Chankya's Chant (43 page)

‘O beloved people of Prayag—the great city where Brahma offered a sacrifice after creating the world. O favoured citizens of Allahabad—the city renamed by Akbar after his own great new religion, Din-i-Ilahi. O great men and women of Kosambi—the greatest centre of Buddhism. I am honoured to be here among all of you today,’ she said, cleverly addressing the Hindu, Muslim and Buddhist elements of the city. ‘I stand before you today as a shining secular example of a daughter of a Hindu biological father and a Muslim adoptive father. I represent the two great faiths of this land and it is my honest pledge to you that I shall die before allowing anyone to ever split this great nation along religious lines!’ Chandini thundered.

The chief of the ABNS Allahabad district committee had organised the rally. Upon the dais sat Ikram, Gangasagar, the ABNS Lok Sabha candidate for Allahabad, as well as several assorted functionaries. A local band played soul-stirring and patriotic Bollywood songs as local party workers came up on stage one by one and garlanded the bigwigs seated alongside the rostrum. Tens of thousands of supporters had braved the blazing heat and the fear of riots to sit in the open field and hear promises from their beloved representatives—promises that would in all probability be broken.

Across the field, exactly opposite the stage upon which the politicos sat was another stage that had been set up with effigies of the major Opposition leaders. Unbeknownst to the public was the fact that each of the likenesses had been built with firecrackers. Welcoming ceremonies over, Chandini stood up and walked forward to centre stage. An assistant brought her an ornate bow and arrow that she lifted and held up as though she were aiming it at the statues across the field. As she aimed, the pyrotechnics were unleashed and each of the effigies was methodically exploded. The crowd went wild— cheering Chandini and howling with approval as she shouted, ‘Let’s direct our energy towards destroying those who would like to divide us. Let’s usher in a new era of peace and brotherhood. Let’s avoid a quarrel between the past and the present—it can only end up destroying the future!’

Gangasagar glowed with optimism. He winked at Ikram. So much could be achieved with a quart of rum and a pound of beef. And people thought that elections were expensive! He took a deep breath and began chanting softly, ‘
Adi Shakti, Namo Namah; Sarab Shakti, Namo Namah; Prithum Bhagvati, Namo Namah; Kundalini Mata Shakti; Mata Shakti, Namo Namah.
’

‘W
ith Sinharan on the throne of Mallayrajya, we now have a kingdom in which we can station our soldiers,’ said Chanakya.

‘Yes,’ answered Chandragupta sadly, ‘with my father’s passing away in Pipplivan last year, we should now consolidate our forces under Ambhi’s former commander.’

Chanakya understood the grief of a son who had lost his father. At least Chanakya had been able to perform the last rites of his own. Chandragupta had not. But Chanakya also knew that they did not have the luxury of grief. ‘Chandragupta, we cannot afford to lose Paurus as an ally. You will need his help to fight Dhanananda,’ he said.

‘But Paurus is angry with us. We’ve snatched away Mallayrajya, part of his network of vassal states. Why will he discuss any strategic alliance with us?’ asked Chandragupta incredulously.

‘Because he’s aristocratic, angry, proud and vain. These are qualities which make it rather easy to manipulate a human being,’ replied Chandragupta’s acharya complacently.

‘So we flatter him into an alliance?’ asked Chandragupta.

‘If a man tells a woman she’s beautiful, she’ll overlook most of his other lies! We simply need to treat Paurus as one would a beautiful woman,’ laughed Chanakya.

‘And what if he doesn’t take the bait?’ asked Chandragupta, prodding Chanakya for explanation.

‘We then pander to his ambitions of power, fame and glory—his burning desire to be the most powerful ruler in Bharat.’

‘And how will we do that? We don’t have anything of substance to bribe him with,’ observed Chandragupta grimly.

‘Simple. I can offer him the throne of Magadha, instead of offering it to you,’ said Chanakya slyly.

Chandragupta knelt before his teacher and said sombrely, ‘I shall willingly serve you in whatever capacity you deem fit. But I refuse to serve under the vain and petty Paurus!’

Chanakya burst out laughing at this display of principled anguish. ‘I only said that I would offer it to him. I never said that I would give it to him. You should pay more attention to my choice of words, Chandragupta. This is a treaty with Paurus that I shall knowingly break!’ he said.

The utterly perplexed Chandragupta spoke up hesitantly. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to be honest with him and tell him that we need his support to take Magadha? We could offer him a few provinces but not the throne.’

‘He sees you as an upstart, O Chandragupta. He will not value you as an ally. It’s better to sign a treaty with

him and let him build castles in the air, thinking that he shall rule Magadha. Once our goal has been achieved, Paurus will become expendable.’

‘And how will you explain your betrayal to him,’ asked Chandragupta.

‘Remember that it’s often easier to get forgiveness rather than permission!’ said Chanakya, a wide grin on his ugly face. ‘I shall speak to my good friend Indradutt, Paurus’s prime minister, to intercede on my behalf and convince the great king that it’s in his best interest to ally with Chanakya.’

‘Doesn’t an alliance with Chanakya mean an alliance with Chandragupta?’ asked the puzzled prince.

‘Ah. We need to change that. You and I shall fight and go our separate ways,’ responded Chanakya.

