Ashoka the Great

by Keuning, Wytze

  Will it still recognise the weary wanderer?

  The simplicity of the melody, its tender and beguiling tone of voice and veena, the dreamy singing, touches all deeply, but most of all Kancha: she alone feels the aching pain this song invokes in Kunala.

  ‘Tirha was a beautiful period, my love,’ she whispers to him, and a strange pain stabs her breast. She stands up quickly, takes his hand and leads him to the tent at the back of the boat. Before long the Yuvaraja falls asleep but the Yuvarani weeps soundlessly: ‘freed himself of life’s thirst’, ‘in touch no more with the old stead’… Kashi in the soft glow of the moon … the Wheel of Dharma … it pulls him forth but … booms … past her …

  Before Surya’s Ushas open the gate, the helmsman steers his boat and follows the winding course. On the other side of the Ganga, thousands of bathing pilgrims await the appearance of the Sun-goddess, and ignore the slender ship that swiftly sails in its journey to the capital.

  When one afternoon it arrives in the port of Pataliputra, Kancha sends Diti to Satyavat with the request to come to the Ganga as soon as possible. Satyavat and Rohini are sitting by their lotus pond when they see Diti approach. Overjoyed, they run to greet her but struck by her downcast bearing, they hesitate and draw back.

  ‘Tulya … Diti?’

  ‘Dead …’

  ‘Dead!’

  ‘Satyavat, go to the port at once. The Yuvaraja and the Rani have arrived in a Ganga ship and wish to speak to you.’

  ‘Diti, what is it?’

  ‘Satyavat, go. And keep quiet!’

  Satyavat dashes to the port where Kanchanamala awaits him. He drops down before her and bows deeply to the floor.

  ‘You here, high Rani?’

  She leads him. ‘There is my Raja.’

  ‘Stand up, Satyavat, I am … blind,’ he says softly. ‘Sit down, Satyavat. I will tell you what happened in Taxila.’

  Deeply stirred, Satyavat listens to Kanchanamala’s sad story, which she tells calmly and with restraint.

  ‘Help us, Satyavat. We do not know the extent of the Agramahisi’s power. Can we reach the Maharajah without being seen?’

  ‘Alas, I do not know. The Agramahisi keeps away all those who do not please her … for the benefit of the Maharajah.’

  ‘Do you know Katchayana?’

  ‘No, but he is a priest and is under sharp observation by the secret police.’

  ‘Has he been in the palace? Maharani Karuvaki suspects that mother Tishya Rakshita has had help from a lipikara but none of Father’s government officials would have allowed themselves to commit such a vile deed. She thinks only Katcha would have been so persuaded to aid her. Do you know the physicians that visited the Maharajah?’

  ‘All but one. He was received by the Agramahisi herself.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘A stranger. During one night in Kartika; he stayed the entire night.’

  ‘After he had examined the Maharajah?’

  ‘No, he never went to the Maharajah.’

  ‘And he stayed for an entire night?’

  ‘The Agramahisi received him in the Maharajah’s working chamber for consultation about the illness.’

  ‘In the working chamber!’ bursts out the Yuvaraja. ‘Did she know about the secret seal of the Maharajah, Satyavat?’

  ‘I do not know, high Yuvaraja, but she was the confidante of the Maharajah, passing on his orders.’

  For a long time a heavy silence reigns in the tent.

  ‘How do we get to the Maharajah without being noticed?’ asks Kancha. ‘Can you announce our presence?’

  ‘Certainly I can do that, high Rani, but our Lord will not believe me. And if he were to believe it, he will die of fright.’

  ‘Let us go to the palace without delay,’ says the Yuvaraja.

  ‘Perhaps, it is better to prepare him,’ thinks Kancha. She continues after a short silence: ‘Your father took much pleasure in your singing. Can you hide us close to his working chamber, Satyavat?’ Satyavat thinks for a moment.

  ‘You are not safe from the Agramahisi’s sharp eyes in any of the rooms … but the warehouse where the royal carriages are kept is close by and can be reached without being noticed, through the park. The Maharajah can always be found in his working chamber in the evening, as the Yuvaraja knows well.’

  ‘Good, Satyavat, we will hide there. And we will draw the Maharajah’s attention by Kunala’s playing and singing so that Father can but suspect one thing, that Kunala himself is here. Then the shock will be less great.’

