by Rahul Mitra
“I know, why did I get involved when it has nothing to do with me, right? You wouldn’t have done so, would you?” Pandi smiled again.
“No Pandi, I am proud of you but . . .” his voice was choked.
“But . . . you feel that society has wronged you by murdering your brother, isn’t it? You think that you don’t owe anything to anyone, but they owe you, right? That’s why you only think about yourself, don’t you? It’s the intelligent thing to do.”
“Please, Pandi rest now. We can talk after you get better.”
“No!” Pandi gripped his hand tight, “you listen to me.”
“I am listening, Pandi . . . but . . .”
“Listen to me. I’ll die unhappy, if I realize that my best pupil, the one whom I have taught everything I know, is a selfish man—a man who uses his skill only to earn money for himself.”
“Pandi, please rest today. We will talk tomorrow after you get better,” Aditya pleaded.
“No! You need to learn this and you WILL learn it before I go. I don’t have much time boy,” he whispered hoarsely.
“No, you’re not going anywhere, Pandi. You’re not going anywhere!”
But Pandi’s hands held his in a vice-like grip. The light flickered dimly in the corner.
“Listen to me,” he growled, “how long will you remain on the sidelines, Aditya? You can choose to ignore society, to play safe, to look out only for yourself, but remember the same society that crushes these students today, while you keep silent and do the practical thing, will come for you tomorrow while others remain silent. Let go of your ego, Aditya. You are god gifted but that gift has been given to you for a special purpose. Do not use this skill selfishly, but use it for the right cause. Use your skills for others, not for yourself. This is the most important lesson of being a warrior.”
“Pandi, please, please rest now. I will do whatever you tell me to, but please rest today. Please!”
“Then do your duty; help your friends, save them. Don’t let them be slaughtered just because it is the decision of the powerful. Don’t stand on the sidelines and allow injustice to take place, like when society watched your brother being killed, or when these students were attacked by armed thugs. Do your duty!”
“I will Pandi, I will save them! I promise!” Aditya sobbed.
Pandi quietened down and drifted off to sleep. There was complete silence in the room. Aditya sat very still, concentrating on the unvarying rythms of Pandi’s shallow breathing. Pandi wheezed from time to time, and Aditya patted his hand. A low murmur of voices floated in from outside. One of the wounded had started sobbing softly.
As Aditya gazed at the flickering lamp in the corner one thought was forming with ever increasing conviction—Pandi was right.
d. An eerie chill was felt by one and all.
Chandragupta
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was one of the students.
“They have called you.”
“I am coming. Give me some time with him, I’ll come,” Aditya whispered.
He touched Pandi’s feet.
“Bless me, Pandi. I’ll come back for you.”
There was no anger, no agitation in his mind, just a dull, cold clarity. He would make Sumukha pay for what he had done but before that he would save his friends. The system had taken away his brother, it had crushed Shilajeet and mauled Pandi and now it threatened to take away the only remaining friends he had in the world. This time, he would not remain a by-stander. This time he would fight. If there was to be an attack during the third prahar, he would help the students escape, he thought to himself.
Outside, Charaka and Radha, and the rest of the students were waiting for him.
“Take care of him, Charaka. Save him.”
Charaka mumbled something to the effect that they were doing their best.
“Where is Shilajeet?” asked Aditya. In his heart, he almost knew the answer already.
“He died on the spot.”
Seeing the expression on his face one of their escorts burst out, “He died a hero’s death. Two people holding off thirty attackers— can you even imagine? They are heroes. If it wasn’t for them, a lot more students would have been murdered.”
“They were the first on the scene Aditya, and they did what they had to. The soldiers were butchering the students and no one else was armed,” added Radha.
Aditya closed his eyes and took a deep, long breath.
“Let’s go,” he nodded at Virat, the same surly young man who had stopped him earlier, and had now come to take him.
