title: 2.2 Pavel MorozovHear, hear!
Hear, Kambojas! Hear, residents of the town of Avarana!
Our country is said to be the most beautiful of all countries in the world, its men are said to be the most noble and its women to be the most beautiful in all three worlds, and both are the most skilled in their respective arts and such pursuits – this is held by the Indians and Iranians alike, that we are the most exemplary of Āryas.
Yet they continue to treat our country as a commercial article for their enjoyment, as subject to their rule, not to be afforded any independence of our own.
Far too long has Takṣaśilā enjoyed a special autonomy under the Persians. As a result of this accord, the Gandhāras have grown closer to the Persians than they are to the Kambojas, their own brothers in blood!
Unacceptable! says the noble Prince Sanjaya of Takṣaśilā from whom this message is relayed to you.
Either the Gandhāras shall be placed under the same rule as the Kambojas are – or the Kambojas shall be elevated to the same status as the Gandhāras enjoy. No longer must the Kambojas tolerate this differential treatment from the Persians, this subjugation of our people to a distant king with whom we share few bonds.
Prince Sanjaya is intelligent and brave, he has the endorsement of many great scholars even as they are too afraid to pronounce their endorsement publicly. He is affected towards a Kamboja maiden, the apsara Sukeśī, and he has married her in the Gandharva style, for this he has been disowned by King Āmbhi, his father, and for this reason he has rebelled.
Your most blessed town has been selected by Prince Sanjaya as the location for a fort of his construction. He seeks your support in his secession from Takṣaśilā and promises you far better treatment than what you have been given by the Persians, he promises you a kingdom that has the strength to stand for interests, that is not merely at the mercy of the Persians.
To this end, he has already secured the support of the powerful King Puruṣottama of the Vṛṣṇis, the mightiest enemy of the Persians, and of the mighty Queen Kṛpā of the Matsyaka Scythians, whose tribe is known for having vanquished the Persians and beheaded the emperor Koorush many centuries prior. Each of these allies has been prophesied to be great conquerors and liberators, and they are the natural allies of a people of such dignity and stature as the Kambojas.
The residents of Avarana are directed to start building a great fort for Prince Sanjaya – directors will be dispatched to employ craftsmen, builders, guards, mercenaries and servants for this purpose. Those who co-operate with the prince will be rewarded handsomely for their efforts, both individually and via their service to a Kamboja victory – for Prince Sanjaya is not short on wealth nor on his capacity to acquire it from his enemies. And those who act as traitors to the cause of the Kambojas, who refuse to provide their labour for the Kamboja cause, will be regarded as such, and will be punished by the gods for their betrayal.
Rejoice, noble Kambojas! For today marks the beginning of a new era in the history of the Kambojas, an era in which we shall reclaim that glory which has been so wrongfully seized from us. Salute Prince Sanjaya, for he is the saviour that you have been awaiting, the hero of ancient prophecies.
Or a spy may tell a self-confident son of the chief of mercenary corporations: "You are the son of such and such a king and are kept here under the apprehension of danger from enemies." When he is deluded with this belief, the conqueror may help him with men and money and set him against the mercenary corporations. When the object in view is realised, the conqueror may also banish him.
—Kautilya, in the Arthaśāstra, 11.1:31
O Princess Ghṛtācī of the Matsyaka Scythians – whose beauty is equated by no other maiden of any race in any of the three worlds – whose auspicious birth was heralded by the great sages of the Āryas as prophetic of a great conqueror from Strīrājya and by the sages of the Western tribes as the reincarnation of the Great Queen Tahm-Rayish who vanquished the Persians.
This message is from an Ārya of Gandhāra who, remaining anonymous, has chosen to identify himself merely as “a well-wisher of yours”.
He says: Beware your friends, princess.
Beware of those who demand a right to your trust for they are of the same bloodline.
As the dynastic light of a most illustrious Scythian line, you have been taught by your family to beware your enemies – but I, who am neither your relation nor your enemy, tell you to beware of both.
It is foolish for you to celebrate the rise in ranks of your sister Kṛpā and the presence that she has made in Kamboja.
In truth, she is only seizing what is rightfully yours.
If this thought is too painful or offensive for you to hold, then take that as proof of my words, as proof that those you call your own have enslaved your mind even without enslaving you, that each of them use your abilities towards their ends without heed to those capacities of yours that serve your own ambitions.
You must prove me wrong, princess. You must prove to me, that you have not been enslaved so, as most boys and girls of our age so naively are.
The other Scythian tribes have pushed yours South of the Oxus River, and in your new home you are displaced by the Bāhlīkas who seek to reclaim the land that was once theirs. If your sister Kṛpā claims Kamboja for herself, then you may assume that she will take the whole of Āryāvarta for herself. You will have nowhere to go, nothing to rule, no legacy to claim.
You are the prophesied conqueror of all the countries East of the Sindhu river – do not allow your sister to take this title for herself. Your name is one that ought to be recited by the bards of history for as long as men’s tongues last – do not allow it to be forgotten. For prophecies are made true by your own actions, and the lazy do not have prophecies written about them.
