Chankya's Chant (52 page)

‘Is Magadha adequately defended?’ asked Dhanananda.

The venerable Katyayan arose. ‘My lord, the question is not whether we’re defended or not. The more relevant question is whether we can make our enemies believe that Magadha is defended.’

Dhanananda sniggered. Why did he have to put up with these bloody intellectuals? ‘Katyayanji, I had put the question to Bhadrashala, our commander of the armed forces. I think this question is better answered by him.’ Bhadrashala looked around him warily as Katyayan took his seat. He hated these council meetings. He felt as though all the other council members present were scrutinising him. Katyayan, in particular, seemed to stare at him for long stretches, as though he were a biological specimen under observation.

‘My lord, our army’s on full alert. However, it’s my suggestion that the bulk of our men should remain here, within the fortified city of Pataliputra. If and when the enemy attacks, we should lure them into Pataliputra and then massacre them. This should be easy, given our overwhelming strength.’

‘And leave Indraprastha and other border towns undefended?’ asked Dhanananda incredulously. Bhadrashala gulped apprehensively. Why had he allowed himself to gamble and drink, thus giving that arsewipe Jeevasiddhi leverage to instruct him on what to say at these meetings?

‘There is merit in what Bhadrashalaji is recommending,’ said Katyayan, jumping in at the very moment when the sweat from Bhadrashala’s forehead had started to slowly drip onto the floor beneath him. Katyayan knew that Bhadrashala’s words were actually those of Chanakya. Bhadrashala looked on in amazement as Katyayan took over the argument. ‘Your Highness, the royal treasury is located inside the fortifications of Pataliputra. Of what use is it to defend Indraprastha and other border towns when the wealth of the kingdom is right here? Moreover, we’re likely to be attacked from different directions. Paurus is likely to attack from the west, the king of Kalinga from the south and the king of Nepal from the north. On how many fronts should we divide the army? I think Bhadrashala has come up with a masterful strategy. Lull the enemy into complacency. Let him walk into Magadha. Pulverise him once he reaches Pataliputra!’

Dhanananda looked at Katyayan. He then let his gaze wander over to a relieved Bhadrashala. He then burst out laughing. ‘I tolerate fools gladly, but indulge intellectuals even more. Let it never be said that the mighty Dhanananda was too pompous to take the seasoned advice of his counsellors. Have it your way— we wait for the enemy right here!’

‘Ambhi knows that Paurus is going after Magadha,’ said Mehir, ‘and he sees it as an opportunity to attack Paurus’s kingdom—Kaikey—while his attention is diverted. How can we prevent that?’

‘The answer lies in keeping Ambhi occupied. He should not have the time to look beyond his own borders,’ counselled Chanakya.

‘How?’

‘Stir up internal strife. Keep him busy controlling law and order.’

‘Easier said than done. His subjects are happy. What would make them revolt?’

‘Make them unhappy. Think, Mehir. Which is the most powerful community in Ambhi’s kingdom of Gandhar?’

‘The Brahmins.’

‘And what’s the source of their power?’

‘Divine sanction. It’s written in the Vedas. They’re needed to communicate with the gods on behalf of ordinary human beings.’

‘And does everyone accept the supremacy of the Brahmins?’

‘No. The Buddhists seem to think that Brahmin rituals and prayers are hogwash.’

‘So, what would happen if Ambhi was seen to be promoting and encouraging Buddhism?’

‘The Brahmins would be up in arms!’

‘Will you still have happy and content people in the kingdom, dear Mehir?’

Mehir smiled, defeated. ‘But how do I get Ambhi to encourage Buddhism in his kingdom?’

‘The answer lies in Takshila University. It’s presently the fiefdom of Brahmins like me. If part of the university were to be converted into a Buddhist centre of higher learning, the Brahmin community would feel extremely threatened.’

‘But Ambhi would never spend his own money for a Buddhist cause,’ argued Mehir again.

‘I agree. The idea would need to be framed in a way that Ambhi gets the credit without having to spend either his time or his money in getting the project off the ground.’

‘But acharya, even if we find someone else to finance it, is it wise to use religious differences?’

‘My dharma tells me that I need to unify Bharat under Chandragupta. If I need to use religious differences to create unity, so be it. The ends justify the means.’

‘But doesn’t it go against your conscience?’ asked Mehir.

‘Mehir, a clear conscience is usually a sign of bad memory. In any case, in the world of politics you can ill afford luxuries such as a clear conscience!’

‘Acharya, you’re a Brahmin yourself, yet you advise a strategy which may have dire consequences for the community?’

‘The only community that I belong to is the community of Bharat. My only loyalty is to the notion of a unified Bharat.’

‘So which side are you on?’

