Divya, page 24
The dark lane ended. On the main road, the moon shone as brightly as the sun and thus it was risky to go on to the main road. He shrank from going further and remained in the lane. Not far from where he stood were the palaces of the President of the Republic and of Okris, the noble. Prithusen thought to cross the road and proceed in that direction, for there alone he could perhaps find shelter.
Suddenly, the clatter of horses’ hoofs was heard from that direction too. Prithusen stood in the darkness and watched. A group of horsemen, led by two Brahmin nobles, Agnikesh and Sakrid, with their swords drawn, swept by. Prithusen realized that the palaces of the President and of Okris had been surrounded by the enemy. It was no longer possible to seek shelter with friends.
He stood hidden in the darkness of the lane, breathing heavily. Every muscle in his body twitched, and he was bathed in sweat down to his heels. Like an animal surrounded by hunters in a forest, shivering and shrinking within himself, hiding wherever he could, he made his way towards the outskirts of the town. Every time he came onto the main road flooded with moonlight, he trembled from head to foot. Each voice he heard seemed to call his name, and his blood froze within him. Unarmed and hopeless, he was mindless with fear.
For a long time Prithusen lurked in the lanes. He despaired at the thought that after daybreak it would become impossible for him to save himself. At the same time, he did not understand why he should wander aimlessly from place to place, trying to save his life by hiding. With his armed soldiers behind him, he would certainly have overcome the insurgents. Had he been armed, even though alone, he would have fought to the bitter end and died honourably. Now there was no way out for him. He could either be killed like an animal or like a mouse save himself by scurrying from one hole to another. The effects of the wine had worn off, and he was feeling weak and exhausted in every limb. With an effort of will, he fought off the blankness that was clouding his mind.
The full moon dropped till it touched the horizon. The houses on the west of the road cast long shadows, enveloping the opposite side of the street in darkness. Without any clear sense of direction, Prithusen stepped into the nearest lane.
On the other side of the road he saw a man coming towards him intoning the words of a mantra. As the person drew near, Prithusen recognized him at once. It was the monk Cheebuk, the reputed physician. The monk’s eyes fell on him. Prithusen had been a patient under his personal attention for well over two months. It was not difficult for the monk to recognize him, even without the rich garments he wore habitually.
‘Where are you going, Arya?’ he addressed Prithusen without hesitation. ‘That way isn’t safe. The riders looking for you have gone in that very direction.’
‘Venerable sir,’ Prithusen said, his voice full of despair, ‘I have been betrayed and rendered helpless. I have nowhere to go. All roads are closed to me and all places have become dangerous. It is only a matter of time now. The butcher has caught me in his noose. In a short time his axe will be on my neck. Revered sir, being unarmed, I am helpless, shelterless; a dishonourable death awaits me.’
The monk looked intently at Prithusen. Even in that darkness, Prithusen could notice a glint of pity in his eyes.
‘Son, if you are looking for shelter, there is the Buddhist monastery nearby,’ he spoke in a low, sympathetic voice. ‘Every applicant is granted shelter there. And it is beyond the pale of worldly conflicts and the bounds of state authority.’
‘O blessed one, I shall ever be beholden to you for granting me shelter at this time.’
At daybreak, the citizens of Sagal were awakened from their sleep by the sound of the kettledrum and bugle. Frightened and amazed, people peeped out of doors and windows, or lying in bed, listened to the proclamation of the criers:
‘His Excellency, the Master of Exceptional Virtues, the Shining Jewel of the Kshatriya Caste, the Defender of the Faith, the Great Noble, Sri Dev Sarvarth, having cleansed the earth of sin, with the consent of the caste society of Madra, assumes the sceptre of authority as President of the Republic of Madra. The office of the Chairman of the Council, with the consent of the members of the Council, is assumed by the Noblest of Acharyas, the one versed in scriptures, the Feudatory Chief, Mahapandit Rudradhir. With the consent of the caste society of Madra, the command of the defence forces is vested in the Feudatory Chief, Holder of Landed Estates, the Noble, Kartavir. The kingdom of Madra, standing on the laws of the caste society, shall henceforth be administered in accordance with the laws of justice. The entire Brahmin community, the Greeks, the Sudras and slaves, in the performance of their duty shall carry out the orders of the supreme authority.’
