Ashoka looked up at Asandhimitra. A soft smile shone at him, like a white lotus-flower that for the first time unfolds its white purity towards the light of the rising Surya, breaking through the haze of the night. Ashoka stood up and took Asandhi’s hand.
‘Venerable Sagata, we take refuge in the Buddha, we take refuge in the Dharma, we take refuge in the Sangha.’4
‘Then you are an upasaka and an upasika of the Sangha, gracious Maharajah and Maharani.’
‘Then I would now like, as a devotee of the Buddha in Pataliputra, to found a sangharama5 for the sramanas of the Tathagata. Would you like to be the head of that convent, Sagata? Maybe, the Khemavana could become a convent for the nuns, so that Rani Aradi can live there for the rest of her life. We will try to get the Dharma of Buddhism accepted everywhere in my empire, and do everything that will lead my subjects towards an understanding and acceptance. Therefore, is a closer tie needed between my government and the Sangha. The Sangharama of Pataliputra will be so large that during monsoon a great number of monks can stay in it, to go on their way again, after monsoon, to spread the teachings in my empire.’
‘Gracious Maharajah, Your power at the service of the holy Tathagata will spread the light, kindled in Bodh Gaya, over the whole world.’
In the evening, Srigupta appeared before the Maharajah.
‘High Majesty, we heard that a group of monks from the sect of the Buddha was invited to the palace by your Majesty.’
‘I have joined the Sangha as upasaka, holy Srigupta.’
‘The sect of Gautama is a heretic sect, O, Maharajah.’
‘Heretic, you say, Srigupta? Is not the Sankhya, which rejects your gods and your Atman, or the teachings of the materialists, which reject everything besides matter, more heretic? Buddha recognises your forest hermitages in his convents, your karma in his migration of the soul, your All-spirit in his Nirvana, even your gods, as devas, happy souls in the celestial world.’
‘Buddha preaches his doctrine not only to the Aryans, but to all, even to the cursed Mlecchas and Chandalas. That is heretical!’
‘Can a doctrine be heretical because of the people to whom it is taught?’
‘It is the secret doctrine of the Vedas; the Vedas forbid that it is taught to others than the twice-born.’
‘Which Veda? Does not the Veda say: We were what you are; you will be what we are?’
‘Gautama rejects the sacrifices and the laws.’
‘The Sankhya too, the Upanishads as well. Are they heretical? They despise the pretentiousness of your work.’
‘Gautama does not respect the varnas.’
‘Your sages from the forest hermitages rejected the boundaries of the three castes a long time ago: Tat Tvam Asi! Is it then a wonder that the people look at the teachings of Gautama as salvation from a bad dream?’
‘Gautama rejects the gods, Brahma!’
‘No, Brahma begged the Buddha to preach his doctrine to the whole world. The Buddha reveres to be born human as a joy; you made it into a painful road of sin. The Buddha wants to create the right attitude by speaking to the common sense in man; you seek the path of suffering through external practises: the thousand of rules of the varnas and the offerings. The Buddha wants truth, you want rituals performed by priests. The Buddha asks you to follow the teachings of love and compassion, whereas you are being hard-hearted to everyone except yourself. The Buddha wishes that people become responsible for their own salvation, while you wish that to be in the hands of a few sacrificial priests, for their own interest. You ask for a perfect dead form for your sacrifices, the Buddha asks for a perfect human being for Nirvana. And you call him a heretic?
And are you amazed that I, who was persecuted by your priests because I wanted the happiness of the peoples, follow the Buddha, who also wants the happiness of all my peoples? All people are like my children, and I as their father, Srigupta.’
‘So, herewith the fate of the Brahmins is sealed.’
‘I will respect any Brahmin, who like Sayana and Khallataka, like Vimalamitra and Brahmagupta, does honour the beauty and the greatness of Brahmanism.’
‘That means there will be no room anymore for the sacrificial priests.’
‘I have made the ones who were until now the true gods of Aryavarta into false gods, Srigupta. I will have built a great Sangharama for the sramanas, who will bring to my peoples the doctrine of compassion.’
