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The Indian System of Human Marks
Sir Henry Wellcome Asian Series
Edited by
Dominik Wujastyk
Paul U. Unschuld
Charles Burnett
Editorial Board
Donald J. Harper
Ch. Z. Minkowski
Guy Attewell
Nikolaj Serikoff
volume 15
The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/was

The Indian System
of Human Marks
With editions, translations and annotations by
Kenneth G. Zysk
leiden | boston
Cover illustration: Travelling Palmist. Jaipur. 2014 ce. K. Zysk.
The publication of this work was subsidized by the J. Gonda Fund Foundation.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Zysk, Kenneth G., author.

Title: The Indian system of human marks : with editions, translations and annotations / by Kenneth G. Zysk.
Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, [2015] | Series: Sir Henry Wellcome Asian series; volume 15 | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015030127| ISBN 9789004299726 (hardback, set : alk. paper) | ISBN 9789004305878
(hardback, vol. 1 : alk. paper) | ISBN 9789004305885 (hardback, vol. 2 : alk. paper) | ISBN 9789004299825
(e-book : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Omens–Religious aspects. | Human body–Religious aspects. | Divination–India–History.
Classification: LCC BF1777 .Z88 2015 | DDC 138.0954–dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015030127
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Contents
Preface ix
Abbreviations xiv
Introduction 1
part i
History and Literature
I Formulations. The System of Human Marks in Jyotiḥśāstra 55
II Reformulations. The System of Human Marks in the Purāṇas 80
III Consolidations. The System Human Marks in the Nibandhas and

Kāmaśāstra 101
IV Assimilations. Independent Treatise on the System of Human Marks:

Sāmudrikaśāstra 113
V Numerology in the Indian System of the Human Marks 149
Appendix to Chapter V: Texts and Translations 173
part ii
Text and Translation
chapter i
The System of Human Marks in Jyotiḥśāstra
Gārgīyajyotiṣa Chapter I: Puruṣalakṣaṇam 226

Gārgīyajyotiṣa Chapter II: Śtrīlakṣaṇam 244
Bṛhatsaṃhitā 68 (67) 264
Utpala’s Samudra 1 292
Utpala’s Samudra 2 310
Śārdūlakarṇāvadānam (Divyāvadāna 33) 318
vi contents
chapter ii
The System of Human Marks in the Purāṇas
Agnipurāṇa 243 328

Agnipurāṇa 244 332
Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa 2.8 334
Garuḍapurāṇa 1.63 344
Bhaviṣyapurāṇa 1.5 372
Skandapurāṇa, Kāśīkhaṇḍa 37 Strīlakṣaṇam 428
chapter iii
The System of Human Marks in Kāmaśāstra
Anaṅgaraṅga, Chapter 8
Strīpuruṣasāmānyasāmudrikalakṣaṇam 452
part iii
Textual Variants and Philological Notes
Introduction 459
chapter i
The System of Human Marks in Jyotiḥśāstra
Gārgīyajyotiṣa Introduction: “Textual Criticism on the Gārgīyajyotiṣa.

An Examination of Textual Transmission in Early Jyotiḥśāstra.” 463
Gārgīyajyotiṣa Chapter I: Puruṣalakṣaṇam 481
Gārgīyajyotiṣa Chapter II: Śtrīlakṣaṇam 555
Bṛhatsaṃhitā Introduction 630
contents vii
Utpala’s Samudra Introduction 681

Utpala’s Samudra Chapter I: (Puruṣalakṣaṇam 682
Utpala’s Samudra Chapter II: (Strīlakṣaṇam) 697
Śārdūlakarṇāvadānam (Divyāvadāna 33): Introduction 702
Kanyālakṣaṇam 703
chapter ii
The System of Human Marks in the Purāṇas
Agni- and Viṣṇudharmottara Purāṇas: Introduction 711

Agnipurāṇa 243: Puruṣalakṣaṇam 713
Agnipurāṇa 244: Strīlakṣaṇam 717
Garuḍapurāṇa: Introduction 727
Bhaviṣyapurāṇa: Introduction 754
Skandapurāṇa: Introduction 813
Skandapurāṇa, Kāśīkhaṇḍa 37: Strīlakṣaṇam 815
chapter iii
The System of Human Marks in Kāmaśāstra
Anaṅgaraṅga: Introduction 845

Anaṅgaraṅga, Chapter 8:
Strīpuruṣasāmānyasāmudrikalakṣaṇam 847
Appendix: List of Male and Female Body Parts 851
Bibliography 893
Index 922
Preface
The subject matter that we shall be exploring in this book belongs in the
first instance to the literary category of Sanskrit Jyotiḥśāstra, the technical lit-
erature that includes topics known in the West as astrology and omens, as
well as mathematics and astronomical speculations. Our sources come from
the chapters that deal with omens, and particularly the omens that derive
from the body, mind and spirit of human beings. In Sanskrit, it is known as
the puruṣa-strī-lakṣaṇāni, “The marks of men and women.” Because this sys-
tem of human marks eventually became an important part of marriage con-
tracts, it was incorporated into the literature of Dharmaśāstra, “The brah-
manic system of laws and customs.” The literature under investigation, there-
fore, comes primarily from the Sanskrit genres of Jyotiḥśāstra and Dharmaśās-
tra.
Although texts are the principal sources, the continuity of the material
allows us not only to trace a literary history of the human marks but also to
elucidate the system behind them through contemporary living examples and
look at how the knowledge of the human marks functioned in society from
around the beginning of the Common Era in India to present day.
At the outset, I should like to clarify a key term that is at the core of this
study, the Sanskrit word lakṣaṇam, which is Pāli and Prakrit lakkhaṇam or
lacchaṇam.1 It usually occurs as a singular and sometimes as a plural neuter
noun and is often compounded with puruṣa- and strī- to denote the system
of men’s and women’s marks, and which I have chosen to translate either
as “the system of human marks” or just as “the human marks.” Moreover,
since the marks include both those found on a person’s body and those that
reveal personality, behaviour and sense functions, I have not used the qualifier
“bodily” with marks; thus, the “human marks” rather than the more restrictive
“bodily marks” cover all that distinguish one person from another and the
system of divination that developed around them. Likewise, the derivative
English word “physiognomy” from the Greek physiognōmonia, will not do.
Although, as we shall see, the Greek and the Indian systems share some basic
marks, they are wholly different in many more respects. Nevertheless, all the
systems that use the human body as a means of prognostication share the
fundamental presuppositions that the outer reveals the inner and foretells a
person's future. The predictive aspect of the system suited the general Indian
1 See CDIAL #10882, p. 630.

x preface
theory of karman (action) and rebirth, where ones past deeds determined ones
present and future lives, and help to facilitate the success of system of human
marks in brahmanic India.
If we look at the Indian system in relationship to more modern ideas and
thinking, we can notice certain unmistakable similarities, especially, but not
exclusively, with modern Darwinian-based eugenics, which also found a place
in India in the early decades of the twentieth century.2 By classifying the
types of people based on their physical constitution, behaviour and character,
the system of men’s and women’s marks found in Indian literature illustrates
a mode of thinking, which aims to establish a distinction between types of
people, often based on race—a principle and practice, by the way, already
known to Aristotelians.3 Furthermore, it resulted in the selection of individuals
for mating based on both physical and mental characteristics. The basic ground
for this mode of thinking is already witnessed in the varṇa or “colour” system,
we know as caste, which looks back to the late Ṛgveda (10.90). The system of
human marks in Indian literature is but a refinement of this basic racial idea,
which, when it incorporated notions of modern science and medicine in the
early part of the last century took on a form of eugenics.
The story of the Indian system of human marks is different from other sys-
tems of brahmanic knowledge. Evidence suggests that original benefactors and
subsequently the keepers of the knowledge of the marks were the conquerors
and rulers rather than the priests and scholars. These noblemen used the
medium of Prakrit rather than Sanskrit to teach and preserve the system. The
Prakrit roots of the system are witnessed in the first Sanskrit version found in
the Gārgīyajyotiṣa. Over time, there evolved both a Sanskrit and a Prakrit trans-
mission. Eventually, Sanskrit became the language of tranmission in which “the
Śāstra of the human marks” (lakṣaṇaśāstra) emerged. This Śāstra or system
of knowledge became known as “the Śāstra belonging to Samudra” (Sāmu-
drikaśāstra), from which “the Śāstra of the Lines” (Lekhāśāstra), or palmistry
eventually derived, although in the beginning the two were combined.
The Prakrit transmission appears to be the oldest and became part of the
Jyotiḥ- and Dharmaśāśtra by rendering it into Sanskrit, as Garga’s version clear-
ly illustrates. In the modern era, the system of human marks is maintained
largely by Jaina scholars in whose keeping are found hoards of Sāmudrikaśās-
tra manuscripts in Sanskrit, Prakrit and regional languages. Its popularity came
2 See Luzia Savary, “Vernacular Eugenics? Santati-Śāstra in Popular Hindi Advisory Literature
(1900–1940),” Journal of South Asian Studies, 37.3 (2014), pp. 381–397.
3 See below, Introduction, “The ancient Greeks.”
preface xi
when Puruṣa-strīlakṣaṇaśāstra became an essential tool for arranging marriage

alliances, so that the purity of bloodline and the integrity of social stratification
could be maintained. However, this might not have been its original purpose.
Evidence from the early books of Jyotiḥśāstra indicate that the system of knowl-
edge as it pertained particularly to men was used to distinguish the conquerors
from those they conquered. Early knowledge and use of the system of human
marks had two main aims centring around power: to preserve the purity of
the class of rulers and to gain knowledge of the peoples over whom they held
dominion. The literature that we shall explore comes from India, but it also
has roots that look back to ancient Mesopotamia and ancient Greece. It was in
ancient India, however, that it flourished, developed and evolved into modern
Sāmudrikaśāstra, which as practised today includes both astrology ( jyotiḥśās-
tra) and palmistry (rekhāśāstra).
The earliest remnants of the system indicate that there was a concious
employment of numbers in connection with part of the body probably as a
mnemonic device used in learning the human anatomy. Like other traditions of
physiognomy from other parts of the world, the Indian system of human marks
was connected to medicine from the around the Common Era. The common
vocabulary and basic assumptions it shared with early Āyurveda about the
human body suggest that the diviner and the physician were familiar with
the same sources and perhaps even lived and worked in the same communal
environment.
One of the most interesting episodes that we shall explore in the story of the
transmission of this warrior-based system of knowledge is the version found in
Buddhist literature used for identifying the Buddha. This is counterbalanced in
the Sanskrit epic literature, where a brief enumeration of a numerical system
of marks is used to distinguish King Rāma from his brother Lakṣmaṇa in the
epic, Rāmāyaṇa. In the case of the Buddha, since he is traditionally taken to
be a member of the warrior caste, known as the Śākya-tribe in northern India,
a problem most certainly must have arisen among the early followers of the
Buddha: how to distinguish this Muni from the rest of the Śākyas. The easiest
way was to decide on a fixed number of marks suitable to him. The number
thirty-two was appropriate because it fell midway between thirty-three and
thirty-one,4 two numbers found in the brahmanic versions of the marks of men.
About half of the thirty-two were normal marks of warriors and soldiers, and
4 One might even speculate that thirty-two is auspicious for the Buddhist because it was
halfway between thirty-three, the number of gods in the early brahmanic pantheon (3×11),
and thirty-one, which is a prime number and therefore spoils the flow of divisions.
xii preface
the other half was specifically designated to apply only to Śākyamuni. So, the
knowledge of the system of human marks has implications for understanding
the social, religious and cultural history of ancient India.
Before launching into the fascinating and largely unexplored literature of
bodily omens, I should like to correct some mistakes made in previous works.
In my exploratory essay on “Indian traditions of physiognomy: Preliminary
remarks,”5 I claimed that since the Purāṇas were virtually timeless collections
of ancient Indian folklore and wisdom, the earliest versions of the human
marks were contained in them. As we shall soon see, this was a premature
and not entirely correct assumption. In fact, a good deal of purāṇic verses
on the human marks derive from previous sources, the most common being
the Bṛhatsaṃhitā. Nevertheless, many verses are untraceable to other sources,
so that the Purāṇas hold much that is unique, especially in the cases of the
women's marks.
Finally, in my previous book in the Sir Henry Wellcome Asian Series, Conju-
gal Love in India,6 I analysed verses found in the Ratiśāstras in comparison to
those from several Purāṇas. I now know that the editions of the Purāṇas I used
were defective. Therefore, the preferred readings to those cited passages from
the Purāṇas in the early work are contained in the current work, so that the
reader should consult them in Parts II and III, below.
A few words about the structure of the work will help to orient the reader to
volumes one and two. Volume one is divided in two parts. Part I is devoted to
the history and literature of the system of human marks as found primarily in
the Sanskrit sources, but also points to some of the important Prakrit versions.
Part II encompasses the text and translation of the Sanskrit treatises mentioned
in chapters I–III of Part I. The translations are made reader-friendly by the
minimal use of parentheses, which are employed to enclose a parenthetical
remark or where context fails to supply missing words. Finally, volume two
contains only one part, Part III. It takes up the textual variants and philology
for the textual editions and their translations and includes an appendix, listing
the body parts of both men and women and where they mentioned in the
translations.
I have now reached the point at which I can say no more for the moment on
the subject of the Indian system of human marks and beg the reader's indul-
gence for overlooked information and uncorrected mistakes in the text. It has
5 in Knut A. Jacobsen, ed. Theory and Practice of Yoga. Essays in Honour of Gerarld James Larson.
Numen Book Series. Studies in the History of Religions, Vol. 110. Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2005,
pp. 435–443.
6 K.G. Zysk, Conjugal Love in India (Leiden: Brill, 2002).
preface xiii
been a fascinating journey over many literary and non-literary pathways, which
I hope the reader may want to travel. Many people have joined me on this
adventure at different points along the way. Space prohibits me from mention-
ing them all, but to all of them I am most grateful for insights, encouragements,
criticisms and even money. Two need to be singled out for special mention. My
colleague Erik Sand deserves my deepest appreciation, for he read the entire
text with an Indologist’s eye, while an earlier version benefitted from a close
reading by my friend and inspiration, Jan Meulenbeld.
Lyndby, 29 October 2015

Abbreviations
ĀĀ Ānandāśrama Sanskrit Series

Ah Aṣṭāṅgahṛdayasaṃhitā
AP Agnipurāṇa
Ar Anaṅgaraṅga
As Aṣṭāṅgasaṃgraha
Bbh Bodhisattvabhūmi
BHS Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit
BHSD Edgerton, Franklin, Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit Dictionary
BHS Grammar Edgerton, Franklin, Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit Grammar
BhvP Bhaviṣyapurāṇa
BI Mitra, Rājendralāla, ed., Agnipurāṇam in Bibliotheca Indica Series
.
BN Bibliothèque Nationale (Paris)

