Ashoka the Great

by Keuning, Wytze

  The royal elephant awaited the Maharajah at the palace gateway. Armed maidens, who were sentries, stood in anticipation of their Lord’s arrival. The sound of a heavy gong announced his approach. Immediately, slender young girls stepped up and helped the mighty ruler to his mount. Long white cloths, adorned with yellow and the blue colours of the peacock, were draped over the elephant’s massive body. Over it was the caparison, embellished elaborately with gold and inlaid richly with rows of gemstones, which had flowed into the monarch’s treasury from every region of the vast empire. The mahout sat over the neck of the animal, his hook in his hand, face and body motionless, waiting for his Lord. Two soldiers led the animal. Leaning back in his purple howdah10, brilliant with glistening gemstones, Bindusara rode between rows of mounted horsemen who cleared the way. The people had gathered to catch a glimpse of the revered Maharajah: Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Pataliputra’s artisans and palace officers, women and children. Flowers were strewn on the path before him, and the people fell prostrate before him, he who ruled Magadha righteously. Each was convinced of Bindusara’s divinity; after all, how else would he be born to such might in this incarnation?

  With stateliness, the royal elephant trod ahead. Strong bodyguards accompanied the Emperor to the army camp on the banks of the Hyranya-vaha, the Son …

  4

  THE GANDIVA BOW

  shoka, along with Kullika, had proceeded to the army camp way ahead of his father. The guru was more a friend to Ashoka than tutor. They rode on at a gallop. The Wild Prince was watched with timid respect. Brahmins spoke earnestly of the worry he caused the Maharajah, Kshatriyas of his unmatched skill with weapons. He was a true descendant of Chandragupta, the fearless, who did not spare anyone. The one who, under the reign of the Nandas, incited a revolt in Pataliputra but had to flee when the conspiracy was uncovered. He who had met Alexander the Macedonian1, and after this conqueror’s death, recaptured the West, thereafter took Madhyadesa, and then the throne of Magadha. No wonder, that the Crown Prince feared the ugly Prince with those dark, sparkling eyes in such an unsightly face.

  As they rode on, Ashoka suddenly saw a man crossing the road, wearing the robe of a penitent and carrying a heavy rod. He observed—as little has ever escaped the notice of the young Prince— that they were soon bound to cross paths. To his surprise, the ascetic kept walking on and just as they were about to collide, the man dropped to the ground and threw the rod between the horse’s legs. The animal stumbled and fell to the ground. Ashoka was flung high up into the air and, just as he was about to fall on the ground, he was caught by a Shudra who had rushed to the spot. With his skill and adroitness, he had protected Ashoka from what could have been a bad and dangerous fall. As a result of the Shudra’s action, he fell, seriously bruising himself. Ashoka was not shaken in the least. He landed on his feet, jumped upon the penitent, and grabbed him by his neck.

  ‘Why that rod, wretch?’

  ‘It was an accident, Lord.’

  ‘You lie, you saw us coming.’

  ‘Lord, I swear that I meant no harm.’

  Ashoka summoned some of the soldiers and gave a stern instruction: ‘Take him to the rack.’ He then turned to the Shudra and said, ‘And you, Shudra, enter my service as a special guard. What is your name?’

  ‘Revata, Lord.’

  ‘Revata, I will expect you tomorrow in the park at sunrise, when Ushas opens the gate for Surya.’

  The ascetic moaned loudly when the soldiers carried him away. In front of the courthouse and its devices for torture, he cried out:

  ‘Cursed … Lamba …’

  ‘Who is Lamba?’

  ‘The door-keeper of the ganika2 Prakriti, Lord,’ he stuttered.

  ‘Get Lamba from Prakriti’s house!’

  Soon, Lamba arrived at the courthouse.

  ‘Why have you sent this wretch to me?’

  ‘I have not done so, Lord. The liar is trying to clear himself.’ said Lamba, calmly. Lamba feared neither Mara3 nor his demons, and being protected by the Crown Prince, felt himself safe from Ashoka.

  ‘Take him to the racks as well.’

  Lamba blanched.

  ‘Why have you sent this wretch to me?’

  ‘Lord, he lies.’

  ‘Start the punishment!’

  Lamba submitted to the torturers for a while and then cried out:

  ‘Stop it!’

  ‘Continue.’ ordered Ashoka calmly.

