‘Did you warn the Raja about the great power of Ashoka?’
‘The people ridicule me! They think that they are by far superior with their contempt for death, with their cruelty, their indomitableness, their stubbornness. The Raja casts eyes at the ivory tower of Pataliputra. One buys herds of elephants in Yakshapura and Manipura1 on the other side of the sea.’
‘You forget, Brahmin, that Buddhism is heresy.’
‘Foolishness! Like all the other sects it comes and goes again and Brahmanism remains. One joyfully shouts here that the throne-thief is making himself powerless because of Buddha’s sutra – Thou shalt not kill! Will there be a war, Muta?’
Muta stared into the future. ‘Yes!’
‘Right. I am not concerned whether Kalinga wins or loses. All gain and harm through war means a loss for the people. Are the priests performing offerings to ask for fertility and prosperity from the gods, Muta? No, they ask for their powers to be increased! Will the Kshatriyas protect our country? No, they want to expand the power of the king for their own advantage! Will the Vaishyas take care of our food? No, they are going to war! Will the Shudras serve the other varnas? No, they serve the people who will acquire power! All for the sake of the war against the Maharajah, whose power they earlier desired from the hands of the weakling, Sumana. Thus, all values of our eternal laws are destroyed, and the folly of their power-greedy endeavours becomes the truth. Where will all this end, Muta?’
Some days later Muta was visited by Prince Sarata and Shakuni.
‘What is it that the holy Muta forecasts about the war with Magadha?’
‘You wish to hear the truth?’
‘We are only interested in what the holy Muta forecasts for the people of Kalinga.’
‘I only foretell what is true.’
‘What is true? In Magadha it is true what the Buddha says, earlier the Vedas. Thousands of things are truth to one but falsehood to another!’
‘What then do you call true, holy Shakuni?’
‘Truth is what enhances or can enhance the power of the country.’
‘So, truth is that the Maharajah of Aryavarta is a weakling.’
‘Better speak about the impotent one.’
‘So, the truth is that the Kalingan army is stronger than that of Ashoka’s!’
‘Certainly. In number we may be smaller but our army will not spare the enemy, it will sacrifice its life to inflict any harm on the Maharajah. And the gods ally themselves on our side.’
‘Just as it was in the days of Sumana?’
‘My oldest brother was mad because he failed to understand what was true.’
‘So, the truth is that your older brother was mad hence Ashoka naturally was accepted as the one to be the Maharajah.’ Sarata flushed.
‘Ashoka would have been defeated if Sumana had realised where he stood, penitent!’
‘And you are simple enough to believe that the Maharajah did not know about the sacrifice of the twelve priests and the twelve sramanas?’
Shakuni flared up. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I am a fortune-teller and thus all-knowing!’
‘Kalinga needs sages who know what strengthens the faith and empowerment of the king and his army. The gods help those who have the power!’
‘That is why the gods assisted Ashoka against his brothers and Sela against Sampadi.’
‘That is only on the surface. The truth is that Kalinga plays host to the gods, feeds them and quenches their thirst with sacrifices so we can trust them.’
‘So, that is how Sumana, Aradi and the council could place their trust on …’
‘Foolishness! The truth is that Ashoka has become impotent because of his Buddhism so that our army is now the strongest in the world! The gods bide their time. That is the truth and it will lead us to power! Do you understand that well, Muta?’
‘And if I foresee a different truth?’
‘Priests who cannot bring their ideas in line with that of the rulers of the people have to disappear,’ Shakuni said coldly. ‘We do not tolerate heretics here like they do in Magadha. Once Kalinga rules, we will annihilate them.’
‘And the ideas of the rulers are determined?’
‘Certainly, we determine them ourselves! Were you to refuse them you would be cast aside. We will not let ourselves be thwarted by sages under pippalas. Moreover, there are many other sages who do know the rightful truth!’
‘And the people of Kalinga?’
‘Kalinga is the people and the people, Kalinga; and I am its chief priest. The one mighty god now is: victory!’
