by Rahul Mitra
This was an epoch of religious and philosophical ferment. Men who had travelled far and wide, and seen different types of societies, increasingly started questioning the narrow-mindedness and orthodoxy of the Brahmins. Society was undergoing a transition and this proved to be extremely fertile ground for the growth of new ideas and philosophies. Different schools of thought sprang up and vied for attention among the general population. This they did through methods such as exposition and debate in a society that was remarkably open and tolerant.
Among the many different schools of thought, were the shramana religions of Buddhism and Jainism, which rejected the caste system and propagated ahimsa, bitterly criticizing the animal sacrifices associated with Vedic religion. Driven by such moral concepts and encouraged by the increased area brought under the plough, the idea of vegetarianism also started gaining ground in Indian society. Such doctrines were especially popular among the new class of merchants and traders, and in fact, were in ascendancy all over Bharatvarsha. Side by side, other belief systems such as the existing Vedic religion, the hedonistic beliefs of the Charavakas, as well as atheistic beliefs propounded by sects such as the Ajivikas also remained popular.
The merchants trudging towards Takshashila were just one speck in this unfolding panorama of Indian civilization. The realities of travel meant that they were lax about caste restrictions, as exposure and travel had necessitated practicality and broad-mindedness. Yet, at the same time, they were niggardly in sharing their knowledge of wealth creation, of new markets, and sources of raw materials, as this was how they made money. Thus, the old curse of Bharatvarsha, the caste system—where every father tried to pass on his knowledge and position to his son, and responsibility and authority were conferred on the basis of descent, rather than merit—was already taking root in these newly-emerging communities.
As all these trends consolidated, merchant guilds came up in different cities, Janapadas afforded them protection in return for taxes, and the class of merchants came to be economically well-off. Yet, even now, the men travelling with Aditya were rough-and-hardy, equally capable of driving a shrewd bargain, as they were of defending their life and property from brigands and bandits. Life in the merchant caravans involved tremendous hardship and toil, as well as a huge appetite for risk.
It was a tough life and once the caravan started, their routine rarely varied. Up at the crack of dawn followed by a hurried round of packing and loading of animals, they hit the road and marched everyday, irrespective of terrain, weather, or road conditions. A number of Pandi’s horsemen always acted as scouts, scouring the path ahead for fodder, water, camping grounds, and potential ambushes. Another body of horsemen protected the rear of the caravan, while somemen marched along the flanks, their swords held loose in their kayabandhs.
None of their weapons matched, not all of them had horses, and only a few had shields or armour, yet they were all fighters to be reckoned with. Veterans of numerous attacks and skirmishes— some of them were so desperate for a good bout that they would sooner part with their lives, than hand over their merchandise. During the nights, they slept in the formation of a fortified camp. The animals would be unloaded, the pack-oxen unbuckled from the carts, which would then be drawn together in a circle to create a periphery. The pack-oxen and mules would be let out to graze freely in the meadows, where a number of men would spend the night with them, while horses would be kept inside the periphery and fed on grain. Men posted as sentries, remained on watch all around the camp, and everyone would take turns on guard duty.
For workers like Aditya, the routine was even tougher. He, who used to bunk wrestling while in Pataliputra, so that he could sleep late into the day, was now among the first to rise in camp. He would wake up early and help with the packing and loading. In the evenings, as soon as the caravan stopped, he would rush to unload the animals and then check for any scratches, marks, injuries, or pebbles and objects stuck in their hooves or bodies. Any of these could get worse when put under a load and if left unnoticed, could develop into an unusable animal over a couple of days. Later, he would brush down their hair as even tiny knots could chafe and cut the skin.
After doing all this, he had to compulsorily attend sword-fighting classes arranged by Pandi. Only then, was he allowed to eat and go to sleep. And on nights when he was on sentry duty, even sleep was denied to him.
***
“Aren’t you the same boy who had fallen off the ship?”
