The conqueror, p.14
The Conqueror, page 14
After three days of hard riding, we reached the city early in the morning. I was escorted to my mansion while Rajadhiraja went straight to the royal palace for a meeting. I was exhausted and slept for most of the day, and would have slept through the night as well but for Rajendra’s visit.
In just a few weeks, she had become the Raja’s eyes and ears. Her knowledge of languages and numbers was better than the old secretary’s, and she soon became a mute spectator to the council meetings where she sat in her corner, taking down notes. The ministers, though initially sceptical, soon came to accept her quiet presence in the room.
A constant refrain of the ministers was that the Raja refused to get married. He had held off for far too long, they complained. The Kahuripan state was new, he would tell them. It has blossomed out of the dried out pod of the old Medang state. It needed stewardship desperately. He had, after all, only been ruling for five or so summers. His prime minister, Narottam, would disagree vehemently with this point and insist that he get married. How would he show his face to the dead king and queen in the afterlife otherwise? The Raja would spend the rest of the council meeting trying to mollify Narottam.
Then, one day, the Raja told the princess why he had not yet married.
It had been a reasonably quiet day. Narottam had come brandishing a piece of manuscript. Srideva had taken over Srivijaya, he proclaimed. And laughed.
‘Serves them well. And may the empire drown in blood,’ he said gleefully.
Then one of the noblemen from Bhumi Java casually stated that Srideva had a daughter. Perhaps there was some scope for a match?
‘Never in his next hundred births!’ Narottam roared and proceeded to flay the minister for even suggesting union between the Srivijaya and Kahuripan.
‘The king who crossed water will sooner be drowned before he marries a Srivijaya Daatu’s whore!’ he roared again, and walked out of the room, scattering the ministers in his wake.
That night, the princess recited the day’s itinerary to the Raja. When she finished, she bowed her head, waiting to be dismissed. Instead, the Raja began to talk.
‘I am sure you have noticed that my people call me the king who crossed water. It’s an odd name but it has stuck. I was not born here in Bhumi Java, you see. I was born in the neighbouring island of Bali Dwipa. I “crossed the water” between Bali Dwipa and Bhumi Java, and received a new name for my troubles. My father was the ruler of the Isyana kingdom of Bali Dwipa. He had married Dharmawangsa’s sister and, consequently, Dharmawangsa was my uncle. I was probably closer to him than many in my own family, and he wanted me to marry his daughter and rule the Medang empire one day. I was sixteen when we were betrothed. You probably know the rest. The Mahapralaya …’
He paused and spoke softly.
‘I remember the redness of the walls that day. Blood was spattered everywhere. Man, woman, child. Pieces of human flesh floating in the blood that was ankle-deep in the royal hall. And laughter. Not the kind you would hear at the wedding. It was a harsher one of hatred and triumph. I hid in a store room in a large cask of rice, too frightened to do anything.
‘Narottam had been a soldier in Dharmawangsa’s army. He had entered the store room. too, hiding from the Srivijayans. We were almost about to kill each other. Well, he was about to kill me. I had little proficiency with weapons. But he recognized me. We put on the clothes of dead Srivijayan soldiers and escaped through the back door into the heart of Bhumi Java. I was too ashamed to return to my father. What would I tell him? That I had been cowering in the dark, unable to protect my future wife or her family? If I returned alive, it would be seen as cowardice. And my father would not be able to confer his kingdom to me without opposition. It was best, I decided, to let everyone think I was dead. I did not deserve a kingdom. So I became a hermit in the Mount Vanagiri with Narottam in tow.
‘It was a quiet life. I spent my days reading Hindu and Buddhist scriptures and wallowing in self-pity. Then, one day, Narottam confronted me and said plainly that to live like a hermit was no life for a king. He had secured meetings with some of the warlords that had sprung out of the debris of the Medang kingdom and some from the Isyana kingdom of Bali Dwipa, my original home.