  When Surya sinks down in the west, the Raja and Rani are brought in two palanquins to the carriage shed. Then Satyavat stumbles back home. Rohini attends to the three travellers with great tenderness. A trusted sentry-maiden is stationed by the door of the shed, allowing no one to enter.

  Ashoka enters his working chamber. Satyavat, as always, is in the audience hall where messengers ask for his permission to be admitted to the Maharajah.

  The Emperor peruses a number of lipis that have come from various departments. Pondering, he looks out through the window at the park, where the luxuriant flowers of Vesanta captivate his eye. So blooms his great empire, too: one great Spring-empire, he admits to himself with pride. How will all this continue? He smiles, feeling happy that he has brought peace to his empire so that all can enjoy such overwhelming beauty. Kunala and Kancha, too. Because of his physical weakness, he suddenly feels a stronger longing for his son, also more remorse for his own neglect of him. Now all will be well again and he looks forward with impatience for a message he has long been waiting for. He knew: it would be an endorsement of his view, that the Yuvaraja settled the unrest out in the West so capably. And yet, a certain restlessness occupied him, beginning from the day Kunala left. But surely, he can trust on his strong army and Tulya! Ashoka continues his work. Suddenly the playing of a veena is heard. It moves him. And then a soft song …

  ‘A pilgrim silently approaches his old father’s home…

  Will it still recognise the weary wanderer?’…

  The Emperor starts, clutching at his pounding heart. Fever, delirium! It cannot be otherwise! His wild dreams of late have weakened his resistance. And the music goes on!

  ‘The dazzling glow of the eye faded in fierce strife

  From the radiant light to gloomy, dark night’…

  He must be dreaming! Oh, Gods, he is dreaming that Kunala …

  ‘Satyavat! Satyavat!’ Satyavat dashes in.

  ‘What do you want, Lord!’ His voice is quivering with alarm.

  ‘Am I dreaming, Satyavat? Who is singing there? Do you hear it, too?’

  ‘Yes, Lord.’

  ‘Then I am not dreaming! Who?’

  ‘I shall send someone to investigate, Lord!’

  ‘The eager mind unfolded its painful becoming,

  Freed itself through hard struggle of life’s thirst …’

  Ashoka listens nervously, both hands on his pounding head. Has his illness stricken him so much that he cannot even bear memories? The voice is now silent, finally, and the veena, too. It must have been a dream, a hallucination, pure fancy playing tricks on him! He breaks out in a cold sweat and falls on to a seat. The slave enters.

  ‘Who is it, Dolo?’

  ‘A blind veena player and his wife, gracious Maharajah, have been given shelter in the carriage-shed.’

  ‘Strange. What does he look like?’

  ‘Weather-beaten, in faded clothing, Lord, as though they have arrived from a long journey.’

  ‘What does he want here?’

  ‘To speak to the holy Maharajah, Lord.’

  Again, an unreal dread overcomes him as if the frightening dream will follow him and become a torture. Will Kunala now appear in the dream? And Kancha? As artists, in pauper’s garb? That unendurable uncertainty. Is this reality or a feverish delusion? Is his illness returning?

  ‘Bring the strangers here, Dolo!’ An eternal torment …

  Then Satyavat enters with two pe
ople, heads bowed low. Ashoka looks at them in alarm.

  ‘Who are you, veena-player! Tell me: are you Kunala or are you not! I want to know if I am awake or dreaming. Kancha!’ Rapidly and nervously the words fly. For the first time in his life the Emperor loses his self-control. He walks to her and embraces her wildly.

  ‘Kancha, is it true? Is that Kunala? Or, is it a delusion!’

  ‘No, my Father, I am really Kunala.’

  Ashoka turns pale. He braces himself and collapses. Satyavat grabs hold of him, lowers him down onto a bench and orders Dolo to fetch water. Kancha helps him but Kunala stands motionless; he can only guess what is happening. When the Maharajah recovers he gets up and staggers over to the blind one.

  ‘Are you blind, my son?’ He holds himself back with all his might. He puts his arms around his son, strokes his hand, the beloved face, as if to know for certain that it is his son indeed and not an apparition that stands before him. The harrowing pain overpowers him again, when he sees the truth. Finally, he breaks down and weeps.

