pleasure that makes it different from everything else, and supreme. “ Ér ō s aníkate máchan ,” “Eros invincible in battle,” wrote Sophocles—and he was never proved wrong. But why is this so? Once again, the most immediate and convincing answer was given by Y ā jñavalkya: “In the same way that a man in the arms of the woman he loves knows nothing else outside, nothing else inside, so too this person ( puru ṣ a ), embraced by the ā tman of knowledge, knows nothing else outside, nothing else inside.” No other pleasure is so akin to ā tman , because no other leads so closely back to the beginning, when ā tman had the “form of Puru ṣ a”—and that Person, alone and previous to the world, “was the size of a man and a woman in tight embrace.”
* * *
According to Renou, the brahmodya , with its high element of risk, was the formal unit that linked the Br ā hma ṇ as to the Upani ṣ ads. As additional proof, in k āṇḍ as 10 and 11 of the Ś atapatha Br ā hma ṇ a and in the part dominated by Y ā jñavalkya in the B ṛ had ā ra ṇ yaka Upani ṣ ad , we meet “the same speakers, the same type of scenes, often the same particular phrasing.” So that it can be said not only that the Upani ṣ ads do not conflict, but also that “they are no other … than the faithful continuation of the Br ā hma ṇ as.”
Renou went even further: “It should be noted, looking deeper, that the very notion of brahman , as elaborated in the thought of the Upani ṣ ads, is also itself a product of the brahmodya : in the sense that it is under this form of dialectic and in this climate of dispute that the speculation on brahman , the nucleus of the Upani ṣ ads, is constituted.”
In the B ṛ had ā ra ṇ yaka Upani ṣ ad we find not only supreme examples of brahmodya , but also a first attempt by this form to slip away from itself, to leave its own shell and set off in a new direction, which—in the absence of any other term and even before the notion existed—might be described as that of the novel. The protagonist is still Y ā jñavalkya. But the tone suddenly changes. The great brahmodya with Janaka has ended and we reach the final section of the fourth “lesson” with these words: “At that time Y ā jñavalkya had two wives, Maitrey ī and K ā ty ā yan ī . Maitrey ī knew how to speak of brahman , K ā ty ā yan ī possessed the knowledge of women. When Y ā jñavalkya decided to start another kind of life, he said: ‘Maitrey ī , I want to leave these places to lead the life of a wandering monk: so I want an agreement to be made between K ā ty ā yan ī and you.’”
Here, for the first time, we are far removed from the climate of disputation and ritual. We are part of an intimate, sober, informal discussion between an elderly couple. The essence of the prose, of the prose that tells a story without any meter and without any ritual obligations, seems to be inviting us to eavesdrop on a private matter, the unique story of three people. The great brahmin Y ā jñavalkya takes leave of his readers through his two wives, Maitrey ī and K ā ty ā yan ī , about whom we know nothing except that one is versed in brahman while the other possesses the knowledge typical of women (whatever that might mean). It is a moment of great intensity, not only because it is the prelude to a discourse by Y ā jñavalkya that can be considered his final word on the ā tman —and in particular on that “love for the Self” without which even brahman “abandons” us—but also because it is repeated twice in the B ṛ had ā ra ṇ yaka Upani ṣ ad , in similar terms (2.4.1–14; and 4.5.1–15). And it is at the end of his instruction to Maitrey ī that Y ā jñavalkya repeats his negative definition of ā tman , in exactly the same terms as those he had already used with King Janaka. This time Y ā jñavalkya does not leave the scene to move on to other disputations and other
* * *
According to Renou, the brahmodya , with its high element of risk, was the formal unit that linked the Br ā hma ṇ as to the Upani ṣ ads. As additional proof, in k āṇḍ as 10 and 11 of the Ś atapatha Br ā hma ṇ a and in the part dominated by Y ā jñavalkya in the B ṛ had ā ra ṇ yaka Upani ṣ ad , we meet “the same speakers, the same type of scenes, often the same particular phrasing.” So that it can be said not only that the Upani ṣ ads do not conflict, but also that “they are no other … than the faithful continuation of the Br ā hma ṇ as.”
Renou went even further: “It should be noted, looking deeper, that the very notion of brahman , as elaborated in the thought of the Upani ṣ ads, is also itself a product of the brahmodya : in the sense that it is under this form of dialectic and in this climate of dispute that the speculation on brahman , the nucleus of the Upani ṣ ads, is constituted.”
In the B ṛ had ā ra ṇ yaka Upani ṣ ad we find not only supreme examples of brahmodya , but also a first attempt by this form to slip away from itself, to leave its own shell and set off in a new direction, which—in the absence of any other term and even before the notion existed—might be described as that of the novel. The protagonist is still Y ā jñavalkya. But the tone suddenly changes. The great brahmodya with Janaka has ended and we reach the final section of the fourth “lesson” with these words: “At that time Y ā jñavalkya had two wives, Maitrey ī and K ā ty ā yan ī . Maitrey ī knew how to speak of brahman , K ā ty ā yan ī possessed the knowledge of women. When Y ā jñavalkya decided to start another kind of life, he said: ‘Maitrey ī , I want to leave these places to lead the life of a wandering monk: so I want an agreement to be made between K ā ty ā yan ī and you.’”
Here, for the first time, we are far removed from the climate of disputation and ritual. We are part of an intimate, sober, informal discussion between an elderly couple. The essence of the prose, of the prose that tells a story without any meter and without any ritual obligations, seems to be inviting us to eavesdrop on a private matter, the unique story of three people. The great brahmin Y ā jñavalkya takes leave of his readers through his two wives, Maitrey ī and K ā ty ā yan ī , about whom we know nothing except that one is versed in brahman while the other possesses the knowledge typical of women (whatever that might mean). It is a moment of great intensity, not only because it is the prelude to a discourse by Y ā jñavalkya that can be considered his final word on the ā tman —and in particular on that “love for the Self” without which even brahman “abandons” us—but also because it is repeated twice in the B ṛ had ā ra ṇ yaka Upani ṣ ad , in similar terms (2.4.1–14; and 4.5.1–15). And it is at the end of his instruction to Maitrey ī that Y ā jñavalkya repeats his negative definition of ā tman , in exactly the same terms as those he had already used with King Janaka. This time Y ā jñavalkya does not leave the scene to move on to other disputations and other
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