The Epic of Kautilya : Born To Be King

by Deepak Thomas

  “How come?” Sameer said. “You only touched the Chief Priest’s feet.”

  “The most important thing is to get the blessings of the eldest, Sameer,” Dhanush said. “Since I have done the most important thing before you I have won.”

  The assembly laughed and the Chief Priest blessed Dhanush. Everyone loved him.

  Kautilya was invisible as far as the nobility were concerned. But that was fine with her. She preferred being away from all the scrutiny. Unlike her brothers, she hated attention.

  Without further ado, the brothers touched their father’s feet too. The king silently gave them his blessing. He then sternly said, “All of you should be more respectful. This is a courthouse, not a playground.”

  The five brothers dropped their heads, embarrassed.

  Kautilya proceeded to touch the nobles’ feet to get their blessings. Most did not notice her and those who did just quickly raised a hand in response. The Chief Priest looked at her and pursed his lips. Only the general, Jay’s father, responded with enthusiasm and a broad smile.

  When she reached the king, he lifted her up in a hug. “How has my little parrot been?”

  Kautilya smiled awkwardly. The people of Bharat had a name for her too: the Little Parrot.

  Then her father let her down. “I want you all to meet a close friend of mine,” he said. He gestured to a corner of the courtroom. Kautilya turned to see a hermit. But unlike most hermits his hair and beard were clean, his saffron attire was crisp and his body was muscular.

  “This is Guru Akrama,” the king said. “We learned the art of war together. Now he is a great scholar and a man capable of fighting whole armies alone.

  “For the next eight years, you will be his students. He will train you on how to fight, how to strategise and how to be the rulers you are meant to be.”

  Kautilya observed the guru. He seemed wise but she also perceived cruelty on his face.

  The five brothers proceeded to touch his feet.

  The Chief Priest clapped. “Bravo, King Chandra. Guru Akrama is foremost in the art of war, and a man of great discipline. You have chosen a fine tutor for your five children.”

  Kautilya was aghast. Her brothers were going away to be tutored while she would be left back at the palace!

  “Not five. Six,” the king corrected him.

  The assembly, including Kautilya, gasped. The education process was tough for everyone. But it would be particularly tough for her. For one thing, no noble family sent their daughters away to the forest to learn war. She would be the only girl there.

  Secondly, all her life she had stayed in the comforts of the palace. Her feet were baby soft because she had used them so little. She was not equipped to handle the rigorous discipline of an education in the forest.

  The Chief Priest looked at Kautilya and shook his head. “Have you gone mad, King Chandra? Will you send a girl to learn war?”

  “Is a lioness not as dangerous?” the king said. “She will learn what her brothers learn.”

  “Your Highness,” the general intervened, “the girl will not be able to handle the strenuous nature of this education. She will need someone to take care of her. Let Jay go with them.”

  The king shook his head. “Jay’s place is by your side. Kautilya has to learn to take care of herself.”

  “We are there to watch out for her, Father,” Dhanush said. The other brothers looked at him incredulously at first but then they too nodded.

  “Why don’t we ask Kautilya herself?” the Chief Priest suggested. “What do you want to do, Kautilya? Do you want to go with your brothers to the forest?”

  Kautilya looked at the stern guru, then up at the priest’s disapproving face, and finally at the king, her father and her idol. Kautilya could not let him down.

  “I will go with them,” Kautilya said. “I will learn to fight too.”

  The assembly groaned in disbelief but the king beamed. Kautilya smiled too but in her heart of hearts, she was scared beyond reason.

  CHAPTER 2

  A City Crumbles

  When the court proceedings had come to a close, Chandra and his general were the only ones who were left in the courtroom.

  “Big decisions today, eh?” Chandra said to the general. He tried to smile but the thought of sending away his beloved children weighed him down.

  “It is a good decision. Akrama has no equal,” the general said, “But I am not sure if your choice for Kautilya was wise.”