  ‘Lord, Prakriti …’

  ‘Prakriti does not know me. Continue!’

  ‘Lord, the friends of Prince Sumana!’

  ‘Continue the punishment! With the whips now!’

  Bellowing with pain, Lamba called out: ‘Stop! I shall speak. Let the others leave, then I will talk.’

  ‘Kullika stays. I wish to have a witness.’

  ‘Agreed. Lord, Prince Sumana offered me a large sum if I wounded you. Nothing more. I hired this magician, Lord.’

  Ashoka angrily grabbed the iron rod and struck the magician in his rage.

  ‘Lock up Lamba! King Bindusara will judge him. Come, my Guru.’

  Ashoka and Kullika then rode to the army camp. Two well-known charioteers were racing their three-spans on the practice fields. The one who lagged behind was lashing his horses mercilessly but was unable to overtake his opponent.

  ‘Beatings deliver results with people, not with animals, Sela!’ Ashoka called out. ‘Come here, I shall drive your chariot,’

  Kullika tried to persuade the Prince not to risk such an unaccustomed experiment.

  ‘Do not be afraid, my Guru. I ride as well as Sela, only in a different manner.’ He stepped up to the horses, gave each a piece of crystallised honey, and patted the necks of the snorting animals while whispering to them soothing words. He then took the reins and climbed into the chariot. Some thought that the Prince whispered magic spells from the Atharva Veda into the horses’ ears. Kullika was compelled to think of Shiva. ‘If … he …’

  ‘Ready, Sagka, now us! A hundred panas if you win.’

  The horses plunged forward and Ashoka quickly left Sagka far behind. Cheers rang out. When they stepped down from their chariots, Sagka bowed deeply to the Prince.

  ‘There, Sagka, a hundred panas. Treat your friends. Here are your beautiful horses, Sela.’

  Kullika looked at his pupil, first with fear, then with amazement. He then noticed the calm look with which the Prince controlled his animals, how all the soldiers greeted the ‘Wild Prince’ with respect. That was only natural, he thought. They experienced Bindusara as a god, but Ashoka as a soldier, only higher placed, more clever than themselves, who always knew, where they failed. This was felt even more strongly in the elephant park where a mahout was savagely mistreating one of the animals because it refused to pull a large cart which made a terrible din when it moved. In violent fear of the strange sounds, the elephant paced back and forth before the cart.

  Ashoka snatched the hook out of the mahout’s hand and threw it away. Then he approached the animal and trustingly put his arm around its trunk.

  ‘Unfasten the animal!’

  ‘Come,’ Ashoka gently led the elephant to the side.

  ‘Now, yoke an experienced elephant to the cart and ride back and forth a while.’ The mahout silently obeyed Ashoka’s orders. The frightened animal flinched at first but Ashoka remained calmly by its side, giving it a sugar cube every now and then. Slowly, the animal became used to the frightening noises of the cart. Finally, he was once again yoked to the cart and Ashoka led him for a while. The elephant no longer shrank, but strode forward as if it had always been used to the simulated war-like sounds.

  ‘Use the intellect of the elephant as well as its power; an elephant has more manas in the tip of its trunk than a karnak4 in his head and hook together.’ The mahout fell at Ashoka’s feet. They then went onwards.

  ‘How do you know these things, O, Prince?’

  ‘I know the animals better than they do, my Guru, because I love them, more than even m
ost of my brothers. They are innocent and blameless.’

  Ashoka rode to the camp of the foot-soldiers. Here again, he was greeted with cheers. He was greatly respected by the rough, brawny warriors because of the seriousness with which he practised all their weaponry. In strength, agility and total control of his muscles, he outdid them all.

  A heavy gong-stroke thundered through the army camp. The Maharajah was approaching! It was time for Bindusara’s daily inspection, which he never passed up unless it was impossible. In an instant the camp was galvanised into action. Soldiers rushed to their places. Thousands stood along the way as the stately procession made its way between the ranks of the now orderly and attentive warriors. Bindusara halted as he reached the spot where the Prince stood. Ashoka approached his father and greeted him with reverence.

  ‘My son, why do you practise so intently?’

  ‘That is not easy to answer, my Father. I cannot bear a life without action. I must keep moving and I love to put my body to the test. But also, I want to know what kind of powers are at work in the great Mauryan empire.’

