Nandini Sengupta - The King Within

THE KING
WITHIN

NANDINI SENGUPTA

To Mamoni,
For all those tales, from Durgesh Nandini to Tungabhadrar Tirey

To Reshmi,
For showing me that history is mostly about the story

CONTENTS

T HIS ISNT A LESSON in narrative history. This is primarily a story that takes place in the historical past, featuring some well-known and some lesser known historical figures. Apart from Chandragupta himself, many of his friends too are real characters. Kalidas is easily the most recognizable, but Saba Virasena, Amrakarddava, Varaha Mihir, Harisena and a number of others in court are also real people, described with a little imagination here and there to breathe life into names on copper plates and stone inscriptions. The entire royal family, including the Vakataka in-laws, are, of course, taken from history but they have been fleshed out with a generous dose of poetic licence. As is Chinese pilgrim Fa Hien, though much of what he says about Buddhist pilgrimage sites across India is historically authentic.

But rubbing shoulders with them are some entirely fictional characters and incidents. Ancient India does not have the wealth of contemporary accounts that enriches medieval Indian history. In their absence, I have used my imagination to fill in the gaps and there are places in the story where I have taken poetic license with history. For instance, theres nothing to suggest Govind Gupta was the bastard child of Emperor Chandragupta Vikramaditya. But theres nothing to suggest that this is entirely unlikely either.

Similarly, the underground movement that led to the face-off between the two royal brothers is also completely imaginary. Contemporary accounts offer several different versions of the story but for the sake of drama and continuity, I have reimagined the blood feud and the fratricide that followed. I have also borrowednames mostlyfrom writers of historical fiction whom I admire and whose works I have grown up reading. Foremost among them are noted historian, archaeologist and writer Rakhaldas Bandyopadhyay and author Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay. From the former, I have borrowed titbits of the queens ancestrymore fictional than historical given how little is known about itand from the latter I have taken the Buddhist incantation Namo Tassa.

The basic premise of the story is historical and culled from a variety of sources including Devi Chandraguptam. But beyond the basics, the embellishment and the flow of the narrative is entirely fictional. This story of four friends and the tumultuous events that drove Indias glorious destiny sixteen centuries ago, I feel, will engage readers even if they are not interested in history. After all, it isnt very different from life as we know it today.

373 CE

M UCH LATER, LOOKING BACK, it all seemed like a dismembered dream. As if shed imagined itthe dusty forest path, the still heat of the afternoon and the taste of fear in her parched mouth. Thats how she would always remember that daythe day it all began. The day that lasted a lifetime. The day in the sixth month of the year 373, the thirty-eighth year of the rule of His Illustrious Majesty, Emperor Samudragupta.

There were seven of them. Darshini knew they were there, even before she saw them, even before they appeared out of nowhere, as if by magic. They looked like atabic tribesmen, their faces smeared with warpaintgrotesque in the dappled light of the forestbeads of bones strung round their necks, naked except for their grass skirts. They moved noiselessly among the trees, but Darshini could feel them closing in, her fear making her alert to the slightest movement in the stillness of the afternoon.

She realized now how foolish she had been to send her escorts looking for water, leaving only two guards by her side. This was wild countrya lawless no mans land that no monarch had yet managed to completely subdueand the forest folk never lost the chance to pillage a convoy: raping, looting and ransoming at will. Her guards would give fight. They were armed and seasoned warriors but they would be outnumbered three to one. And there was no saying whether this was the main gang of bandits or just a scouting party. Either way, the guards would, at best, delay the inevitable and no more.

The company had dispersed an hour ago, once it had become obvious they had lost their way. The original idea had been to hug the banks of the Narmada all the way from Bhrigukachchha (Barygaza) to Bagh and onto Ujjayni. But Saka country was not known for its administrative efficiency and Malwa had been battered by so many attacks from both within and without that it had long ceased to be truly safe for any traveller, no matter how well-armed the caravan.

By now, her guards were ready for the attack, sturdy staff in one hand, dagger in the other... waiting for the bandits to make the first move. Darshini closed her eyes almost involuntarily, her lips moved in silent prayerO enlightened one, o Sakya Muni, may thy will be done, thou giver of light, show me the way... Amitava... Amitava...

She waited in terror for the war cries but instead heard hoofbeatsthe unmistakable clop-clop-clop of a horse in full gallop jolted her out of her trance. When she opened her eyes, everything was a blurthe man, the horse, the swordplay and the severed head. By the time she regained her focus, the fight was on at full pelt but her guards, sensing victory, were now attacking the bandits, and not just defending their flanks.

Amidst the furious whirl of the battle, Darshinis eyes followed the newcomer, thrust-and-parrying on both sides as he used his white mount to trample a bandit underfoot. He was carrying a sturdy leather shield in one hand and a short sword in the other, wielding both with effortless ease, making them extensions of his limbs. He used the height of his mount and the surprise of his attack to wreak havoc on the banditshe was so lightning quick that neither the bandits javelins nor their arrows hit home, even though he wasnt wearing a breastplate.

By now the bandits were focusing attack on the newcomer, trying to bring down the horse with axe blows on the unguarded left flank while arrows rained on the rider. In a flash, the young man swung his sword, half swivelling on the left and catching a bandit on the shoulder. The blow nearly severed the bandits weapon arm, reducing him to a howling heap in the undergrowth. Using his shield as a cover, he fended off the shower of arrows. Drawing a narrow bladed dagger from his belt, with one fluid throw, he caught the archer on the neck. The man took a few seconds to realize what had happened as blood gurgled out and he hiccupped to a collapse minutes later.

Four of the original seven bandits were already down, their bodies a mangled mass of blood and flesh, and the rest were suddenly looking vulnerable. The attackers hadnt expected much resistance, least of all from a cavalry officer, and they were now slowly moving away from the clearing, back towards the heart of the jungle. Three quarters of an hour later, the fight was over as the bandits melted into the thick foliage, their grass skirts providing camouflage for a tactical retreat.

The young stranger walked back to the clearing where Darshini still cowered in her litter. The bandits have gone, my lady, do not worry, he said, helping her to her feet. My name is Deva... and you are?

Darshini took in the young mans obviously noble bearing, the Scythian-style long coat and narrow trousers he was wearing and decided her saviour must be part of the Saka court, if not a kshatrap or a Saka leader himself. Thank you for saving my life, noble Kshatrap... I shudder to think what would have become of me if you hadnt come upon us when you did.