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The gAthAsaptashati (Skt, seven hundred lyrics) is also known as the Sattasai (Hindi, "seven hundred"). The language it is written in, Maharashtri Prakrit, may have itself been a formal style, and not quite the vernacular one supposes it to be. It was perhaps originally collected in the Andhra region.

hAla was possibly a king in Kuntala-Janapada, the Southwest region of the former Hyderabad state. A number of purANAs mention HAla as the 17th Andhra king in a list of thirty; according to this list he ruled for only 5 years, sometime during early 1st c. CE.

It is a compilation, of which 44 poems may have been composed by hAla. The geography of the poets can be discerned from references to Godavari, Tapti (239), Murala, a river in S Kerala (876), and also to the Karanja tree (121) of the Western Ghats.

from the introduction

Mehrotra is "ignorant of Sanskrit, German, and Marathi, the three languages in which the best editions of the Gathashaptashati are to be found." - p.ix [So presumably, he bases himself on the translations of others. ]

As readers we sometimes feel possessive about certain authors. They are our discoveries, and write only for us. [We tirelessly campaign for them. Yet] When the whole world comes to know of them, the magic of their pages is destroyed and we feel robbed.

[Love is possessive, and also wants to display it to all and sundry.] -
Translator's Note: p. ix

[The poems are largely in the woman's, voice, mostly young woman, sometimes
the old. ] This is as it should be, since luckless man has none to tell.
"For centuries now," wrote Rilke in The notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge,
"women have undertaken the entire task of love; they have always played the
whole dialogue, both parts. For man has only echoed them, and badly." -p.xi

Translation is a corollary of reading, but the simplest act of reading alters
the what is read.  The eye, as it passes over one passage, re-reads another,
and rests on a third, authors a simultaneous tet, some form of which will
stay in the mind after the page is turned.

Translations likewise edit, highlight and compensate.  Great translations go
a step further; instead of compensating for losses, they shoot to kill, and
having obiliterated the original, transmigrate its soul into another
language.  This is what Edward Fitzgerald (in whom 'the sould of Omar Khayyam
lodged... around 1857' according to a Bourgeois conjecture) and Ezra Pound
('the inventor of Chinese poetry for our time') did, and this is what makes
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam and 'The river-merchant's wife: A letter'
immortal English poems whose Oriental origins have ceased to matter.

[AM: what Mehrotra is saying here is that the
"original" merely serves as an inspiration for the translation.
This happens a lot to translations from Indian languages (or Chinese);
personally I find it disrespectful lto the original.
I can't think of such liberties being taken with Dante, or Chaucer. ]

My own attempt, more modest, less homicidal, is to provide an accurate and
readable version... - xii

	White paddy fields
	    Desolate you:
	Look, the hemp's still a dancer
	    Ornamented with the king's yellow.  p.1 / 9

[the hemp yard yellow with flowers can be an alternate rendezvous,
in the saMkaTasthAna genre of poems.  For commentary on these genres,
Paul Dundas, 1985, The Sattasai and its commentators. ]

	 Look,
	 a still, quiet crane
	 glistens on a lotus leaf
	 like a conch ehell
	 on a flawless emerald plate.  p.79 / 004   [tr. Mary Ann Selby, 79]

[Mammata's kAvyaprakAsha cites this poem as an example of vyAñjanA: by the
crane's queitude, it is suggested that the place is devoid
of people, so it is a spot for trysting, says the heroine to her lover.
Moreover, "you're lying, you didn't show up for our tryst" may be
suggested.

EXCERPTS

	The remorseful husband
	   Fallen at her feet
	Their little boy
	   Climbs onto his back
	And the sullen wife
	   Laughing    p.2 / 11

[gaMgAdhara: the child on the husband's back reminds her of a coital
 position, hence the laughter. ]

--

	Separated from the woman you love
	   To sit beside one you do not is
	To double your sorrow. I honour
	   The goodness that brings you.  p.3/ 24

 [woman to husband, sitting beside her for sense of duty.]


