‘Works of art, O, Prince, from many countries whose caravans come into Taxila.’
‘I have never seen so many strange and beautiful objects in one place. Does not your own beliefs—or your priests—forbid you from placing these heathen gods in your Aryan house?’
‘Sire, a sculpture is no god; it is a material form of the idea. Is that which is shaped by foreign artists’ hands of less value than the art that is shaped by the Aryans? Is the spirit of the Iranian, the Greek, the Egyptian, the Chinese, not the same—the atman of that eternal Atman—as is ours?’
‘The spirit of your house is beautiful as your own spirit is, Susmila.’
‘Mine is no different from that of the inhabitants of the most distant lands, no different from that of every animal, every plant … Tat Tvam Asi! Then shall I divide what the eternal unites in one great spirit? Should I not unite what the greedy world divides out of ignorance?’
‘Who is it who divides?’ asked Ashoka, genuinely pensive about what he just heard.
‘The priests of Madhyadesa, O, Prince. They who have identified the Sarasvati and the desert as the borders of their holy world and reject the Punjab, which is in the west.’
‘Then who does not unify them?’
‘The Maharajah if he, too, classifies his lands as holy and unholy or his people as some to be exalted and others to be damned, according to the laws of the priests.’
Ashoka smiled. ‘And you think that the Maharajah divides his empire in this way?’
‘No, Sire. For then he would not have sent you!’
‘You flatter me and thus the Maharajah.’
‘Sire, I do not wish to flatter you, but I would like to state that the Maharajah by sending you, has filled all in Panchadesha with joy.’
‘May Varuna bless your beautiful house, my Susmila, in which is personified a diversity that breathes unity.’
‘Sire, your words make me happy. I offer you this house as an expression of honour to your sense of justice, as a symbol.’
Ashoka looked at Susmila, who was humbly waiting.
‘My Susmila, I have a great palace at my disposal and am thus not in need of your house. I can hardly accept the home of another.’
‘Much more than this house was returned to me, Sire, and I have still others in Taxila.’
‘Then I will gladly accept it from you, Susmila.’
Ashoka rode through the streets of Taxila for a long time.
‘What is it that strikes you most about the West, Kullika?’
‘That the Taxilan is closer to the wisdom of Sayana, while Pataliputra is closer to the rigidity of Richika.’
‘And yet, … Jambudvipa requires something more than the wisdom from the hermitage.’
When Ashoka arrived at the palace, he quickly summoned Gopa to appear before him. Her flowering beauty had come back to her; in her face a youthful crimson red gleamed through the duskiness of her hue and her movements were once again agile; truly a characteristic of the western bough of the Aryan race. Ashoka watched her keenly. Her large glowing eyes were directed at her rescuer with intense softness. She had thought long about what would become of her … Slavery? Humiliation? At first she actually thought that Shiva had saved her, later that he was a wild Kshatriya, taking her for a wife. When she at last heard that it was the Wild Prince of Pataliputra who had saved her from the funeral pyre, she knew that no selfish reason had motivated him. Which Maharajah’s son would want a widow, the most reviled woman in Madhyadesa, for himself? She was certain that any woman—the most beautiful one—could be his if he wanted.
‘What does the beautiful Gopa think should become of her? It is not likely that you would wish to return to your native land.’
‘No, Lord! But with a joyous heart I will accept whatever you decide.’
‘What is it that you expect from life?’
‘When I had to take Kasaka as my husband in spite of my vehement protests I knew that the terrible fate of being a widow without children awaited me. But Kasaka wanted me to perish on the pyre, too. Then I fought with Yama. For my life. And you have saved it, O, Prince. Whatever you wish will be my pleasure. I will even serve as a slave. My life is yours, Lord.’
‘And if I gave you freedom to choose, what would you choose?’
‘I would want to be of service to you, O, Prince.’
‘Well now, Gopa, I have been given a house by Susmila, a rich merchant of Taxila. You may live there. You may decide how you wish to serve me.’
‘Sire, thank you for trusting me.’
