4. The Ogre

“Nobody Seeks to Kill Me!”

© 2024 Roberto Morales-Harley, CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 https://doi.org/10.11647/OBP.0417.04

Book 9 of the Odyssey is divided into three episodes of unequal length: the Cicones, the Lotus-eaters, and the Cyclopes. Once he reveals his identity to the Phaeacians, Odysseus tells how, right after Troy, they encountered the Cicones, who managed to repel the ravaging Greeks and even to kill some of them; and on the tenth day thereafter, he dovetails the succinct tale of their get-together with the Lotus-eaters, whose alluring fruit nearly meant giving up on the homecoming. In both cases, the companions come out as imprudent, while Odysseus’ prudence is what saves the day. However, the third episode is quite different, not only in terms of its lengthier narrative, but also concerning the hero’s behavior.

The epic version of the episode goes like this: on the first day, Odysseus and his companions sail past the land of the Cyclopes, who are depicted as being unaware of such basic cultural practices as sowing or plowing, having assemblies or laws, or building ships. On the second day, the Greek warriors stay on the nearby island of the goats, where they eat and drink until nighttime. On the third day, Odysseus decides to take a small group of companions on an expedition to the neighboring land of the Cyclopes. Having sailed there, they find the cave of the mountainous Polyphemus, towards which only a still smaller group of twelve companions walk alongside the hero. Odysseus is carrying a special wine, which the priest Maron had given to him for sparing his life, as well as the lives of his wife and his son.

When they arrive, the Cyclops is out pasturing, and the twelve companions want to gather as much cheese and as many kids and lambs as they can carry, and then run back to the ship; but Odysseus recklessly chooses to wait for the Cyclops and ask him for a hospitable welcome. The Cyclops returns and closes the entrance to the cave with a boulder. When requested for hospitality, he openly disparages Zeus and the other gods, and proceeds to devour two of the companions. Odysseus is ingenious enough not to tell the Cyclops that they have a ship waiting for them – and not to kill him before the boulder has been removed from the entrance.

On the fourth day, the Cyclops devours two more men. By this point, Odysseus cleverly figures out a stratagem: with the help of his friends, he manages to carve a stake from the trunk of an olive that was laying around. By lot, four out of the eight remaining companions are chosen to aid the protagonist during the stabbing of the Cyclops. This new instance of selection presents the men as a group of four plus one. Once they are ready to implement the ruse, Odysseus gets the ball rolling by offering the Cyclops the special wine that he has been carrying, and by telling the ogre that his name is Nobody. An additional two men are eaten during the night.

As a gift of hospitality, the Cyclops offers Odysseus the gift of being the last one to be eaten, shortly before falling asleep with his neck exposed. Odysseus and his companions promptly stab the Cyclops in the eye. The other Cyclopes ask Polyphemus about his cries, to which he inadvertently replies with Odysseus’ intended pun by saying that Nobody has harmed him. Odysseus laughs at the scene. Then, he fathoms the last step: he binds the rams in sets of three, and he secures a man below the middle one of each set. He himself rides below the strongest ram.

With the dawn of the fifth day, Polyphemus removes the boulder to take the rams for pasturing. He stands by the entrance while they exit the cave. But the smooth escape suffers from one last setback when the reckless Odysseus wants to make sure that Polyphemus is aware of what has happened to him. Furious, the Cyclops uproots the top of a mountain and throws it at the departing ship. Despite the best efforts of his companions to restrain him, Odysseus outdoes his previous foolishness by trumpeting his real name.

Thus, Polyphemus recognizes the fulfilment of an old prophecy, and prays to his father Poseidon to either prevent Odysseus from returning home or, at least, to do so tardily, alone, and ready to overcome still more challenges. Another mountaintop falls near the ship while they sail back to the island of the goats. Eating and drinking for the remainder of that day, much as they had done at the beginning of the episode, upon the arrival of the sixth day they sail away and continue their adventure.

Vis-à-vis Euripides’ Cyclops, its multiple sources include the Homeric and Hesiodic Epics; the Homeric Hymns; the plays of Aeschylus, Sophocles, Aristophanes, and even Euripides himself;146 and the works of other dramatists which have only been preserved in a fragmentary manner, such as Epicharmus, Aristias, Cratinus, Callias, and maybe even Thimotheus.¹⁴⁷ Nevertheless, the main source for the adaptation of the ogre motif is, without a doubt, Od. 9. In a nutshell, the plot of the play is as follows: throughout four episodes of varying length, the hero Odysseus alternately interacts with the chorus of Satyrs and with the Cyclops Polyphemus. The main events include Odysseus buying from the Satyrs, Odysseus plotting against Polyphemus, Odysseus being left high and dry by the Satyrs, and Odysseus revealing himself to Polyphemus.

In the prologue, the satyr Silenus explains that, while searching for the god Dionysus, who had been enslaved by pirates, he and his sons the Satyrs have ended up themselves as slaves at the house of Polyphemus, by the slopes of Mount Aetna. After a parodos¹⁴⁸ in which the audience learns that much of the day has already passed, the first episode introduces Odysseus. In their dialogue, Silenus and Odysseus go back and forth about civilization, government, agriculture, viticulture, and hospitality. Odysseus is, clearly, testing the waters. After learning that Polyphemus is out hunting, Silenus and Odysseus begin a commercial exchange involving, on one hand, meat, milk, and cheese, and on the other, not money but the wine previously supplied by the priest Maron. The subject of the Trojan war also comes up.

When Polyphemus returns to his cave, he finds his products on display, as well as a group of humans who make his mouth water. The drunken Silenus claims that Odysseus and his companions were trying to take everything by force, whereas Odysseus himself claims that it was all an agreed-upon transaction. With great comedic effect, Silenus swears by his sons the Satyrs that Odysseus and his companions were stealing the merchandise, while the Satyrs swear by their father Silenus that Odysseus and his companions were buying it. Following a new mention of the Trojan war, Polyphemus proclaims his ideology: he does not praise Zeus, but his belly; he does not follow any laws, but only the wishes of his heart; and he will only offer Odysseus, as hospitable gifts, a fire for cooking him, salt for seasoning him, and a bronze pot for completing the preparation of the meal.

After the first stasimon,¹⁴⁹ which gives time for some off-stage violence perpetrated by Polyphemus, the second episode begins with Odysseus narrating the culinary techniques displayed by the Cyclops. He does not only kill two of the companions, but he also carves, roasts, and boils as required. Immediately, Odysseus comes up with a plan. He must get Polyphemus drunk and away from the other Cyclopes, and then, he must use the olive stake from the cave to blind Polyphemus. If all goes well, Odysseus offers to rescue the Satyrs, and therefore, they offer to help him with the blinding. As intended, the drunken Polyphemus lies down just when the heat of the sun is at its peak. And just before falling asleep, he remembers to ask Odysseus about his name, to which Odysseus replies with the well-known “Nobody”. Now it is time to put the alleged bravery of the Satyrs to the test.

Following the second stasimon, the third episode quickly presents the unwillingness of the Satyrs to help Odysseus, who in turn, must appeal to his companions. The contribution of the Satyrs is limited to cheerleading. Lastly and after a third stasimon, which allows for the proportional off-stage violence orchestrated by Odysseus, the fourth episode showcases the blinded Polyphemus, who is relentlessly mocked by the Satyrs. As per the epic script, Odysseus finally reveals his identity, whereas Polyphemus, having remembered the prophecy of his blinding, proceeds to throw rocks at his witty adversary. In the exodos,¹⁵⁰ the Satyrs simply follow Odysseus, eager to go back to serving Dionysus.

In the dramatic version, the author profits from these twelve procedures: [GO1]151 he merges two stories into one, [GO2] he adds the father/son conflict, [GO3] he adds the Chance, [GO4] he emphasizes the tree, [GO5] he emphasizes the sex, [GO6] he emphasizes the mistaken identity, [GO7] he changes the place, [GO8] he changes the time, [GO9] he changes the authoritarian figure, [GO10] he changes the role of the priest, [GO11] he changes the lot into a choice, and [GO12] he maintains the hospitality.

[GO1] Cyclops brings together the stories about Odysseus and Polyphemus, on one side, and about Silenus and the Satyrs, on the other.¹⁵² The addition of a chorus of Satyrs is a sine qua non for a satyr drama, but their integration with the narrative of the source text is quite innovative. The prologue of the Cyclops closely mirrors the proem of the Odyssey: the invocation to the Muse turns into that of Dionysus; the heroic Odysseus, into the antiheroic Silenus; and the many resources, wanderings, men, and sufferings, referring to the well-known, postwar homecoming, become the countless labors of a lifetime of servitude under the god of wine.

The overall reversal is further signaled by the abrupt switch, within the very first verse of the play, from the opening dactyl of the first foot, evidently recalling the Homeric hexameter, to the iambs of the last two feet of the trimeter, whose syncopated rhythm makes them stand in overt contrast with the preceding one. To put it another way, the metric of the first verse marks the transition between genres.

[GO2] Euripides adds the father/son conflict. In the epic, there are two father/son relations at play: Poseidon/Polyphemus and Laertes/Odysseus. Unlike the hero, the ogre is the son of a god, and if humans like Achilles can hold a grudge (e.g., Il. 1.1), deities like Poseidon can do so too (e.g., Od. 1.20). When Odysseus finally reveals his identity, precisely by introducing himself as the son of Laertes, Polyphemus proclaims that he himself is the son of a worthier father, i.e., the god Poseidon. Shortly after, the Cyclops prays that, if possible, his father may cause Odysseus never to make it back home. In essence, the father from the first pair (Poseidon) would be responsible for the death of the son from the second pair (Odysseus).

