There was no reply.
‘You do not reply! What did you plan in the viceroy of Taxila’s presence?’
Still no reply came.
‘Would you like to postpone your answer till I have brought in the rack? Wherefore did you hire these people? Why are they carrying their daggers, even poisoned ones, hidden under their clothes! Answer!’
‘To kill Prince Ashoka, all-knowing Maharajah.’
‘My son! The Viceroy of Ujjain! And in my palace! I ought to laugh at your infantile sport, Jokarno and Sahula, if you had not insulted the reigning Maharajah of Aryavarta so deeply. Do any of the judges wish to ask any other questions of these fools? No one? There is but one fitting punishment for this crime: You are condemned to death, all of you, and the sentence will be carried out immediately.’
‘Sire,’ began Jokarno, ‘Prince Ashoka had us …’
‘Silence, I know the circumstances better than you do.’
When the female guards had carried out the orders of the Maharajah, Prince Sumana was summoned to Ashoka’s quarters. He did not understand what his friends wanted of him and how they could dare! After all, he was supposed to have been kept out of the whole affair. Or, … Mortal fear then came over him when he entered the room. He looked at the condemned corpses in horror. Then his eyes travelled to the Maharajah … the judges, the guards. Trembling, he bowed before his Father. No one spoke a word. All eyes were on the Prince. Breaking the ghastly spell, he stammered, hardly audible:
‘Father, I am … surprised.’
‘You are surprised, Sumana! Had you expected something different, viceroy of Taxila?’
‘Father, my Father … not I …’
‘No, no, imagine: a murderer on the throne of Taxila! You will not leave before the monsoon. So, you will prepare yourself for your work in these months. I shall appoint your gurus. You will no longer leave the park and the palace without my explicit permission. Now, return to your chambers.’
Bindusara considered whether to call in the Brahmin priests who had been at the meeting. He felt that it would be better to send only for Richika. When the head of the Brahmin-court had somewhat recovered from his shock, he regained his arrogant attitude, all the while averting his eyes in horror from the dead bodies.
‘You were the head of a meeting this afternoon, Richika.’ The priest blanched. ‘A very important one that involved my house!’
‘Yes, merciful Maharajah.’
‘You considered it not worthy to keep me abreast of this meeting, head of the Brahmin-court, even though it was your duty to do so as required by the oath.’
‘That is still possible, merciful Majesty.’
‘Now, when it could have been too late? You know, Richika, that you owe your life for that omission.’ Richika bowed as the Maharajah continued. ‘Even though you are a Brahmin. Do you wish to say anything else in your defense?’
‘Sire, the gods wanted Ashoka’s death.’
‘And mine as well? And how many other Mauryas could expect a sentence of death from Richika and the gods? Is this the reason the Mauryas maintain a Brahmin-court? Early tomorrow morning, you— along with the priests Tristus and Sunasepha who were also present at the meeting—will leave for the jungle of Mithila beyond the Ganga. You shall never come back to Pataliputra nor to Magadha. Any further insurrection against my will or on my sentence, which covers your whole life, or another attack on any member of the royal household will incur as its consequence the severest punishment and would have you outlawed. Do any of the judges wish to say anything?’
Everyone kept silent. ‘Go, Richika!’
The priest bowed and left the palace.
Khallataka and Ashoka discussed the nature of their relationship. In each of them was the sincere and strong desire to get to know the leading principle of the other one’s aspirations.
‘If you, as the viceroy of Ujjain, could revere the Brahmin priests, perceive their offerings as indispensable, recognise their religious rubrics, then probably few would object to your accession to the throne. It would be politically in accordance with the 13th Prakarna of the Arthashastra.’