‘I was scared, you understand. All the stories they tell you about the palace raid are true. I remember walking through a pathway of the palace with Narottam that was littered with dead men and women. Littered. I use the word deliberately. The way they had been killed, so casually. It seemed as if their life had no meaning to the men who assaulted them. The thought of it still chills me. I refused at first. I told Narottam that I did not have it in me to be king. I could not pick up a sword and protect Medang then. Why did he believe I could do it now?
‘Narottam glowered at me, and told me to pick myself up and be a man. But I only wept and buried my head in my arms, refusing to look at him. Narottam then came and sat next to me and spoke gently, for perhaps the first and only time in life. I still remember what he said, for the kingdom of Kahuripan stands because of those words.
‘He told me, “You may never win your kingdom back, your highness. But you, more than anyone else I have ever known, deserve a chance to change the way you look at yourself. You are not a coward. And you owe yourself a chance to believe it.”
‘And so Narottam convinced me, not so much to take back my kingdom, but my own self-esteem. I met the warlords. They offered to help me stitch a kingdom together. There were many battles that were fought in those days. The land was parcelled out among chiefs who wanted to re-establish the Medang kingdom in their own vision. Narottam and I put together a kingdom and called it Kahuripan meaning “To life”. The kingdom represented a second life for both of us.
‘Narottam will never forget what the Srivijaya empire did to my uncle and the Medang kingdom. Perhaps I have a different view. You can’t be enemies with everyone all the time. A wise man has no enemies. A Chinese or Hindu philosopher once said that. These words have have trickled into our island and stayed with me.’
He sighed. ‘Perhaps I desire a normal life now. One not spent waging wars for my survival, but spent making my land larger and prosperous. A male heir or two to surrender the kingdom to when
my time has come. Is it too much to ask?’
The princess remained silent.
‘Kahuripan cannot afford war any longer. It is draining us of wealth and people. We need allies quickly. Srideva maybe our only hope. If nothing else, a marriage alliance into the Srivijaya legitimises our claim to the throne. It makes us nobility. That itself may bring some warlords to our side. Narottam will never understand, but the Srivijaya empire may be the only way Kahuripan can survive.’
The princess had heard enough.
‘I have something to tell you, my king,’ she said quietly.
12
The next night, Rajendra came to my room and sat with his lamp; consequently, the fan bearers stopped their work so that I could awake. I woke up to see the emperor sitting patiently at the edge of my bed. In my mind, I cursed his lordship.
‘A few hundred years ago, there was a king,’ began Rajendra, speaking more to himself than me. ‘His name was Amoghavarsha. He was not a Chola, but a Rashtrakuta. He ruled for precisely sixty-four years and expanded the Rashtrakuta empire in the south and the north. The records we have from those days tell us that the Muslim, Jain, Buddhist and Hindu subjects of the day were happy. He let all his subjects worship their Gods and even funded their own individual practises. He patronized Sanskrit scholars and mathematicians and theologians. Even the Arabs began calling him the greatest king on earth.’
He continued, ‘And, yet, they say he never wanted to rule. That he left kingship midway to become a Jain monk. He was more intent on breaking through the structure that his life imposed on him than letting its boundaries dictate his life.’
He paused for a while and then resumed speaking, his voice a low rumble.
‘People spend their entire lives praying to become kings and fantasizing about the lives they could live. Yet, who does a king fantasize about becoming? A monk.’
His words drew me out of my sleep.
‘Many years ago, Ashoka of Magadha also went in the same direction. A man with everything, who eventually learned that he desired nothing. Who is the more successful man then? A man with riches, women and progeny, or a man with nothing – with no responsibility to anything except himself?’
He fell silent, ruminating on his own thoughts.
‘According to some people, renunciation of desire is the beginning of enlightenment. The first step on the road to nirvana. Or moksha, as you call it. Yet, the desire for renunciation is a desire in itself, is it not?’ I asked the king, curious to know whether he had considered this aspect in his own spiritual quest.
