Chanakya's Chant Page 13

  Bringing the tube to his lips he aimed the flute at the more alert of the two sentinels and blew hard into the pipe. An exceedingly small dart, coated with the juice of aconite tubers and snake venom, hurtled through the dark alley until it punctured a microscopic hole in the sentry's neck. It was no more than a mosquito sting but produced a devastating effect. Before he could collapse to the floor and alert his companion, another little peasized spur left the peashooter's aperture and caught the second guard between his eyes. Both men collapsed in a matter of seconds, the sound of their spears falling to the floor reverberating eerily in the sombre corridor.

  He leapt up, jogged over to the two dead bodyguards and dropped down on his knees to efficiently check their carotid arteries. Having satisfied himself that they were well and truly dead, he unclasped his dagger and cautiously opened the door. The room was silent except for arrhythmic snores emerging from the silhouette that lay on the giant bed towards the eastern end. The room was dim, the only light being that of a single oil lamp near the entrance door.

  The assassin advanced towards the snoring individual until he reached the bed. He looked down at his father's face, raised his knife and with one fatal blow, plunged it into Gandharraj's chest. Arterial blood squirted in arcs as the old king's left ventricle contracted, leaving the bed drenched in wine-coloured gore. The sovereign's eyes opened for a fraction of a second as the image of his murdering heir was captured on his retinas. His terrorstruck expression soon gave way to a look of relief as he realised that his humiliating life was finally over.

  ‘I had warned you, Indradutt,’ said Chanakya as he watched Chandragupta wrestle Sinharan inside the mud akhada—the wrestling arena on the Takshila campus. Both wrestlers were wearing muddy loincloths and were slick from a mixture of sesame oil and sweat. Their methodology was a freestyle of all four types of wrestling prevailing in Bharat, Hanumanti, Jambuvanti, Jarasandhi and Bhimaseni. But this was no mild wrestling match. Just as one contestant would succeed in holding down his adversary, a team of monstrous-looking men wielding batons would attack him. This would give his opponent a chance to recover while his rival fought off the attacking horde.

  Indradutt winced at the remark. ‘I know, I know. You have the luxury of saying “I told you so” but Paurus gave me no alternative. I withdrew Kaikey's troops from Gandhar upon Gandharraj's assurance that he would rein in his son. How was one to know that the wretch Ambhi would decide to murder his own father! We've created a mess. Now Ambhi is free to pursue his treaty with Alexander. They say he looks like a god!’ he complained as he looked at Chandragupta pinning down Sinharan in a submission hold.

  Over the years, Chandragupta had grown into a fine specimen of masculinity. Broad shoulders, muscular arms and wrestler's thighs contrasted with his gentle face, aristocratic nose and thick, curly, dark hair that fell in cascading waves to his shoulders. His fitness instructors had trained him in wrestling, archery, horseback riding and swordsmanship.

  His daily regimen was more difficult than that of the most punishing and austere monkhood. In a day and night of thirty muhurtas, the first two muhurtas after sunrise were used for exercise, physical and combat training. The next two muhurtas were for mastering kingly subjects—economics, politics, history and geography. The ensuing two muhurtas were allocated for his personal time—bathing and early lunch. The two muhurtas following noon were used for studying other subjects—mathematics, general science and languages. The succeeding two muhurtas were designated for equestrian activities including horse-mounted combat. The two muhurtas before sunset were reserved for spiritual discourse and learning the ancient scriptures followed by a two-muhurta break for bathing and dinner. The two muhurtas after dinnertime were for homework and revision of everything learned during the day. The final two muhurtas were used for meditation and contemplation before he took his forty winks and the cycle started all over again at dawn.

  ‘I am not worried, Indradutt. And if I were you, the best strategy would be to do absolutely nothing,’ said Chanakya looking over at other wrestlers wearing garnals—circular stone neck weights—and practising their squats.

  ‘I don't understand you, Vishnu. You lecture us on the perils facing our nation from the Macedonian war machine and when they succeed in getting their foot into the door you preach masterly inactivity!’ burst out Indradutt, ignoring the three wrestlers who were performing dhakulis—twisting rotations—with maces in hand.

