Devi looked around delightedly, drank in the floral splendour and fragrance coming from all sides. Her hands reached for a white jasmine and a golden vine, to blue lilies and red bandhujivas. Orchids, more beautiful than the most colourful butterflies, fluttering languorously from blossom to blossom, enticed her, while her dark eyes shone amidst the luxuriant beauty.
‘Careful, Princess Devi, cobras and ticks do not respect the foot that treads upon them.’
‘Oh, so much beauty has no room for cobra-temper and hate. I shall be careful and stamp on the ground.’ She picked an armful of flowers. Her laugh became more and more open, almost audacious. She walked up the path and threw the flowers at his feet. There, an ashoka-tree, whose blossoms were ready to burst. She stamped forcefully against the still tender trunk. Ashoka followed her, fearful of the dangers of the forest.
‘Hah! See, my Raja, its orange – red glow bursts out of the buds! There! There!’
Laughing happily, she pointed out to the young king the sparkling splendour of colours that was unfolding itself.
‘The ashoka-tree spreads its wealth of blossoms when a beautiful maiden touches its trunk, and so it proves your beauty, Princess Devi.’
‘Ashoka-tree! Is it vain of me, my King. No, it is my happiness. I am happy that the false thoughts, the maya, have been stripped from my soul. It is happiness, heightened by the emotion of all this beauty!’
‘Well, then, there are two Ashokas who were touched by one beautiful woman. The first one spreads its fiery blossoms out at the first tread of her foot; the other, dark and ugly, trembles for her life.’ The Prince laughed.
‘Oh no, the one was like the other: dark and cold, until my clumsy thoughtlessness trampled him, and then his being unfolded the fiery blossoms of his inner beauty. For that, I thank you, my King. You were more sympathetic to a guilty, insignificant, thoughtless, little Princess than she deserved.’
Suddenly, he stamped powerfully with his right foot on the ground, grabbed Devi in his strong arms and lifted her up as high as he could, bending over to her. Without her noticing, he had shattered the head of a cobra with his foot. Devi did not see how the body of the dangerous snake was still twisting around his leg and later collapsed in the flowery grass. She blushed deeply, threw her arm around his strong neck for support. Then, Ashoka set her down and kissed her deeply.
‘Do you love me, Devi?’
‘And if I don’t love you, my King?’ she laughed at him.
‘Then, I will let you go and say that I lifted you up because a serai1 was getting ready to kill you. Look, over there!’
Frightened, Devi looked at the dead snake and her beautiful figure nestled deeper in his arms.
‘Was that why …’
‘No, you will be my wife, because you are the first that loves me for myself. You will go with me to Ujjain! Say yes!’
Devi held his head between her hands and kissed his eyes.
‘They are the most beautiful, because they reflect your inner self, my Ashoka. Father will decide.’
The engagement was quickly sealed and caused great joy. The happy noise attracted two pilgrims who had visited the sacred Narmada and Mount Amarakanta2, the peak of the immortals, and who had left Sanchi a little earlier.
‘What brings this party so much joy?’ asked one of them. ‘The daughter of our Lord Subhadra has just been betrothed to …’
The priest was not even listening any longer. He walked directly over to Subhadra: ‘Do you want a priest, Lord, who can bless the engagement of your daughter immediately? Sacrificial animals may be had from a Vaishya living nearby.’
‘What are the charges requested by the honourable priests?’
‘Two of your best horses, Lord, that can take us back to Pataliputra. Our pilgrimage is finished; all that remains is the long journey back to the capital.’
‘I shall ask my daughter’s betrothed. He must decide if an offering is to be performed now.’
‘You know, Devi, that I hate the sacrifice of animals.’
‘Tell them then, my dear Raja.’
Ashoka walked up to both men.
‘No, honourable Brahmins, no animals will be sacrificed at our betrothal ceremonies.’
‘Do you belong to the heathen sect of Buddhists or Jains?’
‘I do not owe you an explanation; I have not asked you to come here.’
The priests were angry at losing easy earnings.
‘Do you not need the support of the gods in your marriage?’
‘That will surely not depend on your mediation because you will not be the ones to bless my marriage,’ said Ashoka calmly.