  ‘Kancha, tell me. What does this mean?’

  ‘Sit down, my Father, I will tell you everything, however difficult it is for me.’ And while Ashoka cradles Kunala, clasped in his arms, Kancha gives an account of the horrifying events that led to the Raja’s blindness. Ashoka is immensely agitated but strives to curb his emotions.

  ‘Who sent that lipi, Kancha?’ he asks tightly.

  ‘You must know that, my Father, as one whose secret seal has been used. Here is the lipi.’

  Ashoka snatches at it angrily. ‘I do not recognise this writing. Radhagupta is my most loyal friend; he is no less devoted to Kunala and she can barely read or write.’

  ‘Then she must have had help,’ remarks Kancha icily.

  Shocked, Ashoka looks at her. ‘Then you think that …’

  ‘As far as we know, there is no other possibility.’

  ‘Who wrote it then?’

  ‘Her friend.’

  ‘Her friend!’

  ‘A strange physician.’

  ‘Kancha, how do you know that!’ he asks aghast.

  ‘It is a guess of mother Karuvaki, Father. We visited her while on our journey. She thinks that no one in Pataliputra, apart from Katcha, is capable of such a crime.’

  ‘Karuvaki …’ He reflects for a long time, recalling Tishya’s attitude in Gaya, at Tarata and during his illness. At last he says: ‘Satyavat, alert the secret service. Send Sinhi and Rita to Katcha with the message that he must come immediately to the Agramahisi and in the disguise he wore in Kartika. If he refuses then Girika’s men will take him prisoner and bring him here. They will follow on foot. Tell the prime minister I am expecting him.’…

  ‘But what could have moved Tishya to strike Kunala like this!’

  ‘She feared Kunala’s return and his succession of the throne. She wanted to retain her high rank.’

  Ashoka shakes his head in disbelief. ‘That cannot be it!’

  ‘There is another reason, my Father, which Kunala and I have kept from you. Once when he was playing and singing in the stone wing, Mother Tishya tried to seduce him into dishonour. He refused and in her rage she swore his death.’

  Ashoka is startled. ‘Why did you keep this from me!’

  ‘I wanted to spare you the grief,’ says the Yuvaraja softly.

  ‘To bring on yourself the greatest sorrow!’

  ‘Forgive me, my Father, for me it is not such a great pain. The experiences which came to me through the gateway of the eyes distressed me. I saw clearly what I felt to be my faults and I was bound by your greatness. In my soul, I became more and more convinced that it was out of my reach, that I would not be able to support the great building of your life’s work, even if I would have earnestly tried to. Without the support of a mighty army, I would not be capable of maintaining peace in northern India, or to bring it to the world. To keep control over the small people of Bactrians, I already used all my armed forces. This doubt ruined my life and… your words of support did not come.’

  ‘I was ill!’ cried the Maharajah.

  ‘I am not blaming you, my Father. It was my own weakness not to be able to bring harmony between what I saw happening around me and what was happening within me, the yearning of my spirit to realise your great ideas, with what I believed to be your judgement of my works … That struggle was too heavy for me … And so I was even more inclined to obey what I thought was ordered by you. Now remains for me only the eye of inner vision. And that gives me peace, my Father.’

  ‘But I gave you complete freedom! I have also often failed in my life! Your deeds there told me that one day the harmony would grow, by nature and spirit, if that demon had not…’

  ‘And if this gives me peace and happiness?’

  ‘India! I have to judge as the Maharajah!’

  ‘Is that necessity not exactly the most painful for a ruler?’

  ‘No, because justice and righteousness is the correct foundation on which peace and happiness are built.’

  ‘And if the ruler should fail in his judgement?’

  ‘So, too, will he be judged by a Higher Power!’

  Then Radhagupta enters. He hears of what happened in Taxila from Ashoka himself. Overcome with emotion, he sinks to his knees before Kunala.

  ‘This is the greatest calamity to befall the country and your father, O, Yuvaraja.’

  25

  JUSTICE

  atyavat announces Katchayana’s presence.

  ‘Let Tishya Rakshita be brought in.’

  There is an unusual tightness in Ashoka’s bearing, as though he is bracing himself for fierce defiance. Yet, his face no longer shows any trace of emotion.