‘How can I value people who coerce others to accept that their will is the will of the gods; who consider their sacrificial rites and ceremonies as indispensable, when all they do is rob the good, honest Vaishyas of their properties. Or, how acknowledge their religious canons which are in stark contrast to everything that great and deep thinkers have learned by distilling the truth from their true inner-self, that is part of the great Atman. Why do they curse the lands on the other side of the Sarasvati? Because the people there do not wish to yield to their priestly laws! Is Vimalamitra a person to be cursed? I have met many men such as him in the West. Are they more contemptible than we in Madhyadesa? The sacrificial priests themselves are responsible for the growing contempt that more and more peoples have for their class! People are beginning to realise that the rains come for those who have made sacrifices with the help of priests as well as for those who do not seek a priest’s aid, that the fruit of those who do not make sacrificial oblations, grows just as well as for those who do. Do you approve of the great mass of hardworking Vaishyas, being instructed by heartless priests to snuff out the life of their favourite animals; to offer their hard-won riches and their best cows to men who often do less good for their karma than the cattle they garner undisturbed? Is it then any wonder that the Brahmins who swagger from one soma-inebriated animal sacrifice to another only to fill their bellies are mocked so? While they who make the offerings look up with reverence to the gods, the Brahmin guests hold vulgar discussions with each other because they themselves have no belief in it and are so insolent as to not even remain silent for the Vaishyas. Ask Sayana what he thinks of the sacrifices!’
‘Sayana does not oppose them because the people want and ask for them.’
‘How can he, a Brahmin, judge as a necessity what is a lie! Sayana scorns them in his heart because he is a great human being, a true Brahmin.’
‘But the empire is sustained by the people, the people by the priests, and the peace of the empire by the offerings.’
‘Until the priests themselves have made the offering contemptible.’
‘The Vaishyas cannot live without their priests.’
‘That feeling is exploited by the priests. In a single sacrifice, I have seen half the possessions of a Vaishya, appropriated by the bramacharins.’
‘Maharajah Bindusara recognises them too and considers them to be necessary to keep the masses compliant and content.’
‘The understanding of each ruler will not be similar to the one before, and in any case it need not be similar for a section of the subjects who merely wish to serve their own interests.’
‘How would you prevail upon the gods to favour you, O, Prince?
‘Now it is for sale, and the priests determine the market price, my most honoured Khallataka.’
‘But the people perform their duties to the Maharajah as well, and they live humble and well, and happily.’
‘Not happily. Because of the many rites and rituals, the life of the faithful is one of continuous pain and fear. They fear they will receive the most extreme and disproportionate of punishments for the smallest infringement on laws, and mantras and offerings make their lives one of unbearable affliction. During their entire lives, anxiousness, fear and punishment, drive them on to the paths of the priests and it is all to the advantage of the priests!’
‘Do you think it better then that the people indulge in joy and in pleasures, in laziness, play and adultery, like a certain band of pleasure-lovers?’
‘No. Their religion must not promote their fears but their happiness, not their greed but their humane feelings, not their harshness to sacrificial animals but love for their fellow-creatures who are a part of the same Atman as they.’
‘That is not a task for a human being, but for a god.’
‘I never saw the gods appearing to punish greedy priests or soften the su
fferings of the squeezed-out Vaishyas. And the Maharajah … can he hoard his riches so that he can wallow in luxury? He must rule his great empire, which is his only as long as he is the Maharajah. If he rules poorly, then his store of karma is depleted, his people unhappy, his empire in unrest … Submission to the sacrificial priests prevents every king from being a supreme monarch. The Maharajah of Aryavarta rules the East and the West, the tribes in the mountains of the Hymavant, and the dark peoples behind the Vindhyas. How can he honour priestly laws which curse one-half of the population and glorify another? The wise Sayana says that each person is a part of the great Atman: Tat Tvam Asi. But then the king is as much a fragment of the same spirit as any of his subjects, and he is then: spirit of their spirit, is their spirit; life of their life, is their life; and his power has sprung from the same source as their life’s energy. He must be in the service of their well-being, which is but the well-being of the Atman, and not of the domineering and avaricious faction that places itself above the Shudra, the Vaishya, the Kshatriya, even above the King, maybe even above the gods. I will never agree with that, my honoured Khallataka. To the Maharajah, one man’s need of care is as great as another’s; one who suffers has need of his comfort. He who is happy has to share his happiness. If you wish to help me with that, then you are my friend; if you help him who would be a disaster for Aryavarta, O, Khallataka, then you are my enemy. Another choice does not exist.’