BORI Bhandarakara Oriental Research Institute, Poona
BS Bṛhatsaṃhitā
B1 BORI 814 (854/1887–1891): BS with Bhaṭṭotpala’s Vivṛti
B2 BORI 813 (415/A1881–1882): BS with Bhaṭṭotpala’s Vivṛti
Ca Carakasaṃhitā
Cakra Cakrapāṇidatta
CDIAL R.L. Turner, A Comparative Dictionary of the Indo-Aryan Languages.
CESS Census of the Exact Science in Sanskrit
Cg Govindarāja’s Rāmāyaṇabhūṣaṇa
Ci Cikitsāsthāna
Cm Maheśvaratīrtha’s Rāmāyaṇatattvadīpikā
CPD Critical Pāli Dictionary
Cr Vaṃśīdhara Śivarahāya’s Rāmāyaṇaśiromaṇi.
Ct Nāgeśabhaṭṭa’s Tilaka (commentary on the Rāmāyaṇa).
G Govindarāja’s Rāmāyaṇabhūṣaṇa
Dave, Birds K.N. Dave, Birds in Sanskrit Literature.
DB T.W. Rhys Davids and C.A.F. Rhys Davids trans. Dialogues of the Bud-
dha.
Ḍ Ḍalhaṇa’s commentary on the Suśrutasaṃhitā.
Dh Dharmasaṃgraha
DN Dīghanikāya
Garga Gārgīyajyotiṣa
GMG Gurumaṇḍalagranthamālā
GP Garuḍapurāṇa
Gv Gaṇḍavyūha
abbreviations xv
Hazra, SPR Hazra, Studies in the Purāṇic records on Hindu rites and customs
HDŚ P.V. Kane, History of Dharmaśāstra
In Indriyasthāna
JmJ Jyotirmahānibandha, Jātakakhaṇḍa (14).
KPe Kern, H. ed. The Bṛhat Saṃhitā.
KSS Kāśī Sanskrit Series
KVS K.V. Sharma, ed. Bṛhatsaṃhitā with Yogīśvara’s Utpalaparimala
Mayrhofer Wb Mayrhofer, Manfred. Kurgefasstes etymologisches Wörterbuch des Alt-
indischen. 3 vols.
L Rajendralal Mitra, Notices of Sanskrit Manuscripts.
LV, LVa, LVb Lalitavistara
M Maheśvaratīrtha’s Rāmāyaṇatattvadīpikā
Manu Mānavadharmaśāstra
Mbh Mahābhārata
MLS I.B. Horner, trans., The Middle Length Sayings
MN Majjhimanikāya
Mu Śivatattvaratnākara, ed. by Śri R. Rāma Rau (Madras, 1927)
Mv Mahāvastu
Mvy Mahāvyupatti
MW Monier-Williams, Sanskrit-English Dictionary
N Nāgeśabhaṭṭa’s Tilaka
NGMPP Nepal-German Manuscript Preservation Project
Ni Nidānasthāna
Pa Pāli
Pk Prakrit
PPe S.N. Prasad, ed., Kalyāṇamalla’s Anaṅgaraṅgam
R Rāmānanda’s ṭīkā on the Kāśīkhaṇḍa
RāmS Rāmāyaṇa, Sundarakāṇḍa
Rp Rāṣṭrapātaparipṛcchā
Rr Ratiramaṇa
S Sāmudrika I from mss.
Śā Śārīrasthāna
Samudra Utpala’s Samudra
Si Siddhisthāna
ŚkāK Śārdūlakarṇāvadāna, Kanyālakṣana
ŚkāP Śārdālakarṇāvadāna, Pāṇilekhā
SM Sujikumar Mukhopadhyaya, ed. Śārdūlakarṇāvadāna
SPe Printed edition of Sāmudrikatilaka
SPK Skandapurāṇa, Kāśīkhaṇḍa
Śtr Śivatattvaratnakāra
xvi abbreviations
Su Suśrutasaṃhitā
Sū Sūtrasthāna
U Utpala’s commentary on the Bṛhatsaṃhitā
US Utpala’s Samudra
Utt Uttaratantra (Su); Uttarasthāna (Ah, As)
V Vaṃśīdhara’s Rāmāyaṇaśiromaṇi
Vār Skandapurāṇa, Kāśīkhaṇḍa (Vārāṇasi: Sampurnanand Sanskrit Uni-
versity, 1996)
VDhP Viṣṇudharmottarapurāṇa
Veṅ Veṅkaṭeśvara Steam Mudraṇālaya (Press)
Vm Viramitrodaya (Lakṣaṇaprakāśaḥ) (number in parenthesis = page)
VPe Vāranāsi edition with Bhaṭṭotpala’s commentary
Y Yogīśvara’s Utpalaparimala
Introduction
An independent Sanskrit textbook or śāstra devoted to the human marks prob-

ably did not appear in India until the twelfth century CE, when Durlabharāja
and his son, Jagaddeva, composed the Sāmudrikatilaka. The title of this text
derives from the semi-mythical Samudra, whom the tradition regarded as the
first author of Indian physiognomy. Prior to this time, however, there is evi-
dence that physiognomy, known as puruṣa- and strīlakṣaṇa, or the marks of
men and women, was already part of the corpus of brahmanic learning and
had gained the status of a śāstra or textbook of authoritative knowledge.
Like Indian medicine or Āyurveda, the precise origins of the system of
human marks are unknown and may ultimately look to traditions other than
Indian for its inspiration, since both knowledge systems entered the Indian
intellectual tradition as well-defined and circumscribed bodies of literature.
Moreover, as we shall soon see, the evidence indicates that both were closely
related to each other and could well have been part of a common intellectual
environment. It is possible that the two became separated with the rise of the
early ascetic movements that became known as Buddhism and Jainism, since
medicine was preserved and transmitted by the former and physiognomy and
other forms of divination by the latter.
The earliest Sanskrit examples of the human marks came in the form of
single chapters in the early astrological compilations of Jyotiḥśāstra and in
several major collections of Old Stories, known as Purāṇas. Earlier versions
of the system of marks, especially of men, appear to have been formulated in
Prakrit (and perhaps vernacular languages), which constituted the art forms
(kalā) taught to rulers and members of the princely orders. Evidence of its
Prakrit beginnings occurs already in the oldest Sanskrit version preserved in
the Gārgīyajyotiṣa from the beginning of the Common Era, where examples of
imperfect Sanskrit constructions and of Prakrit or vernacular words betray a
work in transition. Our study focuses on the Sanskrit sources, which to date are
quite abundant.
The human marks presented in these Sanskrit versions were codified in
two separate collections of verses: the marks of men (puruṣalakṣaṇa) with
the marks of women (strīlakṣaṇa). These verses offered predictions based on
a detailed examination of men’s and women’s body parts, including the lines
on the soles of the feet and on the palms of the hands and sometimes on
the forehead and the neck. Beginning with the toes and ending with the hair
on the head, the standard method of investigation systematically moved up
the body; on women it began on the left side and on men on the right side.
© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004299825_002

2 introduction
In addition to gross anatomy, other human characteristics or “basic marks”

also received attention for information associated the state of an individual’s
past life with the condition and duration of a person’s current life. Marks
included aspects such as the body’s lustre or sheen, the voice, the body’s
scent, the way the body moved, and an individual’s general character and
demeanour. It is precisely these basic marks and the toe-to-head method of
investigation that will allow us to forge a connection with early Greek thinking
about physiognomy. Other features of the Indian system of human marks help
to link it with ancient Mesopotamian physiognomy, which in all likelihood was
its original inspiration. These other features concern its overall structure and
division into male and female marks and the occurrence of unique signs like
the twisting of the body parts, blemishes on the skin, and involuntary twitches.
Internal evidence indicates that originally the privileged classes, most nota-
bly the princely Kṣatriyas, were the principal benefactors of this form of divina-
tion. But, later śāstric versions lack specific reference to warriors and princes.
This omission allowed the system to be applied to privileged people in gen-
eral—especially the Brahman-priests. The system of human marks came to
hold a significant place in the brahmanic social and political systems since it
accomplished two important purposes: 1. the establishment of a man’s heirship
and right of succession to ownership and leadership and the determination of
his suitability as a spouse; and 2. the determination of a woman’s suitability as
a partner in arranged marriages. This form of divination was used to determine
a man’s future prosperity and fitness to be a leader and head of the household
and a woman’s fertility and suitability as a wife and a mother. It is for these rea-
sons that the codified collections of verses on the human marks subsequently
found their way into certain collections of Indian law and customs called the
Smṛtinibandhas, into textbooks on erotic love known as Kāmaśāstra, and text-
books on lawful conjugal love known as Ratiśāstras.
The Human Marks as a System of Knowledge
The first systematic presentation of the bodily marks is found in one chapter in
the Gārgīyajyotiṣa from around the first century CE. It is followed by a formu-
lation in two chapters by Varāhamihira in his sixth century Bṛhatsaṃhitā. Both
texts establish the principal doctrines of the brahmanical system of knowledge
called Jyotiḥśāstra, “The Science of the Stars.” Omens concerning the human
marks are traditionally a part of this system. The inclusion of the puruṣa- and
strīlakṣaṇas as separate chapters in a recognised brahmanic śāstra allowed the
ancient art form of divining the human body to be preserved for posterity.
introduction 3
Moreover, various connections link content in the verses from these two trea-
tises to the early system of Āyurveda—especially the system presented in the
Carakasaṃhitā, which was being compiled at about the same time that Garga
composed his treatise on Jyotiṣa.
Besides the early compilations of Jyotiḥśāstra, versions of the human marks
were collected and preserved in the literature of the Purāṇas, which are known
to be traditional storehouses of timeless Indian folklore and local customs.
Although many of the purāṇic transmissions of the human marks derive from
early Jyotiḥśāstra versions, some of the verses come from different, as yet
unidentified sources. The purāṇic versions occur as individual chapters fitted
into sections that deal with Jyotiḥśāstra or Dharmaśāstra. In this way, the sys-
tem of human marks found a niche among two important brahmanic systems
of knowledge.
The version of marks found at Bhaviṣyapurāṇa 1.24 is particularly important
because it sets forth the mythical origins of the system. The son of the Hindu
god Śiva was its divine source. At a certain point, knowledge of the human
marks was thrown into and lost in the great salt-water sea because of Īśvara’s
wrath. However, at the request of Lord Kṛṣṇa, Samudra, the Sea-god, recovered
it and passed it on to Bāhuleya (i.e., Skanda), who finally presented it in the
form of the verses in the Purāṇa.
In terms of Indian literary history, the establishment of its divine origin and
its transmission to humans was a crucial step in the process of turning a body of
useful knowledge into an authoritative and eventually independent śāstra. The
Jyotiṣa-versions mention its divine source, but the Purāṇas fill in the details of
the mythological origins. These details sanctioned the system of human marks
as something to be included with verses on other brahmanical systems; its
repeated inclusion would have paved the way for its eventual establishment
as an independent system of knowledge or śāstra.
Manuscript evidence indicates that several treatises have the name Sāmu-
drikaśāstra, by which we understand that it originated with Samudra, the Sea-
god. Unfortunately, it is impossible to determine with any accuracy when any of
these treatises were composed. However, by the last half of the twelfth century,
we can be certain that the system of human marks had been formulated into an
independent treatise. At that time, Durlabharāja and his son, Jagaddeva, culled
and reworked material from different transmissions into verses of āryā-metre
to compose the Sāmudrikatilaka. Like the verses in the Bṛhatsaṃhitā, the āryā-
verses of the Sāmudrikatilaka have a close affinity with the verses found in some
of the later Purāṇas, from which they partly derived. From the twelfth century,
the system of human marks or Sāmudrikaśāstra was widely accepted as a legit-
imate brahmanic system of knowledge and was incorporated into the popular,
4 introduction
late mediaeval Smṛtinibandhas and the texts of Kāmaśāstra and Ratiśāstra, as

mentioned above.
The encyclopaedic Smṛtinibandhas of the seventeenth and eighteenth cen-
turies point to another stage in its literary development. The compilers of
these great works of brahmanic learning extracted verses from existing sources
and organised them in a systematic manner, so that virtually every part of
the human body was covered from foot to head. The earliest version in the
Jyotiḥśāstra compilations presents this method of organisation. Later authors
further refined it, so that every mark found its appropriate anatomical place in
the overall structure of the human body. The authors of these Nibandhas were
not merely transmitters; they were also innovators in terms of structure and
organisation.
While the earlier authors devoted themselves to reformulating existing ma-
terials to fit the structure of Sanskrit śāstric literature, the later compilers
were occupied with organising the śāstric verses into a system that was better
adapted to the human body. In this way, their task was to assemble and system-
atise the existing knowledge rather than the creation of new knowledge.
The story of the transmission of human marks reveals a familiar theme in
Indian literary history. First, a body of information useful to Brahmans is trans-
formed into a system of knowledge via translation into didactic Sanskrit verses
that mention its divine origin. Secondly, the body of information takes on a
mythological evolution that associates details with the pantheon of Hindu gods
and demigods. This process of Sanskritisation and Brahmanism permitted use-
ful information to become part of legitimate brahmanic knowledge and even-
tually to develop into an independent system or śāstra. The Hindu medical sci-
ence of Āyurveda, with which the system of human marks had similarities, has
a very similar evolutionary history. By the mediaeval period, a well-established
and refined system of the human marks had been incorporated into the ency-
clopaedias of brahmanic learning, while parallel versions in Prakrit and vernac-
ular languages were bringing it to a wider population.
This brief literary history of the Indian system of human marks in ancient
and mediaeval India allows us to understand its evolution into a brahmanic
science and its transmission over time. It highlights an important by-product
of the priestly transmission of certain śāstras: the preservation of information
from the past, which would otherwise have been lost. Independent Sanskrit
textbooks often evolved by means of assimilating and recasting information
that derived ultimately from antique sources. Thus, information preserved
in Sanskrit verses became part of the common store of folklore via constant
retelling.
introduction 5
The Principal Characteristics of the System of Human Marks
Taken as a whole, several basic and common features are witnessed in the
structure and content of the groups of Sanskrit verses that make up the knowl-
edge system of the human marks. The fundamental form of the system was
already established with the earliest transmissions in the literature of Jyotiḥśās-
tra, but refinements and additions continued to occur over time. Eventually
the once integrated folk tradition of palmistry (Rekhāśāstra) also emerged as
a separate literary tradition, distinguished from the rest of the human marks
(Sāmudrikaśāstra).
Structure
Almost all presentations of the marks of men and women have a basic structure
based on gender. The structure entails two chapters or sections: the marks
of men (puruṣa- or naralakṣaṇa) and the marks of women or girls (strī- or
kanyālakṣaṇa). There is a further division into auspicious (śubha, śasta) and
inauspicious (aśubha, aśasta) marks for each gender. In the earlier Jyotiḥśāstra
treatises, the second division assumes two forms also based on gender: in men,
the inauspicious marks follow directly from the auspicious marks; in women,
they are separated into two distinct sections. However, in some of the later
purāṇic transmissions, to harmonise the section on the women’s marks with
that of the men’s, the inauspicious marks follow directly from the auspicious
marks.1 In the earliest compilation of the Gārgīyajyotiṣa, the men’s marks do
not follow this pattern, indicating an independent origin.
Form and Content

Like the structure, the form and technique of the Indian system of human
marks tends to be consistent through time. It entails a presentation of the
human body beginning from the toes and moving systematically up to the hair
of the head. Only rarely is the reverse formulation encountered. Sometimes
the body is divided into different sections, but these divisions are inconsis-
tent and represent anomalous versions of the human body. The number of
body parts bearing marks tends to increase with time, so that by the time
of the Sāmudrikatikaka, the number of marks is nearly double that found in
1 See Kāśīkhaṇḍa 37 of the Skandapurāṇa and Bhaviṣyapurāṇa 1.5. There are indications that
the transition from the one method found in Garga and BS to the other in BhvP and SPK was
under way in Utpala’s Samudra, where a mixture of the two methods is found.
6 introduction
the Jyotiḥśāstras.2 The men’s marks in Garga and the woman’s marks in the
Śārdūlakarṇāvadana are two examples where the strict toe-to-head formula-
tion is not maintained. Once again, this points to independent formulations.
Palmistry, which included the lines on the soles, palms, and forehead, was
originally part of the basic anatomical formulation. In the early versions, it
formed a separate section in the overall presentation of the individual bodily
marks. In the mediaeval compilations, the three locations of the lines (soles,
palms and forehead) are found at their anatomically appropriate place in the
enumeration of the marks. At about the same time, independent textbooks in
Sanskrit began to appear. Today both vernacular and Western language ver-
sions are available.
The system of lines appeared in two forms: as lines and as the symbols
they represent. Applied only to women in Garga, it was used for both genders
by Varāhamihira and by those who followed him. It eventually evolved its
own literature among the communities of Jains. Both forms complement each
other, but the symbolic form is unique to India, while the analysis of the lines
eventually combined both Western and Indian palmistry.
In addition to the toe-to-head anatomical formulations, two other types of
presentations of the human marks are common in different transmissions. One
involves a type of numerology of marks, which expresses the body parts in
terms of numbers. This form points to a type of mnemonic system applied to
learning the parts of the body and is unique to India. It will be discussed in
chapter V.
The other presentation of marks involves the so-called “basic marks,” which
primarily applied to men. The basic marks were used to determine the length
of a man’s life and relied on the fundamental pan-Indian concept of karman
and rebirth. This concept is implied in Garga and made explicit in Varāhami-
hira. Principally pertaining to men, the basic marks occur in one version of
the women’s marks in an effort to harmonise them with the men’s marks.3 The
basic marks take up almost the entire section of the men’s marks in the Gārgīya-
jyotiṣa and provide a vital link both to early āyurvedic thinking in India and to
early Greek physiognomy.
The Basic Marks

