by Rahul Mitra
Three weeks of almost constant activity rushed by in a kaleidoscope of such images. Aditya could now handle the oars by himself, and had developed the strength to last all day. Towards the end of his shift, when it felt like he had nothing remaining in his body, his pride would take over, and not allow him to fall behind, while the others were rowing. In the evenings, after the ships had dropped anchor, he would often find himself sharpening the swords of Pandi and his men, or mending their wicker shields. At other times, he would join the men in swabbing and cleaning, in an effort to get rid of the ever-present rats, which scurried about the decks, attacked the stores of grain, and nibbled on men’s toes at night.
There were also some quieter times. Sometimes, when a good breeze caught the sails, they would all pull up their oars and plug the oar holes with squares of wood covered in leather. Aditya would then sit at the stern and watch the three ships sailing in line behind them, their sleek, streamlined shapes slicing effortlessly through the waters, as they hurtled forward at great speeds with their sails billowing in the wind.
Some evenings and nights were free. At such times, he, along with other young men would crowd around Capada, as he pointed out the different constellations in the night sky, and explained how to navigate using the stars. There were other nights, when everyone on ship got together and talked about their adventures. Invariably, Pandi would be drunk then, and he would tell the most incongruous, tall tales that would have everyone in splits. The story-telling would go on through the night, as the merchants would compete to see who couldTime passed, and they made good progress, till finally on the evening of the twenty-first day, they sighted the city of Kaushambi. It had only been three weeks, but the Aditya who got down at the docks in Kaushambi, was very different from the one who had joined the caravan in Pataliputra. He still felt his abasement very acutely, but had made peace with the situation. So much so, that he did not even feel any rancour for Pandi, who had publicly humiliated him, and continued to treat him as a slave.
Only the fates knew what tomorrow would bring, but Aditya lived in the hope that one day he would avenge himself on his brother’s killers. Till then, he would keep to himself, observe, and learn.
tell the most ridiculous and absurd tale.
Kaushambi
A dirty green piece of cloth hung across the entrance of the tavern. Music, shouts, cheers, and the babble of a hundred different conversations burst forth from behind the curtain, spilling over into the street outside. This noise, then mingled with the familiar din of a Magadhan marketplace, the shouts of the many vendors selling foodstuffs, the piteous wails of beggars and cripples who cried out for alms, and the giggles and coquettish displays of the courtesans standing in the opposite building. Crowds of men pushed their way past each other in the narrow lane, as Aditya stood in the street outside the tavern, waiting for his companions.
It was his first day in Kaushambi. Their ships had docked in the morning, and the caravan had split up into many small groups. Some wanted to visit the famous Ghositarama monastery. Another group, consisting mostly of the students, had gone to marvel at the beautiful Kaushambi palace, which was now the Governor’s residence. With no other place to go, Aditya had come with Pandi and his men to this tavern, in one of the less reputed parts of town.
Now, he loitered around outside a shop where wicked-looking daggers and swords hung from numerous strings. Right in front, a kiosk selling parna was doing roaring business. The shops of this city were stocked with all manner of luxury items, and a seething mass of humanity ebbed and flowed through its lanes. There was a certain restlessness, frenetic energy that charged the very air of this metropolis.
Aditya was taking it all in, when a head popped from behind the curtain and called out, “Hey Jalkanya, have you had food yet?” It was Pandi’s deputy Shilajeet.
Saumen, one of Navinda’s officials, had given him this name since he had fallen into the water. Now more and more people were calling him this, and it really annoyed him. He frowned and shook his head.
“What are you waiting for? Come on in, Pandi’s asking for you,” Shilajeet clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder and pulled him in.
Inside, it was cool, dark, and noisy. Right next to the entrance sat a very noisy group, crowded around a game of Ashtapada. A burly man with a gaping black hole in place of his right eye, turned and stared malevolently at Aditya as he entered. Tanned, tough-looking men with a variety of scars, sat all along the floor. The whole place had a curious smell of stale sweat, smoke, spices, and madhu.
At the far end sat a man who was playing on a strange stringed instrument, while a number of Pandi’s soldiers sang along. Rishabha and Shwetaketu, the two students who had elected to visit the tavern, rather than the palace, were also there. A thin, dirty-looking man was raucously yelling into Rishabha’s ear, trying to teach him the song, while keeping time by drumming on his back.
Shilajeet led him past another soiled curtain into an adjoining room. Pandi was sitting here, along with two of his soldiers and a fat, bald, sweaty stranger. There was a thick brown curry of meat on one plate, and daal on another.
“Aditya!” Pandi seemed happy to see him. “Come come, sit down. Dhritahari, give my friend here some roti.” Pandi shifted a little and the fat man smiled at Aditya, handing him a piece of roti.
It was a very thick, reddish flat bread that Aditya had never seen earlier. Shilajeet also helped himself to it.
“Eat,” Shilajeet clapped him on the shoulder.
After days of travelling and working with shudras, criminals, and mercenaries of all kinds, Aditya did not think twice before digging in. He had not eaten anything all day, and the colour and smell of this food made his stomach growl in anticipation. He attacked it like a champion.
