South Indian Inscriptions

EPIGRAPHIA INDICA

ray mind, is raised to a certainty by Nâsik No. 5, where we read chhato lekho. Chhata would thus correspond to kshata from the root khan. It is quite true that kshan ordinarily means only ‘to hurt ;’ but this meaning rests on the primary signification ‘to hollow out,’ which is also attested for the form khan and is altogether quite analogous to the primary and essential meaning of likh. Why is the word likh, consecrated as it is by old custom, replaced in our texts by this equivalent ? I have no means to explain this ; but the fact cannot be denied, I think. I can at least quote cases where khanate is employed as an equivalent of likhati with reference to the engraving of a tâmrapaṭṭa ; see the inscription of Madanapâla in the J. As. Soc. Beng. 1900, p. 73. I do not venture to assert that our chhata is only a graphical variant of khata = khanita. At any rate, the close relation which exists between the two roots khan and kshan renders this explanation possible.

The characters which follow chhato, namely vijayaṭhasatâre, are perfectly certain, except that the ṭh may be accompanied by an e, and except the last letter, which I would decadently read kh because of the curve at the bottom, if the hook at the top were a little more rounded. As it is, the reading khe seems to me just as possible as the reading re. Is it at all probable that, as Bühler thought (p. 112, note, and compare p. 105, note), we have here a triple error of the scribe for vijayakha[ṁ]dhâvâre ? This designation of the residence of a king is indeed well-known ; but, putting aside the fact that such to conjecture is a little violent, one would wonder that such a camp is here, contrary to usage and to what we find in Nâsik No. 4, not determined by any topographical name. Should we look for such a name in the very indistinct characters following dato? As may be seen, they are far too doubtful to guide us by themselves ; but a priori the interposition of dato between vijayakhaṁdhâvâre and the name of the locality, whatever it could be, renders that hypothesis very suspicious.

If we stick to the apparent reading vijayaṭhe satâkhe (or re), we are again obliged to embark on an ocean of conjectures fertile in shipwrecks. Here two comparisons suggest themselves, which are curious, but at the same time perhaps not very safe. Satâre (or perhaps sâtâre) reminds of the well-known town and district of Sâtârâ on the south of Kârlê. It is true that the name Sâtârâ has not yet been discovered in any document of ancient date (Bombay Gazetteer, Vol. XIX. p. 224) ; but this may be simply accidental. Besides, it is not very probable─ whatever the original form of the name may be─ that it should have already assumed the form Sâtârâ in the time to which our inscriptions carry us back. At least it ought to have begun with Sâta, whatever this means, and Sâtâkhya as the designation of ‘a town whose name commences with Sâta’ would not be without analogies. On the other hand vijayaṭhe, i.e., without doubt, vijayasthê, ‘situated in my territory’ or ‘in the province called Vijaya,’ reminds of the name of Vaijayantî, which we have already found applied to the town that has since received the name Banavâsi, and which occurs again in Nâsik No. 4. The very peculiar manner in which this inscription introduces the word senâye suggests that we might have here a name given by virtue of a recent conquest to these southern territories, where the district of Sâtârâ occupies an intermediate position between Kârlê and Banavâsi. If this conjecture had any foundation, we should feel inclined to attribute this grant not to Vâsishṭhîputra Puḷumâyi, but to Gautamîputra Sâtakarṇi, to whose reign Nâsik No. 4 belongs. Of course I am aware of the fragility of this assumption. As for the characters following dato, the reading ṭherañâ is, with reference to the two last letters, as improbable as the evidently desperate analysis of the word, which Bühler suggested. The first letter might be ṭhe, but could also be ve. The comparison of Nâsik No. 4 suggests Bênâkaṭâ or Benâkaṭakâ ; but the place which dato occupies does not lead us to expect a topographical name, and I may add that the remaining traces would be little favourable to this restoration.

The figure ‘4’of the number ‘14’ is hardly possible ; I would rather think of a ‘5’. But in fact the only point which is beyond doubt, is, that the year must fall between ‘11’ and ’19.’

One cannot help remarking the similarity of the names of several officers who are employed here and at Nâsik by Vâsishṭhîputra Puḷumâyi and Gautamîputra Sâtakarṇi. In Nâsik No. 3