‘What sins, my Father?’
‘Do not ask me! Even you do not know your past life, how then should I?’
Rohini sobbed. ‘What should I do, my Father?’
‘Return home, and await your retribution for other possible sins.’
Her mother begged, ‘Let her spend this night with us. Perhaps, we can soften her fate.’
‘Fate?’ snapped Rohini’s father. ‘What is fate? What you did wrong in a former life: that is fate! Do you want punishment meant for her to come down upon us? You are merely a daughter who can never bring good fortune, only misfortune. Return to Jivaka’s house and wait.’
Without uttering a single word, Rohini looked at her father. It was as if the truth did not wish to penetrate into her. Slowly, without looking back at her parental home, almost in shock, hardly knowing what she did, she turned to the road that led to Jivaka’s homestead. Twilight had settled in quickly and by then had covered the dwellings and the woods in ominous darkness. Afraid? Was she afraid of angry spirits? If only a tiger, a cobra, or a python would kill her, quickly, without hesitation! But what if Jivaka’s ghost had returned to the homestead! Jivaka’s soul, who surely cursed her for her infertility— who would torment her, thrust pain and calamity upon calamity upon her which would terrify her—would appear as an avenging ghostly shadow and drive her out of her couch and expel her from his abode. O, Varuna … if only Shiva would send one lightning bolt and take her away from this miserable life! Or, must she bear her fate yet longer? And would it end with this life? Or, would the next one only bring new sorrows? She looked fearfully around every time she heard the rustling of leaves, when a white flowering tree appeared to her as a goblin, or a whirring beetle, dashing away like a darting ghost … Jivaka … Was she to blame for his misfortune? Then he would certainly avenge himself now! Was he already near or was he waiting for her in the house? She did not dare to enter the house, yet did not have the courage to remain outside either! Every nerve in her body quivered. She could hardly move; nor could she stand still. What did she hear now! The viola! Gods! She fell down and gave up. Had she lost her mind? Sasarman? The ghost of Sasarman, who could not do without his beloved instrument, who could not bear to be far from her? The melody seemed to lament! What a heartfelt love song. Was it for her? All was lost now! Here, the avenging Jivaka, and there, the desperate Sasarman! Where could she hide from both these restless souls? If only sweet death would come now and release her! O, Holy waves of the Ganga! A thought, like a blissful cloud, came over her. That was it! The spirit of Sasarman would lead her; together they would beg the gods for forgiveness of past sins. Together they would go where a new birth awaited them. Half-mad, she hurried to Sasarman’s house, and immediately noticed a faint light? Light in Sasarman’s dwelling! She stumbled through the door and suddenly the viola stopped.
From inside a familiar voice exclaimed: ‘Rohini!’
Rohini gripped the heavy bamboo pole of the entrance for support; she stood rooted to the ground. Sasarman flung his instrument down, dashed to her, took her in his arms and she, unresisting, let herself be carried away, not even aware if it was her childhood friend or his soul that carried her.
‘Rohini … it is you coming to me! O, Rani of my heart! You come to me, one who thought himself dead? O, lotus of my royal pond … I am saved!’
‘Saved, Sasarman, is it you?’ Her hands slid over his arms, his chest, his face. ‘No ghost? Does your body live? Sasarman …’
‘The Wild Prince of the Mauryas, the Vaishya, who with Kullika attended Jivaka’s great sacrifice, he saved my life.’
‘Was that Prince Ashoka? May Varuna bless him! Jivaka is imprisoned, put to death for trespassing the royal hunting grounds.’
‘Jivaka, dead? …’ A wild yet joyous scream tore through the house.
‘Then you will stay with me, Rohini. I will be in the service of Prince Ashoka. You will come with me.’
Rohini felt his arms clasp around her, his kisses burning her lips. He held her tight as if he never would let her go again. A lovely haze came over her. Once more she felt safe, safe with the beloved, who did not despise her, who did not blame her for anything. O, Sita, could there possibly be good fortune yet for her? She sobbed, let herself yield and received Sasarman’s love like a holy gift of the gods. Would all the tragedies in her life now stop?