A pitcher of madhu was being passed around and everyone took long swigs straight from the vessel. Dhritahari, the fat man who was the owner of the tavern, was doing most of the talking.
“How can I not get angry? Every day I hear something new and I blow my top. It’s got so bad that I try to keep away from all news now,” he mopped his head with a piece of cloth on his shoulder.
“And yet, you seem to know an awful lot about what’s going on,” said Pandi, laughing.
“Corruption has crossed all limits, Pandi. People are angry. Our dear Magadhan Governor has raised taxes again—an additional shulka, apart from the bali and the bhaga for the farmers and merchants. He’s even taxing the courtesans!”
“Even the courtesans?” asked one of the soldiers.
“Courtesans . . . imagine!” shuddered Dhritahari.
“Taxes have been raised everywhere,” said Shilajeet. “Dhanananda is getting ready for a war with those damned Avantis. They’ve been sponsoring the rebels on our southern borders.”
“Hmmmph . . . these taxes here have nothing to do with Dhanananda. This is purely our dear Governor Malyavan’s doing.”
“Malyavan?” asked Shilajeet
“He’s raising an army,” said Pandi.
“Exactly, he’s employed more than three thousand mercenaries and those scoundrels come here every day asking for money.”
“For what? Bandits?” asked Shilajeet.
“Pshaw . . . we all know what the army is for. Every day, there are cases of dacoity on our borders, but our precious Governor does nothing. This army is for something else. He’s got his eye on Pataliputra.”
“Hmm . . . Pandi discreetly pointed to two strangers who were sitting at the other end of the room, evidently engaged in some serious discussion, helped along with generous sips of madhu from the bowls in front of them.
Aditya had satiated his hunger, and now stared in wonder at the two strangers. He had never seen people like them before. They were extremely pale, had very little hair on their faces, and their eyes were abnormally narrow. In Pataliputra, they used to speak of different types of men who lived in the four corners of the world, but he had always assumed that these were fantastic tales, meant only for the
gullible.
“My shop is very popular with all sorts of mercenaries and travellers my friend; everyone is welcome here. But it’s not very polite to stare,” said Dhritahari.
Shilajeet leaned towards him and whispered, “They are gold merchants from Ladvags. They all look like that, but they are a lot of fun and they can drink a lot. Want to meet them?”
“Leave him alone. I think it’s time he also shared a sip with us, don’t you think?” asked Pandi.
Everyone agreed enthusiastically, while Dhritahari looked doubtfully at Aditya.
“Have you ever had madhu or sura?” asked Shilajeet.
Aditya shook his head.
“Well then, shall we make him try?” Shilajeet looked towards Pandi.
“By all means.” Pandi was grinning through his beard and there was a gleam in his eye. “He’s worked like a man and he needs to drink like one.”
Shilajeet handed him the pitcher and shouts of ‘come on’, ‘drink up’ rent the air. The merchants from Ladvags also joined in.
What happened next would be remembered by Aditya all his life. The madhu had a thick, sweet taste that burnt in his throat. He choked and immediately started coughing. This was met with loud roars of approval from everyone present. People clapped him on the back and everyone seemed to be happy that he was drinking. He didn’t really like the taste, but as the pitcher was handed around, he continued to gulp down the The rest of the evening, Aditya could remember dancing with a number of strangers and then arguing loudly with Rishabha. Everything he was doing, seemed to amuse his new-found friends, and so he argued even louder. Finally, he could only recall seeing the floor next to his head, and a number of strange men, looking down at him.
***
It was dark and the entire world was shaking. Aditya was swimming in the murky depths of the Ganga, with his friend Yuyutsu. Only, instead of Yuyutsu, it was his brother who was flailing about in the water in front of him. Ajeet was trying to tell him something, shouting it out underwater, words which became big bubbles as they emerged from his mouth, and went floating up to the surface. Aditya strained his ears to understand what was being said.
Suddenly, a familiar voice floated in through the darkness, startling him with its clarity. His half-scrambled dreams were blown away like so many wisps of cotton, and Aditya opened his eyes to see Shilajeet leaning in over him, a huge grin on his face. The world slowly came into focus, and Aditya realized that he was lying on the floor in a small room, with sunlight streaming in through an open window. His mind was awake, but his limbs still seemed numb. He tried to get up, but only succeeded in rolling over to his side. It was only when Shilajeet started pinching his upper arms that Aditya, with a great effort, shook himself awake and staggered to his feet.
His head was throbbing and his mouth felt dry and sour. He tried to think back to what had happened last night, but he found he could only remember it in flashes. One of them was of him vomiting in the street, while someone flung water at his face. He could remember himself saying, ‘Thank you, thank you, you have saved my life’, over and over again to the stranger.
Shilajeet filled him in on the rest. He had fought with Rishabha, the student, and he had sworn to richly reward Dhritahari. He had also been boasting of being very rich and his antics had amused every one considerably. In short, his first exposure to alcohol and his first day in Kaushambi had been a disaster.
It had gone even worse for the student Rishabha, who had been robbed, and was now without a penny on him. When Aditya went outside to wash his face, he found Rishabha sitting down against the wall, his head in his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were red and puffy.
