Chanakya: Artha

By Arnab Talukder

Chanakya, fearing the worst, takes it upon himself to form a defence against the intruder. In doing so he starts wondering whether the Bharatvarsha hasn’t already descended into a form he cannot comprehend, and is it a form that he wants to preserve?

Chanakya must decide if he will allow external forces to upheave the Bharatvarsha or internal forces.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Aug 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9789390266623

Arnab Talukder

Arnab Talukder was born in Gujarat in 1998. He has since then, moved from Jamnagar to Gurgaon, from Gurgaon to Kuwait and finally from Kuwait to London. Throughout it all, he kept a keen interest in Hinduism and Indian culture. However, this diminished over time as there were better sources and curriculums at school regarding Roman or Greek history. Philosophy and religious studies were tailored to primarily Christian and Islamic theology.Over time he chose Philosophy along with Maths, Further Maths, Physics and Geography at A-Levels. Throughout the entire time he felt lacking since he didn’t command the confidence that he did in Christian or Islamic theology as in his religion of Hinduism.While staying at his aunt’s house in Bangalore he came across the Arthashastra, being bored during a blackout he started reading it. It was exactly what he wanted, no long contradictory hymns of the Rig Vedas, no over the top reverence of the Bhagavad Gita. Just a concise, albeit large, treatise on ancient Hindu states. With more and more analysis he started working on a story at the end of his first year of university. Continuing to do this throughout his Physics degree he also did more philosophy and theology at the university alongside Physics. Gaining valuable insight into things such as how important visions were in ancient Mesopotamia, which was also the case in ancient Hinduism.He discussed the contents of the Arthashastra with his maternal grandfather who had worked in the PWD in India his entire life. As expected, his grandfather stated that things were far better then, than they are now. Spending more time with his grandfather he realised who he wanted to thank for humouring the mundane topics such as how roads should be built. His grandfather passed away before the completion of the book however.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

LOSSES

The sun was just rising, its golden rays piercing through his gaping window. He got up from his bed slowly. As he did, he looked over at the empty bed on the other side of the room, he felt a slight sadness creep in, but he knew she had full right to leave. He walked over to the bed and lingered there for a few seconds. Light cream sheets were still spread on the mattress, as if she were still here. He walked back to grab his antariya and put it on. Dirt clung on to the ends of his saffron antariya, he’d have to wash them soon. It’d be the plain white one that he wore today, he wrapped it around his waist and then swung the rest over his shoulders and tucked it back into his waist. It was a fashionable thing to do so. All the Brahmins of Taksasila had done it and he naturally had followed them. He sat down and chanted his prayers. Mantras calmed him and readied him for the things that lay ahead, he didn’t truly do it as a sign of devotion.

Apples and mangoes lay on his windowpane. He grabbed a mango, peeled it, and took a large bite. The juice trickled down his arm as he bit into it. Its light red juice stuck to his forearm as it made its way down, he found the sensation of stickiness irritating. He washed his hands and forearms, tied his sikha¹ and applied tilak² on his forehead and arms. Tucked away at the side of the entrance to his house were his solitary pair of sandals, he slipped into them as he prepared to walk outside.

Walking through the paved roads of Antarita, the capital of Puru’s Kingdom, he felt the morning calm. Colloquially the name of the Kingdom had taken the name of the dynasty as the Pauravyan Kingdom. Even though the King’s name was Pauravya, most, if not all when referring to him called him Puru. Of course, no one dared to call him that in front of him. Unusual for it to be this calm at this time of day Chanakya thought as he walked the almost empty streets of the city. The shops were closed as he walked by, he wondered how lazy the city’s people had become. It was past dawn they should’ve been out by now and getting on with the day’s work. He wondered if the people of Antarita were frightened that their King Pauravya would face defeat in front of the barbarian Sikandar’s invading force. Sikandar hadn’t even crossed the Vitasta river yet, surely out of fear of their great King.

As he was nearing the temple, he saw a plump young man pacing towards him. Chanakya couldn’t help but smile as he saw this round man almost trip up on his own antariya.

Bhadrabutt, slow down there’s no rush. I won’t start teaching before you arrive, Chanakya told the man.

I … wasn’t … worried about … that, Bhadrabutt gasped trying to get his breath back, I thought it’d be … good if we walked to the temple together. Chanakya gently patted his student on his back as Bhadrabutt crouched down with his hands on his knees trying to get his breath back. Even bending down proved difficult for the man as his large stomach got in the way.