In the play, the father/son relation is exploited in the form of the newly added characters: Silenus/Satyrs. Sensu stricto, Silenus is older than the Satyrs, but he is not their father. However, Euripides makes him so. The scene is quite comical: if the epic Polyphemus invokes Poseidon, the dramatic Silenus conjures not only Poseidon, Triton, Nereus, Calypso, and the Nereids, but also the waves and the fish. Silenus also profits from epithets combining superlatives and diminutives, and he falsely swears on the lives of his sons, only to be immediately called out on his lie by them, who in turn falsely swear on the life of their father.

[GO4] The author emphasizes the tree. There are two components to the dramatic depiction of the blinding. The first one concerns the planning process: Homer has Odysseus planning to get Polyphemus drunk before blinding him with the staff of green olivewood, but Euripides goes one step further, by having Odysseus plan to discourage Polyphemus from making any sort of contact with the Cyclopes before even attempting to get him drunk, let alone blinding him with the stake of olive. Clearly, the dramatic Odysseus is playing chess while the epic Odysseus is playing checkers.

[GO5] Euripides also emphasizes the sex by means of the “Ganymede : Zeus :: Silenus : Polyphemus” analogy. According to the Iliad, the Trojan Ganymede was the son of Tros, the eponymous king of Troy, as well as the brother of Ilus, from whom the city received the name of Ilium. Just as Aphrodite comes out from the Judgment of Paris as the most beautiful amongst female immortals, so too does Ganymede stand out as the most beautiful amongst male mortals. His beauty even earns him the job of wine steward to the king of the gods. Such conquest by Zeus reflected the Greek social norm of a sexual relationship between an adult man and a pubescent youth.

[GO6] Additionally, the playwright emphasizes the mistaken identity through a change in the timing of the name trick.153 The epic highlights the relevance of the name trick by placing it in the middle of the sequence, after the boulder trick and before the ram trick. It also stresses the pun between the proper noun “Nobody” and the pronoun “nobody”. The play on words is simple but effective: Polyphemus means that someone named Nobody is seeking to kill him, but his fellow Cyclopes interpret his statement as meaning that nothing is happening. Furthermore, Polyphemus tries to distinguish between a positive statement (Nobody is using trickery) and a negative one (Nobody is not using force), but such subtleties end up being conflated thanks to the presupposed negative of the name taken as a pronoun, and all that the Cyclopes hear is a double negative (nobody is using neither trickery nor force).

‘ὦ φίλοι, Οὖτίς με κτείνει δόλῳ οὐδὲ βίηφιν.’

οἱ δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενοι ἔπεα πτερόεντ’ ἀγόρευον·

‘εἰ μὲν δὴ μή τίς σε βιάζεται οἶον ἐόντα,

νοῦσον γ’ οὔ πως ἔστι Διὸς μεγάλου ἀλέασθαι,

ἀλλὰ σύ γ’ εὔχεο πατρὶ Ποσειδάωνι ἄνακτι.’

“O dear ones, Nobody seeks to kill me with trickery and not by force!” In answer, they pronounced these winged words: “If, indeed, no one uses their force against you who are alone, there is no way for you to avoid the sickness of the great Zeus, but still, pray to our father, the lord Poseidon.”

(Od. 9.408-412)

Similarly, the drama profits from the comical implications of the confusion. But what was simple becomes complex: the assertion that Nobody destroyed Polyphemus can be taken as expressing that there was no wrong done to him; the claim that Nobody is blinding him, as stating that he is not blind; and even the question regarding the whereabouts of this Nobody, as deserving a nonsensical answer, for the word “there”, as part of an utterance such as “there is nobody”, does not denote an actual place. Where the Homeric Odysseus had a good laugh, the Euripidean Satyrs come close to rolling on the floor laughing.

ΚΥΚΛΩΨ

CYCLOPS

ΟΔΥΣΣΕΥΣ

[GO7] In terms of spatial location, Euripides changes the action to a Mediterranean venue: the island of Sicily.154 The Homeric geography is fictional, with its unlocated land of the Cyclopes, and its neighboring island of the goats. The Euripidean geography, in turn, is real: Malea is a cape in the southeast of the Peloponnese, which marked the sailing route towards Italy; and Aetna is a volcano in the east of Sicily. Although the characters and themes remain the subject of stories, there is an authorial intention of grounding spaces and times in historical facts. This agrees with the criticism of unbelievability that the play directs towards the epic.

[GO8] The author also changes the time, reducing several days of action to just one, and thus following the Greek theatrical convention. According to Aristotle,155 “the latter [sc. tragedy] tries above all to be of under one round trip of the sun, or to exceed it by little; but epic is unlimited in time span and differs in this respect [ἡ μὲν ὅτι μάλιστα πειρᾶται ὑπὸ μίαν περίοδον ἡλίου εἶναι ἢ μικρὸν ἐξαλλάττειν, ἡ δὲ ἐποποιία ἀόριστος τῷ χρόνῳ καὶ τούτῳ διαφέρει]” (Poet. 1449b11-14).

The epic mentions the dawn of a new day on five separate occasions (Od. 152, Od. 170, Od. 307, Od. 437, and Od. 560), which means that the action stretches for at least six days. In addition, the Greek warriors are held captive inside of the cave for at least two nights: from days three to four, and four to five. In contrast, the play traces only the happenings of less than one round trip of the sun: a good part of the day has already passed, since the kids and lambs have been sleeping all day; but it is still daytime, because the daylight still allows for the trading of merchandise; and given the amount of sun-heat, the exact time of day must be the afternoon.

Ἦμος δ’ ἠριγένεια φάνη ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς,

As soon as the early Dawn of rosy fingers showed herself…

(Od. 9.152 = 170 = 307 = 437 = 560)

ποθοῦσί σ’ ἁμερόκοι-

τοι βλαχαὶ σμικρῶν τεκέων.

Among the little young ones, the bleating ones who have slept all day are longing for you.

(Cyc. 58-59)

ἐκφέρετε· φῶς γὰρ ἐμπολήμασιν πρέπει.

Bring them, for daylight suits merchandise.

(Cyc. 137)

καὶ πρός γε θάλπος ἡλίου πίνειν καλόν.

And, besides, it is nice to drink in the heat of the sun.

(Cyc. 542)

[GO9] The playwright changes the authoritarian figure. There are two sides to this procedure. On one side, Dionysus’ authority is positively highlighted, when the epic’s wine drinking becomes the play’s worshipping of the god of wine.¹⁵⁶ On a superficial level, the epic has vines and wine as antedating the arrival of the Greeks, whereas the drama stresses the fact that the inebriating liquor is a Greek invention. However, on a deeper level, there is the association of wine with Dionysus, and therefore, the reinterpretation of drinking as a form of worship. If wine/Dionysus is divine, then it/he must be worshipped. This idea receives further development. For instance, when the epic Odysseus offers the wine to Polyphemus, he introduces it as a special drink coming from his ship, but the dramatic Odysseus is no tagalong, so when he gets to this part of his script, he carefully makes sure to give it his personal touch: this drink is divine, precisely because of its association with Dionysus.

Κύκλωψ, τῆ, πίε οἶνον, ἐπεὶ φάγες ἀνδρόμεα κρέα,

ὄφρ’ εἰδῇς οἷόν τι ποτὸν τόδε νηῦς ἐκεκεύθει

ἡμετέρη…

O Cyclops, here, drink the wine, after you have eaten human flesh, so that you know this sort of drink that our ship contained.

(Od. 9.347-349)

…Ὦ τοῦ ποντίου θεοῦ Κύκλωψ,

σκέψαι τόδ’ οἷον Ἑλλὰς ἀμπέλων ἄπο

θεῖον κομίζει πῶμα, Διονύσου γάνος.

O Cyclops, son of the sea god, look at this sort of divine drink that Greece procures out of the vines: the crown jewel of Dionysus.

(Cyc. 413-415)

Furthermore, if human beings worship wine/Dionysus, then it/he favors them in return. Unlike the ingenious Odysseus from the epic, who comes up with a plan all on his own, the devoted Odysseus from the theater receives a divine idea. In this way, this self-proclaimed sommelier turns out to be the most enthusiastic of the devotees. From a structural point of view, the dramatist has re-created Zeus’ plan as “Dionysus’ plan”: introducing an unwilling authoritarian to the liberating effects of wine. In a fifth-century context, relieving the world from overpopulation no longer makes sense as a divine plan, but preaching the gospel of Dionysus does. One might even recall that Euripides’ Bacchae seem to have made it all the way to Parthia (Plutarch, Crass. 33.2).

On the other side of the procedure, Polyphemus’ authority is negatively highlighted, when the adaptation introduces another treat suitable to this fifth-century context: the tyrannical perspective.157 The dramatic Polyphemus is still an anthropophagus ogre, just like his epic counterpart, but as was the case with several other features of the adaptation, there is more to this than meets the eye. On one hand, the Euripidean Cyclopes might not yet be oenophiles, but by looking at their expertise vis-à-vis high-grade meat, one is tempted to view them as bons vivants. This is evinced in the first of the two following passages from Cyclops.

On the other hand, the re-created text encourages its audience to make a connection between the image of the mythical ogre, literally devouring the heroes of yore, and that of any historical tyrant, figuratively devouring the ordinary citizens – and alongside them, the democratic ideal. In other words, the adapted Polyphemus remains a man-eating monster, albeit one with a newly found refinement, but he also becomes a slave-owning despot. These two functions are distributed according to those surrounding him: Odysseus is his potential meal, but Silenus and his Satyrs are the actual slaves of this one-eyed “master”, which is, precisely, the term used to refer to him in the second quoted passage from Cyclops.

Ὣς ἐφάμην, τοῖσιν δὲ κατεκλάσθη φίλον ἦτορ

μνησαμένοις ἔργων Λαιστρυγόνος Ἀντιφάταο

Κύκλωπός τε βίης μεγαλήτορος, ἀνδροφάγοιο.

I spoke thusly, and they were brokenhearted, having remembered the deeds of Antiphates the Laestrygonian, and the violence of the greathearted, man-eating Cyclops.

(Od. 10.198-200)

γλυκύτατά φασι τὰ κρέα τοὺς ξένους φορεῖν.

