Science and Philosophy in Ancient India

Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya
In ancient India, the only discipline that aspired to be fully secular and promisedthough inevitably in a rather
rudimentary formthe beginnings of natural science in the modern sense, was medicine or Ayurveda. It
moreover represented the original nucleus from which could eventually branch off specialised sciences like
botany and zoology, anatomy and physiology, meteorology and metallurgy, even physics and chemistry.
Besides, for all that we know of ancient Indian culture, it was in the medical circle that a conscious attempt to
settle the question of the methodology of natural science was first developed. The significance of this for the
development of Indian logic is already discussed by S. N. Dasgupta. [1]
Let us first try to be clear about the importance of Ayurveda in the history of Indian science.
The other disciplines more talked of in the orthodox circles are phonetics (siksa), grammar (vyakarana),
etymology (nirukta), metrics (chandas), proto-astronomy (jyotisa) and even proto-geometry (sulva)the last in
the restricted sense of being a part of the ritual technique or kalpa. Like the ritual technique, however, all these
originate in the priestly corporations as aids to their scriptural lore. The traditional word for them is vedanga,
literally the limb of Veda or scripture. These disciplines thus bear the birth-mark of religion or anti-secularism,
and as al-Beruni [2] the great visiting scientist of the eleventh century showed, specially in the case of
Brahmagupta's astronomythey faced formidable difficulties in developing towards natural science in real
sense. Brahmagupta (born c A. D. 598), in his famous astronomical work, could move towards science proper
only after paying heavy ransom to religion.
By contrast, already in a very early period, medicinein spite of its inevitable humble beginningtook the
momentous step forward from magico-religious therapeutics to rational therapeutics, i.e. in the language of the
grand medical compilation called the Caraka-samhita, from daiva-vyapasraya bhesaja to yukti-vyapasraya
bhesaja. Our text defines the former as the healing art based on charms, incantations, prayers, propitiation, and
the like, i.e. what was mainly prescribed in the ancient Atharvaveda and what is also being observed among the
tribal peoples surviving in certain pockets of the modern world. [3] But it is not the system of medicine which
the Caraka-samhitaitself defends. What it is interested instead is in the system of rationalist medicine
or yukti-vyapasraya bhesaja, defined as medicine based on the use of various natural substances used as diets
and drugs, and which, as it is repeatedly claimed, has directly perceptible results" (pratyaksa-laksana-phalah)
[4] like the correction of any imbalance of the body-materials viewed as the actual cause of disease.
This difference is crucial for the Caraka-samhita, for we find the text explaining it not only in the section on the
general principles of medicine (Sutra-sthana) [5] but also in the section designed to explain the methodology of
science (Vimana-sthana, [6] literally section on specific proofs').
Such an understanding of medical science is remarkably secular, free from supernaturalism, religion and
scripture-orientation. Thus the first decisive step to positive science in ancient India necessitated the scrapping
of the magico-religious mystification of nature and man. This could not but raise a wide range of theoretical
problems, inclusive of some that are frankly philosophical and having interest even in our times. It is on these
theoretical problems that we shall mainly concentrate in the present discussion.
Before passing on to discuss these, we may try to be clear about one question. When did Indian medicine take
this step from magico-religious therapeutics to rationalist therapeutics?
At the present stage of historical research, it is impossible of course to be exact about the answer. What is
possible, nevertheless, is to note a few points of general interest.
I have elsewhere [7] tried to show in some detail that any tendency to fix this date on the basis of conjectures
concerning the time of the composition of the Caraka-samhitaand, what may roughly be called its surgical
counterpart, the Susruta-samhitais bound to be fallacious. These grand compilations are highly complex and,
on their own admission, presuppose a long history of assuming the forms in which they reach us. No less
doubtful is the procedure of trying first to determine the date of a hypothetical ancient physician bearing the
proper name Caraka, notwithstanding the illusory assurance given by Sylvain Levi [8] to the modern scholars
that the Chinese sources speak of such a person as the court-physician of king Kaniska. The Chinese sources"
mentioned are only two. One of these is a translation of some fables of uncertain Indian origin and the other
already proved to be a literary forgery. Both the sources are thus worthless from the standpoint of strict
historical requirements. The presumption, on the contrary, is that in the context of ancient Indian medicine, the
word caraka was not the personal name of any individual. It seems rather to have been the general epithet for
the roving physicians (caraka = roving), who wandered about searching for the healing agents and effecting
cures, reminiscent of the carana-vaidya-s (literally "roving physicians"), from whom a lost recension of
the Atharvaveda [9] took its name. Even granting credibility to Sylvain Levi's Chinese sources", there is
nothing improbable about a doctor belonging to such a sect as being attached to Kaniska's court, or, as Filliozat
[10] has very rightly observed, "even if the doctor of Kaniska was effectively called Caraka", there is no
ground whatsoever for connecting him with our Caraka-samhita.
Discarding the doubtful procedures of dating Indian medicine, we may ask ourselves another question. Do we
have any collateral evidence on the basis of which it may be possible to form some approximate idea of the time
of the formation of the essential doctrinal contents of the medical compilations, or, more strictly, of the
fundamentals ofyukti-vyapasraya bhesaja? The answer seems to be in the affirmative. The Pali Vinayapitaka,
[11] which was presumably codified not long after the death of Buddha, attributes to him a long discourse on
the nature of the medical treatment to be allowed to the monks within the samgha. The discussion is highly
systematic and amazingly rich in details. It evidently presupposed a therapeutic system already well-established
in the country during the time of the codification of the Vinaya-pitaka. Further, what is decisive about it from
the point of view of our present discussion is that it has nothing to do with magico-religious therapeutics. What
it presupposes, on the contrary, is the healing technique based on a purely naturalistic understanding not only of
the causes of the diseases but also of their remedies. Its doctrinal content, in short, is essentially the same as that
of the rationalist medicine of our Caraka-samhita. Assuming the authenticity of the Pali Vinaya-pitaka,
therefore, it may not be an error to presume that the fundamentals of rationalist medicine were established in
India sometimes before Buddha, i.e. roughly in the sixth century B.C., if not earlier. All this agrees with the
extensive legends about Jivaka, the physician-friend of Buddha. These legends, too, as incorporated in the
Pali Vinaya-pitaka, [12] want us to believe in a remarkably rationalist approach of Jivaka to the theory and
practice of medicine.
With this brief note on the chronological question, we may now pass on to see some of the prominent features
of rationalist medicine.
As far as we can judge from the Caraka-samhita and Susruta-samhita, the main theoretical question raised in
rationalist medicine retains significance even in our times. It is the question concerning the interaction between
environmental matter and body matter, i.e. between matter in the state of various things of nature and matter
that assumes the form of the living bodies, specially human bodies. The general assumption underlying this way
of formulating the question is that the human body, like everything else in nature, is made of the same stuff,
namely matter or bhuta as the early scientists understood it.
The question itself was suggested to the ancient physicians by an enormous amount of empirical data, mainly of
the nature of the effect on animal bodies of the various articles consumed as food and drink, and, interestingly
enough, also of the impact of the climatic changes on the main body-constituents. The enormity of the data
easily rejects the possibility of these having been. compiled by any individual or even by a limited number of
specialists. The strong presumption, on the contrary, is that these represent the pool or common fund of
empirical knowledge gathered by generations of observers over a vast tract highly rich in flora, fauna and even
some rare minerals, like the exudate from ores with different metal contents called silajatu.
Here are only a few examples from which we may form a rough idea of the kind of empirical knowledge that
formed the basis of the theoretical generalization of rationalist medicine. The Caraka-samhita, discusses the
effects on animal bodies of about nine hundred varieties of plants, and the varieties of plants spoken of by
the Susruta-samhitanumber over a thousand. But the texts do not discuss the plants as such. These try to
determine instead how the different constituents of our bodies are being differently affected by their root, bark,
pith, exudation, stalk, juice, sprout, fruit, flower, and so on. As said in the Caraka-samhita, "Root, bark, pith,
exudation, stalk, juice, sprouts, alkalis, milk, fruit, flower, ash, oils, throns, leaves, buds, bulbs and off-shoots
are the plant-products used in medicine". (i.1.73) The medical compilations also discuss about 156 varieties of
animalssomewhat differently classified in the Caraka-samhita and Susruta-samhitaand want us to
understand the different effects on our bodies of their flesh, fat, blood, bone, nails, horns, hoofs, milk, urine,
bile, etc. Thus, for example, while in the Caraka-samhita, cow's flesh is strongly recommended for patients
suffering from consumption (i.27.79-80), cow's milk is recommended for use internally or externally for various
troubles ranging from dislocation and fracture to cardiac trouble. So also are discussed a considerable number
of mineral substances, inclusive of iron dust in some form for the. treatment of anaemia. Excellent tabulations
of all these are to be found in the Caraka-Samhita: A Scientific Synopsis by Ray and Gupta, a work of very
sustained labour, recently supplemented by their more imposingSusruta-Samhita: A Scientific Synopsis. Even a
cursory glance at the Tables in these two books is enough for us to be convinced that the empirical knowledge
embodied in the medical compilations is extremely imposing.
To these Tables may be added only one point. The ancient doctors very consciously put strong emphasis on the
importance of direct observation or direct experience for sound scientific knowledge. We shall mention here
only two examples from the Susruta-samhita.
Certain herbs described as belonging to the Ambastha group are actually observed by them to cure cases of
dysentery with excessive mucus in stool (i.48.43). Hence they have absolutely no patience for any amount of
empty theoretical speculation intended to prove the contrary. Arguing against any fascination for pure reason
going contrary to experience, the text observes: "A knowledgeable physician must never try to examine on
grounds of pure logic the efficacy of a medicine, which is known by direct observation, as having by nature a
specific medical action. Thus, for example, even a thousand logical grounds will never make the Ambastha
group of herbs to have a purgative action". (i.40.12-13)
While explaining the importance of the knowledge of anatomy for medical (specially surgical) purposes, the
same text insists on the need of actual dissection of corpse for the medical student, because no authoritative
treatise on the subject can be a substitute for direct knowledge derived from dissection: "The different parts or
members of the body as mentioned, beforeincluding even the skincannot be correctly described by one
who is not versed in anatomy. Hence any one having a thorough knowledge of anatomy must prepare a dead
body and carefully observe (by dissecting it) its different parts and examine these. For a thorough knowledge
can be acquired only by the corroboration of the accounts given in the authoritative works by direct personal
observation". (iii.5.59-60)
Thus, in short, the medical compilations not only contain a great deal of empirical knowledge; these want us
also to be theoretically convinced of the basic importance of direct observation for scientific purposes. [13] We
shall have to return to this point later.