  ‘You, Radhagupta and Kunala, will make up my Supreme court.’

  ‘Father, I am myself the victim …’

  ‘Kancha, sit next to Kunala.’ The Emperor ignores his son’s quiet objection and proceeds. ‘Dolo, place a seat for the accused, across from the Yuvaraja.’

  Tishya Rakshita enters with her most captivating smile. She wants to ask: ‘What do you wish, my beloved King?’ just as Asandhi always did, but the smile dies with the first word. An ashen paleness spreads over her youthful face. Her willowy movements suddenly change into a sagging posture with such effect that even her beautiful gold-embroidered silk cloak loses some of its distinguished opulence. Silently, Ashoka motions for her to sit across from Kunala. A deep silence ensues and all look at the Agramahisi. Her head is spinning. No matter where she looks, intense eyes are assailing her with questions. She wants to organise her thoughts but she cannot. She tries to defy their stares but her confidence quickly crumbles. Then she looks at the black cloth wound around Kunala’s head. And for one brief moment all see a hellish pleasure glint in her dark eyes, before her sharp mind tries to rescue her and fight against all the virtuous ones who wish to laden her with guilt even before she has admitted to it.

  ‘What does the gracious Maharajah want of me?’ She thinks it unnecessary to call upon her smile this time. Ashoka stays silent, stares at her, frigid. She makes a sweeping movement, as though to shrug off all those stares. It does not help. They constrict her like the coils of a python.

  Suddenly she bursts out:

  ‘What do you want from me, Lord?’ For a moment her eyes appear to search for the door, which Satyavat has blocked with three armed maiden guards.

  ‘Is this a court I am sitting in, Lord?’

  ‘Why do you ask that, Tishya Rakshita?’

  ‘Because all of you look at me as though I have committed a crime.’ She attempts to laugh for a moment as if such a thought is thoroughly absurd.

  ‘Curiously, your assumption is correct. From where came that light to you! Look here. Ashoka throws the fateful lipi on the table. ‘Who wrote this lipi?’ Tishya takes it in her hand and reacts with innocent astonishment.

  ‘I do not know, Lord. I read and write poorly.’

  ‘You do not know! Let us assume you are not lying, then tell me to wh
om you betrayed the hiding place of the secret seal. You were the only one, other than Radhagupta, to whom the secret was entrusted.’

  A fierce flush covers her face, then a pallid sallowness follows. ‘To no one, Lord!’

  ‘Who did you allow or receive in these chambers?’

  ‘No one, Lord!’

  The Emperor turns to Satyavat: ‘Did the Maharani receive anyone here during my illness?’

  ‘Yes, Lord, a …’

  ‘Oh yes, an outside physician! Because Vakkula and the others could not cure you, I consulted him.’ Her voice is stronger.

  ‘How did the outsider come here?’

  ‘I sent for him.’

  ‘Through whom?’

  ‘Through … Rita, Lord.’ She herself is alarmed by this admission, feeling that she has again picked a wrong line.

  ‘Have Rita come, Satyavat.’ He turns to Tishya once more. ‘And who was this outsider?’

  ‘I do not know, Lord.’

  ‘Odd. To receive in my working chamber someone you do not know? Who suggested that you consult him?’

  ‘I do not remember, O, Maharajah. Your illness confused me.’

  ‘We have the means to make the accused who do not wish to answer, speak, Tishya. I do not like to use them, but …’

  ‘It was Tarata, Lord, the perfumer!’

  ‘Is that why you were so often with Tarata?’

  ‘No, Lord, it was to buy fragrances.’

  ‘Then you also know the name of this outsider!’

  ‘No, Lord.’

  ‘I do not like to involve people outside the palace in this judicial case but we shall have Tarata come. He will probably wish to avoid the rack, Tishya. How long did the stranger stay?’

  ‘He left the same evening, Lord.’

  ‘Without looking in on the patient?’

  ‘Yes, Lord. He did not know either what it was that afflicted you.’

  Satyavat brings Rita in.

  ‘Satyavat, when did the unknown physician leave?’

  ‘The next morning, Lord.’ Ashoka fixes his stare at Tishya.

  ‘So, you now have lied three times, Maharani! Did the stranger stay in this room?’

  ‘Yes … Lord.’