‘I do not think of harming our own country but I know that once again a Prince of the Mauryas underestimates the power of the Maharajah. His successes do not only deal with peaceful labour. Do you know the army camps of Pataliputra?’
‘You can leave that to us, holy Muta. We demand of you that you be convinced of our view and act accordingly, in case the Raja were to consult you. I am a priest.’
‘Do find out and in secret what the Maharajah is doing to prepare his army.’
‘Many from Magadha came here, so we know.’
‘Send out the spies!’
‘Spies betray both sides to get a double advantage.’
‘Think of the mahamatra of the Sodra border. He has made a marriage proposal to the daughter of Ashoka in vain.’ Shakuni’s ears seemed to perk up sharply.
‘What is his name?’
‘Rauma.’
‘A Brahmin?’
‘Yes.’
‘As reliable as his master?’
Muta kept silent.
Soon, he was summoned to appear before the Raja. He sent an answer that his karma would not permit him to leave the holy place. The Raja, having understood the suggestion that had been given, rode on his elephant to the ascetic’s abode under the pippala.
‘Holy Muta, who will win the battle between Kalinga and Magadha?’
‘The Raja of Kalinga attempts to make his army an invincible power. The gods will bless the ones who deserve it, Gracious King.’
‘When will it be the auspicious time to begin the war, holy Muta?’
‘The Maharajah weakens his powers the more he loses himself in the new doctrine. The longer you wait, the more will fortune act in your benefit.’
‘But the longer I wait, the more my country will be impoverished. No King can carry on like that, unless he enlarges his dominions and brings his land in conformity with his army. Otherwise, his dominions will be either an elephant with the legs of a deer, a huge banyan with the stem of a bamboo or an eagle with the wings of a parakeet.’
‘Would it not be more harmonious if the honoured Raja were to prune down his army in proportion to his country? A stranger easily takes risks with a strange people but a King cannot shape his actions according to a stranger’s views.’
‘You think that the gods condemn my endeavours.’
‘He who wants to establish a great kingdom is not praised for his endeavours but for his success; one does not condemn him for his cruelty against peoples and monarchs but for his miscalculations, his lack of wisdom: Which mongoose will trample an elephant, which ear of wheat cast its shadows over an areka-palm, which human being will conquer a god!’
‘Do I do well to prepare for battle for the sake of the gods of Aryavarta?’
‘Sir, I am a fortune-teller, I predict the future. I do not take it upon myself to pass judgements. Let he who starts the war reap the rewards and accept the burden of the consequences: death and pestilence. And may he who cherishes peace, warm himself in the happiness of his people. The arbiter in this life is your own atman, after your death, the eternal Atman. You must decide about your people, not the foreigner.’
‘My army will be invincible.’
‘The army of the Maharajah is huge and strong, yours is huge and strong like the bull of Shiva. Cut off his head and he is lost; cut off a horn and with the other one he will kill the attacker.’
The King explained l
engthily and Muta asked as much.
When the King had returned to the palace, he summoned Prince Sarata and Shakuni. He informed them about all his new objections. Both the Magadhans knew that they had to convince him anew that the Kalingas could be the only victor against the powerless Maharajah. But as soon as they returned home, they organised a meeting of the most important Brahmins of Pataliputra. There, Muta was sentenced to death by drowning in the crocodile pond, as he was found guilty of obstructing the work of the gods.
During the night a dozen soldiers overpowered Muta and brought him in an ox-cart to the city. He was taken to a remote lotus-pool.
‘Take a bath, holy Muta, before we talk with each other.’
‘I only bathe myself in my hut.’
‘This time you will have to do it in the holy pond. You betray your country. You have to purify yourself for that calumny.’
The penitent understood the intention of Shakuni. He sensed the hooded eyes of a giant crocodile. Its head was just above the water. Muta kept staring ahead, motionless, seemingly preoccupied, but appraising the danger anticipated. Then he turned around.
‘Cursed are you, Shakuni, despicable tyrant of a gang of assassins who wishes to sacrifice our hard-working people out of your selfish hate!’