The tools of observation of these early scientists are understandably rudimentary. They consist of nothing more
than unaided sense-organs, sharpened may be to a certain extent by purposiveness and discipline. There was
then no possibility of having controlled conditions ensuring the accuracy of observationno possibility of
experiment in the modern sense. What nevertheless was remarkable about the early scientistsand what
enabled them to take the prodigious first step to natural sciencewas the new intellectual apparatus they
developed for processing their vast empirical data. The Caraka-samhita contains a long section
called Vimana-sthana, literally the section on specific proofs'. Its main theme is the methodology of natural
science. From the viewpoint of the medical compilation, a knowledge of this methodology is a must for the
qualified physician. The discussion retains significance even for our times, specially because so much of
nonsense is being produced these days in the name of the methodology of natural science. There is at least
nothing comparable to it in the entire range of ancient Indian literature.
We do not unfortunately have the scope to go here into the details of this discussion. That seems to form the
subject of a separate study altogether. We shall try instead to have some idea of the main theoretical position
gained in Ayurveda on the basis of their lucid understanding of the technique of establishing the causal
connection and of moving forward to valid generalisation.
Scrapping supernaturalism and mythology, the ancient doctors wanted to interpret their datai.e. what they
actually observed about our bodies being variously affected by various natural substancesin terms of a grand
theoretical generalisation concerning the interaction between environmental matter and body matter, because, as
already said, shorn of all mysteries, the human body, like everything else in nature, is made of the same stuff,
namely matter or bhuta.
As in ancient Greece, so also in ancient India, natural science begins with some kind of instinctive materialism.
[14] This point is in need of special emphasis and some elaboration, because it is essential for understanding the
real theoretical plank of Ayurveda.
As physicians, our ancient scientists are naturally interested above all in man or purusa. So also are our ancient
metaphysicians speculating on the purusa. But the interest of the two are clearly different. The metaphysicians
are interested in the mystery of the indwelling soul, supposed to be the spiritual essence of man. As put in
theBrhadaranyaka Upanisad, This shining immortal purusa who is in this earth, and with reference to oneself,
this shining immortal purusa who is in the bodyhe indeed is just this soul (atman), this immortal,
this brahman, this all. (ii.5.1)
The physicians retain the term purusa, but they scrap its spiritual connotation. Their interest in the purusa is an
all-absorbing interest in the physical constitution of man, or in the body alone. As
the Caraka-samhita formulates, sariramulah ca purusah bhavati: Everything about purusa or man is
established in the body". (ii.6.6) TheSusruta-samhita wants to be more specific: The term purusa should be
taken to mean those substances from which the purusa originates, i.e. matter in its different forms; it should be
taken also to mean the various parts or limbs of purusathe skin, flesh, bone, vein, nerve, etc" (i.1.47). But the
question is: How is the making of man from matter or bhuta to be understood? A brief formulation of
the Susruta-samhita may be quoted: Knowing man or purusa as the product of rasa, one must be specially
careful about the preservation of rasa". (i.14.12)
What, then, is meant by rasa, of which man or purusa is supposed to be made? It is one of the key concepts of
ancient Indian medicine and, in the context of the making of the human body, is perhaps best translated as
organic sap". But the special point to be noted is that this view of man being made of rasa brings us back to
the materialistic understanding of purusa in Ayurveda, because rasa itself is viewed as made of matter in five
forms (panca-bhuta). Here is how the Susruta-samhita explains the origin ofrasa: Food, which is made of
matter in five forms, when fully transformed into its subtlest essence by the agency of fire (within the body)
becomes rasa." (i.14.1) It is called rasa, says the text, because the word is derived from the root ras (to
move"), and the substance thus named is ceaselessly circulating throughout the organism. (i.14.13) From
this rasa are successively formed all the main constituents of the bodyblood, flesh, fat, bone, marrow and
semen. (ib., cf. CS vi.15.17) Hence is the brief formulation of the Caraka-samhita: "The body is verily the
product of food." (i.28.41) Since, however, food itself is made of matter in five forms, another way of putting
the view is to say, Body means the totality of the transformation of five forms of mattera totality that
becomes the substratum of consciousness." (CS iv.6.4) Or, as the Susruta-samhita wants to explain, The body
is made of matter in five forms. Food also is made of matter in five forms. When fully transformed, the
properties of the five forms of matter in food go to add to their counterparts in the body." (i. 46. 533).
Such an understanding of the making of man from the natural substances consumed leads the physician to see
the intimate interrelation between nature and man, or, according to their way of putting, to the view of man as a
microcosm of nature. As the Caraka-samhita claims: "Whatever concretely exists in nature exists also in man
(purusa); whatever concretely exists in man, exists also in nature. Such is the way in which the intelligent
persons want to view both." (iv. 4.13)
But what exactly are the physicians driving at? What, according to them, concretely exists both in man and
nature, making the former an epitome of the latter? The context in which this formulation occurs leaves us with
no uncertainty about the answer. What the physicians are talking of is only matter and its transformation. The
formulation, it needs to be noted, occurs immediately after discussing how natural matter in its five forms
contributes to the formation of everything in the human body, beginning from the foetal stage. As the text,
referring to the foetus formations, says, "In it (foetus), even what is derived from the mother . . . is after all
nothing but the transformation of matter." (iv.4.12)
Understandably enough, such a formulation is as significant from the viewpoint of modern science as it was
difficult for the ancient scientists to work out. It needs a good deal of the knowledge of matter and of the laws
of its transformation to work out the proposition. The ancient scientists who are only beginning to grope for the
knowledge of matter are not expected to give us an account of the formation of the body from natural matter
more satisfactorily than is historically possible for them. Historically speaking, however, the more important
point is that some people somewhere must make a beginning with this understanding and thereby create the
possibility for further research in the right direction. In ancient India at any rate the physicians appear to have
taken this first bold step.
From the point of view of the history of ideas, what is decisive about this step is its commitment to the
materialist outlook. The Caraka-samhita does not mince words about this materialism. It makes Atreya, the
spokesman of medicine in the text, sum up a medical colloquium with the following
observation: sarvam dravyam pancabhautikam asmin arthe; tat cetanavat, acetanam cathis discipline
(medicine) everything is viewed as made of matter in five forms (panca-bhuta). These are either endowed with
consciousness or are just unconscious." (i.26.10)
The statement is categorical and unambiguous. Whatever the metaphysician may have to say, the physicianas
physiciancannot but be a materialist, because from the medical viewpoint there is nothing that is not made of
matter. Even things endowed with consciousness are as much made of matter as things without consciousness.
Lest the materialist commitment of Ayurveda is casually viewed, we may mention here another point. The
ancient physicians were apparently aware of the prestige and popularity of other philosophical views current in
ancient India. But they ask themselves the question: Can the physician, in the special capacity of a physician, at
all operate without a materialist view? The Susruta-samhita comes out with a clear answer to it and the answer
is in the negative. Reviewing the philosophical views current in ancient Indiaspecially Upanisadic idealism
(or Vedanta) and that form of the Samkhya which was already being eclipsed by this idealismthe text asserts
that from the medical point of view at any rate only the materialist outlook has real relevance. Thus we are told,
It is claimed that the knowledge of matter in different forms is alone relevant for medicine, because in the
therapeutic context it is impermissible to conceive of anything transcending matter." (iii.1.17) Let, therefore, the
metaphysicians have their own views and let not the physicians dabble with these. What is imperative for them,
however, is that they must not think of anything transcending matter.
It may be easy for us to call this materialism crude, naive and primitive. It could not indeed be otherwise. What
concerns us here, however, is not the philosophical assessment of this materialism in modern standards but its
historical importance. The point, in other words, is that the first decisive step to natural science taken in ancient
India was characterised by an awareness of the need for materialist view of things. It was this that could lay the
foundation for patient researches for centuries to come. Hence is its abiding interest for the history of ideas.
Besides, it would be wrong for us to overlook certain other positions that followed from the rudimentary
materialism of the ancient physicians.
As already seen, the physicians conceived matter in five formspanca-bhutaby which were meant earth,
water, air, fire and sky (akasa). But these do not mean earth, water etc. as ordinarily experienced, because
underlying such things of ordinary experience they try to see same grand principle of interconnection of the
basic forms of matter. As the Susruta-samhita says, Five forms of matter exist in everything of the world,
because of their mutual interdependence and because of their mutual interpenetration." (i.42.3) Thus, according
to this view, though matter exists in five fundamental forms and though everything in natureincluding man
is made of matter only, there is hardly anything concretely existing in nature as made of exclusively or purely
one form of matter. What is decisive about everything is the principle of interconnection and interrelation of
matter, as a result of which matter in all its five forms go to the making of everything. What, then, are earth,
water, etc, as ordinarily experienced? The Susruta-samhita answers that though everything concretely existing
in nature is made of matter in all its five forms, because of the predominance of one matter-form in something it
is called made of earth" or made of water" etc. (i.42.3).
The special need felt by the physicians to take such a view would be too complicated a matter for our present
discussion. What nevertheless need to be noted here are certain theoretical positions following from the view.
Because of the basic interpenetration and interaction of matter in all its forms in everything belonging to nature,
nothing in nature can be irrelevant from the medical viewpoint. This is evidently a point of crucial significance
for Ayurveda, because we find both the medical compilations trying repeatedly to emphasise it.