Bhadrabutt was a young man, still a child in Chanakya’s eyes, having turned seventeen just a few weeks prior. Bhadrabutt was a bit shorter, and far wider than Chanakya. Bhadrabutt was somehow never unkempt, Chanakya had never remembered seeing him without a perfectly shaved scalp, except for his sikha. Even Chanakya hadn’t managed to be that attentive with his own appearance.

Bhadrabutt had joined the temple like what seemed to Chanakya as mere months ago. Not many foreigners ventured into Antarita’s university as the famous Taksasila university lay just a Kingdom away or the waning Nalanda university far East. Chanakya had once been enamoured by Taksasila.

They arrived and took off their sandals and prayed before entering the temple. Even now, there weren’t as many people as Chanakya would have expected. Where are all the people? Chanakya wondered.

They made their way through the main temple. Antarita’s temple wasn’t the most elegant, in fact, it was quite plain. The ground was dark and not tiled, it saved money and wouldn’t give the impression that it was dirty. Its walls only had different hues of brown, and not even placed well. A patchwork of the different hues was meshed together with the walls and ceiling sometimes forming a confusing array. Regardless of it lacking in any grandeur, it was a great temple and a good university, even if it wasn’t Taksasila.

On the far side of the inner mandap of the temple sat the guru of the University. He oversaw all the teachers under him such as Chanakya. Namaskarah guru, Chanakya and Bhadrabutt said in unison, bowing their heads and folding their hands at the person seated there. Always the first ones here, the guru said whilst raising his hand to give them his blessings. Bhadrabutt’s profuse sweating caught the guru’s eye.

Why are you sweating so much Bhadrabutt? the guru asked with concern, fearing his student may have a fever.

"I had to sprint to catch up with Sri Vishnugupta, guru." Chanakya looked at Bhadrabutt with a puzzled look; he hardly ran, let alone sprint. The guru laughed at Chanakya’s reaction, Vishnugupta you must really learn how to hide your thoughts, it’ll be a useful talent to have.

Chanakya bowed and retorted sarcastically, "I agree guru, but I am a master of law and economics. Dealing with mere interactions is beneath me." He knew he wasn’t the most pleasant person either to look at or to hear but caring for how he presented himself was a fruitless endeavour.

Maybe if you had mastered how and what to say, your wife may not have left you, the guru said spitefully at such rude behaviour, arrogance was hardly appropriate in front of one’s guru. A Brahmin of Chanakya’s stature should’ve known as much. Chanakya bowed and requested kindly to get on with his teaching. The guru waved his hand dismissingly to relieve himself of having to interact with Chanakya.

Chanakya walked off to his seat in the temple where Bhadrabutt and a few other students had already congregated around. Chanakya taught economics, law and justice from the scriptures and treatises of other great Brahmins. Chanakya had fewer students than the other Srotritya³ who taught rituals, morality and astrology. This didn’t dismay him; a smaller group of students was easier to teach. Only a handful of Brahmins taught here, there was never an exact number as some left and others arrived. Many spent a handful of years in Antarita before venturing into the countryside to open ashrams. The other students knew that Bhadrabutt was his favourite. It wasn’t because Bhadrabutt was necessarily the brightest, he hardly talked during discussions preferring to mediate between two people’s contrasting opinions. Bhadrabutt soaked up everything Chanakya taught. Chanakya was like that himself from the day when he was a toddler and his father had taught him the Vedas. Chanakya’s aptitude for learning had led him to become the youngest Srotriya in Taksasila when he had arrived at that city. Even when he arrived in Antarita he was one of the youngest. The other Brahmins who taught here were in their forties with the youngest being thirty-four, and here he sat, a twenty-two-year-old sharing equal platform with them. Chanakya still showed them respect since they were his elders, but he didn’t think of them as his equals.

Chanakya would only teach this batch of Brahmins for a few more months and then a new batch would come. It saddened him to see them leave after a year and a half, even if he hadn’t gotten to know them properly.

After teaching the whole morning they went to get fruits to eat for the afternoon. Other Brahmins ate a heavy meal of broth with salted vegetables, Chanakya preferred to stick to fruits. Broth didn’t always sit well with him, though he could not deny the scent of the fried vegetables were enticing. Spices were lightly drizzled on the broths during special occasions. When that happened Bhadrabutt insisted that Chanakya join him. Chanakya would be sated after two servings but Bhadrabutt kept on going for four or five servings.

