‘You are right, my wise Sayana. Ujjain? … Ujjain! A man is required in the southwest part of the empire who can organise and improve the government and especially monitor the levies on the merchandise of the many caravans that move day after day from the ocean at Bharuchkacha through the Vindhyas to Madhyadesa and the Punjab and back. That is a good idea, my Sayana! The peoples of the southwest live more scattered; they are more peaceful and of good sense but feel they are independent from the distant capital. What a glorious thought, noble Sayana! And if we then send Sumana to Taxila as viceroy, he can prove there that he can be just as good a Maharajah as Ashoka.’
‘Is that not a dangerous test, O, Maharajah?’
‘No. If Sumana fails there, he is lost. Then I will send Ashoka a second time. And the gods would have spoken once again. It would have been easier for me to appoint Sumana as the successor to the throne, and after my death to jeopardise my empire to strife, war and disintegration. To hand it over to the ignorance of my oldest son … Will the great empire continue to exist as it is? It will require a Maharajah with a keen mind and indefatigable energy, a concentrated willpower and a great and all-encompassing love; one who does not shirk from sacrificing with nerves of steel anything which opposes him along his way. I know of but one such person in the house of the Mauryas, O, Sayana. My conscience compels me, however, to put it to the test. I will perform fire oblations, pray to the gods daily to grant me wisdom in my decisions. Your advice was a ray of light, noble Sayana.’
In the second half of the day, in which the Maharajah served the interests of the city-dwellers and those of the farmers, he once again received Vimalamitra.
‘You understand my wise and good Vimalamitra how it hurts me deep in my heart that I cannot honour—at least for now—the request of the ministers of Taxila. It gives me great pleasure that the government in the Punjab has been properly settled and—I hope— secured by my son. But my empire requires the attention of capable men. A few tributary States have need of some special attention from the very best of my men. That is why I sent Ashoka to Taxila. Another part of India now requires his presence. And Prince Sumana shall be viceroy of Taxila. I know that a wise council of ministers will stand by him and capable officers will carry out his orders. It will please me more, Vimalamitra, if you as the most-senior minister will support and advise him, for the benefit of the Punjab.’
Vimalamitra had bowed his head.
‘It is said, gracious and righteous Majesty, that your eldest son is strongly influenced by the Brahmin priests. Forgive me, but I feel that his coming to rule the land west of the Sarasvati will be disastrous. I know the people of the Punjab. I had said yesterday, O Maharajah, that I could assure you with complete confidence that there would be no revolt with Prince Ashoka as the Viceroy of the Punjab. I am old and have been through much. But as far as I can see, I can no longer give you this assurance. I wish to trust your wisdom but it is with great concern that I see your commander leaving our lands.’
‘Noble Vimalamitra, the course of coming events will indicate my decisions. If the other ministers and officers are like you then I have no doubts about the fortune of the peoples out there.’
17
MAHADEVA ASHOKA
shoka’s inquisitive nature was the reason for the active exchange of ideas that was now taking place with scholars and artists who, as was customary, accompanied the envoys of Antioch Soter. He listened with amazement as they spoke of the giant stone temples—in contrast to the wooden structures of the Aryans—of the Hellenic works of art; of the bulwarks of Pericles, of the marble statues of the gods, and especially of the inscriptions of the Achaemenidians1 carved in stone, which would forever proclaim the praise of their illustrious victories.
‘Which victories?’ the Prince asked.
‘Of the bloody battles they waged.’
‘Then do they find illustrious deeds of war to be so important that they are to be immortalised?’
‘They made the Syrian empire great.’
‘My father Bindusara’s empire is larger than that of Antioch Soter. He is renowned for bringing peace, prosperity and happiness to the people. No stone inscriptions glorify his deeds in war.’
‘Our friendly hostess has decorated her house with statues of gods from Egypt and Hellas. Does the Prince of India not find them beautiful?’
‘Certainly, but they appear to be copies of people, though well-formed.’
