A Critical Appraisal by Daiva Tamošaitytė
Critical Appraisal of RY Deshpande’s Sanskrit-English for Future Poetry
Dear Deshpande,
I am delighted by our renewed collaboration, correspondence, and exchange of ideas, just as in the past. I read with great interest your impressive comparative study of Sanskrit and English, viewed from the perspective of Sri Aurobindo’s concept of the poetry of the future. Drawing on his insights, you consider how the English language serves as the perfect instrument for embodying the aims of future poetry. Having assimilated influences from other languages, “the natural powers of the English spirit will be of the highest value to the future poetry,” so “English is thus not merely a suitable but a predestined instrument for the new poetic language of the intuitive spirit.”
I would like to share my insights regarding the poetry of the future from my own perspective. Sri Aurobindo once said that the English language would play an important role in the future. As one of the world’s great languages, spoken by millions, it indeed performs a function that I consider political rather than ethical, given that its spread was driven by the historical circumstances of the British Empire on which the sun never set. English displaced Latin and French to become the new lingua franca solely due to imperial powers seeking material gain and control. Yet, millions also speak Chinese and Spanish today. There is a constant political rivalry among languages; typically, the one that establishes itself is the language gaining state-level significance within a given region— a language that other nations or ethnic groups are compelled to learn, thereby becoming assimilated and losing their own power. In other words, it “grows” not because it is inherently superior or more convenient, but because, at a specific historical juncture, prudent administrators speaking that language turned it into a mandatory international medium for conducting all affairs. Thus, it is not an internal process, but an external and usually forced one.
It appears that the spread of a language correlates with its functionality. Yet, just as the expansion of democratization aimed at granting lower classes access to privileges originally created by the elite flattens the high level of culture and transforms it into a mediocre mass-market commodity, so too does the “democratization” of language exhibit the same signs of decline: it becomes superficial and simplified, taking on the characteristics of slang. Contemporary global variants of English have not merely lost the refinement of British English; they have morphed into substandard hybrids. They cannot be classified as dialects, for English, in a sense an invasive force within other world cultures rather than an indigenous one, simultaneously erodes established, authentic linguistic systems. The same holds true for any other invasive language forcibly imposed upon colonies or occupied territories. Such is the reality; after all, for the sake of convenience, one could communicate in Esperanto or any other universalized system of signs — even a digital “language” — yet these have not taken hold. Why, then, do imperial languages come to dominate? Unequivocally due to the discourse of power rather than the intrinsic qualities of the language itself; otherwise, Gaelic, not English, would be the leading language today.
However, just as Latin faded away, so too should any other ossified linguistic system that served obsolete political structures. Applying the comparative method, it is more than doubtful whether an adapted form of English can survive in the long run, let alone play a significant cultural role. In this sense, the science of philology stands as an unwavering witness to genuine evolution and the most reliable source of knowledge. The rapidly proliferating English-language artistic output created by artists worldwide is becoming increasingly homogenized and losing its impact; it is hollow precisely because it lacks a distinctive source — not merely a spiritual one, but even the most basic cultural uniqueness. It is far better to maintain a high standard of translation from English into other world languages, as this process involves an authentic creator conveying the content through their native idiom.
Unfortunately, a representative of another pinda, even one who has mastered the language, can often arrange words in such a way that the worldview and spiritual essence cultivated by a nation over centuries become distorted and devalued; nowadays, this is fashionably labeled an “innovative style.” This applies first to the creators themselves, and subsequently to literal translations. The ideal scenario is a meeting of minds between a creator and their interpreter of equal caliber. A nation’s spiritual essence and its unique array of expressive means, or pinda are best consolidated not by individual creators, however distinguished, but rather within the heritage of folklore or in the works of creators who become the nation’s bards, serving as ideal intermediaries between God and the people. At this point, it is essential to add that artificial intelligence is fundamentally incapable not only of producing an equivalent translation but also, naturally, of conveying the spirit of poetry and untranslatable idioms, expressions that can only be replaced by others similar in meaning, a task that requires a conscious human being.
In fact, I would argue that Sri Aurobindo used English primarily for political reasons; moreover, it was his native tongue — not in the literal sense, of course, but because speaking Bengali at home was forbidden — so he commanded it masterfully, becoming one of the finest connoisseurs of English poetry. This likely determined his choice of language, as you put it, “making that language itself richer in terms of what he later called the Overhead Poetry”. The refined, rich, and complex English in which Sri Aurobindo wrote bears little resemblance to the modified “Simple English” prevalent worldwide today, used by everyone from contemporary poets to office clerks. It can only be compared to similarly refined traditions and literary corpora in other languages. It is by no means “outward-turning, universally communicative, and dynamically evolving character that future poetry requires”, because its content is accessible to very few, and that content is inseparable from its form (with the possible exception of his later experiments with meter). Otherwise, by definition, it would be a manifestation of popular culture.