  Chandra shook his head. “It was not an easy decision but it is a decision that I have deliberated over. There is great potential in her.”

  “Potential, my lord?” the general asked, “She does not have martial abilities like the rest of her brothers.”

  “Oh, Vasu,” Chandra said, “there is more to ruling than the ability to fight.”

  The general was unmoved. “I am just your humble servant, Your Highness. Whatever you decide is appropriate.” He then bowed his head and took his leave.

  In his solitude Chandra he began to contemplate his decision. His thoughts led him to his past, to the fateful day when the Great War came to its end…

  ***

  “All hail King Chandragupta Shveta, first son of the late King Bindusara Shveta, King of Bharat, custodian of the three Holy Rivers,” the announcer bellowed.

  Trumpets announced his arrival ... but Chandra was unmoved. At that moment he felt just like any ordinary human trapped in a chaotic world.

  From atop his ornate elephant steed, he saw his tired battalions trying desperately to cheer his arrival but failing in exhaustion. Sweat stained their uniforms and blood drenched the ground on which they stood. They had just defeated the Danava army, and the shores of Jambudvipa, now saved from invasion, were lined with the blue-skinned corpses of their enemies and the amphibians that the enemy used as steeds.

  Parts of the beach were scorched by the divine astras let loose by great warriors on both sides.

  His general rode up next to him.

  “Your Highness,” he said, “we have won.”

  Chandra scanned the Vangopasagara Sea. Long ago, a god had given him the boon to see beyond the horizon and beneath the sea. “You speak too soon,” he said.

  “Asura!” a soldier screamed.

  Hundreds of black ships lined with glowing red streaks of flame emerge from under the sea. The asura had arrived to help their ally. Black crystal armour covered them from neck to toe. Several had animal heads instead of their own. The rest wore fearsome helmets.

  “Retreat!” Chandra screamed. There was no way that humans could defeat creatures of the underworld. But it was too late.

  The asura soldiers leapt on to the coasts. They began to destroy the human army.

  Chandra roared in frustration. He had almost run out of astras. It was time to unsheathe his mighty sastra, the divine sword Purogata.

  He climbed down from his elephant and leapt onto a horse. Sastra in hand, he charged onto the beach.

  “Hail war!” he yelled as he leapt off the horse and into the midst of the asura warriors. As he landed he cleaved a goat-headed asura into two. The other asura were dumbstruck as their hereto impenetrable armour was effortlessly pierced.

  Chandra swung his sword in an arc and cut off the heads of all the asura who encircled him. He raised his blade to attack the last asura but his hand was caught from behind. As he began to turn he was kicked down.

  An asura with a rhinoceros head stood over him, studying Chandra’s sword, which it held in its hand.

  “Beautiful piece of work,” it said. “A weapon that can even cut through our crystal armour. What is this sastra?”

  “Let go, demon,” Chandra demanded. “It is a divine boon from the War God himself. It is not meant to be desecrated by the likes of you.”

  The demon roared in outrage and lunged as if t
o thrust the sword into Chandra’s chest.

  Its tip stopped inches away from Chandra’s body. He smiled.

  The asura was shocked. “What is this sorcery?”

  Chandra grabbed the sword hilt, kicked at the demon’s legs and knocked it down. “This weapon only cuts when it is wielded by its rightful owner – and its rightful owner is Chandragupta Shveta, the king of the humans.” He leapt to his feet and thrust the sword through the asura’s chest. It screamed as Chandra cut it in two.

  But now Chandra was surrounded by asura. Even with Purogata in his hands, there was no way he would be able to overpower so many of them.

  He closed his eyes and prayed to the War God.

  Immediately the asura began to scream. Chandra opened his eyes to see that those who had surrounded him were all dead. “Save your prayers, King Chandra,” someone whispered into his ear. He recognised the voice and it filled him with joy.