‘Hurry up. Else, we will have to ask two Shudras to force you. My hand will not touch you. I am a priest.’
‘Take a bath, holy Muta,’ Prince Sarata added now.
‘And cursed are you too, Maurya; you will be amongst the first ones to be killed in the war that you initiate over our poor people. Both of you are like the crocodiles there basking between the white lotuses.’
Muta then stepped into the pool and with a terrified cry he disappeared under the surface, as the crocodile submerged, too. There was violent movement, then the water turned calm. The other two moved away, silently.
The next morning Muta was seated again in his regular place under the pippala-tree. Briefly he told his pupil what had happened.
‘That was a dangerous adventure, sir.’
‘Not so bad. The only thing is that one has to dive and swim better than a crocodile. Before diving I had spotted a place underneath the lotus-leaves. Evidently, the crocodile was a wise one, who seemed to have more respect for the robe of a penitent than the priest Shakuni. Perhaps, he had already been fed enough by the Magadhan friends of the Raja. And I was armed with a razor-sharp knife as one always has to be prepared.’
‘And now?’
‘Travel as fast as possible to Rauma, inform him twice, and bring twenty horse-soldiers here from Kosala all disguised as pilgrims.’
Again, the King came to Muta and bowed before the penitent, who was then practising his yoga and did not seem to notice the Raja. At last, the ascetic emerged from his exertions.
‘Gracious Raja, I hope you did not have to wait too long.’
‘I did not want to disturb you, holy Muta, from what is loftier than worldly interests.’
‘For a king foremost among his interests should be the happiness of his people.’
‘Do I do well for these interests, if I conquer Suhma, Anga and Banga, which do belong to the gods? It is for the gods, my Muta.’
‘I am a fortune-teller, gracious Raja, and do not desire to speak for the gods.’
‘Will I succeed in conquering them?’
‘No. Ashoka will not tolerate even a handful of earth being taken away from him.’
‘Ashoka is a Buddhist; he is not allowed to kill.’
‘But he is a strong Maharajah.’
‘Will he lead his army himself?’
‘He has very capable army chiefs.’
‘Is there a chance that he himself will fall in battle?’
Muta was startled.
‘Prince Sarata should know that there is no chance of that happening.’
‘With a surprise attack.’
‘Ashoka has never let himself be taken by surprise.’ ‘What is your advice, holy Muta?’
‘Expel the foreigners and make friends with the Maharajah.’
‘My people have been brought up for years with hatred for the throne-thief.’
‘Maharajah Bindusara knew who he chose as his successor. Aryavarta is flowering. Can you say that about the Kalingas, High Raja?’
‘What do you predict, holy Muta?’
‘Your fall.’
‘My fall?’ The Raja was startled. ‘Holy Muta, all fortune-tellers talk to me about victory.’
‘Shakuni and Sarata wanted to force me, too, to forecast a victory for you.’
Towards nightfall, both the Magadhans came again. ‘So, you survived, Muta.’
Muta betrayed neither with movement nor with a glance that he had noticed the presence of the two men.
‘You predict the fall of Kalinga to the Raja. So, you betrayed Kalinga again! The army will be defeated! You are the sole one who encourages the indecisiveness of the King, you, traitor! The whole population is united to defeat the heretic. We, the army commander and the highest priest of Kalinga, sentence you to death by drowning in the Mahanadi. Or, do you as yet want to predict success for the King in the coming battle?’
Muta did not reply with a single word to Shakuni’s threat. With eyes that ranged far, he looked into infinite space as if the threat was not even meant for him.
‘So, you refuse!’
Shakuni signalled with a whistle. A few riders approached with an ox-cart.
‘It is your own choice, Muta. Give thought yet and we will leave you to your peace!’
Muta persisted in his motionless state. Suddenly, some twenty soldiers appeared from the woods, their heavy arrows pointed at the visitors.