Aditya was trudging along at the tail-end of the caravan, when he heard the question. He looked up to see a head popping out of an ox-cart behind him.
It was the same face that had been leaning over the side of the ship and his eyes locked onto hers again.
He straightened up to his full height, “I am not a boy.”
“No? Then what are you?” her eyes flashed mischief and her dimples stood out in bold relief.
“I am tired of sitting. Do you mind if I walk with you?” she suddenly said in a very demure, feminine tone.
“No. Suit yourself” he said and then wondered if he sounded too gruff.
Her name was Devika, and she immediately started telling him about her house in Pataliputra as Aditya studied her from the corners of his eyes. There was an aura of gaiety and naughtiness about her, that was infectious, and her animated expressions changed as sShe was in the middle of one of her giggling fits, when Rishabha joined them. He had become exceedingly friendly, ever since Aditya had lent him twenty panas. Besides, they were both now at the same level, for Rishabha too, was now a worker in the caravan.
The three of them walked along together for almost the entire day, with Devika and Rishabha doing most of the talking, even as Aditya brooded in silence. He really did not know what to make of the lady, except that she somehow made him feel light-hearted and happy.
***
The caravan came to a stop on a stretch of dusty, unproductive land. The surrounding landscape was utterly flat and featureless, and stretched out over unending vistas of farms, plains, and clumps of trees. The harvest season was near, and bright green patches of paddy zig-zagged as far as the eye could see. Human habitations, unplanned clusters of mud and straw houses popped up at irregular intervals, relieving the seeming uniformity of the scenery. They were now in the heart of the Indo-Gangetic plains, an area that had been settled for many generations.
With the coming of the caravan, it now seemed as if a small city had suddenly sprung up in the midst of vast, empty fields. The animals were unloaded, the area for the camp was marked out and levelled, and workers were sent out to collect water and firewood. Some of the caravaneers were rubbing down their horses, talking to them, and inspecting their hooves, while others busied themselves clearing out the ground, cooking food or setting up temporary tent-like shelters. Many congregated in groups, exchanging light-hearted banter and gossip, while others peacefully enjoyed the sunset. Evenings were seen as a time to unwind and a relaxed, light-hearted mood prevailed.
Among the familiar faces, were present many strangers, people from the surrounding villages, who had descended on the caravan, trying to buy and sell essential commodities. Some hawked fresh fruits and vegetables, while others sold homemade madhu. As was the general custom, they were allowed at the campsite till twilight, after which, all strangers were asked to leave, the ox-carts were drawn together in a circle, and sentries posted outside this perimeter.
Till then, however, they roamed about freely, engaging in spirited bargaining with potential customers. Meanwhile, a roving bhaand and his apprentice materialized from nowhere, and the duo started performing to a mixed crowd of merchants and villagers. The whole place resembled a haat.
At one end of this temporary city, however, stood a group of twelve bare-chested men who looked dead serious. In the dying light of the reddish sun, they were practising the art of khadga combat. Yet, none of them had a khadga in his hands. They stood in two rows and were responding clumsily to orders barked out by a dark, stocky man. Quite
a crowd had formed around them, engaging in frequent cat-calls and jeers at their strange antics.
“Advance!” shouted Pandi.
They all shifted weight from their back leg to the front, and took a half-step forward with pretend swords in their hands.
“Retreat!”
They all moved back half a step.
“Advance, Advance, Advance, Advance!”
They ended up in disarray.
“Where you going, Drishta?” called out one of the mercenaries from the crowd. Someone clapped, and the villagers started laughing.
The thin, nervous-looking young man, to whom this was addressed, was almost a step ahead of the rest, and he now stepped back with a frown.
“Don’t lunge, don’t lunge forward,” Pandi scowled at him. “Shilajeet, come; show them what happens when you lunge with a khadga.”
