The Mauryans

by Donna Vito Frutti

Something is brewing in Magadha. The great Acharya is missing in the capital. And even the absence of the younger prince, Asoka is stirring up a few rumours. The crown prince asks the spymasters of the Empire to glean what's in store for him before the Emperor himself hears of it. And then there is a royal secret. Knowledge of Indian and Greek history & mythology may be useful.

2. Chapter 2

The weary feet of the traveller took him wandering towards the river until he stopped. The man sat down heavily. The setting sun spread an orange glow on the horizon. The pale light that danced on the face of the river did not just signal the end of a day.

He could still hear the cries of death and dying in his ears. In his dreams, there was blood on his hands and sometimes in the morning he still woke up screaming. Kalinga was forever burned into his memory. It was to serve as his conscience and his measuring rod for all years to come.

The prophetic dreams had not lied. He had found his destiny in Kalinga. It was simply not the one he had imagined all along.

Just as he had ushered in the new reign of his dynasty through bloodshed, he would usher in an era of peace and justice through dhamma. And who would understand peace better than one who gave up on war?

It was the end of an era, the end of Asoka the Conqueror. And it was time for a new beginning. That of Asoka the Peacemaker.

He unsheathed his sword. The metal gleamed. He could feel its weight pulling at him. It had once felt like a part of his arm. Now, it felt like a disease, a rot, festering on it. It had been a tool of destruction that helped him take the lives of his enemies. And of his family as well- in the end, there had been no difference. The price of playing the part of a warrior was high and he had paid it only too willingly.

He threw it as hard as he could. It fell a great distance away, perhaps the last testament to the warrior he had been. Before his eyes, his past sunk into the depths of a watery grave. Behind him was the path that he was to tread- the path his father and grandfather had chosen and the one that he had once thought foolery. He now understood it clearly.

It took courage for a warrior to lay down his weapons and never take them up again. It was also as much an act of war, with oneself, as it was to battle your opponent in an open field. And victory over self was the ultimate conquest.

As he turned away, he hoped that history would judge him kindly. He did not see the last rays of the Sun touch the water. The strong wind that blew against its surface. A sudden shift in the currents.

The Ganges was smiling at him.