‘You may pray that the gods do not punish you and your country, O, Maharajah.’
‘The gods punish those who fear them. He who goes the way of the Buddha, does not know fear, does not believe in punishment, or it must be the punishment by the insulted sacrificial priests. And against that we have our measures.’
In the city the news spread that the Maharajah had become an upasaka of the Buddha, and the Brahmin sacrificial priests had to leave the court.
‘The Maharajah is right. Who wants to feed and clothe and give gifts to the Brahmins who still would rather not see him on the throne?’
‘It has happened more often that mighty kings had to give way to the priests.’
‘Because the people helped them. That is not the case now!’
‘The people have had enough of the killers and fire-raisers.’
‘Take care of what you are saying. A priest does not kill and does not raise a fire.’
‘No, he orders someone else to do it. If the Maharajah becomes a follower of the Buddha, then we will become likewise. He is more truthful, more righteous, and mightier than all those sacrificial sprites; he is Shiva! They never made sacrifices for him anymore but lived on his gifts.’
‘They performed a benefaction by giving the Maharajah the opportunity to take care of them.’ Thunderous laughter followed.
‘How Pataliputra has changed that it laughs about its priests!’
‘How the priests have changed. They take benefactions from Maharajah Ashoka, whom they cursed!’
‘For a sacrificial priest the fee is always too meagre.’
Behind them, at some distance, stood a small group of people, who, in the eyes of the Brahmin society, were the scum: sweepers, barbers and hetaera who had had their days, and other disrespected women, thieves, robbers and fallen actors. They had sneaked in stealthily from the slums: Shudras and Chandalas, with the stamp of outcast in their eyes, their posture, their garb.
‘Why has the Maharajah become a Buddhist?’
‘Because he is fed up with the Brahmins.’
‘You say it! And what about minister Khallataka and the holy Sayana?’
‘He is fed up with the sacrificial priests,’ a Shudra thought aloud. ‘They will be chased away from the Brahmin-court.’
‘The holy Maharajah does not fear them and sentences them just like the others.’
‘The Maharajah became a Buddhist because he is righteous and views the Shudras and Chandalas as human beings, and not, as the priests do, as animals in a human body,’ remarked a Chandala, the most despised, being born of a Shudra man and a Brahmin woman.
‘Maybe, we will also be allowed to put on yellow robes now, and play at being monks,’ mocked an actor.
‘Go on mocking, you! As long as we keep a distance so they cannot touch us,’ an old haetere said. ‘When we are young and fresh we may enter the gardens of the Kama-temple to serve their lusts. Now we are impure and untouchable! In the slums we are at home, in the streets we have to keep a distance or they kick us out of their way.’
‘The Buddha did not care about varna. You know that a sweeper, a despised Shudra, became one of his pupils. The most beloved disciple of the Buddha was Ananda. Once, when he was thirsty, he asked a girl he saw at a well, for water. The girl said she was a Chandala and could not approach him without polluting him. Ananda answered: ‘My sister, I do not ask you about your varna, neither about your family, I ask for water, if you can give that to me’. She became a Buddhist. ‘I know,’ the actor said, ‘a song of the courtesan, Vimala, who was accepted into Buddha’s commune
:
Enchanting because of my beauty and figure,
By the power of my charm and my fame,
In reckless pride of flowering youth,
I looked down upon all other women,
With bright splendour I enveloped my body,
Speaking its language to the fools.
So, I stood at the gate of the house of haetere,
Like the hunter, putting out the snares for his game.
I showed the crowd the splendour of my garb,
I unveiled the enticement, not hidden by shame.
Thus performing my many arts,
I was deceiving the bunch of lusty madmen.
Now I walk with the begging bowl and collect,
With bare head, in the nun’s robe,
And I seat myself at the roots of the trees,
Share the depths beyond the mind …
Finished are my endeavours,
Let heaven or earth be its aim.