--
	After a quarrel,
	   The breath suppressed,
	Their ears attentive,
	   The lovers feign sleep:
	Let's see who
	   Holds out longer.  3 / 27

--
	My traveller-husband
	   Will return
	When I see him
	   I will look cross
	And he will
	   reconcile me:
	A woman's dreams
	   And so seldom true. p.2

--
	At night, cheeks blushed
	   With joy, making me do
	A hundred different things,
	   And in the morning too shy
	To even look up, I don't believe
	   It's the same woman.  p.3 / 23

--

	Mother, were he abroad
	  I'd bear the separation
	Waiting for him,
	  But to live in separate houses
	In the same village
	  Is worse than death. p.4 / 43

--

	Hair like ruffled feathers,
	    Half open eyes
	The body in tremors needing rest:
	    Having played the man,
	You know how we suffer.   5/52

[viparItarata or 'contrary intercourse' Mathuranath Shastri: the heroine,
 having chided her man for being a poor lover, takes his position and is
 soon exhausted.  For once, this gives him something to talk about. ]

--

	Does it hurt? Is this better?
	    That bungler to my girl:
	And like crushed sirissa flowers
	    Her limbs when he'd done.  56

--
	He left today, and today
	    His wakeful mistresses are abroad:
	The banks of the Godavari
	    Are yellow with turmeric today.  58

--
	The way he stared,
	   I kept covering myself,
	Not that I wanted him
	   To look elsewhere. p.7/ 73

--

	Her anger's a fistful of sand
	    Slipping through fingers
	When she sees him. p.7 / 74

--

	Distance destroys love,
	So does the lack of it.

	Gossip destroys love,
	And sometimes

	It takes nothing
	To destroy love. p.7 / 81

--

	O Mahua
	Blossomed
	On Godavari's
	Arboured bank

	Shed
	Your flowers
	One
	After
	One  9 / 103

[gaMgAdhara: loose woman, kulaTA, to her lover, not the tree.
 saMkaTasthAna genre.  Mahua flowers fall at night, and are gathered at
 dawn for cooking or fermentation. ]

--

	Mournfully
	As if at the pyre
	Collecting
	Her loved one's relics
	The wanton
	Picked
	The last
	Mahua
	Blossoms 9/104

[Mary Ann Selby, U. Chicago: a most exceptional verse, confounds later rasa
 theoreticians - mixing erotic sentiment with bhayAnaka-rasa - p.77]

--

	In her first labour,
	   She tells her friends,
	"I won't let him
	   Touch me again." They laugh.  11/123

--

	His form
	  In my eyes
	His touch
	  In my limbs
	His words
	  In my ears
	His heart
	  In my heart:
	Now who's
	  separated? p.11 / 132

[gaMgAdhara: A woman, whose husband is abroad, to a wicked go-between come on
a mission.]

--

	As to a traveller
	   His shadow in hot summer,
	So to a niggard
	   His comfortless gold.  12 / 136

[gaMgAdhara: A bawd (prostitute) to a miserly customer.]

--

	Their love by long years secured,
	    Sharing each other's joys and sorrows,
	Of such two the first to go lives,
	    It's the other dies. 12/ 142

[Ingalls: the girls at a well offered cool water, sometimes more than that.]

--

	'A safflower!' they shouted,
	    Pointing to the red nail-mark
	On her breast, and laughed
          When she tried to brush it. 13/145

--

	As the traveller, eyes raised
	   Cupped hands filled with water, spreads
	His fingers and lets it run through,
	   She pouring it reduces the trickle. 13 / 161

--

	While the Bhikshu
	   Views her navel
	And she
	   His handsome face,
	Crows lick clean
	   Both ladle and alms bowl. 162

[gaMgAdhara: The bhikshu is the lover visiting her in disguise; the speaker
 is the co-wife addressing the mother-in-law.  Other commentators, however
 call it a poem about love at first sight.]

