‘Sire, do you, who wishes and promises a heaven for your people, tolerate a hell in your earthly palace?’
‘I did not wish it. The priests …’
‘They are your subjects, too!’
‘Asandhimitra, I will whisper a secret in your ear that no woman knows yet. Listen: in India the hell exists only in the mind of the evil man. And nobody enters the ‘hell of Ashoka’, if the Maharajah does not wish it! And he has a delicate-blue scarf of fragrant muslin around his forehead and his third eye, Asandhimitra, and that tempers the look of the Mighty Maharajah to one of deliberation and a friendly disposition.’
Then, Asandhimitra, deeply moved, bowed before her Lord and spoke slowly. ‘I thank you, noble Maharajah. You told me once that I could return to the hermitage of my Father if I wished so. Now I would like to return to the valley of the Sarayu.’
‘Return, Asandhimitra?’
‘Sire, my father sent me to Pataliputra because he thought that I could contribute to the well-being of your subjects by softening the hardness in your justice. Now I acknowledge my ridiculous weakness beside your great power. But what is more, now I can only feel for the well-being of the great Maharajah himself; for that my father did not bring me here.’
‘Asandhi … I feel strong in my army and in the power I exacted from Bindusara, but humanly weak and dependant in the deeper innerness of my being, that knows itself connected with the world soul, the Atman. Have you learned … Say it to me now, Asandhi …’
‘To love you? Yes, my Lord …’
‘Then I take you as my Agramahisi2, my Asandhi. Now my people and I need you more than ever.’
Ashoka raised her and took her in his arms.
‘Sire, it is my greatest happiness to be allowed to be your Rani.’
‘A hard battle, Asandhi!’
‘Together with you, my Raja.’
When evening came, the pilgrim Brahmagupta appeared at the Brahmin-court, dressed in the clothes of a penitent and asked for lodgings for the night. He was brought to Srigupta, because the head of the court was taking care of the ceremony the following day.
‘What brings the pilgrim Brahmagupta to us?’
‘I have to talk to the Maharajah. Hariana is ruled by drought, famine and sickness.’
‘Why do you not ask for help in Indraprastha?’
‘They say there is only one who can and will help.’
‘Tomorrow is the consecration of the Maharajah. The preparations take up all his time.’
‘I know, but they say the Maharajah receives everyone all the time.’
‘Then do appear tomorrow at the second kalakramein, after the consecration.’
‘The people cannot wait for a day in Hariana. Take me to the Maharajah now.’
‘It is impossible. Wait till tomorrow, Brahmagupta. Have a rest from your journey.’
‘I do not ask for rest!’
The pilgrim was hastily led away.
Srigupta called for his friends. Some Brahmins led a young man into the meeting and whispered something in the ear of Srigupta.
‘Who are you?’
‘Sura, Sir.’
‘How did you come to the court?’
‘Sir, I wanted to see the anointment of the Maharajah. They said that Shudras would not be admitted into the park. Then I crossed the moat by swimming and climbed over the palisade of the park. I wanted to hide myself, to mingle with the other spectators tomorrow. I did not know I had entered the court of the holy Brahmins.’
‘You are a Shudra, thus impure. Get back. Who knows what kind of evil plans you had!’
‘Sir, I only wanted …’ He was commanded to silence.
‘Who sneaks in secretively into the park of the Maharajah, could not have done so with good intentions. Who sent you here?’
‘No one, sir.’
‘Do you know there is the death sentence for this crime? Do you not fear Ashoka’s hell?’
‘Sir, I did not want to do any wrong!’
‘The gatekeeper will decide that. Warn the gatekeeper, Agnidatta.’
‘Sir, protect me! My mother, Sir! Have pity, on my mother, Sir! I only wanted to see the anointment!’
‘Silence, impure Shudra! How dare you ask for pity from the Brahmins? You are a danger for the Maharajah!’
The gatekeepers entered.
‘Imprison this Shudra. He sneaked into the park, crossing the moat and the wall.’
The gatekeepers dragged the Shudra along to the guardhouse.