As Chanakya sat down, Bhadrabutt sat next to him. Chanakya looked with amusement as his student shuffled to sit in the most comfortable position, Bhadrabutt was not only an obedient student but Chanakya’s most doting student. Bhadrabutt was one of the few people who had ever come into his house, and even one of the fewer people with whom he had spoken about his wife. Bhadrabutt was a chubby man, with a bulbous nose and always had a grin from ear to ear. Whenever he spoke, he made sure to be polite and not to cause offence, Chanakya didn’t understand how he had made a friend with someone who was so different to him. Chanakya was a raging torrent and Bhadrabutt a gentle stream. He was glad to have such a friend; he’d make sure whenever he was in discussion that he wouldn’t go into a frenzy; Bhadrabutt always calmed him down so others could understand what Chanakya was saying. He did this even if he didn’t agree with his teacher’s views.

"Bhadrabutt, what do you think of Sikandar?" Chanakya asked his student, eagerly waiting to hear what his student’s thoughts were on the current state of affairs. Chanakya usually didn’t quiz Bhadrabutt outside of discussions that were had in front the other students, but the morning was a reminder of Sikandar’s effects, this still lingered at the back of Chanakya’s mind.

Well, he paused for a second, Dear teacher, I don’t think he poses any threat, both sides have armies of roughly fifty thousand. He also has no war elephants and has never fought on our terrain. Chanakya was pleased with his student’s answer, Bhadrabutt could see that. Seeing that he had pleased Chanakya, Bhadrabutt’s face became home to his usual beaming smile. Chanakya wanted to toy with his student a bit, he couldn’t let him be too happy.

But he defeated Darius who had seventy thousand more soldiers than his own army, Chanakya stated casually whilst peeling a lychee from the bunch that lay on his lap. Bhadrabutt didn’t know how to respond to his teacher’s comment. Confused, he asked meekly, Chanakya do you think King Pauravya will be annihilated as Darius was? A raucous laugh filled the hall, everyone looked at Chanakya, no one had seen him laugh this much. The man wasn’t known for smiles let alone laughter.

Oh Bhadrabutt, you say the most ludicrous things sometimes. No, of course I don’t think our King would be defeated by this foreign Prince. Chanakya continued laughing and his student nervously smiled not knowing what answer Chanakya was after. Chanakya stopped laughing and patted Bhadrabutt on his back, this did nothing but confused Bhadrabutt more, as he didn’t know why his teacher was behaving in such an odd fashion.

As evening came Chanakya headed back, at least now the streets were bustling with commerce. He walked through the earthen streets, the smells of different spices and the sights of different foods enticed him. He wandered over to a vendor and haggled with him to get bread at a lower price. Chanakya knew what price the vendor would be happy to sell it at, but he always aimed to undercut it. It didn’t matter that he was a Brahmin he still had to haggle and he believed himself to be and expert. He was proud of his negotiation skills. Maybe his guru was wrong about how adept he was at interacting with others. The thought made him smile, he had just compared buying bread to maintaining a marriage.

A potent smell hung in the air as he walked through the street, the smell of metal, the smell of swords and axes. He was fond of that smell, his father trained him with a sword when he was younger, much to his mother’s dismay. The sound of swords clashing made him tingle with excitement, he used to practice with his brothers and even with his sister, Yamu; but only in private with the latter. He reminisced about those early years of his life, his family… but times had changed.

As he entered his house, he put down the bread and went over to the pot of water he had left on the windowpane. He peered into the still surface of the water. A tired man looked back at him, a man with crooked teeth and leathery skin. Every fold of his face seemed heavy, to the point where it looked like his skin’s weight would prove too heavy and would let go. The rough man staring back at him looked as if he were in his fifties. Is that truly me? he pondered as he stared into the pot, he tried smiling but it didn’t seem natural. He tried again, a gentler smile, still it seemed as if it were a badly worn mask.

He washed his face and had his meal, alone. As he was about to lay down to sleep, he saw the empty bed across the room, it was still there. It had been there unoccupied for months. A constant reminder of how true the guru’s words rang. His failure, his ineptitude, that was all it was, really. Just a relic of his past. He got up again, walked over to the bed picked it up and carried it out.

With as much force as his frail body could muster, he flung the bed out. The bed thumped as it hit the ground, he left it in the streets outside his house it’d be better there than in his house he thought, its cream sheets were now mud brown as they lay sprawling on the street. Again, he walked over to the pot to wash his face. This time a kind man smiled back at him, with the same crooked teeth as before.

Ψ

Great King, I have dire news, the commander said panting as he rushed into his war tent. Puru turned to look at him, he looked down at his commander. Everyone here was shorter than him and now his son wouldn’t even have the opportunity to grow as tall as him. Puru knew what the news was, if it were anything else, he’d have his son telling him.

He was heartbroken, his only son, his only child lay dead in a field somewhere being trampled over by men and horses. Recovering his son’s mangled body would do nothing but horrify his wife. However, showing any sadness to his men would impact their morale. If he had to save his Kingdom, his people, he couldn’t risk that happening.