The Caraka-samhita asserts, "There is nothing in nature which is without relevance for medicine." (i. 27. 330)
The text repeats, No substance is found in the world which is without relevance for medicine." (i.26.12) In
the Susruta-samhita we read, "There is no substance in the world which cannot be used for some medical
purpose." (i.42.9) Incidentally, this reminds us of the legend of Jivaka. After he completed his medical studies
in Taksasila, his preceptorfor the purpose of testing his knowledgeasked him to find from within a certain
radius of the city those things that were irrelevant for medical purposes. After a meticulous search of the place,
the young man returned with the apparently sad report that he could find nothing like that. And indeed, how
could hefrom the point of view of Ayurvedafind any such thing? If the interrelation and interpenetration of
matter in all its forms were the basic fact about everything in nature as well as in man, there could obviously be
nothing in nature totally irrelevant for the therapeutic technique, which was conceived after all as the technique
of matter-readjustment within the body.
We shall briefly note here another interesting theoretical position that follows from the early materialism of the
ancient Indian doctors. From their point of view, as we have already seen, human body is the product of food.
Since food is something made of matter, this view amounts to the assertion that the human body thrives on the
absorption of matter in its various formations of natural things. But this absorption of natural matter by body
matter is a ceaseless process. That is why, the body itself and everything about it are viewed in Ayurveda as
being involved in a process of ceaseless flux, there being the perpetual replacement of the constituents of the
body as a result of the intake and excretion of material things in nature. For the ancient physicians this means
that the old body is being constantly replaced by a new one and the apparent impression of the persistence of the
old body is due only to the similarity between the old and the new one. As the Caraka-samhita says, "Nothing
about the body remains the same. Everything in it is in a state of ceaseless change. Although in fact the body is
produced anew every moment, the similarity between the old body and the new body gives the apparent
impression of the persistence of the same body " (iv.1.46)
Understandably, the phenomenon called lifein which the physicians are so keenly interestedcannot be an
exception to this universal process of coming into being and passing out of existence. Hence, it is only natural
that they should want us to note the essential transitoriness of life. In their view, life is nothing but the
combination of certain natural substances, which they call the desirable kind of food materials. As
the Caraka-samhita formulates: pranah pranabhutam annam"Life is just food transformed into the living."
(i.27.249-50) The ceaseless process of further absorption of food. materials by the living beings (as well as the
excretion of the waste-products called kitta) makes them perpetually changing. However, because of the laws
inherent in nature, this process of ceaseless change in the matter-constituents in the body reaches a stage at
which the body form itself disintegrates and its matter-constituents start reverting back to their original natural
state. Life, which comes into being, thus ceases to be. This is ordinarily called death or marana. But since in the
physician's view, this is nothing but a return of the body matter to matter in its environmental or natural
condition, one of the synonyms they propose for marana is svabhava, by which is meant "nature", or perhaps
more appropriately, law of nature". Significantly, another synonym proposed for the same is impermanence
or anityata. Thus, discussing the symptoms of the approaching end of a man's life, the Caraka-samhita says,
"From these it can be predicted that he would revert back to nature during such and such moment and such and
such hour . . . Here (in Ayurveda) nature svabhava, end of activities (pravrtteh uparamah), death (marana),
impermanence (anityata) and cessation (nirodha) are all synonymous terms." (i.30.27)
To sum up: According to the basic theoretical generalisation of Ayurveda, everything is made of matter and
everything is involved in the ceaseless process of coming into being and passing out existence. [15]
From the medical point of view, however, all this raises a serious question. Where and how, in this general
scheme of things do the doctors come in? They are not philosophers after all. Their purpose is a practical one,
namely to maintain health and cure diseases. If, therefore, the physicians feel the need of some theoretical
understanding as well, the presumption is that it is also essential for their practical purposes.
How, then, could this be essential?
To ensure health and cure sickness, it is necessary first of all to understand what these really mean. Serious
preoccupation with this problem leads the physicians to the view of the interaction between environmental
matter and body matter, because everything about the bodyinclusive of health and sicknessdepends on it.
Environmental matter existing in the form of different natural things enters into the making and maintenance of
body and life. But there is a right way as well as a wrong way in which the transformation of natural matter into
body matter can take place. Matter consumed in the right form, in right proportion and right combination results
in what is supposed to be the proper balance or harmony or equilibrium of the body elements. Health means
nothing but this. Disease again is nothing but the loss of this equilibrium resulting from the wrong way of
absorbing environmental matteri.e. either the over-absorption or under-absorption of some specific form of it.
From this understanding follows the main point of the therapeutic technique. Put in very general terms, it is
matter-readjustment within the body aimed at the restoration of desired balance of the body elements.
The Caraka-samhita repeatedly emphasises this point: "Here (in medical science) the effect aimed at is the
balance of the body elements. The purpose of the present work is to instruct on the effective measures to ensure
the balance of the body elements." (i.1.53; cf i.16.34-5; etc). Since, however, there is nothing in nature or man
which is not made of matter, the therapeutic techniqueput in more general termsmeans that if there is an
excess of body matter in some particular form resulting from the wrong absorption of environmental matter, the
physician has to prescribe as diet or drug the kind of substances that has the efficacy of bringing down this
particular form of body matter to its normal level, i.e. to the level at which it retains a balance with body matter
in other forms. Secondly, if there is a diminution of body matter in some specific form resulting from the lack of
absorption or inadequate absorption of environmental matter in this form, the physician has to prescribe as diet
or drug certain specific substances which, when transformed within the body, raises the affected body matter to
its required level.
Thus the physicians' knowledge consists mainly of all sorts of natural substances (dravya-s) and of their actions
(karma) on human bodies. On this knowledge depends his therapeutic technique of properly adjusting the
interaction between environmental matter and body matter. But the physicians are also anxious to explain that
this technique must not be misunderstood. The interaction between body matter and environmental matter takes
place according to the laws of nature, and, as laws of nature, these are immutable. No physician can tamper with
these laws in any way. None can create these laws or alter the course of their action. All that the physicians can
do is to acquire better insight into these laws, so that their natural course is best utilised in the interest of the
patient. This is easily explained with the analogy of fire. Fire burns or radiates heat, and this because of the law
of nature. There is no way of changing the law itself. But there are ways of using the knowledge of this law to
serve our purposesinclusive of medical purposes, as is obvious, e.g., in cauterization and cooking, two of the
most useful techniques from the standpoint of ancient Indian medicine.
Thus, all the mastery over nature that the doctor can aspire for is conceived in terms of the knowledge of nature.
If anywhere in ancient Indian thought we see the real anticipation of the view that knowledge is powerwhich,
when further worked out, assumes the formulation that freedom is the recognition of necessityit is among the
practitioners of the healing technique. But it is not easy for the ancients to develop expressions adequate for
conveying such a profound idea. Here is one of the ways in which our Caraka-samhita seems to grope for such
an expression: "Like poison, like weapon, like fire, like lightningthe drug whose nature is not understood
remains a source of unknown terror. When understood, however, it proves as beneficial as nectar". (i.1.24)
This is an ancient way of putting the point no doubt. But the point itself is not to be slighted as just primitive.
Fire, poison and so on are for us sources of harm only so long as their real nature is not understood. But as we
acquire insight into them, we can use them for our benefit. Knowledge is power.
Elsewhere in the Caraka-samhita basically the same idea is sought to be conveyed in a way which may at first
appear to be somewhat peculiar. It is argued that Ayurvedain the sense of a body of natural lawsis
beginningless or anadi, because nature exists from a beginningless past, and, along with nature, the laws that
are inherent in it. Medical science can be said to have a beginning only from the standpoint of acquiring
knowledge of these laws or of spreading the knowledge. So also it is necessary not to misunderstand the
significance of the therapeutic technique. Diseases are cured not by any artificial technique of which the doctors
are the innovators. These are cured by the laws inherent in nature, which the doctors can only know and,
therefore, rightly apply. As the text puts the point: "Apart from the restricted sense of acquiring this knowledge
and of spreading it, there is no sense in saying that medical science came into being having been non-existent
before. It is indeed only with reference to these two circumstances (i.e. of acquiring the knowledge of the laws
of nature and of spreading such knowledge) that the origin of Ayurveda is alluded to by some. But there is
nothing about these laws (and therefore about Ayurveda, which is based on the knowledge of these laws) that is
created by anybody (akrtaka). As is said in the present chapter as well as in the first chapter, these laws are but
natural laws (svabhavika)just like the laws because of which fire is hot and water liquid." (i.30.27)
The point mentioned last needs to be very carefully noted and hence we quote it in its original
Sanskrit: svabhavikam ca asya taksanam akrtakam yat uktam iha adye adhyaye ca; yatha agneh ausnam, apam
dravatvam. From the need felt to reemphasise a point already made earlier, the importance intended to be
attached to it becomes clear. The view of the laws inherent in naturetechnically called svabhavais essential
for Ayurveda. Thus the fundamental postulates of ancient Indian medicine are: 1) everything in nature takes
place according to the laws inherent in nature, 2) though immutable, these laws are nevertheless knowable, and
3) the knowledge of these laws brings power over nature, which, medically means ensuring a long and healthy
life.
The entire theoretical presupposition of the therapeutic technique of Ayurveda thus hinges on one point. It is the
concept of svabhava, which literally means nature", or, as I am inclined to understand it, law or laws of
nature". [16] We do not unfortunately have the scope here to go into the details of this concept of svabhava. But
it is essential to note that without the commitment to the view of svabhava, the therapeutic technique of the
ancient physicians has no other rationale. Why should a natural substance with a specific matter composition
affect the matter composition of the human body in a specific way? The ancient physicians know only one
answer to it. It is svabhava. Ayurveda cannot thus but be committed to the view of svabhava.
But the commitment is extremely risky and the risk involved is frankly political. The view of svabhava is
well-known in the philosophical circles of ancient India and there are many references to it in our ancient
literature. Reviewing these references, Hiriyanna [17] observes, "What needs to be noticed about it is its
positivistic character which is implied by the contrast that is sometimes drawn between it an adrsta-vada or
belief in supernatural. In this it differs from the supernaturalism of the Mantras and Brahmanas on the one hand,
and on the other from the metaphysical view of the Upanisads."