The basic marks constitute a unique aspect of the Indian system of human
marks, for they include both body and mind as essential parts of the human-
2 The list of body parts for both men and women and their locations in the various versions
found in Part II is an appendix to Part III.
3 See Skandapurāṇa, Kāśīkhaṇḍa 37.
introduction 7
being to be examined and evaluated. Moreover, as a group they bear close

resemblance to the so-called “sources” of Aristotelian physiognomy.
The earliest list of the basic marks is found in Garga’s formulation of the
marks of men, where they comprise the majority of marks under investigation.
The list consists of eight marks: bodily radiance, which includes natural glow
(prabhā) and artificial oily sheen (sneha, snigdha); scent (gandha); character
(sattva); eyes (akṣi, netra, cakṣus, dṛṣṭi, īkṣaṇa); body movement/deportment or
gait (gati); voice (svara, sarasvatī); size and form (pramāṇa, saṃsthāna); and
complexion (varṇa).
A slightly different and expanded list of the basic marks occurs in the Bṛhat-
saṃhitā. It consists of thirteen marks said to be based on Samudra, which were
used to determine a man’s past ( yāta) and future (anāgata). With minor varia-
tions, this list is most often found in subsequent transmissions. Several of these
marks also occur in Garga (indicated in bold): height (unmāna), weight (māna),
bodily movement/deportment (gati), bodily cohesion (saṃhita), state of the
bodily tissues (sāra), complexion (varṇa), oiliness/smoothness (sneha), voice
(svara), natural state (prakṛti), character (sattva), former life (anūka), group
of (ten) bodily fields (kṣetra), and skin’s lustre (mṛjā). In addition to bringing
in clearly the concept of rebirth and the experience of former life (anūka),
Varāhamihira elaborates on Garga’s size and form (pramāṇa, saṃsthāna) by
means of height and weight. He includes the notion of natural state (prakṛti)
found in the Sanskrit philosophical tradition of Sāṃkhya, which is actually a
variation of character (sattva) taken from Garga. He also draws on early med-
ical ideas with his use of the bodily tissues (sāra) and replaces Garga’s bodily
radiance (prabhā) with bodily lustre (mṛjā), both of which occurs in Āyurveda.4
In the early medical literature, the word mṛjā has the meaning “scrubbing
the body clean” (śarīramārjana) in Caraka5 and “pure bodily radiance” (śud-
dhaprabhā) in Suśruta,6 which is connected to the notion of natural bodily
glow (prabhā). In this way, the Bṛhatsaṃhitā’s version of the principal marks
includes terminology common to both Indian philosophy and early Āyurveda.
4 At Vm (40), Mitramiśra equates bodily lustre (mṛjā) with shadow-like aura (chāyā), which is
discussed in early Āyurveda (see below “Garga and Āyurveda”).
5 See in particular Cakra’s comments to CaNi 4.5 and Si 11.29, and CaVi 7.10.
6 See in particular, Ḍalhaṇa’s comments to SuCi 24.30 and 39 (where the variant of ms P is
śuddhaprabhā).
8 introduction
The Human Marks and Indian Medicine
The relationship between the system of the human marks and early Indian
medicine is not difficult to conceive. Both rely on a sophisticated understand-
ing of the human body. The form of numerical physiognomy points to tech-
niques for memorising the various parts of the body and both systems share
technical terminology. It is evident that physicians and diviners skilled in the
human marks came from the same social background and shared a common
basis of knowledge.
The most apparent similarities between medicine and physiognomy occur
in the earliest compilations of the human marks found in the Gārgīyajyotiṣa
and Bṛhatsaṃhitā. The former originates from around the same time as the
Carakasaṃhitā (first century CE). The latter dates just prior to the medical com-
pendia of Aṣṭāṅgahṛdayasaṃhitā and the Aṣṭāṅgasaṃgraha, both of which
were composed in the seventh century CE. With time, the transmissions of the
system of human marks took on its own terminology and elements that distin-
guished it from the ideas of Āyurveda, so that the two systems developed on
separate, if parallel, tracks.
Numerous examples of āyurvedic thinking have been noticed in Garga’s
compilation of both the male and the female marks, indicating a common
basis of knowledge for both literary traditions. Examples of medical think-
ing are found in terms that derive from a common body of technical ter-
minology, beginning with longevity (āyuḥ)7 and including doṣa8 and words
for the bodily tissues (dhātus).9 Also, to characterise and codify various male
character-types (sattva), they both draw on a common store of names for dif-
ferent beings from brahmanic mythology and a shared folklore.10 In the realm
of toxicology, especially snake-bites, for which the Indians were renowned by
the classical historians of antiquity,11 it would appear that the man, who knew
7 Gārgīyajyotiṣa 1.24, 28, 45–46, 76, and 78; 2.25. References below to verses in volumes
identified as 1 or 2 assume Gārgīyajyotiṣa chapters 1 and 2.
8 1.68; 2.1, and 64.
9 1.28. At 2.84, the word ghāṭāla, meaning temple-bone, seems to have derived from Āyur-
veda (see comments in the translation to the verse, below).
10 1.87–111.
11 See Arrian, Indica (15.11–12). Text and translation found at E.I. Robson, trans., Arrian, vol. 2
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1958), pp. 350–353. See K. Zysk, “The evo-
lution of anatomical knowledge in ancient India, with special reference to cross-cultural
influences,” Journal of the American Oriental Society, 106 (1986), p. 685.
introduction 9
about poison darts (i.e., a military toxicologist), could also read death in a man’s
eyes.12
Perhaps the most interesting and revealing resemblance is the similarity
of passages in Garga with information in sections devoted to the signs of
imminent death (ariṣṭa) in the medical compendia of Caraka and Suśruta.
These sections are called the Indriyasthāna in both Caraka and Bhela, but
are included in briefer form in the Sūtrasthāna of Suśruta.13 The recognised
similarities fall into two distinct categories: the three objects of the senses and
the bodily glows and auras.
The Three Objects of the Senses

Among the eight basic marks mentioned by Garga, three tend to dominate.
They occur numerous times throughout the chapter on the marks of men and
to a lesser extent in the chapter on marks of women. They are not so much
anatomical parts, but rather objects perceived by the senses (indriya), hence
their inclusion in the Indriyasthāna of Caraka and Bhela. The three are:
1. complexion (varṇa) via sight14

2. voice (svara, svana) via sound15
3. scent (gandha) via smell,16 which is a synonym of character (sattva).17
The first two chapters of Caraka’s Indriyasthāna discuss these same three as
sense-objects. They are the first of forty-seven factors from which imminent
death can be detected by means of direct observation (pratyakṣa), inference
(anumāna), and proper instruction (upadeśa).18 The first chapter starts with a
prose description of the three factors, beginning with complexion.
12 1.71. This is understandable, because eyes betray a person’s imminent death by poison. Cf.
Garga 1.56, where a flaming eye is one affected with poison.
13 SuSū 28, in the context of treating wounds (vraṇa), 30, the objects of the five senses
(pañcendriya), 31, the shadow-like auras (chāyā); and 35, attendance to the patient (ātur-
opakramaṇīya). Similar versions with some new material are found at AhŚā 5 and AsŚā
9–11, which contain information from Suśruta. Bhela has a book called Indriyasthāna (5),
but in a different configuration of chapters. Those corresponding to the material in Caraka
are as follows (italicised words are the same in both): varṇa: śyāvīyam (5), pūrvarūpīyam
(6); svara: pūrvarūpīyam (6); gandha: puṣpīyam (11). Chapter 11, chāyādhyāyaṃ, “the chap-
ter on shadow-like auras,” will be discussed below.
14 1.15, 34, 70(?), and 83; 2.52 and 94.
15 1.15, 18, 20, 27, 34–35, 70, 77, and 79–82; 2.50–52, and 94.
16 1.31–33, 83, 93–95, and 103; 2.56, and 95.
17 See 1.93–95.
18 CaIn 1.2–3. Cakra explains that on the basis of CaSū 10.8, which recommends that a
10 introduction
Complexion
Colour is the principal visual means used in the categorising of complexion
(varṇa). Natural body complexions (prakṛtivarṇa) are dark blue, swarthy, daz-
zling black, and dazzling white or pure; morbid (vaikārika) bodily complexions
are dark blue, dark brown, copper coloured, green, and pale.19
Garga specifies that in men complexion is more important than deportment,
but voice is more important than complexion; man’s character (sattva) is the
ultimate determining factor20 and a yellow complexion is inauspicious.21 Here,
the yellow colour, commonly associated with jaundice, finds semantic similar-
ities with the more nuanced medical account of the colours of copper, green,
and pale.
For females, Garga specifies the auspicious complexions in terms of the
colour of clarified butter, of honey, of Campaka flowers, lotus blossoms, and the
flowers or leaves of the Indian beech tree.22 These auspicious female protases
point to a lighter complexion among women in comparison to the darker
complexions in the Caraka Saṃhitā—except for the person who is “dazzling
white or pure,” which suggests albinism, a condition not infrequent in northern
India. The distinction between people with lighter and darker complexions
could point to delineation between northern and southern racial types.
Voice
Sound is the principal means used to categorise voice (svara). The natural
human voice (prakṛtisvara) resembles the following: a Haṃsa-bird,23 a crane,24
the clattering rims of wheels, a kettledrum (dundubhi), a Magpie Robin,25 a
physician not treat hopeless cases, this book is placed between anatomy (Śārirasthāna)
and treatment (Cikitsāsthāna).
19 CaIn 1.8–9: tad yathā– kṛṣṇaḥ śyāmaḥ (var. pā: kṛṣṇaśyāmaḥ) śyāmāvadātaḥ avadātaś
ceti prativarṇāḥ śarīrasya bhavanti; … nīlaśyāvatāmraharitaśuklāś ca varṇāḥ śarīrasya
vaikārikā bhavanti; …
20 1.15.
21 1.70.
22 2.52.
23 Cf. below, vv. 1.41; 2.50–51, 53.
24 Cf. below, v. 2.53.
25 K.N. Dave mentions that among the three song-birds that have the name kalaviṅka, it is
the Magpie Robin that is most common on both the plains and the outer Himālayas. Of
the others, Śama is common in the plains and hills and the Blackbird in the Himālayas.
The latter is one of the best-known songsters, for which it was often a cage bird. He goes on
to point out that the kalaviṅka is recognised for its good voice especially in both Pāli and
introduction 11
crow,26 a dove, and is worn out ( jarjara). Morbid (vaikārika) voices resemble
the bleating of sheep or goats, are inarticulate, slurred, indistinct, stuttering
(gadgada), hoarse (kṣāma) and pained (dīna).27
Garga with reference to Samudra cites five auspicious qualities of a man’s
voice: deep, like a kettledrum (dundubhi), smooth, grand, and resonating with
tenderness.28 The following are qualities he associates with inauspicious
voices: discordant, intense, broken, hoarse (kṣāma), accompanied with fear,
excessive, very rough, tapers off, and faint;29 and with reference to Samudra:
stammering, worn out ( jarjarita), vulgar, stuttering (gadgada), hoarse (kṣāma),
and pained (ārta).30 There is considerable agreement between Caraka and
Garga with reference to Samudra here—especially in the last three voices. This
agreement points to an association between Samudra (via Garga) and Caraka.
However, where Caraka lists a worn-out voice ( jarjara) as auspicious, Garga
lists it more appropriately as inauspicious, in spite of Cakrapāṇidatta’s guess
that jarjara refers to a kind of musical instrument.31 The same also applies to
the voice of the crow and dove,32 since these birds are nearly always inauspi-
cious. It is likely that Caraka’s version relied on a transmission that included
the auspicious and inauspicious voices in one group as are the auspicious and
inauspicious types of scent (below). Similar to the morbid (vaikārika) quality
found in the previous section on complexion, vaikārika-voices were added later
to create a parallel construction in discussion of the characteristics. This lack of
agreement between Caraka and Samudra (via Garga) probably results from the
confusion between two versions in Caraka, while the Jyotiṣa-version of Garga
is consistent and probably the correct one.
Sanskrit Buddhist literature as well as in the epics, Purāṇas, and Kāvya literature (Birds,
pp. 49–52).
26 Cf. below, v. 2.92, where inauspicious female hair is compared to a crow’s feathers.
27 CaIn 1.14: svarādhikāras tu—haṃsakrauñcanemidundubhikalaviṅkakākakapotajarjarānu-
kārāḥ prakṛtisvarā bhavanti; … eḍaka(var. pā śuka)kalagrahagrastāvyaktagadgadakṣāma-
dīnanukīrṇas tv āturāṇāṃ svarā vaikārikā bhavanti; … Cakra glosses jarjara as a kind of
musical instrument (vādyabhāṇḍaviśeṣaḥ); kṣāma as harsh (rūkṣaḥ), and pained as voices
uttered with pain (duḥkhoccāryamāṇasvaraḥ).
28 1.77.
29 1.80.
30 1.81.
31 See footnote 27, above.
32 The crow is universally inauspicious. On the inauspiciousness of the dove, see below,
Garga verses 2.42, 44.
12 introduction
Garga mentions that auspicious female voices resemble Haṃsa-birds, ket-

tledrums, the clattering rims of wheels, thunderclouds, blowing conches, pea-
cocks, Koels, Bar-headed Geese, Sheldrakes, and tinkling bracelets;33 the inaus-
picious female is voiceless.34 Here again there is similarity with Caraka in terms
of Haṃsa-birds, and the clattering rims of wheels (nemi). Caraka’s mention of
cranes (krauñca) and Haṃsas points to waterbirds of the northwestern and
western parts of the subcontinent.
Caraka concludes the first chapter of the Indriyasthāna with nine easily
memorised ślokas, which essentially summarise the previous prose passages.
Garga also appears to follow this process of transmission from prose to verse.35
Scent
Smell is the principal sense faculty used to categorise scent (gandha). The
second chapter of Caraka’s Indriyasthāna begins with a discussion of scent as
an indicator of imminent death. Here, Caraka employs the word puṣpitaka,
“pertaining to that which has flowered,” as the meaning for this sense-object
that indicates imminent death, and provides an analogy to help explain what
he means:
Just as a flower is the early form in this world of a future fruit, so the sign,
called “ariṣṭa,” is the early form of a future death.36
Caraka explains that, when a patient emits an odour, as numerous flowers do

both day and night, the wise call him “flowered” by means of the marks of death.
In other words, a patient who has produced a scent will soon wither and die.37
Caraka goes on to enumerate the auspicious scents as Sandalwood, Costus,
Indian Valeria, Aloeswood, honey, and garland; and the inauspicious scents
as urine and faeces (mūtrapurīṣa), dead animals, and corpses.38 The first set
indicates life, and the second, death.
33 2.50–51.
34 2.94.
35 See, below, Part III.
36 CaIn 2.3: puṣpaṃ yathā pūrvarūpaṃ phalasyeha bhaviṣataḥ, tathā liṅgam ariṣṭākhyaṃ
pūrvarūpaṃ mariṣyataḥ.
37 CaIn 2.8–9b: nānāpuṣpopamo gandho yasya bhāti (var. pā: vāti) divāniśam, puṣpitasya
vanasyeva nānādrumalatāvataḥ. tamāhuḥ puṣpitaṃ dhīrā naraṃ maraṇalakṣaṇaiḥ.
38 CaIn 2.13: tad yathā—candanaṃ kuṣṭhaṃ tagarāguruṇī madhu, mālyaṃ mūtrapurīṣe ca
mṛtāni (var.pā: ghṛtāni) kuṇapāni ca. Translation follows Cakra, who explains that the two
introduction 13
Garga states that the auspicious male scents are good-smelling bladders,
sweet, pleasant, fragrant, or like a flower garden; and that inauspicious odours
are sour or pungent, like onions and garlic, and like semen, blood, fat, marrow
(cf. āyurvedic dhātus), faeces or urine (viṇmūtra).39 Caraka and Garga both
specifically mention faeces and urine as inauspicious smells.
Auspicious female scents resemble blossoms of the Saffron tree, the Blue
Lotus or Golden Campaka tree;40 and the inauspicious female odour is like a
herd of elephant calves.41
Although Garga and Caraka do not match each other on every point, there is
sufficient agreement to indicate that the Jyotiṣa and the early medical uses of
auspicious and inauspicious complexions, voices, and scents share a common
source. The system of human marks from Garga’s collection was probably more
archaic.
What Garga and Caraka did with this information was, however, rather dif-
ferent. Caraka employed the three sense-objects to help determine a patient’s
longevity (āyuḥ) and Garga used them to help classify men and women as
either idolised/adored or abhorred/despised.
Suśruta offers a slightly different version of the material found in Caraka and
focuses on scent in the context of the treatment of wounds (vraṇa).42 Moreover,
to determine longevity (āyuḥ), he uses measurement (pramāṇa) of the major
and minor parts of the body (aṅgapratyaṅga) and the essences (sāra, i.e., dhātu,
sattva, etc.).43 Garga also mentions relative body size in relation to longevity,44
which indicates that like Caraka, Suśruta probably had some source in common
with Garga.
auspicious and inauspicious omens are in the same verse and that mṛtāni are carcasses
of dead cows, etc., but not humans, and kuṇapāni are human corpses (tad yathetyād-
inā śubhāśubhadravyāṇy āha. mṛtānīti mānuṣavyatiriktāni gavādīni mṛtāni, kuṇapāni tu
mānuṣaśarīrāṇi). This pattern of providing the auspicious and inauspicious marks side
by side in one section is probably the model followed above at CaIn 1.14. This may have
caused the confusion about the meaning of otherwise inauspicious voices.
39 1.31–33.
40 2.56.
41 2.95.
42 SuSū 28.
43 SuSū 35.
44 1.24, 37, 86.
14 introduction
Bodily Auras and Sheen

