The Boy From Pataliputra

by Rahul Mitra

  Meanwhile, units of elite troops continued to pour in. They threw protective cordons around the protestors and by evening, the students found themselves completely cut-off from the outside world. To their right was the udyaan, and soldiers hemmed them in from every other side. Tension was rising.

  At dusk, Aditya arrived on the scene with the seventy soldiers under his command. He heard the shouts and screams, saw the multitudes pushing up against the long line of soldiers standing next to the Tamra Nala, and sensed the madness in the air. Looking across the sea of heads bobbing up and down, he could see the three huge structures of wood—pyres being set on fire, one after the other.

  As they slowly caught fire, the flames rose higher and higher, and a hush descended over the entire assembly. Every head in the vicinity was turned towards this spectacle. The flames flickered and danced against the rapidly darkening sky, the sun dipped below the horizon, and a collective sigh seemed to escape from the crowAditya too, was strangely affected by the spectacle. Long forgotten lines that his brother had taught him, came floating back.

  ‘What did you lose, and what did you gain?

  What did you bring with you and what will you take when you go?’

  An ancient rishi had uttered these lines and now for the first time, he thought he could understand what they meant. Why was he sad about Devika, when she had never really been his to begin with? What would he take with himself, when his day of reckoning came?

  He was interrupted in these musings by a summons from Sumukha. Spurring Ashvaghosha around, he silently followed the messenger riding towards the centre of the cordon, where Sumukha stood surrounded by a number of his subordinate officers. Here too, the mood was sombre, as everyone stared at the flames in the distance. Aditya dismounted and followed the soldier.

  “Come Aditya! I will need your help, my friend,” Sumukha smiled at him, a veiled bitterness showing through. Aditya nodded, though his head swam at the sight of this man.

  “I believe you have a number of friends among the students?”

  “I know a few of them, Shreeman.”

  “Well then, Aditya. You see this situation?” Sumukha gestured towards the crowds, “We need someone to reach out to them.”

  Sumukha looked expectantly towards him and then placing one arm across his shoulders, steered him away from the assembled officers. Aditya stiffened- this man was behaving in a most uncharacteristic way.

  “The gods know I want to avoid a bloodbath, and I trust so do you, Aditya. I want you to carry a message of peace to the student leaders, and to Acharya Pundarikaksha. Can you do that?”

  Aditya looked at the handsome face, the same arrogant features and the curl of the lip. He didn’t know what to make of it, but the thought came to him that he would do anything to avoid bloodshed and save his friends.

  “Maharaj Ambhi has issued orders for the students to be dealt with respectfully, Shreeman. I would be willing to do anything I can to assist.”

  Sumukha’s face lit up with a smile.

  “Good boy! You must go in there, meet your friends, and talk to their leaders. These are terms that have come from the King himself. He has put down very simple conditions for peace. The crowd should disperse peacefully and our soldiers will escort Acharya Pundarikaksha to the borders of Gandhara with due respect and honour. Anyone who wishes to accompany him, will be allowed to go unmolested provided they lay down their weapons. However, if these crowds do not disperse by mid-day tomorrow, then the army has been authorized to do whatever is necessary, to restore order. You know what that means, don’t you? So, you must use all your persuasive skills to convince them, once you are in there. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, Shreeman.”

  “Okay, but don’t go just yet. Give them some time to settle down. It’ll be easier for you to reach out to the leaders once the pyres have burnt down completely, the civilians have left and the hotheads have retired for the night. Sit down with them, talk to them calmly, and spend the whole night with them to win their trust. Do whatever it takes to get them out of there peacefully by tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes Shreeman. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I was just wondering why you chose me for this job?”

  “Out of all of us here, you are the one who is best connected to people from the University. They simply do not trust most of our officers. You are also the horse racing champion and a lot of students know you.” Sumukha gave him a pained smile and shrugged his shoulders, “You are the best we have got for the job!”

  What Sumukha was saying seemed fair enough, but a vague sense of unease lingered at the back of Aditya’s mind.

  “I’ll do my best Shreeman,” He said.

  “Good, now get back to your position and spend some time thinking over who you will approach and how you will try to convince them. I’ll send you a messenger when it’s time for you to go, okay?”

  Aditya rode back to his position on the left of their line to compose his thoughts. His mind, which had been troubled and agitated all day was now calm and focused, all distractions banished by the urgency of the situation. He had to find a way to convince the students to back off, or at least to save his friends. If it came to an open confrontation, there was no way they could stand against the army.

  It was all in his hands now.

  In the distance, dark shilouettes could be seen outlined against the bright orange glow of the funeral pyres. Darkness had set in, the crowds had become silent, and the civilians had started leaving. Only the really radical students and refugees now remained, and they could be seen moving about, lighting torches and preparing to settle down for another night that a large number of them would spend out in the open. Aditya gazed at the dying light of the pyres and a deep sense of foreboding seeped into his very bones.

  “He wants to kill you, Shreeman.”

  Aditya was so lost in his thoughts, that he did not quite hear what the man on horseback, who had come riding up beside him, was saying.