Let us first try to be clear about this supernaturalism or adrsta-vada. The word adrsta refers to what is supposed
to be the accumulated merits or demerits of the past actions (karma) of an individual. In the officially accepted
view, this adrsta is moreover supposed to determine one's present lot. It is thus the ultimate ideological
justification of the hierarchical social norm, strenuously defended by the Indian law-makers. It is because
of adrsta that one is born as a dvija or a sudra, i.e. as a member of the privileged class or of the class of direct
producers without any privilege whatsoever. Since the view of svabhava, completely rejects adrsta, the Indian
law-makers are obliged to denounce it as abject heresy.
This leads us to see the political risk involved in the basic theoretical presupposition of the therapeutic
technique. Without being politicians themselves, the ancient doctors were dragged into politics. As physicians,
they cannot but pin their hopes on understanding the laws of nature, because they feel convinced that only on
the basis of this understanding they can relieve human beings of avoidable suffering, or, in their own
terminology, cure the curable diseases. Two chapters of the Caraka-samhida are designed to discuss the view
that medicine depends on fourand only fourfactors. [18] These are the physician, the substances (used for
medical purposes), the nursing attendant and the patient. Apart from discussing the essential qualifications for
each of these factorswhich, incidentally, are very much reminiscent of modern conditions [19]one of the
main drifts of the chapters is the defence of the intrinsic efficacy of medicine. The main point argued is that a
qualified doctor with the correct understanding of the natural cause of diseases and supplied with the right
natural remedies for these, cannot but cure a curable disease. In case of a disease being incurable, he can
prescribe some palliative. Throughout the discussion, the view of karma and adrsta are completely ignored, or
by implication, totally rejected. Indeed, without the rejection of the view of karma and adrsta, the defence of
the intrinsic efficacy of medicine is not feasible, for according to the view of karma and adrsta everything about
maninclusive of his health and suffering from diseaseis to be viewed as being basically determined by his
past actions alone. In the Buddhist text Milinda-panho, [20]the question of disease and karma is in fact squarely
raised and it is admitted that diseases have natural causes after all, and hence it is not correct to think that these
are caused by karma. Our point here is not whether the Buddhist preacher making such an arbitrary restriction
to the law of karma is sufficiently self-consistent or not. The point on the contrary is the frank admission
that karma and medicine do not go together.
The ancient Indian doctors had to flout no doubt many injunctions and prohibitions of the ancient Indian
law-makers. They had to prescribe as diet and drug many things considered taboos by the law-makers;
notwithstanding strongest legal prohibitions against touching the corpse, the physicians felt obliged to dissect
corpse for the sake of anatomical knowledge; besides, as we shall presently see, their healing technique required
of them a democratic commitment which was also intensely detested by the law-makers. But to questioneven
by implicationthe law of karma and adrsta was perhaps the limit. It was in fact questioning the very norm of
the hierarchical society itself. That was aspiring to be too severely scientific to remain unnoticed by the
establishment. We have in this at least a major clue to what eventually happened to Indian medicine, in spite of
its brilliant early promise.
The promise of science and philosophy with which rationalist medicine began in ancient India was not fulfilled.
There grew a very intense resistance to it and the resistance was expressed primarily by the law-makers, i.e.
those who had ostensibly nothing to do either with science or philosophy. Their purpose was indeed frankly
opposed to that of the scientists. Let us try to be clear about it.
While the scientists are interested in the theory and practice by which man acquires mastery over nature, the
law-makers are interested in the theory and practice by which man may acquire mastery over man, i.e. to keep
the large masses of men under control or as law-abiding people, which, in the ancient Indian context, concretely
means people submitting to the model of varnasrama society. Understandably, therefore, the ancient Indian
law-makers find their basic purpose totally incompatible with the promise of positive science. And the fact is
that they came out sharply against it.
This leads us to see an apparently bewildering phenomenon, namely the intense contempt expressed for the
physicians and surgeons in the Indian legal literature. The usual way of expressing it is to declare that the
physicians and surgeons are intrinsically impure beingsso impure indeed that their very presence pollutes a
place, that food offered by them is too filthy to be accepted and that even food offered to them turns into
something vile. Here are just a few examples.
The law-codes of Apastamba declare that food given by a physician is too filthy to be accepted by members of
higher castes (i.6.19.14). Gautama's law-codes assert that a Brahmin may accept food from a "trader who is not
an artisan", but he must not accept food from an artisan or a surgeon who belongs to the group of the
intrinsically impure persons (xvii. 7 & 17). The law-codes of Vasistha fully concur: food offered by the
physician is as impure as that offered by the harlot etc. (xiv. 1-10 & 19).
The three authorities just quoted are the most prominent of the earliest Indian law-makers, whose workscalled
the Dharma-sutra-sare usually placed between 600-300 B.C. The legal contempt for the physicians and
therefore also for their science thus dates back to a very ancient period. The later legal literature shows how it
continues. Here is only one example. The most prominent of the Indian law-books is Manu-smrti, the
codification of which is usually dated as the first or second century A.D. Like the earlier law-makers, Manu
declares that it is prohibited for the members of the higher castes to accept food from the physicians. What he
adds to it is only a greater contempt for such food: "the food received from a doctor is as vile as blood and pus"
(iv. 220). Accordingly, Manu takes care to prescribe that like the other intrinsically impure persons the
physicians are not to be allowed to attend sacrifices offered to the gods and manes, because their very presence
destroys the sanctity of the sacrifices (iii. 152). The later commentators of Manu like Medhatithi (A.D. 900) and
Kulluka-bhatta (c A.D. 1150-1300) elaborately explain the desirability of enforcing these laws.
Hence there can obviously be no sanction from the law-makers' point of view for the dvija or member of the
privileged class to go in for medical practice. This is already emphasized in the law-codes of Vasistha, which
declare that a Brahmin who makes his living by medical practice forfeits his right to be considered a dvija (iii.
3). But this cannot but raise a practical problem. If medicine, in spite of its obvious use, is too derogatory a
profession to be followed by the dvija-s, on whom can its practice be entrusted? Manu answers the question and
says: medical practice must remain restricted among the Ambastha-s (x. 47). Who, then, are the Ambastha-s?
Though historically speaking they appear to be members of. some ancient tribe, Manu wants us to believe in a
fanciful genealogy of them, which is intended to prove that they are bastards (varna-samkara-s) in caste
nomenclature. They are born, says Manu, of the mating of Brahmana males with Vaisya females (x. 10)a
quaint story taken up in the ancient law-codes of Baudhayana (i.8.7 & i.9.3) and reasserted by the later
law-makers.
Such then is the contempt for medicine and its practitioners expressed in the Indian legal literature. This, it is
necessary to note, is not a stray thought. Beginning roughly from the sixth century B.C. it continues up to the
13th/14th century A.D., i.e. the time of the most famous commentators of Manu. Yet there is something very
strange about it, because nowhere do the law-makers express the real ground for their contempt for medicine.
The condemnation of the doctors is just decreed, as if the sense of degradation and filth attached to them is too
obvious to require any explanation.
Before passing on further, it may be useful to have some clarification.. The pollution imputed to the doctors
could not be because of their indifference to physical cleanliness. The Caraka-samhita at any rate refuses to
accept the norm of a medical practitioner who does not observe the regulations of personal cleanliness. The four
essential qualifications required of a doctor are: 1) clear grasp of the theoretical content of medical science, 2) a
wide range of experience, 3) practical skill and 4) cleanliness (i.9.6). Cleanliness is thus as important for him as
his medical knowledge, experience and practical skill.
It may be relevant to quote here at least two passages from the medical compilations to have some more idea of
the kind of persons and their qualities in whom the law-makers sense so much of defilement. Describing the
young men who alone are entitled to medical studies, the Susruta-samhita says, He should be cleanly in his
habits and well shaved and should not allow his nails to grow. He should wear white garments, put on a pair of
shoes, carry a stick and an umbrella in his hands, and walk about with a mild and benign look as a friend of all
creatures, ready to help all, and frank and friendly in his talk and demeanour and never allow the full control of
his reason or intellectual powers to be in any way disturbed or interfered with" (i.10.2). In the same context,
the Caraka-samhita, says, He should be peaceful, noble in disposition, incapable of any mean act, with straight
eyes, face and nose, with slim body, having a clean and red tongue, without distortion of teeth and lips, with
clear voice, persevering, without egotism, intelligent, endowed with powers of reasoning and good memory,
with broad mind, . . . with eagerness to have knowledge of truth, with no deformity of body and no defect of
sense-organs, by nature modest and gentle, contemplating on the true nature of things, without anger and
without addiction, endowed with good conduct, cleanliness, good habits, love, skill and courtesy, desirous of
the welfare of all living beings, devoid of greed and laziness and having full loyalty and attachment to the
teacher" (iii.8.8).
All this gives us some glimpse of the moral qualities of the physicians visualised by the ancient medical
compilations. In this connection, it is tempting to quote another passage from the Caraka-samhita, "Among the
physicians he surpasses all who practise medicine neither for the sake of money nor for the sake of sensual
gratification in any other form, but is motivated above all by the compassion for all living beings. Those who, as
a source of income, want to sell medical skill like any other commodity (cikitsa-panya-vikrayam), appear to be
running after a heap of dust overlooking the hoard of gold. Compared to the physician who cuts off the noose of
death and brings back to life those who are being dragged by fierce diseases towards death, nobody confers
greater blessingsmoral or materialto the human beings. One who practises the healing technique with
compassion for the living beings as the noblest of all duties is a person who really fulfils his mission and
thereby gets entitled to the highest form of happiness" (vi. ID. 58-62).
Here at any rate we read in ancient medicine something from which physicians today have much to learn.
We see in the ancient doctor the seeker of the knowledge of nature, not only hoping to convert this knowledge
into successful healing technique but also boldly protesting Against the merchandisation of his knowledge and
skill, which 'is so aptly described as cikitsa-panya-vikrayam. If, in view of the rudimentary technological
development on which he is historically obliged to depend, it is necessary for him to be patient in investigating
nature, the way in which he also chooses to be patient in serving humanitypinning his hope on the conviction
that the knowledge of the laws of nature alone holds the prospect of alleviating human sufferings-cannot but be
judged as highly remarkable. That is the image we have of the scientist in our ancient medical compilations
"the composite image . . . devoted equally to the patient investigation of nature and the patient service of
humanity", with scant respect for the idea that the professional fee establishes the only bond between the healer
and the healed. "To one who understands, knowledge of nature and love of humanity are not two things but
one." This indeed would be a very lucid way of putting what the genuine physicians of
ourCaraka-samhita stand for.