Shilajeet drew his sword and lunged out at Pandi, thrusting his blade straight towards Pandi’s guts but his blade only sliced through empty air. In one smooth, fluid movement, Pandi had taken a small step forward and to the left, avoiding Shilajeet’s sword thrust. He now brought his own sword down in a chop over Shilajeet’s extended hand.
“See—there! I got his arm and broke his wrist. Or . . . I could go for his neck like this—” said Pandi as he suddenly lifted the blade and took it to Shilajeet’s neck, “or like that and get his ribs,” he now held the point of the sword against Shilajeet’s chest.
He turned back towards the students.
“When you overextend, you not only expose your arms and your wrists, but you also disbalance yourself. Now watch this, from this excessively strained position, it will also take him time to get back to defence. So within that interval, I can take him out, right? Remember this: real khadgas are heavy and every time you commit to a stroke, you will not be able to change it mid-air, as your footwork will not support it. Now why was I able to dodge him?”
They stared back at him.
“Because of better positioning—that’s why. Sword fighting is all about positioning, and positioning is all about good footwork. You have to remain balanced on your feet at all times! Never ever overextend!”
The group nodded their heads in agreement and murmured their assent as Pandi stepped forward to admonish the unfortunate young man who had lunged ahead of the rest.
“Drishta, not only were you disbalanced while moving, but you also broke formation. Now imagine how bad this would have been, if you were in actual battle. Not only have you foolishly exposed yourself, one man alone, instead of a solid mass of men, but you also created a break in your ranks. It provides a gap for the enemy to penetrate. You have endangered not just yourself, but your friends and comrades. Do you understand what a terrible mistake this can be?”
“Yes, Acharya.”
“Good, now get back.”
They got back into their ranks and continued the drill. Pandi was a renowned master swordsman and all the men present had volunteered for this torture. All, that is, except for Aditya who had been ordered by Pandi to attend these classes. His torture and exhaustion would continue into the night, after which Pandi would put him through additional drills or yoga postures for flexibility, while he would let the others go. Only then was Aditya allowed to eat, after which he would collapse in a heap, till he was woken up again.
Yet, Aditya did not mind. These classes were his only chance to reclaim his Kshatriya status and he lapped up everything that was taught. However, the constant animal-like drilling befuddled him. They had been learning footwork and positioning for twelve days and yet, Pandi had not allowed any of them to even touch a khadga. Everyone wondered how long this would continue.
Pandi’s commands again burst through his thoughts, “Off-line step left,” and his body followed, a big step towards the left, with his body sinking down and his arms held up. His imaginary sword was brandished horizontally to block an overhead strike. He had done this so many times before, that he didn’t even have to think. His body followed Pandi’s instructions of its own accord.
wiftly as the topic of their conversation.
Growth—II
It had been three months since their caravan left Pataliputra and in that time, Aditya had completely changed. So stark was this transformation, that an acquaintance from his Pataliputra days would scarcely have recognized him. The boy had become a man.
The continuous physical activity combined with a high protein diet, had changed his body. He was still lean as a bone, but had grown taller and considerably stronger. The khadga, which had seemed heavy and clunky when he first started handling it, now felt light and malleable in his hands. Side by side with this increase in strength, was an enormous increase in appetite. It seemed to have almost doubled since they’d left Pataliputra.
Yet, the greatest change in him was mental. He, who used to bunk classes and manipulate his brother to get his way, now took his responsibilities seriously for he was determined not to be found wanting in any way. Used to luxurious living, he now ate coarse food, wore shabby clothes, and took orders from people of all backgrounds. Yet, he was thankful that he could support himself and he guarded his self-respect very closely. He was determined to work his way up to his ‘rightful’ station in life.
The realities of camp life meant that men of very diverse backgrounds were often thrown together and had to depend upon each other. Amidst the shared sentry duties and the sword-fighting lessons, Aditya too, found himself opening up to others. He still did not talk much, but was most often seen with either Rishabha or the young trader Drishta. He learnt continuously from Pandi, and sometimes spent his free time with Devika, whose company he found delightful. Learning about the lives of others on the caravan, brought about a huge change in him.
