Chankya's Chant (29 page)

‘I continue to have reservations about what we did. We should have fought for what was right!’

‘Chandragupta, my son, a battle is never about who’s right. It’s mostly about who’s left!’

‘So what happens now, acharya?’

‘Alexander will turn back. He’ll leave Bharat soon. He’ll probably designate Seleucus as governor in charge of the conquered territories. That’s when we’ll make our move,’ said Chanakya.

From outside sounds of hundreds of batons crashing against one another accentuated Chanakya’s words.
Silambam
—bamboo staff combat—was on. The trainer had studied ancient martial arts from all over Bharat and had incorporated these into the exercises of his men.

‘We’re lucky to have him with us,’ commented Chandragupta as he heard the sounds of bamboo shafts being thrashed against each other.

‘As long as he remains away from the arms of Mainika, we should be fine,’ commented Chanakya with a roguish grin on his face.

‘I’ll never understand how you managed to convince Ambhi’s commander-in-chief to become our trainer!’ burst out Chandragupta.

‘He had no choice but to join us. He was having a siesta in his harlot’s bedroom while Takshila was being taken over by Kaikey’s forces. He couldn’t expect to be welcomed back by Gandharraj or Ambhi. They would have had his head impaled on a spike and paraded for his folly! I offered him an alternative.’

‘Hah! He didn’t have an alternative!’

‘True. Always remember that a conjurer will offer you alternatives to choose from but you always end up picking the one that he wants you to!’

‘I don’t understand. You talk in riddles sometimes, acharya!’ complained Chandragupta.

‘Who is Mainika? How did she acquire the jalakrida for the commander’s aquatic delights? How did Abhaya, the intelligence operative of Indradutt, get a whiff of this news and decide to use it to Kaikey’s advantage?’ asked the crafty teacher quietly.

Chandragupta bowed down before his guru and touched his feet. He knew that he was in the presence of the ultimate master—not of the martial arts that were being taught outside but of the craft that was taught inside.

‘Protect me, O wise guru, for I have sinned,’ pleaded Ambhi as he prostrated himself before Chanakya. ‘Rise, O King of Gandhar. I’m not aware of any sin committed by you. You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I am omniscient and omnipresent!’ joked Chanakya. The young king rose and straightened himself. With hands still folded in a gesture of obeisance, he said, ‘I should never have extended my hand of friendship to Alexander. All that I gained was the wrath of my own people. Even the defeat of Paurus was no victory because Alexander made Paurus his satrap instead of handing over his kingdom to me.’

‘Gandhar is big enough for the ambitions of Ambhi, isn’t it?’ asked Chanakya slyly, eyes twinkling.

‘Yes, but it rankles me. Paurus and I are now equals before Alexander. We’re both his vassals. The title that I gained without spilling my people’s blood is the same title that Paurus obtained after allowing thousands of his people to be slaughtered. Yet, history will record him as the hero and Ambhi as the coward!’ said a forlorn Ambhi.

Chanakya put on his best false smile and asked, ‘And what can Chanakya do for you, O King?’

‘I need your wise counsel, acharya. I need you by my side. I’m aware that my former commander-in-chief is helping train your anti-Macedonian forces. I do not mind that. I know that you’re training Chandragupta to be king of Magadha. I do not have any objection to that either. I simply need your guidance and wise counsel so that I can make Gandhar economically and politically strong and resilient,’ pleaded Ambhi.

‘And what would that involve?’ asked Chanakya cautiously.

‘I would like you to be my
rajguru
—royal advisor— and would like you to reside next to my palace. I’ve built a marvellous official residence for the rajguru. I want you and your disciples to move in there. No expense will be spared and you’ll be well looked after. Grace this house with your august presence, O acharya. It will give me the advantage of meeting you whenever I need your wise counsel!’ urged Ambhi.

‘O King, I’m but a poor Brahmin. Of what use are palaces and mansions to me? I’ll be uncomfortable in

such lavish surroundings!’ commented the man wrily, knowing full well that maintaining his poverty cost him an arm and a leg. Tears in his eyes, Ambhi prostrated himself once again before Chanakya and pleaded, ‘Please, acharya, do not let me wander through the political jungle all by myself. Please be my guide. I shall not leave until you agree!’

‘Very well, O Ambhi. You’re indeed persuasive. I accept, but on one condition,’ said Chanakya.

‘And what’s that?’ asked Ambhi looking up from his prostrated position awkwardly. ‘If the stars are not auspicious, you shall allow me to relinquish the position,’ stated the Brahmin. Ambhi acquiesced and requested the new rajguru to visit his official residence along with an architect so that his personal requirements could be met.

The villa built by Ambhi for Chanakya had bright and airy rooms, high ceilings, polished stone floors, thick hardwood beams, and lots of space. The house was built around a splendid courtyard and was located on the banks of a babbling brook. It had open gardens dotted with wild flowers and fruit trees that sent wafts of scented breeze through the doors and windows.

