The Boy From Pataliputra

by Rahul Mitra

  No one was very clear on what happened next. Apparently, there was a heated argument between the students and soldiers, swords had been drawn, and it had ended in a massacre. Anywhere between thirty to fifty students had been killed, a number of soldiers had been beaten to death, while the rest had been driven back to the city. A furious mob of students now surrounded the gurukul and blocked further attempts to arrest the Acharya.

  By late evening, everyone in Takshashila knew about it. Work came to a standstill, and an atmosphere of dread and uncertainty enveloped the city. People huddled together in small groups, discussing the ‘situation’ and it was clear that matters had come to a head. Tanku’s dhaba was overflowing with excited, animated students. Sameera who was at the dhaba immediately rushed off to inform the others.

  Aditya heard the news at the palace and rushed home as soon as he was free. Rishabha wasn’t there. He went to Radha and Nala’s room, but they too were away. Neither could Charaka tell him anything. Finally, when he had just about decided to go looking for him, he bumped into Rishabha in the lane outside. The place was ominously empty. A few pedestrians, walked around hurriedly with their heads bent, as if rushing about some important business.

  “You . . . where have you been?”

  “I was at Tanku’s dhaba. Did you hear?” Rishabha asked, breathless and excited.

  “Yes, but what exactly happened?” asked Aditya.

  “Is Radha back? Radha and Nala?”

  “No . . . but, come inside first,” Aditya caught hold of Rishabha’s wrist and dragged him into the building. “Wait, let’s go to the terrace.”

  They made their way to the terrace.

  “Radha and the twins were definitely at the University. They must be there in the protests,” said Rishabha.

  “What? How can you be sure?”

  “I know, I saw them in the morning, but I left before everything happened,” said Rishabha. “They are sure to be there.”

  “Do any of them attend Acharya Pundarikaksha’s classes?”

  “Sameera does, but as usual he was bunking today. I heard he was at Tanku’s in the afternoon.”

  “Is he safe?”

  “I don’t know.”

  From the rooftop, they surveyed the city. An eerie silence had fallen over the dark, empty streets. There was no sign of any activity anywhere and yet, there was an unmistakable feeling of restlessness in the air.

  “They could be in danger. Why are you guys getting involved in this stupid thing?”

  “Why? Can’t you see why? We didn’t ask to be involved, Aditya. The King sent soldiers to attack unarmed students and you ask me why? He attacks his own people and feeds the enemy and you ask me why? Aditya, your lord Ambhi is a tyrant and a traitor!”

  “Shhh . . . keep your voice down. What are you talking about? You are not even from here.”

  “So what? We are all Bharatiya, Aditya, and by inviting foreign overlordship and help in our internal squabbles, Ambhi has become a traitor to the nation. Besides, I cannot just stand by and watch, as students and acharyas are tortured and murdered.”

  “That’s not true. Do you know Maharaj Ambhi has expressly ordered that there should be no bloodshed and none of the students or acharyas should be attacked?”

  “Really? Seventy students have been murdered, Aditya; what the hell are you talking about?”

  “That was a mistake. I’m sure, the perpetrators will be punished. You know yourself that Tanku was released with presents of gold and silver, don’t you? You must understand Rishabha that Maharaj Ambhi has a very mild personality. I know, because I have interacted with him.”

  “Really? Then why is he, even now, marshalling his army against the students? I tell you, the army is planning something against the University and it’s our duty to defend it.”

  “No it’s not your duty! You just stay out of it, Rishabha. Don’t try and join them- there’s going to be trouble.”

  “The question is not whether I will join them Aditya. The question is whether you will join us.”

  “What? You must be crazy!”

  “No, I’m not crazy, it’s you who have become blind. Do you even see what is happening in front of you? Our brothers killed, sisters raped, cities burnt to the ground—do you see that? Do you see the plight of these refugees, the children begging in the streets, while the man you serve colludes with these barbarians? Those are our people Aditya, and this is happening because we are weak and divided. If we were united, no one would have dared!” Rishabha said.