  He turned around to see the most powerful being on the planet: the king of the demigods, Lord Vajra. The demigod was taller than Chandra, although also leaner. His hair was blond and his skin was so fair that it was almost white. At first glance, he seemed gentle, almost like a nurse, until one spied the two lethal pairs of metal arms that extended from behind the back of his armour: the Indrasastra. He was enveloped in lightning.

  Chandra imagined this was what the Storm God himself would look like. He reflexively joined his hands. “Lord Vajra...”

  “The time for niceties is long past, o king,” Lord Vajra said. “It is time to finish this cursed war once and for all.” He extended his arms to the sky and vimanas, flying chariots, rushed past him. One landed next to them.

  Lord Vajra gestured to Chandra to board the vimana. “Let’s destroy these water-breathing scum.”

  The vimana soared over the asura ships. Lord Vajra would occasionally fly off, engage in a bloody rampage on an asura ship and then land back on the vimana. Chandra held on and watched the asura ships being ripped apart by the demigods. Their ability to fly combined with their speed and strength made them unconquerable. With just a few score warriors, they were managing to quell the whole asura navy.

  After a while, Chandra realised that the fleet of vimanas had reached the shores of an asura city – an island of black buildings and red lights. Lava flowed from its sides and asura ran amok through the streets preparing for war. It was a harrowing vision of the underworld itself.

  “Sutala...!” Chandra gasped. The asura capital! But how had it emerged from beneath the sea?

  “Yes,” Lord Vajra told him, “The Asura Prime seeks to raise his demonic city to the skies and use it as a base to launch attacks on Devaloka.” He pointed towards a giant temple that towered over the island. A pillar of light emerged from its roof and shot to the sky.

  “There is the unholy ritual that is powering this sacrilege,” Lord Vajra said. “It is time, my friend, to use the ultimate astra.”

  Chandra nodded, and Vajra handed him a bow and arrow.

  Chandra nocked the arrow, then closed his eyes and prayed to the Creator God before summoning his greatest weapon.

  He opened his eyes and cried, “Brahmastra!”

  A bright light fell on Chandra and he felt power surge through his veins. The arrowhead shone like the sun. He took aim, and fired.

  The shining arrow flew above the melee, creating a booming sound in its wake. Finally it hit the temple tower, and blinding light bathed everything around it. A titanic explosion followed.

  A giant crater now gaped where the temple tower had stood. The asura who had been nearby were now mere ash. The rising city cracked in half and began to crumble into the ocean, taking the demons with it. Many asura leapt off, but still more were crushed by falling buildings.

  All around Chandra the demigods cheered. The asura ships sank back into the depths of the ocean.

  Yet Chandra collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed by the horrors he had wrought. His eyes began to fill with tears. “What have I done?”

  He felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

  “Do not regret, Chandra,” Lord Vajra said. “It is painful, yet it is the duty of a warrior. You must maintain order no matter the cost. Stand up and bask in glory. You have ended the war.”

  CHAPTER 3

  An Heir To The Throne

  Chandra returned to his capital, Aryavrat, amidst great celebration. The people were awed to see their ruler arrive on a vimana escorted by the king of the demigods himself.

  When the vimana landed in the palace courtyard, all those assembled bowed down low and touched their foreheads on the ground. Even the warriors kneeled down. Warriors in Bharat kneeled only before their greatest kings.

  Chandra got off the vimana and turned to Lord Vajra. “Thank you for escorting me back.”

  “This is the least I could do,” Lord Vajra said. “We have fought together so many times and you cannot see me as a friend?”

  Chandra smiled. “How can one as mighty as you be a friend to one as small as me, my lord?”

  “He can be friends with an equal,” Lord Vajra said. “You have done well, Chandra. Now go and rest.”

  “It is not yet the time for rest, my lord,” Chandra said. “My wife expects a child today.”

  “Ah,” Lord Vajra said, “in that case, the time for rest has long passed.” He laughed, the most confident and beautiful laugh Chandra had ever heard. “Farewell, Chandra. My prayers are with you.”

  “Farewell, my lord,” Chandra said.