Perhaps what is meant by “universally communicative” is a sense of inner Self, though here we are dealing not with poetic categories, but with spiritual and metaphysical ones. And if a language is to survive, it will inevitably evolve and remain dynamic, though there must be a multitude of directions for this, given the existence of literary, administrative, and everyday spoken language, among other varieties. On the other hand, the idea you cite, that birthplace is irrelevant because figures like Rossetti and others write equally well in English, represents exceptions that prove the rule: that most people are shaped by their native cultural and historical environment. However, the exceptional abilities of those few are often determined by a multifaceted education and talent, and frequently by material or political opportunities as well.
I would hypothesize that when speaking of the poetry of the future, Sri Aurobindo was not referring to some unified, standardized future language, such as English might become; to think so would be too simplistic. However, for certain occult reasons, English could become a leading and exemplary medium for revealing higher-level spiritual content, provided it is written by poets who have attained higher levels of consciousness. Yet, this in no way contradicts the fact that translations of such poetry into native languages would have a similar impact, provided the translation is carried out by someone who captures the spiritual essence and conveys it in their own tongue. If it is said that the “the natural powers of the English spirit will be of the highest value to the future poetry,”then the natural powers of the spirit of any other living and rich language can equally bestow the highest value upon the poetry of its own future; and if it is asserted that English is therefore “not merely a suitable but a predestined instrument for the new poetic language of the intuitive spirit”, this in no way negates the fact that any language capable of vividly conveying the intuitive spirit and creating this new poetry will likewise be a most suitable and thus destined instrument for the peoples who speak that specific language.
This hypothesis is grounded in the evolutionary need for diversity. Fundamental principles, diversity within unity, and svabhava (one’s own essential nature, which is not negated by the Oneness of Brahman yet is essential for the multiplicity of Nature to unfold in ever-new forms across various cultures) are immutable and should not be altered prior to the creation of the Superman; even then, a simultaneously existing, anarchic yet utterly free diversity of identities will constitute the totality of the Divine world. Were it otherwise, the entire meaning of the cosmic play, lila, would vanish, as would that eternal impulse of beauty and love, wonder, implanted in humanity as an impetus to constantly gaze upon the world and behold the perfect yet evolving, countless, and incredibly inventive forms of Existence that bear witness to every gradation of Consciousness and the sovereign hand of the Creator. After all, your website is named “The Winds of Wonder,” a title that captures the enigma of this creation and the primary driving force of spiritual quests more aptly than any other.
Sri Aurobindo wrote about the significance of the mother tongue for world culture in The Ideal of Human Unity (1992). Considering the integrality of his writings, I would approach the question of the language of future poetry not in isolation merely as a matter of poetics, but within the broader context of global development. In this context, a “globalized and adapted” version of English plays a certain role; however, according to Sri Aurobindo, language of every nation is more important: “[…] so much does it count to the advantage of humanity at large that its group-souls should preserve and develop and use with a vigorous group-individuality their natural instrument of expression” (Chapter: “Diversity in Oneness”, p. 495); “it is not enough that the natural language should be spoken by the people; it must be the expression of its higher life and thought.” (ibid., p. 496). He also notes that “the history of universal tongues spoken by peoples to whom they where not natural, is not encouraging.” The influence and impact of the English language is appreciated there, just as it is stated that “it is of the utmost value to a nation, a human group-soul, to preserve its language and to make of it a strong and living cultural instrument. A nation, race or people which loses its language, cannot live its whole life or its real life. And this advantage to the national life is at the same time an advantage to the general life of human race.” (ibid., p. 493)
Kathleen Raine’s claim that only one born with British blood can write true poetry, the English poetry, is politically advantageous for nations that, having suffered at the hands of aggressive neighbors, have endured undeserved losses. Lithuanians, Ruthenians (Ukrainians), the Irish, and other peoples were compelled to share their poets and writers, figures who, despite not being Poles, Austrians, Russians, etc., wrote solely in the languages of their conquerors. In this context, Sri Aurobindo’s postulate is once again telling: “A language that servives only as a patois or a provincial tongue like Welsh after the English conquest or Breton or Provençal in France or as Czech survived once in Austria or Ruthenian and Lithuanian in Imperial Russia, languishes, becomes sterile and does not serve all the true purpose of survival” (ibid., p. 496)
In this context, it is worth noting that Sri Aurobindo’s insights are being borne out with remarkable accuracy. Like the Lithuanians, the Czechs regained their full independence following the fall of the Iron Curtain in 1990 and 1993 respectively; Lithuanians, Estonians and Latvians established their natural language as the official state language. The war in Ukraine (2022–) points to an almost certain Ukrainian victory and highlights the fact that the Ukrainian (Ruthenian) language is undergoing an unprecedented renaissance; it serves as a marker distinguishing the nation from the language and culture of the usurper, a culture that, according to the renowned philologist Vladimir Toporov, emerged much later (“the origin of the Russian language is unclear; its roots cannot be traced; it is as if it fell from the sky” — V.T.), given that the Russian nation historically coalesced only in the 18th century, after enduring centuries of oppression under the Mongol Golden Horde. Regrettably, the Irish have all but lost their language, and the Lithuanian language, too, faces the threat of extinction due to a declining population.