--

	Tight lads in the fields,
	   A month in springtime,
	A cuss for a husband,
	   Liquor in the rack,
	And she young, free-hearted:
	   Asking her to be faithful
	Is asking her to die. 197

--

	From the river thicket
	   Where it saw a girl deflowered,
	The astonished flock rose
	   With a shudder.  218

[Mary Ann Selby: interplay of locale / nature and characters p.75]
--

	With trembling eyes,
	   Like a caged bird,
	From behind the picket-fence,
	   She watched you go. 220

--

	Her breasts
	   Against the gate,
	She stood on her toes
	   Till her feet ached:
	What more
	   Could she do? 221

--

	Ask the nights of rain
	    And the Godavari in spate,
	How fortunate he is
	    And unwomanly my courage.  231

[gaMgAdhara: heroine to her lover's friend (male?).
rainy / monsoon period: season of lovemaking]

--

	Nail-marks
	   On the breast thigh buttock
	Of a woman in decline:

	Ground-stones
	   Of the love god's
	Derelict house. 233

--

	'A scorpion's bitten her,' they cried,
	    And as she thrashed about,
	Her shrewd friends in her husband's presence
	    Rushed her to her physician lover. 237

--

	Tonight, she says,
	   In utter darkness
	I must reach the tryst:
	   And practises
	Going round the house
	   With eyes closed.  249

--

	Her father-in-law said no,
	    Her languor yes
	To the traveller asleep
	    In the terrace. 254

--

	Her cursed breasts
	   Solid and cleavageless as bosses
	on a calf-elephant's forehead,
	   Restrict her movement
	Make even breathing a struggle. 23 / 258

--
	My braided hair's
	   Not straight yet,
	And you again speak
	   Of leaving.  273

[In his absence, she becomes disinterested in appearance, and wears her hair
in one plait.]

--

	Bookish lovemaking
	   Is soon repetitive
	It's the improvised style
	   Wins my heart. 23 / 274

--

	A husband gets older,
	   Poorer, uglier,
	Good wives love them
	   All the more.   293

--

	Though the wide world's filled
	   With beautiful women
	Her left side compares
	   Only with her right. 26 / 303

--

	To his tune
	   I dance:
	Rigid tree,
	   Climbing vine. 304

--

	Promises
	   Not to bite
	The underlip,

	The lamp
	   Puffed out,
	The speech
	   A whisper,
	And the breath
	   confined

	Make forbidden love
	   Felicitous.  333

--

	The wretched night's dark,
	    My husband's just left,
	The house is empty:
	    Neighbour, stay awake
	And save me from theft.  28/335

[gaMgAdhara: husband's away; in the dark, neighbour's entry won't be seen.
the speaker is swayaMdUti, self as go-between, w hidden invitation]

---

	He groped me
	   For the underwear
	That wasn't there:

	I saw the boy's
	   Fluster
	And embraced him
	   More tightly.  29/351

--

	The firm breasts
	    Of his new wife:
	Through hollow cheeks
	    The old one sighs.  31 / 382

--

	Fore-legs positioned on the bank,
	   Hinders agitating the ripples,
	A she-frog strokes her own reflection.  31/391

[gaMgAdhara: heroine to lover, desirous of 'contrary intercourse']

--

	'The third watch is ending,
	     Now go to sleep.'
	'O friends, the night jasmine's fragrance
	     Won't let me.'  32/ 412

[night jasmine = shephAli - blooms and droops at night.
Mary Ann Selby: effect of environment on characters. ]

--

	Careful, girl.
	   Stealing away
	Into the night
	   For the tryst,
	Looking brighter
	   Than a flame.  415

--

	'What's this?' She innocently wonders,
	    And now washes, now rubs, now scratches
	The nail-mark on her breast.  35 / 433

--

	The rains end

	High clouds
	    (like young breasts)
	Are blown away

	Like a strand of white hair
	     On earth's ageing head
	The first kans flower appears 434

[gaMgAdhara: maybe heroine to lover, suggesting he reach the trysting
 place; or old courtesan to a pimp, to tell him she's not the only one
 turning grey.]