Trembling, Devi held tightly to his arm, while she whispered to him: ‘Do not play with our happiness!’
The priest burst out angrily: ‘You dare to offend a Brahmin, while your betrothed stands next to you? Brihaspati will pass by your house and Varuna avoid it, thoughtless young man! And I, Brahmin-priest, curse you: This Princess will never become your wife!’
Devi burst out in tears, but Ashoka walked to the Brahmin: ‘Your curse is worthless, priest, because I do not believe in your sanctity, and Shiva, Lord of Destruction, will soon send a tiger on your path that will kill you with one smite of its paw and eat your guilty flesh. You will be reborn immediately as a miserable dirty dog in a village of Shudras, because you committed a mortal sin: cursing in rage! Leave my camp immediately! I am the Viceroy of Ujjain, Prince Ashoka of Pataliputra!’
Both priests were startled on hearing the feared name, and left the army site haughtily. They quickly went up the road that the troops had just left. Ashoka laughed when they had disappeared from sight.
Visibly upset, Devi asked, ‘Do you not fear the curse of the Brahmin, my Raja?’
‘Of course not. Dry your tears, my dear Devi, the great Brahmin Sayana says that no one can know beforehand what will happen in the future. At the university in Takshasila they taught me that all events occur in a chain of cause and effect, in which no one can interfere arbitrarily, not even this Brahmin. Should I then fear unscrupulous priests who, eager for lucre, curse all who do not allow themselves to be extorted?’
‘Dushanta forgot his Shakuntala because of a priest’s curse, my Prince!’
‘They themselves devised that story and inflict themselves on unlettered ignorant people as the providers of salvation, which is not coming anyway, or as the cause of calamities, which come in spite of them. They are like the tree’s greedy offshoots, which sucks up the precious sap from the trunk and keep the fruitful wood from spreading its blessing. One day, when the time is ripe, they will be cut away with a hard hand … if the tree will just survive it!’
Devi had recovered to some extent by the time they arrived at Sanchi, although fear still lingered in her heart. She hurried to the vihara of the wise Brahmins, who revered Subhadra and his beautiful daughter.
‘My wise Sudeva, the Viceroy of Ujjain, Raja Ashoka, my fiancé, wishes to know if you are doing well, if you have enough food and pure water, and collect many spiritual treasures by pious work.’
‘May Indra and Varuna bless the son of the holy Maharajah in whose land peace and prosperity rule, my Devi. And Malwa will consider itself lucky to welcome Sayana’s friend as viceroy. Does the young couple wish to have their betrothal solemnised at our vihara? It would be a great honour for us.’
‘I regret, not, highly revered Sudeva. Our happiness would grow and flower like nature after the rains, if our betrothal will be blessed by priests who are friends of Sayana. But I cannot forget my dearly beloved purohita, Kullika, who was my guru.’
‘That is very understandable, high Raja. Enter our vihara and rest for a while from the journey to our sacred Sanchi. Our highly honoured friend Subhadra will not be happy that his only child is being taken away from the palace.’
‘We Aryans are joyful when sons are born and when our daughters marry men of esteem.’
‘Pilgrims from Pataliputra told us that the Brahmin Kullika, Sayana’s pupil,
had become ill during his journey.’
‘I am happy to tell you that he has recovered, highly revered Sudeva. He will come to Ujjain soon. For a long time he was a guest at a Buddhist monastery.’
‘And he did not suffer any harm to his soul?’ laughed Sudeva.
‘He was not there for his soul, but to heal his body of a serious illness. What harm could befall his soul, venerable Sudeva?’
‘That he would turn to Buddha’s heresy.’
‘Why heresy?’
‘Because the Brahmin seeks only the release of his own soul, within the circle of the twice-born, and with stubborn self-interest, he sees in his own welfare the welfare of the Aryans. What is outside that circle is accursed. The Buddha, on the contrary, teaches that in the welfare of the whole lies one’s own well-being and that he who enhances the happiness of each human being, each animal, each living being, receives in turn happiness and the liberation of his own soul. The Brahmin’s goal is the personal welfare of his cloistered sacred sect; the Buddha’s is the encompassing happiness of all that lives.’
