‘Whose Rani will I be, revered Maharajah?’
‘The choice lies clear before you, beloved Princess. I am not the one to choose. Decide that by yourself.’
‘And you, high Agramahisi?’
‘What is valuable to me, need not be so for you, dear Princess. Do you feel that you have to support your husband in his highest endeavour or do you want to be one with him in divine perfection? That is your choice.’
Sanghi seemed to waver for some time. Then, hesitantly, she walked up towards Rauma.
‘Rauma, you thought: I inspired you in your endeavours for work. But that endeavouring you are yourself. Without me too, you will be a great man in your work for the Maharajah and the people. I am only an unconscious goddess to you. I cannot be that, however much you revere me.’
Rauma shrank. ‘For me, love is the secret power that directs and pushes the human being forward to what he reveres the most … the spirit of the All-spirit … the will of the All-will. Love, for the sake of love, would be death to me, high Princess. That would be for me like power for the sake of power, mind for the sake of mind and will for the sake of will. Love has to be a driving force for all that is great and good, while, by itself it lies beyond love.’
Sanghi did not understand why the Agramahisi blessed Rauma. Ashoka maintained an impassive face. Pondering, she went to Agnibrahma.
‘Agnibrahma, I want to be your Rani. Together with you, I will strive for unity. With you, the divine perfection of the human being, without you … death.’
‘I thank you, beautiful Princess: Beyond my love, nothing exists in the universe.’
‘This was a meaningful play of thoughts, children, and Sanghi has borne it with skill. Take a seat next to Agnibrahma.’
Rauma neared the Maharajah, pale in pallor. Ashoka saw how great an impact Sanghi’s choice had made upon him.
‘It was a game, my Rauma. But remember: in a well-played game lies the base of reality. That we need, you and I.’
‘I thank you, high Majesty. I have a request to make to you. The work in Agnibrahma’s office is beautiful, but does not satisfy entirely my restless nature. I would prefer to do something that is more challenging. With the anta-mahamatras in the far-away places of your vast empire. I believe I have, in Malwa, shown to have the capability for it.’
‘I want to give you proof of my trust in you, Rauma. I need a mahamatra in Sodra, which borders the north of Kalinga. It is an arduous as well as an independent assignment, because my highest purusha will have to take immediate action on unlawful acts of a troublesome border-people. You can test your mettle on this labour. You have seen many countries and peoples. I hope that you love them, that you are touched by their distress and want to work for their happiness, like me.’
‘If you place your trust in me, I will be pleased to take the charge of ruling over there. I thank the gracious Maharajah.’
‘Report tomorrow to minister Radhagupta.’
Sanghi felt disappointed and hardly realised that Rauma’s departure was connected to the play …
‘You played your game too seriously, Princess Sanghi.’
‘Do you not regret, that your friend is leaving, Agnibrahma?’
‘No. I played seriously, too.’
‘Do you hope to become a viceroy?’ Agnibrahma nodded.
‘And …’
‘And Sanghi as Rani! Would you like that?’
‘If Father wishes it to be so and believes in me,’ she confessed, blushing.
‘We will ask him.’
22
THE LITTLE ARHAT
arly one morning, Aradi sat in the western verandah of her house that was built on an elevated place in the Khemavana. On her left, in the hazy distance, she could look at the green pastures of the banks of the Ganga, on her right at the park, where the austere huts of the monks were scattered about in enchanting disorder around the Vihara and the assembly-hall, in between the nyagrodha1 trees and the mango-groves. Fan-palms spread their protective shade over the thatched roofs of the dwellings, or stood in rows around the clear ponds, where the white, red, pink and purple lotus flowers dreamt between their lush green leaves. When, on the night of the battle in front of the gates of Pataliputra, the disaster-struck widow of the fallen Raja asked for shelter for the night here, the venerable Sagata immediately gave her his secluded hut, but a day later, they started to collect timber for a building. The most able craftsmen amongst the monks and upasakas2, living in the surroundings, began to construct the house, the one where she now was living. And although it was not in accordance with the rules of the congregation of monks, in her house a certain luxury was allowed. The feeling of compassion— Buddha’s loftiest precept—was the deciding element. The house was quietly situated and now, with the monsoon coming to an end, nature showed off its richly ornamented blossoms.
