Sattva Rajas Tamas: Legend of Kanishka, The Commoner-King and His Crusade of Faith

By Vivek Wagle

Circa 800 BC: Merit or birth? Meritocracy or dynastic monarchy? King Sarthak of the mighty kingdom of Manukeshwar faces this great dilemma in naming his successor. The contenders to the throne are the upright and virtuous Kanishka, son of a learned Rishi, and his own firstborn, the selfish and arrogant Prince Jaivant. Breaking centuries of oppressive tradition, the King names the valorous commoner as heir. Humiliated and aggrieved, Jaivant bides his time. Using age-old deceit and treachery, he succeeds in usurping the throne. But he does not anticipate the resolve of the ascetic warrior. The stage is set for a mighty struggle. Through an interlinked web of events and emotion, through love, envy, deceit and romance, the book tells the story of a crusade to restore dharma in a kingdom afflicted by despotic dynastic rule. Sattva Rajas Tamas is the story of powerful opposing forces. It is also the tale of a man’s remarkable resolve to keep fighting for truth and justice, to never give up. The ancient tale has disconcerting parallels in our modern times. Though the times have changed, the conflict between dharma and adharma has not.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Nov 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9789388942638

Vivek Wagle

Vivek Wagle was born in Mumbai, India. Though a Civil Engineer by qualification, he chose Market Research as a career, preferring to work in the domain of understanding people's tastes and preferences. A firm believer in the adage 'a sound mind in a healthy body', he is also an avid reader, a chess, fitness and mathematical brain teasers enthusiast. During a session, his spiritual Guru, Balagopalji, explained the philosophy of Sattva Rajas Tamas; that these qualities are present in every human in differing proportions. The idea of this book took root at that moment. A month later, Vivek had completed the first draft – a story of the battle for truth and dharma, for meritocracy over entitlement and avarice. This is his first published work. Vivek lives in Bangalore with his wife, two daughters and indie pup.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION: THE CONTEXT

In the Vedic age, circa 1500-600 BC, and even earlier, the Indian subcontinent possessed a rich tradition of martial arts. In a land where numerous kings and their vassals held sway, fierce battles were constantly fought for supremacy. Thus, it was imperative that warriors were trained from an early age in weaponry, arms and physical combat. Whether to defend their territories against hostile invaders or to conquer weaker kingdoms, large and well equipped armies were prime indicators of power and authority.

It was not uncommon for a great warrior to possess special powers gained through skill and rigorous practice and/or divine favour earned through worship, prayer and arduous penance. India is a land that has seen the birth of outstanding champions like Bhishma, Dronacharya, Bhima, Arjuna, Karna and Satyaki. Each was equivalent to a thousand soldiers. These illustrious warriors were armed with a sense of dharma and a steadfast conscience. They fought for noble causes – whether to honour an oath, or loyalty towards the kingdom they were pledged to, or for righteousness, or friendship. They never wavered from their chosen path, facing challenges, difficulties and torments like so many dried leaves tossed up by a storm.

Each had a resolute sense of duty and immense respect for their gurus, such as the brilliant Dronacharya and Parasurama. For it was the guru who taught them their vidya (knowledge), the one to whom they owed their immense stature. They never disregarded this. These fearless champions respected, loved and cared for their gurus as they did their own parents.

Karna bore the sting of a wasp and a bleeding wound so as not to disturb his guru’s sleep. At the behest of Dronacharya, Arjuna defeated Drupada, his guru’s childhood friend. Such was the obedience these teachers commanded.

India is a land replete with stories of valorous men and women throughout its long history; people who did not budge from the right path; who used their powers and skills for a noble cause (though circumstances often pushed them towards adharma). They protected the weak and fought for justice. They defended their land and stood like bulwarks before their king and his throne.

