges the over-dominance of English. The third part of the paper is a jugalbandi, a philosophical duet. It includes one of Bhatnagar’s last essays, “No Suffering if Human Beings Were Not Sensitive”, published here for the first time, interwoven with my “commentary,” in which I aim to amplify different points raised by him and to expand the boundaries of the discussion. The main theme to be addressed is suffering. What could be more relevant during the present Covid-19 days? (shrink)

Conversation, dialogue, debate, and discussion are everywhere, not just in knowledge but in all that man does or seeks, as in these man finds and feels and discovers what being human is.Questions give birth only to other questions.I would like to open with short pieces from two letters written by Daya Krishna (henceforth DK) to his friend, writer-poet-thinker Rameshchandra Shah,3 sometime in 2006. They reveal the entwinement of the personal and the philosophical in DK’s thought and illuminate his modes of (...) thinking at the time. They also work as an overture to my dialogue with DK in the essay that follows.Dear R. C. Shah,Ancestral Voices4 reached me a few days ago just as I, along with many others, was trying to .. (shrink)

This paper offers a close reading of Patañjali’s Yogasūtra through the concepts of abhyāsa and vairāgya, “repetitive practice” and “dispassion,” drawing on Patañjali’s classical commentators and on Krishnachandra Bhattacharyya’s “Studies in Yoga Philosophy,” an forgotten chapter of his corpus. I open with a critical examination of Patañjali’s citta-vṛtti scheme, his attempt of “mapping” the contents of consciousness. Thereafter, I discuss the “procedure of yoga,” based on the mutual operation of abhyāsa and vairāgya for the sake of nirodha, cessation of the (...) vṛttis, or “movements” of consciousness. A close analysis of Patañjali and his commentators indicates that both abhyāsa and vairāgya are depicted as consisting of a strong reflective dimension. This is to say that the radical meditative act of “emptying” the consciousness of its objective content is in fact a rational conclusion of the mind, as it reflects upon itself. This reflection is both sensitive to the “limitedness” of the objective world and “receptive” to the silent presence of the “unlimited” selfhood beyond, which Patañjali, following the Sāṃkhya tradition, refers to as puruṣa. It is implied here that the yogic act of disengagement from the worldly and objective is as much an act of will, as it is an act of self-sacrifice. Finally, the analysis offered here reveals substantial “philosophical threads” in the Yogasūtra, a text which is usually considered as too “practical,” or “therapeutic,” or “spiritual,” to be “really” philosophical. (shrink)

The presence of women in the philosophical scene of classical India is sporadic. The present paper focuses on an Upaniṣadic story highlighting the contribution of such a rare woman, namely the debate between Gārgī and Yājñavalkya at King Janaka’s court in chapter 3 of the Bṛhadāraṇyaka-Upaniṣad. I offer a close reading of the debate, drawing on Śaṅkara’s commentary, with the intention of spotlighting Gārgī’s voice, a single female voice in an all-male arena. My analysis is supplemented with a quick visit (...) to Mahasweta Devi’s gut-wrenching story Draupadi. My silence-silencing argument is this: Silence holds a central place in classical Indian philosophy, as the story under discussion illustrates. It is an expression of a dramatic transformation in which the human person “recovers” his/her innermost essence, the ātman, no longer identifying with worldly aspects of her/his being. But according to Mahasweta Devi and Daya Krishna, each in her and his distinct context, this beatific silence can turn into an act of brutal silencing. This is to say that in the name of spiritual quest, the here and now, the social dimension, is often “forgotten”. The twist is that what is seen from one perspective as a benevolent silence is from another perspective, a symptom of blindness to the world one lives in. For Mahasweta and Daya Krishna one’s visit, or recurrent visits to “realms beyond” are empty unless they have ethical impact upon one’s return to the now and here. (shrink)