Have you made sure that this is their main force? His question boomed through the tent.

"The scout said, Sikandar was with them." Puru had been fooled. Soldiers were still lined up across the Vitasta river. His son, along with most of the chariots and a quarter of his archers had perished at the hands of this Greek Emperor. Finally, it was time for them to meet on the battlefield.

We shall leave behind eight thousand soldiers to make sure that the camp is safe. Mobilise the rest. He’d have forty thousand men against however many Sikandar had brought across the river. Even in the worst possible scenario, Sikandar could not have more soldiers than him in this battle. He donned his helmet and left the tent.

Soldiers had lined up in loose formation with their spears, swords and shields. The archers brought along three quivers strapped on their backs with a short sword that curved at the top. Cavalry was on either side of the main infantry force and his elephants were there at the front.

Puru rushed to the front to mount his elephant. As he marched past his soldiers, they bowed down to him. He could see fear in their eyes; they knew the crown Prince had died and now they’d have to face this invader.

Puru mounted his elephant which was sitting down on the floor. The mahout⁴ looked at Puru with tears in his eyes. The mahout was much older than Puru and had known his son just as he had known Puru when Puru’s father would mount the elephants. For the mahout the Prince was like family and the news of his demise was too much to bear. They used to play and ride the elephants as an uncle would with his nephew. Guilt would loom heavy on the mahout’s soul if he were the cause for the Pauravyan dynasty to be extinguished here today. Puru commanded the mahout to make the elephant stand and walk in front of the army. Puru’s resolve permeated the mood and situation and made the mahout wipe his tears. The elephant was much larger than the other one hundred and fifty elephants that were in the army. A trumpeter blew his trumpet and all the soldiers stood to attention. Soldiers stood in units of their corps, with the heavy swordsmen and the spearmen behind the archers. Dark blue uniforms surrounded him. It would appear as if the ocean itself had come to bear arms against this enemy.

Brave Kshatriya, we are fighting for more than our lives here today. We fight for our customs and our families. Our ancestors will judge us based on today. My son died whilst scouting so that we may have more time to face the enemy and prepare, He didn’t hesitate while saying that. His son knew the risks associated with his position. Puru wasn’t one to make long speeches, and he was struggling to think of what more to say, it wasn’t an art he believed was part of war, We will kill this foreign invader! Ambhi has placed himself beneath this invader but we all already knew that Ambhi was a coward and an abject failure. The soldiers began cheering. Many of them had fought in the wars against Ambhi and had secured more territory from him. Let us go on to win this battle and make our ancestors proud! The soldiers stamped on the ground and cheered to make as much noise as possible. Amidst this Puru’s mahout began shouting Long live the Pauravya Kingdom! all the soldiers repeated it in unison. Then after the third time a large conch shell was blown to get the army on their way to meet Sikandar.

The army had been marching for three hours and they had covered fifteen kilometres. Puru blew his conch and the army halted. The trumpets were blown six times and ended with a long blast of the conch shell. The infantry; horses and elephants sat down. Soldiers with large wooden shields and long spears walked up to the elephants. There were ten men guarding each elephant and six men guarding each chariot. Soldiers that guarded the chariots had javelins and spare javelins were carried in the chariots themselves. Everyone was ready for the battle that was about to commence.

It had only been half an hour and the conch shell blew to get everyone back on their feet. Everyone could hear the army approaching. The bank was sparsely vegetated, and it was flat. No chance of an ambush and no chance for the enemy to pull more tricks than they already had. Puru looked to his left and saw his thousand-strong cavalry and five hundred chariots were arrayed on his left flank beside the Vitasta. Three thousand cavalry were on his right flank. He patiently waited for the Greek to come to him. He would have his revenge and he would honour the Gods by making the Vitasta red with Greek blood.

He saw men march with golden armour that glimmered in the sunlight and with spears that were longer than anything his army had. Those spears would be problematic, his soldiers would not be able to come in close to attack them, he would have to find a way of countering that.

Everything about this Greek army seemed foreign. Even though he had reports of Sikandar’s army it seemed odd that man would truly fight in such a tight formation. Two loud blares of the trumpets signalled the archers to take their positions. The ground had dried up over the past few hours and his archers could function again. They dug the base of their bows into the ground and prepared to fire.

Just as the first volley was set loose on the enemy, he saw something appear from behind the enemy cavalry on the left. Horses raced past the other cavalry on the side of the river. These horses were different, the riders wore a dull brown uniform with different head gear to the other cavalrymen. They raced forward with ferocious speed. Puru blew his conch three times and the chariots on the left flank raced forward whilst the soldiers that guarded them stood back.