The notions about the bodily glow occur both in Garga and in Caraka’s Indriya-
sthāna under the teaching pertaining to the shadow-like aura as a sign of
imminent death. Since the sheen is either natural or oily in nature, Garga also
includes information about the classification and use of medicinal oils, corre-
sponding to that found in the Sūtrasthāna of Caraka and the Cikitsāsthāna of
Suśruta. Our discussion is in two parts. First there is a definition of bodily sheen
and bodily glow in Garga and early Āyurveda. Secondly, there is an analysis of
medicinal oils in both.
The Bodily Glows and Auras

Garga speaks about natural body glow (prabhā) and artificial oily sheen (sneha,
snigdha) in a series of verses devoted to describing the idolised warrior. This dis-
cussion occurs in the same context as the three objects of senses, mentioned
previously.45 There is a correspondence in the Carakasaṃhitā. In the tradition
of the human marks, the glows and sheens as well as the objects of the partic-
ular three senses are omens that foretell a man’s future and social standing.
In Garga, natural body glow (prabhā) occurs in the context of bodily radi-
ance (tejas)46 and is an indicator of a man’s glory ( yaśas).47 Moreover, an
idolised man is said to be enhanced by the use of the threefold oils (sneha),48
which is an artificial means for producing bodily sheen. In the same context,
Garga describes an abhorred man in terms of the colour and texture of his body
glow.49 In other words, it is what covers or hides it, rather like a person’s actions
(karman) conceals his or hers radiant life-force ( jīva) according to Jaina doc-
trine. In general, this description of a man according to his bodily glow provides
an interesting contrast between the idolised and despised warriors and noble-
men of his time. Garga stresses the inner qualities associated with prabhā or
natural body glow over the outer qualities resulting from a sheen enhanced by
oils.
In relation to bodily radiance (tejas), artificial bodily sheen (sneha) has a
lower status. It is also an indicator of non-distress (na duḥkhitaḥ).50 Garga
catalogues locations on the body where the artificial sheen is found and their
45 1.18, 21–22, 25–26, 28–30.

46 1.18.
47 1.28.
48 1.29.
49 1.30.
50 1.21.
introduction 15
results;51 taken as a whole, they indicate a man who acts effortlessly (kāryam
… akāraṇam).52 A man with an oily sheen, then, emits an auspicious outward
appearance, reflective of a privileged social standing. In other words, even
though his natural bodily glow is dim, it is enhanced by the application of oils.
The āyurvedic tradition of Kerala promotes this use of oils.
In the same context as the three sense-objects, Caraka in the Indriyasthāna
offers a more nuanced and expanded understanding of prabhā and sneha in a
medical context. In this way, both Garga and Caraka were grounded in the same
fundamental method of thinking about natural and enhanced bodily glow.
Natural body glow (prabhā) occurs in the chapter of the sense-objects con-
cerned with forms that are distorted (pannarūpīyam indriyam). The eleventh-
century commentator, Cakrapāṇidatta, defines this as the chapter dealing with
signs of imminent death in the form of the shadow-like auras and reflections
(chāyāpraticchāyārupāriṣṭa).53
The discussion begins by distinguishing bodily form (saṃsthāna) and bodily
shape (ākṛti) and a man’s reflected image (paricchāyā) and his shadow-like aura
(chāyā), the last of which relies on colour and natural body glow (varṇaprab-
hāśrayā).54
There are five shadow-like auras based on the five gross elements (earth,
water, fire, wind, and space).55 The descriptions use both or either of the terms
prabhā and sneha. The aura belonging to the realm of the clouds, i.e., space, is
without stain, dark blue, with an oil-like sheen and a natural glow;56 the aura
belonging to wind’s domain is dry, dark brown or red, and without a natural
glow;57 the aura attached to the watery realm is without blemish like polished
lapis lazuli and with a particularly oil-like sheen; and the earthy aura is stable,
with an oil-like sheen, dense, smooth, dark brown, and white.58 Among the five
types, the windy aura is despised and portends destruction and great pain; the
other four yield auspicious results.59
51 1.22, 25.
52 1.26.
53 CaIn 7.1–2.
54 CaIn 7.9d.
55 CaIn 7.10ab: khādīnāṃ pañca pañcānāṃ chāyā vividhalakṣaṇāḥ.
56 CaIn 7.10cd: nābhasī nirmalā nīlā sasnehā sa prabhā ca.
57 CaIn 7.11ab: rūkṣā śyāvāruṇā yā tu vāyāvi sā hataprabhā.
58 CaIn 7.12: śuddhavaidūryavimalā susnigdhā cāmbhasī matā, sthirāsnigdhā (var.c,d,dh,pā:
sthirāsnigdhā ’’yatā) ghanā, śleṣṇā śyāma śvetā ca pārthivī.
59 CaIn 7.13.
16 introduction
The next four verses are important in connection to Garga. Natural body
glow (prabhā) is derived from radiance (taijasī) and occurs in seven different
colours: red, yellow, white, dark brown, green, pale, and black.60 In addition to
revealing that prabhā is a derivative of fiery radiance (tejas), the following verse
puts the auras in the context of an omen with both auspicious and inauspicious
apodoses:
Men who are beaming, have an oil-like sheen, and are extensive and
auspicious; and men who are dry, dirty, and small have an inauspicious
appearance.61
Here, prabhā’s origin is tejas and it is auspicious when it has an oil-like sheen
(snigdha). Garga links it to tejas, but states that oils serve to enhance it, rather
than reflect it. Caraka uses oily sheen as an attribute; Garga uses it as a substi-
tute.
Caraka next distinguishes between the shadow-like aura (chāyā) and natural
body glow (bhā, prabhā).
The shadow-like aura invades the complexion, but the natural body glow
illuminates the complexion. The shadow-like aura is perceived nearby;
natural body glow radiates a long way.62
The following verse explains how chāyā and prabhā operate with hints based
on Cakrapāṇidatta’s commentary that they are instrumental in deciding a
man’s next birth.
No one lacks a shadow-like aura or natural body glow. However, certain

distinctive features dependent on the aura and natural body glow in time
reveal men’s auspicious or inauspicious birth.63
60 CaIn 7.14.
61 CaIn 7.15: tāsāṃ yāḥ syur vikāsinyaḥ snigdhāś ca vipulāś ca yāḥ, tāḥ śubhā rūkṣamalināḥ.
saṃkṣiptāś (var. c,d,dh,ph,pā: saṃkliṣṭāḥ, “tarnished”) cāśubhadayaḥ.
62 CaIn 7.16: varṇam ākrāmati cchāyā bhās tu (var. dh,pā: prabhā) varṇaprakāśinī, āsannā
(var. gh: aprasannā) lakṣyate cchāyā bhāḥ prakṛṣṭā (var. c: vikṛṣṭā; ph,bh,pā: vikṛṣṭā bhāḥ)
prakāśate.
63 CaIn 7.17: nācchāyo nāprabhaḥ kaścid viśeṣāś cihnayanti tu, nṛṇāṃ śubhāśubhotpattiṃ
kāle chāyāprabhāśrayāḥ [var. th,ph: chāyāśritāḥ; Cakra: viśeṣā iti chāyāprabhayoḥ (pā:
chāyāpraticchāyayoḥ, “the shadow-like aura and the reflection” śubhāśubharūpaviśeṣāḥ;
Cakra: kāle= paripākakāle, “at the time of maturity”].
introduction 17
Since both Garga and Caraka use natural body glow (prabhā) in an omen
and employ the word in connection with fiery radiance (tejas), it is likely that
they share a common source of knowledge. Moreover, Caraka is explicit, while
Garga is implicit, requiring much to be assumed from Caraka. The connection
between the two is brought even closer, if the supplementary verse cited by
the commentators Bhaṭṭotpala and Yogīśvara, and the compiler Mitramiśra, as
belonging to Garga is taken into consideration. Although the manuscripts of
the Gārgīyajyotiṣa do not mention the five shadow-like auras, this supplemen-
tary verse associated with Garga specifically mentions them and expands the
list to include those consisting of Viṣṇu, Śakra, the earth, sun, and moon. The
increase in the number of auras reflects both sectarian and astrological influ-
ence.64
Although sharing a common source, the differences found in the two ver-
sions from Jyotiḥśāstra and Āyurveda reflect the respective intentions of divin-
ers and healers. This same intimate connection between divination and medi-
cine is indicated in Garga’s verses that refer to Samudra.
The discussion between the shadow-like aura and the natural bodily glow
found in both the medical texts and omen-literature could ultimately rely on
an analogy with the solar-eclipse. As the moon invades the sun it casts a shadow
with an aura. Similarly, when death enters the body, it obscures the body’s
natural glow, i.e., its life-force. Death manifests as an aura in different colours
around the dying person.65
Medicinal Oils
The preparation and use of medicinal oils (sneha) receive a good deal of atten-
tion in the early āyurvedic treatises, especially when used internally, but also
when applied to the surface of the body.66 According to Caraka, medicinal
oils come in four forms: clarified butter (sarpis), vegetable oil (taila), animal
fat (vasā), and bone marrow (majjan).67 Because it results from refinement,
clarified butter is the best of the four.68 Clarified butter improves the voice
64 See Garga 1, appendix 1, v. 1.

65 In addition to the medical references, there exists a separate treatise on the subject called
“the marks of the man’s shadow-like aura” (chāyāpuruṣalakṣaṇam), which is found only
in manuscripts [See GOML, Madras, Indexes, I: 6564 and 6565 (p. 264), Leningrad (1914):
312 (pp. 252–253), and N-WPV (1880): p. 94, #4, where it is mentioned that the manuscript
belonged to Pandit Rāmachandra of Alwar].
66 See in particular CaSū 13 and SuCi 31.
67 CaSū 1.86.
68 CaSū 13.13.
18 introduction
and complexion; while vegetable oil promotes strength, good skin, and firm-
ness; animal fat enhances manhood, and is used in medicated oil preparations
(sneha) and in physical training; and bone marrow is also used in medicated
oil preparations.69 Rubbing on the skin (abhyañjana) is one of the twenty-four
different applications of all four medicinal oils.70
The topical use of medicinal oils (abhyaṅga or abhyañjana) is treated at
length in the Sūtrasthāna of Caraka.71 The discussion in Caraka of the medicinal
understanding of the oil helps to illuminate the meaning of sneha in Garga as
an artificial sheen resulting from the application of medicated oils, a practice
common among the well-to-do and the princely orders.
In Caraka, an extended simile explains the rationale for the topical use of
oils:
As a clay water jug is fixed and made stress resistant from the application
of oil, and animal hide from smearing it with oil, and a chariot’s axle
from rubbing oil on it, so too does the body become tight and resistant
to the stress of pain and physical exercise, the skin becomes lovely, and
the affliction of a turbulent wind made tranquil from the topical use of
medicinal oil.72
Continuing his discussion, Caraka establishes a connection between wind, the

sense of touch, and the skin as the abode of touch, and the importance of
counteracting the skin’s dryness due to wind with the repeated topical use of
medicinal oils.73 The virtues of medicinal oil are reminiscent of those found in
Garga.
As for the man who has recourse to the topical use of medicinal oils,
a body, known to have been subjected to attack or in the case of hard
69 CaSū 13.14–17. In 16, Cakra glosses enhances manhood (pauruṣopacaya) as “increases

semen” (śukropacaya).
70 CaSū 13.23–25.
71 CaSū 5.85–93. A more abbreviate version occurs at SuCi 24.30–34, along with the virtues
of bathing in water imbibed with medicinal oils (snehasikta).
72 CaSū 5.85–86: snehābhyaṅgād yathā kumbhaś carma snehavirmardanāt, bhavaty upāṅgād
akṣaś ca dṛḍhaḥ kleśasaho yathā 85; tathā śarīram abhyaṅgād dṛḍhaḥ sutvak ca jāyate,
praśāntamārutabādhaṃ kleśavyāyāmasaṃsaham 86 (Cakra: akṣaḥ rathasya cakraniband-
hanakāṣṭham).
73 CaSū 5.87: sparśane ’bhyadhiko vāyuḥ sparśanaṃ ca tvagāśritam, tvacyaś param abhyaṅ-
gas (var. dh,pā: paramo ’bhaṅgas) tasmāt taṃ śīlayen naraḥ.
introduction 19
work, does not undergo excessive change. After frequent topical use of
medicinal oils, a man is pleasant to touch, and his limbs are thick; he is
strong; he has an affectionate appearance; and ages but little.74
As appropriate to those accustomed to walking with bare feet, such as Bud-

dhists, Jains, and other ascetics, the medical text extols the virtues of the topical
use of oils on the feet.75 The text concludes with a general application of medic-
inal oils on the skin.
Smearing the entire body with medicinal oils eliminates bad odour, heav-
iness, exhaustion, itching, impurity, loss of appetite, and disgust due to
sweating.76
Garga’s notions about the body’s natural glow (prabhā) and other bodily
appearances clearly share a common source with the Carakasaṃhitā. More-
over, the Carakasaṃhitā provides information for understanding the artificial
oily sheen (sneha, snigdha), which is contrasted with the natural bodily glow
(prabhā) in Garga. Moreover, where Caraka enumerates four types of medic-
inal oils, Garga mentions that there are only three, but does not give their
names.
Summary
The omen material presented in Garga, with or without reference to Samu-
dra, has much in common with the early medical treatises, especially the
Carakasaṃhitā. By the time of the Bṛhatsaṃhitā, the medical terminology had
become part of the system of human marks, especially in Varāhamihira’s for-
mulation of the basic marks. Likewise, the notion of oily sheen takes on the
more nuanced meaning of smoothness, i.e., smooth like oil, common in the
later compilations. Nevertheless, in Varāhamihira, it implies the application of
oil to create a sheen.
It is impossible to say that the system of human marks derived from early
Āyurveda or vice versa. It can, however, be confirmed that both systems of
74 CaSū 5.88–89: na cābhighātābhihitaṃ gātram abhyaṅgasevinaḥ, vikāraṃ bhajate ’tyar-

thaṃ balakarmaṇi vā kvacit 88; susparśopacitāṅgaś ca balavān priyadarśanaḥ, bhavaty
abhyaṅganityatvān naro ’plajara eva ca 89.
75 CaSū 5.90–92.
76 CaSū 5.93: daurgandhaṃ gauravaṃ tandrāṃ kaṇḍūṃ malam arocakam, svedabībhatsa-
tāṃ (var. p,pā: svedaṃ bībhastatāṃ; Cakra: svedena bībhatsatāṃ, “disgust due to sweat”)
hanta śarīraparimārjanam.
20 introduction
knowledge shared a common source, but their uses of that knowledge went
in different directions.
In terms of the interplay between divination and medicine in ancient India,
some observations are pertinent. Since the accepted date for both Garga and
Caraka is around the beginning of the Common Era and their likely place of
origin is the northwestern part of the Indian subcontinent, it is safe to assume
that the knowledge of both the human marks and medicine circulated among
the same types of specialists, who lived in the same region and shared a com-
mon storehouse of knowledge. Further research into the types of specialised
knowledge present in the regions of Gandhāra and northwest India, especially
among the ascetics, at around the beginning of the Common Era, could reveal
more information that would illuminate the early transmission of certain types
of knowledge in ancient India.
Animal Similes
Animal similes are an important characteristic of the Indian system of marks.