Consider your options carefully and wisely, and seek out opportunities to avail, or make them yourself.
(In Śākala) the women, drunk and naked, laugh and dance outdoors in the city; unadorned with garlands or unguents, they drunkenly sing various obscene songs that are as musical as a donkey’s bray or a camel’s bleat. They are without restraint in intercourse as in all other matters; in drunken madness they call each other various endearing epithets. Making drunk cries to their husbands, these fallen women give themselves up to dancing without observing restrictions even on sacred days.
What man would willingly dwell, even for a moment, among these fallen, depraved Bāhlīkas?
Crossing the Śatadru, returning to my own country, I await to cast my eyes again upon the beautiful women with thick frontal bones, with blazing stickers of red arsenic on their foreheads, with streaks of jet black collyrium on their eyes!
—Mahābhārata 8.44
It was in the evening that Cāṇakya released the pigeon that they had been carrying for so long.
“What is that, Professor?” asked Candragupta – no, Śaśigupta, as Cāṇakya had instructed him to completely play the part of his new identity.
Cāṇakya took a long time to answer, and when he did, he simply said: “A letter.”
Śaśigupta knew better than to press further.
They stared into the fire.
Deprived of Pabbata’s company, the thirteen-year-old boys had now become fully exposed to the harshness of the journey that so many merchants had built their entire lives around – they passed through the kingdom of Puruṣottama without stopping at any town, for he was the only king to claim enmity with Gandhāra – they rested instead at the city of Śākala in the Madra country, with all its infamous over-sexualized depravities – then rode through the tracts ruled by the mercenary corporations, the Trigartas and Yaudheyas, where the roads were damaged due to the constant warring – and yet once they had passed the Yaudheya city of Śrughna and the sacred Ārjunāyana city of Indraprastha and passed into Magadhi imperial territory, the condition of the Northern Highway worsened significantly, crumbling and muddy, without a single resting place (for such resting places would be defenseless against the robbers and wild tribes who had grown powerful due to Magadhi neglect – and often even imperial patronization to instill terror in its people) … and this was just on the segment of the highway before Mathura.
(Cāṇakya remarked, at one point, that the road was worse than the road he had taken to first arrive at Takṣaśilā in his childhood – but did not elaborate further, when asked, on where that road connected to.)
“When Pabbata was with us,” Śaśigupta remarked, “We never saw this all so darkly. We can no longer simply rely on the threat of Magadhi might for our protection.”
Cāṇakya smiled wryly. “Is that how you see your master, Śaśigupta? That his function is that of a mere bodyguard to you?”
Even as Śaśigupta was quite certain of what Cāṇakya’s intentions were, and he trusted his Professor quite entirely, to hear such an accusation, made even in jest, sent a jolt of terror through his body. He laughed weakly.
Silence ensued for some time longer.
“There is a question I must ask you,” said Cāṇakya. “What is the nature of your loyalty to Pabbata?”
Śaśigupta inhaled deeply with dread, having known for far too long that this question would eventually be asked of him – if not by his Professor, then by himself. And in truth, he did not even know if it was that he did not know the answer, or that his mind simply refused to entertain that mode of thinking.
“What is of primary concern to you?” Cāṇakya continued, “His interests, or his agency? That is to say, would you be willing to keep secrets from him, or to disobey his orders, should I judge that this were in the prince’s own interests?”
“I must ask what such situation you believe my arise,” Śaśigupta questioned. “That you believe Pabbata would act in a way that is contrary to his own interests, and that this will require an intervention on my part?”
Cāṇakya’s face was grim.
“There are many excellent qualities in Pabbata,” the boy admitted. “Qualities that make him fit to be king. And yet, I worry about his suspicious mind – that his suspicions of me may cause him to act rashly, or to forgo crucial opportunities because of the risk of betrayal. I can only hope that he will trust me at least when I make him king – for what more could I give him to win his trust?”
Cāṇakya’s words were manipulative – Śaśigupta recognized that much, for his Professor was not one to only hope for anything; he was the sort to make plans, or to alter made plans, to ensure that a desirable outcome occurred. He did not comment on that, however.
“I will say this much, Professor,” said Śaśigupta, “For whatever you demand of me, I shall assess the prospects, and my trust in you, independently of what Pabbata thinks. For if you believe that his mind is biased against you, then it falls upon me as his loyal companion to be the voice of reason to counter that bias.”
(But oh, did he sometimes wish things could simply be simple with Cāṇakya, for them to just act as friends of their age did.)