‘I could never fight with you, acharya. Your wish is my command. Even if you asked me to lay down my life for you, I would. How can I ever dream of going against your wishes?’

‘Relax, Chandragupta. I’m talking about the power of illusion. We must create the illusion that you and I have fallen apart—a difference of opinion. This will allow me to convince Paurus that I truly intend to instal him on the seat of Magadha’s power!’

‘And what do I do till such time?’ asked Chandragupta uncomfortably.

‘Stir up a revolt!’ said Chanakya, thumping the ground where he was seated and sending up a little dust storm.

‘Stir up a revolt? Where?’ asked the hapless Chandragupta.

‘The Macedonian provinces—the ones ruled directly by Alexander’s satraps.’

‘Which ones?’

‘All of them. As you know, most of northern Bharat is either part of Magadha, Kaikey or Gandhar. But what about the small states that aren’t part of these three large blocs? Alexander’s satrap Phillipos, who reports to the powerful Seleucus—Alexander’s chosen successor in Bharat—directly rules all of them. If Phillipos were to die, their provinces would fall into our laps without effort on our part.’

‘Acharya, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?’ asked the weary and wary Chandragupta. These strategising sessions with his guru sapped him of all his energy.

‘No, no, dear Chandragupta. We shall not kill Phillipos. We shall merely identify his worst enemies and provide them with just cause to assassinate him!’

‘And who is his biggest enemy?’ asked Chandragupta, aware that the question was unnecessary.

‘His biggest friend and ally.’

‘Ambhi?’

‘No.’

‘Paurus?’

‘No.’

‘Then who?’

‘Sasigupta.’

‘Who?’

‘Magadha covers a substantial portion of eastern Bharat. To its west lies Kaikey. Travel further westwards and you reach Gandhar. But who lives beyond Gandhar, to the extreme northwest—beyond the Indus?’ asked Chanakya.

‘The Ashvakans—the tribal horsemen of the Kabul River region.’

‘Correct. They are strong and fierce warriors. Their primary strength lies not only in their innate capacity to carry on a sustained fight with very little food, water or rest, but also in their talent to breed, raise and train the finest
ashvas
—horses—in the region. Their leader is Sasigupta. Do you remember the day Alexander came to Sage Dandayan’s hermitage? Sasigupta was with him—helping him interpret the sage’s words.’

‘You want me to go enlist his support?’ asked Chandragupta innocently.

‘No, my brave warrior, no! The Ashvakans are mercenaries. For a price, they will provide thousands of cavalry to anyone, irrespective of their own political beliefs. They fought on behalf of the Persians and subsequently also fought for the Macedonians. They have no permanent loyalty to any one side. Training horses and fighting battles is simply an occupation, nothing more, nothing less.’

‘Which side are they fighting for presently?’

‘The Macedonian side. But not too long ago they were allied with the Persians. So why should they hesitate to switch sides again?’ asked Chanakya.

‘But what would cause Sasigupta to rebel? As I understand, he was also present at Alexander’s Jhelum victory over Paurus. When Ambhi failed to bring Paurus before Alexander after the battle was over, it was Sasigupta who succeeded in doing so.’

‘But on whose orders did Sasigupta fight for Alexander?’ asked Chanakya.

Chandragupta was stumped. Chanakya smiled and resumed. ‘The Ashvakans are fierce warriors but they take their orders from women! Their chief is always a queen. The present one is a stunning beauty called Kalapini. Any danger or threat to her and you’d have thousands of enraged Ashvakans ready to die in a blink!’

‘You want me to kidnap their queen?’ asked Chandragupta, half expecting an affirmative response. He knew that his cunning teacher was capable of almost anything as long as it advanced his aims of installing him on Magadha’s throne.

‘More than that! I need you to arrange for her to have an affair with Phillipos, the Macedonian satrap. Nothing will get Ashvakan blood boiling as much as the thought of their queen sleeping with a Macedonian man!’

‘And how do I arrange that? By kidnapping them both and barricading them inside a tent?’ asked an exasperated Chandragupta.

‘Do you want a one-word answer?’

‘That would be nice.’

‘Cornelia.’

Cornelia and Chandragupta were lying on a soft cotton sheet that had been spread under the wide branches of a giant simsapa tree in a corner of a sylvan grove with ashoka, bhavya, champaka and nagara trees in blossom. The ground lay heaped with fragrant flowers that had fallen off the branches. Chandragupta and Cornelia lay side by side. The bodyguards that accompanied Cornelia wherever she went had been offered some cold milk sweetened with honey by Chandragupta’s men. The light refreshing drink had been seasoned with crushed hemp for the extra zing. Within minutes, they had passed out under a banyan, snoring peacefully.

‘I simply adore you,’ murmured Chandragupta into her ear as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through her golden hair.

She smiled at him. ‘Liar! You adore being with me so that you can play your naughty games,’ she admonished.

Chandragupta thought about it for a moment, smiled wickedly and said, ‘That too!’ as she playfully slapped his cheek in mock punishment.

‘Darling, I cannot bear to be away from you for even a moment,’ said Cornelia as she reached up to hold him even closer. ‘It worries me that my father will find out about us and will call me back to Babylonia. How will I live without you?’