They are applied most often to one or more of the basic marks (e.g., voice
and movement), but also to specific body parts. The animals, especially birds,
mentioned in the similes are significant because they allow us to trace the
transmission of the texts by means of natural history. The first examples from
the Gārgīyajyotiṣa include birds associated with the northwestern and west-
ern parts of the Indian subcontinent in the regions of Gandhāra and along the
Indus River and its tributaries. Examples in later texts indicate a movement
eastward, while preserving similes from the earlier period in an effort to nor-
malise the omens.
For the purpose of a meaningful discussion of Indian physiognomy, a distinc-
tion is required between the early northwest versions of mixed Sanskrit and
Prakrit and the later Sanskrit and vernacular transmissions, which included
Sanskrit with vernacular meanings, associated with other parts of the subcon-
tinent. These more recent verses have woven local natural history, beliefs, and
customs into the fabric of older versions.
A brief discussion of the use of the system of human marks completes the
basic principles of Indian physiognomy.
introduction 21
The Use of the System of Human Marks
The physiognomic omens in the Indian Sanskrit sources use the basic protasis-
apodosis syntactical structure in which the effect, or apodosis, follows directly
from the cause, or protasis. From numerous apodoses in the early omens, we
can understand that the principal users of these omens were originally the war-
riors and ruling class or Kṣatriyas in India. The system of human marks then was
meant first for Kṣatriyas, who were the main benefactors, but over time, as the
system became integrated into Dharmaśāstra, its application shifted to include
other social orders. Today, all Indians, despite their social background can avail
themselves of physiognomy and palmistry.
The apodoses of the omens devoted to men focus primarily on socioeco-
nomic status, longevity, behaviour and psycho-physical state, which relate to
men’s role as members of the Kṣatriya or ruling class. The apodoses from the
early women’s omens indicate similar human functions, but add one that was
crucial to females, namely, fertility, especially in the form of male offspring,
which determined the woman’s status among the princely orders. As the system
of human marks evolved into a brahmanic śāstra, its use and purpose became
crystallised into a means for assessing couples in arranged marriages. Likely,
women’s marks always had that function. Men’s marks were probably used
originally to determine a ruler’s rite of succession and the trustworthiness of
the men closest to him. The former is clearly indicated in the story of the sage
Nārada’s reading of the nine-year-old prince, Gṛhapati, son of Viśvānara, in the
Skandapurāṇa’s Kāśīkhaṇḍa. This account is important because it reflects an
authentic use of the system of human marks. Not only does it illustrates the
way it was done and the results it revealed, it also indicates that in most cases
prepubescent boys and girls were divined in this manner.
The text indicates that the boy’s entire body was examined, but it does not
specify the point of departure or the direction of the inspection. After that, the
child is measured, revealing that a measurement of 108 finger-breadths, both
in height and width, meant that he would be king. The measurement of equal
width and height is called nyagrodhaparimaṇḍala, “symmetrical like a Sacred
Fig tree,” where the length of the outstretched arms from fingertip to fingertip
is the same as the person’s height from toe-to-head, a mark characteristic of
Buddha, a well-known Kṣatriya in ancient India. A similar metaphor of body
symmetry occurs later in Leonardo da Vinci’s fifteenth century image of the
“Vitruvian Man.”
Nārada next read all thirty-two marks said to belong to the great man
(mahāpuruṣalakṣaṇa), which as system of divination represents a unique
numerical form of the human marks. He also analysed the lines on the hands to
22 introduction
determine the boy’s longevity and the lines on his feet to determine the pres-
ence of the auspicious symbols reflective of leadership. He looked at several
other marks, including his navel and the direction it turned; the twisting of
the boy’s urine; the scent of his semen, which, however, is nearly impossible
to detect in a boy of nine; and his teeth, neck, eyes, and belly. Finally, based
on a defect in a particular region of the body, Nārada noticed that an obstacle
from a bolt of lightning would hinder the boy in his twelfth year; this expecta-
tion required proper precautions to be taken in advance to ward off its harmful
effects.77
In the end, the boy possessed all the necessary marks that indicated that he
is indeed the heir apparent as well as the difficulties he would have to overcome
along the way. It is clear that the intent of this boy’s inspection was to establish
his right to ascend to the throne. For an ordinary Kṣatriya, an inspection would
pertain to his longevity, his health, and his social and economic success, all
of which would determine his standing in both the family and the society. In
terms of a marriage alliance, a scrutiny helped to provide the characteristics
with which to find a corresponding woman from an appropriate segment of
society.
Knowledge of the human marks and their meaning probably from an early
period formed part of what might be called the corpus of princely learning in
Prakrit taught by a teacher of the arts (kalāyariya, Skt. kalācārya) or a master
of the lines (lehāyariya, Skt. rekhācārya). A Jaina Prakrit work from about the
same time as the Gārgīyajyotiṣa, the Ṇāyādhammakahāo [ Jñātṛdharmakathāḥ
(Sūtra)], contains the story of Prince Megha. An integral part of the Megha’s
education was mastery of the “seventy-two art forms (kalā).” He is first taught
the “lines” (lekhā), i.e., the art of writing, after which he learned how to use
ciphers in doing equations (gaṇita), along with, among others, the marks
(lakkhaṇa) of men (purisa) and women (itthī), numbers 33 and 32, respectively,
in this list of the seventy-two arts.78 In this way, a man from the princely class
77 See SPK 11.53–79.

78 See Muni Jambūvijaya, ed., Ṇāyādhammakahāo [ Jñātṛdharmakathāḥ Sūtra] (Bombay,
Shrī Mahāvīra Jaina Vidyālaya, 1989), p. 38 and Paul Dundas, “A Non-Imperial Religion?
Jainism in its ‘Dark Age’” in Patrick Olivelle, ed. Between the Empires. Society in India
300BCE to 400CE (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), p. 402. I thank Paul Dundas for
his help with this passage. In the story of Paesi, which could date from around the begin-
ning of the Common Era (personal communication), but before 350–450CE, an almost
identical system of education is given to the boy Daḍhapaiṇṇa, who received instruction
from a teacher of the arts (kalāyariya) in the seventy-two arts (kalā), beginning with writ-
introduction 23
was instructed both to write and to read the marks and lines. Those found on
the human body were especially important, as they would allow him quickly to
determine if an individual was a friend or a foe.
In the eighth century, Uddyotanasūri’s Prakrit Campū, Kuvalayamālā,79
reveals that from the age of eight to twelve, princes were taught privately by a
lehāyariya (Skt. lekhācārya), a “writing teacher,” i.e., a scribe, or “a master of the
lines,” i.e., a diviner of the body (perhaps they were one and same person?).80
These noblemen learned the systems of knowledge that included, among oth-
ers, the means of longevity (āujjāṇa, Skt., āyurjñāna; i.e., Āyurveda), metal-
lurgy (dhāuvvāya, Skt. dhātuvāda), augury (sauṇa-jāṇa, Skt. śakuna-jñāṇa),
and the marks of both horses (turyāṇam lakkhaṇa) and elephants (hatthiṇaṃ
lakkhaṇa).81 They also learned the system of men’s marks (purisa-lakkhaṇa),
ing (lehāiyao) and including the marks of women and men (itthi-lakṣaṇa, purisa-lakṣaṇa)
in that order (no. 806). According to Bollée, the list occurs in three other places: Samavāya
72, 7 (T/M), Aup 107, and Nāyā 1, 1, 85 (T/M), while Utt 21, 6 only mentions he the number
of arts as 72. [see Willem Bollée, The story of Paesi (Paesi-kahāṇaham): Soul and body in
ancient India: a dialogue on materialism. Text, translation, notes and glossary. (2000 rpt.;
Mumbai: Hindi Granth Karyalay, 2005), pp. 189–208.
79 For a full analysis of this important work, see A.N. Upadhye, Uddyotanasūri’s Kuvalaya-
mālā (A unique Campū in Prākrit). Critically edited from rare mss. material for the first time
with various readings, etc. Parts I and II. (Chowpatty, Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan,
1959, 1970). [Singhī Jaina Śāstra Śikṣāpīṭha, Singhī Jaina Granthamālā, 45, 46], in particu-
lar part II, pp. 18–112. See more recently Christine Chojnacki, trans. Kuvalayamālā. Roman
jaina de 779 composé par Uddyotanasūri. 2 vols. (Marburg: Indica et Tibetica Verlag, 2008)
[Indica et Tibetica 50.1, 2].
80 Kuvalayamālā 21.13, where Chojnacki’s “maître d’ école” (p. 86) is too general. The connec-
tion between writing and reading the signs finds an interesting parallel in Mesopotamia,
where the signs were answers to questions posed to gods in the process of divination. The
one who learned them was the so-called āšipu, scholar and exorcist eventually attached
to the temple. His knowledge derived from copying the tablets and consisted of physiog-
nomy and to some extent medicine among other subjects [see Mladen Popović, Reading
the Human Body. Physiognomics and Astrology in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Hellenistic-
Early Roman Period Judaism (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2007), pp. 77–78, 80]. Like the āšipu in
Mesopotamia, the lekhācārya in ancient India was the man who knew how to write and
copy the books and could therefore read the lines and marks on the human body. In more
recent times, the Kāyastha (Hindī, Kāyasth) is the caste devoted to writing and keeping
records. Its name kāya-stha, “situated on the body,” might well go back to the connection
between writing and physiognomy implied by the word lekhācārya.
81 Kuvalayamālā 21.12–22.10, where all the 72 kalās are enumerated. At 150.15–151.10 the
kalās, “arts, lores,” are distinguished from the vijñānas, “knowledges,” which are more
24 introduction
which in its Prakrit version is presented in detail in the text.82 In both Prakrit
texts, knowing the lines (Pk. lehā, Skt. lekhā) in the form of writing was an essen-
tial part of the prince’s education; knowing the lines was followed by art forms
that included the human marks, indicating that writing and reading were the
principal means of transmitting this knowledge. The language of instruction
was Prakrit rather than Sanskrit, the Brahman’s language of choice, since they
were normally taught orally.
In the later period of Mughal India, the system of human marks was well
integrated into the fabric of courtly education. In the sixteenth century, Abū
ʿl-Faẓl-i-ʿAllāmī writes in his ʿĀin-i Akbarī, “The constitutions of Akbar,” that
the education at the court of Akbar consisted of the eighteen sciences, of
which Sāmudrika was among the last, along with Śakuna (augury) before it,
and Garuḍa (snake-charming), Indrajala (sorcery), Rasavidyā (alchemy), and
Ratnaparīkṣā (gemmology) after it. On Sāmudrika he says that it “predicts
events from observation of the character of the members of the body and
their movements, and from the lines and marks, and the results are generally
accurate.”83
Likewise, the Tuḥfatu-l-Hind or “a present from India,” composed by Mīrza
Khān ibn Fakhr al-Dīn Muḥammad in 1676, was a compilation of brahmanic
learning used for instruction at court. The work consisted of Persian transla-
tions of the major branches of brahmanic literature and was written under the
patronage of Aʿẓam Shāh for the instruction of the Mughal prince Jahāndār
Shāh. The beginning of the text is a sort of table of contents that lists all the
works that have been included in the collection. The seventh and last book of
associated with the Brahmanic and Vedic traditions; and 25 kalās are mentioned in verse,
of which only 12 are found in the list of 72, indicating that the kalās were rather fluid.
Among the new ones, there is the knowledge of signs (ṇimitta), the subjugation of the
Yakṣiṇī ( jakkiṇi-siddhi), knowledge of the soil (khattaṃ … jāṇaṃti; Skt. kṣetraṃ …), and
the fixation of mercury and rejuvenation therapy, i.e., alchemy and elixirs of immortality
(rasa-baṃdha-rasāyaṇa) (151.7–8).
Kāmasūtra 3.14 gives a corresponding list of 64 kalās for women, which includes
painting, perhaps with calligraphy, (ālekhya; Yaśodhara: citra), gemmology (rūpyaparīkṣa;
Yaśodhara: rūpya-ratna-parīkṣā), metallurgy (dhātuvāda; Yaśodhara: kṣetravāda, “knowl-
edge of the soil,” which is a separate kalā in the men’s list), and the knowledge of omens
(nimittajñāna). In this way, a Kṣatriya man could be properly matched with a correspond-
ing Kṣatriya woman.
82 Kuvalayamālā 129.3–131.5.10.
83 H.S. Jarrett, trans. and Jadunath Sarkar, revised and annotated, ʿAin-i-Ākbari of Abul Fazl-
ʿAllami, Vol. III (rpt. Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1993), p. 252.
introduction 25
the anthology is titled Sāmuddrik or Sāmudrika, which is defined as “the science

of reading characters by the peculiar formation of the limbs and marks.” It
is divided in two chapters. Chapter one is devoted to the characters of men
and contains two sections: 1. 32 lachhan (lakṣaṇa), which are explained and
made discernible “in the formation of the human limbs”; and 2. “The good
and bad formation of limbs with regard to its effect on life,” which includes
“the character lines with regard to their good and bad effects,” “Rekh [rekhā],
the character line of the palms and soles,” and “characters in the structure
of the body.” Chapter two deals with the woman’s lines that determine her
character.84
Further research is required to determine precisely from what version of the
human marks it is a translation; but from the brief description, it represented
one of the many Sāmudrika texts that were available at the time in both Sanskrit
and the different regional languages.85 Moreover, the study of Sāmudrikaśāstra
was clearly a significant part of the education of Mughal princes.
The characteristics of the Indian system of human marks remained consis-
tent through time with minor variations occurring in different transmissions.
It was a system of knowledge closely tied to Kṣatriyas, Mughal rulers, and Jains,
and had close connections to the early Indian medical system of Āyurveda.
In the next section, we shall explore the points of contact between the early
versions of the human marks from the northwestern and western regions of the
Indian subcontinent and the two systems of ancient physiognomy preserved
in Akkadian (Cuneiform) and Greek. The structural, conceptual, and linguistic
points of similarity between them suggest common sources for parts of all three
ancient systems physiognomy.
Indian and Non-Indian Systems of Physiognomy in Antiquity
One of the major themes that occupied the historian of Indian science, David
Pingree, was the connections between Indian, Greek, and Mesopotamian sci-
ence.86 He noticed similarities between the omen series Šumma Ālu and
84 See M. Ziauddin, trans., A Grammar of the Braj Bhakha by Mīrzā Khān (1676A.D.), (Calcutta:
Kishorimohan Santra Visva-Bharati Book Shop, 1935), p. 32.
85 See below Chapter IV on the different types of Sāmudrikaśāstra and where they are
found.
86 See in particular David Pingree, The Yavanajātaka; “The Mesopotamian Origin of Early
Indian Mathematical Astronomy,” Journal of the History of Astronomy, Vol. 4 (1973), pp. 1–
12; Jyotiḥśāstra. Astral and Mathematical Literature. [A History of Indian Literature. Vo.
26 introduction
Enūma Anu Enlil, both of which derive from Assurbanipal’s library, and the
early Indian presentation of omens in the Buddhist Pāli text of the Brahma-
jāla Sutta. Pingree recognised specific resemblances to Mesopotamian omens
in the omens of Venus in the Gārgīyajyotiṣa. He claimed these to be “the
oldest complete collection of Mesopotamian-inspired omens.”87 Although the
omens underwent a process of adaptation, the basic protasis-apodosis struc-
ture remained, albeit in much more elaborate terms with culturally and geo-
graphically specific terminology. After further meticulous research into the
textual history of Indian Jyotiḥśāstra and the Mesopotamian astral sciences,
he hypothesised that “the Mesopotamian omen-literature was transmitted to
India during the two centuries [538–331BCE], when the Achaemenid Empire
controlled Gandhāra in northwestern India and the Indus Valley.”88 Several
centuries later, we have strong indications that Greek astronomical and astro-
logical knowledge are combined with Indian Jyotiḥśāstra in such Sanskrit trea-
tises as Sphujidhvaja’s Yavanajātaka from the early centuries of the Common
Era.89 Yet, there are indications that this treatise also resulted from a process of
Sanskritisation.
6.4] (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1981); “Mul.APIN and Vedic Astronomy,” in DUMU-
E2-DUB-BA-A: Studies in Honor of Åke Sjöberg (Philadelphia: Occasional Papers of the
Noah Kramer Fund, 1989), pp. 439–445; “Babylonian Planetary Theory in Sanskrit Omen
Texts,” in J.L. Berggren and B.R. Goldstein, eds. From Ancient Omens to Statistical Mechan-
ics. Essays on the Exact Sciences Presented to Asger Aaboe [Acta hist. scient. nat. et med.,
Vol., 39] (Copenhagen: The University Library, 1987), pp. 91–99; “Venus Omens in India
and Babylon,” in Francesca Rochberg-Halton, ed. Language, Literature, and History: Philo-
logical and Historical Studies Presented to Erica Reiner (New Haven: American Oriental
Society, 1987), 293–315; “Mesopotamian Omens in Sanskrit,” in D. Charpin et F. Joannès,
réunis, La circulation des biens, des personnes, et des idées dans la proche-orient ancient
(Paris: Editions Recherches sur les Civilisations, 1992), pp. 375–379; From Astral Omens to
Astrology. From Babylon to Bīkāner [Serie Orientale Roma, 78] (Roma: Instituto Italiano per
L’Africa e L’Oriente, 1997); and “Legacies in Astronomy and Celestial Omens,” in Stephen
Dalley, ed. The Legacy of Mesopotamia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), pp. 125–
137.
87 Pingree, “Legacies,” p. 132.
88 Pingree, “Mesopotamian Omens,” p. 376.
89 In a recent re-examination of the colophons of the Yavanajātaka, Bill M. Mak concludes
that the text “is an early Indian jyotiṣa text which incorporated elements of Greek astrol-
ogy and astronomy” and that its date is “sometime after 22CE and could be as late as the
early seventh century when it was first quoted by other authors such as Bhāskara …” [“The
Date and Nature of Sphujidvaja’s Yavanajātaka Reconsidered in the Light of Some Newly
Discovered Materials,” History of Science in South Asia, 1 (2013), p. 17].
introduction 27
Among the omen series given in the Brahmajāla Sutta, there occur omens
based on the marks on the human body (lakkhaṇa, lakṣaṇa), which, Pingree
points out, could be a fruitful line of investigation.90 In the following sections, I
shall try to show how the system of the human marks in India shared ideas,
principles, and even technical terminology with the systems of the ancient
Mesopotamians and ancient Greeks. I shall use the earliest formulation of the
human marks in the Gārgīyajyotiṣa as my point of departure with elaborations
from subsequent transmissions
The Mesopotamians
Way of Thinking
From Francesca Rochberg’s excellent article on Babylonian divination as a
basis for understanding the reasoning process underlying omens,91 certain
common modes of thinking can be noticed as fundamental to both the Meso-
potamian and the Indian physiognomic omens. Both systems are rooted in the
physical world, which in the Indian omens presumes a distinction between
flora and fauna and their parts. The key principles are form and system. In
other words, it is a method for understanding and cataloguing form with a for-
mal logic that relies on conditional relationships between sign and signified,
premise and conclusion, antecedent and consequent, which are expressed lin-
guistically as protasis and apodosis. In the Indian texts however, the poetical
syntax can become rather complicated with multiple protases or multiple char-
acteristics of a single protasis and multiple apodoses.
In the main, the same logic applies for the passage from protasis to apo-
dosis, which is rooted in the connection between a sign and what it signifies.
Over time, this connection can become stagnant, leading to imagined associ-
ations, which supplement and eventually replace the original empirical rela-
tionship. The formulations from India in Prakrit, Sanskrit, or a mixture of both,
often have a protasis, which contains multiple characteristics or signs. A typi-
cal omen has the primary relationship between a bodily part or aspect and the
physical world found in the protasis followed by a secondary relationship in the
apodosis, which expresses the connection to the social world in terms of char-
acter, behaviour, psycho-mental states, socioeconomic status, and ethical and
90 Pingree, “Mesopotamian Omens,” p. 374.