This essay considers a potential linkage between skepsis and the engendering of creativity. It explores and contests the possibility of a dialogical evolution of an intercultural scepticism, in particular a mode of skepsis conceived as a viable, productive way of life. It reflects on the conditions that encourage the development of a sceptical sensibility with reference to Sextus Empiricus, and then depicts an intercultural unfolding of the “sceptic ego” via reference to encounters with traditions such as Daoism and Romanticism. The (...) result is a scepticism culminating in a disposition toward creativity and empathetic, interdisciplinary enquiry. Intercultural skepsis emerges as the possibility of manifesting as a “philosophy of creativity” that must demonstrate its usefulness, and justify itself, by producing concrete, communicable, worthwhile results. (shrink)

The first half of the paper consists of a philosophical reflection upon a historical exchange. I discuss Buber’s famous letter, and another letter by J. L. Magnes, to Mahatma Gandhi, both challenging the universality of the principle of ahiṃsā. I also touch on Buber’s interest and acquaintance with Indian philosophy, as an instance of dialogue de-facto across cultures. Gandhi never answered these letters, but his grandson and philosopher extraordinaire Ramchandra Gandhi ›answers‹ Buber, not on the letter but about the ideal (...) of dialogue at large, and the interconnection of dialogue and ahiṃsā. The second half of the paper focuses on the work of Daya Krishna, another ›philosopher of dialogue.‹ from within Daya Krishna’s vast philosophical corpus, I underscore one of his last projects, in which he sketches the outlines of what he refers to as »knowledge without certainty,« contrary to common and traditional ways of perceiving the concept of knowledge. I argue that the pramāṇa, means and measure of knowledge, in the intriguing case of »knowledge without certainty,« depicted by Daya Krishna as open-ended, dynamic, constantly evolving, is inevitably dialogue, and I aim to disclose the meaning and salience of dialogue in Daya Krishna’s oeuvre. However, not just the content, but also the form, or the ›how,‹ matters in my paper. I use different materials across genres and disciplines to rethink, in dialogue with Buber and Daya Krishna, the possibilities and impossibilities of dialogue. These ›materials‹ include Milan Kundera and Richard Rorty, Krishna and Arjuna, Vrinda Dalmiya who works with the notion of care as bridging between epistemology and ethics, Wes Anderson on seeing through the eyes of the other, and Ben Okri on hospitality in the realm of ideas. As author of the present paper I am moderating an imagined a multi-vocal dialogue between these ›participants‹ on dialogue as concept, as craft and especially, as a great necessity in the world in which we live. (shrink)

This philosophical meditation, which deals with death as question, presence, and even teacher, begins with Ramchandra Gandhi’s penetrating essay ‘On Meriting Death.’ What does it mean ‘to merit’ death? To provide an answer, I travel through RCG’s corpus, in dialog with contemporary theorists such as Sri Aurobindo, Daya Krishna, and Mukund Lath. RCG implies that the question about ‘meriting’ death, and life, is not and cannot be ‘personal’ or ‘isolated’. For X to die, is for his close and distant samāj (...) a matter of losing him and living without him. Hence meriting death, as also life, is a joint venture which involves deep understanding regarding non-isolation as the heart of the human situation. RCG’s creative thinking, or svarāj in ideas, reaches its peak when he dares to offer an answer of his own to the piercing question kim āścaryam, ‘what is amazing?’ raised in the Yakṣa-praśna episode of the Mahābhārata. For RCG, the heart of the matter is not the ‘ungraspability’ of one’s unavoidable death, or the perennial search for ‘permanence’ in vain, but our failure to perceive ‘that in the martyā which is amṛta,’ i.e., a sense of solidarity in the face of death, connecting ‘I and Thou,’ which he derives from the icchā mṛtyu of his grandfather, the famous Mahatma. (shrink)