The minister felt he had been defeated. Thoughts that often visited him but which he had dismissed as being unrealistic or beyond reach, were now, after Ashoka’s clear proposition, like a glorious vision. Maybe, it could be attained through the sheer will of the young King, albeit after a hard struggle. And then—Ashoka was right—there was no choice.
‘He who has arrived at such ideals is a god, he who strives for them, is my friend, O, Prince.’
‘I bow before your exalted spirit that dares to confront the difficult task of carrying out these ideas, revered Khallataka. Experience has taught me that it is not easy to be my friend.’
After Ashoka had left to rest, Khallataka remained in deep thought for a long time. He felt happy that his feelings were no longer vengeful towards Sumana, but were one with the lofty flight of Ashoka’s thinking, with his ethos of work and forceful will. No … it was certainly not easy!
20
THE SAGE IN THE HERMITAGE
hat is my son thinking of doing now?’ asked Bindusara.
‘I would dearly love to go to Kullika. I miss him very much. But I see no way of reaching him before the monsoon. Do I have your consent to seek Sayana’s hospitality during the rainy season?’
Bindusara was happier than he appeared. He would now know with absolute certainty of the actions, the desires and the will of his strong son.
‘Good, but let your visit be a secret. Punishment like the one meted out by me yesterday very seldom attains its goal. Sayana will give you another identity during your stay across the Ganga. That will be safer.’
Sayana received the Prince with warmth. He, too, wanted to dispel all doubts about the motivations of the young viceroy who was so often the subject of their deliberations.
‘And what did Prince Ashoka learn in the West?’
Ashoka had to ponder for a moment. After some hesitation, he said: ‘That people are ruled not by fate, nor priestly will, nor the magic incantations of the Atharva Veda, maybe not even by the will of the gods.’
‘Then by what, my wise Prince?’
‘A web, spun into chaos, into maya, of cause and effect. Like the jungle, where sun and water thrust millions of trees upwards, entwined inextricably by the climbing and twisting creepers, with flowers and shrubs growing into a living, life-giving world in which countless animals crawl, climb or fly. A world where there is no beginning and no end, so it seems, no turning back or going forward but where the tiniest of flies and the biggest of elephants find their causal beginning and inevitable end. The forest giant, like the little moss, germinates and dies from cause and effect. That is what I have learned, Lord.’
‘And what else have you learned, my Prince?’
‘That it is wiser to conduct people and animals towards peace and benevolence with justice, tolerance and love, than with the sword, the bow and the arrow.’
‘And what more did you learn, my Prince.’
‘That selfishness and deceit lead to destruction and ruin, thus to maya, and self-sacrifice and love to truth and harmony, thus to divine unity.’
‘Then you have learned more in one year than many of us do in a whole life, Piyadasi1. You will have this name as long as you are my guest.’
‘Kullika was my guru, Lord.’
‘Kullika says that you reflect on everything yourself and merely go to him to endorse your own truths.’
‘That is because Kullika’s most glorious virtue is his modesty, honourable Sayana.’ Sayana thought about the sundry times when Kullika had approached him in desperation, seeking answers to Ashoka’s questions that flourished in his agile mind like lotus buds in the sacred pond.
‘But why then do you worship Shiva, the Lord of life and death, when worldly events are based on cause and effect just as the Buddha taught, my Piyadasi?’
‘I worship Shiva, especially when I think that my decision is the inevitable effect of preceding causes. Shiva is the embodiment of cause and effect: cause of life out of death, and death out of life, of wisdom out of knowledge and knowledge out of wisdom; his thought, his meditation, holds the world together, the world creates new thought, and the thought returns to the cosmic thought: Tat Tvam Asi … Shiva is for me the binding, the uniting power. Without that, the world would disintegrate into chaos.’