91 Francesca Rochberg, “ ‘If P, then Q,’: form and reasoning in Babylonian divination,” in
Amar Annus, ed. Divination and interpretation of signs in the ancient world (Chicago: The
Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2010; Oriental Institute Seminars, no. 6),
pp. 19–27.
28 introduction
religious principles, all of which affirms specific social and cultural principles
and values. As for example Garga 1.30:
The type of natural masculine body glow that is disdained is one that is
pale, variegated, dry, ash-coloured, sickly, or dark like burnt charcoal.
Here the protasis is the bodily aspect, “natural body glow,” elucidated by colours
and compared to the aspects of the physical world, such as ash and burnt
charcoal. It is linked to the social world via the apodosis “disdained,” which
indicate status in society.
Moreover, both systems seem to be based on the same fundamental logic for
categorising and codifying the physical world, representing a type of inferential
reasoning that relies on analogy, as illustrated in their mutual use of animal
similes, which, in the Indian case, are supplemented by plant and mineral
similes and are geographically and culturally specific. The basis of thought
exemplified in the Mesopotamian omens lies at the core of the Indian omens
and recurs in all systems of physiognomy from the time of the ancient Greeks.
Literature
The principal source for Mesopotamian physiognomic omens is the Cuneiform
collection called Šumma alamdimmû, “If the form.”92 This collection dates
from about the eleventh century BCE, when in the Esagil-kīn-apli Catalogue,
it was defined and arranged in a system from head to foot. It forms, along with
other treatises, including omens on behaviour and mode of thinking, as well
as medicine and healing, the knowledge-base of the Āšipu, sometimes loosely
translated as medicine-man or “exorcist,”93 who could also write and therefore
read the Cuneiform lines. Most of the surviving tablets derive from the royal
library of Assurbanipal in Nineveh from the middle of the seventh century BCE.
This library also housed the omens of Šumma Ālu and Enūma Anu Enlil, which,
as previously mentioned, were studied by Pingree in connection with Indian
omens.
92 The literature is classified according to grammatical structure that characterises the mate-
rial. Here it is the first part of the conditional sentence or the protasis expressed in its
simplest linguistic form.
93 See M.J. Geller, “Incipits and Rubrics,” in A.R. George and I.L. Finkel, eds. Wisdom, gods,
and literature (Eisenbrauns: Winona Lake, Indiana, 2000), pp. 225–258, where according
to Kar 44, compiled by Esagil-kīn-apli, the physiognomic books: Alamdimmû, Kataduggû,
Nigdimdimmû, and the diagnostic book: Sa-gig, are mentioned together on line 6 (pp. 256–
258). Cf. Mladen Popović, Reading the Human Body, pp. 77–78.
introduction 29
These physiognomic texts were investigated first by Fritz Rudolf Kraus94 and
more recently by Barbara Böck.95 Mladen Popović provides a useful summary
of the salient points in his study of physiognomic omens from Qumran. His
conclusions follow closely those of Böck.96 The works of these three scholars
will serve as the basis for the following discussion and analysis.
The Mesopotamian physiognomic omens occur in two forms. The first is
a series of twenty-seven tablets, under the rubric Alamdimmû, which occurs
with the series of diagnosis (ga-gig or sakikkû) as knowledge pertaining to the
Āšipu, edited and organised by Esagil-kīn-apli in the eleventh century BCE. The
second is a group of miscellaneous tablets from various sources, which pertain
to physiognomy.
The principal Alamdimmû-series is divided into six different sets. The over-
arching structural principle is the division into men’s and women’s marks and
the method for organising the anatomical parts is head to foot (ištu muḫḫi adi
šēpē).97 The six groups are as follows:
1. Šumma alamdimmû (“If the form”) are tablets 1–12 (the contents of tablet 12
is not extant),98 dealing with male anatomy. They begin with the image of
the gods and move systematically from the head to the foot. The first nine
tablets are devoted to the head, including the right/left twists of the hairs on
94 Fritz Rudolf Kraus, Die physiognomischen Omina der Babylonier. Inaugural-Dissertation

genehmigt von der philologisch-historischen Abteilung der Philosophischen Fakultät der
Universität Leipzig (Gräfenhainichen: C. Schulze & Co., G.m.b.H., 1935); Die physiognomis-
chen Omina der Babylonier (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs’schen Buchhandlung, 1935) [Mitteilun-
gen der Vorderasiatisch-Aegyptischen Gesellschaft (E.V.). 40. band, 2. Heft] [Pages 1–58
constitute his Inaugural-Dissertation]; Texte zur babylonischen Physiognomatik. Archiv für
Orientforschung, herausgegeben von Ernst F. Weidner. Beiheft 3. Berlin, 1939; and “Weitere
Texte zur babylonischen Physiognomatik.” Orientalia, Vol. 16 (nova series), 1947, pp. 172–
205.
95 Barbara Böck, Die babylonisch-assyrische Morphoskopie (Wien: Instituts für Orientalistik
der Universität Wien, 2000 [Archiv für Orientforschung, 27]); “Physiognomy in ancient
Mesopotamia and beyond: from practice to handbook,” Amar Annus, ed. Divination and
interpretation of signs in the ancient world (Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the Univer-
sity of Chicago, 2010; Oriental Institute Seminars, no. 6), pp. 199–219.
96 Mladen Popović, Reading the Human Body, pp. 72–85.
97 See Böck, Die babylonisch-assyrische Morphoskopie, pp. 15–17; and Mladen Popović, Read-
ing the Human Body, pp. 73–76.
98 According to Böck, tablets 1–3, 7, 8, 10, and 11 are known by colophon; and themes of 4,
9, and 12 by catalogue entries and the tablets with aḫū-omens (Die babylonisch-assyrische
Morphoskopie, p. 16).
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
„Er is haast geen tijd toe.”
„Juist daarom wou ik er dadelijk werk van maken. Het moet gauw en
goed gaan. Hij is zoo’n fideele kerel, dat het al te gek zou wezen
hem zonder ’n kleine „fuif” te laten weggaan.”
Ondanks de verschrikkelijke haast kwam toch de overgeplaatste

dien avond in de sociëteit; Van Brakel had zijn lijstje reeds gereed;
de club deed mee, dat sprak vanzelf; verder de resident, eenige
chefs van handelshuizen, advocaten en ambtenaren,—zoo wat ’n
twintig lui; meer moesten er niet zijn, want dan werd het ongezellig.
Het moest een fijn dinertje wezen, dat stond vast; een der bedoelde
chefs had welwillend op zich genomen voor de wijnen en sigaren te
zorgen, natuurlijk tegen factuursprijs; dat deed hij altijd, en
[13]daarom was hij van dergelijke partijen steeds een groot
voorstander en nam hij volijverig daaraan deel; een ander, die een
groot huis bewoonde, had zijn lokaliteit ter dispositie gesteld en het
gratis gebruik zijner zilveren couverts aangeboden; Van Brakel zelf
had reeds ernstig onderhandeld met den koek- en banketbakker, die,
als hij behoorlijk nuchter was, in staat geacht werd een goed diner te
kunnen leveren, en althans in het bezit was van goede menu’s.
Toen hij in de sociëteit kwam, sprak Van Brakel eerst een oogenblik
zeer geheimzinnig met zijn collega en den redacteur, waarop ze met
hun drieën gelegenheidsgezichten trokken, en zóó naar den
assistent-resident gingen, die met een anderen bezoeker zat te
praten en zich hield alsof hij van de opkomende aanstellerij niets
hoegenaamd had bemerkt. Van Brakel, die machtig veel van
dergelijke voorbereidende aardigheden hield, deed het woord, en gaf
niet zonder ernst in toon en gebaren, den assistent-resident te
kennen, dat „eenige vrienden” bij gelegenheid van zijn vertrek
gaarne nog een avond aangenaam met hem wenschten door te
brengen, en dat zij daartoe den avond van overmorgen wenschten te
bepalen. Toen de assistent-resident had verklaard daar niet tegen te
hebben en er zeer vereerd mee te zijn, werd hem de lijst der
„deelnemers” overhandigd om als zijn speciale gasten daar nog bij te
schrijven, wie hij mocht verlangen.
Verbazend druk had Van Brakel het, en de arme man, die zijn huis
en zijn zilver had aangeboden, kreeg al dadelijk last van zijn offerte.
Men had een paar matroosjes weten te krijgen van het wachtschip,
aangezien er slechts één roep is omtrent de kunstvaardigheid van
Janmaat in het aanbrengen [14]van versieringen met groen, vlaggen
en bloemen. En zoo was op den gewichtigen avond alles gereed.
Toen Lucie gehoord had, dat het zoo’n fijn diner was, had zij het tot
haar echtelijken plicht en met het oog op de ontwikkeling des
vleesches van haar echtvriend, wenschelijk geacht een goeden raad
te geven.
„Jullie denkt er toch niet aan om acht uren, halfnegen te beginnen?”

vroeg ze.
„Natuurlijk. Dat was bepaald.”
„Het is zonde,” zei ze. „Je hebt dan nog weinig eetlust, en dat bij
zoo’n fijn diner.”
„Daar heb je gelijk in,” riep Herman, verrast over deze snuggere
vinding. „We konden best later.… maar hoe drommel krijgen we den
tijd om?”
„Wel doodeenvoudig. Je vertelt aan de lui, dat jullie pas tegen tien
uren, halfelf begint. Vóór dien tijd drink je ’n glas port en speelt een
hombertje.”
„Drommels, dat is een idee!”

„En dan niet t e v e e l bitter drinken, Herman,” vermaande ze. „Dan
proef je er niets van.”
„Jij wilt met alle geweld maar, dat ik lekker zal eten,” zei hij met een
dankbaren blik, en gaf haar een kus.
„Natuurlijk! Zoo’n fijn diner! ’t Is zonde!”
En het geschiedde, gelijk het door Lucie was verzonnen. Tegen acht
uren kwamen in de feestelijk versierde voorgalerij een twintigtal
heeren in zwarte jas bijeen. Eerst stonden en liepen ze zoowat op en
neer, al pratend en lachend; daarna zetten ze zich aan de vijf
speeltafeltjes, waar ze zooveel mogelijk soort bij soort waren
ingedeeld; de resident [15]zat aan het middelste tafeltje dicht bij de
trap der galerij, opdat de voorbijgangers vooral zouden kunnen zien,
dat hij ’t feestje bijwoonde.
Het kostte den waren liefhebbers van het spel geen geringe moeite
tegen elf uren op te staan en te gaan eten. De mandoor van den
kok-bakker had reeds van tien uren af aan Van Brakel geseind, dat
alles klaar was, maar de ingenieur was e n v e i n e en speelde het
eene „kleintje” na het andere, zoodat hij maar net gedaan had, als
had hij niets gemerkt.
Maar ten slotte was toch iedereen verheugd wat te kunnen eten, en
aangezien honger zelfs in Indië, ja misschien meer dan elders, de
beste saus is, werd de schildpadsoep zwijgend en met een soort van
piëteit genoten, en eerst de fijne Sauterne, die bij de visch werd
gedronken, had het vermogen de tongen een weinig te ontboeien.
Tot twee uren in den nacht zat men aan tafel, en toen men eindelijk
opstond, bleek uit de verrassende confidenties, die sommigen
„deelnemers” elkaar deden, schoon ze overigens in het dagelijksch
leven volstrekt niet intiem met elkaar waren, dat de verschillende
wijnsoorten haar invloed op de hersenen deden gevoelen.
Aan huiswaarts gaan dachten de meesten in het geheel niet. Slechts

een enkele sloop stilletjes het erf af, zocht onder de rijtuigen zijn
eigen véhikel en éclipseerde zoo op clandestine wijze, zonder
iemand gegroet te hebben, terwijl onder het naar huis rijden zijn
hoofd alle bewegingen van den wagen meemaakte, alsof het slechts
door een ijzerdraad met zijn romp was verbonden.
In de voorgalerij was men weer druk aan het dobbelen [16]geraakt.