They made their way back to Acharya Vishnugupta’s cottage. It was fully lit by many torches. The pale, yellow light threw long shadows on some faces; it shimmered and reflected off the naked steel of their swords, and the glittering eyes of the few students who were assembled. The larger assembly had now dispersed, and only about twenty students remained. A short, scrawny-looking young man now disengaged from the crowd, and came up to Aditya.
“Is it true that you have a message from our esteemed King Ambhi, soldier?” The young man had hollowed out cheeks, looked haggard, and he coughed as he spoke; yet his burning, deep-set eyes, strongly pronounced features, and earnest gaze, all conveyed determination and character.
Behind him, Aditya could see all the others, including Virat, turning towards them: all their discussions having ceased. Something about their attitude told him that this man was their leader. He decided to take a chance.
“Shreeman, it is a message of utmost importance. I would request to speak to only you, in private.”
The man’s penetrating gaze now ran over Aditya’s face and a hint of a smile played on his lips. He was clearly impressed, if not flattered by Aditya’s ability to figure out the leader.
“We are among friends here. Every student protesting here is a leader,” he said and those burning eyes once again bore into Aditya. He felt as if every expression, every word of his, was being scrutinized.
Aditya lowered his voice.“Shreeman, what I have to tell you, will save the lives of everyone here—but I stand to forfeit my life, if word of this gets out. Please.”
The young man took just a moment to decide.
“Virat, search him and take his sword. What’s your name soldier?”
Aditya handed over his sword.
“I am Aditya Vikram from Pataliputra, Shreeman.”
“Oh, are you the Vasant Utsav champion? I’ve heard about you,”
Aditya nodded his assent and the young student continued, “I am also from Magadha. My name is Chandragupta, though most people here call me Bhraata.” He motioned to his followers to stay back, “Come Aditya . . . walk with me.”
The other students stood rooted to their positions as they saw Chandragupta and the soldier walk out of the periphery of the cottage. They stopped a little way off and Chandragupta turned towards Aditya.
“So . . . what do you have to tell me?”
“You are about to be attacked Shreeman and it might happen during the third prahar of the night.”
“Are you sure? We have been hearing news that Maharaj Ambhi wants a peaceful resolution.”
“I am not sure if it will happen during the third prahar, but I am very sure that an attack on you is being planned. In case you haven’t noticed, the army has surrounded you on all sides. On one side, your route towards Tamra Nala is blocked, towards the south the army blocks your way to New Takshashila, and they have also formed a cordon towards your left. And towards your right is the udyaan, you control the gates on this side but soldiers have been posted at each of the exit gates. All of these positions have been re-inforced throughout the evening. Everything points towards an attack, Shreeman.”
“Hmm . . .”
Chandragupta’s expression was grave, his nostrils twitching as they always did, when he was in a state of subdued fury. Despite the bluster and confidence of the students, Chandragupta knew that they did not stand a chance in front of a well-organized and equipped army.
“You do?” Chandragupta turned sharply towards him, “What is it?”
“A part of the udyaan walls adjoin those of the stupa and the monastery, Shreeman.”
“The monastery? Yes, that’s it . . . they’ve been supporting us all through; we’re on very good terms with the monks.”
“Me too, Shreeman. Also, note that Maharaj Ambhi has expressly forbidden the attack to take place while civilians and religious folks are present. That’s why they have planned it for the third prahar of the night.”
“Hmm . . .” Chandragupta stood lost in thought.
“Here’s what I would suggest, Shreeman . . .”
The students watching them from the cottage saw the two of them engaged in a serious discussion. They talked on for a little while, before turning back towards the cottage.
“We were anyway planning on going over to the Kekeya kingdom, but only after starting a revolution here and stocking up on volunteers. Looks like we’ll have to make the move sooner than anticipated. But… but why did you tell me all this, Aditya?” Chandragupta asked.
“I cannot watch my friends being killed, Shreeman. They’re all a part of your movement,” Aditya hesitated for just a moment and a lump rose in his throat, “And Pandi was my guru.”