Piyadasi slept that night on a hard floor and rose before the sun, so that he could fulfil his morning worship by contemplating in the hermitage on his life, in peace and in silence, in work and in thought. He joined the brahmacharins as they built and lit the offering fire, cleaned the pots, milked the cows, tended to the animals and made ghee from butter. He walked with them through the pastures, or rested with them under a banyan tree in the yellowing fields. Then, he told about the slaying of a beautiful daughter of a king, of famine endured by the Rajputanas, in the great land across the Sarasvati, until he had the brahmacharins shuddering. They regarded the tales told by this stranger as fantasies, but felt some mysterious aura surrounding this knowledgeable youth, as mysterious as the myths of the Vedas. When Surya neared the horizon and an undisturbed calm surrounded the hermitage, much like the quiet dew does the lotus pond, Piyadasi would walk over to the verandah where Sayana was seated, poring over ancient, dusty manuscripts. He would remain silent till the friendly Brahmin put them aside.
‘Does Piyadasi like the hermitage?’
‘Master, the sannyasin who has passed through the four stages of life and, liberated from the world’s maya, enters the glorious fullness of heaven, cannot feel more happiness flow through his soul than I, amidst the tranquillity and truth within your hermitage.’
‘Fine, my Piyadasi … You learned that people and animals should be guided to peace and kindness not with the sword or the bow and arrow, but with justice, tolerance and love. Yet, you killed Virata with your chakra.’
‘Virata was a sacrifice to Shiva. Virata was a human being with a will of his own, who did not accept the Maharajah, who trifled with the lives of the inhabitants of Taxila. All this aroused Shiva’s wrath, who demanded Virata’s life as divine justice.’
‘But not through love and human tolerance.’
‘Yes, for love and tolerance for the peoples in the West. My Father granted me supreme power. There was but one choice: sacrifice Virata to Shiva or the mutinous people. I chose Virata.’
‘But then you can choose any minister, any Brahmin, even the Maharajah as a sacrifice.’
‘No, he is the supreme judge and lord; I am merely his son and servant. My power does not extend any further than his command. Any step that is taken beyond this clear-cu
t road would be for me a rebellion against the sanctity of the divine universal spirit.’
‘And if your brother Sumana were to be anointed as the Maharajah?’
‘He, who twice tried to have me killed by assassins? He will not be, as long as I live.’
‘You may face serious opposition on your way.’
.’No sacrifice can be too great. Not even my life!’
‘Through justice with the sword, the bow and arrow or through compassion and love?’
Ashoka was shaken by these thoughts, but his face remained calm.
‘I will make that choice when the inevitable battle confronts me. Tell me, my Sayana, whether Shiva will tolerate one who is a slave to his pleasures and of the priests, becoming the Maharajah.’
‘Remember well, O, Piyadasi, that even the mightiest man does not lead himself, but is led. A man is not God but an insignificant unravelling of the All-Spirit and thus is united with all.’
A few days later the monsoon set in with tremendous storms, thunder and cloud bursts. The Ganga and its tributaries rose with each passing day. Ashoka found himself in the fields with some of Sayana’s pupils. The rising water isolated two cows on a piece of high ground. With great effort they managed to reach the animals and drive them through the water, tied to each other with ropes. Along the way, one of the animals got entangled in the ropes at the deepest part of the river. Ashoka, who always carried his chakras with him, did not think twice, swam to the animal and cut the rope. He was then, along with the cow, pulled along by the current. Ashoka drifted off with the obdurate animal. The others heard how he called the drifting animal towards him. Then both were lost from sight upon a curve in the river.
Sayana was worried. Revata, who had just arrived to bring news of Pataliputra to Ashoka, reassured him:
‘There is no danger, holy Sayana. The Prince is verily Shiva himself.’
Sayana did not respond but was joyous when Ashoka did indeed return to the hermitage, unharmed.
Ashoka the Great Page 28