Ashoka had spent day after day consulting with Vimalamitra and other ministers on how to forestall in the future such situations as had developed so recently. Everyone had come to understand that neither ministers in Taxila nor viceroys and officers from Pataliputra could guarantee that the past would not be repeated. Then, the Prince recalled what Susmila had said of his stone house.
‘Listen, my Vimalamitra, I will have a pillar made of indestructible polished stone. On it will be engraved edicts, about what taxes are to be paid and how much; which portion of the merchant’s goods and from the harvest will be set aside for the Maharajah. We shall establish rules which are not to be violated, and anyone who reads these edicts will know. The people will then no longer suffer losses.’
Ashoka now wanted to move on northwards in order to subdue the Takkas.
‘Sangala, we are going to your friends, the Takkas.’
‘Sire, if you will trust me with the mission, I will announce to the Kashiyas that you have arrived.’
‘I fear, Sangala, that the warriors of Kashmira, Darada of Udjana, and Kamboja, will then swoop down upon Taxila to take me away as prisoner.’
‘They are wiser, O, Prince. We shall tell them who you are.’
‘You ask much trust from me, Sangala.’
‘Only as much as we need and are worthy of.’
‘Well now, Sangala, take your warriors and go. When the moon is born again I will expect you back and we will go together.’
‘Lord, I and other Takkas, feel fortunate that you send us on this mission. We shall bring the other warriors in the mountains and valleys of the upper Punjab the same joy that you have brought us.’
When Sangala had departed, Ashoka asked: ‘What do you think of my decision, my Kullika?’
‘I no longer think, Prince. I wish I knew why every measure you take strikes the target with more precision than we had ever dared to imagine!’
Ashoka laughed. ‘There is no why, but only wherefore. It is from you that I learned the meaning of ‘Tat Tvam Asi’, my Kullika.’
‘Why must Gopa live in the beautiful house of Susmila, my Prince?’
‘Can I let her, a free Arya, stay here along with my slaves?’
‘No, O, Prince.’
‘And in my lodging place?’
‘No.’
‘Or, in a separate part of the palace?’
‘Even less.’
‘Do you think, Kullika, that I had her saved only to have her lead a miserable life here?’
‘No, Lord, we know you better.’
‘Well, then, let her live in that beautiful house which was offered me. Let her be happy there. And she may yet be of service to us. The victory that I gained here is a lucky one; the battle that yet awaits me may be perilous. I wish to shape my own dice for the big throw, Kullika.’
13
THE VENGEANCE OF THE CRIPPLED PRIEST
ust then, Revata returned from his survey of the city.
‘Lord, I saw a crippled priest in the streets of Taxila.’
‘Aha! So, Devaka took the risk of following me.’
‘Yes, Lord, I know where he lives with Shakuni.’
‘He has arrived a little late to do me any harm yet here. Warn Prince Kala!’
Early the next morning Revata appeared at Devaka’s house, staff and begging-bowl in hand, loudly entreating the occupants to increase their store of good karma by giving alms to a poor penitent. Devaka turned a
ttentive and let Revata inside.
‘Where do you come from, yogi? And what are you looking for in Taxila?’
‘From Kosala, Lord. My father was a Brahmin, my mother a Shudra. I am visiting all the holy cities to purify myself.’
‘It is not safe for you here.’
‘Prince Ashoka has restored peace to the city, Lord.’
‘But has inflamed the fury of the gods!’
‘Citizens praise Indra, Varuna and Brihaspati, but mostly Shiva, that Prince Ashoka has come. The sacred snakes and trees get twice as many offerings. He has restored peace in Taxila without any bloodshed.’
‘Who dares to praise those who murdered and pillaged high Brahmin officers and went unpunished! Where is the justice? Yes, one can only expect such disregard for the laws from one who has wrongfully usurped the highest power for himself.’
‘You are right, Lord, but the Maharajah himself sent him.’
‘Deceitful advisors … or fear of the Wild Prince!’ hissed Devaka. ‘Someone not true to his faith, who protects even those that scorn …’
‘Is that what Prince Ashoka does, Lord?’