They [sc. the Cyclopes] say that strangers bear the tastiest flesh.

(Cyc. 126)

τίνες ποτ’ εἰσίν; οὐκ ἴσασι δεσπότην

Πολύφημον οἷός ἐστιν ἄξενόν τε γῆν

τήνδ’ ἐμβεβῶτες καὶ Κυκλωπίαν γνάθον

τὴν ἀνδροβρῶτα δυστυχῶς ἀφιγμένοι.

Who can they possibly be? They must not know what our master Polyphemus is like, since they have set foot in this inhospitable land, and they have unfortunately arrived at the man-eating jaws of the Cyclops.

(Cyc. 90-93)

[GO10] Euripides changes the role of the priest. Regarding Maron, the epic narrative is very thorough: he is the son of Euantes and the priest of Apollo. Presumably, when Odysseus met him, Maron would have been in the company of his wife and child. By “reverently embracing” the priest and his family, what would be meant is that they were let go unharmed, out of respect for the priestly condition of the father. Then comes the mention of the wine, which among several other epithets, is said to be of a divine nature. The story evolves backwards, to a time before the encounter, and it focuses on the house that would be located somewhere within the wooded grove. Other characters are mentioned as well: the slaves, the handmaidens, and a housekeeper. And there is even a picture of the prosperous lifestyle antedating the arrival of Odysseus: husband and wife secretly enjoying the divinely sweet liquor, without a care in the world.

As much as the clever Odysseus from the Homeric Epics wants to show off, in this case by boldly claiming some sort of clairvoyance when anticipating the encounter with the ogre, the truly resourceful spirit is that of the author, who announces some key elements that will eventually tilt the scales in favor of the hero: not only is the wine’s alcohol content so high as to require some significant diluting, but also the wineskin is large enough to get Polyphemus drunk. Talk about being keen – Homer lets almost nothing slide.

Going back to Euripides, the authorial decision here is to ignore Maron’s relation to Apollo, and to provide him with a similar link to Dionysus: if the drink coming from the epic Maron is twice characterized as being divine, the dramatic Maron himself is divine. He goes from priest of a god to son of a god. Moreover, given the overarching triumph of Dionysus in the satyr drama, there is no need to justify the high standing given to Maron.

[GO11] The playwright changes the lot into a choice.158 In book 9, during the final stages of planning the blinding, Odysseus leads his companions, not by appointing them to join him, but by ordering them to draw lots. Unlike previous instances, such as when he sailed from the island of the goats with a small but undetermined number of companions, or when he walked towards the cave of the Cyclops with a group of twelve companions, now Odysseus does not decide who will participate in this last phase of the adventure. When the stakes are higher, the hero leaves the decision-making up to chance. However, there is an exact correlation between the hero’s wishes and the author’s plans: the four allotted men would have been chosen anyway. When Odysseus himself takes the last spot, the group adds up to five, but it is still presented in terms of four plus one.

In Cyclops, Odysseus’ lips are sealed, and the Satyrs call him out on it. The two contrasting passages offer examples of questions, as if the characters were wondering whether the protagonist has forgotten his lines. The recurring image of drawing them up suggests the direct order of a general, instead of the open-ended option of blind fate, which would follow a drawing of lots. The funniest thing here is the fact that the brave companions from the epic have been ironically supplanted by the cowardly Satyrs from the play. If the reference began with the Chorus calling out the protagonist for his apparent forgetfulness, it ends with him calling them out for their cowardice.

αὐτὰρ τοὺς ἄλλους κλήρῳ πεπαλάσθαι ἄνωγον,

ὅς τις τολμήσειεν ἐμοὶ σὺν μοχλὸν ἀείρας

τρῖψαι ἐν ὀφθαλμῷ, ὅτε τὸν γλυκὺς ὕπνος ἱκάνοι.

οἱ δ’ ἔλαχον τοὺς ἄν κε καὶ ἤθελον αὐτὸς ἑλέσθαι,

τέσσαρες, αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ πέμπτος μετὰ τοῖσιν ἐλέγμην.

Then, I ordered the others to determine by lot which one would venture with me, after raising the stake, to work it into his [sc. the Cyclops’] eye, when sweet sleep had come upon him. Those four whom I would have wished to choose were allotted, and after them, I took the fifth place.

(Od. 9.331-335)

ἄγε, τίς πρῶτος, τίς δ’ ἐπὶ πρώτῳ

ταχθεὶς δαλοῦ κώπην ὀχμάσαι

Κύκλωπος ἔσω βλεφάρων ὤσας

λαμπρὰν ὄψιν διακναίσει;

Come on, having been drawn up, who will be the first, and who the one after the first, to grip the haft of the firebrand, and after thrusting it between the eyelids of the Cyclops, who will gouge out his bright eye?

(Cyc. 483-486)

οὔκουν σὺ τάξεις οὕστινας πρώτους χρεὼν

καυτὸν μοχλὸν λαβόντας ἐκκάειν τὸ φῶς

Κύκλωπος, ὡς ἂν τῆς τύχης κοινώμεθα;

Will you not draw us up, proclaiming those who, after grasping the stake, will be the first ones to burn out the eye of the Cyclops, so that we would partake of this fate?

(Cyc. 632-634)

[GO12] Lastly, the author maintains the hospitality.¹⁵⁹ The epic
presents the whole encounter with the ogre as a sort of counterexample of hospitality, and the gifts are no exception to such rule. Instead of being fed a proper meal, Odysseus is intended to serve himself as a meal for the man-eating monster. Therefore, the place of honor at the table suddenly turns into the specials section on the menu. But there is a double entendre here: for the character, eating “Nobody last” means ingesting Odysseus, while for the audience, eventually, it signifies being unable to finish his meal.

The dramatic rendition substitutes one gift for several gifts, all of which can be read ironically in relation to the poetics of hospitality: the fire is not for getting dry and warm, but for getting cooked; the salt, although “fatherly”, is not a family heirloom coming from his father Poseidon, god of the sea, but merely the right seasoning; and the cauldron is described through the same wording that would be used for any fancy clothing that could have been exchanged during a more hospitable welcome, thus turning the raggedy urchin into a snappy dresser.

Οὖτιν ἐγὼ πύματον ἔδομαι μετὰ οἷς ἑτάροισιν,

τοὺς δ’ ἄλλους πρόσθεν· τὸ δέ τοι ξεινήιον ἔσται.

I will eat Nobody last after his companions, and the others first: you will have this gift of hospitality.

(Od. 9.369-370)

ξένια δὲ λήψῃ τοιάδ’, ὡς ἄμεμπτος ὦ,

πῦρ καὶ πατρῷον ἅλα λέβητά θ’, ὃς ζέσας

σὴν σάρκα δυσφάρωτον ἀμφέξει καλῶς.

So that I am not to blame, you will receive these gifts of hospitality: a fire, some fatherly salt, and a cauldron, which, having boiled, will duly clothe your ill-dressed body.

(Cyc. 342-344)

“Hey! Middle One, Come Quick!”

The ogre Baka160 (MBh. 1.145-152) lives in a wood near the town where the Pāṇḍavas are staying. For some time, the brothers beg for alms, half of which feeds four of them plus their mother, and the other half of which barely suffices for the voracious Bhīma. One day, while the rest of the group is out begging, Kuntī notices the grief of the Brahman, and she exhorts Bhīma to help in whatever way possible. Mother and son find the Brahman at a crossroads: he is torn by the impossible choice of sacrificing either a member of his family or himself, which in the long run, would also mean sacrificing those who depend on him to survive.

Shortly thereafter, all the family members, one after another, turn to martyrs: his wife steps up by claiming that, as per female duty and having already granted him progeny, her own life is the only thing left for her to sacrifice; his older daughter volunteers too, after asserting that, since daughters are meant to be given away anyway, he might as well get it over with; and in an extremely moving scene, his younger son innocently boasts that he can kill the ogre with a straw that he picks up from the floor.

At this point, Kuntī reveals herself, and the Brahman fills in the gaps of the story: there is an ogre named Baka, who in exchange for protecting the village from other enemies, demands free meals in the form of rice and buffalos, as well as the humans who, by turns that come after several years, must take them over to him. Kuntī saves the day by offering Bhīma to take the place of the Brahman, with the sole condition that the latter does not breathe a word about it to anyone. When the other Pāṇḍavas return, Yudhiṣṭhira misjudges Kuntī’s actions as rash, only to be immediately corrected both by her knowledge on duty and by Bhīma’s record against ogres, as recently proven with the death of Hiḍimba.

The next day, Bhīma arrives at the wood with the food for Baka, which he tauntingly begins to eat. After ignoring him for a while, Bhīma eventually responds to Baka, who has uprooted a tree and thrown it at him, and fights back. A tree battle unfolds. Then, in another instance of his trademark move, Bhīma breaks Baka in half. When other ogres come to see what is happening, Bhīma threatens to do the same to them if they do not stop bothering the townsfolk. Baka’s corpse is left at the city gate. Another day later, the townsfolk visit the Brahman looking for an explanation, but the Brahman, in compliance with his promise, just credits another unnamed Brahman for such superhuman deeds. Thus, the Pāṇḍavas manage to keep on living there for a while.

Regarding The Middle One, its sources include the Hiḍimbavadhaparvan, “The Book about the Killing of Hiḍimba” (MBh. 1.139-144) and the Bakavadhaparvan, “The Book about the Killing of Baka” (MBh. 1.145-152).¹⁶¹ The plot of the play is as follows: After the standard invocation of the god Viṣṇu, the prologue has the stage manager introduce all the elements that will be key for the play: a father and a son, a Brahman and a rakshasa, a middle one. Then, the one and only act progresses from one encounter to the next: the Brahman Keśavadāsa and his family meet the rakshasa Ghaṭotkaca, Ghaṭotkaca meets the hero Bhīma, and Bhīma meets the female rakshasa Hiḍimbā.