The full moon of the month of Kartik disappeared, and with it went the authority achieved by the rule of the low-caste people in Sagal. At sunrise, with the re-establishment of the caste-system, the authority of the Brahmins was restored. On the main roads, at crossings and other places, the weapons and helmets of the soldiers of the Brahmin feudatory chiefs glittered in the light of the sun. While this new splendour was a source of joy and a cause for rejoicing for one section of the community of Sagal, for others it was a source of terror. For ordinary citizens, it was a cause for fear mixed with curiosity.
The town was the same, its highways were the same, so were the lanes and byways, the palaces, mansions, lakes and gardens. People too were the same, only the form of government had changed. The Buddhist concept, that the same life force operates in all living beings, which had never aroused any enthusiasm among the high-caste Brahmins, and which encouraged self-assertion among people of the low caste, was now repudiated by the new law of the state based on the caste system.
The business magnates and merchants, who, with the power of money and with the diplomacy and patronage of Prestha, had obtained seats in the Council and the right to raise armed forces, were, overnight, stripped of their rights. With the exception of the Brahmins, all other classes were deprived of the right to revenue from landed estates. The landed property of the Buddhist monasteries was expropriated. The monks, often seen on the roads and in the lanes and bylanes with their shaven heads shining in the sun, had almost disappeared from view. Their voice, which so loudly brought solace to the people of low caste, was virtually silenced.
Prestha’s palace and family were destroyed in the all-consuming fire. In place of large mansions guarded by armed soldiers, stood the bare skeleton of Prestha’s palace, in black ruins, licked by the tongue of fire, amid a waste of ashes that spread on all sides. Prestha and other Greek nobles, who had shown sympathy for the Buddhist faith, were deprived of their landed estates and military rights. The President, stricken with paralysis, lay on his deathbed, listening without comprehension to the unfamiliar utterances of the Buddha, and waiting for Nirvana.
The soldiers of Acharya Rudradhir had combed every lane and bylane and palace grounds of Sagal, but had not been able to trace Prithusen. With Prithusen still alive, Rudradhir had no peace. After killing the serpent, if its young are spared, then in due course they too become full-grown snakes.
Shelter was granted to Prithusen in the Buddhist monastery. He spent the whole day in the dark meditation cell of Cheebuk, lost in thought, without eating a morsel of food. After midnight, he sought the permission of the monk to leave the monastery.
‘Why do you want to go out, Arya?’ the monk asked, his characteristic smile playing about his lips. He had guessed Prithusen’s purpose.
‘Honoured sir, how long can I go on hiding here like a frightened mouse, in fear of my life?’ replied Prithusen. ‘When I returned victorious from the battlefield, you were so kind as to treat my wounds and bring me back to health. Today, by giving me shelter when I am persecuted by my enemies, you have granted me my life a second time. I am beholden to you for two lives that you have given me. Permit me, sir, to go out into the dark and look for an opportunity to face my foes. I shall either vanquish them, or lay down my life in the attempt. I cannot destroy myself in humiliation.’
Cheebuk beckoned to him to come closer. ‘Arya, it is not commendable to destroy oneself in humiliation. It is proper to think of defeating an enemy, but how can the enemy be defeated in the dark of night? In order to conquer the enemy, you must be able to recognize him.’
‘I shall be able to recognize the enemy, reverend sir.’ Feeling doubtful about the monk’s meaning, Prithusen looked into his eyes.
‘Then, recognize the enemy right here,’ Cheebuk said, the constant smile playing on his lips.
‘What do you mean, honoured sir?’ Prithusen said, looking at the monk with wide open eyes, full of curiosity.
‘Arya, the enemy takes birth in your thoughts.’
‘Honoured sir, at this time, I am not in a fit condition of mind to follow metaphysical disputations. I am talking about the struggle to preserve life,’ Prithusen said anxiously, after some thought. ‘Pray, permit me to leave the monastery.’