Yet, it is against these physicians that the law-makers express so much of contempt. Why, then, is this
contempt? Apparently, the law-makers feel that there is some compelling reason for them to express this. What,
then, is this reason?
We can see this when we take note of the actual source and nature of the Indian legal literature. This literature
originates in the priestly corporations and has the primary purpose of validating the norm of hierarchical
society, of which the priests are the earliest ideologists. This is easily seen when we take note of the origin of
the Dharmasastra-s. Though in the course of time these acquire absolute authority in legal matters, they actually
represent Indian law still bound by the umbilical cord as it were with the ancient priestcraft of which they are
born. As Winternitz puts it, "The Dharmasastras originated in the closest association with the literature of the
ritual . . . Hence they are neither a mere collection of rules, nor pure lectures on jurisprudence . . . They, exactly
as the old manuals, had sprung up in the Vedic schools, for the purpose of imparting instruction and were not
written as codes for practical use in the courts of law." [21]
Thus, beginning from the days of its inception, the Indian legal literature is obliged to follow a science policy
which is already prescribed by the Indian priest class, and from which, during its entire subsequent course, it
seeks scriptural sanction.
But do the ancient Indian priests really formulate a science policy?
Interestingly enough, at least as far as medicine is concerned, they do formulate such a policy. This is evidenced
by the Yajurveda, which is for us the first full-fledged piece of priestly literature. It declares: "The Brahmin
must not practise medicine, because the physician is impure and unfit for sacrifice"brahmanena bhesajam na
karyam, aputah hi esah amedhyah yah bhisak. (Tait. Sam. vi.4.9)
But why is the physician considered impure? The Yajurveda gives us a startling answer to this. As translated by
Bloomfield, the answer is: "The practice entails promiscuous, unaristrocratic mingling with men." [22]
This, to say the least, is most remarkable. Put in modern terminology, the main charge against the doctors is that
their science necessarily commits them to the democratic norm. As the Yajurveda elsewhere complains, "All
sorts of persons rush to the physicians." (Mait. Sam. iv.6.2) But why does the commitment to the democratic
norm makes the physicians so impure? There is only one answer to it. This commitment is incompatible with
the requirements of the hierarchical or varnasrama society.
We can briefly note here one point indicating the fabulous power acquired by this view in the consciousness of
the priest class. [23] Vedic scholarship wants us to admit that among the Vedic compilations, the Yajurveda is
the latest. Between this full-fledged priestly manual and the genuinely early hymns of the Rgveda, the time gap
must have been very long. These genuinely early hymns, it is further shown by Vedic research, are unaware of
the hierarchical aspirations, which is first foreshadowed in a very late hymn called the Purusa-sukta and which
becomes the most dominant theme of the Yajurveda. Significantly, along with the hierarchical aspirations are
absent in the ancient Rgvedic hymns any contempt for medicine and its practitioners. On the contrary, in the
mythological imagination of the ancient Rgvedic poets or seers, the twin-gods called the Asvins or Nasatyas are
highly eulogised for their medical skill. They are the physicians of the gods and the friendliest of friends of
human beings. What, then, can the Yajurvedic priests do about these ancient gods?
What they actually do is most amazing. The Yajurveda strongly censors them, demotes them and declares that
they are degraded because of their medical career. The priests even go to the extent of prescribing ritual
purification for these ancient gods, so, that their medical past can be somehow or other atoned.
The sense of degradation attached to the ancient Asvins continues in the vast Brahmana-literature, which grows
directly out of the Yajurveda. As the Satapatha Brahmanadeclares: The other gods said to the Asvins: 'We will
not invite you, for you have wandered much among men performing cures'. (iv. 1,5. 1- 15)
So the priests do not spare even the gods, whose medical career commits them to the democratic norm. But
these Brahmana-texts mention another ground because of which medicineor, for that matter, anything
containing the promise of positive science in any sensehas got to be censored from the viewpoint of the
hierarchical aspirations. The main basis of medical science, as we have already seen, is made of empirical.
knowledge, the importance of which the medical compilations consciously emphasise. Depending mainly on
direct observation, Ayurveda aspires even after the knowledge of nature as a whole, because it is felt that there
can be nothing in nature irrelevant for medical purposes. With the emergence of the hierarchical aspirations in
the Vedic literature, however, it is all different. What is now cared for is a system of behaviour by which a
privileged minority acquires mastery over the vast majority of direct producers. That which is most needed for
the purpose is an ideology that draws some kind of mystical veil on nature, as that people can be persuaded to
believe that things are not what appear to their eyes. The ideologists trying to validate the powers and privileges
of the ruling minority have thus to begin with a distorted description of reality, i.e. the technique of twisting,
concealing and mystifying the actual nature of the world, along with everything that goes on in it. What cannot
be tolerated from this point of view is the direct knowledge of naturethe understanding of natural facts as
these are actually observed.
Accordingly, the vast Brahmana-texts take special rare in proclaiming that the purposive distortion of reality is
one of their holy missions. The typical priestly formula by which this is eulogised is to claim that the gods
themselves delight in making things purposively obscure, mysterious, unintelligible: paroksapriyah iva hi
devab. (e.g. Ait. Br. vii. 30; iii.33; Sat. Br. vi. 1.2; etc)
We shall presently see how Yajnavalkya, the great idealist philosopher of the Upanisads, explains this formula.
For the present the point is that if the gods themselves are fond of concealing the actual nature of things, the
mortals can search for the knowledge of nature as it actually is only by flouting the gods. Anything genuinely
foreshadowing positive science is thus a sin or a sacrilege. Any discipline aspiring to be science in our sense has
thus to be condemned and despised as impure. It is no wonder, therefore, that the Indian legal literature, which
emerges directly from the priestly corporations, should go on preaching for centuries a total contempt for
medicine, which, of all the disciplines of ancient India, aspires to be science in our sense.
The continued condemnation of medicine in the officially approved social norm seems to be the most serious
external factor that accounts for its decadence and eventual theoretical collapse. To evade censorship of the
law-makers, its later representatives seem to concede to the ideological requirements of the priests to the extent
of almost obliterating the grand theoretical achievements of Ayurveda during its creative period. This cripples
medicine, which is ultimately made to look like a confused assemblage of science and its opposite. [24] The
result is a calamity for ancient Indian culture, the enormity of which is to be judged by what rationalist medicine
once promised to it.
No. The calamity was much greater. The ideological requirements of the hierarchical social norm not only
crippled science; it also corrupted philosophy. We shall end with a brief idea of this.
To the Brahmana-texts are traditionally appended the Upanisads, which are for us the earliest documents of
Indian philosophical thought proper. There is no doubt that the philosophers of the Upanisads are among the
greatest luminaries of their age. Their glory has been extensively discussed by scholars, traditional as well as
modern. We need not reiterate this over again. What nevertheless needs to be discussed is the grave danger
created for the general direction of the development of their philosophical thought by the spell on them of the
priestly dictum censoring direct observation or empirical evidence. Yajnavalkya, by far the most renowned
metaphysician of the Upanisads,
quotes
the dictum. It seems, however, that a thinker of his stature feels that it is in need of some explication. While
reiterating it, therefore, he adds a brief explanatory expression and says, The gods are fond of the obscure; they
detest direct knowledge" paroksa-priyah iva hi devah; prayaksa-dvisah. (By. Up. iv. 2.2)
The cryptic expression added to the dictumnamely pratyaksa dvisahconveying divine distaste for direct
knowledge, speaks volumes. The great metaphysician, while explaining the priestly dictum, explains in his own
way its calamitous consequence for natural science. In the theoretical climate created by this endorsement, the
zeal for the objective knowledge of nature inspired by the conviction that it alone holds the prospect of
improving the lot of humanity, is quite dead. The magnificent theoretical endowments of the metaphysicians
have to explore other avenues for self-fulfilment. Philosophy not only breaks away from sciencefrom the
norm of interrogating naturebut moreover succumbs to a peculiar delusion of the omnipotence of pure reason
or pure thought. Thought wants to dictate terms to reality and to announce itself as the only reality. Knowledge
no longer aspires to be the knowledge of the objects. It wants to be the knowledge of the subjectof the bare
ego or the pure self. As an Upanisadic metaphysician aptly describes it: "the libido fixed on the ego, sporting
with the ego, copulating with the ego, delighting in the ego"atmaratih atmakridah atmamaithuna
atmanandaa (Ch Up vii. 25. 2)
This, in short, is extreme introversion that the psychiatrists speak of. Extreme introversion, we are further told,
brings into operation a delusion of grandeur. It is the delusion of the omnipotence of the bare ego. The
Upanisadic metaphysician gives us an admirable description of it: I, indeed, am below. I am above. I am to the
east. I am to the west. I, indeed, am the whole world." (Ch Up vii. 25-1-2)
The immediate result of this great grandeur attributed to the pure "I", is the lofty contempt for nature or the
material world, which, in this metaphysical trend, is finally reduced to some kind of phantom
or maya fabricated by just ignorance or avidya. Disowning direct perception or experience, which is for man the
starting point of understanding nature, the metaphysician's consciousness tends to rise to ever more remote
conditions where only thought remains and the things thought of fade out. This is the cult of pure reason.
Among the leisured minority living on the surplus produced by the vast masses of manual workers,
[25] consciousnessestranged from the active intercourse with naturebecomes a form of sick consciousness
or morbid consciousness. It is no longer consciousness of something, but something like
consciousness-in-itself just consciousness or sheer consciousness, which can now be viewed as a deified
absolute as it were, too mysterious to be grasped by mundane thought and too awesome to be described by
mundane language. As Yajnavalkya declares, it is just a mass of consciousnessvijnaghana (By Up ii. 4. 12).
Being by nature beyond the range of normal knowledge, the only way of referring to it is to say: It is not this; it
is not this'. Or, only by dreaming or sinking further into the state of dreamless sleep called susupti, one can have
some kind of awareness of it, though this awareness is supposed to he more meaningful only by attaining a state
of cultivated catalepsy technically called turiya (Br Up iv. 3. 7ff). [26]
This is not the place for us to discuss the dominant trend of the Upanisadic philosophy in more detail. Tons of
books are already written in admiration of it. What needs to be added to these, however, is only a simple point.