‘No, Sagata, I have no wishes. For more than seven years you have been taking care of my house, my son and me. In the past I lived in a world where everyone was deceiving the other, for gold, or an official post, where everyone was ranging around with the ugliest of secrets and intentions and wanted to misuse the other, even to kill. Mistrust ruled them, Sagata, one could rely on no one. Not on Sumana, the council nor the priests, the Princes leading the army, not even on the warriors, nor the supporters in the capital, nor the gods! It was the simmering insecurity of hell, the murky bloodlust of the demons. And there my darling would have been born, pious Sagata! Then I came here, to the park that Rani Khema had gifted to the followers of the Buddha. Here is the quiet goodness, the truth, the natural truth! At first, I, who came here from that world of deceit, could not understand it, Sagata. It felt as if I had escaped from hell and had arrived with my son in the lovely Tushita3-haven, where the Buddha stayed before he was born out of Rani Maya. Here Nigrodha is safe, I feel safe and fine; that is my happiness! The priest Shakuni wanted to take my little Prince to the Kalingas. Later on he would be able to lay claim to the ivory throne of Pataliputra. He might have to fight for that throne of riches! Become a demon himself, like the Raja of the hell! No, Sagata, it is my deepest wish that he will remain the friend of all these sincere, truthful men of the Khemavana, and they, his friends. That is how it should be, Sagata, that is how I wish it. If I could only be allowed to live here, a woman at a monastery of the Buddha. How do you dare to let me, a woman, live for seven years in the Khemavana, my Sagata!’
‘The loftiest precept of the Tathagata is compassion and mercy for our near ones, high Rani.’
‘Who are your near ones?’
‘All creatures that live.’
‘How will you be able to help all living creatures that suffer, the way you helped me?’
‘The Buddha wants us to comfort those in need of solace. The way of the Buddha that leads to salvation, meanders through a beauteous landscape of goodness and wisdom. He who cannot see the loveliness of that landscape, nor takes it into his soul, and is not sated with its absolute joy, fails to even see the path, will not walk that path to the most supreme bliss, Nirvana. Fortunate are you, Rani Aradi, and fortunate is Nigrodha, that the Khemavana fills you with joy. We are beggars, who cause well-being to them who may give us alms. Your happiness is the most precious alms for the monks of the Khemavana, O, Rani.’
‘Will he – you know who, Abbot Sagata – not be a danger for my boy. Please tell me.’
‘The Maharajah never displayed any interest in the Khemavana and its inhabitants. Many sramanas visited the capital. Do you want to know what they heard?’
‘Yes, please. You know how I, in those earlier years, could not find rest, for I was in fear he would be near. He hates me and Nigrodha, and fears him as Sumana’s son and heir.’
‘I will send Assaji to you. He is very learned, has visited many countries, knows the Maharajah well and knows what people think about him.’
‘The monk who always lowers his eyes when he goes past my house?’
‘Any monk is expected to cast down his eyes before
a woman. So, the Tathagata wants it.’
‘Nigrodha loves him and looks out for him.’
‘Assaji teaches with patience, wisdom and with charming narratives, the greatness of the Buddha to the ‘little arhat’4. And no pupil is more interested in Buddha’s life, the beautiful jatakas5, even in the simple form of the teachings, than the ‘little arhat’.’
Assaji came forward and, with his eyes lowered, narrated to the Rani much about the Maharajah; about his tireless labours, his righteousness, the growing prosperity in the empire, and the trust and adoration of his subjects.
‘It is, high Rani, as if Piyadasi looks over the whole world; as if he knows the proper way of recourse from all calamities. The Maharajah is fortune itself for India!’
‘You know Ashoka well, Assaji. Did you know Raja Sumana as well?’
‘Certainly, High Rani.’
‘What do you know about him?’