‘The Maharajah owes us double thanks. Fate put a penitent and an impure Shudra in our hands. Tomorrow the Maharajah will be anointed. He wishes the Brahmins to be present. We will not resist any longer. It is time that we express our approval of the Maharajah, now he lets himself be consecrated according to the Brahmanical rites.’
‘Has the venerable Srigupta abandoned his courage?’
‘I see, we will lose our livelihood! For years we have tried to preserve Aryavarta from a disaster. The people are turning against us. Maybe, soon Ashoka will send us out of the Brahmin-court. Do you want to be a hermit or a sannyasin and wander around with the begging bowl? Or, do you prefer to stay here where riches come flowing in from all the regions?’
‘The offerings no longer supply great benefits.’
‘People dare to mock the Brahmins and our varna.’
‘The people lose their respect for the gods.’
‘Our dice have been rolling wrongly and we have put at stake our most important interest, the welfare of our varna.’
‘If the Brahmins, Khallataka, Sayana, Aruna, Kala and others had not sided with the renegade, the Wild Prince, then nothing would have been lost.’
‘What are you saying? They have realised where their interest lies! They have retained the respect of the people!’
‘The Wild Prince knew how to break our power with his tricks and his spies. If we had sided with him we would have been safe now.’
‘Devaka, Richika, Shakuni and other fools have harmed our varna in the most aggravating way.’
‘Who here dares to call the noble Brahmins, who defended our varna and the gods with their life, fools? Are you not ashamed? What did you do? Merely nodding: ‘Yes’. Demanding from others their lives for our sake! Where is Shakuni, where is Ashavita? Exiled! You are cowards that you even dare to make a single reproach to them! And even greater cowards when you bow tomorrow for the worst enemy of our varna!’
‘Does the brave Madhu not participate in the consecration tomorrow?’
‘No. I rather would have myself exiled, or be driven into the Ganga by the horsemen of the Shudra!’
‘What courage! Does that bring you bread and meat, clothes and pleasant housing? Or, did you earlier perhaps support Prince Sumana, to suffer poverty for him?’
‘Cowards like you sell your varna for a priest’s robe and a gift from a Shudra, whom you had pursued by others.’
Madhu, head high, left the meeting offended.
‘Keep silent, Brahmins. If you wish to save your varna, then side with the Maharajah. Tomorrow, he bows down to the yoke of our varna. It is the Asvins and Ushas of the rising Surya. Let us turn to the rising sun! And let us gather whatever we can of his light and power. Maybe, one day we will have more than what he has left. The court houses a penitent who has a request to make to the Maharajah. The Prince has a special fear of penitents! It would be good if he were to try to inveigle his way towards the Maharajah during the anointment ceremony and we Brahmins were to stop him. The Maharajah will regain his trust in the court that way. Each one of you must understand now that it was only the delay of the anointment that was our objection against this Maurya. The anointment by the priests makes him the sacred Maharajah!’
‘The anointment by the priests makes him the sacred Maharajah,’ all murmured.
‘The new Maharajah enjoys our protection!’
‘The new Maharajah enjoys our protection!’ Came the echo once again.
19
T
HE SACRED MAHARAJAH
he gleaming morning-sun of Sharad illuminated a radiant and brilliant scene. Under the huge verandah stood the ivory throne of Aryavarta, and a second one with gold embellishment. Next to them, on either side, were the seats of Sayana and Khallataka, and behind the one for Tishia. To the left the residents of the Anthapura were seated on the extended platforms of the palace, behind them the Rajas, rajukas and the purushas, from every corner of Ashoka’s empire. To the right sat the Brahmins of the court, proud in bearing and appearance, and looking on over the others, who had to see the priests as the ones who gave the godly power to the Maharajah. In front, two offering altars had been constructed, one for Brahma, with exits on all sides and one for Shiva with an exit towards the setting sun. Behind the altars were gathered the huge multitude of people. Ashoka and Asandhimitra were sitting at the kusha-grass in front of the palace. The offering-fires were burning. Sivi brought in, one after another, golden bowls with rice, burned in the sun, white flowers, clods of earth, gold, silver and precious stones. Ashoka touched them: that was the confirmation of his sovereignty over food, nature, land and the treasures of the empire, after which came fire, milk, clear honey, leaves and twigs of holy trees. He touched them as confirmation of the sacred values of the country. Then the offering ceremony started. Shivi led the solemn ceremony. The hotars invited the gods of Aryavarta to be present, and to take their places on the kusha-grass; the udgatars chanted the samans, and the advaryus brought the offerings to the sacred fires. At last, the five purifying products of the cow were brought in golden receptacles. A tiger skin was spread out. Ashoka and Asandhimitra knelt on it, bowing their heads to the ground. Sivi, in full regalia, threw a little of the liquid over their bare heads. Then the ablution took place with water from the holy Ganga, from the holy Manasa-lake and the hallowed Narmada. Sayana and Khallataka came down from their prominent seats, to lead the Maharajah and the Agramahisi to their thrones, where the white parasol was spread over their heads as a sign of imperial dignity. The last mantras resounded and then all knelt down and prayed for the now sacred Maharajah and the Maharani. The priests blessed them and felt themselves to be the gods over Emperor and subjects.