  ‘Mehir! Come over here. Please explain to Indraduttji why I am so confident,’ called out Chanakya, motioning his Persian student over. Mehir, also dripping with sweat, dropped his weights and walked over to them. He folded his hands in a gesture of greeting to both men.

  ‘Tell the prime minister of Kaikey why I recommend that he do nothing,’ said Chanakya.

  ‘Upon the advice of the acharya, I have cultivated a network of Persian merchants who keep me informed regarding the developments in Persepolis. I had left the great city just after it had fallen to the Macedonians and it seems that a few months later there was a great drunken orgy hosted by Alexander at the palace, which set off a massive fire. Most of Persepolis including its wondrous treasures was destroyed. The thrust provided to Alexander's war efforts by Persia's wealth has been neutralised,’ explained Mehir.

  ‘What it means, Indradutt, is that Alexander's progress will be slow. Most of his troops are mercenaries. If they are not paid, they will not fight. It will be difficult for Alexander to defeat the mighty army of Kaikey in his diminished capacity,’ said Chanakya, taking some sesame oil from a large earthen pot next to them and rubbing it into his dry elbows absentmindedly.

  ‘So what should I tell my king?’ asked Indradutt.

  ‘Tell him that he should sleep peacefully,’ said the ingenious Brahmin.

  ‘The burning down of Persepolis has not blunted the edge of Alexander's sword, yet you asked me to lie to the prime minister of Kaikey. Why, acharya?’ asked Mehir as Indradutt left.

  ‘Mehir, I need you to think very carefully before answering the questions that I am about to ask you. Which is the strongest kingdom in Bharat?’

  ‘Magadha, without doubt.’

  ‘And who rules Magadha?’

  ‘Dhanananda.’

  ‘To wrest Magadha from Dhanananda, we shall need the help of the next most powerful kingdom. Which do you think that is?’

  ‘Kaikey.’

  ‘And who rules Kaikey?’

  ‘Paurus.’

  ‘But why will Paurus help us acquire Magadha if he doesn't feel the need to? Under what circumstances would he feel obliged to throw in his lot with us?’

  ‘If he were under attack.’

  ‘And who is his sworn enemy?’

  ‘Ambhi, the king of Gandhar.’

  ‘And is Ambhi capable of taking on Paurus alone?’

  ‘Obviously not. His own capital was captured by Kaikey effortlessly!’

  ‘So how does one make Ambhi strong enough to attack Kaikey?’

  ‘Alexander!’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘But acharya, you said that the Macedonians are poison and that we need to ensure that this poison does not spread.’

  ‘We often use poisons in small quantities to treat ailments, don't we? If the dosage is correctly calibrated, the very toxin that can kill becomes a saviour. We need to use the Macedonians in precisely the same way.’

  ‘If Alexander is friends with Ambhi and they jointly attack Paurus, there exists the possibility that Alexander may become emperor of all of Bharat!’

  ‘Once again, Mehir, I urge you to think this through very carefully before replying. Before planning a campaign in Bharat, which countries did Alexander conquer?’

  ‘Persia, Syria, Egypt, Assyria, Babylonia—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know. But how many Alexanders are there? One? Two? Ten?’

  ‘Only one,’ said Mehir smiling.

  ‘Only one Alexander and tens of conquered territories. He will fight and move on. He cannot be in
ten places at once!’

  ‘But his generals may remain. He may appoint governors.’

  ‘What was the size of Alexander's army when he left on his military conquest?’

  ‘My sources say that he had around forty-two thousand troops when he left Macedonia.’

  ‘And have your sources told you how many men he currently has?’

  ‘Around the same.’

  ‘Strange. If he had left some of his own troops in Persia, Syria, Egypt, Assyria, Babylonia, Bactria, and other conquered territories, his present troop numbers should have been lower. What does this tell you?’

  ‘That he isn't leaving behind large contingents to maintain control over conquered territories?’

