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RAHULA SANKRITYAYANA

FROM VOLGA
TOGANGA
A picture in nineteen stories of the histoncm,
economic and political evolution of
the human society
from 6000 B.C. to 1922 A.D.

Translated by

VICTOR KIERNAN

MUSSOORIE (INDIA)
RAHULA PUBLICATION
 First printed in Hindi 1942.
First English Edition 1947.
Second English Edition 1953.

Price Rs. 4|8

Printed by S. S. Srivastava at the National Herald Press, Lucknow

and published by Sm. Kamala Devi, Happy Valley, Mussoorie (India)
 AUTHOR’S PREFACE TO THE FIRST HINDI
EDITION
Man at the outset was far from standing where he stands
today ; many conflicts have been a necessary part of his develop¬
ment. 1 have tried to give a scientific survey of social evolution
in my book Human Society. The wish to give a simpler picture,
and make the outline easier to grasp, has led me to write the
present book. It deals with the Indo-European race, with which
Indian readers will feel more at home. This race had forerunners,
centuries earlier, in the Egyptians, Assyrians, and Indus Valley
people, but an attempt to deal with all these would multiply
difficulties—for author and reader alike.
I have tried to give an authentic account of society as it was
at each stage, but eriors will inevitably creep into a pioneer attempt
like this. If my work helps other writers to build up a clearer
picture, I shall consider myself to have been successful.
About the period to which the story “ Bandhula Malla ” in
this volume belongs, I have written a separate novel—Lion, The
Commander
Februaiy 23, 1942. R.S
Central Jail, Hazaribagh.

AUTHOR’S NOTE TO THE SECOND HINDI EDITION

Ir is gratifying to an author to see the first edition of his work
exhausted within seven or eight months ; and still more gratifying
is the resentment it has aroused among conservatives, which some¬
times expresses itself in the form of unrestricted nonsense and
abuse. But 1 believe that the stream of abuse has now diminished.
Certain respectable persons, making decidedly unsuccessful efforts
to keep their tempers, have indulged in pedantic criticisms, and
have wished me to write a defence of myself. In general 1 have
no desire to avoid writing; but there must be something solid to
write against. I have had a good deal of material as the basis of
each story : various languages and their comparative philology;
records deducible from or written on clay, stone,. Copper,, bronze,
iron; unwritten songs, tales, customs, magic rijesi' was my
hope while writing, and still is, to publish an indication of these
materials in the shape of an appendix; but this would bej^heavy
task and lack of time has hindered me from undertaking it. In
any case, it could not be included in this volume, as it would
more than double its length. * I do, however, intend to see about it.
In this second ediijpn I have made very few changes, except
to add a small p&jfcfa here and there. I had hqped to include
illustrations witb^eaCtt story, but wartime difficulties have not
permitted this
Allahabad, R.S.
November 4, *$943.
 TRANSLATOR'S NOTE

I undertook this translation at the suggestion of Mr. P. C. Joshi

who is proud of having read Tulsi Das seventeen times, and even
now, amid his enormous daily work, keeps in touch with arts and
letters—even, in mellower moments, talking of a holiday some
day in the Welsh hills.
I found the book as interesting as he had led me to expect,
but very much more difficult. The author, whom I had had the
pleasure of meeting, left India soon after I began work, to under¬
take research in Indology in the U.S.S.R., and thus escaped the
numerous questions with which I should otherwise have plied
him. His diction, in the first part of the book, is very heavily
Sanskritised, as is natural in view of the demands of his subject
and his profound knowledge of the Sanskrit language. In the
latter part, dialect phrases are introduced, and a certain number
of errors in the Hindi text assisted to complicate my problem.
The task would have been quite beyond my inadequate
knowledge, had I not been liberally helped by my Hindi-speaking
colleagues of Aitchison College, Lahore. I take this opportunity
of thinking Dr. Hardev Bahri, Ph.Dd., D.Litt., and Mr. P. C. Jain
—the latter of whom, on one occasion, ransacked no fewer than
fourteen lexicons in a vain search for a word which had baffled
all of us. Mr. Maharaj Krishan Anand was my most constant
guide, rescuing me with unwearied energy from the quicksands
which beset my path. Mr. Ramesh Sinha, of the Hindi staff of
People’s Age, undertook the laborious task of revising my entire
manuscript. I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude to these
friends for their generous help. If, as may be inevitable in the
translation of so long and difficult a work, some errors have
managed to survive, I can only blame myself.

V. G. Kiernan.

Bombay,
July 24. 1946.
 I. NI S HA
Region : Banks of the upper Volga.
People : Indo-European.
Time : 6.000 B. C.

This story takes us back some 360 generations of human

life. All the races of India, Iran and Europe formed one
people then. It was the early dawn of mankind.

~r T is afternoon. Today, after how many days the blessing of

L sunshine has returned. Although, with only five hours’ day¬
light, there is no vigour in the sun’s warmth, still there is no cloud,
snowfall, fog, or strong wind. The sun pours its rays everywhere
delighting the eyes and with their warm touch releasing joyful
feelings in the mind. What is visible all round? Under the blue
sky's roof the earth is covered with snow, white as camphor.
There has been no fresh snowfall in the last twenty-four hours,
and the snow on the ground has crystallised and hardened. But
it does not conceal the earth under one unvaried covering.
Running from north to south is something like a silvery, crooked
line, several miles long. From far away on the hills, on each
side, it can be made out as the edge of a dark range of forest.
Let us look at this forest from a nearer point. Two kinds of
trees are the commonest in it. One is the birch, with its skin
of white bark, but at present bare of leaves. The other is the
flawlessly straight pine, shooting out its branches at equal angles
from high up on the trunk, with needle-like leaves of bright or
darker green. Where snow has rested on the trees, the ice that
has formed here and there on the branches and trunks makes an
arresting pattern of black and white.
And what else ? Stretching in every direction lies one
unbroken realm of terrible silence. Nowhere is heard the chirp
of the cricket, the caressing music of birds, or the sound of any
animal.
Let us climb the pine that stands at the summit of the hill,
and look all round. Perhaps something else will come in view
besides snow, earth, pines. Is nothing growing here except giant
trees ? Is there no room in this land for little plants, for grass ?
We cannot guess. We have left two parts of the winter behind,
and are now in the third and last. How thick is the snow in
which these fallen trees are lying, we have no means of measuring.
It may be twelve feet deep, or even more. This year the snow¬
fall has been very heavy, and all life has suffered by it.
 2 FROM VOLGA TO GANG A

What is this that can be seen from the top of the pine ?
The same snow, the same forest-range, the same region of hills
high and low. Yes, but at one point on the other side of the
hill, smoke is rising. In this lifeless and soundless wilderness, it
is strange to see a wreath of smoke. Let us make for it, and
satisfy our curiosity. .
The smoke was really at a great distance, though in the
transparent cloudless atmosphere it seemed quite close. Now we
have got very near to it. A smell of fat and meat cooking on a
fire enters our nostfils. And now sounds can be heard, those
of small children. We must move softly, not letting our footsteps,
even our breath, be heard or else these creatures will become
aware of us, and there is no knowing what sort of welcome they
or their dogs might give us.
Yes, it really is a half-dozen of children, all in one house,
the biggest not more than eight years old, the youngest only one
year. The “ house ” is in fact a natural hill-cave. How far
inward its sides and rear extend, we cannot see, for they are in
darkness, and we had better not try to see ! As for grown-ups,
there is an old woman, whose hair, the colour of flax or of
smoke, hangs in tangled and matted locks so as almost to cover
her face. But just now she has pushed it back with one hand.
Her eyebrows also are pale, and her whole face is lined with
wrinkles that seem as if they were growing from inside it. The
smoke and warmth of the fire fill the cave, especially just where
the children and our old grandmother are. On the latter’s body
is no clothing, no covering. Her two shrunken hands rest on the
ground near her feet. Her eyes are deep sunk, and their pale blue
pupils dull as though empty : still, in their depths a spark still
flickers, to show that their light is not quite extinguished. As to
her ears, they seem to be doing their duty. She evidently hears
the children’s voices very well. Now one child has set up an
outcry, and she turns her eyes that way. There are a couple of
children—a boy and girl, two years old or a little more—who
are very much of the same size. Both have pallid hair with a
tinge of yellow, like the old woman’s, but with a stronger sheen,
with more life. Their bodies are plump and well-nourished, tawny
or yellowish in hue; they have big, deep blue eyes. The boy
is crymg noisily, the girl standing up and sucking a small bone
she has pushed into her mouth. In the quavering voice of old
age the grandmother says:
“ ASin ! Come ! Come here. Agin Granny here ”
Agin stays where he is without getting up. At this juncture
an eight year old boy comes, lifts him up in his arms, and carries
him to the grandmother. This boy’s hair has more gold in it
than the small child’s, but is longer and more matted. His body,
 1. NISHA

naked from head to foot, is of the same tawny colour ; it is less

plump, and streaked here and there with dark dirt stains. The
bigger boy sets the little one down on his feet near the grand¬
mother, saying :
“Granny! Rochana (light) has taken away the bone. Agin
is crying.”
Then he goes away, and the grandmother lifts Agin up in her
withered hands. He keeps on crying, and the flowing stream of
his tears washes a thick line of skin across his dirty cheeks. Kissing
and fondling his face, the old woman says : “ Agin ! Don’t cry !
1 beat Rochana ! ”—and she smacks one hand against the cave-
floor, bare soil soaked thick with the grease-droppings of many
years. Even now Agin’s whimpering does not stop, and his tears
go on rolling. The grandmother wipes them with her dirty palm,
reducing the streaks of fawny skin showing on his face to a uni¬
form grimness. Then, to soothe the child’s weeping, she puts him
to her skinny breasts, that hang down like dried half-grown
pumpkins in the framework of ribs starting out from under her
shrivelled skin. Agin closes his mouth on one breast and stops
crying. At this moment a sound of conversation comes from
outside. Agin peeps in that direction, the dry breast dragging
at his mouth. A soft, pleasant voice is heard :
“ Agin n n ! ”
Agin begins to cry afresh. Two women enter, and bang down
in one corner the bundles of wood piled on their heads. Then
one of them runs up to Rochana, the other to Agin. The latter,
crying all the harder, howls “ Ma-ma ! ” His mother frees her
right hand, and undoing above her right breast a hairy white
bull-hide dress pinned with porcupine-quills, lets it slip down.
There is too little flesh on her young body, because of the scarcity
of food in winter, but it is remarkably graceful. She has bright,
clean cheeks of the same tawny complexion as the children, and
flaxen hair, not matted but flowing loose and falling over her
forehead. Round, red-tipped breasts stand out from her broad
spare chest; her waist is narrow, her hips well covered and fairly
large, her thighs rounded and fleshy; her calves taper like an
Indian plough, and are clearly accustomed to hard exercise. This
eighteen year old girl lifts Agin up with both hands, and kisses
his mouth, eyes and cheeks. His little white teeth show between
his red lips, glistening; his eyes half-close, and small dimples
appear in his cheeks. The young woman, sitting on the bull-skin
she has dropped, puts Agin’s mouth to her soft breast. He clutches
it with all his fingers, and begin to suck. Just now the other
young woman, equally naked, carries Rochana over and sits down
near her. Watching their faces, one sees that the two women are
sisters.
 4 FROM VOl.fiA TO GANG A

[21
Leaving them in quiet talk, we take a look round outside. Across
the snow, in one direction, runs a trail of imprints of many skin-
shod feet. Let us follow them up quickly. The trail slants,
and reaches the hill-forest on the other side. We make haste and
go on climbing, but there is no end to the fresh footprints. At
one moment we are crossing a white snow-field, at another we
penetrate the thicket straddling the ridge of a hill and mount a
new snow-field and new tree-clad slopes. At last, staring up from
below, we catch sight of the sky-line of a ridge hare of trees.
There the while mass of the snow rises to meet the blue sky;
silhouetted against this blue, several figures of human beings are
in the point of being lost to view behind the hill. If the bright
sky were not at their backs, we should certainly not be able to
make them out. The bull-hides thrown over their bodies are white
like the snow. The weapons in their hands seem to borrow the
same white colour. It would be very hard to recognise their
shapes on the vast, white snow-lield.
Going closer, we see at their head a woman of between forty
and fifty, with a body powerfully developed. Her bare right
arm is enough to reveal her strength. In her hair, her face, and
all her limbs she resembles the two young women in the cave, but
is much bigger. In her left hand is a stout, sharp-pointed stick
of brich-wood, four or five feet long. Her right hand holds a
stone axe sharpened by friction, its head lashed with leather
thongs into the wooden handle. Behind her walk four men and
a pair of women. One man may be a little older than the leading
woman, the other range from a youth of twenty-six to a boy
of fourteen. The big man has long, straw-coloured hair like the
rest, while a thick moustache and beard of the same hue over¬
spread his face. His physique is muscular like the woman’s, and
two weapons of the same sort as hers are gripped in his two hands.
Two of the other three males have exactly his bushy moustache
and beard, and only differ from him in age. Of the females, one
is twenty-two, the other sixteen or nearly sixteen. Having seen
the faces of the grand-mother and the rest of the cave-brood, we
can compare them with these, and are left in no doubt that old
woman is the mould that has shaped all these men and women.
From the implements of wood, bone and stone in their hands,
mid from the intentness of their motions, it is obvious on what
mission they are bound.
Descending from the crest, the leading woman—the Mother,
as wc may call her—turned off to the left, the rest following in
silence. As they moved over the snow, not the faintest sound
came from their skin-wrapped feet. Suspended in front of them
 1. NISHA 3

was a high rock-face, with boulders strewn about it. The hunters
were advancing now very slowly and with extreme caution, in
order, drawing out each stride to its greatest extent as they lifted
foot after foot, and finding holds on the rock with their hands.
It was the Mother who was first to reach the entrance of a cave.
She stared intently at the white snow outside it, but there were
no tracks of any kind. Then she stole into the cave, alone. When
she had gone a few feet it bent to one side, and the light became
dim. She paused awhile to let her eyes grow accustomed to it,
and then, going further, found three big bears—a male, female
and cub—fast asleep, if not dead, with heads sunk on the ground;
no sign of life could be detected in them.
Stealthily the Mother rejoined her troop. At the first sight
of her animated face they guessed that she had made a “ find ”,
Pressing the little finger down with the thumb she held up the
other three fingers spread out. Two men gripped their weapons
and followed her inside ; the rest stood still, waiting with bated
breath. Once inside, the Mother approached the he-bear and stood
beside it. the big man took up Iks position next to the she-bcar ;
the other took the cub. Then, simultaneously, their pointed sticks
were plunged downward with such force as to pierce the flank
and penetrate to the heart. The animals never stirred. The end
of their six-month winter sleep had been still more than a month
distant. But the Mother and her brood could not know this ;
they had to be on their guard. Three or four times more they
drove the points of their sticks into the bellies, before rolling
the he-bear over. Then they fearlessly seized the bears by their
forepawns and snouts, and dragged them to the cave entrance—
all laughing exultantly and talking at the top of their voice.
Laying the big bear out flat, the Mother drew a flint knife
from inside her dress of skins, and, starting from where the wound
gaped, skinned off the fur from the belly. To remove a fur so
accurately with a stone knife is work for strong and experienced
hands. Cutting off a morsel from the soft heart she nut it in
her mouth, and then another in the mouth of the youngest, the
boy of fourteen. AH the rest squatted round the bear, and she
went on cutting bits from the heart and distributing them. When
the first bear’s heart was finished, and the Mother was laying her
hands on the second, the sixteen year old girl went outside and
stuffed a piece of snow in her mouth. The big man also emerged,
put some snow in his mouth, and caught hold of the girl’s hand.
She resisted slightly, then quietened. The man put his arm round
her and led to one side.
When the two of them returned to the bears, each holding
a big handful of snow, there was a brighter colour in their cheeks
and eyes. The man said :
 6 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ I’ll cut, Mother ! You are tired.”

The Mother handed the knife to him, and, turning, caressed
the face of a youth of twenty-four, took him by the hand, and
went outside.
They ate up the hearts of all three bears, on which, since
they had been hibernating for four months without food, little
fat could be expected to remain. The cub’s flesh, however, was
rather more tender and appetising, and of this they devoured a
good deal. Then all lay down side by side to take a little rest.
Now they must turn back for home. The he-bear and she-
bear were hoisted up by two men each, all four feet bound together
with thongs of hide to a staff resting on the men’s shoulders.
One girl carried the cub, and the Mother, grasping her stone axe,
move ahead.
These savages had no notion of clock-time, but they knew
that the night would be a moonlit one. They had covered some
distance, when the sun appeared to sink below the horizon—actually
it had not gone right down, and twilight lingered for several hours;
by the time it vanished moonlight was reigning on earth, in heaven,
everywhere.
Their cave-home was still distant when at a certain point, in
a tract of open country, the Mother halted, listened with con¬
centrated attention, and caught a sound. All stood in silence. The
sixteen year old girl moved close to the man of about twenty-six,
saying: “ G’rr, g’rr—bruk! biuk! (Wolf).” Nodding her head,
the Mother repeated “ G’rr, g’rr—bruk ! bruk ! ”—and added in
a tone of breathless excitement; “ Ready ! ”
The game was laid on the ground, and they all took a firm grip
of their weapons and stood back to back peering in every direction.
All of a sudden, a pack of seven or eight wolves rushed towards
them with lolling tongues; they came close, snarling, and began
to circle round them—seeing the wooden spears and stone axes
in the hunters’ hands, they hesitated before attacking. Meanwhile
the boy, who was standing in the middle, detached from his staff
a length of wood tied to it, unwound from his waist a thin strip
of stout leather, and with the two made ready a bow. Pulling
out some sharp stone-headed arrows that had been concealed some¬
where about him, he thrust them and the bow into the hands of
the youth of twenty-four, pulled him into the middle, and stationed
himself in his place. Two young men tightened the string and
drew the bow, and an arrow, released with a sharp twang, struck
one wolf in the flank. The wolf rolled over, but recovered, and
was about to make a desperate attack when the man shot another
arrow. This time the wound was mortal. Seeing the wolf motion¬
less, the rest of the pack came close, licked the hot blood pouring
from its body, and then tore it to pieces and began to devour it.
 1. N1SHA 7

Observing them preoccupied with their feast, the hunters lifted

up their game, and running with stealthy steps began hastening on
their way again. This time the Mother in the rear, turning to
stare back from time to time. Today no snow had fallen, so they
could easily find their way through the moonlit night by retracing
their own foot-marks. The cave might have been less than a mile
distant when the wolf-pack caught up with them once more. For
the second time they laid their game down and grasped their
weapons. The archer shot several arrows, but could inflinct no
injury on the wolves, which were never still for a moment together.
The wolves manoeuvred about them for awhile, and then four of
them in one rush sprang upon the girl of sixteen. The Mother,
who was at her side, thrust her spear into one wolfs belly and
stretched it on the ground, hut the other three fastened their claws
in the girl's thighs, pulled her down, and instantly ripping open
her stomach began to tear out her entrails. Just when everyone’s
attention was fixed on trying to rescue the girl, the remaining three
wolves pounced on the unprotected back of the youth of twenty-
four, not leaving him the slightest possibility of defending him¬
self, and dragging him lo the ground began tearing open his body
also. And while his friends were engaged on that side, the girl
had been dragged thirty or forty feet away. The Mother looked
around ; the young man was gasping out his last breath, close
to the bleeding wolf. One of them thrust his spear into the dying
wolf’s open jaws, a second seized hold of its front jaws, and the
iest, pressing their mouths to the wound, gulped the flowing, hot
brakish blood. The Mother made it easier for them by cutting
the jugular vein. All this had taken place in a few minutes; they
knew that as soon as the wolves had finished eating the girl, there
would be a new attack. Abandoning the dying man where he
lay, and raising the three bears and the dead wolf, they set off
running, and reached their cave in safety.
The fire was burning and crackling, and in its red glow all
the children and the two gi^ls were lying asleep. The old woman
caught the sound of their approach, and in a trembling, deep voice
said :
“ Nisha ! You have come ! ”
“Yes,” answered the Mother, she first stacked her weapons
on one side and then, unfastening her skin dress, emerged naked.
The others put down the game, removed their wrappings of skin,
and allowed the warm comfortable glow of the fire to steal over
their entire bodies.

By this time all the sleepers had woken up. These people
were accustomed from childhood to start awake at the most ordinary
sound. It was only by the most careful husbanding of resources
 8 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

that the Mother had kept her family alive until now. The hunting
of deer, hares, wild cattle, sheep, goats and horses had come to
an end before the onset of winter, because these creatures had
migrated to the sunny, far-away lands of the south. The Mother’s
group should also have moved somewhat further south, but the girl
of sixteen had just then fallen ill. According to the code by which
Man lived in that age, it was no part of the duty of the Mother,
the family-head, to jeopardise the lives of all for the sake of one ;
but the Mother's heart had weakened, and today they had lost
two members instead of one. Two months still remained before
the return of the game ; in this interval it was still to be seen
how many more lives would be lost. Three bears and one wolf
were not enough to get them through the winter.
The children, who, poor things, had gone to bed with empty
stomachs, were overjoyed. The Mother began by cutting up the
wolf’s heart and giving it to them, and while they were smacking
their lips and feasting she removed the skin—without doing it
any injury, for a fur is a very useful thing. When meat had been
cut and was being distributed, the hungriest ate some raw ; then
they roasted it on the embers of the fire, and all fell to feeding.
Each one pressed the Mother to take a bite from their morsels
of the roast, but she only said : “ Well! today eat your bellyful,
from tomorrow there will not be so much.”
Later, she got up and brought from one corner of the cave
a swollen bladder, saying “Here, here is honey-wine, tonight drink,
dance, enjoy yourselves.”
The little ones were allowed a mouthful each from the wine¬
skin, their ciders got more, and tipsy merriment sprang up. Their
eyes reddened, bursts of laughter broke out. Someone sang a
song. The big man started banging one stick against another,
while the others began dancing. It was a night overflowing happi¬
ness. They had a ruler—the Mother—but her’s was no rule of
injustice or inequality. All but the grandmother and the big man
were the Mother’s offspring, while she and the big man were both
children of the old woman, so that tHere could be no question of
“ mine ” or “ thine ” among them. In fact, a very long time was
still to elapse before the coming of the age of property. The
Mother, it is true, had paramount authority over all the males
equally. It would be untrue to say that she did not regret the
death of the youth—her son and husband at once; but the con¬
ditions of life in that epoch forced people to think more about
the present than about the past. The Mother now had two
“husbands” left with her, and a third, the boy of fourteen, would
soon be ready. Of the children living under her rule, one could
not know how many would grow up to take their place as husbands.
The Mother being fond of the young man of twenty-six, only the
 I. NISH A

fifty year old man was left for the three young women.
On day, when winter was drawing to a close, the old grand¬
mother fell asleep for ever. Wolves carried off three of the
children, and when the snows were melting the big man fell into
the boiling current of a stream. With all this, only nine survivors
remained of the family of sixteen.

[3]
It was spring time. Long-dead Nature was undergoing her trans¬
formation into a new existence. Shoots of leaves were coming
out on birch-trees that had been sterile for six months. Snow
was melting, greenery overspreading the earth. A damp intoxi¬
cating scent of vegetation and fresh soil was wafted by the breezes.
A lifeless universe was again filling with life. Here in the trees,
birds warbled their varied notes; there the cricket kept lip its
perpetual chirping. Perched on the banks of channels filled with
melted now, thousands of water-fowls were easily pecking for
grubs; the swan engaged in its amorous sports. Amid the green-
hill-forests, herds of deer could be seen skipping or grazing ; there
were sheep, goats, stags, cows, and here and there crouched the
panther and the wolf, eager to devour them.
Just as the streams frozen by winter resumed their flow, each
group of human beings, which had been immobilised in one place,
also put itself in motion. Loaded with weapons, skins and children,
and bearing with them their household fire, men were making
for the more open areas. With the passing of the days, they, like
the animals and plants, regained their vigour, and layers of flesh
and fat accumulated under their shrunken skins. Sometimes their
shaggy dogs pulled down a sheep or a goat, sometimes they them¬
selves captured some game with snare, arrow or wooden spear.
There were fish, besides, in the rivers, and at this season these
dwellers along the upper reaches of the Volga never drew up their
nets empty.
It was still cold at night, but the days were warm, and the
family whose mother was Nisha (Night) had now fallen in with
other such groups on the bank of the Volga. In those also it was
a mother who held sway, not a father. Jt was, indeed, impossible
to say who was the father of any individual. Nisha had had eighi
girls and six boys born to her, of whom she still had now—when
she had reached her fifty-fifth year—four daughters and three
sons. Their was no doubt about their being her children, since
there was the evidence of their birth to prove it; but to say who
was the father of each was not possible. While Nisha’s mother,
the old grandmother, had occupied the chief position before her,
the old woman, then in her maturity, had had numerous “ hus¬
bands,” some of them her brothers, some her sons; and often
 to FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

enough these, singing and dancing with Nisha, had succeeded in

making themselves the objects of her love. Later, when she her¬
self became the leader, none of her brothers or grown-up sons
ventured to deny her constantly varying choice of a love-partner.
Hence the lack of any means of settling the paternity of her
surviving seven children. In Nisha's family she herself was the
biggest and oldest, as well as the most powerful ; though her
superiority was not likely to last much longer—in a year or two
she herself would be turning into an old grandmother, and Lekha
(Line), the strongest of her daughters, would take her place.
When that happened, there would be sharp quarrelling between
Lekha and her sisters. On each mother-chief devolved the duty
of preserving her family from extinction—for every year some
were bound to fall victims to the jaws of wolves or panthers, the
claws of bears, the horns of bulls, or the Volga’s flood. Of
Lekha’s sisters, one or two, as always happened, would succeed
in founding separate families. This proliferation of families would
come to an end when one man came to be the centre of a group
of women, as now one woman was the centre of a group of men.
Nisha saw her daughter Lekha win success after success in
the hunt; she was as quick as a deer at climbing the hills. One
day they came in sight of a beehive, so high up on the rocks that
even the bear—the “ honey-eater ”, as he was once called—would
not be able to get at it. But Lekha fastened several poles end
to end, and in the night swarmed up them like a lizard, scorched
the big stinging bees away from the hive with a torch, and made
a hole in it. Not less than sixty pounds of honey dripped into
the skin bag she held undermalh. This daring act of Lekha’s
won the commendation of neighbouring families as well as her
own. But Nisha did not rejoice at it. She saw that the more
eager the young men of the family were to dance at Lekha’s
-signal, the less they welcomed her own advances, though at present
they had not the courage to flout her openly.
For a long time now Nisha had been trying to think of a
remedy. Sometimes the thought came to her of seizing Lekha
by the throat and killing her in her sleep ; but she realised that
Lekha was the stronger, and that single-handed she could not
hope for success against her daughter. She might seek the help
of another, but why should anyone agree to become her accomplice ?
All the men of the family desired to win Lekha’s affection and
love. Nisha’s daughters would be equally reluctant to assist her.
They were afraid of Lekha—they knew that if such an attempt
failed they would suffer a miserable death at Lekha’s hands.
Nisha was seated by herself, turning something over in her
mind. Suddenly her face lit up—an expedient for getting the
Abetter of Lekha had occurred to her.
 1. NISHA 11

The day was three hours old. The families, each behind
its own skin tent, were lying or sitting naked to enjoy the sun¬
shine, but Nisha was in front of her tent. Near her was playing
Lekha’s three year old boy. In Nisha’s hand was a leaf-cup
containing some bright red strawberries. The Volga was flowing
close by, and before Nisha the ground sloped down to the steep
bank of the river. Nisha let fall one strawberry; the boy ran and
picked it up and ate it. Then she sent another rolling, and to
pick this up he had to go a little further. Nisha went on quickly
throwing the berries, and as fast as she threw them the child
scampered to catch them, till the moment came when its foot
slipped on the brink, and it fell with a splash into the swift current
of the Volga.
As Nisha’s glance fell on the river, she screamed. Lekha
was sitting a little distance away, watching. As her son vanished,
she hastened towards the bank. The boy was floating half-
submerged in the stream. She plunged in, and succeeded in
catching hold of him. The child had swallowed a great deal
of water, and lost its strength : the icy water of the Volga pierced
its body like a spear. It was only with efforts that Lekha could
force her way through the current towards the bank. With one
hand she was clutching her son ; with the other, and her feet, she
was trying to swim. And now she felt the grip of a pair of
strong hands fastening itself round her throat. Lekha had no
need to wonder what was happening. She had long noticed the
change in Nisha’s attitude to her—today Nisha meant to remove
her like a thorn from her path. She was still able to make
Nisha feel her strength, but the child encumbered one hand.
Seeing her calling up all her energy, Nisha strove to force her
down, her breast pressed against Lekha's head. Lekha for the
first time sank under the surface, and while she struggled the
child slipped out of her hold. By now Nisha had reduced her
to helplessness. But suddenly her fingers closed on Nisha’s throat.
Lekha was senseless, and Nisha powerless to swim with this weight
dragging her down. She fought on, but in vain. Both locked
together, were swept away by the Volga.
Rochana, now its strongest surviving woman, became the
analriarch of the Nisha family.
 2. DIVA
Rctfon : Bank of middle Volga.
People : Indo-Slav.
Time : 3,500 B.C.

This story is about an Aryan clan (gene), some 225 gene¬

ration ago. At that time it belonged to one of the
white races of India, Iran and Russia, which have
been called the Indo-Slavs—or the “Satam Families.”

D IVA ! The sun is so strong, look, your body is covered

with sweat. Come, sit down here on this stone.”
“All right Surashrava ! ”—and Diva (Day) came and sat
down beside him on the flat rock in the shade of a big pine-tree.
No wonder Diva’s forehead shone with drops of perspiration
like tawny pearls, for it was summertime, and noon, and they
had been running after deer. But the scene was one which might
quickly charm away weariness. From base to summit, the moun¬
tain was covered with greenery ; great pines, with their spreading
branches and sharp leaves, broke the force of the sun’s rays.
Underneath, between their trunks, flowers, creepers and plants of
many kinds were growing. After resting awhile the young pair
forgot their weariness, and began to take pleasure in the variegated
colours and sweet scent of the vegetation growing all round them.
The youth put down his bow and arrows and stone axe on
the rock, and began to pick white, purple, red flowers from among
the plants growing at the edges of a stream of crystal-clear water
that flowed peacefully nearby. The girl, too, laid aside her weapons
and passed her hand through her long golden hair; her scalp*
was still damp. For a moment she looked towards the bank
of the Volga, rolling calmly on below. Then the pleasant murmur
of birds for a moment charmed her attention ; she turned, and
her eyes fell on the young man picking flowers. He had the same-
golden hair, but she could not think of comparing her own with*
it: his hair seemed to her far more handsome. The youth had*
a thick yellow beard, above which could be seen the tawny skin
of his nose, cheeks and forehead. The girl’s glance fell on his.
strong, hairy arms, and the recollection came to her of a day
when he had broken the back of a big long-tusked boar with a
single blow of a stone axe, wielded by those same arms. How
mighty they had looked that day ; and now, as he picked flowers,,
how gentle they seemed ! But even now the firm flesh of his fore-
 2. DIVA 13

•arms, and the veins standing out on his wrists as he tensed them,
-allowed his strength to be seen.
The idea came into the girl’s mind once of going to him
and caressing those arms : they seemed to her so fascinating just
now. She stared at his thighs, and noticed how the muscles stood
out at each step. To Diva they appeared truly wonderful, these
thighs, not fat but sinewy, and these strong calves and narrow
ankles. Sur had, at times, betrayed a desire to win Diva’s love ;
not by words, but by his expression. Sometimes in the dances
he had tried to please her by displaying his activity ; but while
she had often linked arms with other young men of the clan
and danced with them, had sometimes given them her lips to
kiss, or lain down with her head in their lap, the unlucky Sur
(Sun) had been left disappointed of a single kiss or embrace, and
•even of ever holding her hand in the dance.
Now he was coming towards her, with his cupped hands
full of flowers. As she sat, conscious of the full bloom of his
naked body, the fine shape of his broad chest and slender, muscular
■waist, Diva had a feeling of regret. Why had she never thought
about Sur ? But really, it was not she that was so much to
blame; it was the bashfulncss that had chained Sur's tongue. A
■door opens only to him who knocks.
As Sur approached, Diva smiled and said : “ How pretty
-these flowers are, and how nicely they smell! ”
“ If I twine them into your golden hair,” said Sur, putting
:his flowers down on the stone, “they will look even prettier.”
“ Sur ! Was it for me you were bringing these flowers ? ”
“Yes. 1 looked at them, and looked at you, and I thought
of the water-fairies.”
“ Water-fairies ? "
Yes, the beautiful water-fairies who make all your wishes
come true When they are pleased, and when they are angry won’t
'■even leave you alive.”
“ And which kind of fairy do you think me, Sur ? ”
“Not an angry one.”
“But I have never shown pleasure in you” Diva sighed
and became silent.
No, Diva, repeated Sur, “you have never been angry
with me. Do you remember our childhood?”
“Even then you were bashful.”
“But you did not get angry with me.”
“I kissed you myself in those days.”
Yes; how sweet those kisses were! ”
“ But when these round breasts of mine began to swell, when
aU the young men of the clan began to look out for me,” said
•Diva regretfully, “then I forgot all about you.”
 14 FROM VOLGA TO GANG A

“ But it was not your fault, Diva! ”

“ Then whose ? ”
“ Mine; because when the young men of the clan begged
you for a kiss, you gave them a kiss; if any of them wanted an
embrace, you gave them an embrace. You have never disappointed
the hopes of any young man of the clan who was a successful
hunter and good at dancing, and had a strong fine body.”
“ But you were like that, Sur, you were even more active and
nimble and well-made, and I disappointed your hope.”
“ But I never showed my desire, Diva.”
“ Not in words; even in childhood when we used to play
together, you never put your wishes into words—but Diva used
to understand. Then Diva forgot her Sur. Does this other Diva
(Day) ever forget that shining Sur (Sun) ? No! Diva will never
forget you now.”
“ So we shall be the same Sur and Diva as we used to be ! ”
“ Yes, and I’ll kiss your lips.”
Like a pair of children, the two naked graceful creatures
pressed together their full lips, and then Diva, gazing into Sur’s
blue eyes with her own, blue as the linseed-flower, said :
“ And you are the son of my own mother, and I forgot you ! ”
Her eyes were wet. Sur brushed the tears away with his
cheek.
“ No,” he answered, “ you did vnot cheat me. When you
grew up, your voice and eyes, all your body, began to seem
different, and 1 ran away from you.”
“ Not in your thoughts, Sur! ”
“ Well—”
“ No ! Tell me you will never be afraid of me again ! ”
“ 1 won’t be afraid. Come, let me fasten these flowers.”
She pulled the fibres out of a long stalk, and with it began
twining together his red, white and purple blossom^ arranging
them artistically. Then he gathered Diva’s hair together and let
it fall over her back. In these warm days, the young men and
women of the Volga banks often indulged in bathing and swim¬
ming, so Diva’s hair was fresh and free from tangles. Sur hung
his garland round it like a three-fold girdle, and finally slipped
into it over her forehead a spray of purple flower at each side
with one of white flowers between.
Diva was still sitting on the stone. Sur stood back a little
and gazed at her face. How beautiful she looked! He moved
away a little further; she seemed even more beautiful, but from
there he could not smell the scent of the flower. He came back
and sat near her, leaning his cheek against her. Diva kissed her
companions’ eyes, and laid her right hand on his shoulder, Sur
clasped her waist, in his left arm.
 2. DIVA 15

“Diva,” he said, “the flowers are prettier than before.”

“The flowers are, or I am ?”
Sur could think of no reply, but after a pause he said :
“I looked at you from a little way off, and you were even
more beautiful, and when I looked from further off I found you
were more beautiful still.”
“ And what if you were to look from away on the bank
of the Volga?”
“ No, not so far ! ” A flicker of alarm showed in Sur’s eyes.
“ When I go too far away your scent fades, and your face is
blurred.”
“ Well, which do you want, then—to look at me from a
distance, or to be near me ? ”
“ To be near you, Diva! Just as the bright Sun keeps close
to Day ! ”
“ Will you dance with me today ? ”
“ Of course ! ”
“ Will you stay with me today ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ And all night ? ”
“ Of course ! ”
“Then today I won’t let any other young man be with me,”
said Diva, embracing him.
Just now a band of hunters, youths and girls, approached.
In spite of hearing their voices, the pair went on clasping each
other as closely as before. The newcomers came up, and some¬
one cried :
“ Today you have chosen Sur as your companion, Diva ! ”
“Yes. Look,” she answered, turning towards them—“Sur
has arranged these flowers.”
“Sur ’’exclaimed a girl, “you arrange flowers very well; Do
my hair as well.”
“ Not today ! ” said Diva. “ Today Sur is mine ; tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow Sur will be mine.”
“ Tomorrow ? No, he will be mine then too.”
“ Is Sur to be yours every day, Diva ! That isn’t right.”
“ Not every day,” said Diva, realising that she was in the
wrong. “To day and all tomorrow, sister.”
As time went on, many other seasoned hunters appeared. A
big black dog came close and began to lick Sur’s face, and he
remembered about the sheep he had killed. He whispered some¬
thing into Diva’s ear, and ran off.

12 ]
The clan-dwelling was a huge hut, with wooden walls and straw
thatching. Stone axes may be sharp, but to cut such heavy timber
 16 FROM VOLGA TO GANG A

with them alone is impossible. Though their axes had done a

great deal of the work the builders had also made use of fire to
help them in cutting their logs. The hut had to be big, for in
it lived the whole Nisha clan—the descendants of some woman
of bygone days named Nisha. All the clan members lived under
the same roof, hunted together, gathered fruit or honey together.
All obeyed one chieftainess, and a leading group managed the
affairs of the whole body. Nothing in the lives of the individuals
of the clan escaped from its common life ; hunting, dancing, love-
making, house-building, making cloths out of skins—in all kinds
of business, guidance was sought from a group of clan-members,
among whom the matriarchs held the highest position.
In this hut the hundred and fifty members of the Nisha clan
were living. They could all in a sense be called one family, or
they might be described as several families; while a mother was
alive, she and her children formed a kind of sub-family, all the
more so as all the individuals composing it were known by the
mother’s name. For instance, if Diva were to have children, and
her own mother were not alive, these children would be known
simply as sons and daughters of Diva. The food—meat or fruit
—brought in by them, however, would not be their own. All
the men and women of the clan alike pooled whatever resources
they came by, and consumed them jointly. If none were forth¬
coming, the clan would starve to death collectively. Individuals,
as distinct from the clan, had no rights of their own. To be
faithful to the commands and customs of the clan seemed to these
people as natural as to follow their own impulses.
The hut was only a temporary dwelling. As soon as the
game moved away from its vicinity, and fruits and roots became
scarce, the whole clan would shift to a new district. From the
experience of ages they knew when and where the game would
be found. When they departed, this thatched roof would fall,
but timber or stone walls would remain standing for some years.
In their new hunting ground they would build a new home, roofing
the walls with new thatch. One part of it would -be for storing
their possessions, and another for cooking; for they made earthen¬
ware, shaping it by hand, besides using animal skulls as vessels.
They ate meat sometimes raw, sometimes roasted while fresh,
for cooking dried meat was not considered allowable. Honey
was plentiful along this stretch of the Volga, and consequently
the honey-eating bear also was often met with. The Nisha clan
was very fond of honey, both for eating and for drinking in the
form of wine.
There was music at the hut tonight: men and women singing,
with fresh, clear voices. It might have been an accompaniment
to the work of beating out hides for use as clothes, for these
 2. DIVA 17

people not only did all their work collectively, but combined work
with distraction ; singing was an integral part of their communal
toil, and as they joined their voices in chorus their fatigue was
forgotten. But tonight’s music had no suggestion of labour. At
one moment there came a pure, soft flow of sound from women s
voices, at another deeper and harsher notes of men.
Inside the hut, on one side which was partitioned off, were
assembled the men and women, children, old folk, and adolescents
of the clan. In the middle blazed a fire of pine-wood, with a
hole above it in the roof. Men and women were singing some¬
thing in a rolling chorus, in which were distinguishable the sounds
—■“ Ogna, come.
It seemed as if they were praying to this fire in their midst.
Presidency the chieftainess and those who belonged to the clan
council began throwing on the fire meat, fat, fruits and honey.
This season, plenty of game had fallen to the clan, there had
been abundance of fruit and honey, and the clan folk had not been
worsted by animal or human foes. Now, therefore, on the night
of the full moon, the clan was offering its gratitude and prayers
to Agni, the Fire-god. The chieftainess poured on the fire
a cun of honey-wine, while the clan stood all round—all as naked
as when they were born. It was not winter, and in warm weather
to have their skins covered with another skin they would consider
a discomfort. But what well-shaped bodies ! Not a single protu¬
berant belly ; no layers of fat to swell out the skin. One calls
this beauty, this is health. All these faces were very much alike
—naturally, since they were all the descendants of Nisha, children
of the same fathers, brothers and sons. Health and strength were
likewise common to all. The rickety and the weak would not
survive in this life, in face of the hostility of Nature and of the
animal world.
The chieftainess rose and led the way into the biggest section
of the hut. The clansfolk sat on the mud-plastered floor. Skin
aftgr skin of honey-wine made its appearance, and cups were filled
—one man had a skull goblet, another a vessel hollowed out of
bone or horn, a third a cup of wood or leaves. Youths and girls,
grown-up men and women, grandfathers and grandmothers, fell to
eating and drinking. Each group sat by itself; but this was not a
matter of rule. Old women remembered how they in their time
had relished the joys of life, and knew that now it was the turn
of the youths and girls; and there were girls willing to pour a
mouthful of nectar for some of the old men in the evening of
their lives. There among them was Diva, with a throng of young
men and women sitting round her. Her hand was on Ribhu’s
shoulder; Sur was sitting with Dama.
Food, drink, singing, dancing, and then, in the same big
 18 FROM VOLGA TO GANG A

room, lovers pillowed on each other’s laps. ... In the morning

when they awoke, some of them, men and women, would do the
work of the house, some would go off to hunt, others to collect
fruits; as to the rosy-faced children, they would be in their
mother’s lap, or on furs spread out in the shade of the trees, or
riding on the backs of elder children or sitting on their knees;
and many would go jumping and skipping on the sandy margin
of the Volga.
The old men and women of this epoch were more peaceful and
contented than in the days of the reign of the Nisha’s. The clan
was no longer under the rule of a single mother; the families of
many still living mothers now made up a single family or clan,
and there was no unrestricted authority of a matriarch. It was
the clan council—the gene—that ruled. Here there was no need
for a Nisha to drown her daughter in the Volga.

[ 3 ]
Diva had become the mother of four sons and five daughters, and
at the age of forty-five had been chosen as chieftainess of the
Nisha gen. The clan had trebled its numbers in the last twenty-
five years, and for this whenever Sur kissed Diva’s lips to con¬
gratulate her, she would say : “ It is all by the mercy of Agni,
it is all the glory of the Sun-god. Whoever has the protection
of Agni and of the Sun, will find honey flowing like the streams
of the Volga wherever he goes, and herds of deer will come to
feed among his woods,”
But things had grown difficult for the Nisha clan. Wherever
the clan went in its migrations, it would not be satisfied with
the same area of forest as it had occupied before. It was not
only necessary to build a communal house three times as big, they
needed a hunting-ground three times as wide. And now, beyond
the hunting-grounds where they had pitched their settlement, lay
those of the Usha clan. Between the two was a stretch of un¬
occupied jungle. At times the Nisha clan went hunting not merely
in this unclaimed area, but even in the Usha territory. The clan
council saw the likelihood of a quarrel arising with the Usha folk,
but they could think of no means to avert it. One day in the
council Diva said : “ God has given us so many mouths, these
forests are meant to fill them with food. Except from these forests
there can be no food for all our mouths. The Nisha clan cannot
afford to give up the bears, cattle, horses, that live among these
trees, any more than it can do without the fish of the Volga.”
The Usha (Dawn) people saw them committing manifest
injustice. Once or twice the Usha gene met the Nisha gene
in discussion, recalling that since ancient times there had been no
 2. DIVA 19

war between the two clans, and arguing that they had always
been coming to this area in the winters. But the Nisha clan,
faced with starvation, could not be expected to think of justice.
When all other laws grow feeble, recourse must be had to the
law of the jungle. Each clan gradually began making preparations.
No news of the one would reach the other, for each clan married,
lived, and died, within its own circle.
A band of the Nisha people went out looking for game in
the neighbouring hunting-ground, and was ambushed by the Usha
clan. Attacked, the Nisha men stood their ground and fought,
but they had come out unprepared, and there were not enough
of them. They were forced to retreat, leaving some of their
number dead and carrying their wounded with them. The chief-
tainess heard their story, the council (gene) met to deliberate, and
linally the assembly of all the men and women of the clan gathered.
Every detail was recounted, the names of those who had been
killed were recited, the wounded were produced. Their brothers
and sons, their mothers and sisters and daughters, clamoured for
a sanguinary revenge. Not to shed blood for blood would be
completely against the clan ethics, and no infringement of clan
ethics was conceivable. It was resolved that the blood of the
dead clansmen must be avenged.
The music of the dance was transformed into battle music.
Leaving a few men and women to protect the children and the
old folk, the rest marched out, armed with bows, stone axes,
wooden spears and clubs, and wearing their toughest hides to
protect their bodies. In front went the musicians, and after them
the armed men and women. Diva, as the chieftainess, was in the
lead. The blare of the instruments echoed far and wide, till the
whole forest resounded with the tumult, and birds and beasts fled
this way and that in alarm.
Presently they crossed from their own territory into the inter¬
vening strip. Even without any boundary marks, every tribesmen
knew his own frontier, and could not tell a lie about it; lying
was still an unfamiliar art among human beings, and could only
be practised laboriously. Men of the other tribe who were out
hunting carried word to their people, and the Usha warriors took
the field. They were fighting for their rights, it is true, they only
wanted to protect their own hunting-grounds, but their enemies
fwere not disposed to think of right and wrong. Battle was joined
"between the two genes in the Usha territory. A rain of sharp
flint-headed arrows hissed through the air, stone axes brushed
against each other, spear-thrusts and club-blows were exchanged.
When their weapons were broken or lost the warriors, male and
female, fought on with their bare hands and teeth, or with stone
snatched up from the ground.
 20 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

The Nisha clan outnumbered its rival by two to one, so that

victory was beyond the latter’s reach. But there was no choice
but to fight—as long as a single boy remained. The battle had
begun when the day was already a full three hours old. Two
thirds of the Usha clan were killed in the forest—killed, not
wounded, for in tribal warfare it would be a grave breach of the
code to spare a wounded enemy. The surviving third fell back
to the bank of the Volga, and resisted to the last gasp. Some
mothers, along with the old folk and children, fled from the settle¬
ment and attempted to escape, but it was too late. Their savage
foes pursued and overtook them, dashed the suckling infants
against rocks, and drowned the old men and women in the Volga
with stones hung round their necks. All the flesh, fruit, honey,
meat and other valuables stored in the settlement were brought
out, and then all the women and children left alive were shut
up inside the hut, and it was set on fire. The Nisha clansmen
exulted in the shrieks that arose from the living wretches in the
midst of the leaping flames; they gave thanks to Agni, and
regaled their gods and their bellies with the food and drink stored
up by their enemies.

Diva was rejoicing. She had torn three women’s babies from
their breasts and dashed them against a rock, and the sound of
their cracking skulls had thrown her into fits of ghoulish laughter.
After the feast dancing began, by the light of the same fire Diva
was dancing with her young son Vasu. At moments, in the
rhythm of the movements, these two naked creatures kissed or
embraced each other, or separating and circling round each other
went through the gestures of the dance. Everyone knew that for
tonight Vasu was the leader’s chosen partner, and Vasu had no
mind to slight his mother’s passion while she was wild with the
intoxication of triumph.
The gene’s hunting-grounds were now more than four times
as extensive as before, and all anxiety about where to live through
the winter had disappeared. Only one thing troubled them—that
the Usha folk they had killed were now dead and transformed into
ghosts, trying to accomplish what they had failed in while still
alive. The place where the hut had been burned had become
an abode of ghosts, which none of the Nisha clan dared to pass
by singly or even in couples. Many a time the hunters saw
hundreds of naked shapes dancing before a great fire. When
the time had come to shift the settlement, the clan was obliged
to pass that spot, but then it was moving in full strength and in
bright daylight. There were still times when Diva, in the dark¬
ness of night, would see suckling infants jumping up from the
ground to cling to her hands, and would wake up screaming.
 2. DIVA 21

[ 4 ]
Diva had lived to be past seventy. She was no longer chieftainess
but she was still treated with respect in her old age, for in the
twenty years of her leadership she had done much for the pros¬
perity of the growing gene. During those years ihey had had to
fight several times against outsiders, and had suffered heavy losses,
though they had always won in the end. At present they had
hunting-grounds sufficient for some months. To Diva, all this
was a sign of the gods’ favour; though those children destroyed
by her hands were still at times a trouble to her dreams.
Winter had come. The Volga had frozen, and looked from
a distance with its covering of the snowfall of months, like a trail
of silver powder or of carded cotton-wool. Away from the river,
lifeless, immobilizing frost lay heavy on the woods. The Nisha
clan had by now increased still further in numbers, so that it
required a still larger food supply; at the same time there were
more hands that could be set to work, and on the days devoted
to labour they were able to add a bigger stock of food to their
hoard. Even in winter men and women went out to hunt with
the dogs they had tamed, and found some sort of game or other.
They had also devised a new method of hunting. Owing to lack
of food, the animals they chiefly hunted—deer, cattle, wild horses
and so on—use to roam from forest to forest. The clansmen
had noticed seeds germinating when they fell on the ground;
so they began bedding grass-seeds in moist earth. When the grass
sprouted up, the animals would remain a few days longer to cat it.
One day Rikshashrava’s dog had set off in chase of a hare,
and he had gone running after it. Sweat was pouring from him,
and he halted to remove his heavy fur jacket and throw it over
his shoulder before hastening forward again. The dog was out
of sight by this time, but its foot-prints were clearly visible across
the snow. Out of breadth, Riksha sat down on the trunk of a fallen
tree to rest himself. Before he had recovered his breath, his
ear caught the far-off barking of the dog. He got up at once and
ran on. The sound came closer and closer, and then, as he got
near, he saw, leaning against a pine-tree, a handsome young
woman. She was wrapped in a coat of white fur; from under
her white cap, wisps of golden tresses could be seen. A dead
hare lay at her feet. The dog, at Rikshas approach, came up
to him, barking furiously. Riksha stared at the girl’s face. She
smiled, saying :
“ This is your dog, friend ? ”
“ Yes, mine—but I have never seen you.”
“I belong to the Kuru gene. This is their district.”
“ The Kuru clan ! ”
 22 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

Riksha stood lost in thought. The Kurus were the neighbours

of his own clan, and there had been discord between the two for
several years; at times it had come to fighting. The Kurus, how¬
ever, were more sensible than the Usha clan had been, and realised
that they had no chance of winning a war ; they usually put their
trust in flight, and though the strength of their arms could not
give them victory, the speed of their legs enabled them to survive.
The Nisha warriors had, indeed, vowed the destruction of the
Kurus, but so far they had not succeeded in carrying their resolve
into effect.
“It was your dog that killed this hare,” said the girl, seeing
Riksha silent, “so you take it.”
“But it was killed in the Kurus’ hunting-ground.”
“Yes, it was killed there, but I was waiting for the dog’s
mavSter.”
“ Waiting ? ”
“ Yes, to give him the hare.”
At the name of Kuru a sensation of hatred had stirred in
Riksha’s mind, but it vanished at the girl’s conciliatory words.
Moved by an impulse of friendliness he said :
“You have given me back my dog as well as the hare, and
the dog is worth a great deal to me.”
“ It’s a fine hound.”
“ The finest of any in the clan ! It comes to me as soon as
it hears my voice.”
“ What is its name ? ”
“ Shambhu.”
“ And yours, friend ? ”
“ Rikshashrava, son of Rochana.”
“ Rochana ! My mother's name was Rochana too. Riksha, if
you have no need to go quickly, sit down here for awhile.”
Riksha laid his bow and his jacket on the snow, and sat down
near the girl’s feet.
“ Your mother is not alive now ? ” he asked.
“No. She was killed in the war with the Nisha clan. She
was very fond of me.” Tears came into the girl’s eyes as she
spoke.
Riksha brushed the tears away with his hand, saying :
“What a bad thing this fighting is ”
“ Yes, when so many loved ones are taken away.”
“And still it is not finished.”
“ How can it end, until one side has been wiped out ? They
say the Nisha people are going to make another attack. Riksha,
I was thinking—they must be young men like you.”
“And there must be other girls like you among the Kurus”
 2. DIVA 23

“And yet we shall have to kill one another. Why is it,

Riksha ? ”
It came into Riksha’s mind that three days later his people
were going to attack the Kurus. Before he could speak, the young
woman added :
“ But now we are not going to fight.”
“ Not fight ? The Kurus will not fight ? ”
“ Our numbers have shrunk so much that we should have no
hope of winning.”
“ Then what will you do ? ”
“ Leave the banks of Volga, and go far away. How dear
this river is, this mother Volga ! We shall never see it again.
1 iiat is whv I come here and sit for hours, staring at the sleeping
current.”
“ So you will never be able to look at the Volga again ! ”
“ Nor to swim in it. How pleasant it is to swim in those
deep waters ! ” Tears fell on the girl’s cheeks.
“ It is very hard for you,” said Riksha sadly. “ It is very
cruel.”
“ It is the law of the tribes, son of Rochana.”
“ And the law of the jungle ! ”
 3. AMRITASHYA
Region : Central Asia—the Pamirs.
People : Indo-Iranian.
Time : 3,000 B.C.

This story is of the Aryan race—as it was 200 genera¬

tions ago. It was then one branch of the fair-skinned
peoples of India and Iran—“Aryan” being the common
name of both. Cattle-rearing was their chief means of
livelihood.

T HOSE who have seen the beauty of Kashmir can form some
idea of how lovely Farghana was, with its green hills, wander¬
ing streams, and fountains. Winter was over and spring had
come, and the radiance of spring was transforming the mountain
valley into a paradise on earth. Herdsmen had abandoned their
winter quarters in hill-caves or stone huts for the spacious pasture-
lands. From their horse-hair tents, most of them dyed red, smoke
was curling upwards. . Out of one of these tents a young'
woman emerged. With her water-bag slung over one shoulder,
she made her way down towards the margin of a stream laughing
its way among the stones. She had not walked far from the tents
when a man appeared in front of her. Like her, he wore a
thick white woollen cloak, with two folds secured over the right
shoulder in such a way as to cover the whole body except for the
right arm, shoulder and part of his right side, and the legs below the
knees. He was yellow-haired, and his hair and beard were both
well combed.
The handsome young woman halted as she saw him before
her. The man smiled.
“Soma,” he said, “today it is very late that you are going
for water! ”
“ Yes, Rijrashva ! But you—what has brought you roaming
here ? ”
“Not roaming, my dear. I was coming to you.”
“ Coming to me ? It is after a very long time! **
\ u Today I thought of you again, Soma.”

“ Well! Let me get the water, and then come home with
me. Amritashva is waiting for his food.”
Talking as they went, they reached the stream, and then came
back.
“Amritashva must have grown quite big,” the man remarked.
.«you haven>t seen him for several years, have you ? ”
Not for four years.”
 3. AMRITASHVA 25

“ He is twelve now—and really, he looks very much like you,

Rijrashva! ”
“ Why not ? Wasn’t I also one of your lovers.at that
time ? ”
“ Where has Amritashva been living all this time ?’*
“ With his uncle, among the Vahlikas.”
The woman went inside the tent with her water-skin, and
told her husband Krichchrashva (Lack-horse) of the newcomers,
arrival. They came out together, with Amritashva behind them.
Rijrashva saluted his host, and enquired : “ Well, my friend, how
have you been ? ”
“ Well enough to thank Agni! Come along, come along,,
we’ve just been fermenting soma-juice and getting it ready, with
honey and mare’s milk ! ”
“ Honey and soma ! What, at this time of the morning ! ”
“ Oh, I’m just going off to my herd of horses. Didn’t you
sec the riding-horse standing ready for me out there ? ”
“ Then don’t you want to get back by this evening ? ”
“ Maybe. Anyway, that’s why I've got together this skinful
of som and this nice soft horse-flesh.”
“ Horse-flesh ! ”
“I can afford it—Agni has blessed our herds. I rear horses-
for the most part.”
“It seems your name (‘Lack-horse’) has lost its meaning.”
“In my parents’ time we had scarcely any horses with us,,
that is how the name came to be given.”
“But now you ought to be called Riddhashva ('Rich-in-
horses ’)
“ Well! Come along inside.”
“No, why not sit on this green grass, friend, in the shade of
the pine-tree ? ”
“ All right; then bring it out, Soma! Let us fill our friend
with soma and meat out here.”
“ Yes, but Krichchhra, you were just going to the herd.”
“ Oh, I’ll go! Not today—tomorrow. Come, sit down,.
Rijrashva.”
Soma brought the skin of soma, and cups. Amritashva had
sat down between the two friends. She put the liquor and the
cups on the ground, saying “ Wait a little, I’ll bring rugs.”
“No, no,” answered Rijrashva, “this soft green grass is better
than any rug ! ”
“Then tell me, Rijra, would you like your meat boiled with
salt, or roasted over the fire ? It’s from an eight month old colt,
the meat is quite tender.”
“I like young horse-meat roasted, Soma. Sometimes I roast
a colt whole on the fire. It takes time, but it makes the meat
 26 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

very sweet. And look. Soma, you will have to sweeten this cup
of mine too with your lips.”
“ Yes, yes,” cried Krichchhrashva, “ Rijra has come back after
a very long time ! ”
“ m be back quickly ; the fire is hot, the meat won't take
long to roast.”
“ Why such haste ? ” Rijrashva enquired from his host, seeing
him pour out cup after cup.
“Soma is so delicious! Soma from Soma’s hands! It is
the wine of immortality. It makes whoever drinks it immortal.
Drink, and live for ever 1 ”
“ Live for ever ? At the rate you are going, one cup after
another, you'll be as good as dead in a very short time. ’
“ But you don’t know how I love this drink, Rijra!
Soma arrived at this moment, carrying three portions of roast
meat on a skin platter.
“ So it isn’t Soma you love ? ” she asked.
“ Soma and soma, both ! ” Krichchhra replied. His voice
was altered, his eyes had grown bloodshot. “Anyway, what does
it matter to you today ? ”
“ That is true. Today 1 belong to my guest—to Rajra.”
“ Your guest—or your old friend ? ” said Krichchhrashva with
an attempt at a laugh.
Catching Soma’s hand, Rijrashva pulled her down besides him,
and held a cup brimming with soma to her lips. She took a sip
or two, and said : “ Now you drink, Rijra. How long we have
to wait for today ! ”
He emptied the cup in one breath, saying as he put it down :
44 How sweet it tastes when your lips have touched it, Soma ! ”
The effects of the drink on Krichchhrashva were by now evi¬
dent. He hastily filled up his cup and stretched it out to Soma,
stammering unevenly : “ S-Soma s-sweeten this t t
too! ”
She brushed it with her lips and gave it back to him. The
boy, finding little of interest in the sentimental talk of his elders.
Tan off to find children of his own age to play with.
Krichchhrashva, with blinking eyelids and lolling head, suggested :
44 Sh shall I s. sing, S S oma ? ”
“ Of course ! What singer is there like you anywhere among
the Kurus ! ”
“ Ri right! N no sin singer like m me !
L I listen! G give me s s som
“That’s enough, Krichchhra! Look, your music is making
4ll the animals and birds run away from the forests! ”
“All r r right n
Drinking soma at this hour of the day was decidedly not the
 3. AMRITASHVA 27

way to immortality. The usual time for drinking it was after

sunset; but any excuse was good enough for Krichchhrashva.
When his senses failed him and he relapsed into a stupor, the
other two left their cups, and went to find a resting place on a
rock overhanging the stream. Here, between the mountains the
current flowed through a tract of even ground, but its channel
was full of stones and pebbles of all sizes, and the water mur¬
mured as it beat against them. Here and there, sheltered among
the stones, could be seen fish with glancing, darting fins. On the
dry ground along the banks gresv thick pines and other trees.
There was a charm in the lyrical warblings of the birds, and in
the caressing breath of the light iiower-scented breeze.
In this heavenly garden the pair, separated for many years,
were renewing their bygone love. Now floated back into their
remembrance the days when Soma had been a golden-tressed girl
of sixteen : when at the time of the spring festival Rijrashva had
gone to his uncle’s house in the Vahlika territory. Some was this
uncle’s daughter, and Rijrashva had been one of her lovers. A
wager was made among her admirers, but it was Krichchhrashva
who carried off the garland, and Rijrashva with the rest had to
accept defeat. Now she was the wife of Krichchhrashva; but
in this unrestrained age woman had not yet consented to become
the movable property of man. She was still quite free to indulge
in casual love affairs. And to offer one’s wife to a guest or friend
by way of making him welcome, was still a respectable mode of
•conduct. Today Soma did indeed belong to Rijrashva.
In the evening all the men and women of the settlement were
gathered in the spacious courtyard of the Elder (Patriarch)—the
tribal headman or chief. Soma, honey-beer, and well-flavoured beef
and horse-meat were continually being brought in. The Elder was
celebrating a feast in honour of the birth of a son. Krichchhrashva
had not recovered enough strength to bestir himself, but Rijrashva
and Soma came to take his place in the festival. Till far into the
night drinking, singing and dancing kept up the merriment. As
had always^ happened, Soma’s songs and Rijrashva’s dances won
the admiration of all the Kurus.

t 2 ]
“ Your are not tired, Madhura ? ”
“ No, I enjoy riding.”
“ But those brigands had carried you off so brutally! *’
“Yes. Thf Vahlikas men had come to steal their young girls
from the Pakthas, as well as their cows and horses.”
“Cattle-stealing causes enmity between the two for a long
time, but stealing women only creates a short-lived enmity. After
 28. FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

all, a father-in-law has to reconcile himself to his son-in-law.”

“But tell me—I don’t know what your name is yet.”
“ Amritashva, son of Krichchhrashva, of the Kurus.”
“ Oh ! The Kurus are my uncle's clan.”
“Well, Madhura—you are in safety now. Where do you*
want to go ? ”
A gleam of pleasure flitted across her face, but it vanished
quickly. Amritashva understood, and to turn the talk another way
remarked : “ Some Paktha girls have come to our village too.”
“ Were they all brought by force ? ”
“ No, most of them are daughters of our mothers’ brothers.”
“ Then that is why. But I think this robbing and killing to
get women is very wicked.”
“ So do I, Madhura. It means that men and women don’t
even know whether there is any love between them.”
“ It is better for a man to marry his uncle’s daughter; then
they have the chance to come to know each other beforehand.”
“ Did you have a lover of that kind, Madhura ? ”
“ No; my father had no sisters.”
“ Then—any other lover ? ”
“ Not a regular one.”
“ Are you willing to make me happy ? ”
The girl dropped her eyes in confusion.
“ Madhura,” said Amrit, “ there is a country where the women
belong to nobody else, but only to themselves.”
“ I don’t understand, Amritashva.”
“ Nobody can carry them off, nobody can make one of them
his own wife for good. Men and women are equal there.”
“ And know how to use weapons equally ? ”
“ Yes. Women are free.”
‘ “ Where is that country, Amrit Amritashva, I mean!”
“ No, call me Amrit, Madhu : That country lies far away
m the west.”
“Have you been there, Amrit?”
Yes. A woman there, all her life, remains free; as free
a sthe deer roaming in the forest, or the birds flying in the tree-
tops.

‘‘It must be a fine country. Nobody carries off a woman

as a prisoner there ? ”
“ What living thing could hope to capture a live tigress ? ”
And what are the men like ? ”
“ They too are free.”
And the children V
w “„A therf “ different from what it is among us,
Madhu , all the people of a village are one family.”
“But what must a father do there?”
 3. AMRITASHVA 29

“ Men ate not known as fathers. A woman is not the wife

of one man, she can love as she wishes.”
“ So no one knows his father ? ”
“AH the men of the family are his fathers."
“ What customs! ”
“ It is because of them that women are free ; they go out to
light, they go out to hunt.”
“ Do those people breed cows and horses ? ”
“ Cows and horses graze in the wood there, as the deer do
here.”
“ Do they have sheep and goats ? ”
“They know nothing of herding. They live on game and fish,
and fruit from the forest.”
“ Nothing more ! Then they get no milk ? ”
“ Only their mother's milk, in childhood.”
“ And they don’t ride horses ? ”
“ No; and they have no clothing except animal skins.”
“ They must have many hardships to suffer! v
“ But at least their women have the same freedom as the
men ; they join in gathering fruit, and hunting, and fighting enemies
with stone axes and arrows.”
“ l like that. I have learned to handle weapons, but to go
to war as men do—where could I do that! ”
“>Men have taken that work on themselves here. Men do the
herding of cows and horses, sheep and goats, and they have made
women into housewives, not mere she-animals.”
“ And they have made young women into creatures to be
seized by force. Amrit, is it true that girls are never captured
in that country ? ”
“The boys and girls of a clan always live with their own
clan, there is no giving wives out of it or taking wives from
^outside.”
“ ft is a good custom ! ”
“ It is impossible here.”
“ So here young women must go on being taken by violence ? ”
“Yes. But Madhu, what do you say?”
“ About what ? ”
“ My love for you.”
“I am in your power, Amrit.”
“But I don’t want to take you with me by force.”
“ Will you allow me to take part in battles ? ”
So far as I have the power to.”
“ And to go hunting ? ”
“As long as I can.”
“ Why only so lohg ? ”
 30 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Because I shall have to obey the orders of the Elder*

(patriarch), Madhu ; so far as 1 am concerned, 1 shall always treat
you as a free woman.”
“ Free to make love or not, as I like ? ”
“ It is love that makes our union firm. But—yes, free even in
that ! ”
“ Then I am ready to have your love, Amrit.”
“ Shall we go to the Kurus, or to the Pakthas ? ”
“ Whichever you choose.”
Amrit turned his horse, and following the path that Madhura
pointed out they arrived at the Paktha village. In the village,
some tents had lost a man killed, from some a man had been
wounded, some had had a girl stolen. On all sides rose the noise
of lamentation. Madhura’s mother was in tears, and her father
was trying to soothe her, when the horse came to a stand outside
the tent of woven hair.
When Amritashva had dismounted, Madhura jumped down,
and telling him to wait outside, entered the tent. At their
daughter’s sudden appearance, her parents at first could not believe
their eyes. Then her mother folded her in her arms, and bathed
her face with tears. When they had grown calmer, and her father
began to question her, Madhura explained what had happened.
“ The Vahilkas were carrying off the Paktha girls they
had captured. The one who had seized on me fell behy>d the
others. As soon as I had a chance, I threw myself off the horse.
He caught me, and was trying to put me on it again. Just as I
was struggling with him, a young horseman rode up ; he challenged
the Vahlik man, wounded him and left him on the ground. The
young man was a Kuru, and he has brought me back home.”
“He didn’t want to treat you as his plunder, then?” asked
her father.
“ He didn't want me—by force.”
“ And yet according to the customs of our country, you belong
to him.'’ ' '
“And 1 love him, father.”
Her father came out to welcome Amritashva, and led him into
the tent. The affair struck the villages as inexplicable; but
Amritashva had gained the respect and sympathy of all when he
took Madhura away from his father-in-law’s house.