  Calming down, he continued, “You know I have joined Acharya Chanakya’s movement, Aditya, and we have already decided—we will resist the invader. Even as I speak, Acharya Chanakya is returning to Takshashila with three hundred armed students. More and more volunteers are joining our cause. Maharaj Puru of Kekeya has determined to oppose the Yavanas and we will join him. A climactic struggle is coming, Aditya. Now the question is, whether people like you, who have valuable military training will join us. You have something we lack and you can help us—you can train us. In fact, it’s your duty to save us, for we are brothers.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Rishabha. All these people who talk about creating a new way, a new India, do you really think they will change anything? Even if you bring in the golden unified India you talk about, who will rule it? Will those rulers be less self-serving and corrupt than our current ones? No, you are just living in a fool’s paradise, if you really believe that. I’ll tell you what will happen-nothing will change but you as the foot soldier will be destroyed. These struggles will grind you up and spit you out.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Aditya. The new system might be corrupt; it may be anything, but this vision deserves a chance. We have seen the present system, the squabbles between kings and tribes that only deprive the common man, this entire edifice that seems to only nourish the most corrupt or the most sycophantic. It simply does not work for us and we will change it. Now I ask you again—will you join us or will you actually take the side of the oppressors? Join us, Aditya!”

  “Are you crazy? I have worked very hard to get where I am today and so have you and I am not going to throw it all away on some goddamned wishy-washy, idealistic scheme. I will not do it and I will not let you do it! You know where both of us started from when we first came to Takshashila and you want me to throw it all away? You know how much we have worked to get to where we are today? It is this position, this influence that will help me take revenge on my brother’s murderers—it will help me impress Devika and reclaim the position of influence that was mine by birth. I cannot, I will not throw it away.”

  Pausing for a bit, Aditya continued, “People respect wealth and power in this world, my friend, and no one cares for a man with no position and no wealth, no matter how idealistic they may be. This is the reality of the world and you, with a brilliant career as a scholar in front of you, will be reduced to nothing if you throw it all away. Don’t do it!”

  “Do not give me your explanations, Aditya Vikram. You don’t need to explain anything to me. The truth is that you have sold out, you have sold your soul and you do not care about anyone but yourself; that is the truth,” said Rishabha, panting with anger.

  “No, that is not true, I just have more sense than you, you idiot: more sense than you will ever have,” said Aditya. His face was flushed and he felt hot around the neck. This accusation from his best friend had cut him deeply.

  Rishabha was breathing heavily and he shook his head up and down. A terrible look of resolution settled over his face.

  “Our paths are different then, brother and it’s not just me. All of us—Radha, the twins, and even Sameera—we’ve all joined the movement. The next time we meet, it could well be in the battlefield, for a battle is coming. Acharya Chanakya has decided to join Maharaj Puru’s army and you, if you continue serving Ambhi, will be with the Yavanas. If I see you there, I pray that God will give me the strength . . .” Rishabha’s voice became choked. Grinding his teeth, he turned
and walked away.

  Aditya wanted to reach out to him, to say sorry, to forget the fight and the stupid things he had said. But something just did not allow him to do it. He was mad at himself for losing his temper, he was mad at Rishabha, and he was mad at the world, which always seemed to spoil his carefully prepared plans.

  Aditya remained on the terrace for a long, long time. That night, he did not sleep. Various things ran through his mind. It was clear that a period of uncertainty was looming on the horizon. It was time to propose to Devika, before the coming troubles blew his life apart.

  Brihadratha had made it clear that he wanted his daughter to get married to Sumukha, but Aditya did not care. All he needed was Devika’s consent and if she agreed, he would get married to her, even if the whole world opposed the marriage. It was time to make a few things very clear. They had been meeting for quite some time and she loved him. It was time to make his move. He decided to go to her house first thing in the morning and propose to her.

  Once his mind was made up, he went downstairs, took out his clothes and locked the room from outside. Rishabha was still sleeping.

  ***

  “I can’t marry you Aditya,” said Devika.