The velvet sounds of the veena permeated softly through the prayers, the strings of a ravanastha sang songs of Bhairavi, proper for Sharad. Flutes mingled their lilting airs into the ensemble. Kettledrums appeared to swell up from afar. Lovely, timid, and graceful as the deer, the melodies gambolled over the moved spectators. When the music stopped, the conches and the heavy dhol resounded. People assumed that now the court-singers, the bards, would sing their songs of praise of the Maharajah and his ancestors, but Sayana got up from his seat. He felt, with what difficulty Piyadasi endured this ceremony. He raised his hand and immediately all fell silent, impressed by the revered figure of the great holy man.
‘Ashoka Maurya,
‘The highest Atman, and thus included the gods and the peoples of Aryavarta, have endorsed to you the throne of Aryavarta this day.
You believe that an iron law of cause and effect is ruling the world. Therefore, there must have been a great cause that has led you to this holy throne;
You have learned that one has to guide all life towards tranquillity, kindness, human tolerance and love: May the Atman unfold in you this quiet, kindness, tolerance and love;
You have learned that selfishness and deceit lead to destruction and hell, so to maya, and self-sacrifice and love to truth and harmony, and thus to divine unity. May You, sacred Maharajah, be the divine truth and harmony itself;
You know that one, who serves the doctrine for the sake of the doctrine, dies before his death. You are now the living ruler of Aryavarta. May you serve the doctrine for the sake of igniting the will towards goodness, in every seeking soul;
You now hold in your hands the power, to enforce justice, from your employees and subjects. You are justice itself.
All of us, you, your Anthapura, the Brahmins of Pataliputra, the Rajas, rajukas and purushas of your empire, and the people of Aryavarta, have made the offering, and have thus acknowledged the bonding of all to the highest, the supreme Atman, the awareness that all life is out of the intrinsic foundation of the All-one, and thus is mutually connected.
‘Be, my friend, Devanampiya, that is, the beloved of the gods, be Piyadasi, that is, he who views everything with kindness. In your hand lies Shiva’s disposition, Lord of life and death.
Hail Devanampiya!
Hail Pyadasi!
Hail our sacred Maharajah and the Agramahisi Asandhimitra!’
Like stormy gusts that start the fertile monsoon, the cry echoed itself through the lines.
Ashoka stood up. Suddenly, every sound seemed to blow away, as everyone waited to hear his voice. It was as though everything submerged and only he was elevated. Powerful and moving, in complete simplicity, it sounded: ‘My subjects! All people are like my children. And as much as I wish for my sons and daughters that perfect health and happiness may be bestowed on them, both in this world and into the next, so much do I wish for all the people, too.’
Of course, he was the embodiment of Shiva, the Lord of all life! Therefore, all were his children! ‘Hail Ashoka!’ ‘Hail Ashoka!’ ‘Hail Shiva!’ ‘Hail Shiva!’ ‘Hail Asandhimitra!’ Nothing could hold back the emotions; many sobbed. The people knew that the throne of Magadha was taken by the mightiest king that ever reigned over the Aryans, the embodiment of Shiva, Lord of Life and Death. The people were caught in wild rapture. Even the Brahmins seemed pleased with the Maharajah!