I 3 ]
Amritashva rose to be the Patriarch of the Kuru encampment.
He owned scores of horses, besides cows and a good many sheep
and goats. His four sons and Madhura saw to the work of the
herds and the house. In addition, some men belonging to poor
 3. AMRITASHVA 31

families of the village helped in the work, not as servants, but like
members of the household. A Kuru had to remain on a foot¬
ing of equality with another Kuru. More than fifty families
lived Amritashva’s nomadic camp. It was the Elder’s duty to
look into all quarrels and disputed claims. Control of water, roads,
and all other matters of public concern, was likewise the Patriarch’s
province. And in war—an ever-present danger—to take command
of the warriors was his paramount function. It was success in
battle, in fact, that brought a man to the dignity of Patriarch.
Amritashva was a bold fighter, and had displayed his courage
in many a battle with the Pakthas, the men of Vahlik and other
tribes. He had kept his word to Madhura. She took part and
side by side with him, not only in hunting the bear, the wolf
and the tiger, but even in his battles. There were some among
the clansmen who had not approved of this, it is true—their view
was that a woman’s business was at home.
On the day when Amritashva was first chosen as Patriarch, the
Kuru camp was holding festival. On such days the youths and
girls were free to form temporary attachments. As it was sum¬
mer, the herds of cattle and horses had been turned loose to
graze over the river valley and the hills. The clansfolk had
forgotten that they had enemies; but their wealth in herds had
swelled the number of their foes. While the Kurus had lived on
the bank of the Volga, they had owned no animals; in those days
they had had to glean a livelihood from the woods, or to go
hungry if game, honey or fruit were not to be found. They had
now domesticated some of the animals they once hunted—cattle,
horses, sheeps, goats and asses. From thees they provided them¬
selves with woollen cloths, as well as meat, milk and hides. Their
women were skilled at spinning yarn and weaving blankets. But
this skill did not avail to preserve their old status in society.
Men, not women, ruled. Authority was vested in no chieftainess
or clan council (gene) but in a warlike leader, who though he paid
some respect to the feeling of his people, often took decision by
himself. As to property, whereas in the days of matriarchy the
entire clan had lived and laboured jointly, each family now
owned cattle privately, and its wealth or poverty were its alone*
though when adversity fell on all alike, the clan once more re¬
sumed its bygone form.
,, J^e. cIansfolk were too much absorbed in their revelry at
the Patriarch s feast to spare a thought for their herds. The young
men posturing in the dance to the sound of music, could think
ol nothing but soma and pretty girls. Three quarters of the night

af end^when all rt ^ S‘U' sign of the dance anting to

f” e.nd: wh.e_n ,al1 sldes arose a frantic barking of dogs, which
sounded as if they were dashing off towards the upper end of the
 32 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

valley. Amritashva was one of those men who enjoy drinking

enough wine to bring a bright glow into their eyes, but not enough,
to make them lose control of themselves. At the clamour of
the dogs, he quietly got up, seized his wooden-handled stone club
and set out, following the course of the stream, in the direction
of the noise. When he had gone a short distance and reached
the hill behind which the sun had set, he saw a woman approach¬
ing in the moonlight. He halted, and as she came close, recognised
Madhura.
She was panting for breath as she exclaimed agitatedly:
“ The Purus are driving off our cattle ! ”
“ Driving the cattle off! And all our young men are reeling
drunk ! How far have you been, Madhura ? ”
“Just far enough to make sure what was happening.”
“ They are taking away all the cattle ? ”
“ It’s clear they must have been busy rounding up the scattered
herds for a long time.”
“What do you think about it. Madhura?”
“There’s no time to be lost.”
“ But my young men are too drunk to stand ! ”
“ You must take as many of them as can follow you, and
attack the robbers.”
“ Yes, that’s it—but one thing, Madhura! You are not to
■come with me. Half the young men’s drunknness will disappear
as soon as they hear the news, and as to the rest—give them
curds to eat. As fast as they come to themselves, keep sending
them on to me.”
- “ And the young women ? ”
“ I can use my power as Patriaich and order them to take part
in this fight. We shall have to revive the old forgotten custom. ’
“I won’t try to come into the front of the battle. Make
haste—go ! ”
At the Elder’s command, the music instantly ceased, and all
the revellers, men and women, pressed round him. Some of them
did indeed throw off their intoxication when they learned of the
plundering of their cattle and horses. Instead of amorous looks
their faces wore an air of stern determination.
“ Men and women of the Kurus! ” cfaed the Patriarch in
thunderous tones, “ We must snatch back our wealth out of the
hands of our enemies, the Purus! There is going to be a hard
fight. All of you who are fit to ride, get your arms, mount your
horses, and follow me. Those who are too drunk, get curds
from Madhura to eat, and as soon as you feel fresh again, come
as fast as you can. Women! Tonight I give you also the order
to enter the battle. Kuru women in olden times played their
part in war shoulder to shoulder with their men, as we have heard
 3. AMRITASHVA 33

from our grandparents. Tonight Amritashva, your Patriarch, com*

mands you to follow him ! ** '
In a moment forty horses were collected. The Purus, mean¬
while, were driving all the animals they had gathered together up
The Kurus came in sight of them far away as dawn
broke, after two hours of hard riding. It was no easy to drive
up the slope at a gallop such amultitude of cattle and horses as
the Purus had gathered together ; they were cracking their leather
whips in the air and against the rocks to frighten the animals
forward. Amritashva saw that their numbers were about a
hundred, but he was not inclined to rack his brains for long over
the question of whether or not to join battle straight away with
his troop of forty.
Gripping his long horn-tipped spear, he gave the order to
attack.
Fearlessly the Kuru warriors, nearly half of them women,
galloped their horses forward. The Purus, leaving a few men to
halt the herd and hold it in check, turned and rode back down¬
hill, and in order to have the full advantage of their mounts took
up their position on level ground adjoining the stream, where
they awaited the Kuru’s charge. Now it was that Amritashva
showed his true mettle. He and his horse, Amrit, seemed to
form one single creature. No enemy whom his spear with its
sharp point of stag's horn once pierced, ever kept his saddle to
face a second thrust. The Purus had made the mistake of putting
too much trust in their bows and arrows and stone axes; if they
had had as many horn-tipped spears as their enemies, the Kurus
would never have been able to resist them.
The battle had raged for an hour, and the Kurus were still
standing their ground, though a third of their warriors were out
of action, and they had good reason to fear the issue. At this
juncture thirty fresh Kuru horsemen galloped up and threw them¬
selves into the fray. This restored their friends' spirits, and the
Purus, hard pressed began to fall fast. Seeing them in a tight
•corner, the horsemen whom they had left to control the herd
now came to their help; but at the same time Madhura reached
the scene with a band of forty more men and women. For another
hour and a half the bloody fight raged on. Then the majority
•of the Purus had been killed or wounded; the remainder took
to flight.
The Kuru forces lingered only to despatch the enemy wounded
before pressing on towards the Puru settlement, eight miles higher
up. At their approach the folk abandoned their tents and fled.
Their cattle were grazing all round, but the Kurus had first of
^11 to deal with their foes. The Purus were hemmed in, and their
iposition was vdesperate; there was little chance of escaping into
 34 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

the hills. Their valley was narrow, and the ascent from it pre¬
cipitous, but still some men and women were making for it on
horseback in the attempt to save their lives. They got some
way up the slope, on the ground where a horse could climb no
further. They forced themselves onward on foot, but the Kurus
were now close at their heels. The old men. women and children
could not climb fast, so, to give them a chance of escape, some
of their fighting-men made a stand in a narrow defile. Unable
to make full use of their numbers, the Kurus had to spend several
hours in clearing the path.
Both sides were on foot now, but barely a dozen men were
left of the Purus. For a few days they were able to defend what
was left of their clan. Then, taking with them some few brave
women, they struck off up a barely accessible track, and leaving
their valley behind crossed the hills and made their way south¬
ward. The Kurus captured a number of children, women and
old people hiding in odd corners and praying for their lives. To
take slaves had no place in the customs of this patriarchal age;
all the males, from boys to old men, were butchered. The females
were carried off. All the livestock likewise became the property
of the Kurus. The whole valley of the green river, from the
upper end to the lower, was now the Kurus’ pasture-ground. The
Patriarch ordered that for one generation, each man might have more
than one wife. It was the first time that co-wives were seen among
the Kurus.
 4. PURUHUTA
Region : The Oxus Valley—Tajikistan.
People : Indo-Iranian.
Time : 2500 B.C.

This story is about Aryan tribes—180 generations ago.

The scions of some of these were now about to emi¬
grate to India. In this period agriculture and copper¬
working had come to be practised. Slavery had found
its way among the Aryans, but they were now anxious
to forget it.

D OWN the valley flowed the gurgling current of the Oxus.

On the right bank, the hills rose trom the water’s edge;
on the other side, the ground sloped more gently and the
valley was broader. At a distance nothing could be seen but the
dusky mass of the tall, dark green pines ; from closer at hand,
one could distinguish the pointed, arrow-like tips of the boughs,
long near the base of the trunk and shorter and shorter above.
Beneath them were growing many kinds of plants and smaller
trees. It was late summer, and the rains had not yet set in—a
month when on the plains of northern India people suffer acutely
from the heat. But in this mountain valley, seven thousand feet
up, hot weather could not intrude.
Along the left bank of the river a young man was making
his way. He wore a woollen tunic, with a waist-band over it
tied in several folds, woollen trousers, and plaited shoes. He had
removed the cap from his head and put it on top of the basket
hanging at his back, so that his long, gleaming yellow hair, falling
loosely behind, rippled now and then in the light gusts of air. A
copper sword hung at his side in a leather holder. The funnel-
shaped basket at his back was woven from thin twigs, and held an
unstrung bow, a quiver full of arrows, and many other things.
In his hand he grasped a staff, which from time to time he propped
under the bottom of the basket while standing still and resting, for
the ascent was growing harder. In front of him six fat sheep
moved along, carrying on their backs big horse-hair bags filled
with parched grain. Behind him came a reddish, shaggy dog.
The hillside re-echoed the pleasant, low notes of sparrows, which
roused the youth to emulation, for he began to whistle as he
walked.
Bubbling out from above a rock, water came falling in a
fine silvery stream. To let it fall down, someone had cut through
the rock and placed a wooden conduit there. The panting sheep
 36 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

began drinking under the rock; the young men noticed small
clusters hanging on the grape-vines that trailed near it, and sitting
down and depositing his basket on the ground, he began plucking
off the grapes and eating them. They were still unripe and
rather sour. It was still a month before they would be ripe, but
they seemed good enough to the young traveller, and he went on
slowly sucking them, one grape at a time. Perhaps he was waiting
a while before drinking because he was too thirsty, and to begin
swallowing cold water at once would be harmful.
After slaking their thirst the sheep straggled off to browse
on the fresh green grass. The shaggy dog, which found the warm
weathei very irksome, paid no attention either to its master or
to the sheep, but squatted down in the pool of water below the
spring. Its belly was soon distended like a water-skin, and the
long red tongue hanging from its open mouth quivered. The
young man now held his mouth under the trickle, and quenched
bis thirst in one long drought of the failing water; then he washed
his face, bathing his sore eyes and drenching his front hair to
the roots. A yellow moustache was beginning to grow; hair
would soon overspread his tawny cheeks and red lips.
Noticing that his sheep were grazing contentedly, the youth
sat down beside his basket, and interpreting the meaning in the
dog’s eyes, fixed on his face, and its pricked-up ears, he groped
in one corner of the sack for a piece cut from a quarter of dried
mutton, sliced it up with a sharp copper knife that had been
hanging in a leather sheath at his belt, and began feeding both
the dog and himself. At this moment the clapping of a wooden
bell made itself heard, and he saw approaching in the distance
a donkey, half concealed by the bushes; then a second and behind
them a girl of about sixteen, clothed like himself and like-wise
carrying a basket on her back. He whistled lightly—when he was
thinking about anything to start whistling was as natural to him
as breathing. The sound certainly reached the girl’s ear once,
and she looked in his direction, but he was screened by the foliage.
Though she was still some thirty feet away from the watcher, the
delicate but attractive cast of her face caught his fancy, and he
waited impatiently to learn which way she was going. Up-river
hereabouts, there were no settlements, as he knew, so it might
be guessed that she was a traveller like himself.
Eyeing the pretty stranger, the dog began barking, but at the
young man’s “Quiet!” it crouched silently in its place. The
girl’s donkeys put their heads down to drink, and she began to
loosen her burden, on which the youth came and removed it in his
muscular arms and set it down. Her smile showed her gratitude,
as she said, “It’s very hot.”
 4. PURUHUTA, 37

“ Not really hot, but coming up the slope makes you feel
hot. When you have rested awhile the sweat will go off.”
“The days are good just now.”
“ There’s no fear of the rains for another ten or fifteen days."
“The rains do make me afraid. The paths become so bad
with all the streams and slippery mud.”
“It makes the going harder for donkeys.”
“ We had no sheep with us at home, so I had to bring donkeys.
Well, friend, which way have you to go ? ”
“To the top. Our horses and cattle and sheep are there
at present.”
“ Just where I’m going too ! I’m taking parched grain and
corn and fruit there.”
“ Who is looking after your animals there ? ”
“ My father’s grandfather, and my brothers and sisters.”
“ What, your father’s grandfather! He must be very old ”
“ Oh, yes, you might not find such an old man anywhere.”
“ Then how does he manage to look after a herd ? ”
“He’s still qutie strong. His hair and eyebrows are all quite
white, but his teeth are like new; you wouldn’t say, to look at him,
that he was more than fifty or fifty-five.”
“ Oughtn’t he to be kept at home ? ”
“He won’t agree to it. Since before I was born he has never
been into the village.”
“ Never! ”
“He doesn’t want to. He hates the village. He says that
man was not born to be kept cooped up in one place. He tells us
about very long-ago things. But what is your name, friend?”
“ Puruhuta, a Puru ; my mother was of the Madra clan. And
what is yours, sister ? ”
“Rochana, a Madra.”
“ So you belong to the same clan as my mother’s brother,
sister! The upper Madras, or the lower ? ”
“ The upper.”
The Puru villages lay on the left bank of the Oxus, but its
lower course, debouching on the plains below, was occupied by
the Madras; and of the right bank the upper part was held by
the Madras, the lower by the Parshus. In point of territory and
population, the Purus were not inferior to the Madras. Those,
of the latter who lay down-stream from the Purus were known
as the lower Madras. It was to the other branch that Rochana
belonged, and Puruhuta had a maternal uncle in a village in the
same area.
After learning each other’s names, the two felt a closer rela¬
tionship and Puruhuta began again-—
 38 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ I say, Rochana, we can’t get as far as the top today. How

did you venture to come out alone ? ”
“ I knew it would be difficult to keep the leopards away from
the donkeys at night, but I had to bring this food for the old man
—he thinks so much of me, Puruhuta! And I expected to meet
with someone else on the way; just now a good many people are
going towards the top. Besides, I was thinking that by lighting
a fire I should get over the worst part.”
“ How can you light a fire when you are on the road ? Have
you brought kindling with you, Rochana ? ”
“ Yes ”.
“ Even then, it isn’t easy to make the Fire-god reveal himself
by rubbing two sticks together. Never mind, I have a sacred
stick with me, it has been in our family since my grandfather’s
time. A great many sacrifices and prayers have been performed
with fire kindled from it. I know the spells of the Fire-god by
heart as well, and they make him reveal himself sooner.”
“ Besides, there are two of us now. Puruhuta. so the leopards
Won’t be bold enough to come near.”
“And we have Shaggy, too."
“ Shaggy ?”
“ Yes, this red-haired hound of mine; ” and as Puruhuta
called out to it, the dog got up and came to lick its master’s hand.
When Rochana also called its name, it came and sniffed at her
feet, and crouched with tail wagging as she stroked its back.
“Shaggy is a very intelligent dog, Rochana,” remarked
Puruhuta.
“ Strong as well! ”
“Yes, not afraid of wolves or bears or leopards or anything.”
By now the sheep and donkeys had had their fill of grass,
and recovered from their fatigue, so the two young travellers
resumed their journey, the dog trotting behind them. Though
their footpath wound from side to side instead of running straight
up, the ascent was still arduous, and it was only cautiously that
they advanced, step by step. Occasionally Puruhuta picked up
some red strawberries nestling close to the ground, or some
fruits, and shared them with Rochana. But he was a good deal
disappointed with them; the berries had not yet come to ripeness.
In this way they went on till evening, talking as they went.
The sun was sinking when they came on a spring gushing out
under deep shady foliage. There was some open space near it,
with the embers and ashes of a wood-fire half-burned out, and
horse-dung. Puruhuta bent down and scraped away the ash, and
found there was still a glow lurking under it.
“Rochana!*’ he suggested, delighted with his find, “we shan’t
meet with any better place than this further on for staying die
 4. PURUHUTA 39

night. There’s water near, plenty of grass and dry wood—and

the travellers who started from here this morning have left their
fire still burning under the ashes!”
“Yes, Puruhuta, there won’t be any better place than this,
let us stay the night here.' It would be quite dark before we could
get to the next spring.”
Puruhuta, knelt down, hastily slid his basket off and let it lean
against a rock ; then he lifted Rochana’s burden off. Together they
removed the donkeys’ packs and unsaddled them. The animals
rolled over two or three times on the ground, and then began
munching grass. Unloading the sheep took some time, because
they had to be caught and held by main force. Then Rochana
took a skin bag and went to the spring to fill it.
Puruhuta got the fire going with leaves and twigs, and then
piled bigger pieces of wood on, and built it up into a good blaze.
When the water had been brought, he placed a copper pan before
him, and set to work, cutting up a quarter of a cow’s haunch
with his knife.
“By tomorrow evening,” he observed, glancing at Rochana,
“ we shall have got to the top. It won’t be very far then to your
herding-place ? ”
“ It’s about six miles east from the top.”
“ My place is twelve miles east. So your great-grandfather
and his herd will be on my way, Rochana ? "
“ Yes, you will be able to see him ! I was wondering how
you could meet him.”
“ As we only have one more day to go, a quarter of a thigh
is enough. This is from a hind leg, Rochana—of a calf.”
“ I’ve got half a leg of a colt—at this time of the year, if meat
is kept for long, it begins to smell; doesn’t it?”
“How would it be to cook it with salt?”
That will be good. And 1 have some marrowful bones,
Puruhuta. If we mix the meat and bones, and then put in some
parched grain, we can make good soup ; it will be ready by the
time we are going to sleep.”
“ If I were by myself I wouldn’t make soup, it takes too long.
But we can snend the time tying up the animals and talking.”
“Grandfather is very fond of my soup. What a fine copper
■pan! ”
“Yes, copper is very valuable, Rochana. This pan was worth
■as much as a horse, but it’s very useful on a journey.”
u Your family must own a great many animals, then ? ”
“ Oh, yes, and plenty of grain. That’s why I can have a pan
that costs the value of a horse. Here, take this meat, I’ve finished
■cutting it up. You put it in water, with salt, and boil it, while
I get some wood burning over there too. Then we must cut a
 40 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

little grass and tether the donkeys and sheep in between here-
You know donkey-meat is even tastier to leopards than calfs
meat is to us. In the mean time—Shaggy! Take this to have
a lick at”—and Puruhuta threw down in front of the dog a bone
with a little meat on it. The animal wagged its tail, and, with
the bone held down by its paws, began trying to crack it with its
teeth.
Puruhuta removed his outer tunic and waist-band. Under a
•leeveless shirt his well-formed chest and his brawny arms revealed
the strength of his twenty year old body. The hair on his limbs
quivered as he went to work. He brought out a scythe from his
basket, and quickly put together a heap of grass, and piled it in
front of the donkeys, which he dragged forward by the ears and
tethered to a stake he had driven into the ground; then he did
the same with the sheep.
When he was free of work he came and sat down near the
fire. Rochana was lifting the pieces of boiled meat out of the pan
and putting them on a square of skin. Puruhuta drew a leather
folder from his sack and, unwrapping it, produced a handsome
wooden cup and a small wine-skin. A flute fell out on the ground
with them. It was as if a delicate infant had fallen, and its mother
were in terror of its being injured; Puruhuta snatched the flute
-up, wiped it on his clothes, and replaced it in the leather wrapper-
Rochana. who was watching him, interrupted :
*‘ Puruhuta ! You can play on the flute ? ”
“This flute is very dear to me indeed, Rochana. I feel as
if my whole life were bound up with it.”
“Let me hear you play.”
“ Now, or after we have eaten ? ”
“ Play a little while now.”
“ Very well! ”
Puruhuta put the pipe to his lips, and as eight fingers began
to stray over its stops, amid the far-spreading hush of evening,,
sweet music began to steal and float magically all about, from
under the shade of the tall trees, till it seemed to re-echo from the
horizon. Rochana was carried out of herself as she sat absorbedly
drinking in the notes. It was a plaintive song of Pururava, deso¬
lated by separation from Urvashi, that Puruhuta was playing. When
it ended, Rochana felt as though she had suddenly dropped from
heaven to earth.
“Puruhuta.” she said, with tears of delight in her eyes, “the
music of your flute is very sweet—so sweet! I have never listened
to such a flute. What a lovely tune! ”
“People often tell me that, Rochana. But I never cm under¬
stand it; as soon as I put the pipe to my mouth, I forget every-,
 4. PURUHUTA 41

thing. As long as I have my flute with me. I don’t want anything,

else in the world.”
“ Well—come, Puru, or the meat will be getting cold.”
“ Yes. And see, when I was setting out my mother gave me
this grape wine. There’s only a little, but it will be good to drink,
with the meat.”
“ Are you very fond of wine ? ”
“ I can’t say : very fond of it. If you are very fond of it,
you can never have enough of it. As soon as I have drunk
enough to brighten my eyes a little. I don’t want to drink another
mouthful.”
“I think just the same about it, Puru. I hate to see people
overcome by drunkenness,” said Rochana as she brought out her
own wooden cup and put it beside her.
A third of the meat was given to the dog as its share, and
after a while the pair finished eating and drinking. A thick cloak
of darkness lay all round. Nothing was to be seen except the
red light of the logs blazing on the fire, and the small circle
around it; though there were sounds to be heard, which seemed
to come from gnats and such tiny creature^. They went on talking
together, and at intervals the flute gave out its melodies; finally,
at the end of some hours, the parched grain was thoroughly done
and the soup was ready. They both drank it hot out of their
cups. It was well into the night before they decided to sleep.
Rochana arranged her bedding of skins and began to undress,
while Puruhuta piled fresh wood on the fire, gave the animals,
more grass, and then recited a prayer to the spirits of the forest,
threw off his clothes, and fell asleep.
Next morning when they woke up, they felt as though they
had found a blood-brother and sister in each other in a single
night. When Rochana got up, Puruhuta could not help saying—
“ l should like to kiss your face, sister! ”
“ I want to kiss you. We have found a brother and sister
for ourselves in this world! **
Puruhuta smoothed Rochana’s dishevelled hair away from her
face, and kissed her on both cheeks. Their looks expressed the
happiness of both of them, though their eyes were wet.
They washed, ate a little grain and dried meat, loaded the
animals, and set off. On the journey they stopped two or three
times to rest, but the time passed so quickly in conversation that
they hardly knew when they had reached the top, and when they
had got to the old man’s post. Rochana made her friend known,
and the old man welcomed him, speaking highly of the manliness
of the Purus.
 42 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

I 2 ]
Here at the top stood a small Madra village, whose dwellings were
either tents or thatched cottages. On the sloping ground and
in the hill country below it, nothing was visible except dense pine-
forests, but further up there was no trace of any trees; the ground
was more level, and covered by a thick carpet of green grass.
Here and there over this green plain were grazing sheep, cattle
and horses, and among them young calves and colts were jumping
up and frisking. It was this open country that the old man stared
towards when he said : “Man was not born to be kept cooped
-up in one place.” When grass became scarce he would move on
to another spot. Here there was abundance of milk, curds, butter
and meat, and the tent was well stored with provisions. Every
fifteen or twenty days a man would come from the village and
go away with butter and meat. In winter, when snow fell, the
old grandfather would still have stayed where he was, if he could
have pleased himself; but the herds could not feed on snow, so
he took the meandering path and moved a little lower down into
the forest lands, while the animals all went down to the village.
At the mere suggestion pf going to the village himself, the old
man would look as if he could kill you.
It was still daylight when the two wayfarers reached his tent,
and when they had unloaded their baggage and he had put before
them wooden cups and poured out a drink of fermented mare’s
milk to cheer them up, they shook off all the weariness of the
road in the time it took to drink three or four cupfuls. In the
evening Rochana’s brother and sister, and other young herdsmen
from the village arrived with their calves and colts. When Rochana
began singing praises of Puruhuta’s flute, the old man was in far
too high spirits to let Puruhuta go. He and all the young folk
of the herding-post were delighted with the music. At night,
when there was dancing, Puruhuta unfolded its magic again.
Next morning he talked of going, but the old man would
not hear of his leaving so soon. After the midday meal he began
talking; it was the sight of the copper pan standing near the sack
that set him off.
“When I see this copper,” he said, “or ploughed fields, my
blood boils. Since such things appeared on the banks of the Oxus,
Wickedness and sinfulness have been spreading all round; the gods
have grown angry, and there have been more epidemics, more
killings.
“ Were there none of these things before, then, grandfather ? ”
masked Puruhuta.
“ None of them, son. In my boyhood they were just beginning
r|0 coine- My grandfather never heard even their names. In those
 4. PURUHUTA 43

days all the implements were made from stone, bone, horn or
wood.”
“ How were they able to cut timber ? ”
“With stone axes.”
“That must have taken a long time, and the cutting would
not be so good.”
“ it is this being in a hurry that has spoiled every kind of
work. Nowadays you give away a horse that would give you two
months meat or carry you half your life, to get a copper axe, and
then cut down whole forests and make a desert of them, or attack
and wipe out whole villages. But a village is not so defenceless
as the forest trees are, it has the same kind of sharp axe as you
have. These copper hatchets have made war more cruel. The
wounds they make are venomous. Arrow-heads were used to be
made of stone; it is true they were not so sharp, but with a good
archer they were more useful. Now, with these copper arrow¬
heads, mere infants want to go and hunt tigers. Why should any
one want to be a skilful archer now ? ”
“Grandfather, I agree with you in one thing, that men were
not born to be shut up in the same place always.”
“ Oh, my boy ! Think how bad it is to go on piling today’s
refuse on yesterday’s ! Today our tent is here, the animals eat
the grass round about, but by the time the dirt of all the people and
animals here has begun to pile up, we shall be leaving this place
and moving somewhere else, where fresh grass will be more plenti¬
ful, and the soil and the water and the air will be purer.”
“ Yes, that is the kind of place I like too. My flute plays
more sweetly there.”
“ That is right, lad. Once we used to call a cluster of tents
like this a village, and we didn’t live in them in one spot for
three months at a time, to say nothing of a whole year; but now
sons and grandsons go on living in the same village for
generations. They build up walls of stone, wood and mud, till
no air can get inside. They cover them with stone, wood and
thatch roofs, and how can any air come in through them ? Nowa¬
days people talk of the Fire-god and the Wind-god, but it is only
talk ; we have no reverence for them in our hearts. That is why
so many new diseases are spreading. Oh, Mitra ! Nasatya! Agni!
You are showing your anger against these people, and your anger
is just 1 ”
“ But grandfather, how should we keep ourselves alive if we
gave up these copper axes and swords and spears ? If we gave
them up our enemies would wipe us out in a day! ”
“ Yes, son, I know people have not been able to buy one
copper sword even when they were ready and willing to exchange
for it two months’ supply of food, or a horse that would carry
 44 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

half their lives. They have befouled the breast of our mother
Oxus, those lower Madras and Parshus. Where the Oxus river
flows to, I don’t know, nobody knows. Those who are fond of
gabbling such lies say that it flows into the limitless waters at
the end of the world. We know that beyond the boundaries of
the Madras and Parshus the river leaves the mountains and enters
the plains, and beyond is the land of the lying enemies of the
gods. They say there are creatures living there with enormous
legs, as big as small hills, or even big hills—what is it they call
them, son ? Nowadays my memory is failing me.”
“ Camels, grandfather! But they are not as big as hills. Once
a man from the lower Madras came up here with a young camel.
He said it was six months old, and it was the same size as our
horses.”
“ Oh! People who come wandering from foreign parts leam
to tell a lot of lies. They were saying—what is it they call those
things ? ”
“ Camels.”
“ Yes—that a camel’s neck is so long, it could stand on this
bank of the Oxus and eat grass off the other bank. That must
be a lie too, son, isn’t it ? ”
“ Of course! The young camel’s neck was longer than a
horse’s, no doubt, but that tale of eating grass—all nonsense ! ”
‘‘It is these lying Madras and Parshus who have spread the
plague of copper axes and swords. The Parshus made an attack
on us upper Madras with such weapons. It was in my father’s,
time. Our people had to buy copper axes from the lower Madras,,
at two horses for each axe."
“Stone axes must have been useless against copper axes,
weren’t they ? ”
“ Useless, son; yes. So we became weak, and we had to get
metal weapons. Until then, there had never been a quarrel
between the upper Madras and Purus. But the Parshus and lower
Madras have always gone in for banditry, always been deserting
the old law| and wanting new things, and because of them our
people had to do the same, to save their lives. I know that until
the lower Madras and Parshus give up their metal weapons, for
us of the upper river to abandon them would be suicide. But
this spreading everywhere of copper is evil, son, no doubt of that,
and it is those two people who have been spreading this wicked¬
ness ; they will never have the blessing of the gods. They will
go4o the awful underworld of darkness. They will go! It is irr
imitation of them, and from fear of them, that we have built
«QUr villages of mud and stone. Formerly there were only camps
of tent-dwellers, like ours—here today and gone tomorrow—in the
valley of the Oxus. But those Madras and Parshus have broken
 4. PURUHUTA 45

at all up. How could it come into their heads to tear the breast
-of mother earth, those people with their metal tools. Such wicked¬
ness no one had ever committed. We call the earth our mother,
lad, don’t we ? "
“ Yes, grandfather, we call the earth our mother, we call her
a goddess, we pray to her.”
“And those evil-doers have wounded the breast of mother
-earth with their own hands. What is it they have done—I am
forgetting the word, my memory is doing its work so badly.”
“ Agriculture, farming.”
“Yes, they have started farming. Sowing wheat, and rice,
and barley, was never heard of before our days. Our forefathers
never scratched the bosom of mother earth, they never dishonoured
the goddess. The earth yielded grass for our herds, and its woods
were full of sweet fruits of many kinds, that were never exhausted
by our eating them. But with the Madras’ sinfulness, and the
sinfulness we have fallen into by imitating them, what has become
of our grass that used to grow as tall as a man ? Where are
there cows as big as the cows of old days—one of which would
supply a whole Madra clan with a day’s food ? There are no such
-cows, no such horses, no such sheep as we once had. Even the
-deer and the bears in the forest are not as big as they used to be.
And men don’t live so long now. All because of the anger of
the Earth-goddess, my son !—nothing else ! ”
“How many winters have you seen, grandfather?”
“ More than a hundred. Once there were only tents in our
encampment, and now there are a hundred houses with mud and
stone walls in the village. When there were no ploughed fields,
our dwellings moved about freely, our whole camp wandered
about. After farming began, the wheat had to be protected against
<ieer and other animals. The fields have become pegs to tether
men down. But my son, man was not born to be kept cooped up
in one spot. The Madras and Parshus have brought into existence
what the gods never created for men.”
“ But could we give up farming now, even if we wanted to ?
Grain is half our food.”
uYes, yes, I know. But our forefathers ate no grain. Fifty
miles south of here is a wilderness of wheat; it grows there by
itself, ripens by itself, falls by itself. Cows eat it, and yield more
milk. Horses that eat it grow big and strong. Our herds go there
«very year. Mother earth has not produced these grains for man’s
use—the seed is smaller than in the wheat grown in our fields;
they were meant for animals. I am afraid of that wild wheat
being destroyed somehow. For our own eating, son, we have
these cows, and horses, sheep, goats, and in the woods all kinds
of game—bears, deer, boars; and grapes and every other kind of
 46 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

fruit. Mother earth has willingly given us all this for our nourish*
ment, but these Madras and Parshus, ill-luck take them, have
deserted down the old ways and taken a new road, and brought
the anger of the gods on mankind. And now, son, there is no
knowing what is ordained in the destiny of the people of the
Oxus; but for these twenty-five years, except for the top, I have
never been into a village. In the winters I move to a hut a little
lower down. Why should I go among people who all want to
break down and abandon the path that our ancestors built up ?
The words our ancestors spoke have been so long treasured in my
heart, that even now whoever wants to learn them comes here to me.
But there are more and more every day who will not obey those
words. Now it seems the Madras and Parshus can’t satisfy their
bellies even with their fields to help them. Where do they take
away the food and clothing of the river folk they keep coming
for—and what do we get in exchange ? Look at that copper pan,
bartered for a horse. If famine comes, will that pan fill anyone’s
belly with food ? You will leave the Purus without food for their
bellies, or clothes for their backs, and instead you will furnish
their houses with—pans! ”
“ 1 have heard another thing, grandfather, that the women
of the lower Madras have begun to wear white and yellow orna¬
ments in their ears and round their necks, and a single ear-ring
is worth the price of a horse ! They call them gold, not copper,
and the white ones are called silver.”
“ And no one gives the wretches a beating! They will leave
the whole valley of the Oxus people in ruin, they won’t leave us
even with the bit of food or clothing we may have saved for our¬
selves. Our own women will start imitating them and put rings
worth a couple, of horses in their ears. Merciful Agni! Don’t
leave me for many more days among these human beings; take
me away to the world where my fathers live! ”
“ There is something else very sinful, grandfather. The
Madras and Parshus have captured prisoners from somewhere,
and they force them to make their copper swords and axes. They
are very clever workmen, but their masters treat them like animals,
keep them as long as they want, and then sell them. They get
their farm-work, and blanket-weaving and any other kind of work,
done by these prisoners—they call them slaves.”
“ Buying and selling men ! We used to think even buying
and selling clothes bad enough, but our forefathers never dreamed
that the villainous Madras would fall to such a depth! When a
finger begins to fester, the only remedy is to cut it off, or the
whole body will be infected. My son, it is a crime to let the
Madras and Parshus go on living on the banks of our Oxus. I
won’t stay to watch it much longer.”
 4. PURUHUTA 47

The old man’s talk was impressive; nonetheless, Puruhuta

clung to the belief that without the new weapons that had been
introduced, life in the midst of their human and animal foes,
would no longer be possible.
On the third day, when he took his leave, the old man touched
his forehead and eyes, and gave him his blessing. Rochana went
with him a long way to see him off, and when the time came
for parting, they made each other’s cheeks wet With their tears.

[ 3 1
The old man’s words came true, though twenty-five years later.
The lower Madras apd Parshus exploited, more and more callously,
the Purus and Madras of the upper river. While among the latter
the weavers of clothes and blankets were free men and women,
whose own food and clothing cost a good deal and made the stuff
they produced expensive, though excellent, the people down-river
had slaves, whose products were not so fine, but much cheaper.
When, therefore, merchants went out to neighbouring regions carry¬
ing the slave-made wares on camels and horses, they had a brisk
sale. By now, also, copper articles in ever-increasing numbers
had become indispensable to the up-river folk. For one thing they
were becoming a little cheaper year by year, and for another
they lasted longer than earthenware or wooden utensils. Whereas
a quarter of a century earlier a copper pan was only to be seen
in a very few homes, now only a few homes were without one.
The use of gold and silver was likewise spreading. In exchange
for all these goods, they had to part with food, blankets, hides,
horses and cattle, with the result that their wealth was steadily
being drained away.
Some up-river men made efforts to turn traders themselves,
for they had begun to suspect the strangers from down the river
of cheating them. But the route down the Oxus ran through the
latter’s territory, and they were determined to keep it closed.
Occasionally there was a more or less serious Quarrel on this issue.
The northern Madras and Purus made many an attempt to find
an alternative route to the outside countries, but always without
success.
In this friction between the two sides, an important point
was that the lower people were unable to form a strong union
among themselves, while those higher up banded together and so
were always ready to attack or counter-attack. Puruhuta, in these
skirmishes, won the esteem of his people by his bravery and
intelligence, and at the early age of thirty he was elected by the
Puru clan as its leader.
It became plain to Puruhuta’s mind that unless a stop could
be put to the unfair trading activities of the Madras, there was
 48 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

no hope for his people. The use of copper, far from diminishing*
was increasing day by day, and not merely for making weapons,
cooking-utensils, or ornaments; now, for ordinary purposes of
barter, men preferred to receive a copper sword or knife instead
-of a quantity of meat, for example, or cloth.
Puruhuta assembled his clan, and put it to them that all their
losses were duetto the down-river merchants and their avarice.
AH agreed that they must sink to mere puppets in the hands of
the Madras, unless they could clear them out of their way. The
day might even come when they would be virtually the slaves of
the Madras. The same conviction was expressed when a joint
council of the Puru and upper Madra chiefs was held. Puruhuta
was chosen by both peoples as commander of their combined
forces for the war, and was given the title of Prince (Indra). And
so Puruhuta became the first prince in history.
He set to work with the utmost energy to organise his army.
As soon as he received his new title, in order to arrange for a
supply of arms he took under his protection a couple of slave
metal-workers. The up-river people gave them the friendliest
reception, and with their help succeeded in acquiring a fair degree
of skill in working copper. Numbers of artisans were thus trained
among them. Their neighbours were prepared to use force
as well as persuasion to get their slaves handed back. The military
prowess, however, had diminished as their commerce expanded.
Having failed in the battlefield, they resolved to sell their enemies
no more copper; but they quickly realised that this would spell
ruin only to their own trade. The upper Madras and Purus could
■supply themselves for a generation by turning into weapons the
pans and other utensils they had bought earlier.
At last the Prince and his two peoples resolved on the des¬
truction of their enemies. Puruhuta had himself learned metal¬
working, and at his suggestion some improvements were made in
the swords, spears and arrow-heads. He had a number of copper
breast-plates made, to protect his bravest and most skilful warriors
against blows.
He determined to tackle only one enemy at first, and his
choice fell on the Parshus. In winter most of them were usually
away engaged in trading, and the Prince considered this the best
■opportunity. He had trained his warriors to fight craftily.
Although animosity between the two sides was of such long stand¬
ing, the down-river men had no notion that their enemies were
about to launch so sudden and so savage an attack on them—an
attack that would blot out their very names from the Oxus valley.
The Prince himself began to attack, with the warriors chosen
for service under his personal leadership. It did not take long
 4. PURUHUTA 49

for the Parshus to see the meaning of this invasion, and when
they grasped what was happening, and saw their lives at stake,
they fought with desperate courage. But so rapid was the
onslaught that they had no time to collect their forces from the
different villages. The enemy captured one village after another,
slaughtering thousands of inhabitants : no prisoners were taken.
When tidings of the disaster reached the lower Madras on the
other bank, it was late for them to save themselves. At length
only a few villages remained, and, leaving enough warriors to
deal with them, Prince Puruhuta marched into the Kuru territory.
The lower Madras attacked, but they were under the same
handicaps as the Parshus had been. Of both peoples not a single
male who was captured—boy, youth, or old man—was spared ;
the females were added to the women of the conquerors. Captured
slaves who wanted to go home to their own lands were allowed
to do so. Some men and women of the vanquished escaped with
their lives, and fleeing from the Oxus valley made their way west¬
ward. Their descendants in later years won fame in Iran, under
the names of Medes (Madras) and Persians (Parshus). They
could never forget what had been perpetrated against their ancestors
under Prince Puruhuta’s leadership. Hence it was that Iranians
thought of Indra (the Rain-god, or a ‘ Prince ’) as their most
cruel foe. The whole of the Oxus valley had fallen into the
hands of the upper Madras and Purus, who shared the two banks
of the river between them.
The valley-dwellers made a resolute attempt to banish the
new ways and re-establish the old. But it was impossible to
abandon copper and return to stone implements, and to obtain
copper they were compelled to link their mountain valley to the
outside world by means of trade.
Slavery, however, they never admitted, and they allowed no
one from outside to become a permanent settler in the valley.
After many centuries, when men had almost forgotten Prince
Puruhuta, or had transformed him into a god, the race had mul¬
tiplied so greatly that the valley could no longer support it, and
many were obliged to migrate towards the south.
Once each clan had been independent, and even with the
rise of the clan leaders to supremacy, these had had to depend
on popular support. But that last war on the banks of the Oxus
had given birth to a commander over more than one clan—to
Prince.
 5. PURUDHANA
Region : Upper Swat.
People : Indo-Aryan.
Time : 2000 B.C.

This story is of a conflict belonging to a period about

170 generations ago. In the mountain life of the Aryans
of that age slavery had not yet been accepted. The use
of copper and brass, and the development of commerce,
were on the increase.

T HIS part of Suvastu on the left bank was a picture of beauty,

with its green-clad hills, gushing springs and far-stretching
fields of waving corn. But what the Aryans took the deepest
pride in was their homesteads, with stone walls and roofs made
of pine-boughs, and hence they had called the country Suvastu
(Swat—‘the country of fine houses’). When they left the banks
of the Oxus these Aryans had crossed the Pamir and the almost
inaccessible crags of the snowy mountains, and made their toilsome
way over rivers like the Kunar and the Panjkora. The memory
of their journey lingered long in the race ; so long perhaps that
even today the elaborate celebration of the festival of Indra at
Mangalpur (Mangalore) may be an expression of gratitude to
the ‘Indra’ (Prince) who led them safely across those precipitous
tracks.
The Purus of Mangalpur had decorated their pretty houses
with pine branches and many-coloured pennants. Purudhana had
hung up some red flags ot a peculiar kind; and his neighbour
Sumedha noticed them and took hold of one.
“ Friend Puru," he remarked, “ these flags of yours are very
delicate—very smooth! We don’t make any such cloth here.
They must be made from the wool of some new kind of sheep! ”
“This is not wool from any sheep, Sumedha.”
“ What then ? ”
“ This is a kind of wool that grows on trees. Wool like ours
grows on sheep, and this kind grows on trees in the forest, in
the same way.”
“That is what one hears, friend, but I never saw such trees
myself.”
Sumedha rubbed a spindle across his thigh and set it spinning,,
with a fresh hank of wool on it, remarking, “ How lucky they are,
those people who find wool growing on their trees! Could such
trees not be planted here?”
 5. PURUDHANA 51

“I can’t say. We don’t know how much cold or heat they

can bear. As to those people’s Iuck—meat at any rate doesn’t
grow on trees Sumedha ! ”
“ If there is a land where wool grows on trees, there may be
a land where meat does the same. What does this cloth cost ? ”
“ Much less than woollen cloth, but it doesn't last as long.**
“ Where did you buy it from ? ”
“ From the Asura people. Their country is only fifty miles
from here, and they use this material for their clothes.”
“ If it is so cheap, why should we people not wear it also ? M
“ It won’t do for the winter.”
“ Then how can the Asuras wear it ? ”
“Their cold weather is not so severe as outs ; there is never
any snowfall there.”
“ Why do you go only to the south for your trade, and not
to the east or the north or the west ? ”
“There’s more profit to be had in the south, and more kinds
of goods to pick up ; though there is one great drawback—the
heat is terrible, it makes you pant for a gulp of fresh cold water ”
“ What sort of people are they, Purudhana ? ”
“Very short, with coppery-skins—ugly devils, with hardly any
noses on their faces—squat, flat things. And they have a very
evil custom, buying and selling human beings.”
“What?”
“ Slavery they call it.”
“Is there any difference of face or figure between the slaves
and their owners ? ”
“ No, the slaves are mere wretched chattels; they belong to
their masters body and soul.”
“ Indra protect us, and may I never have to set eyes on such
people !
“Well, Sumedha, your spindle is still at work—isn’t it time
to go to the sacrifice ? ”
“ Why not ? It is the mercy of Indra that sends fat cattle
and good wma-juice. Is there any luckless fellow who will not
take part m the festival of Indra ? ”
“And how is your good wife? Nowadays one doesn’t catch
even^a glimpse of her in the meeting-ground.”
“And you find that very unpleasant, eh?”
“ Unpleasant ? That is not the question. After all, Sumedha.
you insisted on falling in love with a young girl in your old age 1w
A man is not so old at fifty! ”
all th/tame” * 8<>0d ^ °f difference between fifty and twenty,
She could have refused at the time.”
 52 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“At that time you had curled your beard and moustaches
lo look like eighteen. Besides, Usha’s parents had their eye on
your herds, not your fifty years.”
“ Stop talking like that, Puru ! You young ones are always....
“ All right, I won’t say any more! Listen—the music has
begun to play, the ceremony is beginning.”
“ You will have made us late, and I’ll have to listen to a lot of
abuse.”
“Come on, then, and we’ll take Usha along with us.”
“ Is she still sitting in the house all this time, do you think! ”
“ Come, put this wool and the spindle away, and let us be
going.”
“They won’t be in the way at the festival.”
“ Oh ! This is the sort of thing that keeps Usha from liking
you! ”
“She would like me all right, if only you young fellows of
Mangalpur would let her.”
Talking as they went, the two companions walked out of
the township and went to where tne altar stood ready for the
sacrifice. Whenever a young man or woman, met Purudhana’s
glance, they always gave him a smile, and Purudhana turned his
head towards them with a wink. Once Sumedha caught sight of
a certain youth doing this and he began to growl :
“They’re the disgrace of Mangalpur, those young fellows! ”
“ What’s the matter, friend ? ”
“ Friend—fiddlesticks ! They are always laughing when they
see me.”
“What’s the matter, friend?”
“ Friend—fiddlesticks ! They are always laughing when they
see me.”
“ That one is a rogue, friend, as you know; why do you take
any notice of his talk ? ”
“ I can’t see a single decent man in Mangalpur! ”
There, was a level expanse round the altar, with platforms
and pillows draped in pine leaves here and there, hung with festive
garlands. The space near the altar was thronged with crowds of
men and women from the town; but the really big meeting would
begin in the evening, when every man and woman of the Puru
tribe would attend the great Mangalpur festival, as well as the
Madras from the other side of the Swat river.
Usha saw the two companions coming, and hurrying up to
Sumedha clasped his hand, mimicking the gestures of a youthful
lover, and said:
^ “Dear Sumedha! I have killed myself looking for you ever
since morning, I couldn’t find a trace of you anywhere l ”
“Oh, had I gone and died somewhere?”
 5. PURUDHANA 53

“ Don’t say such things, Sumedha! Don’t go and make a

widow of me while I’m still alive! ”
“And have widows among the Purus a shortage of young
relations-in-law (devaras) ? ”
“ Do you mean that women detest their husband’s relations
as long as their husbands are living ? ” asked Purudhana.
“ Oh, yes, that’s the question ! ” cried Sumedha. “ She has
come to make a fool of me. She left home in the morning, and
I don’t know how many houses she got invitations from ; and then
in the evening one fellow will say ‘ Dance with me ’, and another
will say ‘No, with me* There’ll be quarrelling, bloodshed, and
on account of his wife Sumedha will come in for abuse ! ’’
Usha let go his hand, and with an altered expression in her
eyes and her voice exclaimed : “ So you want to keep me shut
up in a box ! Go and sulk by the fireplace yourself! I’m going
my own way.”
She threw Purudhana a smile meant for no one else to see,
and disappeared in the crowd round the altar.
This was the one day of the year in the Swat valley when,
as in old days beside the Oxus, the flesh of the biggest horse that
could be found—it was chosen out of all those possessed by the
tribe—was offered to Indra. Though horses were not eaten here,
at this annual rite the remains of the offering were distributed,
and piously accepted by all. All the tribal Elders, the Patriarchs,—
were present with all their folk to join in offering the chosen
oblation. They knew by heart the ritual forms of the sacrifice,
and the sacred hymns of praise with which the Oxus valley
dwellers had been wont to perform the offering to Indra. To
the accompaniment of music and the recitation of prayers, the
sacrifice of the horse was completed, from the first touching and
the sprinkling of holy water to the death-blow. Then its skin
was removed, and the carcass cut into pieces, some of which—
just as they were or fried were laid on the fire as the burnt-
offering.
Evening came on while the remnants were being shared out
By this time the ground was packed with people, all wearing their
handsomest clothes and ornaments. The women wore soft, dyed
shawls held in by embroidered waist-bands of many colours, with
pretty tunics underneath. In their ears most of them had golden
ear-rings. Spring was drawing to a close, and the valley was
full of flowers in blossom, just as it is today. Men and women
alike had used them to decorate their flowing hair; and during
this festival they were at full liberty to indulge in their amorous
tastes. At night, while Usha, decked up for the occasion, was
wandering about with Purudhana’s hand clasped in her own.
Sumedha’s glance fell on them. He turned away his face. What
 54 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

else could he do, poor man? At the feast of Indra he could

not even fly into a rage; only last year he had fallen foul of the
Patriarch by doing so.
Tonight the fermented milk mixed with soma-juice was flow¬
ing in torrents. Tasty horse-meat and beef, and soma-juice, the
contribution of many villages, were brought in and piled up.
Everywhere there was welcoming of young people, intoxicated
with the excitement of new loves. They would stuff a morsel of
meat in their mouths, swallow a cup of soma-juice, dance to the
instruments that were always playing or ready to play, and then
go over to the reception-place for people from another village.
Preparations on a grand scale had been made by the whole tribe,
and the space left open here for dancing was ample.
The lndra festival was the grand holiday of the young. For
this one day and night they were set free of all restraints.

12 ]
This part of upper Swat was rich in herds and grain, and its inhabi¬
tants, therefore, contented and prosperous. Of the other articles
they required, the chief was copper, and, among luxuries, gold
and silver and some jewels, the demand for which was daily
expanding. To supply these, every year temporary Asura-settle-
ments sprang up near the junction of the Swat and the Kabul
rivers.
If seems, the Aryans later gave to the Asura outpost here
the name of Pushkalavati (Charsadda), and even now we make
use of the same name. In mid-winter the clans inhabiting Swat,
Panjkora and other mountain valleys—the Purus, Kurus, Gandharas,
Madras, Mallas, Shivis, Ushinaras, and so on—brought their
horses, blankets and other wares, and pitched their tents on the
plain outside Pushkalavati. The Asura merchants came with their
goods to the same place, and offered the articles in demand by
way of barter. This system had been flourishing for centuries.
This year the Purus’ caravan had come to Pushkalavati under
the leadership of Purudhana. It had been a complaint among the
hill-men for some years now, that the Asuras were cheating them
heavily. The Asuras, as town-bred traders, were undoubtedly
much more astute than the hill-men; so they considered them
mere clownish barbarians, and in this there was a degree of truth.
But the yellow-haired, blue-eyed Aryan horsemen would never
admit themselves to be inferior to the Asura townspeople.
Gradually, as many Aryans came to pick up the Asura language,
like Purudhana, and to have opportunities of mixing in Asura
aociety, they began to realise that the Asuras viewed them as mere
brutes. This was the beginning of hostility between the two races.
 5. PURUDHANA 55

The Asura cities were very fine. They had buildings of baked
bricks, water-pipes, baths, roads, wells and so on. Even the Aryans
did not deny the beauty of Pushkalavati. They were also ready
to admit good looks in a certain number of Asura women, though
they still criticised their noses, hair, and stature ; but they could
never be prepared to agree that Mangalpur, in its girdle of pine-
covered hills, gay with many-coloured wooden balconies and rows
of neat dwelling-houses, was any whit inferior to Pushkalavati—
a place where they always found it hard to stay for a month at
a time while their thoughts kept straying back to their own
birthplace. The same river Swat might flow by Pushkalavati;
but they found a different flavour in its water there. The touch
of the Asuras was enough, they used to say, to muddy its pure
stream. However, that might be, the Aryans were by no means
ready to recognise Asuras as even their equals, especially when
they saw their hordes of male and female slaves, or their prostitutes
sitting on flat roofs, offering their bodies for sale.
In private relations, however, many friendships sprang up
between members of the two races. The King of the Asuras lived
in a city far awav from Pushkalavati, on the banks of the Indus ;
so Purudhana had never seen him. But he had seen the King’s
local representative : a short, fat, slothful man, whose thick eye¬
lids were perpetually blinking from the effects of drink, and whose
body was loaded with dozens of gold and silver ornaments. The
lobes of his ears were pierced, and hung down to his shoulders.
To Purudhana’s eyes this Governor was the embodiment of ugli¬
ness and stupidity ; and a man like Purudhana could not form a
high opinion of a King who had such a representative as this.
He had heard that the Governor was a brother-in-law of the King,
and had been elevated to his office on account of this sole virtue.
Many weaknesses in Asura society had become evident to
Purudhana in the course of his occasional residence among them
•over several years. Intelligent as the Asuras of the upper class*
might be, most of them were also growing cowardly; they relied
on the strength of armed dependants or slaves to cope with their
enemies. This might, indeed, give them success against a weak
foe, but such an army would not be able to stand up against a
powerful opponent. Their rulers—the King and his Governors—
made pleasure the single object of their lives. Each of the ruling
men kept hundreds of concubines and slave-girls. All their women,
in fact, were treated as slaves. At present the King had in his
seraglio a number of Aryan women who had been carried off
by force and their fate had aroused a good deal of excitement
among their own people. Fortunately the King’s capital was far
away from the frontier, and no Aryans had yet made their way
 56 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

«o far; so that people treated the sad fate of these Aryan women
as mere gossip.
From the shops of Pushkalavati ornaments of many kinds,
cotton cloth, weapons and other articles, had spread not only to
Swat, but to the nomadic encampments on the upper spurs of
Kunar, The golden-haired belles of Swat were wild for the orna¬
ments made by the skilled hands of Asura craftsmen; so that
more and more of them began going to Pushkalavati with the
yearly troop of dealers.
The unfortunate Sumedha had indeed made Usha a widow, and:
she had become the wife of her husband’s cousin, Purudhana.
This year she too had come to Pushkalavati. The Governor’s,
men observed that there were a good many pretty faces in the
strangers’ tents; and their master, on being informed of this,
resolved that the caravan should be attacked on its way home as
soon as it entered the hills, and the women carried off. It was
a foolish design, the mountaineers being as warlike as he well
knew them to be; but his was a brain without even a spark of
intelligence.
The big merchants of the town had reason to hate the Gover¬
nor. He had recently taken violent possession of the handsome
daughter of a merchant who was Purudhana’s friend, and made
the father his mortal enemy. Usha had sometimes visited this
trader’s house ; she could not understand a word of his wife’s
talk, but with the help of Purudhana as interpreter, and the lady’s
friendly manners, a friendship had been formed between the two^
women.
Two days before the departure of the Aryans, this merchant
held a banquet in honour of Purudhana, as a valuable customer.
While it was going on, he whispered into his guest’s ear the
Governor’s villainous scheme. The same night, Purudhana sum¬
moned all the leading men of his party and unfolded a plan. Those
who lacked good weapons were to buy some. They had sold
off the horses they had brought to market and their heavy bales
of stuff, and were left with nothing more than their riding-horses
and what they had bought—ornaments and other metal articles;
so they had nothing to trouble about on this score. As to their
women, although the girls of Swat were growing tonder and fonder
of luxuries to adorn themselves with, to manage weapons wa&
still part of their education as well as singing and dancing. When
they heard what was afoot, then, they also got ready their swords
and shields.
Purudhana’s information was that the Asura soldiers would
Mock the way and make their attack in the steep pass leading:
across the frontier, while at the same time a strong band of them
would come in the rear to effect an encirclement. To meet this.
 5. PURUDHANA 57

threat he took all the precautions which this early news of the
scheme enabled him to take. Otherwise, the visitors from Panjkora,
Kunar and Swat, would have set out separately, not caring about
one another’s movements; as it was, all made their preparations
together. So as not to give anything away to the enemy, they
made their start from Pushkalavati at intervals of a day or two;
but it had been arranged that all should arrive simultaneously at
the entrance to the pass.
When within three or four miles of the pass, Purudhana sent
twenty-five horsemen in advance. Just as these riders entered
the pass and began the ascent, the Asuras opened fire on them with
arrows. It was true, then, that an attack had been planned. The
horsemen fell back and brought the news to their commander.
Purudhana wanted first to settle with the enemies who were closing
in from the rear. This was not beyond his strength; for,
the Asuras, though they bought thousands of horses annually from
the Aryans, had not yet trained themselves into good cavalrymen.
The cavalcade halted : a number of fighting men were left
there on guard, while Purudhana took the rest and rode with them.
The Asura force had no expectation of being attacked so uncere¬
moniously. It could not hold its ground for long against the
Aryans with their long spears and swords; but the latter had
no intention of letting their enemies off with a mere defeat—
they wanted to convince them that it was very dangerous for flat-
nosed, swarthy Asuras to cast their eyes on any Aryan woman.
When Purudhana saw them in flight, he sent word to his reserve,
and dashed forward on Pushkalavati with his own horsemen. Like
his soldiers, the Governor was taken by surprise. The Asuras
had no time to bring all their forces into play, and their citadel,
with the Governor, fell easily into the assailants’ hands.
The Aryans had been roused to fury by the treachery of the
Asuras. They massacred ruthlessly all the men they took. The
Governor was dragged to the public spuare and hacked to pieces
before the eyes of his people. Women and children, and the
merchants, were spared, and perhaps so many men would not
have been slaughtered if the Aryan had had at that time any desire
to take slaves. Several quarters of the town were burned to the
ground. Thus fell the first stronghold of the Asuras; and thus,
also commenced the great struggle between the two races, which
was to pass into Aryan mythology as the war of the Devas and
Asuras the gods and demons.
Purudhana turned back home, wiping out the Asura soldiers
who still held together in the pass, and then each party of the
hill-men took its road to its own territory.
 58 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

For some years the trade with Pushkalavati was dead. The
Ml*men refused to buy any goods from the Asuras. But it was
not for very long that they could deny themselves copper and
torass.
 6. A N G I R A
Region : Gandhara—Taxila.
People : Indo-Aryans.
Time : 1800 B.C.

This story of about 152 generations ago, depicts the

early conflicts between the Aryans and \he Asuras liv¬
ing in the north-west of India.

T HEY’RE useless, these cotton clothes; they neither keep

the winter cold out nor protect you from the rain,” said
the young man, stripping off his damp tunic and throwing
a blanket round his shoulders.
“ But they’re good in the hot weather,” returned the second
youth, spreading out his own tunic above the shutter. Evening
was still far off, but in the guest-house there were already people
stretched out before the fire. The two youths, instead of sitting
near the smoky fire, went and sat near the window, wrapped in
their blankets to keep off the cold breeze.
“We can still go another eight miles,” the first remarked,
and get to Gandhara-tcfWn (Taxila) belore the end of tomorrow
morning, but facing this rain and wind is not easy.”
“ These cloudy winter skies make everything worse. But when
-clouds don’t come, our farmers deafen Indra with their prayers
for rain, and the herdsmen grumble even more.”
“ Yes’ friend, it’s only we travellers who don’t like this weather.
And nobody is always travelling. What is your name?” the
speaker added, noticing at the back of the other’s neck the scar
-of a deep wound.
“ Pala, of the Madras. And yours ? ”
(( Varuna a Sauvira. You are coming from the east, then?”
“Yes, from the Madra country; and you from the south?
Is it true, as We hear, that in the south the Asuras are still fighting
against the Aryans?”. * *
. 0nlV on the sea-coast, where they still had one city left to
them. You know, friend, I suppose, how our prince Maghava
-destroyed a hundred of their fortified towns.” 8
“They say those Asura fortresses were built of copper.”
* The Asuras have plenty of copper, but not enough for mak-
Th • °?'uS?s out of lt! 1 don,t know how this tale got about
Their buildings are made of oblong baked bricks, and so are the
Wa,ls round «Wr towns. The bricks are reddish-coloured buTtbl™
 60 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

is a great difference between them and metal—it would be absurdl

to call bricks copper ! ”
“ Yet we keep hearing of the Asuras and their copper fortifi¬
cations, Varuna ! ”
“Possibly the name grew up just because of the effort our
prince had to make to destroy them—they seem as strong as if
they were built of metal.”
“ And then we always hear great tales about the prowess of
Shambara, and how his house stood in the sea, and his chariot
flew through the sky.”
“ All that about his chariot is nonsense. If there is one part
of warfare the Asuras are weaker in than any other, it is horse¬
manship. Even now, in their festivals, instead of horse-chariots^
they make use of ox-carts. 1 believe, Pala, it was on account of
horses that we conquered them; without them we could never
have overcome their towns. It is two centuries now since Shambara'^
death, but in my opinion he can’t have had even a horse-chariot^
to say nothing of being able to fly through the sky ! ”
“ Then if Shambara was only an ordinary enemy, how did
our prince gain such glory by defeating him ? ”
“ Because Shambara was a great hero. I have seen in Sauvira
town his copper armour, inlaid with gold; it was tremendously
strong and heavy. Most Asuras are quite small men, but Shambara
was a huge man, tall, broad, perhaps even rather fat; while our
Maghava was a slender, active young man. You can still see
the ancient Asura citadels on the banks of the Indus. A hundred
archers or so in one of them could hold off a thousand assailants.
In fact, those fortresses were impregnable ; and to destroy such
strongholds our prince Maghava—our Aryan war-leader, I should'
call him—had to be a very resolute man.”
“ In the south, have the Asuras any strength left in them,.
Varuna ? ”
“ Didn’t I tell you their last citadel on the sea-shore has just
been conquered ? I took part in the struggle myself.” A deeper
glow brightened Varuna’s sun-burned cheeks as he said this, and
he threw back his long glistening yellow hair, “The last strongr
hold of the Asuras has fallen! ”
“ Who was your prince ? ”
“We have abolished the title of prince (Indra).”
“ Abolished ? ”
“Yes; we southern Aryans began to grow afraid of it.”
“Why?”
“The duty of a prince is to command in war, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” jr
“ Aryans do not regard their military chiefs as sovereigns*
In time of war we certainly pay obedience to them; but an Aryan
 61

■considers his popular assembly the highest authority, and every

Aryan has the right to express his opinion freely in it.
“ Certainly.” . .
"But among the Asuras it is different; there a prince or king
is all in all, he recognises no popular assembly with higher powers
than his. Whatever he says, everyone has to do, unless they want
to be killed.”
“ Princes of that kind can never be accepted by us! ”
“Well, the Asuras always accept such rulers. They regard
their king as a god, not a man, and you would never believe it,
my friend, if you heard how they worship him even while he is
alive.”
"Well, I have seen for myself how the Asura priests befool
their people.”
“ They treat them as if they were lower than donkeys! You
may have heard that they do not perform sacrifices for the Fire,
but worship the sex organs—parts that serve the happiness of men
and women, no doubt, and enable the race to be carried on; but
worship them—either the organ themselves, or clay and stone
.images of them—what folly is that! ”
“ Of course ! ”
"And that Asura kings were very much devoted to that kind
-of worship. But it seems to me there was a good deal of pure
mummery in it. After all, they and their priests were no fools,
they were far shrewder than us Aryans. We shall have to learn
.a great deal from them if we are to build cities like theirs. Their
-shops, their ponds dappled with lotuses, their lofty buildings, their
highroads—these were things you could never find in our primitive
Aryan lands. I have seen the deserted Asura cities of northern
Sauvira, and this city that has just been conquered. We Aryans
were not able even to repair their old cities and restore them to
what they were; but this new one—they say it was founded by
.Shambara himself—it is like a city of the gods! ”
" What! ”
“That is the truth. There is no place on earth that can be
■compared to it. For instance, take one of its houses meant for a
.single family. It will have one or two furnished sitting-rooms, a
separate kitchen with a chimney, a brick well in the courtyard, a
bathroom, a bedroom, and a granary. I have seen houses of
ordinary citizens with two or three storeys. There is no way of
describing it; I can*t compare that Asura city to anything but a
city of the gods.”
“There are Asura towns in the east also, but they lie far
beyond our Madra country” (of modern Sialkot).
 62 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“I have seen them, friend. And we must admit that those-

who built them were cleverer than we. Have you ever heard
about the ocean ? ”
“ Only its name.”
“ You can form no notion of it from hearing its name, or
even from hearing it described. It is only when you stand at its.
edge and stare at it that you begin to learn what it is. In front
of you the blue water runs up to the blue sky.”
“ How can it run up to the sky, Varuna ? ”
“ It does—as far as your eye can reach, the water spreads
on and seems to rise up, as high as several palm-trees, until it
touches the sky.”
Both are almost the same colour, for sea-water is bluer than
ours. And over this boundless ocean the Asuras sailed their great
boats fearlessly, on voyage of months or years ; and they brought
up gems of many kinds out of the waves. That is another example
of the courage and skill of the Asuras. Besides—there is one
thing you can’t have heard of, friend. The Asuras can talk and
converse without using their mouths.”
“ What’s that ?—without words ? ”
“ Yes, without words ! Give him clay, stone and leather, and
an Asura will make some signs on them so that another man
will understand all that he means. What we could not explain in
two hours of taking, they can make clear with five or ten signs.
The Aryans never learned this. Now they are trying to learn
these signs, but even if they spend years on it, they will never
master it fully.”
“There seems no doubt that the Asuras were more intelligent
than we are, then ! ”
“Yes. We see everywhere the work of their craftsmen,,
potters, chariot-builders, sword-smiths, black-smiths, weavers. How
could there be any doubt of their superiority over us ? ”
“And the Asuras are brave as well, you say.”
“Brave, yes, but only a very few of them. Their children
are not like ours, who all begin playing with swords as soon as
they are weaned. Their soldiers are a separate clan; so are their
craftsmen, merchants and slaves. No one outside the warrior
clan learns to bear arms, the warriors regard all the rest with
contempt, and the slaves, men and women, are worse off than
animals. Their masters not only buy them and sell them, their
arbitrary power over them extends to life and limb.”
“ How many soldiers have they ? ”
“ The soldiers are less than one in a hundred; forty out of
every hundred are slaves, another forty are in a half-servile con¬
dition—for their craftsmen and peasants are half slaves ; ten will
be traders, and the rest men of other professions,”
 6. ANGIRA 63

“That must be why they have been defeated by the Aryans.”'

