When comparing the Indian and European fencing systems, it is customary to consider primarily the technical aspects, whereas these systems are in principle incomparable, since the differences are not hidden in details or obvious external signs, but rather there is a complete opposition to each other at a deep, semantic and even civilizational level.
From a European perspective, learning to handle a weapon comes down to its subordination. The weapon must obey the owner, be properly balanced, behave well, allow the owner to do whatever he wants or can. The weapon is perceived as a spineless tool, good or bad, well chosen or not so well. The weapon is an addition, an object for the application of practiced skills, honed technique, grace, geometrically verified movements — everything that is called upon to demonstrate the perfection of the subject himself.
This attitude, like many other things in European culture, is a product of the Renaissance with its anthropocentrism, rationality and perception of art as a new deity. As a result of attempts to revive the «spirit» of antiquity, its natural and organic content was replaced by an artificial one. How else can we revive what was 1000-2000 years ago? This inevitably affected the European way of using weapons, pushing into the background the experience and reality of medieval mass battles with the use of cold weapons. Wide and strong movements were replaced by dexterity, pretentiousness and playfulness. Side stance, hidden elbow, maximum distance and only one opponent on a straight line. In such a situation, it does not matter what is in the hand — a sword or a pistol. The point of application of all this and the highest form of manifestation was a duel according to the rules and with seconds, allowing in a chamber setting to implement all the schemes and sketches, to determine the better side, that is, who is a more perfect subject.
But all this is possible only as long as the objects of the application of efforts allow arbitrary action, drawing lines in imaginary space and projecting reality onto a plane. As soon as a weapon, due to its design, dimensions and weight, does not allow frivolous handling, the method of wielding it immediately changes, and it is no coincidence that in modern practices with a heavy two-handed European sword, the technique of the Indian staff begins to appear.
In the Indian tradition, a weapon is a full-fledged subject, at least equal to or even superior to its owner. A weapon is a god, a conductor not of human will, but of divine will. The blade, rising and pointing to the sky, perceives this will, and by cutting down and pointed to the ground, the blade strikes the enemy, realizing this will.
The participation of man himself in such a process is reduced to a minimum: to withdraw as a subject and allow the divine will to manifest itself, whatever it may be. All this finds its expression in the situation of a mass battle on the battlefield, where personal fate does not depend on personal perfection or technical tricks, where there is always one winner — God. It was precisely this circumstance that played a decisive role on the fields of ancient battles. Warriors fled from the battlefield in the event of the death of the king not because they were a weak-willed mass in need of control and submission, but because God was not on their side. God cannot be fought against, and he cannot be controlled, just as one cannot try to control a ritual situation of battle. Everything must be decided by lot, which is determined by the supreme will.
The enemy is not something external or alien, he is part of the situation, an invited guest at the festival. And it is still unknown on whose side the god will act, and how the sacrifice will go as a result. The participants are in one closed ritual space, which they enter before the battle, and do not jump from a long distance, holding the weapon as far away from themselves as possible, being careful and not letting the enemy get close. The distance of the fight with the talwar corresponds to the long distance in hand-to-hand combat, and the cuts are delivered from a medium distance. The weapon is not thrown towards the enemy, it moves along closed trajectories. The weapon must simply be delivered to the enemy, a heavy or at least sharp weapon will cause damage itself. You just need to revive the weapon, give it force. God manifests will, and man through force transfers this will to the weapon.
«By force born of force and endowed with force!»
Rigveda X, 83 (Manyu)
The manifestation of divine will occurs through rage. It is for the sending of rage in battle that the warrior of antiquity prayed. In the Rigveda, the god Manyu is the personification of rage with which the warrior rushes at the enemy. At the same time, Manyu is associated with heat-tapas. Therefore, it is necessary to be burning with rage. Ascetic yogis with their tapas and inner burning themselves during life and the warrior in rage, who burns himself on the field of battle at a most true moment of his life, equating each other, they eliminate their own personality, burning it on the internal fire, sacrificing it, reached the peak of the man state described in the Rigveda by the mystical formula: «the sacrifice has being sacrificed to the sacrifice».
Advance, O Manyu, more powerful than the most powerful!
With heat-tapas as an ally, crush the enemies!
Rigveda X, 83 (Manyu)
Manyu-rage was associated with Rudra, Indra, Agni and Shiva. It is no coincidence that the formulas of self-sacrifice, too difficult to understand, were later replaced by more understandable desires to «let» the god into oneself, to feel the god-destroyer inside oneself. Over time, this was expressed in the cult of Hanuman, the great warrior, whose will, force and skills warriors wanted to acquire for battle.
These ideas are not that ancient. In the 19th century, the English described Indian warriors going into battle with fury and a mad glint in their eyes. They attributed this to drug abuse, which of course was the case, but this fact does not cancel the traditional idea of the need to be furious in battle.
In the traditional Indian understanding, unlike the European one, the conductor of the will is not the weapon, as a silent instrument, but the man himself, as a silent instrument of the will of God. God — man — weapon. Will — force — action. It is the force of man that moves the weapon, and this seems natural if we mean the physical strength of the muscles. But in Indian martial arts, mastery is not a set of techniques and tricks, but the ability to realize force. In Indian epics, it is through the force of the heroes that the will of the gods is manifested, accordingly, the force of man can manifest as the will of the gods, giving «inner force». If we exclude the intermediate link, remove the man who has erased his personality, then the will of the gods is manifested directly through the weapon, therefore, the weapon can manifest and direct this will as a subject. In this case, the weapon begins to act on its own, becomes alive and, like a predator, goes hunting. But at the same time, like any force and predator, it must be controlled. Not control it harshly and rudely, but like an element, like fire in an altar or fireplace. After all, a weapon that acts directly by the will of the gods and as the will of the gods itself becomes a manifestation of God.
With thee, O Manyu […]
Let our brave men, impetuous, bursting forward,
March on, like flames of fire, like Agni, exulting,
with pointed arrows, sharpening their weapons.
Rigveda X, 84 (Manyu)