  The starkness of the statement took his breath away. His heart felt like it was sinking, sinking, sinking, deep into a bottomless pit. The world suddenly started spinning around—he felt weak and powerless, and his feet were giving way. He needed to sit down somewhere.

  “Do you want me to buy you a horse? I was just going to buy a horse for you.”

  “I don’t want a horse. I can’t marry you Aditya! My parents want me to marry Sumukha. I can’t meet you anymore.” Her lips trembled and her eyes moistened, “Oh God! That’s why I didn’t want to meet you today. I knew this would happen. I knew it!”

  She seemed to be on the verge of tears.

  “We can talk to them. Let me talk to them, or I can get Pandi to talk to them. We can convince them,” he said weakly.

  “Don’t! You know I have already tried. My father has already warned me—he has said he will not even entertain anyone else if they approach him—he means you!”

  She started crying and Aditya stared at her with unbelieving eyes.

  “But he doesn’t know about my promotion. My salary has almost doubled. Look, let me talk to them.”

  “No. It is of no use.” Tears were streaming down her face. “My father has known their family for a long, long time. I can’t break his heart. He is a conservative man.”

  “Come with me, Devika.” He caught her in his arms, “Come with me. You know you will be happy with me. Don’t do this. I will do anything for you.”

  She was struggling in his vice-like grip, pushing against his chest with all her might.

  “No! Stop it!”

  The blood rushed to his head. He didn’t remember what he said but he abused her race and clan, and then turning around, he stalked towards the exit of the udyaan where he had called her. His thoughts were a mixture of dismay, fury, and helplessness. What did it all mean? All those evenings spent together, all those times that she begged him to come and meet her, all the laughter and the attachment? The nights spent thinking of how to make her smile, what to get for her, how to make her happy . . . it was stupid, stupid, stupid!

  He burst out of the udyaan, What did Sumukha have that he did not? He had achieved everything himself, whereas, Sumukha had been born into wealth. That was all. If that was all she could see, he would certainly not be begging in front of her. To hell with her—to hell with Brihadratha, to hell with the whole rotten lot of them.

  Where was he going? He didn’t know. What would he do now? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was riding away from her. He should seek Pandi’s advice, he thought. After all, it was Pandi who had advised him to ask for a clear answer. No, first he felt like sharing his feelings with Rishabha. He would be mad at being locked in, and he needed to check up on him first.

  Aditya’s heart was beating wildly and he was breathless. An extraordinary energy seemed to have gripped his body. By the time he reached the city, the energy was gone. In its place, was a dark, gnawing cave of emptiness.

  untied Ashvaghosha and rode off in a fury.

  A Revolution Begins

  Outside, all was silent, the streets were empty, and the shops closed. Inside, an intense sense of desolation and loneliness prevailed. The blinding light of the sun bounced off the walls and poured into the inner courtyard. All the houses were locked and empty; not a leaf stirred in the entire building. Aditya had fought with Devika and had come back to find the door of his room shattered. Rishabha was gone—even Charaka was gone.

  He went downstairs, washed his face, and sank into the steps that fringed the courtyard. There was a dull ache in his heart, and an emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Nothing seemed to make sense any more. What was it all for? The very pivot around which he hoped to build a new life, had collapsed, his best friend was running down a suicidal path and worst of all—if King Ambhi demanded action against the demonstrators, he might find himself fighting opposite the only friend he had in the world.

  His mind turned from one topic to another. Fragments of thoughts flitted in and out, and he clutched at imaginary wisps of solutions and memories. From time to time, a thought would enter his mind, and some resolution would seize his soul. He would get up to wash his face, but by the time he was done, the thought would have slipped away like sand between his fingers. He would again sink back onto the steps.

  No, it was not over yet: she loved him! She had said what she had said, under pressure. He would keep at it untill he convinced her. Meanwhile, he must rescue his friends. Somehow, he had to get them away from the disastrous course they were steering. Especially that goddamned fool, Rishabha.