The men on horseback that were approaching didn’t have any lances or javelins. It was odd. Puru could not understand what they would attack him with. Whilst he was trying to understand the threat of these mysterious horsemen the archers kept on firing volleys of arrows. This didn’t do much against the phalanx of Sikandar’s army but it killed many of the soldiers that Ambhi had given Sikandar. Arrows from the other side were let loose, but not from archers who stood their ground. The horsemen were horse archers. Puru didn’t really think they’d be effective against him. It had taken the chariots almost half an hour to retaliate against the horse archers. The chariots raced behind them drawn by two or three horses. Charioteers let their arrows loose trying to counter the horse archers, but the horses were too quick. Only a handful of the horse archers were dead. Puru blew his conch three times to signal a retreat for the charioteers. As they retreated the cavalry on Sikandar’s side began to run. It would be at least ten minutes before the horses would reach the chariots. Trumpets blared and the cavalry on his left began to run to save the chariots, the soldiers that had to guard the chariots also ran. All the trumpets blew in unison and the entire army marched forward. The horse archers were still showering arrows down on them but they had little effect against their padded armour of cotton. Finally, after seeing both armies advance the horse archers retreated.

On the left flank, the chariots weaved through the advancing cavalry of Puru to reach their foot soldiers for protection. In the distance, they could see the bright red skirts of the Greek cavalry with their helmets that were frilled on the top with dyed animal hair. The chariots knew that their cavalry had little chance against the Greeks if they didn’t quickly turn back and attack them. Puru was preoccupied with the centre, he didn’t have time to send out his skirmishers to harass the front of the army. Puru signalled to the rest of the elephants by blowing through an ivory whistle. All one hundred and fifty elephants converged in the centre and began to charge. The ground shook as these magnificent beasts the size of three men charged at the outstretched phalanx. The foot soldiers accompanying them ran behind them. The rest of the army advanced slowly as they were only a kilometre away and they needed the elephants to wreak havoc. The cavalry on the right flank mirrored the elephants’ charge as they didn’t want them flanked.

After charging for three minutes the elephants crashed through the phalanx. Puru was close enough to see that some of the men had pissed themselves at the sight of the elephants. He threw javelins into the mass of men and with his long spear he pierced the skull of any man he could find. Some elephants had swords strapped onto their tusks and others had metal caps. All of them had sufficient armour, but the foot soldiers were still necessary. Puru looked back to see where those foot soldiers were. They were cutting through the enemy soldiers with ease. He saw men dangling from the swords on the elephant’s tusks. Aim for the eyes! He heard someone say in an accent from Ambhi’s Kingdom and then another call he could not understand. The elephants had only attacked the Greek forces, the Persian and Taksasilian forces wouldn’t require elephants to defeat.

After half an hour of slaughtering the Greeks he heard an elephant trumpet in pain. One of them had gone down. A few minutes later another elephant trumpeted and he could even hear the thud of the elephant falling. The Greeks had begun taking down the elephants. Puru blew on whistle and the soldiers cleared a path for him to retreat. It took him ten minutes to get through the thick of the battle. When he was finally out in the open, he looked over to his left and saw the river. His chariots were broken and his cavalry were barely holding their own. Puru’s mahout threw him a trumpet and he blew on it. All the cavalry on his right had seen what the other cavalry were dealing with and turned to go help them. Puru then turned back whistled for a clear path and charged into battle with his war elephant.

Countless elephants ran away or were slain. It had been a gruelling three hours of fighting. The pulses of clashes had continued sporadically but the breaks between the fighting had lengthened. Puru looked back and saw something he could not believe. A force was approaching from behind. It wasn’t his reserve force however. It was the other Greek army. Then he looked towards the Vitasta and he saw that all his chariots had perished and his cavalry could not have numbered more than five hundred against what seemed like a Greek force more than five times the size. It would end badly, but it would only end if he kept his Kingdom. If he did not keep his Kingdom his life was meaningless. The soldiers could not see this unless they looked back. He blew his trumpet eight consecutive times. The entire infantry force spread out making their lines only eight ranks or so deep whilst the others hurried to the right flank to encircle the Greek army.

Puru could feel something odd. The soldiers that had gone to the right less than twenty minutes ago should have been putting pressure on the Greeks yet they didn’t budge. He knew there were no more cavalry on the right so what was going on?

Lances pierced through the side and he could hear the screams. Javelins pierced the soldiers behind him. Only four, of the ten, foot soldiers who were protecting him still stood, the rest were dead somewhere with a hundred feet stamping over their dead bodies.