  “Messenger from Sumukha, Shreeman,” the man said loudly and then gripped Aditya’s arm.

  “He’s trying to kill you,” he whispered again.

  Aditya frowned and looked at him, “What do you mean?”

  The horseman was young and lean, with eyes that glimmered through the darkness. He again announced in a loud voice.

  “Shreeman Sumukha has ordered you to proceed towards the student agitators with an offer of truce. You are to share their food if offered, and stay the night with them.”

  Then in an undertone, he added, “Listen to me. An attack has been planned for tonight. If you go there now, you will be caught up in it and murdered. It will be made to look like an accident.”

  “There will be an attack?” he whispered, hedging for time. He didn’t quite know what to make of it yet.

  “Yes, Maharaj Ambhi has ordered a strike against the students, provided the civilians, monks, and priests who joined the protest during the day are not present. The student agitators are to be crushed and in the morning, the townspeople are to be told that the students attacked the soldiers in the middle of the night. It’s set to take place in the third prahar of the night.”

  “Why are you telling me all this? Who are you?”

  “You don’t recognize me Shreeman but I owe you my life. You saved my life at last year’s Vasant Utsav.”

  “I saved your life? I . . . I don’t think I knowyou.”

  “You may have forgotten me, but I have not forgotten you. I was the unfortunate man who had fallen down on the tracks during the race. You slowed down your horse and jumped over me even though that could have cost you the race. Most others would not have done the same.”

  Aditya studied his face. He didn’t remember him, but he needed to hear him out.

  “That’s right. I doubt if even my friend Sumukha would have slowed down to save me, like you did.”

  “You are Sumukha’s friend?”

  “Yes Shreeman. We have been frien
ds since we were children, but during a horse race, there are no friends—that’s how it usually works.”

  Aditya looked around at the soldiers standing a few paces away from them. No one could hear them, for they were talking very softly.

  “So the attack will take place during the third prahar?”

  “Yes, get out of there before that.”

  Aditya clasped his arm.

  “Thank you, my friend. If what you say is true, then I will surely repay you some day. What is your name?”

  “My name is Dundubhi and there is nothing left to repay—we are square now. Save yourself, don’t go there, or if you do, then get out immediately and disappear. Stay safe. I must go now.”

  So saying, the man turned his horse around and melted into the night.

  A number of thoughts now rushed through Aditya’s head. The man was Sumukha’s friend-could he afford to trust him? It could all be a trap to have him cross over to the student’s side and be declared a rebel. On the other hand, what if all he had said were true? In that case, his friends were in terrible danger.

  Two things were becoming increasingly clear. One, that Sumukha had it in for him and would try to harm him in some way. Two, that the students were going to be punished or attacked, if not that night, then later. He had to save them and he had to save himself. In either case, he could not diretly refuse to obey Sumukha’s command.

  Aditya stood thinking for a few moments and then called for Utpaldutta, one of his most trusted soldiers. He gave him a message meant for Lakshmana, who was King Ambhi’s bodyguard and Aditya’s mentor at the palace. He meant to keep the palace informed of his own movements.

  That done, he headed straight across the cordon towards the students—there was no time to lose.

  ***

  Four armed students surrounded him. The urgency and importance of his message had finally gotten through and after much discussion; they agreed to escort him to where the leaders were assembled. Small groups of students sat together, or lay stretched out on the ground everywhere and their party had to pick its way through them. Aditya noted that a significantly larger number of students than he had assumed, was carrying arms.

  They walked past the row of ashrams, past the still smouldering pyres, towards Acharya Vishnugupt’s gurukul. This cottage was a little secluded from the rest, and being surrounded by trees, was hidden from the soldiers’ view. Aditya arrived to find an assembly in progress—a mass of students crowded together in the courtyard.

  “Move, move!” shouted the escorts as they pushed their way through the crowd. Students reluctantly parted and made way. A multitude of eyes now turned curiously on Aditya, as they made their way forward. The party had hardly advanced ten steps into the crowd when they found their path blocked by a rather surly young man.

  “Virat!” said one of the escorts.

  “Is he a soldier?”

  “Yes, he has a message from King Ambhi himself, so we thought we would present him here.”

  The young man seemed considerably put off.

  “What are you doing you idiots? Get him out of here. Bhraata is speaking right now. We don’t want government agents listening in. Take him to the volunteers sitting around Acharya Pundarikaksha’s gurukul and wait. I will get Bhraata there for you.”

  “This message is important brother, and needs to be delivered immediately. It’s from Maharaj Ambhi himself and it can save your lives,” said Aditya.

  The man’s eyebrows rose till it was almost a wonder that they did not disappear into his hairline. His nostrils flared and his eyes flashed.

  “We have had enough of your messages brother. We have heard them loud and clear,” he pointed in the direction of the funeral pyres.

  Aditya grabbed his arm, “This will save everyone’s life. The message needs to be transmitted now.”

  With surprising strength, he wrenched his hand free.

  “Take him out of here,” he barked.

  Aditya gritted his teeth as the escort led him away. Precious moments were being wasted.