‘But that cannot be heresy, my Sudeva! Tat Tvam Asi. Vasudeva says that Buddhism will die like the beauty of a glorious flower in the jungle night. What stops us from picking that flower and carrying it to Pataliputra, where its beauty can blossom in the eyes of the people?
Who was Buddha, venerable Sudeva?’
A smile, descending from the highest Atman, emerged on the face of the revered gray-haired old man.
‘Many years ago, was born to the Shakyas in Kapilavastu a child, who had all the marks of a great human being …’
For the first time, Ashoka heard the history of the rich Prince Siddhartha: How he became a mendicant monk, how, as Gautama the Buddha, he started his work of liberating the people from the oppressive shackles that Brahmanism forged around Aryavarta, and how he revealed the sacred and noble eight-fold path for each human being, longing for the blissfulness of Nirvana.
‘Does it mean that Gautama Buddha teaches an individual after-life in Nirvana, venerable Sudeva?’
‘Buddha would answer: A man is struck by a poisoned arrow. His friends call a doctor. Should he then say: I will not have the arrow pulled out before I know who the killer is, what his name is, from which clan he sprung forth, to which varna he belonged, what he looked like, big or small, dark or fair, where his birthplace is, which kind of bow he had and of which wood and from which hide the tendon is made and which poison used? Then, the victim would be dead before he could be saved. Buddha did not come to answer unsolvable questions, but to help the miserable mankind. What to a materialist means ‘to be’, is merely ‘becoming’ for the Buddha. ‘True being’ lies on the other shore, in Nirvana. Buddha showed the path.’
‘Which path, my Sudeva?’
‘The path of the pure, all-pervading, all-encompassing love, the noble feeling of kindness for all that breathes; that is the liberating power. Considerate behaviour to all and so are: compassion, loving kindness, sharing in joy and equanimity. All these four are equal; the four sublime states, spreading out in four directions. In Varanasi, he set the wheel of the Dharma in motion. For forty-five years, Gautama the Buddha walked through Magadha, his alms-bowl under the arm, teaching, where people asked for his teachings, comforting where solace was needed, striving where his striving was required, so doing what is good, wishing what is good.’
‘Good for whom, Sudeva?’
‘For all that lives, for Aryan and Mletsha, for poor and rich, men and women.’
‘You say: Women, Sudeva?’
‘Any woman can become an arhat, just like any man. The right thought, the right word, the right deed, that is Buddha. The true disciple keeps the right way of life, not because it is needed for his own development but because, by its harmony, it serves the welfare of all living creatures. Such is the teaching of Buddha!’
‘Then, what new doctrine did Buddha proclaim?’
Sudeva hesitated a moment.
‘Not a new doctrine. India suffocates under doctrines. The Buddha showed the path. What is new is his all-encompassing humanity and love for all that lives, which nowadays is buried in the incomprehensible Vedas, the Brahmanas and Upanishads and not understood anymore. The great Buddha himself is his doctrine: the living, loving human being.’
‘But what is the purpose of opening a path, my Sudeva, which only a few of the millions, though from all castes, may follow!’
Sudeva did not understand him; he did not know what was going on in the young King. He felt his questioning was a manifestation of an interest for something new that he did not know.
‘Yet, this is the striving of the Tathagata, honoured Raja. Normally, one travels a path with a goal, to reach a goal. For the Buddha, the road is the goal, Nirvana the last step.’
The other hermits then brought in refreshments of fresh water, which had been cooled in earthen pots, and fruits.
24
GANDHARVA IN SANCHI
evi had not uttered a word during the discussions between Ashoka and Sudeva. She had listened in astonishment to his questions. She understood immediately the intention of his last question: the cries of the peoples.
‘Come, my Devi, you wanted to show me the holy sites in Sanchi.’
Devi led him to the places where holy Brahmins had performed their miracles. Ashoka, however, was more concerned about her and her obvious sadness. He placed a protective arm around her and said: ‘My Devi is downcast by the curse of the vile Brahmin priest.’
She nodded. Once again the tears welled up in her eyes.