‘The setting of Chandra closes the beautiful night-lotus, high Rani. Do you want me to open out the closed flower, like Surya does with Ushas’ morning-haze? It is a law of nature that she remains closed in the fierce sunlight. Pankaja, the day-lotus, has now unfolded her petals.’
‘Sumana was beautiful, Assaji.’
‘Do you see at a distance the holy Ganga, the rich paddy-fields and sugar cane fields, O, Rani? Their beauty lies in their actively bestowing food to all that lives. Do you want to compare them to the splendour of the regal-flowers of vines, adorning the jungle like brilliant garlands, but forgotten in its deepest darkness?’
‘I only can hate Ashoka!’
‘Hate, you say, Rani. Hate for the one who is praised by the whole of India. Ashoka, the Righteous, the father of his people! Hatred is the enemy of the supreme. Nirvana is the ending of desire, the ending of the futility of all earthly life, the ending of delusion, the ending of hatred. Why then do you still hate, high Rani!’
‘He, who cannot wait till Yama leads a man to hell, but creates a hell himself! Who killed my husband and put him in a grave of shame …’
‘Did the Maharajah wish to do so, O, Rani? Did he, the mighty one …’
‘Stolen might!’
‘No!’
‘Sumana was the Crown-Prince!’
‘No!’
‘Sumana wanted beauty, grandeur, splendour!’
‘No.’
‘Magadha, Videhi, the whole of Madhyadesa wanted Sumana!’
‘No, the sacrificial priests wanted Sumana. The beauty, glitter and splendour of the Maharajah is like the golden, emerald or diamond, the silvery ringing jewellery, which waits to adorn the leper as though to resplendent majesty. Righteousness and kindness is like the beauty of jasmine that garlands the healthy man as adoration. The Maharajah works hard and only for the welfare of his people.
‘Do you know the Agramahisi?’
‘The first Rani, Asandhimitra, is beautiful as dawn, serious as Khallataka, wise as Sayana, full of love, like Sita.’
‘How is it possible that such a goddess can be Ashoka’s Agramahisi? Does she not hate that king of the hell!’
‘She knows the Maharajah.’
‘He was a danger for Bindusara, for Sumana. He will be so for my son!’
‘For none of the three! But he knew that Raja Sumana and his council had trained twenty-four murderers to be set loose on him. That demanded caution and severity, because he was Maharajah.’
Aradi got up, shaken.
‘You know that, Assaji? Then you know too that my son has all the more reason to fear him!’
‘I know that he has nothing to fear from him. If the Maharajah knew how sweet and serious the little arhat is, then he would wish to do so much for him. Bring him to the Maharajah and you will know it, too.’
‘He will bring my child, Sumana’s son, to his hell!’ Aradi cried out, upset.
‘Bring Nigrodha to the Maharajah and your mother-heart will be at repose at last.’
‘Why are you here? And are you not serving your Maharajah whom you praise highly?’
‘A follower of the Buddha cannot be a warrior in the army. No one wants to serve him more than I do.’
‘And the Buddha?’
‘One does not serve the Buddha; one worships him and follows him. I was in Pataliputra when Prince Ashoka was young, followed him to Taxila when he became the army commander, and later on to Ujjain, when he became the Raja. Nobody knows him better than I, or it should be the holy Kullika. Send Nigrodha to the Maharajah, for his and for your happiness.’
‘Why does such a holy man, who hates Brahmins, not become a Buddhist?’
‘He reveres great Buddhists like Kullika, and great Brahmins like Sayana and Khallataka. But he is the highest judge, the Lord of life and death, the highest of the army. Maybe, Shiva. How can he be a follower of the Buddha? Send Nigrodha to the Maharajah, O, Rani, for your peace of mind.’
‘His hell!’
‘Do you think the Maharajah is ignorant about your stay here, and that it would be difficult for him to take away Nigrodha from you, if he so wished? Would you not like to see that your son becomes the Raja, of Ujjain, for instance?’
‘No! Not even Maharajah! Might and wealth do not lead to happiness but limit our thinking. Every possession, taken from others, is a barrier on the way to Nirvana. And it is to that path that Abbot Sagata and the other pious monks should lead him. That is how I desire it. I have escaped that world of lies, threats and killing. Would I desire that my darling should go back there again?’