Every vice has ended,
Cool my heart became … I am at peace.6’
‘I heard that the physician Ratnaka who was killed, a Shudra, was a great friend of the holy Maharajah. The drama-player Talaputra became a monk of the Sangha.’
‘The Buddha is long dead and forgotten,’ a man cut in, a pariah because his father, a Vaishya, married a Brahmin woman.
‘The Maharajah became a Buddhist, they say, so that all his subjects, Arya and Mleccha, will respect the Tathagata and will be respected themselves. Therefore, he does not require the arrogant priests anymore.’
‘Look, there!’
‘Look there! A group of priests is leaving the park. They are weighed down with valuables!’
‘Gold does not carry the scent of the giver!’
The closer the priests approached, the quieter the rows of onlookers became. Troops of horse soldiers rode alongside the road, to take care that the curious onlookers would not trouble the priests.
‘The holy Maharajah will prevent them from inciting the people. See how serious they appear, as if their beloved is being burnt. Why are you crying?’ the speaker continued, talking to a few Vaishya women who were struck by the sad retreat.
‘What did the holy priests do that they are chased away so mercilessly?’
‘What did they do? They did nothing! Now they are doing something, they are taking their hoarded treasures to safety.’
‘Shame on you!’ others called out. ‘You will soon regret your desecration! Do you know what disasters await us because of this shame done to the gods?’
‘I will do penance not to go to their hell! Greetings, holy Srigupta, may I carry your heavy treasures?’
Srigupta halted, and looked at the mocker, who withdrew. That success though was not enough for the priest. He walked up to him.
‘Woe to the people who mock their priests!’
Some of the onlookers took on a posture of humility, one even fell to his knees and bowed to the ground, but a few boys mirthfully jumped on his back.
‘Woe to the priests who only take care of their treasures!’
A boy, who was eating a banana, threw the yellow peel exactly on top of Srigupta’s hoard: ‘A little more gold!’
Srigupta blanched, his eyes flashing in anger. He raised his free hand towards the people who themselves were startled at this brazen mischief.
‘Cursed are you, wretched ones! An earthquake will swallow you into the deepest hell! Your touch will infect and poison!’ All kept silent and many trembled at the priest’s curse that still had its effect. A group of horse soldiers swept aside the spectators.
Sivi, Anu and their adherents remained in the court, inclined to follow the Maharajah in his conversion. Some days later, monks in saffron robes moved into the dwellings of the priests. Sagata became the head of the abbey. He consulted with the master builders of the Maharajah, on how the new Sangharama should be designed.
24
THEN ONE THROWS HIGHER
askarin, I have to know the plans they are devising against me in Kalinga.’
‘They are very much on their guard over there, O, Maharajah.’
‘You play excellently the penitent, my Maskarin. If there is danger, I can give you some very reliable warriors to go along with you as pilgrims.’
‘It is the danger that is the charm of our profession, Sire. My Salya was successful. Then one throws higher! Do you wish me to take a stand for peace or for war?’
‘Do whatever the situation prompts you to do. I do not desire a war with these fools but it appears to be inevitable. It makes no difference whether it were to happen now or in the next five years. For me it is important to know what is happening in that country.’
A few days later, several groups of pilgrims left the city to begin the journey to Tosali, the capital of Kalinga. At night they stayed in a communal camp, where Maskarin told them about the existing situation and the roads. He shared with them his plan and explained the dangers involved. Finally, they approached the hostile country by different routes and were joined up in Tosali. They succeeded in gaining the trust of the people of Kalinga by presenting themselves as faithful people from Magadha, who were resentful about the Maharajah joining the Buddhist sect. This was already known in Tosali because several priests from the Brahmin-court had earlier made their way to the Kalingas. Meanwhile, Maskarin looked at all the penitents he could find in the vicinity of the capital; there were plenty of them. For his purpose he needed someone who looked exactly like him. At last, he discovered Muta. For several days his whole attention was concentrated on him. Maskarin’s friends also visited the penitent at various times. Muta lived not far from the city, under a pippala-tree, at the rear of which was built his thatched hut.