  ‘Why does my son want to know that?’

  ‘It could be possible that another Maurya may not be able to rule your empire when called upon. And then maybe, I shall have to, or want to.’

  The Maharajah pondered for a moment. Then he suddenly said: ‘Let the great Gandiva5 be brought. It was a bow as Arjuna received as a gift from Varuna. He who is able to arch this bow and shoot the arrow can also rule Indra’s empire.’

  Ashoka knew well the legend that said: ‘Shall rule Indra’s empire.’

  He understood that Bindusara did not want to be bound by this test, yet that he sought some support in his wavering. The bow, brought here by Chandragupta, was kept with great care in the Emperor’s personal armoury. When the sacred relic was brought, on Bindusara’s command it was handed over to Ashoka. The Prince turned it round and round. He felt some timidity. Who could arch such an enormous bow! He thought no longer of the far-reaching implication that the Emperor would attribute to his shot. It became a question of being either able or not, mixed with great curiosity. He pulled the string, but now to flex it all the way? The gathered crowd looked on, speechless. No-one doubted the serious implications of this test: the sacred bow, the most honoured, powerful Emperor of all Aryavarta6, the ‘Wild Prince’! In spite of enormous effort, the strong young man did not succeed in drawing the bow. Then, excitedly, he called out: ‘Two heavy rocks!’ He placed the stones against the ends of the Gandiva, picked up the string, fiercely stomped on the unyielding wood right in the middle, at the same time pulling the string with all his might, he stretched it, and drew with success! The jubilant cheers of the soldiers around him shook him out of his sharply focused mind. As he looked on, Bindusara had held his breath. Only now that Ashoka had succeeded did it dawn on him how risky this test had been.

  ‘What shall I shoot, my Father?’

  ‘Take a condemned thief or murderer. Which spell from the Artharva Veda has given my son the strength to arch the Gandiwa?’

  ‘Spell? None, my Father! Neither shall I kill anyone who has not shown himself to be my enemy or my Father’s.’

  ‘Yonder is a target. Shoot! Settle the distance yourself.’

  Amidst shouts of ‘Shiva!’ the heavy arrow flew straight and true to hit the target in the middle.

  ‘That was a masterly shot, my son! Which weapon are you most fond of, follower of the great Arjuna?’

  ‘The chakra7, my Father. What target and what distance do you want?’

  But the Maharajah, still stunned by Ashoka’s mastery over the Gandiva, did not wish for further proof of Ashoka’s skills in weaponry.

  ‘Any throw of the chakra is allowed to you, my son. My time is up. My work awaits me. Come to me in the second half of the night.’

  Ashoka remained standing, deep in thought. Kullika finally remarked: ‘It is time, O, Prince.’

  ‘The Maharajah’s words were careless, my Guru. Suppose, I had chosen Sumana as the target … I hate him.’

  Kullika grew pale. ‘That is a terrible thought, O, Prince!’

  ‘That is why I tell you, my Guru. For now it has lost its power. Although acting on it would bring me great advantage. Any throw of the chakra is allowed to you.’

  ‘These thoughts are dangerous, O, Prince. Come with me to the wise Sayana.’

  ‘Very well! My thoughts are confused. Perhaps, I am in need of his advice.’

  They rode directly to Padmavati, from where they were taken across the Ganga. The river was still in spate. Riding through an areca palm grove, they reached the hermitage of the wise Brahmin: a dwelling made of bamboo and timber with a sun-sheltered verandah. Sayana was seated, a manuscript on palm-leaves before him, meditating. He first had completed the first two stages of life: Brahmacharin, the student, and Grihastha, the house-holder. He then had chosen to take Vanaprastha and settled in the hermitage, along with a few other Brahmins, to continue his further life in solitude, reflecting over the Atma-vidya8, the well-being of soul and mind of others and himself. Bindusara frequently sought his wise counsel. From afar, Sayana saw Kullika approaching with a young man and understood that it was Prince Ashoka who accompanied him. He immediately stood up and warmly welcomed both guests.

  ‘Have we disturbed your contemplations, my Sayana?’

  ‘You, Kullika, are always welcome, and I am especially pleased to be able to welcome your pupil.’

  After a cordial greeting, Kullika remarked: ‘Prince Ashoka would like to speak with you, my Sayana, since his mind seeks answers about his karma.’ Kullika now related the incident of Lamba and also about the Gandiva.