‘That is how they are meant to be: a spiritualisation of beauty in human form, raised to perfection.’
‘But isn’t a healthy, living person more beautiful! If you want to behold the eventual beauty of a human being, then look at Gopa, alive, moving, and in her eyes the glow of happiness of a life regained, with the strength of youthful abundance. How can you compare the rigid beauty of the Greek Athena or Aphrodite with her? And you say this represents the spiritualisation of beauty …’
‘It is the beauty which has matured in the soul of the artist, whose spirit is the most receptive, and whose hands possess the rarest skill for expression, O, Prince.’
‘But how can you create in stone that which does not lend itself to imitation of its real beauty? Your Gods are people. How do you know they are beautiful people? You hardly know if similar creatures live on the other side of the Himalayas. Are horses, elephants and snakes found on the other side of the worlds’ oceans, like here? The Egyptian sculptors are more accurate than the Greek or Syrian, as they create forms of gods which are far removed from human forms.’
‘How, O, high Prince, would you then represent the gods who are more beautiful and exalted than the human being?’
‘The most notable characteristic of the gods should not be their likeness to humans but their strength, their omniscience, their power which far surpasses human power; their all-seeing, all-hearing nature, beside which man is but a small ant in the endless jungle.’
‘Then it will be the imagination of the people of India and not the sense of beauty the Hellenics possess that should serve as a guide for your artists, O, Prince. Even if the beauty of Hellenic art ever touches you, you will never be drawn away from your own view because it has grown from your sense of humanity which is expressed so strongly in your spirit, noble Prince.’
‘Maybe, you are right insofar that you in your different world express much the same as our sages and hermits say: one can only know the Brahman-Atman in oneself, because every living creature is merely the unfolding of the Brahman, to which it later returns. Our art must express that idea of oneness or it would not be of India.
When Ashoka arrived at the palace, one of the ministers was waiting for him. A delegation had arrived in Taxila to inform the army commander that a desert tribe from Rajputana was frequently raiding their land and their livestock. Ashoka forthwith summoned the Ministers’ Council to an assembly and received the delegation. On Ashoka’s thorough questioning, they reported that the tribe had lost most of their livestock to drought and now were trying to supplement their herds with the stolen livestock.
‘And what do you want from me?’
‘Perhaps, the Maharaja’s army commander could dispatch a troop of warriors to punish the bandits or drive them out or kill them.’
The Ministers’ council thought that a good-sized military force could quickly put an end to the depredations of the Rajputanas.
‘And you, my Kullika?’
‘I believe that I know how my Prince thinks in situations such as these. Most likely, the Rajputanas are suffering from a famine. Without livestock such desert tribes will starve.’
‘You are right, my Guru. This very day we will prepare a hundred bullock carts to carry grain from the imperial granary and two bullock carts with valuable goods will follow as soon as possible. We will leave early tomorrow morning to bring the robbers around to peace. The Minister Pathachali will make sure that we take along medicines and physicians under his direction. I wish to get to know these tribes.
After several days of t
ravelling along the southern route to Indraprastha and along the Sataadru, Ashoka arrived with his troops and physicians to the whereabouts of the raiding tribes, while Sagka was ordered to gather livestock in exchange for valuables.
What Ashoka saw in the Rajputana camp exceeded all of his imagination. The nomad camp had been divided into two sections, one contained the healthy and the other, the infirm. Those Rajputanas who were not ill did not even think of fighting Ashoka’s skilled warriors. They threw down their weapons and waited in patient supplication for the punishment they were certain would befall them. Ashoka had already been given a brief—yet accurate—assessment of the situation: misery from the vagaries of nature.
‘Bring the chief!’ A man, thinner than any penitent he had ever seen in Magadha, approached reverently.
‘You have stolen livestock from the Katthyas. Do you know that the Emperor punishes theft severely?’