In comparison to the denizens of settled communities, most of the caravaneers were adventurers and risk-takers. Many of them had been forced into this wandering life through misfortune and adversity, and had struggled and fought their way through life. The arrogance that came automatically to Aditya, now evaporated as his respect for fellow-travellers grew. He realized that his former sense of superiority had been based on nothing, but the achievements and wealth of his family and the desire to now prove himself on his own terms, burned fiercely within him.
The self-pity and feeling of helplessness that had initially dogged him, also vanished, as Aditya realized that he was not alone in his misfortune. He had lost a brother, and yet there were people in the caravan, who had never known a family. The fates had not promised anyone anything, but had dealt their cards impartially and unfeelingly to everyone. Around him were numerous others who had made the best of a bad hand, instead of sitting and brooding over things.
For instance, his friend Drishta’s life was typical of the kind of lives many of the smaller traders had led. Drishta had been orphaned at a young age to war and famine. Driven as a refugee to Pataliputra, he had begged, struggled, and fought his way to manhood, till one day he saw the wealth that came ashore at the docks. He had immediately sold his services as a rower till he made some money and started buying dyed cotton clothes in the markets of Kaushambi and selling them in Pataliputra on his return. After making a tidy profit, he had enough money to launch himself into business as a trader, but his very first caravan was attacked and robbed. Escaping to Bharukaccha, he had done odd jobs till he got his hands on some high quality imported silks. His journey back to Pataliputra had earned him some money, and he was hoping that he would finally make it big with this caravan.
Drishta was thin and weak-looking, and spoke in a high-pitched voice. Even though he had an enormous appetite, he never seemed to gain any weight. Yet, despite his frail appearance, Aditya realized that this was a man of immense mental strength. In his former life in Pataliputra, he might even have passed by Drishta, without even looking at him. Yet, this same man had somehow taught himself to read, and was constantly on the lookout for self-improvement, a desire which led him to the sword-fighting classes, even though he was not c
ut out for it.
There were many others with similar stories. There was Shilajeet, who had been born to a slave woman and yet, nobody could have guessed that by looking at him now. Pandi himself was rumoured to have had a dark past, though no one knew much about him, except that he came from the far south, from a town by the sea shore that was famous for its temples and pearl fishing.
Aditya had also grown close to Rishabha, whose parents had sold half their farm to fulfill his wishes, as he was talented in mathematics and philosophy. He was excitable and foul-mouthed, but over time, Aditya realized that he was a wonderful person at heart. Though very intelligent at philosophy and science, he seemed to be totally at a loss, when it came to the wiles and mannerisms of men. In this respect, Rishabha reminded him of his own brother, for he too, had the ability to speak uncomfortable truths, and to be stubborn about them.
At night, when the merchants sat around the fire discussing the remains of the day, Rishabha would invariably end up upsetting some of them with his theories by saying things like: man did not need to consume luxuries to be happy. He blamed the merchants for creating desire among citizens, for things that were not required, and thus, of promoting unhappiness in society. Among the merchants, even among the Buddhists, there were not many takers for this kind of talk. So Rishabha, who never moderated his speech, found himself one day with a bowlful of daal, upturned on his head.
Perhaps the most surprising change in Aditya was his new-found respect for Pandi and his love for sword fighting. Pandi was a Charavaka and openly opposed the doctrines of the Brahmins—yet no one could doubt his intelligence and ability. He was extremely severe, but by now, Aditya had realized that he was also very fair. The sword-fighting sessions helped bring them together and for the first time in his life, Aditya realized why his brother Ajeet had been so crazy about wrestling.
Despite the bone-crushing hard work, Aditya now looked forward to each of those sessions, and was loath to miss a single one. Slowly but surely, he was growing in his mastery of the khadga.