  A large number of students squatted, sat, and stood surrounding Acharya Pundarikaksha’s gurukul from all sides. They were alert and Aditya noted that they were all armed. It would probably be wise to give the message directly to the leader, else the resultant panic might alert Sumukha and precipitate an early attack. Surrounded by his escort, Aditya closed his eyes and meditated, slowly counting the time, waiting for the leaders to talk to him.

  “Aditya!”

  It was Charaka’s voice. Aditya turned around, surprised. The tall, thin figure was bounding up to him. There was another person at his side—Radha.

  “You too?” he asked in astonishment.

  “You know this person Shreeman Charaka?” asked one of the guards.

  “Aditya, did you hear about Pandi?” Charaka stared wildly at him, his big, bulbous eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

  “No, what about Pandi? What happened?”

  “You must come . . . right now!” Radha grabbed him by the arm.

  “Wait! Wait! He is under guard. You can’t take him,” said one of the students.

  “This is Acharya Pandi’s favourite student. Acharya has been asking for him since yesterday. He is needed there right now,” said Charaka with a firmness that Aditya had never seen earlier.

  “He is our friend, we can vouch for him Soumidh. You can also come along with us, but it’s important that he meets Acharya Pandi,” added Radha.

  “I will vouch for him,” said Charaka.

  His escort looked at him with new-found respect.

  “Well then, we’ll come with you,” he said.

  “One of you stay back, in case I am called for. What about Pandi, tell me?” he turned towards Radha.

  “Come quick,” said Charaka even as Radha started running.

  “What about Pandi?”

  They both filled him in. Pandi and Shilajit had been passing by when a party of soldiers, commanded by Sumukha, had first turned up to arrest Acharya Pundarikaksha. When the unarmed students were being attacked, the two of them had intervened—against thirty soldiers. Pandi had been cut to pieces, but was still hanging on to life. The acharyas and students from the medical school were taking care of those wounded in the attack.

  “How bad is it? And how’s Shilajeet?”

  “You will see, come.”

  A pre-sentiment made him shiver.

  “How bad is it? Tell me!”

  No one answered. They made their way past five or six houses. At the end of the lane, was a small cottage attached to a garden. A group of students maintained a vigil outside, while a feeble light burned inside the cottage. The entire party now crowded inside.

  In the dim light, Aditya could make out seven bodies lying motionless on the floor. Indistinct mutterings from the injured, and the strong metallic smell of blood hung in the air. Some of the patients were awake, for he could see their eyes, but no one complained or moaned. Charaka stepped between the bodies, bent over and whispered something to one of them.

  Aditya followed him and then immediately recoiled in horror. A part of him could not believe what he was seeing. It was Pandi. One part of his face had been sliced open and the bone was sticking out.

  Anger and confusion rose within him like bile. He felt like catching Pandi by the shoulders and shaking him. How could he, the very embodiment of strength and virility, allow this to happen to him? Instead of feeling bad for Pandi, he was actually feeling angry athim.

  “Where all has he been wounded?” he asked Charaka in confusion.

  “Everywhere—shoulder, arms, stomach, face; thirteen wounds in all,” Charaka whispered back.

  One of the escorts began to gag at the stench of blood.“What about Shilajeet?” Aditya whispered.

  Pandi started coughing. There was a long drawn out wheezing sound and Pandi extended his arms. Aditya immediately clasped Pandi’s hands in his own.

  “He has been asking for you,” said Charaka as he too
bent down, “Yes, Pandi?”

  “No Charaka, we have to leave them alone,” announced Radha. She turned around to face the escort, “Come, give them some time together,” she said as she pulled him away. She started hustling everyone out of the room. Soumidh was about to protest, but Radha and Charaka pushed everyone out of the room. They could be heard arguing outside. Inside, Aditya clasped Pandi’s hand in his, and bent his head to listen to him. This was the second shock he had received during the day, and the mind that had been composed and alert a while ago, was now confused, weak, and angry. Everything seemed unreal.

  “How could you let this happen, Pandi? Why did you do this?” he asked. His eyes were brimming with tears that threatened to spill over.

  The horribly cut-up face and the familiar crooked teeth now broke into a painful grimace. There was no mistaking the full-throated smile of the grizzled old mercenary.

  “How did it go with Devika, loverboy?” His voice was hoarse and he rasped, as if his throat was obstructed.

  There was a brief moment of silence. Aditya gritted his teeth and smiled.

  “It was well, Pandi, it went very well. She has agreed to marry me. We are looking for a date now, but only after you get well,” he said. The tears now fell unrestrained.

  Pandi squeezed his hand.

  “That’s good, that’s very good . . . I am happy for you.”

  “Why did you do this Pandi?” Aditya asked again. A master like Pandi would have known what he was getting into. Why hadn’t he just walked away?

  Pandi started coughing. He gestured towards a bowl of water that had been kept near the wall. Aditya immediately got the bowl and tilted it against Pandi’s mouth till he indicated that his thirst was quenched.

  “I had to help them, Aditya . . . they were helpless . . . sitting ducks. . .”

  Aditya gnashed his teeth in frustration. His eyes stabbed angry accusations at Pandi.