Chankya's Chant (35 page)

‘I love you,’ said Suvasini to Rakshas, ‘but the king has put me in a very delicate position, darling. He wants me to become his queen.’

She felt the muscles in Rakshas’ neck go taut as he stiffened. ‘Is that what you also want?’ he asked cautiously.

She put her arms around his neck, leaned forward and whispered into his ear, ‘You know what happens when you and I are in bed together. Do you really think he’d be able to satisfy me?’

‘But once he has his eyes on a woman, he gets her at any cost. No one can argue with him—he’s the goddamn king! How are we going to handle it?’ demanded Rakshas, his face flushed from her breathing into his ear.

‘I shall be clear with him. If it means my head, so be it,’ said Suvasini.

‘My worry is that it isn’t your
head
that he’s after,’ mused Rakshas.

‘I love you,’ said Suvasini to Dhanananda as she gently ran her fingers through the king’s hair as he rested his head on her lap, ‘but your prime minister has put me in a very delicate position, sweetheart. He wants me to be his wife.’ She felt his temples throb.

‘What is it that Rakshas can give you that I—emperor of Magadha—cannot?’ he thundered.

She lowered her fingers to his chest and playfully traced light circular patterns around his nipples, lowered her own face into his and whispered, ‘You know how I love what we have between us. You also know that I really don’t care for your power or wealth. I simply adore
you
, my lord.’

‘What I like about you, Suvasini, is that you can be a caring mother in the morning, a doting sister in the afternoon, and a whore at night!’ he coarsely muttered. She shuddered inwardly and closed her eyes. Why had Vishnugupta asked her to create this dangerous triangle?

‘I shall be clear with him. If it breaks his heart, so be it,’ said Suvasini.

‘It isn’t his heart that will break but something much lower down,’ laughed Dhanananda.

It was the last muhurta before midnight and the palace was quiet at this hour. Inside the council chamber, Dhanananda was having a meeting with his prime minister, Rakshas. Several torches were blazing, held by clamps along the pillars, and the room was full of dancing shadows.

‘Go meet Alexander as my emissary, Rakshas. Meet him before he leaves for Persia and tell him that Dhanananda would like to be his friend and that Magadha would like to welcome him as an honoured guest,’ said Dhanananda.

‘Maharaj, it’s a long journey to Gandhar. Are you sure it’s worthwhile? Who will help you run the administration while I’m away?’ asked Rakshas.

‘I shall miss you, my friend. But I cannot entrust this sensitive mission to anyone else. We can’t afford to have Alexander being friends with Ambhi and Paurus, but not with Dhanananda. What if they all gang up against me?’ asked Dhanananda.

‘I shall need an armed contingent to accompany me— most of our neighbouring kingdoms are in tumult,’ requested Rakshas. ‘Also, if I am to be your ambassador of goodwill to Alexander, I shall need to carry precious gifts.’

‘Absolutely. Please arrange it, Rakshas. I’m confident that you shall be successful in your endeavour. And don’t worry about your loved ones. Dhanananda shall keep them close so that they shall want for nothing,’ said Dhanananda foxily.

I’m sure you shall, you bastard
, thought Rakshas to himself as he bowed before the king.

At a decrepit temple in the city, the sultry Suvasini was meeting yet another man surreptitiously. His name was Jeevasiddhi, the lieutenant of Katyayanji who had saved Chanakya from an attacking tiger. He was now also Chanakya’s trusted agent in Pataliputra.

The forsaken temple had stood in solitude for several generations, the colossal pillars crumbled and lying around in heaps of rubble. Years of looting and neglect had robbed, pilfered or destroyed anything of value. In the night of a full moon, the ruins were bathed in cool silvery light and the broken and jagged temple ruins seemed like a lunar landscape. The flaming torch being carried by Jeevasiddhi was not really required. The forbidding temple had been out of use for several generations owing to a curse by an enraged sage who had been prevented from sleeping in the temple premises by the local priests.

‘You have something for me?’ asked Jeevasiddhi. She nodded as she handed over two silken pouches to him. One contained a ring with the royal insignia of Dhanananda. The other contained a ring that had been given to Rakshas by his father and bore his family crest.

‘I hope Vishnugupta rots in hell,’ she said angrily to Jeevasiddhi. ‘He has made me whore myself to achieve his own political ambitions.’