It happened. A long spear gouged out his elephant’s eye. The Greeks had been trying that for the past five hours but it had finally happened. Puru along with his mahout leapt off their elephant who ran through the Greek lines causing chaos. The sun was getting lower in the sky. In a few hours it would be night.

The sun had begun setting and he still stood with cuts across his torso, his armour’s thickness wasn’t sufficient. He wielded his huge straight sword and his great metal shield. The battle may take his life, but he was willing to take that risk.

Everything was crumbling, his rear was open to attack and so was his right. It was getting dark and he could barely see into the distant right flank. A loud trumpet blew, it wasn’t one of his. The Greek army retreated with caution. His soldiers wanted to pursue but he blew the trumpet his mahout had carried on his side; he knew that they weren’t retreating out of fear or because they feared an impending defeat. Both sides had stopped the slaughter for the day. Many of his own soldiers slumped down beside carcasses and began to weep, these were green boys, for a lot of them this would have been their first experience of war. They put their hands over their heads and placed their heads between their legs, exhausted by it all. The smell was putrid. Excrement of horses, elephants and men lay scattered everywhere.

After a few minutes a group of soldiers who were taller than the average man, yet far shorter than him, approached him. Behind them a gold headed boy rode on a black stallion and pulled with him a white mare. It didn’t take Puru long to understand who the boy was, it must’ve been a sub-commander in army. Puru had to admit the boy’s bloodied face and even bloodier armour gave him a look of ferocity, but his glee gave away his immaturity. From the reports he would’ve almost believed this was Sikandar. Reports also spoke of Sikandar taking men as his lover, that’s who this boy most probably was another one of Sikandar’s male lovers. The boy let the mare go towards Puru. Puru looked back at his army, he blew his conch shell with four long breaths. With that his army began their march back to the camp, he knew they would be unharmed even though his camp was most probably Sikandar’s swamped with Sikandar’s forces. Puru then reluctantly mounted the mare, it was an insult, but still he followed the boy.

The boy said something but he looked back at him confused. They had crossed the river and were at Sikandar’s camp. This boy must’ve been a sub-commander. He couldn’t wait to meet Sikandar. Puru would finally see this man who was as brave and maybe even as tall as him.

As he entered a war tent, he saw a Brahmin there. The tent was made of a thick and rich red fabric with gold frills. At the top of the centre of the tent a golden sun stared down. Welcome great King of the Pauravya Kingdom. The boy whispered into the ear of a man who looked like a Brahmin but was Greek. He assumed the Greeks had Brahmins too, they both dressed quite similarly. Emperor Alexander asks you what you would want him to do with you? the Brahmin said. Puru looked over the boy who was smirking. Sikandar didn’t even come up to his neck and he had been defeated by him. Puru smiled, he had been bested. His magnificent armour and blood drenched armour made sense now, he was indeed an excellent warrior. Treat me as one King treats another. Sikandar came close and embraced Puru, just reaching his chest.

Ψ

It was dark. Almost pitch black, but something shone in the distance, a glimmer. A golden ray that illuminated the abyss. It was deathly silent. Chanakya couldn’t help but be drawn towards the light, like a moth to a candle. Chanakya struggled to walk towards the glimmer of gold, his feet were being swallowed up by the ground. He looked down but couldn’t see anything, not even his own legs. His torso was barely visible to him, only illuminated by the far-off light. He could feel the debris on the floor. He was in a jungle. Leaves crunched under his feet, but he could only feel the sensation he couldn’t hear them crunch. The light became brighter and brighter as he got closer. Instinctively he brought his hand up to shield his eyes from the blinding light. It was a man, with a golden light coming from atop his head. Chanakya froze to inspect the man from afar but as soon as he stopped flames appeared. Crimson flames erupted from the ground burning the jungle he was in and the sound was deafening. Crimson eyes stared at his soul and the man with the golden head laughed as Chanakya burned.

Chanakya woke up sweating. Crickets chirped in the quiet night. Chanakya’s body had clung onto the bed as he tried to get up. Sweat poured out of every pore in his body and he shivered in the cold night. What was that? Chanakya was petrified of what he had just seen, and he couldn’t understand or explain what he just saw. Unable to understand it he just walked around until he could fall asleep again.

There was commotion on the streets, there were crowds gathering beside the streets as the sea of soldiers flooded back into the city, he had to barge past the people to get through. Only the Gods know what’s going on here he thought to himself. He strode on to the temple, these busy streets would have surely made him late, even the street vendors were too busy chattering to sell their goods. He had no clue what all this ruckus was about.