  ‘Is it so tempting to you, O, Prince, the ruler-ship of a great empire? Continuously in fear of every enemy, both inside and outside your kingdom, inside and outside the palace even? Of what benefit is all this wealth, this power, this fame, with its inherent risk of imperiling your karma should you not make good use of your wealth, your power, the application of the laws which exists amongst the many peoples.’

  ‘Or, ennoble my karma with the right use of my power, O, wise Sayana.’

  Sayana looked at him, surprised, and said, ‘That certainly is the other possibility.’

  ‘Emperor Bindusara is a powerful monarch, and prosperity flourishes in long fragrant bunches from the empire’s tree. Shiva and Varuna may be merciful to him but if Sumana becomes the King of Magadha, it will be the end of the Mauryas. I could not endure that, O, wise Sayana! Must the lives, prosperity and happiness of an empire be entrusted to a womaniser and an instrument of the Brahmins, a gambler, an assassin? Will the House of the Peacock9 end or fall with such a king? I do not want that!’

  ‘And your Father, Bindusara?’

  ‘As long as he is the Maharajah, I will obey him. But no assassin on the throne of Magadha! Believe me, O Sayana, I am not sure of myself, whether I hate Sumana because of his attempt on my life, his behaviour, unworthy of a Crown Prince? Or, because he stands in my way.’

  ‘No man, O Prince, acts upon a single thought. Suppose, your Father, not your brother, embodied the four negative characteristics you named. Would you hate him?’

  ‘It is impossible to answer this, O, wise Sayana; to Emperor Bindusara, everything—yes, everything—comes second to the welfare of the people, the kingdom and the house of the Mauryas.’

  ‘Your answer is less philosophical than practical. Nevertheless, assume it be so.’

  ‘Yes, then I would hate him.’

  ‘Would you also kill him—for that was your first thought when you held the chakra in your hand—and then ascend the ivory throne, just as many kings before you have done?’

  ‘No, because he is my Father.’

  ‘But Sumana is your brother.’

  ‘Half-brother! He is yet to be the Maharajah and truly has the traits I spoke of.’

  ‘Once again: you answer practically, not philosophically. So, your brother.’

  ‘The Maharajah carelessly
permitted me any throw of the chakra. No honourable king would break such a promise. I could, therefore, kill him. I told Kullika, once I had voiced the thought it lost its force.’

  ‘But if your Father placed him on the throne of Magadha?’

  ‘I would vehemently resist. I would not allow this peaceful, prosperous land to be taken over by an unsuitable king, even if he is my brother. I am convinced that I, not he, should be the king.’

  ‘Is that not haughtiness?’

  ‘No, O, wise Sayana. Perhaps, I have carried this conviction from an earlier incarnation. Emperor Bindusara needs a commander to go to Taxila. I know I should be the one, for if the Maharajah sends Sumana, it will be the judgement of his Brahmin advisors which will prevail, and not his.’

  ‘You know, O, Prince: I too am a Brahmin and could prize that in Sumana.’

  ‘If your opinion can be so ruled by the interests of your varna, it would be of little value to me, O, Sayana, and my visit to your recluse be in vain.’

  Sayana smiled.

  ‘And, if he sends you, my Prince?’

  ‘I myself will judge and decide.’

  Sayana nodded.

  ‘Return to Pataliputra, and trust that a righteous king, in this case will be righteous as well.’

  ‘May I ask the wise Sayana a question?’

  ‘As many as you ask, the better.’

  ‘Does the success of a sacrifice depend on what is paid for it?’

  ‘Those who have profited say so.’

  ‘That answer is more philosophical than practical, my revered Sayana. Naturally, I wanted your opinion.’ Sayana laughed warmly at his perceptiveness.

  ‘I have taken vanaprastha, my Ashoka. As a pupil I served my guru, studied in Taxila, raised a family, and offered sacrifice upon sacrifice. Now I know that a genuine offering should be merely symbolical. Shiva is the Lord of knowledge. When you acquire knowledge, inner knowledge, is that an offering to Shiva. Shiva is the Lord of destruction. When you kill, you offer to Shiva. But Shiva is also the Lord of life. Thus, you must learn, when to kill, and when to bestow life, so that the offering will be acceptable; because the offering comes from within.’