‘My Rohini, you are now my wife. Ours is a Gandharva4 marriage. No Brahmin need bless it, nor dare scorn it. Never again will I let you go. Even death will not part us.’ Rohini smiled, and threw her arms around his neck.
‘My loving Sasarman … Is all bitterness gone now?’
‘Yes! And I wish to give you a son. Prince Ashoka will take us with him, away from these Brahmin-poisoned regions!’
Rohini abided that night with her love regained.
The next morning they agreed that she should return to Jivaka’s homestead to care for the animals.
‘Those the greedy priests have left! What good is a sacrifice? When our wishes are fulfilled, then it is the soma-guzzlers who have achieved it, if not then the fault lies with the one who offers the sacrifice. When one lives very virtuously, it is a past life … Then it is better not to make any sacrifices as I do not.’
Rohini looked at him, startled.
‘I would like to know if they themselves believe in the sacrifice,’ he continued.
‘Why do they do it then, my dear Sasarman?’
‘For the reward, the soma: the best meat, rich gifts from the toilers, the Vaishyas.’
‘I am so afraid what you utter is sinful and that fresh retribution will befall, my beloved Sasarman. And I want to hold on to you.’
Sasarman’s all-encompassing love enclosed her. Every barrier, right at that moment, had vanished.
‘I have damned all offerings, cursed the Brahmins, spoken of their greed to whomsoever would still listen to me. All the Vaishyas in the village avoid me as they do the plague. And what is my punishment? Rohini! The gods could not have given me anything more wonderful!’
Rohini was inclined to believe Sasarman. Could it be possible?
‘But what about the gods then, my beloved?’
‘I would like to thank them, if it is they who have returned my Rohini to me. But my gratitude is to Prince Ashoka. He is the one who came to my rescue.’
Rohini laughed happily, the soft glow in her eyes giving her face a rare enchantment. She hurried to Jivaka’s home, cared for the animals and his house. The slokas accompanying every action, normally chanted in great earnestness, came as always to the fore in her thoughts, but now they would not emerge from her lips. The libations she did almost automatically, but without belief in their effect now. She thought: Those who did not perform offerings were not worse off in this world. On the contrary: Kara, her neighbour, who performed the forty rites badly, had eight sons. She herself, who never neglected even one, had none! Sasarman had sinned in every manner against the laws of the priests, yet he was the one to be saved by the Wild Prince! What should she do now? She could no longer go on as before. All her earlier pious rituals now seemed strange, useless, foolish, and worse yet, false. Automatically, the incantations came to her as before as she tended the animals, cleansed the vessels. Yet, it was all different now. She performed the Agni-hotra as before— out of habit, out of fear—but no longer out of a holy belief, and no longer because of kind thoughts towards the gods. Everyone would blame her for Jivaka’s death, for sins of which she was not aware. She now felt their accusations as the greatest injustice. Could one be sinful without knowing it? She now had Sasarman: Satyavat, the true one. She loved him and he loved her, despite all earlier sins. Greater happiness could not have befallen them. They would go away, far away, to Pataliputra, away from the disdain of her neighbours! Was Prince Ashoka really a Wild Prince? He had been better and kinder to them than the gods.
She heard someone on the grounds. Who could that be … Pindola? Sasarman? No, he would not come here. She wanted no scandal in Jivak
a’s house. Rohini went to look. She gripped onto the doorpost and looked in disbelief … Was that Jivaka? She closed her eyes and thought, what if it were Jivaka’s ghost? Desperately, she stared again in the direction from where the figure approached; it was, indeed, Jivaka.
‘Rohini! The god of house and hearth be blessed. O, Agni … O, Shiva … O, Varuna … I am free! Condemned to die by the court of Brahmins, but the Maharajah showed me mercy.’ He paused, noticing Rohini’s blank stare. ‘Rohini, what is it? Are you not delighted that I am back? I have spoken to the wise Sayana …’
‘Jivaka … they told me that you were killed …’
‘Condemned to death, yes, but now I am free again. The Maharajah …’ Once again he saw a trace of Rohini’s disappointment. ‘You are disappointed. Are you not happy that I have returned and not left you a reviled widow?’