“ Yes, it was one of the chief causes of their defeat, and
another main reason was their defying the king and putting him
far above the people.”
“ We Aryans could never do that.”
“That is why we had to abolish the rank of prince (lndra). It
was because of a certain prince, after the time of Maghava, who
wanted to be just like an Asura king.”
“ To lord it at his whim over the Aryan nation ? ”
“ Yes, and he was not the only one; after him came another,
and then some other Aryans were found helping them to gain
what they wanted.”
“ Helping them ? ”
“ In the interests of their own clans or families. So the
Sauviras have determined that henceforth no one shall be made a
prince. 1 lndra ’ (Prince) is also the name of the god who wields
the lightning which might give rise to confusion in people’s minds.”
“ The Sauviras have done well, friend ! ”
“ But some have sprung up to disgrace the Aryan name, who are
never tired of praising everything of the Asuras. Many Asura
achievements are praiseworthy : I praise them myself, and we
must adopt them. We have made their implements our own. It
was by copying their ox-carts that our prince Maghava designed
the horse-chariot. It is more convenient for an archer to shoot
from a chariot than from horse-back, because he can have as
many quivers as he likes by him, and he can have a shield to
protect him from enemy arrows. We have also learned much
from their armour, their javelins, their maces, and so on. We are
adopting many things from their cities. We must learn the art of
seafaring from them, because metals like copper, and jewels, and
many other articles, come from across the sea, and all the trade
in them is still in the hands of Asura merchants. If we want
to be independent of them, we must learn how to sail the seas*
But in spite of all this, there are many Asura customs that we
must recognise as dangerous for us, such as woiship of sex.”
“ But what Aryan would take that up! ”
“Don’t be too sure, friend. There are some Aryans who
are saying that we ought to set up a priesthood of our own, like
what the Asuras have. At present there is no distinction among
us between warriors, priests, merchants, farmers and artisans;
everyone can do every kind of work at will, whereas the Asuras
have marked off each class from the other. Once let priests be
set up among the Aryans, and within a few years you will see
sex-worship beginning as well. The Asura priests are very artful,
and ours would do the same as they do, out of greed for profits.”
“ That would be a curse, Varuna ! ”
 *4 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“A great many evils have crept among the Aryans because

uof their contact with the Asuras in the last two hundred years.
Our old men have watched it in despair. I am not hopeless, I
believe that if the good old ways are properly taught to our people,
they will not degenerate. They say there is a Rishi, a man of
learning, in Gandhara town named Angira. He teaches people, in
.order to set the Aryans again firmly on the Aryan way, I have
drawn my sword to help the Aryans to victory; now I want to
vdo something to save the Aryan way of life.”
“ This is a coincidence! I, too, am on my way to the Rishi
Angira, to learn the art of war from him.”
“ Oh! But, Pala—you have told me nothing about the state
of the Aryans in the east.”
“ In the east they are spreading like a forest fire. The country
stretching beyond Gandhara we Madras have occupied. Further
on still the Mallas have established themselves, and in the same
way the Kurus, the Panchals and others have carved big terri¬
tories for themselves.”
" The Aryans must be in great numbers there ! ”
‘‘Not very great. The further they have spread, the more
they are outnumbered by the Asuras and other races.”
“ What other races ? ”
“ The Asuras are of the colour of mangur fish, or copper. To
the east are people of a different kind, called Kols—they are black
as the boar and also Kiratas. Some of them live in villages,
others in the forest like the deer. Most of the forest Kols’ im¬
plements are made of stone.”
“ I suppose there is sharp fighting between the Aryans and the
others ? ”
“There are few pitched battles now. The natives run away
at the mere sight of our horses ; but they attack our settlements
in the night, so we often have to give them a cruel lesson, and
many of the villages of the Asuras and Kols have been left
deserted; they are retreating eastwards.”
"So there is no danger of Asura customs getting a foothold
among you, Pala ? ”
“ Not among the Madras, nor perhaps among the Mallas;
I don’t know about further east. Among us, in fact, the non-
Aryans survive only in the forests.”
The two friends kept up their exchange of news still nightfall,
and perhaps would have kept it up even later if the keeper of
the guesthouse had not come to enquire about food for them.
The building had been put up at the cost of the village, for all
travellers—those of the fair race, needless to say—to stop at, and
those who had no food with them could be provided with parched
.grain and beef-soup. If a traveller had provisions he could give
 6. ANGIRA 65

them to the keeper, who would cook them and prepare a meal;
if not, some equivalent had to be given. This guesthouse was
famous for its soma-juice and wine. Varuna and Pala cemented
their friendship with roast beef and ale.

[ 2 ]
Angira the Rishi had risen to the highest position among the
Gandhara folk to the east of the Indus. The Asuras had begun
to retreat after the first sack of Pushkalavati; and when in the
next generation a branch of the Gandhara tribe came from the
Kunar river to seize the western part of what became the Gandhara
country, the Asuras who still survived made haste to evacuate
this area. Only thirty years went by before the Gandhara and
Madra tribes invaded the country east of the Indus, and shared
it between themselves, the former taking the region between
Jhelum and the Indus, and the latter the region between the
Jhelum and the Ravi—lands that in course of time were to become
well known under the names of their conquerors.
In this opening contest between the Aryans and Asuras, the
two sides rivalled each other in their inhuman brutality, as a result
of which not a single Asura was left in Gandhara, and very few
among the Madras. But as time passed, the resistance of the
Asuras in the borderlands weakened and their enemies treated
them with less brutality. Not only this, but, as Varuna had said,
the yellow-haired race began to feel an admiration for much of
Asura culture.
Angira was not only deeply versed in the Aryan tradition
that had descended from the Oxus valley; he was anxious that the
Aryans should not lose the purity of their blood and their beliefs
and customs. This was his motive for encouraging and reintro¬
ducing among the herdsmen the eating of horse-flesh, which for
some reason had died out. So celebrated had he become for his
devotion to the Aryan tradition, his learning, and his mastery of
the art of war, that Aryan youths even from the remotest Aryan
colonies began to come to him as students. Yet no one at that
time could guess that the seed planted by Angira would one day
grow into a great tree—the Taxila academy—to gather whose
mellow fruit, devotees of Aryan lore would come journeying from
a thousand miles away.
Angira was sixty-five years old, an impressive figure with his
white hair, his gleaming white beard hanging to his waist, and his
calm, meditative face. Several centuries were still to elapse before
pen and ink and writing on leaves were devised; all his instruction
was given orally, and his pupils learned the old songs and stories
by heart, through repeating them over and over again. Students
 66 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

who came from far-off places could not bring provisions with them.
Angira had to make arrangements for feeding and also for clothing
them. Besides devoting his own land to this purpose, he cleared
some forest-tracts with the aid of his pupils, and brought new fields
under the plough, where enough wheat was grown to supply food
for the whole year. Orchards and fruit-gardens had not yet been
planted ; but at the time of year when fruit was ripening in the
forest, Angira used to go there with his band of disciples and
gather it. Ploughing, sowing and harvesting, or collecting flowers,
fruits and firewood, they would sing in chorus the songs first com¬
posed on the banks of the Oxus or the Swat.
Angira’s horse-breeding farm, also, was the biggest in Gandhara.
He had set his students and acquaintances on the look-out, far
and wide, for stallions and mares of the finest quality, and had
bred from them ; and it was from his stud that originated the
Sindhu breeds, celebrated everywhere in later times. In addition,
Angira owned thousands of cattle and sheep. His students were
expected to do manual work along with intellectual, the Rishi
himself bearing a hand in it off and on. It was unavoidable, for
only in this way could the problem of feeding and clothing them
be solved.
The hills cast of Taxila were all well watered, fertile and green.
Today Varuna and Pala had joined a group of youths who were
with Angira, keeping an eye on the pastures. Not far from the
tents, young calves with clear, reddish skins were frisking. The
Rishi and his pupils were sitting out on the grass. Angira had a
skein of fine wool in his left hand, and with the other was twirling
a big wooden spindle. Some of the others were spinning, some
were carding the wool, some were smoothing out fleeces with their
fingers. The Rishi was explaining many things old and new, the
rites and customs of Aryans and non-Aryans, what kinds of arts
deserved adoption, and what ought to be rejected.
“To say that everything new-fangled must be rejected, and
everything ancient preserved, is ridiculous,” he was declaring, “ and
to put such an opinion into practice is impossible. When copper
tools, instead of stone ones, began to be known to the Aryans of
the Oxus valley, no doubt many of them disliked such novelties.”
“ How did they manage to do their work with stone tools ? ”
asked Varuna who was a favourite with the Rishi.
“To-day, my son work is done with copper tools, to-morrow
something sharper still will be discovered, and then people will
wonder how they ever managed with copper tools! A man has
to get through his work with whatever implement is available at
tl*e time. When battles were fought with stone axes, both sides
were armed with the same weapons; as soon as one side got hold
of copper axe, the other side, too, was obliged to throw away its
 6. ANGIRA 67

stone weapons, or it would have had no living-space left in the

world. That is why I said it was foolish to denounce all new
things because they are new. If I had been an enemy of what¬
ever is new, I should never have been able to breed such beautiful
horses and cows. I noticed that when you have good stallions
and mares, you get good foals; so I picked out some animals, and
now after thirty-five years, you see how my herd has developed.
“ The Asuras had a good method of irrigating their fields.
They dug channels from the hill streams, and led water along them;
we adopted the same method in Gandhara. They had many use¬
ful ideas in town-planning and in medicine, and those also we
have adopted. Whatever valuable things we may come on in
the way of food, or clothing, or self-protection, we must turn to
account, without considering whether they are old or new, or
whether their origin was Aryan or non-Aryan. When they were
in Swat, and before that time, the Aryans had never even heard
of cotton cloth, yet now we are all wearing it, because of its com¬
fortableness in hot weather.
“ But there are many other things which we should reject as
if they were poison. For us, the Asura sex-worship is an abomina¬
tion. Their strict division into classes is something we must not
imitate, for when you have that you can no longer call on every
man to bear arms for the defence of his country, and the people
feel themselves divided into high and low. We must not mix our
blood with Asura blood, for that would be the beginning of our
turning into Asuras, and then among the Aryans, too, there would
be a growth of higher and lower classes, representing various crafts
and professions.”
“ Do not all the Aryans think it wrong to intermarry with the
Asuras ? ” Pala enquired.
“ Yes, but they are not careful enough about it. Are there
not Aryans who have relations with Asura and Kol women ? ”
“Yes, on the frontiers they do it, they say, and visiting the
prostitutes in the Asura cities is quite common among our warriors.”
“ And what will come of it ? The mixture of races will go
on. Boys and girls of our blood will be born among the Asuras,
and we Aryans, out of uncertainty or from being tricked, will
accept them as our own. What will be left of our purity of blood
then ? To safeguard this purity all of us, men and women, will
have to be on our guard. Moreover, we must be careful not to
admit the institution of slavery into our lands, because nothing
is more dangerous to racial purity. I even tell you, we must see
to it that not a trace of any non-Aryans is found in our country.
“The greatest danger, and the root of all evils, is the Asura
institution of monarchy, of which their priesthood is an offshoot.
The Asura people have no rights; each Asura thinks it his religious
 68 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

duty to do anything the king may command* Their priests teach

them that the control of all public affairs rests with the gods above
and the king below, and that the people can have no freedom
to speak or to act. The king himself is a god on earth. I was
full of joy when I heard that the Shi vis and Sauviras had abolished
the title of prince (Indraj ; although among the Aryans the prince
never gained as much power as the Asura king enjoyed, for he was
simply a notable warrior chosen by the people, and had no authority
to establish his rule over them. Still, there was danger in the
title itself, and under cover of it there were some who tried to
set up an Asura monarchy among the Aryans.
“ If the Aryans want to keep their own way of life safe,
they must not confer royal power on any individual. Aryans detest
the Asura religion, no doubt; but from the day when kings arise
among them, an Asura priesthood will begin to spring up too;
and then the Aryan way will be as good as lost. The king will
enjoy himself at the expense of his people, and to get the assistance
of the gods he will bribe the priests on to his side; and between
king and priest the people will be reduced to slavery.
“We must hold fast with all our strengtn to the ancient
Aryan ways, and if any branch of our race is seduced from them,
it must be expelled from the Aryan fellowship.’’

[ 3 ]
Many disturbing rumours were reaching Varuna from the southern
part of Sauviras (modern Sindh). It appeared from them that,
with the capture of the last Asura stronghold, bitter dissension
was raising its head within the Aryan fold. Often had Varuna
discussed the problem of Sauvira, from every point of view with
his teacher. Rishi Angira always said that although this quarrel
had broken out first in Sauvira, it was bound to spread from there
to all the Aryan lands. From the beginning, Aryans had placed
the authority of the people above the individual, but the spectacle
of unchecked despotism among the Asuras might well inspire many
Aryan leaders with the temptations of power and self-indulgence.
Between the two conceptions a mortal struggle was inevitable,
and the more Asuras were left in any region the greater was the
likelihood of its flaring up quickly, for the vanquished Asuras
would be eager to profit by the internecine strife of the Aryans.
After staying at Gandhara-town for eight years, Varuna decided
to leave it because the news from Sauvira-town (modern Ron) was
becoming still more alarming. Pala, his earliest friend among the
Rishi's pupils, accompanied him. Passing the limits of Gandhara,
they entered Sindhu, the region where the Indus flows by the Salt
Range. Those busy in the salt-mines, merchants and labourers,
 6. ANGIRA 69

were still Asuras for the most pait, and this had had bad effects
on the Aryans, who had grown slothful and ease-loving. They were
too fond of getting their work done for them by the non-Aryans,
and considered horsemanship and swordsmanship the only business
worthy of them. Non-Aryan lands were fertile soil for the growth
of Aryan monarchies as powerful as that of the Asuras. However,
on crossing the Salt hills, the friends arrived at the first outpost
of Sauvira, where Multan stands now, and there they found a
somewhat better state of affairs. All the inhabitants were Aryans
and it was very much to their credit that they had made this an
Aryan land in spite of the frightful heat. Varuna and Pala were
making their journey in mid-summer, though their hardships were
lessened by the fact that they were descending the Indus by boat.
The heat of Sauvira-town itself was indescribable; it was a severe
affliction to them.
Since the Aryans had not yet devised an alphabet, the occa¬
sional news that Varuna was able to send back to his friends through
Sauvira travellers, could not be very full. He often thought of
the Asuras and their art of writing.
As soon as he reached Sauvira-town, it was clear to him that
things had already gone very far. In the town itself there were
few supporters of Sumitra—the commander who had destroyed
the last Asura citadel—but in southern Sauvira there were many
Aryans ready to take his side. At the time of the Asura’s final
defeat, Sumitra had shown their townsfolk more clemency than
he need have done, and Varuna had warmly admired him for it.
But now it was borne in upon him that it had been a piece of cun¬
ning on Sumitra’s part : Sumitra knew that the Asuras would
never again be able to rise against the Aryans, and that by his
-display of kindness he could turn to his own account the wealth
and courage of the Asura merchants overseas.
Sumitra was still occupying the Asura city on the coast with
the army, and, on the pretext of imaginary wars, refused to think
of coming back. Varuna began by meeting the ordinary elders
of the people, who were in the dark as to Sumitra’s intentions.
They thought that some of the higher leaders were opposing
Sumitra because of private hatred. Then, when he met these
important men, they explained the whole situation, but added that
although Sumitra’s evil purpose was clear enough to them, it was
•not clear to the mass of the people, who saw it in a different light.
In the attack on the Asura city, Varuna had been Sumitra’s
second in command, and though nine years had passed by, his
prowess was still held in high esteem by the people. Before trying
to impress his views on them, he wished to go in person and
glean information about Sumitra. With this object, he and his
 70 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

friend one day boarded a boat bound for southern Sauvira. They
had equipped themselves to appear as Gandhara merchants.
The city looked indeed a city of Asuras rather than
of Aryans. Its commercial streets were full of palaces of Asura
sea-traders, and of merchandise from many lands. Many lead¬
ing Asura families were still living in their own quarters of the
town, where, just as formerly, fettered slaves could be seen for
sale. In fact, Varuna began to wonder what had become of the
Aryan conquerors. Sumitra was living in the old royal palace.
One day Varuna sent Pala to see him, under colour of taking him
a present from the Gandhara merchants. Pala came back with
the report that, except for his fair hair and skin, Sumitra had
completely transformed himself into an Asura ruler. His mansion
was not the unpretentious house of an Aryan leader, but an
Asura Court glittering with gold and silver. There was equally 1
little of plain living among his military attendants. As the weeks
went by, it grew clear that the Aryans were only busy with dances-
and drinking-bouts in the company of Asura girls. Many Aryan
women were eager to come and join their husbands, but excuses
were always found for preventing them, sumitra himself kept
sending messages to prevent his wife from coming ; he had fallen
in love with the daughter of an Asura priest, not to speak of the
numerous Asura beauties who were inmates of his harem, and
he allowed the same license to his followers. When other Aryans
began to come from outside, he put a stop to it by setting slaves
to assault them, which resulted in several murders.
Having gathered all the information he wanted, Varuna made
his departure unobtrusively, and returned to Sauvira-town with his
friend.

There he informed the leading men of how firmly Sumitra

had established his power—so firmly that they now had to deal
not only with the Aryan soldiers in the Asura city, but with the
Asura forces also; and therefore they must make preparations,
and at once let the people understand how things stood.

Varuna was beloved as a dancer, and when the women, who*

had not seen their husbands’ faces for years, heard from the
mouth of this handsome actor of their husbands’ misdoings, they
gave him their full confidence. Then the news began to fly from
ear to ear. Varuna wa s a poet also : he made into haunting songs
the curses of the deserted Aryan women against the Asura
charmers, and the lustful, selfish life of Sumitra; and his songs-
spread like wild fire through all the Sauvira settlements.

At last he sent the wives to their faithless husbands, a few

at a time, and their contemptuous dismissal established the mis-
conduct of the husbands still more clearly. On Sumitra’s refusal
to return home when summoned, Varuna was elected commander
 6. ANGIRA 71

in his stead, and set out for the Asura city with a large force.
At the news of Varuna’s approach disagreement broke out
among Sumitra’s followers; a good many of them genuinely
regretted their lapse into Asura habits. With his remaining troops
Sumitra had no hope of waging a successful struggle ; finally he
delivered up the city to Varuna, and expressed himself willing to
return to Sauvira-town.

Thus the Aryans passed through their first severe test. Varuna
did not molest the Asuras, who were no longer capable of taking
up arms. But to remove his Aryans from their influence, he
built a separate town there for his own people, and began to
put into effect many of the ideas he had learned from Angira*
the Rishi.
 7. SUDAS
Region: Kuru-Panchala, at the western
part of the Uttara Pradesh
People: Vedic Aryan.
Time: 1,500 B.C.

This story is of the Aryans, 144 generations ago. At that

time, the earliest Ri-shis—Vashishtha, Vishvamitra and
Bharadwaja—were composing the hymns of the Rig Veda;
and the Aryan rulers of the Kuru-Panchala region, with
the help of these Aryan priests, were dealing their final
and fiercest blows against the old democratic society.

S PRING was coming to an end. The plains of the Chenab

—the River of the Moon—were covered with a far-stretch¬
ing expense of ripe, golden wheat, rippling in the breezes;
here and there groups of harvesters, men and women, were singing
at their work. Herds of mares with their young ones had been
turned loose to graze on the fresh grass springing up in the fields
already cut.
Through the sunlight a wayfarer was moving onward with
lagging step. The frayed cloth turban tied round his head left
a matted lock of hear in view, an old cloak was thrown round
his body, above a waist-cloth that hung to his knees a staff was
gripped in his hand. His mouth was parched with thirst. He
had screwed up his resolution to reach the next township; but
when he caught sight of a rough well and a low :>hami tree beside
the track, this resolution deserted him. He pulled off his turban,
next removed his waist-cloth and tying the two together attempted
to let one end down into the water; but he could not reach it.
At length he sat down, leaning against the nearby tree; it seemed
to him that he would never be able to get up again.
But just now a girl appeared, with a water bag on one shoulder,
a rope on the other, and a skin pitcher in her hand. The traveller’s
dying hope rose once more. The young woman came up to the
well and put down the water-bag, and was about to lower the
pitcher into the water when her eyes met those of the wanderer.
His face was pallid, his lips cracked, his cheeks hollow, his eyes
sunken, his feet caked with dust. Yet his youthfulness was
apparent, despite all this.
He saw that her dress was plain but dignified—a girl’s cap
on her golden hair, a shawl, a bodice and a skiit. The hot sun
had flushed her cheeks, and perspiration glistened on the fore-
 7. SU'JAS 73

head and upper lip She stared for a moment at the unexpected
stranger, and then her pretty lips curved in tne ready smile of
a Madra girl as she said to him, in a pleasant voice that already
half soothed his thirst . “It seems to me that you need water,
brother ? ”
The traveller made a biave but unavailing effort to steady
his giddy brain.
“Yes, i am very thirsty.”
“ I’ll give you water ”
By the time she had filled her pitcher, he had got to his feet
and was standing by hei His sturdy limbs and well-formed
bones showed that he still retained an unusually vigorous frame.
The girl handed him a leather cup attached to her water-bag, and
poured watei into it from the pitcher He took a big mouthful
and let it trickle down his throat, and then lowered his head, sat
down, and emptied the cup at one di aught I he cup slipped
from his fingers, he struggled to pull himscif together, but fell
backward.
The girl was struck speechless toi a moment, but she quickly
realised, from his staring eye-balls, that he had fainted Hastily
soaking her head-cloth m water, she began pressing it on the man’s
mouth and forehead A short time later he opened his eyes, and
said, painfully, as though ashamed : “I am sorry for troubling
you.”
“ There is no trouble : but I was frightened. What happened
to you ? ”
“ Nothing, my stomach was empty, and I was so thirsty that
I drank too much. It’s all right now ”
“ Your stomach empt> 0 ’’
Without giving him time to answer, she ran off, and presently
icappeaied with a basin of curds, parched flour and honey
Catching the travellers expression of shame-faced hesitation, she
exclaimed * “ Don’t be afraid! I have a brother who left home
several years ago. It leminds me of my brother to give you this
little help,”
He took the basin; she poured more watei for him, and he
mixed the paiched flour into it and swallowed it little by little
Wfaen he had drunk it, the exhaustion had began to leave his face,
and a speechless gratitude was written on it. He was seaiching
for words but the girl as it divining what was in his mind, said—
“ There is no need to feel awkward, brother. You seem to
have come from far away 9 ”
“Yes, from very far m the east, from Panchala.”
“Where are you going?”
“This way or the other way—anywhere.”
 74 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ But just now ? ’’

“ I want to find some work that I can earn food and clothings
by.”
“ Would you like to do farm work ? ”
“ Why not ? I know how to plough and sow and reap and
thresh. I know how to look after horses and cattle. I am quite
strong; it’s only that just now I am worn out—after a little while
I shall be fit for hard work again. I have never left a master
dissatisfied.”
“Then I think my father will put you to work. Come with
me—I’ve filled my bag.”
He was anxious to carry the water-bag, but she would not
let him. In the fields ahead of them a red tent had been pitched,
and outside it some forty men and women were sitting. Which
of the men was his companion’s father, the youth could not guess.
All had the same simple clothes, tne same fair hair and skin, the
same lively faces. The girl put down the water-bag and pitcher
on a skin spread out in the middle, and then went up to one of
the men—a man sixty years of age, but still hale and vigorous.
“ Father,” she said “ this stranger is looking for work.”
“ Farm work, daughter ? ”
“Yes, any kind.”
“ Let him work here, then. He will get the same as all the
other men.”
The newcomer was listening, but the old man called him
and repeated his offer, which he accepted.
“ Come along, then ! We are just having our midday meal;
take your share.”
“ I have eaten some parched flour that your daughter gave
me, my lord.”
“ Lord ! no such nonsense. My name is Jeta, son of Rhibhu
of the Madras. Eat and drink as much as you like. Apala!
Give him some of the fermented mare’s milk. It’s a good drink
for hot weather, boy. In the evening I’ll ha/e a talk with you ;
all you need tell me now is your name.”
“Sudas—1 am a Panchala.”
“ Don’t call it Sudas ! The name should be Suda—‘ Giver
of fine gifts You people from the east can’t even talk properly.
So you are from the Panchala country ? Well—Apala! These
eastern people are always bashful. Give him enough food to make
him ready for some work in the evening.”
On Apala’s insistence, Sudas drank two or three cups of the
fermented milk, and forced a couple of morsels of bread down
his throat. His appetite seemed dead; he had had nothing for
two whole days.
 7. SUDAS 75

As the heat of the sun diminished, he felt fresh energy coming

to life in him, and before the evenings labour was ended he was
using his sickle with the best of them.
Before nightfall they went away a good distance, to the
threshing barns. Xeta’s fields were broad, as was proved by the
more than two hundred workers collected that night near the
threshing-floor. The cooks were busy in their huts. A fat ox had
been slaughtered, and its bones, entrails and part of the meat had
been put, three hours before sunset, in big cauldrons. The rest of
the meat was being boiled with salt in portions of a pound’s weight
each. Close to the buildings was a big flat piot of ground where
the threshing was done, with a good well and a pool of water at
one end. Men and women flocked to the pool to wash—some their
faces and hands, other their whole bodies.
When darkness fell they all sat down in a row, with bread,
meat and pots of liquor before them. Apala, remembering Sudas*
shyness, made him sit next to her—though in fact what she was
remembering still more was her brother who had gone away to
foreign lands. After the meal, singing and dancing began ; and
though Sudas could not join in on this first night, he was to make
himself before long the favourite singer and dancer of the company.
The reaping, carting and threshing went on for a month and
a half; but before two weeks were over, Sudas had altered beyond
recognition. His wide blue eyes were sparkling, and his cheeks
had regained their natural colour. The veins and bones no longer
stood out from his skin. At the end of the first week Jeta had
given him a new set of clothes.

The threshing was almost completed ; all those who had been
working at it, except for half a dozen including Jeta and his daughter
and Sudas, had taken their pay<nent in grain and gone away.
These were the folk who had little land of their own, and so had
come to work in Jeta’s fields after reaping their own crops.
In this month and a half Jeta and Apala had come to know
their young labourer well, and his pleasant, merry disposition.
One evening Jeta fell into talk with him about the people of the
eastern lands, while Apala sat near them listening.
“ I have never been far towards the east,” he remarked, “ but
I have seen your Panchala city. I used to go there in the winter
to sell my horses.”
“ And what did you think of the country ? ”
** There’s nothing wrong with the country. It is as well-kept
and rich as our Madra lands, and the fields seemed even more
fertile than ours; but—”
“ But what ? ”
“ Well-don’t be angry, Sudas, there are no men living there.’*
 76 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

** No men ? What then—gods, or demons ? ”

441 only say that the people are not men."’
“ I shan’t be angry, master; what makes you say this ? M
“Suda, you have seen a couple of hundred men and women
working in my fields, haven’t you ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Did you ever see them cringing to me because they were
working on my land and taking my wages ? **
“ No; they all behaved as though they belonged to your
family.”
“ Yes, they really are human beings, they really were like a
family. We were all Madras together. That is the kind of thing
one pines for in the east, There you find slaves and masters,
but no human beings, no brotherhood.”
“ What you say is true. 1 have only come to see what humanity
is worth since 1 crossed the Sutlej river, and especially since I
came into your Madra country. Living among men is a joy, it
is something to be proud of, to think oneself lucky for.”
“I’m glad that you are not upset by what I said, my son,
Every man loves his own land.”
“But he ought not to shut his eyes to the faults of what he
loves.”
“I often used to think about it in my days of travelling in
those parts, and I talked about it with the learned men here. I
came to understand how the evil had entered, but not the remedy
for it.”
“ How did the evil come ? ”
“The Panchala country is supposed to be the home of the
Panchala people, but as a matter of fact half the inhabitants are
not Panchalas at all.”
“Yes, many from outside have settled there.”
"I am not speaking of them ! 1 am thinking of the original
inhabitants. Those who form the artisan classes now, the mer¬
chants, the slaves—they were all living long before the Panchala
folk ever set foot in the land. And you know what colour their
skins are.”
44 Yes, it is quite different from that of the Panchala folk—
it is black or like copper.”
44 And are the Panchala folk fair-coloured like the Madras ? ”
41 More or less
“That’s it—more or less, because intermingling with the other
Tace is altering their colour. I believe that if there were only
Aryans living there, just as there arc here, perhaps life there would
he what human life should be. The difference of status between
the two races may be the result of their having different skins.”
 7. SUDAS 77

“And as you know, perhaps, these distinctions of high and

low, master and slave, were common even in old clays among the
non-Aryans—the Asurs, as our forefathers called them.”
“Yes, but the Panchalas were once simply Aryans, all alike*
all of the same flesh and blood. Then gradually the division
between high and low penetrated them. Their king, Divodas, was
once buying some of my horses, and I was brought before him.
He was a well-built, handsome, fair-skinned young man; but he
had a heavy red and yellow crown on his head, his ears were
pierced and had big rings in them, and there were all kinds of
ornaments on his fingers and round his neck. 1 felt sorry for
him when I saw all that. It was like seeing the moon hidden by
an eclipse. His wife was there too. She w-as as pretty as a
Madra girl, but the poor creature was bent under the weight of
her coloured ornaments.”
Sudas felt his heart beating faster. He struggled to keep his
emotion from showing itself in his face, but finding this impossible,
and wanting to change the subject, he said :
“ So the king took your horses ? •'
“ He took them, and paid a good price for them. I don’t
remember how much gold ; but it used to put me in a fever, to
see the Panchalas themselves coming to him, kneeling to him, salut¬
ing him, begging him. No Madras could do that, my son, not
even to save his life.” *
“ You didn’t have to behave like that, then ? ”
“ If anyone had told me to do it I should have come to blows
with him. Those kings in the eastern lands never give us such
orders. But among them it is a very old custom.”
“ Why ? ”
“You want to know why? K is a long slozy. When the
Panchala folk were migrating from the west into those parts between
the Jumna and Ganges and the Himalayas, they ail lived like one
family, just as the Madras do. Then they mingled with the Asuras,
and in imitation of them many among the Panchalas were fired
with the ambition of becoming chiefs, kings or priests.”
“ But what was the root of their ambition ? ’’
“ They were eager for pleasure, eager to live on the labour of
others without working themselves. It was these kings and priests
who spread division among the Panchalas, and would not let them
live like human beings any more.”
Jeta got up, and went off to his work.

[ 2 ]
Four years passed away. Sudas was still living near the Madra
township (where Sialkot now stands) with Jeta’s lamily. Jeta’s
78 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

wife was dead : one or two married sisters and daughters shared
the house, but its permanent occupants were Jeta himself, Apala
and Sudas. Apala was now twenty years old. It was clear from
their behaviour that she and Sudas were in love with each other.
Apala was reckoned one of the beauties of the district, and had
no lack of handsome young suitors while there was also no lack
of pretty girls for a handsome young man like Sudas to choose
from. But it was noticed that the two always chose each other
for the dance. Jeta noticed it with the rest, and would have been
delighted, if Sudas had been prepared to settle down there for
good. Sudas, however, had recurrent moods of anxiety about his
parents. Jeta knew that he was their only son.
One day Apala and Sudas had gone to bathe in the Chenab,
the river of lovers. Often enough before, bathing, Sudas had seen
Apala’s naked, sun-browned limbs ; but today, seeing her among
fifty naked girls and comparing hei beauty with theirs, he felt
as though he were fully realising her charms for the first time.
On the way home, finding him silent, Apala asked : “ Are you
tired, Sudas—you are saying nothing ? Swimming right across the
Chenab and back twice is quite a tiring business ! ”
“ What about you, Apala ? You swam across and back—I
did it twice, but I could cross the Chenab ten times if I could stay
there long enough ! ”
“When we were coming out I noticed how much your chest
had broadened, and the muscles on your arms and legs seem to
have grown twice as heavy.”
“Swimming is good exercise. It makes a man’s body strong
and well shaped. But you Apala—how much more beautiful you
have grown There is no one else in the world so beautiful as
you are now ! ’’
“ It is only your eyes that care about me—isn’t it! ”
“ It is no silly infatuation that makes me say it.”
“Yes, you have never asked me for a kiss even, and yet the
Madra girls are generous enough with such gifts.’’
“You were quite generous to me with them even without my
-asking! ”
“ But then it was because I used to look at you and see my
brother Shvetashrava! ”
“ And now you won’t give me any more ? ”
“ Why shouldn’t I kiss you, if you ask me to ? ”
“ And if I ask you, will be my— ? ”
“Stop, Sudas! It would make me unhappy to have to say
“No”’
“ But it is in your own power to prevent that unhappiness.”
44 Not in my power. In yours.”
 7. SUDAS 79
“ How ? ”
“ Arc you willing to stay all your life in my father’s house ? ”
Sudas had long been afraid of the moment when he should
hear from these sweet lips these fateful words. Now, swift as
lightning, they pierced his ears and reached his heart. For a
while his face was clouded with perplexity. But he could not
let Apala see what was going on in his mind. Presently he said
quietly :
“Apala, how much I love you.”
“ 1 know, and you know that I too love you. I want to be yours
for ever. It would please my father too. But you must turn
your back on Panchala.”
“ That is no hardship for me. Only my old mother and father
are there. I am my mother’s only son. I gave her a promise that
1 would see her again before she died.”
“I don't want to make you break your word. I shall always
love yo«, Sudas ! Even if you leave me. if you do, I know I
shall always be weeping for you, to the end of my life. But
neither of us can break the promise we have made, you to your
mother, and I—to my heart.”
“ What promise have you made to your heart, Apala ? ”
“ Never to go away from this country of men to that inhuman
place.”
“ Inhuman ?—the Panchala country ? ”
“Yes, where humanity has no value, and women have no free¬
dom.”
“I think of it as you think.”
“ That is why I give you this kiss ...” she laid her tear-
stained cheek against his lips.
“Go now,” she said, when lie had kissed her, “see your
mother, come back with her blessing. I shall be waiting for you
here.”
Sudas, as he listened to her artless words, experienced an
unconquerable self-disgust, which was never to be expelled from
his heart.
On his promising to return when he had seen his parents,
Jeta gave him leave to go home. Father and daughter were united
in their consent.
On the day before his departure Apala clung to him more
than ever. Her eyes and his, blue as the iotus, were bathed in
tears, which they no longer attempted to conceal. For hours
they kissed each other’s lips, lay in oblivious embraces, or gazed
nt each other speechlessly with swimming eyes.
When it was time to go, Apala threw her arms round him
for the last time, saying “ Sudas, I shall be waiting lor you here.”
 80 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

These words remained engraven on his heart as long as he

lived.
[ 3 ]
Sudas loved his mother deeply. His father, Divodas, was a power¬
ful king, in whose praise famous Rhhis like Vashishtha, Vishvamitra
and Bhardwaja composed verses upon verses, that survive in the
Rig Veda. And just because these sayings have been collected and
put into the Rig Veda, the sycophancy lurking in them cannot be
overlooked. Sudas’ love was for his mother only. As he knew
too well, Divodas had many other wives like her, and numerous
slave-girls. As the mother of the king’s eldest son, the successor
to the Panchala throne, she might be treated with a degree of
respect; but Divodas, in his seraglio filled with fresh young beauties,
was not likely to feel any love for a toothless old woman. And
though Sudas was the only son of his mother, he was by no means
the only son of his father. If he died, his brother Pratardana
would inherit the throne.
As the years had gone by, Sudas' mother had despaired of
seeing him again, and long hours of weeping had dimmed her
sight. Then one day Sudas was standing before her. He had
come quietly, not letting anyone know, not meeting his father.
She stared at him with her faded eyes.
“ Mother! ” he said, “ I am here, your Sudas.”
Her eyes brightened, but she only answered, 'without stirring
on the bed where she lay—“If you are really my Sudas, why do
you stand there keeping yourself out of sight ? Why do you not
put your arms around my neck ? Why do you not lay your head
in my lap ? ”
Sudas rested his head on his mother’s lap. She touched it
with her hand, peeringly : it was really a head, not a fancy that
would melt away into thin air. She kissed his mouth, his cheeks,
his forehead, his hair, over and over again, wetting them with
her tears, and kept on embracing him.
“Mother,” said Sudas, when he could not check her flowing
tears, “ Why are you crying now, when I have come back ? ”
“ Only this one day, my son ! Only this one day! These
are my last tears. Sudas, dear star of my eyes! ”
From the women’s apartments the news reached the king.
He came in haste to embrace his son. Tears of joy trickled down
his cheeks as he held him in his embrace.
Days grew into months, and months slipped by until two
Whole years had passed. Sudas struggled to keep up a cheerful
appearance in front of his parents; but in his ears, when he was
alone, that poignant voice sounded—“I shall be waiting for you
here 1* and those red, quivering lips floated before him and hung
 7. SUDAS 81

there until he could no longer sec through the tears that filled
his eyes. Two loves beset him; on one side Apala’s spontaneous
devotion, on the other his old mother’s deep-rooted affection. To
break his mother’s heart, when she had no one else to turn to,
seemed to him the beset egotism; he resolved never to quit
Panchala while she lived. But to accept the luxurious existence
of a prince was beyond him ; though he maintained a respectful
bearing towards his father, and did his best to carry out his wishes.
One day the old king said to his son :
“ Sudas, I am coming near to the end of my life ; the burden
of ruling Panchala has grown too heavy for me.”
“Then why should this burden not be given over to the people
■of Panchala ? ”
“ To the people ! My son, I don’t understand your meaning.”
“After all, the power belongs to the Panchalas themselves.
Our ancestors were only common men of the people. There was
no king then. The people decided everything, as they do still
.among the Mallas, the Madras, the Gandharas. Then some ancestors
of my grandfather Vadhryashva fell a prey to ambition, to desire
for pleasure, for stealing the fruit of other men’s labour. He must
have been the headman or the war-chief of the clan, and by winning
some battle for the clan he must have gained its love and con¬
fidence, and acquired wealth, and then by their means struck a
treacherous blow at his people. He seized the power out of their
hands and set up a monarchy such as the Asuras had. He copied
from them, and bribed some forgotten ancestor of Vashishtha or
Vishvamitra with the office of the priest, and this man, to throw
dust in the people’s eyes, began telling them that Indra, Agni,
Soma, Varuna, Vishvedevas and the rest of the gods had sent this
king to reign over them, and they must obey his commands and
make offerings to him as his due. It was all dishonesty, father,
all of it, simple robbery ! The ancestor who left us this power
—we ought to forget him, even his name !—and as for talking
of feeling gratitude to him.! ”
“ No, my son. If is the people that we recognise as the con-
teror of our power. At the time of the coronation-oath it is from
the people that we receive the branch of the palasha talk as a royal
symbol.
“That coronation-ceremony has become a mere show. Is the
people really the king’s master ? Not at all, as anyone can under¬
stand when he sees that the king will not sit down with other
people, will not eat with them, will not work with them. Can any
headman among the Madras or the Gandharas behave like that ? ”
“ If wc lived as they do, some enemy would assassinate us one
line day; we would be poisoned.”
 82 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Such fears can only come to thieves and plunderers. Village

headmen are not thieves or plunderers. They think of themselves
as true sons of their clan, they share its life, and so they have no
reason to be afraid. Kings are thieves, who have taken the people’s
power, so they live in perpetual fear. Kings get their harems, their
gold and silver and jewels, their slaves, by plundering others, not
by their own toil.”
“Well, my son, does this mean that you consider me a
criminal ? ”
“ Oh, no, father! When I am in your place I shall have to
do the same as you have done, willingly or unwillingly. How can
I call my father a criminal, then ? ”
“ You talk of restoring the power to the people. Is it possible
to restore it ? You must understand, my son, that Divodas the
king of the Panchalas is not the sole robber of the people’s food.
He is only a single one among many powerful robbers. He may
be strong, but in the face of their united strength he is helpless.
And apart from his feudatories, the princes of his family, and his
army commanders, the strongest force is the priesthood.”
“Yes, I know the power of the priests. A king’s younger
sons cannot inherit the throne, so they become priests, Brahmans.
1 think that is what my younger brother Pratardana will do.
Already there is a distinction between king and priest, government
and religion, and who knows, in times to come these two, Kshatriyas
and Brahmans, may grow into two separate groups, two separate
castes. In Gandhara, fighting and praying can be done by the
same man, but here the sword belongs to you, the descendant of
Vadhryashva, and praying is Vishvamitra’s business. This cleavage
in the ranks of our people has already broken it up into three
divisions. Kings and priests may be connected by sharing power,
by being the plunderers of the people, by marriage ties and blood-
relationship ; but the two are beginning to be counted as different
groups, and their interests are already beginning to come in conflict
—that is why such efforts have to be made to restore friendship
between Kshatriyas and Brahmans. The majority of the people
belong to the third class, outside the ranks of both of these. And
now they, the true people, are coming to be known as merely
the ‘folk’, the common herd. What a wretched alteration! Is
not the whole business a fraud ? ”
“And still, there are a great number you have not counted.”
“Yes, the non-Aryan multitudes, the craftsmen and traders
and slaves. Perhaps it tfas because of them that the rulers were
successful in stealing power from the people. They were glad
to see their conquerors reduced by someone else to the same
 7. SUDAS 83

servitude as themselves. That is what the kings called their

4 justice 7*
“ Perhaps you are not wrong, my son ; but tell me this—to
whom is the power to be handed over ? Apart from those who
live by plundering—the rulers and the traders together—there are
the common people, Aryans and non-Aryans : are they capable
of governing ? And tjie ruling classes, religious and military, are
ready like vultures to pounce on them and devour them as soon
as / let go of them. It is only six or seven generations since
power slipped out of the hands of the people; the days when the
people ruled are not yet forgotten. There was no Divodas ruling
then in this country : it was called ‘ the land of the Panchalas,*
and it was theirs ; but now 1 can sec no road leading back to that
age.”
“There are too many crocodiles like Vashishtha and Vishvamitra
lying across the road ! ”
“ They are the thing ire are enslaved to. We cannot return
to yesterday, and we cannot guess where to-morrow will bring us.
I am happy that I have found a son like you. There was a time
when I, too, was young. There was not so much then of the priests’
fables, and of all the tricks and illusions of superstitions they have
invented to rob the people of their wits, I thought I would lessen
the royal looting of the people. But, I discovered that I had no power
to lessen it. In those days your mother was everything to me.
Afterwards, when my will was broken and I gave up hope, these
priests used their daughters as well as their flattering verses as a
noose to catch me in. They filled my palace with hundreds of
slave-girls, as many as the wives Indra has in heaven. Learn by
your father’s fall, be on your guard, strive hard ; perhaps some
road will open to you, and all this plundering may be brought to
an end But to rid the Panchalas of a good-hearted master like
Sudas, and leave them in the grip of a heartless, cunning master
like Pratardana, would be no kindness to them. I shall watch
your struggle, my son, from the land of the spirits, and 1 shall
be happy.”
14]
Divodas was gathered to his fathers, and Sudas was ruler of the
Panchalas. The priestly swarm hovered around him. And now
Sudas understood how thoroughly those greybeards had stupified
the people with their talk of Indra, Varuna, Agni and Soma. He
found himself fast in their grip. Those whom he was eager ,to
benefit were prompt to proclaim him an irreligious king and mis¬
understood his motives. Those bygone days often came back to
his mind when he had wandered, barefoot and ragged, in strange
 84 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

lands. He had been more of a free man then. Now he had not
a soul to understand his warm heart, or to sympathise with him.
The priests sent him their daughters and grand-daughters; his
feudatory chiefs sent him ladies of their families; but Sudas felt
like a man sitting in a house on fire. He could never forget those
blue eyes waiting for him besides the Chenab.
Sudas was bent on serving the entire people, Aryan and non-
Aryan alike. But it was necessary first to convince the people,
bogged in the mire of superstition, that he enjoyed the favour of
the gods. And of this favour, priestly praise was the only possible
proof. In the end, to gain the priests’ goodwill, he was compelled
to fall back on presenting them with gold and silver, cattle and
slaves. After that these priests, gorged with fat meat and sweet
wine, came to the conclusion that Sudas was truly what his name
meant, a generous giver; and numerous are the eulogies of his
generosity, composed by these pious sycophants, which are still
to be found in the Rig Veda. But who can tell with what a depth
of contempt Sudas, as he listened to these panegyrics, contemplated
their authors!
Sudas’ enviable reputation, before long, was not confined to
northern Panchala, or what is now Ruhelkhand, but extended much
further. Dragging on a joyless existence, he worked, as far as
was possible, for the good of all his subjects.
Some years after his father’s death, his mother also died.
Now the pain that had festered in him night and day for years
until he had grown inured to it, seemed to break out like a
dangerous cancer. Every moment of the day he seemed to see
Apala standing before him, with tearful eyes and trembling lips,
repeating: “ I shall be waiting for you here.” And no tears
of his could extinguish this burning thought.
One day, on the pretext of a hunting expedition in the moun¬
tains, he left his city behind.
The old house was still standing, where he had won Apala’s
love ; but neither Jeta nor his beloved daughter was to be seen.
Both had died, Apala only one year before. Her brother, long
lost and found again, and his family were living there; but Sudas
could not bring himself to form any new ties with that house. He
met a woman who had been Apala’s friend, and who shed tears
as she showed him some new, bright-coloured clothes belonging
to the dead girl—skirt, shawl, bodice, cap—and said : “ My friend
was wearing these on her last day, and the last words she spoke
were—‘I gave Sudas my promise that I would be waiting for
him here
Sudas lifted the clothes and pressed them to his heart and to
his eyes. The fragrance of Apala’s body was still in them.
 8. PRAVAHANA

Region : Panchala—Uttara Pradesh

Time: 700 B.C.

This story goes back 108 generations, to the later Vedie

Period, when the philosophy of the Upanishads was begin¬
ning to be constructed. By that time the laying out of
gardens and the use of iron had become familiar in
India.

O N one side the green forest with the scent of ror/Wd-fruits

and the sweet trilling of birds; on the other side the Ganga
flowing with its clear waves, our thousands of black and
brown cows grazing along the banks, and the fine strong bulls
rumbling among them—one must feast one's eyes sometimes on
such sights as these Pravahana! But you arc always either
absorbed in chanting the hymns, or busy learning the sayings of
Vashishtha and Vishvamitra by heart.”
“ Lopa, your eyes look at these sights, and / feel happy when
I look at your eyes.”
“Oh! You are very clever at thinking of things to say;
though when 1 watch you with the other students, repeating your
old verses over and over like a dog howling, l think my Pravahana
is going to be just like a little boy for the rest of his life.”
“ Indeed ! Is that your opinion about him ? ”
“ Never mind my opinion.... but I have another opinion as
well, a real one—that Pravahana will always be mine.”
“ I hope and believe so, Lop j; that is what gives me strength
for all my toil and studying. I am accustomed to keep my mind
under this rigid control; otherwise very often it. longs to run away
from these old poems, old formulas and old hymns. When my
head is worn out with labour, and I want to leave it all and lie
down, the only consolation I have is looking forward to a few
moments with you.”
“And 1 am always waiting for you.”
Lopa’s glance strayed into the distance, white the morning
breeze made ripples in her soft fair hair. She seemed far away.
Pravahana stroked her hair with his fingers, and said:
“ Lopa, I feel like a hunchback beside you.”
“ A hunchback! ” she echoed, resting her cheek against his.
“No, dear Pravahana—I am proud of you. I remember the day
When you came with my aunt and I saw you first, a youngster of
 86 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

eight, with my even younger eyes, I was only three or four years
old ; but my memory can never go wrong in showing me that
picture of my childhood. I can see it all clearly—your yellow curly
hair, your nose like a parrot’s, your small red lips, your big bright
blue eyes, your warm clear skin ! And I remember how my mother
said to me : ‘ Lopa, this is your cousin \ and I felt shy ; she
kissed you and said : 4 Pravahana, your little cousin Lopa is shy,
make friends with her! * ”
“ And I went up to you, and you hid your face behind my
aunt’s hair, which was fresh and sweet.”
“ But when 1 hid there I made a peephole to look through,
and watched what you did. There had been nobody in the house
except my mother and the slave-girls and their children. My
father’s academy was not yet born. I had felt as if 1 were all
alone in the house ; so 1 was very happy when I saw you.”
“Yes, to have someone to play with; and you were hiding
from me. 1 looked at you and saw a fair-skinned little thing with
no clothes and chubby face. You seemed very pretty to my
childish eyes. 1 came to you and put my hand on your shoulder.
Do you know what our mothers said ? They both smiled and
said : ‘May Hea\cn fulfil our wishes!’ I didn’t understand then
what the wishes were.’’
“I don’t remember that. It is enough for me that I felt the
touch of your soft hand on my shoulder.”
“ And your face was a silly round ball, you were so bashful.”
“ You took my hand m yours, but your lips were tight-shut;
what was it mother said then ? ”
“1 remember everything she said. How can I forget her?
My mother left me with my uncle Gargya, and went away home ;
but my aunt’s love soon made me forget her. How could I forget
my aunt ? ” Prahavana’s eyes filled with tears ; he kissed Lopa
oh the lips. “ Her mouth was like yours, Lopa. We two used to
sleep side by side. You slept, but often my eyes used to be wide
open. But when I saw, my aunt coming, I would shut them tight
She would give a soft sigh and touch my cheek with her lips. When
I looked up she would say ‘ Wake up, little boy,’ and then give
you a kiss, but you would still be fast asleep.”
There were tears in Lopa’s eyes also. 441 saw so little of my
mother,” she answered sadly.
“Yes. Well, that day when she saw me standing near you,
so dumb, she said. 4 This is your cousin, my son. Give her a kiss
and ask her to play at horses with you’.”
“And you did kiss me and ask me to play, and I poked my
head out from behind mother’s hair. You were the horse and
I got on your back.”
 8. PRAVAHANA 87

“ I carried you outside.”

“ How impudent I was! ”
M You have never been afraid of anything, Lopa I And soon
you were everything to me. I used to work hard at learning my
lessons, for fear of my uncle, and when I got tired I came to you.”
“ I used to sit beside you at your work, to be with you.”
“ I believe, Lopa, if you had spent half as much time on it
as I have, you would have been the very best of uncle’s students.”
“ Not better than you,” said Lopa, looking thoughtfully into
his eyes. “ 1 should never want to outstrip you.”
“ But that would please me very much.”
“ Because we two have no separate selves from each other.”
“Lopa, you gave me bodily strength as well as mental. How
little I used to sleep at night! Repeating lessons myself, and
hearing others repeat them, 1 forgot even food and drink. You
brought me out of the darkness of my school-room and carried me
off by force to the forest or the park or the banks of the Ganges.
How good they were ! But all the same 1 longed to master the
three Vedas and all the knowledge of the Brahmans as quickly as
possible.”
“But now you have finished them all. Father says you are
fais equal now.”
“I know that myself. There is not much of the Brahmans’
wisdom left for me to learn. But wisdom does not come to an
end with that ”
That is what I always told you. But then, are you still going
to have your students’ palash wand and unoiled hair ? ”
No, don t talk of them, Lopa! I am saying good-bye to
my pa/rw/j-wand ; and you will be free to rub sweet oil into this
hair, mat has been left dry for sixteen years.”
“ Pravahana, I can’t understand why there should be so much
fuss about unoiled hair. It is not as if you ever stopped yourself
from kissing me.”
“ No, but I had been used to kissing you since our childhood.”
, the students of other academies keep these hard rules ?”
When they are forced to ; otherwise all these things are done
only to win fame. The people believe them to spring from the
severe austerity of the Brahman youths.”
“And meanwhile the Kuru king gives my father villages,
gold and silver, slaves and horse-chariots. I. had enough slave-
girls in the house already : now he has just sent three more, and
there is no work for them to do.”
“ Sell them, Lopa. They are young; you will get thirty gold
pieces each for them.”
“ Oh, no We are Brahmans, we are wiser and more learned
than other people, because we have leisure for learning. But
 88 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

when I think of the life our slaves have, I feel nothing but
loathing for Brahma, Indra, Varuna and the rest of our gods, and
for Vashishtha, Bhardwaj, Bhrigu, Angira and all the Rishis, and
for all the rich Brahmans like father ? Everywhere you see trading,
bargaining, profit-making, greed! One day father sold a black
slave-woman’s husband to a merchant of Kosala for fifty pieces-
of gold. She was clinging to me, weeping and praying. I pleaded
with father, but he said : ‘ If we keep all our slaves with us.
there will be no room in the house and if this man is kept, what
benefit will it be to us ? ’ The night before they were separated
—how terribly they were weeping ! They had a little girl, two
years old, whose features everyone said were very like father’s;
she woke up early in the morning and kept on crying. But the
husband was sold, as if he had been an animal, not a man; as if
Brahma had created him and all his descendants for that! I can’t
believe in it, Pravahana. I haven’t studied the three Vedas as
you have, but I have listened to them and understood them ; there
is nothing in them except about immaterial things, worlds, forces,,
and their charms or their terrors.”
Pravahana rested his forehead against her flushed cheek, and
said : “ Our love seems only to foster our disagreements! ”
" And disagreement makes our love even stronger.”
“Yes, Lopa, yes! If anyone else were to say such things as
you do, I should grow angry; but when I hear abuse of all my
gods, seers and teachers falling from these lips of yours, I often
fed only that I want to kiss them. Why?’’
Because even inside ourselves there are often two contra¬
dictory ideas, and we are patient with them, because they are
indesDensable parts of ourselves.”
“ And you, Lopa—you are an inseparable part of me ! ”

[ 2 j
“You have never put on these shawls from Shivi. or used the
sandal-wood paste of Kashi, or pearls from the ocean to adorn
yourself with. Darling, why are you so indifferent to them ?
“Should I look any better with them?”
“ For me you are always beautiful.”
“Then what is the good of loading my body with such things
and torturing myself with them ? To tell you the truth, Pravahana,
it hurts me when you put that dead weight, they* call a crown,
on top of your head.”
“ And yet other women are ready to fight for the sake of
clothes and ornaments.”
“I am not a woman of that sort.”
“You are the woman who rules the heart of the ruler of
Panchala.”
 8. PRAVAHANA 89

“ I am Pravahana’s wife, not the queen of Panchala.”

“ Yes, dear; how could we have dreamed of this day ? My
uncle kept it quite hidden from us that I was a prince of Panchala. ’
“ What else should father have done ? Your mother was only
one among hundreds of royal consorts, and there were a dozen
princes older than you. Who could expect that one day you
would inherit the throne of Panchala ? ”
“ Well, Lopa; why are you not pleased with this palace ? *'
“ Because I felt unhappy even’ in the mansion where my
father taught his pupils. It was a fine mansion for us, but what
was it for the slaves there? And this royal palace is a thousand
times bigger. Everyone in it, except you and me, is a slave. Two
free souls cannot make a building filled with slaves into a place
of freedom. I wonder, Pravahana, I wonder—how your heart
can be so hard.”
“ But then it may be able to bear words as hard as arrow¬
heads.”
“ No, a man ought not to be like that.”
“ I did not try to become a man merely, but a man of intellect,
even though while I was training my mind the thought • never
came to me that one day I should set foot in this royal palace ”
“ You do not regret having loved me, Pravahana ? ”
“To love you was as natural to me as my mother’s milk,
and came to me without any effort; it has become part of myself.
I am a worldly man, Lopa, but 1 know the value of your love.
The mind does not always flow in one channel. Whenever weak¬
ness seizes hold of me, life for me becomes intolerable, and it
is only your love and your kindness that support me.”
“ But I am never able to give you as much support as I want
to, Pravahana !—that makes me sad.”
“ Because I was born to rule.”
“ But once your ambition was to be a great teacher.”
“I had no notion then that I was the inheritor of the royal
palace of Panchal-city (Kannauj).”
“But what need is there for the things you are attempting
that have nothing to do with the business of government ? ”
“You mean my struggling onward from the Creation to the
Creator! Lopa, this is not a thing separate from the business of
government. It was for the sake of bolstering up their power
that my royal ancestors gave so much honour to Vashishtha and
Vishvamitra. Those Rishis, in the name of Indra and Agni and
Vanina, taught the people to obey the will of their king. In
those days the rulers offered costly sacrifices, to foster faith among
the common people. Nowadays we still offer sacrifices and lavish
gifts on the priests, to make our subjects believe in the divine
power of the gods, and fancy that it is through the favour of the
 90 FROM VOLGA. TO GANGA

gods that we enjoy the finest rice, the tenderest beef, and orna¬
ments of pearls and other gems.”
“ The old gods were enough; what need is there of your
new-fangled Deity the sky ? ”
“Generations have passed, yet no one has even seen Indra or
Varuna or Brahma; so doubt has begun to take root in some
men's minds.”
“ Will they not doubt your Deity too ? ”
“1 have described Him in such a way that no one will except
Him to become visible. How can there be any question of seeing
one who has no more of a corporal being than the sky itself,
one who is omnipresent ? Such a question was only asked about
the old, semi-human gods.”
“ All this talk of yours about sky is deluding not only
the common folk, but Brahmans like Uddalaka Aruni as well. Is it
simply to throw dust in people’s eyes that you have made it up ?
“ You know me well, Lopa ; I can hide nothing from you.
To keep the power in our hands, it is necessary that a check should
be given to the logic of those who are spreading doubt; because
for us to-day, the enemies most to be feared are the men who cast
doubt on the gods and their worship.”
“ But you are talking of the existence of your Deity the sky
and its manifestation also when you say this ? ”
“If there is an existence, it must also be perceptible. Not by
the senses, for if we talk of sense-perception, the sceptics will again
demand to see it. What I tell them is that there is another, more
subtle sense, that makes us aware of the Deity ; and to create this
sense I am framing such a doctrine as will keep people wandering
blindfold for scores of generations; they will never be able to
shake off their belief in it. I have forged this fine weapon because
I know that the crude weapons of the priests are growing useless.
You have seen stone and copper tools among savages, Lopa?”
“Yes, when we visited the southern forests together.”
“ Of course, when we crossed the Jumna. Well, would those
stone and copper things be of any use against our weapons of pure
iron ? ”
“ No.”
“In the same way, the old gods and sacrifices that Vashishtba
and Vishvamitra taught could satisfy minds as primitive as those
savages have; but they are useless when confronted by such sharp
wits as our intelligent sceptics have.”
“Your Deity will be equally useless. You are going about
trying to make Brahman scholars your pupils and teach them
your philosophy; and here am I under your own roof, believing all
your talk to be only lies and fraud.”
41 Yes; because you know its secret meaning.**
 8. PRAVAHANA 91

“If the Brahmans are intelligent, will they not discover the
secret ? ”
“ That also you see! A few of them are able to probe the
secret purpose ; but they realise that this weapon of mine will be
very useful to them. The people were losing faith in their priest¬
craft and their teachings, and that would end in their being deprived
of the donations which supply them with horse-chariots to ride in,
fine food to cat, beautiful houses to live in, and pretty slaves to
enjoy,”
“ It was all money-making, then ? ”
“ Yes, and a sort of money-making where there is no risk of
loss. That is why clever Brahmans like Uddalaka are coming to
me as pupils, carrying their ritual fire-wood with them ; and I, with
a great show of deference to Brahmans, make them a present of
my philosophy, without giving any sacred thread or any instruction
in rituals.”
“It is a vile plot, Pravahana.”
“ Agreed ; but for our purposes it is the most useful achieve¬
ment. The boat that Vashishtha and Vishvamitra built has not
lasted for even a thousand years ; but in the ship I am building,
kings, princes and those who live on the wealth of others, will
still be carried in safety two thousand years from now. I saw
that the old vessel—the sacrifices and rituals—had grown weak,
Lopa ; and I have designed this new, strong vessel to take its place,
one in which priests and warriors alike, if they use it well, will
be able to attain power and prosperity. But besides my view
heaven, or Deity, l have another revelation to give.”
“ What ? ”
“ Return to this world after death—reincarnation.”
“ The worst deception of all! ”
“ And the most serviceable. In proportion as we princes,
priests and merchants have heaped up our boundless means of
pleasure, the ordinary people have been reduced to indigence.
Men have begun to appear who play upon the pauperised masses
—craftsmen, peasants, slaves—by telling them : ‘ You give away
your earnings to others and bear all the burdens. They throw
dust in your eyes by filling you with lying hopes that in return
for your hardships, sacrifices and contributions you will go to
heaven when ypu die. No one has ever seen those heavenly
pleasures of the spirits of the dead ! ’ Well-r-my reply to them is
this : ‘ All the distinctions between high and low that exist in
this world, between superior and inferior castes, between rich and
poor—they are all due to our conduct in a previous life. In this
way we reap the consequences of our good or bad deeds
before our birth.’*
 92 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Then can a thief call the wealth he gets by stealing his

reward tor good deeds in another life ? ”
“ No. To deal with him we already enjoy the protection of
gods, holy men and popular faith, which will not allow the thief’s
gains to be mistaken for the reward of a previous life. We used
to explain our enjoyment of wealth without labour in this life as
due to the favour of the gods; but now when doubt has begun
to be cast on the gods and their favour, it has become necessary
for us to hit on some other expedient. Our Brahmans are no
longer capable of thinking of one ; foity to forty-five years of their
life they spend in memorising the verses and the sayings of the
ancient sages—how can they invent any new, profound idea ? ”
“But you also spent a long tune on the same studies,
Pravahana.”
“ Only sixteen years. At the age of twenty-four I left the
learning of the priests behind and came out into the world. There
I had to learn much more. When 1 entered into the intricacies of
government, I realised that the old ship built by the priests was
no longer seaworthy.”
“And so you have built your own strong ship.”
“ My concern is not with the truth or untruth, but with utility,
Lopa ! The idea of rebirth into this world seems novel today, and
you understand the selfish motive that is concealed in it. But my
Brahaman disciples are already full of it and have begun to broad¬
cast it. To learn the path of the fathers and the gods, even now'
men are ready to study and guard their teachers’ cattle for a dozen
years. You and I will not live to see it, Lopa ; but the time will
come when all the poor and wretched will be willing to endure
all the bitterness, misery and injustice of their lives, because of
their hope of reincarnation. Lopa, have I not found the shortest
cut to explaining heaven and hell ? ”
“But for the sake of your own belly you are condemning
hundreds of generations to perdition! ”
“ It was for the sake of their bellies that Vashishtha and
Vishvamitra put together the Veda. They composed poem after
poem in eulogy of Divodas, the king of upper Panchala, when he
captured a few barbarian strongholds. To make provision for
one’s belly is no bad thing : and when we do so not only for our
own, but for those of our sons and grandsons, our brothers and
friends, we earn eternal fame.* Pravahana is accomplishing a
work that was beyond the strength of the olden sages and of all
the priests who live by religion.”
“ You are so ruthless, Pravahana ! ”
“But I have performed my task.”
•Rik. 6.26,25
 8. PRAVAHANA 93

I 3 j

Pravahana was dead ; but the triumphant march of his doctrines

of Brahman, rebirth, and the path of the gods, resounded from the
Indus to beyond the Gandak. The practice of sacrificial rites had
not fallen off; the priests displayed particular activity in celebrat¬
ing them. But th;' priestly caste had studied thoroughly the doctrines
formulated by Pravahana, member of the military caste though he
had been. Yajnyavalkya, of Kuru, had earned the highest reputa¬
tion by his mastery of them. The Kuru-Panchala country, which
had once given birth to the Rishis who composed the sacred hymns
and established the old rituals, now rang with the fame of
Yajnyavalkya and the male and female disciples who accompanied
him. There was more credit to be gained by holding assemblies
of the new teachers than by offering sacrifices; so kings, along
with their state ceremonies, or else separately, held meetings in
the course of which thousands of cattle, horses and slave-girls
were bestowed as pious tributes on the most persuasive debater *,
girls above all, because these philosophers (Brahmavadins) had a
special relish for girls brought up in the royal harems.
Yajnyavalkya had carried off the palm in several such meet¬
ings and disputations. He had just gained a signal victory in a
debate held by King Janaka of Videha (Tirhut), and his disciple
Somashrava had conic with a thousands cows. It was not worth
Yajnyavalkya’s while to drive all these cattle home with him
from Tirhut to Kuru. He distributed them among the neighbour¬
ing Brahmans, thus greatly enhancing his fame. His gold and
silver, slaves and mulc-carts he loaded in boats and brought home
with him.
Sixty years had passed since Pravahana’s death. He had died
before Yajnyavalkya was born. Lopa, now more than a hundred
years old, was still Jiving in the royal gardens outside the Panchala
capital. She liked to live amid the shade of mango, plantain and
fig trees in those gardens. While Pravahana lived, she had steadily
opposed his ideas ; but in the years that had passed since then she
had forgotten his faults, and remembered only his life-long love.
Even now in old age, the light was still alive in her eyes, and
her mind was but little clouded. Brahmavadins were still ncr
abhorrence.
One day Gargi, a woman who took part in religious discus¬
sions, visited the town. She was honourably lodged in a park
dose to the royal pleasure-grounds. But the recollection of how
iinscrupulously Yajnyavalkya had crushed her in King Janaka’s
assembly would not leave her brain. "Your head will roll in the
dust, Gargi, if you argue any further ”—was that a way to debate 7
Only assassins could behave like that, thought Gargi.
 94 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

Lopa, on her father’s side, was kinswoman of Gargi’s and

was well known to her though they entirely disagreed on religious
questions. Now Gargi was burning with resentment at the base
weapon Yajnyavalkya had used against her; hence it was with
distinctly altered feelings that she met her great-aunt. As soon
as she came, Lopa kissed her forehead and eyes, embraced her,
and asked about her health and whether she was happy.
“ I have come from Videha, aunt,” answered Gargi.
“ You went there for a bout of argumentation, child ? ”
*• You may well call it a bout! These debates on Brahman
arc no better than wrestling. The aim in them is to use all your
tricks to throw your adversary down as the wrestlers do.”
“ Were there many of the Brahmavadins of Kuru-Panchala in
the arena, ”
*’ Kuru-Panchala has become their great stronghold now-a-days.”
“ My husband Pravahana kindled the first little spark of these
new ideas, under my own eyes—and with no good purpose in his
mind—and they have swept Kuru-Panchala like a forest fire; now
they have travelled as far as Videha.”
“ Aunt! 1 have begun to believe a little in the truth of what
you used to say. It is true that religion is a fine highroad to
prosperity. Yajnyavalkya came by huge riches at Tirhut, and
other Brahmans also made big profits.”
“ It is a more profitable business than even the old perform¬
ing of sacrifices, my child. My husband used to say that it would
prove a stout ship, bringing prosperity to kings and priests. So
Yajnyavalkya triumphed in King Janaka’s assembly ? And did
you speak there ? ”
“ If I had not wanted to speak, why should l have sailed down
the Ganges to such a far place ? ”
“ Did no robbers attack your boat ? ”
“No, aunt. The merchants go in strong bands, protected
by soldiers. We Brahmavadin people are not stupid enough to
travel in one s or two’s and put our lives in danger.”
“ Well, Yajnayavalkya got the better of everyone else ? ”
“ Got the better of them ? More than that! ”
“ What do you mean ? ”
“That those who propounded questions kept silent as soon as
they heard his answer.”
“ Even you ? ”
“ Yes, even I; but it was his nonsense, not his sense, that
silenced me ”
“ Nonsense ? ”
“ I was raising questions about the Brahman, and I had driven
him into a comer from which he had no escape. And then he
said something I had never expected to hear.”
“What was it child?”
 8. PRAVAHANA 95

“Something that stopped me from asking for an answer to

my questions : ‘ Your head will roll in the dust, Gargi, if you argue
any further. * ”
“ You had never expected to hear that ? I should have ex¬
pected it, Gargi! Yajnyavalkya has blossomed into a true disciple
of Pravahana. He has brought Pravahana’s system of falsehood
to perfection. It was weli that you did not go on arguing, Gargi.’*
“ How do you know I did not, aunt ? ”
“I know because 1 can see your head still safe on your
shoulders.”
“Then you really believe that if I had gone on I should
have lost my life ? ” .
“ Certainly. Not through the divine power of Yajnyavalkya,
but just in the same way as we see other people being killed.”
“Aunty ! . .o. ! ”
“ You are still an infant, Gargi. You think this religion is
nothing but intellectual pirouetting and somersaulting. No, Gargi;
there is selfish interest of kings and priests concealed beneath it.
When it was born, its creator was sleeping in my arms. It is a
powerful means of making the position of kings and priests safe
—as powerful as a steel sword, as powerful as a bloodthirsty
soldier.”
“ Aunt—I never realised that.”
“ Many people do not realise it. 1 did not: no doubt Tanaka,
the King of Videha, does not. But Yajnyavalkya understands it
all, as well as my husband Pravahana did. Pravahana had no belief
in any god or heaven or spirit or demi-god or religion. He
believed only in pleasure, and he dedicated every moment of his
life to pleasure. Three days before his death, a golden-haired
girl entered his harem, the daughter of a priest, of the clan of
Vishvamitra. He had no longer any hope of life, and yet he
was making love to that girl of twenty.”
“Yajnyavalkya gave away his cows, aunt, but he brought
back with him the beautiful slave-girls King Janaka gave him.”
“ Didn’t I tell you he was a true disciple of Pravahana ?
Haven’t you seen what his religion is ? And yet you have only
a distant giimpse of it. If you ever get a chance of viewing
it from close at hand—then you will see, child ! ”
“Then you do believe, really and truly, that if I had*gone on
with my questions it would have cost me my head ? ”
“ Of course it would; and, as I said, not through any super¬
natural force of his. In this world many lives are cut short, with¬
out any noise.”
“ My head is spinning round, aunt! ”
“ Only to-day: My head has been spinning ever since I grew
up enough to understand things. All hypocrisy, all impostures!
All this talk of kings and priests and rituals—simply a way of
 96 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

getting for nothing what the people produce by their toil. No

one will be able to rescue the people from the pitfall they are
in, until they themselves learn to use their wits; which these
selfish schemes do not want to let them do.”
“ Will man’s heart never teach him to hate this deceitfulne*s ? ”
“It will, my child. That is my sole hope.”
 9. BANDHULA MALLA
Region : Kusinara and Mallagrama,
Uttara Pradesh
Time: 490 B.C.
This is an historical story of a period of 100 genera¬
tions ago. By that time, social conflict had taken deep
root. The wealthy trading class had won a high place
in society; numerous teachers had arisen to show the
road to the other world, or offer salvation from Hell;
but men were blind to the ranging hell of slavery in their
own cities.