As he marched on, he felt a sharp pain on his ankle. It was a stinging nettle; it had left a gash. Furious, he hurried to the nearest shop. It was empty. The owner must have left it unattended to go join the crowd, so he picked up a knife and walked back to the nettles. As he lowered down and uprooted it, he heard footsteps come towards him, accompanied with laughter. Chanakya why are you kneeling on the filthy ground with a knife? chuckled Bhadrabutt as he saw his teacher kneeling down in the dirt with a knife in one hand and stinging nettles in the other. Chanakya looked at him and asked, What would you have me do Bhadrabutt?

I did not see the nettle. Why don’t you wait for someone else to come clear it for you? Until then you could just avoid it,

If I leave this plant here today and I remember to not cross it I’m saved, but there will be countless who will be stung as I have, the minimal effort I make will save others the pain I have suffered. Bhadrabutt stood there mulling over what his teacher had just told him, and then after a while he shook his head in agreement. Chanakya stood up and walked back to the shop to place the knife where he found it and threw the nettles aside where no-one would walk. "We should get going to the temple, we can’t shatter the guru’s notion of us always being punctual."

As Chanakya and Bhadrabutt entered the temple they could see all the other Brahmins chattering and pacing from one group to the other, there was commotion here too just like the streets.

Bhadrabutt do you have any clue what all this commotion is about? Chanakya asked his student not expecting the Brahmins in the temple to have the same squabbles as the people in streets.

I am as lost as you in this matter, responded Bhadrabutt looking on in equal confusion as Chanakya. He surveyed the floor of the temple, Brahmins had left their scriptures open, it must’ve been something horrendous for them to commit such a taboo. Chanakya briskly walked over to the guru who was in a fierce discussion with the other Brahmins around him.

"Namaskarah guru, what is the cause of this pandemonium?"

Vishnugupta sit, everyone, sit! bellowed the guru. Everyone took their time to settle their discussions and after a few torturous minutes of being left in the dark, the guru finally began addressing the Brahmins of the temple.

"As we know. Sikandar was on the other side of the Vitasta for the past few weeks. We had full faith that our King the great Pauravya would prevail against this intruder," the guru paused looking down to gather his thoughts "Well, the inevitable happened yesterday Sikandar attacked with his army after crossing the Vitasta river. In the initial clash we lost our crown Prince, and when our great King Pauravya went to engage Sikandar he was defeated." The entire hall went silent. Clearly most of the Brahmins here already knew of the outcome. Yet hearing it again still held the power it did initially, shock permeated the room. This was the greatest shock the Kingdom had faced in decades if not centuries.

Chanakya had an empty feeling in his stomach. Was that what his dream was about? How could this have happened? It made no sense. Chanakya was blind to the commotion in the streets and his mind had just blocked out the obvious believing the outcome to be a farfetched fantasy.

Chanakya remembered feeling repulsed when he had heard that Ambhi had opened his gates to Sikandar when Sikandar came marching in from his conquest of Darius’ Empire in Persia. That was a betrayal to the Aryavarta, all the states that followed the ways of the Vedas. The other Brahmins laughed at his disdain for what Ambhi did claiming that the Aryavarta is only fiction that kings go to when they want to give more legitimacy to their truces. The Aryavarta would mean nothing until the Chakravarti would arrive anyway, and what were the chances of Bharat being born again? The Brahmins joked.

Our great King towered over this Greek boy and made him respect him, he has recognised King Pauravya as King of our great Kingdom, The guru again paused this time looking upwards, Chanakya could not understand what could be heavier than what the guru had already told them.

"The great King Pauravya is now an ally of Sikandar and has to host his men and pay tribute as an ally. We fear that this might impact how much money the treasury deems necessary for us."

Some Brahmins had tears in their eyes, others only agony, they were hardly paid as it was, this was a labour of love for them and even that had been taken away from them. The Pauravya Kingdom was not the wealthiest and most kingdoms lacked universities, now there’d be fewer kingdoms with universities.

I cannot accept a barbarian who just strode in and desecrated our lands! Chanakya shouted, getting up from his seat, at the others, You all laughed when I made public my disgust of that coward Ambhi opening his gates as if he were a whore to this foreign Prince, now look at where we are! his voice got louder as did his rage with every single word that came from his mouth. Chanakya saw all these Brahmins sitting cross legged on the comfortable rugs that they had gifted to them, the pillars of this great temple were far too noble and sacred to house such spineless, short-sighted fools who could not see the demise of their civilisation. Chanakya had suggested and urged the Brahmins to go to Puru to seek aid as soon as the news of Ambhi opening Taksasila’s gates. No one listened to him and scoffed at the idea, the mere thought that the Kingdom of Pauravya would fall was too preposterous for them. Even Chanakya didn’t think the day would come, but he knew that forces from the Kuru Kingdom could aid them. Chanakya knew that they could sway the King to heed their advice, the guru most certainly could have. They could have avoided all of this had they just listened to Chanakya; ten thousand more men could’ve shifted the balance. They could be the ones to scout, not the crown Prince. The soldiers’ morales wouldn’t have dipped.