‘Sire, half of my tribe has died of hunger, the other half lies over there, ill. Not even one-tenth of our livestock is left. Our whole tribe will die out if we cannot get livestock and food and water. Desperation has made us all cattle thieves. Can we let our wives and children starve, and our cows and horses, too, they who have kept us alive? Do you have the courage to visit the place where our sick people stay, O, Prince? Pestilence haunts the place and takes away the ones who have no resistance left. Hardly any water is to be found. And whatever is left of it conceals death in every drop.’
Ashoka nodded to Kullika and the guide. They went with the chief through the camp. Ashoka would never forget what he saw. For days after, the horror pursued him: the most gruesome face of death, bodies sapped of life, defenceless youth, a mockery of the sweetness of it. None of the ill ones paid heed to the important visitors. Those lying here were only to be handed over to Yama.
‘Here Mahadeva2, as god of death, reigns, Sire.’
‘Shiva can kill this tribe with one ray of his eye. Rudra refuses these poor his nectar of heaven. Why did you not help?’ asked Ashoka of the guide and complainant.
‘We dare not help those whom the gods punish, Lord. Their sins in this or previous lives are to blame. We do not defy the will of the gods who brought drought upon us as well.’
‘Did you accept the punishment of the Dasyus, when the Indus rose recently to unprecedented heights? Or, did you store your harvest and livestock?’
‘We stored everything, Lord, because the gods warned us through Prince Ashoka.’
‘Well now, Ashoka warns you once again. Shiva wishes to save these people!’
With untiring energy, Ashoka organised the rescue of the Rajputanas. Physicians were put to work, dead bodies were burned, water caravans introduced until the monsoons arrived; herds were supplemented; and under the supervision of the capable physicians of Taxila, the feeding and healing of the infirm began. Under Sagaka’s firm control, in a short time, the inherently strong tribe of shepherds recovered from the blows that a whimsical nature had felled on them. Ashoka had long since returned to Taxila. But in the memories of the Rajputanas, he was a deity, the Mahadeva Ashoka, who had descended from the heavens. He had driven out pestilence and famine with one wave of his mighty arm. Their happiness returned and with that, the knowledge that the Mahadeva protected them. They called him, ‘Ashoka’.
18
DOUBT
t was Satyavat who, as Bindusara’s express, brought Ashoka the unpleasant announcement: Prince Sumana was to be the viceroy to the Punjab; Ashoka has to return to Pataliputra to take up a new commission, and all yet in Jyeshtha, the hottest month. Ashoka sensed an imminent battle.
Through his intensive spying, Satyavat was able to acquaint Ashoka about what took place in Pataliputra: Gopali’s plea on Sumana’s behalf, Devaka’s accusations, Bindusara’s defence, Vimalamitra’s request, and Sayana’s arrival at the palace. Jala, however, divulged nothing of what had been discussed within the secret chambers of the Maharajah.
Ashoka could not imagine what decision the Emperor could have taken about him. Had the machinations resulted in Sumana being appointed the Crown Prince, after all? But then, what about the Emperor’s justification? Had Vimalamitra’s request aroused suspicion? For one short moment a thought assailed him: He could, with ease, assemble a large army in the Punjab. With Sagka and Sela back in the capital, Pataliputra’s army would be easily won over to his side. Then force Father to appoint him viceroy of the Punjab and heir to the throne. But what foolishness! His father would remain the sacred Maharajah as long as he wished. The days of Ajatasatru and Udayibhada were long gone! The Maharajah should be inviolable and sacred so that no one can disregard his existence nor question the actions he takes … the way a deity is considered sacred. Only Sumana should not be the Emperor after him! If Bindusara were to choose Sumana as heir apparent then it could only be due to the influence of his Brahmin advisors. He would not tolerate their supremacy! With more calm than Sasarman had expected, the Prince said:
‘Sasarman, we will return to Pataliputra on new moon day which is two days from today. In Jyeshtha …’
‘The heat will be unbearable, O, Prince! That is why the Brahmins wish your return now!’
‘Then we will travel only early morning and late evening, if need be, by night. And you, my Kullika, will you return with me to the capital? I want to travel as speedily as possible. Or, if you wish you can stay here for the time being.’