Into this land was born yet another champion – Kanishka, the ascetic warrior son of Rishi Siddhanatha. It was circa 800 BC, and Bharatvarsha comprised of numerous princely states ruled by kings of various degree, and their vassals. Monarchy held sway across these realms. It was in this age that the kingdom of Manukeshwar was blessed with a farsighted leader in King Sarthak – a ruler who believed in meritocracy. He ushered in a golden age in the history of Manukeshwar, and Bharat at large. King Sarthak recognised Kanishka was the ideal choice to succeed him as Raja. Though of humble descent, Kanishka was by virtue of his superior dhanurvidya (archery) and mastery of the martial arts, his understanding of dharma and his virtuous character, the King’s favoured choice. It was a bold and noble choice, for Kanishka was a just ruler, beloved of his people.

Where then, we may ask, are such honourable heroes today? Where is Arjuna, Karna or Kanishka? Where are the men who never cowered in face of danger, who stood up to aggressors and defended the rights of the weak? Where are the warriors who used their skills to restore dharma, not to satisfy egos, gain power or seek revenge? Where are the great Parasurama, Bhishma and Drona, gurus who produced warriors of mind and heart? Where are Lord Shiva and Lord Krishna, to show us the right path?

In a nation founded on martial arts (Kerala’s Kalarippayattu is the great ancestor of karate and judo), why do we lack awareness of our rich traditions and the great and powerful knowledge the Rishis imparted? Instead, we fight over petty and divisive ideas, causes which serve to break the country rather than unite it. The powerful use their might to oppress the weak. Protests and bandhs are seen as means of destroying public property, spreading fear, panic and ushering in chaos. Though India prides itself on being a land of peace and harmony, senseless violence often mars the face of our nation.

The country needs a Kanishka to destroy evil and instil fear in the forces of disharmony; to restore our confidence in dharma. The nation needs Lord Narayana to enlighten us in these times of conflict. Above all, India needs its people to display humanity towards their fellow citizens; to respect the nation and its resources; to support the virtuous and annihilate the vile. India needs to right the balance of Sattva Rajas Tamas.

PART I

A MERITOCRATIC KINGDOM

1

RISHI CHAITANYA

The howling wind did not disturb him. Rishi Chaitanya meditated silently. He prayed for his people and the kingdom; that the reign of the current despot would come to an end. He prayed for the coming of the saviours his vision had foretold would appear to liberate the land from the vile King. The Rishi had traversed the length and breadth of the kingdom in search of the promised ones, certain he would find them one day.

A year before, he had had a vision that the land would be freed from the tyrant’s oppression. Two valorous champions, sons of the same soil the King had ruled over for three years, would rise to defeat him. The Rishi had been told that it would be he who would find the liberators. So he had set out in search of them, travelling from village to village, town to town, crossing rivers, forests, mountains and deserts. He seldom rested, sleeping only a few hours each night. He ate one meal a day, after sunrise. Holding his kamandalam (a brass container used for drinking water) in one hand and a wooden staff in the other, he walked on.

He spent a few days in each place. When he did not find the champions he sought, he continued on his journey. He had conquered hunger, thirst and pain. His legs did not tire, his body did not ache. Walking kos upon kos through rough terrain made his feet bleed, yet they did not hurt.

The Rishi now opened his eyes. He was sweating profusely. It was a sultry day. He rose, using his modest pancha (a thin cotton cloth), to wipe the sweat from his face, chest and back. This was his third day in this particular village. He decided to spend two more days and then travel on. His throat felt parched and he looked for his kamandalam. It was empty. Usually, he could go for several days without water, but the humid heat was taking a toll on him.

He looked around and saw an open, green field. Sure that there must be a small stream nearby, which fed the field, he walked in that direction. But there was no sign of water. He spied a group of young boys playing in the shade of some trees. He called to them, asking them to get him some water. One of the boys bowed before the Rishi and replied he would get it. He ran to his house and returned with a clay pot filled with cool water. Rishi Chaitanya drank the water and blessed the youngsters.

He sat in the shade of a tree to cool off, watching the youngsters as they played. It was an interesting game. The players were divided into pairs and each pair played in turn. One of the pair was blindfolded and given a round object made of grass, twigs and leaves. His partner would then instruct him as to where the other boys stood, calling out the position of each by name. The blindfolded youth was required to memorise where his friends stood as they formed a circle around him, each roughly ten paces away. Once the location of each boy had been called, the game commenced.

