Satire In Sanskrit: 'Why You Must Stay Away From Doctors'

In this edition of Kāvya, we bring snippets from Sanskrit poetry where the poets take hilarious digs at quacks. 

“Why exert yourself doing charity, performing religious duties
and bathing in holy rivers when doctors can easily dispatch you to heaven?”

दानधर्मतपस्तीर्थस्नानादिक्लेशवर्जितम् |
प्रदर्शयन्ति लोकेभ्यः स्वर्गमार्गं चिकित्सकाः ||
(vaidyopahāsakalikā of aṣṭāvadhānī Shankar Rajaraman)

Death’s henchman on earth, a rogue who aims recovery of money, not patients, a charlatan hiding his ignorance behind robes and titles, a racketeer running an usurious practice, a conman hand-in-glove with the astrologer and the sorcerer — this is the status the poor vaidya (“man of vidyā“) maintains among Sanskrit satirists.

The physician has been lampooned so much that one would think ancient India had only quacks, no doctors! Kshemendra punningly calls him a vagrant (caraka) who does not understand the works of sage Caraka (चरकः चरकं न जानाति). The evil man (doṣī) also has no idea about treating diseases (doṣa) (वक्ति न दोषान् दोषी). Nilakantha jeers that the physician cures not by his skill, but by the common sense of the ladies of the house!

The tradition stretches all the way to the 21st century— contemporary poet Dr. Shankar Rajaraman (a vaidya himself) has penned the delightful vaidyopahāsakalikā, a satire on physicians. He clarifies (unlike his predecessors) that the satire is a lighthearted critique of “bad elements in the medical profession”, and is not a generalization about the medical fraternity.

Dr. Shankar is one of those rare (the only?) modern poets, whose poetry bears the distinct stamp of refined classical versification. Satavadhani R. Ganesh once remarked that “based on internal evidences”, he could “prove that Shankara kavi lived in the proximity of 500AD!”. It’s worth spending some time on vaidyopahāsakalikā before we visit the old masters—

This one’s an oldie, an idea already explored by many poets, but a goody nevertheless—

वैद्यो हरेच्छतं पश्यन् सहस्रं पुनरानपन् |
स्पृशंल्लक्षं चिकित्संस्तु प्राणानेव शरीरिणाम् ||

If the doctor takes a look at you, he robs you of a hundred.
If he talks to you, he robs you of a thousand.
If he touches you, he robs you of a lakh.
And if he treats you — he robs you of your life!

(Nīlakaṇṭha has a comment on the modus operandi behind this daylight robbery— “The patient must neither be given too much hope nor too much fear. In the first case he will not pay up because he has no worry, in the second because he has no hope” )

The next one is brilliantly fresh. The pun here hinges on the word syādvāda “perhaps-argument”, which is an idea from Jain philosophy indicating that all judgments are conditional—

रोगातुरस्य लोकस्य स्वास्थ्यप्रश्नेषु संशयी |
असौ श्वेताम्बरो वैद्यः स्याद्वादमवलम्बते ||

The physician, like a Śwetāmbara Jaina monk,
wears white and takes recourse to the doctrine called syādvāda/the answer “It may”
whenever he is asked if his patient’s health will improve.

निदेशपत्रं भैषज्यं लिखन्नेव चिकित्सकः |
विधेः प्रमार्ष्टि दीर्घायुर्लेखं भालगतं नृणाम् ||

As he scribbles a list of medications on the prescription pad,
the physician simultaneously erases the Creator’s writing
– one that predicts a long life – on the patient’s forehead.

In older literature, we find hilarious digs at doctors in several works— narmamāla (“Garland of Mirth”), deśopadeśa (“Advice from the Countryside”), samayamātrikā (“The Courtesan’s Keeper”), kalāvilāsa (“The grace of guiles”), kathāsaritasāgara(“Ocean of Rivers of Stories”),  vishvaguṇādarśacampū (“Mirror to the World’s Ways”), hāsyārnva (“Ocean of laughter”), kaliviḍambana (“Mockery of the Kali Era”), Laṭakamelaka (“Gathering of rogues”), Pādatāḍitaka (“The Kick”) (and many more, I’m sure). The modus operandi in all these works, is to play upon a few old tropes by invoking them in new ways.

1) The inept hypocrite

The physician struts around with braggadocio and hides his ignorance behind robes, titles and jargon. He regularly passes off nonsense for science. As Venkaṭadhvarin notes— despite knowing nothing about treatment, medicine or the nature of disease, he boldly ventures forth to relieve people of their remaining health and money (असून् भृत्या मृत्योरिव वसु हरन्ते गदजुषाम्).

Kshemendra says in Kalāvilāsa:

The physician becomes a renowned success
after he has killed a thousand patients with his concoctions,
swapping around their various constituent drugs
in an attempt to figure out his own science.

And Nīlakanṭha chimes in:

A doctor prescribes medicine ad libitum,
but insists on a difficult, meager diet.
If health is restored it is by the greatness of the physician,
if not, the dietary regimen was not followed.

2) The harbinger of death

The physicians of satire take pride in their roles as henchmen of death. In Hasyārṇava, Dr. Vyādhisindhu (Ocean-of-Illness) swaggers onto the stage and introduces himself as one “from whose treatment even the immortal sage Mārkanḍeya can’t escape!”. Laṭakamelaka features a Dr. Jantuketu (Dr. Wormbanner) who too has an opening boast— his skill is such that “diseases prosper in his watch and even nectar turns poison”! He blithely pushes Yama aside, and calls himself the real taker of life.