‘There’s always a greater purpose to everything we do, Suvasiniji,’ said Jeevasiddhi. ‘Acharya Chanakaya has asked me to read out this message to you and destroy the parchment afterwards.’

‘What? A message from Vishnu? Why didn’t you say so earlier? Tell me what it says,’ urged Suvasini. Jeevasiddhi took out a small scroll from his waistband, unfurled it and began to read.

‘My dear Suvasini. It’s no secret that I’ve always loved you. But I’ve been pragmatic enough to bear in mind that you were always beyond my reach. You have been my one and only true love, but in my present world of power politics—to secure the unity and security of Bharat—I know there’s no place for any woman in my life. I have taken the vows of
Brahmacharya
—celibacy— till such time as I achieve my dream of uniting a strong Bharat. Who knows, by that time I may be so old that the expiration of my vow may be of no consequence! I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me—it was a difficult decision to ask you to do it. I need you to remember that you’ve done it for a noble reason and I promise not to forget. Chanakya thanks you and Vishnugupta loves you. God bless you.’

Her eyes turned moist as she heard the words but before she could ask him to read it aloud to her again, Jeevasiddhi placed the scroll in the mouth of the flaming torch and held it till it was completely ablaze. ‘Good night, Suvasiniji,’ said Jeevasiddhi as he turned around and hurried away into the dark night, his torch leaving a trail of smoke behind him. Suvasini shuddered. She so wanted Chanakya to succeed. She began praying to Shiva to grant him victory. ‘
Om tryambhakam yajamahe, sugandhim pushtivardhanam; urvarukamiva bandhanam, mrityor mukshiya maamrital
,’ she chanted. It was an ancient mantra from the Rigveda and meant ‘
O praise to the Three-Eyed One, who increases prosperity, who has a sweet fragrance, who frees the world from all diseases and death! Liberate—as the fruit from the wine. Shiva, grant immortality
!’ Suvasini would find herself repeating the mantra many thousands of times for her beloved Vishnugupta as future events played out in Magadha.

The spymaster standing before Dhanananda was nervous. How had he allowed himself to be suckered into this double game, he wondered. He anxiously adjusted his wrap as he waited for Dhanananda to finish reading the note that had purportedly been seized from a messenger leaving Rakshas’s camp and heading out to Kaikey. The expression on Dhanananda’s face was one of seething wrath. His lips seemed to be mouthing the words written on the scroll in order to convince himself that they were real.

‘O great King Paurus. Magadha’s prime minister, Rakshas, sends greetings. I am on my way to your land. I come in my personal capacity, not as a senior functionary of the Magadha government. I have heard wonderful stories of your bravery, wisdom, and honour. If you deem fit, I would like to discuss an alliance between us that could be to our mutual advantage. It would allow me to grow in stature while expanding your borders significantly. It is critical, however, that this conversation remains confidential. I look forward to receiving your invitation for a meeting at the soonest. Your humble servant, Rakshas.’

‘How do we know that the letter is genuine?’ asked Dhanananda, hoping that it would turn out to be a forgery.

‘There can be no doubting the authenticity, my lord,’ said the spymaster. He stepped forward and handed over Rakshas’s ring. ‘This was enclosed in the scroll to prove his credentials to the king of Kaikey.’

‘That traitorous fiend!’ Dhanananda screamed. ‘I want the scoundrel captured and brought back here to stand trial. He betrayed my trust and friendship. I made him the most powerful official in the kingdom and this is how he repays me. The ungrateful wretch! Even if it means sending the army to get him, do it!’ he ordered.

‘My dearest Suvasini. I have succeeded in my efforts to get Rakshas out of Magadha. With him gone for several months, there’s now no obstacle to our sweet union. I long to kiss you and hold you in my arms. Do not have any fear. Rakshas shall not return from his trip. My men have orders to kill him before he returns to Magadha. What are you waiting for? Come quickly. Your servant in love, Dhanananda.’

The message was clear. Rakshas looked at the ring bearing Dhanananda’s royal insignia, which had been found inside the rolled parchment. He knew it! The priapic bastard wanted him dead so that he could claim Suvasini for himself. He had gifted him the finest cunts in the kingdom but the lascivious rascal only wanted the one woman that Rakshas coveted—his Suvasini.

Enough! He had spent his life pimping for Dhanananda and instead of being appreciated he was being hounded like a wild animal. He thought about how he could get even and then had a brilliant flash—Chanakya!