Then, Khallataka stood up and again all sound hushed.
‘Today our sacred Maharajah appoints his brother Tishia, as the Uparaja. In his absence, he will be the regent. He will be worthy of your obeisance.’
With this the ceremony was over. From afar a penitent approached, bareheaded, a frayed length of cloth covering his loins, one end of which was draped over his left shoulder. His rough beard and dishevelled, long straggly hair hung in strands over his back and shoulders. The thread across his chest1 indicated that he was a Brahmin. When people noticed that the holy one was walking towards the Maharajah, they became attentive. Ashoka distrusted men in the cloth of a penitent. Just when he wanted to make a sign to Satyavat, a few Brahmins came down the verandah, took the penitent in their midst and forced him to return to the court. One of the priests addressed the Maharajah.
‘gracious Maharajah, he is the penitent Brahmagupta from Hariana and wishes to speak to you. We did not trust his intentions and induced him to return to the Brahmin-court.’
‘Nobody knows better than you and me, that it is not the cloth that makes the penitent, venerable Agnidatta. But I wish to look after the interests of my people in all places. It does not please me to delay issues which concern the subjects of my empire. What does the penitent want? His message must be urgent.’
‘Sire, I do not know. We have taken him away for the sake of the safety of the holy Maharajah. For the same reason, we handed over a Shudra to the gatekeepers yesterday. He had crossed the moat and the wall and entered the court.’
‘I thank the venerable priests for their concern. Satyavat, tell Brahmagupta that he is to appear before me immediately.’
‘Who are you, Brahmagupta?’
‘A yogi from Hariana, gracious Maharajah.’
‘A yogi? Does a yogi deem it necessary to leave his place of meditation and undertake such a long journey?’
‘Lord, I did not consider it necessary for myself but for the people of Hariana.’
‘I feel even more surprised, Brahmagupta. Which yogi regards the interests of insignificant people as of more importance than yoga for his own soul!’
‘Lord, the situation in Hariana is so bad that I had to take a respite from my meditations.’
‘Then you are a great man, Brahmagupta, because you sacrifice your own salvation for the sake of others. By that decision you have infinitely enhanced your karma.
‘Lord, nor was that the reason
for my coming. Hariana was first ravaged by a flood after which the newly built homes were destroyed again by storms, and then a south-west sand-storm wiped out all the harvest and supplies. There is famine now, and plague, and smallpox is spreading. Indraprastha, Mathura and Prayaga do not wish to provide rice to the thousands of hungry people. They do not wish to give medicines anymore because there will not be enough supply left, if they themselves were to be in need of it. They do not even want to let us enter the gates of the towns. The misery of the many thousands is so great that I left my station under the pippala2 and undertook the journey to Pataliputra with a Ganga skipper.’
‘You have just arrived?’
‘No, Sire, yesterday.’
‘Why then did not you see me yesterday?’
‘In the Brahmin-court, they said that I could not speak to you because of the preparations for the consecration.’
‘How do you explain that, Agnidatta?’
‘Sire, it is as Brahmagupta says. Moreover, Hariana lies within the larger territory on the other side of the Sarasvati, Sire. The cities along the Ganga have rightfully refused their help.’
‘Rightfully, you say, Agnidatta! Are the inhabitants of Hariana not the revelations of the Atman, like you and me? All people, Agnidatta, are my children! Do you want to be in charge of the rescue work, Brahmagupta?’
‘Sir, I am a yogi.’
‘In this incarnation, neither you nor I have the time to take care of our own salvation. Let us do it together in the next, Brahmagupta.’
‘Yes, Sire.’
Ashoka immediately gave his orders for the rescue of Hariana by sending medicines, physicians, and grains.
‘People, from whom sacrifice is asked, my Brahmagupta, can think little of their own salvation. Or, that must indeed, be their salvation! Who knows what the great Atman intends! Consider this, though, the way one wants a good caretaker to watch over the well-being of his children so I ask you as the highest purusha3 of the Maharajah in Hariana to be the protector of all, from Brahmin to Mletcha. Do you know what that means, Brahmagupta?’
Ashoka the Great Page 58