During the first encounter, that of Keśavadāsa and his family with Ghaṭotkaca, the Brahman is walking, alongside with his wife and his three sons, when suddenly, a rakshasa starts chasing them. The mother and the sons fear his appearance, but the Brahman is put at ease by his words. Ghaṭotkaca presents himself as one who venerates Brahmans but is still willing to hunt them down, since his mother has instructed him to do so. Keśavadāsa proposes to ask the Pāṇḍavas for help because he knows them to be living close by. However, the eldest son provides him with three pieces of information that take him on an emotional rollercoaster: on that day, the Pāṇḍavas are away, attending a sacrifice; Bhīma was left behind, in charge of protecting the hermitage; but at that time, he has also departed, looking to get some exercise.

At this point, the eldest son asks Ghaṭotkaca to let them go, to which the rakshasa agrees, on the condition that Keśavadāsa relinquishes one of his sons. One after another, the Brahman, the wife, the eldest son, the middle son, and the youngest son voluntarily offer to sacrifice themselves. Ghaṭotkaca rejects the Brahman and the wife, for his mother would not be satisfied either by an old man or by a woman. After that, each parent chooses their favorite: he wants to keep the eldest, and she prefers the youngest. The unwanted middle son asks, as his dying wish, to go to a nearby pond and quench his thirst. But Ghaṭotkaca realizes that he is taking too long, and it is getting a little late for his mother’s breakfast, so he decides to call him. The rakshasa does not know how to address him, and Keśavadāsa is only willing to go so far in helping him, so the eldest son tells Ghaṭotkaca that he just goes by “Middle One”.

Calling for one “Middle One” (sc. the middle son), Ghaṭotkaca accidentally summons another “Middle One” (sc. Bhīma), which prompts the second encounter, between Ghaṭotkaca and Bhīma. They look at each other and it is as if they were looking in a mirror. Ghaṭotkaca asks Bhīma if he is another “Middle One”, to which Bhīma replies that he is the one and only “Middle One”. By then, Keśavadāsa recognizes Bhīma, and he does so just in time, for when the middle son comes back from his self-procured libation, there is already someone who can help. At this point, the audience learns that the action is set in the Kuru jungle, between the villages of Yūpa and Udyāmaka, on the day of the initiation of Keśavadāsa’s cousin.

Ghaṭotkaca and Bhīma start talking, and as soon as the rakshasa mentions Hiḍimbā to be his mother, the hero recognizes him as his son, but he still decides to play along a little longer. Bhīma volunteers to step in on behalf of the middle son, arguing that the life of a Brahman is worth more than that of a Kshatriya. Then, Bhīma starts taunting Ghaṭotkaca, especially by insulting his paternal heritage, and this leads to the rakshasa fighting the hero. Ghaṭotkaca throws trees and mountaintops at Bhīma, he wrestles him, and he even attempts to bind him; but nothing seems to work. When Ghaṭotkaca mentions, one more time, that he is following orders, Bhīma is reminded about Hiḍimbā, and he continues his path, towards the third and last encounter.

Hiḍimbā recognizes Bhīma just by looking at him, and she immediately scolds Ghaṭotkaca for his mistake. But Ghaṭotkaca wants proof of his wrongdoing: Hiḍimbā salutes Bhīma as her husband, and only then does Ghaṭotkaca finally recognize him. After the anagnorisis, father and son come together in an embrace. Figuratively out of the woods, Keśavadāsa is ready to get literally out of there as well, but Bhīma offers to take him to the hermitage where the Pāṇḍavas are staying, as an overdue token of hospitality. Keśavadāsa replies by claiming that him and his family having been given back their lives is more than enough. They go their separate ways, and the play ends as it began, with a prayer to Viṣṇu.

There are twelve procedures that the playwright displays in his adaptation: [SO1]162 he merges two stories into one, [SO2] he adds the father/son conflict, [SO3] he adds the chance, [SO4] he emphasizes the trees, [SO5] he ignores the sex, [SO6] he emphasizes the mistaken identity, [SO7] he changes the place, [SO8] he changes the time, [SO9] he changes the authoritarian figure, [SO10] he changes the role of the Brahman, [SO11] he changes the lot into a choice, and [SO12] he maintains the hospitality.

[SO1] (Ps.-)Bhāsa’s merging of two stories into one would be an Indian example of contaminatio, i.e., incorporating material from another Mahābhārata episode into the primary episode which he is adapting.163 The story of Hiḍimba functions as the primary episode: from its beginning, the ogress Hiḍimbā meeting the Pāṇḍava family turns into the ogre Ghaṭotkaca meeting the family of Brahmans; and from its ending, the encounter with the order-giving Hiḍimba becomes the encounter with the order-giving Hiḍimbā. The story of Baka provides most of the incorporated material: mainly, the Pāṇḍava family from the story of Hiḍimba is substituted for the family of Brahmans of the story of Baka. But as I will show, other stories also contribute with additional material: for instance, the father/son conflict comes from the story of Babhruvāhana (MBh. 14.78-82).

From the story of Hiḍimba, there are several elements that have been maintained, albeit with slight modifications. First, an ogre/ogress entrusts an ogress/ogre to bring back some humans for them to eat. The epic has Hiḍimba ordering Hiḍimbā; the play, Hiḍimbā ordering Ghaṭotkaca. Second, the entrusted ogress/ogre comes upon a family. The epic narrative portrays the Pāṇḍavas and Kuntī; the adaptation, the Brahman and his family. Third, the entrusted ogress/ogre ponders whether to follow the order or to act freely. The MBh. depicts Hiḍimbā’s reflection on strīdharma (wife duty), which leads her to choose her potential husband Bhīma over her brother Hiḍimba; the MV, Ghaṭotkaca’s reflection on kṣatradharma (warrior duty), which leads him to choose sparing the life of a Brahman over following the order of a mother.

Fourth, the entrusted ogress/ogre fails to bring back the humans. Vyāsa makes Hiḍimbā act out of love, whereas (Ps.-)Bhāsa makes Ghaṭotkaca act out of respect. Fifth, a hero meets the entrusting ogre/ogress. The storyteller has Bhīma intentionally sticking around for Hiḍimba, while the playwright has Bhīma fortuitously stumbling onto Hiḍimbā. And sixth, the hero has a duel with the ogre. In the older version, Bhīma fights Hiḍimba to the death; in the newer one, he fights Ghaṭotkaca until the latter recognizes him as his own father.

Something similar could be said about the dialectics of tradition and innovation in terms of the story of Baka. First, the entrusted ogress/ogre comes upon a family. As a feature that is common to both the story of Hiḍimba and that of Baka, the family serves to establish the connection. In the epic, the family members are a Brahman, his wife, his older daughter, and his younger son; in the drama, they are a Brahman, his wife, and his three sons, i.e., the eldest, the middle one, and the youngest. Second, a single family member must be chosen for the entrusting ogre/ogress. In the epic narrative, the townsfolk sacrifice themselves by turns, and by the day on which the events take place, the Brahman’s number is up; in the adaptation, the Brahman is directly asked to choose one of his sons as a victim.

Third, there is a discussion aimed at figuring out how to proceed. The MBh.’s arguments are that, with the death of the Brahman, his family will also die; that the lives of his two children are equally valuable; and that, if offered as a victim, his wife will probably be spared; the MV’s arguments, in turn, are that, with the death of the Brahman, his family will live; that the lives of his eldest and youngest sons are more valuable than that of his middle son; and that, if offered as a victim, his wife will definitely be spared. Fourth, the entrusting ogress/ogre does not receive the chosen family member. Vyāsa’s choice is Bhīma, whom Kuntī offers as a substitute, and (Ps.-)Bhāsa’s choice is Bhīma too, but in this case, he volunteers after appearing by chance.

Fifth, the potential victim requires an ablution. The storyteller presents the older daughter merely speaking about a water offering, whereas the playwright presents the middle son effectually going out for water. And sixth, the hero has a duel with the ogre. As was the case with the seemingly vulnerable family, the climactic duel is also a shared feature between the stories of Hiḍimba and Baka. In the Baka version, Bhīma fights Baka to the death; in the Ghaṭotkaca version, he fights Ghaṭotkaca until the latter recognizes him as his own father.

As an example of the postulated contaminatio, the following epic passages, respectively dealing with Ghaṭotkaca’s birth from Hiḍimbā and with the Brahman’s worries about Baka causing the death of his family, are merged into a dramatic passage combining the ogre’s miraculous birth and the family’s threat of death. The epic birth on the day of conception is reinterpreted as the dramatic birth of a fire-like ogre from an ogress like a kindling stick. The former is marvelous for its celerity, the latter, for its symbolism. In addition, both sets of families are presented in terms of a Brahman accompanied by his wife and children.

eṣa khalu pāṇḍavamadhyamasyātmajo hiḍimbāraṇisambhūto rākṣasāgnir akṛtavairaṃ brāhmaṇajanaṃ vitrāsayati

bhoḥ kaṣṭaṃ kaṣṭaṃ khalu patnīsutaparivṛtasya brāhmaṇasya vṛttānto ’tra hi

[SO2] The playwright adds the father/son conflict.164 As pointed out by Salomon (2010), this conflict is emphasized through an elaborate mirrored characterization, involving two literary techniques: repetition and key words. For instance, the same phrasing is used for/by both Bhīma and Ghaṭotkaca at MV 9b ~ MV 40.2, MV 24.6 ~ MV 40.17, MV 25.8 ~ MV 26.7, MV 26 ~ MV 27, MV 38.3 ~ MV 40.5, and MV 47.3 ~ MV 47.8; and the word sadṛśa- (like) is used at MV 24.12, MV 25d, MV 38.3, MV 39b, MV 41d, MV 42a, MV 42d, MV 43d, and MV 49.16. (Ps.-)Bhāsa takes Hiḍimbā’s description of Bhīma, which has a certain lechery to it when coming from the hankering ogress, and he transfers it into Ghaṭotkaca’s and Bhīma’s descriptions of each other. There is clearly a doubling going on here.