T HE spring was in its first bloom. The trees were clothed

with new leaves in place of those they had shed. The
white flowers of the shala trees breathed their perfume
through the woodland. It was still long before the sun’s rays
would be strong. Through the thick grove came the sound of
footfalls on dry leaves.
A young man and a girl stood beside a big ant-hill, staring
at it. Long curving tresses of blue-black hair, falling carelessly
round the girl’s faintly brown face, added to its beauty.
Putting his strong arm round her shoulder, the youth said :
“ Mallika, why are you so much interested in this ant-hill ?
“ Look, it is as high as two men ! ”
“Yes, it is bigger than most ant-hills, but there are some
which are bigger still. Are you wondering whether what they
say is true that when rain fails an ant-hill gives out flame and
smoke ? "
“ No ; perhaps that is only a silly tale. But how can crea¬
tures as small as ants, or those even tinier white insects with red
heads, build such big hillocks ? ”
“ If you compare the size of a man’s body with the size of
the palaces which he builds, you will find that the one is many
times smaller than the other, just in the same way. This hill is
not the work of one ant; hundreds and thousands of ants have
joined together to build it. It is just like the way human beings
work together.”
“That is why it made such an impression on me to look at
them, and see how strongly they are united among themselves.
We think them insignificant creatures, and yet they can work
together and build such castles. What a pity that our people do
not take a lesson from these insects! ”
“Man is as good as any animal when he practises co-opera¬
tion ; in fact, it is through co-operation that he has become the
highest of living creatures. That is what has made him able to
 FROM VOLGA TO GANOA

build great cities, towns and villages, to cross the limitless ocean
in ships and gather treasures of its swarming islands, and to make
the elephant, the rhinoceros, and the lion yield to him.”
“ Yes, but his enviousness! How good he would be, if he
were only not jealous! "
“ You are thinking of the enviousness of our Mallas ? ”
“Yes, because our people are so jealous of you. I have
•never known you to find fault with anyone ; everybody knows that
your kind ways make even the slaves and workpeople fond of
you. And even then many of our respected Mallas are full of
spite against you.”
“They know that I am the most popular man in the republic
and there ,are always many who hate anyone who is loved by his
people; after all, among us it is only through popularity that
one becomes a leader.”
“But they ought to have seen your good qualities and been
glad of them. No other Malla has ever been known to win so
much honour at Taxila. Don’t they know that even now king
Prasenajit of Kosala sends you message after message asking you
to go to him.?”
“He and I were students together at Taxila for ten years,
so he knows what qualities I have.”
“So do thfe Mallas of Kusinara here. How can you doubt
it? When that great man of the Lichchhavis was here and stayed
with you, many of our people heard him talking in praise of you.”
“ But those who feel envy of me, Mallika, go on feeling it
-even if they do know me to have some good qualities. To have
talents and popularity is an easy way to incur envy in one's
republic. I am not thinking of myself; I only regret it because
ilt was to serve the Mallas that I studied the art of war at Taxila
with such labour. To-day the States of Kosala and Magadha recog¬
nise the Lichchhavis republic of Vaishali as their equals; whereas
our Kusinara accepts the king of Kosala as her superior. My
tplan was to bring together Pava, Anupia, Kusinara and the rest
of the nine Malla republics in a fraternal union, and make them
into one strong confederacy such as the Lichchhavis have. If the
nine Malla tribes stood shoulder to shoulder, Prasenajit would
not dare to cast even a glance in their direction. Well— that
its my only regret”
Mallika was unhappy to see a cloud on Bandhula’s fair, hand¬
some face and to divert his thoughts she remarked:
“Your comrades will be ready waiting for you for the hunt,
dear! I, too, want to come with you. Are you going on horse¬
back or on foot ? ”
“ Wo don’t go on horseback after antelopes, Mallika! And
can you go hunting with this waist-cloth hanging to your knees,
 9. BANDHULA MALLA 99

and a long floating shawl and your loose hair flying in the wind
like a cod of black snakes! ”
“ Don’t you like them ? ”
“ Not like them! ” He kissed her rosy lips. “ I could not
dislike anything that is connected with your name even. But
for hunting, one must be able to run through thickets and bushes.”
“ Then you’ll soon see me put myself in order! ” Mallika
tightened her waist-cloth and fastened her hair in a knot.
“Bandhula, make my shawl into a head-band for me.”
He did it for her, and then asked, as he caressed the little
breasts, as round as apples, peeping out from her bodice—‘‘What
are we to do with these ? ”
“What, don’t all the Malla girls have breasts like these?”
“Not so lovely as these.”
“ Is anyone likely to steal them, then ? ”
“The young men will cast evil eyes on them.”
“ Everyone knows that they belong to Bandhula.”
“Still, let me tie this piece of cloth round them, Mallika,
under your dress.”
“You are not satisfied with seeing them from outside my
dress?” she asked with a smile, kissing him.
He removed her bodice, and wound the cloth about the well-
developed, round breasts swelling like white marble globes from
her bosom; and then she put her bodice on again and said .
“ Now are your fears leaving you ? ”
“ I have no fears about what belongs to me! But now they
will not shake so much when you run.” . ,
All the young men and women of the republic, dressed in hunt¬
ing clothes, were ready waiting for this pair, and, as soon as
they came up, bows, swords and spears were grasped, and the
band moved off. One of them knew the place where the antelopes
rested at mid-day, and acted as guide while the rest followed. In
the shade of the tall trees, in the thin grass, a herd of antelopes
was reposing and chewing the cud, while its leader, with ears
cocked first to one side, then the other, was standing on guard.
The Mailas had divided into two parties; the first, with its
weapons ready, was crouching behind the trees on one side, while
the second, divided again into two groups, was moving so as to
take the animals in the rear. The wind was blowing from the
quarter where these two latter groups would meet.
The leader of the herd was standing with its tail, as short
as a deer’s twitching; the rest of the animals, before ^ hunters
could meet, had also got to their feet, with dilated nosrtils and
ears pricked up, and were staring nervously in the
In a second it was clear that they had detected the dange »
they s^Toff at a gallop behind their leader in the dtrecUon from
 100 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

which the wind was blowing. When they were near the larking
hunters they swerved and halted to stare about them again. At
that moment the twang of bowstrings was heard. Bandhula, with
unerring aim, shot at the leader’s heart. Mallika and several others
aimed at the same mark, but it was certain that if Bandhula’s
arrow had missed, the animal would have escaped. It fell on the
spot. The rest of the herd scattered and fled. Bandhula ran
up to the leader, which was gasping its last breath. The hunters
followed the bloody trail of two other wounded beasts for a mile
or so, and found one of them stretched on the ground.
Joy reigned at the forest banquet that followed these successes.
Some piled up wood, and made a big smokeless fire. The women
got ready their pans, while men skinned the carcasses and began
cutting up the meat. The feast began with the hearts, roasted
over the fire, and cups of wine. Bandhula’s two hands were busy
with the work of cutting up, so Mallika put some morsels into
his mouth and held a cup to his lips.
When night fell the meat was not yet cooked and ready.
The blazing flames of the wood fire threw out a strong red light,
and singing and dancing began in its circle. Mallika, most beauti¬
ful of the girls of Kusinara, excelled herself as she danced in her
huntress costume and displayed all her grace. Bandhula’s com¬
rades congratulated him on having won such a girl, a jewel worth
all the wealth of India.

[ 2 i
A LARGS- concourse of people was assembled in the house of repub¬
lic where the people of Kusinara met in council. Every member
of the senate was seated in the hall, while onlookers stood out¬
side in the yard. At the end of the hall, on a raised platform,
sat the head of the republic. He ran a reflective eye over his
audience, rose to his feet and began :
“Worthy sangha ! Listen, while I explain to the assembly the
purpose of our meeting to-day The free-born Bandhula, having
mastered at Taxila the art of war, returned home, adding lustre to
his people’s name. His skill in arms is known outside Kusinara
as well as here. Four years have passed since his home-coming.
From time to time I have entrusted to him many of our affairs,
small or great, and he has discharged each responsibility with
diligence and success. It is now proposed that he should be given
a permanent post, that of second-in-command of our forces.
“ Worthy sangha ! Listen! Shall the post of second-in-com¬
mand be conferred on the free-born Bandhula ? Let those free¬
men who agree remain silent, and let any who do not agree,
speak 1
 9. BANDHULA MALLA 101

** For the second time, worthy sangha ! Listen ! Shall the post
of second-in-command be conferred on the free-born Bandhula ?
Let those freemen who agree remain silent, and let any who do
not agree, speak!
At once a member of the gathering, by name Roja, threw
off his cloak baring his right shoulder which he turned towards
the platform, and stood up.
“This freeman wishes to speak,” cried the head. “Let him
give his opinion.” ,
“ Worthy sangha ! ” said Roja—“ Listen ! 1 do not doubt the
freeman Bandhula’s skill in battle. It is for a special reason that
1 wish to oppose his being made second-in-command. It is the
custom of our republic that when any man is raised to a high
position he must first undergo a test. My opinion is that the
freeman Bandhula also should submit to this custom.”
When Roja had sat down, two or three others supported his
view. Others warmly asserted that there was no need of a trial.
Finally, the head declared :
“ Worthy sangha ! There is some difference of opinion among
us as to whether the free-born Bandhula should be made second-
in command or not. Therefore, it is necessary to take a vote.
The vote-tellers will come round to you with wood-splinters,
Each will have in one hand a basket of red splinters, in the other,
of black. A red splinter stands for ' Yes,’ a black one for ‘ No.’
Those freemen who share the freeman Roja’s opinion, and do
not agree to the proposal, will draw a black splinter. Those who
agree to the proposal will draw a red one.”
The vote-tellers came to each member with their baskets, and
every man drew a splinter according to his opinion. When the
baskets were brought back to the head, the splinters remaining
in them were counted. The red were more numerous than the
black, which meant that the members of the assembly had drawn
more of the black. The head announced :
“ Worthy sangha ! Listen ! More have been taken of the
black than of the red. Therefore, I hold, that the senate agrees
with Roja. Now let the assembly decide, what kind of trial that
freeman Bandhula is to undergo.”
After some time spent in discussion and voting, it was decided
that Bandhula must cut through seven faggots with his sword in
•quick succession. The seventh day was fixed for the test, and
the assembly broke up.
When the seventh day came, the open ground at Kusinara
was thronged with crowds of men and women. Mallika was there
among them. At a little distance from each other were placed
the seven faggots of hard wood.
 102 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

The head of republic gave the signal, and Bandhula grasped his
sword, while the entire populace watched with bated breath, con¬
fident of his success as they eyed the long straight blade and the
muscular arms wielding it. They saw the sword flash like lightn¬
ing as it rose and fell. The first faggot was shorn through—the
second—the third. At the sixth stroke of metallic sound caught
Bandhula’s ear. His brows contracted in a frown; his ardour
seemed quenched. The sword checked itself as it was about to
descend in the final stroke. He threw a single hasty glance at the
cut-off ends of the faggots. His frame trembled, his face reddened
with anger, but he uttered not a word.
The head announced that the seventh faggot had not
been cut through There was a feeling of sympathy for Bandhula.
When they came home, and Mallika looked into his angry,
frowning face, she forgot her own regret, and tried to console him.
“ Mallika,” he said, “ a cunning trick was played on me. I
never expected that.”
“ What was it dearest ? ”
“ Each of the faggots had been stuck with iron nail. As
tar as the fifth stroke I suspected nothing, but at the sixth I heard
quite plainly the ring of metal. If I had not heard that sound,
I should have cut the last faggot in two as well, but as it was,
I felt disgusted.”
“What a trick! Whoever did it was a great scoundrel!”
“We can’t find out who did it. 1 am not angry at all with
Roja ; after all, what he said was right enough, and the majority
of the senate agreed with his opinion. What pains me and
angers me is to find that I have so few true friends in Kusinara ”
“ So Bandhula is not pleased with his Kusinara! ”
“ Kusinara is my mother, who has reared me up; but now
I am not going to stay in Kusinara any longer.”
“ You want to go away ? ”
“ Yes. Kusinara has no need of me.”
, “ Then where shall we go ? ”
“ Mallika, will you come with me ? ” he asked, his face full
of eager animation.
“ Dear Bandhula, I will go with you like your shadow.” She
kissed his inflamed eyes, and immediately his wrath began to ebb
away.
“Give me your hands, Mallika.” He took her hands in his
own, and went on. “A current of strength seems to flow into
me from these hands of yours—they give me strength to roam
the whole world without any fear.”
“ Well, darling; where do you intend to go, and when ? ”
“Without any delay, for those nails in the faggots will soon
be reported to the head, and then he will fix another day
 9. BANDHULA MALLA 10J

for a new trial. We should leave before they come to persuade me

again.”
“ Why not let their treachery be exposed ? ”
“ Kusinara has given its opinion of me, Mallika ! My work
is not here. Not now, at least. When Kusinara stands in need
of Bandhula, he will be here.”
The very same night, Mallika and Bandhula left Kusinara,
taking with them what they needed for a journey. Next day they
reached Mallagrama (Malaon, Gorakhpur), a permanent
settlement of some Brahmans on the bank of the Tapti. Through
out the Malla country the Sankritya clan of this settlement was*
renowned for its warlike spirit. Bandhula had friends there ; how¬
ever, it was not to see these that he had come, but to find a boat
to carry him to Shravasti. Among the inhabitants were some-
employees of the big merchant Sudatta through whom it was easy
to obtain a boat. The Sankritya Brahmans, faithful to the custom
of their clan, killed a fat pigling in front of their door, cooked
it with their own hands, and presented the guests with the
tender pork.

I 3 ]
At Shravasti, the capital of Kosala, king Prasenajit gave his old’,
friend and fellow-student the heartiest of welcomes. Even at
Taxila he had expressed his desire that when he came to the
throne Bandhula should become his commander-in-chief; and
since his accession he had several times sent the same proposal
to Bandhula. But the latter, instead of wanting to command the
army of Kosala, the wealthiest and strongest kingdom then exist¬
ing, had always preferred to be a mere second-in-command in the
militia of his native Kusinara. Now that his native republic had
ejected him, however, he was ready to come to terms whem
Prasenatjit repeated his proposal.
“ I am willing to accept the offer friend ; but on one condi¬
tion.”
M Good, Bandhula! Tell me what it is.”
“ I belong to the Malla republic.”
“ I know; and I shall never order you to march against the
Mallas.”
“That is all I ask.”
“ My friend, I only desire to strengthen the links I have with
the Mallas. You know I have no ambition to enlarge my kingdom.
If I am ever forced into hostilities with them, you will be at liberty
to choose sides. Is there anything else my old friend wishes from
me?”
“No, Your Majesty, this is enough.”
 104 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

[4 ]
And so Bandhula the Malia became the head of the army of
Kosala. A ruler so weak and inactive as Prasenatji stood in great
need of a tried and tested commander. If he had not met with
Bandhula, in fact, perhaps Magadh and Vatsa would have annexed
some of his provinces.
Some time after their arrival at Shravasti, Mallika became
pregnant. One day Bandhula asked her whether she had a longing
for anything, such as pregnant women feel.
“ Yes, dearest; but it is for something very difficult.”
” Nothing can be difficult for Bandhula! Tell me, what is
it you long for ? ”
“ To bathe in the sacred tank.”
“ Of the Mallas ? ”
“ No. ot Vaishali in the Lichchhavi territory.”
” You were right. Mallika; it is something very difficult.
But Bandhula will find a way to accomplish it. To-morrow morn¬
ing make yourself ready ; we shall set out together in a chariot.”
Next day they drove off in a chariot, taking provisions, a
sword, a bow and other weapons.
In several days they covered a great distance, and then
entered Vaishali by a gate whose guardian, Mahali, was an old
fellow-student of Bandhula; he had been blinded, through the
malice of certain Lichchhavis. At first Bandhula was inclined to
stop and spend some time with Mahali, but as that would delay
the fulfilment of his wife’s longing, he abandoned his intention.
There was a guard on the shore of the sacred tank. Only
once in his life was a Lichchhavi allowed to bathe in it—when
he was elected to fill a vacant place among the nine hundred and
ninety-nine full members of the Lichchhavi republic.
When sentinels tried to stop them, Bandhula beat them off
with his whip. Mallika took her bath; they jumped into the
chariot, and it rolled off at once on its way out of Vaishali. But
five hundred Lichchhavis, warned by their sentinels, appeared in
pursuit, driving their chariots at full speed. Mahali had learned
what was happening, and had forbidden the pursuit; but the
haughty Lichchhavis had small habit of obedience.
“ Darling,” said Mallika, looking back as she heard the rattl¬
ing wheels in the distance, “ there are a great many chariots
behind us!M
“Wait till you see them all strung out in a line, and then tell
<ne.”
Mallika did so.
What the ancient historians tell us is that Bandhula drew an
arrow and shoot it, and it went straight through and under the
 9. BANDHULA MALLA 105

belts of all the five hundred Lichchhavis and came out at the
rear of the line. The Lichchhavis continued to gain ground, until
they drew up and challenged Bandhula to battle.
“I don’t fight with dead men like you,” returned Bandhula
calmly.
“ You’ll see what kind of dead men we are ! ”
” l shan't waste one more arrow. Go back home, call
together your wives and friends first, and then take off your belts.”
Bandhula took the reins again out of Mallika’s hands, put the
chariot at full speed, and vanished.
When their bells were taken off, all the five hundred Lichchhavis
were, in fact, found dead.

15 ]
Shravasti—now deserted Sahet-Mahet—was then the biggest city
of India. Prasenajit’s kingdom included two other cities,
Saketa (Ayodhya) and Varanasi (Benares). In the combined
kingdom of Kashi and Kosala lived numerous opulent merchants
like Sudatta Anathapindika the (‘Nourisher of the Destitute’),
Mrigara of Shravasti, and Arjuna of Saketa. Their merchandise
was carried not only throughout India, but also from Tamarlipta
across the Bay of Bengal, and from Bharukachchha (Broach) and
Supparaka (Sopara) across the Arabian Sea, to remote shores.
Their status was not equal to that of the dominant Brahmans and
Kshatriyas, yet their place in society was high, and in wealth the
ruling classes could not compare with them. Sudatta, with the
help of his money, bought the Jetavana gardens from Prince
Jeta, and made a hermitage there for Gautama Buddha. King
Prasenajit himself went with all his retinue to Saketa to attend
the wedding of Mrigara’s son Pundrvardhana, and was the guest
of the bride’s father, the merchant, Arjuna. The bride, Vishakha,
with such a father and such a father-in-law, sold her necklace and
with the money built a great monastery of seven storeys and a
thousand cells, which was named Purvarama. The wealth of so
many lands was being sucked into the coffers of these merchant-
princes, that their immense wealth was beyond computing.
Jaivali, Uddalaka and Yajnyavalkya had reduced sacrificial
rites to the second place in religion, and had fashioned a more
abstract faith as a secure ark for their worldly interests. Rulers
like Janaka had paid deep respect to it, and had begun the custom
oi holding gatherings for the discussion of philosophical questions
which opened the way to free speculation even beyond the limits
of the Vedas. It was an age when the floodgates of enquiry and
discussion had been opened, and each philosopher made use of
 106 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

these common meetings to lay his views before the public. Some¬
times their teachings were given in the ordinary form of lectures ;
sometimes as a challenge to disputation, they would fix a staff of
jambu-wood in the ground at any place in their wanderings.
Pravahana, to cloud the brains of scores of generations, had invented
mystic theories like monasticism, contemplation, asceticism.
Now, thinkers who had abandoned the scriptures lent the aid of
their independent theories to monasticism and austerity.
Ajita Kesakambala was a declared atheist; he believed in no
worship, no eternal essence, no heaven or hell or rebirth_only
in material substance; yet he, too, was a world renouncing ascetic.
To win the favour of rulers in that age, or merely to escape their
anger, it was necessary for thinkers to give a religious colouring
to their atheism. Lauhitya, the Brahman chief, and princes
like Payasi, were free thinkers, and became so celebrated among
their people that the latter came to feel that any abandonment
of atheism would be something shameful. In the atheism of such
men there was nothing dangerous to society.
A spread of atheism was thus in progress, but it was Gautama
Buddha who was held in the highest respect by the dominant
Brahmans and Kshatriyas, and the wealthy merchants, for his
teachings, in which the soul had no place. This was especially
so in Kosala, partly because Gautama himself belonged to the
Shakya republic near Kosala. Like the atheists, he asserted that
there was no soul in the body or in the universe, no deity, no eternal,
substance, but that all elements passed from birth to speedy anni¬
hilation. The world was not an aggregation of actual bodies, but
a stream of events. To intelligent men this thought was some¬
thing at once rational and heart-stirring.
But such a non-soul philosophy might unsettle the relations
between rich and poor, master and slave. For this reason the
atheism of Ajita could not win great favour with the ruling and
commercial classes. Gautama added other ideas to his material¬
ism—-his atheism—so as to soften its sharpness. Although, he said,
there was no such thing as an eternal soul, the stream of conscious¬
ness pased, within the boundaries of heaven and hell and what¬
ever other realms there might be, from one body to another—
from one physical existence to another. In this doctrine the
weapon of reincarnation forged by king Pravahana found full scope.
If Gautama had preached undiluted atheism, the merchant princes
of Shravasti, Saketa, Kausambi, and tbe capital city of Bhadrika,
would certainly not have opened their money-bags, and the ruling
castes and die kings would not have been ready to kneel at his
feet
Gautama's teachings won the devoted adherence of the upper-
class women of Shravasti. Mallika Devi, the consort of Prasenajit,
 9. BANDHULA MALLA 107

was a disciple of Buddha, and her friend Vishakha, daughter-

in-law of the great merchant of the city, in token of her faith
built the great Purvarama monastery and presented it to Buddha.
The other Mallika, wife of the commander Bandhula, was a dear
friend of the queen, and under the latter’s guidance she began to
be interested in Buddha’s teachings, until she also became a
Buddhist.
This Mallika’s house was now a very luxurious one. The
house of a commander-in-chief, in so large a state as Kosala, was
bound to be palatial. Mallika had ten fine sons, who held high
ranks in the royal army. Bandhula had, for a long time, made
his own power greater than the kings ; meanwhile, he had made
many enemies, who were irked by the sight of a foreigner occupy¬
ing so high a position. These envious souls began to poison
the king’s mind. The king was somewhat slow-witted ; he was
gulled with reports that Bandhula had described him as witless.
Finally, it was asserted that the commander was ambitious of
seizing the throne. To Prasenajit this seemed quite plausible. He
played into the hands of his own and Bandhula’s enemies.
One day, seeing Bandhula preoccupied and gloomy, Mallika
said to him :
“ Why are you so thoughtful, my dear ? ”
“Because the king has begun to suspect me.”
“ Then why should you not give up your command, and let
us go back to Kusinara ? We have enough land there to live on.”
“That would mean leaving the king at the mercy of his
enemies. Do you not understand, Mallika ? The king of
Magadha, Ajatshatru, has already made several attacks on Kashi.
Once we took him prisoner. Our king was generous; he married
his daughter Vajra to him, and released him. But Ajatshatru
dreams of making himself paramount ruler of all India, Mallika.
He is not going to he restrained by a marriage alliance. Our
capital is swarming with his spies. And the Vatsa king, Udayan,
the son-in-law of our distent neighbour, the ruler of Avanti (Ujjam)>
also has no honest intentions. He, too, is making preparations
on our frontier. It would be shameful cowardice, Mallika, to run
away from Shravasti at a time like this.”
“Yes, and it would be treachery too.”
“It is not for myself that I am anxious. Many a time l
have looked death in the face on the battlefield, and survived. It
will not be astonishing if some day death catches me m its claws.
Mallika Devi, who from being the daughter of a common
labourer, a gardener, had risen by her virtues to be the kings
consort, died; had she lived, she might have prevented the king
from being so misled.
 108 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

One day the king, on the pretext of danger to the frontier,

despatched Bandhula’s sons to a certain point. When they had
accomplished their mission and were returning, he treacherously
sent Bandhula himself against them. The unwitting father and
his ten sons perished together. When a letter reporting this event
reached Mallika, she was giving Buddha and his monks a meal,
which her ten young daughters-in-law had prepared. She read
the letter, and a knife went through her heart; but such was her
self-command that she said nothing ; there was not a tear in her
eye; her face was not even pale. She tied up the letter in a fold
of her dress, and gave all the company their food. After the meal
she listened reverently to Buddha’s homily, and then at last read
the letter aloud. It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen on the
family. Mallika was firm enough ; but to strengthen the minds
of the youthful widows was a difficult task even for Buddha.
In time, Prasenajit realised the truth, and regretted what he
had done ; but now it was useless. To soothe his conscience he
made Bandhula’s nephew, Dirgha Karayana, his commander-in¬
chief.

[ 6 ]
It was winter, and the fields round Kapilavastu were alive with
green wheat and flowering mustard. Today the city was gaily
decorated, with ornamental arches rising here and there. The
senate house was mosf ornate of all. A group of slaves, enjoying a
short rest after three days of heavy labour were sitting in a corner
of the house. One of them, Kaka by name, was saying :
“ Is there any life for us slaves ? It would have been better
for us to be born as cattle instead of human beings; then we
should not have had human minds.”
“ That is truth, Kaka! Yesterday my master Dandapani
heated an iron red-hot and burned my wife with it.”
" What did he burn her for ? ”
“ Who can ask him that ? They think nothing of even the
bond between man and wife among us slaves; and yet this Danda¬
pani calls himself a Jain—a follower of the Nigantha who respects
all life so much that he keeps a peacock-feather fan to prevent
himself from trampling on any insects on the ground My wife’s
crime was that she had come to tell me that our little girl, who
had been very ill for several days, had lost consciousness. In
the end the poor thing never recovered. It was a good thing for
her that she died, or she would have had to live the same kind
of life as we have in this world. No, Kaka there is no life
for us slaves. As if it wasn’t enough already, my brute
 9, BANDHULA MALLA 109
of a master is saying that he means to sell my wife as soon as
these fastivities are over”
“So your Dandapani brute was not satisfied with burning
her with a hot iron ! ”
“ No, brother. He says that after twelve years my little girl
would have fetched him fifty pieces of gold as if we had
intentionally robbed him of his fifty pieces ! ”
‘And as if we slaves had no feelings of mother or father.”
“And yet,” a third slave interjected, “it’s the son of a slave-
girl that all this reception is being got ready for.”
“ Who ? ”
“ This prince of Kosala, Vidudabha.”
“ A slave’s son ! ”
“Yes. Don’t you know that old woman belonging to the
Shakya Mahanama ? She is not dark like us : some Shakya must
have been her father.”
“ There's no lack of slave-girls born like that! ”
“ No; well, from this woman, Mahanama had a daughter.
Very fair, very pretty to look at; she was just like a Shakya.”
“ Why shouldn’t she be ? And the masters are quite willing
to take pains in bringing up a pretty girl, even if she is a slave’s
daughter.”
Prasenajit, the king of Koshala, was eager to marry some
Shakya girl, but no Shakya was ready to offer his daughter—the
Shakyas consider themselves the greatest high born in the uni¬
verse, Kaka But the king of Koshala would have been angry
with the Shakyas if they had given a flat refusal. So Mahanama
pretended that this daughter of his slave-woman was a Shakya
maiden, and offered her in marriage. And the son of this bride
Varshabhakshatriya is the prince of Kosala, Vidudabha.
“But he must treat his slaves as blood-thirsty as any Shakya.”
Trumpets sounded ; the Shakyas had received the prince of
Kosala and were now giving him a ceremonious welcome in the
palace; though in their heart of hearts, knowing him to be the
son of a slave-woman, they felt nothing but contempt for him.
Vidudabha, having enjoyed his welcome by his supposed
maternal relations, and received his grandfather Mahanama’s bles¬
sing, departed from Kapilavastu. The senate house had been polluted
by the feet of one of servile birth ; it was necessary to purify it,
and numerous slaves, men and women, were employed in wash¬
ing away every trace of dust from the floor. During this labour,
one slave-woman kept up a constant stream of abuse against the
slave-born Vidudabha. One of the latter’s soldiers had left his
spear behind in the house ; he came back for it, and stood listen¬
ing attentively to the woman’s tirade. Slowly Vidudabha came to
know the whoteiStonwielW vowafr afo AJftMfoffMPttgte
 no FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

Shakya alive in Kapilavastu, and the time was to come when he

would make good his threat. He was equally enraged with
Prasenajit, for having begotten him on a slave-girl.
Dirgha Karayana could never forget the deaths of his uncle
and his cousins. On the other hand Prasenajit, repenting in his
old age all his sins, tried to show more and more goodness and
kindness. One day, after the mid-day meal, he thought of Buddha.
Learning that Buddha was at a Shakya town some miles away,
he set off there with Dirgha Karayana and a guard of soldiers.
Before entering Buddha’s cell, he put his mace and sword and
othei regalia into Dirgha Karayana’s hands. The commander,
who had come to an understanding with Vidudabha, left one of
Prasenajit’s wives at the door, proclaimed Vidudabha king, and
took the road back to Shravasti.
After listening for some time to Buddha’s words, Prasenajit
came out, and his wife, half choked with sobs, told him what had
happened. Prasenajit set out for the capital of his son-in-law
Ajatshatru, king of Magadha, to seek his help. Travelling on foot
for days, in his old age, he exhausted all his strength before reach¬
ing his goal. It was evening when he reached the capital, and
the city gates were already shut. Prasenajit died that night, in a
hut outside the gates. In the morning, when his wife’s lamen¬
tations were heard, Ajatshatru and Vajra came in haste; but
except to cremate the corpse with great pomp, there was nothing
for them to do.
The death of Bandhula was avenged, and the poison of slavery
had done its work.
 10. NAGADATTA
Region: Northern^ India.
Time:335 B.C. *

By now the Aryans were completely settled in India and

had accepted many of the concepts and traditions of the
Asuras. This story brings us to the eve of foreign in¬
vasions.

W E must think of justice, Vishnugupta ! As human beings

we have a duty to do, and we must fix our minds on
doings what is right.”
“ Duty means religion ? ”
“I consider religion a fraud. It is nothing but a device to
Allow those who live by robbing others to enjoy their wealth in
peace and comfort. Has religion ever thought of the poor and
helpless ? There is no race in the world which does not believe
in some religion, but has it ever made people remember that a
slave is a human being ? Let alone slavery—think of women,
even free women : has religion ever done them justice ? If you
have money, you can marry two wives, four wives, ten, a hundred;
they will be no better than slaves, and religion has nothing to say
against it! My conception of justice is not a religious one ; I
mean by it, whatever a healthy human conscience supports.”
“Well, I say that whatever is necessary, is right.”
“Then there is no distinction of right and wrong.”
“ Of course there is, my friend. When I speak of what is
necessary. I don’t mean what is necessary only for the individual.”
“Try to explain it more clearly, Vishnugupta.”
“Take this country of ours, Taxila. Now, to us our inde¬
pendence is very dear, and also very right. But our land is too
small to stand up to an attack by a strong enemy. So long as
our neighbours were small republics* like western Gandhara or
the Madras, we could live at ease; there might be occasional wars,
but they cost us nothing more than a few lives. Our indepen¬
dence was not at stake, because nobody would find it easy to
digest Taxila, full of thistles as it is. But when the
Persians became our neighbours on the west, our independence
was at their mercy. Then what is necessary to save our indepen¬
dence ? That we should make ourselves as strong as the Persians ? ”
”And what are we to do to make ourselves strong?”
“ Nothing can be done with a tiny republic. Instead of all
these petty states we must bring into existence a big empire.”
 112 PROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“What position would the small states have inside it?”

“ They could keep their sense of individuality.”
“ That is a foolish notion, Vishnugupta ! Does a slave ever
keep a sense of individuality under his master ? ”
“Nagadatta, it is not through thinking or wishing that one
gets a good place; that depends on ability. If Taxila knows how
to act, she will be able to capture a strong position inside a big
empire ; if not, she will have to take a lower rank.”
“ A servile rank ? ”
‘‘Even that would be better for her at least than what has
become of western Gandhara in the empire of Darius. But very
well! Leave my prescription alone, and tell me what you think
we should do to safeguard our independence. This much is cer¬
tain, remember, that with the resources of our poor little
country we can never safeguard our existence.”
“ Yes, l will tell you, Vishnugupta! We have to maintain
our national independence, without putting ourselves under the
despotism ot a monarch. I admit that, as a single poor little
country, we cannot do it. Therefore we must unite all the states
of northern India into a federation.”
“ In which every state will still be free ?—or will the federa¬
tion be supreme ? ”
“I think the federation must be accepted as something
higher than Gandhara, or the Madras, the Mallas, the Shivis, or
any other member; just as we accept our State as something
higher than the individuals living in it.”
“ How are the members to be convinced of that ? After all,
in any State we have to keep up an army for defence against
foreign enemies. Your federation will have to collect taxes.
“The members of the federation will have to be treated just
as individuals are inside the State.”
“Inside the State we have a long tradition of living as a
single great family, united by common blood and ancestry, and
this family has been in the habit of obeying its native laws since
time immemorial. But your federation of states will be some¬
thing new, with no ties of blood to strengthen it; on the contrary,
blood-feuds and disputes have divided the members since time
immemorial. How are we to enforce the laws of the federation,
then? If you would only think about it like a practical man,
my friend, you would not talk of such schemes. The states will
only obey the federation when they are compelled to do so. And
I believe that it must grow up from within them.”
“I say that if that happened, it would be very good; but we
have already felt the weight of the Persians’ fists once. a™} ^c
know from experience that it cannot grow UP fr°m Wlthm' Thcre*
fote we have to create it, somehow or other.
 10. NAGADATTA 113

“At the cost of submitting to a monarchy?"

“Even if it were not Taxila alone, but all the individual
states like Taxila that had to submit to a king—a paramount
sovereign—we should be none the worse.”
Why not accept Darius of Persia as our ruler, then ? ”
Darius, the Persian, is not of our race, as you know very
well. We are Indians.”
“ Then—Nanda ? ”
If we cannot build a federation of all the northern states we
should not refuse to become Nanda’s subjects. Which is better;
to be enslaved by Darius, as western Gandhara has been, or to
live under the rule of a sovereign who is an Indian like ourselves ?"
“ Oh, Vishnugupta ! You have never seen a country ruled!
by a monarch. To see one is to realise that the condition ofi
the common folk there is no better than slavery.”
“I admit I have never set foot in a country ruled by a king,
except western Gandhara; but I feel in my heart the longing
to wander and see many lands. Instead of living a stick-in-the-
mud life at home, I mean to go and roam about for once in a
while when my studies are finished, just as you mean to. But
it can make no difference to my conviction that if we are to
escape a shameful subjugation to foreigners, our petty frontiers
must be wiped out. We must use the same key to success as
Cyrus and Darius used.”
“I want to take close view and see for myself how much
success they had.”
“ A close view ? ”
“Yes. In the east I have been as far as Magadha, and I
have seen Nanda’s kingdom, which, compared with our eastern
Gandhara, is a hell. It is certainly strong—strong enough to
grind the faces of the poor, but as to the labouring classes,
peasants, artisans and slaves, their misery is beyond description.”
“ This happened, because in Nanda’s empire no self-respect¬
ing, freedom-loving state like Taxila had a place.”
“ Oh, no, Vishnugupta! The Lichchhavi republic was more
warlike than our Gandhara, yet today Vaishali is the bond servant
of Magadha, and the Lichchhavis are just big strong hunting-
dogs for their masters, nothing better. Go to Vaishali, look at
it, all in ruins; its population has fallen to barely one third of
what it was a century and a half ago. All its spirit of pride and
independence, that it had taken hundreds of years to foster, serves
now only to provide the king of Magadha with brave soldiers.
Wherever a people has once given itself into the clutches of a
great empire, it can hardly hope ever to escape from them again.”
“ Nagadatta, my friend, there was a time when I used to
think as you do, but I know that the day of the small states has
 114 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

passed, and that the creation of a big republic or federation is a

mere dream; so I bow to the necessity of the times, and admit
its justice. But tell me, are you making preparations to travel
towards the west ? ”
“ Yes, to see the land of the Persians first, and then if possible
I want to see Greece as well. The Greeks have republics like
ours ; what 1 want to find out is how they were able to frustrate
the ambitions of Darius the Great and his descendants. 1 want
to see with my own eyes.”
“ I am going away too, friend. Let me find out by travelling
eastward whether Magadha has strength enough to unite all India,
or not. Yes, this is the task for us to undertake when our studies
are over, instead of collecting wealth or bringing up families. 1
only regret that I have not learned the art of medicine as you
have done along with your other studies. You did well; it is
a very profitable art for those who go travelling.”
“ But you have learned even more profitable arts, astrology
and fortune-telling, and magic charms.”
“ They are mere trickery, as you know very well.”
“ What has Vishnugupta Chanakya to do with truth or false¬
hood ! For you, whatever is necessary is right! ”
Nagadatta Kapya and Vishnugupta Chanakya had reached the
end of their student days, and this was the last talk between the
two young men of Taxila who had played together and worked
together since boyhood. They were going out, each guided by
his own ideas, to search for a way of protecting the freedom of
Taxila, which had already more than once been invaded by the
Persians.

[ 2 5
There were hills on every side, low hills bare of trees or grass;
the eye ached for a glimpse of greenery. Between the hills
stretched a valley of some breadth, in which one might have
some hope of finding a trace of water and vegetation. A caravan
route threaded this valley; travellers’ were constantly moving along
it, and rest houses had been built for them and their beasts to
halt at. Viewing the country round about, it was difficult to
believe that so much comfort could be found in these inns, or to
understand how so many furnishings and provisions could have
been collected in such a wilderness.
At halting places the rest houses were of more than one
type; some were meant for ordinary government officials or
Soldiers, some for merchants, and one at least at each stage was
4a royal mansion where the king, when on progress, or his satraps*
Would repose. To-day, at this halting place, someone was stopping
In the royal building; horses were in the stables, and numerous
 10. NAGADATTA 115

slave-attendants could be seen in the courtyard. Every face wash

a downcast expression. In spite of the bustling throng, a strange
hush seemed to spread over the place.
Three anxious looking officers emerged from the gate, and
moved towards the plebeian rest houses. Those whom they
passed stood aside timidly and respectfully at the sight of their
expensive clothes and impressive faces. They were making
enquiries whether there was any doctor to be found. At length,
in the inn reserved for common wayfarers, they were informed
that a Hindu physician was staying there. It was a region of
scanty rainfall* and the rainy season had ended some time before.
Apples, grapes, melons and such fruits were cheap enough to be
on sale at the inn. When one of the officers came face to face
with the physician, he was eating slices of a big melon ; a number
of Persians, similarly dressed in beggars’ rags, were sitting and
eating melons near him.
At sight of the officer, the mendicants jumped up in a fright
and fell back on all sides. Someone pointed to the man standing in
the middle, and said :
“ This is the Hindu doctor, master.”
The officer glanced first at his dirty clothes, with an air of
contempt; then he looked at the man’s face. It was not what
might be expected in a wearer of such rags. There was no trace
of fear or of servility in it. There was a light in those eyes
that made an impression on the officer ; his frown vanished and
he began, with something of respect in his tone :
“ You are a physician ? ”
“ Yes.”
“ Where from ? ”
“ Taxila.”
At the sound of this name the officer grew still more res¬
pectful, and said :
“The wife of our Satrap, the Satrap of the provinces of
Oxiana and Sogdiana, is very ill. She is the sister of the king
of kings. Can you give her any treatment ? ”
“ Why not, seeing that I am a physician ? ”
“ But these clothes of yours. . ”
“It is I who am to give the treatment, not my clothes.”
“ But they are so very dirty! ”
“ I was going to change them to-day. Wait a moment.” He
put on a somewhat cleaner woollen cloak, took up ft leather
bag stuffed with medicines, and set off with the officer.
The royal building might be known as a rest house, but no
donkeys had littered its courtyard with dung, no beggars had
rid their beddings of vermin here. Every corner was spotless.
Rugs of many coloured embroidery were spread on the staircase.
 116 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

flanked with handsome carved balustrades. There were valuable

carpets also on the floor in each room ; soft silk curtains hung in
the doorways, where beautiful girls stood motionless like marble
statues.
The officer approached a door, signing to the physician to
wait, and whispered something in the ear of the girl-in-waiting.
She opened the door noiselessly; nothing inside could be seen
through the hanging curtain. The girl went in, and returning
in a few moments, told the physician to follow her.
As he entered, he noticed that the room was pervaded with
some sw^et perfume ; then he darted a rapid glance about him.
A miracle had been performed in the decorating of this chamber.
Carpets, curtains, cushions, lamps, paintings, sculptures, all were
of an excellence he had never seen before. In front of him was
a luxurious divan, with two or three cushions resting on it near
the wall. Leaning on one of these sat a corpulent man of middle
age, with some streaks of grey in the brown moustaches that
curled up towards his ears. A restless, gnawing anxiety betrayed
itself in his wide tawny eyes.
At his side sat a girl of incomparable beauty. Her skin
was as white as milk; or rather, it reminded one of something
even softer and purer, except that there was a faint-flush, fainter
than ever now, in her pale cheeks. The scarlet of her soft lips was
brighter than the red of a parrot’s beak. Her light eyebrows were
soft, delicately arched lines; the extraordinarily wide eyes below
them, blue and long-lashed, were flushed and swollen. Her head
was adorned with the silken hairs that looked gold thread.
She wore a green silk vest with long sleeves, and red silk trousers.
On so pure and exquisite a form, her pearl-studded ornaments
seemed a useless burden.
Apart from these two figures, there were several young
women in the room ; the physician was not long in guessing, from
their faces and their submissive bearing, that they were attendants
of the Satrap’s harem.
The man—it was the Satrap himself—looked him up and
down from head to foot as he entered, but his glance was soon
arrested by the blue eyes that met his; and the thought passed
through his mind that if he gave this man his clothes to wear,
the stranger might pass for one of the handsomest youths of
Persepolis (Parshupuri).
“ You are a physician of Taxila ? ” asked the Satrap
courteously.
“Yes, sir."
“My wife is very ill. Since yesterday her condition has
become serious. The medicines my own two doctors have given
her are having no effect.’1
 10. NAGADATTA 117

“ After I have seen your lady I should like to talk with your
doctors.”
“They will be ready here. Come, let us go in.”
A snowy curtain was drawn aside from the spotlessly white
wall, disclosing an inner door. The Satrap and his sixteen year
old daughter led the way; the physician followed. In the room
within stood a bed, with legs of ivory ; on the soft mattress, as
white as sea-foam, lay sleeping the sick woman. She was wrapped
in an upper garment of white fur, and only her face above the
chin was visible.
The attendants stepped back as the Satrap appeared. The
physician drew close and gazed at the patient. Her face bore a
close resemblance to that of the young girl, but instead of the
latter’s fresh young beauty the effects of advancing years could
be seen, and the ravaging marks of the long illness. The once
rosy lips had turned yellowish, the once plump cheeks were
wrinkled and hollow. Her eyes were closed and sunken; the fair
arching brows were still contracted; the staring white of the fore¬
head was dry and lifeless.
“ Afsha! ” said the Satrap, bending over her.
The invalid’s eyes half opened, then closed once more.
“ She is unconscious,” said the physician, “ or semi-uncon¬
scious.” He drew her hands out, and felt the pulse, which could
only faintly be distinguished. A chill had spread almost through¬
out her body. The Satrap saw that the physician’s face was grave.
After some reflection the Hindu said :
“A little grape wine—the older the better.”
There was no lack of wine in the Satrap’s establishment, even
now when he was on tour. A shining glass flagon filled with blood
red wine, and a golden cup inlaid with jewels, were brought. The
physician open one of his leather phials, measured out with the
long nail of his dirty right forefinger eight grains of some medi¬
cine, and asked for the invalid’s mouth to be opened. The Satrap
tad no difficulty in holding it open. The doctor poured into it
the medicine, and a drop of wine, and watched with satisfaction
as the patient swallowed them.
“ Now,” he said to the Satrap, “ I shall go out and talk to
the doctors. Before long the lady will open her eyes; then I must
be called.”
They retired into the other room, and he consulted with the
Persian doctors who gave him a full account of how, from an
•ordinary fever contracted at the time of their departure from
Sogdiana, the patient had fallen into her present condition. An
attendant then brought word that the lady was asking for her
husband. The Satrap’s face lit up, as he hurried in again with
 118 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

the physician. His wife’s eyes were now wide open, and life had
come back to her features.
“They tell me,” she began, in a low but self-possessed voice,
“ that you have been very anxious. I have called you to tell you
that I shall soon be better. My mind is coming back, I feel I
am stronger now.”
“That is just what this Hindu physician was telling me,”
returned the Satrap.
Her face brightened as she said : “ The Hindu physician
understands my disease. It is over now, doctor, is it not ? ”
“Yes, the illness is over, but you will have to rest for some,
time. I am thinking of how to give you enough strength to go
on to Persepolis as quickly as possible. I have with me some
wonderful drugs made from certain minerals. I shall give some
drugs that Hindus use ; and you must drink a little grape-juice and
pomegranate-juice.”
“ You understand my disease, doctor ! The others are fools,
fools. I will do whatever you tell me. Roshana ! ”
The young girl came forward, exclaiming : “ Mother! ”
“ My child, your eyes are wet. Those other doctors were
killing me, but now you need not be anxious. Our god, Ahur.a-
Mazda. have sent this Hindu physician to me. See that he
is well taken care of, and whatever he tells me to eat or drink,
you must give it to me yourself.”
The physician gave Roshana some instructions, and went out
He entrusted to the Satrap whose face was beaming with joy,
some medicines wrapped up in birch bark, and was about to
return to his own lodging when the Satrap said :
“ You must stay here with us! ”
“ I am not used to court manners.”
“ You know very well how a man should behave. As to man¬
ners, each nation has its own.”
‘ My staying with you would be troublesome to your servants.”
“I will give you a separate room to yourself, near ours. It
will be a great satisfaction to us to have you close at hand.”
“There is no cause for anxiety now about your lady. Your
doctors had not diagnosed the disease correctly. If I had coma
two hours later, there would have been no hope. But now you
can consider the danger over.”
On the Satrap’s insistence, he consented to occupy one of
the royal apartments.
On the fourth day, the Satrap’s wife began to sit up, and
the deep lines on her face were soon fading away. Of all those
about her, the most delighted was Roshana. On the very day
after their first meeting, she brought in her own arms and gave
to the physician a cloak made out of two valuable pieces of cloth>
 10. NAGADATTA 119

a present from the Satrap. With this cloak, a gilded belt, and
gold-clasped shoes, he was a very different figure from the man
who had sat eating his melon among the beggars.
The patient was soon able to begin eating light food* On
the sixth day, in the evening, she sent for the physician. He
appeared before her a new man ; it might have been a nephew
of hers who was approaching. She made him sit down near her,
and then said—
“ I am very grateful to you, doctor. Mazda sent you to
save my life in the middle of this lifeless wilderness. What i&
your native town ? ”
“ Taxila.”
“ Taxila! It is a very famous city, known everywhere for
its learning. And you are its jewel! ”
“ Oh no, I am only an ordinary doctor, a beginner.”
“You are young, no doubt, but there is no contradiction
between youth and wisdom. What is your name, my honoured
physician ? ”
“ Nagadatta Kapya.”
“ It would be hard for me to pronounce your name in full f
Is it enough if I call you 4 Naga ’ ? ”
“ Quite enough, lady.”
“ Where are you travelling to ? ”
“At present, to Persepolis.”
“ And after that ? ”
“ I left home simply because I had a longing to wander about.”
“ We, too, are on our way to Persepolis; you must come with
us. We shall take every care of you. Roshana, you must see
to it yourself that our honoured physician is made comfortable ;
the slaves will be too careless.”
“I am seeing to it already, mother. 1 have made Sophia
responsible for it.”
“ The Greek girl my brother sent here for me ? ”
“ Yes mother. You had no work for her to do, and she
seems a very intelligent girl, so I have given her this work.”
“Then, doctor, you will come to Persepolis with us. I will
do nothing to oppose your own wishes but if you will stay in my
household as our physician, I shall be happy.
Nagadatta remained there for some time and then returned
to his own room.

[ 3 ]
Nagadatta had not dreamed that the capital of the greatest
empire of the earth would be set among such bare, treeless hills.
In such a poverty-stricken landscape. Persepolis was a great city.
 120 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

The royal palace with its massive pillars of shining marble and
its pinnacles that seemed to kiss the sky, gave the beholder some
understanding of the wealth of the king of kings. The opulence
of tljc city corresponded with that of the palace; yet all this was
the fruit of human labour. Nature, for her part, had been
niggardly of her gifts.
There was no better illustration of the wealth of Persepolis
and its ruler than the mansion of the king’s sister, Afsha. When
they reached the capital, she took pains to satisfy all Nagadatta’s
wants. Since she insisted on rewarding him, he asked for Sophia,
and was given her. Even though it was difficult to follow her
broken Persian, he could see at least that a living flame lurked
in her bright eyes. After she became his—his slave, that is to
say—Nagadatta never treated her as a slave, and little by little
her knowledge of the language improved. Nagadatta on his side,
learned the Greek alphabet, and Sophia began the laborious task
of teaching him her Attic dialect. In the course of a year he
grew quite well versed in it.
One day Sophia showed her gratitude to the young doctor
by saying : “ How strange a thing chance, or Fate, is! I never
hoped that I would fall into the hands of a master with such a kind
nature as yours.”
“ Oh, no, Sophia; if you had stayed with the Satrap’s wife,
perhaps you would have had an easier life still. But don’t call
me your master! The very name of slavery makes me feel ill.”
“ But I am your slave.”
“You are not a slave. I have told the Satrap and his wife
that, I have set you free from slavery.”
“ Then I am not a slave now ! ”
“ No ; you are as free now as I am, and I will try and help
you to go wherever you choose.”
“ But if I want to go on staying with you, you will not send
me away?”
“To go or to stay is at your own choice.”
“ How deeply slavery degrades a human being! I used to
see our own slaves in my father’s house ; I saw them laugh and
enjoy their amusements ; I never guessed how much anguish was
hidden under that laughter. It was only when I became a
slave myself that I discovered what a hell this bondage is.”
“ Tell me, Sophia, if it is not too painful for you—how did
you come to be a slave ? ”
“ My father was a leading citizen of Athens. When King
Philip of Macedonia conquered our city, he took his family with
him and escaped to Asia by ship. We expected to find shelter
there, but the town where we disembarked was besieged a few
months later by the Persians. The city was sacked, and in the
 10. NAGADATTA 121

panic people fled in every direction; some of them were caught

by the Persians. I was one of the captives, and because I was
young and pretty I was sent to the general. The general sent
me to the king. The king already possessed hundreds of Greek
girls like me. He heard that his sister was coming, and sent me
to her. Although I was a slave, my looks gave me a privileged
position, so my experience has not been the same as what ordinary
slave-women go through. All the same I know what torture it
is. I felt that I was no longer a human being.”
“ Then you never saw your father again, Sophia ? ”
“ I do not believe that he can have escaped alive. Now we
are all just dead leaves blown by the winds. Our dear Athens
has been conquered. Even if he were still alive, what place is
left for us to meet in ? ”
“ Athens must be a great city, Sophia ? ”
“ It was once, master—’*
“ Not master, Sophia! Call me Naga.”
“ Naga, then !—It was so once ! Now it has fallen in ruins.
Our republic, that clipped the great Darius’ claws, has been broken
to pieces by a petty king like Philip.”
“ How did it happen, Sophia ? ”
‘‘Even though we had repelled several Persian invasions, the
belief rooted itself in the minds of many Athenian leaders that
there could be no salvation for us until we too had built up a
kingdom powerful enough to counterbalance the Persian monarchy.
Philip would never have triumphed if he had not gained support
from inside Athens.”
“ Ah, Taxila ! You also have given birth to a Vishnugupta ! ”
“ What are Taxila and Vishnugupta ? ”
“ Proud Taxila, my birthplace, the Athens of the east. Our
republic several times, like yours, put to flight Darius the Great
and his successors ; but now my old fellow-student Vishnugupta
is saying the same thing as your Athenians who supported Philip
said.”
“ So Taxila is a republic, as Athens was ? ”
“ Yes; and in our Taxila there are no slaves. Any slave
who sets foot on its soil becomes a free man.”
“ Oh, Taxila is a merciful land! But I could see from the
beginning, Naga, that you did not know how to behave with slaves.”
“And I shall never let myself learn it. I told Vishnugupta
that if we let the Magadha men into our famous land of Taxila,
the curse of slavery was certain to enter it with them.”
“ What is Magadha ? ”
“The Macedonia of India; a big Hindu kingdom to the east
of Taxila. We have been hard pressed by the Persian onslaughts,
and year by year we have grown more weak S*d exhausted. It
 122 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

is true that Taxila cannot hope to resist the king of kings single-
handed ; but the remedy I believe is to band together our various
republics into a league.”
“ But, N&ga, I have seen that tried in my own country. A
great many of the republics of Hellas united in a league to resist
the Persians, but the league could not make itself permanent.
Every republic is so determined to retain its own independence
that they refuse to give enough power to the federation.”
“ Perhaps my opinion will turn out to be wrong then, and
Vishnugupta’s right.”
“ Vishnugupta sees no chance of success for a federation ? ”
“He says our enemies are strong that no league of repub¬
lics could resist them ; that if several of them would abolish their
frontiers and unite in one big republic, there might be some hope,
but that they will never agree to do.”
“Your friend may be right, Naga, but to the very end we
never let the thought of voluntarily surrendering the independence
of Athens enter our minds.”
“Then how did Athens, being a republic, come to admit
slavery into its territory ? ”
“ It did so as if to hasten its own ruin. The interests of the
rich made slavery widespread, and little by little the slaves multi¬
plied until they were more numerous than their masters.”
“ What struck you as the worst customs among the Persians ? ”
“ Slavery, which existed in my country also ; and then the
seraglios kept by the king and the rich men.”
“ Are there no seraglios in your country ? ”
“No. There even King Philip of Macedonia cannot marry
more than one wife. Here even minor officials marry several
times.”
“ in my country a man with several wives can be seen occa¬
sionally ; it is rare, but I felt that it pointed the way towards the
enslavement of women. Athens may have introduced slavery, but
Taxila has laid the foundation for it by admitting polygamy.’
“And for the accumulation of wealth in a few families.”
“I told Vishnugupta that in a republic anyone might amass
as much wealth as he liked, but they could not pour it out like
water, as kings do. You see for yourself, Sophia, what kind of
manners are spreading here along with costly furs, silk, pearls
and gems, and such luxuries. Their rose-cheeked, coral-lipped
owners never think how many millions must starve to provide them
with their luxuries.” .
“The little rain that falls on our poor houses is all sucked
away into their brimming ocean ! ”
“Those who turn dross to gold die hungry and naked, while
those who turn^gold to dross wallow in pleasure. I have been
 10. NAGADATTA 123

in the king’s presence three times, and each time I came back with
my brain burning. In all his magnificence I saw the misery of
the toilers who die under the frosts of winter and the burning
suns of summer. His red wine looked like blood from the veins
of his oppressed people. Persepolis suffocates me; I want to make
haste and escape from it! ”
“ Where do you want to go, Naga ? ”
“ First I want to know about you ? ”
“ What place can / think of ? ”
“ Greece ! ”
“I should be happy there.”
“ Then let us go to Greece ! ”
“ But on the way somebody may capture me again, and this
time I shall not find another protector like Naga.” Her voice
fell to a whisper, and her fine wide eyes had a look of terror in
them.
He stroked the golden hair that fell over her ear, saying :
“I have thought of a plan to prevent that, but first I must
have your consent to it.”
“ What ? ”
“I shall get the Satrap and his wife and the king to give
me letters, declaring that I am the king’s honoured Hindu physi¬
cian.”
“ Yes, then nobody will molest you ! ”
“ And if you are willing to appear to the world as the physi¬
cian’s wife, I will have your name too put in the letters.”
Tears started into her eyes; she clasped Nagadatta’s hands
in her own.
“You are too kind, Naga,” she exclaimed, “and yet you are
perfectly unconscious of it! You are so handsome, and yet
you have never noticed glances stolen at you from diamond and
sapphire eyes ! Naga! Roshana has confessed to me a hundred
times that she loves you. There is some sickly brother of hers
to whom her parents want to marry her ; but it is you she loves.
“ It was a good thing I did not know it, or I should have
had to make her a refusal. Sophia ! I was not born for any of
these palace-creatures. Perhaps I was not born for any women,
for there will be no easy life to dream away for the woman who
loves a man like me. However, if you are willing, I will have you
described in the king’s letters as my wife. Perhaps in Greece
you will find some one you love ; if so, you will be free to go
wherever you want ”

[ 4 ]
Everywhere Nagadatta the physician met with respectful treat¬
ment ; he was a Hindu physician, he had been in attendance on
 124 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

King Darius of Persia, and he possessed a wonderful mastery of

the art of healing. He had learned Greek while he was in
Persepolis, and he had Sophia as his companion. He visited
Macedonia, and met Aristotle, the tutor of Philip’s son Alexander.
Nagadatta was himself versed in philosophy—that is, in the Philo¬
sophy of India. Nagadatta did not like Aristotle’s love for
monarchy, yet when he left Macedonia he had developed a great
respect for him. What pleased him most of all in Aristotle was
that the latter made Nature, experimental science, and not abstract
thought, the touchstone of truth. Aristotle assigned a very high
place to observations and experiments. Nagadatta regretted that
the philosophers of his own country were bent on excogitating all
truth from their mind alone. He heard much praise of
Aristotle’s intelligent pupil from the tutor’s mouth, and himself
had several conversations with him. He observed in the youth,
besides exceptional vigour, an exceptional strength of judgment.
Nagadatta obtained Aristotle’s permission to return and meet
him again after visiting Athens; he little knew that this was fated
to be his last meeting with the Greek philosopher.

He entered the city of Athens, nursery of heroes and standard-

bearer of democracy, with the same sensation of love and reverence
as he felt towards Taxila. The city was now again inhabited, but
Sophia told him that it was no longer the Athens of old. The
temples of Zeus and Aphrodite were still adorned with the beauti¬
ful creations of immortal sculptors ; but the Athenians had lost the
intellectual quickness, the pulsing life, that Sophia had once seen
in them.
The present owner of her father’s house, or rather of a new
house built on its site, was a trader from Macedon. The sight
of this house made her so dispirited that for a whole day and
night she had to struggle against her natural melancholy, though
she said little. Sometimes a shower of tears fell from her eyes;
sometimes she sat as motionless as a marble-statue. Nagadatta
divined that it was this altered aspect of the loved home of her
childhood that had plunged her in such a sorrowful mood. But
it was difficult for him, since no opportunity of consoling her
offered itself, and the grief that had pierced Sophia’s heart made
its impression, before it passed away, on Nagadatta also.
When Sophia came to herself again, she seemed quite changed.
She had never thought much of adorning herself; but now she
bound her loose golden hair with a chaplet of fresh flowers, in
the style of the maidens of republican Athens. She wore the
handsome Greek tunic, falling in several pleats to the feet, and
ornamented sandals. There was a dazzling combination of youth,
beauty and health in her well-shaped forehead, her rosy cheeks,
 10. NAGADATTA 125

and her firm mouth. A smile of joy played all the time on her
lips.
Nagadatta was not surprised at this, but was very glad.
“ Dear Naga ! ” said Sophia, when he questioned her, “ I
always believed until now that life contained nothing but sorrow
and trouble, but now I am seeing that 1 was wrong in thinking
so. To have such a one-sided opinion of life takes away from
the value of living, and weakens one’s strength for performing
its tasks. Aftetr all, Naga, you have just as much to grieve you
when you think of the future of Taxila; but you keep your brain
calm and use all your energy to think of plans for it."
“Sophia, I am very glad to see you so happy.”
“ Why should I not be happy ? 1 have come home to Athens
and found my beloved here.”
“That is something to give you even more joy,” answered
Nagadatta, with a keen thrill of satisfaction, “ to have found the
one you love after so many days.”
“I see you are more than a man, Naga, you are above the
gods themselves! There is not even a spark of jealousy in you.”
“ Jealousy! Why should there be any jealousy ? Didn’t I
undertake to bring you safe to Greece, Sophia? Didn’t I tell
you that you could look for your beloved there ? ”
“Yes, you told me that."
“As soon as I saw you looking so much more cheerful, I
began to think that you must have found something very dear
to you.”
“You guessed right, Naga.”
“Well, let me invite him here, or if he cannot come here let
me go and see him.”
“ But why are you so impatient ? ”
“Am I really impatient? Yes, what you say is true.” He
tried to control himself.
Sophia began to be afraid that she would not be able to
hold her tears back. She turned her face away as she said:
“You can see him; but you must have an Athenian young
man’s costume, it is better than this.”
“ I’ll get that new cloak and the new sandals you bought
yesterday and put them on.”
“Go and put them on, and I’ll get a garland that Lydia is
making for my lover.”
“Good,” said Nagadatta, going into the next room. Sophia
stood in front of the big mirror in the sitting room, and quickly
smoothed down her dress and her flower ornaments; then she
hung a garland behind the mirror, went softly to the door, and
called:
 126 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA
V
“ Naga! It is getting late, I don’t want my lover to have
gone out in search of pleasure.”
“ I’m coming quickly ! What kind of a cloak is that you
have got me, its fold doesn’t hang properly! ”
“I’ll arrange it for you.”
“ Thank you ! ”
It was easy to put the disorderly fold straight. Then Naga¬
datta put on his new sandals. Sophia could not bring herself
to look at his bright face. She caught him by the hand, exclaim¬
ing : “ First come and look at your new clothes in the mirror! ”
“ You have seen them, Sophia, isn’t that enough ? My
clothes must be quite respectable.”
“ Yes, I know they are respectable, but it won’t do you any
harm to take one look at them.”
She made him stand in front of the mirror; he began to
stare at his costume. Sophia drew out the garland.
“I have made this for my Jove,” she said.
“It is a very pretty garland, Sophia.”
“ But I can’t tell how it will look on him.”
“ Oh, it will look very well! ”
“ His hair is yellow, and this chaplet is all roses.”
“ It will go quite well.”
“Just put it over your head and let me look.”
“ If you like. My hair is yellow too.”
“That is why 1 want to make certain.” She slipped it over
his head and looked at it from in front, and then asking him
to turn away from the mirror, added : “ So to-day you will see
my love, Naga. Just now—look at this! ”
Nagadatta turned his head ; she was pointing her finger at
his reflection in the mirror.
“ This is my love! ” she whispered with swimming eyes;
and the next moment she had caught him in her arms and pressed
her lips to his. Nagadatta was silent. Sophia released his lips,
and laying her cheek against his, said—
“ My dearest! How fine he is, Naga ! ”
“ Sophia—how can I think myself worthy of you ? ”
“ 1 know I am meant for you, dear Naga ! ” Now we shall
be with each other until we die.”
Nagadatta could not restrain his tears.
“Until we die,” he repeated.

ts ]
Nagadatta had a great desire to see the Bay of Salamis, where
the Greek navy had inflicted a crushing defeat on the Persians.
He and Sophia were on their way together to visit it. He had
 10. NAGADATTA til

discovered a new energy in himself, and his thoughts were turn¬

ing continually to Taxila. On the way they stopped to rest under
a tree, and Sophia remarked :
“You must have heard, Naga, that Philip is dead, and that
Alexander has become king of Macedonia and is collecting a
very strong army.”
* “Yes. His ambition is to make himself master of all the
Aegean coasts. But its eastern and southern coasts are in the
hands of the Persians.”
“ Which means that he intends to declare war on Persia.”
“And therefore he wants to enlist the support of democratic
Greece in building up his empire. His plan is to kill two birds
with the same stone, Sophia : to expel the king of kings from the
Aegean, if not drive him even, further back, and to inspire the
proud Greek republics with enthusiasm for a monarch.”
“ That is the counsel Aristotle gave him; Aristotle has
fanned the flame of his ambition.”
“ Aristotle the philosopher ! ”
“Yes. His master Plato drew up a scheme of a model
republic ; but he also wanted to make the common people mere
ploughmen or the like. Aristotle, instead of a perfect republic,
conceived of a perfect ruler, a universal monarch. Who knows
how far this Greek world-conqueror may march and drive back
the king of kings ! ”
“Once he sets out, Sophia, it wilt not be in his own power
to call a halt. And away in India my old comrade Vishnugupta
Chanakya has gone to Magadha to look for a universal monarch
“Perhaps the Greek conqueror and the Indian conqueror
will come face to face on the banks of the Indus! ”
“ If not in this generation, then in the next, Sophia! But
how small the world will have grown then
From the coast they embarked in a ship for Salamis. The
sea was calm, there was hardly any wind blowing. Sophia, and
Nagadatta gazed with gratitude at these waves which, two cen¬
turies before, had lent their aid to the destruction of the Persian
fleet.
When they had sailed far out from land, a violent storm broke
on them. It seemed to them as if they were experiencing the
very storm that had broken long ago on the Persians. Just then
they noticed that the faces of the crew were full of terror, mid
realised that the sail had carried away. The ship swung side¬
ways. What was about to happen was only too clear. Sophia
put her arms round Nagadatta and drew
There was a smile on her lips as she murmured- Until we die.
 128 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“Yes! Until we die.” He pressed his lips against hers, and

they lay locked in each other’s arms.
Another moment, and the vessel foundered. They had,
indeed, stayed together until death.
 11. PRABHA
Region: North India.
Time: 50 A.D. T

With this story we enter the period of more familiar his*

tory of India.