--

	The deft bee,
	    His weight held back,
	Endues the bud and sucks
	    The white jasmine's nectar. 36/442

[gaMgAdhara: experienced woman teaches a sexual position to a man keen to
 make love to an underaged girl]

--

	Before the white jasmine
	    Could unfold, impetuous bee,
	You'd mangled it.  444

[inept and overeager lover, (with young girl?) 76]

--

	Friend, I'm worried
	  My bangles expand
	When he's abroad.
	  Is this common?  36/453

--

	Much to her lover's amusement
	     Her friends display the wedding-sheet.   37 / 457

--

	For our quarrels
	    Let us appoint another night:
	The bright one slips by.  38/466

--

	He finds the missionary position
	   Tiresome, and grows suspicious
	If I suggest another:
	   Friend, what's the way out?  476

--

	In the last weeks
	   Of pregnancy
	She's distressed by
	   Her inability
	To mount him. 39/483

[viparitarata]

--

	When she bends to touch
	     Her mother-in-law's feet
	And two bangles slip
	     From her thin hands, tears
	Come to the cold woman's eyes. 40 / 493

--

	How am I?  Can't you see?
	    Evil crowns the prodigious
	Mango in the yard.  499

[mango buds = Springtime; her traveller-husband not there]

--

	As though she glimpsed
	The mouth of a buried
	    Pot of gold,

	Her joy on seeing
	Under her daugher's
	    Wind-blown skirt

	A tooth-mark
	    Near the crotch.   41 / 508

--

	Don't let fustian
	   Dishearten you:
	Dalliance unties
	   Even silk knots.   521

--

	He, for whom I forsook
	    Shame, chastity, honour,
	Now sees me as just
	    Another woman.  525

--

	Liquor on their breath
	    And hair tousled by lovers
	Is enough to make young girls
	    Fatal.   	  43 / 545

--

	The watchdog dead,
	    Mother-in-law bedridden,
	My husband out of town,
	    And I've no one to inform him
	A buffalo ravaged the cotton last night.

[swayaMdUti: hidden invitation]

--

	Looking restless,
	   Breathing heavily,
	Yawning, humming,
	   Weeping, fainting,
	Falling, mammering:
	   O traveller,
	You'd better not go.   547

--

	The lamp-oil finished,
	    The wick still burns,
	Encrossed in the young couple's
	    Copulation.  44 / 548

--

	Wings hanging down, necks drawn in,
	    Sitting on fences as though spitted,
	Crows get soaked in the rain.  564

[gaMgAdhara: heroine to lover: it's raining, there's no rush, no one
 will disturb us. ]

--

	The cock crows and you
	    Wake up with a start:
	But you spent the night
	    In your own bed, husband.  46 / 583

--

	The headman's pretty daughter
	    Has turned the whole village
	Into an unblinking god.  593

--

	Unaided by colour,
	    Mere line locks them
	In deep embrace.  48 / 614

[An analogy to painting? no colour because of the dark? "terse elegance" says
the afterword about this verse. ]

--

	Bless you, summer,
	    For the perfect tryst-place:
	A small dry pond,
	    By green trees surrounded.  628

[saMkaTasthAna genre]

--

	As the bridegroom
	   Feigning sleep
	Sidles towards her,
	   Her thighs stiffen and swiftly
	With trembling hand
	   She clasps the knot.    50 / 648

--

	Always wanting me
	   To come on top
	And complaining
	   We're childless,
	As if you could brim
	   An inverted water-jug.   656

[_viparitarata:
Notions of sex ==> procreation are clear, but missionary is considered
more "natural". ]

--

	Wet twigs bend under the weight,
	   Feet slip and wings flap
	As birds alight on the tree's crest.  51 / 662

[gaMgAdhara: a go-between to the abhisArikA, that night is about to fall and
she should hasten to the tryst.]