  ‘And that he depends on local allies to protect his conquered interests.’

  ‘So we should sit back and allow Paurus to be defeated by the combined forces of Ambhi and Alexander, acharya? I would much rather die for my country.’

  ‘It's foolish men who die for their country. The intelligent ones make others die for their country instead. Remember, he who plans and runs away, lives to fight another day. That's not cowardice, it's chess—and the board belongs to me! Alexander's campaign will leave Paurus as well as Ambhi weak. Having weakened them he will appoint one of his generals—probably Seleucus—as his governor and move on. That shall be our moment. Chandragupta's moment! Bharat's moment!’

  ‘And we do nothing to prevent Paurus from losing?’

  ‘Battles are won or lost before they are ever fought. Paurus has already lost.’

  ‘And what do we do till then?’ asked Mehir, looking at his mentor intently.

  ‘We build our forces and wait—patiently.’

  ‘And Indradutt?’

  ‘I have already burnt that bridge by lying to him today.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Present Day

  The bailiff was elocuting. ‘The sub-judicial district magistrate's court of Kanpur is now in session. The honourable judge S. C. Pande presiding. Order and silence is commanded. God protect this honourable court!’

  The honourable sub-judicial district magistrate S. C. Pande looked at the lawyer who stood before him. ‘Where's your client?’ he asked. The lawyer looked around as though he expected to find his client under the desks of the courtroom. The magistrate sighed. He didn't want to be here in court. He would have preferred to be in the hotel room on the outskirts of the city experiencing the pleasures of Hameed's sublime body. A faint smile crossed his lips as he thought of him.

  ‘Sir, I don't know. He had said that he would be here ten minutes before the appointed hour,’ explained the harried lawyer, breaking Mr Pande's carnal reverie. ‘In that case, I'm issuing orders for his arrest. Bailiff, please issue an arrest warrant and see to it that Mr Ikram Shaikh is produced before me at the earliest.’

  ‘The lowly bastard had the balls to issue an arrest warrant for me,’ said Ikram angrily.

  ‘Ikram—Ikram—calm down! What happened?’ asked Gangasagar, feigning complete ignorance of the situation.

  ‘As you know, the police commissioner was booted out by the state home minister. With his departure, I was no longer a VIP. They started investigating me and my businesses, even though I'm the mayor of this goddamn town!’

  ‘But what's the problem with that? You've dealt with enough investigations, I imagine. All investigators have their price,’ suggested Gangasagar.

  ‘But this time it's different. They beat up Ahmed—my extortion racket-fixer—and got him to admit a pack of lies against me!’ sputtered Ikrambhai, visibly shaken.

  ‘Even then—when the matter comes before the magistrate, I'm sure that matters can be handled, right?’ asked Gangasagar shrewdly.

  ‘I've tried everything with this sonofabitch. He just won't budge. There's nothing that I haven't offered the asshole but he refuses to let me off. I can't even get him kicked in the face because all my men are being watched by a hostile police force!’ complained Ikram, bemoaning the injustice of it all.

  ‘You know, Ikram, you're my closest friend. And as your friend, I advise that you must maintain a low profile. As mayor—and chief ministerial aspirant—everyone has it in for you,’ recommended Gangasagar quietly, omitting to mention himself in the list of ‘everyone’.

  ‘But state elections are around the corner,’ said Ikram. ‘Who will represent the party if not myself? We have worked so hard to make the ABNS relevant. It isn't about my personal glory—heaven forbid—it's about a sense of duty towards you and the ABNS,’ pleaded Ikram.

  ‘I shall hate losing you, Ikram,’ said Gangasagar, ‘but I value our friendship too much to risk losing you entirely. I think you should drop out of the chief ministerial race and put your weight behind someone else.’

  ‘What's your suggestion?’ asked Ikram.

  ‘I know someone who can get the magistrate to do what we want him to. But you'll have to lie low so that the government machinery stops working against you. Chandini's returned. Why not anoint her your political successor? She's just a poor helpless girl—she'll still be in your control,’ counselled Gangasagar.