Nevertheless, I feel it is necessary to say a few words about my native Lithuanian language. A language always reflects the spiritual level of development of a nation or race through its richness, musicality, and flexibility. The recently completed Great Dictionary of the Lithuanian Language comprises half a million (500,000) words, spanning 20 volumes. It is the richest dictionary among European languages. Furthermore, Lithuanian is one of the oldest languages in the world; in terms of its morphological structure, it is older than Sanskrit, though related to it and comparable in age to Chinese. We, Lithuanians and Latvians, are the only people in the world who still actively speak a language akin to the one spoken by the Indo-Europeans four thousand years ago. This is a unique phenomenon. The richness and sanctity of our language are inextricably linked, as numerous bodies of water and localities bear the name “Šventoji” (The Holy One) or other names associated with holiness. Our Lithuania, which in the 13th and 14th centuries was the largest state in Europe, preserving its Indo-European roots and prevalence, was forced to adopt Christianity and defend itself perpetually against invaders from neighboring lands. Over the past three hundred years, the Lithuanian state shrank; the language was banned during the era of the Russian Tsars and survived only thanks to the book smugglers and the enlightened intelligentsia. Thus, a language that could have flourished and brought light to the world was, much like Irish and Ruthenian, ravaged alongside repeated genocides of the population. Yet, in a global competition, the Lithuanian language surpassed even Italian in terms of its melodiousness. My point is that imperialism destroys the finest, most spiritual nations and languages. Nevertheless, for me, the Lithuanian language remains a fount of spirituality, rivaled only by Sanskrit. Lithuania is a land of poets, strongly influenced by beauty of its Nature and Spirit.
As for K. Raine’s categorical rejection of Sri Aurobindo’s poetry, I believe she simply holds to her own criteria of evaluation — criteria into which the poem Savitri, for instance, does not fit, thereby leaving it on the fringes of respectable, or more precisely, academically weighty criticism. Here, I think, lies another reason, one entirely unrelated to literature. The poem is, as you put it, “written through a process of self-creation from the depths of yogic consciousness and striving for a new expression of Eternity, rather than being forged in the literary academies of England or America”, even though it was penned by the hand of a consummate master of the English language. Consequently, the purely poetic level is not the primary concern here. Nevertheless, it must be assessed as a whole; after all, it is an epic. Viewed in this light, it is indeed written with a prosody that operates on the level of mantra, employing clear sentences that reveal it to be a work of revelatory poetry, poetry no longer veiled by convoluted symbols, ornamentation, or other obscuring figures of speech. The central idea is laid out with absolute clarity, even though the poem’s length, dramatic structure, and sheer scope are difficult to fully grasp much like the world itself and human life, which are as complex as a labyrinth.
In my view, representatives of various religious systems or worldviews or indeed anyone with a fixed agenda cannot accept the fact, that this poem represents a creation of a world extending to future horizons as yet unknown to anyone; it describes every stage with such precision and minute detail, that one is left with only two choices: either to resign oneself to the situation or to remain silent about it. In the first instance, no one is capable of making judgments from this level of consciousness, so they might at least use the text as a mantra; in the second instance, no one is yet prepared to accept the challenge, for doing so would mean acknowledging Sri Aurobindo as the new Avatar.
This text is his “Testament” and a scripture for future ages. Perhaps, then, in a few hundred years, it will be studied just as the Vedas and Upanishads are today. The crux of the matter is that Savitri (like all his poetry, for that matter) offers a comprehensive reflection of human existence and man’s place in the cosmic order; it answers fundamental questions so clearly that one marvels at how God has deigned to reveal His face and adapt the Word for the current dark age of Kali Yuga. I regard this as a gesture of His profound compassion in this era of a life-or-death existential crisis, a time, when humanity must either ascend to a new level of consciousness, or simply perish as a race, leading to pralaya.
Thank you very much for the important excerpts regarding the poetry of the future. I believe your work is of great significance and essential to anyone who boldly seeks to look beyond the scope of works created by other sages.
Sincerely Yours,
Daiva Tamošaitytė
Lithuania
July 8, 2026
Featured Image: The Place where Daiva Lives
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