S AKETA or Ayodhya, had never formerly become the capital

of any ruler. King Prasenajit of Kosala, the contemporary
of Buddha, had indeed possessed a palace there ; but his
capital had been Shravasti, some fifty miles away. His son-in-law
Ajatshatru destroyed the independence of KosaK and from that
moment the fortunes of Shravasti decayed. Saketa, standing on
the river Sarayu, :Jad been from the first a great centre of water¬
borne traffic, and also, since it was on the caravan-route between
the east and the Punjab, a centre of commercial movements by
road. It retained this position for a long time.
Chandragupta Maurya, the pupil of Vishnugupta Chanakya,
extended the kingdom of Magadha, first up to Taxila, and then,
after defeating the Greek ruler Seleucus, as far as the Hindu Kush
range. Under Chandragupta and the Maurya dynasty, Saketa con¬
tinued to be no more than a commercial centre. It was Pushya-
mitra, the general who overthrew the Maurya dynasty, who first
conferred on this city the status of a capital; though without,
perhaps, abolishing the pre-eminence of Pataliputra (Patna). The
new name, Ayodhya, was popularised by Valmiki, when he wrote
his Ramayana in the reign of Pushyamitra or some later king of
the Shunga dynasty. ,
There can be no doubt that Ashvaghosh had a keen apprecia¬
tion of the fascinating poetry of Valmiki; and it is not to be
wondered at that Valmiki sought the patronage of the Shunga
rulers, just as Kalidas sought that of Chandragupta Vikramaditya
—or that, in order to magnify the Shunga capital, he changed the
setting of the Jataka legends from Benares, the capital
of King Dashratha, to Saketa. He extolled the Shunga
emperor, Pushvamitra or Agnimitra, in his poem, under the figure
of Rama; just as Kalidas extolled Chandragupta Vikramaditya
under the figure of Raghu in his Raghuvamsha (“Dynasty of
Raghu), and his son Kumaragupta under that of Kumara in
Kumarasambhava (“The Birth of the War-god”).
When the commander Pushyamitra put his master to death,
he failed to gain control of the entire Maurya empire. The whole
 130 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

of the Punjab fell into the hands of the Greek ruler Menander,
who once even laid siege to Saketa, according to the account left
by the Brahman Patanjaii, the household priest of Pushyamilra.
We learn from the same source, that in the early days of Pushy a-
mitra’s reign Saketa had a position of special importance, and that
at that period its name had not yet changed to Ayodhya.
Coming down now to two centuries later, we still find Saketa
the home of opulent merchants. Where the Goddess of Wealth
had her seat, the Goddess of Learning could not lack some measure
of respect, and that religion and Brahmans should abound there
was as natural as that flies should be drawn to honey. Among
these Brahmans was one clan, distinguished for its wealth and
scholarship, the name of whose senior member time has buried
in oblivion, while his wife’s name was immortalised by her son.
This lady was Suvarnakshi; she owed this name to her eyes, which
had a touch of golden colour in them. In that age, blue and
golden eyes were not uncommon in Brahman or Kshatriya families,
and a yellowish eye was considered no blemish. Survanakshi had
one son, who possessed, like herself, a pair of golden eyes, yellow
hair, and a fair complexion.

[ 2 ]
It was spring-time. Everywhere mango-blossoms breathed their
perfume on the air. The trees had shed their old leaves and
clotheo themselves afresh. To-day was the ninth day of the moon
of the month of Chaitra. The people of Saketa, men and women,
were gathered on the bank of the river Sarayu, ready to go swim¬
ming. Bathing in the river was their way of celebrating the spring
festival. Young men and women took part equally, bathing naked
from the same landing-steps. Among the girls were numerous
Greeks, with skins white as snow ; their lovely bodies were as
perfect as the marble statues of the Greek sculptors, and they had
wonderful golden or auburn tresses. There were just as many
Brahman maidens, with ebony or yellow hair and golden eyes,
not inferior to any of the Greeks in beauty. Nor was there less
charm in the transient, youthful bloom of the dark-haired, wheat-
coloured girls of Vaishyas (the commercial caste).
On this day all the virgin beauty of Saketa, from every
corner of the city, was gathered on the bank. Young men of
the same diverse stocks were throwing off their clothes and pre¬
paring to dive into the river; men with bodies hardened by exer¬
cise, well-rounded and handsome, of every shade of colour from pure
white to wheat-yellow. The hair, faces and noses bore the dis¬
tinguishing marks of their origin. No better opportunity than this
bathing-festival could be afforded for scrutinising the person of
 11. PRABHA 131

any youth or maiden. It was an opportunity that decided a

marriage choice every year. Parents encouraged their children
to make use of it in this way, which was quite proper to the
occasion.
The competitors went across the river in boats, and then
dived in to swim back. Tresses of golden, auburn, pale-black
yellow or redish hair gleaned on the blue water, while blue-black
tresses lost themselves in its colour as the swimmers forced them¬
selves across the current with threshing arms. A flotilla of small
boats kept pace with them, the people in them urging on the swim¬
mers or pulling out of the water those who became exhausted—
for some mishaps were possible among thousands of competitors.
Every swimmer was putting out all his strength in the effort to
forge ahead.
By the time two thirds of the river s breadth had been crossed,
,a great many of those in the race were exhausted. Just then
two swimmers were seen pressing forward, ahead of the others.
The point reached by them was marked by two floating masses
of hair; one yellow, the other auburn. As the bank drew close
their exertions became still more violent, while the onlookers
in the boats held their breath with excitement : the two heads,
far ahead of all rivals, were exactly abreast of each other. The
.goal was now very near. Everyone was hoping to see one of
the two take the lead, but neither seemed able to shake the other
off. It even appeared that someone in the boats heard them
encouraging each other to win.
They reached the bank simultaneously. One was a young
man, the other a girl. The crowd applauded them while they put
on their clothes, and then they were carried off in open palanquins
under a rain of flowers from the onlookers. They were now able
to take a closer view of each other. Not only their good swim¬
ming, but their good looks as well, were the object of the by¬
standers’ admiration. .
“I know the maiden,” one of these remarked; but who is

the -Have^'ou never heard of the Brahman Ashvaghosha, the son

of SurVarnakshi ? ” , r
“ No, I only know the Brahmans related to my own family
Driest. We merchants have no leisure for hearing things.”
“ Oh but Ashvaghosha’s reputation for learning has spiead
far beyond Saketa, exclaimed a third. “He is an expert Blaster
of all the Vedas and all learned subjects.” , .
“But he can’t be more than twenty-four years old, observed

“ Yesf he is just-twenty-four, and people read his songs and

sing them in raptures.*’
 132 FROM VOLOK TO GANGA

“So this is the poet Ashvaghosha, whose love-songs are on

the lips of all our young people! ”
“ The same man. And what is the girl’s name, friend ? ”
“ Prabha; her father belongs to a distinguished family in
our Greek community here, and he is a merchant well known
all over Kosala, Dattamitra.”
“Oh, that explains it—we seldom see such beauty in any
other community. How soft her body is to look at. And yet
a strong swimmer! ”
“Her parents are both unusually healthy and strong.”
The crowds which thronged the city park to pay their warm
tribute to the two swimmers learned all about them ; and the
bashful pair were making each other’s acquaintance.

13 ]
Thf. flower-garden of Saketa was a memorial of the reign of
the General Pushyamitra. The latter had expended much money
and labour in laying it out; and though his dynasty ruled no
longer, and Saketa was not now the capital of any royal
family, the towns people regarded it as a valuable possession
of Saketa, and still maintained it in as good order as in the
days when Pushyamitra was on the throne. In the centre of the
park was a handsome lake, on whose clear blue water floated
lotus-plants of many species, in full bloom, and a pair of swans.
It was terraced all round with steps of white stone leading down
into the water, and gleaming like crystal. A wide grass border
stretched round the margin of the pool. Scattered beds were
bright with roses, jasmine and many other flowers; elsewhere
stretched rows of ashoka trees and other shrubs. There were
arbours, big and small, overhung with trailing creepers and floored
with stone; there were fields where boys and girls played at
ball; there were little ornamental hills of rock or earth, covered
with green foliage; there were fountains whose falling spray
seemed to mimic showers of rain.
In the afternoons a throng of young people of Saketa was
often to be seen about one of the arbours; they were people
who could not find room inside it. Today there was a crowd
of this sort, but it stood all round in silence. All seemed to be
listening intently to something from the arbour. Inside, on the
stone-flagged floor, sat the same youth who, a month before, had
purposely failed to win the swimming race. He wore a tunic
of smooth, soft silk; his long fair hair was gathered up on top
of his head. He held a stringed instrument, the resonant veena,
from which the effortless play of his fingers drew forth a bewitching
melody. He was singing to his instrument, with eyes half closed.
 11. PRABHA 133

lost in his music; not another poet’s song, but his own. He had
just finished his Sanskrit poem, Spring Cuckoo, and after Sanskrit
he must sing something in Prakrit, for the poet-musician knew
that Prakrit was the better-loved language of his audience. He
was singing his recent composition, Urvashi Viyoga (“Separation
from Urvashi ”) ; the dancing-girl of heaven has been stolen away,
and Pururava, who calls her his Apsara (water-nymph) is search¬
ing for her, calling her name, among hills, streams, lakes, woods,
thickets, everywhere ; he cannot find her, but he hears her words
echoing in the wind. The singer’s own eyes filled with tears as
he sang of the tears of Pururava, and all his hearers wept with him.
At the conclusion of the music, the crowd broke up and
dispersed. When Ashvaghosha emerged, a group of young folk,
who had lingered, surrounded him. Among them, with flushed
and swollen eyes, stood Prabha.
“ What a great poet you are ! ” cried a youth, coming up to
him.
“ A great poet ? I am not even a poet, sir.”
“ Let me say what I think ! Listen ; we Greeks here in Saketa
have a small theatre.”
“ For dances ? I am very fond of dancing, too.”
“ Not only for that; we often have some acting there as well.**
“ Acting ? ”
“ Yes ; it has a very honoured place among Greek customs.
We have painted scenery to call up different ages and countries,
and we try to represent all the episodes in a realistic manner.”
“I am very sorry to think that though I was born in Saketa,
1 have never seen any of this acting.”
“ Our audience is confined to the Greek families of Saketa
and a few of their close friends ; so that there are many people
in Saketa to whom Greek acting.”
“ Acting—that is, performing plays ? ”
“ Yes, plays. Well, we are going to perform one to-day, and
we should like you to see it.”
“ Very gladly ! It is very kind of you and your friends to
invite me.”
Ashvaghosha went away with them, and a place was given
him in the theatre, near the stage. The performance was of a
<}reek tragic drama, translated into Prakrit. All the roles were
taken by young men and women of Greek descent, and all the
actors and actresses wore Greek costumes. The various scenes
had likewise been painted in the Greek style. The heroine was
Ashvaghosha’s acquaintance, Prabha, and her brilliant acting carried
him away. During an interval, the Greek youth who had pre¬
viously accosted Ashvaghosha, seized the opportunity of begging
him to sing again Urvashi Viyoga. He picked up his veena with*
 134 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

out hesitation, and went up to the stage. Once more his music
drew forth his own tears and those of his hearers. Once, as he
sang, his glance met the grieved eyes of Prabha.
When the play was over, all those who had taken part in it
were introduced to the poet, in their dressing-room.
“In spite of living in Saketa,” he said, “I have been quite
ignorant of this beautiful art. 1 am very grateful to you for
giving me a light (Prabha) I have never known.”
At the word ‘ light ’ some of the girls looked at Prabha with
a smile for it was the meaning of her name.
u An idea has come to me.” Ashvaghosha went on, “ just
as you have performed today a Greek play in a Prakrit transla¬
tion, it seems to me that we might treat our own country’s legends
in the same form, and put together some good plays ourselves.”
“We are quite confident that if a poet like you were to take
it up, he could compose dramas even better than these Greek
originals.”
“ That is too much to expect! I am only fit to be an
apprentice to your Greek playwrights. Well, shall I write a play
on the story of Urvashi ? ”
“ We shall be very glad to perform it! But you will have
to take the part of Pururava.”
“ I have no objection, and I think with a little practice I
shall not do it too badly.”
“ We must get some scenery ready as well.”
“ For the scenery we must have views of Pururava’s country.
1 can paint a little myself, and I shall be able to lend some help
with it if I am needed.”
“It will be very good if we have the scene painted under
your direction. And you will have to give us instructions about
the actors’ costumes and ornaments. What other parts will there
be?”
“We can’t decide all the character on the spot, friend. But
we should keep the number small. How many should we have ?
“ We can easily fill up sixteen parts, or say twenty.”
“ I shall try to limit the number to sixteen.”
“Well then, you yourself are to be Pururava, and as for
Urvashi how would our Prabha here do ? You have seen her
acting today.”
“ To my inexperienced eyes she seemed quite perfect."
“ Very good; we decide on her for Urvashi. In our club
nobody can refuse to take on any work he is given.”
A slight frown crept into Prabha’s eyes, but when the hand-
some youth turned to her, saying “ Well, Prabha ? ” she gave a
hesitatnt assent.
 11. PRABHA 135

t 4 ]
Ashvaghosha read through some Prakrit translations of Greek
plays with the handsome young Greek, whose name was
Buddhapriya, and discussed with him ideas about the scenery and
so on. He borrowed Greek terms to describe stage-settings, to
commemorate the art of Hellas. He wrote a play in a mixture
of Sanskrit and Prakrit, prose and verse. In that period the
Prakrit vernacular was still so close to the literary Sanskrit that
the play was understood quite easily in families familiar with
either language. This Urvashi Viyoga was the first Indian drama,
and Ashvaghosha the first Indian playwright. Though it was his
first attempt, Urvashi Viyoga was not less beautiful than his
later plays, such as Rashtrapala (“Protector of the Nation”), or
Sariputra (“Son of Sari”).
While the scenery was being got ready and the performance
rehearsed, the young poet forgot everything else, even food and
drink. He felt that he was living through the most wonderful
hours of his life. He and Prabha worked together for hours
every day. Now the seeds of love sown in their hearts on the
day of the race began to sprout. The young Greeks were anxious
to see Ashvaghosha linked to them as a kinsman, and therefore
felt that they had an interest in encouraging the connection.
One day, after hours of labour with the brush, Ashvaghosha
came out of the theatre and sat down on a chair in the small
garden adjoining it. A moment later Prabha also came out.
“What had you in your mind,” she asked in her natural,
pleasant tones, “ while you were composing your Urvashi Viyoga ? ”
“The tale of Urvashi and Pururava.”
“Of course, the story I know. You turned Urvashi into a
water-nymph and kept calling her a nymph, didn’t you ? ”
“ Urvashi was a water-nymph.”
“Then in the poem you described Pururava, separated from
Urvashi, seeking her distractedly through streams and pools, hills
and woods, and so on.” ,
“ It was natural for Pururava to behave like that in his
situation.”
“And then the singer of Urvashi Viyoga let his awn tears
falling in the arbour make another accompaniment to his song,
as well as the veena ” . M
“A singer or an actor must be absorbed in his theme, Prabha.
“No! You don’t want to tell me the truth.”
“ What are you thinking ? ”
“ I think that it was not the song of separation of any ancient
Urvashi that you were singing.”
“What, then?"
 136 THOM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Your real water-nymph was a swimmer in the river Sarayu.”

“ Well ? ”
“ This nymph’s real Pururava was not wandering in search of
her through any Himalayan hills or forests or streams or lakes
or thickets, but near the Sarayu, the flower-garden pool, the arti¬
ficial hills and pleasure-groves and creepers of Saketa.”
“ Well ? ”
“His tears were not flowing in sympathy with any ancient
Pururava, but to quench the fire that was burning his own heart.”
“ Prabha, let me tell you something else.”
“Tell me! All this time I have been talking too much”
“ That day, when I came out of the arbour, I saw that your
sweet blue eyes were swollen and inflamed."
“ You had been making me cry with your music.”
“That music spoke to you of your own separation from a
lover.”
“ But the Urvashi in your poem had a heart of stone ; at
least that is how you had portrayed her.”
“ Because I was troubled and helpless.”
“ Why ? What were you thinking ? ”
“That she had shone only for a moment, like lightning and
I should never be able to enjoy the sight of her again; that she
must have forgotten me long since.”
“ Were you so insignificant—you, a poet ? ”
“ When a man has nothing to give him self-confidence, he
can only think of himself as a kind of pauper.”
“ You are the great poet not only of Saketa but of all our
wide land. You are the winner of the Saketa swimming race.
Everyone in Saketa is loud in praise of your learning; and as
for the women, the most beautiful girls of Saketa are ready to
make you the light of their eyes. ...”
“ What use that ? For me, my Urvashi alone mattered.
When I went for two weeks without seeing her, life seemed hollow.
I am telling the truth, Prabha. I never found my mind so weak
as then. If 1 had not seen you for another week, I don’t know
what I should have done.”
“ My. poet, you should not be so selfish. You are our country’s
immortal singer. What great hopes she has of you! Do you
know how highly your Urvashi Viyoga is being praised.”
“I have heard nothing.”
“Last week a relation of mine, a Greek merchant, came
here from Bharukachchha (Broach). There is a big Greek settle¬
ment there. In Saketa we Greeks have turned into Indians, but
over there they have not forgotten their old language. Many
traders and scholars come to Bharukachchha from Greece. This
relation of mine is very well-read in Greek literature. He com-
 11. PRABHA 137

pared your play with the compositions of the great Greek dramatist
Euripides, and made a copy of it to take away with him. He
said he would translate it into Greek and send it to King Ptolemy
of Egypt, who is a great lover of the theatre. There are always
ships sailing between Bharukachchha and Egypt. While I listened
to him talking, my heart was bursting with pride.”
“ It means everything to me to know that your heart is proud
of me, Prabha.”
“ You don’t know your own worth.”
“ I know it now, Prabha, you have been its touchstone.”
“No you must not feel like that. Ashvaghosha, the lovet
of Prabha, and Ashvaghosha, the great poet of the age, are two
individuals ; you must keep them apart. The lover may say and
do what he likes, but the great poet is more important, and you
must regard him as belonging to the whole world.”
I will do whatever you tell me.”
“ I never hoped that I should have such good fortune.”
■“ Why ? ”
“ I was thinking that you must have forgotten me.”
“ You were so insignificant! ”
'“Before you I was—I still am.”
“ You have given me a new gift of poetry. I am finding
a fresh purpose, a fresh inspiration, in my poems. My Urvashi
Viyoga was inspired by you, the song as well as the play. I am
naturalising the drama in our country, Prabha! But how could
you imagine that I would forget you 7 ”
“ How could I ever dream of being able to reach you! When
I came to learn all your qualities, one by one, I felt nothing but
■despair. And then I saw all the young beauties of Saketa in¬
fatuated with you, one after the other ; that was enough to deprive
me of hope. Besides, 1 heard that you belonged to a very high
Brahmin family, and although I may belong to a Greek family
which is included in the Kshatriya class, the highest after the
Brahmans, how could my love be accepted by one of you Brahman
aristocrats, who never marry without investigating the bride’s
ancestry on both sides for seven generations ? ”
“ I am sorry to think that is how I appeared to you, Prabha.”
“ So you . . .” her tongue faltered.
“ Prabha! ” he exclaimed, kissing her wet eyes and pressing
her to his breast, “Ashvaghosha will always be yours. Even
death cannot take him from you.”
Tears were pouring from her eyes, and he wiped them away
as he held her clasped in his arms.
His play was performed excellently, several times over, and
was seen by all the wonder-struck citizens of Saketa, who had
 138 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

never suspected the dramatic art could be so rich and lofty. After
the final curtain Ashvaghosha repeatedly declared that he had
done nothing but borrow from the Greek stage ; but his play
was so distinct in its style that no one could trace any element
of foreign influence in it.
His songt and poems in Sanskrit and Prakrit had spread
beyond the limits of Saketa and even of Kosala ; his plays attained
an even wider celebrity. They speedily found their way on to
the stage in cities like Ujjain, Dashpur, Supparak, Bharukachchha
Shakala, Taxila and Pataliputra, where there were Greek colonies
and theatres, and became popular with the entire aristocracy and
commercial class.

[ 5 ]
That Ashvaghosha was appearing on the stage and was in love
with a Greek girl, could not be kept hidden from his parents. His
father was particularly disturbed by the news, and got Suvarnakshi
to try arid make him understand his position. When his mother
told him that such a marriage, for such a family as theirs, was
forbidden by religion, Ashvaghosha drew on his Vedic lore and
placed before her a mass of evidence compiled from the precepts
of the Rishis. (Some of these he later collected in his Vajrasuchi
which is still to be found included among the texts of the
Upanishads.) But his mother only replied: “That is all very
well, my son, but we Brahmans to-day do not follow those
antiquated customs.”
“Then I shall introduce a new standard of good conduct for
Brahmans.”
His mother could not view his proceedings wtih any pleasure,
but when he told her that he could not live without Prabha, she
came over to his side, saying “ My son you are all I have.”
One day Ashvaghosha sent Prabha to visit his mother. When
the latter saw' that Prabha’s virtue and sweetness of temper
equalled her beauty, she gave the girl her blessing.
But the father could not give way. He said plainly to Ashva¬
ghosha one day :
“Our family holds a very high position in the Brahman com¬
munity. For many generations, only brides of the highest
Brahman families have entered our house. If you stoop
now to this marriage you desire, we and our descendants for ever
will be polluted. All our rank and dignity will be lost.”
But for Ashvaghosha, to renounce Prabha was unthinkable.
His father then made ingratiating approaches to PrabhaV
parents, but it was of no avail. Finally he went to Prabha her*
 11. PRABHA 139

self and threw his head-cloth at her feet in token of appeal. Hei
only answer was that she would talk to Ashvaghosha about what
he had said.

[ 6 ]
Prabha and Ashvaghosha became inseparable companions. If one
of them visited the river bank, the park, the pilgrims’ fair-ground,
the dance-theatre, the playhouse, or any other spot, the other
was sure to be there too. His heart expanded in her presence
like a flower in sunlight. In the radiance of the milk-white moon,
the pair would often stroll beside the river, and there pass their
time not in love-play only but in discussion of the many mysteries
of life.
One moonlit night, beside the dark flood of the Sarayu,
Ashvaghosha was drawing in his mind a picture of Prabha’s beauty
as she sat on the glimmering sand. Suddenly and impulsively
he exclaimed : “ Prabha, you are my music! It was your
inspiration that made me write my Urvashi Viyoga, and your
beauty will help me to create so much beauty in poetry. Poetry
:s not an outer projection of inner feeling, but an inward expression
of things around us. You have taught me the truth of that, love.”
As he spoke, Prabna stretched herself out on the cold sand.
Ashvaghosha looked at her long, fresh tresses, floating on the sand,
and took her head on to his lap. She gazed up at the outline of
his face, and when he had finished speaking she said—
“I agree with all that you say. Yes, indeed, poetry cannot
fulfil itself without the inspiration of physical beauty. I should
have liked to make a picture of you in poetical words, though
all I can make is a silent portrait, poetry is not mine to command.
I told you that day that you must think of yourself as a double
individual, and that you must think chiefly of the immortal
Ashvaghosha, the great poet of the age, because he is not one
person’s treasure, but the world’s treasure. You remember the
words of that learned monk, whom we went to see two days ago,
from the Kalakarama monastery?”
“He seemed remarkably intelligent.”
“Yes, and he has travelled very widely. He was born in
Egypt at Alexandria.”
“ So I heard. There is one thing I can’t understand, dearest.
Why do all the Greeks have such a respect for Buddhism ? ”
“ Because it seems to harmonise with their character arid their
independent nature.” ,
“But Buddhism tries to make everyone passionless, ascetic*
monkish.”
 140 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Among Buddhists the monks are very few compared with

the number of those living with their households, and they are
second to none in recognising the blessings of family life.”
“ After all, there are so many other religions in this country;
why should the Greeks admire Buddhism in particular ? ”
“ It is the most liberal of all these religions. When our
ancestors entered India, everyone called us barbarians and looked
down on us. I am not speaking only of the Greek invading
armies ; the same treatment was given to Greeks who came to
settle here, or for such purposes as trade. But Buddhists showed
no contempt for them. Of course, the Greeks had got to know
-of Buddhism in their own country.”
“ In Greece itself ? ”
“ In the time of Ashoka, the grandson of Chandragupta
Maurya, a good many Buddhist monks made their way into Greek
territories. The monk we met, Dharmarakshita, did not become
a monk after coming to India, he was already a monk in a
monastery at Alexandria.”
“ I want to meet him again, Prabha.”
“You must certainly meet him. He will talk to you about
other deep problems. Only, darling, don’t let hearing this Buddhist
turn you into an ascetic and make you give me up ! ” She folded
him in her arms, as if someone was trying to pull him away.
“There were some things about Kalakarama that seemed to
me very attractive. The thought came into my head—what if
all our country could be made like it ? "
“ No dailyg ! ” exclaimed Prabha, sitting up. “ You mustn’t
think of going into the monastery and leaving me ! ”
“ Leaving you, as long as I live ! Impossible ! I was just
thinking about the absence of distinctions and divisions there.
Imagine—there are learned monks of many lands, like the Greek
Dharmarakshita or the Persian Sumana, and along with them
monks of our country, of every class from Brahmans to chandalas
all of them living together, eating and drinking together,
studying together. What is the name of that old dark-skinnned
monk at Kalakarama ? ”
“ Mahasthavira Dharmasena. He is the head of all the monks
of the Kosala monasteries.”
“I think it would be very good if all the people of town
and countryside abolished their differences as the monks of
Kalakarama have done, and had no caste divisions or racial
divisions.”
“ There is one thing I have not told you, dearest. One
day your father came and threw his head-cloth at my feet, and
Begged me to set you free.”
 11. PRABHA 141

“As if your setting me free would give him back his son It
What did you say to him, Prabha ? ”
“I only said I would talk about it to you.”
“Well, you have talked to me. I feel a bottomless disgust,
at the hypocrisy of our Brahmans. I feel it until I burn all
over. First they say that they believe in their holy scriptures;
well, I read through all their books, laboriously and zealously!
But what they really believe, I can’t discover. Perhaps they really
only believe in their own self-interest. When you confront them
with a quotation from one of their ancient sages, they only say :
‘ Our customs nowadays are different.’ They should follow either
custom, or the precepts of the sages—one or the other. Isn’t it
only when someone has destroyed the old dispensation, that a,
new practice can come into existence ? They deserve to be known
as a timid, cowardly, selfish lot. All they want is fat beef to
eat and fat endowments, and they are ready to do anything in
the world to please the kings and princes who are their patrons.”
“There is no place in their religion for the poor—and the
low castes, as they call them, are always poor.”
“Yes. They have recognised invading races like the Greeks,,
Sakas and Abhiras, as Kshatriyas—men of the princely caste—
because these people had power and wealth, and handsome dona¬
tions could be extracted from them! But the menials, scavengers,
and slaves of our country, these Brahmans have doomed to remain
for ever in th$ dust. I think any religion a disgrace to humanity
which does not elevate man’s heart, which classifies men accord¬
ing to the size of their purse or their stick. The world changes;
I have studied the rules and practices laid down in Brahman scrip¬
tures, from the most ancient to the newest, and I have seen a
complete revolution taking place in them. But if you say as muck
today to the Brahmans, they want to persuade you that all those
things are eternal and fixed. What stupidity it all is, darling! ”
“ / have not become the cause of all these fiery ideas
Ashvaghosha ? ”
“ Yes, you have, and I am grateful for it, Prabha. You have
given new force and vitality to my poetry and you are helping:
me very greatly by doing the same to my power of insight. I
used to fancy that I had already drained the cup of knowledge.
That is a false conceit that a Brahman falls a victim so easily.
But now I realise that knowledge is not limited to the Brahman
formulas, and their palm and birch-leaf volumes ; it is vaster
than all of them.”
“ I am only a woman/’
“Anyone who thinks a mere woman inferior to him deserves*
to be looked down on himself, in my opinion.”
 142 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“Still, among the Greeks women are respected more than

among others. Even if it means dying without children, a man
can never remarry while his first wife is alive.”
“ And these Brahmans keep on marrying hundreds of women,
simply to get money. Shameful! I am glad that no Greek
follows the Brahmin religion.”
“ Even though we are Buddhists, Brahmans come to our house
to perform ceremonies.”
“ When they have admitted, the Greeks as Kshatriyas, for
their own benefit, why should they hesitate to do that—it is a
question of their fees.”
“ So it is not I who have dispelled your pride in your
Brahmanism ? ”
“No harm if you had. If Brahman pride tries to come
between me and you, 1 consider it a worthless, despicable thing.”
“ It makes me so happy to know that you love me so much,
Ashvaghosha ? ”
“ Dearest ! If I lost your love, all my roots would wither.”
“ Then do you want to honour my love by making me a
gift ? ”
“ I will give away anything—except that love ! ”
“ If my love ever does the least harm to my immortal Ashva¬
ghosha the great poet of the age, then it should be cursed.”
“ What do you mean, my beloved ? ”
“ I don’t want to put any obstacle in the way of our love,
but 1 want it to help you in creating immortal things, and if I were
to die. . .
Ashvaghosha sprang up as though suddenly beside himself,
lifted Prabha, and strained her to his heart in a bear’s hug. She
saw that his cheeks^were wet. Over and over again she kissed
him and repeated “ My dear love,” and then, when he grew calmer,
she said :
“Listen, dearest, I want you to give something very big in
return for my love, and you must give it.”
“There is nothing I cannot give you, Prabha.”
“But you didn’t even let me finish what I was going to say.”
“You were trying to say something terrible.”
“ But I am forced to say this terrible thing, if I am to be a
true friend to my immortal Ashvaghosha. My love wants my
great poet to think of it as something as immortal, as his own
yerses, and not to measure it by Prabha’s body. The Prabha
who belongs to the immortal part of Ashvaghosha will have
eternal youth and beauty. That is all I wanted to make you
believe, from your heart.”
“ You want to put an ideal Prabha in front of me instead of
my living Prabha ? "
 11. PRABHA 143

**I think them equally real, darling. It is only this, that

one of them will live for fifty years or a hundred years, and the
other will live for ever. Your Prabha will be immortal in your
Urvashi Viyoga, and to make my love immortal you must think
of the immortal part of yourself. Now it has grown very late, the
river bank seems to have fallen asleep, we should go home.”
“ I have been drawing a picture in my memory of the immor¬
tal Prabha.”
“ Dearest! that is all I wanted to ask ! ” She pressed her
silken hair over his cheeks and stood there speechless.

I 7 ]
It was a big courtyard, with a colonnade running all round, and
behind it the rooms of a three-storeyed building. In the colonnade
some yellow clothes were drying on clothes-lines. In one corner
•of the courtyard was a well, with a bathing-place next to it. In
the rest of the area were several trees, among a pipal. Round
the latter was built a platform, and surrounding this a stone
balustr.; «iches for hundreds of small clay lamps.
P« .u K.ielt in prayer before this beautiful tree, and then
said ‘Dearest, it was a tree of this kind that the inspired
GautstfM was sitting under when by his toilsome meditation he
threw off all the perplexities and gained enlightenment, and
came to be known as Buddha (the enlightened one). It is simply
for the sake of this sweet memory that we always bend our heads
when we pass a pipal tree.”
“ By his own toilsome meditation he gained enlightenment 1
Such a living embodiment of toil deserves worship, Prabha; to
worship such an embodiment of toil is to revere one’s own struggle
towards his triumph.”
They both went up to the Abbot. He was sitting just now
under a vakula tree in the courtyard, where fresh flowers spread
their sweet perfume. Prabha, like a Buddhist lay disciple, saluted
him by kneeling and putting her palms and forehead to the ground.
Ashvaghosha greeted him respectfully, but remained standing.
Then they took some skin rugs that were lying on the ground and
sat down. The Abbot’s disciples, seeing that Ashvaghosha had
come to hold a discussion with him, withdrew from there. After
some ordinary talk that decorum required, Ashvaghosha broached
the question of philosophy.
“Noble Brahman ”, said the Abbot, “in the religion of the
Buddhas, that is of the wise, philosophy itself has been
called a chain, and a very heavy chain.”
“Then, is there no place for philosophy in Buddhism?”
 144 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

Why no place ? Buddhism is full of philosophy.

Only Buddha said that philosophy should be a raft to carry one„
not a burden to carry on one’s head.”
“ What did he mean ?—a raft ? ”
“Yes, when people come to a river and there is no boat, they
build a raft to carry them across, but when they have got over
they do not think themselves obliged by gratitude to lift up the
logs and carry them on their shoulders.”
“A man who was bold enough to say that, even for the sake
of his philosophy, must certainly have seen the truth and felt its
force, venerable sir ! Explain to us what it is in Buddha’s philo¬
sophy, that would enable us by knowledge of it to grasp wisdom
with our own minds.”
“ Disbelief in the soul, my son. The Brahmans believe that
the soul is the eternal, the imperishable essence. In the Buddhist
conception no such imperishable element exists; hence his
philosophy may be defined as one that dispense with the soul,,
that see everything in flux, born one moment and vanish¬
ing the next.”
“ This idea by itself is enough for me. I honour the
Enlightened one, most fervently for proclaiming his religion,
like a raft, and this denial of the soul. I have found what
I was seeking. I felt already inside myself some stirrings of the
same thought, but I was never able to define them. If men to-day
would only guide themselves aright by the teachings of Buddha,
the world would be a different place.”
“ True my son, true. In our homeland, Greece, profound
philosophers arose ; Pythagoras and Heraclitus among them, who
lived at the same time as Buddha. Democritus, Plato, Aristotle
came a little later. Those Greeks philosophers thought deeply ;
but, except for Heraclitus, none of them could get beyond the
notion of immortality. Eternity had an unbounded fascination
for them, and therefore, they wanted to impose its shackles on all
futurity. Heraclitus indeed thought of the universe as something
which is in constant flux—never the same for two consecutive
moments, in the same way as Buddha; but there was an element
of self-interest in his idea.”
“How can self-interest enter into philosophical speculation ?”
" The belly plays its part in everything my son ! At that time
our city of Athens was a republic, there was no kingship. At
first political power was in the hands of aristocrats belonging to
families like that of Heraclitus; later on the merchant class pushed
them aside and took the power into its own hands. Heraclitus
was dissatisfied wtih this state of affairs. He longed for a revolu-
tion—'not to carry progress further, but to put the clock back.”
 11. PRABHA 145

“ We also need a revolution ; one that will carry us forward,

not push us back. I think the past is dead, honoured sir ! ”
“ What >ou say is right, noble youth. Buddha wanted a
revolution, one that would make the world a better place. He
organised his community of monks as a kind of model for a world
of tomorrow.”
“Where there would be no division of classes, no high or
low.”
“ Where happiness and labour would be equal for all. Have
you ever seen the great Dharmasena outside with his broom,
sweeping ? ”
“ That very dark man ? ”
“ Yes. He is the loftiest of us all. Everyday we kneel down
before him in reverence. He is the head of all the monasteries
of Kosala.”
“ Is it tiue that he comes from the chandala (untouchable)
caste ? ”
“ The sangha takes no account of caste, my son. It regards
only a man’s qualities. He is our head because of his learning and
his virtue. He is our father. When he goes begging for alms,
if he gets only just enough of something to grease his bowl, so to
say, he will never eat without giving a share to his companions.
That is what Buddha taught. All our property belongs to us in
common except for three robes, a clay begging-bowl, a needle,
a drinking-pot, a filter and a girdle. All the rest-house, garden,
benches, stools—-all' belong to our community. Some of oui
monasteries also own land. We examine a man thoroughly before
admitting him, but once he has become a monk, a member of
the community, he is the equal of all.”
“What if such a community were organised to include the
entire nation ? ”
“ How could that be, my son ? When will kings and rich
men submit to equality with others ? Some monks admitted a
slave into their fellowship. As a member, he ceased to be a slave
and was the equal of his brethren. But his owner began to raise
an outcry and the other slave-owners supported him. The king
himself is master of thousands of slaves. How could he tolerate
such a blow at his property ? What could Buddha do ? He had
to lay down that henceforth no slave was to be admitted into
the community. Our community is a little island in an ocean
full of classes and inequalities, it cannot be secure so long as
poverty and slavery exist in the world.”

18 ]
It was a full-moon night in autumn. Since early evening the
while saucer of the moon had been afloat over Die eastern horizon.
 146 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

and as the sun’s last red rays, glowing on the horizon, faded from
the sky, the cold white moonbeams flowed over it. Ashvaghosha
spent most of his time now at Prabha’s house. The pair were
sitting on the flat roof.
“ Dearest,’" said Prabha, “ the waves of the Sarayu are calling
me, those waves that first brought me in contact with you, that
bound us together in love. Two years have gone by since then,
bat it seems as if It happened only to-day. How many moonlit
nights we have passed on the river banks, and how sweet they
always are! Tonight the autumn moon is here again. Come,
let us go to the river I ”
They went off together. The river flowed at some distance
from the city. They walked a long way on white sand gleaming
in the moonlight. Prabha was carrying her slipper in her hand,
it was pleasant to feel the sand crushing under her feet.
“How delightful it is, the touch of this river-sand!” she
exclaimed, putting her arms round Ashvaghosha.
“It tickles one’s feet.”
“ An exquisite feeling—it makes all one’s hair prickle! Dear
mother Sarayu ! ”
“I have thought sometime, darling, that we ought to run
away together. Run away to a country where there will be no
one to spite our love, where you can inspire me and I can make
songs for us to sing together to the veena. Here I can’t bring
my veena out to the sands on nights like this. People would
come, and some of them would have eyes, black with spite.”
“ Don’t take it ill—but it seems to me sometimes that if I
were to die.
Ashvaghosha held her tightly in his arms as he cried—
“ No, darling ! Never! We shall go on as we are ! ”
“I mean something different. Just think—if you were to
die, I should be left all alone. That does happen in the world,
doesn’t it ? ”
“Yes, it happens.”
“You were not upset at the thought of your own death,
Ashvaghosha! And why ? Because if I lost you, all the moun¬
tain of grief would fall on me alone! ”
“It is a very cruel way of treating me to say such things,
Prabha.”
Prabha kissed him on the lips and comforted him.
“Life has many faces,” she said. “It is not always full
moon; there are also moonless nights. I was only saying : if one
of us were lost, what ought the other to do ? Do you know what
I should do if I lost you ? ”
, His head sank and he gave a long sigh. “Tell me.”
 11. FRA1HA 147

“I should never put an end to my own life. The

Buddha said that suicide was a foolish and blameworthy act. You
know I have made myself quite skilful with the veena "
“Very. How often 1 have given you the veena and gone
on singing to it, forgetting everything else.”
“ Well, if that happens, my mortal Ashvaghosha will have
been ‘taken away from me, but I can still give myself up to the
immortal Ashvaghosha, the poet of the ages. I will play your
veena and sing your songs, through all India and in foreign lands ;
all my life, until the streams of our existences are reborn in another
clime, another age, and reunited with one another. And what
will you do, dearest if / die ? ”
At these words Ashavaghosha trembled in every limb, in every
fibre ; Prabha could feel his body shaking. He struggled to speak
but his throat was constricted, his eyes were bursting with tears.
After wrestling with himself for some moments he said, brokenly—
“ It will be a terrible hour! But I too, Prabha, will not
kill myself. I will sing whatever song the spark of your love
kindles in my heart, to the end of my life. Your immortal
Ashvaghosha.”
He stopped, unable to bring out another word.
“ The river has gone to sleep, dearest. Let us go back.”

[ 9 1
During the hot season, Suvarnakshi fell ill. Ashvaghosha was at
his mothers bed-side day and night, and Prabha also stayed there
all through the day. Medicines had no effect, the patient only
grew worse. The full-moon night came, and shed its milky
whiteness. Suvarnakshi asked them to carry her up into the moon¬
light. Her bed was made for her on the roof. By now she was
mere skin and bone ; her son’s heart ached as he sat by her.
“ How beautiful the moonlight is! ” said the sick woman,
in feeble but clear tones.
As she spoke he seemed to hear Prabha’s words again : “ The
waves of the Sarayu are calling me ”—and a shiver ran through
him.
“Where is Prabha?” asked his mother.
“She has gone home, mother. She was here until evening.**
“Prabha . . . daughter ... my son . . . never leave
her. ...”
Before she could finish, a fit of coughing came on, and after
two spasms her body lay cold and motionless.
Suvarnakshi was gone, and her son’s heart was breaking. All
night long he wept.
 148 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

Next day until noon he was busy with his mother’s funeral
rites. Then he thought of Prabha. He went to Dattamitra’s
house. Prabha’s parents were under the impression that she had
been with him. Ashvaghosha’s mind was still in a fever from
the blow that had fallen on him the night before; now he grew
more agitated still. He went into Prabha’s bed-room. Everything,
was in order. He lifted the white sheet from the bed, and tinder
it was a painting of himself. Prabha had had it made by a Greek
artist who happened to come that way, and the reluctant Ashva-
ghosha had had to spend hours sitting to him. On the picture
lay a garland of fresh jasmine. Underneath was a folded palm-
leaf letter in Prabha’s handwriting. Ashvaghosha picked it up,
the dark clay seal on the string round it was still damp. He cut
the string and kept the seal. When he unfolded the long sheet,
he found only a few lines of Prabha’s fine writing.
“ Dearest, Prabha is taking leave of you. The Sarayu’s waves
have called me, and I am going away. You gave me a promise
in return for my love, do you remember ? I am going away,
leaving you my immortal youth and my unchanging beauty. Now
you will never have to look at a Prabha with grey hair, decayed
teeth and sagging hips. My love and my enternal youth will
remain to inspire you. Never close your eyes to their messages.
Do not think, dearest, that I am putting an end to my life because
of the scoldings of your family; X am only offering you my youth,
still unblemished, to inspire your poetry, Dearest, Prabha embraces
you and kisses you with her spirit, for the last time.”
Ashvaghosha had to wipe the tears from his eyes several
times before he could finish the letter. The letter fell from his-
hands and he sat down on the bed ; his heart was numbed, and
he sat plunged in abstraction, as if waiting for its beating to end
altogether, gazing before him with empty eyes like a clay figure.
Prabha’s parents, after waiting for him for some time, entered
the room, and were alarmed to find him in this condition. Thejr
saw the letter lying near him, and read it. The mother gave an
heartrending cry and slipped to the floor. Dattamitra.
was speechless, tears flowed from his eyes. Ashvaghosha was
still staring with the same look. Seeing him like this fixed the
others after a long time went out silently. Evening came, night
fall, Ashvaghosha was sitting there. His eyes were dry, his heart
seemed frozen. Late in the night be dropped off to sleep where
he sat
In the morning Prabha’s mother came and found him com¬
posedly sitting and thinking. She asked him how he felt.
“I am quite well now, mother. I shall do the work that
Prabha entrusted to me. I did not understand; but she knew.
She has shown me my duty. She has given me life* not death.
 11. PRABHA 149

I might turn this gift of life into suicide, but I cannot be guilty
■of such ingratitude.”
The mother understood what he was feeling.
44 Where are you going, my son ? ” she asked as he stood up.
I want to meet the Buddhist Abbot and look at the Sarayu.”
A lump came into his throat as he answered.
“ Abbot Dharmarakshita is waiting for you below, and to
look at the Sarayu, I myself will come with you.” She could
not utter a single word more.
Ashvaghosha went down and knelt respectfully in front of
the Abbot Dharmarakshita, saying—
“ Venerable sir ! Admit me into your community.”
“ Son, your sorrow is great.”
“It is great; but it is not that that makes me speak. Prabha
has made me ready for this. 1 am not hurrying into it blindly.”
“ Still you will have to wait for some days, the sangha
will not admit you hastily.”
“ 1 will wait, sir; but let me stay under the protection
of the sangha.”
“First you must take your father’s permission.. No one is
accepted as a monk without his parents’ consent.”
“ Then 1 shall go and take permission.”
Ashvaghosha left the building. Prabha’s mother, who was
uneasy in her mind even at hearing his apparently sane words,
had followed him. They took a boat together and spent all day
searching the river down-stream. Next day they descended the
river still further, but not a trace was to be found.
Ashvaghosha went home and asked his father’s permission
to become a monk ; but his father was naturally unwilling to give
up his only son. Then Ashvaghosha said—
“ It is not because I am overwhelmed with grief for my mother
•and Prabha that I am doing this, father. This is the road by
which I can fulfil the task I have chosen in life. You can see
that there is no sign of mental derangement in my voice and my
behaviour. I have only to tell you this, father, that if you want
me to go on living, you must give me the permission I ask for.”
Next day, in the evening, with tear-filled eyes, his father
consented.
The sangha of the Sarvastivada sect of Buddhists admitted
Ashvaghosha as a monk. Mahasthavira Dharmasena himself
became his preceptor, and Dharmarakshita his guide. The latter
was, then about to go by boat to Pataliputra (Patna). Ashvaghosha
left Saketa with him.
 150 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

[ 10 ]
In the monastery at Pataliputra, the monk Ashvaghosha ^passed ten
years. Along with the Buddhist religion, he acquired a profound
knowledge of Buddhist and Greek philosophy. He won a high
place among the learned men of the Buddhist fraternity in
Magadha. It was at this time that the Shaka king Kanishka,
advancing victoriously from the west, reached Pataliputra. Patali-
pulia and Magadha were distinguished centres of Buddhism, for
which Kanishka had a deep respect. He wanted to find some
able and learned monk to accompany him to Gandhara. Ashva¬
ghosha was chosen by his brethren for the mission.
Arrived at the capital, Purushapur (Peshawar), Ashvaghosha
found himself in a place where Sakya, Greek, Persian and Indian
cultures mingled with one another. Ashvaghosha had formerly
introduced the Greek drama into Indian literature. Now, after
mature examination of Greek philosophy, he took many of its
peculiar features, its analytical method and cognate elements, and
with these borrowings enriched the philosophy of India, or rather
of Buddhism. It was he who opened a new road forward for
the Buddhists from Greek speculation. Then other Indian thinkers
were forced to follow suit. The Vaisheshika and Nyaya schools
were those which made most of it. The atomic theory; con¬
cepts such as identity and universality; ontology, syllogistic logic,
and so on, were among their borrowings from the Greeks.
Prabha had widened his mind, and the Buddhist Ashvaghosha
had no thought of self-isolation. Inspired by her memory he
wrote various poems, plays and stories, some of which were later
lost. Yet Nature seems to have watched over him with special
care; nineteen hundred years later the great desert of
Central Asia yielded up his play Sariputra. His Life of Buddha
and Saundaranand are immortal poems. They were a splendid
fulfilment of his promise to Prabha and her unfaded beauty, but
to his poeiry its highest graces. His works immortalised his native
Saketa and his mother Suvarnakshi; he always signed his^ work*
as ‘Ashvaghosha, son of the noble Suvarnakshi of Saketa’.
 12. SUPARNA THE YAUDHEYA
Time: 420 A.D.

INF has been a stormy destiny! I have never been able

M to halt for long at one place. Restless and adventurous,
I have been tossed on all the billows of life. There have
been hours of bliss in my existence, though not so many as the
hours of bitterness. Looking back on its vicissitudes, I see mingled
rainstorm and sunshine, as one does among the clouds at the end
of the monsoon. And why the cycle of changes continues to
revolve, I do not know Even to-day, in Gandhara in the north¬
east, beef is served to the guest, but in central India
it is sin even to speak of beef; there, to protect cows and Brahmans
is the holiest of religions. How there can be such contradiction in
religion passes my understanding. Can a thing be proper in one
place and improper in another, or must a change that has come
about in one place be imitated sooner or later in the other also?
I was born in a village of Avanti (Malava) on the bank of the
Kshipra river. My people regarded themselves as travellers, stay¬
ing there temporarily, though they possessed fields and houses,
things which they could not carry away with them on their backs.
They differed somewhat in build and complexion from the other
villagers. They were taller, broader and fairer, and with this
they could not bear any assumption of superiority in others. My
mother was the handsomest woman of the village; her brown
hair fell charmingly round the light oval of her face.
Those of my family called themselves Brahmans, but I could
see that the villagers had their doubts about this. And there
was room for doubt. Brahmans in that part of the country con¬
sidered wine-drinking a heinous sin, but in our house wine was
made and drunk regularly. In other respectable families it was
unheard of that men and women should dance together, whereas
in the seven households related to us—all of common descent-
couples went out to dance in the open space as soon as evening
fell.
When I was young I fancied that things were the same every¬
where as at home; but when I began to understand the covert
remarks of the other boys I played with in the village, I realised
that they regarded us as a very odd people, and that even when
they admitted our respectable status they were dubious about our
being Brabmans. Ours was a large village; there were shops in
 152 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

it, and houses belonging to merchants. Among the inhabitants

were some Nagara families, who were treated as members of the
trading caste, though they called themselves Brahmans, just as
we did. Some Nagara girls had intermarried with us, which was
one reason why folk did not recognise our Brahmanhood. We
could not be Brahmans, in their opinion, if we ignored the
Brahman rules of food and marriage. Whenever my playmates
quarrelled with me, they used to sneer at me and call me a
Yaudheya ‘fighting fellow’ I often asked my mother why, but
she evaded my question.
I grew up a little, and reached the age of ten. I was study¬
ing in the village school, kept by a Brahman teacher. Nearly all
my class-fellows were Brahmans, genuine Brahmans according to
public opinion, while I and two Nagara boys were called by the
rest ‘quasi-Brahmans.’ I was quick at learning, and won the
teacher’s special affection.
I had an independent temper, like all my family ,and would
fight rather than knuckle under to anybody. One day a boy at
the school was taunting me—“ So you have become a Brahman,
you beast of a fighting-fellow ! ” The son of my uncle’s brother-in-
law tried to take my side, but came in for the same abuse :
“ This Greek fellow has turned into a Nagara Brahman ! Ever
since my childhood I had heard such insults from the little boys,
but never before had they stung so sharply or risen to such a
flight of fancy. In the school, apart from my group of three
there were thirty pupils, besides four girls. They were neither so
fair nor so tall as we were, yet saw them behave like the lords
of creation.
When I got home l was looking miserable. My mother
noticed my quivering lips, and gave me a kiss.
“ Why are you feeling so wretched to-day ? ” she asked.
At first I pretended there was nothing wrong, but when she
pressed me, I said :
“ Mother, there is something about our family that makes
people say we are not Brahmans.”
41 We are Brahmans from another place, my son, that it
why they think what they do.”
“ It is not only the Brahmans who show that they doubt us,
mother, all the rest of the people say the same.”
“Only because the Brahmans have made them say it.”
“ No one employs us to offer prayers for them. The other
Brahmans work as priests. They attend the feasts given to
Brahmans, which none of our relations does. And the other
Brahmans will not even let us eat with them. Mother, if you
know what it all means, tell me.”
 12. SUPARNA THE YAUDHEYA 153

She tried for a long time to cheer me up, but I would not be
■comforted.
When I was upset by such things my Nagara class-fellows and
relatives sympathised with me, or rather we all sympathised with
one another.

[ 2 ]
Time passed. My studies at the school were about to come to
an end when I was thirteen. 1 had read my Vedas—the Rigveda,
the Aitereya Brahmana, books on Grammar and Etymology, and
some poems. My teacher had grown fonder and fonder of me.
His daughter Vidya was four years younger than me and I used
to help her to learn her lessons. And she, seeing how her parents
treated me, also had a warm regard for me, and called me her
brother. I could never had a bad moment with this family; the
teacher’s wife loved me as if she had been my mother.
About this time, once more a school-fellow threw at me the
word fighting-fellow, without provocation, for in those days I was
careful to keep myself. His only motives was jealousy, because
I was so quick at reading and writing. But my character was
now growing more steady; not that my mind was less excitable,
but I was gradually learning self-restraint.
My grandfather was over seventy years of age. I had listened
to many a tale from him of lands far and near, of battle and
strife. I had also heard that he and his brothers had been the
first of our family to settle in this village. I was determined to
seek from him the truth about our origin. East of the village we
owned a mango orchard. The fruit was doing well, though still
far from ripe, and our slave-woman Sona had taken up her
quarters in a hut there to watch over it. I knew that when my
grandfather first came to the village he had bought Sona from
a southern trader for forty silver coins ; many traders used to
come from the south in those days to sell their slaves. Sona must
have been young then, or she would not have fetched such a high
price. Now her dark skin was loose and wrinkled, twisted furrows
lined her face, though it was said that she had once been hand¬
some. Grandfather treated her like a favourite, especially when
the two were alone together. People explained their intimacy in
different ways; he was a hale old fellow, without a wife, and
it was natural that a certain conjecture should arise.
My grandfather used to visit this orchard every evening,
One day I accompanied him. He was very fond of his bright
young grandson. We were talking of various things and I said :
“I want to know the truth from you about our family. Why
do people not consider us real Brahmans, and why do they insult
 154 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

us by calling us ‘ fighting- fellow'! I have asked mother sometimes*

but she does not want to give me a clear answer.”
41 Why must you ask about this ? ”
“ I must, grandfather ! As soon as I know the truth properly.
1 shall know what is to be done when our family is insulted. I
have read a great deal about Brahmans now. I have gained
enough learning to make our family respected.”
‘‘I believe you have, my boy. But your mother herself, poor
thing, docs not know the truth about it, so you must not think
that she is trying to avoid telling it to you. As regards our family’s
status in the world, it is now determined by our connection with
the Nagaras, with whom we intermarry. There are great numbers
of them in Avanti and Lata (Gujerat) too, so we are bound to
sink or swim with them. But in fact your race is closer to the
Yaudheyas than to the Nagaras.”
“ What is Yaudheya, grandfather ? ”
“It is the name of our people. Til at is why folk call us
“ fighting-fellows’,” (Yaudheya—Warlike)
“ Were the Yaudheyas Brahmans ? ”
“ They were purer Aryans than the Brahmans themselves.”
“ But they were not Brahmans, then ? ”
“Instead of giving you an answer in one word, Yes or No,
I had better explain to you what sort of people they were. The
Yaudheyas lived in the country between the Sutlej and the Jumna,
from the Himalayas as far as the desert, and they were all its
masters.”
“ All of them ? ”
“ Yes; they had no king over them ; their government was
known as a republic. All public business was managed by the
public, or a council. They had a great hatred of rule by one
man—monarchy.”
“I have never even heard of such a government, grand¬
father.” 1 .
“ But that is how it was. I still have three Yaudheya silver
coins that came to me from my father, part of the money he had
with him when we ?lcd from the country.” m
“ Then you were not born in that country yourself ?
• I was old enough when my parents had to escape. I had
two older brothers, whose families you see here now.’
“ Why did they have to escape ? ”
“That land had belonged to the Yaudheyas since ancient
times. Great and illustrious emperors were born in India—
Mauryas, Greeks, Shakas—but none of' them molested us except
for levying some small tribute. It was the Gupta djmasty-the
father of the Chandragupta who calls himself Vikramaditya,
 12. SUPARNA THE YAUDHEYA 155

and who sometimes holds his court at Ujjain—it was they

who rose to supreme power and destroyed the Yaudheyas. They
were already paying some tax to the powerful emperor, but he
was not satisfied with that. He said he must appoint his own
governor and have commissioner of his own living there ; he must
have the same power there as he had throughout his dominions.
Our leaders tried hard to convince him that from time immemorial
the Yaudheyas had known no other kind of government than the
republican. But how should he care about that, drunk with power
as he was V
“At last the Yaudheyas took an oath in the presence of the
goddess whom they worshipped, and drew the sword. In repeated
encounters they routed the Gupta army, and if it had been only
four or five times their strength, it would not have been able to
withstand them. But the Yaudheyas could not defend themselves
fbr ever against the whole strength of a great empire stretching
from the Brahmaputra to the Rajputana desert. Even though they
won battles, their resources were wasting away, so heavy were
their casualties. The Guptas sacked all our towns and villages,
and made a terrible slaughter of men and women alike. Our
people kept up the struggle for thirty years. They were willing
to pay a heavier tribute, but not to allow the tradition of republi¬
can rule in their land to be subverted.”
“ What did republican rule mean, grandfather ? ”
“ Every Yaudheya held his head high ; no one dreamed of
abasing himself before another man. War to them was sport,
that is why their race had acquired its name.”
“Then, grandfather, are there other Yaudheyas left besides
ourselves ? ”
“There are, child, but like dry leaves before the wind, they
have all been scattered.”
“And will they have intermixed with Nagara families as we-
have done, and forgotten their origin ? Why do we call our¬
selves Brahmans, grandfather ? ”
“That is also a very long story. In ancient times, instead
of monarchy everywhere, there was republicanism,. and there was
then no distinction between Brahmans and Kshatriyas.”
“ They were all one caste ? ” .
“ Yes, any man of them could either perform worship or
handle a sword as need might arise. But later on Vishvamitra
and Vashistha arose and began to divide them into castes "
“ So if a man had two sons, one of them might become a
Kshatriya like Rantideva and the other a Brahman teacher, like
Gauriviti 1 ”
“Does it say that in the books, child?
 156 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Yes, grandfather. In the Vedas and in history it is like that.