  The vimanas and the demigods that escorted them flew off into the clouds.

  At once, Chandra was accosted by his subjects. Many showered him with flowers. But he had no time for revelry.

  “Where is Subadra?” he asked one of his ministers.

  “The queen has gone into labour, your Highness,” the minister said.

  Chandra swept aside his welcome party and ran to the chambers of the queen. It had been too long, the wait for an heir. He longed to be able to hand over the reins of the empire to the next generation. The courtiers hoped that he would be blessed with a son but Chandra did not care. He had learned that a daughter could be just as worthy of ruling.

  Several handmaidens rushed out of Subadra’s chamber. They froze when they saw the king.

  “Where is she?” he asked one of them.

  They pointed to the bedchamber.

  He walked in, expecting to hear the screams of his baby. Instead, he was greeted by his sobbing wife. She sat in a pool of blood, surrounded by midwives who had all recoiled to the corners of the bedchamber.

  “Subadra...” Chandra said.

  She lifted her beautiful face, her doe-eyes overflowing with tears.

  “What happened, dear?” Chandra asked.

  “I am not worthy to bear you an heir,” she said. “Forgive me.” She broke down.

  Chandra wrapped his arms around his beloved wife. He looked to the midwives. From their expression, he knew that his wife would not be able to bear children. Dreams of playing with a child, teaching them to be a wise ruler and seeing them start their own family shattered.

  He felt Subadra’s tears dampen his arms. He sighed. If this was the fate that the gods had chosen then he would gladly accept it.

  He took his beloved’s face in his hands. “Do not question your worth, my love. I do not need an heir as long as I have you.”

  ***

  “Without an heir, you will never be reborn,” the Chief Priest said. “Marry a new woman, your Highness. It is the custom of all kings to have more than one wife and you have a very good reason.”

  “Yes,” his general said. “Look at the Lohitha king. He has a dozen sons and the gods know how many daughters. Yet he marries left and right.”

  “I will not marry again,” Chandra said. “I already spend less time than I want with my wife. I cannot have any more demand
s on my time.”

  “But you have such a sickly wife,” the Chief Priest said. “She can hardly stand on her feet. Gods know when she leaves you a widower...”

  “Priest,” Chandra said, “if you dare say a word against her...”

  The court was stunned. Even the king was supposed to hold his tongue against priests. After all, they were the messengers of the gods.

  Chandra realised he had erred. He stood up and stormed out of the courtroom. These people did not understand the relationship between Subadra and him. How could they? Only those who have loved can understand the meaning of love. Every moment of his day was spent in anticipation of being back in the arms of his beloved.

  Even in his next birth, he wanted to be with Subadra. And to sully that relationship with a second wife was unthinkable.

  He walked to the one place where he always found relief from the vagaries of being a king: Subadra’s chambers. As soon as he passed through the chiffon curtains that screened the entrance her sandalwood fragrance brought him joy.

  He saw her sitting on a swing, feeding chillies to her tiny grey-yellow parrot.

  “The king is here, the king is here,” the parrot squawked. Subadra giggled and gave her a chilli.

  “Will she never let me surprise you?” Chandra said as he hugged his queen from behind.

  “Kanha is jealous of you,” Subadra said as she stroked the parrot, “seeing that I love you more than anyone else in the three worlds.”

  “I love you,” the parrot squawked.

  Chandra laughed and sat down next to Subadra on the swing. She regarded him. “Did you storm out of the courtroom again?”

  “Yes. The court is full of idiots,” Chandra said. He snapped a chilli between his fingers

  “Are they asking you to remarry?” Subadra asked.

  Chandra sighed. “Yes.”

  “You should,” Subadra said. “There is no harm in marrying again. I am not getting any better. It will be good to have someone to take care of the household. And also, I will have someone to listen to my complaints about you.”

  Chandra smiled. “Is that so?” he said. “I heard the Lohitha family has a beautiful daughter who is of marriageable age. She is fairer than you, I hear.”