The expression on the monk’s face remained unchanged. ‘Arya, it is precisely about the preservation of life that I have been talking to you. You were given shelter in the monastery to prevent bloodshed, since you were in danger, and not to enable you to wait for an opportunity for shedding blood.’
Speechless, Prithusen looked at the smile playing on the monk’s lips. He recalled how, in his wounded condition, when he was struggling between life and death, this monk, with his infinite compassion, had brought him back to life. At that time, too, the same smile used to play on his lips. ‘Arya, with every resource in my power, I shall try to save your life,’ the monk had assured him at that time.
Prithusen remained silent. The monk called a bhikshu and asked him to bring some fruit. Prithusen had no desire to eat, but he could not disregard the monk’s command, and, therefore, partook of some fruit.
During the daytime, the monk went out to different parts of the city, administering medicines to the sick. He told Prithusen of the prevailing situation. There had not been much bloodshed, but the entire administration had undergone a radical change. Prithusen’s friends and comrades were in no position to help him. It would be a grave risk for both Prithusen and his friends, if Prithusen tried to meet them. Rudradhir’s spies were combing every lane, every path and every suburb in search of Prithusen. Their guess was that Prithusen had got wind of the conspiracy and after escaping from Mallika’s palace, he had left that area of the city. They suspected that he had gone in disguise to those areas which he had conquered from the ruler of Darva, and it was in that direction that the spies were hunting for him.
Prithusen did not draw much consolation from what the monk told him. ‘Honoured sir, am I to spend the rest of my life in humiliation and fear, hiding in this secret place like a crippled animal that has somehow escaped the hands of the hunter?’ he said, in a voice of utter despair.
‘Fear and despondency do not befit a brave person, Arya,’ the monk replied.
‘How can I sit idle in such a situation, honoured sir, simply because there is apprehension of bloodshed and violence? What other way is open to me except of fighting the enemy?’ Prithusen asked impatiently.
‘Arya, bloodshed is not an effective means of defeating the enemy. The enemy, of course, can be put to death with a weapon. You can subjugate the enemy for some time, but you cannot conquer him. He who has been killed, who has ceased to exist, cannot be conquered. A man prefers subjugation to death only in the spirit of cowardice or retaliation. As soon as the power of the conquering enemy is weakened, the defeated enemy once again tries to take revenge. Arya, such subjugation is not victory either. Sufficient blood has been shed in the world, but its result has never been victory over the enemy. A victory of this kind serves only as a seed from which grows the new plant of rancour and revenge. Arya, nobody is ever afraid of the dead body of an enemy. Tell me, wherein does enmity lie, in the body or in the mind?’
‘In the mind, honoured sir,’ Prithusen replied in a subdued voice.
‘Then, Arya, victory lies not in subduing the body of the enemy, but his mind. You should, therefore, conquer Acharya Rudradhir in the same way as the Buddha conquered the mind of Deva Dutta, as Dharma Ghosh conquered the mind of the Emperor Ashoka, as the Buddhist Naga Sen conquered the mind of the Emperor Milinda.’ Having said all this, the monk sat silent, looking at Prithusen with his smiling eyes.
Prithusen sat quietly, with his head bowed. Cheebuk continued, ‘Arya, how many enemies does a man have? And who are they? Where are they to be found? Man does not know all of them. He cannot know all of them, either. How many of them can be killed with weapons? There was a day when the people of Sagal hailed you whenever they saw you going round on horseback. Today the same people, seeing you in your present condition, will not utter a word of cheer. Is it because they have become your enemies? In what way have you harmed them? At the time of the victory over Darva, you killed many soldiers of Kendras. Were they your enemies? You had never set eyes on them, nor had they ever set eyes on you. The cause of the enmity lay only in the mind, in the belief that they were your enemies. Enmity is a thing of the mind.