‘I thought you were dead. Then I went to my father’s house. He did not welcome me for fear that I would only bring them misfortune. Vaishyas avoided me, children were not allowed to come near me. What I feared most was your ghost; would it seek revenge upon me? The fear made me crazy and I wanted to die like you. I did not dare to enter your home. Then I heard Sasarman’s viola. But they had told me that he, too, was put to death. I hoped that his ghost would protect me from all distress. But Sasarman was released.’ Rohini paused before continuing with her tale. ‘And I have stayed this night with him.’
‘You have spent the night in the house of a friend!’
Rohini sank down on a bench, sobbed desperately, and nodded.
‘You know, no Arya is allowed to take back his wife who has spent the night in the house of a friend. Slut!’
‘I thought you were dead, Jivaka. No one would help me!’
Grabbing her forcefully, Jivaka threw her out of the door.
‘You will never come back here. I swear by all the gods you are no longer my wife. Yama take your sinful soul, wretched woman! I shall seek someone else who knows better what suits an Arya.’
Rohini stood up, deeply insulted. She wanted to defend herself, but Jivaka had picked up a stick.
She fled to Sasarman and told him what had transpired. Sasarman laughed heartily. ‘Now you are free, Rohini. No one can stop us from being together now. Wise Brahmins say that every deed is a sacrifice. We are married, wed in love: Gandharva! The priests hate it, because there is nothing in it for them to feast upon, no alms to be given. But Manu forces them to give approval. You shall never leave my house. Wherever I live, you will live. From now on, you will run my household, my Rohini.’
‘Yes, Sasarman, as well as I can.’
‘He was crazy to send you away! Kama shall bless our love.’
Early the next morning, Prince Ashoka stopped before Sasarman’s house his horse steaming from the fast ride.
‘Sasarman.’
‘What do you require, Lord?’ asked Rohini.
‘Rohini … you here?’ the Prince asked, startled. Sasarman now approached, bowing low before the Prince.
‘Blessed art thou, Lord. Enter my house.’ He then told Ashoka what had happened.
‘Sasarman, you are to be employed in the Imperial Park as overseer of the plants and ponds. At the same time, you are in my service as my agent. I want to know everything that goes on in the park. And now once more: Do you hate the sacrificial priests?’
‘As the tigers and the cobras, Lord!’
Prince Ashoka explained to him why he had been employed and warned that he would have dangerous opponents: Sumana, the Brahmin-court, ministers, most of the women in the Maharajah’s anthapura, who had reluctantly gone along with the Maharajah’s decision.
‘If you agree to the offer, then you unite your life with mine. So, know well what you do.’
‘I shall never forget, O, Prince, how you saved me from the feet of the execution elephant. If I can be of service to you then nothing will be too difficult for me. Rohini and I will give our lives for you.’
‘Swear to me then that I can trust you, that you will be for me, Satyavat, the true one!’
‘I swear it, O, Prince. May the greatest torments of hell befall me if I do not serve you faithfully! May Shiva burn my body with one beam from his eye, Lord, if I do not serve you faithfully! Rohini is my most desired on this earth. May Yama take her from me, Lord, if I do not serve you faithfully.’
‘Report to Nata, head of the park watch, tomorrow morning. Be careful in everything and never let anyone know that you are in my service.’
‘Never, Lord!’
Rohini welcomed the guest with milk from purified jars, bread, butter, and fruit. Then Ashoka left for Pataliputra.
‘Is it not dangerous, Satyavat, going against all those powerful men?’
‘If I had been killed and reborn as a tiger, I would have eaten them all. That would have been more dangerous. I want to work for Prince Ashoka.’
‘But Prince Sumana!’
‘If he is a friend of the Brahmin priests, then he is my enemy.’
‘I fear the Brahmins. In the past, I thought them to be our rescuers from hell. But now I fear them as I do the cobras beneath the carpet of leaves on which I walk. And your varna?’
‘Varna? That is something the priests invented in order to squeeze the Vaishyas, like soma is squeezed from the fruit. Have you ever heard of the Shakyamuni5, the Buddha?’
‘Heretics?’