Van een behoorlijke homber-partij was geen quaestie meer. V i n g t -
e t - u n , dat was het eenige, waartoe opgewektheid werd gevoeld.
Het duurde en duurde voort. Langzamerhand begon het te dagen;

het opdoemend licht teekende reeds flauw de omtrekken van ’t hoog
geboomte; de hanen in de kampongs kraaiden in koor. Herman Van
Brakel zat nog te spelen; hij zag bleek en zijn gezicht was nog meer
opgezet dan gewoonlijk; een groepje kijkers stond er om heen.
Het ochtendschot viel,—tot zoolang was er afgesproken, dat men

zou spelen, en toen bleek bij het afrekenen, dat Van Brakel
omstreeks drie duizend gulden had verloren.
Drie duizend gulden! Het was, vond hij, al een heel beroerd geval.
Men had echter niets aan hem kunnen zien, dat was zeker, en
lachend had hij gezinspeeld op de pikols koffie van zijn schoonvader,
ofschoon hij zeer goed wist, dat hij bij den tegen de K a f f e e l a u s
worstelenden Germaanschen ouden heer niet behoefde aan te
komen met het verzoek om een speelschuld van dien aard voor hem
te betalen; H e r r Drütlich, die op dat punt soliede principes had, zou
hem een S c h w e i n h u n d genoemd en naar den Te u f e l
verwezen hebben.
Naar den duivel! Hm! dat zou hij misschien wel doen, maar niet in
dien zin.
Het was helder dag toen hij huiswaarts keerde, na in het feestlokaal
te hebben ontbeten met de restes van het diner. Zoo veel was zeker,
dat hij er zijn gezonden eetlust niet bij verspeeld had.
De dampen van den wijn waren verdwenen, en hij was, [17]toen hij
huiswaarts keerde, zoo goed als ontnuchterd. Die Lucie ook, dacht
hij, met dat laat aan tafel gaan! Als zij dat niet had aangeraden, zou
alles beter zijn gegaan, en dan had hij wellicht v e i n e gehad, terwijl
nu .… Enfin, zij had het goed gemeend, dat was zeker, en hij voor
zich zou haar niet onlekker maken door over het geval te spreken.
Hoe hij aan het geld moest komen, stond hem niet duidelijk voor den
geest op dat moment, maar dat het t e r e c h t zou komen betwijfelde
hij geen oogenblik. In Indië kwam immers a l l e s terecht.
„Wel, heb je veel pleizier gehad?” vroeg Lucie, die al lang op was en
er frisch uitzag.
„Uitstekend. Heb jij je portie ontvangen?”
„Heerlijk, ik heb er aan gesmuld.”
Het deed hem pleizier, zei hij. ’t Was maar een aardigheid geweest.
Hij had het diner besteld en te gelijk aan den kok-bakker gezegd van
een enkelen schotel ’n beetje naar zijn huis te zenden; Mevrouw wou
het wel eens proeven. En de kok-bakker, die toen juist niet dronken
was en dan de goede eigenschap bezat een half woord te verstaan,
had aan de ingenieursvrouw een compleet diner, voor één persoon,
gezonden, waardoor zij zich vrouwmoedig had heengewerkt, schoon
werkelijk de laatste schoteltjes haar menigen zucht hadden gekost.
„Heb jullie nog gespeeld?”

„Natuurlijk. Behalve het eten hebben we niets anders gedaan.”
„Dobbelaar! En heb je niets gewonnen?”
Hij glimlachte m a l g r é l u i . Het was in zijn omstandigheden en op

dat oogenblik zoo zot te hooren vragen of hij gewonnen had. [18]
„Een kleinigheid,” loog hij. „Een gulden of tien.”
„Beter zóó dan anders. Ga nu gauw naar bed, vent. Je hebt het met
die partij al zóó druk gehad de laatste dagen.…”
Hij liet het zich geen tweemaal zeggen, en ondanks de drukkende

gedachte aan de drie duizend gulden, die hij niet bezat en toch
binnen tweemaal vier en twintig uren, volgens de heiligste en
inviolabelste afspraak, betalen moest, sliep hij rustig in, altijd door
zichzelven de verzekering gevend, dat het wel zou terechtkomen.
Lucie kwam eens naar hem zien. Het was nu juist geen mooi
gezicht, dat haar Herman al slapende opleverde. Zijn gezicht glom
alsof het met vet was ingewreven en hij snorkte allerakeligst. Maar
zij was een te goede getrouwde vrouw om hem zulke kleinigheden
aan te rekenen, en sloot zachtjes de jaloezieën, opdat hij in zijn
slaap geen last zou hebben van de zon, want ’t begon al erg warm te
worden.
Op het erf voor zijn woning wandelde de hoofdingenieur Willert des

namiddags op en neer, met een der heeren, die het afscheids-
partijtje ter eere van den assistent-resident hadden bijgewoond. Een
beminde persoonlijkheid was de hoofdingenieur niet. Zijn ambtelijke
bekwaamheid werd niet betwijfeld; hij was als gewoon opzichter in ’s
lands dienst gekomen, en had zich door ijver en studie een weg
gebaand tot zijn tegenwoordige positie. Dat was een gunstig sociaal
getuigschrift. Maar men vond hem niet vriendelijk genoeg en niet
aangenaam van humeur in den omgang; wel had hij bij velen den
roep van een braaf karakter en een goede inborst, maar het groote
publiek, meer oordeelend naar den vorm dan naar den inhoud,
mocht hem niet. [19]
Ook Van Brakel droeg hem geen goed hart toe, te minder omdat hij
vermeende door dien chef bespied te worden. Hij, de
hoofdingenieur, was de man geweest, die zoo onverwacht in de
sociëteit langs het speeltafeltje was gekomen, waaraan de club zat
te dobbelen, bij welke gelegenheid Van Brakel het woord „ploert” had
gebruikt.
Toen de bezoeker het verhaal deed van het wanhopig spelen van
den ingenieur en het cijfer noemde van diens verlies, schudde Willert
het hoofd.
„Ik begrijp niet hoe hij zulke sommen kan verliezen.”
„Och, dat is gemakkelijk genoeg; als hij zijn verlies maar kan
betalen.”
„Verliezen en betalen is bij mij één.”
„Maar niet bij alle menschen.”
„Bij Van Brakel wel. Hij is een lichtzinnig mensch, maar voor zoover
ik hem ken, acht ik hem niet in staat die schuld onbetaald te laten.”
„Waarachtig niet. Dat heb ik ook niet gezegd. Nu, adieu, ik wandel
nog een eind verder.”
Met de handen op den rug bleef de hoofd-ingenieur bedenkelijk

staan kijken in de lucht. Hij moest op Van Brakel een nauwlettend
toezicht houden, dat stond bij hem vast. Wel was hij van des
ingenieurs eerlijkheid volkomen overtuigd, maar hij had ook de
zekerheid, dat de man op weg was naar zijn ondergang, en tevens
zou trachten zich hoe dan ook op de been te houden.
Overplaatsen? Wat zou het baten? Wel werkte Van Brakel nu

zelfstandig,—maar er was toch nog e e n i g e contrôle. In het
binnenland was het nog gevaarlijker. En zoo hij [20]hier een
dobbelaar was, dáár zou hij ’t niet minder wezen.
Het speet hem voor Van Brakel, want ’t was een kundig man, die zijn
zaken verstond, en gemakkelijk en vlug werkte. Maar niettemin
moest hij hem scherp in het oog houden.
En hij dacht daar nog ernstig over na, toen Van Brakel eerst in den
namiddag ontwaakte, met een verschrikkelijken dorst, en door zijn
luid geroep om iets te drinken de oorzaak was, dat zijn tweelingen
zich verslikten.
De eerste teug ijswater werd hem vergald door de gedachte aan zijn
speelschuld.—Ja, ’t was Zondag-middag, en op het oogenblik kon hij
toch geen beslissende stappen doen. Toch scheen het hem
onvermijdelijk toe, dat hij i e t s deed, en onder den invloed dier
overtuiging ging hij naar zijn kantoorkamer, zette zich aan den
lessenaar, nam een groot vel wit papier en trok zeer netjes een
hoogst eenvoudig „staatje”; daarna nam hij uit een der laden een vrij
dikken bundel onbetaalde rekeningen, en begon die één voor één
zeer regelmatig te boeken in het staatje; toen hij daarmee gereed
was, telde hij de kolom „Bedrag” samen, aldus zijn beren als het
ware kapitaliseerende; boven het totaal trok hij één streepje en er
onder een langere, dubbele horizontale streep.
Het zag er netjes uit, en als ’t een stuk in duplo ware geweest, had
hij het gerust naar zijn Departement kunnen zenden. ’t Is waar: het
was niet bemoedigend. Meer dan tweemaal zijn jaarlijksch inkomen!
Dat kwam van den laatsten post van drie duizend gulden, dien hij
Dinsdag-ochtend moest betalen.
Toch had Van Brakel een gevoel van voldaanheid, toen hij de „zaak”
zoo eens flink onder de oogen had gezien, en [21]als hij ’t staatje
aanzag, dan dacht hij dat hij nog zoo’n slecht financier niet was, als
hijzelf wel eens meende. Behoedzaam sloot hij ’t mooie staatje weg
en kleedde zich om een eindje den weg op en neer te wandelen.
Dat hij „aangekeken” werd, viel hem niet op. De kracht der bazuin
van de Faam in een Indische plaats was hem niet goed bekend. Hij
zou het nooit hebben geloofd, dat de schoolkinderen, die hem langs
den weg groetten, wisten, dat hij den vorigen nacht een vrij
aanzienlijke som had verdobbeld. Oude lieden beantwoordden
stijfjes zijn groet; jongelui zagen hem met bewonderende blikken na;
nu, vonden ze, m o o i was het wel niet, maar er was toch iets
kranigs in.
Al voortwandelend ontmoette hij een paar kennissen, die met hem

opliepen.
„Ze hebben je leelijk te pakken gehad, hè, Van Brakel?”
„Ja, dat gaat vrijwel.”
Hij antwoordde op een toon, die voortzetting der conversatie over dit
onderwerp uitsloot. Er werd niet verder van gerept en over koetjes
en kalfjes sprekend, kwam hij weer terug bij zijn huis en ging er
binnen, eigenlijk blij dat hij van ’t gezelschap af was.
Hij had dien avond haast om naar de sociëteit te komen, wat Lucie
niet erg aanstond, omdat zij van plan was een visite te maken.
„Laat ik je er niet afhouden,” zei hij.

„Ik vind het vervelend alleen te gaan.”
„Dat behoeft ook niet, Lucie. Ik zal je brengen, en ik beloof je, dat ik
vóór elven kom om je te halen.” [22]
„Maar kan je nu dien éénen avond niet uit de sociëteit blijven?”
„Tien avonden als je wilt, maar van avond moet ik dringend een paar
lui over een werk spreken. Ik heb hun gezegd te komen, en nu kan
i k toch niet wegblijven.”
Ze geloofde het. Hij kon haar, wat zijn loopen naar de sociëteit
betreft, altijd alles wijsmaken.
Zijn gezicht helderde op toen hij in het ruime lokaal kwam, waar een
eeuwige lucht van verschaalde spiritualiën heerschte. Er waren dien
Zondag-avond nogal bezoekers en daaronder ook een oud heer,
chef van een groot handelshuis. Er werd natuurlijk kaart gespeeld.
Van Brakel zorgde dat hij met den koopman in hetzelfde partijtje
kwam; tegen halfelf zond hij den wagen naar Lucie met de
boodschap, dat hij haar onmogelijk kon komen halen; hij zou wel
nader zeggen, hoe dat kwam. Het was alweer halftwee voor men „de
laatste” speelde; daarna werd er gesoupeerd, en de koopman
bestelde paling in gelei met sla en andere goede zaken; zij praatten
en lachten, en besproeiden het soupertje met een goed glas
champagne. Toen meende Van Brakel, dat het rechte moment was
gekomen. Hij nam den koopman à p a r t en vertelde hem in weinige
woorden, wat de quaestie was. Met de handen in de zakken hoorde
deze hem aan, knikte een paar keer met het hoofd, en zei toen met
een onbeschrijfelijk beschermend a i r d e g r a n d s e i g n e u r :
„Wel ja, ik zal je wel helpen. Kom morgen maar even op mijn
kantoor, dan zullen we dat dingetje wel in orde maken.”
De ingenieur had wel willen springen van vreugde. Hij [23]drukte „den
vriend in nood” de hand en zei iets van groote verplichting
enzoovoort.
„Kom,” zei de ander. „Laat ons nu nog een partij biljarten.”
Tegen vier uren gingen ze huiswaarts; ze hadden veel pleizier

gehad; ze wisselden s h a k e - h a n d s ; ze hadden veel gedronken,
—maar beiden waren van die sturdy gasten, die letterlijk overal
tegen konden.
„Nu, t o t m o r g e n ,” zei de koopman, terwijl hij in zijn mylord

stapte.
Het antwoord „To t m o r g e n ” van Van Brakel, die in zijn bendy

klom, klonk als het summun van wat er hartelijks kan liggen in de
menschelijke stem.
Hij maakte Lucie wakker, maar ze was boos; ze verweet hem,

schoon op haar gewonen kalmen toon, dat hij haar een mal figuur
liet maken bij hun kennissen. Luid protesteerend, kuste hij haar. Hij
kon het waarachtig niet helpen; het was onmogelijk geweest,
want.…. en nu vertelde hij haar de heele geschiedenis.
Neen, nu begreep ze ook, dat hij niet weg had kunnen gaan, terwijl
zich zoo’n schoone gelegenheid aanbood.
Hoe gelukkig, dat hij zoo gauw geholpen was! Zij zouden er anders
groote s o e s a h mee gehad hebben. Van het bedrag was ze
zoozeer niet geschrikt; ze had in haar jeugd, als ze hier of daar op
een onderneming gelogeerd was, wel eens andere dingen gezien.
Nu, dat was in zoover, Goddank, dan alweer geschikt! Het
verheugde hem innig, dat zij er ook zoo over dacht; hij kuste haar
nogmaals en kneep haar in de kuiten, die ze lachend en flauwtjes
protesteerend optrok. [24]Geen wolkje was er meer aan de lucht;
geen zorg hoe groot of klein kon hen nu meer deren; ten slotte sliep
hij in, doodvermoeid van het vernieuwde nachtbraken, en Lucie sliep
waarlijk ook weer in, en werd met schrik wakker, door het
geschreeuw van de kinderen, toen het reeds lang dag was.
Van Brakel had zijn speelschuld betaald. Denzelfden dag, dat het
gebeurde, wist de geheele stad het. De meeste menschen waren er
verbaasd over, en zijn vrienden ook, maar zij hielden zich goed, en
als er over werd gesproken, zeiden ze maar, dat Van Brakel een
speelbeurs er op na hield, die verduiveld goed gespekt moest
wezen, want hij had anders altijd v e i n e . ’t Was niet waar, maar het
gezeur was er mee aan een eind.
Slechts de tokohouders, die tot het oneindige l a i n b o e l a n

kregen op hun rekeningen, waren recalcitrant toen ze hoorden van
die drie duizend pop, en ieder hunner besloot in stilte om het er niet
bij te laten. Als de ingenieur zóóveel geld kon verdobbelen, dan kon
hij, meenden zij, hen ook wel betalen.
Het leven ging zijn ouden gang met dit verschil, dat de Van Brakels
minder dan ooit konden toekomen, daar de koopman elke maand
een deel van het geleende moest terugontvangen. De ingenieur
deed het onmogelijke om hooge declaraties te maken, maar
overigens ontzag hij zich in niets, ging evenals vroeger elken dag
naar de sociëteit en dobbelde er met afwisselend geluk. Lucie deed
op hare wijze haar best als huisvrouw; de kinderen groeiden als
kool, en zij.… groeide ook als kool. Zij vonden het vooruitzicht op
[25]nieuwe vermeerdering van hun gezin nu juist niet aangenaam,
maar ze beklaagden zich niet. In dat opzicht waren ze ouderwetsche
principes toegedaan; ze vonden haar een zegen, die verwezenlijking
van de zeezand-theorie!
Er ontbrak hun niets dan een millioen, en het was heel ongelukkig,
vond Lucie, dat nu juist z i j daarover niet beschikken konden, terwijl
er menschen genoeg waren met groot fortuin, die door hun
levenswijze duidelijk toonden, dat ze van hun geld geen gebruik
wisten te maken, en het dus ook niet waard waren.
Het was zeer slecht verdeeld in de wereld. Herman deed toch zoo
zijn best! ’t Was waar: hij ging veel naar de sociëteit en had sterk
uitkomende epicurische neigingen. Doch een man moest toch w a t
hebben. En dan: wat werkte hij niet hard! Altijd was hij in de weer, en
nu gaf hij weer les aan verscheiden jongelieden, die zich voor
landmeters- en andere examens wilden bekwamen. Toch gingen ze
hard achteruit. Niet alleen werd het „staatje” met elke maand grooter,
maar er bestond geen goede verhouding tusschen het verminderen
der bestaande posten en het bedrag van die er bij kwamen.
„Heb je ’t gehoord?” vroeg Van Brakel, terwijl hij zijn morsige

schoenen op de mat wilde afvegen, maar het met voorname
slordigheid er naast deed: „heb je ’t gehoord? Er is een c a l i c o t -bal
in de soos.”
„Dat moet erg pleizierig zijn.”
„Zeker, alle dames komen in sarong en kabaja. Katoen-achtiger kan

men het niet verlangen.”
„Wees nu niet flauw, Herman. Ik vind het uitstekend. [26]Waarom

moeten er voor een gewone partij altijd zooveel onkosten worden
gemaakt?”
„Wou jij soms in een katoen japonnetje gaan?”
„Ja natuurlijk.… Een c a l i c o t -bal, heb ik gelezen.…”
„Is een gelegenheid om eenvoudige menschen te foppen.”