‘But the power of the curse exists only in legends: Shakuntala, King Nala! I would like to know how many of the curses of the Brahmin-court have fallen on me, like the leeches on a traveller in a moist jungle. They have never hurt me!’
‘You are a strong person, my Ashoka, whose spirit overpowers their much weaker minds. Their karma, their varna, gives them a power which I cannot grasp or fathom.’
‘And what if this Princess never became my wife?’ He took her in his arms and a wondrous and overwhelming feeling of happiness and protectiveness shook his being.
‘Then, I would want to die. For I have known the most beautiful that ever crossed my path.’
‘The most beautiful, my Devi?’
A dark blush suffused her face. ‘And the highest, my beloved Raja. The justice in the human being, the gentleness in the power, the truth in the seeker—all of it in your gaze. If I never become your wife,’ she continued, slowly, as if measuring each word, ‘that will still be a beacon for me until I die. The curse of a Brahmin permeates the whole being. My faith in their Vedas has weakened; I am drawn towards Buddha’s vision that opens the possibility of becoming an arahat as much for a woman as for a man. But my fear of their spiritual power has not become less. That is why I want to stay with you for as long as I can. You are stronger than them and I am not. If I do not become your wife, I wish to be your betrothed, as long as …’
Ashoka embraced her, kissed her. Then, he whispered: ‘Nothing will take my Devi away from me. No brutal Brahmin curse, nor separation. Just as Dushanta took Shakuntala as his wife, I will take my beloved. Now, at this moment, I take Devi of the Setti1 varna as my wife … Gandharva marriage … no priest or even he must concede to this divine right, even according to the revealed scriptures. Here is my ring, my Devi! Do you trust me?’
Devi looked at him with a mysterious smile, which one knows but never understands, because it is the key to the secret of future days.
‘Completely, my sorrow-free2 man.’
As they walked back to the hermitage, fondly embracing each other, Ashoka said:
‘Do you still believe in the Brahmin curse?’
‘That is impossible, my King. After all, I am your wife!’ They laughed like children, completely carefree.
As the King and his wife — now seated together on one elephant— and the rest of the entourage departed, the anchorites followed, speechless. Finally, the visitors disapp
eared into the distance. Sudeva moved his hand softly over his forehead, again and again.
‘It is amazing how the spark of the Atman kindles in a few souls so clearly; while in others, smolders for an entire life-time and does not even spread a glimmer of light. Seven sharp questions —the whole history of Gautama the Buddha. But the eighth: What is the purpose? Yes, what is the purpose: Happiness of the individual, his own ultimate welfare … Brahmins! What is the purpose for the young King, who has to fight battles, and judge and punish, rule, kill! He cannot walk the path, at least not until another life.’
‘Perhaps, because the welfare of millions is dearer to him than his own salvation.’
‘But he is not a Buddha or a Bodhisattva, is he? He is a warrior!’ Sudeva called out, annoyed.
‘Be calm, my Sudeva! For which purpose is Ashoka a warrior?’
‘For the power of a Maharajah!’
‘Perhaps, you underestimate him, my Sudeva.’
‘And for his pleasures and lusts. You form too high an estimate of him. Devi told me that she just had married him.’
‘Gandharva?’
‘Yes, gandharva! As is customary among the unscrupulous Kshatriyas.’
‘Perhaps, you regard him too little in this as well, Sudeva. If we want the truth of the Buddha, then we will have to discard the rigid dogma of our varna, which only looks at our own birth and our own salvation.’
The company of the young Raja had almost reached Vidisha. In front of them walked a pilgrim. When the troupe neared, he moved to one side of the road, kneeled and bowed deeply with his hands raised before the King.
‘That is one of the two priests!’ whispered Devi, alarmed. Ashoka had them halt.
‘Where is your friend Lambama, Balabha?’ The priest was startled.
‘Sire, when we continued our journey after leaving your camp, my fellow-traveller was very restless. Anxiously, he watched either side of our path. He feared your curse would be fulfilled and was not yet ready to give up this earthly existence. I comforted him by saying that a curse from …’
‘From a Shudra, say it, priest!’
Ashoka the Great Page 34