‘Yes, a curse word given by the priests, because he taught that every man is a human being. Who tells us that Brahmins are born from the head of Brahma and Vaishyas are born from his feet? Why, the Brahmins themselves! That the left overs from the offerings should disappear into the stomachs of the priests, that gifts should be given to Brahmins on the occasions of weddings, births, naming, and initiations of brahmacharins? They themselves, Rohini! Sacrifices, and even more sacrifices, until we are left with hardly enough to live on! If these occasions called for the serving of bitter drinks, meat from an ancient cow, caning as punishment, then I daresay they would be meant for the pariahs and the Shudras, and perhaps even the Vaishyas! Prince Ashoka, Maharajah after Bindusara, he alone is our salvation. Such guts he had! To kill the execution elephant! To nullify the sentence of the court of Brahmins! The soma-suckers …’
Rohini was in shock of what she was hearing. She covered Sasarman’s mouth with her hand.
‘Be still, my Satyavat, do not speak anymore ill of the Brahmins. Think about Prince Ashoka’s warning. Do not insult them. That is dangerous!’
‘You are a smart woman, Rohini. By Shiva, you are right. Save me from these holy men!.’
‘So, my Satyavat.’
‘Why do you call me Satyavat?’
‘Because it means ‘the true one’ and Prince Ashoka gave you that name.’
7
DARK POWERS
shoka’s appointment as commander caused great consternation and indignation among the priests who were living in the Brahmin court of Bindusara’s palace. The gantha1 called the wisest of them together for deliberations. Richika, the chief priest, called out as he closed his declaration:
‘This is a serious matter, honoured Brahmins. What needs to be done to safeguard the highest varna in Brahma’s realm, whose Emperor is protecting us, from a Prince who is indifferent to the revelations of the Vedas, and who has set at naught the verdict of the court of Brahmins? Today, a commander, tomorrow, the Crown Prince! The very gods themselves will curse Aryavarta. Surya will scorch it, plagues decimate its people! The people will renounce the gods! They will stop offering to the gods! The Noble Sumana, who honours the Brahmins and who has imbibed the holy faith as the lotus Surya’s light, is being cast aside. The Wise Sumana, for whom the advice of the holy priests is law, stays in Pataliputra and the Wild Prince will carry out the Emperor’s orders. Give us counsel, learned and wise Brahmins.’
Time wore on before advice upon advice—with their cold fierceness—filled the very air with menace:
‘It is better to secretly eliminate the disobedient
Prince. Thus says Bharadvaia2.’
‘Secret assassination is vile, says Visalaksha*. It would be good if Indra allowed the campaign to fail and the Prince to die.’
‘If the people of the accursed Taxila could deal with the Prince themselves then the blame would not be ascribed to the Brahmins.’
‘It would be good if the troops lost faith in their commander. If donkeys brayed and dogs howled at his departure, then those are evil omens.’
‘If the horse stumbles before its cart or the sword falls, no one will have faith in the success of the campaign any longer.’
‘And if many tormentors and snakes appear on their path …’
‘If a man of horrifying appearance roams around the streets of Pataliputra begging at doors, the people will be afraid and plead with the Maharajah to appoint another, Sumana, to command the troops.’
‘He should be enticed to games, drink, and debauchery. When the Prince is smothered by a life of opulence, he will not have the strength of will to execute his tasks. Then the Maharajah will choose the wise Prince Sumana. So teaches Vatavyadhi *.’
‘Spies must tempt him to kill the Maharajah and when he is entrapped, the Maharajah should be told of his vile designs.’
‘The story-tellers, to whose words the listeners cling as lianas to the cedars in the jungle, must convince the soldiers and the Prince himself that he acted wrongly and sinfully in pushing aside the Crown Prince.’
When the last of the advice had been uttered, the head priest brought the meeting to a close: ‘I thank you all for your wise counsel. We shall appoint the most dedicated Brahmins, those who care enough for their varna and who possess enough spirit of mind, to protect the fortress of the gods from the sour fruit of a mighty tree.’
As the members of the conclave began leaving the hall, a Vaishya appeared in the doorway.
Alarmed, the priests asked: ‘Who are you?’
‘Satyavat, Lord, overseer of the Maharajah’s parks. What flowers does the honourable rishi want in the garden of the Brahmin-court?’
Ashoka the Great Page 9