Bhadrabutt had seen his teacher enraged and would usually tell him to lower his rhetoric, but even he hadn’t the heart to interrupt his teacher. Chanakya saw it happen to Darius’ lands and his worst fears were manifesting around him, his grey bearded guru who would normally calm him down did nothing today. Chanakya’s guru sat there just looking at him with sorrow and guilt. The guru’s face was one of apology even if his lips would never let those words escape. The guru knew that his student was correct in his fears and analysis of the situation.

Well then since you callous fools will do nothing to prevent the annihilation of our way of life, I will have to solve this myself! Chanakya waved his hand at Bhadrabutt commanding him to join him as he stormed off. Bhadrabutt, after struggling to get his body off the floor, sheepishly bowed with his hands joined to all the other Brahmins and hurried after his teacher. One Brahmin was about to get up to stop the two from storming off, but the guru signalled to him to remain seated. The guru acknowledged his mistake and knew he was in no position to stop Chanakya.

Vishnugupta, head to the Magadha Empire you will find what you seek there. Their armies are greater than the Kuru’s. You’d be wasting your time meeting with the Kuru king, the guru advised Chanakya as he left the temple enraged.

He remembered hearing the news of Darius’ defeats, it made no sense how such an upstart like Sikandar could just defeat the largest Empire, he replaced their customs with his own. Although other reports held that Sikandar had adopted many of the Parsi traditions, much to the dismay of his own Greek army. Some reports went so far as to even indicate that he had an attempt on his life due to this. Regardless, it showed their intolerance towards the other practices of the other lands.

The Parsis were never like that. Parsi sources at Pauravya’s court had said that Sikandar had assassinated his father to gain the throne, a coward and a characterless boy. Chanakya remembered how he was so sure that Sikandar wouldn’t dare enter dharmic lands, the Aryavarta. Chanakya had faith that if not Ambhi, Puru would at least defeat him, great King Pauravya would surely be the bulwark protecting the Bharatvarsha. Chanakya remembered coming into the temple to hear the news that Ambhi had not only opened his gates to Sikandar but happily became a vassal to this foreign conqueror just so he could exact his revenge on Puru. The guru was none too pleased with Chanakya lambasting Ambhi with such crude language in front of the others, it was a holy place after all, but he couldn’t help himself.

A Kshatriya’s place is to fight for his state, Ambhi had desecrated his divine duty by allowing another King to subdue him without a fight he could not tolerate such disregard for one’s duty. Ambhi had already been a vassal of sorts to Darius, paying tributes to him. The guru reminded him that being a vassal was a valid diplomatic option for a king, Chanakya already knew that after all he taught his own students the way of politics.

Chanakya’s own repulsion for Ambhi had made him biased against any action Ambhi took. Chanakya accepted his guru’s words and knew that Pauravya would not surrender. Pauravya was not a man but a manifestation of what a true Kshatriya is, he was taller than all men by at least half a metre, his strength and skills were known far and wide. Their army had the best trained war elephants in all the kingdoms of the Aryavarta, they also had one of the best trained chariot corps. Chanakya could not understand how it had come to this, how had this great King lost to such a young warrior. Chanakya was relieved that they hadn’t sacked their city of Antarita, for the temple housed too many important documents to be lost to time.

Chanakya gathered everything that he needed and put it in a sack that he hung across his back. He tied his sikha, applied tilak on his forehead and arms. Then he adjusted his sacred thread. He made a make shift scabbard for a sword that he had. The kayabandh his father had given him to house his sword was lost somewhere in Taksasila. His sword was half a metre-long double-edged straight sword, its sides were flat with its end being completely flat as well, it looked like a rectangle from afar however its slight taper made it lethal. It still glistened like the day his father had gifted it to him as he left for the renowned school at Taksasila within its great temple. The glisten of the sword surprised him, he hadn’t sharpened it in months, he had to rectify that.

Bhadrabutt slowly came with a glum look on his face, whilst guiding two horses along with him. "Sri Vishnugupta is this really necessary? Surely this threat will go away soon enough," his voice had both hope and dejection. Chanakya inspected the sword up close, he could see his face in the iron and he found his resolve in the sword.

"Bhadrabutt, I apologise for calling you along with me from the temple, but you do not have to come with me if you feel this isn’t a path you want