That explains it

Bhartrhari is one of those Sanskrit poets who leaks vitriol and fire wherever you touch him. His angry rants about fools, full of the most delightful, full-mouthed, heartily aspirated mahaapraanas, are an absolute treat for those days when you just hate the world.

I was wondering why the poor chap had so much ... (wait for it)... negative energy (yes, my job involves a dangerously large management component) when I chanced upon this verse of his:

यां चिन्तयामि सततं मयि सा विरक्ता
सा अप्यन्यम् इच्छति जनं स जनो अन्यसक्तः |
अस्मत् कृते च परिशुष्यति काचिद् अन्या
धिक् तां च तं च मदनं च इमां च मां च ||

yaaM chintayaami satataM mayi saa viraktaa
saa apyanyam ichChati janaM sa jano anyasaktaH |
asmat kRRite cha parishuShyati kaachid anyaa
dhik taaM cha taM cha madanaM cha imaaM cha maaM cha ||

"The girl who I think of all day totally doesn't dig me, and she's after some other guy. That dick is after some other chick, and meanwhile because of my doing (of rejecting her? more?) one other girl is suffering. To hell with her, him, Love, this other one, and me!"

There. Clearer than Swami Nityananda's dedication to ananda-yoga.


I found this when I was searching for more fundaes about this absolutely fantabulously unbelievably epic bit of very old school wit, which I found via - who else? - Shreevatsa. Among the little gems of wit one collects with the bleak hope of flooring that super-cute chick in the bus the day one will finally manage to make eye contact and (gasp!) conversation with her, this one is verily the Koh-i-Noor:

There's metre iambic
and metre trochaic
and metre that's tender in tone.
But the metre
that's neater
and sweeter
is meet her by moonlight, alone.

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