Agarwal Deepa - Chanakya: the master of statecraft

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Vishnugupta entered the court of Dhana Nanda, the mighty ruler of Magadha, taut with expectancy. The king was hosting a special assembly and over the last few days, scores of learned Brahmins had been thronging his capital city, Pataliputra. They had come from all over Bharatvarsha to display their mastery of the Vedas and religious discourse, expecting rich rewards from the most powerful monarch in the whole of Jambudweep. The place resounded with their voices. Vishnugupta, also known as Chanakya and Kautilya, had made the gruelling journey from distant Takshashila with the same hope.

He glanced around the vast hall, magnificently decorated with murals. Fragrance from garlands of juhi and champa, twined around its numerous pillars, filled his nostrils. A grand welcome indeed! Notorious as a tyrant who had amassed enormous wealth by taxing his subjects mercilessly, Dhana Nanda seemed eager to redeem himself as a patron of learning and a philanthropist.

The golden throne of the Nandas was visible at the other end of the vast hall. It was flanked by mace bearers, holding their massive silver staffs aloft, but the king was yet to appear. On its right, a raised platform had been set up that ran down the length of the hall. Some of the shastris had assumed their places on the cushioned seats placed on it. It was easy to distinguish them from the courtiers, who occupied a platform on the other side. The shastris white garments were similar to his, as were the streaks of sandalwood paste on their foreheads and their shikhas, knotted strands of hair that crowned their clean-shaven heads.

Chanakya paused to locate a vacant seat he could occupy. Low wooden stools had been placed in rows on the ground beneath the platform as well, and some of the Brahmins had begun to squat on them. But was it appropriate for a man of his learning and stature to sit among scholars like these, obviously semi-educated?

His wandering gaze fell on an empty place, not too far from the throne. The anxious lines vanished from his brow as he swiftly made his way towards it, folding his hands to the men he passed. He did notice a couple of astonished faces turning towards him but ignored them. He was quite accustomed to the rude stares his dark, pockmarked skin and unattractive features often evoked.

As he was seating himself, the man next to him opened his mouth to say something. Before he could, however, the blare of ransingha trumpets filled the air, accompanied by drumbeats and the tramp of marching feet.

Dhana Nanda was arriving. Everyone rose, bowed their heads and folded their hands as the kings retinue of women guards swept in.

Resplendent in his fine silk antariya or lower garment, his intricately embroidered uttariya draped over his chest, with strings of priceless pearls adorning his neck and a huge emerald gleaming in his turban, the king inclined his head slightly to acknowledge the homage. Slowly, ponderously, he took his seat on his magnificent jewel-encrusted throne. The guards assumed their places around him.

As Dhana Nandas eyes travelled over the rows of Brahmins gathered in the hall, a smug expression spread over his face. He nodded to his prime minister, who rose to address the gathering.

Benevolent, all-powerful Majesty, most wise and learned shastris, respected noblemen of the court, we are greatly honoured that our mighty Maharajadhiraj Dhana Nanda has seen fit to host this conference. Such an assembly of scholars has never been seen before in the whole of Bharatvarsha

One moment, Siddhaketuji! Dhana Nanda interrupted.

A wave of startled faces turned towards the throne. Chanakya was puzzled to find the kings gaze fixed on him. A furious frown corrugated Dhana Nandas brow. The words that followed were an even bigger shock.

Who is this hideous upstart? Dhana Nanda thundered. Who allowed him to sit on the raj purohits seat without my permission? Remove him immediately!

The other Brahmins glanced at each other in dismay. Chanakya could well guess what was passing through their minds. The height of disrespect! It was the duty of kings, no matter how powerful, to address all members of their caste with courtesy, and they mostly did so. But who did not know about Dhana Nandas foul temper, his autocratic nature? To protest would be as dangerous as putting ones hand in a nest of snakes. Hence, no one spoke up.

The kings guards began to step forward to fulfil his command. However, Chanakya had already sprung to his feet. O King, you dare to insult a learned Brahmin! he cried, pointing an admonishing finger at the ruler. Intoxicated by power, you have lost your sense of correct and appropriate behaviour. He paused for a moment, his chest heaving with emotion, then lowered his tone to add: This affront will have consequences beyond your imagination!

The horrified courtiers started up. Even as they watched, in a swift movement, Chanakya clawed his shikha open. His face was twisted with ragea rage that mirrored Dhana Nandas.

He shook his hair loose and let it stream down his neck, exposing a set of crooked teeth as he snarled, I, Chanakya, vow not to bind my hair until I have unseated you from the throne of Magadha. Holding his dhoti, he then stepped down from the platform and began to stride towards the entrance. The shocked Brahmins parted ranks to make way for him, wringing their hands and gesturing to each other.