“I’ve been robbed. Everything is gone. Everything!” He seemed deranged with shock, “Oh, what will I do now?”
“How?” asked Aditya, vigorously rubbing water on his face.
“Oh, that man from Ujjain. He was a thief,” sobbed Rishabha. “What will I do now? It was two hundred panas! How can I go back home and tell them I have been so stupid? I can’t. I can’t,” he said and clasped his head again. Aditya, who had recently lost everything he valued, now felt a twinge of pity for the student.
“Hmm . . . did you talk to Pandi?”
Rishabha shook his head, “No. How can I face him? I don’t even have enough to eat. He might ask me to leave.”
Aditya’s brow wrinkled, “Well then, why don’t you ask around if someone can lend you some money? I am sure some of them can lend you enough money to just get by.”
“Who will lend me so much money? Oh deva, why am I such an idiot?” he buried his face in his hands again.
Aditya looked away.
“Can you lend me any money?” Rishabha looked hopefully towards him.
“What does it look like? Think I’d be doing this if I had money to lend?”
“But all your expenses are taken care of—aren’t they? Look, anything will do. Please. I promise I will repay.”
“Yes, but I don’t have any money.”
Rishabha got up and now clasped Aditya’s hand.
“Please, please. Look I will forever be in your debt if you help me now. I will never forget it. My father sold half his farm to send me to Takshashila. I cannot go back like this, I simply can’t. Please!”
Seeing Aditya’s uncertainexpression, his appeals grew even more pitiful and earnest.
“Please, look anything will do—any little thing. Even if I get a little bit, I’ll continue with the caravan. I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Okay, look I have very little, but I’ll share what I have. Right now, I need to run as Pandi is calling me. But I’ll request Pandi, maybe he can take you on as a worker, you could earn your passage that way. We always need workers, you know!”
Rishabha hugged him tight.
“Oh, thank you, thank you! Please talk to him brother. If you help me now, I promise I will never forget it. Never ever!”
“Okay, let me see.”
Aditya disentangled himself, smoothed his dhoti, and hurried off to accompany Pandi and Saumen. They were going to the house of a local setthi to deliver a message along with some gifts, that Navinda had sent his old friend and business partner. The setthi received them warmly, read the message with evident delight, and assured them of help in arranging for their onward journey.
***
The metropolis of Kaushambi was the farthest river port in the kingdom of Magadha. From here, the caravan would resume its journey on foot along the Uttarapatha. The pilgrims in the party now departed, while the remaining caravaneers got busy arranging for ox-carts, pack oxen, mules, and horses for the onward journey. Many of the free traders joined ranks to buy transport that they would share, while others rented space from the bigger traders to carry their goods. The smallest traders and students, who could not afford to do either, would walk all the way with their possessions and goods on their backs.
Accordingly, the next few days were extremely busy for Aditya. He accompanied Saumen and the setthi’s men to the cattle markets and saw how rigorously the traders bargained. He also learnt how to check the hooves, teeth, and musculature of these animals for any defects.
The purchased animals were then brought back to a pen near the docks, where Aditya helped to take care of them. At night, he would sleep with them in the stables. Finally, by the evening of the fourth day, requisite transport, fodder and other essentials for the onward journey had been procured and all arrangements were in place.
The loading and packing of the goods started early next morning, and everyone worked under the close supervision of Katyayana, who maintained meticulous accounts of all the goods being transported. The caravan finally started off around mid-morning.
The setthi came to see them off, and also presented Aditya with a beautiful khadga. It was a fine blade made of high-quality steel. No doubt, this would have been as per instructions sent by Navinda and Aditya felt immensely thankful for this help. Around mid-morning, the traders finally set off on the landpart of th
eir journey.
concoction, in pace with the cheering men.
Growth—I
The last two hundred years had seen the emergence of a new class of people in Bharatvarsha. Starting with the first artisans who produced goods on a piece-order basis meant for local consumption, a more intrepid class had emerged—a class of sellers who frequented the many nigams, haats, and fairs held in the newly-established cities and pilgrimage centres of the Indian sub-continent. These in turn, gave rise to an even more entrepreneurial class of people who could only be described as merchant-adventurers.
A new form of economic activity and wealth generation came into being. With the rapid clearing of forests and the emergence of rudimentary roads, trade and exchange between different parts of Bharatvarsha received a huge fillip; and this group of people known as the Vaishyas, became powerful drivers of economic activity in Indian society.
This expansion of long-distance trade and commerce in turn, had far-reaching effects upon society. Local exchange, which had earlier taken place within the grama-based societies, needed a common standard to transact, and the merchant guilds of various cities now started issuing metal-based currencies. Large scale trade also required the exchange of messages and the writing systems of Brahmi, Kharoshti and Gandhari/Sharda made an appearance around this time. Ancient religious books and traditions that had been passed down orally over generations, began to be written down, and the first universities in the world came up in places like Takshashila and Nalanda. For the first time in Bharatvarsha, access to education was no longer the preserve of only one section of society. Intellectual speculation and enquiry began to be directed more and more towards material and practical matters.