“Pandi was your Acharya?” there was both admiration and surprise in his voice.
“Yes Shreeman, he was more than my Acharya. Should the plan work, please take care of him or else leave him with the monks. I will make sure he is safe and will get him treated immediately.”
“You have my promise. We will do everything we can to save him.”
“Thank you, Shreeman. Now if you will allow me . . .”
“Wait! There’s one more thing—I know that sooner or later, you will join my movement. I can see it in your face. When you do, come straight to me, for we could use a soldier like you. For now, we will be in Keke“Thank you Shreeman. I will surely think about it. But now if you would allow me, I would like to visit Pandi before I go back.”
“Yes, go. But think about what I have said. You will join us Aditya, and one day we will create a new India. I know it!”
Despite everything that he had gone through, those words sent a thrill coursing through Aditya’s veins.
***
“Why did you come back? I ordered you to stay the night,” Sumukha asked. He could barely contain his anger. He had half-expected Aditya to switch sides and stay back in the rebel camp.
“I did Shreeman, but the students kicked me out. They thought I would spy on them . . .”
Sumukha eyed him suspiciously.
“Are you certain they will withdraw tomorrow morning?” he asked.
“Yes, Shreeman. They have agreed to all the conditions. They will lay down their arms and Acharya Pundarikaksha and a few of his pupils will leave for Kekeya tomorrow. The others have sworn allegiance to King Ambhi and want to remain in the kingdom.”
“Hmm . . . they seem to have agreed rather easily?”
“They are desperate Shreeman. It seems many of them have not eaten since yesterday. They also seem to be pretty divided. Most of them want to make peace.”
“Ha . . . I knew this rabble would never have the stomach for a fight!” exclaimed Sumukha.
One of his friends was more suspicious.
“I heard the merchants kept them supplied with food through the day?” he asked.
“Yes, they did, but Acharya Pundarikaksha’s pupils monopolized it.”
They asked him a lot of questions. How many students were there in all? Who were the leaders and where were they positioned? How many were armed? What were their weak points? Aditya rattled off lies, painting a picture of a scared and disjointed rabble that was ready to cave in. His answers seemed to please Sumukha, who finally asked him to get back to his position and be on guard in case of treachery by the rebels.
“Yes, Shreeman,” said Aditya, but his mind was racing. Was Sumukha planning on attacking him that very night? Or, did he want to derive sadistic pleasure by ordering Aditya to fight against his friends?
He shuddered as he rode back to his unit. He had to be on his guard. Also, now that he was tied to his unit, he would have to entrust his part of the plan to one of his subordinates. He found himself wondering what the monks’ response would be when Chandragupta sent his messengers. Would they play along?
No. There was no time to think of that. He had to contact the priests living in the agrahara. With that on his mind, he called his trusted subordinate Niladri the moment he got back to his position. Aditya passed on the message and after a short discussion, Niladri slipped away into the darkness.
With his part of the plan executed, Aditya settled into wait. On the students’ side, innumerable fires were twinkling away. Shadowy figures surrounded the flames and the hubbub of muted conversation floated through the night air. A number of torches also moved from one place to another. There was a lot of activity to the right and complete darkness towards the left, where Acharya Vishnugupta and Acharya Pundarikaksha’s ashram stood. Aditya looked back and surveyed the area behind them. His eyes swept the entire length along the banks of Tamra Nala that stretched out behind the soldiers. There was no hint of any movement. All was quiet and dark.
Time passed by on leaden feet.
It was an oppressive night—there wasn’t a wisp of wind anywhere. The thin slice of the moon moved in and out of the heavy, black clouds that covered the sky. The omens did not look too good.
Aditya tried to figure out how much time remained till the third prahar. So far, there had been no orders from Sumukha, or any signs of disturbance along the Tamra Nala. On the students’ side, the fires died down one by one, drenching the entire area in thick, inky darkness. In the soldiers’camp, there was the neighing of horses, the continued hubbub of conversations from all along the line, and the occasional sound of galloping hooves that signified messages being passed along. Things were more mysterious on the other side. There was the shuffle and rustle of bodies moving about in the darkness, but nothing could be seen.