‘The winning side,’ replied Chanakya.

‘But why don’t we get Chandragupta and Sasigupta to simply attack Ambhi?’ persisted the perplexed Mehir.

‘Our Chinese neighbours have an execution method that’s used for perpetrators of the most heinous crimes. The method is called
death by a thousand cuts
. The condemned person is killed through very slow cuts on different parts of his body. It’s a terrible death in which the convicted man is allowed to bleed to death. I plan to bleed Ambhi to death.’

‘Why?’ asked Mehir.

‘Because attacking him openly isn’t an option. We must continue to officially maintain that we’re friends even though we’re not. He must feel comfortable enough to allow us to stay behind him.’

‘Why, O acharya?’

‘Because you can only stab someone in the back if you’re standing behind him, Mehir. That’s why!’

The monastery nestled within the forests outlying Takshila was quiet except for the chant,
Buddham Saranam Gacchami, Dharmam Saranam Gacchami, Sangham Saranam Gacchami.
The thatched huts were simple and sparse. The grounds surrounding the little dwellings were clean and tidy. The
sangha
—the monastery—was a perfect study in simplicity, cleanliness and quietude. The one hundred
bhikshus
—Buddhist monks—and
bhikshunis
—nuns—walked in single file, their shaved heads glistening with sweat in the hot sun, the bhikshus segregated from the bhikshunis. They wore the usual
antaravasaka
skirt,
uttarasanga
shirt;
samghati
cloak and
kushalaka
waistcloth, stitched together from rags and dyed maroon. Worn-out wooden soles strapped to their feet completed the ensemble. They each owned very little by way of possessions—a begging bowl, razor, toothpick, stitching needle and walking staff. As they walked, they chanted the mantra that meant,
I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dharma, I take refuge in the Sangha.

Hinduism, with its increasing intolerance of the lower castes, undue privileges for the Brahmins and Kshatriyas, rigidly defined rituals, and emphasis on Sanskrit scriptures, was suffocating those who lay at the very bottom of the caste hierarchy. These were the very first converts to the great new philosophy of Gautam Buddha, a philosophy that preached universal equality.

The man watching them from the treetop wore a short-sleeved tunic, a topknot turban, chin band and earflaps. A sickle hung from the right side of the sash around his waist and an axe was tucked away into the left. A heavy cloak was draped over his left shoulder. He wore no jewellery except for his gold earrings and
bajubandhs
—armbands in copper and semiprecious stones. On his forehead was a large vermillion
tilak
— the proverbial third eye—his good luck charm. He was dressed for battle like a Kshatriya but was actually a Brahmin bandit. He had with him around fifty other dacoits who had surrounded the monastery and were closely observing it. The bandit chief was angry. These mischief-makers—Buddhists—adopted and converted Hindu untouchables, asked ordinary people to shun Brahmanic rituals to worship God, and even had the temerity to write their scriptures in Prakrit instead of sacred Sanskrit. How dare they convert Hindus to some new-fangled faith of hypocritical equality! They were now being extended rights and privileges in the sacred Takshila University too. They needed to be taught a lesson so that they would tuck their tails between their legs and run. Run like dogs! Of course, it helped that the fair-skinned Persian, Mehir, was willing to finance the bandits’ expedition and defray other costs.

He silently nodded to his deputy crouched on a branch beneath him. The skies turned dark and birds of prey began to circle the monastery as the carnage began.

Ambhi was incensed. How dare they! If anyone and everyone could take justice into their own hands, what would happen to the rule of law? These Brahmin bandits thought they could murder Buddhist monks and get away with it? They would now see the merciless side of their king!

Upon his orders, the thugs responsible for the monstrous slaughter were rounded up by his
pradeshtra
—magistrate for law and order. This was not about punishment but about retribution. A hundred innocent Buddhists had been killed in order to satisfy the bloodlust of butchers. How could he justify not punishing the perpetrators?

‘Line them up stark naked along the street of wisdom, and let everyone see them suffer the worst indignities that can possibly be inflicted on a human being. A red hot iron nail should be hammered into their tongues, their right hands should be dipped in hot frying oil, hot wax should be poured into their left eyes and the toes of their left feet should be hacked off. Thus mutilated, their faces should be blackened and they should be seated on donkeys and paraded through the streets in utter humiliation! They will live, unlike the Buddhist monks who died—but their lives shall be living hell!’ ordered a frustrated Ambhi. He did not know that he was sitting on a volcano.

‘Tell Chandragupta that I need him to pamper the Brahmins of his kingdom. He should be seen as the greatest saviour of the Brahmin community,’ instructed Chanakya as he dispatched one of Siddharthaka’s pigeons to Chandragupta.