‘Then let him get to know the Maharajah, who prizes truth as the loftiest of virtues, who allows everyone freedom to discover his own right path. Trust your son to my care! I will take him safely to the capital and bring him back to you, O, Rani.’
‘I shudder to trust others with the most precious that I have. Why is unrest driving you to the Khemavana so often?’
‘Compassion is the greatest virtue for the Buddha and his followers. When the monk has in solitude found complete peace and freedom of passion, he has to seek out the ones lost in ignorance and desires, to show them the way to salvation. I want to save you from your irrational fear.’
Aradi considered this at length.
‘Satyavat, a small guest for you, a compatriot in faith. Take care of him and walk with him through the park in the direction of the palace so that the Maharajah will see him. I guaranteed his safety, son of Prince Sumana!’ he added, whispering. Then Girika warned the purohita Kullika, who hastened to Satyavat’s house.
‘Well, Girika?’ asked Ashoka.
‘Sire, the feelings and attitude of Rani Aradi have not changed. She hates you; she thinks she does. She wishes to know nothing about an official palace task for her son. The little fellow, brought up by Sagata and the monks of the Khemavana is, what is more, so softhearted that there will never grow in him a warrior, seeking power or possession. The Rani rejects any teaching that proceeds in that direction. She loathes the air of deceit and killing in which she had lived earlier, and wants for Nigrodha the peaceful goodness and silent bliss of a Buddhist monastery.’
‘And Shakuni?’
‘In Kalinga the people do not give thought anymore to Nigrodha. They want a Maharajah of iron. Sire, I brought along the boy. You can see for yourself.’
‘Who? Nigrodha?’
‘Yes, Sire.’
‘Aradi allowed that?’
‘Hardly. I was able to persuade her at last, that it was for the attainment of her peace of mind and of his good fortune, O, Maharajah.’
‘And where is he?’
‘I brought him to the chief of the palace guards, Satyavat.’
‘Come along, I would like to see him.’
They saw Kullika busily talking with Nigrodha, followed by Satyavat, in the park. Ashoka was struck by the quiet, serious air of the ‘little arhat’ to whom it appeared, the surroundings impressed but little. When he approached, and Kullika and Satyavat greeted him respectfully, the boy looked at him, inquisitively.
‘Ar
e you the Maharajah?’
‘That is what they call me.’
‘Do you have a hell?’
‘People say so.’
‘Do you not know that yourself?’
‘I have never been there.’
‘Because you are good or because you are afraid? Assaji says, the Maharajah is good and righteous.’
‘Perhaps, you would like to see the hell or are you afraid of it?’
‘No, father Sagata says there is no hell, only the path to Nirvana, on which you can go or not go. A hell one makes oneself.’
‘That is very wisely thought by father Sagata. Would you not like to play in the park, to sail in a beautiful boat on the big pond with the other children?’
‘No, the ponds of the Khemavana are much nicer! But Father Sagata said that everyone has to be serious about his life. He who is indifferent to the teachings of the Buddha walks along the path of mortality; that is of fleetingness, and then he will be born again and has to begin all over with his life. But he who is serious goes the way to immortality, to Nirvana and does not need to take birth anymore.’
‘Are there no other children in the Khemavana?’
‘No, only my deer, Sika.’
‘How do you like the park of the Maharajah?’
‘Nice, but not as nice as the Khemavana!’
‘Not as nice?’
‘No, in the Khemavana are mother and Father Sagata and the monks, Assaji and Sika, my deer. It is a small one, Pura found it in the jungle, crying. Pura thinks that hunters or birds of prey had killed Sika’s mother.’
‘If the Khemavana is so beautiful, I’d better show you the palace.’
‘Assaji, Assaji!’ Nigrodha ran towards Girika, who had been watching at a distance. ‘Come, we will go to the palace!’
As soon as he saw the palace, Nigrodha observed: ‘This hall is even bigger than the Vihara.’
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