Near the centre of the line, Sumukha and his advisors were suspicious. It wasn’t clear what exactly was happening. The rebels were surrounded on every side. In any case, the Tamra Nala and the route back to Takshashila was heavily guarded, and the area behind New Takshashila was open country—even if the students tried to break out in that direction, they would be hunted down easily. To all appearances, it looked like most of the students had retired for the night, secure in the offer of the truce. Yet, everything had fallen into place a bit too easily. If only they could be sure of what exactly was going on back there!
As Sumukha peered into the darkness, he suddenly saw a number of lamps and torches being lit towards his left. All the previous movements, as well as Aditya’s report had indicated that this was where the leadership of the students, as well as their greatest concentration stood. Loud cheers rent the night air and the number of lit torches on the left seemed to multiply. Soon a huge procession of students with lights started moving towards the soldiers. Sumukha immediately sent out orders for all units to take up arms and remain alert. Messengers rushed up and down the line, shouts rang out, and men scrambled to arms.
The lights advanced closer and closer. Loud slogans cheering for Maharaj Ambhi disrupted the stillness of the night. The students seemed to be drunk and many of them were singing. They advanced within a few gaj of the soldiers and started building a huge bonfire. The students’ sentries melted away and joined this merry group, and soon there were three huge bonfires with groups of drunken students singing and dancing in front of them. They called out to the soldiers to join them. It seemed they had taken the bait, and believed in the promises of amnesty that had been made. A general celebration was in progress.
There was a hurried discussion among the leadership. Most of them were of the opinion that the students should be allowed to drink themselv
es silly before the attack. The soldiers, in the meanwhile, heaved a sigh of relief. Rumours had it that the situation had been resolved peacefully by the orders of King Ambhi. There was no need to spill the blood of fellow countrymen. .
No one but Aditya noticed the second torchlit procession that started off from the Vihara by the side of the Tamra Nala. This river of torches steadily made its way towards the soldiers. Sumukha sent messengers to ascertain the nature of the crowd and was stunned to learn that the entire monk population of the vihara was descending upon them, having heard the good news of the truce. The vihara housed almost seven hundred monks and if all of them were arriving, then he might as well bid the operation goodbye. Maharaj Ambhi had ordered them not to attack in the presence of monks and civilians.
Sumukha decided to ride up and meet them halfway and convince the head monk to go back to the vihara. He had just started, when he saw another round of torches being lit along different points of the Tamra Nala. The Brahmin families living in the agraharas by the side of the stream had also heard the news.
Everything happened quickly, and soon the place was like a madhouse. Huge groups of cheering monks, Brahmins, and priests of every description, as well as a handful of civilians were moving freely among the troops and students. They loudly cheered King Ambhi, hugged and patted the soldiers, and insisted on thanking the officers for resolving the conflict peacefully. It was hard to tell who among them was a rebel and who a civilian. Worse, even the soldiers were getting carried away by the jubilation, and openly fraternized with the rebels, loudly raising slogans and cheers.
Sumukha ground his teeth in frustration. How could this have happened? He was under clear orders to attack the rebels when no religious or civilian parties were present to witness it. Suddenly, he found his horse surrounded by smiling, happy monks. They forced him off the horse and took him onto their shoulders. He had to grin and bear it, and so he accepted their thanks and congratulations with grace. They even started raising slogans, praising him.
At some point in all this confusion, a fire broke out in the University area. It had probably been started by a drunken student, but it spread with astonishing speed. Apparently, a large amount of straw and dried wood for the cremation platform had been placed behind the campfires where the groups of students were singing and dancing. This well-prepared fuel lit up immediately into a huge blaze, which then spread all around. Very soon, even the shrubs and grasses, and the long row of acharyas’ cottages were on fire.