The admiration must not be misplaced. Whatever may be the ground of admiring it, that cannot he any help it
possibly renders to positive science. In fact, the great Upanisadic metaphysician Sanatkumara warns us against
such a possibility. When Narada enumerates to him all the branches of knowledge cultivated in Upanisadic
Indiainclusive of proto-science in some formsSanatkumara declares that from the point of view of his great
metaphysical wisdom, all these have at best a nominal significance: nama eva (Ch Up vii). But Narada
apparently considers medicine too derogatory even to be mentioned in the list of these disciplines. The humble
researches of men who hoped to remove avoidable human suffering by a patient study of nature and its
ever-shifting phenomena have lost all prestige in Upanisadic India, where the gods are supposed to detest direct
knowledge of naturepratyaksa dvisah. The entire Upanisadic literature is silent about medicine, which, in
ancient India, aspires to be natural science par excellence. The great luminaries of Upanisadic India like
Yajnavalkya and Sanatkumarawhose breath-taking flights of pure reason proves stunning for many thinkers
even todaymove forward only to put off the lamp of science. This is how the counter-ideology required by
thevarnasrama or hierarchical social normthe apprehension for and therefore the denunciation of direct
knowledge of naturecondemns philosophy to develop in a direction that proves disastrous for natural science.



Lokayata
by Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya
'Thought and consciousness, says Engels, 'are products of the human brain.' The truth of this, as George
Thomson comments, 'is so plain that it might almost seem to be obvious; yet philosophers have piled tome upon
tome in order to deny, distort or obscure it.' Thus a large section of the contemporary philosophers, 'while
claiming to be specialists in the study of thought, continue their disputations without regard to what scientists
have learnt about the actual mechanism of the human brain. [1]
In Indian philosophy, as we have seen, the Nyaya-Vaisesikas, with their serious preoccupation with the
problems of epistemology, argued that the material body was indispensable for consciousness. Yet they could
not outgrow the age-old superstition about the soul and its liberation. Knowledge, feeling and volition were
conceived as states of an embodied soul and in liberation, the soul becoming disembodied, was devoid of
consciousness. It was but one step further to establish epistemology on a secure scientific basis and assert that it
was plain nonsense to talk of a soul apart from the body and that the conception of liberation was at best a
deception. This step was actually taken by our Lokayatas or the Carvakas, i.e. the ancient materialists.
Here now [said Samkara] the Lokayatikas, who see the Self in the body only, are of opinion that a Self separate
from the body does not exist; assume that consciousness, although not observed in earth and other external
elementseither single or combinedmay yet appear in them when transformed into the shape of a body, so
that consciousness springs from them; and thus maintain that knowledge is analogous to intoxicating quality
(which arises when certain materials are mixed in certain proportions), and that man is only a body qualified by
consciousness. There is thus, according to them, no Self separate from the body and capable of going to the
heavenly world or obtaining release, through which consciousness is in the body; but the body alone is what is
conscious, is the Self. For this assertion they allege the reason, 'On account of its existence where a body is'. For
wherever something exists if some other thing exists, and does not exist if that other thing does not exist, we
determine the former thing to be a quality of the latter; light and heat, e.g., we determine to be qualities of fire.
And as life, movement, consciousness. remembrance and so onwhich by the upholders of an independent Self
are considered qualities of that Selfare observed only within bodies and not outside bodies, and as an abode
of these qualities different from the body cannot be proved, it follows that they must be qualities of the body
only; The Self, therefore, is not different from the body. [2]
The author of the Brahma-sutra designed two aphorisms specially to represent and refute this philosophy. In the
Buddhist Pitakas, we come across not only the name Lokayata but also distinct references to the view that
identified the body with the Self. Along with the Samkhya and Yoga. the Arthasastra (c. 4th century B.C.)
mentioned the Lokayata. The Mahabharata and the earliest Jaina sources, too, mentioned this philosophy and
even the Upanisads were not silent about materialism, Judging from all these, we can easily see that the
materialist tradition in India is very oldprobably as old as Indian philosophy itself. Under these
circumstances, we do not expect our ancient materialists to have gained a positive knowledge of the brain and
understood consciousness as its function. Nevertheless, extremely meagre though their scientific data were, the
way in which they tried to explain consciousness in terms of their own observations was really remarkable. 'The
Lokayatikas', said Samkara, 'do not admit theexistence of anything but the four elements.' [3] By themselves the
elements did not possess consciousness, still consciousness was viewed as emerging from them. How could that
be possible? Just as rice, argued the Lokayatikas, and the other ingredients of producing wine did not by
themselves possess any intoxicating quality, yet, when combined in a particular way, these caused the
intoxicating quality to emerge, so did the material elements constituting the material human body, though.
themselves without consciousness, caused consciousness to emerge when combined in a particular way to form
the human body. It was surely one of the most significant things said by our ancients to establish the primacy of
matter over the spirit.
But what are the sources of our information of this materialistic philosophy? Unfortunately, only the writings of
those who sought to refute and ridicule it. In other words, the Lokayata, is preserved for us only in the form of
the purvapaksa, i.e. as represented by its opponents. Not that there never existed any actual treatise of this
system. Tucci, Garbe and Dasgupta cite conclusive evidences to show that actual Lokayata texts were known in
the ancient and early medieval times. But such texts are lost to us. As against this, Sukhlalji and Parikh have
roused some hopes in the recent years with the claim to have discovered at long last an actual Lokayata text
called theTattvopaplava-simha by a certain Jayarasi Bhatta, which, as edited by them, was published in 1940.
But a critical examination of the actual contents of the text can only cause disappointment. The title literally
means, 'The lion that throws overboard all categories'. It was so chosen because the main purpose of the work
was to show the impossibility of any valid knowledge (pramana) and hence the impossibility of any view of
reality. In short, it represented the standpoint of extreme scepticism according to which no categoryeither
epistemological or ontologicalwas possible. Naturally enough, the view expounded by Jayarasi was
called Tattvopaplava-vada, i.e. the doctrine that threw overboard all categories (tattva). He never called it the
materialistic view for the very simple reason that it was not that, nor was his view referred to by any other text
as the view of a materialist. As we shall presently see, the references to this view had invariably been references
to the tattvopaplava-vada. Therefore, in order to identify Jayarasi's real philosophical affiliation, we may ask
ourselves a simple question: Who, in Indian philosophy, are definitely known to have upheld such a position?
As we have already seen, only the extreme idealists like the Sunya-vadins and Advaita Vedantins did
consistently argue that all the normal sources of knowledge were invalid. That was why Nagarjuna chose the
title Pramana-vidhvamsana or 'Destruction of the sources of valid knowledge' for one of his works and
Samkara argued that all pramana-prameya-vyavahara or use concerning the sources of valid knowledge and
objects of valid knowledge was based on ignorance or avidya. It was left for the followers of Samkara like
Sriharsa and Citsukha to give a scholastic exposition of the consequences of this standpoint. Sriharsa called his
philosophical workKhandana-khandakhadya, literally, 'the sweetmeat of refutations', because he wanted to
establish the Vedantic view by refuting all sources of valid knowledge and his follower Citsukha offered highly
scholastic arguments in support of such a position.
We have already seen why Indian idealists from the age of the Upanisads felt the necessity of denying validity
to the normal sources of knowledge. But how could all this have anything to do with the Lokayatikas, whom we
are obliged to accept as uncompromising materialists? In fact, the whole of the older and authentic Indian
philosophical tradition is quite outspoken on this point. In other words, if Jayarasi Bhatta had any real
philosophical affiliation, it was with the extreme idealists; [4] and it was only by the Lokayatikas, that this
idealistic position, along with all its superstitious concomitants, was totally rejected in Indian philosophy in
favour of its consistent philosophical alternative, viz. materialism. From this point of view, the Jaina writers like
Vidyananda were fully justified in, bracketing the three philosophical positions, viz. of Sunya-vada,
Tattvopaplava-vada and Brahma-vada. As a matter of fact, the editors of Jayarasi's work in their introduction,
quote a passage from Vidyananda where this was actually done. They also quote many other references to
Jayarasi's views mainly from the Jaina sources and the significant point is that in all these the view was referred
to as Tattvopaplava-vada and never as a materialistic doctrine. On the other hand, two positive tenets were
persistently attributed to the Lokayatikas in the older and authentic Indian philosophical literature. These were
(1) the primacy of sense perception as the source of valid knowledge and (2) the ultimate reality being just the
four well-known material elements. Jayarasi, on the contrary, attempted to refute both these, the former
explicitly and the latter implicitly. In fact if Jayarasi referred pointedly to any ontological view as being
logically untenable, it was the doctrine of the four elements. As he said in the very beginning of his text, 'Even
the categories like earth, etc., which are so well-known to the people, do not stand logical scrutiny; what to say
of the other categories?'.
How, in the face of all these, does a scholar like Sukhlalji associate his name with the thesis that
the Tattvopaplava-simha was written from the Lokayata point of view? The only substantial argument put
forward is that Jayarasi 'carries to its logical end the sceptical tendency of the Carvaka school'. Thus the
assumption is that a sceptical tendency was inherent in the Lokayata standpoint. But what is the ground for such
an assertion? The editors of the text have presumably in mind the representation of the Lokayata view by its
opponents, the most popular of which was the one by the Vedantist Madhavacarya (A.D. 14th century)
Madhava attributed to the Lokayatikas an argument against the validity of inference: inference depends upon
the validity of the vyapti or the universal relation between the sadhya and the linga; but the knowledge of such a
universal relation is impossible; it could not be obtained from any source of valid knowledgenot from
perception, because its scope is limited to the particular instances only; not from inference, because it is itself
dependant upon a vyapti. If this was really the position of the Lokayatikas, then there is of course some
justification in assuming a sceptical tendency inherent in their outlook. But the question is, did the Lokayatikas
really argue like this? The answer is presumably in the negative, in spite of the fact that the refutation of the
Lokayata that we come across in various sources was to a large extent directed against their claim of the
primacy of sense perception and their criticism of inference as a source of valid knowledge. We shall presently
see what this criticism could have really meant. For the present, let us raise another question: Is substantially the
same argument against the validity of vyapti definitely expounded in Indian philosophy from the point of view
of some other philosophical system? The answer is in the affirmative. For it was expounded by Sriharsa in his
Sweetmeat of Refutation', i.e., from the standpoint of the Advaita Vedanta. This point is too easily overlooked
by most of the modern writers on Indian philosophy, who uncritically attribute to the Lokayatikas the doctrine
of a total rejection of the validity of inference. On the other hand, there are at least two distinct grounds to think
that the Lokayatikas did not actually stand for such a total denial of inference.