This book engages in a dialogue with Krishnachandra Bhattacharyya (K.C. Bhattacharyya, KCB 1875-1949) and presents a vista of contemporary Indian philosophy. KCB is one of the founding fathers of contemporary Indian philosophy; a distinct genre of philosophy that draws both on classical Indian philosophical sources and on Western materials, old and new. His work offers both a new and different reading of classical Indian texts, and at the same time he is a unique commentator of Kant and Hegel. The book (...) (re)introduces KCB's philosophy, identifies the novelty of his thinking, and highlights different dimensions of his oeuvre, with special emphasis on freedom as a concept and striving, extending from the metaphysical to the political (or the postcolonial). The contributors to this book decipher KCB's distinct vocabulary (demand, feeling, alternation) and revisit his discussion of Rasa aesthetics. The chapters offer a bird's eye view of his corpus to ascertain if and how its different compartments converge and illuminate the place of the body in his phenomenological inquiry toward "the subject as freedom". The book situates him between classics (Abhinavagupta) and thinkers inspired by his thought (Daya Krishna) and discuss his lectures on Samkhya and Yoga rather than projecting him solely under the rubric of Vedanta. Finally, the book analyzes if and how KCB's philosophical work is relevant to the discourse today, from the problem of other minds to freedoms in the social and political spheres. This book will be of interest to academics studying Indian and comparative philosophy, philosophy of language and mind, phenomenology without borders, and political and postcolonial philosophy. (shrink)

This paper is an attempt to make sense of the notion and ideal of nonviolence in these ultra-violent days. The paper is a dialogue with three “specialists” of violence, who nevertheless aspire to a different, brighter horizon: Ramchandra Gandhi, Saadat Hasan Manto and Mahasweta Devi. R. Gandhi is one of the most intriguing voices of twentieth-century Indian philosophy. Manto and Mahasweta are writers, the former known for his short partition stories in Urdu; the latter for her gut-wrenching literature in Bengali. (...) All three dare to look violence in the eye, implying that nonviolence can only emerge from deep reflection on violence as an inherent human tendency. Violence is part of me as much as of anyone else. R. Gandhi argues that partition, the cradle of violence, is in the eye, and suggests that we can train the human gaze, our gaze, to prioritize the common denominator between you and I, which hides under the obvious differences between us. For Manto, the remedy is to be found in language. He implies that an ethical dimension is concealed within language, waiting to be excavated. Mahasweta gives voice to those unheard. Acknowledging the unacknowledged, she and Manto show us, is an act of nonviolence. (shrink)

The article offers a close reading of the famous upanişadic story of Indra, Virocana and Prajāpati from the eighth chapter of the Chāndogya-Upanişad versus Śankara’s bhāşya, with special reference to the notions of suşupti and turīya. That Śankara is not always loyal to the Upanişadic texts is a well-known fact. That the Upanişads are (too) often read through Śan-kara’s Advaitic eyes is also known. The following lines will not merely illustrate the gap between text and commentary but will also reveal (...) an unexpected Upanişadic depiction of ‘dreamless sleep’ and ‘transcendental consciousness’. Suşupti is described here as ‘one step too far’, as a ‘break’ or discontinuity in one’s consciousness; whereas turīya is depicted positively, and surprisingly even in wordly terms. Unlike the third state of consciousness in which there is no ‘world’ nor ‘me’, and which is described through Indra’s character as ‘total destruction’ (vināśa); in turīya, the world ‘comes back’, or rather the ‘renouncer’ returns to the world. Sankara’s position, as far as the story under discussion is concerned, is radically different. For him, the Upanişadic story illustrates the continuity of consciousness in all its states. For him, the identification with merely one of the consciousness-states is an error (adhyāsa) which causes suffering. Consciousness prevails even in suşupti, and turīya has nothing to do with ‘coming back to the world’, since there is nowhere to come back from or to. Turīya, as seen by the Advaitin, consists of all the other states of consciousness together, or as K. C. Bhattacharyya puts it, ‘It is not only a stage among stages; it is the truth of the other stages’. (shrink)