Those two were the sons of the Rishi Sankriti. There are a great
many odd things besides that in the old books, things which
people to-day will not believe. You have seen Dashpur, grand¬
father, on the bank of the Charmanvati (River Chambal) ? ”
“Yes, child, often—-it is in Avanti. I have often gone there
to attend weddings. Theie are many Nagara families there, in¬
cluding a good many big merchants.”
“ Well, that same Dashpur was the capital of Rantideva.
And how the Charmanvati came to get its name is a real marvei.”
“ How was it ? ”
“ Rantideva, who was the son of the Brahman Sankriti, but
a Kshatriya by his own choice, was famous for his hospitality.
Two thousand cattle were slaughtered every day for his kitchen.
Their dripping hides were stored in the kitchen, and the liquid
that ran down from them formed a river. So it came to be called
the River Charmanvati” (charman—hide).
“ Does it really say that in the old books ? ”
“Yes. It is all written in the Mahabharata.”
“What, beef-eating, in the Mahabharata—the Fifth Veda, as
they call it! ”
“There were two thousand cooks to get the beef ready for
Rantideva’s guests! And all the same the number of Brahman
guests increased so much that there was a shortage of meat, and
the cooks had to ask for more soup to be served out.”
“ What are you saying, child, Brahmans eating beef! ”
“ Can the Mahabharata, the Fifth Veda, tell a lie ? ”
“ How the world has changed 1 ”
“ It keeps on changing, grandfather. And still these owlish
folk who call themselves true Brahmans want to throw dust in
everyone else’s eyes. I believe our Yaudheya ancestors must have
followed the customs and religious practices of the days before
the Brahmans spread everywhere with their trickery.”
“Yes, and they never regarded Brahmans as superior to
themselves.”
“When you came here, grandfather, why did you marry your
sons and nephews to Nagaras, instead of to Brahmans of Avanti ? ”
“There were two reasons. One was that the Brahmans had
suspicions about our descent ; but that would not have mattered—
we could have married true Brahman girls if we had wished. We
Vegan to intermarry with the Nagaras because they like ourselves,
itiad unusually fair skins, and called themselves Brahmans although
they were not recognised by the other Brahmans.”
“Who are they, the Nagaras?”
“The Brahmans do not accept a man as a Brahman when
lie calls himself that alone; they ask what province is he a
 12. SUPARNA THE YAUDHEYA 157

Brahman of, which stock he belongs to. These people with whom
we intermarried were living in towns (nagara), and so they began
to call themselves Nagara Brahmans, just as we call ourselves
Yaudheya Brahmans.”
“■ But what are they in fact, grandfather ? ”
“They are Greeks from the coast. Many of them follow
the Buddhist religion instead of Brahmanism. You will see that*
if you go to Ujjain. There are still a large number of them who
call themselves simply Greeks. The Brahmans insist that they
ought to be classed as Kshatriyas.”
“ So race and caste go according to what we think ourselves
and can make other think us.”
“ That seems to be what happens, child! ”

[ 3 ]
I grew up to be a good-looking, well-built youth of twenty. As
I had finished my studies at home, 1 went to Ujjain to become
a pupil of the great scholars there. My maternal great-grandfather’s
family were wealthy Nagaras of Ujjain, and they welcomed me
and made me live with them. To students from the countryside,
like me, Ujjain was like a window opening on the great world. I
had already heard of Kalidas, and read some of his poems, but
here, on certain days, I had the opportunity of reading with the
great poet himself. He enjoyed a high status in the court of
Chandragupta Vikramaditya, and hence was often absent from
Ujjain. I was proud of having him as my teacher, but dis¬
gusted by his servile pride in his relations with the king. Me was.
engaged at that time in writing Kumarsambhava, and he explained
to me that his intention was to shed undying lustre on
Vikramaditya’s son Kumaragupta, whom he introduced under the
name of Prince Kartikeya, the son of Siva. My unabashed
sarcasms at the expense of this scheme, bitter though they were*
did not cause the poet to take offence. One day I said :
“Master, you have an imperishable empire in your literary
fame, while Chandragupta and Kumaragupta are emperors only
so long as they live. Why do you reckon yourself a nobody com¬
pared with them?”
“But Vikramaditya is truly the preserver of our religion.
Suparna. Has he not liberated India from the Sakas?”
“The Sakas are still there in the north. Master, and in
Kashmir”
“They have been expelled from many regions.”
“ Well, rulers always drive one another out, and take each
other's places.”
 158 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

Yes, but the Gupta family stands in defence of cows and

Brahmans.”
“ Master, I did not expect to hear you say thing that are
only meant to deceive fools. You know very well that the Rishis,
our ancestors, ‘ protected ’ cows only in order to eat them. In
your Meghadoota you yourself have called the Chambal river the
Charmanavati which commemorates the fame Rantideva won by
slaughtering cows.”
“You aic very presumptuous, my dear pupil!”
“ I was prepared to hear you say that; what I cannot hear
is to see my immortal king of poets fawning on these Guptas,
these perverters of religion.”
“ You call them perverters of religion, Suparna ? ”
“Certainly. They have committed a crime that the Nandas,
the Mauryas, the Greeks, even the Shakas, left undone. They
ha\e obliterated republicanism from the soil of India.”
“ Republics were not suited to this age. If Chandragupta
had left them in existence, he would not have been able to defeat
the Shakas and other such powerful enemies.”
“ What was his success ? He founded an empire for himself
and became another Chandragupta Maurya. But the empire that
was founded and organised by the political wisdom of Chanakya
•did not last long. And the family of Vikramaditya and Kumara-
gupta is not going to outlast the sun and moon. What service
did they do to religion by wiping out the last trace of popular
government ? Was it not a sin against religion to destroy the
popular rule of the republics that had come down from antiquity ? ”
“*But the king is an incarnation of the god Vishnu.”
“ Yes, and Kumaragupta in his turn will have a peacock paint¬
ed as his emblem, and tomorrow some poet will represent him as
an incarnation of Kumar the War-god. What is the motive foi
such impostures and perversions ? To let them have fine rice
and savoury meat, to let them drive the beautiful girls of the
whole land into their harems, to let them spend like water on
their own pleasure the hard earned gains of the people who toil
until they die at the plough or the anvil! And for that you call the
Guptas the royal preservers of religion I Yes, the Guptas are
playing a fine trick by calling themselves what the Brahmans are
turning them into, incarnations of Vishnu, and the image of his
wife, the goddess Lakshmi, is being stamped on their coins. Vast
«ums are being extorted from the starving people, to be spent
on images and temples of Vishnu—and all so that the Gupta
dynasty and its empire may survive to the end of time ! ”
"Do you know what you are doing. Suparna? These are
harsh words to use against the king.”
 12. SUPARNA THE YAUDHEYA 159

“To-day, my beloved teacher, I speak them only to you, but

the day will come when I shall say them to the face of His Imperial
Majesty. Kumaragupta ! I can never bring myself as long as I live
to stomach these deceits. But that is for the future, perhaps a dis¬
tant future. What I have at heart to-day is that you should tread
in the footsteps of Ashvaghosha.”
“ But, my dear son, I am only a poet, and Ashvaghosha was
Both a great poet and a great man. For him the pleasures of
the world had no value ; but I need women as beautiful as those
in Vikramaditya’s harem, and crimson wine, and a fine mansion,
and attendants. How can I turn myself into an Ashvaghosha ?
I embelished the divine descent of the Guptas, under the disguise
of other names in my Raghuvansha, and Vikramaditya was
delighted and gave me this palace, and presented me with my lovely
Greek girl, Kanchanamala (‘Gold necklace’). She has been living
with me for fifteen years, and still holds me in the chains of her
golden hair. Now 1 have planned this new poem, Kumarsambhava,
and you will see what new gifts it will bring me.”
“I don’t believe, Sir, that if you had written only as
Ashvaghosha did, you would have found yourself very hungry or
deprived of all enjoyments. But you live under the delusion
that you can find no pleasure in life without flattering kings. You
have set a bad example to future poets; they will excuse their
faults by pointing to what you did.”
“ I will write poems of another kind as well.”
“ But you will not write any poems where all the curses the
Guptas have brought on the world are painted ! ”
“That is no work for me, Suparna. I have grown too soft.”
“ And you will throw a religious cloak over every royal
crime ? ”
“That must be done. Without it the royal power cannot
be firm. Vashishtha and Vishvamitra themselves saw the necessity
of it.”
“They made up their minds to such wickedness for the sake
of fine houses and women, just like the poet Kalidas.”
“Suparna, I hear that you are studying the art of war, as
well as book-learning. If you agree, I will speak to His Majesty.”
T should be very happy to see you made a councillor or an officer,
.and the king too would be pleased.”
“ I will, not sell my soul to anyone, Master.”
“ Then how would you like a place among the palace priests ? ”
“ I have too much detestation for the selfishness of the
Brahmans.”
“ What do you mean to do ? ”
“At present, to go on with my studies.”
 160 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

[ 4 ]
Living at Ujjain, I had the opportunity not only to quench my
thirst for learning, but also, as I said before, to get to know some¬
thing about the great world. I could see there very easily how
completely the Brahmans had sold themselves to the kings. There
had been a time when 1 was very proud of being a Brahman, even
though I was not accepted as such by the others, but that pride
had begun to melt away already before I left my village. Aftet
exchanging the village for the city, 1 met many pure Greeks, wno
often used to come to Ujjain from Broach, and who had many
big shops there. I came in contact with many Shakas and Abhira
families, whose ancestors, a century before, had been governors
of Ujjain, Lata (Gujerat) and Saurashtra (Kathiawad). I saw
Huns, too, with their round eyes and their faces the colour of a
ripe orange. They were proficient at fighting, but otherwise
showed no remarkable talent. 1 studied all these different kinds
of people, but what 1 admired most was the Buddhist monasteries,
several of which were to be found on the outskirts of Ujjain
My mother’s brother and his family were Buddhists, and there
wefe many Nagara monks in those monasteries, so I often visited
them. Once, too, I visited Broach.
When 1 had completed my studies I desired to extend my
knowledge by travel. I learned at this time that there was a
very celebrated monastery in Vidarbha, called Achintya (Ajanta),
where monks from every land were living. I went to see it.
Hitherto, wherever I went, I had travelled with plenty of
provisions, and in the company of others. Now, for the first
time, I set off alone and unprovided. There was no risk of meet¬
ing robbers on the way; one must give credit to the Guptas for
ensuring this. But was it because their regime had made every
family in the country so prosperous that all temptation to high¬
way robbery was removed ? No. The Guptas had outstripped
all previous rulers in collecting taxes. Never before had so much
treasure been expended on the building of palaces, and in fur¬
nishing them there was still greater profusion. They tried to
transplant hills, rivers, lakes and seas, and surround their beauti¬
ful palaces with them. Their pleasure-parks were really like
forests, where wild beasts were kept in cages while deer and ante¬
lopes roamed free. On their garden-hills, trees of the kind found
in mountains grew, and cascades of water were made to play.
There were pools linked by small canals, crossed by bridges and
covered with boats. Inside, the palaces were crammed with ivory,
gold, silver, gems of many sorts, silks, and precious carpets.
adorning them, painters had lavished all the skill of their brushes,
and sculptors had set up in fitting places their statues of stone
 12. SUPARNA THE YAUDHEYA 161

ar metal. I had hoard from travellers and ambassadors the loudest

praises of these paintings and sculptures, which had certainly
filled me with rapture, but when I saw the state of the hovels in
the wretched villages, my blood boiled at the thought of Ujjain
and its palaces. 1 felt that the poverty of the one was caused by
the wealth of the other, just as the walls and mounds of a village
are bordered by pits which show where the material for them
has been dug from.
Not only in the towns and cities, but in the villages them¬
selves skilled craftsmen were making articles of many kinds.
Women spun fine threads and weavers turned it into delicate cloth ;
goldsmiths, blacksmiths, leather-workers were all accomplished in
their crafts; those who created the artistic furnishings for the
royal palaces were the kith and kin of the artisans here. Yet
when I saw the physical condition of these people, and the houses
they lived in, I realised that they gained no more from the exquisite
work of their hands than from the illusions of a dream. Their
manufactures disappeared from the villages to the town—to city
mansions, palaces or markets. A great part of them was carried
thence, by way of Broach and other western ports, to Persia or
Egypt, or by way of Tamralipti on the eastern coast to Java or
Kamboja. India’s overseas trade had never been so flourish¬
ing, foreign wealth had never flowed in so abundant¬
ly in exchange for her wares. But who profited by this ?
First of all the Gupta government, which levied a heavy impost
on all sales. Next the feudatory chiefs, lords of large principalities
or estates, who had their fingers in the pockets of both craftsmen
and traders. The merchants and traders came last, but their share
of the spoils was no mean one. Seeing all this I understood clearly
enough why the peasants and village craftsmen were so poor, and
why the government was so attentive to the upkeep of roads and
highways.
Yes, the villages are squalid, but there is one heart-rending
sight that raiely meets the eye there—the sight of markets where
human beings are sold like cattle, the sight of the whip failing on
their backs. My teacher Kalidas on one occasion had said that
men owe their slavery to their misdeeds in a previous life. My
belief in a previous existence ceased from the moment when I
heard him say this. By now such doubt might naturally enter
any thinking man’s head, from the mere haste shown by the Guptas
in utilising religion in every way to bolster up their own power.
But when I studied the ordinary people, they seemed quite apathetic.
Why? Perhaps they felt helpless. The villagers knew nothing
of any world but their little village, for a single inch of its fields
they would fight more stubbornly than perhaps Kumaragupta
 162 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

would have fought for a whole province. But they were indif¬
ferent to anything outside their village boundary.
I remembef an occurrence in one village. It contained about
forty houses, all of them with thatched roofs. It was summer,
and one house caught fire from a spark from the hearth. The
whole population rushed to the scene with buckets, except for
one couple, who were sitting with their water pots near their own
house Fortunately, in the whole village these were the only ones
who did not help ; otherwise not a single house would have
escaped! The incident made me think of the old Yaudheya
republic where every household in the country was willing to live
or die for the sake of the rest. Myriads of men, indeed, gave
their lives to aid the conquests of Samudragupta, Chandragupta
and Kumaragupta, but they perished like slaves, for the benefit
of another, not like free men in defence of themselves and their
families. It made me shiver to contemplate the effect on the
people of a single century of Gupta rule. I felt that if this regime
lasted for centuries longer, the land would be a land of nothing but
slaves, born only to fight and die for their rulers, and absolutely
ignorant of the idea that a human being has any rights.
The monastery at Achintya was most charming. There was
a green hill valley, intersected by a stream flowing in a half moon
curve. On the left bank of this small but perennial river, artisans
had hewn out of the living rock a row of caves, serving as chapels,
living rooms, and places of assembly. They were adorned like so
many palaces with paintings and sculptures, though here these had
been created by the work of generations, to last for perhaps
hundreds of generations.
Beautiful as the wall-paintings and*stone statues of Achintya
were they could not rival the Gupta palaces, and therefore did
not attract me so much. What atrtacted me was the community
of monks, in which men of many lands were living together like
a single affectionate family. There I met monks from distant
China, Persians and Greeks, men from Ceylon, from Java, from
Suvarabhumi; I heard the names of Champa and Camboja, and
saw their representatives in flesh and blood. There I met people
from Kapisha, Uddyana, Tushara and the ivory white people of
Kucha, wearing the brown robes of monks !
I was very eager to acquire information about foreign
countries, and if I had encountered these foreign monks singly, I
would have been glad to spend a whole year with each of them,
but meeting them ail together in such numbers, I was ready to
jump out of my skin with excitement, like a pauper who has come
into a fortune. I had heard the name of the logician Dignaga from
my teacher. Kalidas was a resolute supporter of the Guptas, of
monarchy, and of the Brahmanical religion which formed its main
 12. SUPARNA THE YAUDHEYA m

bulwark. I have already explained his motives for being so. He

knew that Dignaga was a vigorous opponent of his ideals, and
used to say—“The thrones not of Vishnu alone but of all the
three hundred and thirty million gods tremble before this Dravidian
atheist; he knows the secret of all the false teachings we give
in the name of religion to serve the interests of the king and the
Brahmans. The trouble with him is that he had old Vasubandhu
for his teacher.” Kalidas used to call Vasubandhu an ocean of
learning. He was a Buddhist scholar who spent some years at
Ayodhya, the capital of Chandragupta Vikramaditya II, not as a
courtier, but as an independent and respected teacher. Later,
disgusted by the mean ambitions of the Guptas, he returned to
his native ^>lace, Purushapur (Peshawar). Dignaga had voked
to give to the world not iron arrow-heads or swords, but even
sharper weapons of knowledge and reason. In a mere half-hour’s
discussion with him, all the Brahmanical hocus-pocus could collapse
like a house of cards.
I stayed at the Achintya monastery for six years, and listened
daily to Dignaga’s luminous addresses. I am proud to have had
such a teacher. His knowledge was extremely profound; his
words were living flames. Like myself, he had seen the lying
superstitions of the world and came to loathe them. One day
he said :
“ Suparna, it was possible to accomplish something through
the strength of the people, but now the people has been led far
astray. Buddha made great efforts to abolish distinctions of race
and caste and up t!o a point he succeeded ; when foreign races
like the Greeks. Shakas, Gurjaras and Abhiaras came, the
Brahmans called them barbarians and looked down on them1; but
the Buddhist community admitted them to equal rights with all
men For a few centuries it seemed likely that all caste divisions
would vanish from India. But then, to India’s misfortune, the
Gupta power came to the rescue of the Brahmans. When the
Guptas themselves had first appeared the Brahmans had called
them barbarians. It was to raise their prestige that Kalidas wrote
his Raghuvansha and Kumarsambhava. The Guptas are crazy
enough to think of establishing a dynasty that will last for ever;
the Brahmans encourage them in such hopes. Our teacher Vasu¬
bandhu could not hold out any such hopes to them. He was a
devoted believer in the monastic fraternity that had been organised
on the model of the Lichchhavi republican system. The Brahmans
know that Buddhists are their bitter enemies. They know that
Buddhists of all countries eat beef, and will not give it up; so
they have begun to preach abstinence from beef throughout India
as a religious principle—what they call ‘protection of the cow
 164 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

and the Brahmans.* Buddhists want to abolish race and cast®

distinctions, so now the Brahmans have begun to give a high place
iri the caste system of Greeks and Shakas and others of foreign
origin. This is a dangerous snare in which many eyen of our
secular Buddhists are being entrapped. By sowing dissension like
this, the Brahmans hope to weaken the strength of the people
and increase their own strength and that of the rulers. But the
consequences will be perilous for our country. Suparna, for no
country can be strong that relies on the strength of slaves.”
My teacher was deeply moved when 1 related to him the
story of the Yaudheyas and their heroic sacriiice. When I told
him of my ardent hope for a resurrection of the Yaudheya repub¬
lic, he said ; " My hopes and blessings go with you. resolute
hero must fear no obstacles.”
Carrying his blessings w'ith me 1 am journeying towards the
land of the Yaudheyas, to bring my murdered country back to
life, or to vanish like a footprint on the sand.
 13. DURMUKHA
Time : 630 A.D.

M Y name is Harshavardhana, with the honorific style of

Shiladitya, or ‘Sun of Righteousness,” Chandragupta H
gratified himself with the title Vikramaditya, the “Sun
of Valour; ” this milder attribution pleased me better. In heroism
lurks the craving to overcome and subjugate others, but virtue
brings with it no desire to get the better of one’s neighbour by
violence. The Guptas called themselves divine incarnations of
Vishnu ; my elder brother, Rajyavardhana—who was treacherously
murdered in youth by Shashanka, and whose memory saddens my
heart even now—was a Buddhist; and like Buddha, he was gentle¬
ness itself. I have always thought of myself as his disciple ; and
though it has pleased me to style myself a devoty of the god
Shiva, l have retained a heartfelt devotion to Buddha, as not only
India, but the outer world also knows. I have paid respect to
all the religions of my country ; not merely for the sake of pleas¬
ing the people, but also in order to preserve my righteousness.
Every filth year, the surplus of my treasury has been distributed
among Brahmans and Buddhist monks, near Frayaga at the con¬
fluence of the Ganges and the Jamna. This will make manifest
my desire to further the prosperity of each religion alike. True
it is that I,. like Samudragupta, once marched out in search of
conquest, but that was before I earned the name of “ Sun of
Righteousness.” Do not think that, if I had not failed against
the southern king Pulakeshi, l should have adopted a title more
like that of Vikramaditya. Even had I become emperor of all
India, I should have conquered men’s hearts by my justice, not
like Chandragupta, but like Ashoka repenting his subjugation of
Kalinga. Mine is a temper formed for mild rule.
I refused for long to accept the crown, for as the son of
Prnbhakaravardhan, lord of Sthanvishvara (Thanesar), and younger
brother of the excellent king Rajyavardhana of Kanyakubja, I
knew from experience, not from observation, how tasteless were
the sweets of power. After my brother’s murder, I was unwilling
to mount the throne, and if the true Kshatriya thought of reveng¬
ing his death had not sprung up in my mind, I would never have
sat on the throne of Kanyakubjd, and it would have passed to
the Maukhari clan, into which my sister Rajyashri had married,
and which in fact had held power before my brother’s time, when
the Guptas disappeared. I am saying all this to make those who
 166 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

come after me understand that it was with no thought of selfish

interest that I placed the crown on my head. I lament that my
crafty courtiers have tried to paint me in the same* colours as
Samudragupta and Chandragupta Vikramaditya. A ruler cannot
get rid of the flatterers—that is the difficulty. But by their eulogies
they are not doing me justice—they do me a great injustice.
I accepted the throne only that I might defend justice and
virtue, out of love tor all mankind. I understood tha charity
bestowed on learning is true charity. The wealth of the Nalanda
monastery, which had been growing since the Gupta times, I
added to still further, until it enabled ten thousand Indian and
foreign scholars and students to follow one’s own religion. This
fills the world with peace and pros. To honour scholars was my
highest pleasure ; that is why I welcomed so warmly the Chinese
Buddhist monk, Sven Tsang. Discerning the remarkable poeti¬
cal talent of Bana, I tried to rescue him from his vicious pleasures
and set him on the right road, though he proved unable to rise
very far, but trod in the footsteps of Kalidas and filled his poems
with flattery. At any rate, my taking him out of a little village
of Magadha and trying to bring him to the notice of the world,
testified to my love of literature.
I wanted all men to be faithful to their own religion. It is
right to follow one’s own religion. This fills the world with
peace and prosperity, and builds heaven. I always laboured to
induce every community to be loyal to its common religion, every
monk to be loyal to his monastery, every sect to worship according
to its honest faith.
From Kamarupa (Assam) to Saurashtra (Kathiawad), from
the Vindhya hills to the Himalayas, I established the reign of jus¬
tice over my vast dominions. To prevent my officers from mis¬
behaving, I myself went on tours from time to time. It was
during one of these tours that the Brahman Bana appeared before
me in answer to my summons. His avowed wish was to eulogise
me; but I believe that the descriptions he wrote, even when I was
on campaign, of my royal pomp and splendour may really be des¬
criptions not of my court, but of Vikramaditya’s. He began writing
his Harshacharita, his biography of me, secretly; when I heard
of it one day, I asked him about it. He showed me the part he
had composed. I was very much displeased with it, and took
him to task; of which one result was that he was certainly unable
to proceed with the same warmth. I was better pleased with his
Kadambari, except that he painted such a picture in it of court-
life, harems, attendants, palaces, luxury and so on, that people
must inevitably imagine that all these descriptions apply to my
own court.
 13. DURMUKHA 167

I am very fond of my Persian wife. Not only is she a great

grand daughter of Nausheivan, but her virtues and charms would be
enough to captivate any man. Bana drew her portrait under the
name of Mahashveta. Another wife, from Saurashtra, was verg¬
ing on me decline of her youth. To please her, I made special
efforts in furnishing her residence. Bana has described this in
his account of Kadambari and her mansion. No descriptions in
Bana’s works, apart from these two pieces, are to be considered
as relating to me. or at least any others must be considered very
hyperbolical.
Now, in my latter days, I am fearful that Bana will not
prove to have done me any good service. The account given in
his Harshacharita and even in his Kadambari of the king and his
magnificence will be regarded by the public as a portrait of myself.
Besides, he made the confusion worse by writing his plays
Nagananda, Ratnavali, and Priyadarshika in my name. People
will think that out of thirst for fame, I bought another man’s
works from him and gave them out as my own. I am telling the
truth when I say that I did not learn what he had done till long
after, when thousands of students had already read these plays
with my name on them, and they had been many times performed.
I wanted to see my'people contented ; my wish , was fulfilled.
I wanted to see my realm at peace and free from calamity. In
the end this aim also was achieved, and a man laden with gold
could travel from place to place in safety.
Behind my back, folk have already begun to say that my family
is sprung from the plebeian caste of shopkeepers. This is quite false.
We are Vaishya Kshatriyas, not Vaishya Banias. At one time
the power of mv clan, the Shatavahana. extended all over India.
After the passing of Shatavahana empire, my ancestors migrated
from Paithan, on the Godaveri river, to Sthanvishvara (Thanesar).
It was never a Bania stock, as all the world knows, though it inter¬
married with the Shaka Kshatriyas, as royal blood properly may.
And my beloved Mahashveta is of the royal line of Persia.

[ 2 1
My name is Bana. I have written many romantic plays, and
people will want to measure me by the standard of these works
alone, so I wish to write this also and leave it behind me. I
know very well that what I am now setting down will not become
known as long as the present ruling family is on the throne. I
have arranged for it to be kept safely. Posterity will be saved
from false ideas about me, if it reads these words before reading
my celebrated works.
King Harsha called me, in public, a libertine, and what he
said may well mislead people about me. I was the favourite son
 168 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

of a rich father. Undoubtedly it was from reading the works of

Bhasa and Kalidas that I acquired a romantic disposition. I had
good looks, and youth. 1 longed to travel. I wanted to enjoy
my youth, and had I wished 1 could have led a life of indulgence
at home, as my father did ; but it seemed to me hypocritical, to
be inwardly sensual and self-indulgent, and outwardly appear
ascetic, virtuous, devout and spiritual. All my life I have never
liked such hypocrisy. Whatever I have done, 1 have done openly.
My father only once had courage to recognise as his own a
son born from a woman of another caste, and that could be
counted as a piece of youthful folly. I realised that I could not
enjoy my youth as I wished to while I remained at home. All
my relatives would be outraged and I should have to forfeit my
wealth. I thought of a good scheme. I formed a dramatic
troupe, outside Magadha of course. I had for my friends only
clever and artistic young people. I have never been fond of
mean, flattering stupid friends. I admitted a good many pretty
girls to my band, not all of them prostitutes.
It was for performance on this tour that I wrote my Ratnavali
(“Necklace”), my Priyadarshika (“Sight of the Beloved”) and
other dramas and comedies. Art was for me a part of the enjoy¬
ment of youth, and men of good taste will always give me credit
for my services to art. I have enjoyed my life, but I have also
presented the world with my compositions, whereas some men
of pleasure think only of their own pleasures.
People may say that in order to win King Harsha's favour I
published my plays under his name. They are not aware that
at the time when I wrote these plays, away from home, I knew
nothing of Harsha except his name. I never dreamed that he
would one day send for me and make me his court poet. I pub¬
lished my plays in his name merely in order to conceal my own
identity. All who read them know their merit. They were quite
original. There were plenty cf connoisseurs in my audiences.
Scholars, princes, and artists especially flocked to watch my plays.
If they had got to know who I was, I should not have been able
to remain manager of a company of actors, crowds of people
would have been running after the famous Bana.
I exhibited my plays at the court not only of Harsha, but of
rulers from Assam to Sind, from the Himalayas to the capital
of Ceylon. You may easily imagine that if these rulers of Assam
and Ceylon and Kuntala had known me, Bana Bhatta, to be the
author of these plays, there would have been an end to my roving,
joyous existence. I had no desire to become a court poet. I
would not have let Harsha make me one if I had not been living
in his dominions. From my father I had as much money as I
seeded.
 13. DURMUKHA 169

You may be reflecting that, according to Harsha, I was a

mere pimp. As a matter of fact, there were few courtesans among
my actresses, and those I had were chosen for their proficiency
in dancing, singing, acting, or art. The stars of my artistic firma¬
ment came to me in another way. What will be the state of affairs
in times to come, I cannot say, but in this age all the girls in the
land are considered the property of the rulers and their officers—
even the daughters of Brahmans and Kshatriyas. An aunt of
mine was forcibly carried off by a Maukhari chief of Magadha.
When he died she was past her prime, and she came to live at my
home. She was fonder of me than anyone else. It never occurred
to me to think about her past connection with the nobleman. What
fault was it of hers, after all, poor creature ? Pretty girls are
scarce, but when those who have the first right to them are even
petty nobles, everyone knows how many girls fall to the lot of
each aristocrat! Officials and their masters found various pre¬
texts for obtaining women. Some considered that they had a
right to the first night with a bride before she went to her husband.
People began to treat this as a religious obligation and send their
daughters, wives and sisters in sedan chairs to pass a night in some
great man’s harem. Not to send such a sedan meant running a
grave risk. Those who found favour were kept in the harem
not as consort, but as handmaidens, for only the daughter of
kings or princes could aspire to bcocme queens. The majority
of the thousands of harem inmates enjoyed no more than a single
night with their master. Imagine how their youthful cravings
must have devoured them ! Most of my actresses came from
such harems, and not by any stealthy escape. Whether you admire
me for it or not, I had the gift of winning favour with great men
easily (I don’t mean in politics, for I had nothing to do with that).
In proof of what I say are the hundreds of flattering letters I
received from kings and their ministers. When they talked in
praise of art, I would lament the trials of an artist’s life and exclaim
—“ What am I to do, Your Majesty, there are talented young
women, but I cannot get hold of them ! ”
“ How is that ? M
“ Where are talented actresses to be. got from, when hundreds
of thousands of girls are kept locked up in harems, where their
only function is to be kissed or embraced or slept with for a
single day ? ”
“That is true, my good sir, I quite admit it, but when we
have once taken them into our harems, how can we let them go ? ”
Then I would show them a way. Nowadays it is indispensable
for daughters of kings and nobles, harem women, to learn dancing
and singing. It is like meat and drink to them. I sent my
 170 riOM VOLGA TO GANGA

experienced women, and the king would tell his females to learn
the arts from them. When we found one suitable for us, we
impressed on her mind the miseries of harem lift and the’joys
of life in the world of art; we also impressed on her that just as
the king had now given an honourable reception in his harem to
a skilled actress of our troupe, so she also might at some future
time meet with similar luck. Naturally such talk had its effect
on some of the girls, though we only took the most talented ones.
When kings kept thousands of young girls cooped up merely for
the sake of one night with each of them, making rigid rules to
prevent men from entering the harem can have no effect. The
old Brahmin chamberlains cannot keep these girls from the
pleasures of youth.
When I opposed the burning alive of widows, heretics (there
can be no greater heretics in the world than Brahmans and kings)
and conservatives raised a great outcry. They accused me of
wanting to encourage abortions and the remarriage of widows. I
did not want to encourage abortions, but I have no hesitation in
admitting that I approve of the remarriage of widows. Since the
Gupta empire, our ancient religion has changed out of recognition.
Our old exponents of the Vedas would never welcome a guest
without giving him beef; to-day beef-eating is considered contrary
to religion. The Rishis of old thought it quite proper for widows
to make a second marriage with their husband’s younger brothers,
and in fact believed that no young Brahmin or Kshatriya widow
should remain without a husband for longer than six months or
a year. To-day this is coming to be thought irreligious. In the
Gupta family itself, the fountain-head of all this rubbish of the
new Hindu religion, Vikramaditya, chose as his consort, not a
widow, but the wife of Ramagupta while her husband was still
living. Even the gods, Brahma and Vishnu and Maheshwara,
would never be able to impose chastity on young widows; and
indeed, with what face could they attempt it, when they themselves,
with their own consorts living, were never weary of chasing other
people’s wives ? Abortions are the inevitable result of keeping
young widows unmarried; to let them bear children and bring
them up would involve letting them remarry, which is what people
now want to avoid. For fear of this, the Brahmins and rulers
have found a new way of protecting the purity of their families,
that is, to burn widows alive. They reckon it a most virtuous
custom, and by no means a sin. Any of the gods whose hearts
do not melt as they witness, year by year, the compulsory burning
alive of hundreds of thousands of young widows, must have hearts
of stone, or no hearts at all. They say that a woman is burned of
her own free will. Scoundrels! Heretics ! Infamous crew—how
can they utter such lies! Among the hundreds of inmates of a
 13. DURMUKHA 171

royal harem, who have been used for one night and whom you
cast in the flames, how many will there be who can feel the
slightest affection for their royal stallion ? If there is an occa¬
sional woman distracted by her loss and willing to jump into the
fire, two or three days would easily cool her fevered mind. A
religion of suicide! Ill-luck befall these lying priests and kings.
They have made it a religious act to leap from the undecaying
fig-tree at Prayaga into the River Jumna and drown there, and
every year thousands of deluded wretches find their way to
“Heaven” by this leap. They have made it a religious act to
climb the “Path of Truth” on Mount Kedar and freeze in the
snow, and every year thousands of souls set out for “ Heaven ” by
these “ Paths ” I could not raise my voice against all these
modes of self-destruction, because I had to rely on royal protec¬
tion against the Brahmans.
I still rely on it, but it was not of my own will that I sought
this protection. I had enough property of my own to enable me
to lead a modest but comfortable life, and I could exercise much
more self-restraint than the kings and priests of my time who
used religion as their cloak. I had no desire to become the
possessor of hundreds of women, like Harsha and. other royal
sages. At the most there may be a hundred girls with whom
1 have been in love at any time. But my home, my property,
all I had, were in Harsha’s dominions. When he sent one emissary
after another to call me, how could I refuse to go to his court ?
Of course, if I had been another Ashvaghosha, indifferent to hearth
and home, I might have cared nothing for Harsha.
If you ask my secret opinion of Harsha, I reply that he was
not, for his time, a bad man or a bad ruler. He was warmly
attached to his brother Rajyavardhana, and if religious custom had
made it a duty to burn oneself with one’s dead brother, or even
suggested it, he would readily have complied. But along with
this he had certain faults, of which the worst was hypocrisy ; he
tried to show himself above ambition while really craving flattery;
he paraded himself as a man free from passion, while in reality
avid for beautiful girls ; he laboured to appear far removed from
all thoughts of fame, while secretly longing for it. I have already
explained how I came to issue my plays under the name of “the
brilliant poet Harsha.” without consulting him. But after he
had come to know me, and I had been in his company day and
night, he never said to me. “ Now, Bana, let these plays appear
in your own name,” as I could very easily have done. It was
merely a question of having them performed once before his
obsequious courtiers with my name announced instead of his.
It was my earnest wish to portray the world as it really is.
If I had not spent twelve years in my wanderings, perhaps I should
 172 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

not have experienced this wish, or might have lacked power to

accomplish it. When 1 described the lake of Achchhoda, I had
before my mind a lovely Himalayan mountain landscape. I was
thinking of another Himalayan view when I described the' house
of Kadambari. In Vinahytiuivi I placed my old southern
monk in a setting I had once seen myself. But I did not want
to content myself merely with descriptive work of this kind. In
my writings 1 depicted the palaces, seraglio and riches of Htrsha
and other kings whom I knew intimately, but I was not free to
describe the cabins of the poor and their miserable life, whose
conditions are consequences of the palaces qnd harems of the rich.
Had I portrayed these things, it would have cast such a reflection
on all royal palaces and royal pleasures that Harsha, with his
five-yearly distribution of the royal treasure, or rather the surplus
of it, at Prayaga. would not have been satisfied with classing me
merely as a libertine !

[ 3 ]
They call me Durmukha (“ Bad-mouthed ”) because of my habit;
of telling unpleasant truths. In our time some with this habit
are occasionally met with, but they indulge in it under cover of
a pretence of being imbeciles, so that many take them to be
imbeciles in fact, while others take them for wonderful seers
straight from Shriparvata Hill. I also, in this age of belief in
the sacred Hill, could have passed for a fine seer, but then my
name would not have been Durmukha. I have no taste for this
sort of fraud. It was because of it that I left Nalanda ; had 1
stayed there I could have been one of its leading pandits. I saw
there one man who flashed a light through its thick shadows, but
I also saw how hotly he was denounced by friend and foe. You
may be curious to hear about this man. He was a philosopher
of pre-eminent wisdom, the only lion among a crowd of human
sheep. His name was Dharmakirti. He spoke in Nalanda with
a trumpet-voice : “ To set books above one’s season to think ot
some god as the creator of the world ; to try and make merit
by taking baths ; to take pride in being born into a certain caste :
to defeat sin by mortifying the body—these are the surest signs
of a mind numbed and lost to reason.”
“ Master,” I said to him, “ your doctrine is sharp, but it has
grown too subtle to make any impression on the people.”
Dharmakirti replied :
“ I know well how ineffective it is; to destroy what I want
to destroy, I should have to throw off all armour and seize up
the strongest weapons, that would glitter in all men’s eyes. Already
the monks of Nalanda great and small, are displeased with me.
 13. DURMUKHA 173

Do you think 1 should be left with a single disciple, if I began

saying ‘ Ndlanda is all a show, a place where the kind of students
come who can never embrace the great world in their view, who
can do nothing but use their knowledge to dazzle others who
have little knowledge or none ! ’•—When men are receiving scented
rice, condiments, butter and sweatmeats from the estates bestowed
by Shiladitya, how can they teach the word ‘ rebellion ’ to the
poor people who have been squeezed to provide Shiladitya with
his pleasures ? ”
“ Then, is there no road of escape, Master, from this
darkness ? ”
“ Escape ? There is a medicine for every disease, there is
some way out of every calamity; but even in many generations,
my friend, you cannot build a road out of this dark night, a bridge
over this hellish river. The hands of the builders are few, and
the power of the darkness is great.”
“ We can do nothing but sit down in despair ? ”
“ To sit still is at least better than to practise deception. Do
you not see what frauds are the men who ought to be pointing
out the road to us ? And this is not happening in one country
alone, it is seen all over the world. Ceylon, Greece, Camboja,
China, Persia—there are learned scholars from all these countries
in Nalanda and when you talk to them you realise that the world
has gone blind. Curse on this universal darkness I ”
This great man endeavoured, by scattering abroad his fiery
words, to dispel the shadows of superstition, but if they had any
effect at that time, I could not see it. I resolved to carry forward
the blazing torch myself. One consequence of my resolve was
that I have become—Durmukha. One thing I must explain, that
while 1 use my tongue, I am compelled to avoid any direct attack
on the royal power, or my life would not be safe for a week.
Still, I sometimes, in a guarded manner, go far enough.
What does it mean, after ay, that you talk of bestowing free¬
dom and Nirvana after death, while here on earth myriads of
slaves are being sold into captivity like animals, and you make
no effort to give them freedom ? Once, at the festival at Prayaga,
I put this question to King Shiladitya (Harsha) also—“ Your
Majesty, if you had spent on freeing slaves the treasure which
you divide every fifth year among the already wealthy monasteries
and Brahmans, would it have been any less meritorious an act ? ”
Shiladitya evaded the issue, saying he would discuss, it some
other time, but I found another occasion, and it was the kings
sister, the nun Rajyashri, who intervened to gain it for me, I
drew a picture for her of the hellish misery of a slave’s life, and
it melted her heart; and when I added that the most meritorious
 174 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

of all deeds was to give money and bestow freedom on human

beings chained to this ancient bondage, that went on for genera¬
tion to generation, the thought stuck in her mind. How could
that poor simple woman understand all the selfish interests that
are bound up with slavery ? How could she understand that on
the day when this earth is transformed into a heaven the heaven
beyond the clouds will fade away ? To establish a heaven above
and hell below the world, and reap a profit by talking of them
—-for this we need a heaven and hell in human life, kings and
beggars, masters and slaves.
The king discussed it with me in private. His first remark
was that he could no doubt set slaves free once, by spending a
great deal of money, but that poverty would soon oblige them to
sell themselves again.
“Then make the sale and purchase of these human beings a
punishable offence for the future.”
He became thoughtful and silent. I suggested to him the
example of Naga, in the Nagananda, who was willing to sacrifice
his own life to save that of another. The play Nagananda was
supposed to be the work of King Harsha, so he could find nothing
to say to this. But in the end he reflected that he could not
hope to gain as much glory by freeing slaves as by filling the
begging-bowls of Buddhist monks and Brahmins, or by building
great temples. I realised that day that Harsha was not the “ Sun
of Righteousness,” but the “ Shadow of Righteousness.”
But why should I blame only poor Harsha ? Nowadays it
is the mark cf distinguished and civilised people to be always
cheating one another. From studying the rites and customs of
the Buddhist times, in the old Buddhist writings, I know that wine-
drinking was formerly as much a matter of course as drinking
water. Not to drink it was then regarded as a special austerity.
To-day the Brahmans prohibit wine, and to drink it publicly is
to risk persecution.
But what is the result of all this ? That secret drinking bouts
flourish under cover of religion and asceticism. There is loud
talk about chastity, but what happens ? During these drinking-
bouts all women, one’s own and those of other men, are accessible
not only this, but under the cloak of acts of religious devotion
even a man’s very mother, sister, and daughter are accessible to
him. Extraordinary vices have permeated in the gatherings of
“ ascetics ” and monks. If there were in truth anyone watching
and hearing this world of men, he would not tolerate it for a
moment.
I visited Kamrupa once. Its king was a great admirer of
Nalanda, and a devotee of Mahayana Buddhism. I said to him
 13. DURMUKHA 175

—“You believe in the precepts of Buddhism, and you will find

among them the words : ‘ So long as a single living thing is in
captivity, Nirvana is not for me.’ In your kingdom are numerous
untouchables ; when they enter a town they walk along banging a
stick on the ground, so that passers-by may be on their guard and
not be polluted by contact with them. They must carry a bowl
with them, so that their impure spittle may not fall on the pure
ground of the town. A man is not contaminated by contact with
a dog, a dog’s dirt does not pollute a town; are untouchables
worse than dogs ? ”
“ No, they are not. They have the same source, the same
life-current as other men, and as it broadens it can bring them
one day to Enlightenment.”
“Then why should you not proclaim by beat of drum that
from to-day these people need not carry their sticks and spitting
bowls ? ”
“ To do that is beyond my power.”
“ Beyond your power ? ”
“Yes, because the rule has become a religious observance.”
“ Is it an observance laid down by the religion of the Bodhi-
sattvas, by the Mahayana ? ”
“ But the people here are not all followers of the Mahayana.”
“I hear the victory drums of Tri-ratna beating everywhere in
town and village.”
“ That is all very well, but if I ever proclaim that openly, my
enemies will raise a storm against me, and accuse me of break¬
ing the law that has come down to us from antiquity.”
“Does no light at all fall on anyone’s mind from all the
preaching that goes on day and night about the Bodhisattvas and
their great lives ? I believe that they must have some effect, Your
Majesty, and if you are ready like a Bodhisattva to renounce every¬
thing, many will be found ready to follow you.”
“It is not a question of my own kingdom only. Our god¬
like emperor will also be displeased.”
“ Harsha, the * Sun of Righteousness ! ’ The man who has
painted such a glowing picture of the saintly life in his play
Nagananda! ”
“ Yes! To break down that ancient law is beyond the
power of any man.”
“ What would Buddha have done if he had believed that ?
--or the noble Ashvaghosha, or the noble Nagarjuna?”
“ Those men had courage. Yet even they could not get very
far in demolishing the old law.”
“ if you cannot go far. Your Majesty, go at least a little
way! Do something, and those who come after you will do
more.”
 276 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Are you determined to make me confess myself a coward ? ”

“ Not a coward ; but certainly religion for us is a great snare.*’
“if I answer you from my heart. I shall spy yes, but if X
am to answer only with my longue, I shall either give you a
plain no, or say nothing at all.”
The Brahmanical religion is hateful to me. It bears the guilt
of having made cowards of many men good at heart, like the
king of Kamarupa. When the burden of this religion is lifted
from the country, a dark stain will be removed from the earth.
From foreign monks who came to Nalanda, 1 have learned that
among them there is no dominant class of religious leaders like
our Brahmans. When I heard this I understood why among them
there is also no class of untouchables who have to go about with
divided humanity into higher and lower castes in such a way that
nobody will have anything to do with those below him. Their
religion and their wisdom are nothing but a dark shadow, like
the darkness of an eclipse.
At Nalanda one always hears varied news from many coun¬
tries, so when I have spent a year or two in travelling, I go back
there for six months. Once a Persian monk told me that in his
country, some time before, there had been a wise man named
Mazdak, who had spread a sort of communism. Buddha also
prescribed a form of communism for his monks and nuns, in all
matters of ownership, but that is only a thing to be read about in
Vinaya-pitaka (their religious book). To-day there are monks oi
enormous private wealth. This teacher Mazdak was not in favour
of celibacy and mendicancy. He believed only in natural human
life, family life, but he said that the root of all evil was egotism
and the sense of property. Property should not be individual, he
said, we should produce and consume collectively. Marriage
should not be exclusive, love should be free, and children should
belong to the community. He also taught kindliness to all living
things, and self-restraint.
These ideas seemed to me very fine. When I learned that
a Persian king, Naushervan, had slaughtered Mazdak and his
numerous followers, and set himself up as the embodiment of
justice on the strength of his exploits, it became clear to me that
so long as kings remain, the priests who live by religion and its
endowments will also remain and this earth can never be made
into a paradise.
 14. CHAKRAPANI
Time: 1193 A.D.

K ANAUJ was now the biggest and richest city of India. Its
markets and squares were always thronged. It was famous
throughout India for its sweets, perfumes, oils, drinking-
vessels, ornaments and many other articles. People felt for it
a respect of another kind also, because it had been for six hundred
years the capital of dynasties like the Maukhari, Bais, Pratihar
and Gahadvar, in their times the most powerful in the country.
In addition, caste had given its name to their offshoots : hence
today we have Kaanyakubja (Kanani) Brahmans, Kanyakubja
Ahirs, and so forth, among many of our castes. The name of
Kanauj acquired in people’s minds the same association as the
name of the Hindu religion. Many revolutions had taken place
in the world since the time of Harsha, but India’s mind had become
narrow and limited, like that of a frog in a well.
It was in the time of Harshavardhana that a new religion—
Islam—had been born in Arabia. No one contemplating it then
would have prophesied that within a century of its founder’s death
(622 A.D.) it would spread everywhere from Sind to Spain.
Hitherto conquest had been connected with the names of nations
or kings : now for the first time men heard of a crusade of con¬
quest in the name of religion. It gave its victims no chance to
prepare for defence, but swept over them in a moment. The
powerful Persian empire of the Sassanids fell instantly like a
house of cards, at the first touch of the Arabs ; and before two
centuries had passed since the Prophet’s death the standards of
Islamic rulers began to be borne over the Pamirs.
At first Islam tried to organise the whole world on the model
of its Arab tribes, and at the same time to inspire its follower*
with the simple, democratic, brotherly feeling of the tribesmen.
The ancestors of the Vedic Aryans had passed through this stage
of development three thousands years before. It will be impossible
to resurrect that dead epoch. Therefore, as Islam came m con¬
tact with peoples that had evolved beyond tribal stage and lived
under monarchies, and the political independence of these peoples
collapsed before its sword, this same contact brought to an end
the tribal structure of Islamic society. For some times the para,
mount leaders of Islam were known merely as the Khalifs—
successors—of die Prophet, though in fact they were autocratic
monarchs. But by now there had been several who adopted the
 178 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

royal style, and who had no interest in the pure Islamic tribalism
or the old simplicity, equality and fraternity.
But for the conquest of new lands they needed warriors, and
it was now no longer the Arabs, but men of other races, who
yielded the sword for them. These soldiers could not be expected
to show the old enthusiasm now that they were fighting for a king,
so along the lure of the joys of paradise, they had to be given a
share in the earthly joys also! They had a right to the plunder
and prisoners taken, they were at liberty to colonise newly con¬
quered territory and they were entitled to freedom from their for¬
mer tyrants and masters and could even put these to the sword.
No one had ever before gathered so many soldiers from among
the people he conquered, men ready to embrace the banners of
their conqueror as their own ; and it was no easy task to encounter
such an enemy, capable of creating within the borders of a foreign
land a fresh army ready to fight on its side.
Harsha had not been dead hundred years when Sind passed
under Muslim sway. As far as Banaras and Somnath (Gujerat)
India had felt the sword of Islam. If the peril was to be averted,
new modes of action had to be found, yet even now the Hindus
could not rouse themselves to abandon their ancient ways. Instead
of the entire nation being ready for self-defence, the only warriors
of India were the handful of Rajputs, that is, the Kshatriyas of
old and the Shakas, Greeks, Gurjaras and others who had joined
ranks by intermarriage ; and these were distracted by internecine
rivalries. To the very end, the feuds, old and new, among the
ruling families prevented them from co-operating with one another.

[ 2 ]
“Have no anxiety, Your Majesty : the holy seer has begun to
devise means by which the Turks will be scattered like dead leaves
before the wind.”
“How bountiful our Precepter Mitrapada (ven. friend)
is to me! Whenever misfortune has threatened me or my family
he has saved me by his divine power! ”
“Your Majesty, the holy hermit has seen the danger menac¬
ing Kanauj from Tibet the country beyond the Himalayas. That
is why he has sent me to you.”
“ How good he is I ”
“ He says that Tara goddess will help Your Majesty. Have no
fear of the Turks.”
“ I have all faith in our Mother Tara. Tara! Refuge
of those in trouble ! Help us against these barbarians, Mother! ”
The old King Jaichand was seated on a throne of gleaming
white marble, in his royal palace that rivalled the heavenly halls
 14. CHAKRAPANI 179

of Indra. Close beside him sat four young consorts of surpassing

beauty, whose raven-black hair, drawn back from their fair faces,
was gathered up in heavy knots. They were loaded with orna¬
ments that must have weighed more than their own bodies—
aigrettes, ear-rings, amulets, bracelets, necklets of precious metals
and gems, girdles sewn with bells, toe-rings, and many more
trappings of gold and jewellery. They wore soft robes and bodices,
but these were evidently meant not to hide their limbs but to
reveal their charms. Each bodice seductively displayed the swel¬
ling breasts and the delicate brown skin. Below it, the body was
bare to the navel. The shape and tint of the thigh and calf
were plainly visible. The fragrant oil in their hair, and their
garlands of newly opened jasmine, filled the chamber with perfume.
Besides the queen-consorts there were more than fifty young
female attendants. Some were waving fly-whisks, peacocks-plumes,
cr fans, some held trays of betelnut, some mirrors or combs,
some bowls of scented water, some wine-jugs and golden cups,
some stood ready with napkins soft and white as the sloughed skin
of a snake. Others sat with umusical instruments—the mridanga,
the muraja, the veena, the venu, and many more. Yet others stood
or walked about carrying golden wands. Except for King Jaichand
and his visitor—Mitrapad’s disciple, the monk Shubhakar—all those
present were princesses, all lovely young women.
The monk took his leave, the king and his consorts standing
up to salute him. Now the king was alone with his crowd of
females. He was an old man, but from the manner in which his
long, greying hair, parted in the middle, was drawn back, his care¬
fully trimmed bushy moustaches, and the ornaments and rich
clothes in which he was arrayed, it was clear that he regarded
his youth as by no means at an end. At a sign from him, an
attendant bent before him with a goblet. One of the queens took it
and offered him the brimming cup. He put it to her lips, saying:
“ Rajal, my brightest one! How can I drink this before you
have tasted it ? ”
She moistened her lips and tongue, and then the king drank
off the thus consecrated beverage. Each of his favourites in turn
touched a cup and presented it. His eyes began to glow. The
lines of anxiety drawn there by the Turks fled from his face, and
a smile played over it instead. His fat body reclined there, sup¬
ported by the cushions; he pulled one of his queens down by him
on each side, rested his head on the lap of a third, and put his arms
across the bosom of a fourth. The wine-cups circulated among
them and he exchanged salacious jests with the women. Now
the king gave orders for dancing. Dressed in skirts, with bells
tied round their ankles, some of the girls stood up ready, round¬
breasted, slender-waisted, heavy-hipped. The veena and the
 180 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

mridanga began to sound, and to the accompaniment of soft sing¬

ing the dance opened. After one song, the king found all this
insipid, and ordered them to dance danked. The dancing girls
threw off all their clothes and ornaments exfcept the bell-nung
girdles. The consorts and attendants sat at the side of the room,
the king among them exchanging embraces and jokes; the nude
dancing went on in the middle of the room. When a girl’s bare
limbs attracted the king, she was called to him, while another
took her place. His potations had affected his speech as he stam¬
mered out—“ D-d-damn your T-turks ! No ruffian can set foot
in my harem! ” All of you dance naked ! ”
All the women in the chamber removed their dresses and
ornaments. But the king was not pleased with the heavy knots
of hair that loaded the heads above their beautiful, fair-coloured
young bodies, and he told them to let their hair down. Long
snaky tresses of dark hair floated from every head down to
the hips. Seeing the king himself pull of his tunic, the girls helped
him to remove his clothes and ornaments. No ordinary woman
could have beheld without contempt his wobbling chins, his gross
cheeks, his bushy whiskers, his breasts sagging like a mother’s,
his belly swollen like a water pot, his fat soft thighs and calves
and his thick hairy arms. But he held the lives of all these girls
in the hollow of his old hand. One surrendered her lips to his
toothless mouth, while another pressed her bosom against his side,
and a third took his hairy arm round her shoulders and cheek.
The dance began again, to the sound of voluptuous music. The
king began to dance himself with his pot belly, in the midst of
his consorts and concubines.

[ 3 ]
“ Come, my prince of poets 1 ” said the king, as he mentioned the
middle-aged man to a seat, and then presented him respectfully
with two betel leaves.
The * prince of poets ’ was above fifty, but his fair com-
plexioned, handsome face still retained some traces of his lost
youth, and his moustache was still black. Besides his white robe
and shawl he wore a handsome necklace of berries, and three
crescent-shaped lines were smeared on his forehead with ashes.
The poet put into his mouth the scented betel, wrapped in
gold leaf, saying:
“ My lord, was your journey a good one ? Did you enjoy
good health? The nights bring you agreeable dreams now?”
“My manhood is growing exhausted, oh ox among poets.”
“ Your Majesty! You like to make a fun of your poet
Shriharsha! -
 14. CHAKRAPANI 182

“I call you ‘ox’ as a term of praise, not of ridicule.”

“It is an animal’s name.”
“I know, but it is also used for distinguished men.”
“ l take it in the animal sense.”
“ And I in the honourable sense. Well, my poet and friend
—whom can one make fun of, if not of a dear old companion like
you ! ”
“ But not inside the court,” said Shriharsha in a low voice.
Jaichand took the poet by the hand and drew him out of the
hall of audience into the pleasure-garden. Summer was now just
beginning and it was delightful to feel the breeze that gently stirred
the green trees. The king seated his companion on a white
marble bench with arms, set above the terraced steps of a pool,
and then began—
“You ask me about my night.I have begun to feel
that I am indeed growing old.”
“ Why ? ”
“ Even naked girls cannot arouse my desire.”
“Then you have become a true ascetic. Your Majesty.”
“ And what are the sixteen thousand women of this ascetic to
do ? ”
“Give them away. There are many who would be glad to
have them—or you could distribute them to the Brahmans on the
Ganges, with the water and sacred grass; you know the saying :
‘The greatest of all charities is to give away your wife’.”
“That is what I shall have to do. The aphrodisiacs of my
chief physician Chakrapani have lost their power. Now my only
hope of pleasure lies in enjoying your poetry.”
“ What can poetry do, when naked beauty has lost its darts ?
After all, Your Majesty has passed sixty.”
“A man should still be youthful at sixty.”
“ What! a bull that has been enjoying itself for so long with
sixteen thousand heifers 1 ”
“Well—you have not shown yourself at Banaras till now,
and it is two months since I came from Kanauj! ”
“ During the sacred nine days of the month of Chaitra I went
to visit the shrine of the goddess Vindhyavasini.”
“ Why, my boat passed it on its way. If I had known I would
have called for you.”
“Or you might have landed and taken part in the worship
oi the virgins ! ”
“Then had you also gone there just for that?”
‘ I am a follower and worshipper of the goddess Durga.”
"But you write in praise of Rama and Sita, as if you were
a true Vaishnava,”
 182 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Well, you know the saying : ‘ A worshipper of Shakti in

his heart, of Shiva in his mouth, of Vishnu in public’.”
“ So you are a Vashnava in public, eh! ”
“ I have to be, Your Majesty; we fellows can’t order oui
critics’ tongues to be pulled out as you can.”
“ You blessed chameleon ! ”
“Your Majesty, I have gone further still. I have admitted
Buddha too among my objects of worship.”
“ What! even the Enlightened One ! ”
“Yes.”
“Confound it, I am ashamed of myself whenever I say the
words.”
“Your Majesty, we have simplified the Buddhist worship for
the benefit of the followers of Shakti, that is, in the Vajrayana
form of Buddhism,”
“ Yes, indeed, my friends. That is why they call it the ' Easy
Path
“I see very little poetry in the verses and songs composed
by the exponent of this form of religion, but 1 am pleased with
the spread of its Five—the Vine, Flesh, Fish, Sign and Copulation ;
it has done the people a lot of good.”
‘ But for me it would be difficult to follow these Tantra-rites
now, I think.”
“And if you take the Vajrayana form of Buddhism and add
a dash of Nagarjuna’s Madhyamika philosophy—it is really paint¬
ing the lily.”
“I can enjoy the flavour of your poetry, though sometimes
it makes my head spin, but philosophy begins to feel like a leaden
weight on my head.”
“ Even so, Your Majesty, Nagarjuna’s philosophy is very useful.
It drives away a great many false opinions.”
“ But you are celebrated as a Vedantist.”
“ I have made my book celebrated, by calling it Vedantas
But the book Khandana-Khanda-Khadya (‘ Dainty dish of
criticism ’) gives us only Nagarjuna’s less important ideas.”
"I shall never be able to remember it, still, tell me what is
remarkable in Nagarjuna.”
“ Your peerless prophet Mitrapada believes in his philosophy.”
“What, my own family priest?”
“Yes, Nagarjuna says that vice and virtue, good conduct and
bad conduct are mere abstractions. The existence or non-existence
of the world cannot be proved. Heaven and hell, freedom and
bondage are old wives’ tales. Prayer and worship are only meant
to amuse fools. The superstitious notion of gods and goddesses is
false.”
 14. CHAKRAPANI 183

“ Then, my dear poet, I have spent my whole life in agreeing

with this philosophy.”
“ So does everyone Your Majesty. Only idiots throw away
solid cash to chase after debts,”
“ But now all I can do with my ‘ solid cash * is to sit and
stare at it impotently! But you don’t look as if you would ever
age.”
“ Well, I am eight years younger than you ; besides, I have
never married more than one wife.”
“ What question is there of marriage ! If a man were to
marry all the women he needs, he would die of exhaustion just
from having to walk round the sacred fire so often.”
“ There is only one single woman in my house, Your
Majesty.”
“ And you expect the world to believe that the poet Shrihanha
is living faithfully with one toothless old woman all the time ! ”
“ The world will believe it—does believe it. I put in my
books even such things as accounts of how I have trances and
come in touch with God.”
‘ Then there is room in your Madhyamika philosophy for God
and knowledge of God ! ”
“There is room in it for everything, Your Majesty.”
“In short, the people must be kept blind so that we can put
any sort of idea into their head.”
“Then, Your Majesty, your own faith in religion has left
you ? ”
“I don’t know. I can scarcely distinguish at what point
faith begins or ends. When I listen to the sermons of your pious
Brahmans, and look at their practices, it is hard to make up my
mind. All I believe is this; one should give alms, and build
temples and monasteries, and do whatever religion prescribes, but
as long as one lives one should hold fast to the wealth of life.”
From love and religion, the conversation drifted to politics.
" Is it true,” enquired Shriharsha, “ that Your Majesty has refused
to come to the support of Prithvi Raj ? ”
“What reason have I for supporting him? He has roused
the tempest himself, let him weather it himself”
“That is what I think too. Chakrapani is just raising a false
alarm.”
“ His business is to mix medicines, and even there he can
do nothing. Three times he has made aphrodisiacs for me, but
they were all useless—and now he wants to thrust his oar into
politics! ”
“ He is a fool. Your Majesty. The prince has unnecessarily
made him conceited.”
 184 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

l 4 ]
“You are right, Doctor. Shriharsha is the banker at the root
of the royal line of Gahadvar. He has reduced my father to a
blind mania for women.”
“Your royal highness, I have been physician to the court of
Kanauj for twenty years, and there is some virtue in my herbs.”
“ All the world knows that! ”
“But the king is angry about his aphrodisiacs. How long
can a man, consumed by such lust, hope to prolong his youth ?
The books tell us to practise moderation in our diet and our
pleasures. Let me go and live quietly at Mallagramas. I keep
begging him. But he will not agree to that either.”
“Doctor, you must not go away and leave me, because
of my father’s faults! You are the only hope left to the
Gahadvars now.”
“ Not I, but you, Prince Harishchandra, are their hope. How
much better it would have been if Harishchandra instead of Jai-
chand had been head of the House of Gahadvar ! It was you
whom the throne of Chandradeva required ! ”
“ And how much better if the great physician Chakrapani had
been the king’s bosom friend, instead of Shriharsha! But
you must stay with us until the sun of our dynasty has set.”
“ May my own life fade with its setting, Prince ! But it will
be the twilight of the Hindus, not of your dynasty alone. Of all
the Brahmans, we alone of Mallagrama are good at holding swords
as well as at scriptures and rituals. We, too, want to fight against
the Turks ! ”
“And yet my father will not help his own son-in-law against
them. Prithvi Raj is my brother-in-law. My sister Samyukta
loved him, she married him of her own free will. What ground
has my father to be dissatisfied ? ”
“Prithvi Raj is a hero, Prince.”
“No one can doubt that. It is his heroism that has made
him brave the Turkish Sultan ; his kingdom is nothing compared
with ours of Kanauj. If he had merely left the way open to the
Turks their Sultan would have treated him with favour. They
have their eyes on Kanauj, not on Delhi. Kanauj has ruled over
the biggest kingdom in India for six centuries. But who is to
make my father understand? He has sapped his own power of
understanding anything.”
“ If only he would hand over the government to his son!
“ Doctor, the thought did come to me once that I ought to
remove my father from the throne. But then I remembered what
you had taught me. All these twenty years I have found ail
your counsels good. I cannot go against them now.”
 14. CHAKRAPANI 185

“ The throne of Kanauj has grown old and feeble, Prince.

One false step now, and all this edifice of power will lie in ruins.
This is no time for strife between father and son,”
“ But what can be done, Doctor! All our generals and
officers are cowardly and unwarlike. There are a few brave and
skilful men among the junior officers, perhaps, but the old ones
stand in their way. The ministers are responsible ; they consider
intrigue their only duty.”
“ Yes, the men who earn their posts by sending their sisters
and daughters to the royal harem. But it is the future we must
think about anxiously, not the past.”
“ If it were left to me to-day, I should arm the entire Hindu
youth.”
“ But the evil custom of many generations, Prince, has
entrusted the sword to the Rajput caste alone. In the Mahabharata
we hear of Brahmans like Drona and Kripa fighting ; but since that
time only a single Brahman clan. . .”
’ “ Yes, I understand, this caste system is a very great stumbling
block in our way.”
“ The greatest of all stumbling blocks, Prince ! It is very well
to take pride in the high deeds of one’s ancestors, but this perpetual
division of the Hindus into a thousand fragments is a wicked
thing.”
“ And now we are made to taste its evil fruit. Kabul is lost
to the Hindus, Lahore is gone, now it is Delhi’s turn.”
“ But even now—if only we could fight along with Prithvi
Raj!”
“ Oh ! what calamity we are facing now instead ! ”
“ Calamity ? The ship of state is being swamped by its load
of calamities! Yet we are still sunk in our infatuation, and
unwilling to lighten the ship by throwing a single thing over¬
board.”
‘ Doctor, it is religion that has choked us.”
“Religion is a cancer. What tyrannies we have been guilty
of! Ever}' year myriads of widows perish in the flames, men and
women are bought and sold like cattle, gold and silver and pearls
and gems are piled up in temples and monasteries to rouse the
cupidity of barbarian robbers, and when the time comes to resist
them sword in hand we are absorbed in petty wranglings. Our
ruler is sunk in self-indulgence, and to supply him we pitilessly
plunder the people of the fruits of their toil.”
“It is not self-indulgence, it is madness. One loving wife is
enough to satisfy his needs, yet fifty thousand women are not
enough for his royal madness. There can be no love there. At
the time of the last Sankranti festival, when my father gave away
 186 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

many of his women to the Brahmans, none of them wept, they

were quite happy in their hearts. My dear Bhama told me this.”
“In the houses of the Brahmans if they*were given to, they
would have one or two co-wives at the most, there would be no
army of sixteen thousand women. That harem life is no better
than slavery. And is woman a mere chattel to be given away ? ”
“At any rate, we must make an effort here also to rally our
forces against the Turks.”
“ It is for the king to do that, and the wretched Shriharsha
rules his mind.”

[ s ]
It was the eighth night of the month. The moon had just begun
to rise above the eastern horizon, but it would still be long before
the whole earth was bathed in its light. Silence reigned every¬
where, except that somewhere in the distance could be heard the
ill-omened hooting of an owl.
Through this stillness, two men appeared from above the bank
and made their way swiftly down to the channel. They put their
fingers to their mouths and whistled three times. A boat came
in sight, moving from the opposite bank. The boat, of fair size,
made a faint splashing in the sluggish current as it reached the
share. The two men, making no sound, jumped aboard. Some¬
one in the boat asked :
“ The general Madhay ? ”
“ Yes. And Alhan has come with me. How is the prince ? ”
“He is still unconscious, but I have given him some medicine
to keep him so. If he had returned to the battlefield-! ”
“ But he cannot disobey your order.”
“ So I believe, but this way is better and he will have less
pain from the wound.”
“ Then the wound is not dangerous ? ”
“ No, general; I have stitched up the wound, and the
bleeding has stopped. He is very weak, of course, but there is
no fear of anything worse. Tell me, what have you done ?
Have you sent the king’s body to the harem ?"
“ Yes.”
“So now the harem women will take the body and burn
themselves with it ? ”
“Those who have to do so, will do it.”
“ And the commander-in-chief ? ”
“ The old man only woke up at the last moment, at the fatal
moment. Many of the officers took flight when they saw how
things were going, but they were no good even at running away.
I have no hope of any of them being left alive.”
 14. CHAKRAPANI 187

“ M only it had all happened three years ago, and with Harish-
chandra as our king and you, Madhav, as our commander-in¬
chief ! ”
Madhav sighed as he answered : “ JVfy honourable friend, all
your warnings were crystal clear. You did your best to persuade
the king to unite with Prithvi Raj and resist the Turks, but yours
was a voice crying in the wilderness.”
“ It is no use lamenting it now. Tell me, what other measures
have you taken ? ”
“ Five hundred boats are on their way now, filled with soldiers
in squadrons of fifty each. 1 have divided them under the com¬
mand of Gaga, Moga and Salkhu, and have instructed these forces
to withdraw eastward from Chandavar and engage the Turks—a
few frontally, the rest from ambush ; and when they see the situa¬
tion turning against them, to retreat still further east.**
“ And the royal palace of Kanauj ? ”
“I have removed from it whatever I could bring away. A
good many boats have gone down the Ganges and made their
escape already two days ago.”
“That is why I rescued you from the commander-in-chiefs
anger, Madhav, and I was happy when I found that you and the
prince were still alive. Now there is some hope left for the Hindus.
Whatever happens, we must struggle to the end, and use every
atom of strength that we have.”
“ Other boats seem to be approaching.”
“Commander Alhan—as soon as they are here, give word
for every boat to move on,” said Chakrapani.
“ Very good, honourable sir,” replied Alhan in a respectful
tone.
“Well, Madhav. come down into the cabin. But it seems
dark in there. Yes, 1 put out the lamp on purpose. Wait a
moment,” he added a little later—“ Radha ! **
“Yes, grandfather?” was heard in a girlish voice.
“ Strike the flint and light the lamp ; you have kept the steel
carefully ? **
“All right.”
“Friend,” he remarked, turning to Madhav, ~some call me
doctor, some call me honourable sir, some call me grandfather,
it is hard for me to remember all these names. You should all
call me by my childhood name, Chakku.”
“ No! It is Hard to change the habit of women. Instead of
calling you grandfather Chakrapani Pandeya, we shall all call you
simply grandfather.”
“Very well. Come, the lamp is lit.”
Both men descended the steps. Fwo-thirds of the boat was
covered with a deck under which, one behind the other, were a
 188 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

few cabins. They entered one of these. In the yellow light of

the lamp could be seen a camp-bed ; on this a man was sleeping,
covered up to the throat with a white shawl. A girl rose from
a stool placed at the corner of the bed.
“ Well, Bhama,” said Chakrapani, “ the prince has not stirred,
then ? ”
“ No, grandfather : his breathing is still the same.”
“ You are not frightened, child ? ”
“ Frightened, under your protection ? Oh ! if only the House
of Gahadvar had recognised you earlier as its guide, its Drona! ”
“ See, here is Madhav, the general of King Harishchandra,
our leader and our supreme hope.”
“Your Majesty, your servant Madhav has come to serve
you.” said the officer saluting her.
“ I know Madhav already,” she answered. “ Can I ever for¬
get the sight of him ar.d the prince playing together as children! ”
“ And Madhav’s arm,” said Chakrapani, “ has strength
enough to restore the fallen fortunes of your line, Bhama ”
“ Oh grandfather, how fine it is to hear you call me Bhama ! ”
“ You must be thinking of your father.”
“No, no. Our family must set its course on a new track
now. What an illusion, what a fraud, it has all been ! We must
build a simple, united human society. Let the old royal caste
vanish with my royal father-in-law.”
“It has vanished, daughter, long since. You have seen the
prince’s harem ?”
Bhama wiped a tear from her eye.
“You have brought me back to mortality,” she said.
“ No, child. If it were anyone else then Harishchandra, I
should be beating the air for nothing. Whatever Harishchandra

“ Father! ”
The prince’s eyes had half opened : they all stared at him.
Bhama ran to his side, exclaiming, “Hari, you have come back
from the shadows ! ”
“ You, dearest Bhama ... Was it not father’s voice, I heard
just now ? ”
“ Your father’s ! ”
“Not my true father, who has brought the sun of our line to
its setting, but the man you call father, or grandfather . . . . I
shall also call him the same.”
“Prince,” said Chakrapani, holding the lamp so that he could
examine the young man’s pallid face, and laying a hand on his
forehead, “ how are you feeling ? ”
“I feel as if I had been wounded on the battlefield and were
still lying there.”
 14. CHAKRAPANI 189

“ It was a deep wound, Prince.”