Dasgupta [5] salvages for us a valuable piece of information concerning the real attitude of the Lokayatikas to
the inferential process. Its special importance consists in the circumstance that here the Lokayata standpoint was
explained by one who was himself a Lokayatika. His name was Purandara. Tucci [6]
quotes
a text in which he was described as Carvaka-Mate granthakarta, i.e., a writer with the Carvaka views. Dasgupta
substantiates the point and argues that he belonged to the 7th century A.D. His attitude to inference, as summed up by
Dasgupta, was as follows: Purandara . . . admits the usefulness of inference in determining the nature of all worldly
things where perceptual experience is available; but inference cannot be employed for establishing any dogma
regarding the transcendental world, or life after death or the law of karmawhich cannot be available to ordinary
perceptual experience.' On the basis of the comments of the Jaina author Vadideva Suri, Dasgupta explains Purandara's
point thus:
The main reason for upholding such a distinction between the validity of inference in our practical life of
ordinary experience, and in ascertaining transcending truths beyond experience, lies in this, that an inductive
generalisation is made by observing a large number of cases of agreement in presence together with agreement
in absence, and no case of agreement in presence can be observed in the transcendent sphere; for even if such
spheres existed they could not be perceived by the senses. Thus, since in the supposed supra-sensuous
transcendent world no case of a hetu agreeing with the presence of its sadhya can be observed, no inductive
generalisation or law of concomitance can be made relating to this sphere.
This was certainly quite a sensible position and that this could have been the real position of the Lokayatikas
was further hinted at by Jayanta Bhatta. Jayanta said that the more sophisticated ones among the Carvakas
maintained that there were two types of inferences, one called utpanna-pratiti and the other
called utpadya-pratiti. The former meant inference about something the knowledge of which already existed
and the latter meant inference about something the knowledge of which did not exist. The inference of God,
etc., was an inference of the second type. Who, as Jayanta made the Carvakas exclaim, would deny the validity
of the inference of the fire, etc.? But the reasoning mind could not agree to the inference concerning the Soul,
God, the Next World, etc. [7]
This was substantially the position that Purandara defended. And if this was the position of the Lokayatikas,
then the skeptical tendency so glibly attributed to them must have been unfounded. Referring to the above
statement of Jayanta Bhatta, Hiriyanna comments, 'Thus it is commonly assumed by the critics that the
Carvakas denounced reasoning totally as a pramana, but to judge from the reference to it in one Nyaya treatise,
they seem to have rejected only such reasoning as was ordinarily thought sufficient by others for establishing
the existence of God, of a future life, etc. Such a discrimination in using reason alters the whole com plexion of
the Carvaka view. But this is only a stray hint we get about the truth. What we generally have is a caricature.'
[8] Unfortunately, however, most of the modern scholars, being themselves deeply out of sympathy with
materialism as a philosophy, are satisfied with such caricatures and do not make any serious effort to
reconstruct the lost tradition of ancient Indian materialism. Here is an example.
We have just seen that Jayanta spoke of the 'more sophisticated one's (among the Carvakas). His actual word for
this is susiksitatarah. Elsewhere [9] he added to the name Carvaka an abusive epithet dhurta, meaning 'the
cunning'. Now on the basis of these sarcastic and abusive epithets used by Jayanta our modern scholars have
conjured up two schools of Carvaka, one called Dhurta, the other Susiksita, and we are told that the first did not
believe in the validity of inference while the second did. In spite of the wide popularity of this classification of
the Carvakas, we do not come across any other basis for it in Indian philosophical literature. That Jayanta's own
statements cannot really substantiate it is obvious from the circumstance that he uses the
word susiksitatarah and not simply susiksita. Besides, it was obviously a matter of literary style with Jayanta as
is evident from his similar use of sarcastic adjectives with regard to the other systems of philosophy. Thus, e.g.,
he uses the same word susiksita at one place for the Prabhakaras, [10] at another place for the Bhattass;
[11] and, nowhere is it taken to mean any separate school. With the Carvakas, however, it is different because
our modern scholars are basically out of sympathy with them.
The same lack of seriousness characterises the usual attitude of the modern scholars to the ethical views of the
Carvakas, which they are pleased to call hedonism pure and simple. For this is how the opponents of
materialism are usually inclined to view the materialistic morals. 'By the word materialism,' says Engels, 'the
philistine understands gluttony, drunkenness, lust of the eyes, lust of the flesh, arrogance, cupidity, avarice,
miserliness, profit-hunting and stock-exchange swindlingin short all the filthy vices in which he himself
indulges in private.' [12] A somewhat similar ethical outlook is usually attributed to the Lokayatikas. But there
are many evidences to show that this was not so. We may quote here only one. It occurs in the Santiparva of
the Mahabharata.
After the great Kuruksetra war, when the Pandava brothers were returning triumphantly, thousands of Brahmins
gathered in the city-gate to bestow blessings on Yudhisthira. Among them was Carvaka. He moved. forward
and addressed the king thus; 'This assembly of the Brahmins is cursing you for you have killed your kins. What
have you gained by destroying your own people and murdering your own elders? This outburst of Carvaka,
abrupt as it was, stunned the assembled Brahmins. Yudhisthira felt mortally wounded and wanted to die. But
then the other Brahmins regained their senses and told the king that this Carvaka, was only a demon in disguise.
And then they burnt him, the dissenting Carvaka, to ashes.
Carvaka, being only a demon in disguise was of course the typical myth with which people were sought to be
scared of the materialistic philosophy. But the point is that in this Mahabharata passage, the philosopher said
nothing that could even remotely suggest any ethics of blind selfish pleasure. For the dark deeds of which
Yudhisthira was accused were that of killing the kins and murdering the elders. In the Kuruksetra war, it was
just this that had happened. Kins had to be killed. The old moral values of the tribal society were being trampled
upon and destroyed. Carvaka's protest against this was outspoken and courageous. But he was burnt to ashes
and the moral standards had to be revised and restated to suit the new situation. This was done in the Gita. On
the eve of the Kuruksetra war, Arjuna felt depressed. He would not kill his kins and destroy the elders. He
would not fight. So Krsna had to elevate his mind to the lofty metaphysical height where death did not matter.
But before doing so, he had to dwell on the more matter-of-fact and mundane considerations. He argued, 'You
will attain heaven if you are killed in this battle, and, if you win it, you will enjoy this earth.' This was quite
outspoken. There was prospect of pleasure in either alternativea real philosophy of pleasure. Could it,
therefore, be that those who were accusing the Lokayatikas of a gross philosophy of pleasure were them selves
subscribing to it though surreptitiously?
Discarding, therefore, the commonplace view that our materialists were plain hedonists, we may concentrate on
their serious contribution to Indian ethics. From the ethical and practical point of view the most significant
contribution of our materialists appears to be their revolt against the doctrine of karma, which had in fact
beenand isthe pivot of Indian reaction. It is indeed difficult to exaggerate the role played by the doctrine of
karma both in and outside our philosophical circles. 'All rise of metaphysical speculation on the part of the
Indian systems of philosophyand more particularly the nourishment and development of this speculation
has been due to a belief in the doctrine of karma and a desire to get rid of the transmigrating circle and thus
attain transcendental release.' [13] Even pronounced atheists like the Buddhists and the Jainas laid supreme
stress on this doctrine: in fact, in their philosophy karma became so important that it made God superfluous.
Others that did not discard God did in no way minimise the role of karma: the divine dispensation, according to
them, was not arbitrary but expressed itself through the karma-law. But this doctrine had been more than a mere
matter for academic discussions. Made to percolate for centuries among the masses through such methods of
popularisation as the village recitals of the epics, mythologies and various other types of popular works on
religion, it did acquire a living grip on the minds of our millions.
The essence of the doctrine is of course simple. Every human action has its own inevitable result. A virtuous
action results in something good, a vicious action in something bad. Therefore, whatever you enjoy or suffer
now is the result of your own past actions and the way you are now acting is going to determine your future.
Such a doctrine had inevitably to lean on the conception of a transmigratory soul. For it has to explain why the
virtuous man is frequently found to suffer a life of miserable existence and the vicious to prosper. Reinforced by
the idea of rebirth and the Other World, the doctrine claims that the virtuous action, though it may not bring
prosperity in this life, is sure to do so in some future life while the prosperity of a person who is now vicious
must be the result of some good actions of his past life, just as his present vices, though not punished right now,
will surely make him miserable in some future life. One obvious implication of this doctrine, therefore is that
our own past looms over us like a dark unalterable force. As Radhakrishnan puts it, 'whatever happens to us in
this life we have to submit in meek resignation, for it is the result of our past doings.' [14] Its other implication
is to offer some kind of justification for the observed diversity of human conditions. As Hiriyanna explains, 'its
value as a' hypothesis for rationally explaining the observed inequities of life is clear.' [15] It is, thus, easy to
understand why, beginning from the times of the Upanisads, this karma-doctrine was harnessed to justify the
caste system. 'Accordingly', said the Chandogya Upanisad, 'those who are of pleasant, conduct here, the
prospect is indeed that they would attain a pleasant wombeither the womb of a Brahmin or the womb of a
Ksatriya or the womb of a Vaisya. But those who are of stinking conduct here, the prospect is indeed that they
would enter a stinking wombeither the womb of a
dog
or the womb of a swine, or the womb of a Candala'. [16] In the Gita, again, God Himself was made to declare that He
created the four castes according to the same law of karma: 'the four-caste division has been created by Me according
to the division of virtue and action (guna-karma-vibhagasah)'. [17]
In the general context of this traditional understanding of the law of karma, it is not of little significance to note
that our materialists were by far the only philosophers to have vigorously rejected it. We have already seen how
the svabhava-vada or the doctrine of natural causation was persistently attributed to them and the Jaina writer
Gunaratna [18] rightly saw in this the denial of the law of karma: anye punarahuh, mulatah karmaiva nasti,
svabhava-siddhah sarvo'pyayam jagat-prapanca iti, i.e., according to some there is no such thing
called karma at all; all the manifold world is to be explained by natural causes. Indeed, rejecting as they did the
conception of a transmigrating Soul it was only logical for our materialists to have rejected the law of karma.
