श्रीगुरुभ्यो नमः
The anthological tradition of Sanskrit literature has preserved more names than complete works. For every Kālidāsa whose entire corpus survives, dozens of poets exist only as authorial attributions attached to scattered verses in subhāṣita collections. This pattern affects women poets with particular force. This article will throw light upon the three deserve who attention—Morikā, Vikatanitambā, and Madālasā—each demonstrating complete command over the formal apparatus of kāvya while bringing individual perspectives to familiar themes.
Morikā: The Delicate Painter of Vipralambha
Morikā‘s verses appear in multiple anthologies—the Sārṅgadharapaddhati, Subhāṣitāvalī, Sūktimuktāvalī—indicating wide circulation. Dhanadadeva placed her in the foremost rank of Sanskrit poetesses. In terms of her skills in weaving poetry, she is placed at par with Vijjikā. Of the only four verse we find scattered in the anthologies, we can infer that Morikā cared for simplicity and clearness of meaning over highly ornamental style containing long compounds akin to Vijjikā. Her surviving verses cluster around vipralambha-śṛṅgāra (love-in-separation), where she found distinctive psychological angles.
Her first preserved verse captures a separated woman’s daily ritual:
लिखति न गणयति रेखां निर्झरबाष्पाम्बुधौतगण्डतटा।
अवधिदिवसावसानं मा भूदिति शङ्किता बाला ॥
She with her cheeks are being bathed by tear-drops flowing like a stream,makes marks (on the floor representing the days which she has still to spend without her lover), (but) does not count them lest the number of days before (her lover) can return to her be increased (over her own idea).
Another verse tries to depict inseparable relation between beloved through a simile between night and moon
प्रियतमस्त्वमिमामनघाऽर्हसि प्रियतमा च भवन्तमिहाऽर्हति।
न हि विभाति निशारहितः शशी न च विभाति निशाऽपि विनेन्दुना॥
O you, her dearest one, are worthy for her and she, your dearest one, is worthy for you. Neither does the moon shine without the night and nor does the night shine without the moon.
मा गच्छ प्रमदाप्रिय! प्रियशतेरभ्यर्थितस्त्वं मया बाला प्राङ्गणमागतेन भवता प्राप्नोत्यवस्थां पराम्।
किं चाऽस्याः कुचभारनिःसहतरैरङ्गैरनङ्गाकुलैस् त्रुट्यत्कञ्चुकजालकैरनुदिनं निःसूत्रमस्मद्गृहम्॥
Do not go, o lady-killer! you are being welcomed by me with thousands of loving (words and deeds). As soon as you step out in the court-yard, the (love-lorn) lass comes to be on the point of death. What is the use of her slender body, weak and wounded by the god of love? Our house is without a thread (i.e. I am incapable of offering you a welcome).
Her fourth verse offers the departing lover’s perspective:
यामीत्यध्यवसाय एव हृदये बध्नातु नामास्पदं वक्तुं प्राणसमासमक्षमघृणेनेत्थं कथं पर्यते ।
उक्तं नाम तथापि निर्भरगलद्बाष्पं प्रियाया मुखं दृष्ट्वा प्रवसन्त्यहो धनलवप्राप्तिस्पृहा मादृशाम् ॥
Let the idea of going away be confined within the heart only. How can it be uttered cruelly before my dear mistress? After uttering it, and even after seeing their sweethearts’ faces, drenched with gushing out tears, men go on their journeys. Astonishing indeed is the desire for some trifling wealth in men like me!
What sets Morikā apart among the other Sanskrit poetesses is its quality of being a “delicate painter”—not idealized devotion or spectacular suffering but the actual texture of vipralambha.
Vikatanitambā: Technical Virtuosity and Psychological Complexity
Vikatanitambā‘s name itself suggests something distinctive about her literary persona. According to Bhoja‘s Śṛṅgāra-prakāśa, she was a widow who remarried. Yet her eleven surviving verses reveal technical sophistication that secured her reputation beyond biographical anecdote. For instance, following verse related to her is quoted in Rudraṭa’s Kāvyālaṅkāra:
काले माषं सस्ये मासं वदति सकासं यस्य सकाशम्।
उष्ट्रे लुम्पति षं वा रं वा तस्मै दत्ता विकटनितम्बा॥
Vikaṭanitambā was married to the one who spoke “māṣa” as for depicting specific time period and “māsa” for terming a crop, spoke “sakāsam” where “sakāśam” had to be spoken, in the word “uṣṭra”, [while pronouncing] he either eliminated “ṣ” or “r” (i.e. spoke uṭra or ūṣra].
Note: Śṛṅgāraprakāśa along quotes a similar verse with following variations पृष्टः काले वदति स माषं तद्विपरीतं सस्ये हिरण्ये। ab, लुम्पति चोष्ट्रे रं वा शं वाc
Her verse appears in Ānandavardhana‘s Dhvanyāloka—the most important theoretical text on dhvani—indicating ninth-century theorists considered her verses exemplary and that she flourished in the earlier half of the ninth century.