“ Perhaps, but you were there to save me.”
"Don’t talk too much.”
" Very well. To me every word from Chakrapani is a voice
from heaven ! ”
" Don’t say that, you will not be much use to me if you think
like that.”
“Father, it is a question of my faith in you. Wherever there
is a question of having to think, I will not believe even the word
of God without trying it on the touchstone.”
“ Prince! All India, not your dynasty alone, is fortu¬
nate in possessing you.”
“ In possessing you, father Chakrapani .... give me some
water.”
Bhama at once filled a glass and gave it him. Chakrapani
felt the beat getting under way and explained—"We are making
for Banaras, our second capital. Madhava, your commander, has
given orders to the army. It will halt the Turks here, while we
at Banaras collect more troops to restore the fortunes of the
Gahadvars.”
"No, father, as you used to say in other days, let us make
ready to restore the fortunes of the Hindu race—restore them
with victory won by the strength of the Hindu sword.”
"Then we must abolish the difference between Brahman and
untouchable.”
“ Yes, my teacher, we must.”
 15. BABA NUR DIN
Time: 1300 A.D.

fgrri HE days have gone by when we regarded India as no

I more than a cow for us to milk, when we extorted
wealth from the peasants, artisans, traders and princes,
and either sent it to Ghor or squandered it on our own pleasures.
Now we the Khiijis are independent rulers of India.”
It was a keen faced young man who spoke, running his
fingers along the trim moustache that surmounted his black beard
In front of him knelt another man, with a long white beard
and face alternately tranquil and excited, who wore a heavy
turban and a white coat.
" Yes,” said the old man, “ the Refuge of the World ! if
the interests of the headmen and chiefs and feudatories are
interfered with, they will grow disaffected, and we shall not be
able to send our detachments through all the villages of the
einpiie to collect our revenue.”
“ First you must make up your mind on this question:
do you want us to become Indians and settle down as rulers of
India, or do you want us to remain plunderers from Ghazni and
Ghor—coming here only to carry off camel-loads and mule-loads
of diamonds and pearls ? ”
“The time has come for us to settle down in India, Refuge
of the World."
“Yes. Our roots are not in Ghor, as those of the Slave
Dynasty were, but in Delhi. If we are faced with any menace,
any disturbance, there will be no Turk army coming to help us
from Afghanistan; and if we have to flee, there will be no
place of safety for us to go to.”
"Yes, that is true.”
"So we must stay where we are, and therefore we must
put our house in order, so that the inhabitants will be contented
and peaceful. How many of the ordinary people here are Mus¬
lims ? In a century we have not been able to convert even
the districts round Delhi to Islam. Tell me, Mullah Abu
Mohammed, how long do you expect it will be before all Delhi
and all this province has been converted ? ”
“ 1 do not despair, Monarch of the Age! ” said another old
man, smoothing the white beard that fell to his waist as he
opened his toothless mouth with its sunken lips. “But I have
lived for eighty years, and the lesson of my experience is that
there is no hope of full success if we try to make converts by
 15. BABA NUR DIN 191

“Then we Muslims who are settling down in India cannot

afford to sit waiting for the day when all India will turn Muslim.
We have wasted a century already in doing that, and meanwhile
we have not given a single thought to our people, but have only
tried to extort the heaviest possible land revenue and imposts
and taxes. What is the result ? For every rupee that enters the
royal treasury, five are swallowed up by the revenue collectors.
Is there any other country in the world where village officials
ride out in silken clothes to indulge in sport with Persian bows
and arrows? No, Vazir, in my dominions this kind of robbery
must be brought to an end.”
“Your Majesty,” objected the Mullah, “many Hindus have
turned Muslim out of ambition for such posts, and now even
this means of conversion will be lost.”
“Even if Islam sanctions this kind of robbery and bribery, the
interests of the royal treasury and the royal demesne forbid it.
Besides, what hope can there be for a government that employs
such servants?”
“They cannot be strong pillars to the State,” said the Vazir,
“ that I admit. I was only thinking of the danger of rebellion.*'
“The officials in the countryside will be ripe for that, if
their power is taken away, but which are more numerous in the
villages, the officials or the peasants ? ”
“The peasants—they must be a hundred to one.”
“The one man, by sucking the blood of the hundred, is able
to ride on horseback and dress in silk and shoot with a Persian
bow. By stopping this blood-sucking we shall improve the con¬
dition of the cultivators and gain their loyalty to the government.
Surely, it is good policy to make a hundred contented and pros¬
perous at the expense of offending one individual! ”
“ Certainly, Your Majesty. I have no doubt now that
although you will be the first of the Muslim rulers of India to
embark on such a policy, it will prove advantageous. We shall
only be alienating a few people of the rural bureaucracy.”
“Rural or urban, it is a matter of indifference whether wc
alienate them. To-day we have to lay the foundations of a strong
building, instead of treating our government as a temporary
lodging-place.”
The Mullah had been deep in thought.
“Your Majesty,” he now observed, stroking his beard, “I,
too, have realised that it will prove advantageous to the govern¬
ment to think of the well being of the peasant masses instead
of that of the village officials. We have given some attention to
the cloth-workers of the villages and cities. We helped them to
strengthen their guild, so as to save them from being
 192 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

fleeced by the- traders and moneylenders. Every official used to

get his clothes made, or his cotton carcjed, by forced labour. We
stopped that, and to-day as a consequence, we find that scarcely
any of the spinners, weavers or tailors has failed to embrace
Islam.”
“jSo you have seen for yourself. Mullah, that what is good
for the State is also good for Islam.”
“ But there is one request 1 have to make, Refuge of the
World! You are the Commander of the Faithful. . .
“ I am also the ruler of the Hindus. The number of Mus¬
lims in India is very small; they are scarcely one in a thousand.”
“ The Hindus are continually insulting Islam. In the future
tbeir insolence may go even further, it must be repressed.”
“ Insulting Islam ? Do they trample on the Holy Quran ? ’
“ Tliev would never venture to do that! ”
“ Well, do they desecrate mosques ? ”
“ No, no; that is out of the question.”
“ Do they vent abuse in the streets against the Holy
Prophet ? ’’
“ No, Refuge of the World ; indeed, those who have come
in contact with our Sufis revere the Holy Prophet as another
Rishi. What I meant was that they carry out their infidel rites
in front of our faces.”
“Since you consider them infidels, why object to their infidel
practices? My uncle, Sultan Ialal-ud-din, had not made up his
mind as I have done, to consider himself the permanent ruler
of India, or as its temporary ruler until the time when all India
should be converted. But he once gave a good answer to some¬
one who was raising the same question as you. Have you heard
it ? ”
“ No, Your Majesty,”
u He said—•' Fool, do you not see how every day the Hindus
pass in front of my palace, blowing their conch-shells and beating
their drums, on their way to worship their idols on the banks
of the Jumna ? They carry out their heathen rites before my
own eyes. They affront me and my royal dignity. They are
enemies of my religion, who in my own capital, under my nose,
pass their lives in luxury and pomp, and puffed up with their
wealth and prosperity, flaunt their conceit among the Muslims.
Shame on me! I have left them their pomp and pride, and
contented mvself with the few straws they give me by way of
charity!’ I think I can give you no better answer than this.”
“ But, Monarch of the Age! the king has a duty also towards
Islam.”
“ When a man has committed a capital offence, and seek
sanctuary in Islam, I can spare his life. When a slave embraces
 15. BABA NUR DIN 193

Islam, I can order his release from slavery, but only if I pay
his price from the royal treasury, for there are many millions of
rupees invested in slaves in this country, and you cannot think
of liberating all slaves.”
“No, Refuge of the World! Allah himself sanctioned slave-
owning.”
“ Well, il you give the word I am ready to decree the libera¬
tion of all slaves, Muslim and non-Muslim, male and female*
even at the risk of my throne.”
“ No that would be contrary to Islamic law.”
‘ Let us leave that question on one side, Mullah. You must
be thinking just now of someone like Amina, your favourite
slave-girl. The greatest number of slaves is to be found in the
houses of the Muslims.*
“Allah has permitted it to the Faithful.”
“ But what if the slaves also belong to the ranks of the
Faithful ? Even then, I think, you wish to deny them the breath
of freedom in this world, and fix their hopes only on Paradise.”
“ I have no more to say. In a Muslim State, Islamic law
ought to be enforced that is all I have to say.”
“ But that is no small thing to ask for. It is necessary first
that in your Muslim State the majority of the people should be
Muslims. 1 want to make my views clear to you both—to you
also, Vazit. A foreign ruler like Sultan Mahmud^ with a power¬
ful foreign army,r could sack peaceful cities and carry off his
plunder on mules and camels. But to act like that is not in the
power of a man like me, who has come to settle down in Delhi
with his family. The revenue paid by the Hindu population is
the basis of my government—that, and an army of Hindu soldiers
and officers. Malik himself, my commander-in-chief, is a Hindu,
and the Raja of Chittaur brings five thousand vassals into the
field for me.”
“Even the Slave-rulers lived in Delhi, Refuge of the World.”
“Yes, speak your mind out! They call me irritable and
passionate, but they cannot prevent me from listening to criticism.
The slave-government was like a bird’s one-night roosting-place.
In India, Muslim power was sheltered from the Mongol tempest
The Hindus did not know that the Muslims had never faced such
enemies as the Mongols; otherwise, if they had given the slightest
encouragement to the Mongols, the seedling of Islam, newly
planted in the Indian soil, would never have survived there. You
know, of course, that the dynasty of Genghiz is ruling over China,
the greatest empire in the world.”
“ I know, Your Majesty,” said the Mullah.
“ And that that dynasty follows the Buddhist religion,”
 194 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Buddhism! That religion is the quintessence of infidelity,

and yet it has not been extirpated from tthis land, in spite of so
many of its monasteries and temples being burned or razed to
the ground ! ”
“ Why do you call it the quintessence of infidelity ? ”
“ Refuge of the World ! In the religion of the Hindus or
the Brahmins, there is some notion of God, the Creator, but
Buddhism denies Him altogether.”
“ The family of Genghiz has been faithful to Buddhism ever
since the time of his grandson Kubla Khan. Among the Mongols,
in the army of Genghiz himself, there were many Buddhist
warriors and leaders. They rooted out and destroyed every trace
of Muslim civilization from Bokhara, Samarqand, Balkh, and
many other cities of Islam. They reduced all our women indis¬
criminately to slavery, caring nothing for their high or low birth.
They massacred our children without mercy. It was those same
Buddhist Mongols who instigated all their atrocities. They said
that the Arabs had destroyed their monasteries, burned their cities,
slaughtered their children, and that they must take revenge.
Think what would have become of Islam here if the Mongols
had joined hands with the Buddhists in India and succeeded in
winning over the Hindus! ”
“ It would have been wiped out.”
“Thai is the reason why we must not build our kingdom on
sand, we must liot imitate the Slave Dynasty.”
“ But Your Majesty,” said the Vazir, breaking his silence,
**if we weaken the authority of the officials in the villages, how
shall we exercise our power there ? ”
“You ought to know how it was done when there were no
big men wearing silk and riding on horseback there.”
“ l have never enquired into the question.”
“I have enquired into it. It was while our rulers regarded
themselves as plunderers that they appointed these plundering
officials. Before that time, every village had a council.
It managed by itself all the village irrigation system, every
thing from fights and quarrels to payment of the government
revenue. The king had no need of a single official in the village.
He concerned himself only with the council, which he recognised
as the connecting link between himself and the peasants who paid
his revenue.”
“ Then we must revive these village councils which have
been dead for a century.”
44 There is no other way. If we wish to make Muslim power
In this country strong, we must try by every means to make the
common people happy and contented. And to do so we must
respect the customs and laws of our Hindu subjects, and in our
 15. BABA NUR DIN 195

kingdom of Delhi we must enforce royal law, not Islamic law.

To spread Isiam is the task of our Mullahs, and to them we can
give stipends. It is the task of Sufis, who are performing it very
well; we can make grants of money to their institutions, or grants
of the revenue payments from their districts.”

[ 2 ]
The rainy season had passed, but pools and ponds were still
swollen witii rain-water. The rice fields within their big embank¬
ments were flooded, and the green rice shoots glimmered on the
surface. The big township of Hilsa (Patna) lay amid Magadh’s
green expenses, that stretched away on all sides. It contained
some brick-built houses belonging to merchants, the rest of its
dwellings were the thatched or tiled huts of peasants and artisans,
and some Brahmin houses in a somewhat better condition. Hilsa’s
temples had been destroyed a century earlier by the army of
Mahommed-bin-Bhakhtiyar Khilji, though Hindus still carried on
their worship here and there in the ruins. On the western edge
of the town lay a Buddhist monastery. The chamber housing the
image of Buddha was in ruins, but the building was still inhabited,
and no one who made his way inside and saw its denizens would
be likely to say that the Buddhist monks had deserted it.
One evening, a man in middle age was sitting on the small
stone platform outside the monastery. He wore a brown robe,
his head was shaved, his eyebrows also, and his beard was very
short, a growth of one week. He held a wooden rosary. It was
full-moon night of the seventh Hindu month, and men and women
from the township were laying gifts of food, clothing and other
things in front of the brown-robed figure, and saluting him with
joined hands. He lifted one hand, smiled, and gave his blessing
to each.
What was he, then ? The ancient Buddhist monastery of
Hilsa was indeed no more than a ruin; yet a feeling of reverence
still seized on the hearts of worshippers when they passed such
buildings. Hew could they think of this brown-robed old man
of Hilsa, except as a Buddhist monk ? He was a celibate, and
the four preachers who had preceded him had likewise been celi¬
bates and worn the brown robe. In a very few households of
Hindu or Buddhist workingmen converted to Islam, this place
was regarded as the tomb of some saint. All the other townfolk
except the Brahmins and some in the Bania trading caste regarded
it as a monastery. Its former monks had had no caste divisions
in their ranks, and these new preachers also were of no caste,
did not marry, and wore brown robes. They exorcised evil spirits
from sick people, when death or misfortune came they offered
 196 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

consolation with their teaching of an impalpable, formless Nirvana.

And so even now, on the festival of the* Pravarana at the autumn
full moon, people paid reverence in the same spirit as of old to
these Muslim friars ; and the Muslim workers whose forefathers
had looked up to Buddhist monks as their holy teachers, now
looked up to these good old men and their brown-robed disciples.
The townsfolk, having paid their respects at the tombs of the
ancient Abbots of the shrine, gradually dispersed. As the night
wore on, milk-white moonlight flooded the world. Some one
approached the outer courtyard from the direction of the workers’
dwellings, accompanied by two other men. As he came close*
the friar recognized him as Mullah Abul Ilai. He wore a white
turban and a long gown over his trousers and shoes, his dark
beard quivered in the light breeze.
The friar rose, stretching out both arms, and said in friendly
tones :
“ Come, Doctor Abul Ilai! Salaam A leikum ! ”
He grasped the scholar’s rigid hand and embraced him.
“Waaletkum-Salaam ” returned the Mullah reluctantly.
The fi iai led him to the bare platform, saying :
“ This bare stone is my throne ; please be seated.”
The Mullah sat down, and the friar resumed his seat. It
was the former who opened the conversation.
“My friend, I stopped to watch the spectacle, when that
crowd of heathens was here.”
“ Well, let us call it a ‘ spectacle ’, Doctor. Only let us not
speak of ‘ heathens,’ that word pricks my heart. ”
“If they are not heathen Hindus, what else are they”?
“In all men the same light is enclosed, and enlightenment
and paganism, like ordinary light and darkness, cannot exist in
the same place. ”
“All this missionary work of yours is not Islam—it is
hocus-pocus,”
“We do not call your ideas hocus-pocus. We are ready to
4
admit that the river is one, but the bathing-stairs on its banks are
many. ’ Do you regard all human beings as God’s children, or
not ?”
“ Certainly.”
“And you believe that God is the omnipotent Lord of all?”
“Yes.**
“Then, Maulana, if a single leaf cannot be shaken without
the will of this omnipotent Lord, which of us shall call all these
children of Allah ‘heathen’? If Allah had wished, He would
have made uc all follow the same road. He does not wish it?
which means that all roads are pleasing to Him. ”
 15. BABA NUR DIN 197

“ My friend, do not make me listen to these falsehoods of

your sect.”
“ I was speaking from the view-point of Islam itself, Maulana.
We Sufis recognise no difference between the Deity and a slave.
Our formulas are ‘An ul-haq’ (‘I am the truth God’), and
‘Hama-o-st’ (‘All is God’).”
“ That is paganism.”
“So you think, and so many others have thought before
you, but'we Sufis have established this truth with our blood, and
will do so again in days to come, if need be.”
” According to you people and your way of thinking, Islam
cannot spread here.”
“ It is tiue that we abominated your way of spreading it by
fire and sword, but we used no force to stop you—and how much
success did you have ? ’*
“You call the religion of the people here a true religion.”
“ Yes, foi we do not fancy ourselves strong enough to con¬
fine universal truth in one clay cup. If Islam is true for its
followers, if Sufism is proved true by the witness of its shining
martyrs, the Hindus also have shown that their path is a true
path, when they laughed at your swords about to fall on their
necks.”
“ Hinduism a true path ! It is as far away from ours as east
from west.”
“ If it is so far away, why did these peasants come this
evening to worship at a Muslim friary ? Or don’t you want to
see even the slightest trace of contact with Hinduism among the
Muslims, Maulana ? ”
“ No, we must get rid of it.”
“ Then you had better go and tell people to wash off the
spot of red paint that our Muslim women put on their foreheads
while their husbands are alive.”
“ I shall tell them to wash it off! ”
“You can go on trying that all your life,” returned the friar
with a laugh. “. . . Jumman, tell me, my son; will your Salima
obey this rule ? ”
“ No, father. The Maulvi here doesn’t understand, it is only
widows who wash the spot of paint off,” answered Jumman, com¬
ing up to them.
“ Forgive me, Maulvi Abul Ilai,” continued the friar; “ we
Sufis have not settled here on the alms of any king, or on charity
from any great man. We have come in a loin-cloth and a
beggar’s robe. No Hindu has drawn a sword against us. Look
at this shrine. It was once a monastery of the Buddhists, The
fifth preacher before me here had been a disciple of Buddhist
mendicants. It was no mere pretence on his part, He had coma
 198 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

from Bokhara, he was attracted by their preaching and joined

them. The life of a mendicant preacher is the same everywhere,
it is not a question of outward garb, which may be that of a
Buddhist, cr a Hindu, or a Muslim. Since the time of that leader
of ours, this shrine has belonged to monks who bear the name
of Muslims. We did not insist on any change of dress ; we
taught the gospel of love, and to-day you see its fruit—there are
very few in the villages near by who dislike us. The Hindu
pandits have watched us with a jaundiced eye ; they could not
recognise the way of love, any more than men like you can
recognise it. That is why Jumman’s father and grandfather had
to call themselves Muslims instead of Hindus, and why you also
have a welcome now among their people.”

[ 3 ]
April was well advanced, and the trees which had been awaiting
their new leaves had begun to turn green. This year the mango
trees had done well, and their old leaves had not yet fallen.
Below was a threshing-floor where two peasants were treading
out the grain, despite the heat and the wind of the afternoon.
A traveller, fatigued and sweating from the hot sun, came
and sat down under a tree next to this threshing-floor. Manga!
the Chaudhn (village elder) seeing from his face and appearance
that he was a traveller from the far-away parts, approached him,
saying: “Ram-Ram, friend. You must have plenty of courage
to be going about in this heat.”
“Ram-Ram, my friend. Well when a man has to travel, he
can’t afford to care about heat or cold.”
“Have a drink of water. Your mouth must be parched.
There is eoid water in that, pitcher.”
“ What community do you belong to ? ”
“I am an Ahir, my name is Mangal Chaudhn.”
“I have a jug and a bucket-rope with me, show me where
the well is. . . I am a Brahman.”
“I will send my lad, Panditji, if you like.”
“Do send him. Chaudhri, I am tired out.”
“Here, Ghisa, lad.” called out Mangal, breaking in on his
son’s work with the grain, and asked him to bring a lump of
molasses and some fresh water from the well.
The traveller enquired how far it was to Delhi, and learned
that it was still nearly forty miles, too far to be reached by night¬
fall. Mangal was a jolly good-humoured fellow; the
hardest thing in the world for him was to keep quiet.
“This year, by God’s blessing,” he remarked, “the crops
round here have been very good. We shall have hard work
 15. BABA NUR DIN 199

carrying in the harvest next month. What sort of crops have

you had in your parts, Your Honour ? ”
“Not bad, Chaudhri/*
“ When the king is good, God also is pleased. Ever since
the new luler came to the throne, the people have been
prosperous.”
“ Is that what you find, Chaudhri ? ”
“Well, >ou can see for yourself what a good haul is lying
on this very threshing-floor. If you had come and looked here
a couple of years ago, you would not have seen a quarter of this/*
“So things have improved, Chaudhri.”
“Yes, but all these blessings we owe to the king. We
peasants used to go hungry and naked, while those damned
scoundrels dressed in silk clothes and rode on horseback. As
soon as the wheat had grown a few inches above the ground,
their horses would be turned into our fields. Who could have
thought it! They were really the kings of our little villages.”
“ Yes.” struck in the other Chaudhri, who like Mangal wore
a waist-cloth hanging to his knees, a dirty jacket, and a crumbled
white cap. “ And you see what has become of their high and
mighty ways now! That Brahman fellow was saying to me,
that—what’s his name ? ”
“ Sibba.”
“ Yes—now you think even ‘ Sibba ’ too good for him, but
he used to be addressed as Pandit Shiv Ram ! He was saying
to me—‘Chaudhri Chheda Ram, let me have a couple of bushels
of wheat, I’ll pay you the moment I have some cash.’ It isn’t
easy to refuse a man to his face ; but I can remember when that
Brahman could never keep a civil tongue in his head ; I never
got anything from him but ‘ Hey, Cheddy 1 ’ ”
“ And now you are 4 Chaudhri Chheda Ram,’ and I am
* Chaudhri Mangal Ram ’! We’ve gone a long way in two and
a half years from ‘Chheddy’ and ‘Mungy’!”
“It’s all due to the king’s kindness, I say. Without that we
folk would all be no better than ‘ Chheddy ’ and 4 Mungy ’ still.”
“That is just what I was telling this pandit here.”
“Without that we should never have got our village council
back and our better days would never have returned.”
“ Chaudhri Mangal Ram ”, said the Brahman, “ you don’t
know how to hold a pen, and yet you are on the village council,
how do you manage affairs ? To say nothing of the officials,
your trader used to pay one rupee and carry off two rupees worth
of your grain. June was scarcely over before the rats were camp¬
ing in your houses.”
“ What we say is, may this king of ours live for a thousand
years.”
 200 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

The Brahman traveller had listened to the tale of these

ignorant Ahirs with growing disgust,* and was looking for an
opportunity to put his oar in. By the time he had swallowed
some molasses and drunk his water, his impatience had mounted,
and as the two Chaudhris still kept up their chatter, he
interrupted .
“Sultan Ala-ud-Din has restored your village councils. . .
“ Yes, Your Honour ! You never said a truer or a better
thing, but I don’t know who has given our king this name
* Ala-uh-Din ’; in our village we call him ' Labhdin * (‘ Blessing-of-
religion *).'*
“ Call him what you like, Chaudhri, but don’t you know
how he has been oppressing us Hindus ? ”
“Our Ahir girls go about in the fields and meadows, day
or night, without even a shawl, as proud as peacock, and no one
tries to carry them off.”
“ The honour of our honourable families is being ruined.”
“ Well, Your Honour, if ours are not ‘ honourable families,*
who are the damned honourables, then ? ”
“ You are trying to be offensive, Chaudhri Mangal Ram! ”
“ The thing is, Your Honour, what you ought to understand
is, that our honour came back to us when our village councils
were given back to us. We know now how the officials and big¬
wigs came to be so ‘honourable.’ People talk of Hindus, or
Muslims, but those bigwigs of ours were all tarred with the same
brush, though in fact most of them were Hindus.”
“And they tell us,” struck in Chheda Ram, as an overlooked
point occurred to him, “ that Hindus and Muslims are quite dif¬
ferent, but these men who call themselves Hindu Brahmans are
turning their women into Begums with seven veils ! ”
“Yes, though my grandfather used to say he had seen the
princesses of Kanauj and Delhi riding out on horseback with
their faces uncovered.”
“ But, Chaudhri,” protested the Brahman, “ there were no
Muslims in those days to rob them of their honour.”
"Our women go about in their fields even to-day, and no
one touches their honour.”
“ No, and if ever they were molested, it was while that
Brahman fellow, that Sibba, was ruling the roost!”
“What should those who eat without working do, except
steal one another’s honour ? It isn’t a question of Hindus and
Muslims, Panditji. It is all due to those who eat the bread of
idleness. We are good Hindus, we shall never wrap our women
up in seven veils.”
Hie Brahman made one more effort.
 15. BABA NUR DIN 201

“ Chaudhri,” he said, “ don’t you know that the king’s general,

Malik Kafur, has marched into the south and destroyed our
temples and trampled on the images of our gods ? ”
“We have heard a lot about it, we have been told not once
but a thousand times that under Muslim rule there is no place
for the Hindu religion. But we live very close to Delhi; other¬
wise we might have believed it. No temple has been destroyed
in these forty miles, no image has been trampled underfoot here.”
“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the other peasant—“ it’s all a lie ! You
go to Delhi oftener than I do, but I have gone there many a
time to see the Dassehra festival. A tremendous big fair it is,
and more than half the folk there are women. A Hindu festival,
most of the people who attend it are Hindus. They decorate
the images and carry them past the king’s own window, playing
on conch-shells and drums and horns.”
“ Yes—it’s all a lie,” agreed Mangal Ram. “ Nikkamal, the
merchant, is building a big temple within a hundred yards of the
palace. There’s no knowing how many thousands he means to
spend on it. Last time 1 was there 1 saw the foundation-stone
laid, and this time 1 saw the wall was waist-high. If the king
had wanted to break it down, why should he have let a temple
be put up right in front of his eyes ? ”
“That is right. Kings fight wars with each other, and in
wars anything may happen. No doubt something did happen
and now they are seizing on it and making a fuss about it. Such
things happened in our neighbourhood a hundred years ago, but
you never hear of them nowadays.”
“ I remember,” Mangal Ram added, “ when the Governor
came near here and some of us from several villages went to his
camp, he told us that the old Sultans were only like birds roost¬
ing here for a night, but our Sultan Labhdin has come to live
with us in our house, in good times or bad, so instead of wanting
to plunder the people he wishes them to be prosperous.”
“And it's not only a matter of wishing—the people every¬
where round are prosperous! ”

[ 4 ]
Outside Delhi there was a lonely cemetery with neem trees and
tamarinds growing about it. The late autumn nights were cold.
Two religious mendicants were sitting at a wood fire; one was
our old friend Baba Nur Din.
“ Baba,” said the other, passing both hands through his long
beard and moustache, “five years are gone, and Haryana is flow¬
ing with milk and honey again.”
“ True, Baba Gyan Din, true! The peasants’ faces are full
of smiles now,”
 202 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“When there are smiling fields you will always see smiling-
faces.” 1
“The officials and gentry have disappeared, and if the traders
and moneylenders had perished with them there would be perfect
peace.”
“ They are great thieves, these men, and it’s the wealth they
steal that keeps their big monasteries and temples and endow¬
ments going.”
“ They say religion could not live if there were no rich
men. What I say is that so long as there are rich men, irreligiott
will always weigh down the scales.”
“ Who can do more for religion than the sages and prophets
and saints! And what wealth had they, more than a shirt and
a blanket ? ”
“ Men will never learn to be brothers so long as there are
great men, living on the labour of the poor. And kings too,
friend Gyan Din, are simply moulds into which is poured together
the gold that creates enmity between man and man ; there would
soon be an end of their pomp, if they stopped snatching away
the product of the people’s toil.”
“ Let us hope for a day when all this labyrinth of evil will
have been got rid of, and the kingdom of love founded on the
earth.”
 16. S U R A I Y A

Time: 1600 A.D.

O N all sides the earth was drenched with the muddy rain¬
water brought by the monsoon. It oozed sluggishly over
level ground, hurried down slopes, and foamed along in
streams and rivers, giving them the appearance of swollen hill-
torrents. Big drops were still falling incessantly from the trees,
as if these had rain-clouds hidden in them. Otherwise, the rains
had dwindled to a mere drizzle.
A little distance away from a shami tree, growing by itself,
stood a girl in a white dress. A white shawl had slipped back:
from her head, and her raven hair, parted in the middle and
falling on each side, showed the silver line of the parting like
the Ganges flowing between Himalayan rocks. Rain-drops were
still dripping from the curling ringlets round her ears. Her skin
was snow-white, her face pensive, and her big dark eyes seemed
to be dwelling on some far-off, imaginary picture. Her long
silk tunic was soaked, and clung to her, bosom ; under a red
bodice her breasts swelled entrancingly like two oranges. Below
the waist, over which hung the pleats of her tunic, she wore
trousers, whose close-fitting on over lower parts revealed the fine
curve of her calves. She had red shoes over her white mud-stained
socks; they were wet through and sodden, and seemed useless
for further walking.
A young man appeared close by. His turban, standing out
over his forehead, his coat and trousers, were all white, and were
as soaked with rain as the girl’s clothes. He came up and watched
her, she was not looking in his direction. Moving without a
sound, he stood a couple of feet from her side. She was gazing
fixedly at the muddy current of a stream a short distance away.
Now, he thought, his companion would look towards him, but
minutes, that seemed ages, passed by and still she stood motion¬
less, not even wiping away from her forehead the drops of
moisture left there by the drizzling rain.
Unable to wait any longer, the youth gently put one hand
on her shoulder. She turned her head; the far-away look
vanished, ana her big dark eyes shone. A smile touched her
fine red lips and showed a sparkling row of delicate teeth. She
took his hand, saying :
“Kama!, how long have you been standing here?”
 204 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“For ages, I think—ever since the time when Brahma began

to create the world out of the waters,* the time when it was still
dripping wet and not firm enough to bear the weight of hills and
trees and living things ! ’’
“ Oh, stop, Kamal. You are always talking poetry! ”
“1 only wish that what you say were true, Suraiya, but l
am afraid the gift of poetry has not fallen to my lot.”
“ Well. Suraiya will not tolerate any rival. She will not let
anyone else come near you.”
“And there is no one else I should like. But what were
you thinking about so deeply, Suraiya ? ”
“I was thinking of something far off, far off . . . how far
away is the sea, Kamal ? ”
“ The nearest point is at Surat, and that is a month’s journey
away.”
“ And where does this water flow away to ? ”
“ Towards Bengal, still further away—perhaps two months’
journey.”
“ What a long journey this poor muddy rain-water will have
to make ! You have seen the ocean, Kamal?”
“ I have been to Orissa, with my father, dear, I saw the
ocean then.”
“ What is it like ? ”
“A dark undulating cloud, stretching in front of you till
it meets the sky.”
“ And that ocean is this rain-water’s destiny ! Will it still
be muddv there ? ”
“ No darling, the ocean is all one colour, deep blue or almost
black.”
“ I shall go and see the ocean some day, if you will take me.”
“ 1 am ready to accompany this water on its journey, dear
Suraiya, if you command me.”
She put her arms round his neck and laid her wet cheek
against his, and then looking into his sparkling eyes, she said :
“ Yes we shall go to the sea, but not in company with this
water.”
“ Not with this muddy water, dearest ?
“ Don’t call it muddy, Kamal! It is only muddy here on
the ground. Was it dirty when it fell from the sky ? ”
“No, it was more stainless then than the sun or the moon.
See how it has made these pretty curls of yours glisten, and how
beautiful it has made these snowy cheeks! Wherever it has
fallen straight from heaven it has only brightened your beauty.”
“So its muddiness is not part of itself; it has been given
to it by the touch of all that stands between it and its union with
the sea. When raindrops fall straight into the sea, do they
become muddy, Kamal?”
 16. SURAIYA 205

“No, darling.”
“ Well, 1 think the mud-stains in the water are an ornament,
they don’t make it ugly. What do you think, Kamal ? ”
“Suraiya, you have said with these lips what I feel with
this heart.”

[ 2 ]
The blue of the blue sky above was reflected in the deep waters,
of the pool and intensified the whiteness of the tiers of steps, of
spotless marble, that stretched round its banks. Cypress trees
made a lovely sight with their green spires soaring above the carpet
of green grass round the pool, especially in this spring noon¬
tide. As far as the eye could roam, the gardens were adorned
with avenues, creeper-hung arbours, and gushing fountains.
To-day, because of the spring festival, the royal gardens had been
thrown open to the young folk, who were wandering about enjoy¬
ing its bountiful freedom like creatures in paradise.
Outside, a red stone pavilion, on the edge of the park far away
from the pool, four men were standing. All wore the same style
of turbans projecting a little in front, the* same tunics buttoned
at the throat and falling in pleated folds to the knee, the same
white waist-bands ; all had the same moustaches, in which most
of the hairs had already turned grey. They stood for some time
surveying the park and then sat down on the rugs and pillows
spread out in the pavilion, which was open on all four sides. It
was quiet here, there was no one else but these four old men.
At length one of them broke the silence by saying :
“Your Majesty.”
“ What, Fazal! Are we sitting in the Hall of Audience now ?
Can human beings never be content to be simple human beings ? “
“I was forgetting.”
“Call me Jalal or Akbar—or simple friend
“ It is very hard, friend Jalal; we have to lead a double life.”
“ Not double,” said another—“ quadruple ! "
“ You deserve praise, Bir—you seem always ready for any¬
thing at any moment, but the rest of us need some time to get
our^minds in order when we step out of one world into another.
“ Don’t you agree, Todar ? ”
“Yes, indeed, Fazal, I, too, am astonished at how our Bif
manages ; he must have a splendid brain.”
“Doesn’t everyone think of Birbal as the man who lays
down the law in every corner of India ? ”
“But isn’t it Todar Mai who has carried out the survey of
every corner of India ? ”
 206 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

** Whether it has been surveyed or not the world at least

thinks so ” said Birbal, “ and as to my brain, Jalal himself will
give testimony”
“ Certainly,” responded Akbar, “ and not only in the tales
that have grown so famous about the Emperor Jalal-ud-Din Akbar
roaming the villages in disguise.”
“That is an agreeable memory you have brought up,” said
Birbal, “ and I suffer with you in these tales. It has become a
popular custom to invent some sort of story about Akbar and
Birbal, and circulate it. I have made quite a collection of them,
1 pay one piece of gold for each tale.”
“ Oh! ” said Akbar. “ I hope they are not being made up
on the spot just for the sake of your money ! ”
“ That may be,” returned Birbal, “ but it makes no difference;
even then we can see from these anecdotes what kind of non¬
sense is being invented about the pair of us. Don’t look annoyed,
Fazal I’m not a miser, like the merchant Chedamimal.”
“Not ai all,” Abul Fazal assured him, “don’t get angry
with me for nothing. As to your stories, I am quite frightened
of them.”
“ 1 haven’t composed a magnum opus like your Ain-i-
Akbari" said Birbal. 1
“ Ah! Todar,” exclaimed Abul Fazal, “ how many readers
will the Ain-i-Akbari find—tell me your sincere opinion ! And
how many people will go on repeating Birbal’s stories ! ”
“ Birbal knows very well,” answered Todar Mai.
“ Well,” said Abul Fazal, “ tell us one of the tales you have
paid a gold piece for, Bir.”
“Bu. if I tell you one, you will all make up your minds
from the start that I have got it out of my own head, not out
of my purse.”
“ Never mind,” remarked Akbar, “ we can distinguish the
genuine coin from the counterfeit without your telling us.”
“ As if there were a special stamp on all my own tales!
Very well, as you please; I will tell you a story, only shortening
it to give you the gist. Once upon a time, Akbar had a great
fancy to turn himself into a Hindu. He told Birbal, who was
very much upset. He could not refuse the Emperor his help,
but how on earth could he transform him into a Hindu ? He lay
low for a few days and then one evening near the palace window
was heard a loud cry of ‘hichhchho—hichh-cho—o.'
The Emperor had never heard a washerman’s cry in such a place
or at such a time. His curiosity was roused. He put on a work¬
man’s dress and went down to the bank of the Jumna. There,
thoroughly as the latter had changed his appearance, he could not
help recognising Birbal. Birbal. instead of pounding dirty clothes
 16. SURAIYA 207

•on a washerman’s board, was busy washing a fine big donkey,

scrubbing li with alkali and soap, The Emperor hid his smile,
and enquired in an assumed voice :
“‘What are you doing there, Gaffer?’
“ ‘ Doing my work, what do you think ! ’
“ * You are shivering out here in the cold weather at a very
odd hour.’
“ ‘ I’ve got to turn this animal into a horse and give it to the
Emperor by tomorrow, even if it kills me.’
“ * Turn a donkey into a horse ! ’
“ ‘ What can 1 do ? That’s the Emperor's order! ’
“ The Emperor laughed, and said in his natural voice :
‘ Come along, Bir, I understand now that a Muslim can no more
become a Hindu than a donkey a horse ! ’
“ Well, Eazal—when 1 heard this story, it made me feel very
sorry.”
“ And we are hearing it now,” commented Akbar, “ in the
evening of cur lives. Is this all that has come of our life-long
•efforts ! ”
“Jalal,” answered Fazal, “we can undertake the work only
of one generation. Whether our efforts are to prove successful
or not depends on those people out there in the gardens, celebrat¬
ing the spring festival.”
“Yes, though it was not our object,” Todar Mai remarked,
“ to turn Muslims into Hindus or Hindus into Muslims.”
“ Our object was to see them both united,” said Fazal, “ as
a single people, a single community.”
“ Unfortunately,” said Birbal, “ the Muslim Mullahs and the
Hindu Pandits did not see eye to eye with us. Our ambition* is
to make India strong. India’s swords are keen, her brain is active,
her young men are brave. But what disgraces and enfeebles India
is her lack of unity, her being divided into so many communities.
If only all her swords could be rallied under one banner!”
“ Oh, my dear comrades,” cried Akbar, “ that has been my
sole desire! That is what we have struggled towards for so long l
When we began, it was dark all round us, but now that is no
longer true. ‘ We have done all that could be accomplished in
one generation; but this notion of horse-and-donkey is a heavy
load on my mind.”
“We must not despair,” said Fazal. “Just compare these
times with the days of Bairam Khan-e-khanan ! Could Jodhabai
have married you then and worshipped Vishnu in the royal
harem ? ”
“Yes, there is a difference,” replied Akbar, “but how far
away our goal still is! 1 once heard from the European mis¬
sionaries that in their land even the greatest king cannot marry
 208 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

more than one wife. Todar, you must remember from what 1
said at the time what a splendid custom I thought it. If only I
could follow it myself! But it is a mortifying fact that a ruler has
far less freedom to do good than to do evil. Has it been possible.
I would not have kept in my harem a single woman except the
mother of my Salim ; and I wish it were possible for Salim to
do the same in his turn.”
“ There can be love only between two individuals,” observed
Birbal. “ When 1 watch the swans living in happy couples, I
feel how beautiful their lives are. They are partners in good
fortune, and in bad fortune.”
“ I remember a day ”, said Akbar, “ when I could not help
shedding tears. I had gone to Gujerat for a lion-hunt. There
is no bravery, 1 admit, in riding on an elephant and killing a
lion with youth matchlock. A man has no claws and jaws
like a lion’s, so he may fairly use a shield and sword to be equal
with it, but to use anything more is no sign of courage. Well,
I killed the lion with my matchlock ; the ball entered its head,
and it gave one bound and fell in its tracks. The next moment
a lioness sprang out of the thicket, she glared furiously at me, and
then turned her back on me and began licking the lion’s head. I
at once ordered the huntsmen not to fire and turned my elephant
away. It had been such a shock to me, that if the lioness
had attacked I should not have been able to strike a blow. I
felt melancholy for days afterwards, and I reflected that if that
lion had had fifteen hundred mates, they would not have come
to lick its dead face.”
“ Our country has a long way to go,” said Abul Fazal, “ and
our pace is very slow and we do not even know whether there
will be anyone to take over our burden, when our feet can go
no further.”
“ I hoped ” Akbar went on, “ to see a blood-brotherhood
between the two fighting races of the Muslims and Hindus! I
was thinking of such a union when I built a fort at Triveni, at
the confluence of the rivers, that meeting of the Ganges and the
Jumna put into my mind the idea of a universal coming-together.
But now I see how little success I have had. It is true that the
work of many generations cannot be performed by one generation.
Still, I shall always be proud of having found such noble fellow-
workers as have fallen to the lot of very few men. I hoped to
see in every home a mixed marriage like mine with Jodhabai,
but I could not bring it about.”
“It is the Hindus who have proved more backward in this
respect,” remarked Todar Mai.
“.And now they make up tales about scrubbing a donkey to
turn it into a horse,” said Birbal.
 16. SURAIYA 20V

“But if there is really such a gulf between Hindus and Mus¬

lims. how is it that the horse can turn itself into a donkey ? Do
we not see thousands of Hindus turning Muslim ?"
“ I have always longed to see Hindu youths marrying Muslim
girls,” said Akbar, “ without changing their name or their faith.”
“ Then let me give you some good news, Jalal! ” exclaimed
Abul Fazal. “ What we failed to bring about, my daughter
Suraiya has brought about.”
They all stared at him with eager curiosity.
“You aie longing to hear more,” he said. “Just let me go
outside for a moment," and he went out and stood at the balustrade.
“ Seeing is better than hearing,” he continued, coming back—
“step outside with me.”
They all went and stood at the balustrade. Abul Fazal
pointed to two youthful figures sitting on a stone bench under a
green ashoka tree.
“ Look, there is my Suraiya! ”
“ And my son Kamal.” cried Todar Mai. “ Oh, my dear
Fazal, the world is not dark for us now ! ” He threw his arms
round his old friend and embraced him. When they released
each other, there were tears in the eyes of all four men.
“1 have held this spring festival for the young people for
many years now,” said Akbar, breaking the silence. “ but only
to-day, after so long, it is a true festival of spring. I long to call
them both and kiss them on the forehead. How fine it would
be for them to know how delighted we are at this flowing-together
of the rivetf 1 ”
“ Suraiya does not know.” said Abul Fazal, “ that her parents
will approve of her love.”
“ Nor does Kamal ”, added Todar Mai. “ But you are for¬
tunate, Fazal, in having your wife on your side. She and my
wife are good friends, but still my wife has some old-fashioned
leanings. Never mind, Suraiya and Kamal shall have my blessing.”
“ 1 must have the privilege of giving the first blessing! ” said
Akbar.
“With me at your side, Jalal!” cried Birbal.
“Of course, where shall we find a better washerman than
you ? ”
“ Or a better donkey, trying to be a horse, than you! ”
“ What a happy meeting we have had to-day! ” concluded
Akbar. “If only we could have such happiness for one day in
every mouth ! ”
I 3 ]
On the roof was an ornamental room, with doors on four sides.
Red, green and white chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and
 210 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

double curtains covered the doors, the inner curtain being of

flowered, rose coloured silk. Fine Persian rugs were spread on
the floor. In the middle of the room a heap of cushions was
scattered on a white divan, where two girls sat playing chess.
One of them was Suraiya, whom we have met already, and the
other the thirteen year old daughter of Birbal, dressed in a red
petticoat, a green bodice, and a yellow shawl; she was called
Phulmati or Munni. They were both so much engrossed in their
moves, that they failed to hear newcomers approaching the divan.
It was only when they heard an exclamation—“Suraiya !”—that
they looked up, and then rose to their feet.
“ Aunt I ” cried Suraiya as Kamal’s mother embraced and
kissed her. Then her own mother said—“ Run, daughter, Kamal
has brought some goldfish for you, to put in the pond. I’ll play
chess with Munni until you come back.”
“ Munni is very clever, mother! She has checkmated me
twice—don’t imagine you are playing with a child ! ”
Suraiya put her shawl right and ran out of the room. Kamal
was standing near the pond at the back of the palace, with a kettle
or big jar made of fresh earthenware beside him. Suraiya came
up and took his hand exclaiming :
“You have brought me the pink and yellow fish, Kamal
dear! ”
“Yes, and gold-coloured ones.”
“Let me see them,” said Suraiya, peering into the jar.
“ I’ll throw them in the pond, they will look prettier there :
just watch them in the bright surface of the water—it is so crystal-
clear, Suraiya! ”
She stood at the edge of the pond, her eyes and teeth sparkling
as she laughed. Kamal upturned the jar of fish over the water.
Their pink, rosy or golden hues were certainly lovely as they
fell into the crystal water.
“ They are still young,” Kamal explained seriously, “ but even
when they grow up they will be hardly six inches long.”
“Ihey are very pretty as they are now, Kamal!”
“Look at that one, Suraiya! What colour would you call
it?”
“Rose colour.”
“Just like your cheeks.”
“You were always telling me that even when we were
children, "Kamal”
“Because your cheeks were rosy even then.”
“You were so sweet even then, Kamal.”
“And now?”
“Now—oh, very sweet”
“More than then? Why?”
 16. SURAIYA 211

“ I don’t know why. I think love began to sink into my

heart from the time when your voice changed, and this line of
soft dark hair began to grow on your lips.”
“Just the time when you began to keep me at a distance!”
“Keep you at a distance?”
“ Yes! until then you would jump up and hang on my
shoulders ana clasp hands with me. ...”
“ Don't start giving me a catalogue of complaints! Tell me
something new.”
“ There is some news, Suraiya. Our love has become known.”
“ To jvhom ? ”
“To both our families; even to His Imperial Majesty.”
“ Even His Majesty ! ”
“ Don’t you feel frightened, Suraiya ? ”
“ No. Our love was bound to become known some day
or other. But what has happened ? ”
“I can’t tell you all about it myself, but I hear that your
parents were the first to welcome it, then father and His Majesty,
and last of all my mother.”
“ Your mother ? ”
“ She was afraid of what people would say. Don’t you know
she is a woman of very old-fashioned ideas ? ”
“ But I can still feel her kiss on my cheek at this moment! ”
“Yes, our fears turned out wrong, for as soon as father
spoke to her she was quite pleased.”
“ So our love has been approved ! ”
“ In all our friends’ familiesbut the outside world will not
be satisfied.”
“Do you care about the outside world, Kamal ? ”
“Not iu the least, Suraiya. I care about the future world,
for whose benefit we are leading the way on this path.”
“ My sister-in-law must know all about it too, Kamal!
1 see it now. Last night I went to her room, and she said, jok¬
ingly, * Sister-in-law, I have been longing to see you married
and now my wish is going to be fulfilled ’—though she never
mentioned your name.”
“ That means that your brother must have told her, and
both of them are happy at our love.”
“ Then all my family are in favour of you, Kamal! ”
“And you have succeeded in getting my mother on your
side! ”
“ You people were thinking about ther religious scruple, Kamal
if you had only known how fond of me she is, perhaps you would
not have been so doubtful about her.”
 212 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Oh, we knew it: father was go\ng to use you as his trump
card against her, but before he had time to play it the game
was already won. Well! Now we are going to be married.”
“ How ? *'
“ Neither by a Mullah nor by a Pandit.”
“ No ! by our own prophet, ,who is building in India a new
fortress of a new unity! ”
“The man who is trying to unite pools and ponds, rivers
and streams into one unbroken sea.”
“ When, Kamal ? ”
“ On Sunday, the day after tomorrow.”
“ So soon ! ” Tears stood in Suraiya’s eyes like dew drops
in a narcissus. Kamal wiped them away, but his own eyes
were wet. Neither of them guessed that two other pairs of eyes
were watching them from hiding, and were filled with the same
tears of jo>.

14 ]
The bay made a lovely spectacle, on fire with red light of the
sinking sun, as it lay under the cool, rosy sky of a spring even¬
ing. Two young hearts were enjoying the scene, from the sea¬
shore.
One of them, carried away by the happiness of the moment,
exclaimed .
“ The sea, our deity! How lovely it is! ”
“ We are children of the sea, can we doubt that any longer,
darling ? ”
“No, my flower, my Kamal! (Kamal—Lotus)— and did we
ever dream that the ocean was hiding such a heavenly land as
this in its bosom ? ”
“ Man has made a heaven of this Venice, dear, even if it is
not a perfect heaven; one cannot deny that.”
“I could not believe the nun when she used to say that in
her land the young women of the highest families went about
with their faces as open and uncovered as the men. And now
we have been living in this paradise for two years. Just com¬
pare Venice with Delhi! ”
“Could we have believed it, Suraiya, if anyone had told us
that a State as strong on the sea as Florence could exist without
a monarch 1 ”
“ Or that cities as great as Venice could be ruled by a queen ! ”
“ Darling could we walk about openly like this in Delhi! ”
“Without a veil! No, there I have to move about caged
up inside a palanquin. Here people see us strolling about hand
in hand, and never give us a second glance.”
 16. SURAIYA 213

“ Still, in Gujerat we saw respectable women with theil1

faces uncovered, and one hears that in South India too there
are no veils worn.”
“That shows that at some time or other all Indian women
must have been free from veils. Will it ever be like that again
in our land, Kamal ? ”
“Our fathers have struggled for it all their lives. Look at
the tiny State of Florence, Suraiya, that you can walk from end
to end of in three days. How proudly the people hold their
heads up ! They never think of bowing and scraping before any
man. They spit at the very sound of monarchy; to them a king
is no bettci than a devil, or a dragon breathing out fire.”
“ And is there not some truth in their opinion, Kamal ?
Compare the farmers of Florence with our peasants at home. Do
you ever see them looking like dry skeletons here ? ”
“ No, darling, and it is because there are no millions
squandered on royal pomp and show.”
“ There are rich men in Venice, whose treasures exceed those
of many of our great merchants.”
“ Our great merchants put one red pennant up for every
hundred thousand rupees they amass. 1 used to wonder what was
the use of those hoards of gold and silver, buried away in the
dark. They ought to be circulating, passing from hand to hand.
If money doesn’t circulate, the sweetmeats dry up in the shops,
the fruit rets on the trees, the cloth is devoured in the ware¬
houses by insects. Our merchants bury their hoards and hoist
red pennants over them. People count them and say—a hundred
pennants, so-and-so must be worth ten millions.”
The sun had been set for some time now, and shadows were
spreading all round, but the young couple were still unwilling
to leave the beach. They thought of the sea, indeed, as a loved
companion. Although they themselves had travelled by land,
they knew that one corner of the ocean that stretched before
them touched India, and it occurred to them sometimes to wonder
whether the two shores could not be linked.
It was late at night when they turned their steps homeward
Suraiya was gazing into this shadowy night and into her own
thoughts.
“Our Emperor,” she remarked, “has made great efforts to
establish peace in his territory, and he has had a good deal of
success in his work. But we could not wander about so carelessly
there on a dark night. Why?”
“Here all the people are prosperous. The peasants’ farms
are full of vineyards and orchards and cornfields.”
“ Do not our farms at home yield wealth ? ”
 214 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“There arc too many robbers waiting to carry off the wealth,
Suraiya. in our country.” 4
‘‘And have you noticed how when anyone goes into a house
here, bottles and glasses are put on the table as a matter of
course ? ”
‘‘In India my father was abused merely for drinking water
with the Emperor.”
‘‘ My nurses used to teach me that Rajput-women are very
dirty people, because they have pig-meat cooked in their houses.
I wish those blind foob in India could come and see life here,
in this continent where there are no superior and inferior castes.”
“And where no one is afraid of polluting himself by eating
or drinking what he likes.”
“ Florence is united; one day India must be united too,
Kamal! ”
“That day will come when we become the rulers of the
ocean, when we have achieved victory on sea.”
“Victory on sea?”
“ Venice is a city that lives by victory on sea, Suraiya. Its canals
and its fine palaces are the gifts of that victory. Now Venice is
no longer alone, she has many competitors, but I can see very
clearly that world power will belong to those who achieve this vic¬
tory over sea. I consider myself fortunate for having had my mind
turned in this direction.”
“ What books you keep reading every night, dear! And
how easy it is to get books here ! ”
“Wc have lead in our own country, and paper, and skilled
metal workers, but we have not yet learned printing. If printing-
presses were opened there, how quick the spread of knowledge
would be! And these books I am reading and the weeks I spent
going about among sailors have convinced me that the country
with sea-power will also attain to world power. Our people call
these Europeans dirty barbarians, because they are careless about
washing; but when one considers their inventive spirit one can’t
help admiring them. They have not been content to make up
fables about the globe; they have explored and studied every
corner of it. I showed you some of their maps, Suraiya.”
“ How I love the sea, Kamal! ”
“Love—yes, but more than that, the sea controls the lives
of nations. You have seen the guns mounted on these wooden
ships. They are floating forts, these ships. The Mongols owed
their conquests to their horses and to gunpowder. To-day success
in the world will go to those who possess such warships. That
is why I have made up my mind to study naval warfare, Suraiya.”
But their hopes were not to be fulfilled. They set sail for
India; it was an age of piracy, and two days before they
 16. SURAIYA 215

could reach Surat, pirates attacked their ship. Kamal joined the
crew in keeping up fire on them from cannon and muskets. But
the defenders were outnumbered. Their ship was raked with
cannon-shot and began to founder. Suraiya was standing beside
Kamal, and her last words, uttered with her last smile, were—
“Victory on sea ! ”
 17. REKHA BHAGAT

Time: 1800 A.D.

IT was the full-moon night of the eighth month, and multitudes

had assembled to bathe in the Gandak and worship Harihar-
nath. Country folk, men and women, had come from miles
around to Hariharkshetra, with money laboriously saved and
rations of parched flour rice. But none at that time, seeing
the number of oxen, horses and elephants tethered in a small
enclosure, could have foreseen that in days to come this would
grow into the biggest fair in the world.
Rekha Bhagat and his four companions were squatting on
a blanket under a mango-tree, eating salted parched flour, green
pepper and radishes out of a coarse napkin with the greatest relish.
Rekha had sold his buffalo, and he still kept feeling at the corner
of his dress tied up lound the twenty rupees he had got. It was
well-known that nowadays a great many thieves came to the fair,
who could steal away one’s money as if by magic. His hand
was at his tied up money once more as he began complacently :
“I have sold my buffalo. I have been fattening her up
properly these three months, Maul a. Twenty rupees isn’t a bad
price for an animal like that. But in these days money melts away
before you know it.”
“ It does indeed,” replied Maula, “ and money is scarce every¬
where. Under this Company’s rule, there is no luck in anything.
We kill ourselves ploughing and ploughing, and we don’t get
enough to give our children one evening’s square meal.”
“ In the old days,” said Rekha, “we were bled by presents
and forced labour for the governor, and bribes to the officials,
but at least the land was our own.”
“We cut down the jungle seven generations ago and cleared
the land for ourselves.”
“ You know the ‘ Tiger-field,’ Maula ? ” remarked Sobaran.
“It used to be thick jungle, and a tiger carried off our ancester
Baba Ghinavan there. Even since, the place has been known as
the 4 Tiger-field.’ Yes, we cleared the land at the cost of our
lives,”
“Bhola Pandit,” interjected Rekha, looking towards the dark-
skinned half-naked figure which was wrapping its head in a turban
of thin cloth—you know all about everything, right back to the
Golden Age; have the people ever been in such misery before ? ”
 17. REKHA BHAGAT 217

“ Yes, Pandit! ” added Maula. “ It was we who cleared the

fields, we plough them and sow them, but the Rampur manager
is the master of our village now.”
“It is against religion, Rekha Bhagat—against religion. This
Company is a worse oppressor than Ravana or Kansa. In the
old religious books it says, let the king take one tenth of the
peasants’ crop.”
“ I can’t understand at all,” said Maula, “ why the Company
has appointed this Rampur fellow as our master and landlord.”
“ Everything has been turned upside down,” sighed Bhola
Pandit. “ Once the people had a king over them. The peasant
knew of only one king, who lived far away in his capital, and
was only concerned with getting his one-tenth share and
that only when there was a harvest. But now, whether there
is any harvest or not, the landlord has to be paid his rent, even
if we have to sell our flesh and blood, our daughters and sisters ”
“And the rent is not even fixed,” said Rekha. “It keeps
going up year by year, and there is no one to ask why such un¬
bridled extortion goes on ! ”
Sadasukh Lai, a village accountant or Patwari, had come to
bathe at Hariharkshetra, and, if he could pick one up cheap, to
buy a cow, but when he found how high prices were this year,
it made him positively shiver. He wore a cap and dirty jacket
with loose sleeves and had his reed pen still behind his ear, as
if he had accounts to write even here. As Patwari to a land¬
lord at Masarakh, he was wondering whether he should take part
in this conversation or not, but it is hard for anyone with a tongue
and a pair of ears to hold his tongue when village politics arc
touched upon. Besides, Dayalpur was not a village belonging to
his employer, so he felt there could be no harm in his joining in
the talk of these Dayalpur peasants. He rolled his pen between
his fingers and observed :
“ No one to ask, you say Pandit! Who is there to ask ?
Everyone is a robber, and as Kabir says—‘ Everybody’s wealth
is being stolen : whoever can steal, let him.’ There is no king.
My cousin has a son-in-law at the Court of the Governor, and
he knows many secrets. There is no king, a couple of hundred
white robbers have formed a band and they call this band the
Company.” .
“That’s the truth,” said Rekha. “When we kept hearing
‘ Honourable Company,’ we used to think it was the name of a
king, but now we know the truth,”
“ That is why ” said Maula, “ wherever you look, you find
that robbery is going on. Is there no one to take account of
justice and injustice ? This head clerk at Rampur—did his family
 21S FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

ever have any connection with Day^lpur in the last seven genera¬
tions even?”
UI can’t get it into my head,” exclaimed Sobaran, “how that
man ever came to be the master in our village. The Company
gave battle to their Emperor at Delhi.”
“No, no,” interrupted, the Patwari. “It was the Nawab
it was fighting, not the Emperor !—the Nawab at Murshidabad,
who had torn our province away from the Government at Delhi! ”
“ We folk haven’t got such long memories,” returned Sobaran.
“We used to know about Delhi. . Well, when the Nawab
at Murshidabad got the power here, still there was a single govern¬
ment, wasn’t there ? We had to pay the revenue, with whatever
we could scrape up. But now—are there two separate rulers,
or what ? ”
“ Sobaran, of course there are two powers over us,” cried
Rekha, “ the power of the Company and the power of the Rampur
man. When you are being crushed on one grindstone, there is
some hope of escaping with your life, but not when you are between
two grindstones. And that is what we have come to. You tell
us, Patwari—we are rustic folk, stupid and ignorant, you are the
only learned man of us—you or Bhola Pandit.”
“ You are quite right,” returned the Patwari. “ A landlord
is an upper millstone, and he is no less powerful than a king.”
“ Less ? ” repeated Rekha. “ No, more powerful. What is
left now of our Panchayat, our village council ? We keep up
the custom, we choose the five headmen, but what is there for
them to do ? The landlord and his hangers-on do everything.
When there is a quarrel they squeeze money out of the plaintiff
and the defendant, both. It is less than fifteen years since the
Panchayat collapsed, Sobaran; before that did you ever see a
faraiiy then having to sell off its ox, because of a mere quarrel
between man and wife ? ”
“In the old days the Panchayat settled evepdhing,” said
Sobaran, “ it never allowed a family to ruin itself, it patched up
an agreement even in cases of murdef. And then you see the
State of our dykes and irrigation channels. It seems that they
have no one to take care of them now. Would this ever have
happened if the Panchayat was still working?”
“ No, it wouldn’t,” agreed Rekha. “ Who would fill his own
children’s mouths with grass ? When there is too much rain, there
are no channels kept open to drain off the water, and when the
rain is too little, there aie no embankments to keep the crop from
drying up,”
* The Company has destroyed the Panchayat and handed over
its work to the landlord,” said the Patwari.
 17. RIKHA BHAGAT 219

“ And we can sec what the landlords are doing! ”—added

Rekha.
“ I myself am eating a landlord’s salt,” said the Patwari.
“You know, I am in service with the landlord of Masarakh. But
it is pay for doing injustice, and the man who lives on injustice, his
roots wither. Look at me ! I had seven children as strong a.s
horses.Ail dead.” There were tears in his eyes, and
the others looked at him with sympathy. “ Yes, Rekha—all dead.
Now there is not even one little girl left in my house to bring
me a cup of water. As to my master, you know the state he
has been in since he met that prostitute at Chhapra. His manhood
is not worth much now, Rekha—and the real father of the two
lads in his house, is the barber! ”
“That happens with a lot of the gentry, nowadays,” returned
Rekha.
“ Our land has gone,” said Sobaran, “ the village has fallen
to pieces, and bandits from across the seven seas have set lip
thieves in the midst of us; the Panchayat is gone, and whatever
little grain we can grow is taken away. If ever we
get good rains, and have a little food in hand, we can’t keep it
out of the clutches of the landlord and his troop of watchmen
and clerks and overseers.”
“ A Patwari does take money wrongfully, I admit,” said
Sadasukh Lai; “ but you know very well, the landlord only pays
him eight annas a month, and just tell me—with eight annas a
month can we even moisten our tongues ? The landlord knows
very well that we can’t.”
“Oh, the landlords know it,” answered Rekha. “They see
it all, they aren’t blind. King Honourable Company is a robber ;
he has put the landlord on our backs as another robber, and the
landlord sets a bucketful of smaller robbers on to us. How can
we go on living under them all! ”
“Do you call this living, Rekha?” asked Sobaran. “Is
there anyone to be seen in Dayalpur with food for his belly and
clothes to his back ? ”

“ What does the Company care about that ? ” exclaimed the

Patwari. “ It has collected its revenues; on the settlement day
the landlord goes to Chhapra and pays up in cash. The Company
gets its last farthing whether the peasants of Dayalpur live or
starve and the landlord will beat you black and blue if you don’t
pay up his rent in full. He takes five rupees from you and gives
one rupee to the Company—the other four go to stuff his own
belly.”
“ O God! ” groaned Rekha, “ have you gone to sleep, or are
you dead ? Why don’t you see justice done ? We are all ruined.”
 220 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Ruined,” echoed Sobaran. “ Have you heard how the

people in the Twelve Pargana 'joined together and refused
to have the landlord as their master ? They went to Chhapra and
told the Company man : ‘ Our Panchayat will pay you your
revenue, we won’t have anything to do with a landlord.’ And
do you know what the Sahib answered ? He said, ‘ Will you pay
the revenue even when there is a drought or flood ? ’ When
droughts or floods come, it is hard enough just to keep one’s
children alive. That European seemed to have no fear of God,
and he said those words quite indifferently. And then he said,
Rekha,—‘ You people are poor; if you don’t pay the revenue,
what have you for the Company to confiscate ? We are making
rich, respectable men into landlords, who will be afraid of having
their households sold up and losing their social position if they
get into arrears with their payments to us
44 That is why they have leprosy all over their bodies, those
Europeans,” commented Rekha, “it is because they are so mfrci-
Icss.”
“ There was no help for the Twelve Pargana people,” went
on Sobaran, “but they were ready to take their lives. If the
Company had really been honourable, it would have fought like
an honourable man, it would have fought with someone who
could fight back. Those peasants had some muskets, the Com¬
pany’s men had cannon. And from here, there and everywhere
their troops, white skins and brown skins, descended on the dis¬
trict. They burned village after village, sparing neither woman
nor child. What could the poor people do ? ”
“ Well, Sobaran,” said Maula, “ this is the way agriculture
has been ruined, and our weavers too have begun to starve. The
Honourable Company is bringing cloth for sale now from England ”
“ Yes,” chimed in the Patwari, “ cloth spun and woven by
machines. See, my jacket is made of it. You can’t make such
cheap cloth with spindle and handloom, so for the sake of being
decently dressed one has to wear it. It’s a question of respect¬
ability, Rekha Bhagat. Why are you smiling ? When you have
to attend at official houses and sit on the reception-carpet, then
you know! ”
“ I wasn’t laughing at your respectability, Patwariji! I was just
thinking—this Honourable Company is a ruler and a trader at
the same time ! What a government! ”
“The Golden Age has gone by,” commented Bhola Pandit,
“and the Silver Age and the Third Age and five thousand years
of the Iron Age too, and4 in all this long time such a government
has never been heard of before.”
“One officer at the Nawab’s Court,” the Patwari remarked,
“ said that the Company were just European bandits, and another
 17. REKHA BHAGAT 221

man said that the Company was only a collection of European

merchants, who left their own country only for trade. At first
they got goods from here and sold them over there, but now
they have started big factories in England where they get goods
made for them and then come and sell them here.”
“ So now it is plain that there is no prosperity left for our
weavers either,” concluded Maula.

[ 2 ]
The Ganges looks green in the cold season, and its usual leisurely
flow becomes still more languid. There is very little danger to
boats, so the merchants considered it an excellent time to carry on
trade. If you sat for four hours or so on the bank, you would
see hundreds of big boats going by. Most of them would be
loaded with the Company’s goods. Largely goods from England
being carried up-river. And if you looked out from the wharves
of commercial towns like Patna, Ghazipur, or Mirzapur, the whole
breadth of the Ganges would appear covered with big boats.
One such boat was dropping down-river from Patna, freighted
with saltpetre, carpets and many other articles, destined for
England. It was more than a week’s journey from Patna to
Calcutta, so Tinkauri De and Colman gradually came to know
each other well, although at first each of them shrank from the
other’s company. To Tinkauri De, the other’s overhanging wig,
tight-fitting trousers, buttons hanging on threads, black coat and
white face, were very impressive and frightening things. Put
Colman took the lead in initiating conversation and little by little
Tinkauri gained confidence. From their talk, he gathered that
Colman was a sworn enemy to the Company and did not hesitate
to abuse any of its representatives, high or low, including the
Governor-General.
Tinkauri likewise detested the Company’s agents. He had spent
twenty years working as a clerk in its offices. He came of a
poor family, but he was one of those men whose ambition is
limited and held in check by self-respect. He had earned enough
to live on for the rest of his life; by the favour of some old com¬
pany man, in the days of unrestricted plunder, he had been given an
estate of four villages in the Twenty-four Parganas district, with
a government revenue impost very low considering its rental.
Yes, this estate was a favour from a Sahib; but to obtain it,
Tinkauri De had done something so sinful that he could not hope
even in many reincarnations to wipe away the stain. To please
the Sahib he had put into his clutches a handsome young Brahman
girl of his village. The Sahibs (Europeans) had very few of their
own women with them, for the six months’ voyage with all its risks
 222 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

was not easily undertaken. Tinkauri was forty-five years old, and
his dark well-built frame was perfectly healthy; nonetheless, every
morning when he got up he stared at his face in the mirror and
examined his hands. He was expecting from day to day to find his
skin broken out in leprosy, which, in his fancy, would be his
punishment for robbing a Brahman woman of her virtue.
He had grown weary of putting up with the Sahibs and their
grumblings, insults and kicks; and all his family had died, so
although he was still young enough for service, he had resigned
and was returning to his village. Resentment burned in his mind
at the humiliation he had borne silently for twenty years; and
when he found that Colman was an even fiercer enemy than him¬
self of the Company and its servants, little by little they began
to open their hearts to each other.
“The East India Company was founded to carry on trade,”
Colman remarked one day, “ but since then it has turned its hard
to robbery. The Sahibs come here in swarms, each hoping to,
make a fortune and get home again as quickly as possible. That
is the case with all of them, from top to bottom. Clive did the
same, and there was no one to stop him. Warren Hastings was so
rapacious that he did not think twice about letting Chet Singh’s
wives starve to death, or ruining the Begums of Oudh. But our
people at home did not let him go off scot free. He saved him¬
self from condemnation, but several years of prosecution cost him
the fortune he had made.”
“ Who prosecuted him, Sahib ? ”
“ Parliament. In our country the king is not free to do as
he likes. We once cut the king’s head off with an axe because
he wanted to rule according to his own will, and we have still
kept that axe. Parliament is a council, De—a Panchayat. Most
of its members are chosen by the rich people of the country and
some big landlords have a family right to be in it.”
“ How long have these landlords been there ? ”
“ The big estates in India have been created in imitation of
ours. Over there they have been expanding for about a hundred
years and there, too, the peasants have been forcibly deprived of
their right to the land. You know the name of the Governor who
introduced big estates here ? ”
“ Yes—Cornwallis.”
“Well, he is a first-class tyrant of a landlord himself in
England. When he came here he saw that so long as the land
belonged to the peasants, it would be impossible to collect the
revenue in full in times of droughts or river-floods or too much
rain. He also realised that the English coming across the seas
to a strange country, must make some friends there—friends whose
interests would be bound up with those of the English. The land-
 17. REKHA BHAGAT 223

lords are the creation of the English, and whatever danger may
threaten the English power from the opposition of the peasants,
also threatens the landlords with the loss of their estates, wealth
and rank. So to set up big landlords, with fifty villages apiece,
instead of recognising the small cultivators as proprietors, is useful
to us both in good times and in bad times. That is why that
unscrupulous Cornwallis came from England and ground the
peasants of India into the dust.’’
“He ground them down all right,” said Tinkauri, thinking of
the peasants on his own estate.
“All over the world the people have been exploited by such
feudal landowners; but now their days are numbered.”
“How, Sahib?”
“A few years ago the people of France executed their king
and queen and a great many feudal landowners were wiped out
by the same revolution. Landowning as an institution was put
an end to. The people treated everyone as a plain human being
and proclaimed the principles of liberty, equality and fraternity.
I was in France at the time, De, and I saw with my own eyes the
people of France hoisting their three-coloured flag over the royal
palaces. Now the king and the landowning nobles of England
are shaking in their shoes. And the same would have happened
in England as in France, but for one thing that came to their
rescue—more’s the pity.”
“ What thing ? ”
“You know what heaps of merchandise from English fac¬
tories are pouring into the Indian markets. Your weavers and
spinners are falling out of employment, while at home our business¬
men have given employment in their new factories to the people
who were left to starve by the cruelty of the landlords. The
goods they produce are coming here. Formerly in our country all
the work was done by hand, but now steam-engines are being
made, and the cloth made by the looms they drive is growing
cheaper. The artisans of this country are ruined—ruined ! So
are the handicraftsmen in England, but they can earn something
to keep themselves alive by working in the factories. If those
factories had not been started, England would have gone the same
way as France. A human being ought to live like a human being,
De, and whoever regards his fellow-being as a mere animal turns
himself into an animal, and his family too.”
“ That is true, Sahib. I never used to think of my slaves and
servants as human beings, but when the Sahibs treat me in the
same fashion, I feel how beastly it is to degrade a fellow-creature.”
“Great efforts are being made in England to get slavery
abolished.”
“ Is slavery allowed in England ? ”
 224 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“ Men and women, poor wretches, are being bought and sold
all over the world, but 1 hope that in England a law will be made
against it before long.”
“ Then what will become of the rich people who own the
slaves ? "
‘‘The rich are against it, and there are many of them in our
Parliament, but even some of them have begun to think slavery
wicked. And what a beastly thing this traffic in human flesh is!
You can see that for yourself, De. But many of those who sup¬
port the abolition of slavery are not doing so because they think
slavery sinful but because slaves cannot take proper care of the
expensive iron machines that are being installed in factories now¬
adays. You know yourself that fine work is not entrusted to
slaves. When you make a man’s life and death your plaything
all the time, he will be quite ready to take his revenge by doing you a
serious injury.”
“When I see a slave-woman and her children sold separately,
as they often are, it strikes me as something intolerable.”
“Anyone who doesn’t think it intolerable, De, is less than
a man.”
“ I was thinking about France, without a king,” resumed De.
“What do they call a government like that?”
“A republic.”
“ Is a republic better than a monarchy ? ”
“ It is the best of all governments ! Kings and princes, and
princesses and ladies swallow up too much of the national income.
A representative government will show more justice, impartiality
and benevolence than any king.”
“ Yes, I used to see the Panchayat working in my own village,
and it certainly gave better justice, and nobody was ruined by
legal expenses. But since Cornwallis’ landlords appeared and
suppressed the Panchayat, the people have been ruined.”
“Quite right, De. But the French people set themselves an
even higher aim than lepublicanism, when they tried to establish
the rule of liberty, equality and fraternity for all human beings.”
“ For this land too!
“ Are you people men or not ? ”
“In the Sahibs’ eyes we were not born to be men.”
“ Men cannot be men until the rule of liberty, equality and
fraternity has been set up all over the world, among all men,
black or white. The tyrant Cornwallis never thought of his own
white-skinned peasants as human beings. And in France, the
king and the landowners were got rid of; but then the business¬
men—kindred spirits to the East India Company men—got the
power in their hands, so that the old three-coloured flag of liberty,
equality and fraternity could not float freely.”
 17. REKHA BHAGAT 225

“So France has a government of merchants in place of its

royal family ? ”
“Yes, and the merchants in England, too, are making a stir.
They say that if they were able to cross the ocean and rule India,
why cannot they rule at home ? So they are trying to get politi¬
cal power into their own hands, though without getting rid of the
king.”
“In England, you say, the king has to share his power with
them ? ”
“Yes, and I have seen the tricks these white merchants play
here. I wanted to see the country, and to get an opportunity I
joined the Company’s service. If 1 had not been in their service,
these money-grabbers would have viewed me with suspicion and
it would have become difficult for me to travel about—so for
two years I have stayed in their employment, and it’s like being in
hell,”
“It is a hell. Sahib, for a decent man. No one can stand it
unless he is ready and willing to commit every crime and endure
every indignity for the sake of amassing wealth. By the favour
of one of Cornwallis’ officials, as the price of my sins I was given
an estate of four villages. But I have reaped my reward ; my
wife and children have died of cholera. It makes me shudder
to think of that estate. I am of your opinion, that only through
the reign of liberty, equality and fraternity can earth be turned
into heaven and humanity be rescued from degradation.”
“ But that will not come our way merely by our agreeing
with it or hoping for it, De ! Thousands will have to sacrifice
thesmselves, as they did in France, and silent sacrifices will not
accomplish it. Thousands of Indian sepoys are sacrificing them¬
selves for the good of the English. Instead they must learn to
do the same for their own good, and to do it with their eyes and
ears open.”
“ How do you mean ? ”
“I mean that Indians must learn about the world. Science
is conferring power on mankind. By knowledge of science man
has made gunpowder and guns and made himself strong. This
science has laid your cities waste, but in England it is building
new cities and new machine factories. You, too, must learn to
take advantage of it.”
“ And then ? ”
“And then get rid of India’s system of untouchability and
caste divisions and the gulf between Hindus and Muslims. We
don’t consider ourselves polluted by accepting food from any other
man, do we ? ”
“No.”
 226 FROM VOLGA TO GANQA

“And is there any caste division among us English, except

between rich and poor ? ”
“ No.What else must we do ? ”
* “Abolish the burning of widows. Do you think God will
forgive this burning of thousands of women every year ? ”
When Tinkauri De and Colman were separating at Calcutta,
each of them regretted the parting. Colman’s last words were :
“ My friend, we are entering the nineteenth century. The
world is being turned upside down. We have to take our part in
this upheaval, and the first thing to do is to set up printing-presses
and newspapers so as to let the people know about the changes
on in the great world.”