A short, fierce battle followed, in which all the Kalingans and two of Muta’s soldiers were killed. Shakuni and Sarata were overpowered. With all speed they were led towards the border. Muta remained under the pippala-tree, unmoved and undisturbed. Even during the investigation that followed in the night, he persisted in his silence. Human deeds were out of his scope. The dead bodies indicated that it had to do with warriors from Magadha, so that most likely Shakuni and Sarata were abducted by soldiers of Ashoka.
‘Before sunrise, a hundred heavily armed riders to the border!’
After the troops had left, Muta threw aside his penitent’s clothes, took a horse that Sura had left behind for him and, a warrior now once more, rode into the dark night on the road to Magadha. Towards morning he caught up with the little band, ordered that both prisoners be left behind, and took flight as fast as possible.
In Tosali they could not understand the connection: Was Muta a traitor? After all, he had left without a trace. The soldiers told how a strange warrior had caught up with the group, thrown the captured ones out of the ox-cart, and had fled with the others in the direction of Magadha. They then returned to the capital. It was no longer difficult for Shakuni and Sarata to convince the Raja of Muta’s betrayal and their visions about the war.
Ashoka had chosen for Muta a pleasant place on the road to the army camps and had him heavily guarded day and night. One day, when Muta had accepted his fate since long and had resumed his spiritual practices at a quiet place, the ascetic was brought to the palace to the great auditorium-hall, where the Maharajah awaited him, surrounded by his ministers and other high employees. Muta stood erect before the ivory throne as if the meeting was not of interest to him.
‘Is the holy Muta content with his new living place?’
‘The Maharajah of Aryavarta does not fear the curse of an ascetic who has accumulated his karma sky-high.’
‘No. To me a power was given that leaves no place for fear. You, too, do not know it, I hear. But maybe, you and I can discuss certain things in the interest of the Kalingas.’
‘I am not interested in earthly affairs.’
‘You are a fortune-teller, and as such, are consulted by the Raja and his high servants?’
‘An ascetic also needs care taking and safe rest.’
‘Are
they not earthly affairs? And the happiness of the Kalingas? Is the holy Muta indifferent to it like the barren rock is to the sun’s rays?’
‘That happiness is the concern of the King, O, Maharajah.’
Ashoka smiled at this overture. ‘And of the ascetics, who by means of their karma keep alive the most beautiful of what supports man in his life’s struggle, hope.’
For the first time the Maharajah noticed that the penitent made a gradual movement as though to bow and he smiled again.
‘And if that concern leads to the downfall of land and people?’ Ashoka continued.
‘No government consciously takes measures for its downfall.’
‘But factually!’
‘Do you know what is true?’
‘Truth is that which increases the power of Kalinga; that is the Kalingan truth. Another truth is that no country can conquer the empire of Chandragupta and Bindusara: that is the reality of Aryavatha, a certainty that is as certain as the night follows the day. What chance do you, counsel of the Raja, then give the army of the Kalingas? Against my army with its inexhaustible resources out of the whole of prosperous Aryavarta! The number? Unlimited is my army. Courage, mercilessness, disregard of death? I will give my army as much of it as it needs to destroy the Kalingan! Or, do Shakuni and Sarata think they can strike at me personally? Do you believe that, after the twenty-fold attempt of Sumana’s? And do you still believe in the help of the gods after the battle in front of the gates of Pataliputra? I do not want a war, holy Muta, I want peace in my countries. But when power-hungry or avenging Princes or priests want to unsettle that peace, I will destroy them.’
‘Protect peace with war, Maharajah?’
Ashoka smiled for the third time.
‘Protect peace for the sake of peace! To conquer, to root out the evil, if that is the ultimate demand for peace.’
‘Creation knows only struggle, might and desire. So, your war will be eternal.’
‘Creation is maya. Over it is the human Atman that will reign in step with the All-will. Shiva is the Lord of life and of death. But within that unity, the Lord of Life should order the law to the Lord of Death. Do you believe that the human being within the depths of his being desires war? Do the people of Kalinga desire war, Muta? Or, is it the Raja, the Saratas, the Shakunis: the might, the revenge, the desire?’
Ashoka the Great Page 65