The father Bhīma and his son Ghaṭotkaca are the ones interacting in the play, and consequently, they are also the ones voicing their thoughts about each other. Among the various similarities between the two dramatic portrayals, one stands out because of its presence in the epic version as well: the comparison with a lion. On one hand, the epic Hiḍimbā praises Bhīma’s arms, shoulders, and eyes. On the other hand, the dramatic Bhīma extols Ghaṭotkaca’s eyes, waist, arms, and shoulders, whereas the dramatic Ghaṭotkaca exalts Bhīma’s arms, waist, and eyes. However, beyond any topical characterization, the recurrence of the lion image certainly supports the view that there are adaptation techniques in play. Lastly, the claim by the ogress that such a man is husband material is substituted for a generic compliment that both hero and ogre pay each other.

ayaṃ śyāmo mahābāhuḥ siṃhaskandho mahādyutiḥ |

kambugrīvaḥ puṣkarākṣo bhartā yukto bhaven mama ||

May this dark-skinned one be my lawful husband – the one with strong arms, leonine shoulders, great splendor, shell-like neck, and lotus eyes.

aho darśanīyo ’yaṃ puruṣaḥ ayaṃ hi

babhrubhrūḥ śyenanāso dviradapatihanur dīrghaviśliṣṭakeśaḥ |

vyūḍhorā vajramadhyo gajavṛṣabhagatir lambapīnāṃsabāhuḥ

suvyaktaṃ rākṣasījo vipulabalayuto lokavīrasya putraḥ ||

aho darśanīyo ’yaṃ puruṣaḥ ya eṣaḥ

siṃhākṛtiḥ kanakatālasamānabāhur

madhye tanur garuḍapakṣaviliptapakṣaḥ |

viṣṇur bhaved vikasitāmbujapatranetro

netre mamāharati bandhur ivāgato ’yam ||

Additionally, as is the case with The Five Nights, the anagnorisis of The Middle One draws materials from the story of Babhruvāhana (MBh. 14.78-82). This episode states that, during the horse sacrifice, the warrior Arjuna arrives at the kingdom of his son Babhruvāhana, who greets him with all due respect. However, Arjuna takes this as an insult, for it contravenes the duty of warriors, according to which a fight between the horse’s guard and the kingdom’s sovereign must ensue. Arjuna’s accusations are aimed directly at Babhruvāhana’s manliness. At this point, the naga Ulūpī intervenes, assuming a motherly role – Babhruvāhana’s biological mother is, in fact, the princess Citrāṅgadā – and encouraging her putative son to seek the approval of Arjuna.

Now, the adaptation reverses the sequence of events: instead of progressing from the revelation that Ulūpī is the mother to the encounter between Babhruvāhana and his father Arjuna, it first presents the father/son encounter, during which Bhīma comes to the full realization that Ghaṭotkaca is his son, while Ghaṭotkaca comes to the partial realization that Bhīma is a Kshatriya, and only then does it introduce the character of the mother Hiḍimbā, who, instead of introducing herself as such, openly addresses Bhīma as her husband, thus contributing to the completion of Ghaṭotkaca’s anagnorisis. All three anagnorises reverberate backwards, as they should: Bhīma understands straightaway, by focusing on Ghaṭotkaca’s pride; Ghaṭotkaca goes through two steps, by comprehending, first, Bhīma’s general pride, and then, Bhīma’s specific link to him.

ulūpīṃ māṃ nibodha tvaṃ mātaraṃ pannagātmajām |

evaṃ hiḍimbāyāḥ putro ’yam

sadṛśo hy asya garvaḥ

GHAṬOTKACAḤ

kaḥ pratyayaḥ

HIḌIMBĀ

eṣa pratyayaḥ

jayatv āryaputraḥ

[SO3] The author adds the chance.165 Even though chance has little to do with the story of Hiḍimba, The Middle One’s plot advances from one lucky break into the next one. This could be owed to the fact that the story of Baka does factor in chance, when explaining why Bhīma is available for the match to begin with: his brothers went begging for alms, but someone had to keep Kuntī company. Likewise, the play stresses, by means of a threefold explanation, why Bhīma happens to be at the crime scene in the first place: the Pāṇḍavas are out, not begging for alms, but attending a sacrifice; Bhīma is in, not keeping his mother company, but holding the fort by protecting the hermitage; and in an unexpected twist, Bhīma is also momentarily out, trying to get some exercise. This last step is crucial for introducing the mistaken identity. But more on that later.

tataḥ kadā cid bhaikṣāya gatās te bharatarṣabhāḥ |

tasmād āśramād āgatena kenacid brāhmaṇena śatakumbhaṃ nāma yajñam anubhavituṃ maharṣer dhaumyasyāśramaṃ gatā iti

tāta na tu sarva eva

āśramaparipālanārtham iha sthāpitaḥ kila madhyamaḥ

sa cāpy asyāṃ velāyāṃ vyāyāmaparicayārthaṃ viprakṛṣṭadeśa iti śrūyate

[SO4] (Ps.-)Bhāsa emphasizes the trees.166 Tree uprooting becomes something of a leitmotif in the story of Baka: after a quick mention of the shattering of trees and creepers in chapter 141, chapter 151 alone includes three such references. In the first one, Baka pulls up a tree and attacks Bhīma with it. The phrasing, specifically the repetition of rage as a catalyst, suggests that this first uprooting should be taken in tandem with that from chapter 141. In the second one, Baka lifts several trees and throws them at Bhīma, who returns the favor by doing the same. In this case, the wording reverberates into that of the adaptation, which highlights the idea of throwing.

In the third and last reference, one reads that both Baka and Bhīma can pulverize trees. Once again, the phrasing draws our attention back to the uprooting from chapter 141, particularly to the shattering. Furthermore, there are a couple of additional details in the epic passages from which the play profits. These trees are huge, and as a result, the mighty warriors must struggle to take them out/lift them up/pull them up.

babhañjatur mahāvṛkṣāṃl latāś cākarṣatus tataḥ |

mattāv iva susaṃrabdhau vāraṇau ṣaṣṭihāyanau ||

Then, they shattered huge trees and tore off creepers, as if they were a couple of greatly enraged, sixty-year-old elephants in musth.

(MBh. 1.141.23)

tataḥ sa bhūyaḥ saṃkruddho vṛkṣam ādāya rākṣasaḥ |

tāḍayiṣyaṃs tadā bhīmaṃ punar abhyadravad balī ||

Then, having taken out a tree, the mighty rakshasa, still more enraged and trying to wound Bhīma, attacked him once more.

(MBh. 1.151.12)

tataḥ sa punar udyamya vṛkṣān bahuvidhān balī |

prāhiṇod bhīmasenāya tasmai bhīmaś ca pāṇḍavaḥ ||

tad vṛkṣayuddham abhavan mahīruhavināśanam |

ghorarūpaṃ mahārāja bakapāṇḍavayor mahat ||

Then, once more having lifted trees of many kinds, the mighty one threw them at Bhīma, and the Pāṇḍava Bhīma at him. O great king, and a huge battle with trees arose between Baka and the Pāṇḍava, which was awful to look at and caused the destruction of those trees.

(MBh. 1.151.15-16)

tayor vegena mahatā pṛthivī samakampata |

pādapāṃś ca mahākāyāṃś cūrṇayām āsatus tadā ||

The earth shook with their great impetuosity, and they pulverized trees of huge trunks.

(MBh. 1.151.20)

kathaṃ katham anrtam ity āha kṣipasi me gurum

bhavatv imaṃ sthūlaṃ vṛkṣam utpāṭya praharāmi

[SO5] The playwright ignores the sex.167 Vyāsa’s account of the sexual union between Bhīma and Hiḍimbā is quite detailed. Assuming an active role, Hiḍimbā not only seems to ask Kuntī for Bhīma’s hand, but also carries Bhīma like a bride after laying hold of him. The copulating is presented almost like a Hierogamy, with special emphasis on the nature around them: from mountaintops to ocean floors, the close-up of their lovemaking resembles the journey through an axis mundi. With great narrative skill, the enjoyable landscape is smoothly transformed into an act of carnal enjoyment. After all, Hiḍimbā herself had chosen, over the ephemeral pleasure of eating Bhīma, the enduring one of marrying him (MBh. 1.139.16).

(Ps.-)Bhāsa remains silent on this subject. This notwithstanding, there is more than one double entendre. For example, the Brahman’s wife from the epic says that, since the law is so clear in prohibiting the killing of a woman, even a poorly informed individual should spare her (MBh. 1.146.29-30); but the Ghaṭotkaca from the drama speaks of his mother not having any “desire” for a woman, nor for an old man. Perhaps the land and sea imagery from the source text has not become a literal surf and turf in the reworking, and perhaps the references to “eating”, by means of sexual innuendo, are conveying the idea of “eating up”.

tatheti tat pratijñāya hiḍimbā rākṣasī tadā |

bhīmasenam upādāya ūrdhvam ācakrame tataḥ ||

śailaśṛṅgeṣu ramyeṣu devatāyataneṣu ca |

mṛgapakṣivighuṣṭeṣu ramaṇīyeṣu sarvadā ||

kṛtvā ca paramaṃ rūpaṃ sarvābharaṇabhūṣitā |

saṃjalpantī sumadhuraṃ ramayām āsa pāṇḍavam ||

tathaiva vanadurgeṣu puṣpitadrumasānuṣu |

saraḥsu ramaṇīyeṣu padmotpalayuteṣu ca ||

nadīdvīpapradeśeṣu vaiḍūryasikatāsu ca |

sutīrthavanatoyāsu tathā girinadīṣu ca ||

sagarasya pradeśeṣu maṇihemaciteṣu ca |

pattaneṣu ca ramyeṣu mahāśālavaneṣu ca ||

devāraṇyeṣu puṇyeṣu tathā parvatasānuṣu |

guhyakānāṃ nivāseṣu tāpasāyataneṣu ca ||

sarvartuphalapuṣpeṣu mānaseṣu saraḥsu ca |

bibhratī paramaṃ rūpaṃ ramayām āsa pāṇḍavam ||

After promising that she would proceed thusly and laying hold of Bhīma, the rakshasa Hiḍimbā strode upwards. On the enjoyable mountaintops and in the resting places of the gods, which are always enjoyable and resounding with deer and birds, having taken on a superb form, embellished with all sorts of ornaments, and speaking in a gentle manner, she carnally enjoyed the Pāṇḍava. Likewise, in thick forests, on mountains of flowering trees, by enjoyable ponds covered with lotuses and water lilies, on river islands of chrysoberyl-rich sands, by mountain streams of sacred woods and waters, on ocean floors scattered with gemstones and gold, in enjoyable towns, in woods of giant timber trees, in holy forests of the gods, on various mountaintops, in the dwelling places of the demigods, in the resting places of the ascetics, and by Lake Mānasa which bears fruits and flowers in every season, having taken on a superb form, she carnally enjoyed the Pāṇḍava.