One of the earliest Indian materialists was Ajita Kesakambali, possibly a contemporary of the Buddha. An early
Buddhist source summed up his view thus:
There is no such thing, O king, as alms or sacrifice or offering. There is neither fruit nor result of good or evil
deeds. . . . A human being is built up of the four elements. When he dies the earthly in him returns and relapses
to the earth, the fluid to the water, the heat to the fire, the wind to the air, and his faculties pass into space. The
four bearers, on the bier as a fifth, take his dead body away; till they reach the burning-ground men utter forth
eulogies, but there his bones are bleached, and his offerings end in ashes. It is a doctrine of fools, this talk of
gifts. It is an empty lie, mere idle talk, when men say there is profit therein. Fools and wise alike, on the
dissolution of the body, are cut off, annihilated, and after death they are not. [19]
Another materialist of roughly the same period was Payasi, described as a prince by both the early Buddhist,
and Jaina sources. The Buddhist dialogue Payasi-suttanta and the Jaina work Rayapasenaijja were devoted to
the refutation of his views and to the description of his eventual conversion to Buddhism and Jainism
respectively. The former summed up his views thus: 'Neither is there any other world, nor are there beings
reborn otherwise than from parents, nor is there fruit or result of deed well-done or ill-done.' The special interest
of these Buddhist and Jaina works is that they preserve for us a series of arguments supposed to have been
offered by Payasi in defence of this position. These give us some idea of how a philosopher of those early days,
with understandably inadequate scientific data at his disposal, would have rejected the idea of the other world,
rebirth and karma. We quote from the Payasi-suttanta:
I have had friends, companions, relatives, men of the same blood as myself, who have taken life, committed
thefts, or fornication, have uttered lying, slanderous, abusive gossipy speech, have been covetous, of malign
thoughts, of evil opinions. They anon have fallen ill of mortal suffering and disease. When I had understood that
they would not recover from that illness, I have gone to them and said: 'According to the views and opinion
held, sirs, by certain wanderers and Brahmins, they who break the precepts of morality, when the body breaks
up after death, are reborn into the Waste, the Woeful Way, the Fallen Place, the Pit. Now you, sirs, have broken
those precepts. If what those reverend wanderers and Brahmins say is true, this, sirs, will be your fate. If these
things should befall you, sirs, come to mob and tell me, saying. "There is another world, there is rebirth not of
parents, there is fruit and result of deeds well-done and ill-done." You, sirs, are for me trustworthy and reliable,
and what you say you have seen, will be even so, just as if I myself had seen it.' They have consented to do. this,
saying,. Very good,' but they have neither come themselves, nor dispatched a messenger. Now this . . . is
evidence for me that there is neither another world, nor rebirth not by human parents, nor fruit or results of
deeds well done and ill.
Similarly, went on Payasi, he had friends and kinsmen. who lived a perfectly virtuous life and were therefore,
on the assumption of the karma-doctrine, supposed to be reborn 'into the bright and happy world; they agreed
to report to Payasi if they were actually so reborn; but none after death made any such report which, for Payasi
was another proof that there was no other world, rebirth or karma.
Payasi's next argument had a refreshing sarcasm about it. It urged upon the supporters of the karma-doctrine to
put into practice the precepts they professed:
I see wanderers and Brahmins of moral and virtuous dispositions, fond of life, averse from dying, fond of
happiness, shrinking from sorrow. Then I think: 'If these good wanderers and Brahmins were to know this
"When once we are dead we shall be better off"then these good men would take poison, or stab themselves,
or put an end to themselves by hanging, or throw themselves from precipices. And it, is because they do not
know that, once dead, they will be better off, that they are fond of life, averse from dying, fond of happiness,
disinclined for sorrow.' This is for me evidence that there is no other world, no beings reborn otherwise than of
parents, no fruit and no result of deeds well and ill-done.
Evidently, our ancient materialists were fond of sarcasm on the same or similar lines. For they easily remind us
of the verses attributed to the Carvakas in theSarva-darsana-samgraha:
If the sraddha produces gratification to beings who are dead,
Then here, too, in the case of travellers when they start, it is needless to give provisions for the journey.
If beings in heaven are gratified by our offering the sraddha here,
Then why not give the food down below to those who are standing on the housetop?
Verses like this were in circulation from a considerable past. In the Ramayana, a certain Jabali tried to persuade
Rama to give up the foolish ideas concerning thekarma-doctrine with similar verses:
And the food by one partaken, can it nourish other men?
Food bestowed upon a Brahmin, can it serve our Fathers then?
Crafty priests have forged these maxims, and with selfish objects say,
'Make thy gifts and do thy penance, leave thy worldly wealth, and pray!
But let us return to Payasi. In the Dialogue under discussion he offered four more arguments which,
notwithstanding the crude methods of punishment then prevalent, cannot but impress us with their insistence on
experimental verification.
Take the case of men who having taken a felon red-handed bring him up, saying: 'This felon, my lord, was
caught in the act. Inflict on him what penalty you wish.' And I should say: 'Well then, my masters, throw this
man alive into a jar; close the mouth of it and cover it over with wet leather, put over that a thick cement of
moist clay, put it onto a furnace and kindle a fire.' They, saying 'Very good', would obey me and . . . kindle a
fire. When we knew that the man was dead, we should take down the jar, unbind and open the mouth, and
quickly observe it, with the idea: 'Perhaps we may see his soul coming out!' We don't see the soul of him
coming out! This is for me evidence that there neither is another world, nor rebirth other than by parentage, nor
fruit or result of deeds well or ill-done.
Similar experiments were proposed by the prince for a felon caught in the act and was therefore going to be
executed:
And I say: 'Well then, my masters, take this man and weigh him alive, then strangle him with a bowstring and
weigh him again.' And they do so. While he lives, he is more buoyant, supple, wieldy. When he is dead, 'he is
weightier, stiffer, unwieldier. This is evidence for me that there is neither another world, nor rebirth other than
by human parentage, nor fruit nor result of deeds well-done or ill-done.
Again:
Take the case of the men taking a felon red-handed and bringing him up saying: 'My lord, this felon was caught
in the act. Inflict on him what penalty you wish.' And I say: 'Well, my masters, kill this man by stripping off
cuticle and skin and flesh and sinews and bones and marrow! They do so. And when he is half dead, I say: Lay
him on his back, and perhaps we may see the soul of him pass out.' And they do so, but we see the passing of no
soul. Then I say: 'Well then, lay him bent over . . . on his side . . . on the other side . . . stand him up . . . stand
him on his head . . . smite him with your hand . . . with clods. . . on this side . . . on that side . . . all over;
perhaps we may see the soul of him pass out.' And they do so, but we see the passing of no soul. He has sight
and there are forms, but the organ does not perceive them; he has hearing and there are sounds, but the organ
does not perceive them; he has smell and there are odours, but the organ does not perceive them; he has a
tongue and there are tastes, but the organ does not perceive them; he has a body and there are tangibles, but the
organ does not perceive them. This is for me evidence that there is neither another world, nor rebirth other than
of parents; nor fruit or result of deeds well or ill-done.
All these give us some idea of how our ancient materialists argued their case. A modern materialist would not of
course take resort to such crude demonstrations in support of his thesis. He has an immeasurably vast stock of
scientific data to substantiate his materialistic outlook, i.e., his materialism has become immeasurably richer by
the accumulation of knowledge from the progress of science. What is still of decisive significance about our
early materialists is that theyin their own way and in spite of inadequate scientific datasucceeded in
defending those elemental truths which were sought to be obscured by the increasing prestige of spiritualism
and idealism.
Winternitz once observed that 'it proved fatal for the development of Indian philosophy that the Upanisads
should have been pronounced to be revelations.' [20] This is true particularly in the sense that it meant a divine
sanction for the world-denying idealistic outlook, and as such this became the most serious obstacle to the
development of the scientific spirit in Indian philosophy. No less fatal, however, had been the loss of our
materialistic texts. This has deprived us of a proper idea of our heritage of scientific thinking and has in
consequence given idealism and spiritualism exaggerated importance in Indian philosophy.
It is, therefore, important for us today to recover the relics of the Lokayata and, on the basis of a careful
examination of these, to reconstruct the half-forgotten and half-distorted history of Indian materialism. From
what is said above, however, it follows that there is an obvious risk in undertaking this task with a pronounced
bias against materialism as such. For whatever that survives of the Lokayata survives in the form of
the purvapaksa i.e., for being ridiculed and rejected. Under this circumstance, any preconceived bias against
materialism may easily mislead one to take the caricature of the Lokayata at its face value. As a matter of fact,
this has actually happened in the case of most of the modern writers on Indian philosophy, notwithstanding the
great wealth of their textual scholarship.
Fortunately, with the growing strength of the popular movement in the country, we are witnessing today a
growing prestige of the materialistic philosophy itself. This is no accident, at least not so from the point of view
of the Indian tradition. For in Indian philosophy Lokayata meant not merely the materialistic philosophy but
alsoand distinctly enoughthe philosophy of the people. Lokesu ayatah, lokayata: it was called Lokayata
because it was prevalent among the people. Therefore, however much one may inflate the academic myth
concerning Indian spiritualism and Indian idealism, the Indian people remain the inheritors and the custodians
of Indian materialism. It is also for them to enrich it with the ever-growing wealth of scientific knowledge. We
have thus to reassert the elemental truth of our ancient materialism, though of course on an immeasurably
higher level.