The caller would mention each boy only by name and his blindfolded partner would then throw the round object towards the named player by recalling where he had been told the boy stood in the circle. The throw had to be accurate enough to hit the target on any part of his body except his face. The Rishi watched as most of the youngsters either could not remember where their friends stood, or if they did, their throws were not accurate enough to hit them. The others had a good laugh as pair after pair struggled to hit a single player.

The Rishi watched in amusement. He was pleased by their youthful joy and hoped their happiness would not be short-lived. As he watched, Rishi Chaitanya’s thoughts drifted to his own childhood. He had been a boisterous and passionate youth. He was as likely to be a steadfast friend as an unforgiving foe. He loved his family and close circle of friends. He despised treachery, dishonesty and deceit. If he considered someone vile, he did not hesitate to express his contempt. If someone broke his trust, his mind filled with vengeance. He would burn within, consumed with violent schemes to right a wrong.

Chaitanya aspired to be a great and powerful sage, like his forefathers before him. He had the firm resolve and persistence required for such a path. He was learned in the Vedas, and excelled at science, mathematics and astronomy, while possessing an outstanding memory. His hard work, determination and sharp mind marked him for greatness from an early age and he pursued this tirelessly.

The thought of falling in love had never crossed Chaitanya’s mind. Focussed on his purpose, he knew love would be a deterrent to his ambitions. But Lord Kama tested his resolution of celibacy.

Bhairavgarh wore a festive look as a tournament had been organised for athletes and champions. Citizens from various kingdoms had come to attend. Chaitanya and his friends were entrusted with the task of ushering the guests to their living quarters, ensuring that all arrangements were as per the palace’s instructions. As he helped a batch of visitors, Chaitanya’s eyes fell on a dusky, lithe and graceful girl with flowing hair. Hard as he tried, he could not take his eyes off her. She too, noticed him. She seemed like a figment of his imagination as she gracefully sashayed past him.

Chaitanya! shouted a guard, remember to take the count! The voice rudely woke him from his trance. Nodding, he continued with his tasks. But his mind remained distracted.

Dhruv, Nandan, Agastya! he bellowed. Please usher in these visitors. I must check the guest houses. Without waiting for an acknowledgement from his friends, Chaitanya made his way through the throng of jostling people, searching for the girl he had seen. When he reached an open space, he looked around eagerly, but she was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was already in her room, he thought. The various competitions would give him another chance to spot her. But it would not be easy in the crowds. He would have to be alert.

That evening, Chaitanya and his group of friends sat by the small pond outside the city walls. It was their favourite place. They threw stones into the water to see who could throw the furthest. When the weather permitted, they would often swim in the pond, diving underwater to see who could hold his breath the longest. It had been a long and tiring day and this was their own time, when they could forget about their duties and enjoy themselves.

Chaitanya was unusually pensive. It was as if a strange spell had been cast on him. He had to meet the lovely damsel, ask her name, her origins, get to know her... As his friends created a commotion around him, he just sat and stared at them, smiling like a simpleton.

The next morning, Chaitanya was entrusted with the task of helping to maintain order in the grand arena where the main competitions would be held. As he guided people towards vacant seats, he strained his neck to catch a glimpse of the lady with whom he was smitten. He didn’t have to wait for long.

Behind him, he heard the sound of giggling. Generally, he would have ignored such frivolity and continued with his tasks. But this time, he spun around, hope in his heart. And there she was with her friends, even more beautiful than he remembered. This time their eyes met. She seemed fascinated by him. Chaitanya was a striking figure with his well sculpted face, large eyes, and the deep reserve that characterised his manner.

Chaitanya stood oblivious to the people pushing past. The girl self consciously brushed her hair off her forehead and pulled at her dress. Her plain saffron skirt ended just above her ankles. She wore a matching blouse and had tied her pallu diagonally across her torso. Her eyes were lined with kohl.

Vaishali! called one of her companions. What are you doing back there? Startled, she turned gracefully and walked swiftly in the direction of the chattering group. Just once, she turned sideways to catch a glimpse of Chaitanya. Within moments, he lost sight of her. But this time he was armed with a plan. He knew her name and that was sufficient.