‘Are you taking the army along?’
‘No. Only a few highly skilled men for the food supplies and a few swift horses and bullock carts …’
‘Then I will return with you, O, Prince.’
Ashoka looked at him, surprised.
‘So, my Kullika, you also think that the Maharajah has retracted his favour to me?’
‘I am afraid so. The situation in the Punjab is not such that Sumana’s arrival could be expected with confidence. There must be a very serious reason for the Maharajah to recall you. Devaka is not the only one who wants it.’
‘No.’
That same evening, the council of ministers assembled and Ashoka informed them of the Maharajah’s decision.
‘So, Vimalamitra’s request has been refused, O, Prince!’
‘Apparently, honoured minister.’
‘Who will replace you, noble Lord?’
‘The eldest son of the Maharajah will become viceroy of the Punjab.’
‘Prince Sumana!’
‘You have said it.’
‘Do you wish to take a large army from Panchanada with you, O, Prince? The entire western region will be at the ready at just one word from you,’ said Kampaka, the minister of trade. The others sat motionless.
‘I wish to obey the wise Maharajah. He will have good reasons for summoning me to Pataliputra. The army will stay here under Prince Kala. Your officers are honest and capable men. I hope the Prince will be a blessing for your land.’
No one spoke.
‘Do you wish to stay here, O, Prince?’
‘That would mean a revolt and I will not even think of that!’
‘The Mauryas come from the West and do not prosper under the Brahmin priests who consider the Mauryas as Shudras, and thus, according to them, despicable beings.’
‘But they will have to acknowledge the Maharajah and his successors as their overlords or their varna will cease to exist. I do not wish to be disloyal to my Father nor to the peoples of Aryarvartha.’
‘In return for your straightforward honesty, O Prince, may I on behalf of the entire council of ministers and the Punjab proclaim: The Maharajah and you, O Prince, can rely on the Punjab as long as you live. You have but to call.’
‘The new viceroy has not yet given any occasion for this proclamation, my honoured friends.’
‘But the countless deeds of the commander of Bindusara’s army surely have, honoured Prince.’
‘I thank you for your friendly opinion. Maybe, we will yet need each other.’
‘When are you leaving, O, Prince?’
; ‘In two days.’
‘May we know which road you will be taking?’ asked Kampaka.
‘The shortest.’
‘Sire, being a merchant, I know the roads to Madhyadesa very well. It is fatal to travel in Jyeshtha. If I may give you some good advice: choose the road that lies along the foot of the western Himalayas. Do not bother with Indraprastha and Sakala but go through Hastinapura and Ayodhya and on to Pataliputra. The desert road is deadly for both man and animal in this month. The West winds drive the hot desert sands like a continuous burning cloud of dust over the eastern Punjab night and day. The people shut themselves up in their homes and the waters are dried up. How do you think of coping when you hardly know the dangers out there? When you take the northern route, you have to cross many rivers but before Ashadh they will not be difficult to cross.’
‘What does Satyavat think of this advice?’
‘The Brahmins of the court have vociferously demanded that you return in Jyeshtha and take the shortest route, O, Prince.’
The uneasy silence that followed was broken by the Prince, who said calmly, ‘I thank you greatly for your wise advice, my ministers. We shall gratefully follow it and take the road through Ayodhya. Furthermore, I kindly request that you support Prince Kala of Mayula in his dificult task. He will be able to continue my work as long as he has your support.’
In the evening, before departing, Ashoka, Revata, Kala, Kullika and Saga gathered at Gopa’s house. The hostess had Nila’s daughters offer them cooling drinks, fruit, cakes and other tasty savouries.
‘Are not you afraid that glittering stars will obscure Chandra’s light or at least diminish it?’
Gopa laughed. ‘Maybe, that would not be so bad in some circumstances and even be pleasant for me.’
‘Whose attention should they divert?’
Ashoka the Great Page 25