‘Arya, the man who accepts defeat at the hands of the enemy and the man who goes to kill that enemy, are both hounded by fear of that enemy. Acharya Rudradhir is out to kill you, because he is afraid of you, because he trembles at the thought of you. Arya, the person who is afraid and admits that he is panic-stricken is not brave. The brave and courageous man is only he who is not afraid of anyone, who has no terror of anyone. Arya, you too are afraid of the person who is afraid of you. The powerful are afraid unconsciously, while the weak know that they are afraid. There is bound to be fear, if there is cause for fear. The only fearless man is he who is free from the cause of fear. If a person is afraid of your power, then his fear is the hidden seed from which your fear will spring. And this seed of fear can sprout at any time, when it finds a favourable soil and climate. Arya, such being the case, power is the cause not of fearlessness but of fear, of fear in others and in yourself. Such power cannot lead to happiness. Arya, the man who accumulates the means and causes of unhappiness, and hopes to draw happiness from them, is suffering from a grave illusion. Such a desire for happiness leads, like the dream of a pauper, only to misery.’
Every day, after returning from his round of the city to gather alms and visit the sick, Cheebuk would go to Prithusen and talk to him. Hardly a fortnight elapsed before Prithusen gave up the idea of going out of the monastery to plunge back into strife and struggle. He would put questions to the monk about non-attachment and perpetual happiness, and would later meditate over the monk’s replies. From his face and appearance the look of perplexity and pain vanished. In its stead, there shone the calm of a well-ordered mind. The discourses of the monk no longer vexed and disturbed his mind. He would, on the contrary, listen eagerly to them, with joined hands.
One evening, soon after the monk’s discourse, Prithusen said humbly, ‘Honoured sir, your humble servant seeks, by accepting the spirit of Universal Brotherhood, to become a traveller on the path of everlasting happiness. Honoured sir, grant me the robes of the religion of the Buddha, accept me into the Threefold Shelter.’
The monk replied, smiling, ‘Arya, for that too, your time will come. The happiness that one experiences on the path of renunciation, which one acquires without snatching anything from anyone, cannot be taken away from him. Young sir, the time will come for that too.’
On his own accord, Prithusen began to observe vinaya and sheel—humility and courtesy—the rules of conduct for a Buddhist bhikshu.
The physician monk, Cheebuk, on receiving a message from Dharma Rakshit, the head of the monasteries of Sagal and Principal of the monastic order, went to meet him one afternoon.
The Principal of the monastic order was extremely worried over the crisis that had overtaken the Buddhist religion. He had heard the town-crier announce with the beating of drums, the order issued by Sarvarth, the President, and it had distressed him terribly. The order of the President ran thus:
‘Any citizen, who delivers to the state authorities, the son of a slave, Prithusen, the enemy of the caste religion, will receive from the state treasury the sum of five hundred gold pieces and a gift estate of one village. The citizen who flouts the law of the state and gives shelter to the low-born, the destroyer of religion, Prithusen, will be liable to the punishment of death, by the court of law.’
Monk Cheebuk, in accordance with the ritual of deference, greeted the Principal by prostrating himself in the five fold obeisance. Dharma Rakshit raised his hand in blessing and prayed for the health and well-being of the monk. Cheebuk went on his knees and asked for the Principal’s command. At a sign from the Principal, Cheebuk sat down on a mat of kausheya grass. Surmising the reason for the Principal’s uneasiness, Cheebuk did not open his mouth and waited for him to speak. Dharma Rakshit, in his agitation, put the matter briefly, ‘May you have a long life. I believe you are aware of the crisis that has overtaken our faith.’
‘Honoured sir,’ Cheebuk replied, ‘faith is never overtaken by a crisis. Only those men who subscribe to a particular faith get frightened and feel that the faith has been overcome by a crisis. Religion finds a place, sometimes in the hearts of many people, sometimes in a few. That is what this humble bhikshu thinks.’
Thinking over the reply of the monk, the Principal said, ‘You are aware of the question that is causing anxiety to my mind. You must have heard the state proclamation.’
‘So I had surmised, honoured sir. I have heard the proclamation,’ Cheebuk admitted.
‘For Prithusen, a person wanted by the state, to receive shelter in a Buddhist monastery is, in this abnormal situation, a source of danger both to the Monastic Order and to the religion. You know that Rudradhir is an avowed enemy of our religion.’
‘Honoured sir, it was necessary to give asylum to one who came to seek shelter. The Monastic Order cannot refuse its sanctuary to such a person. Such is the order of our Faith.’