Once everyone was seated and the games had commenced, Chaitanya sped towards a large tent outside the grand arena. The registry of all visitors was maintained here. It took him a while but he found there were five Vaishalis visiting the capital that day. Three were ruled out because of their age. He noted where the two younger Vaishalis were staying. His heart beat faster. Just one step remained.

He went to the visitors’ area. Families and large groups were housed in stone and brick hutments, while the single men and the teams were allocated tents. The guards smiled at Chaitanya, whom they knew well. Oh great Rishi, one joked, what brings you to our humble part of the world?

Always ready for some witty banter, Chaitanya promptly responded, I am hunting for some pearls in this large ocean you so carefully protect, Your Highnesses.

The guards laughed, delighted, slapping his back and letting him pass.

Chaitanya surveyed the houses and entered one. The first room was clean and orderly, with everything in the right place. Was it hers? There was nothing to tell him that it was. He went from one room to the next and then did the same in the next house. At the end, he came upon a room that was neither tidy nor organised, but had a gay artistic abandon. Small rectangular clay blocks with beautiful paintings were arranged haphazardly under the window. Some wooden idols sat in one corner, presumably the place of worship. Cotton mats of wondrous patterns were strewn across the floor. It was disorderly yet vibrant. Chaitanya marked the spot.

That evening, after most people had retired to bed, tired by the excitement of the day’s sporting displays, Chaitanya and his friends made their way to the house he had identified. A small lamp burned inside the room, illuminating the interior. Someone was still awake. They waited patiently.

After what seemed an eternity, the lamp was extinguished. Nandan, the most sure-footed among them, climbed up the wall and reached the window, and peeked in. It contained a family of six – grandparents, parents and two young women. Unsure which one he had to wake, Nandan threw some water from the leather pouch he carried, onto them both. They woke with a start. Seeing Nandan staring at them through the window, they were about to scream when he signalled for them to be quiet. Swiftly he slipped down to the ground again.

Chaitanya stood, looking up intently as his friends scampered away. However, their curiosity got the better of them and they hid behind some trees a hundred paces away, to watch. A few moments later, the flickering light of an oil lamp appeared in the window and two young women peered down. Chaitanya smiled at one of them but she did not reciprocate. Vaishali glanced behind her to see if her family was still asleep. They were. She looked down at Chaitanya sternly, her eyes narrowed.

Slightly daunted, Chaitanya whispered, "Namaste, Vaishali of Brahmarashtra, I am Chaitanya, son of Rishi Narendra."

Vaishali raised her eyebrows in surprise. The brahmin had managed to discover her name and village. She raised one hand, silently asking him the purpose of his untimely visit. Vaishali’s younger sister, Mohini, smothered a laugh at the romantic scene being played out before her.

Chaitanya replied quietly, I beseech you, grant me a few moments. I wish to know more about you.

Vaishali’s eyes grew wide. The young man was certainly audacious and bold, she thought. He had wasted no time in discovering her abode, and he was surely not wasting a moment in communicating his intentions. She too, was curious about him and felt his efforts and temerity should not go unrewarded. She looked down, wondering how to negotiate the distance of ten vertical paces to the ground.

But she need not have worried for the boys had prepared for this eventuality. Dhruv, Nandan and Agastya came out of hiding and opened out a cotton sheet. Holding its corners, the four friends spread it out under the window. Vaishali smiled, shaking her head in amused disbelief. They were certainly prepared, she thought!

Climbing onto the window sill, she crouched on her haunches and then jumped into the sheet. As she stood up, she looked up at Mohini. Her younger sister was rather more reluctant but finally took the plunge. The group of six quietly made their way towards the nearby pond.

How dare you creep in on us at night like this, you foolish fellow! What would have happened if my parents had woken? Vaishali berated Chaitanya once they were out of earshot.

Composed as ever, the Rishi’s son responded, I dare because I don’t believe in waiting for things to happen on their own. The promise of a few moments with you was worth the risk of getting caught by your family.

She had been right about him. He was a bold one, certainly not shy about expressing his feelings. As a bonus, he was fairly