Muta was renowned as an ascetic and fortune-teller. Even high government employees and the Raja liked his judgements because he never allowed himself to be swayed by either power or position.
Late one evening—as the dark starlight slowly turned bluish under the rays of the rising moon which threw its light on the entrance to Muta’s hut—two men grabbed the penitent. He woke up, startled, attempted to free himself but failed. A menacing knife was aimed at his breast by a third soldier.
‘Put on this pilgrim’s clothes. If you call out, your sojourn on earth is finished.’
‘What do you want of me?’
‘Put the clothes on and follow us.’
‘Cursed are you, denigrators of Brahmins!’
Blindfolded, he was led away in an ox-cart in the direction of Madhyadesa.
The following morning at daybreak, Muta, eyes staring, immobile, even more silent, was again sitting under the rustling leaves of the pippala-tree. Young maidens fetched him the finest of fruits, trying to entice him to tell sweet secrets about their future and women placed milk, rice and ghee in front of him, wanting to know whether a son or a daughter would be born to them or if their daughters would secure the right husband. Word about Muta’s fame was spreading. From far and near from the land of the Kalingas, people came to him. As secretive as people were with strangers—the Raja did forbid them under threat of death from supplying any information to strangers—as talkative they were towards the ascetic, who enjoyed the trust of the subjects and their king who, after all, was one with his people.
One day, a simple Brahmin came to see him.
‘Holy Muta, my heart aches because of what is happening in the Kalingas. Let me spill it out for you, one bestowed with great wisdom. All that is right and proper is being trampled on in our country, and all in name of the gods.’
‘What do you call proper, noble Brahmin?’
‘Partaking in all the good things and the duties of the people, since evil as well as neglect of duty is improper.’
‘Nowadays one teaches, proper is what is to the advantage of the people!’
‘Yes, yes, Maharajah Ashoka has turned into a Buddhist so Kalinga has to resurrect the ancient faith. We know these misleading words: The gods are safe only in Kalinga! So, they will ass
ist the Kalingas and the blame is turned fully towards Ashoka, thus one is lying! The gods will stand behind the strongest ones, Muta, so make yourself strong! The whole country has to rally around to defend and to attack. He who opposes this violation of our sacred laws is a traitor. Stand firm against the godless heretic! Pretend you want peace but gird yourself for war! Be false and deceitful, if the needs of your country require it! They want the countries that have as yet not followed the heretical views of the Buddha to be annexed to the Kalingas: Suhma, Banga, Anga. And then cast their greedy eyes on Magadha and Videha. These countries belong to the gods, do they not, and so now to Kalinga. Every young man has to prepare himself for war, although our sacred laws forbid it, as though everyone is a Kshatriya! Everyone has to contribute his wealth to the heavy war taxes and everywhere there have sprouted large exercise grounds and workshops for weapons. That is how it is, Muta. This violation of our sacred rules only started after those power-hungry followers of Prince Sumana came from Mahyadesa to our country. They incited the King and the governors of the country against Pataliputra!’
‘The wild heretic is a danger to Kalinga!’
‘But, Muta! Buddhism can only lessen the danger! The Buddhist does not want war! And what about Ashoka’s power? What stopped him from taking over the weak Kalinga years ago? It is because of the exhortations of these power-hungry ones, the vengeance that is afire in the heads of the Kshatriyas and the Brahmins who have fled from Magadha.’
‘Whosoever wants to win, needs to know the game, holy Brahmin.’
‘But what happens if one makes up the game, merely for the sake of winning, Muta? Prince Sarata and the priest Shakuni are making a band of predators of our people, with no human feelings left anymore! No mercy for the enemy, only unrelenting warfare. Each killing, each slander, each injury weakens his power: so kill, so slander and injure him! How great will our people become once we are in power. It is one great runaway war-frenzy, Holy Muta! An outlander Prince who dictates our laws, an exiled Brahmin from Magadha, who preaches bottomless hatred … Muta, how will this end?
Ashoka the Great Page 64