  But the capacity for action, seemed to have left him.

  Memories of Devika came back to him in flashes—things she had said, jokes they had shared, and the moments they had spent together. He felt her presence every time he thought of her, and it brought a smile to his face. At other times, he flew into a rage when reminded of her indifference to him. He thought of his life in Pataliputra and the times with his brother. Her parents would never have rejected him if his brother were still alive. He thought of Rishabha and Radha—two people who had always supported him; friends with whom he had shared his misfortunes. Like a whirlpool, these thoughts and images rushed around in his head but in the end, they all seemed to add up to nothing.

  Time slipped by, unnoticed. The sun had moved along considerably upon its heavenly path when he was interrupted in his reverie. It was Utpaldutta, one of the soldiers under his command, who had come to inform him that they had all been summoned to the royal palace. With his mind still in a daze, Aditya strapped on his sword and shield, mounted Ashvaghosha, and set off towards the palace.

  Seventy men from the household guards were already assembled there. Aditya was to lead them outside the city gates and present himself to Sumukha, who had been assigned to maintain law and order. It was late afternoon by the time Aditya’s unit collected, and finally started making its way out of Takshashila. Aditya followed orders like a zombie. His worst fears had just come true.

  ***

  “Ek, do, teen, chaar, band karo ye atyaachaar.”

  “Ek, do, teen, chaar, band karo ye atyaachaar.”

  “We want justice! We want justice!”

  The slogans crashed against each other, blended together, and came out as a jumbled mass of sound and energy. Above the bedlam, the only thing that could be made out was the passion and the agitation of the crowd. Over six thousand angry protestors had poured into the open maidaan next to Acharya Pundarikaksha’s gurukul and a packed, angry sea of humanity stretched to the horizon. People pushed and jostled each other, faces looked up expectantly from between rows of heads, self-designated volunteers went around, issuing appeals and instructions, and spontaneous bouts of cheering erupted from the crowds at particular instances of defiance from
individuals.

  Within the crowd, smaller groups of friends banded together shouting slogans, swapping rumours and talking excitedly, while others stood on the sidelines, gaping at the scene. Some of the students had climbed trees, while others were hoisted on their friends’ backs to see what was happening at the edge of the crowd where the army had formed a cordon. Masses of common citizens, workers, and even refugees had joined the crowds through the day. Still others had come with food and water for the protestors.

  An unknown merchant had arrived with a cart full of weapons, which he was handing out to everyone passing by.

  “Here you go, brothers! Here you go, careful! Careful with that, my friend!”

  Eager hands reached out to grab the khadgas and spears being distributed. Groups of students, as well as Pakhta and Kamboja mercenaries, openly moved about brandishing arms. At the very centre of the crowd, volunteers had formed human chains around Acharya Pundarikaksha’s gurukul, where the incidents had occurred. The students declared that they would forcefully oppose any further attempts to arrest the Acharya.

  Next to the gurukul, a number of gigantic pyres had been built for the twenty-one students killed. Their cremations were to take place at dusk.

  Since afternoon, people coming in from Takshashila had been prevented from crossing over the Tamra Nala and joining the students. On the University side of the stream, lines of tired and irritable soldiers stared down at the students at the edge of the crowds. Belligerent young students burst through the crowds opposite them, coming up face to face and haranguing the impassive soldiers. The soldiers were almost eight hundred in number, but they did nothing, for no clear orders had been issued.

  The masses in front of them had grown larger and larger, even as the student leaders refused to budge. Repeated calls from different quarters, as well as appeals made by Acharya Pundarikaksha himself, had been ignored. The students wanted Maharaj Ambhi himself to come out and talk to them, for the Maharaja had an image as a young and dynamic reformer, unluckily surrounded by inefficient and corrupt men. In the past, he had frequently responded to public opinion by denouncing his own men, claiming ignorance of their actions, and replacing, or otherwise punishing them. Indeed, there were already rumours that the Maharaj had been exceedingly distressed at the death of the students, and had condemned the incident wholeheartedly.