‘Perhaps,’ he rumbled. ‘Or maybe it is a state of not having desires. A void, an emptiness. Shunyata , as the Buddhists say. A state of mind where it doesn’t worry or fear anymore. The mind is married to greed. It covets things and ideas. When it is single, it is truly free.’
‘So real renunciation is not the lack of desire, but the lack of fear?’ I ventured. ‘Isn’t that dangerous? If a man loses fear, he loses a sense of responsibility to the people around him. Fear is what stops us from killing other people…and taking their land without consent,’ I added, hoping he would get the message.
‘No,’ he declared. ‘If a man needs to kill other people, he does so because he fears what they will do to him. He does not truly live without fear. A monk lives without fear because he lives only for himself.’
He took a deep breath.
‘Structure is our opium. Order is our drug. What have we without them? Laws – some human, others divine – define our lives and decide the extents to which we can lead our lives. To break out of that structure imposed on us, from the day we are born, is all that anyone really wants. Those of us who benefit most from the structure are responsible for its upkeep, and cannot escape it. Unless we are brave like Amoghavarsha.’
‘Do you plan to escape your structure?’ I asked him. I couldn’t make out his expression, but his voice sounded wistful.
‘We all escape our structures, sometimes by choice, otherwise by design. The Lord has given me fifty and more years to escape my structure. When he realizes I am incapable of it, he will pull me out, like he does every human.’
I was silent, and so was he. I got the sense that the conversation was over. He stood up after a few moments, and blew out the lamp. As the rustling behind him began, I heard his voice again.
‘One more thing. I need to ask a personal favour of you. As a king, do I have your word that you will keep this to yourself and not bring this up ever again?’
I was intrigued.
‘Yes,’ I replied, after thinking for a few moments. ‘You have my word.’
‘You have met all three of my boys now. Each of them has their virtues, and all of them have their supporters. As an outsider – someone who sees us outside the structures that define us – which of them should be king after me?’
Airlangga had never stayed silent for so long in his life. The woman, his secretary, an able woman who knew business better than some of his merchants, who understood literature, language and statecraft, had now pulled another surprise. Like a magician releasing a dove from an empty cage.
‘A princess? Of Srivijaya? What are you talking about? Dharanindra had told me there was something wrong with your mother. I had no cause to believe it was hereditary.’
The princess was in tears. The Raja did not seem to believe that she was the heiress to the Srivijaya throne. She began reciting the names of the Sailendra kings to prove her claim but Airlangga stopped her.
‘You can get that from any history book or storyteller.’
‘Then take me back to the capital city, my lord,’ cried the princess. ‘I still know the Daatus. I played in their laps while growing up. I’m not lying.’
Airlangga was quiet.
‘I will accept Srideva’s invitation to visit his palace in the capital,’ he said after a while. ‘The one that you say had been burned down by the Cholas. You will accompany me with Narottam. If what you say is true, then you could yet be useful.’
They left for the capital the next day. Narottam travelled with them and glowered at the princess whenever he got the chance but did not say a word. She had dressed like a noblewoman in silk lilac robes along with a veil, and had two women attending to her. Sumitra was not among them. If she was successful, she would be able to get Sumitra back into her retinue. If she failed, and was put to death, Sumitra could at least live out the rest of her life in Kahuripan.
They arrived at the capital the morning after, and the princess nearly burst into tears when she saw her city again. They passed through the walls, and the princess noticed the vidyadharatorana had been removed from it. It must have been Srideva, she thought bitterly as they entered the palace. It was exactly the way the princess had left it. Every trace of her last vision of it with plumes of smoke stretching up to the sky and cries renting the air were forgotten. Srideva met them in the throne room. He embraced the Raja warmly, and Narottam too who responded with a stiff pat on his back. The princess, in the meantime, stood with the rest of Airlangga’s retinue, her face covered with a veil.
This was her father’s room, she remembered sadly. Gold pillars and floors painted regal blue. The walls filled with paintings of the Srivijaya kings of yore. She recognized many of the ministers in the room. It was as if nothing had changed.
Except that Srideva sat on her father’s throne.