‘Worse, he violates the law here as he did in Pataliputra. What will become of Bindusara’s great empire if he should become the King? Prince Sumana is the Crown Prince, patron of the Brahmins and the law. He obeys the gods of Madhyadesa.’ Devaka’s voice dropped: ‘He would have imposed the will of the gods on this cursed land and ensured the performance of appropriate sacrifices instead of allowing offerings to snakes and trees.’
‘You could be right, Lord. What can one do to bring the deluded back on the right path?’
‘Prince Sumana should be the viceroy, and there should be a large army. The sacred teachings of the Vedas and the right sacrifices must be restored. Brahmins from Pataliputra should be brought in to chase away the sinful customs in the land of the Rig Veda, like Surya does the thick morning mist. Does one honour the Brahmins here? One barely observes the varnas! Heretics may live freely here. Are the Vedas held in reverence? Does Prince Ashoka ensure the sacrifices? Does he himself perform them?’
‘Lord, you are right. I hear that he even interrupted a Sati ceremony at a funeral pyre on his way here. A woman was to be burned along with her dead husband and become a Sati. He snatched her from the pyre.’
‘What you say … You see, to whom the interests of India have been entrusted.’
Revata now narrated the story about Gopa and also mentioned where she was living now. And as Revata returned day after day with stories, Devaka began to trust the penitent more and more, especially when Revata informed him that the Prince had sent an armed force of Takkas to subjugate the northern Punjab and that Ashoka was to go along as well.
‘When will the Prince depart? I would like to know.’
‘Maybe, I could ask.’
Revata often visited Gopa as well.
‘Do you wish to serve Ashoka, Gopa?’
‘As much as I can, Revata.’
‘Then try to discover what that dangerous priest Devaka has planned. He will be coming to visit you, be assured of that.’
‘I will be happy to help, in any way I can.’
A repetitious droning from the road came to Devaka’s dwelling: ‘The Dasyus are threatening the Punjab … the Dasyus are threatening the Punjab … the Dasyus are threatening the Punjab …’
‘What is it that voice is calling out, Shakuni?’
‘That the Dasyus are threatening the Punjab.’
‘They are the wild tribes living in the mountains! Tell that man to come here!’
An old man thus climbed onto the verandah, his long, gray hair dishevelled, sporting a beard, his skin weathered, with rags wrapped around his midriff and right shoulder.
‘Who threatens the Punjab, honourable Sannyasin?’
‘The Dasyus, the celestial Dasyus! Every year I climb the Himalayas to seek the heavenly palace of Shiva and Parvati, scale Mount Meru the abode of the gods, to bathe in the sacred lakes the Manasa, to cleanse myself of my sins. And that is when I see it. In the valley of the Shygar and the Shyok the water rises, higher each year. Soon, the dam will break and the waters will overflow and flood Panchanada.’
‘When?’
‘I do not know, Lord. When the Dasyus have filled the lake.’
‘How long will it take to journey there?’
‘A very long time.’
‘Do you know the route?’
‘Yes, Lord, it is the route that the caravans use and goes through Kashmir and the Hymavant to the northern lands, across the Indus …’
‘How do you travel?’
‘On foot, but it is quicker riding on the hardy donkeys from the Oxus Valley.’
‘How big is the lake?’
‘Infinitely long and endlessly deep. The far shore is really far …’
‘And the dam?’
‘The dam, Lord, is of frozen water. It comes from a side valley, slowly and steadily, barely to be seen by the eyes. There it grows, broad and mighty, before the waters of the Shygar, Lord. And the water of the lake rises—as it has been doing for years—till the dam breaks. The Indus will swell and flood over the meadows and the farmlands of the Aryans, submerging everything in its path.’
‘Who will break that dam?’
‘Only the angry Dasyus. Or Shiva, Lord of death.’
‘Show me, Sannyasin, show me! We will hire donkeys from the Valley. How many people will it take to break the dam?’