  ‘He's decided not to contest,’ said Gangasagar to Agrawalji. ‘Ikram's decided to throw his weight behind his adopted daughter instead.’

  ‘What convinced him?’ asked Agrawalji.

  ‘When you're holding a man by the balls, his heart and mind will follow,’ said Gangasagar, laughing as he silently thanked his secretary, Menon, for bringing him Hameed.

  ‘Chandini, I would like you to meet some extremely good students. This is Upendra Kashyap from Lucknow University; this is Brijmohan Rai from Allahabad University; Iqbal Azmi from Aligarh Muslim University; Girish Bajpai from Banaras Hindu University—’

  Chandini looked at the thirty men from various universities around the state of Uttar Pradesh. They didn't look like students. Most of them seemed to be in their thirties and forties. The first one, Upendra Kashyap from Lucknow University, stepped up and greeted Chandini, his palms pressed together in front of him in a gesture of respect. ‘I know what you're thinking, Chandiniji. We seem too old to be students! But under the tutelage of Pandit Gangasagarji we have all devoted our entire lives to earning degrees.’

  ‘So which field are you studying?’ asked Chandini curiously.

  ‘Oh, I joined the university fifteen years ago. I first obtained a BA in philosophy and then decided to complete a double degree, a BA (Honours) in English. Having taken two basic degrees at the bachelor's level, I then worked towards an MA in anthropology. I am now completing my PhD in linguistics.’

  ‘Why are so many young men staying on in universities earning multiple degrees—and that, too, in liberal arts?’ whispered Chandini to Gangasagar.

  ‘So that they continue to remain as students on the campus,’ explained Gangasagar.

  ‘But why do you need them there?’ asked Chandini.

  ‘So that they can contest the elections,’ explained Gangasagar.

  ‘Which elections?’

  ‘Students’ Union elections.’

  ‘Why does the ABNS need to involve itself in Students’ Union activities across the thirty-odd universities of Uttar Pradesh?’

  ‘Because if our young men control the Students’ Unions of the universities, we—the ABNS—control the youth, a key constituency in the state's power balance.’

  ‘And then what will they do?’

  ‘A liberal arts education is general enough for the IAS—the Indian Administrative Service or the IRS—the Indian Revenue Service.’

  ‘So they'll enter the bureaucracy?’ asked Chandini.

  ‘Some of them will become trade union leaders, others income-tax commissioners, secretaries within the Reserve Bank of India—there are so many jobs that need us to have our own people!’

  Some paces away, thirty policemen, armed with rifles, stood near jeeps and police vans. ‘Why are there so many policemen around our Students’ Union presidents?’ asked Chandini.

  ‘Protect
ion,’ answered her mentor.

  ‘Protection?’ asked Chandini, confused.

  ‘Half of our Students’ Union leaders have to be protected from candidates of other parties who are keen to dislodge them.’

  ‘And the other half?’

  ‘Others need to be protected from them,’ he guffawed.

  ‘You need a major victory,’ said Gangasagar, as Chandini walked in.

  ‘But I don't know the first thing about fighting elections,’ she said.

  ‘I don't mean an electoral victory, dear girl. I mean that you need a huge public relations coup. It should propel you into instant fame so that you're seen as the true inheritor of Ikram's legacy!’

  ‘You obviously have something planned, Uncle Ganga,’ she said astutely.

  He smiled. He knew he had made the right choice.

  ‘Did you know that Rungta & Somany are putting up a huge steel plant on the outskirts of the city?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. I read about it. Its good for the state. More than twenty-five thousand jobs will be created upstream and downstream. The project is being put up in collaboration with a Japanese multinational and will be India's largest integrated steel plant, surpassing all that have been built till date,’ said Chandini.

  ‘Any idea how much land they need?’ asked Gangasagar.

  ‘I'm told that it will be spread over a thousand acres. The Uttar Pradesh government has offered it free. Various state governments across the country have been falling over themselves to woo R&S. An instant GDP booster shot,’ said Chandini, gesturing.