By way of collecting his wandering thoughts into a resolve, the king exhibits in his appearance and movements his inclination, anger, pleasure, sorrow, determination, fear, and change in the pairs of opposite feelings. These are the signs of the king’s satisfaction with a courtier (and the reverse indicates displeasure):
"By cognising wisdom in others, he is pleased; he is attentive to others’ speech; he gives a seat; he allows himself to be met privately; he is not suspicious; he enjoys conversation; he spontaneously looks to things without reminder; he is tolerant of rational argument; he issues orders with a smile; he touches with the hand; he does not laugh at what is commendable; he commends the qualities of another behind him; he consults the courtier during meals, sports and when in trouble; increasingly honours the courtier and his followers and averts his troubles; shares secrets with him.”
—Kautilya, in the Arthaśāstra, 5.5:7-10
[date:-492|flashback,x]
The coronation speech of King Ajātaśatru.
(The king, drunk and dishevelled, stumbles onto the lectern, and drops a clay pot onto the floor behind him before resting his arms on the back of the throne. The crowd watches him intensely, slightly uncomfortable, slightly confused and slightly petrified. Gradually, he raises one hand into the air and lets out a bored cry.)
Ah, yes – thank you! Thank you … to who? Yes … to me! From all your wives! You impotent husbands of prostitutes.
No, that is not what I meant to say. But it is true. You know what else is true? Varṣākāra sings as he bathes! He says they are holy chants, but the Ājīvakas do not have holy chants, do they? And even if they did, I am sure he is just inclined towards music and being merry. You know who else was inclined towards music and being merry? My father! And he is dead now!
(The king laughs uncontrollably for a full half-minute. The crowd is frozen in shock, and Varṣākāra is trembling..)
I jest, I jest – he’s just in prison..
Oh yes … that reminds me … my father … I wanted to do something to him.
Kill him? No, not yet.
Torture him? I’m already doing that.
Thank him! Ah yes … that’s what I wanted to say.
Thank you, Father, O mighty King Bimbisāra, the former Lord of the Magadhas – for if not for your seed I would not exist. But then again, neither would my idiot brothers, so is that truly so bad? Yes it is, I am simply that important. No, that’s not why I wanted to thank him. But I must say I do not resemble my father in the slightest. Is there something I must know, Mother? Was there a more intelligent, less lazy Vaiśālī man than my father? I mean, yes, all of them, but I am not certain when you would have had the time to commit such an atrocity—
(The king makes an obscene gesture.)
—however justifiable it may be, to circumcise my father so. From what I know, he did nothing but laze and frolick with his wives like a depraved dog until I urged him to invade Anga.
Yes! That is what I wanted to thank him for. For conquering Anga! Even though it was I who did so, truly. Forgive me, Vapuṣmatī, my queen – I did not wish to slay your family so, I did not wish you to be treated in the manner you were – although I did wish to treat you in such manner. Which I did.
(The king laughs. The queen makes a shy gesture to protect the image of her chastity. A courtier laughs along with the king, and is beheaded on the spot.)
Yes, thank you, father!–Can you hear me from your prison?– for crushing all those petty rebellions. For conquering all those petty tribes. So I can focus on the real task at hand: the conquest of all Āryāvarta!
Proclamation of his omniscience is as follows: rejection of his chief officers when their secret domestic and other private affairs are known; revealing the names of traitors after receiving information from spies specially employed to find out such men; pointing out the impolitic aspect of any course of action suggested to him; and pretensions to the knowledge of foreign affairs by means of his power to read omens and signs invisible to others when information about foreign affairs is just received through a domestic pigeon which has brought a sealed letter.
—Kautilya, in the Arthaśāstra, 13.1:2
A speech, from Śaśigupta of Takṣaśilā to the Ārjunāyanas of Indraprastha.
I salute you, Vṛṣṇiman, the chief of the mighty Ārjunāyanas, the worthy claimants to the legacy of the mighty Arjuna, of the Kuru line of antiquity – the blessed of the defenders of the Kṣatriya Dharma, who are honoured for their quality that a Brāhmaṇa need not tell them twice for them to understand the truth and execute the correct action. I compliment the beauty and grandeur of your delusive chamber, the oldest of its form known in the three worlds.
Professor Cāṇakya has received an intimation of a military expedition against the Ārjunāyanas. He has forbidden me from disclosing to you the nature of this expedition, or its belligerents, for we must consider every possibility of betrayal – but I will say that the threat will be more serious than anything the Ārjunāyanas have ever faced in the past, and that I frankly regard it as unlikely you will be able to survive the attack without my intervention.
I ask that you allow me to advise you alongside your strategist Nripanjaya – I cannot leave the entire task up to you, as my informants in the enemy’s territory trust only myself and Professor Cāṇakya, who is busy in Takṣaśilā with his other students, but I do not demand any power or direct control over your armies; I ask only that you accept the information I provide you and act as per my advice.
I will not demand any salary from you beyond the provision for my sustenance, for I am a student of Professor Cāṇakya, and am here on his behest – he will only request his reward after the war is over, the fruits of his help are realized to you, and you have rebuilt any damages that your country suffers in the course of the war. This should relieve you of any apprehensions, for we have little to gain from deceiving you; from this alliance we desire nothing more than your trust and the defeat of our common enemy.