The style of Vikaṭanitambā shows absence of long compounds and the sweetness arises from use of simple words itself. Rājaśekhara identifies this tendency and writes:
के विकटनितम्बेन गिरां गुम्फेन रञ्जिताः।
निन्दन्ति निजकान्तानां न मौग्ध्यमधुरं वचः॥
Who that has been entertained by the writings of Vikaṭanitambā doesn’t ignore the sweet honey-like words of his own sweetheart?
Her technical range encompasses saṃkara, and saṃsṛṣṭi. Samkara is a combination of artha-śleṣa and pūrṇopamāna while the latter — Saṃsṛṣṭi is a combination of śabdālaṅkāra and arthālaṅkāra. Consider her description of a slender waist:
अय्ययि साहसकारिणि किं तव चङ्क्रमणेन ।
टसदिति भङ्गमवाप्स्यसि कुचयुगभारभरेण ॥
“Oh you rash one! What is the use of your walking? You will at once be broken by the weight of your pair of breasts.”
This exemplifies vyāja-stuti—ostensible criticism constituting praise. The address sāhasa-kāriṇi appears to scold the woman for risking her impossibly slender waist under the weight of heavy breasts, yet celebrates the idealized feminine form described in alaṅkāra-śāstra.
Another verse shows depiction of indignant woman who is now crying in separation:
अनालोच्य प्रेम्णः परिणतिमनादृत्य सुहृदस् त्वयाऽकाण्डे मानः किमिति शरले प्रेयसि कृतः।
समाकृष्टा ह्येते विरहदहनोद्भासुरशिखाः स्वहस्तेनाऽङ्गारास्तदलमधुनाऽरण्यरुदितैः॥
Without thinking about maturity of love and disregarding (your) friends, why did you sulk at the simple-minded beloved without a cause? These charcoal with splendid flames emerging from the burning separation have been attracted by your own hands. Enough of weeping in the woods!
Madālasā: The Philosophical Voice
Madālasā stands apart for addressing concerns beyond the erotic. While śṛṅgāra dominated classical poetry of theses poetesses, some poets ventured into ethical and religious territories. Madālasā’s two surviving verses reveal her engagement in this region of literature, making her, as Choudhuri notes, “one of those few ancient poetesses who turned their thoughts to the other world.”
Her chronological limit can be fixed to the fourteenth century CE, as one verse appears in the Śāraṅgadharapaddhati. Nothing else is known—no patronage details, no regional association. She exists purely through the verses themselves.
Her first verse articulates didactic religious instruction:
परलोकहितं तात! प्रातरुत्थाय चिन्तय । इह ते कर्मणामेव विपाकश्चिन्तयिष्यति ॥
“Having risen in the morning, my child, think about your welfare in the next birth. Only the consequences of your works in this world will be considered (for that).”
The verse operates within the karman framework fundamental to Indian philosophical-religious thought. The address tāta establishes maternal instruction, making otherworldly concerns the foundation of daily consciousness. The second line provides doctrinal justification: only the vipāka (consequences) of one’s karman will be considered. Written in straightforward anuṣṭubh, avoiding ornate diction, it prioritizes message clarity—a distinct rīti from Morikā’s lālitya or Vikatanitambā’s technical virtuosity.
Her second verse is about how reumbling clouds during rainy season causes heart-burns to the separated souls:
सान्द्रचान्द्रविरुतैः धिक्कृतबाणैर्निर्जितं जगदिदं मदनेन । अम्बुदो दिशि दिशि प्रथमानो गर्जितैरिति हि वेदयतीव ॥
“This world has been conquered by Cupid by means of dense, glittering and noisy arrows that are denounced (by lovers)—this is being intimated, it seems, by the rumbles of the clouds, extended all over the quarters.”
What Survives, What Is Lost
These three poetesses survive as fragments, their biographical particulars mostly vanished, their complete works unrecoverable. Yet what remains demonstrates complete mastery over Sanskrit’s poetic apparatus.
The anthological preservation system saved verses that exemplified particular alaṅkāra-s, illustrated emotional states, or demonstrated stylistic excellence. Yet this system privileged individual verses over complete works. The surviving evidence suggests that women who achieved technical mastery could gain entry into the literary elite—hence Dhanadadeva‘s placement of Morikā in the foremost rank, Ānandavardhana‘s use of Vikatanitambā to illustrate dhvani. Yet we must imagine that many more women composed verses that achieved local circulation without entering the major anthology chains. Those voices are irretrievably lost.
Bibliography
Choudhuri, Jatindra Bimal, ed. Sanskrit Poetesses (Part A). With English Introduction and Translation by Roma Chaudhuri. The Contribution of Women to Sanskrit Literature, Vol. 1.
Choudhuri, Jatindra Bimal, ed. Sanskrit Poetesses (Part B). With English Introduction and Translation by Roma Chaudhuri. The Contribution of Women to Sanskrit Literature, Vol. 2.
संस्कृत वाङ्मय का बृहद् इतिहास भाग ५ गद्य