(MBh. 1.143.19-26)

na khalu strījano ’bhimatas tatrabhavatyā

Certainly not, my venerable mother does not desire a woman.

(MV 15.4)

ā vṛddhas tvam apasara

You are too old, away with you!

(MV 15.6)

[SO6] The author emphasizes the mistaken identity.¹⁶⁸ In MBh. 1, during his dialogue with his wife, the Brahman sometimes digresses, in a sort of inner monologue. For instance, when picturing a scenario where he gives up one of his children, he voices the vox populi about a son being more valuable than a daughter, but he does so only to immediately disagree with the view. For him, son and daughter are equal. In MV, the love of the father is split into the wants of the father and those of the mother. Although gender does not make a difference, age apparently does, for the eldest and youngest sons are chosen over the middle one. Within a family of five, the fact that each parent has their favorite results in the exclusion of two of the sons. In the end, all this is just a necessary step towards the scene of the mistaken identity, leading to the climactic anagnorisis.

A close reader like (Ps.-)Bhāsa would have undoubtedly noticed the many commonalities between these back-to-back stories about splitting identities (Hiḍimba/Hiḍimbā and Baka/the crane-like, half-and-half ogre), and here, he would have found inspiration for a nip and tuck contaminatio of his own, in which both ogre stories run neck and neck, thus managing to keep the audience’s attention. If an adaptation is already dviguṇa-, “twofold”, for bringing together the old and the new, a contaminatio is so on yet another level, by profiting from two sources. In a creative process that would have been anything but derivative, the author would have picked up the pieces of these broken ogres and sewn them back together in this “bhāsa-saṃdha- (joined by (Ps.-)Bhāsa)” re-creation.

yuktaṃ bho brāhmaṇakumāra kinnāmā te bhrātā

bho bho madhyama madhyama śighram āgaccha

Lastly, the fact that the two characters that trigger the scene of mistaken identity are brothers could be explained by considering its parallelisms within Greco-Roman theater: from Μέση (Middle Comedy), the works of Antiphanes’, Anaxandrides’, Alexis’, Aristophon’s, and Xenarchus’ fragmentary Twin Brothers; from Νέα (New Comedy), Menander’s and Euphron’s fragmentary Twin Brothers; from fabula togata (comedy in Roman dress), Titinius’ fragmentary Female Twin; from Atellan comedy, Pomponius’ fragmentary The Twin Brothers Maccus, and Novius’ fragmentary Twin Brothers and The Two Dossennuses; from Mime, Laberius’ fragmentary Little Twins; and from fabula palliata (comedy in Greek dress), Plautus’ Bacch. 568 ff. and Men. 273 ff.169

[SO7] (Ps.-)Bhāsa profits from changes of space and time for his adaptation. Regarding spatial locations, in the epic, the story of Hiḍimba takes place in an unnamed wood, and the story of Baka in a city called Ekacakrā. The transition from one ogre to the other entails, as well, a change from nature to culture, and from the indistinctness of the former to the delimitation of the latter. The drama, once again, merges bits and pieces, and it does so in a creative manner: the key places are two villages in a jungle. Since Keśavadāsa – this newly christened “Servant (dāsa-) of Kṛṣṇa (keśava-)” – walks from his hometown to the house of his maternal uncle, his route through the ogre-infested jungle constitutes the ideal background for what the dramatist has in mind.

tatra teṣu śayāneṣu hiḍimbo nāma rākṣasaḥ |

avidūre vanāt tasmāc chālavṛkṣam upāśritaḥ ||

While they were sleeping there, a rakshasa named Hiḍimba had taken refuge in a śāla tree not far from that wood.

(MBh. 1.139.1)

ekacakrāṃ gatās te tu kuntīputrā mahārathāḥ |

ūṣur nāticiraṃ kālaṃ brāhmaṇasya niveśane ||

Then, the combatant sons of Kuntī [sc. the Pāṇḍavas] went to Ekacakrā. For a short time, they lived in the house of a Brahman.

(MBh. 1.145.2)

ahaṃ khalu kururājena yudhiṣṭhireṇādhiṣṭhitapūrve kurujāṅgale yūpagrāmavāstavyo māṭharasagotraś ca kalpaśākhādhvaryuḥ keśavadāso nāma brāhmaṇaḥ

[SO8] As for the change in time, the playwright trims his sails to suit the theatrical convention. According to Bharata,170 “The vyāyoga should be fashioned, by knowers of the rules, as one whose body is a well-known hero, employing few women, and lasting one day [vyāyogas tu vidhijñaiḥ kāryaḥ prakhyātanāyakaśarīraḥ | alpastrījanayuktas tv ekāhakṛtas tathā caiva]” (Nāṭyaś. 18.90).

[SO9] The author changes the authoritarian figure by merging Hiḍimba ordering Hiḍimbā and Kuntī ordering Bhīma into Hiḍimbā ordering Ghaṭotkaca.171 Hiḍimba ordering Hiḍimbā is a scene from the epic story of Hiḍimba. The epic Hiḍimba instructs his sister Hiḍimbā to go near the humans, find out who they are, kill them by herself, and bring them back for them to cook together. Similarly, the dramatic Hiḍimbā instructs her son Ghaṭotkaca to search for humans and then bring some of them back. The phrasing is very close, as seen in the following quotations.

upapannaś cirasyādya bhakṣo mama manaḥpriyaḥ |

snehasravān prasravati jihvā paryeti me mukham ||

aṣṭau daṃṣṭrāḥ sutīkṣṇāgrāś cirasyāpātaduḥsahāḥ |

deheṣu majjayiṣyāmi snigdheṣu piśiteṣu ca ||

ākramya mānuṣaṃ kaṇṭham ācchidya dhamanīm api |

uṣṇaṃ navaṃ prapāsyāmi phenilaṃ rudhiraṃ bahu ||

gaccha jānīhi ke tv ete śerate vanam āśritāḥ |

mānuṣo balavān gandho ghrāṇaṃ tarpayatīva me ||

hatvaitān mānuṣān sarvān ānayasva mamāntikam |

asmadviṣayasuptebhyo naitebhyo bhayam asti te ||

eṣāṃ māṃsāni saṃskṛtya mānuṣāṇāṃ yatheṣṭataḥ |

bhakṣayiṣyāva sahitau kuru tūrṇaṃ vaco mama ||

Today, at last, I [sc. Hiḍimba] have obtained my favorite food. Those flowing with fat make my mouth water and I keep licking my lips. Into their bodies and their fatty flesh, I will sink my eight, sharp-pointed teeth, which are unbearable when they bite after such a long time. Having approached their human throats and cut their arteries, I will drink their blood, which will be warm, fresh, bubbling, and abundant. Go and find out who those are who are lying down, having come to the wood. The strong aroma of humans seems to sate my scent. Having killed all those humans, bring them to me. Do not be afraid of those who are sleeping on our turf. Having cooked the flesh of those humans at leisure, we [sc. Hiḍimba and Hiḍimbā] will eat it together, so, quick, obey my orders.

(MBh. 1.139.5-10)

…putra mamopavāsanisargārtham asmin vanapradeśe kaścin mānuṣaḥ parimṛgyānetavyeti

Kuntī ordering Bhīma is a scene from the epic story of Baka.172 The epic Kuntī commands her son Bhīma to fill in for the victim, so that he can appease the ogre’s hunger. In this way, he can both pay their host back for his hospitality and pay it forward to the townsfolk, who have just about had it with this long-lasting tyrant. Correspondingly, the dramatic Hiḍimbā commands her son Ghaṭotkaca to fill the vacancy of the victim, so that he can appease her hunger. Once again, there are similarities in the phrasing, as can be appreciated in the next quotations.

mamaiva vacanād eṣa kariṣyati paraṃtapaḥ |

brāhmaṇārthe mahat kṛtyaṃ moṣkāya nagarasya ca ||

By my [sc. Kuntī’s] order, the destroyer of his enemies [sc. Bhīma] will do a great deed for the sake of the Brahman and for the liberation of the town.

(MBh. 1.150.4)

asti me tatrabhavatī jananī

tayāham ājñāptaḥ…

kṛtakṛtyaṃ śarīraṃ me pariṇāmena jarjaram |

(Plautine) Mistaken Identities

Following the analysis of the ogre motif in Od. 9 and Cyclops, as well as in MBh. 1 and The Middle One, I have identified three instances of possible Greek influence in the adaptation techniques: [OM1]173 contaminatio of two epic stories into a single play, [OM2] dramatic themes which have no precedent in the source texts are added with the intention of providing an emphasis, and [OM3] spaces, times, characters, and themes are changed in the plays, which otherwise would be dramatizations and not adaptations.