‘Only the gods and the Dasyus can do it, Lord. When the angry Dasyus want something terrible to happen, they will send the rain, melt the snow and ice, and finally break up the enormous dam.’
‘Yes, yes, the Dasyus’ Or, the Brahmins!
That will be the revenge of the gods! Devaka’s preaching against the Taxilans became more threatening from this day on. He warned of the disaster that threatened the Indus valley if the citizens did not bow before the Vedic gods. The dams in the empire of the gods would break and raging mountains of water would burst forth over the richly covered fields of harvest. Caravans would be washed away … All this will happen if the Taxilans did not repent.
A new threat? From the gods? From the holy mountains whose bare, sky-high peaks supported Shiva’s home? Did Prince Ashoka also know about this?
‘What danger, Lord?’
‘The vengeance of the gods!’
‘Vengeance for what?’
‘For the violation of their laws, the neglect of their rituals and sacrifices, the abuse of their priests!’
‘Be careful, priest, you know of Virata’s fate! Leave Taxila, priest, Prince Ashoka will mistrust us again!’
‘Silence!’ cried one of the passers-by loudly. ‘What laws have been violated? What sacrifices neglected? And which of the priests abused?’
‘Who is the Crown Prince of Indravarta? Will he be viceroy of Taxila?’ The bystanders looked at each other in consternation.
‘Who stopped a Sati on his way to subdue the rebellious Taxilans?’
‘Who?’
‘You know who! Do the men now ruling Taxila perform the rituals to the gods? Are the Brahmins honoured?’
‘The Brahmins! Ha, ha, ha! He wants us to crawl before the Brahmins like the people of Madhyadesa!’
‘The Vedas say …’
‘Which Veda? Those that you distorted to benefit your own varna?’
Devaka kept silent. Was this not a cursed country! It would become a danger for the gods and people of Magadha and the Madhyadesa if the Wild Prince were to rule it!
‘Know what you do! You mock the Brahmins and the Vedas? The scourge of punishment which the gods of Aryavarta will inflict on you will be horrible! You fools are waving a flaming torch in the dry jungle during Jyeshtha. The Maruts will carry their blessings1 far out, over and beyond your heads to the empire of the gods, and the Dasyus will gather them yonder, changing them into a force of destruction. Your harvests, your herds, your riches, your lands—all of it will be swept away in a
deluge if you do not plead with the gods of Aryavarta, no, demand that the laws of the land of Manu be applied devoutly. And after this flood will follow another one, mightier than the first! The Dasyus will obliterate you!’
Many trembled with fear; others laughed.
‘The rock of Taxila rises far above the Indus!’
‘But the land! The Takkas! Your caravans! The Dasyus are displeased with the Aryans along the Indus. Do the will of the gods by oblations and sacrifices, then maybe they will avert this disaster.’
‘Bring offerings to the priests of Madhyadesa so that they can fill their bellies; offer them soma so that they speak the holy tongues!’ mocked a rough warrior from Pataliputra.
Subdued laughter rippled through the rows. Many who were not indifferent to the Vedas left silently.
‘Cursed is he who mocks the gods and scorns their commands! Indra will deny you the nectar of heaven, Vayu will release upon you icy winds from the holy regions of Nagaparva, and Brihaspati will destroy your house, if you continue to violate the law of the gods.’
‘The laws of the Brahmins of Madhyadesa!’
‘They are the same as you will realise too late! Within a month an untameable flood will rise to the rock of Taxila!’ Devaka left.
A dark shadow seemed to drift menacingly over the recently rescued city.
In the evening, Gopa spotted Devaka and Shakuni approaching her house and immediately she sent word to Ashoka. Devaka looked around disapprovingly of the house: built of stone, blasphemous sculptures, strange art, luxurious furnishings … all belonging to a widow who refused to embrace sati.
‘You have lost yourself in sacrilegious and foolish surroundings, Aryan woman!’
‘Who are you, Sir, who expresses such a foolish judgement about one you do not know?’
‘I am a Brahmin priest from Pataliputra.’
‘On a pilgrimage?’
Ashoka the Great Page 18