
In the central part of the capital of Kalinga, Toshali, within a secret council chamber resembling the heart of the royal palace, two pillars of the Kalinga empire sat in deep contemplation for a meeting. One was King Vriddharaya of Kalinga, and the other was the Mahasenapati (Commander-in-Chief) Vapradev. The slanting rays of the evening sun passed through the window, reflecting off the glass-studded floor, filling the entire council chamber with light. The red hue of those reflected rays cast a glow on the faces of the two distinguished men. On King Vriddharaya's face, there was an expression of permanent calmness and serenity, whereas on Vapradev's face, a slight agitation and intensity were evident.
The one who observes peacefully will realize that their hands are mentally calculating several multiplications and divisions in the air. Their eyes are becoming restless, and time and again, a sigh escapes from their chest. They are certainly entangled in some serious problem. However, Maharaja Vridhraiya appears very calm in front of them. Although only the truly wise, Bhagwan, would know that even in Vridhraiya’s mind, the seven seas are being stirred.
"So, the thread of the matter has now stuck at the Aatvik kingdom in the north-western part of Kalinga," Vapradev said, presenting the matter in his figurative language.
"Aatvik army! The undefeated, invincible Aatvik army," Vridhraiya said with pride.
"Yes, Maharaja! The Aatvik army, which does not obey anyone’s orders except for that of the King of Kalinga, a lover of freedom," Vapradev said. "You must know, Maharaja, that during the reign of your father Kshemaraja, Ashoka attacked Kalinga. By crushing Kalinga's independence and trampling its dignity, that ambitious Maharaja forced Kalinga to bow."
“At that time, there were 4.5 million people in Kalinga. Out of them, 100,000 soldiers attained martyrdom. 150,000 were wounded and captured. In such circumstances, there was no option left for King Kshemaraj except to kneel before Ashoka. At that time, a young man came to meet him. Do you know, Your Majesty, what his name was?”
"Yes, I remember. My father told me. It was a name that he could never forget – 'Toshaliputra'." said the elder.
"Indeed, Your Majesty! At that time, Toshaliputra was young, and as soon as he heard about King Kshemaraj’s defeat, he came to meet and persuade him. He showed a map and explained many things to the king. Did he mention all of this to you? Do you remember all of it?"
The cave in the Kumaragiri mountains provided coolness even in the scorching heat. During the peak of midday, there was a faint light, and in that dim light, two young men and an elderly man were seated. A serious and somewhat gloomy silence filled the cave. Breaking this stillness, the elderly man unfolded a map. On the rocky, rugged yet cool and soft ground of the cave, he laid out the maps. Holding a sharp, slender branch in his hand, Acharya Toshaliputra began to explain the maps.
“This place,” said Toshaliputra, placing the branch on the northern part of the map, “is where Ashoka attacked. He didn’t come through the Atvik region because it was invincible.”
"When the people of Kalinga suffered massive loss of life and property in that terrible war, King Kshemaraj was shattered and decided to submit to Ashoka."
“These news spread to the Atvik state, and what followed was a stir. Whether young or old, whether children or women… everyone’s blood boiled. Could Kalinga, like this, accept subjugation? Impossible…”
"In the tribal region, there is neither a monarchy nor a republic. But democracy functions there as the people are simple, wild, forest-dwelling, and uncivilized. However, they are innocent, listen to the wise, and understand the decisions made by the sensible people, which are considered the final decisions for the entire community.
When I was in my adolescence, the people used to respect me. They would honor my words. That night, a catastrophe worse than war struck the tribal region. All the wise men seemed to lose their wisdom and dignity. The mere thought of subjugation drove them mad. The anger reached such a point that one person boldly declared in the assembly, "The king who accepts subjugation can never be our king. He is like a living corpse. We should put him to death." And Prince Kharavel! The entire assembly loudly endorsed this idea. The very thought of subjugation terrified everyone, and they lost their minds.
At that moment, I stood up forcefully. I poured all my strength, talent, seriousness, energy, and emotions into dissuading them from this course of action, and I convinced everyone to allow me a chance to discuss this matter with King Khemraj. Fate was on my side. The wise men, who had lost their minds, became calm, and began to think about the serious consequences of their proposed actions.
Instead of defeating Ashoka, we were considering killing King Khemraj. The Maharaja of Kalinga was the unspoken ruler and master of the entire tribal community. We were contemplating the murder of our own master. It was a form of betrayal, and there would be no gain from such an act.
He gave me his consent, and with this plan, I went to meet your grandfather, Khemraj."
"The terrifying scene of that dreadful night is still etched in my memory as if it happened just yesterday. It refuses to fade away. Dead bodies were being scavenged by jackals and vultures, and their eerie cries made the surroundings even more terrifying. The north-western plains of Tushali city had turned into a graveyard. Long lines of the dead stretched for miles. Some mourners sat beside the bodies of their loved ones, crying. But there is one image that still haunts me..."
"A young boy, hardly in his childhood, sat motionless next to a dead body. In the light of the torch, his face was visible. Indifferent to the world, the boy was gazing at the corpse as if in meditation. I had other urgent matters to attend to, but moved by compassion, I approached him. I placed my hand on the boy's head and asked, 'Who are you looking at?'
And what he replied made me freeze. He said, 'These two, who lie on the land of Kalinga, are my birth parents.' Prince, I felt the earth spinning beneath me. With courage, I told him, 'Do not worry, everything will be fine.'
Prince, after I said this, the boy looked at me with sparks in his eyes. He said, 'My mother and father died a heroic death. To join the army, see, my mother wore the soldier's attire. After killing many enemies, she embraced death with joy. Before presenting herself in the court of God, her last advice to me was: 'Son, if you have to lose your life, lose it, but never lose your freedom. Life without freedom is like a lifeless body, and one who sacrifices his life for freedom, that body becomes immortal. Keep freedom immortal. Death is inevitable, brother.'
Then the boy took my hand and said, 'Sir, I must give my life to keep my freedom immortal. I want to go to God with my parents. Will you help me?'
Prince! The noble sentiment in the heart of this tender boy, Kalaiya Kunwar of Kalinga, touched me deeply. I embraced him and wept. The tears of mourning for all the brave souls of Kalinga flowed from my eyes incessantly.
Then I said to the boy, 'From now on, I will be your father. I will fulfill all your wishes. Come, let us go to King Khemraj.'"
(To be Continued...)
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