[OM1] Contaminatio of two epic stories into a single play. Regarding Cyclops, the characters of Silenus and the Satyrs, likely coming from the Homeric Hymn to Dionysus (GO1), are included by reason of their relevance within the new literary genre of the satyr drama, but they are also employed to focus the audience’s attention on Dionysus’ wine, instead of Odysseus’ trickery. Thus, the epic’s serious sneakiness is re-created as the play’s humorous straightforwardness. Similarly, in The Middle One, the characters of the Brahman and his family, likely coming from the Bakavadhaparvan (SO1), shed a new light on a not-so-black-and-white Ghaṭotkaca.

[OM2] Dramatic themes which have no precedent in the source texts are added with the intention of providing an emphasis. The father/son conflicts surrounding the encounter of Odysseus and Polyphemus, on one side (GO2), and the encounter of Bhīma and Ghaṭotkaca, on the other (SO2) is one of two major additions. The other one is that of Chance (GO3) / chance (SO3), which is, indeed, a key component in Greco-Roman theater from Euripides onwards.174 These parallelisms would make perfect sense by assuming a certain familiarity with Greco-Roman sources.

When considered as instances of Greco-Indian anukaraṇa, both procedures would be characterized by change: a Greek text (Cyclops) with heavenly fortuity (Chance) and a conflict between a father and a son (Silenus and the chorus of Satyrs) which has been adapted from a source (Od. 9) with a similar conflict (Poseidon and Odysseus), would have become an Indian text (The Middle One) with earthly fortuity (chance) and a conflict between a father and a son (Bhīma and Ghaṭotkaca) which has been adapted from a source (MBh. 14) with a similar conflict (Arjuna and Babhruvāhana). Moreover, the addition of the father/son conflict, coming from the story of Babhruvāhana, further supports the claim of contaminatio, which may very well have been close to the procedure that Euripides himself utilized for his Cyclops.175

In both cases, the addition of the conflict appears to be directly related to certain thematic emphases. On one hand, while the Greek hero blinds the ogre with the trunk of a tree (GO4), the Sanskrit hero ends up facing the ogre-like character in a tree battle (SO4). On the other hand, sex as a subject matter offers some interesting contrasts. In Cyclops, Polyphemus expresses his intention to “sleep” with Silenus (GO5). This explicit, homosexual desire aimed at the father figure would have been substituted, in The Middle One, for an implicit, heterosexual desire aimed at the son figure, when Hiḍimbā is said to prefer to “eat (up)” one of the Brahman’s sons (SO5).

At the very core of the Sanskrit play lies the emphasis on the mistaken identity (SO6), as the title The Middle One suggests. Similarly, Odysseus’ play on words when introducing himself as Nobody is probably among the best-known ruses in world literature (GO6). However, mistaken identity proper is a much more common procedure within Roman theater. Considering only non-fragmentary plays, Plautus (254-184 BCE)176 stands out among Roman playwrights when it comes to mistaken identities involving siblings. For instance, in Bacch. 568 ff., when asked if he is, indeed, the lover of the courtesan called Bacchis, a young man answers with the revealing fact that there are, indeed, “two Bacchises [duas… Bacchides]”, i.e., two courtesans that go by the same name, and that are sisters. But the mistake is subject to a much more elaborated treatment in The Two Menaechmuses.

There are eleven examples of mistaken identity in The Two Menaechmuses.177 The plot of the play is as follows: Menaechmus and Sosicles are the twin brothers that were born to a merchant. During a trip, Menaechmus got lost and ended up being adopted by another merchant and taken to a different city, where he now lives, unhappily married, and is having an affair with a courtesan. After many years of unfruitful searching, Sosicles, who was renamed as Menaechmus in honor of his presumably dead brother, finally arrives at the city where his long-lost brother resides. But now, they are not only twins, but also namesakes. A great portion of the play (Men. 273-1059) is dedicated to exploiting this authorially carved coincidence, until in the end, they recognize each other. As seen from this outline, the three key aspects from the Sanskrit play are present here as well: the brothers, the mistaken identity, and the anagnorisis.

The first four examples of mistaken identity involve the newly arrived “Menaechmus (Sosicles)” being taken for the well-known Menaechmus. One after the other, a cook (Men. 273-350), a courtesan (Men. 351-445), a parasite (Men. 446-523), and a maid (Men. 524-558) err in their assumptions and believe the newcomer to be their neighbor. The scene with the cook closely resembles the beginning of Bhīma’s and Ghaṭotkaca’s exchange during their encounter. One shared feature is that a brother, who is being mistaken for another brother, is addressed by a third party. In the Roman play, Cylindrus, mistaking Menaechmus (Sosicles) for Menaechmus, addresses him as such; in the Sanskrit play, Bhīma, believing the form of address “Middle One” to refer to him, comes to meet Ghaṭotkaca. Even their names, although etymologically unrelated, are phonetically similar: me-naech-mo- vs. ma-dhya-ma-.178

Another point of encounter is that the addresser asks a question about identity. In The Two Menaechmuses, Cylindrus rhetorically asks Menaechmus (Sosicles) about who he is; in The Middle One, Ghaṭotkaca genuinely asks how Bhīma can possible be a “Middle One” as well. A final commonality is the fact that both addressees respond in the negative. Menaechmus (Sosicles), as expected, denies any sort of acquaintance with Cylindrus; but Bhīma, instead of asserting his own identity, unexpectedly denies anyone else’s. As discussed, oddity is key when considering borrowings.

The scene with the courtesan offers an ad hoc lineage which recalls the next portion of Bhīma’s and Ghaṭotkaca’s exchange during their encounter. In Plautus, when the interlocutor is listing biographical and historical details relating to the mistakenly identified brother, her style is simple: use of the second person, one mention of the name, reference to specific characters and spaces, all followed by a reply in the negative. In (Ps.-)Bhāsa, when the mistakenly identified brother is enumerating mythological and philosophical facts concerning himself, his style is complex: use of the first person, several mentions of the name, allusion to general characters and spaces, all crowned by a reply in the affirmative. Here, the key procedure would be reversal.

BHĪMASENAḤ

madhyamo ’ham avadhyānām utsiktānāṃ ca madhyamaḥ |

madhyamo ’haṃ kṣiter bhadra bhrātṝṇām api madhyamaḥ ||

GHAṬOTKACAḤ

BHĪMASENAḤ

api ca

madhyamaḥ pañcabhūtānāṃ pārthivānāṃ ca madhyamaḥ |

bhave ca madhyamo loke sarvakāryeṣu madhyamaḥ ||

When considered as instances of Greco-Indian anukaraṇa, the procedures at play in these last two pairs of passages would be characterized, respectively, by oddity and reversal: a Roman text (The Two Menaechmuses) where a character expectedly denies his acquaintance with someone else (Menaechmus (Sosicles) referring to Cylindrus) and listens to specific details about him (immediate family and place of birth), would have become an Indian text (The Middle One) where a character unexpectedly denies anyone else’s identity (Bhīma referring to the second son) and speaks of general facts about himself (role within all of existence).

The anagnorisis of the Roman twins is also worth discussing in tandem with that of the Indian middle brothers. A previous step for any kind of realization is the admission of having been wrong about something. This is a point that the Roman playwright explicitly makes: Menaechmus talks about being mistaken (erro). But just before wrapping things up, he also incorporates one last pun, concerning the notion of being set free (libero). Because of the saving (servo), which sounds a lot like a serving (servo), the master (erus) is now compelled to manumit his supposed slave. In turn, the Sanskrit playwright seems to be operating on a more implicit level: there is no mention of a mistake, but there is one allusion to the idea of being set free (muc). Furthermore, although no terms for masters or slaves are used, the selected verb (anu- + gam) at least suggests it, since it can mean both “follow” and “obey”. It can even mean “imitate”, thus winking at an eventual, overarching anukaraṇa, now marked by its obliqueness.

BHĪMASENAḤ

bhoḥ puruṣa mucyatām

GHAṬOTKACAḤ

na mucyate

BHĪMASENAḤ

bho brāhmaṇa gṛhyatāṃ tava putraḥ

vayam enam anugamiṣyāmaḥ

When the recognition finally takes place, there is mention of the proofs that led to it. In this sense, both the Roman and the Sanskrit anagnorises would be following Aristotle’s (Poet. 1452a28 ff.) subtype of ἡ διὰ τῶν σημείων (the one by signs). On the Roman side, the newly arrived Menaechmus (Sosicles) experiences a change from ignorance (believing Menaechmus to be a stranger) to knowledge (realizing that Menaechmus is his brother), which results in friendship (the rekindling of their brotherly bond) and great prosperity (Menaechmus has inherited a lot of wealth). On the Sanskrit side, Ghaṭotkaca experiences a change from ignorance (believing Bhīma to be an enemy) to knowledge (realizing that Bhīma is his father), which also results in friendship (the rekindling of their father/son bond) and great prosperity (no “Middle One” dies). It appears to be another case of change.

When considered as instances of Greco-Indian anukaraṇa, the procedures at play in these last two pairs of passages would both be characterized by change: a Roman text (The Two Menaechmuses) where an actual slave (Messenio) obtains his freedom after the newcomer (Menaechmus (Sosicles)) takes part in an anagnorisis requiring proof, would have become an Indian text (The Middle One) where a soon-to-be-enslaved person (the second son) obtains his freedom after the newcomer (Bhīma) takes part in an anagnorisis requiring proof.

[OM3] Spaces, times, characters, and themes are changed in the plays, which otherwise would be dramatizations and not adaptations. Both adaptations change their location: from Homeric fiction to Sicilian quasi fact (GO7), and from a wilderness (in the story of Hiḍimba) and a town (in the story of Baka) to the wilderness between two towns (SO7). Nevertheless, time stands out as a more relevant intersection: not only do both dramas adhere to dramatic convention (Poet. 1449b11-14 ~ Nāṭyaś. 18.90) in compressing the action of several days into just one roundtrip of the sun (GO8 ~ SO8), but also both dramatists seem to have quite a few tricks up their sleeves when it comes to managing time. Since the audience of an adaptation is, presumably, familiar with the plot, this constitutes a major asset, as well as an adequate place for undertaking any examination of an author’s creativity and criticality179 within his respective tradition.¹⁸⁰

Euripides changes the timing of the ram trick, the boulder trick, and the name trick. These well-known episodes go from the epic’s boulder-name-ram sequence to the play’s sequence of ram-boulder-name. If getting a laugh out of a canonical text such as the Odyssey is already a form of critique, scrambling its narrative points in the same direction. Now, (Ps.-)Bhāsa is no stranger to such subtleties, given that he also merges time as part of his seeming contaminatio of the stories of Hiḍimba and Baka.