„Dat is n o n s e n s .”
„Neen Luus, dat is het niet. Haast iedereen komt op zoo’n bal in
prachtig toilet, en a l s er dan naïeve lui zijn, die w e z e n l i j k in een
katoentje komen, dan amuseeren de anderen zich daar kostelijk
mee. Dat zijn de arme drommels, die, gelukkig dat ze eens naar ’n
bal kunnen gaan, zonder dat het wat kost, de gelegenheid met beide
handen hebben aangegrepen.”
„A j a k k e s , hoe hatelijk!”
Van Brakel lachte met wereldkennis.
„Het is niets dan de waarheid, Luus, en ik zou niet willen hebben, dat
die dames van den handel, die toch al zoo’n bluf slaan in groot toilet,
jou achter haar waaiers zaten uit te lachen, omdat je er waart met
een katoen jurkje.”
„Het zou mij wat kunnen schelen.… Bovendien, ik geloof dat je ’t je

maar verbeeldt.”
„Waarachtig niet. Die particulieren hier in Indië.…”
„Ik zou maar niets van „die particulieren” zeggen, Herman. Wie zou
je laatst zoo maar dadelijk aan dat geld hebben geholpen, als het
niet een particulier was geweest?”
„’t Was ook wat.… voor hem,” protesteerde Van Brakel, maar hij ging
toch door naar zijn kamer om zich uit te kleeden, en onttrok zich aan
verdere discussie.
Het was een teer punt, het eenige waarover zij steeds [27]gevaar
liepen twist te krijgen. Hij kon niet nalaten zijn ambtenaarshart van
tijd tot tijd te luchten over „die particulieren”, en zij kon dat niet velen,
want haar vader was zoo’n particulier, en zij had haar heele
jongedochtersleven bij en met particulieren doorgebracht.
Maar niettemin besloot zij het denkbeeld van in een c a l i c o t -

kostuum te gaan, te laten varen. Toch wilde ze er heen. N u kon ze
nog gaan. Sloeg ze deze gelegenheid over, dan zou het wel weer
een heel jaar duren vóórdat ze zich kon vertoonen; dan had ze weer
een kleine, die haar thuis hield. Het stond dus vast, dat zij gaan zou,
en daar zij geen bruikbaar baltoilet had, bestelde ze er een, dat
n i e t van katoen was. Het kostte wel wat veel, maar kwam men
over den hond, dan zou men ook wel over ZEds. staart geraken.
En zij amuseerde zich uitstekend op het bal! Herman had gelijk

gehad, dat zag ze nu ook, en ze was blij met haar baltoilet, te meer
daar het zóó was gemaakt, dat dank zij ook de hulp van balein,
niemand „iets” aan haar kon zien.
Zij zag er wezenlijk goed uit, en daarvoor was ze ook jong genoeg.
Haar blanke huid en gevulde vormen; haar fraai aschblond haar,
keurig netjes opgemaakt, en mooie groote blauwe oogen trokken de
aandacht van menig man, en de opmerking „dat die mevrouw Van
Brakel er verduiveld goed uitzag”, werd dien avond verscheiden
malen gemaakt; daarbij lag er over haar geheele persoon als het
ware een cachet van vrouwelijkheid, dat meestal meer aantrekt dan
strenge schoonheid; ’t was of die eigenschap niet enkel sprak uit
haar figuur, maar of men haar hoorde uit den toon harer stem.
Geen dans bleef ze zitten. Niet alleen danste zij „dienst” [28]met twee
aspirant-ingenieurs en een jonger collega van Van Brakel, maar ze
werd ook door velen gevraagd, alleen om het genoegen met haar te
dansen. Wie haar zóó zag, zou de mevrouw Van Brakel niet hebben
herkend, die thuis wel eens den geheelen ochtend kon rondloopen,
een beetje ongewasschen, een beetje ongekamd en met een beetje
erg onzindelijke kabaja aan.
Eens kwam Van Brakel in den loop van den avond vragen, of ze ook
wat wilde gebruiken. Het was een noodelooze formaliteit, want onder
het dansen dronk ze nooit iets, uit vrees het te warm te krijgen. Voor
de rest was hij in de balzaal onzichtbaar. Zoo’n feest was voor hem
gelijk aan een gewonen speelavond met servituut van een lange jas.
Toen het bal was afgeloopen en de laatste bezoekers opstonden om

heen te gaan, kwam Van Brakel zijn vrouw uit de zaal halen; hun
rijtuig stond voor.
Hij zag er bijzonder vroolijk en opgewekt uit; al pratend en lachend

met een paar bekende families, scheen hij volstrekt geen haast te
hebben, hoe laat het ook was. Als Lucie het niet had belet door
eenvoudig afscheid te nemen, zou hij in staat zijn geweest er weer
bij te gaan zitten.
„Je bent ook zoo’n plakker,” zei ze, toen ze wegreden. Hij lachte.
„Zeg Luus, hoeveel heeft je nieuwe japon gekost?”
Zij aarzelde een oogenblik; ze kon niet ontkennen, dat ze eenig

zelfverwijt voelde.
„Honderd dertig.”
„Zoo, nu, ik heb van avond honderd tachtig verdiend; dat komt
zoowat overeen uit.” [29]
„Kom.…!”
„Wel, het is zoo’n wonder niet. Ik heb honderd en tachtig pop

gewonnen. ’t Is b e t o e l waar.”
Het was ook waar, en zij vond het heerlijk. Alweer een pak van haar
hart! Ten slotte dus, kwam die partij hun niet op een handvol geld,
maar ze verdienden er nog bij; dat idee bracht haar in een
aangename stemming, en zij vleide zich met welbehagen tegen hem
aan. Ook Van Brakel was recht in zijn humeur; hij sloeg zijn arm om
haar heen en zoende haar.
„Je zag er allerliefst uit van avond, Luus.”
„Vindt je?” vroeg ze met een zweempje coquetterie.
„A c r o q u e r ,” verzekerde hij, en zij gaven elkaar een kus, die wat

innigheid en afmetingen betreft, herinnerde aan den tijd toen ze nog
als geëngageerde jongelui hun heil zochten achter de bloempotten
van dokter Van der Linden.
Daarna gichelden ze samen, zeiden: „Wat zijn we toch kinderachtig,”

en gingen netjes rechtop zitten, gelijk bij getrouwde menschen, die
reeds vier kinderen hebben, te doen gebruikelijk is.
Die gewonnen honderd en tachtig gulden deden dienst dien avond!

Lucie zag het denkbeeld om nu en dan eens „wat” te laten maken,
minder donker in, en Herman werd er door bevestigd in zijn reeds
lang vaststaande meening, dat het homberen „een schoone zaak”
was.
Thuis haastte zij zich haar japon los te maken, luid zuchtend van
verlichting toen met een dof geluid de sterk gerekte en gespannen
stof zich weer tot haar natuurlijken toestand inkromp. [30]
„Dat is toch zoo’n genot!” zei ze.
Hij lachte er om en plaagde haar er mee, met allerlei zinspelingen;

en zij, die zich in zulk een t ê t e - a - t ê t e allerminst behoefde te
geneeren, gaf hem zijn plagerijen met interest terug.
Die goede honderd en tachtig gulden! Zoo weinig, en toch, helaas!
zooveel.
Maar er m o e s t verandering in komen. Het hielp op den duur niet,

dat Van Brakel den rekeningen-dag ontvluchtte, noch dat Lucie met
de grootste kalmte de quitanties terugzond. Er werd gedreigd;
ernstig gedreigd met aanvragen om beslag op zijn traktement, en dat
moest vermeden worden.
Naar het „staatje” keek hij reeds lang niet meer om. Er was toch
geen bijhouden aan, en dan: het bracht hem maar van streek en
bedierf zijn humeur, zonder dat het iets hoegenaamd hielp.
Hij zat in sombere gedachten daarover verdiept aan de kletstafel in

de sociëteit, en dronk er weemoedig een bittertje bij, haast niet
luisterend naar het gepraat van een jong handels-geëmployeerde,
die pas uit Europa was gekomen, maar, van invloedrijke en gegoede
familie zijnde, dadelijk bekwaam was geoordeeld voor een vrij goede
positie.
„Ik wou,” zeide deze eindelijk, „dat ik maar bij een nette familie
inwoning kon krijgen. Weet u niemand, die genegen is voor ƒ 150.—
’s maands, iemand een paar kamers en te eten te geven?”
Langzaam wendde Van Brakel het hoofd naar hem toe en keek hem
eenige oogenblikken als verwonderd aan.
„Misschien wel. Ik heb er nooit aan gedacht en mijn vrouw [31]ook

niet. Maar we hebben een paviljoen op ons erf met twee kamers. Als
mijn vrouw er niet tegen heeft, zoudt ge wellicht bij ons kunnen
komen.”
„Als het kon, heel graag.”

„Wel, ik ga nu naar huis en zal er mijn vrouw over spreken. Heeft zij
er geen bezwaar tegen, dan schrijf ik u van middag.”
„Heel graag; hoe gauwer hoe liever, want het leven in een logement
ben ik niet gewoon. Voor een maand of zoo gaat het goed, maar niet
op den duur.”
Het was een uitkomst! Dáár had hij nu waarlijk niet aan gedacht. Het
is waar dat ze bij hun trouwen vast besloten hadden nimmer
commensalen in huis te nemen, en dat het paviljoentje tot nu toe
voor niet veel meer dan berghok van kisten, koffers enz. werd
gebruikt, maar dat was in een wip te veranderen, en dat hij nog had
getwijfeld aan de toestemming van Lucie, was slechts p o e r a -
p o e r a geweest. Zij wist ook wel, dat de nood drong.
Nu, ze had er vrede mede niet alleen, maar ze was er blij om.
Dadelijk moest het paviljoentje schoon gemaakt en van meubelen
voorzien worden, die, een beetje erg duur, wel op krediet te krijgen
waren.
Zoo iemand meer of minder in de ménage, wat zou het kosten?

Honderd vijftig gulden ’s maands daarentegen—daarmee konden ze
dit en dat.… En ze somden de wonderen elkaar op, die zij
successievelijk met dat bedrag meer per maand zouden kunnen
doen, en ze zaten elkaar en zichzelven te bedotten met open oogen,
en ze misrekenden zich in hun illusoire voorstelling omtrent dezen
geldelijken bijslag [32]op een gruwelijke manier, tot eindelijk het
luchtkasteel compleet was.
De jonge Geerling kwam en bracht groote kisten mee vol bibelots en

snuisterijen, waarmede hij de twee kleine kamers zoodanig
volpropte, dat men er geen schrede kon verzetten, zonder gevaar te
loopen iets te breken, terwijl er geen plekje aan den muur was, waar
niet de eene of andere fraaiigheid hing.
Dat was, volgens zijn opinie, gezellig.
Lucie, die hij inviteerde om eens te komen zien, hoe hij zijn kwartier
had opgeschikt, stond verbaasd over de vele kleurige kleinigheden,
die gezamenlijk den vertrekken zulk een eigenaardig aanzien gaven,
evenals zij verbaasd had gestaan over Geerlings geheele
persoonlijkheid.
Zij was gewoon de heeren der schepping te zien in witte pantalons

en dito jassen of korte zwarte jasjes, en ook overigens gekleed met
een eenvoud, daarmede geheel in harmonie.
Geerling liet zich elken dag kappen, hij had zeer lage schoentjes aan
met zwarte lintjes gestrikt, en gekleurde zijden sokken; hij droeg
roomkleurige vesten en zalmkleurige jasjes, overhemden en
boorden met gekleurde strepen en balletjes, dassen met moesjes en
franjes, en stroohoeden met breede gekleurde linten er om; hij had
een lintgouden horlogeketting, en aan zijn vingers droeg hij lange
nagels en gouden ringen.
Met dat alles was hij een jongmensch met goede manieren en een
goede opvoeding, met een beetje pedanterie en veel radicalisme in
zijn denkbeelden, maar in elk geval zijn conversatie waard.
Waarom hij naar Indië was gezonden, wist hijzelf niet goed. Om het
geld behoefde hij het niet te doen; dat had hij [33]meer dan genoeg;
den handel zou hij toch niet leeren, want hij had er hoegenaamd
geen pleizier in, en te Parijs, ja zelfs te Amsterdam vond hij het leven
veel aangenamer dan op Java.
Maar ’t was de wil geweest zijns vaders, en daar hij minderjarig was,
heette die wil een wet.

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The Indian System of Human Marks 1st

Edition Kenneth G. Zysk

Human Tooth Crown and Root Morphology The Arizona State

The Cambridge Handbook of Workplace Training and

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Tizzy the Dizzy Dreidel Allison Marks Wayne Marks

Middle Market M & A: Handbook for Advisors, Investors,

The Origins of Human Rights Ancient Indian and Greco

Smith's Recognizable Patterns of Human Malformation 8th

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The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/was

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Zysk, Kenneth G., author.

Copyright 2016 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands.

This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

I Formulations. The System of Human Marks in Jyotiḥśāstra 55

II Reformulations. The System of Human Marks in the Purāṇas 80

III Consolidations. The System Human Marks in the Nibandhas and

IV Assimilations. Independent Treatise on the System of Human Marks:

V Numerology in the Indian System of the Human Marks 149

Appendix to Chapter V: Texts and Translations 173

Gārgīyajyotiṣa Chapter I: Puruṣalakṣaṇam 226

Agnipurāṇa 243 328

Gārgīyajyotiṣa Introduction: “Textual Criticism on the Gārgīyajyotiṣa.

Utpala’s Samudra Introduction 681

Agni- and Viṣṇudharmottara Purāṇas: Introduction 711

Anaṅgaraṅga: Introduction 845

Appendix: List of Male and Female Body Parts 851

1 See CDIAL #10882, p. 630.

when Puruṣa-strīlakṣaṇaśāstra became an essential tool for arranging marriage

Lyndby, 29 October 2015

ĀĀ Ānandāśrama Sanskrit Series

BN Bibliothèque Nationale (Paris)

An independent Sanskrit textbook or śāstra devoted to the human marks prob-

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004299825_002

In addition to gross anatomy, other human characteristics or “basic marks”

The Human Marks as a System of Knowledge

late mediaeval Smṛtinibandhas and the texts of Kāmaśāstra and Ratiśāstra, as

The Principal Characteristics of the System of Human Marks

Form and Content

The Basic Marks

being to be examined and evaluated. Moreover, as a group they bear close

The Human Marks and Indian Medicine

The Three Objects of the Senses

1. complexion (varṇa) via sight14

Garga mentions that auspicious female voices resemble Haṃsa-birds, ket-

Caraka explains that, when a patient emits an odour, as numerous flowers do

Bodily Auras and Sheen

The Bodily Glows and Auras

45 1.18, 21–22, 25–26, 28–30.

No one lacks a shadow-like aura or natural body glow. However, certain

64 See Garga 1, appendix 1, v. 1.

Continuing his discussion, Caraka establishes a connection between wind, the

69 CaSū 13.14–17. In 16, Cakra glosses enhances manhood (pauruṣopacaya) as “increases

As appropriate to those accustomed to walking with bare feet, such as Bud-

74 CaSū 5.88–89: na cābhighātābhihitaṃ gātram abhyaṅgasevinaḥ, vikāraṃ bhajate ’tyar-

Animal similes are an important characteristic of the Indian system of marks.

The Use of the System of Human Marks

77 See SPK 11.53–79.

the anthology is titled Sāmuddrik or Sāmudrika, which is defined as “the science

Indian and Non-Indian Systems of Physiognomy in Antiquity

90 Pingree, “Mesopotamian Omens,” p. 374.

94 Fritz Rudolf Kraus, Die physiognomischen Omina der Babylonier. Inaugural-Dissertation