Chanakya was taking a tour of the premises along with Chandragupta, Sinharan, Mehir and Sharangrao. His disciples were frustrated. Why had their teacher allowed himself to be misled by the fanciful claims of that rogue Ambhi? How could he agree to ally himself with a scoundrel who had lent his very soul to Alexander? As they wandered from one room to the next, being guided by the architect, the disciples could not help wondering what they were doing there. For his part, Chanakya seemed a little too obsessed with the glamour of the mansion. He was actually running his hands over the wooden doors and windows and lying down on the floors to marvel at the excellent finish wrought by the stonemasons! Tour over, Chanakya thanked the architect profusely and announced that he would move in along with his disciples the next day. They mounted the royal chariots sent by Ambhi and set off for their ashram.

‘Acharya, what are you doing? We can’t move in—’ began Chandragupta. Chanakya silenced him with a gesture requesting that they maintain silence until it was safe to discuss matters privately.

Back in the confines of Chanakya’s simple hut, the ugly Brahmin spoke. ‘Sinharan. I need you to burn down that house tonight. But be careful, no one should know that it was you.’

‘But why—’ began Sinharan.

Chandragupta interrupted him. ‘Acharya, you obviously have a very good reason for what you want done. It shall be done. But please tell us why,’ he said.

‘Dear Chandragupta, I wasn’t fooled by the false ingratiating tone of that snake Ambhi. The rogue thinks that he can destroy me! The fact is that he’s uncomfortable having me sitting inside his kingdom with militia trained by his former commander-in-chief, and enough money-power to finance it!’ hissed Chanakya.

‘But why not simply refuse to be his rajguru? Don’t shift residence. Why burn the place down?’ asked Mehir.

‘Because the place is booby-trapped. You thought that I was admiring the quality of the stonemasonry when I lay down on the floor? I was actually observing a row of ants carrying cooked rice through cracks in the floor. You assumed that I was feeling the smooth finish of the doors and windows, while I was busy studying the lacquer!’ laughed the Brahmin, mighty pleased with the confusion on their faces.

‘Need an explanation?’ he asked at length. Without waiting for an answer he launched into one. ‘If ants are observed carrying boiled rice through the floor cracks of an uninhabited house, it must mean that there is cooked food beneath the floor. Where there are provisions, there would be men. It was evident to me that the house had a concealed basement filled with troops. They’re quietly awaiting our arrival and will strike when we’re asleep. In one fell swoop Ambhi would have wiped us off the face of the earth!’

Chandragupta was bewildered. ‘But why were you so interested in the doors and windows?’ he asked.

His teacher replied, ‘They were lacquered. Seeing that his answer had not cleared their confusion, he continued, ‘
Lac
is a sticky secretion of a tiny insect. The female insect, globular in form, lives on twigs and young branches in cells of resin created from its excretions. Mostly one will find these insects in kusum trees. Collecting the twigs along with the living insects inside and extracting the secretions using hot water creates resin dye. The dye is called
lac
because
lakhs
—hundreds of thousands—of insects have to be gathered to produce just a single pound of the dye. When applied to doors and windows, lac provides a smooth finished look—something that you thought I was busy admiring! The problem with lac, however, is that it’s highly inflammable. That house will go up in flames like a fireball if it were to accidentally ignite. Probably that was Ambhi’s intent—to kill us using the soldiers in the concealed basement and then burn down the house attributing our deaths to an accident. Sinharan, that’s why I want that house burned down with Ambhi’s men packed inside it! Tonight!’

Chanakya was back in Sage Dandayan’s hermitage. The acharya had requested the sage to let him stay at the ashram, and the venerable rishi had been delighted to have some company. A few days later, Ambhi dropped in to see him. ‘Ambhi, my son, the great fire that enveloped the official residence reserved for me a few days ago is a divine message that I should not be your rajguru. My stars are not in favour and I would not like Gandhar’s future to be dragged down with my own. I’m quite sure that you’ll be able to find someone much more capable than me,’ said Chanakya smoothly.

He waited for a reaction. He could sense the inner rage within Ambhi but he did a fairly good job of keeping it bottled in. ‘O acharya, it’s my loss. I hope that you’ll continue to stay in Takshila so that I may take your advice from time to time,’ said Ambhi.

And eventually kill me
, thought Chanakya. ‘Absolutely. I shall always be available to assist you, O King. Please do not hesitate to call for me,’ lied Chanakya.

As Ambhi left, Chandragupta asked ‘What now, acharya? Alexander’s forces are in retreat. Do we plan for making war?’ Chanakya thought for a moment and answered with a roguish expression, ‘Leave the task of making war to me, Chandragupta. I need you to focus on making love!’