To recapitulate, from the ogre motif, I propose a Greek influence from Od. 9 and Cyclops into MBh. 1 and The Middle One. Three adaptation techniques stand out: contaminatio (OM1), theme addition-cum-emphasis (OM2), and changing of spaces, times, characters, and themes (OM3). Considering the proposed Greco-Indian anukaraṇa, the influence would be marked by change. Additionally, I propound four Greco-Roman borrowings for the ogre motif: the response in the negative, characterized by oddity; the ad hoc lineage, defined by reversal; the end of the enslaving, distinguished by change; and the anagnorisis, differentiated by change as well. All four would come from The Two Menaechmuses.

Emily B. West’s Ogres

Modern critics have highlighted the relevance of the aforementioned sets of texts, selected through the criterion of the ogre motif, when examining ancient methods and contexts of adaptation.181 However, just a perusal of the previous footnote evinces that this has happened much more often in studies framed within the Greco-Roman world than in those dealing with India, and this is especially true for (Ps.-)Bhāsa.¹⁸² But it is not all bad news. For instance, some work carried out in the field of Indo-European studies, like that by E. B. West (2005/2006), may also come in handy for an analysis presupposing cultural contact. There are deep, structural similarities between the Greek epic’s ogre motif and the Sanskrit epic’s ogre motif, and as a result, there is still more ground to cover for an adequate comparison of their two dramatic adaptations.

If my interpretation is correct, seven of E. B. West’s (2005/2006) “thematic similarities” could have been direct borrowings from Cyclops into The Middle One, according to my numbering GO3 ~ SO3 (the addition of Chance/chance), GO4 ~ SO4 (the emphasis on the tree/trees), GO5 ~ SO5 (the emphasis on/ignoring of the sex), GO6 ~ SO6 (the emphasis on the mistaken identity), GO9 ~ SO9 (the change of the authoritarian figure), GO10 ~ SO10 (the change of the role of the priest/Brahman), and GO11 ~ SO11 (the change of the lot into a choice).

The hero leaving those close to him behind in Od. 9 and in MBh. 1 could be the trigger for incorporating Chance/chance as a factor in Cyc. and in MV.¹⁸³ In the Greek play, Odysseus faces the entire episode alone (GO3), because his companions have been substituted for the Satyrs. Along the same lines, in the Sanskrit play, Bhīma stands alone during the encounter (SO3), while his brothers and mother, at first, continue to sleep, and then, wake up to witness his prowess.

καὶ μὴ ’πὶ καλλίστοισι Τρωικοῖς πόνοις

αὐτόν τε ναύτας τ’ ἀπολέσητ’ Ὀδυσσέα

ὑπ’ ἀνδρὸς ᾧ θεῶν οὐδὲν ἢ βροτῶν μέλει.

ἢ τὴν τύχην μὲν δαίμον’ ἡγεῖσθαι χρεών,

τὰ δαιμόνων δὲ τῆς τύχης ἐλάσσονα.

And after his most beautiful Trojan endeavors, do not destroy Odysseus himself and his sailors at the hands of an individual to whom there is no care for gods or men. Otherwise, we will have to regard Chance as a deity and the deities as inferior to Chance.

(Cyc. 603-607)

tāta na tu sarva eva

āśramaparipālanārtham iha sthāpitaḥ kila madhyamaḥ

O father, but not all of them went. The middle one was stationed here for the sake of protecting the hermitage.

(MV 11.5-11.6)

The trees, which were already relevant to the plots of Od. 9 and MBh. 1, would have been further exploited in Cyc. and MV.¹⁸⁴ In the Greek play, the prudent Odysseus goes over his entire plan before setting the wheels in motion (GO4). The stake of olive is crucial to his goal. In the Sanskrit play, Ghaṭotkaca follows in the footsteps of his epic begetter by easily uprooting a tree (SO4). In this case, the tree itself does not suffice, but it still contributes to the mirrored delineating of the father Bhīma and his son Ghaṭotkaca.

κώμου μὲν αὐτὸν τοῦδ’ ἀπαλλάξαι, λέγων

ὡς οὐ Κύκλωψι πῶμα χρὴ δοῦναι τόδε,

μόνον δ’ ἔχοντα βίοτον ἡδέως ἄγειν.

ὅταν δ’ ὑπνώσσῃ Βακχίου νικώμενος,

ἀκρεμὼν ἐλαίας ἔστιν ἐν δόμοισί τις,

ὃν φασγάνῳ τῷδ’ ἐξαποξύνας ἄκρον

ἐς πῦρ καθήσω· κᾆθ’ ὅταν κεκαυμένον

ἴδω νιν, ἄρας θερμὸν ἐς μέσην βαλῶ

Κύκλωπος ὄψιν ὄμμα τ’ ἐκτήξω πυρί.

I intend to keep him away from that revel, by telling him that there is no need for him to give this drink to the Cyclopes, but to go through life pleasantly, keeping it to himself. Once he becomes drowsy, overcome by Bacchus, there is a stake of olive in his abode, whose tip, after sharpening it with this sword, I will put into the fire. When I see it kindling, having lifted it while still glowing, I will thrust it into the mid-forehead eye of the Cyclops and melt his eye with the fire.

(Cyc. 451-459)

kathaṃ katham anrtam ity āha kṣipasi me gurum

bhavatv imaṃ sthūlaṃ vṛkṣam utpāṭya praharāmi

katham anenāpi na śakyate hantuṃ kiṃnu khalu kariṣye bhavatu dṛṣṭam

etad girikūṭam utpāṭya praharāmi

How dare you say that it is not true? You insult my father! So be it. Having pulled up this huge tree, I will throw it at him. How is it that, even with this, it is not possible to kill him? What can I possibly do? That’s it, I’ve got it! Having pulled up this mountaintop, I will throw it at him.

(MV 43.3-43.6)

The detail of female ogres in both epics could be related to the treatment of sex in both plays.¹⁸⁵ Cyclops emphasizes Polyphemus’ pleasure (GO5), and it creates a hierarchy thereof, placing youths over women. The Middle One, in turn, ignores the subject, but it still leaves some telling details: Hiḍimbā’s desire (SO5), which is both dietary and carnal, is directed neither at women nor at old men.

ἅλις· Γανυμήδη τόνδ’ ἔχων ἀναπαύσομαι

κάλλιον ἢ τὰς Χάριτας. ἥδομαι δέ πως

τοῖς παιδικοῖσι μᾶλλον ἢ τοῖς θήλεσιν.

Enough! I will sleep more beautifully with this Ganymede than with the Graces. Anyway, I take more pleasure in youths than in women.

(Cyc. 582-584)

na khalu strījano ’bhimatas tatrabhavatyā

Certainly not, my venerable mother does not desire a woman.

(MV 15.4)

ā vṛddhas tvam apasara

You are too old, away with you!

(MV 15.6)

The name trick from the Odyssey and the Mahābhārata, which also entails the provocation, the call for help, and the insufficient response, could have had an impact on the playfulness that surrounds the mistaken identities in the dramatic versions.¹⁸⁶ The Greek playwright has the Satyrs mock Polyphemus not for being blinded, but for being fooled by his blinder, who has the double name of “Nobody”/Odysseus (GO6). And the Sanskrit playwright presents the first son as causing a confused Ghaṭotkaca to end up going after the wrong prey, because there are two different people who answer to the name “Middle One” (SO6).

ΚΥΚΛΩΨ

The ogre/ogress as a loner, a man-eater, and a giant in the two narratives could be responsible for their depiction as an authoritarian in the two adaptations.187 Euripides’ Polyphemus is a tyrant (GO9), who treats the Satyrs as a master would his slaves, and who regularly feasts on human flesh. Not unlike this, (Ps.-)Bhāsa’s Hiḍimbā is a bossy mother (SO9), who demands for her meal to be promptly served.

The priestly head of the family appearing both in the Odyssey and in the Mahābhārata could have determined the family trees in the theater versions.188 The Greek playwright presents Maron as a son (GO10), thus recognizing his link to Apollo, while downplaying it for the sake of his Dionysus-favorable reworking. Taking a similar approach, the Sanskrit playwright showcases Keśavadāsa as a father (SO10), not without acknowledging the willingness of his relatives to come to his rescue, and yet causing the character himself to shine in a new light, thanks to that wisdom that only comes with old age.

καὶ μὴν Μάρων μοι πῶμ’ ἔδωκε, παῖς θεοῦ.

And surely, Maron, the son of the god [sc. Dionysus], gave me the drink.

(Cyc. 141)

kṛtakṛtyaṃ śarīraṃ me pariṇāmena jarjaram |

rākṣasāgnau sutāpekṣī hoṣyāmi vidhisaṃskṛtam ||

My body, decrepit from old age, has fulfilled its duty. Thinking of my children, I will offer it, purified by the precepts, to this fire-like rakshasa.

(MV 15)

Lastly, the precedent of drawing lots in the two narratives, together with its re-interpretation as a choice in the two adaptations, could be seen as a direct imitation.¹⁸⁹ Homer’s Odysseus orders his companions to draw lots, but Euripides’ just orders the Satyrs to line up. Which of them would be the ones that are going to help him is completely up to them (GO11). Likewise, Vyāsa’s townsfolk die by turns, whereas (Ps.-)Bhāsa’s Brahman must choose which of his sons to sacrifice (SO11).