[ 3 ]
This year no rain had fallen. The pools were still as dry as they
had been in May. There had not been one handful of rice from
the spring crop or the summer crop. Family after family had
perished or fled from its misery. When the big lake of Dhurdeh
dried up, corpses of people from fifty miles around were found
lying in its parched bed. They had come to dig up lotus-roots
and stalks, arid often fights had broken out among them.
Next year, when rain came and Rekha was harvesting the first
crop of mandua, he would gaze with astonishment at Mangri when
she came near. In this past year, the world seemed to have grown
incomprehensible. In many families most of the people had died;
many other households were scattered far and wide. What
astonished Rekha was the thought of how he and his wife had
been able to keep body and soul together, and to remain with each
other. He felt very grateful to the Dhurdeh lake.
There had been famines in other years, from want of rain, but
never, perhaps, before Rekha’s time had the peasants endured
such torment as this. Formerly there had been a government which
contented itself with a lower revenue at such times; but now,
under the Company’s government, there was the tyrannous rule
of the landlords from whose watchmen and bailiffs not even
pumpkins grown on a cottage roof were safe. A peasant could
not keep enough from each crop to live on for a month and a half;
how could he save anything to meet a famine ? ”
When Mangri, in November, gave birth to a child, Rekha
was still more astonished. Not because he was fifty years old,
for Mangri was only thirty and had had other children who had
died, but because she had been able to nourish another life during
the famine, when it was hard enough even to keep any flesh on
one’s own bones.
 17. REKHA BHAGAT 227

He gave the boy the name Sukhari, because it had been born
during a drought (Sukha).
In January, the landlord came to Dayalpur from Rampur,
with his horses and elephants, his bodyguard and bailiffs. In his
house, Rekha heard, not a single child had grown thin, even in
the midst of the famine : they were eating seven-year old rice.
His court-house at Dayalpur was on the edge of the village. In
front of it was being laid out a mango orchard of twenty-five
acres, and the work of watering it and digging it over was done
by the villagers’ compulsory labour. The landlord had put each
household in charge of fifty seedlings, and for each seedling
allowed to wither a penalty of one rupee and a quarter had to
be paid.
People younger than Rekha were beginning to think of the
landlords and their self-indulgence as things that had always existed,
and what he and Sobaran used to say about the days before land¬
lords existed, when the Panchayat ruled, was beginning to sound
like a fairy tale. Since the famine, the bailiffs had grown still
more arrogant. They looked on the famine as something sent to
break the spirit of the peasants and exalt the power of their
master. Ever since November, when the pumpkin-creeper on
Rekha’s roof had begun to sprout, the bailiffs had begun to hang
about. Since the famine, the villagers were saying. Rekha had
grown hot-tempered. This seemed to him odd, but it was true ;
for the rest of the villagers were only shadows of their old selves
since the famine, while Rekha remained comparatively vigorous,
so his temper seemed irascible. When he saw the watchmen and
bailiffs hanging about his cottage, he grew angry, though he did
not betray his feelings.
But one day a watchman climbed up on the roof to pick a
pumpkin for the Patwari. Rekha happened to be inside his house,
fondling his Sukhari on his lap. At the first sound of the roof
creaking and shaking, he laid Sukhari down on a mat and went
out. He saw the watchman on the roof gathering pumpkins;
three had been picked already and the fourth was about to be
attacked. A thrill of rage ran through Rekha. He shouted out
in threatening tones that could be heard half over the village :
“ Who is that! ”
“ Don’t you see ? ” returned the watchman, not turning his
head—“I am collecting pumpkins for the Patwari.”
“ If you want to keep your skin whole, come down quietly I ”
said Rekha menacingly. “ Do you hear! ”
“Do you know you’re talking to the master’s watchman?”
“I know all about that. Have the goodness to leave those
pumpkins alone and come down! ”
 228 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

Silently the watchman descended. On hearing his tale, the

Patwari curbed his wrath for the time being; he reserved the case
until the landlord’s coming in January.
When the landlord arrived, the same watchman presented
himself at Rekha Bhagat’s house and said :
“ From tomorrow you have to give the master two pints of
milk in the morning.”
“I have no cow and no buffalo. Where am I to get milk
from ? ”
“Wherever you like. That is the master’s order.”
The Patwari knew very well that Rekha had no cow, but this
was his chance to put Rekha in his place. That very evening he
unfolded to the landlord the story of Rekha’s mutinous conduct,
and added that the whole village was being infected by it. The
landlord came to a decision the same night.
In the morning there was no milk from Rekha. When a
bailiff came to him he repeated that he owned neither a cow nor
a buffalo. The landlord chose five ruffians and gave the order—
“Go and milk that bastard’s wife instead.”
Several villagers were present but they only thought that
the men were going to arrest Rekha. The five men seized Rekha
without a word, and tied him up. Then two of them entered the
house and got hold of Mangri. The helpless Rekha looked on
with bloodshot eyes while they held his screaming wife’s breasts
and actually forced a trickle of milk into a cup. After this they
went away, leaving him still bound.
Mangri sat still covering her face in shame. At last Rekha
found his tongue and said : “ Don’t feel shame, Mangri. If our
village Pandiayat was still alive, the Emperor himself would not
have dared to do this. But they shall pay for this insult. If
the true blood of the Abirs is in my veins, there will be no one
left alive in the families of the Patwari and the Rampur man to
weep for them. I shall revenge this humiliation with my own
hands, Mangri. Come, untie my hands.”
With her eyes swimming with tears, Mangri unfastened his
bonds. He went inside and took Sukhari on his lap, kissing him
and then said to his wife :
“Take everything you want out of here and go straight to
your mother’s; I am going to burn this house.”
She knew by his voice what he meant. She took the child
and a few clothes outside and then fell at his feet.
“ There must be revenge,” said Rekha, in an unusually gentle
tone, “ not only for your honour, but for the honour of the whole
village. Go now, and you can tell Sukhari what kind of a man
his father was. Don’t delay, I’m going to rake out the fire from
the hearth.”
 17. REKHA BHAGAT 229

Mangri watched from a distance until she saw the flames

going up from the roof. All the people who occupied cottages
at the edge of the village came running towards Rekha’s house,
while he, grasping a sword, made for the landlord’s court-house.
Afraid for their lives, the guards took to flight. Rekha hacked
the landlord and the Patwari to death, shouting as he struck:
** No one will be left behind to mourn you, villains! ”
He fulfilled his vow, and more than fulfilled it.
How many Re*thas did the tyrant Cornwallis stir up ?
 18. MANGAL SINGH
Time: 1857 A.D.

T HE two of them had gone to see the Tower. They saw the
cells on which enemies of the throne had rotted in life-long
captivity. They saw the rack, and the axes and other
weapons, emblems of the fact that the kings had been masters
of life and death, and were in truth God’s governors or executioners
on earth. But what attracted them most of all was the spot where
the heads of a king and several queens of England had rolled in
the dust.
As usual, Annie Russell’s soft hand lay in his, but to-day
its softness seemed to have a new quality. It was as if some
emanation were running from her hand through his frame, some¬
thing like the electricity which the scientist Faraday had discovered
eleven years before.
“ Annie ”, said Mangal Singh, “ are you an electric battery ? ”
“ Why do you say that, Mangal ? ”
“That is how I feel. Sixteen years ago, when I first set
foot in England, I felt, if. I had stepped out of darkness into bright
sunlight; I saw a great new world in front of me—I don’t mean
great in square miles, but a scene stretching away into the far
future. There were many novel and astonishing things to see—
beet-sugar steam-boats, railways, telegraphs, matches, photography,
electric light; but when I got to Cambridge and was able to study
them and watch laboratory experiments, I began to realise what
a great future is awaiting the world.”
“You really felt that coming to England was like coming
from darkness into light ? ”
“ In the sense I have been talking about; otherwise I had
only two ideas in leaving India—to see the land of worshippers
of the Lord Jesus, Whom I also worshipped, and to try and recover
the royal treasures my family had been deprived of.”
“I have often wanted to ask you about yourself, but I have
always been forgetting. Tell me your story now, Mangal.”
“I can’t have any objection to telling it to someone who has
changed the course of m.v life! Come along here to the peaceful
Thames. Annie dear. The Thames is neither so big nor so beauti¬
ful as our Ganges, but often while I am watching it I have pleasant
memories of the Ganges. You know that Christians regard all
other religions as paganism, and view them with contempt; but
 18. MANGAL SINGH 231

Thames once turned me back into a pagan instead of a Christian.

It made me think of my mother, a pagan Hindu, offering flowers
so readily to the Ganges.”
They reached the river bank and sat down on a stone bench
facing the water. Annie’s golden locks escaping from her white
bonnet fell over her cheeks and quivered in the breeze. Manga!
kissed them as he began to speak.
“ How often I have stood on this bank of the Thames and
offered imaginary flowers to my own Ganges! ”
“ Your mother used to offer flowers to the Ganges ? ”
“Yes, with as much devotion as Christians praying to their
Lord lesus. At first when I became a Christian it seemed to me
a disgusting custom, but many a time since then I have felt con¬
tribution for the dishonour I had done to our Ganges in my heart.”
“ Our poets have brought back to life the feelings that
Christianity tried to suppress. We call this river Father Thames,
you know.”
“ And we talk of Mother Ganges.”
“ Yours is a sweeter fancy, Mangal. Tell me about yourself.”
“ Well, Banaras and Ramnagar are two towns a little apart,
on opposite sides of the Ganges. I had sixteen years to look at
the river. My home in Banaras was right on the bank, and below
it a flight of sixty steps led down to the water. Perhaps when
I first opened my eyes my mother held me on her lap to show
me to the Ganges. At any rate, in some strange way the river
seems to be in my blood. At Ramnagar stands my grandfather’s
castle, but I have only seen it two or three, times from a boat
on the river. I had no desire to see it oftener, or to enter it.
My mother had no wish to go there, either. You can imagine,
Annie, a woman who had lived in that castle as a princess, and
now was dragging out her life in Banaras, under a false name
for fear of the English, could hardly bear to fix her eyes on it
again. My grandfather was Chet Singh, who was stripped of
his possessions so unjustly by that robber Warren Hastings. In
England, Hastings was brought to book for his misdeeds, partly
at least, but no justice was ever done to my grandfather. It would
have been an expensive kind of justice to restore a stolen kingdom,
Annie.”
“ Is you mother still living ? ”
‘ I get a letter now and then from my old Padre at Banaras.
and I write to her through him. She was still living five months
ago, at least.”
“You were not a Christian at first, then?”
“No, and she is a Hindu still. I used to want to convert
her, but now..”
 232 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“Now you want to offer flowers to Mother Ganges beside

her ? ” '
“If I do, the missionaries will say I have abandoned the
Christian religion.”
“How did you become a Christian.”
“It wasn’t a question of any inner guidance. There are
missionaries at Banaras as elsewhere, preaching Christianity,—
both men and women; but Banaras is the Hindu Rome, so they
cannot have very much success. Once a medical missionary came
to attend my mother, and after that his wife began visiting our
house. A close acquaintance grew up between her and my mother,
I was still a child, and she often used to take me on her knees.

“You must have been very nice-looking even as a child,

Mangal! Who wouldn’t have liked to hold you ? ”
“Well, then she advised my mother to have me taught
English, and when I was five or six her husband began to teach
me. My mother was always thinking about the lost glories of
her family, and she nursed to a secret hope that if her son learned
English he might perhaps he able to do something to restore the
family fortunes. My father had died when I was three, so she
had to manage everything by herself. Our wealth had disappeared
with our kingdom, but she had a good deal of jewellery that her
mother-in-law had given her, and her brother helped to take care
of her.
“ When I was eight I began to spend half my time in the
home of this missionary and his wife. I had no chance to learn
much of the Hindu religion, and what I learned was from that
lady. She used to tell me I was very lucky that my mother had
escaped, for when my father died people wanted her to commit
suttee and be burned alive. I thought the Hindu religion meant
the same thing as my mother being burned alive, so you can guess
whether I felt anything for such a religion except the bitterest
hatred. It was still two years before the suppression of suttee.
“Thinking of my welfare, my mother took the lady’s advice,
and sent me to school at Calcutta. While I was studying there,
she began to suspect that they had done all this for me in order
to turn me into a Christian. It was lucky that this had not struck
her earlier, or I should never have had the opportunity of getting
my mind woken up.”
“ Is there no idea of educating children in India ?
“I should have been given an education, but only of the
kind that would have been useful thirteen centuries ago.”
“How did you get your mother’s leave to come to England?”
“Her leave? I came without asking for it. The missionary
helped me; he arranged for me to study at Cambridge, When I
 18. MANGAL SINGH 233

sent news to my mother from here that I was well and happy
she sent me her blessing. She is over fifty-five now, and in every
letter she tells me to come home.”
“ And what do you tell her ? ”
“I can only make excuses. She believes that here in the
capital I am meeting the Queen of England and one day I wilt
come home to take my seat on the throne of Chet Singh.”
“ Poor Ganges-worshipper! She little dreams that instead of
Queen Victoria you are meeting those terrible enemies of all
crowned heads in the world, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels! ”
“ How could India understand Marx’s communism, when it
doesn’t even know anything yet about the capitalist world and
its power ! ”
“ Has Marx ever talked to you about India ? ”
“ Many times, and it astonishes me to find how much he, living
here, has been able to learn about India’s development. But it
is no conjuring trick. Here in London is to be found all the
information about India that various Englishmen have cpllected
and written down in the last three centuries. Marx has gone
through these dusty tomes very carefully, and whenever he
meets an Indian here he questions him and tests the conclusions
he has come to.”
“ What does he think about India’s future ? ”
“He has a high respect for the bravery of Indian soldiers,
and he admires our intelligence ; but he thinks our old reactionaries
to be India’s greatest enemies, and regards our villages as little
self-contained republics.”
“ Republics ? ”
“Yes, it is not a question of the whole country or even of
two combined villages in the same district, but of each individual
village. Not everywhere. Self-government has perished in the
areas where Lord Cornwallis founded land-ownership on the
English model. Under this self-government all the people appoint
five or more headmen to manage their affairs. They look after
police, justice, irrigation, education, worship and all other activities,
and they are conscientious and sensible, fair and impartial. Every¬
one in the village, young or old, is ready to give his life when the
panchayat calls on him, in defence of any patch of land belonging
to the village or the honour of its meanest inhabitant.
“The Muslim rulers originally tried—while they only con¬
trolled a small area round Delhi, and regarded themselves as tem¬
porary lodgers—to undermine the panchayat system, but later on
they recognised the panchayats as organs of self-government. But
our English rulers, especially the English landlord Cornwallis,
have set about destroying the village autonomy, and to a great
 234 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

extent they have succeeded, though perhaps if it had been left to*
them the old system would not have collapsed so quickly. The
most mortal blow at the self-rule and economic self-sufficiency of
the village has been the influx of English goods, such as Lancashire
cloth and Sheffield iron-ware and so on. The first steamboat was
launched at Calcutta in 1822, on the 10th of July. The knocking
away of what was still left of village self-sufficiency has been the
consequence. Dacca, the great emporium of India’s fine muslin,
is now two-thirds deserted, Annie, and the country weavers are in
a horrible condition. An Indian village used to reckon itself inde¬
pendent in iron-work, pottery, spinning and weaving. To-day its
artisans are sitting with folded hands, starving to death, and its
supplies come from Manchester, Birmingham and Sheffield.
“Take cloth alone ; in 1814 nearly two million pieces of cloth
were exported from India to Britain, and twenty years later nearly
twice as many. But in these same years enormous quantities of
English cloth have poured into India. To-day, India, which was
able to make that Dacca muslin, is sending its raw cotton to
England and getting its cloth made there. Just think of the latest
figures: ‘in 1846 a million pounds’ worth of cotton came to
England.”
“ How cruel it all was—how bad ! ”
“ Still, as my teacher says, we may shed tears over this foreign
exploitation, but as rational men we must be pleased at the collapse
of the stronghold of conservatism.”
“Then there are two ways of looking at it.”
“ Certainly. Just as a mother suffers pangs in giving birth,
but also feels joy in having a child; there is no creation without
destruction. We cannot establish a powerful self-governing nation
without breaking down the little separate autonomous units. As
long as Indian patriotism is limited to the village republic, there
can be no wider patriotism, no devotion to India as a whole. At
present the English are introducing into India only such inven¬
tions as assist their commerce, like their ships and railways, but
Marx is right in saying that when the English capitalists are forced
to use Indian coal and iron in building and repairing their railways,
they will not be able to refrain for long from utilising these
materials, because of their cheapness. And the Indian mind will
not remain asleep for long when it has the wonder of science
before it.”
“In short, industrialisation and capitalism are bound to grow
up in India too.”
“Yes, of course. In England to-day power has passed out
of the hands of the landowning aristocracy, hasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
 18. MANGAL SINGH 233

“The Reform Bill of 1832 has put the reins of power ins
the hands of the capitalists.”
“At least, it is a sign that they are taking over power.”
“ Quite right. Did the meetings and newspapers of the
Chartists make any impression on you, Annie ? ”
“During their days my mind was still scarcely awake, I have
only a hazy recollection of them. My uncle Russell, you know,,
was the Chartists’ bitterest enemy in the Cabinet. I have often
heard him talk of it as a dangerous agitation.”
“ Did he look such a bold orator then as he did when Parlia¬
ment was rejecting the modest petitions of the workers with their
twelve hundred thousand signatures ? ”
“ No, dear. Even now he is nervous, in spite of the fact
that in this year of Our Lord 1856 there is nothing to be seen
of any Chartists.”
“He may well be nervous, Annie. In the same way as the
capitalists have broken the power of the nobles and set up their
own, the workers in their turn will overthrow the rule of gold
and bring humanity to power; they will abolish all distinctions
of rich and poor, high and low, white and black.”
“ And man and woman, Mangal ? ”
“Yes, women, too, are victims, of men’s oppression. Our
feudal rulers, up to our own days, have been burning thousands
of women alive every year in the name of suttee, and it is still
a disgrace to humanity the way they are shut up in purdah and
cheated out of any control over their property and made to bear
men’s tyranny.”
“ You may fancy that women in this country are free, because
we are not shut up in purdah ”
“I don’t say you are free, Annie, I only say that you are
better off than your sisters in India.”
“ How can there be any better or worse in slavery, Mangal!
We have not even the right of voting for Parliament. We are
not allowed to cross the threshold of a university. We tighten
our waists till you could put your fingers round them and drag
skirts with sixty yards of cloth in them along the ground, just to
make ourselves dolls for men to play with.
“So the prospect Marx holds out is of a growth of indus¬
trialisation and capitalism in India, which will give the people
more and more energy, and at the same time bring together in
factories the unemployed peasants and artisans now scattered among
the villages. Then they will learn to form trade unions and
struggle, and then raise the Hag of socialism and march shoulder
to shoulder with the English workers for the deliverance ot
humanity, until the world is freed of its slavery to gold, and liberty,
 236 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

♦quality and farternity have been established. But all this will
take centuries, Mangal.” '
“ Marx also says that while England has deprived India of
the gifts of science—machines, she has put into the hands of
Indian soldiers other gifts of science,—new weapons. The Indian
army will give powerful help in the restoration of India’s indepen¬
dence.”
“ But can it come in any near future ? ”
“ No question of future, the time has come, Annie ! Haven’t
read in the papers of the British annexation of Oudh on February
the seventh ? ”
“Yes, and it was unjustified.”
“ We are not arguing about right or wrong. The Company
has always acted from self-interest, but unwittingly it has done
us many services. By breaking down the village self-sufficiency
it has shown us all India as our motherland ; with its railways and
telegraphs and steamers it has broken down our mental barriers
and brought us into contact with the great world. This annexa¬
tion of Oudh will bring about a change, and I have been waiting
lor it! ”
*l What else is to be expected from a disciple of Marx ! ”

[ 2 ]
The peaceful banks of the Ganges were about to lose their tran¬
quillity once more. In the massive palace of Bithur, Nana Singh,
heir of the Peshwas, who had lost not only his throne but even
his pension, had grown more active since Oudh had become the
newest capture of the English. His agents were busy day and
night getting in touch with other feudal chiefs who like him had
fallen from high estate. To his good fortune, the English com¬
mitted another mistake; it was more than a mistake, for in such
a constantly changing situation it involved a mortal risk; instead
«of the old ball-muskets, they issued a new and more powerful
type of cartridge-gun to their troops. When these cartridges were
inserted, the cap had to be bitten olf. Far-sighted enemies of
the English knew how to turn this to advantage. They raised a
cry that the cartridges were greased with the fat of cows and pigs,
and that the English were intentionally forcing their soldiers to
Bite them so as to destroy the Hindu and Muslim religions in
India, and Christianise everyone.
Mangal Singh, as grandson of Chet Singh, the old ruler of
Banaras, was well aware that his name would have spread like
wildfire among the soldiers; but he never allowed his identity to
fee divulged. Nana and the other rebel leaders knew only this
much about him, that he was vigorously opposed to the foreign
 18. MANGAL SINGH 237

rule, and that having been in England he had a good knowledge

of European science and politics. He had lost his religion by-
living in England, though he was not now a follower of Christianity.
It did not take him long to fathom the cherished aspirations
of the rebel leaders. He saw that these fallen feudalists were
each hoping to recover their power, and, to this end, aimed at
uniting and expelling their only common enemy, the English. To
them, the soldiers whose lives they were about to sacrifice had
no more importance than pawns on the chessboard. As to the
soldiers, what spurred them on was the fear of losing their reli¬
gion : had they been spared the need to bite those greased cart¬
ridges they might have gone on for ever applauding the Honour¬
able Company and sacrificing their lives for it.
The gulf between Hindus and Muslims, moreover, had not
been narrowed in the least. Had the rebellion ended in success,
their thirst for the favour of their respective gods might have
hurried the inflamed and ignorant soldiers into an even more
merciless fanaticism against one another. If there was any other
impulse at work in their hearts, it was the desire to plunder towns
and villages in their way. Those infected with this craving might
be few in number, and the places sacked by them might be few,
but it caused such an outcry that the countryfolk came to dread
soldiers as much as bandits.
This was an unfortunate impression to attach itself to an army
that was to liberate its country. When he learned of it, Mangal
Singh was at first in despair. He had not come to fight for his
grandfather’s throne, but to work for the realisation of liberty,
equality and fraternity, against caste and religious divisions as
well as against the domination of English capital. He had not
come to restore the gloom of mediaevalism, but to break down
India’s age-old barriers and bring her into the comity of nations.
For him, the removal of exploitation by English capital was only
a first step towards developing friendly relations between a free
Indian people and the peoples of other lands, for the building of a
better world. He could not approve of the dissemination of the
lie about the greased cartridges, nor of the opportunity it gave
supertsition to strengthen its hold on India. Nana and other rebel
leaders themselves guzzled the most expensive European liquors,
they were quite ready when they got the chance to swallow wine or
pork or kiss the lips of the white women, but at present their
game was to pose before the soldiers as leaders devoted to the
defence of religion.
But with all the blemishes of the cause, Mangal Singh, did
not hesitate in seeing the path of duty, for he saw that India v;as
being crushed by a double tyranny of English capitalists and
Indian feudalists, the former being the stronger and more wily.
 238 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

When the foreigners had been expelled, there would remain only
the native fudalists to be dealt with, and the Indian people would
find its task easy.
It was January, and the nights were cold though far less so
than in London. All was silent in Bithur, but the guards at the
Peshwa’s palace were all ready at their posts. They saw a stranger
slip into the palace with a truthworthy agent of their master’s, but
this was happening every night now.
This was not Mangal Singh’s first meeting with Nana; they
had come to know each other well enough. Besides himself,
Mangal found assembled agents of the puppet king of Delhi, the
Nawab of Oudh, Kunwar Singh of Jagdishpur, and many other
magnates. Reports were being made of how far the revolutionary
spirit had infected the soldiers in cantonments such as Calcutta,
Danapur, Lucknow, Agra and Meerut. The astonishing thing was
that these chieftains, with no forces of their own, were pinning
all their hopes on an army of mutineers, in face of so formidable
an antagonist. As to military science, nearly all the leaders were
quite innocent of it, though they were quite willing to officiate
as generals.
“ English rule in India rests on Indian regiments ”, remarked
Nana hopefully, “and now they are coming over to our side."
“ But they are not all doing so, Nana Sahib! ” returned
Mangal. “ There is no news yet of the Punjab Sikhs breaking
out; on the contrary, they remember how the other Indian troops
helped the English to conquer the Punjab and will try to take
their revenge. The English are intelligent, Nana Sahib. If they
had kept Dalip Singh somewhere in India under lock and key,
along with the Peshwa and the Nawab of Oudh, it would have
been very easy for us to-day to win over all the Sikh regiments.
At any rate, we must bear in mind that the Sikhs and Gurkhas
and States’ troops are not with us, and whoever is not with
us in a national war like this, we must consider him against us.”
“ You are right,” said Nana, “ but if we are successful at the
outset no enemy of the country will venture to oppose us.”
“ There is another weapon we ought to make use of; when
the struggle has begun we shall have to use it, but we ought to
begin training men for the purpose now. We must explain to
the people that we are fighting for national liberation.”
“We shall be challenging the English,” put in an envoy from
the east, “will not that be enough?”
“ Our swords will not be clashing all the time everywhere,”
replied Mangal. “There are plenty of cowards and selfish people
in our country who believe the English invincible. They will
apread all kinds of tales. In my opinion we ought to mark out
 18. MANGAL SINGH 239

three regions—eastern, central and western—and publish a news¬

paper in each of them in Hindi and Urdu/’
“ You are too fond of English methods! ” protested Nana,
“ But you know how many people we have reached with our cart¬
ridge story, without the help of any newspaper.”
‘‘But when we are in the thick of the struggle we shall have
to cope with stories against us spread by the hangers-on of the
English. It is impossible for us to seize on all their machinery
of administration in a single day. Suppose they spread a rumour
that the mutineers—and 1 tell you, that is the name we shall be
remembered by—are looting towns and villages and murdering
children ? ”
“ Will people believe that ? ”
“ Whatever is repeated often enough and goes uncontradicted,
will begin to be believed.”
“ I should think,” said Nana, “ we have given the English
such a bad name with our talk of the cartridges, and religion in
danger, that nothing they say will be credited.”
“ We can’t trust to that for ever. Well, another thing ; the
English will call this struggle of our a mere mutiny and give it
that name all over the world. But we have many friends in the
world, and the English have many enemies who will wish to see
us independent, especially among the European nations. There¬
fore, we must not make our fight a crusade against all Europeans
alike; and in fighting we must not. touch any English women or
children or old men. That would not help us in the war; on
the contrary it would inevitably give India a bad name in the
world.”
“ It is for our commanders to think about that,” said Nana,
“ and I think they themselves can decide what ought to be done
at any particular time.”
“The last thing I have to say,” continued Mangal, “is that
greased cartridges are not sufficient ground for a war in which
our soldiers are to stake their lives, and in which we hope for
the support of the ordinary people. We must explain what kind
of a government we want to set up after the English have gone
away, and how that government will benefit the soldiers who
have done the fighting and the peasantry from which they come.”
“Surely the removal of a government that threatens their
religion will be enough to satisfy them! ”
“What would you say if someone suggested that to you ?
Is your heart not full of the desire to return to Poona, the capital
of the Peshwas ? Has the throne of Lucknow no charms for our
Nawab ? If you leaders have other ambitions besides getting rid
of greased cartridges and English rule, to make you willing to
 240 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

risk your lives, I think it will be good to let the common people
too, to see some prospect of benefit for themselves.”
“ How ? ”
“We should set up a panchayat in every village to give the
people cheap justice. We should set up a panchayat of the whole
nation; to be chosen by the whole people, and to have power
even over the king. We should abolish big landownership and
not let there be any master between the peasant and the govern¬
ment ; if an estate is granted to anyone in return for service, he
shojld merely have a right to appropriate the land revenue from
it. We should develop factories and find employment in them tor
all onr workers, so as not to leave anyone idle. We should improve
irrigation by making canals, reservoirs and dams; this would
provide work for millions, double or treble the nation’s food-
supply, and make plenty of fresh land available for the cultivators.”
Nobody was prepared to give serious consideration to Mangal
Singh’s proposals. They all brushed them aside by saying that
they could be considered after power had been won.
He lay awake on his bed for a long time, unable to sleep.
This, he reflected, was the age of science. These people could
sec for themselves the wonders of railways, telegraphs, steamships.
The age of matches, cameras, electric lights, had opened ; yet they
were still living in the diearns of a by-gone age. Still, amid these
dark shadows one thing stood out clearly. This war could be won
only by the strength of the people, and through it the people
would realise its own strength. Just as the English capitalists,,
backed by the energy of their workers, had been able to defeat
their rivals, and then treat the workers with contempt, these Indian
magnates might succeed with the help of the Indian people—
soldiers and peasants—and then betray them.
But they would not be able to rob the people of its faith in
itself, nor could they help adopting the new discoveries of science
in order to safeguard themselves from foreign enemies. Railway
lines, telegraph lines, the steamships built at Calcutta, could not
vanish from India now. It was not in these out of date feudalists-
that Mangal Singh put his trust, but in the revolutionary strength
of humanity, in the people.

[ 3 ]
On May 10, 1857, Mangal Singh was near Meerut, when the
sepoys there hoisted the flag of Mutiny. It fell to his lot to take
one detachment under his command, in the name of Bahadur
Shah. The feudal magnates did not doubt his ability, but they
also knew that his goal was very different from theirs, and so
instead of sending him in the direction of Delhi they told him to-
 18. MANGAL SINGH

march eastward. They did not guess that in this war for Indian
freedom the roads east and west from Meerut led equally to
disaster. But the army marching on Delhi needed a leader like
Mangal Singh, who could make full use of Delhi’s ancient fame
to secure victory.
There were a thousand men in Mangal Singh’s detachment.
At the outset of the Mutiny they were all inclined to look upon
themselves as generals. It took him a week to convince them
that a regiment of nothing but generals could never hope to win
battles. There was no one besides himself with any advanced
knowledge of military science, and the same was true of all the
rebel forces. He could not afford to wait and train his men ; the
urgent task was to overthrow the government’s authority promptly
in as many districts as possible.
After crossing the Ganges and entering Ruhelkhand, he began
making it his practice to explain his political ideas every night to
his soldiers. The latter were some time in understanding them ;
many questions arose in their minds, and Mangal Singh answered
them. Then he gave an account of the two French revolutions
ol 1789 and 1848, and of how workmen in Wales had struggled
against these English merchants who had been building up their
power in India, and showed the greatest courage; the merchants
by force of numbers were able to overcome them, but they could
never deprive them of their rights as long as there was breath in
their bodies.
When the sepoys heard these things, their behaviour changed
radically. Each of them became a missionary of the war of
liberation, going into villages, towns, and cities, and by his words
and conduct inspiring in the public mind confidence and respect.
The fact that they expanded with proper accounting the money
found in government treasuries; that they collected taxes, when
necessary, only in accordance with public desire and sanction,
after re-establishing the local panchayat and explaining the situa¬
tion ; that they never took anything without payment;—this very
quickly began to have its effect. Crowds of young men began
to enrol themselves in the army of liberation. Mangal Singh
organised instruction in piilitary drill, and also in surprise attacks,
commissariat arrangements and so on. He took with him a squad
of Muslim and Hindu physicians.
To cleanse the Augean stables of feudal extortion and cor¬
ruption, a strong infusion of selfless patriotism into the educated
classes was required and it was not easy to inspire this at such
a time. Still, no one could spend a couple of days with Mangal
Singh without gaining in enlightenment. No one watching him
as he joked and chatted with his soldiers could have guessed that
he was the commander of a force which before the end swelled to
 242 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

two thousand men. Yet every man of them was ready to lay
down his life at the commander’s bidding. He always shared with
the soldiers their meal of unleavened bread, he slept like them
relied up in a blanket, he was foremost at the post of danger.
He treated captured English folk with humanity. They were
astonished at his clemency, for in Europe itself at that time such
treatment of prisoners was unheard of. He entered four districts
of Ruhelkhand, and organised them all excellently.
Nana Sahib drew his sword against the English on June 5,
but he was defeated by them within a month and a half, on July
18. Mangal Singh was not slow to realise that the tide had turned
but so long as life remained he never furled the banner of free¬
dom. The English commenced general reprisals against the un¬
armed population of Oudh ; women were robbed of honour and
life. Even at this news, Mangal Singh and his comrades did not
molest any captive Englishman.
By the end of the rains, the resistance of the mutineers was
being broken everywhere, but he was still in arms in Ruhelkhand
and western Oudh, assailed from all sides by English, Gurkha
and Sikh troops. Day by day the numbers of the soldiers of free¬
dom dwindled. Mangal Singh, thinking of the future, sent many
©f them back to their homes; but of the thousand who had
marched out with him from Meerut, not one would consent to
abandon him. Towards the end he saw something that robbed
death of its bitterness : Brahmans and Rajputs, Jats and Gujars,
Hindus and Muslims, in the small band of doomed men, were
losing all sense of communal differences. They cooked their food
together, ate it together, and offered in this way a model of a
united Indian nationality.
Five soldiers of Meerut—Binda Singh, Dev Ram, Sadaphal
Pande, Rahim Khan and Ghulam Hussain—were with him when
finally, as he rowed for the last time over the Ganges, he was
attacked from both sides. At the request of the English men and
women who had been Mangal Singh’s prisoners, the English com¬
mander had offered him a pardon and hoped that he would give
himself up. He had always refused. The offer was repeated now ;
he gave his answer with a bullet. He was captured at last when
his boat was drifting down the Ganges, manned by six dead bodies.
The English paid homage to Indian valour.
 19. SAFDAR
Time: 1922 A.D.

I T was a small but handsome bungalow. On one side of the

large compound was a rose-bed, bright with scarlet and pink
blossoms. Another side was laid out as a small badminton
court, covered with green grass which it was pleasant simply to
feel under one’s feet. At another corner stood a summerhouse
overgrown with creepers, while at the back of the bungalow was
an open verandah, where Safdar Jang, the barrister, often sat in
the evenings.
Green creepers clung to the walls. Safdar had seen a house
at Oxford with walls hung like this, and he had been very parties
lar about having creepers hung here.
There was a garage for two cars in the compound. Safdar
Jang’s mode of living, and the atmosphere of his bungalow, were
an exact copy of the English style. His half dozen servants were
trained on precisely the same lines as if they had been employed
by some English official. They wore the same red waist-band,
the same stiffly-tied turban with their master’s initials on a metal
badge. Safdar preferred European food to any other, and had
three cooks to provide hiin with it.
Just as Safdar lived like a Saf^b, an English gentleman, nis
wife Sakina was always addressed by the servants as ‘ Mem Sahib.”
Her eyebrows, with all unnecessary hairs plucked out, were thin
curving lines, darkened still further by pencilling. She was in
the habit of using lipstick every quarter of an hour. But she
never acquired a taste for European dress.
Last year, in 1920, when Safdar had visited England with
his wife for the first time, he had wanted Sakina to wear frock,
but she would not consent. Those they met in England, however,
both men and women, admired her dress, as well as her looks,
so much that Safdar did not regret her refusal. The couple were
both so light in complexion that in Europe they were always taken
for Italians.
It was now the cold season of 1921. Like all other towns of
upper India, Lucknow found this the pleasantest time of the year.
Tcklay, on his return from the Courts, Safdar took his seat on a
cane chair on the verandah at the back of the house. His looks
were unusually grave as he sat with a small table before him on
which lay two or three books and a note-book. Three other
 244 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

chairs stood vacant near him. He wore a well-pressed English

suit of the finest quality. '
The expression on his clean-shaven face made it clear that the
Sahib was occupied with serious thoughts to-day, and at such times
his servants took care not to come near him. He seldom lost his
temper, but he had made his servants understand that on such
occasions he preferred to be left alone.
Evening drew on, but Safdar remained seated. A servant
brought a table-lamp with a long wire and put it beside him. A
voice could be heard at the house, and at Safdar’s enquiry the man
told him that Master Shankar Singh had called but was going away.
Safdar at once ordered him to run and bring the visitor.
Shankar Singh was a man of thirty or thirty-two, but marks
of old age were already visible in his face. He wore a black
coat buttoned up to the neck, black trousers, and a round felt cap ;
his dark moustache was thick and drooping. There was nothing
to suggest that he was in the prime of his youth, though his flash¬
ing eyes revealed a vigorous mind.
As soon as he appeared, Safdar got up to shake hands,
Shankar,” he exclaimed, giving him a chair, “ you were going
away without seeing me ? ”
“ Excuse me, brother ; I thought you must be sitting alone
because you were buried in some work.”
“Even when I an. buried in my law files I can always find
a few minutes for you, and to-day you see there are no files in
front of me.”
Safdar had the deepest affection for Shankar Singh. There
was no one whom he considered a closer friend. From the time
when they entered the fourth'class in the school at Saidpur to the
day when they took their B.A. at Lucknow, they had always been
fellow-students. Both had been bright students : sometimes one
got a few marks more in an examination, sometimes the other, but
this close rivalry had never bred ill-feeling or estrangement between
them. Their friendship was aided by the fact that both were
Gautam Rajputs, though one of their families had remained Hindu
while the other had turned Muslim. Ten generations ago both
had t^een Hindu, and the> had, moreover a common ancestor. Their
families still met in the clan reunions held on special occasions,
Safdar was the only son of his father, and Shankar had helped
him to forget that he had no brother. Shankar was the younger
by six months.
These were accidental factors, but in addition to them Shankar
possessed qualities which explained the love and respect felt by
the real gentleman, Safdar for his plain, simple friend. The latter
was good-humoured, but did not know how to flatter. The result
was that in spite of his first-class M.A. degree he had become a
 19. SAFDAR 245

mere assistant-master in a government school. Had he given them

the slightest encouragement, others would have pulled strings for
him, and he would by now have been headmaster of a high school.
It seemed as if he was quite willing to remain an assistant-master
for the rest of his life. Only once had he called on his friends
for assistance, when he was being transferred away from Lucknow.
With all his gentleness, he had a strong sense of self-respect, which
Safdar appreciated. The intimacy that had begun when they were
twelve years old was as firm as ever now when twenty years had
gone by.
They had discussed a few casual topics when Sakina joined
them, wearing a light green dress with a red bodice. Shankar
got up, saying “ Good evening, sister-in-law."
“Good evening," returned Sakina with a smile. There had
been a time when she, the well-educated daughter of a wealthy
knight, had disapproved of her husband’s friendship with this rustic¬
looking school-teacher. She had been free of purdah even in
her father’s house, so there was no obstacle to her meeting Shankar
But for the first six months she used to frown when she saw
Shankar, quite at his ease, walking side by side with Safdar. In
the end, however, she had to own to her husband that Shankar
was well worthy of their affection and esteem.
By now she came to feel quite like a real sister-in-law towards
him She had chosen to avoid having children, but from time
to time she had Shankar’s children to stay with her. For his
part, Shankar had experienced in the past six years the favour of
the god whose name he bore ; there was always some new infant
in his family. Observing her husband’s thoughtfulness during the
past week, Sakina had grown rather nervous, and she was very
glad of Shankar’s visit, for she knew that he was the very man
to cheer Safdar up. She glanced at the visitor, remarking ;
“ You can’t be in any hurry tonight. How would you like
some chocolate pudding 1 have made myself?"
“ No need to ask ! "
“First I must know whether you’re staying—one never knows
when you may vanish.”
“ That isn’t fair! Can you think of any time when I haven’t
obeyed your commands ? ”
“ I’m not talking about disobedience. But keeping away,
so as to escape gettin? any commands, is also an offence!"
“Well, here I am, ready to listen to orders from my com¬
mander.”
“All right,” said Sakina. “I’m leaving you now, you must
stay for dinner and eat the pudding.”
She ran away, and the two men’s conversation took a graver
turn.
 246 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“Shankar,” said Safdar, "we are positively entering on a

new revolutionary period. - I think this is the first time since 1857
that India has begun to shake to her foundations.”
“ You mean—this political agitation ? ”
" That is a very mild phrase, Shankar ! When Congress was
founded in 1885, when it was only a doll for retired English Civil
Servants to play with—even then its Christmas entertainment lec¬
tures and bottle-parties were dubbed ‘ agitation.’ If you want to
call that agitation, I should say that we are passing now from
agitation to revolution.”
"Why—because Gandhiji has collected ten million rupees for
Tilak’s Independence Fund and started to raise a great clamour
for independence ? ”
“No single individual can give birth to a revolution, or a
revolutionary agitation. Such a tremendous upheaval as it brings
is beyond the power of a great man, or half a dozen great men, to
stir up. When I think about the origin of this unrest that we see,
this is the conclusion I come to : You know the leaders of the
1857 rebellion were broken down feudal lords. By the way, our
Lucknow was one of its centres, in fact, the English annexation
of Lucknow was one of its immediate causes. But the struggle
was waged at the cost of the common people’s lives. It failed
because of certain weaknesses on our side, and after its suppression
the English carried out severe reprisals. Welt, what I mean to
say is that since 1857 this is the first time that the common people
are joining in the struggle for independence. Tell me yourself,
as a student of Indian history,—can you think of any other agi¬
tation in which the people have taken part like this ? ”
“We have had the Nagpur session of Congress and the Cal¬
cutta session, and I have seen for myself the excitement you speak
of in the villages—it is quite astounding. I agree. But even
after such a storm, when here in Lucknow there have been so
many bonfires of foreign cloth, you have not been affected in the
least, and now you talk as if you were a man in the thick of a
revolutionary outburst! ”
“You’re right, my dear fellow. Yes, the flood is trying to
wash my feet away from under me. I don’t consider it any small,
local affair; it is obviously linked with a very widespread upheaval.
In any epoch the strongest revolutionary force sweeps the people
along with it.”
“You start from 1857, Safdar!—you are making a thorough
Job of it! ”
“Shall I go on?”
“I’d like to listen. The pudding is getting ready ,and tomorrow
is Sunday. Very well, let someone be sent to let my family know
that I’m staying here in Lucknow, eating Sakina’s pudding and
 19, SAFDAR 247

snoring.Now I’m at your disposal, 1 can listen all

night.”
“ Shankar, Oxford would have been twice as pleasant for me
if only you had been there too ! Well, all foreign students of
politics would agree with me that in this and the last century alt
the transformations in English politics were brought about by the
international situation, by the circumstances of the other nations
of the world ; and when we look into the causes of this world-
situation, they are mainly economic. After the thrashing we got
in 1857, our country went to sleep, or at any rate the pace of
its development was so sluggish that it was as good as asleep. But
other nations were undergoing great changes. Italy achieved her
national union in 1860, after being broken into fragments ever
since the Roman Empire ; and in Mazzini and Garibaldi she gave
our own young men models to imitate. The Germans who were
able to destroy the Roman Empire but unable to unite among them¬
selves, succeeded in forming a united state under Prussia’s leader¬
ship—partially in 1866, and almost completely in 1871 after
defeating France. The events of 1866 were of world importance,
and when Germany went on to crush such a strong Power as France
and plant her banners at Paris and Versailles, England and Russia
began to watch Berlin with alarm. And that is only the inter¬
national problem ; there was still more alarm at the Commune
set up by the Paris workers and kept going for a little more than
six weeks ; that proved that workmen as well as aristocrats or
businessmen could run a government.”
“You think all this has a connection with political events
in India ? ”
“Yes, and besides, it has a marked effect on whatever policies
our English rulers adopt in India. When such a formidable state
as Germany arose in Europe, France’s enmity with England faded
away, because she was in danger from Germany. Needless to
say, our capitalist rulers were gravely alarmed by the Paris Com¬
mune, dead though it soon was, and by the federation of all the
German states except Austria into a nation that was far from
dead. And now other changes are taking place. The English
evolved after 1670 from merchants into big capitalists, and made
a monopoly of competitive trade by seizing every opportunity of
making profits in everything from buying raw material to working
it up and reselling it. Merchant capital makes only a single profit,
by taking manufactured goods from one place and selling them
in another, but industrial capital makes a profit at every stage—
profit in buying cotton, profit in cleaning and packing it, profit
in railing and shipping it, profit in spinning and weaving it into
doth in Manchester mills, profit in shipping and railing the doth
 248 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

back,—just compare all that with the profit of a merchant selling

hand-made goods.”
“It is far higher, certainly.”
“In 1871, at Versailles, victorious Germany proclaimed
William I, King of Prussia, as German Kaisar (Emperor). Next
year, the grasping English capitalists, the Tories, proclaimed a
imperialism of their own, through the Jewish Premier Disraeli, lc
was no mere verbal declaration, but an announcement of some¬
thing very real. Factories had grown so huge that they needed
a protected market, a market where there could be no fear of
competition from French or German goods, because it would be
stiictly monopoly. Also capital accumulation had gone so far
that it needed a protected field of investment. And all this meant
that England must exert close control over other lands. This
was the real meaning of Disraelis word ‘Imperialism.’ India
answered both needs. The shortest and cheapest route from Europe
to India was the Suez Canal, opened in 1869. In 1875 Disraeli
bought by telegraph, from the Khedive of Egypt, 177,000 shares
worth four million pounds. This was the next step in the policy
of imperialism. Then in 1877, on the first of January, a Darbar
was held at Delhi, and Queen Victoria was proclaimed the
Empress. In this way Disraeli’s government -carried imperialism
so far that even when Gladstone, the father of the Liberal Party
took office, he could not alter the policy laid down by Disraeli.”
‘ We are still leaching our students that Queen Victoria con¬
ferred a great favour on India by accepting the title of Empress,
or Kaisar-i-Hind.”
“ And that was just the same title as the King of Prussia had
accepted six years before, remember—the name of ‘ Caesar * had
come into demand. It was a word that had lost its value since the
fall of Rome, and now suddenly its market value had gone up
again ! ”
“I wonder if there is some significance in the Latin word
Caesar being employed only for India, and the word Empress
being used in English instead.”
“ May be. Well, with that word, in 1871, we entered the
epoch of imperialism. England came first; then defeated France,
now a republic, began to recover, and in 1881 occupied Tunis
and set to work at empire building. And Germany too, in 1884,
full of its new factories and capitalists, was ready to demand
colonies and attempt to found an empire.”
“ How is this connected with the development of British policy
in India, then ? ”
“When new inventions are always being improved upon and
factories expanding and creating fresh capital, there must be
leadership to enable them to make profits. Disraeli’s cabinet
 19. SAFDA.R 249

provided it between 1874 and 1880, and from then till 1892 there
were Gladstone’s Liberal governments which could not get away
from the path Disraeli had marked out. Of course, some fig
leaf had to be found to hide the naked tyranny of capitalist impe¬
rialism, so that the public should not lake alarm. So Disraeli
played his ‘ Empress of India ’ comedy and the Liberals had to
go him one better liberality. They did it with their Irish Home
Rule Bill, but the Irish question remains in the same state to this
•day. We took advantage of this liberalism, we, respectable Indians,
when we started our Congress movement in 1885. Congress was
born, in fact, as the spiritual child of the Liberal Party, and it
cherished the same faith for a whole generation. But between
1895 and 1905 the Tories enjoyed another decade of power in
England, and sent out worthy sons of Toryism like Elgin and
Curzon. They tried to strengthen the bonds of imperialism, though
the result was not what they expected.”
“ You are thinking of the movement led by ' Lai, Bal and
Pal,’ then ? ” (Lajpat Rai, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Bipinchandra
Pul).
“They and their movements were only reflection of what
was happening. When Japan defeated Russia in 1905, she enrolled
herself among the Great Powers and brought a new awakening to
Asia. Curzon’s Partition of Bengal and the Japanese victory
combined to incite the Indian youth far beyond vague speeches
from Congress platforms. Indians learned again, after half a
century, how to die for India. We were helped a great deal by
the example of the martyrs of Ireland and Russia. So it would
be a mistake to seek only inside India for the causes of what is
happening.”
“Yes, no doubt, all parts of the world are interlinked, of
course.”
“ Well Shankar ; the strength of any revolutionary agitation
depends on two factors—how much guidance is provided by inter¬
national circumstances and precedents, and how far the most
re\ olutionary class in the country take part in it. I have said
something about the first of these dynamic factors. The other is
the banding together of the workers and peasants. Only men
who are prepared to face the cost of defeat can take part in a
re\olutionary struggle. A man who has to fear the loss of Sakina
and her lipstick, or a house like this or a family estate, cannot
be a soldier of the revolution. So I say it is only the common
people who can carry it out.”
“ I agree.”
“ You know what a ferment is working among these com¬
mon people now. Just think what direction the international
 250 FROM VOLGA TO GAWJA

situation is pushing them in. The Great War kindled a huge

conflagration. It was the outcome of imperialism, it arose from
the holding or seizing of reserved markets for capital and manu¬
factures. Germany wanted new colonies, but the world had already
beer, shared out; so she came into collision with the colony-owners,
England and France. Germany failed, but at the same time a
new enemy arose to break in on the dream of imperialism :
communism, the idea of producing goods not for profit but to
bless and enrich humanity. Machines are improved, factories
expanded, more goods are produced, requiring wider markets.
Besides, people must have money in their pockets to buy those
goods, which means that all employees must be drawing regular
wages. When there is too little money in their pockets, some
of trie goods cannot be sold, they pile up in shops and ware-houses;
the market is dull. Then production has to be curtailed, factories
have to be closed, workers thrown out of work, and there is
less money available for buying goods. Then how can people
buy anything—how can the factories be kept running ? Commun¬
ism tells us to give up the idea of profit, treat th* whole country
or the whole world as one family, and produce whatever rt requires.
Let each individual work in proportion to his strength and be
given the means of subsistence according to his needs ; except thtu
pay should be by work so long as there are no enough machines
and skilled workers to produce as much as is wanted. All this
can only be done when land and factories cease to be owned by
private individual, and all the means of production are owned by
the public, as if by one big family-
“It's a beautiful theory 1 ”

“No mere theory any longer, Shankar! In November, 1917,

a Communist government was set up in Russia over one sixth
of the earth. The capitalist world is still trying to extinguish
that sole hope of humanity, but Soviet rule has withstood its first
bloody test. In Hungary Soviet rule was overthrown after six
months with the help of French and American capital, in 1919*
But the workers’ and peasants’ government in Russia has given a
great lead to the world to-day, and the same forces that created
it are at work in every country. As soon as the war was over,
why were the British in such a hurry to pass the Rowlatt Act?
They wanted to damp down the revolutionary energy that was
filing the world. Think—if that energy had not been rolling
into every nook and comer, threatening to transform the world,
the British would not have passed the Rowlatt Act; if there had
been no Act, Gandhi would not have given a call to the people
to rise against it; if there had been no call, the fires that have
damped down since 1657 would not have blazed up again to-day.
 19. SAFDAR 251

You see what I meant by saying that we are definitely entering »

new epoch of revolutions.”
“Then you consider Gandhi a revolutionary leader? How
can you think that of a man who follows in the steps of moderate
leaders like Gokhale?”
“ I don’t call every action or idea of Gandhi revolutionary.
I call his work revolutionary in so far as he has tried to rouse
the common people who form the potential revolutionary force.
His religious vapourings—especially about the Khilafat movement
—I regard as reactionary humbug. 1 think his notidn of
abandoning machinery and returning to the past is also as
effort to put the clock back and the same applies to his talk of
closing down schools and colleges.”
“ God bless you, Safdar! 1 was beginning to hold my
breath, when you went on praising Gandhi! 1 was wondering
whether you too were going to tell me that schools and colleges
arc the Devil’s workshops! ”
“Our methods of teaching may have many faults; but our
modern schools and colleges put us in touch with science, and
without science human life to-day is impossible. Whenever we
get our freedom, science will have a special part to play. Popula¬
tion is growing day by day and its future welfare will depend on
science, to give up science and go backwards would be suicide.
To close our schools and colleges and open spinning and weaving
centres instead would take us straight back into the Dark Ages.
But to appeal to students to become revolutionaries is not a bad
thing—you must admit that, Shankar.”
Oh, yes! And what about other kinds of boycott ? ”
“ Boycotting the law-courts is all right; it a means of
showing our foreign rulers our strength and our discontent. And
the boycott of British goods is a slap in the face to British capi¬
talists, and helps native enterprise.”
“ Safdar, I see you have moved pretty far already! ”
“ Not yet, but I want to.”
“ You want to ? ”
“ Tell me first: are we passing through a revolutionary epoch,
or are we not ? ”
“ My dear Safdar, I have been asking you a lot of questions,
just to draw you out But the moment I heard of the Russian
Revolution, I began to hunt high and low of communist literature
and study it, and still more to think about my own problems from
the communist point of view. I believe that this is the way to
happiness for India and for the world. I have only been held
back by uncertainty as to whether Gandhi’s non-co-operation could
fulfil its grand object or not; but when you made me think of
the people just now as the backbone of revolution, my uncertainty
 252 FROM VOLGA TO GANOA

^vanished. I don’t believe that Gandhi is capable of organising

a revolution, Safdar, to speak frankly, but I do believe the people
can do it. In 1857 the fallen feudalists got a lot of our people
bch;nd them with their nonsense of greased cartridges and
‘religion in danger’, but to-day the people are more interested in
questions of bread and butter. I think this agitation is right, the
revolutionary slogan is right, and even if Gandhi later on returns
to his original role, he will not be able to turn the current of
revolution.”
” That is why I have decided to join in the struggle and become
—a non-co-operator.”
“ You are in such a hurry ? ”
“ If I had been in a hurry I should have plunged in long ago.
I have only come to a decision after thinking it over for a long
time, and now after learning your opinion.”
While Safdar, gravely and thoughtfully, was saying this,
Shankar’s glance wandered away.
“ My friend ”, Safdar went on, finding him silent, “ you must
be thinking about your Sister-in-law ’ and the lipstick and silk
dtess and velvet slippers, or about this house and the servants. I
shan’t put any pressure on Sakina ; she must choose what sort of
life she likes. She has her own property and this house, and lands
and money. These things have no charm for me. Let her follow
her own inclinations.”
“ I wasn’t thinking about her or you, I was thinking about
myself. The stumbling-block in my own mind has disappeared.
Come ! We shall tread the path of revolution together, like two
brothers! ”
“Shankar,” returned his friend, with glistening eyes, “I used
to long for you at Oxford ; now I shall be quite happy even if I
have to climb the scaffold.”
Sakina came to call them to dinner, and their conference
ended.

[ 2 ]
From this evening Sakina found her husband much more cheer¬
ful ; she thought it was just the pleasure of a chat with Shankar
that had done it. For Safdar, the hardest task was to inform
Sakina of his decision. He himself had been brought in a sheltered
home, but he had lived in the countryside and been touched by the
sight of naked misery; he was confident that he would come
through the ordeal he was throwing himself into. Her case was
►different. She had grown up in a wealthy home in the city, and
^one could say of her as the poet says of Sita—4 She did not touch
the hard earth even with her foot.’*’
 19. SAFDAR 255

On Sunday, he could not summon up courage. Next day,

at the High Court he told a few close friends of his intention,
and then he had to face the necessity of an explanation with Sakina.
In the evening he sent out for the best champagne to be had
in Lucknow. Sakina supposed that some other friends must be
coming, but when dinner was over and he told the servant to
open the champagne, she was somewhat puzzled.
Safdar put a glass of wine to her lips and said : “ Sakina,
my dear this is the last favour you will ever do me.”
“ You mean—you are giving up wine ? ”
“Yes, wine and many other things—but not you. From now
on you will be my wine : thinking of your beautiful face will be
my only intoxication.” He saw distress in her face, and went
on—“Let us drink this champaigne together, dear there is some¬
thing else we must talk about.”
Sakina had no taste for wine, though Safdar had recited many
a quatrain of Omar Khayyam over her glass.
The servants withdrew and she came and sat on the sofa
near Safdar, nervous as if feeling a premonition of ill-luck. Safdar
put his cards on the table.
“ Sakina ”, he began, “ I have taken a serious decision—though
I admit I was wrong in not asking your opinion beforehand. You
will understand why I did it from what I am going to tell you.
To put it in a nutshell—I am going to join in the national struggle.”
The words fell on her ears like a thunderbolt, it was easv
to see ; she could not open her mouth to answer.
“ But dear ”, he added, as she remained silent, “ you have had
a sheltered life from your cradle ; I don’t want to drag you into
hardship.”
She felt as if a fresh dagger had pierced her heart, and made
her forget the first shock. Her self-respect awoke suddenly and
made her exclaim :
“ Dearest! Did you really think me so fond of ease and
comfort as to want to sit on a sofa and watch you going into
hardship ? If I have really loved you, Safdar, my love will give
me strength to go with you anywhere. I have used a lot of lip¬
stick, and wasted a lot of my time in dressing and powdering,
and never tried to gain a knowledge of the hard side of life, but
Safdar, you are everything to me. I don’t want to be a burden
to you, I mean that I want to stay with you, you must be my
guide in our new life just as you have been in our old one.”
Safdar had not expected this, though he knew that Sakina was
quite strong-willed.
“Well”, he resumed, “I am not accepting any new briefs,
and I am handing over some of the cases I have to other lawyers.
I hope to get myself free from the courts during this week, liere
 254 FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

3s something else I must tell you; Shankar is taking the plunge

along with me/* 7
“ Shankar! ” she repeated in surprise.
“ He is a jewel, Sakina! He would go to the end of the
world with me. I was always thinking of him at Oxford.”
“ But he is making a bigger sacrifice, Safdar! ”
“ He has chosen a life of self-sacrifice for himself, and on
princple he has neve*- budged from it. Otherwise he could have
been a good lawyer; or he could have got a better job in his
•own department.”
“ I was very sorry when his two children died, but now I
suppose it is good that he is burdened with only the two others,
instead of four."
“ How is Champa likely to take the news, Sakina ? ”
“ She will agree blindly; it was she who taught me how to
Jove you.”
‘ We must make some arrangements for our new life.”
“ 1 have had no time to think about it, as you said yourself
You tell me what we should do.”
"We had better give all our servants two months wages as
a present and get rid of them, except for Mangar and our nurse
.Sharifan, as she is from our own village.”
“ Yes, good.”
"We shall have to sell both the cars.”
" Very well.”
"And give away or auction all our furniture except a couple
•of beds and a few chairs.”
" Yes.”
"We’ll go and live in our aunts house on Latouche Road,
and rent this bungalow.”
“ All right.”
‘ There’s nothing else 1 can think of.”
“ My clothes—and your English suits ? ”
"I am going in for Gandhi's non-co-operation—is that what
you are thinking of ? I’m not in favour of burning them, especial¬
ly when so many bonfires of English clothes have been made
alteady. But I’m having a shirt and pair of trousers of hand¬
made cloth got ready; I shall have them by the day after tomorrow.”
" What about me ? You’ve grown very selfish ! ”
“Will you be able to wear a clumsy dress of hand-woven
cloth ? ”
“I will come with you to the end of, the world.”
“What will you do with these clothes?”
“I don’t know.”
“If they were auctioned off you could use the money to buy
clothes for the poor. I’ll try and give them away for you.”
 19. SAFDAR 255

[ 3 ]
People were soon chattering about Safdar, the rising barrister,
and the great sacrifice he had made, though he himself felt that
♦Shankar was the one who deserved credit. All through October
and November Safdar was able to go about appealing to the
public, often accompanied by Sakina or Shankar. His interest
lay chiefly in the countryside, for he had more confidence in the
peasants and village workers than in the educated townfolk. But
within a week he realised that the rustics could understand barely
a quarter of his high-flown Urdu speeches. Shankar from the
beginning had addressed them in their own dialect, and when
Safdar saw the effect he made he set himself to master the Oudh
dialect. At first too many literary words crept into his vocabulary,
but by hard efforts and with Shankar’s help he made himself at
home in the idiom before two months were over, recalling many
words he had forgotten, and learning new ones. Then the villagers
thtonged to listen enthralled to everything he said.
In the first week of December, 1920, Safdar and Shankar,
with many other polincal workers, were sentenced to a year's
imprisonment, and found themselves in Faizabad Jail. Their
wives, who were not arrested, continued the work.
In jail Safdar followed the Congress rule of spinning for an
hour each day. Those who knew how critical he was of Gandhi
in his political views laughed at him and his spinning-wheel.
“ I know ”, he would answer, “ that the boycott of British
cloth is a political weapon, and also that at present our country
cannot produce enough cloth for itself, so we must help to pro¬
duce more, but as soon as our mills begin to manufacture suffi¬
cient cloth, I shan’t be in favour of going on with the spinning-
wheel.”
Too many of the political prisoners were sitting idle. They
believed in Gandhi’s promise of Home Rule within a year, and
thought that by going to jail they had done their duty in full. So far,
the Gandhian creed had not been spoiled by extravagance, cant
and hufnbug; so it could be said that among the Non-Coopera-
tior prisoners the majority were honest patriots. Still the two
friends were astonished to find that scarcely any of them was
at pains to increase his political knowledge. Many spent their
time reciting the Ramayana, the Gita or the Koran; they told
their beads and recited their prayers. Others wasted all their
time at cards or chess.
One day Safdar met the learned Vinayak Prasad, an influential
Gandhi-ite. Shankar was with them. Vinayak declared tha*
Gandhi’s use of the doctrine of non-violence was a great discovery,
and that it was a most useful weapon.
 iOO FROM VOLGA TO GANGA

“It may be useful in the present circumstances”, Safdar

answered, “but non-vioienpe is not the road to success by itself-
In this world animals which are perfect non-violent usually fall a
prey to others.”
“Yes, animals, but in human beings non-violence creates a
miraculous power.”
“I see no evidence of that in political history.”
“How can there be evidence, when the discovery is some¬
thing so new ? ”
“ Not so new ”, remarked Shankar. “ It was preached by
Buddha and Mahavira and several other religious leaders.”
“ Not as a political theory.”
“If its political utility has increased, it is only because to-day
civilisation has spread somewhat and people think it shocking
when they read in their newspapers of unarmed crowds being fired
on. You see what the firing by the British at Jallianwala Bagh
has led to.”
“ You think that our non-violent non-cooperation is not enough
to bring us freedom ? ”
“First you tell me what you mean by freedom.”
“You have joined the struggle for freedom yourself—whaf
do you understand by it ? ”
“The rule of the toilers and no one else.”
“So in your freedom there are to be no rights for students*
merchants or landlords who have given body and soul and wealth
to the cause, who have borne hardships and gone to jail ? ”
“In the first place, you see that our merchants and landlords
have no time to spare from forming loyalist committees
how could the poor creatures begin coming to jail ? And if any
of them have come, they ought not to think of their own interests
as something apart from those of the workers.”
Shankar and Safdar used to study from books together, and
discuss the economic and social problems of the country. Few
of the others wanted to listen to them first. But when midnight
of December 31, 1921, came and went and the prison-gates re¬
mained shut, many despaired. And when Gandhi learned of the
burning of some policemen at Chauri Chaura by a resentful,
excited mob, and called off the movement, many were forced to
think seriously. Some of them later on came to accept the view
of Safdar and Shankar, that the true revolutionary force lay in
the people, not in Gandhi’s brain ; and that Gandhi, by showing
lack of confidence in the people’s strength, had proved himself
an obstacle to the revolution.
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