--

	After much training,
	   The hussy's mongrel
	Licks her lover's hand
	   And flies at her husband.   51 / 664

--

	That
	   Is my mother-in-law's bed
	My bed
	   Is here
	And those
	   Are the servants:

	Don't trip over mind
	   Night-blind traveller.  669

[This poem is quoted in Anandavardhana, dhvanyAloka 1.4 - as an example of
one kind of implicit meaning; though the explicit meaning is one of
prohibition, the implicit will be of a more positive proposal.']

--

	Lovers' separation
	   Makes what once
	Was pleasure
	   Seem like vomit. 670

--

	Mother-in-law, one word
	   about the long bamboo leaves
	In my hair, and I'll bring up
	   The dirt-marks on your back. 676

--

	Buffaloes look back
	   And say goodbye to the grove,
	As butchers, long knives in hand,
	   Lead them away.  682
[India as beef-eating nation]

--

	The rut-way
	    Through the village:
	Like a parting
	    In its hair. 684

--

	Little by little
	    The paddy dries:
	And the pale scarecrow with it,
	    Losing the tryst-place.  54/693

[relates to the site of the tryst, saMkaTasthAna]

--

	He's still annoyed with me,
	   Oh, he refused even to meet you,
	No woder, wretch,
	   Your underlip's bleeding. 718

[the go-between's treachery: poems of this genre in Ingalls, sec.25]
--

	Friend, you should've seen
	    His hand fumbling inside
	The thin skirt glued
	    To my wet fanny.  723

--
	Thunderclouds in the sky,
	    Paths overgrown, streams in flood,
	And you, innocent one, in the window,
	    Expecting him.  57 / 729

--

	I greet them all:
	   Love born of deceit,
	Love born of coercion,
	   Love born of cupidity,
	Love born of impediment.  744

--

	It's
	     Winter nights
	Make me
	     Give up pride.  745

 [holding out genre: also, 27]

--

	Like a tired crow
	    After long wandering,
	Cursed love has returned
	    To the sea-boat it left. 746

[sea-going vessels carried a crow to help search for land]

--

	After the conflagration,
	    Fire fled across odd ground;
	Then exhausted, on tall grass leaning,
	    Crept towards the river
	As one parched with thirst. 758

--

	Standing near water,
	And thirsty,

	The stag
	    Wants the doe
	To drink first

	The doe
	    The stag. 763

--

	O pumpkin-vine,
	   Leaving your own firm trail,
	You get up another,
	   And will soon come to grief.  768

--

	In summer, behind doors
	    Shut, like eyelids,
	The village at siesta; somewhere
	    A hand-mill rumbles,
	As if the houses snored.   800***

--
	Mother-in-law,
	    Look what he did:
	Forced his hand inside my blouse,
	    Said i'd stolen his cotton. 811

--

	Let parrots take the paddy,
	    I'm not going there again:
	Travellers who know the way
	    Keep asking for directions. 821

--

	Proud aren't you, to display
	      The beauty streaks
	Your husband's painted on your breasts?

	When I stood before mind,
	   His hand lost all
	Control over the line. 830  [a rare reference to the husband]

--

	The go-between's not back,
	    The moon's risen,
	Night passes, everything's amiss,
	    And no one to confide in.  854

--

	When she heard the bird's flutter
	     As they rose from the rattan grove,
	Her young limbs
	    Languished in the kitchen.  64 / 874

[the lover has reached the saMkaTasthAna, but she can't go, detained
perhaps by m-in-l]

--

	Why Mohua flowers, son?
	    Even if you grabbed my skirt,
	Who'd hear me in the forest?
	     The village's far, and I'm alone.  877

--

	Let faithful wives
	    Say what they like,
	I don't sleep with my husband
	    Even when I do.  888

--

	When he's away
	     His many infidelities
	Come to mind:
	     When I see him, none. 903 [IDEA**]

--

	Friend, what haven't
	    I lived through?
	He begged me to forgive him
	    -- And I did.  930

--

	Always wanted
	   To be your girl,
	And didn't know how:
	   Teach me.  948

--

	'Death comes early
	   To those who touch
	A woman in
	   Her flowers.'

	'Doe-eyed one,
	    Let mine come Now.' 950