After the formal niceties were complete and they had praised each other to the heavens, Srideva began talking like a trader.
‘The Kahuripan kingdom is a fledgling one, but one we see potential in. We will support you in your wars and join our families together. I see us as being one large family ruled out of two branches. One in Bhumi Java, the other from here.’
‘What assistance would you provide?’
‘Elephants. Archers. Spearmen. At a nominal cost, of course.’
‘Cost?’
‘Yes, well we can’t give them out for free, can we?’ snorted Srideva.
Airlangga was silent.
Srideva continued, this time in a harsher tone.
‘The Maharajah of the Srivijaya empire seeks an alliance with your kingdom. It is not an offer to take lightly.’
Airlangga nodded.
‘If I marry into the Srivijaya kingdom, will all the Daatus support my claim to my land?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Srideva.
‘Will I get access to Srivijaya trade?’
‘Yes, but a nominal amount.’
Airlangga stood up. Srideva did too and embraced him.
Then Airlangga looked around him and, addressing the room, said loudly, ‘Allow me to introduce someone to the court.’
The princess stepped forward and removed her veil.
‘My consort. The Queen of Kahuripan!’
13
Why would the most powerful man in Tamilakam, with hundreds of ministers, philosophers and poets armed with the wisdom of the ages at his disposal, ask such a question of a complete stranger?
I admit it threw me off initially. But as I sat the next day and tried to work out if he was springing an elaborate trap for me, I realized that I was perhaps the only person he could ask in the whole of Chola Nadu. Yes, he had ministers and many wise advisors. But he had no one whose life depended on telling him the truth.
Let me explain. The ministers or whoever he sought advice from would not dare answer him, for what if the prince they did not bet on came to the throne and had their heads crushed for treason? They probably had already told him in various ways that all three sons were fit for the crown and it was not possible to make a choice. His wives? The mothers of the princes or the aunts would obviously be biased towards their own child. Who was left?
How about an outsider who could provide an answer, and then leave just as swiftly as he came?
It all made perfect sense then. Why else would he try to befriend me? Why else would he make me meet all his children? And, more importantly, why else would he keep me alive?
Why me, you ask?
Perhaps because I was a king just like him. Maybe because he saw some kind of kinship between us as kings who did not have the support of brothers growing up. Maybe our nightly trysts trading stories had convinced him that we shared the same values, and that I could be trusted. Or maybe he just liked my face.
I could not tell. Still can’t. Your emperor remained a closed book to me till the last time we met.
My plans to ally with a prince and overthrow the king were put on hold for the moment. It would be easier to negotiate a way out of his kingdom by providing an answer to his question than by plotting to overthrow him.
He came the next night as well and sat like he had done the previous ones on a chair at the foot of the bed. This time, I was prepared.
‘If I give you an honest answer, will it have a negative influence on my prospects for freedom?’
‘No, none at all. You will be a friend of the Chola nation, and have my everlasting gratitude,’ he said without any pause.
He was silent for a moment and, just as I was about to begin, he said, ‘Virajendra is brave. And not in a foolhardy way. The generals like working with him. They see him more as a little brother who needs to be indulged, than a prince of the realm. He has his own ideas, but is willing to be convinced otherwise. Rajendradeva is calm. No less in battle than his brothers. I’ve seen him in conflict. But he sees the less glorious aspects of kingship that perhaps the rest of them don’t. He is less obsessed with posterity than the rest of them. Which leaves Rajadhiraja. Rajadhiraja combines the virtues of Rajendradeva and Virajendra. He is ambitious but he will never let the common people get swept away by his ambition. But he can be hot-headed and impetuous. My father lived a long and healthy life, and I only attained kingship after I had passed more than forty years. The time I ascended the throne was precarious. As always after the death of a king, all the other kingdoms were circling around like hawks around a dying beast, waiting for it to fall so they could take pieces of it. I knew the fate that befell kingdoms without rulers, so one of my first acts as king was to groom Rajadhiraja as my regent, should I fall. I invested him with the title two years after my own coronation.
